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bits-and-babs · 10 months

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 — 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 ‘𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓’ 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘

synopsis : photographs from a gangland crime scene just beyond mexico's border send ghost into a spiral. as his superior, you feel it is your duty to bring him down from delirium by any means necessary.

pairing: simon ‘ghost’ riley x f!reader (colonel)

warnings : 18+ mdni. heavy use of the canon comics, gory imagery, mentions of torture, brainwashing, corpses. ptsd, delusions, simon in a submissive headspace. d/s themes, softdomme!reader, praise kink if you squint, oral (f receiving), fingering, cumming in pants, i wanted to write simon as a sub so i fucking did. please note this is a fic about using sex to navigate trauma. it will not be for everyone.

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He's like a spectre in the back of the briefing room, his shadow looming over the gory photographs spattered over the table and smothering the map beneath them. Snapshots of gruesome, twisted corpses reflect in the honey liquid of his irises, his usually expressive eyes made mute by the ghastliness of the savaged bodies.

Ghost's vast frame appears to shrink the longer he gazes at the glossy, printed pictures.

Price continues his mission briefing. His forgotten cigar smoulders in the cