#fun fact I named him Nick based on the name I gave to my first tododile starter when playing heartgold as a kid

[trashcansienna]

Drew my pokesona’s starter Nick! (Will draw my other team later and my pokesona design)

#pokemon #pokémon art #pokemon fanart #Pokémon starter #feraligatr #feraligatrart #pokemon feraligatr #pokemon oc #pokemon starter oc #fun fact I named him Nick based on the name I gave to my first tododile starter when playing heartgold as a kid

[awesomelyanxiouspanda]

A Fiercely Bleeding Heart (Lucifer/OFC): Chapter 7

Story summary: Emery (Our lovely OFC) owns a thriving coffee shop smack dab in the middle of Monroe City, Mo. She’s well known for her unique coffee drinks and her “coffee charity”. What happens when a woman with too much heart- and not nearly enough common sense- comes across the fallen archangel in his mostly human state? Will Lucifer behave, or will he bite the hand that (quite literally) feeds him?  

Warnings/Tags: NO SMUT IN THIS CHAPTER. PURELY STORY LINE ADDITION! 

Loosely based around S.13 E. 13! Plus size OC, OC is gullible and a big softie, Lucifer in his nearly human form, Soft Lucifer, Dean and Sam cosplaying FBI agents again, Canon typical violence, Non-Canon compliant story line, Soulmate AU-ish?, canon typical cursing, NOT a slow burn, not beta’d we die like our king Crowley, smut, vaginal fingering, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected smut, commitments are made, soulmate bonds are formed, praise kink, Luci can dirty talk with the best of them (we all know his sass would be sinful in bed),  little bit of drama, some self-esteem issues, possessive Lucifer, breeding kink, dom/sub themes, pet names (such as princess, good girl, and little one), Castiel awkwardly and adorably cosplaying an FBI agent, Castiel is also scary af.

A/N: Draaammmaaa. Return of the Winchesters. Emery finally meets Cas! And, finally, reintroduction to the storyline of season 13, with creative liberties taken of course. Sorry this one took so long and it's a bit short, but it took forever to get the motivation and right head space to move on with! I hope you all enjoy!

“Have a good night!” 

I waved at Lucy as she backed out through the door and let out a happy sigh, nearly collapsing against the counter with a goofy smile. Today had gone better than expected. After two full weeks of the shop being closed so soon after my last break, I had no delusions of grandeur on what the first day back would be like, and yet still, it was nothing like the chaos I had pictured. I had expected angry customers, understocked sources, and cranky patrons of the coffee charity when in reality, it just seemed all my regulars had solely been concerned by my absence. It was heartwarming, to say the least.

“You good boss?” Amy asked cautiously. 

I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself. She’d been a mother hen since I’d gotten back. In fact, most of the staff had been texting me regularly since I’d fed them all the first little lie about being in recovery from an accident. To be fair, it wasn’t much of a lie the first time around. This time, though, was filled with much more fun activities.

Turning to face her, I flashed her a bigger smile and said, “Yeah, I’m great, actually. Today’s been nice, right?” 

That earned a grin from the young woman as she nodded emphatically. 

“We’re really glad to have you back and to be back. You had us all scared, Emery.”

Empathy bled through her tone and warmth every bone in my body. I truly was lucky to have her, to have each one of them, in my life. 

“Yeah, yeah, I was scared too,” I admitted quietly, eyes unfocusing as I was pulled deep into the recesses of the memories I tried to keep blocked out. 

I cleared my throat abruptly and shifted back to my feet, lips quirking into a half-smile. 

“I’m just lucky Nick was there to help.”

Her pixie-like features twisted between emotions before settling on something like contentment and she gave a little smile and a nod. 

“Anyway, enough jabbering. I’m going to grab the deposit and drop it off at the bank, you want anything while I’m out?” I asked as I popped up off the counter. 

“A million dollars?” she quipped back cheekily.

I couldn’t stop the roll of my eyes that followed my heavy groan. 

“Sttoooppp, you’re too young to make jokes like that. At least wait til you’re my age.”

Her laugh was interrupted by the ring of the bell over the door. 

“Hi! Welcome in!” she quickly recited.

I turned to echo the greeting but the words fell silent on my lips as I spotted the supposed customers walking through the lobby. My heart began to race as the acrid taste of fear coated my tongue. Two of them I recognized as the “FBI agents” that entered my shop weeks ago, whom I now knew to be Sam and Dean Winchester, thanks to Lucifer’s entail. The other was someone I’d never seen before, but he was no less gorgeous or terrifying. If anything, there was something about him that was worse… better? My brain was very confused. 

“Uhm, actually, could you do the bank run for me, Amy?” I asked gently, shooting the men a “one moment” signal.

I did my best to keep my worries hidden as I didn’t bother waiting for her reply, ducking beneath the counter and opening the safe to grab the drop bag from beneath. 

“You sure?” she asked, confusion obvious in her voice.

While Amy was essentially my second in command, I usually didn’t bother her with managerial duties, but, at this moment, I needed her out of the shop as soon as possible. 

“I’m sure. I need to talk to these lovely gentlemen and this is a good chance for you to get some fresh air while it’s nice,” I replied, forcing on a smile as I rose back to my feet and handed her the bag, “I’ll see you when you get back, okay?”

There was an obvious distrust in her narrowed eyes as she looked between the trio of men and I before she relented with a small nod. 

“Okay, I’ll have my phone on me. Be back in ten,” she said, loudly enough for the men in the lobby to hear.

Oh sweet Amy. So tiny yet to protective. If only she knew these men could kill us both. Well, I knew two of them could. I still wasn’t certain who the last one was, though I was sure if he was with the Winchesters… he couldn’t be any safer. 

The instant she was out the door, I placed on my most professional smile and skirted around the counter toward the “agents”.

“Agents, welcome back. I hope nothing’s happened again if you’re here?”

I did my best to hide anything other than courtesy and kindness but it was hard when three larger-than-life men were staring me down. 

Sam, as sweet as before, offered me a smile before reaching out a hand my way. 

“Emery, right?” he asked.

“Yes! I’m sorry, agents, but I don’t remember your names. My memory isn’t great in my old age of thirty,” I joked easily. 

Dean snorted with a little smirk and commented, “Just wait til you get to our age.” 

I saw the way Sam rolled his eyes minutely before that same patient smile covered his face once more. Before he could speak, I turned toward the third man and offered out my hand, determined to figure out who he was. He was a little shorter than Dean but still quite tall, with perfectly coifed dark brown hair, intense blue eyes, and strong masculine features defined by a light layer of stubble around his lower face. His tan trench coat was a little odd for a supposed FBI agent but it did give off a nice aura of detective. All in all, he was certainly a dream boat.

“I don’t think we met last time. Emery Pike,” I said. 

There was an obvious hesitation before he reached out and limply shook my hand, retreating as soon as possible as he cleared his throat. 

“Agent Beyonce.”

Oh. Oh, that voice. Had I not had Lucifer in my life, I had no doubt I would have fallen for him in that instant. 

“Beyonce?” I had to ask, caught off guard. 

“Yeah, like- like the singer, she-”

“Listen, Emery, we’re sorry to drop in like this,” Sam cut off the other agent sharply, “But there was something we needed to talk to you about.” 

“Uh, okay, sure.”

It felt hard to swallow as I gestured toward the counter. 

“Would you guys like some coffee or pastries while we talk?” I offered. 

Dean’s eyebrows lifted instantly at the word pastries and he asked, “What kind you got?” 

Gone was the stern agent, instantly replaced by something much softer and more genuine. I couldn’t hide the smile that slid across my lips as I made my way to the counter. 

“Nothing too crazy but I hand make everything three times a week. I’ll check what I have left.”

As I went into the back store room, I could hear the men arguing in hushed voices even over the pounding of my heart in my ears. I quickly shuffled through what was left and came out with almost a dozen options. For a moment, I debated praying for Lucifer but I also didn’t want to drag him into something possibly dangerous for him if they didn’t know about our relationship yet. Hopefully, it was something I could handle on my own. If I put him in harm’s way of those three just to save my own skin, well, what kind of soulmate would I be? 

“Here we go. I’ve got some muffins, blueberry and chocolate chip, a couple of apple and cherry danishes, and some plain bagels. Please, help yourself to whatever you’d like. I also have some coffee, freshly brewed.”

While I was no actress, I’d played the part of perfect hostess for so long that I was almost certain they wouldn’t see through to the panic beneath the mask. 

“Thanks, uh, I’ll take a coffee, black,” Sam said as he sat, seemingly giving up fighting Dean’s sweets craving. 

“Sure, if you decide you want cream or sugar, there’s some at the end there,” I replied, gesturing to the little turn wheel with the keep-cold creamer pot and sugar packets. 

“I’ll take some too,” Agent Beyonce added as I poured Sam’s cup, “Please.” 

Flashing him a genuine smile, I nodded and poured one for him as well. It was obvious he was either new to this, or was genuinely uncomfortable around other people. I almost felt bad for him being stuck with the Winchesters. I had to wonder if he knew what their ruse was, what they really were, or if he was just dragged along. 

Of course, in the grand scheme of things, I could determine that the Winchesters weren’t bad people- though, to Lucifer of cour,se, they were. It didn’t mean I had to like them either way, considering they wanted to kill the love of my life despite the fact he was becoming less and less “evil” to their standards. 

“Here we go.”

It was impossible to hide the grin that blossomed across my face at the way Dean nearly lit up with a groan when he took a bite of the apple danish. 

“YOU make these?” he asked in obvious disbelief. 

Sam gave a huff of a laugh, shaking his head, as I agreed softly. 

“Almost as good as pie, almost,” Dean muttered, shoving the rest of the danish in his mouth before pulling the last two in his direction. 

“Thank you, but if we might…?”

Sam trailed off and I quickly gave a little nod. 

“Of course. What brings you guys in again?” I asked.

I reached out and snagged the little pot of creamer as Agent Beyonce put it down, mimicking his actions and pouring in a good slosh before snagging some sugar packets to add in as well. 

“We know about you and L- Nick.”

His words made the world slow down instantly. My mouth went dry and my fingers froze in their actions, but I quickly kicked myself into gear with a little curse in my head, hazel eyes catching his soft green ones as he stared me down. 

“Okay, and? I know he wasn’t the one who killed that guy, so what does it matter who I share my love life with?” I asked, trying to keep my voice level. 

The guys exchanged looks and, much to my surprise, Agent Beyonce was the one to speak next. 

“Nick isn’t who you think he is, Emery. He’s lying to you. He’s done horrible things-”

“What he means to say is that we don’t think Nick is being completely honest with you,” Sam cut in quickly.

Agent Beyonce cast Sam a hilarious bitch face before looking out the window and sipping his coffee, obviously off-put by being stepped on once again. Man, if Sam only knew how much I knew about “Nick” and how I knew Agent Beyonce was right. 

“Whatever he’s done in the past, I don’t care about,” I spoke truthfully as I took a drink of my own coffee, “He’s a good person now. That’s what matters. He literally saved my life after an accident. He kept me safe and healthy while I recovered. As far as I’m concerned, what he does now is what is important. We all have a past. What matters is how we grow and change from it.”

Sam’s eyebrows pinched together in frustration and thought, obviously trying to decide how to get through to me, but Agent Beyonce was quicker. 

“Lucifer is a murderer. He’s killed millions of people, Emery! He’d kill you too if it benefited him!”

His words were harsh, filled with such anger that I now had no doubt he had been affected by Lucifer in some way personally. Dean cursed softly as Sam tried to scramble for some kind of cover, but it was all useless. 

I knew I was in over my head at this point. Resting my face in my hands, I silently sent out a prayer to Lucifer for help and made sure to let him know it was the Winchesters who were here and why. 

“Listen, Emery, we just-”

“No, no, I think I’m done listening,” I cut him off coldly, lifting my head to look at the trio once more, “You’re not going to poison me against the one good man in my life. I don’t care what you have to say, whether you call him the devil or not. Nothing is going to change. Understood? Now, agents, I would appreciate it if you would get out of my shop before I have to call the cops. And believe me, when I say, this wouldn’t be the first time they’ve had to come to save me from rowdy men who have tried to hurt me so they’re going to believe me over even you suited jackasses!”

Their surprise would have been more satisfying if I weren’t shaking with the need to vomit and sob at the same time. 

“What’s it going to be? Gonna be another addition to the “tried to rape Emery” list, or you going to use your brains and get the hell out of here?” I snapped. 

Dean and Sam instantly raised their hands in submission, slowly backing away. 

“Okay, fine, we’ll leave,” Sam said carefully, “But please, think over what we said.” 

I looked over at the last one to move, Agent Beyonce, and instantly knew I was in trouble with the heat in his stare.

“You’re coming with us, whether you want to or not.” 

“Cas, don’t-!”

Cas. Castiel. The seraphim, younger brother to Lucifer, and most dangerous ally to the Winchesters. I should have known! God, I was fucking stupid. 

Before Dean could finish his sentence, the angel was by my side, one arm wrapped around my back and the other to my forehead.

“I’m sorry, but we can’t lose this chance. Jack and Mary’s life depend on it.” 

Jack? Mary? Who was- 

Everything went black mid-thought and I was pulled into the easiest sleep of my life. 

#Supernatural fanfic #supernatural lucifer #lucifer/ofc

[ihaveatheoryonthat]

The Lateness of The Hour

Based on the Transfer Error AU by @rosebloodcat

Note: This is unfinished and I likely won’t be returning to it. It features multiple scenes out of context, ends abruptly and is littered with placeholders/notes. If that’s a dealbreaker for you, you’re better off skipping this.

Please note that this was my own take on the concept, and the last parts of it were written in early April; there will likely be bits and pieces that don’t mesh with Rosebloodcat’s vision of the AU.

---

...but Palkia beyond, what he wouldn’t give to face his reflection without the sense that something was deeply, deeply wrong.

There was a flash of yellow in the water’s surface. He hastily stepped away from the lake’s edge, searching for whatever had been lurking behind him; it would be odd for an Electabuzz to make it so far down the mountain, but not impossible. His search turned up very little beyond Lady Sneasler, perking up in interest from her clifftop perch.

Reflection, reflection… Singsonged a voice, almost wonderingly, A wish to face a reflection. Ooh, Jirachi has an idea!

There was so much wrong with what was going on. First of all, there wasn’t meant to be anyone else out here in the Highlands, save for Melli-- not even Akari had been through, though that was a blanket statement where she was concerned. Second, Ingo was certain, without a trace of a doubt, that he hadn’t said anything aloud. It was less due to conviction and more down to a matter of fact: when he stopped paying attention to the way he moderated his voice, he was loud, and here at the waterfall’s source, it would have echoed back to him.

Third was a small Pokemon that poked its face into his, and he barely reminded himself that stepping back would plunge him right into the lake. Sudden movement at the corner of his vision suggested that Lady Sneasler had noticed the interloper.

Jirachi has two ideas! It chimed, and Ingo was briefly derailed by the reminder that some Pokemon could speak, after a fashion-- Pokemon like Palkia or Dialga. But did that then imply…? Face a reflection or face your reflection~?

Hmm. Both! Jirachi likes both! / Have fun, human~!

---

It would be inaccurate to say that Ingo woke up when he’d never lost consciousness; it was just that awareness had taken leave of his senses until that moment.

---

He gave Emmet a long look and then turned to the satchel, a not insubstantial portion of his body disappearing into the bag as he rifled through it to the bottom. When he emerged, it was with a rough-hewn book awkwardly in hand. Before turning his attention to Emmet, he very deliberately flipped through it and dragged a claw down one page in particular, tearing it from the rest in a surprisingly neat line; it was only then that he handed the book over.

He gave the torn page several sharp folds, and then curled his claws around it.

The implications there were bad, to say the least. Emmet tried not to dwell on that, and forced himself to examine the book he’d been handed; its covers showed evidence of water damage, albeit in drips and drops, like it had been left out in the rain at one point, but, save for a few minor nicks and the tear he’d just witnessed, it seemed largely intact. With the implicit go-ahead, he flipped it open and immediately recognized his brother’s handwriting.

- I am recovering in the Pearl Clan’s settlement in the Alabaster Icelands.

- The woman looking after me is Warden Calaba, attendant to Lord Ursaluna.

- I was recovered by the Diamond Clan’s Warden [idk], while he surveyed the Icelands with Lord Braviary.

- They do not know what I was doing out in a blizzard, nor are they familiar with me.

- This is, apparently, not the first time I’ve asked these questions. I’ve been instructed to record any information I might want later to ‘save us all some time’.

The list went on for several more bullet points, recording names, roles and cultural terms, but it was the first few and the last that held Emmet’s attention. It confirmed that Ingo hadn’t spent the past [timeframe] as a Sneasel-- that he hadn’t been in Unova at all. He’d been in a tundra with no idea how he’d gotten there, suffering short term memory loss and--

- I am certain of two things: I’ve lost something important, and my name is Ingo.

--and almost completely amnesiac.

Emmet spent some time staring at the concluding line. The last statement was neatly bisected, an inkblot punctuating the two clauses as if the pen had spent some time idling there, uncertain whether or not to continue. Its presence suggested that Ingo hadn’t been sure he would remember his own name.

He snapped the journal shut, unable to continue looking at the mark, and [looked] to the Sneasel that was his brother. Ingo tilted his head back at him, a questioning frown on his face, clawed hands empty.

“I see.” He said slowly, filing that last point away for later, “You’re telling me that your memory loss is unrelated to our current predicament.”

There was a sharp nod.

In one sense, it was a relief; it meant that this, at least, was a purely human ailment, and not a byproduct of a human mind being [transferred] into the body of a Pokemon. Perhaps it couldn’t be reversed in the truest sense of the word, but it could be treated and lived with. However, it also meant that something else had happened to his brother, on top of having been stolen away and then returned as a Sneasel. And finally, it meant…

“You do not know me.”

The statement was met with silence, and then a burst of [vehement] chattering. Ingo clambered onto Emmet’s lap and craned up for the book; Emmet didn’t fight him, watching as he flipped halfway through, and then back, several pages from the latest entry. It seemed he’d found whatever he was looking for when he tapped a claw to the paper, insistently holding it up for Emmet to inspect.

It’s a shame that the Hisuian people have yet to warm up to competitive battling. Lady Irida and Lord Adaman participate on occasion, and sometimes we’re joined by my fellow Wardens, but the training grounds are often left to Miss Akari and myself.

I worry that her passion for battling has been overridden by the desire to assist me, as though the reward for a [battle] well fought isn’t the experience, but whether or not I have something new to say. I’ve told her my heart remembers what my mind cannot, but I fear it’s fallen on deaf ears. It may have been irresponsible to share [] with her on the tail of our commute through Wayward Cave.

Perhaps I’m projecting onto her. Our [enthusiasm] for Pokemon is something I also shared with the man who looks like me; were we in the same station, I know I wouldn’t have hesitated to confide in him. Regardless, I have conducted myself inappropriately. I will endeavor to do better.

As he read, a weight pressed itself against Emmet’s side; he curled an arm around it absentmindedly, distracted by the journal’s shift from empirical facts to a more conventional [journal].

“It seems you were on the correct track.” He eventually said, voice soft, “Allow me to assist. I am--”

He cut off early, the final statement echoed by the mewing of a Sneasel, and though the words were incomprehensible, the intonation was exactly in accordance with Emmet’s script. When Emmet shifted to study him, Ingo took it as an invitation to bump his head up against his twin’s. In this instance, there was no trace of [question] in the eyes that peered right back at Emmet.

“--glad.” He concluded feebly. It didn’t stay that way for long, though. “I am verrrry glad to learn that.”

Ingo’s eyes narrowed fondly, and the minor din of purring started back up.

Loathe to lose the contact they’d established, but unable to continue sitting still, Emmet scooped him up and started toward [wherever]. “And your Pokemon? I did not see any mention of them.”

A reluctant trill worked its way through the [purr]

---

His brother watched with intense eyes and, as soon as the bandage had been laid smooth over the scratch, gave a sharp nod. It was odd that Ingo didn’t linger to ensure that everything was returned to its proper place, but the incident had clearly bothered him, so Emmet didn’t give it much more thought as he cleaned up; he heard the clumsy rattling of clawed hands going through something and laughed to himself, wondering what now.

Once the bathroom had been restored to its [proper] order, he followed the sound. It led him to their store of Pokemon grooming supplies. Ingo had zeroed in on Excadrill’s in particular, a pair of claw trimmers abandoned at his feet while he fumbled with a heavy duty file.

Unbothered by the [threat] those claws posed, Emmet reached directly over and pinched the file between two fingers, stilling it. Ingo blinked at his bandaged hand, then up at him.

“That is a verrrrry bad idea.” He said, easing the file free from his twin’s grip. The clippers didn’t warrant any further action. “I will do my utmost not to come uncoupled from you again. So long as we are together, I will protect you. If we are not, you need to be able to defend yourself.”

Ingo made a vague noise of dissent, but didn’t argue further.

“You are still worried.” / “I have an idea.”

Half an hour later found them at a grooming supply shop, idling in front of claw caps.

While, in Emmet’s humble opinion, it was leagues better than shearing the offending claws off, it still posed a considerable challenge. There were Sneasel in Unova, but they weren’t a terribly frequent sight, especially so far from the Giant Chasm. As such, there wasn’t a high demand for specifically molded soft claws.

He was trying to decide if Krookodile or Zoroark would be easier to adapt when someone called his name from the store’s entryway. The shape draped over his shoulder-- an extremely visible lump in the jacket it was hidden beneath-- froze. This momentary lapse in maintaining his balance meant that Ingo began to slip forward and, immediately, Emmet reached up to steady him. There was a muffled chirp and the press of a cold nose in response.

[…]

Her eyes instantly fell upon his passenger, and she broke out into a smile.

“Hi there, cutie,” She said, offering a hand for inspection. When it went unsniffed, she drew it back, [unbothered], “Aw, shy are we?”

Emmet tried not to laugh. He failed. It did, however, come out less as a recognizable [laugh] and more of a gleeful choking sound.

[…]

“That is Elesa.” He said softly into the collar of his jacket, “She is a dear friend of ours. I believe we would benefit from her assistance. May I inform her of our current circumstance?”

One ear flicked at the redistribution of fabric and, after a second to consider it, Ingo nodded.

Emmet turned to her again, clapping his hands to signify the turn in the conversation, “If you are available, I would like to speak to you.”

“Yeah, I’ve got time.” / “What’s up?”

“This conversation is best had in private.” He said; his attention wandered to the racks of claw grooming supplies, so he missed the look of understanding, and then sympathy that passed over Elesa’s face. “If you would allow me just a minute to make a selection.”

Elesa humored the distraction, looping around his other side, “Soft claws? She’s not a battler, then?”

“Ideally, he is not.” Emmet said, gentle enough in his correction but, beneath the coat, Ingo’s perch was tense to the point of vibration. Ingo contented himself with a sharp, irritated huff into his brother’s collar.

Elesa hummed, shot a sideways look to the small amount of visible fur, and said, “If it were me, I’d go for the Zoroark fit. It won’t be perfect, but it’s probably the closest they’ve got here.”

---

“I heard you had a lead...” She hazarded.

Emmet barked a laugh. “In a manner of speaking. Yes.”

“This is a very special Sneasel. His coloration is not simply a genetic quirk. Blood work suggests that he is a regional variant that has long since died out.” / “It also [suggests] that he only became a Sneasel relatively recently.”

“...you cannot be suggesting what I think you’re suggesting.”

[…]

She was distracted by the Sneasel, who’d turned away from its careful sorting of the soft claw supplies to pat Emmet’s knee with the flat of its paw. It wasn’t a bid for attention-- almost the opposite, really. It chirped something to the tune of ‘now, now’ and, after a second to feel out the situation, returned to the neat piles of supplies in front of it, ears perked as it listened in.

It was a disturbingly human reaction, and Elesa’s voice died in her throat as it ignored the glue in favor of fitting a loose cap over its claw. When she turned back, Emmet looked incredibly smug.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the Sneasel flexing its clawed fingers, sliding the casing off, and frowning at it intently.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” She sighed, and, without moving to address it or raising her voice, asked, “Ingo?”

The Sneasel’s plumed ear twitched, and it looked up at her, trilling inquisitively. Emmet’s triumphant-- if fragile-- grin widened.

[...]

“Well shit.” Elesa said, and flopped down to Ingo’s level. She absentmindedly picked one of the claw caps up and turned it over in her hands. He watched, loathe to lose track of anything.

While she processed, Emmet found his own spot and helped with his brother’s task. The end result looked a little like someone [action] while trying to keep a thimble on each finger, and Ingo huffed in annoyance, casting a contemplative look in the glue’s direction. Emmet silently reached over and pocketed the tube.

There was only so much she could ask that they could answer-- Emmet for lack of information, Ingo for lack of human words-- so she settled on, “I mean, it’s better than worrying that you were somewhere out there, hurt, but this kind of blows.”

Ingo gave a short, “Snea,” of agreement, flexed his hand the wrong way, and watched a claw cap fall to the ground.

That much, at least, Elesa had the emotional capacity to handle right now.

“Okay, that? Not gonna work. Not if you’re relying on friction to keep them on.” She paused, mentally backpedaling, “Why are you trying to put covers on his claws? It’s one thing to apply them to a house Pokemon, but a Pokemon with human sensibilities? Seems unnecessary.”

Elesa hesitated, snorted, and added, “Maybe if it was you Emmet, but not Ingo.”

“I am Emmet.” The man in question said, holding up the tube with a menacing air, “And you should be verrrry careful with your words.”

“Please. I’m wearing eyelash glue stronger than that.” She scoffed. “Seriously, though, seems like a lot of effort for something so [unnecessary].”

“I agree.” / “My brother does not. The Sneasel subspecies he’s become is a poison type. He’s verrrry concerned about it. This was our compromise.”

Elesa hummed, glancing over in case Ingo had any input, but he seemed content to let them carry the conversation while he tried again to make the soft claws work. Her attention dropped to her Xtransceiver as she tapped letters out into a search engine.

“They’ve got some Sneasel claw caps in Opelucid.” She said, eyes flickering up to gauge the purple hooks at the end of her friend’s hands, “Standard Sneasel, but I don’t think the variation is going to make that much difference. The shape is the important thing here.”

[…]

Elesa returned [timeframe] later with a bag hanging from either arm-- one from the groomer’s shop and one from a local takeaway restaurant.

“I looked up what Sneasel can eat on the way back,” She announced, setting both on the kitchen table, “So the veggie stir fry should be safe. I dunno if it’ll appeal to a non-human palate, but I guess we’ll find out.”

“That is a verrrry good question. I keep catching him sneaking cheri berries when he thinks my back is turned.” Emmet said, nodding to the fruit bowl that had been repositioned well out of Sneasel range. Ingo rolled his eyes, but avoided making eye contact.

“Makes sense, they’re kinda spicy.” It seemed like there was going to be more to the thought, but she stopped cold, waving a [wondering] finger in Ingo’s general direction, “Wait, do you have a nature now? Or did you have one before? Do we have natures?”

[…]

Elesa set the claw kit down, fiddling with something else-- a different brand bag wrapped tightly around its contents-- and eventually unfurled it. A clacking sound came from inside, and Ingo felt his ears twitch.

“C’mere,” She said, holding a hand out for one of his and, carefully, he extended it. Turning it this way and that, she hummed, “A little dark, but we can work with this.”

Emmet sent her a curious look over the packaging he’d taken upon himself to disassemble, “I fail to see what that has to do with anything.”

---

“We’ve been informed that he’s a nervous purrer. Do not be surprised.”

Elesa had just enough time to ask herself what that was supposed to mean before she found herself with a face full of lavender fur.

[…]

Ingo’s face was buried in the thick collar of her jacket, but the rumble was still deafening.

“He’s got a purr like a freight train.” She said, projecting her voice after the first word was drowned out, “And now that I say that out loud, I realize I shouldn’t have been surprised.”

----

He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision. The purple shape that was his brother leaned forward, [curious].

“Not to focus on the negative, Emmet, but that seems… incorrect.”

Without waiting for the world to focus any further, Emmet pounced, pitching the both of them over.

There was a surprised yelp that swiftly turned into laughter, and he felt the plastic tips of the claw caps along his spine as Ingo hugged him back. On some level, he was aware that the words that exploded out of him were accompanied by a deep rumbling in his chest, but he had a highest priority right now, and it couldn’t be changed.

“I missed you.” / “I didn’t know it was possible to miss a person so much. You-- you did not meet me to walk home. And then you did not return home. The security cameras were worthless and nobody knew where you’d gone.”

He knew the statement wouldn’t be met with an answer-- knew that Ingo was just as deep in the dark as he was, in this regard. What Ingo did do was pull Emmet that last bit closer and tuck his brother’s head beneath his chin.

“I didn’t know much,” He finally said, the words somehow soft, even as he roared a purr, “But I did know that I’d lost something very, very important. I’m so sorry, Emmet.”

[…]

“I am still getting to the bottom of this.” He announced, somewhat less [enthusiastically] than he’d intended, given the constant lull of his brother’s voice, “Just not right now.”

---

There was no answering shout. When she tried again, she heard a “Sel?” which confirmed that someone was home, at least. After the past [timeframe], she couldn’t imagine that Emmet would have left his brother alone-- not on top of the year Ingo had spent missing-- so the solitary [voice] immediately rang the alarm bells.

Without an ounce of hesitation, she dug into her bag for the keys and let the three of them in.

As the tableau in front of her registered, she inhaled deeply and, with the breath out, [cursed], “Oh goddamnit.”

The two Sneasels, curled into a complicated knot on the couch, blinked up at her. Neither had the decency to stop purring.

[…]

She could make an educated guess who was who; the features were different than she was used to, but translated well enough. Still, she didn’t want to risk taking her frustration out on the wrong twin just because she caught him at a bad moment.

“Which one of you is Emmet?”

They looked to one another and, in a coordinated attempt to drive her up the wall, schooled their features in the other’s [resting] expression. Elesa sighed and picked up the Sneasel with the exaggerated frown by the scruff. There was an outraged squawk from the ground, and plastic-dulled claws tugged at [?]. Dawn chose that moment to pass by, snagging the second Sneasel around the waist and hefting him up, too.

Elesa didn’t miss the way he attempted to lunge forward and catch his brother’s hand, and tried not to let the prickle of guilt [bother] her. Instead, she locked eyes with the Sneasel in her own grasp, who had eased into an unrepentant grin.

“What the fuck, man?”

---

[Bonus post-story tangent]

Before he could be entirely sure what was going on, he was hauled up off of his feet by a pair of deft claws. Emmet made an outraged sound behind him, materializing at his side with a Pokeball at the ready.

The offender leaned in and sniffed delicately.

“Ward-kit, you smell strange.” She grumbled [fondly], and only then deigned to turn her attention elsewhere, “And you found your nestmate. Cute.”

In his haste to settle the budding conflict, Ingo flung a hand out, seizing Emmet by the collar, and [choked], “Lady Sneasler.”

She harrumphed a laugh and repeated, “Ward-kitten.”

It was bizarre to understand her on a fundamental level now, after he’d spent so long interpreting her [idk] and chirps. He recognized the sounds as her [call] for him, but the meaning behind it was… new.

Beside him, Emmet relaxed fractionally. His hand was still clutching Eelektross’s Pokeball, but the frenetic energy had largely dissipated, and Ingo felt secure enough to release the hold on his jacket.

“Welcome to Gear Station, Lady Sneasler.” / “I will warn you that manhandling the staff is strictly prohibited. Please release my brother. Immediately.”

Sneasler snorted, but seemed inclined to keep the peace, and set Ingo back down.

#ihaveatheoryonthat pkmn #submas #writing scraps #misgendering tw #(albeit accidentally)

[letsfluxshitup]

​Technoblade Learns How To Relax (now on ao3)

Tommy's face became more and more contemplative as he guided Quackity to the ravine dubbed Pogtopia. 

He led him down the winding stairs at a pace that had Quackity fumbling to keep up with. 

On the last step, Quackity stumbled, heading face first into the dirt before an arm caught him around the waist.

"I told you we needed the guard rails." A voice huffed from behind him.

Quackity thrashed violently, whipping around and ending up on the ground anyways, staring up at the Blade himself.

"Oh! Technoblade-- Mr. Blade, sir, I didn't see you there--" Quackity stuttered, scrambling to his feet. He slipped twice on the gravel before Tommy took pity on him and offered him a hand.

Quackity took it, allowing himself to be dragged up before slightly frantically brushing off his jacket. He scrubbed at the mounting flush on his face, refusing to be embarrassed, and waved away Tommy's concern.

Tommy broke the silence, abruptly clearing his throat.

"Right- anyways, I was just showing Big Q around. He’s with us now, you know." Tommy nodded self-assuredly, glancing between Quackity and Techno.

Techno just nodded, making a noise half agreement half dismissive.

"I'll be in the--" Techno started before Tommy interrupted him, fisting a hand in Techno's cape.

"He needs a room to stay in! We don't have enough, we're going to have to share. I was thinking he could stay with Wilbur but he's a little uh..." Tommy trailed off, scratched at his chin before gesturing vaguely. "You know?" 

"I know." Techno sighed, turning to face them. "He can stay with me."

"No that's-- that's not necessary, I can just-- I wouldn't want to inconvenience you--" Quackity started, praying the panic in his tone wasn't too noticeable.

Techno just gave him a leering smile, too much teeth and tusk to be considered anything other than threatening before Tommy smacked him.

"Quit messing with Big Q, he's an ally now, alright?" Tommy said, biting down on a laugh. 

Techno snorted before shoving him in retaliation for the smack and Quackity backed away quickly before he got dragged into the rough-housing.

Finally, Techno ended it, sitting on Tommy's back effectively pinning him to the ground. Tommy flailed wildly before whining out a childish 'uncle', and Techno released him. Tommy got one last jab in before sprinting off deeper into the ravine, laughter echoing off of the walls. 

Quackity wished he hadn't left, the stale air suffocating as Techno eyed him. 

"You like what you see?" Quackity blurted out, before slapping a hand over his mouth. "Sorry-- I didn't-- that was an accident I didn't mean to say that, sorry." 

Techno just raised an eyebrow at him, and Quackity just knew he was laughing at him, on the inside at least.

Techno gestured in front of him, a silent request to start walking.

Techno followed close behind, managing to avoid stepping on his heels but still unbearably close. His hand was resting loosely on his sword, did he really expect Quackity to attack him here? In his base, all by himself?

Before he could think more about Techno's paranoid tendencies, like the fact that Techno hadn't turned his back to him once, they stopped at a simple wooden door.

The wood was pockmarked with arrow holes, centering around a makeshift bullseye on the door. Above the bullseye was a crude drawing of Techno, Techno's name carved into the door above it.

"Tommy decorated." Techno deadpanned, gesturing vaguely at the door's decorations. 

Quackity just nodded mutely, following Techno into his room.

The difference between the rest of the ravine and Techno's room was jarring, to say the least.

The floors were meticulously clean, a broom propped up in the corner. 

Everything was shoved to one side, except for the sole bed that was lodged in the far corner, the perfect vantage point to see the door and every part of the room. 

There weren't any nooks or crannies to hide in, everything flush against the wall and on ground level, too short to hide behind.

Every corner of the room was lit up, no shadows to lurk in, no area left in the dark. 

Techno's bed was frameless, mattress box directly on the floor. He wanted to make a teasing remark about being scared of the monsters under your bed but he swallowed it, all the details clicking into place.

Maybe it wasn't monsters but considering everything else, Techno must have considered the space under his bed a security risk. Part of him wanted to poke fun at his paranoia but another part just felt... Sad. 

Did Techno relax? Ever? He couldn't imagine what it must be like, constantly keeping your guard up.

Even now Techno had positioned himself with clear access to the door, and with Quackity at hand’s reach. Well, more accurately, at sword's reach.

Quackity cleared his throat, trying to interrupt the uncomfortable silence they'd settled into. Techno had just quietly watched him look around, and Quackity desperately wished he knew what he was thinking about. His face was as blank and impassive as always.

Finally, Techno spoke.

"Do I need to feed you?" Techno was eyeing him up again, as if he'd be able to tell if he was hungry or not just from looking.

"Uh-- well, I'm a little hungry, but if it's too much trouble don't worry about it, I'll be fine!" Quackity squeaked when Techno abruptly moved forward, hands curling around his shoulders as he nudged him back into a sitting position on a chest.

One of Techno's hands moved from his shoulder to his jaw, forcing his head back slightly.

This was it, Quackity thought, This is where he rips my throat out.

Instead of ripping his throat out, Techno made direct eye contact with him, which was, in Quackity's humble opinion, objectively worse.

Techno broke eye contact first, mouth opening like he was going to say something before his eyes caught on a shallow cut at the base of Quackity's neck.

He'd gotten it on the way to Pogtopia, a skeleton getting a lucky shot on him from the shadows. Thankfully it had barely nicked him, and he hadn't bothered patching it up.

Techno leaned closer to it, forcing Quackity's head farther back, his other hand moving to lightly thumb at it.

Quackity's heart kicked into overdrive, because hey, what the fuck, Technoblade had his sharp ass teeth inches away from his jugular, but he didn't move. 

After another uncomfortably long pause Quackity finally mustered up the courage to speak.

"Am I dying, Doc?" He blurted, twisting his head to try and see Techno's expression.

"Huh? Oh, no. You have a heart shaped mole on your neck." Techno huffed a laugh, warm breath ghosting across his neck and Quackity hadn't realized before how fucking cold it was in the ravine.

Techno moved away after that, and Quackity could breathe easier now that he was less worried about dying. 

Techno still hovered close, though, nearly nose to nose and without thinking Quackity spoke.

"Are we going to kiss?" He mentally slapped himself afterward, but Techno let out a loud snorting laugh as he moved away more. Quackity was slightly proud he'd gotten a genuine laugh from the man but was still absolutely mortified.

As Techno moved away from him to dig in a chest, Quackity mourned the loss of Techno's warmth. He wondered if it had something to do with being half piglin, or if he always naturally ran hot.

Irrationally, Quackity worried that he had a fever, before squashing that down because the piglin theory made a lot more sense than the Great Technoblade catching a cold.

Techno moved around the room quickly, plucking two bowls out of a chest and giving him a look that silently screamed stay there, before he left the room.

He was back minutes later, and he handed Quackity one of the bowls of soup.

Techno plopped on to the floor and without thinking Quackity slipped down to join him. Techno side eyed him, but rested his back against a chest and started eating.

Quackity ate quickly, the food burning his tongue, and if you asked him he'd have no idea what was in it. When he was finished he carefully placed the bowl next to him, and Techno eyed him expectantly.

"More?" Was all he said, and when Quackity shook his head, a muttered no thanks following, Techno shoved bread at him anyways.

"You don't have to eat it now, but it should stay good for a bit. If you want to keep it on you." Techno went back to his soup, expression once again impassive.

Quackity scooped the bread up, tucking it away into one of his bags. He wondered what made Techno give him extra, if worrying about where your next meal would come from was as inherent to him as it was to himself. 

--

Techno lay on his back, eyes closed and breathing even. He doubted Quackity would be able to tell if he was actually awake or not, but he also didn’t have a very good read on Quackity. It was the main reason he’d offered up his room to him, he wasn’t sure what Quackity was capable of so the closer to him the better. 

He didn't know if Quackity could hold his own in a fight, and what if they were invaded in the night? He’d rather be there to protect their weakest link than leave it to the hands of Wilbur or, God forbid, Tommy. Tommy was an adept fighter, sure, but he still hadn’t quite grasped defense over offense, something that would leave Quackity vulnerable.

On the flipside, what if Quackity was a spy? It’d be a lot more difficult to snoop around if Techno was there to watch over him. He was a light sleeper, and his door creaked louder than the others, something he’d never bothered to fix considering it alerted him whenever anyone entered or left. 

Quackity also wasn’t known for being particularly quiet, either. Techno was sure that if anything happened when he was asleep, Quackity’s loud panicking would wake him up instantly.

Speaking of his inability to be quiet, Techno listened to him roll over and shift again, his uncomfortable shuffling capturing Techno’s attention in the relative silence of the room. Techno tilted his head, looking at Quackity. He was curled up on the floor, on a thin mat that Tommy had produced from God knows where. He had the blanket stuffed around himself, shivering slightly. Techno hadn’t realized it had been that cold, his back was pressed against the wall behind him that was unnaturally warm due to the lava pool on the other side of it. 

“Quackity?” Techno said into the quiet of the room, voice hushed.

“Uh, yeah? What’s up?” Quackity’s voice was high pitched, a nervous titter to it. “Was I bothering you? I can leave--”

He’d moved to a sitting position as he spoke, his shoulders tense and looking ready to bolt. 

Techno sighed. Quackity being afraid of him was fun, but also very inconvenient. He gestured at Quackity, beckoning him closer.

Quackity shakily got to his feet, muttering under his breath, this is it, this is the end, this is where he kills me, curse my poor circulation, why do I get cold so easily. 

Quackity stopped next to the bed, and Techno lifted up the blanket with one hand and patted the bed next to him with the other. 

He stared blankly back at him, looking between the spot next to him and his face, expression quizzical. 

“Sleep with me,” Techno huffed, impatient.

“Woah, woah, woah, you seem like a really nice guy but c'mon isn’t this a bit--” Quackity stuttered, looking genuinely surprised and vaguely amused.

At least he doesn’t look afraid, Techno thought absently.

“Not like that. If you’re cold we can share, the bed’s big enough for the both of us.”

Quackity studied him again, rocking back and forth on his heels before letting out a sigh and shrug in the personification of fuck it, and slipping into the bed next to Technoblade.

Techno studied Quackity, frowning before scooting closer.

“Climb over me, the wall gives off heat. You’ll be warmer over there.” 

After a bit of fumbling and a push from Techno that was more of a drag, Quackity ended up on his other side. 

Techno squinted at him again, before dragging Quackity back into his chest. Quackity huffed, offended that Techno could manhandle him so easily. He wasn’t tiny, it was unfair how strong Techno was.  

Techno’s arms wrapped loosely around him, he hooked his head over his shoulder.

“Aw, I didn’t take you as the cuddling type,” Quackity teased, pressing his cold feet against whatever part of Techno they could reach.

Techno huffed again, and Quackity wondered how many emotions he could express with just a huff. 

“It’s not cuddling.” Techno readjusted his arms, absently rubbing warmth back into Quackity’s cold fingers, “It’s a tactical advantage.”

“Oh? Well, sorry to say, buddy, but your tactical advantage is crushing my wings.”

“Wings?” Techno echoed, abruptly pulling away. Quackity’s face scrunched in displeasure at the rush of cold air that met his back as Techno sat up to look down at him.

Quackity sat up too, unzipping his jacket. Techno eyed him warily for a second, before impatiently tugging at his jacket, trying to lean around him to get a look. A wing hit him in the face then, fluttering slightly before folding back against Quackity’s back. Quackity squeaked, looking terrified but desperately trying to hold back laughter.

“You need to groom your wings,” Techno finally said, after Quackity’s laughter faded.

“Hey, hey, you don’t just comment on a man’s wings!” Quackity’s voice pitched upwards, defensive as he crossed his arms and his wings puffed up slightly, only accentuating the issue. They were small, smaller than Philza’s certainly, and Techno doubted that Quackity could actually get any air time from them. 

They were kind of cute though, Techno thought. Objectively, of course.

“What if I spoon you--” Quackity started, only to be cut off by a petulant Technoblade.

“It wasn’t spooning. It was tactical. If someone came in here and saw me, they’d likely leave you alone. I doubt you made any friends when you defected from Manberg, and you’re kind of an easy target.” As if to accentuate his point he gestured vaguely at, well, all of Quackity, and Quackity’s wings puffed out again, expressive now that they weren’t trapped under a jacket.

“I resent that,” Quackity said in response, sticking his tongue out at him. 

“Alrighty, if you want a tactical advantage what if we hit 'em with one of these--” Quackity abruptly flopped across Techno, throwing an arm across his chest. Without thinking Techno’s arm came up, catching him across the throat and shoving him backwards against the wall.

“Sorry-- I didn’t mean that, sorry.” Techno pulled away quickly, straightening Quackity’s shirt and fixing his hair, hands dancing nervously across his chest.

“It’s alright,” Quackity rasped. “You’re a bit jumpy, that’s fine, we can work with that.”

Quackity waved away Techno’s mother henning, before slowly lowering himself against Techno’s side. 

“This alright?” He murmured, moving so he was laying across Techno’s chest, head on his collarbone. 

Techno curled an arm around Quackity’s waist in lieu of a response, careful to avoid his wings.

Quackity opened his mouth to comment on it, but Techno beat him to the punch.

“This isn’t cuddling. It’s a tactical advantage. Now you can’t sneak away without me knowing, how do we know that you aren’t a spy? I don’t know if I can trust you, yet.”

“You don’t trust me, buddy? We’re literally snuggling in your bed.” Quackity snorted.

“It’s not snuggling, it's a--”

“Tactical advantage, right, I know.” 

“Anyways, I know I could take you in a fight. You aren’t a threat to me.” Techno continued, as if Quackity hadn’t said anything. 

“You don’t know that--” Quackity started before Techno moved to make eye contact with him, a single eyebrow raised. “Ok, you’re probably right, but I think I could get, like, one lucky shot in, you know?”

“Sure,” Techno said dismissively, patting Quackity’s hip placatingly. His hand moved to rubbing up and down Quackity’s back and Quackity realized how tired he was. It’d been a long day, with a lot of running and the fighting with Schlatt took a lot out of him. 

Schlatt.

He was sure the man had already forgotten about him, labelled him a traitor and a coward, but Quackity couldn’t stop thinking. He tried to focus on Techno’s steady breathing, to ignore the rising memories from his earlier fight, but it was too much. He finally felt like he could think again, wasn’t panicking or in survival mode. Had he done the right thing? Had he made the right choice? 

He was pulled out of his thoughts by a sharp tug to one of his feathers.

“You’re thinking too loud,” Techno murmured, smoothing the ruffled feathers back into place. “I’ll protect you from whatever’s got you all flustered, just go to sleep.”

Quackity huffed, but buried his face into Techno’s neck anyways, curling their legs together.

“Fine. Didn’t realize Grandpa had such an early bedtime,” Quackity mocked, earning him another warning tug on his feathers. He smothered his snort against Techno, before sighing out a quiet good night.

Techno just hummed, eyelids growing heavy, surprised that he was comfortable enough to sleep.

#technoblade #quackity #dream smp spoilers #just in case laskdjflksdjf #my writing #i have a lot of thoughts ok #many thoughts head full might make a seperate post talkin about all the headcanons here alkdsfjkldsfj <3 #lemme know if you liked this bc im ridiculously nervous abt posting this and im not really sure why aslkdjflskdjfdfskl #platonic intimacy is important to me so whenever i write it into smth my hearts like '!!!' because i dont want people to be shitty #pushing my political agenda of making everyone understand the importance of platonic intimacy and cuddling #this is ok to reblog btw #ALSO QUACKITY HAS LITTOL WINGS BC I L O V E THAT #quacknobros

[mochegato]

Hope on Board

Chapter 15 – Ready or Not, Forward We Go

Chapter 1     Chapter 14

There was a voice humming. That was the first confused thought that appeared in her mind.  Did they leave the television on last night?  She looked over to the other side of the bed and frowned finding it empty. She could smell food cooking… but she was in bed so it wasn’t her… Did Dick have someone over?  Give her a second, she could figure this out, she just needed to start thinking… and eating.  

She walked over to Dick’s dresser and grabbed one of his larger shirts, throwing it on.  She pulled the collar up to smell it and gave a contented sigh.  It smelled like him.  She was really going to have to talk to him about getting a drawer here or something. Although when the babies come he was probably going to be spending time at her place instead… if that’s what they were doing.  Is that what they were doing?  That was a question for future Marinette and Dick.  Present Marinette and babies needed food.

She walked out into the living area and paused to observe him.  He was standing in front of the stove in sweatpants and a tight shirt. The pants were fairly loose but tight enough to show off his muscular behind.  She bit her lip in appreciation at the sight before her eyes wandered up to his back.  His shirt was tight enough that she could see his muscles moving with each subtle movement he made cooking the food.  She still couldn’t believe she’d gotten lucky enough to have attracted his attention, but she felt like the luckiest person that she did.  Despite the fact that he was currently humming what appeared to be circus songs.

She padded over and wrapped her arms around him, careful to miss the bruises she knew he still had from whatever altercation he had on his last trip for work a few days ago.  She poked her head around his side to see how his first attempt at cooking solo was going, silently cursing how tall he was or maybe how short she was which meant she couldn’t just look over his shoulder. She gently kissed the dressing on his bicep before looking up at him with a warm smile.  “Morning, Bluebird.”

Dick froze for a moment. He smiled down at her innocently.  “Bluebird?”

She shrugged moving to lean against the counter next to him.  “You called the twins Little Birds.  Can’t call you Big Bird, for obvious reasons.  You wear blue a lot.” She motioned to his shirt.  “Beautiful blue eyes…” she motioned to his eyes.  “Bluebird.”

He leaned down to give her a kiss.  “Now I just need to figure out a nick name for you.  Something that captures how beautiful and brave and brilliant you are.”

He grinned proudly as Marinette flushed deeply and looked away.  “So, showing off by making breakfast?”

He chuckled at her change of subject.  “I thought I’d try scrambled eggs.  It looked pretty easy.  I mean you start by mixing up the eggs.  And pastries from the bakery down the street.  Easy breakfast.”

Marinette nodded. “Looks tasty.  And I’m starving so,” she popped a ripped off corner of croissant into her mouth and hummed in appreciation, “it looks amazing to me.” She looked longingly at the counter space next to him for a few seconds.  “If I ask you to help me up on the counter, will you make fun of me?”

Dick chuckled and helped her onto the counter next to where he was cooking.  “Probably,” he shrugged.  He grabbed a plate and scooped half the eggs onto it, handing one plate to Marinette.  He scooped the other half on his plate and leaned against the counter on the other side of her.  Marinette took a quick bite and her eyes suddenly bugged out.  Dick cringed and looked down at his own eggs questioningly. “That bad, huh?”

“Give me your hand,” she said quickly.  He hesitantly placed his hand in hers, fully expecting her to rap his knuckles for screwing up scrambled eggs.  Instead she placed it flat against her belly.  

He held his hand there unmoving for a few moments until he felt it, a sharp pressure against his hand. “Is that…” he looked up at her with an awed look.

Marinette bit her lip and nodded excitedly.  “Oh,” she grabbed his other hand and placed it against the other side of her belly, “I think the whole family wanted to show off.”

Dick looked up at her with a sappy grin on his face before looking back at her belly.  “Hey guys,” he said quietly.  “Can’t wait to meet you.”  He waited to see if they would repeat it, but after a few minutes of nothing, he took his hands away, his smile still on his face.  He’d felt his babies.  He’d been there for it.  The thought of missing it was terrifying to him.  He looked over to Marinette and leaned against the counter.  “Been thinking…” he started slowly.

“Before breakfast?  So early.”  She shook her head in mock revulsion.  “Must be important.”

“I think so.  I’ve been thinking about the future.  I’m trying to picture raising the twins,” he started carefully.  Marinette suddenly sobered, the teasing look on her face abandoned.  She rested her fork on her plate and waited for him to continue.  “I don’t want to just see them sometimes.  I want to be there for it all.  I want to be there when they’re up all night and when they’re playing together and when they’re sleeping.  I don’t want to miss it because I’m halfway across the city.”

Marinette nodded along with his words.  “I’ve been thinking about that too.  Adrien offered to help me when he could, but it’s not fair to him and… he’s not the father. He’s not you.  I want to go through this with you.” Her voice was cautious but hopeful.

Dick’s smile widened excitedly, encouraged that she had been thinking along the same lines as him.  He set his plate down and moved so he was positioned between her legs.  He ran his hands up and down her thighs.  “My lease is up next month and I thought maybe we could look for a new place… together. A place for us and the twins so we could both raise them.  I know it’s a big step and we might not be ready for it so I was thinking maybe we could get a three bedroom place, so we both have our own space.  I mean, I know you already basically live here but…”

Marinette bit her lower lip and looked at him apprehensively.  “That does seem to be the best for the twins.  I don’t want to do this without you.  And I don’t want you to miss any of it, to feel disconnected.  I don’t want to have to make decisions without you or for you to find out later because you weren’t there when it happened, but… I don’t want to screw this up either.  I don’t want to move so fast we do something we aren’t ready for and end up ruining our relationship.  I’m terrified I’m going to do something to screw up their lives before they’re even born.”

Dick nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly!  I love spending time with you.  When I picture my future, you’re always there, you and the twins, but I know it is really early for it.  But…”

“But it objectively makes sense,” she finished for him.

“Yeah.”

Marinette wrapped her arms around his neck as an excited look overcame her.  “So, we’re doing this.  We’re moving in with each other.”

“Yes, I guess we are,” Dick laughed.  “Although, I’m not going to lie, I’m going to miss seeing you in my shirts.”  He ran his hands along her sides, pretending to focus on his shirt rather than feeling the way her body curved and moved along with his hands.

“That’s cute.  You think I’m going to stop stealing your shirts just because I don’t have to.  I consider easy access to your shirts as one of the perks of this arrangement,” she smirked at him.

“Oh?”

“Yep.  Free shirts and daily breakfasts.  That’s what sealed the deal for me,” she grinned at him as she grabbed a forkful of eggs.

Dick cringed.  “I don’t know if I can make daily a part of the deal.”

Marinette gave an exaggerated gasp.  “What? I was under the impression that was part of the arrangement.  If it isn’t we may have to renegotiate.”

Dick smirked and moved closer to her, giving her a seductive look.  “I’m willing to offer other perks.”

Marinette raised an interested eyebrow.  “Oh? Do tell.”

Dick leaned down to kiss along her jaw and neck.  “Convinced?” he asked huskily, pulling her hips closer to his.

Marinette hummed in agreement.  “I think I can work with this.”

Dick chuckled and pulled away to take a bite of eggs, giving her a scrutinizing look.  “And just what exactly are you bringing to this arrangement?”

She pretended to think about it for a few moments, leaning back to dramatically tap her chin.  “A constant supply of cookies, the fruits of my frequent stress baking sessions, and a whole new wardrobe.”

“I like my wardrobe,” he pouted at her.

“I’m pretty partial to your wardrobe too, especially your shirts like this.” She bit her lip as she ran her hands over his chest and ab muscles, accentuated by his tight shirt.

He hummed leaning closer to her.  “I like seeing you in them better… or out of them.”

Marinette raised her eyebrow at him, leaning away from him tauntingly as he leaned closer.  She grabbed his biceps for stability when she had leaned back too far.  He suppressed a groan at the pressure on one of his worse injuries, but couldn’t hide the wince on his face.  Marinette immediately dropped her hands and started fretting over him.  “I’m so sorry.  I got caught up and forgot for a second.  Are you okay?  Do you need ice?”

Dick backed away slightly and moved his arm back and forth a bit.  “It’s okay.  I’m okay. I’m more upset our moment got interrupted.”  He gave her a roguish smile and moved back to his spot between her legs.  

Marinette cupped his face with a concerned look.  “Does this happen often?  I thought you just kind of sat in an office and coordinated security procedures and technology.  I didn’t realize you were out fighting.”

Dick sighed and fought the grimace that wanted to settle on his face.  He was really hoping he had diverted her enough last night and this morning to avoid this conversation, but no matter what, she kept returning to it. The benefit and drawback of having someone care about you.  “I usually am.  This time I was out in the field when one of the warehouses was hit.”  Not exactly a lie.  He was in the Batcave or in the Titans base investigating and researching frequently.  And it was a warehouse that was hit, just not a WE warehouse.

“Oh my God, Dick!”

“It’s okay.  I know how to protect myself and had good people around me.  We took care of it.  We got away pretty scot-free.  I actually got the worst of it,” he tried to make his voice as soothing as possible.

“Dick, it’s not okay. You got hurt.” She rubbed her hands over his jaw looking at him with worried, anguished eyes.

“I know,” he kissed her forehead.  “But it’s part of the job.  It’s a risk I know I’m taking and I’m really well trained for it.”

Marinette nodded and gave him a reluctant smile.  “I don’t have to like it though.  I hate seeing you hurt.  I hate seeing you suffering.”  She burrowed into his chest

Dick couldn’t stop the smile that spread on his lips from hearing how heartfelt her concern was.  This felt nice.  Having her worry about him felt nice.  Having her worry about him felt nice. Knowing he was on her mind and that he took up that much of her focus felt right.  He couldn’t wait to start living with her, to have moments like this constantly.  He couldn’t wait for them to become more.  “I can think of something that might make me feel better,” he said coyly.

Marinette pulled away to give him a suspicious look but played along.  “And what’s that?”

“If someone were to kiss it and make it better…” he trailed off in mock innocence.

Marinette smiled.  “Is this a good time to tell you about my magic kisses?”

“Ooh, another perk for our arrangement.  The list keeps growing,” he grinned at her before pulling her in for a passionate kiss.

Chapter 16

Tags:

@dickinette-february @demonicbusiness @ichigorose @iloontjeboontje @ladybug-182 @toodaloo-kangaroo @dast218 @golden-promises @trippingovermyfeet @emimar7 @laurcad123

#maribat #Dickinette February #dickinette #platonic jasonette #platonic adrienette #Hope on Board #Knocked Up AU #prompt - future

[mirkwoodshewolf]

A new kind of competition; RA on the Masked singer pt. 2

*Author’s note*

Okay I know I’m kinda doin this out of order but I was posting this part on Wattpad and since it was still in my copying memory I decided to post this part up first but no worries, pt. 1 will be posted up in just a minute. And I wanna tell you all that there will be only TWO MORE chapters left before I finally complete the Rock Angel series. Enjoy this chapter until next time my dears :)

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@simonedk

@queensdivas

@queen-paladin

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@geek-and-proud

@starswin

@queendeakyy

@5sos-wdw

@onebigfangirlworld

@isabella-bby

@labessieisallama

@ssa-sadboi

@naturalswifty89

@wormzteef

@bohemiansweede

_________________________________________________________

*Round 5. THE SUPER 8*

Now it was starting to get serious, this was now the Super 8 and this was the first time this season that 2 people were gonna get eliminated.  I took a deep breath and gave a silent prayer to God and Freddie above to give me strength.

“And here to give us yet another star-stellar performance and another few hints as to who this mega star could be under the mask. Here’s the Lioness.”

The LIONESS; CLUE PACKAGE

“What very few people don’t know about me is that I didn’t always have that good of a homelife as a child.” I said as I walked through a child’s room.  I took hold of my stuffed lion and hugged him tightly as I continued, “The people who raised me were well—let’s just say they weren’t the nicest of people. The remainder of my childhood into adolescence was toxic for me.”

“Oh my god.” Nicole muttered sympathetically.

“Growing up with that much toxicity it really damaged my self-esteem. No matter how hard I tried, it just wasn’t enough for them.”

“Growing up in an abusive home.” Robin noted. “Wonder if she’s an advocate for domestic abuse?”

“But I knew I couldn’t let myself be buried underneath all that hatred. It took a long, long, long, long time. But I forgave them. Because in a way without them, I wouldn’t have found this inner strength within me.”

“You go Lioness.” Cheered Jenny.

“That’s why for this performance, if you or a loved one is dealing with toxic family members or partners. There’s no shame in admitting they’re in the wrong. Because if you continue to listen to their toxic lies, it’ll only lead you down one way. And you’re too good to leave this world just yet.” I set the stuffed lion down and punched the wall which shattered as I let out a proud roar.

I stood there on stage with the mic on hand as my girl Pink’s “Beautiful trauma” came on and I began singing in a ballad like tone first.  Slowly walking across the stage till I came upon a beautifully decorated swing (much like the Black Swan used a couple rounds ago).

*Me*

We were on fire I slashed your tires It's like we burned so bright we burned out I made you chase me I wasn't that friendly My love, my drug, we burn out

Oh

I got on the swing and it slowly raised up, lifting me all the way high above the audience as I sang the 2nd chorus. As the mantra part of the chorus came up, silk extended from the ends of the swing and I slowly swung back and forth making the silks dance gracefully in the wind.  When the bridge came up, I turned on my semi-good rapping skills. As I rapped out the bridge, the swing lowered me down towards the catwalk that stood in front of the judges.

Once my feet touched the ground and I sung the last verse, I walked towards the judges and sung before each of them.  

*Me*

The pill I keep taking The nightmare I'm waking There's nothing, no nothing, nothing but you My perfect rock bottom Beautiful trauma My love (my love), my love, my drug, oh

My love, my love, my love, my drug, oh My love, my love, my love, my drug, oh My love, my love, my love, my drug, oh My love, my love, my drug.

Mmm tough times they keep coming All night laughing and knackered Some days like I'm barely breathing Then after we were high and the love dope died, it was you

The pill I keep taking The nightmare I'm waking There's nothing, no nothing, nothing but you My perfect rock bottom My beautiful trauma My love, my love, my drug, oh

After walking back on stage with Nick standing at my side, he congratulated me on another amazing performance.  

“The Lioness is pulling our heartstrings once again.”

“I agree Nick. Especially after hearing that story of her going through domestic abuse that—that’s never an easy thing to go through. But Lioness let me just say you are a strong woman underneath. Because I can tell you’ve overcome that trauma and made a name for yourself.” Nicole told me.

I pounded my heart and raised my hand towards her.  She gave me a heart back.

“Now we raided through your fridge and found out just what exactly the Lioness loves to eat.”

“Oh come on Nick this is easy! She eats meat!” Ken exclaimed.

“Sit your butt down Ken!” Nick exclaimed. “Men in Black, bring out the Lioness’s favorite meal.” One of them came pulling out a cooler and sat it right beside Nick and he said. “Alright, let’s see what we’ve got in here.” There was a drumroll before he opened it to reveal a thermos that read JASMINE TEA.

“What’s that say on the thermos?” asked Jenny.

“Jasmine tea.”

“But there’s no food there!” complained Ken.

“To answer your Question Kenneth.” I scolded. That got the rest of the panel as well as Nick laughing. “Any type of food is good for me, but it’s this tea that will give you a clue. As to who I am.”

The audience and Nick ooed.  Jenny’s mouth opened widely as she rapidly pounded her stack of notes.

“Jenny it looks like you’ve got something.”

“I do! I do! I do! I do! I do! Okay so in the clue package she talked about her abusive childhood. Rough upbringing, but she didn’t say parents were the ones doing it. And the number code that was given to us awhile back, that 149121. I have been running through my head various codes as to what that could mean. Until the TEA is what gave me the idea.”

“Who is it?!” Ken demanded.

“At least she’s making more sense than you do Ken!” Robin dissed.

“Okay the code actually stands for 11-24-91. And this Rockstar has a tattoo of it on her shoulder with Angel Wings to remember her friend and mentor Freddie Mercury. This is most definitely the ROCK ANGEL (Y/N) KLINE!!!”

“Oh yeah that’s right. She does have a tattoo with that date on it.” Robin agreed with her.

“Nah I’m gonna disagree with you on that Jenny.” Ken said.  Oh boy here we go. “Now going off based off the clue package we saw domestic abuse. And on the number code the first few numbers I picked out were 911.  This actress started in a movie known as “The Call”. Welcome to the Masked Singer Halle Berry!”

I shook my head and crossed my arms at him.

“Look at her she’s agreeing with me.”

“Ken this is not Halle Berry!” Nick Cannon said.  I then waved bye to Nick as I proceeded to walk off the stage but he told me to come back, so I had no choice but to stand there. “See Ken you made the Lioness upset just like you did with Nick Carter last season.”

“Hey like I said before then. This isn’t the first time someone’s walked away from my guesses, and it won’t be the last.”

“I think I might have an idea on who it might be.” Nicole piped in.

“Go head Nicole.”

“Okay so we saw the domestic abuse, growing up in an abusive home. But I also remember from a few weeks back there was a sign that said AIDS. So I’m thinking she’s also an advocate for AIDS/HIV awareness. I’m gonna put my money on Rihanna.”

Oh wow that’s impressive.  But sadly she’s wrong.  Although I have helped Rihanna with some of her AIDS awareness promotion when the two of us were at a party together for MTV.  She told me she wanted to start a campaign for it but had no idea where to begin with it.  So I gave her some of my well known contacts and gave her some business advice that I remember learning from Deacy on how to handle everything.

“That’s not a bad guess. But Rihanna’s got a different voice. But whoever you are, you wowed us once again Lioness.” I bowed and blew them a kiss as Nick told me that I could head backstage.

“The judges are slowly but surely getting a grip with my identity. But I’m not ready to go home just yet. And if I somehow make it through, I’ll give them a performance that’ll definitely throw them off my scent.”

Thankfully, I was safe from being unmasked in this double elimination, however Seashell and the Yeti weren’t as lucky.

*Round 6. THE SPICY 6*

It’s down to the wire now.  This song might just make me or break me, especially since it’s the hardest song I’ll ever do in my entire singing career.  But like Freddie and I always say, “It’s go big or go home darling.”  Plus this is another special performance that I’m dedicating to.

“Now then we actually got to sit down and actually talk with this Megastar. Here’s what we managed to find out about the Lioness.”

THE LIONESS CLUE PACKAGE AND INTERVIEW.

This clue package showed me getting my mask taken off but I still had a black face cover hiding my entire face.

“Oh yes that feels so much better.” I praised at feeling the cool air on my face.  The Producer then asked me.

“So how has it been being the Lioness so far?”

“A lot of fun. She’s given me the courage to do things I never thought I could do before.” The screens would show some of my previous performances from getting on a wrecking ball to being lifted well over 10ft above an audience.

“What would winning the Masked Singer mean for you?”

“Well I’m not just doing it for myself. But for my pride as well. Especially my dad.”

“You’re dad?” I nodded.  The screens would then show me walking around my den with a picture of me and a shadow figure of a male lion.

“Not related by blood but he’s been my father figure for as long as I’ve known him. In fact without his love, I never would’ve found true love on my own. My husband, my kids, even my grandkids. They wouldn’t have existed had he not given me the love that I was denied growing up.” I stroked the picture of the shadow figure of the lion beside me.  The screen also showed my real family with my husband lion, 4 adult kids and 2 young grandkid cubs.

I pressed the frame up to my mouth and gave it a kiss, the screen even made a kiss sound effect as little hearts danced around it.

“So Papa Lion, this song is for you. I love you so much and thank you for everything you’ve done for me.” I blew a kiss to the camera as my clue package and interview ended.

The ballad opening for “I don’t wanna miss a thing” by Aerosmith came on and I took a deep breath.  This was it, but you’re doing it for Roger here (n/n).  Even though he won’t know it, this song is for him. I opened my mouth and soon began singing.

Once the bridge came around and the most difficult part of the song came on, I unleashed every ounce of alto rawness I had within me and just belted out that last yeah which made fireworks rain down from the ceiling and the audience seemed to enjoy it.

*Me*

I could stay awake just to hear you breathing Watch you smile while you are sleeping While you're far away and dreaming

I could spend my life in this sweet surrender I could stay lost in this moment forever Cause moment spent with you is a moment I treasure

Don't want to close my eyes I don't want to fall asleep 'Cause I'd miss you, babe And I don't want to miss a thing

'Cause even when I dream of you The sweetest dream will never do I'd still miss you, babe And I don't want to miss a thing

And I don't want to miss one smile I don't want to miss one kiss

And just stay here in this moment For all of the rest of time Yeah, yeah, yeah!

Don't want to close my eyes Don't want to fall asleep 'Cause I'd miss you, babe And I don't want to miss a thing

After finishing the song, fireworks came up behind me as I punched my fist into the air and panted from within my mask.

“Oh my god where did that come from!?” exclaimed Jenny.

“The lioness taking us to the far reaches of outer space with Armageddon!” Nick proclaimed as he came up beside me.

“I wanna say something first Lioness. That was probably your best performance ever.” Robin told me.  Oh my god seriously? I knew I had cracked up on that last ‘yeah’ but to hear him say this was my best performance surprised me. “You really laid it out on the line tonight with probably the hardest song but you executed it phenomenally.” He praised.

I bowed my hands in gesture to him telling him I wasn’t worthy.

“Alright now let’s see just who amongst our panel is the Lioness connected to.” The judges all looked up and soon my chute came down towards Ken but Nicole intercepted it from him and she said.

“Oh it’s for Jenny.” She passed it to Ken who passed it to Jenny and she saw the silver charm of a birthday cake.

“A birthday cake.” She told the crowd as she held the charm between her fingers.

“Jenny. I wanna thank your husband for performing at one of my kid’s birthday party.” At that the crowd got all suspicious and Jenny’s face was gaped wide in shock.

“Is Donny doing things behind your back?” Nicole accused Jenny.

“I hope not.” God these innuendos kill me. “Okay so apparently you know my husband Donny. But I-I don’t remember him ever telling me he performed at a kid’s birthday party.”

“What about the entire New Kids on the Block?” asked Robin.

“Possibly. Was it just my husband or the entire band that performed at your kid’s party?”

“You know she can’t answer that!” Nick snapped playfully.

“I’m sorry but I gotta know!”

“Alright panel. What’s this clue package doin for you?”

“Okay well in the clue package there was the picture of her family. I saw four grown kids and 2 grandkids. If she really is a grandma then I still gotta go with Rock Angel. Because her daughter Kelly just recently gave birth to a baby girl last year during the pandemic doing an at home birth.” Nicole said.

“Yeah and in the clue package she spoke about a father figure. And I read somewhere that she considers Roger Taylor from Queen her dad.”

“Okay, okay panel.” Damn they are starting to see it now.  But I hope this performance keeps me in the game.  “Well, all we know is was that was yet another killer performance. Make some noise for the Lioness. Go ahead and head on backstage.”

The judges really are seeming to close in on me. I really don’t wanna go home at this point but if I do then it is what it is.  I still had a lot of fun doing this show and it was an amazing ride.

But at the votes, I was surprised to see that it wasn’t me that was going home.  But the Russian Dolls, after doing Elton John’s song “I’m still standing”. I thought they did a hell of a lot better than me but I guess it’s not always the voices that count, but how you execute the performance.

Now it was onto the Semi-finals.

*SEMI-FINALS*

I’ve come too far to end this journey now. The Semi-finals is the last step to ensure that I can secure my spot in the finals.  And I have just the song to get me there.

“Week after week she has astounded us with pure, unadulterated vocals. But can she claim her spot for the finals. Let’s dig up some more clues on……the Lioness.”

THE LIONESS; CLUE PACKAGE:

“Being in this competition has taught me a lot about myself. On one side there’s the Lioness I present before the media, when I preform or out in the public. Then there’s the Lioness I am around my pride. A mother, a daughter, a grandmother. And I think that’s really the best job compared to my career.”

“She’s definitely a family woman.” Jenny stated as she took down some notes.

“I wouldn’t be anywhere without my family. They are my rock. Even those that had left me I still see them throughout my life.” I stood before a funhouse mirror maze and saw various shadows surrounding me. “And it’s their voices that give me the courage to continue the fight. So for this performance I’m gonna pull out all the stops and just allow you all to see the real me. Nothing but my raw vocals. I’ve fought to hard and I’m just not ready to go home yet.”

The stage screens were lit up with a rain animation as well as rippling water.  I stood there alone with the mic and the spotlight down on me as I sung the song that was once offered to me for the Original movie, but I recommended the Producers to Christina to do the song.

As the song grew more fiercer with the soft drumbeats and my voice became more powerful and intense, I could feel tears filling my eyes once more.  I was gonna get to the finals even if it costs me my voice.

*Me*

Look at me You may think you see Who I really am But you'll never know me Every day It's as if I play a part

Now I see If I wear a mask I can fool the world But I cannot fool my heart

Who is that girl I see

Staring straight back at me?

Why is my reflection

Someone I don’t know?

There's a heart that must be free to fly That burns with a need to know the reason why

Why must we all conceal What we think, and how we feel?

I won't pretend that I'm Someone else for all time When will my reflection show Who I am inside? When will my reflection show Who I am inside?

At that last belt which I held longer than I ever held a note before.  A 9 full seconds which made the crowd go berserk.  I could see some people wiping their tears away as I sung the last couple of notes before finally ending it with a bow of my head.

“Heartfelt! Lioness once again pulling our heartstrings.”

“Okay I just need to say this Nick.” Ken said.

“Go ahead Kenneth.”

“Throughout this entire competition especially when it comes to the Semi-finals, it all comes down to who wants it most. And Lioness—” he wiped his tears away. “You didn’t just show us that you wanted a spot in the finals. You proved you’re worthy of the Rock Gods!”

Aww Dr. Ken.  I blew him a kiss and patted my heart and he blew me multiple kisses back.

“For once I agree with Ken.” Robin said.  “If people didn’t get teary eyed when you performed Whitney Houston’s hit song, they’re definitely not dry eyed by now.” The 2 women nodded in agreement.

“I agree with the guys. I grew up listening to this song. And to hear your voice do this song, not only did you just sing it. You felt it. And when a singer feels a song, it makes it that much more powerful.” Nicole added.  I nodded and replied to her.

“Agreed Nicole. This song……it really spoke out to me when I first heard it. And…..during a really, really rough time in my life. It—got me through so much.” I spoke through my choked tears. Knowing the judges could sense that I was crying underneath the mask, they all awed at me as Nick rubbed my back.

“Lioness even getting emotional up here. Panel, any guesses as to who she might be?”

“All I can say and have been saying is that this is a true, professional performer. And just that belt alone showed us what you’ve got. A true fire within you. Now I know that I’ve said the Rock Angel a couple of rounds but just this week alone hearing the voice, I wanna say this is Christina Aguilera.” Jenny said.

“But wouldn’t it be risky for her to do her own song?” Robin asked.

“She could’ve disguised her tone in order to sing it. But that recognizable control of the belt has to be her.” Jenny reasoned with him.

“I don’t think so Jenny. Cause in the clue package she says she’s a grandmother and Christina ain’t no grandmother yet. I’m still gonna say this is the Rock Angel.” Nicole said.

“Alright well, another heartfelt performance. Give it up one last time for the Lioness.” I waved to the audience and blew kisses at them before exiting the stage.

By the end of the round (and finding out the identity of the infamous Cluedle-Doo being none other than Jenny’s husband Donnie Wahlberg) it was time to see just who was gonna get eliminated and find out who was going into the finals.  I stood there with my hands in a prayer as I mouthed out a prayer before Nick finally said the contestant going home.

“The Black Swan!” oh no!  She’s actually been my favorite singer in our group.  Hell she and I were the only ladies representing Group B and now it was up to me.  “So congrats to the Piglet, Chameleon and Lioness, we will see you three in the finals.” I walked up towards Black Swan and gave her a hug and she hugged me back. “Aww look at that, Lioness giving Black Swan a hug. Seems we’ve got a friendship up here.”

I patted the side of her face before bopping her beak and finally left behind Chameleon.  Well it was up to me now, could I secure another female winner for the Masked Singer? Or be runner up? Only fate and the superfans will determine that.

*?????? POV*

I was reading the paper as per my morning routine.  Nothing new except this whole COVID talk and false expectations on the vaccine delivery. The world really has gone to shit hasn’t it these past few years?  That’s when I got a ding on my phone from my daughter Laura.  I unlocked it and read her text with a link to a video.

Dad, is this who I think it is?

Video: MASKED SINGER THE LIONESS

I think I might’ve heard of this show. Yeah it started off in America and after it’s popularity, various of other countries began it.  Here in the UK we just completed season 2, so this must be the American version.  I’ll admit the costume on the thumbnail looked beautiful and the detail was astounding.

I clicked on the video and it read THE MASKED SINGER S.5 SEMI-FINALS LIONESS.

The lights were dimmed and the second she opened her mouth to sing, my heart skipped a beat and I went frozen in my chair. Quick as I could I turned on our smart TV and opened up the YOUTUBE app on the TV and impatiently waited for it to open up.

“My love?” Veronica’s voice spoke as she came down.

“I’m fine dear!” I told her as the app finally uploaded.  I went over to the mic icon and pressed down on it and spoke into the remote. “The Lioness Masked singer.”

Soon enough various videos popped up and soon the video that Laura sent me was the first option.  I clicked on it and of course bloody ads had to come up. “Oh for god’s sake!”  I sat down on my chair as the video finally played and I could hear the rest of the song.

“Reflection” by Christina Aguilera.  This version was the recently updated one for the live action remake but just hearing this voice alone I knew only one person who could sing like that.

It had been decades since we last saw one another, shortly after 9-11 to be exact.  But even though I’m no longer involved with the music business anymore, I’d always ask Brian or Rog to keep an eye on her and tell me everything about her.

And now seeing her perform as this Lioness creature for such a show, they didn’t know just how lucky they were to be in her presence.  As the song got more powerful, I could feel these old bones of mine feeling warm and secure, tears filled my eyes and at that last belt, goosebumps came all over my body and a shiver ran up my spine.

There was a slight tremble in her voice as she ended the song.  I knew it was because she was crying underneath that mask but as always she holds out strong and finished the song as beautiful as ever.

The audience roared with applause bringing back some memories of when she went on tour with us.  Only her and one other person could get a crowd to sound just like that.

“She’s gotten stronger with her vocals.” My wife’s voice spoke from behind me.

“She was taught by the best. And she now coaches the best.” Ronnie took her place by my side, placing her hand on top of mine.

“You really should give her a ring sometime. I’m sure she’d love to hear from you.” I turned away from her.  “You can’t have the boys and me be your messengers forever. I know for a fact she’d be happy to hear your voice again.” I sighed deeply. “At least think about it my love.”

“I will.” I placed my hand on top of hers and gave her a light peck on the cheek.

“Are there any more performances of her on this show? Luke says she’s been all over the media being the Lioness.”

“Well that was the Semi-finals performance, let’s see if someone collab all of her performances together.” I went back to the search box and soon found about a half hours’ worth of (Y/n)’s performances. I clicked play and soon her 1st performance came up.

Seeing her dance reminded me of our times on the dance floor back in the day.  She was the only person able to keep up with my crazy dance moves, and that’s why she was always the perfect dance partner.  Even Ronnie agreed to that statement.

“That girl never changes. She’s still got it even after all these years.” Ronnie smiled.

“That she does love, that she does.” God she has grown so much since the last time we parted.  Her voice much more mature and able to do things she never did before. And some of the stuff that she’s doing on this show is bonkers.

Never did I think I’d see her on a makeshift wrecking ball or be lifted high above the stage on a swing with silk ropes dangling down from it.

I hope she takes the gold and win this little show of hers because she rightfully deserves it.

*FINALE*

It is time.  Do or die now.  It was me vs. Piglet vs. Chameleon.  After performing a beautiful, angelic performance with last season’s winner LeAnn Rimes, the finals were finally ready to start.

After a couple months of going from 14 down to 3, it all came down to this moment right here, to determine who was gonna be this season’s Masked Singer champion.  Chameleon went first and then I was going to be next.  Chameleon had stuck to his rapping but I could hear more singing out of him this time around and he actually had a pretty good voice.

“Up next. She’s been putting us through a roller coaster of emotions. From hard rock to ballad. Here is the last performance and your last chance to guess at who is beneath, the Lioness.”

FINAL CLUE PACKAGE.

I was walking through a tunnel slowly.  One foot in front of the other.

“Being on the Masked Singer has really been a lot of fun. When I first came on here, never did I think I was gonna make it this far.” The screen would show highlights of all my previous performances along with some additional clues.

Like a familiar band logo at the corner and season 3’s champion Night Angel’s wings. And the year 1981.

“This song was written by a very dear friend of mine. A friend that was taken from us far too soon. But it’s through this song that win or lose, I’ll always take with me till the day I die. Because no matter what, we will always make it through the tough times, especially with what we’re going through now with the Pandemic.”

The stage was dark except for a few lights as the familiar tune of Freddie’s last song he ever performed in the studio came on. I was having brief flashbacks of that day in the studio seeing him record this very song but I had to get my mind right as I sung the first verse.

Once the chorus kicked in, fire exploded from behind the stage as my rock and roll band came back on once more.  The stage was mine to command one last time as I walked across it for the chorus, giving it my all, just like Freddie did.

By the time the bridge came on, my voice was starting to tremble but I kept my emotions under control till the end of the song.  When I got around towards the end of the song, I would hold out a few of the notes till I finally belted out the last note much like Freddie did on the record.

And I swear it was like I could hear him singing alongside me, guiding me to hold the note out longer.

*Me*

Empty spaces, what are we living for? Abandoned places, I guess we know the score, on and on Does anybody know what we are looking for? Another hero, another mindless crime Behind the curtain, in the pantomime Hold the line Does anybody want to take it anymore?

The show must go on The show must go on, yeah Inside my heart is breaking My makeup may be flaking But my smile, still, stays on

My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies Fairy tales of yesterday, grow but never die I can fly, my friends

The show must go on

Yeah, yeah! The show must go on

Oh yeah! Yeah! I'll face it with a grin I'm never giving in On with the show

I'll top the bill I'll overkill I have to find the will to carry on. On with the show. Show. The show must go on.

As the song ended, fireworks fell down from the roof and fire and smoke exploded from the side of the stage as I panted heavily with my arms extended outward.  With the last struck of the drums and guitar, I punched my fist into the air.

I sent a quick kiss to the Heavens as the audience went insane.  I saw all five judges on their feet applauding me.

“The Rock and roll Lioness showin us that the Show must always go on.” Nick praised.

“I swear each and every performance you do, it just gets better and better! You could just be this season’s winner.” Jenny told me.  I clenched my hands and did a victory gesture with them, I could only hope I’d win but it’s not up to me.

“I would agree. She just keeps escalating and escalating her performances and I’m just in awe whether it’s her rocking out or pulling our heartstrings with her raw voice.” Nicole said.  Even last year’s winner LeAnne said.

“Hearing this voice alone makes me feel like I’m looking at a champion singer here.” I placed my hand over my heart in thanks.

The judges then proceeded to do some more guesses, Robin and Nicole were saying that I was the Rock Angel while Jenny was saying that I could be Christina Aguilera and of course Dr. Ken (out of the blue) decided that I was Beyonce.

“So tell us Lioness, what would it mean to you to win this competition?” Nick asked me.

“Well Nick, winning would mean that I’ve given my fans a whole new side of me that they’ve never seen before. But even if I don’t win, I still had a blast being here.”

“We were happy to have you here. Give it up one more time for the Lioness everybody!” I waved to the audience and walked backstage.

“This whole experience has been a wild ride. But I had a lot of fun, win or lose.” I told the camera with the Men in Black behind me.

The Piglet then did his song, “Faithfully” by Journey and man did he kill it.  He definitely pulled my heartstrings with that performance.  So it could be a close race between him and I, or there could be a game changer and Chameleon could take the trophy as the first rapper to sing solely Rap/Hip-hop songs.

“Tonight was a star-worthy performance, but as we know only one can take home the Masked Singer trophy. Now it’s up to our judges and Superfans at home to vote for your favorite now.” I stood between Chameleon and Piglet with my hands together in a prayer.  “The votes are in. The contestant with the least amount of votes and in 3rd place is…….”

There was suspense in the air as I felt my foot shake just waiting for Nick to say which one of us got in 3rd place according to the votes of the judges as well as America.

“The Chameleon!” the audience gaped in shock. “That means Piglet and Lioness you both are safe and can head backstage before we call you both back out to crown a winner. Let’s make some noise for the Chameleon everybody!” I walked up to the Chameleon and extended my hand and we shook hands before I walked with Piglet at my tail as we both waited backstage.

About 10 minutes later, we were told to come back onto the stage to finally crown a winner of Season 5 of the Masked Singer. Piglet and I stood on opposite sides of Nick as he held in his hand, the envelope with the Winner’s name.

“Welcome back to the Masked Singer.  It is now time to crown our new Season’s champion. Piglet, or Lioness. Which one of you will be taking the golden masked trophy home? The votes are in by the judges and the super fans. And the winner is……..” I could see Piglet’s legs shaking as he has made them every time throughout this entire season, while I was rubbing my hands together nervously.

Nick opened the envelope before proclaiming into his microphone.

“THE PIGLET!!” confetti soon exploded covering both me and Piglet up with strings of blue and silver confetti.  Piglet stood there shocked while I clapped for him. He deserved the win, he did a great performance and a great song to close out this season with.  He took the golden mask trophy and danced with it as Nick said.  “Congrats again Piglet you are this season’s champion. Which means you can stand over there in the championship booth till it’s time to unmask you.”

Before Piglet left, I walked up to him and patted his shoulder before giving him a hug and he hugged me back.

“Aww Lioness is being all cuddly with our contestants here.” Piglet and I shook hands with each other for a good competition while I went back to my spot to be unmasked once and for all.  “Lioness you’ve wowed us week after week and as sad as we are to see you go, I think I speak for everybody here, we cannot wait to see who you are!”

The judges all agreed as well as the audience.

“But first, let’s bring out the first Impression guesses. Men in Black! Bring ‘em out!” I could already see the judges pleading for them to not to.  “Yeah it’s been like—months since you guys wrote these down.”

“Can we please not do this Nick?” pleaded Jenny.

“Too late. And the first guess is from…..Nicole.”

“Oh god.”

“You guessed……Christina Aguilera. Not a bad guess.”

“Yeah that really isn’t a bad guess. However I’m not gonna stick with that. Based off the clue package of LGBTQ, and growing up in a domestic abusive home, plus the recent clue package with the symbol of the band Queen’s logo and the Rock n Roll hall of fame right beside that. I’m gonna go with the Rock Angel (Y/n) Kline.”

“Okay. Okay. Let’s see who else we’ve got here……Robin!”

“Oh no.”

“You guessed……Pink.”

“Oh that’s not too bad.” He shrugged.

“You stickin with it?”

“I am not gonna stick with that. Like Nicole I did see the Queen logo in this week’s clue package and just going off by the voice alone. I re-listened to some old records and this is clearly the Rock Angel herself.”

“Alright 2 votes for the Rock Angel. Mrs. Jenny McCarthy.” Jenny sunk down in her chair as Nick grabbed her envelope and opened it up. “Your first impression of the Lioness was……also Pink.”

“Oh thank god I thought I had pulled a Ken guess.” She wiped her hand across her forehead as Ken exclaimed.

“Hey!”

“Ken sit down! Are you sticking with that guess.”

“No. The number code we were give, the 149121. Which I’ve coded as her tattoo for the date of Nov. 24th, 1991, the date when Freddie Mercury sadly passed away from complications from AIDS. And seeing how she talks about her family, her kids, her papa Lion. I’m going for (Y/n) Kline the Rock Angel!”

“Alright, alright, alright. Dr. Ken……” oh this outta be interesting to see who he thought I was at the first performance.  He opened Ken’s envelope and laughed.

“What? What did he write!?”

“Janet Jackson!” oh my god! That even got me weak in my knees as I laughed.

“With those dance moves I thought it could be her! No one could’ve done that dance better than she could! DON’T LAUGH AT ME!!”

“Are you sticking with that guess?”

“No because the clue package doesn’t support it. Okay so we’ve had LGBTQ, domestic abuse. She’s a family woman with 4 kids and apparently 2 grandkids. Although I think the grandkids is a lie. She went through some tough times throughout her personal life. This is none other than Lady Gaga! Welcome to the Masked Singer!”

“What?!” Nicole exclaimed.  “But she’s not a mom!”

“Well then she could be lying about the kids then too all I know is that the rest of my brilliant theories lead to Lady gaga!” I shook my head and placed my hands over my mask shaking my head in defeat. “See! She’s even admitting I’m right!”

“No she’s not she’s just done with how ridiculous your guess is.” Nick said.

“Well I don’t care. This is Lady Gaga and I’ll take it to my grave!”

“Alright. Ms. LeAnne. As our guest panelist you have the last say in who you think this might be.”

“First of all let me just say you are a super star whoever you are under there. If we had competed against each other last year, I would’ve been quaking in my boots.” We all laughed. “This is truly a rock legend under here with the few rare female rockstars that came with the time. And I actually got the privilege to see her perform with the band Queen one year for a birthday party. And there’s only one person that I’ve seen on stage that can sing with as much fire as you Lioness. And that is the Rock Angel herself.”

“Okay Panel. Everyone except for Ken Jong has agreed on their final guesses. Lioness! It is time for the moment we’ve all been waiting for. We wanna know—whose behind the mask. It is time for you to Take it off!”

“Take it off! Take it off! Take it off! Take it off!” everyone soon started chanting.  I held my arms out in a shrug before shrugging my shoulders and finally reaching for my mask and tried to lift it off.  Nick was helping me as the audience and the judges kept chanting.  I could tell I was keeping them in suspense, just wait until they see it’s really me.

Finally the mask came off.

I shook my head and pulled my hair out of my face and the crowd went nuts, the judges all jumped up and cheered.

“THE ANGEL OF ROCK HERSELF! ROCK AND ROLL HALL OF FAMER! LADIES AND GENTLEMEN THE ONE AND ONLY (Y/N) KLINE!! THE ROCK ANGEL!!!”

“OH MY GOD!!” I heard some of the judges exclaim.

“Look how beautiful she is!” Nicole praised me. I waved to the audience and gave them a “Freddie Mercury” like bow with a twirl of my hand.

“Hello LA!” I said.

“Angel! Angel! Angel! Angel!” I heard the crowd chanting out.

“Wow it is such an honor and a privilege to be standing here next to a true Rockstar.”

“It’s an honor to be here Nick. Thank you all for having me here.” I told him.

“Tell us why did you choose to be in this show?”

“I know this answer gets told a lot but for me personally I speak from the hard truth that we should all strive to do different things cause—you never know which days are gonna be your last.” I hinted my potential death scare almost 20 years ago.  The judges all nodded in understandment.

“And I’m told that you also wanted to say something about this performance in particular?”

“Yes. The song I had done wasn’t originally my choice.” The audience as well as the judges all looked at me in surprise. “Originally the Producers wanted me to do a Katy Perry song, but……this coming November will mark the 30th anniversary of the day my boys and I lost our beloved Freddie. And…….being there the day he recorded this song in only one take. I felt in my soul that I had to do this for him. To give him a grand performance because due to this covid Queen and I aren’t touring till we feel it’s safe to start touring again, like many artists are. So I really wanted to honor Freddie with a performance that I hope did him proud.”

“Well you did just that.” Jenny told me.

“Thank you. And I’m glad you managed to catch that Jenny, you truly are the Masked Singer detective.” She pointed out to me and that’s when last season’s winner LeAnne said.

“I grew up listening, to both you and Queen. And—I can say for a fact that you definitely did Freddie Mercury proud. And it’s good that you and the remaining members of Queen continue his legacy. Sure it’s not the same as it was before but you don’t refer to him just in the past. But in the present.”

“Thank you LeAnne dear.” I thanked her as I blew her a quick kiss.

“I just gotta say (Y/n). You absolutely crushed the choreography with Janet’s song for your first performance as well as your wrecking ball routine. I think those were my favorite performances of yours, will we expect any of that once you start your solo tours back up?” Nicole asked me.  I laughed along with the audience.

“You never know.”

“Well it has truly been an honor to have you on our show. Now then ladies and gentlemen, to sing for us one last time give it up. For the artist formerly known as the Lioness, the Rock Angel (Y/n) Kline!” the audience applauded and I sung “The Show must go on” one final time for the audience.  Putting my heart and soul into the lyrics before finally belting out that last note in a different key before punching my fist into the air and sending a kiss towards the heavens for Freddie.

After the show all ended and a few days passed by, I did a livestream on my Instagram as well as my Youtube page telling my fans that I was indeed the Lioness and just talking about my experience on the show. Of course Bri, Rog and Adam blew up my phone with calls/texts/DM’s (mostly Adam. Bri and Rog still don’t quite get DM’s) telling me why I lied and did that show in the first place.

I gave them my straight answer that I wanted to have a bit of fun and do some type of performance and show the audience a whole new side of me when it came to performing.

I was just about to go to bed after bidding Georgie goodnight (he had to work a late nightshift tonight) when my phone rang. I picked it up to see it was an unknown number from London.  Curiously, I pressed the answer button and said.

“Hello?”

‘Sister dear.’ My heart stopped and I sat down on the bed.

“Brother mine?” I choked out.

‘Hey love. It’s uhh—been awhile, hadn’t it?’

“Try 20 years yah rotter.” I teased as we both softly chuckled. “What—how…..”

‘Laura sent me a video of you on the Masked Singer. The American one. You were beautiful up there.’ I placed my hand over my heart. ‘Although I do wish you had won. That—boy band person couldn’t hold a candle to you.’

“Oi now, Nick Lachey did just as well as I did.” I softly lectured him.

‘Well I still feel like you should’ve won.’ I smiled solemnly.

“Was it just because of the Masked Singer that you wanted to call me?”

‘That and…..’ he trailed off.  I lay against my bed and softly spoke to him.

“Deacy?”

‘I…….’ he sighed heavily. ‘I know I haven’t been the best at keeping contact.’

“John.” For the first time since……probably back when I was an intern for Miami all the way back in the autumn of 1980, I called him by his first name (unless I referred to him him by his full name did I call him John, most of the time it was Deacy).  “I get it. Plus my schedule has been quite hectic. And you—you’ve been busy yourself. After all Queen would’ve fallen decades ago without your financial brain.” We both shared another laugh.

From then one we talked pretty much the entire night up until it was almost 6am my time before we finally said our goodbyes. It was sweet to hear from him once again after so long.  Now whether or not I’ll ever hear from him again, I don’t know.

But at least I know my Brother Mine is still keeping his eye out for me, in one way or another.

#queen #queen band #queen fanfic #queen fanfiction #queen x reader #freddie mercury imagines #freddie mercury #freddie mercury x reader #roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor imagines #roger taylor x reader #freddie mercury imagine #brian may #brian may imagine #brian may imagines #brian may x reader #john deacon #john deacon imagine #john deacon imagines #john deacon x reader #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody fanfic #bohemian rhapsody imagines #bohemian rhapsody fanfiction #bohemian rhapsody movie #masked singer

[schrijverr]

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

[justauthoring]

To Be Loved (3/?)

Prompt: Perhaps, you understand Harry Potter better then anyone else. Perhaps, it’s why, when your eyes meet his for the first time, you feel an instant connection. Perhaps, it’s why, you love him.

Based off of: The Harry Potter Series Pairing: Harry Potter x Black/Tonks!Reader, slight Fred Weasley x Black/Tonks!Reader A/N: Thank you all for your patience last week and waiting for this chapter!! I’m trying to, honestly, get through the first and second movie as fast as possible cause i’m just so excited for three and on. So many ideas!!!

It was unlike anything you’d ever experienced. The stories told by your family just simply didn’t do any of it justice.

Perched next to the Weasley twins, after they’d all but insisted, Ron sat next to you and Hermione and Harry across from you; you watched as Dumbledore announced the words ‘let the feast begin’ and more food then you could’ve ever imagined appeared before you. Just like that. Obviously done with magic, which honestly, shouldn’t surprise you, but nonetheless, it always did.

Both the twins were busy explaining what was good and what wasn’t, talking your ear off that you could barely even focused on trying to eat. No matter how much you adore the twins, it’s a blessing when Harry cuts in through the otherwise silence to ask, rather loudly; “Percy, who’s that teacher talking to Professor Quirrel?” Percy being another Weasley.

You follow his line of vision, instantly catching sight of the same teacher that seemed to have caught Harry’s eye. It’s no wonder why. Amongst the bright smiles and twinkling eyes of the other Professors, this man dressed in all black robes, seems all too... unhappy.

“Professor Snape,” Percy answers, “head of Slytherin House.”

“What’s he teach?”

“Potions.” Percy answers easily, but not without adding; “but everyone knows it’s the Dark Arts he fancies. Been after Quirrell’s job for years.”

“Well,” you decide to speak up, catching Harry’s eye, “he doesn’t seem too... nice, does he?” And even though Harry doesn’t say anything, you can tell by the look in his eyes, that he agrees.

“Hello! How are you?”

Nearly jumping out of your own seat, your eyes flicker to the midst of the table with a start, eyes widening at the sight of a... ghost. The ghost who rather rudely interrupted a otherwise nice dinner, turns to Ron, a smile on his face; “welcome to Gryffindor.

Just then, a flood of ghosts appear in the Great Hall, taking fun out of scaring the wits out of First years, reluctantly you have to admit, that includes yourself. You hear one of the girls at the Slytherin call one of them ‘The Blood Baron’ but you haven’t got a clue what that means.

“Hello, Sir Nicholas,” Percy greets the ghost at your table, “have a nice summer?”

Sir Nicholas pushes up so it’s no longer just his head sticking out the table; “dismal,” he answers gruffly, frowning heavily. “Once again, my request to join the Headless Hunt has been denied.” And he moves to leave the table, but not without Ron calling aloud;

“I know you! You’re Nearly Headless Nick!”

‘I prefer Sir Nicholas,” the man says sharply in response, “if you don’t mind.”

“’Nearly’ headless?” Hermione questions, voice sharp in disbelief, her eyes narrowing. “How can you be nearly headless?”

“Like this,” and with that, Sir Nicholas grabs the top of his head and pulls to the right, taking his head clean off his neck so it only hangs on by the tiniest sliver of skin. You wince in response, turning away sharply, not wanting to see that any longer then you have to.

“Well,” you sigh, meeting Hermione’s gaze, “that’s certainly a sight I didn’t need to see. Especially while eating,”

She only winces apologetically.

-

Percy led you down a long trail of corridors, including stairs that apparently move on their own and of their own accord.

You find yourself, though you’re not even sure how, continuously amazed as you walk down each corridor. Hermione talks excitedly beside you as you both pass the many different moving pictures, her actually managing to know a few of them from her hours spent on reading which she gladly gives you any information she can possibly spit out. Part of you tunes her out, if you’re being honest, but you think it’s endearing she’s so interested in the history of everything.

Then, Percy comes to a stop finally in front of a picture of an older lady, a little bit bigger, dressed in a puffy, decorated pink dress that be able to catch anyone’s eye. Not necessarily in the way one would want to catch someones eye, though.

She pauses a second, before saying sharply; “password?”

“Caput Draconis,” Percy says with ease.

With a nod of acknowledgement, the lady’s arm swings before herself, before the painting moves of it owns accord, the whole wall actually, pulling back to reveal a passageway behind it. Your eyes widen in excitement, turning to Hermione with a bright grin and twinkling eyes as you both hurriedly follow Percy through the doorway.

“Follow me, everyone. Keep up. Quickly, come on.”

The room he leads you all into is decorated in red everything, couches and chairs fill the room up, and a large fire place keeps in a nice warm temperature. It, like everything else in the castle, is magnificent and sparks a fire of conversation between all the first years, before Percy quickly tries to divert the attention back on him,

“Gather around here,” he calls sharply, “welcome to the Gryffindor common room. Boys’ dormitory is upstairs to the left,” he gestures to his left, “Girls, the same on your right,” then his right. “You’ll find all your belongings have already been brought up.”

With an excited smile Hermione’s way, one she matches almost nervously, you impatiently wait for Percy to finish his speech before grabbing tightly onto Hermione’s wrist and pulling her up the steps behind you. She follows behind you with a laugh, a bit shocked at the sudden movement, before the two of you find yourselves in a dorm-room. You instantly recognize your belongings, rushing to the bed, while Hermione follows close behind you.

Her stuff is on the bed next to yours.

“Looks like we’re roommates, then,” you grin at her, a small blush forming on her cheeks as she nods.

-

Your first morning of classes had certainly been interesting.

Professor McGonagall’s transfiguration class had gone well. It was simply just taking notes as she stated you wouldn’t actually be doing any physical magic for a while. Ron and Harry had managed to somehow, you’re not really sure how, arrive late to their very first class of the school year and had thought they’d gotten away without being caught. That is, until, the cat on Professor McGonagall’s desk had turned into, Professor McGonagall.

Potion’s class had proven to be less fun. You now knew why Professor Snape had rubbed you the wrong way at the feast because he was just horribly... mean. Your first observations had been all too correct and you found it hard to concentrate in his class without staring at him with disgust. Even more so when he’d called Harry out for not paying attention when you knew the boy had simply been writing down notes of what he was saying, not wanting to miss any of it.

Like any normal student would.

When you’d tried to defend the boy, Snape had turned his attention onto you and promptly gave you the same treatment as Harry. But, at least all the focus hadn’t only been on Harry anymore. That, you felt good about.

Now sat at lunch, you were desperately trying to block out the loud noises of Seamus practicing a spell on his goblet, to focus on the letter you were writing for Andromeda, Ted and Nymphadora if she managed to get a break from work and came home like she said she might be able to.

If not, you hoped you’d be able to see her Christmas.

If you were correct, mail was to be arriving soon, and knowing that Andromeda would’ve used the family owl, that gave you the opportunity to send a letter back. You were just dying to tell her and Ted everything.

Dear Andromeda and Ted,

I’ve been sorted into Gryffindor, like Uncle Remus and my father. I hope I’ve made them proud, and of course, I hope I’ve made you two proud as well.

Is Nymphadora home? If she is, would you pass on the message? 

I hope the both of you are doing well. I miss you both already, but i’m having a wonderful time here at Hogwarts. I’ve already made my first friend! Her name is Hermione Granger, and she knows everything about everything. She’s wonderfully smart, i’m not sure there’s a single thing she doesn’t know.

Fred and George have also been kind enough to help me figure things out. But I promise, I haven’t gotten into any trouble.

You choose not to mention the fact that you had, but you still felt you were in the right when it came to Professor Snape. If anything, you’d defended a fellow student.

I met a boy too. Remember the boy who hadn’t known how to get onto Platform nine-and-three-quarters? Well, his name is Harry Potter. Yes, the Harry Potter. Though, I don’t think he knows just what that means. Him and Ron have seemed to have gotten close. He’s quiet and a bit awkward, but super nice. 

Classes this morning went well. I still have more this afternoon.

Can’t wait to see you for Christmas. Looking forward to your reply back.

Love--.

A loud explosion pulls you from your writing. Jumping from your spot next to Hermione, you turn in the direction of where Seamus had been sitting, where the explosion had come from, only to see his eyebrows singed and smoke to be floating around the spot he’s sat.

Turning to Hermione, you both roll your eyes. Boys.

Love, Y/N Tonks.

Just as you finish signing your letter, a bustle of excitement floods the Great Hall. With a bright smile, marveling at how well the timing had been, you eye the many owls flying in through the windows, all having letters tied to their feet or dropping packages in front of students.

Your family owl, a great big barn owl, comes to a stop before you instead of simply just dropping your package. You take it from him with a smile, cooing at it, same as Hermione, opening the package to find some home-made sweets Ted had made for you (he always did love baking) and a small letter that read ‘we miss you!’,

Smiling brightly, you roll your own letter up, tying it around the owls feet with a string; “can you deliver this back to them for me?” You ask softly, giving a bit of your food to the owl and brushing it’s feathers back in a sign of affection. “Thank you, Morbet.”

He toots happily, flapping his wings with an air of excitement about him, before disappearing out of view.

“Hey look!” Dean Thomas calls aloud, pulling your attention towards him and the rest of the table. “Neville’s got a Remembrall.”

“I’ve read about those!” Hermione exclaims excitedly, “the smoke turns red when you’ve forgotten something.”

Just as Hermione finishes explaining, the smoke turns red.

Wincing, Neville frowns; “the only problem is, I can’t remember what I’ve forgotten.”

“Hey, Ron, look,” Harry calls, clearly only speaking to Ron, and with one look Hermione’s way, you both lean forward to listen. “Someone’s broken into Gringotts.” He then moves to quote the Daily Prophet directly; “‘Believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches... Gringotts goblins acknowledge the breach but insist nothing was taken. The vault in question, number seven-one-three, had been emptied earlier that same day.’ That’s odd,” Harry finishes, “that’s the vault Hagrid and I went to.”

Both Ron and Harry look at each other, before looking at you and Hermione, curious expressions upon all of your gazes.

-

When Professor McGonagall had caught Harry flying a broomstick, even though it’d been firmly prohibited for first years, you thought he was in trouble. Not that he’d be made seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

But, you figured you’d rather that then him get expelled or something.

Hermione, despite the ever so loyal rule-follower, thought it was amazing as well. Maybe even more than yourself. Though, you’re not exactly sure why and she won’t say anything other than ‘it’s practically in his blood!’ and she won’t explain anything further then that either. 

Sat beside her on the bench outside the school grounds, a bit of free time after class and before dinner, a book propped in your lap, you’re peacefully reading, not even paying attention to your surroundings when Hermione’s suddenly latching onto your wrist and yanking you up to your feet. It elicits a gasp of shock from your lips, quickly trying to catch your footing so you don’t fall flat on your face, her name leaving your lips in a cry of confusion, before you catch sight of the familiar heads of Harry and Ron.

“Go on,” you hear Ron call, “Quidditch is great. Best game there is, and you’ll be great too.”

Harry shakes his head, apprehensive. “But I've never even played Quidditch. What if I make a fool of myself?”

“You won’t make a fool of yourself,” Hermione cuts in, pulling both boys gazes on the two of you, curiously. “It’s in your blood.”

When they turn to you in question, you simply shake your head. 

“I’ve been trying to get her to tell me all afternoon.”

With a sigh, Hermione leads the three of you off, back into the castle and through a couple of halls before stopping in front of what looks like a trophy case. It’s for Quidditch, and engraved on the big, main trophy in the middle, is the name James Potter; Harry’s father. 

He was a seeker too.

Hmm, so it really was in his blood.

“Whoa,” Ron gasps, “Harry, you never told me your father was a Seeker too.”

You can tell by the look on Harry’s face, that he’d had no idea. You can’t help but think how would he? but you, of course, don’t say that aloud.

“I didn’t know...”

-

On your way back to the Gryffindor common room, frowning heavily when you hear Ron go on and on about how spooky and strange Hermione was, how she seemed to know more about Harry then he does (which he replies with “who doesn’t?”), you don’t make it very far before the stairs suddenly move.

You’re quick to grab onto the ledge, gasping out in response, the four of you turning to look at one another in shock and confusion.

“What’s happening?” Harry gasps.

You pause for a moment, before Percy’s words echo in your mind; “the staircases change, remember?”

Few seconds after you’ve finished explaining, the stair case stops in front of another door way, and the four of you are quick to get off.

“Let’s go this way.”

“Before the staircase moves again.”

You don’t argue, even if in the back of your mind you’re apprehensive given that you don’t know this section of the castle yet and it’s all too easy to get lost in such a big place. And you especially don’t say anything when no one else does, and Harry simply opens the door in front of you all, stepping through without a second thought of hesitation or doubt.

Even Hermione doesn’t say anything.

At least not at first.

The room you walk into is dark, nothing lighting it, and it’s covered in cobwebs and dust. Clearly, whatever room this is, no one has been in it or tried to upkeep it in a long while.

“Does anyone else feel like we shouldn’t be here?” Ron asks aloud, voice tinging in nerves.

“We’re not supposed to be here,” Hermione says simply, pulling your eyes on her with a blink of fear. “This is the third floor. It’s forbidden.”

Just then, a flame lights up next to you, causing you to take a step back.

“Let’s go,” Harry calls sharply, the four of you turn to walk back out the door, only to stop at the sight of a cat.

Not just any cat, though.

“That’s Filch’s cat!” You call out in a hissed whisper, eyes widening.

“Run!”

You don’t hesitate to listen. In a second, you turn, breaking out into a fast run, and trying to ignore the way your heart pounds fearfully against your chest every time one of the torches light up when the four of you run by them. You keep your focus on running and not getting caught.

Oh, if only Ted and Andromeda could see you now. You’d not only just be in big  trouble, they’d surely be in shock given that you’d never acted out before. Or really, gotten into any trouble.

“Quick!” Harry calls, turning slightly, “let’s hide through that door!”

You nod, meeting his gaze, but the second he reaches it, it won’t open. It’s locked.

Slamming the door handle, Harry calls out in frustration; “it’s locked!”

“That’s it,” Ron whimpers, “we’re done for!”

“Hermione!” You call, meeting her eyes and nodding. “You’re the best at spells!”

She nods, ignoring the wall Harry and Ron call after the both of you in confusion, stepping up to the door, whilst pulling out her wand. With incredibly grace you’re surprised a witch her age is able to use, she chants the spell ‘Alohomora’ and in the next second the familiar sound of the door unlocking echoes, allowing her to pull it open and the both of you to step through. 

“Get in!” You call to the boys adamantly.

Ron shuts the door behind him, turning to Hermione in disbelief; “Alohomora?”

“Standard Book of Spells, chapter seven,” she says with ease.

“If you read,” you quirk a brow at Ron, crossing your arms over your chest. “You’d know that.”

“I-I-! I read--!”

“Shh!” Harry calls firmly, “I think I hear him!”

A moment of silence echoes, and then, a breath of relief floods you when no sound of Filch is heard. He’s left.

“Filch is gone,” Hermione assures, stepping back from the door.

“He thinks this doors locked,” Ron calls out.

“It was locked,” you remind firmly.

“And for good reason.”

Both Harry’s words and the sight before you is enough to make you come to an abrupt stop. Your eyes widen as you eye the huge, three-headed dog sat before you. All three of them (three heads?) are fast asleep luckily, but for a moment you’re frozen with such fear of waking them up that your entire body grows stiff. 

However, as you stand there, you catch sight of something underneath them. It looks like a--

And then, one by one, the dogs wake up.

Letting out a scream, not a single one of you needs to tell the other to turn promptly and run out the door. The four of you use every last bit of your strength to slam it shut behind you, fighting against the dogs that desperately try to push their way out, before finally slamming it shut and promptly locking it.

The four of you don’t stop running until you reach the common room.

“What do they think they’re doing!” Ron cries, breathless, “keeping a thing like that locked up in the school?”

“You don’t use your eyes do you?” You call out to him, shaking your head. “Didn’t you see what it was standing on?”

“I wasn’t looking at it’s feet!” Ron argues in defense of himself, “I was preoccupied with its heads. Or maybe you didn’t notice. There were three!”

Hermione huffs; “it was standing on a trap door. Which means it wasn’t there by accident.” She comes to a stop by your dorm-room door, the two of you turning to face Harry and Ron who stand opposite of you. “It’s guarding something.”

“Guarding something?” Harry asks, baffled.

“That’s right,” she nods, “now, if you don’t mind, we’re going to bed...” she gestures to you firmly. “Before either of you come up with another idea to get us killed. Or worse, expelled.”

Honestly, personally, you would’ve flipped those two around.

Taking your hand in her own, Hermione doesn’t leave you any room to say anything else, slamming your dorm room shut behind the both of you. It’s silent as you make your way to your bed, both of you not wanting to wake anyone, but then also, not really sure what to say.

You don’t even really know what to think.

-

“It’s Leviosa, not Leviosar.”

Frowning at Ron’s words, you glance over at Hermione warily, frowning heavily.

“She’s a nightmare, honestly! No wonder she hasn’t got any friends.”

Your lips part in astonishment. Out of everyone, you never expected such cruel words like that to leave Ron’s lips. Sure he could be a bit brass at times and little temperamental, but he’d never been outright mean to anyone before. It pulls you into a fit of shock, so much so that you don’t notice Hermione quickly picking up the speed in her step, storming past Ron until it’s too late.

You rush to catch up to her, but she just ignores your desperate calls for her attention, wiping at her eyes.

“I think she heard you,” Harry mumbles after she’d run by.

“Obviously she heard you,” you hiss, pulling the boys attention on you as you glare at the two of them heavily. Dean and Seamus who’d been walking with the two quickly hurry off, not wanting to get in the middle of it, as you turn to Harry and Ron, specifically the latter, with a harsh glare. “Honestly, you don’t have to like her, but to make fun of her like that in front of everyone is just cruel, Ron.”

He gulps in response, wincing nervously.

“And just because she knows things doesn’t make her a nightmare. If you actually bothered to get to know her, you would know she’s incredibly kind and sweet. And,” you hiss, voice sharp, “she has got friends. She’s got me. Does that make me a nightmare too?”

Ron’s lips part, but he doesn’t say anything, Obviously, he doesn’t know what to say. Harry watches, shocked, blinking at you. You don’t catch the small bit of amazement in his eyes.

“Honestly, I expected more from you, Ron.”

Turning promptly before either of them can say anything, if they ever managed to actually be able to close their mouths and speak, you quickly rush off the way Hermione had gone, desperate to catch up to her.

-

Part 4?

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[louiseleblancdiggory]

I just read the pregnancy rowaelin angst and it made me feel so many things. Would you write a second part, where Aelin actually find out she's pregnant again and is all happy but also scared to tell Rowan? And then the first ultrasound happens? Maybe they already have an adopted child and they are so excited to become a sibling and it's all cute and fluff. ❤️

This is so sweet. Like so fucking sweet it gave me toothache. I threw as much fluff as I possibly could because as I said, pregnancy is something personal to me and I love happy endings. It’s fucking long but I hope you enjoy every single second of it. This is the part one!

Warnings: literally none, it’s just really cute

Safe haven 2

--

Aelin was resting against the hood of her car, arms crossed and eyes scanning the crowd for…

“Mommy!” A little girl screamed from the school’s door. Her inky black hair bounced as she ran to Aelin, her green eyes shining with excitement. “Mommy, here!”

Aelin’s face broke into a wide grin as she jogged in her daughter’s direction and grabbed the little girl in her arms. She immediately peppered her daughter’s face in quick kisses, earning delighted laughs.

“Hello, Aurora. How was your day at school, baby?” Aelin asked, standing up with Aurora in her arms. The girl hugged Aelin’s neck fiercely, resting her head on her mother’s shoulder. “Made any friends?”

Aelin fought a smile when she saw Aurora blushing and smiling sheepishly. “His name is Lachlan, and he’s new to the school. He speaks nice.”

“Oh, he does?”

“Yes. He said is how people speak where he come from. Some kids made fun of it, but I think it was pretty. Just like daddy speaks a little different too.”

Aelin nodded, kissing her daughter’s crown. For all her excitement and free spirit, Aurora was awfully shy around anyone who wasn’t her family or people she knew since her adoption. Her best friend, Aedion and Lys’s daughter, was a year younger so they couldn’t be in the same class. Rowan and Aelin had been hoping for weeks now that Aurora would make at least one friend in school. She was six and smart like her dad, which caused her to feel a little bit different from the other kids.

Aelin couldn’t wait to see the relief on Rowan’s face that their baby had made a friend.

“So now you guys are friends?”

“Yes!” She smiled excitedly and clapped her hands. “He said he’s gonna bring me some candies from his kingdom tomorrow, and I said I would bring a picture of Fleetfoot.”

“That’s so great, baby.” Aelin smiled, putting Aurora in her seat and buckling her up. “We’ll find the most beautiful picture of Fleetfoot to show Lachlan.”

Her daughter squeaked with delight, and Aelin laughed as she opened her window and closed the door. She stood on the side walk once more, looking around again, searching for someone else.

“Mom!” A teenage boy called her.

“Nino!” Aurora shouted from the backseat. “Nino, I made a friend!”

Nino smiled at her voice, his friend group smiling too. They all waved at Aelin as her son jogged in her direction, giving her a quick kiss on her forehead. Although Nino was adopted, everyone liked to joke he had gotten Rowan’s genes. His and Aurora’s green eyes were the exact same shade as Rowan’s, and Nino was becoming as tall as his father.

He waved back at his friends and they were shouting their goodbyes as they walked away.

“Bye, aunt Aelin!” Evangeline shouted.

Aelin smiled at her and waved back. Evangeline had been Aedion and Lys’s ward much before Aelin and Rowan had even considered adoption. Eva was much as Lys’s daughter as Nino and Aurora were her kids.

“How was your day in school?” Aelin said, getting in the car as Nino took the passenger seat.

“Fine.” He said, and Aelin only raised a brow at him. He sighed, rubbing his eyes under his glasses. “I bombed math.”

Although she should be pissed, should act like the strict mom and reprimand him from bombing another math test, Aelin had to fight a smile. “Your dad is gonna eat your liver with a spoon if you keep failing math exams.”

“Mommy! That’s disgusting!” Aurora said, and Aelin looked back to see her frowning her whole face with disgust.

Aelin laughed, and so did Nino.

“I know, I know. Evangeline also barely passed, Malik did worse than I. Phedre said she could teach me.”

“Oh, she did?” Aelin was absolutely certain that her son had the biggest crush on one of his best friends, Phedre. Whenever Eva came to their houses with Aedion and Lysandra, she would also tease her cousin endlessly.

“Mom.”

She batted her eyelashes innocently. “Yes, sweetie?”

“Stop that shit.” Aelin also knew she should reprimand him from cursing, but she fully believed that a sixteen year old boy should be allowed to say some curse words here and there. Never in important occasions, but both she and Rowan were fine with it during their daily lives.

Aelin only snorted, and silence fell upon the car.

She quietly looked at her two kids, Aurora playing with a doll she had found and Nino typing something on his phone, and a small smile played on her lips.

When Aelin learned that she would have difficulty getting pregnant three years ago, her world fell. She didn’t want to base her whole life on that fact, but it was like seeing some of her biggest dreams getting crushed right in front of her eyes. Even when Rowan started explaining to her how the adoption process would be, a part of her was still sad by the prospect of not getting pregnant.

It hadn’t taken them too long to go to foster care. Aelin had to admit, she was only half paying attention during the beginning of their visit, her mind still heavy with a sort of mourning. She still remembered the feeling of being completely devastated, and only Rowan’s pine green eyes had taken her out of her stupor.

She stopped mid track when she again saw Rowan’s pine green eyes staring at her, only it wasn’t Rowan because he was walking behind her. Aelin took in the little three year old sitting on the floor, playing with two old dolls.

That moment had been Aelin’s epiphany.

It was like a whole new path had been revealed to her, a striking realization that she might have dreamed of getting pregnant, but that wasn’t all that there was. She could keep trying, but she wouldn’t waste away in grief.

“Who’s she?” Aelin’s voice was low, and the social worker stopped talking to Rowan, both of their heads turning to her. “The little girl with black hair. What’s her name?”

“Who? Aurora?” At that, the girl smiled at Aelin and Rowan, extending one of her dolls.

For the first time in a week, Aelin’s smile was genuine. Her heart was beating so fast, hope blossoming where grief had been. She approached the girl and seated on the floor with her, taking the doll and starting to play. She felt Rowan’s soft gaze on them, and also heard the whispered words with the social worker.

“How old is she?”

“Three.” The woman responded. “Although our highest demand is for babies, Aurora would have a greater chance being adopted if she didn’t have an older brother. Not everyone is willing to take in two kids, much less when one who is so much older.”

“How old is he?” Aelin said, turning to look at the social worker and Rowan standing behind her. Aurora seemed content with playing with Aelin’s doll even though Aelin wasn’t moving it.

“Dominique is thirteen. We all call him Nino because Aurora couldn’t pronounce Nick, only Nino.”

Aelin stared at Rowan, and he stared right back. They had come here to look for babies, that’s for sure. Aelin wanted to be there every step, wanted to see every phase. They didn’t even know what they would do with a teenager. Or with two kids at once. But Aelin’s heart had almost burst out of her chest when she took a look at Aurora, and the thought of just going home and never seeing her again hurt.

“Can we meet the boy?” Rowan asked, not taking his eyes off Aelin.

“Of course, just a second.” The woman wandered off, and Rowan came to sit by Aelin.

Aurora eyed him suspiciously, but relaxed when he gave her a reassuring smile.

“I’m Aelin, this is my husband Rowan.” Aelin gestured between them, her voice soft so she wouldn’t scare the girl.

Aurora smiled at them, and was opening her mouth to say something when her brother entered the room.

If Aurora had been Aelin’s epiphany, Nino had been Rowan’s.

Rowan looked at Aelin and both of them shared a secretive smile.

And that had been that.

Rowan got all the papers to bring the kids to live with them and then the adoption papers. It was strange in the beginning, the new addition to the house, but they soon feel in such natural normalcy that Aelin sometimes wanted to cry when she thought of it.

Nino absolutely loved Aelin, but he adored Rowan. His father was his role model, and Nino did everything to build a relationship with Rowan as fast as possible. They went to hockey and football games together. Rowan always took Nino to practice, and they would always go out just the two of them after to eat something. Aurora was closer to Aelin, but she adored her father just the same and had him wrapped around her little finger.

There was so much love on Rowan’s eyes when he looked at their kids that Aelin’s heart skipped a beat.

She loved her family so much that sometimes she felt she could die from it.

“Mom?” Nino woke her up from her memories. She parked the car in front of Rowan’s clinic, and when Nino started taking off his seatbelt, she put a hand on his wrist. He looked at her puzzled, but didn’t say anything. He rested against the seat again, playing on his phone as Aelin took Aurora out and walked in the clinic.

Rowan was a surgeon, but he sometimes did some clinic consults. On those days, Aelin would bring the kids to spend the day with him. She waved at Fenrys who was talking with a patient, and he waved back and winked at Aurora, making her giggle at her uncle.

“Dada!” Aurora shouted the moment she saw Rowan’s silver head, and his head snapped up with a smile already on his face.

“If it’s not my two favorite girls in the whole world.” He stood, walking to them. Rowan took Aurora out of Aelin’s arms and bent down to give her a kiss. He gave another quick one before standing straight again. He gave a peck on Aurora’s forehead and she laid her face on his shoulder. “Where’s Nino?”

“Sick.” Aelin lied. “I’m taking him home. Nothing serious, just a little headache and nausea.”

Rowan’s brows instantly furrowed, and he looked to the entrance as if he could see his son sitting inside the car. “Want me to check on him?”

Aelin laughed. “He’s not that sick and would hate the fussing. He’ll be better once you go home, but for today is only you and Aurora.”

He nodded, still not fully convinced.

“Actually, Aurora has something to tell you.” Aelin said with a smile. “About her new friend.”

Rowan’s face broke into a curious smile and he looked at his blushing daughter. “Oh?”

“His name is Lachlan and he speaks nice.” She said shyly.

Rowan bit his lip not to laugh, and Aelin did the same. She stepped closer to him, giving him another kiss. “I’ll see you home. Love you.”

“Love you too, Ace.” He called after her as she left, immediately turning to his daughter to hear about her new friend.

The moment Aelin got into the car, Nino looked at her. “So, what are we hiding from dad?”

“Why would you think that?”

“You say you know me because I am your son. Well,” he shrugged. “I know you because you’re my mom.��

She smiled at that, but it slowly fell. “It’s a secret, Nino. And I really need you to keep it.”

He was suddenly serious. “You can tell me whatever, mom.”

She blew a breath. “I’m pregnant.”

He stared at her for a few moments before a smile broke on his face. Nino had known since the beginning how much his mom wanted to get pregnant. It had never made him feel less wanted or loved, and he couldn’t be happier for her right now. “Mom, that’s amazing! Why can’t dad know?”

“What if I lose it again, Nino? I can’t put your dad through it again. I remember the miscarriages from years ago and although he doesn’t think so, I knew the devastation on his eyes. I never held for more than three weeks. I’m so sorry to put this weight on you, sweetheart, but I just couldn’t go to the ultrasound alone.”

“It’s no weight, mom. Of course it isn’t.” He was still smiling at her. “How long?”

“I don’t know. The treatments mess up my periods so I haven’t had one in two months, but that doesn’t mean anything. I started getting morning sickness a few days ago, so maybe a week.” Aelin was tense, her palms clammy as she started driving to the hospital. “I’m so nervous, Nino. It crushed me three years ago, and I haven’t had a pregnancy scare since then.”

“You had three years of treatments, mom. Everything is gonna be alright and Aurora will have a little sibling to pick on.” Despite her tension, Aelin laughed. Nino was always calm, always a steady presence. His reassurance made her calmer, even though she wished she could call Rowan. He was the only one who really knew how to soothe her nerves.

The last few days had been torture. Her hands had been trembling when she bought a pregnancy test. Trembling even more when it came back positive. She wanted to tell Rowan so, so bad. Wanted to have him by her side as she discovered if she would be able to hold it or not, but she couldn’t bring herself to break his heart again. They had been so happy for the past three years with Aurora and Nino that Aelin wouldn’t dare to break his peace.

In the waiting room, Nino talked to his mom about anything to distract her. Aelin forced herself to listen about his classes, about hockey practice, about how Malik, his best friend, had gone to the infirmary after Evangeline accidentally decked him during gym. How he and Phedre had laughed their asses off while watching the scene.

She was smiling softly at her son when the nurse came in, asking her if she was ready. Just like that, all her calm disappeared. Her heart was beating so fast that it was all she could hear as she walked entered the room.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Whitethorn. How are we doing today?” The doctor asked as Aelin laid down. He rode her shirt up to expose her belly, applying the cold lubricating jelly onto her skin. “Your son?”

“My oldest, yes.” Aelin answered automatically. She was too nervous to elaborate further. Nino was sitting on a chair by the bed, elbows on his knees while he stared at the black monitor.

“So let’s get over with it, shall we?” He said with a smile, asking her a few questions before putting the transducer against her skin. Immediately the black screen lit up, and the doctor stared at it, moving the thing across her belly.

Aelin couldn’t tear her eyes away from the screen, trying to understand what was going on. Her heartbeat was steady but so strong that she could feel her whole body shaking with it. “So?” She asked after a few moments.

The doctor was silent, still analyzing what was on the screen. When he turned to her, he gave her a smile. “Everything seems fine, Mrs. Whitethorn. Because of your treatments your period was irregular, and that was most likely what stopped you from noticing the pregnancy earlier. Judging by the size, you have two healthy and strong babies inside of you for two months now. I would still recommend biweekly visits just to make sure nothing changes but... The pregnancy seems fine, nothing apparent to worry about. Congratulations.”

Aelin’s whole world stopped at that moment. She could feel her cheeks dampening, her mouth letting out a small sob but she wasn’t really there. Her mind was spinning and she had never known this feeling. She wanted to put her hand on her stomach, above the two little things she could not even feel but knew that were there.

“Would you like to hear it?”

She nodded, her eyes glued to the monitor. When Aelin first heard the two soft heartbeats twining together, she was fully crying. It was like hearing the response to so many questions she didn’t even know she wanted the answers. It cracked a damn inside of her, and she closed her eyes, basking on the sound of her babies’ heartbeats.

She turned to Nino and he was smiling at her. “Damn, now I have to share my heritage with two more people?”

Aelin laughed out loud, the sound merry to her ears. “Can I record it? To show my husband?”

“Of course, and if you want a picture we can provide that.”

Aelin nodded eagerly, and held onto the recording and the pictures all the way home. When they arrived, Rowan’s car was already parked in the garage.

“Where were the two of you?” Rowan asked the moment Nino and Aelin stepped inside. “And I thought you were sick.”

Nino smiled at his father, speaking to him as he went up the stairs, his voice gloating. “I knew first.”

Rowan’s face was a mask of confusion as he watched his son disappear. He turned back to Aelin, sitting on their couch. “Knew what first?”

Unable to help herself, tears started falling from her eyes and she went to him. He immediately grabbed her in his arms, holding her on his lap. Even not knowing what was going on, Rowan whispered soothing words to her and rubbed her back.

He gave her a strong kiss to the forehead. “Fireheart, what happened?”

She wordlessly took out her phone, looking for the recording. He watched her intently, worry showing on his face.

Rowan was a doctor, he would understand what that was without her explaining, she she silently played it. It took him a moment of listening to the recording to understand what it was, for the expression on his face to go from worry to absolute exhilaration.

He put a hand on her stomach, the other one going to the back of her neck to hold Aelin in place when he kissed her. His lips were warm and soft against hers, and Aelin sighed in complete happiness as she hugged his neck. She could feel the smile on his lips, all the love and happiness he was feeling in that kiss.

“You’re pregnant?”

She nodded cheerly, her eyes watering again. Her tears started falling the same moment a single one fell from Rowan’s eye. “Two months, Ro. And they’re fine, healthy and big and strong.” She laughed, kissing him again. “We’re going to have two more kids, Ro.” She showed him the picture of the ultrasound, the two little things laying next to each other.

He grabbed the picture with one had, staring at it in awe. When his eyes fell upon Aelin’s face, the expression changed to so much love and adoration it knocked the air out of her lungs.

He boomed a loud and happy laugh, standing up with her in his arms and sweeping around. Aelin was laughing, her arms tight around his neck. “I love you. I love you so much, fireheart. I love you so fucking much sometimes I think I’ll combust from it.”

She was crying again, holding onto Rowan as if he was her life line. “I love you too, Ro. I love you so much that just looking at your face makes me loose my breath. I love you so much that I think it’s impossible to love you more, but it happens every day.” Aelin kissed him, euphorically and sloppy.

“The two of you are disgusting. Find a room, for fuck’s sake.” Nino said from where he was standing at the stairs, Aurora in his arms. She was beaming at her parents, and Rowan held Aelin with one arm as he extended the other one to their kids.

Nino smiled and went up to his father, hugging his side as Aurora threw herself at him. She was blabbering about the babies, about being an older sister and Rowan, Aelin and Nino were quietly laughing at her. Aelin, still holding one of Rowan’s hand, pulled Nino into a hug. “Thank you for going with me, Nino. You’re the best son I could ever dream of.”

His cheeks turned a shade of pink but he hugged his mom back, looking at his father. “I knew first.”

Rowan faked impatience, narrowing his eyes. The intimidating effect was completely ruined by Aurora in a pink tutu in his arms, pulling his hair in all directions. “You’ve gloated already, boyo.”

“I’ll never let you forget.” Nino was grinning, his arm around Aelin’s shoulder. She bit her lip to hold her laughter.

“Gods help me.” Rowan muttered.

“You could even say I am mom’s favorite man in the house.”

“You’re asking to get grounded.”

“Lost your position, old man.”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “How was your math test?”

“Actually,” Nino said, taking his arm off his mom’s shoulder and backing up a step. “You can have the favorite man position.”

“Nino Galathynius Whitethorn.”

“It’s all yours!” Nino shouted to his dad as he ran up the stairs.

Rowan looked exasperatedly at Aelin, and even with all her efforts she couldn’t keep her joyous laugh from escaping her lips.

“He gets being shit at math from his mother.” Aelin shrugged.

Rowan huffed a laugh. “The bunch of you will give me silver hair.”

“Dad!” Aurora shouted from his arms. “You already have silver hair, duh!”

This time, when Aelin’s laugh rang out, Rowan’s did too.

Tags:

@abookishfreak @faerie-queen-fireheart @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jlinez @courtofjurdan @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ladywitchling @maastrash @morganofthewildfire @queen-of-glass @bilkul-sharam-nahi-aati

#rowaelin #rowaelin au #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fanfic #rowan whitethorn #aelin ashryver galathynius #aedion ashryver #lysandra ennar #evangeline #writing #tog #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass au #throne of glass #mardu writes

[aarcanechaoss]

Party Mask

Whoops my hand slipped here’s another one :)

Amaya doesn’t like parties but she supposes she’s glad she was at this one

Amaya + William fluff

Amaya has no clue how she allowed Mimosa to get her to tag along. Gatherings like this usually spelled trouble and over the years she’s been a Magic Knight not once has she attended knowing how rowdy they were- courtesy of her Captain’s hangover rambles.

With a sigh she lifted what she hoped was a stronger drink to her lips. She pulled the cup away from her lips that wasn’t the nicest beverage but at least it was alcohol. Who knows maybe she’ll forget she was ever here. Wouldn’t that be a miracle?

“Hi Amaya!” Asta exclaimed as he and Yuno noticed the woman sitting by herself in the corner. Her table really only had her glass, William’s glass and Mimosa’s food for safe watching.

“Asta! Shh I don’t want people to spot me.” She hushed playfully. The magicless boy laughed.

“Why at the party if not to party?” Yuno asked.

“Mimosa.” She answered. “I don’t like parties I think they are a waste of time. So I’m compensating.” She waved her half filled cup around. It wasn’t really a lie she did think parties were nonsense but they also scared her, reminded her of her life in Harlow Manor.

“Klaus said you didn’t often join gatherings of any kind especially family ones.” Yuno said.

Amaya’s nose scrunched.

“I have a brother that’s it no other family and he’s busy.”

“I’m sorry he didn’t mean that to sound blunt. Do you want company?” Asta asked. Amaya gave a soft smile.

“If you two were of drinking age maybe.” She laughed. “Go mingle and make friends it’s good for you.” She dismissed them with a smile.

Her silence didn’t last long as someone new sat across from her. She sighed heavily hoping that was enough to get that she doesn’t want to talk.

“What’s a beautiful lady like you doing here on your own?” No apparently not. She glared at him, blond hair, cocky grin. Mantis cloak.

“Watching her Captain’s drink.” She grunted.

“You should be up partying.” He suggested.

“No.” Her eyes locked with his nearby Captain.

“Come on-“

“Jack!” She motioned for him to come over.

“Hello Amaya. Is Sekke bothering you? Kekeke.” He laughed. Sekke as she now knows went white as paper- she almost laughed.

“Yeah can you make him fuck off.”

“Go.” Jack said with a crazed grin. Off the bug went.

“Thanks Jack.” She said tilting her now empty cup towards him in appreciation. He laughed (keke’d?) and ruffled her hair. She scowled. “We’re friends but that doesn’t mean you can mess with my hair.”

She was quick to let the scarlet tendrils fall before gathering them to the side to make a quick braid making the Green Mantis Captain laugh once more before walking off- something about pissing off Yami.

Please. She hoped no one else would come over- maybe William? Yeah and he can tell her to go home considering he hasn’t been drinking maybe he’ll wisen up and they can go. No her Captain hadn’t looked at her all night par dropping off his drink a few times. She pursed her lips in annoyance she just wanted to leave.

“You’ll get wrinkles if you keep your face like that.” Vanessa said. “What’s wrong Dawnie?”

“I wanna go back to my room.” She grumbled drowning herself in the new drink Vanessa brought.

“Alone?” She teased. Amaya snorted.

“Yeah and who’d accompany me Ness? You?”

“Darling if we swung that way I would.” The women fell into a fit of giggles. Amaya sighed again.

“Seriously though I don’t want to be here.”

“I said that the first time we met.” Vanessa quipped. “You turned to me and said that’s nice but right now it doesn’t matter because you’re here anyway.”

Amaya groaned at the memory. They’d met during a mission where Yami had convinced her to join Vanessa, himself and Finrall on a mission to collect missing people from giant spider caves. The red head shivered not and entirely pleasant memory.

“Don’t use my words against me.” She pouted.

“Come on why don’t you just leave if you don’t want to be here?”

“Captain Vangeance-“

“What happened to William?” Amaya shot a look. “Okay sorry continue.”

“-has to know I’m leaving if I do. Plus I’m still watching his slowly emptying glass… I’m on my seventh and he’s on his fourth.” She huffed.

“Remind me why you aren’t the vice captain?”

“Perfect pretty boy Langris gets whatever he wants.” She joked. “I’m happy to fill in I don’t know about permanent vicing.” She shrugged honestly. The new liquid was stronger, it burnt her throat.

“It’s good right? Nicked it from the Silva table.”

“Fuck it’s strong. It’s good remind me to hunt it down next time Klaus’ group does something destructive with yours.”

“As long as I can join-“

“Definitely.”

“Vanessa stop fraternising with the enemy!” A drunk Magna exclaimed making the women laugh. “Oh it’s just Ama hewwooo.”

“Hello.”

“I’ll leave you and your drink be to take care of this.” Vanessa snickered.

“Good idea.”

Alone again. Really she couldn’t decide if she liked the company or her thoughts better either way she still had a drink in her hand. Her silver-grey eyes scanned the room, everyone else seemed to be having fun unlike her. She just couldn’t get passed her mental block of everything that happened when she was younger- maybe one day she would- stop. She shook her head this isn’t the time or place to think about that.

Yuno seemed to be having a good time with Asta being the brothers they were it was nice to see them behaving civil sometimes. Mimosa was with them playfully smiling and talking to Asta- Amaya smiled at that she knew the girl had a crush on him and it was sweet really. Noelle was nearby doing whatever that creepy angry-jealous stare was towards Asta. Amaya frowned at that. Klaus was drowning himself in snacks surprisingly which made anyone who knew him well stifle their laughter. Langris was glaring at his brother from across the room and Amaya felt the urge to mess with him crawl it’s way up her spine.

Her eyes scanned the room again this time her brows furrowed where did Will-

“Enjoying the gathering?” Amaya jumped almost spilling her drink with that. Her free hand was pressed to her heart. Purple eyes stared down at her with a mischievous glint. He knew he’d startle her.

“Not particularly if I’m honest.” William tilted his head to the side clearly a brow would be risen if he didn’t wear his mask. “Don’t like parties. Never have.”

“Why is that?”

“Nothing party pleasant.” She shrugged nursing her drink awkwardly.

“Well I’m partial to leaving if you are?” Her head snapped towards William who offered his usual kind smile.

“Please.” She breathed before quickly chugging the remains of her drink,

“Come along then.”

“So.” William began making sure Amaya was settled in the broom with him. “Why did you tag along if you don’t like parties?”

“Mimosa convinced me and being a noble takes the magic out of parties.” William paused and turned his head back towards her. Out of the five years they’ve known each other not once had she mentioned that. He considered themselves friends.

“A noble?”

“Huh? Why so shocked I thought the name Amaya Harlow was pretty obvious.”

“I apologise but no.”

“Oh. That’s fine it’s not worth worrying over I’d rather not be associated with it. I’m just Amaya Captain.”

“William please you’ve known me long enough to call me that.”

“What? Does Captain and sir not float your boat?” She teased. William’s cheeks flared thankfully his mask hid that- he hoped. “Plenty other names, leader, boss, hmm.”

“Stop your teasing.” He ushered only making her laugh more as her arms tightened around him.

“William?” He hummed in response, “Why are we going back to the base by broom?”

“For one you’ve been drinking and don’t trust you won’t fall asleep outside and I want to show you something first… if you remember it that is.” He joked.

“One- that only happened once and I’m not even drunk thank you. Two- Depends on if I find it worth remembering.” She said, her chin resting on his shoulder as she watched the trees wave in the breeze. She hummed softly, a lullaby her nursemaids sung to her and her brother. William smiled as he flew them behind the base to a small clearing. Amaya’s eyes narrowed, she trusted her Captain without any doubt but she was confused as to where they were going.

“Here we are.” He said allowing her to get off the broom and step towards a rose bush.

“A rose bush?”

“Amaya we’ve been friends for a while yes?”

“Yes. Why?” She turned around moonlight catching the scarlet braid. William bit his lip her wide silver eyes watching him carefully. Slowly he reached for his mask.

“I trust you, just as I trust Yami, Fuegoleon, Julius and Marx. So please allow me to show you what’s behind the mask.”

“William- you don’t have too.” She said brows furrowed. He smiled that kind smile, the one that always comforted her, as he lifted the mask away and dropped it beside the broom.

He shut his eyes not daring to see any pity or shame or disgust. Amaya stepped towards him. Eyes taking in each mark and shape, the colour of his hair and where the scar stopped.

“This is worth remembering.” She whispered. Slowly William opened his eyes, fear still lingered in his as they connected to her calm ones.

No pity.

No shame.

No disgust.

She seemed happy if anything. With a delicate hand she traced the edge of the scar.

“You truly believe that? Do you not find it hideous?”

“William with or without the mask I trust who you are as a person. A scar doesn’t make a difference, whether an injury or curse they only thing that matters is you.” She smiled. “I have my own scars that I keep hidden, that I worry people would judge so I understand in some way.”

“Thank you.” He whispered. Amaya pulled him in for a hug, he hurried his face into her neck while she trailed her fingers soothingly through his hair.

“You’re not hideous either William Vangeance. In fact I find you rather handsome and I’m sure many would agree.”

“Don’t tease me Ama.” He grumbled into her neck. She only laughed at his retort.

“Make me.” She said. William’s arms moved from around her waist, hands settling on her hips before settling his forehead against hers.

“So I’m rather handsome am I?”

Her face bloomed a pretty shade of pink.

“I see how it is you tease.” She snickers stepping out of his hold.

“I’m the tease?” William laughs in surprise.

“Oh yes keeping such a handsome face from me it’s quite teasing.” She said eloquently. William’s face flushing more. “Now that I’ve seen it I’ll be in shambles without it in my life.”

“Now that’s being dramatic.”

“Is it? Oh Captain my poor heart cannot take such a handsome man hiding himself from me whatever shall I do?” She announced dramatically. “I simply cannot stand it. Captain I think I might just faint.”

“Amaya I’m warning you,” William joked. Taking a tentative step forward he saw the gleeful look on Amaya’s face.

“A warning gods my body cannot take it, take me into your arms my dear captain for I shall die a happy woman to see your handsome face as I perish.” She stepped back again the grin somehow widening as she did.

“I believe you had plenty to drink Ama-“

“Don’t look at me like that I can’t stand it too handsome I shall go! It was nice knowing you world for my eyes have been blessed.” The scarlet haired woman continued to tease before dashing to the side of the clearing towards the base. William was quick to pull his mask back on and rush after her. Amaya’s laugh echoed through the small thick of trees making William grin.

They reached the base with Ama giggling as she stopped in the garden for a moment, William was quick to trap her in his arms and spin her around. A simple caught you hung in the air as they giggled.

After a moment they paused and she looked back at William. She pouted.

“Aw you put it back on.”

“I’m not quite ready for anyone else to see.” That seemed to appease her as her fingers danced along the intricate design.

“Captain? Amaya.” Within a flash they were apart.

“Oh hello everyone what are you doing out here?” Amaya asked as innocently as possible.

“Coming home from the party.” Langris said with a scowl. “What we’re you doing with the Captain.”

“She fell. She did get quite drunk I was just keeping her steady.”

“Yeah what Wi-The Captain said.” Amaya cringed she hoped that was kind of plausible. It definitely wasn’t. “Captain, I should head to my quarters now thank you for keeping me from falling. Mimosa shall we?”

“Okay Commander.” Amaya’s nose scrunched- she told Mimosa and everyone to only call her that during missions…

“Goodnight everyone.” Amaya waved feigning a slightly drunken walk.

Mimosa giggled to Amaya about how cute they looked making the twenty-five year old blush, William however wasn’t so lucky with the light teasing. Yuno found it most entertaining.

“So should we tell everyone Amaya is off limits now?”

#black clover #black clover oc #black clover oneshots #black clover fluff #black clover william #william vangeance #amaya harlow #william & amaya

[themonkeycabal]

Wandavision Ep 6 Spoilers

No really, spoilers. 

Previously on Wandavision — Wanda told SWORD to shove their drones right straight up their asses, Vision woke up to the reality that his utopian sitcom life was in fact a dystopian hellscape, their children were extremely creepy, and Agnes was being bizarre as hell and super sus. In the real world, Acting Director Dick was a dick, and Darcy and Jimmy welcomed Monica into their sciencey weird-crime-fighting team. Monica also mentioned an aerospace engineer she knows, which some suggest may be the first mention of Reed Richards in the MCU. I have conflicted feelings about the Fantastic Four. Mostly I never liked them. But, I'm open to revising my opinion.

Oh, and also X-Men 'Verse Pietro showed up suddenly and that was fun.

Anyway. the roommate and I tried to sort out a timeline — so Monica unBlips and goes back to work at SWORD three weeks later. AD Dick tells us Wanda stole Vision's body nine days previously. That means, just three weeks ago Wanda was in the middle of a battle, lost her boyfriend, was Snapped, was then unsnapped to fall right into the middle of another battle. Lost THREE additional teammates. And then sometime in the following week found out a shady government agency had Vision's body and she probably went "OH HELL NO". Because that's what I would say. So she goes to SWORD, dents a few doors, takes Vision's body and swans off to New Jersey. Look, she's been through a hell of a lot in the last couple weeks, is what I'm saying. I don't blame her a tiny bit. But, also, I don't think she's entirely behind this.

10-year old boy plus video camera = the 90s. Obnoxious opening credits. But, you know, I kind of liked them (as a one off). WAYYY better than last week's.

It's Halloween, and *sigh* Billy is breaking the fourth wall and narrating to the camera. There's childish twin bickering as you expect, Tommy's the wild and crazy twin, and Billy's the buttoned up twin. And Pietro is passed out on the couch at 4 in the afternoon. Living his best life. He teasingly scares the boys, chases them around, and there's awkward child acting.

Wanda comes down the stairs in the classic Scarlet Witch costume, and says she's a Sokovian Fortune Teller. Sokovia was more wild than I realized.

Genuinely funny flashback to Wanda and Pietro trick-or-treating in Sokovia as kids, 'the year we got typhus'. lol. Was it the fish that gave them typhus? Or was that just a special treat? Wanda doubts this version of events, and Pietro suggests she suppressed the memory due to the trauma. This gives Billy the chance to tell the camera that mom's been weird since uncle Pietro turned up to crash on their couch.

Next it's Vision's turn to appear in the classic Vision costume. Yikes. Wanda thanks him for humoring her, and he says there were no other clothes in his closet and they have a very weird second where he's not playing along and she's not sure what to do, and then he breaks into sitcom character says something about "just kidding, i know how much you love mexican wrestling" like it's a luchador costume, and then there's some super weird flirting. TMI you two.

Meanwhile, Pietro is a large child and the kids love him, of course. So there's that.

Back to Wanda and Vision, she's ready to take the kids out trick-or-treating, but Vision says he can't go, he's on the neighborhood watch and must patrol the streets ever-vigilant for wild gangs of child hooligans who might TP trees. He's gone off-script and it takes Wanda a second to figure out how to play this. She says it's the boys' first Halloween so he has to be there. Pietro breaks up the almost argument and says he can be a father figure-type and he'll help with the boys. Vision's still pretty off-script but Wanda doesn't fight it but looks uncertain, and he goes off to protect the night — or early afternoon.

Pietro is a child hooligan and wants to go do hooligany things with the kids. Wanda says he doesn't have a costume and he grabs Billy and they speed off only to return dressed in classic Quicksilver duds. Well, cheap-looking, thrown together Quicksilver duds. I laughed. The hair. lol. Good one.

Outside in the real world. The Hex field is still kind of glowing red and making bad force field noises. It only started doing that when Wanda got pissed in the last ep. Oh, goody, it's Acting Director Dick. I've learned his name is Hayward. I don't care.

Blah blah Stompy Mc-I'm-In-Charge blah. Monica is not pleased about the whole trying to kill Wanda with a missile while she was talking to her plan. AD Dick just says "now we know who we're dealing with". Um … what? You tried to kill her and her response was to tell you to go away. Yeah, boy, she's a monster.

Darcy is there to helpfully remind AD Dick that Wanda made him look like the fool he is. ILU girl. "Hey, there he is; the guy who almost got murdered by his own murder squad." Jimmy just makes a 'i'm so disappointed in you and your choices' face at him in the background.

I despise characters like Hayward. They are so tedious. Narratively they are there to incite conflict, but given the situation conflict naturally exists, surely there are other ways to bring up/drive that tension without the trope of the government heavy ready to solve the problem with the most extreme amount of force available to him. OH no! Our plucky heroes will have to find a way to save the day and fight the Man! Can they do it? Boring. It's too bad General Talbot went insane and then died; he could probably give tips on How Not To Be That Guy.

Anyway

Hayward wants to know if Darcy works for him and she's like "dunno my dude", Monica claims her, AD Dick says "which one of you is the sassy best friend" and Jimmy's like, that is quite enough Acting Director Not Very Nice Man. "There's no time to diminish your colleagues when you're about to start a war you can't win." AD Dick just wants to take out Wanda so the whole nightmare ends. Monica's like um, we literally do not know what's going on. Like, for real we have no clue. So that might not, in fact, end the nightmare, Director Murder Britches.

They argue a lot and Director Dick goes off the rails. Dude's like more unhinged than seems warranted. Unless he's just so embarrassed that he pissed himself when Wanda returned his murder drone to him, he's decided SHE MUST BE DESTROYED FOR THE GOOD OF … NEW JERSEY AND MY SOILED UNDERWEAR OR SOMETHING. 

"Captain Rambeau, you are an impediment to this mission!" Oh no! He's gonna tell her all about how hard it was to survive in a post-blip world, all those lucky blipped don't know what it was like! You just can't understand! Monica tells him not to use that as an excuse to be a coward. I'm so bored with this scene. Let me guess, the trio will have to go behind his back to save the day.

"Maybe it's a good thing you weren't here with your mother died. Because, clearly you don't have the stomach for this job." … non-sequitur much? Or is he saying she would have inherited the Director-ship (which should probably not be how that sort of agency works, let's be real). Is this scene five hours long, or does it just feel that way?

The Dick banishes the trio from his base.

"Hayward is way over-stepping his provisional authority". Jimmy Woo, you're so great. Monica says he's up to something. Yeah a tactical nuke and murder. Clearly he doesn't want to actually solve the problem, he just wants the problem to go away with a big show of macho explosions and whatnot. I suspect he might be in over his head, like he was not meant to be Acting Director, let alone Director. Also, he's a boring cliche stereotype and I loathe it.

JIMMY! I legit did not see that coming. He just pure hauls off and clocks one of the soldiers escorting them off the base, to a transport truck or something. Monica seems just as surprised for a second but then she's like "hell yeah!" and jumps in. Darcy sort of stands back and watches. lol. "Why didn't anyone tell me the plan?"

Oh look, it's my shipping container! They put the soldiers in there. Guys, it was for Hayward. Come on.

The trio disguise themselves with ponchos, which is a big step up from the usual MCU disguise of "baseball hat". That was a good bit in Ant-man and the Wasp "it's not a disguise, it just looks like us at a baseball game" (I watched that like last week. I missed Luis). Anyway …

Back in the sitcom world. The kids are ready for their early afternoon trick-or-treating. They're still talking to the camera. It's so awkward. I'm not a fan. I get it's meant to reproduce the very 90s Nick-era sitcoms and so, you know, it's spot on. Still, though.

Pietro is encouraging and supportive. "Unleash hell, demon spawn!"

Dang there are a lot of kids in that neighborhood. Wasn't Vision wondering last episode why there weren't any kids? Is the program correcting itself?

Wanda tries to test Pietro, asking him about some kid at an orphanage when they were kids. Pietro calls her on it, and says he knows he looks different. Wanda wants to know why that is. He says, "You tell me. I mean, if I found shangra-la, I wouldn't want to be reminded of the past, either." Hmm.

The kids speed off with uncle Pietro. Wanda wanders over to talk to neighbor Herb, who has a g-man earbud in and is clearly part of the neighborhood watch. In the background Pietro is stealing all the candy and smashing pumpkins and spraying the place with silly string. The hijinks are so wacky. Wanda tells Herb maybe Vision can help out with the chaos, and Herb says Vision isn't on duty. Oh no, he lied to her!

Herb goes weird "is there something I can do for you, Wanda? Do you want something changed?" Hmmm.

Elsewhere Vision is wandering the wild streets of Westview. He finds people caught in some type of weird decorating loop, the woman seems trapped but aware.

Commercial time!  What the fuck was that. "Yo-magic! The snack for survivors." No, really, what the fuck.

Night has fallen, the twins and the twins walk the streets. Wanda's making the boys give back all the candy they stole. She says Pietro is a bad influence. He says "I'm just trying to do my part, kay? Come to town unexpectedly, create tension with the brother-in-law, stir up trouble with the rugrats, and ultimately give you grief. I mean, that's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"What happened to your accent?"

"What happened to yours? Details are fuzzy, man. I got shot like a chump in the street for no reason." AHAHAHAHAHAHA! AHAHAHAHAHA! no really AHAHAHAHAAH! Thank you, Pietro! Holy shit, perfect. That's some delicious shade. I expect to see this gif'd fifteen different ways when I load tumblr today.

"Next thing I know, I heard you calling me. I knew you needed me."

The kids interrupt. And now all of a sudden Tommy can zoom. Character development!

Everyone is so careful to give Wanda what she wants. Why? She's not cruel. Who wants to keep her pacified? And whoever it is cannot possibly be pleased with AD Dick messing things up. Assuming it's an outside or outside-ish force/entity, of course. I mean, I don't think she's doing this entirely, she might be the battery powering it, but despite her thing last episode to get SWORD to leave her alone, she does seem a little confused about the where, why, and how things are going.

"Don't go past Ellis Avenue." Just a kid thing or a boundary of the sitcom control world?

In the real world, our heroes are sneaking through a tent city and into the server room. The scene with Pietro and Wanda discussing his accent is playing in the background. Darcy seems put-out that Pietro was recast. lol. "He brought the wrong face."

Darcy hacks into Hayward's devices. "Hayward figured out a way to look through the boundary." "And he didn't share it with the group." I don't like Hayward. 

Something is blipping on the map on the computer. Jimmy asks if it's Wanda, but Darcy says "it's tracking the decay signature of vibranium". So Vision. Monica wants to know why Hayward is tracking Vision. Well, I'd super like to know what SWORD was doing with Vision in the first place, because they weren't just storing him, they were doing something. So …

Jimmy notices that there are other dots, the ones closest to Vision, who are other residents. Jimmy says the ones near the edge of town are barely moving.

Back to Vision. He's found a cul-de-sac to patrol. Everybody's frozen in place, the street lights flicker. Eerie. They're all dressed for Halloween. Does this mean the field is shrinking, or the effects spreading and so it's closing in, slowing and then freezing people who were earlier moving about just fine? Vision is unaffected by this whatever it is. He turns himself into himself and flies off, up above the town. part of the town is dark, and part alive with voices and laughter.

He spots a car at the edge of town. It's Agnes. She seems frozen-ish, but when he asks what she's doing there, she says "Town Square Scare. Where is it?" all robotic like. Vision helpfully tries to give directions. lol. "Took a wrong turn, got lost" she says.

Vision touches her head and she wakes up. "You! You're one of the Avengers. You're Vision. Are you here to help us?" "I am Vision. I do want to help. But, what's an Avenger?"

Hmm. Well, I guess he did say last week that he couldn't remember anything before Westview.

"Am I dead?" she asks. "No, why would you think that?" "Because you are."

What was news coverage after the Snap like, do you suppose? I mean, ridiculous, of course. But, like, I think they had bigger problems then wondering about snapped/dead Avengers, didn't they? Well, maybe not. "WHERE ARE AVENGERS TO HELP US?" or "HOW DARE THE AVENGERS NOT HELP US!" "TOTALLY THIS IS ON THE AVENGERS!" "WE'D ALL BE DEAD WITHOUT THE AVENGERS!" "NUHUH! BOO AVENGERS!" "EXCEPT VISION WHO DIED HEROICALLY, WE ALL LIKE THAT AVENGER!" "TONY STARK AND PEPPER POTTS SHARE THE DECORATING TIPS THAT TRANSFORMED THEIR RUSTIC RESTORATION PROJECT INTO A CHARMING FAMILY HOME".

Agnes starts screaming "Dead" at Vision. She's not coping well. Vision says he's going to try and reach outside town and try to figure this all out. "How? No one leaves. Wanda won't even let us think about it." I SUSPECT YOU, AGNES! Why would Wanda keep everybody trapped and miserable? I could see if she did it on accident, but this implies she's purposefully hurting people. I don't buy it. Agnes, again, seems to be in the right place at the right time to make Vision doubt Wanda. You're a very suspicious character, Agnes.  

She starts to laugh. "All is lost." Vision touches her had and she resets to sitcom Agnes. Somehow she can move again, she turns the car around on Ellis Ave and heads back into town. So, that answers that.

Vision walks across the Eillis Ave to the field beyond.

Meanwhile, Darcy continues to hack. Monica gets a text and says "that's it! My way back into the Hex will be here in an hour." Jimmy's all ready to boost a ride to take her to meet her aerospace buddy. But, Darcy says, nope. Can't do it. Monica's been through the Hex twice, and it's rewritten her cells. "It's changing you." Monica is undaunted. "I know what Wanda's feeling and I won't stop until I help her." Alrighty then.

Jimmy's finally going to get to hotwire a car! But wait, Darcy's not going with them. AD Dick has something hidden behind one last firewall. Darcy thinks it's big and can help them. She's going to find it.

I don't think Jimmy had to hotwire that humvee. It just started right up. Motorpool, pfft - they always leave the keys.

Back in Westview. Halloween continues at Town Square. Pietro asks Wanda where she was hiding all those kids. Whu? Says Wanda. "I assume they were all just sleeping peacefully in their beds. No need to traumatize beyond the occasional holiday cameo, amiright?" What is Pietro. "Hey don't get me wrong, you've handled the ethical considerations of this scenario as best you could. Families and couples stay together. Most personalities aren't far from what's underneath. People got better jobs. Better haircuts for sure."

"You don't think it's wrong?"

"Are you kidding me? I'm impressed. It's a pretty big leap from giving people nightmares and shooting red wigglywoos out your hands." No, really, what is Pietro? "How'd you even do all this?" Hmmm.

"I don't know how I did it. I only remember feeling completely alone. Empty. Just endless nothingness." She looks back at Pietro and for a second he's dead Pietro. Poor Wanda.

Darcy continues to hack Hayward's systems. Cataract classified weapons something something. They're still tracking Vision. Who continues his walk across the field and comes to the hex. He tries to push through it. Looks painful. SWORD rolls out to go overreact at him. He makes it through the barrier, kind of. It's a struggle.

Hayward standing there looking like a jackass "he really does want out, doesn't he?" Like he’s just amused by this turn of events, or watching a lab rat try to get out of the lab. 

Darcy's standing behind watching all of this. Bits of Vision sort of fly off and back into the Hex. Darcy says "oh no!" and runs towards him, screaming for them to help him. Way to give away your sneaky hiding, girlfriend.

In Westview. Billy looks up, he can hear what's going on outside. "I hear daddy in my head. He's in trouble."

Vision calls for help, while SWORD prioritizes arresting Darcy. Phil Coulson would never have behaved like this. Boo to SWORD. Vision is dissolving. It's kind of gross and sad.

Wanda asks where Vision is, and Pietro interrupts "Don't sweat it, sis. It's not like your dead husband can die twice." Wanda wallops him with some red wigglywoos.

Billy sees soldiers and thinks Vision is dying. Wanda stops everything and makes a big red boom. The Hex appears to be expanding. Whoops, now you've done it AD Dick. He runs away like the brave brave guy he is. They leave Darcy handcuffed to a jeep. "Are you serious right now?"

The Hex overtakes Vision and then Darcy. Trapped soldiers become clowns, and we're in the circus. Well, SWORD seems like a circus, so Wanda's not wrong. I'm pretty sure Jimmy and Monica made it, but sadly the bravest Director who ever braved also escaped. He deserved to be a circus clown. Better luck next week, Wanda.

Credits.

Well, I just don't know anymore.

Hayward doesn't care about Wanda, except where I think because of this someone will figure out what he was doing to Vision's body. And Vision is ultimately the thing he cares about in all this. I hope Wanda drops a house on him.

Hmmm.

Quit suggesting I watch Age of Ultron next, Disney. It’s not happening. 

#wandavision #wandavision spoilers #wandavision liveblog

[characteroulette]

GAME KIDS TIME for Dante Going Fuckin Berserk for the first time (cuz you sent it to me years ago and it's still sitting in my inbox lmao)

ohhhh nice! hahaha. I actually rewrote the whole beginning of that one night because I had the thought of "no, this needs more build up." because it used to just start with the kids in the Game, hearing the singing and then Dante popped.

(I also need to rewrite it again now that the kids are more Aware of Dante's trauma with Hell hahaha)

(here is a read more because I have more to say than I thought I would)

Then Dante's fire sparked up, a hotter and bigger flame. [...] They blasted Frank, Abraham, and Vektor straight out of the game and they hit Petel as he dove into the cover. The burns and the heat around him didn't cease, the waves rocketing out past the visible horizon in every direction.

I did my best to convey Inferno here and I still like it hahaha. getting the same 'fire fire fire' thing that'd probably be going through Dante's head is an interesting challenge, since we're in Petel's pov, but it worked out pretty okay?

There, in the middle of a scorched circle on the ground, was Dante, crumpled on the floor in a familiar way. Though, the only thing recognisable as Dante was the soft, wavy blond hair and the knowledge that Dante had been at the centre and cause of this. Dante's clothes had been torn and were now grey and all available skin Petel could see had been scorched charcoal black.

hey I really like writing character descriptions whoop. also, fun fact! Dante's Berserk aftermath is based off an Elsen (from the game OFF)! that's why he head asplode, actually.

"Why can't he utilise this power into a more constructive gain for us?" Vektor lamented loudly. Knowing Vektor, he was probably also waving his hands about and nearly knocking himself over from the movements. "Every time he shows any kind of prowess in his abilities, it's to our detriment. Every time! He's a jeopardy to the mission."

"Your mission." Abraham's voice came across as cool, but as annoyed as Petel was growing. "He made a mistake, it happens."

I just really still like this exchange, honestly. Abraham being the one to throw that back in Vektor's face was supposed to show his growth, but honestly Abraham is just really friendly and patient towards Dante ;w;

Finally, Dante said, "Sorry."

Petel's response was immediate. "It's okay."

"I-I got scared. And then. I couldn't stop it."

Petel gave it a moment of thought. Back to when all he could comprehend was teeth and claws and making sure every living thing in his vicinity was torn to shreds. He shrugged in the end. "It happens."

even now, EVEN NOW, Dante's still not being truthful about things. he just lies about the root cause of his Berserk because, to him, it's all Fear and Trauma wrapped up in a neat little package (named Orpheus and Hell, but no one would know that since they haven't seen Orpheus yet) and so he just tries to use his Excuse here in a desperate attempt to keep the others out of the loop still. Dante man what the fuck are you doing

One of the Gargoyles dove suddenly, aiming for Dante. Petel managed to claw its wing enough to redirect it, but it still nicked Dante's exposed arm. Dante's mouth opened, a half-formed scream not quite making it out, before his head exploded in a spray of black liquid and a column of black smoke spilled out of his neck. Petel and the two Gargoyles hesitated. For once, Petel sincerely hoped it was just that Dante had been killed, had been logged out of the game. "Uh. Paige?"

"What the hell is going on?" Her voice came over with a stronger terrified tone than she probably meant. "Dante's stats just rocketed up by a 400-times multiplier and he's got 5% health left and the computer's refusing to tell me why it's going mad like this."

The creature formerly Dante straightened itself up, now taller and with broader shoulders. The claws had grown and whiffs of black smoke drifted off their sharp tips with every slight movement, while Dante's legs had curled backwards and the clawed feet had become stumps, nearly hoof-like. A constant stream of black smoke and spurting blood oozed from the stump of Dante's neck. Petel had nothing better to say than a succinct, "Dante's head came off."

At this, the rest of the crew spoke in unison with Paige. "What?"

head asplode! god I love this scene a lot hahaha. the Gargoyles hesitating, like Petel, is meant to be significant! but Petel can't really pay attention to that right now since their friend's head just exploded. I struggled, also, for a long time on how much exactly to jack up Dante's stats and then went "fuck it, 400x is broken" and settled on that hahaha

Petel desperately wished he could explain it better, but his words were caught in the back of his throat and he knew that if he tried to force them out, all that he'd manage would be whimpering and whines. Dante grabbed the remaining Gargoyle as it tried to escape and tore its wings off, then tossed it away as it dissolved into code. Then the thing turned towards Petel.

Petel had no other instinct. His tail tucked, ears flattened against his head, and he ran.

[...]

Of course, Dante was right there behind him. It didn't seem like Dante could fit in the checkpoint or even get inside, but it didn't stop for a second. It slashed at the checkpoint with those sharp claws, making the structure shake and fizzle and actually damaging the thing. After a few slashes, Dante then dragged its claws along the ground, tossing up some sludge-like lava that splattered against the openings of the checkpoint but was kept out by some invisible force. The walls continued to shake and Petel whimpered quietly. "Paige. Paige, please."

Petel showing real fear!! also very good. also very significant. Dante's coding is so fucked up that it actually breaks some of Petel's coding, too. that Fear is just so palpable that it leaks out and infects those around it. (and also Dante's Warping is just That Bad hahaha, this is why he does his best to be careful all the time)

Frank frowned, slowly tilting his head to the side. "It'd be faster to force the log out, right?"

"What exactly is this risk factor?"

Abraham seemed hesitant to ask and Paige hesitated on answering. That was enough for Petel to figure out the rest. And it wasn't good. "He'd come out without a head. Wouldn't he?"

Paige cringed. Frank and Abraham's jaws dropped open. And Vektor, in fabulous Vektor fashion, rolled his eyes. "There's only a fifteen-point-eight percent chance that the system will mistake Dante's current form for his form on this plane of existence. The odds are in our favour."

"No."

Petel narrowed his eyes at Vektor and Vektor wilted under his glare. Paige twiddled with her fingers. Frank came out of his shock first, giving a strangled cry of outrage. "You'd risk Dante coming back headless and dead just to get him out a little quicker?"

Vektor gulped, voice unsteady. "Technically, he wouldn't be dead. The system would just mistake his current form for your reality." Vektor looked around at them expectantly, but Petel wouldn't budge. Not on this one. [...] Vektor puffed up again, getting huffy. "Look, if we did lose Inferno, why would it matter that much? He's of no great contribution to our mission, anyway."

"Your mission!" Petel growled and surged forward to grab the front of Vektor's suit coat. "Dante. Is not. Useless."

ahh, Vektor. (there's that line again whoooo) I have to rewrite all of this but I always want to show the disconnect between how Vektor treats Dante, because of his built-in muscle memory. Vektor doesn't even understand it himself, but he tends to treat Dante worse than the others just because it's what feels right in his programming.

the rest of this chapter is a lot of me getting the rest of the kids out so Paige and Petel can discuss exactly how Dante's Berserk works hahaha. man, I need to rewrite this...

Dante would get out. Things would be all right. They'd all find this very funny in a week or so. 'Hey, remember that time you went berserk and got trapped in the game for several hours? Wasn't that just a hoot?' 'Not as much as that time you ripped us all to shreds when you went berserk! Ah, how time flies.' They were good enough friends by this point, right?

Petel please what the fuck is this XD

anyway, yeah! those are my thoughts on this chapter as it is in beta form hahaha. the ending is basically Petel reaching a conclusion about his feelings towards Dante and that's why he just thinks of them as dating in the next one (which is also something I need to rework, aaaaaaa) but also showing off the trio as friends!! even though this thing is a couple years old by this point, I still like it a lot!

(sorry to everyone else hahaha if you're really curious about the whole chapter, here's the google doc of it. please don't make a mess of it ;; )

#Game Kids need their own tag #Dante #Berserk: Inferno #Petel #long post #Momo writes stuff #askbox meme #Momo replies to things #I had a lot more to say than I thought I would #boy howdy looking back on my old writing is. an experience. #I'm nearly finished with the chapter that comes before this too #fun times in the Game Kid world! #americanjack

[dfrhdfgh]

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[brxdys]

( nick robinson, male, he/him ) have you heard about BRADY WRIGHT? they’re a 22 year old TEAM MEMBER in the VIDEOGRAPHY team. i don’t know what their last job was, all i know is that they’re originally from DENVER, CO. carol in hr said that they’re kinda STUBBORN and DEFENSIVE but jessica in marketing insists that they are CONFIDENT and PROTECTIVE. at the end of the day, no one is worthy of the instant hype here. i just hope they get to achieve their dream of being A DIRECTOR one day. According to the latest Vibez quiz, their Disney soulmate is ALADDIN.

hi!! nicole here, and this is brady! below you’ll find some background/bullets abt him, and you can also check out his STATS PAGE for more! i also listed some connections ideas at the bottom, but i’d love to discuss anything just based on who the muses are and what would work specifically for them.

im not actually on my laptop rn for opening unfortunately, so i might not immediately see your tumblr messages. feel free to add me on discord ( john ambrose mcclaren#1627 ) to message me there for plotting etc.!! otherwise i’ll get back to you later. NOW WITHOUT FURTHER ADO:

some background (TW homophobia):

brady is the third child of colonal bradford wright, sr. and isabella wright. his father obviously comes from the military and his mom is one of those stay-at-home military moms/wives with no actual hobbies. they’re also both from well-off families so, you know. they got moneyyyy.

the family moved around a lot due to general relocation and living on different military bases and things like that. as a result, brady and his 2 older siblings were all born in a different state. brady himself was born in colorado, where he lived for the first 7 years of his life. since then, he’s never lived somewhere longer than 5 years.

because of the lifestyles isabella and the colonel both came from in their own childhoods, and then all of the people the colonel was associated with over the years, brady was raised in an environment where appearance was key. his parents have all these rich friends and each of the children had to appear polite, put together, well-mannered, etc. when they went to their fancy parties. arguments were not well-received, so brady and his siblings learned to be quiet and get through it. it was never much of a choice at all.

the relationship with his parents, and especially his dad, is complicated. they’re strict, conservative, traditional... all the things brady isn’t. they were never quiet about the political/societal opinions and ensured the kids didn’t form their own. but of course, that was kinda bullshit, and brady and his siblings learned to think what they wanted. but it was complex at home. political debates just didn’t, or really couldn’t, happen. defying authority was simply not tolerated ― and having a father in the military was no joke. so brady didn’t argue. just like when he was a kid, he’d gotten good at shutting up and dealing with the terrible things they would say at the dinner table.

needless to say, brady discovering his own bisexuality in his early teens became a closely kept secret; his parents’ extremely conservative views and family trips to church every week made sure of that. now that he’s an adult, it’s become much less of a secret. if you’re a close friend of brady’s, you probably know that he’s bi. but it’s not quite something he’s shouting from any rooftops anytime soon. as difficult as things have been with his parents over the years, he’s just not quite ready for everything that would come along with coming out yet. so being totally out and proud is a work in progress for him atm.

more fun facts/info just about brady!

his full name is actually bradford (he’s a jr. named after his dad), but he simply will never tell that to anyone. so that’s brady to you, and always will be.

brady has always been more creative than he was ever truly able to express, so he spent a lot of time in his earlier years with an old camcorder he’d been given, messing around and making movies (and forcing his siblings and childhood friends to participate). it’s hard to tell for certain when it became the most important thing to him, but at some point brady decided videography was his passion and directing was his dream. so now you’d be hard pressed to find brady without his camera.

his sister introduced him to vibez and pushed him to apply as a way to do something he loves and is good at, so... here he is!!!

he’s also an artist, but it’s more of a hobby. he likes digital art and pencil sketches but also enjoys experimenting with paint.

he loves cryptids/true crime/all things paranormal. he even has a podcast just to talk about stories like that.

he played basketball for a long time when he was young. he thought about continuing with it and improving and at some point had dreams of going pro, but an injury in middle school stopped him from playing altogether, so there went that.

he smokes weed a lot. 

he absolutely loves movies and keeps updated lists of his all-time and recent favorites.

he loves harry potter & is a gryffindor. also has a rescued black lab named draco.

he has a tattoo of an alien smoking weed on his arm that his friend gave him in their kitchen once.

he’s headstrong, sarcastic, stubborn, cocky, has daddy issues....... what more could you want, really!

we can discuss absolutely anything as far as plotting so hmu and i’ll get back to you asap!! im def quicker on discord. looking forward to writing with you all xoxo.

connections ideas just to get started:

best friends — i would love a few of these. give brady a squad pls!!

roommates — i’d love to have like 3-4 of them in the apartment. chaos

rivals — maybe someone else in the vid. department who gives brady a run for his money and they vie for a lot of the same projects!! could be friendly or genuine pettiness lmao

childhood friends — brady lived in different states constantly growing up so could apply to any muse regardless of where they’re from!!

the bad habits bro™ — he smokes weed a lot and has a horrible sleep pattern and takes too many shots of fireball sometimes so someone who doesn’t exactly help any of that sjdjdjdjw

podcast partner — has a lowkey, just for fun, not well known podcast to talk about true crime/supernatural/cryptid stories!! so anyone who likes that stuff too

mentor — someone higher up (probably in the same department) who gives him tips n tricks

exes/hookups/short flings/fwb etc. — all pretty self explanatory and there are likely quite a few in the last few years, bc brady has been Bad at romance

mutual or one sided dislike — just love the hate n angst

#vibez:intros

[bastillewolf]

The Grand Tranquility Hotel (VIII)

Pairing: Alex Turner/Reader

Summary: An eccentric hotel owner and an inquisitive writer find solace in each other when they both seemed to be at the edge of rock bottom.

Notes: I hope I gave this chapter enough build-up. Bit of a different perspective, too. Hope you enjoy!

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list.

Chapter VIII - Golden Trunks

Alex threw his coat over his shoulders tiredly. He had to deal with the aftermath of the unravelled fraud committed in his own hotel, and it wasn’t something he was looking particularly forward to. Though he had good connections with the city’s chief policeman James Ford, the strenuous investigation and the stack of paperwork it would entail was something they both dreaded.

He’d asked Matt to taxi him, because he simply hadn’t slept well enough to trust himself to drive properly. It had been this way for months on end now, and he knew it was as a result of the stress he’d been dealing with. Whatever the doctor had given him didn’t work, so he’d always end up spending the nights on his balcony with a smoke and a glass of his favourite whiskey. What he wouldn’t do for one of those right now.

“Heading off again?”

She was leaning against the doorway, looking charming as ever. “We missed you during breakfast.”

“Considering Jamie’s blood pressure, I don’t think I was missed all that much, love,” he replied with a small smile. “I’m headed off to the city. I still have some business with the police to handle.”

“Have fun with that.”

He hummed, “If I’m at the brink of being bored to death, I’ll just remember I still have a guest I need to keep my eye on before she ruins my good reputation.”

“Did you just admit to fantasizing about me, mister Turner?”

He laughed, before hearing the honk of the Cadillac echoing through the lobby. “I hope to see you at lunch, writer.” He closed the final button of his coat before stepping out the front doors.

“You didn’t answer my question!” he heard her call after him. He left with a feeling of boyish giddiness, and he wasn’t quite sure what to think of it.

 His trip to and from the police office had left him more tired than he wanted to admit, and it had taken up more time of his day than expected. It wasn’t until dinner that he was able to join his guest and staff for his first proper meal of the day. He scolded himself, knowing what his mother would’ve said to him if she saw him like this.

The dining hall appeared to be more dimly lit than usual and he wanted to ask Nick about it, but when he saw him carelessly conversing with Jamie at the table, his conscience decided against it. He knew how hard Nick had been working the past few weeks.

They all greeted him with cautionary smiles and hellos, which he’d gotten used to over the past few years. Previous events had led him to be stricter about certain things and he knew very well that it had put a strain on their friendship. Part of him missed the old days, but he realized it was better this way. If the hotel did ever go bankrupt, they’d blame him, and they would be right to do so. For if they didn’t blame him, they’d blame themselves, and he wanted to prevent that at all costs.

She was sitting next to him, and as the predominant conversation the guys were having was able to drown out anything else, she muttered, “I thought we’d be seeing you at lunch, mister Turner?”

“My apologies, love. Business took me longer than expected,” he disclosed softly, “I hope my staff kept you entertained?”

“I’m very capable of keeping myself entertained, mister Turner. I don’t need your staff to manage.” She had a devious twinkle in her eyes, which made him smirk. “Luckily you don’t,” he replied, “all they’re good at is getting you into trouble.”

“Speaking of trouble-“ She pulled a newspaper from her bag and slid it over to him, which quieted down everyone at the table. Alex’ eyes sleekly scanned over the headline.

‘The Grand Tranquility Hotel: A blissful sanctuary with the most charming personnel - and owner.”

The other men at the table seemed to be waiting warily for his response, clearly already having been informed of the whole ordeal. When Alex blankly kept rereading it a dozen times over, feeling a numbness settle over him, Nick decided to speak up; “The article was very well-received, Alex. I’ve had more bookings for the next holiday than we’ve had all summer.”

“I think this might have saved us, Al,” Matt added, his hand grasping his shoulder supportively.

He finally managed to look up at her. “How did you do it?” He asked, his brow set in a deep furrow.

“Do what?”

“How did you manage to make it to the front paper?”

“I pulled some connections,” she replied with a small smile.

He blinked. It didn’t make any sense to him. Connections? How did she get it in the paper so soon? When had she been planning this?

“But, why?” When she gave him a look of confusion, he elaborated, “You owe nothing to this hotel. Your mother had a history here, sure. But your stay here hasn’t been relaxing for you in the slightest. Why help us?”

“Unlike your previous presumptions, mister Turner, I don’t have any ulterior motives. I simply want to see good people succeed in life, like my mother used to.”

Dinner was continued with the tension having been relieved completely. He stole long looks at her as they ate, and it was everything about her that suddenly seemed to intrigue him beyond words. How someone could be so utterly pure with their intentions, he didn’t know. It bewildered him to an immense extent and he suddenly felt very unworthy of all the things she’d done for them over the small amount of time she’d known them.

When they were done, he asked if he could walk her back to her room. She said yes.

“You never answered my question,” she commented, having arrived before the pristine white door of room 521. He gave her a look that told her he wasn’t sure what she was talking about, and she gave him a knowing smile. She stepped closer to him and he felt a warmth filling his chest in a pleasant way. Her gentle breath sent a tingling sensation along his spine when it reached his ear. “I’ll be upfront, mister Turner. Sometimes I fantasize about you, too.”

 He awoke with a start, and Matt gave him a look through the rear-view mirror. He’d fallen asleep in the car after visiting the police station. He’d dreamt it all and wanted nothing more than to hit his head against the door of the car repeatedly.

Because finally, he realized what this incessant gut feeling had been at the hands of some laughable dream. This writer, who he was ever so cautious with, who gave him stress to no relief and made him beyond distracted of everything around him, had managed to sulk into his deeply barricaded heart when he’d done so much to prevent it from happening.

It wasn’t just the day she’d arrived, where he had told Matt to take care of everything because it was just one guest. Because all hotel owners know that having just one guest can have more impact on a hotel than a fully booked one ever could. It wasn’t just the fact that he’d pushed her away every time she tried to bring up her idea for her book because no one should ever know what really happened.

It had all started with her mother’s visit. The time it was off-season, and she was the only visitor.

She had called him a charming young man. “You should meet my girl,” she’d said, “She would fall in love with you in a heartbeat.” He’d gracefully declined the offer, of course. But now, suddenly knowing who this beautiful and intriguing woman turned out to be, he felt as if he’d made the biggest mistake not having accepted her mother’s good-humoured invite.

 He thanked Matt as he stepped out of the car, before hurriedly making his way inside in search of the writer he was so giddy to see. He found her in the library, curled up with the same romance novel they’d bantered over not days before. “Welcome back,” she smiled, “Would you care to go on a walk with me?” And he was glad to finally be able to accompany her.

The drowning noise of the fountain seemed to derive him of some of his anxiousness and he deeply breathed in the fresh evening air. It was a poor attempt at finding his courage, which he was so deeply in search of these days.

“Who was the architect of the building, if I may ask?” she wondered, stopping for a brief moment with him to look up at the structure. He huffed, “A substantial question. But not the one you’ve evidently been meaning to ask for a long time.”

She looked back at him, and he inspected her face. He had almost second guessed his current decision, if it hadn’t been for the way her eyes lit up with an intimate intrigue. He held out his arm to her in a silent invite, which she took gracefully. Leading her down the illuminated driveway towards the treeline as the gravel cracked beneath their feet, he started by finally telling the truth.

“I think you remember that picture I showed you with your mother in it.” She nodded expectantly. “You recall the staff member in between Jamie and Matt? He used to be one of my best mates in high school, too. His name was Andy Nicholson. And he was probably the base of everything I worked on that had to do with the hotel.

He was the one to introduce me to this girl. She was as pretty as she was smart, and it was as if she had fallen from the sky because it so happened to be that she’d always wanted to work in a hotel. During her first interview, she told me how much she’d always been in awe of The Grand Tranquility and how it would give her a lifetime of happiness if she could get employment here. I didn’t think much of her at the time, but Andy had put in a good word for her, so I hired her in a whim. We had lots of staff at the time, so it wasn’t uncommon to hire someone new on a trial period.”

“Was she good at her job?” she asked in interest.

“She was, which is why I never saw a fault in her. She was a hard worker and never seemed to have any ill intent, towards guests nor other staff members. Everyone loved her, and I quickly became infatuated.”

He swallowed and she could tell he was struggling to continue. She slid her hand down his arm to cautiously interlock her fingers with his, which he responded to agreeably.

“It lasted for a long time,” he admitted, “And I would have done anything for her. It wasn’t until Andy suddenly started asking questions that I became suspicious. And not towards her, either. I was wondering what my best friend, who had introduced the two of us, was doing asking ridiculous questions and making assumptions about her that I was certain weren’t true. We argued about it, more than once, until he finally told me that I should fire her because he knew something was up with her. And I fucking sacked him instead. Because I didn’t want anyone talking about someone I truly loved like that.”

“Oh, Alex…” she sighed, halting him to a stop and squeezing his hand in comfort.

“He turned out to be right in the end. She’d been committing fraud the entire time we were together, and stole practically all of our funds. We had no evidence since she was smart enough to leave no traces and had fled the country by the time we found out.”

“It’s not your fault. Whatever drove you so far to put your friendship on the line, that’s all on her. I’m sure Andy understands that?”

He huffed, “I haven’t had the guts to contact him.”

“Then maybe that would be a step in the right direction?” she implied carefully.

His lip managed to form into an amused grin, despite the situation. “You don’t cease to amaze me, writer. I’ve just told you my biggest secret and you’re still sympathizing with me.”

“Well, let’s just say I like you better when you open up to me than when you’re shouting at me.”

His gaze softened. “I’m sorry, truly. I’d take everything back if I could.”

“Don’t be. You had your reasons to be cautious and now I see them more clearly.”

Her eyes flickered in the shimmering light of the yellowish bulbs hanging from the trees, and it made the colour in them so much more vibrant to him. He felt himself leaning closer to her, his arm sliding around the low of her back to diminish the space between them until finally, their lips touched, and electricity sparked. She closed her eyes and caressed a hand over his cheek, melting into his warm embrace like chocolate in a cup of steaming milk.

He moaned softly against her and it lit up everything inside her while he deepened their kiss, wanting to taste and feel every part of her until they ran out of breath. They held each other close, as if either letting the other know they felt comfortable with whatever it was between them.

“I’m putting my trust in you, writer,” he murmured against her lips, his glazy eyes not once breaking contact with hers, “Something I don’t do very often anymore.”

She nodded breathlessly, running her fingers through his soft hair. “I would never do anything to hurt you, Alex. I promise.”

#Arctic Monkeys #Alex Turner #Alex Turner x Reader #Miles Kane #Matt Helders #Jamie Cook #Nick O'Malley #TLSP #The Last Shadow Puppets #AM #Humbug #TBHC #Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino #Reader Insert #Romance #Fanfiction #Suck It And See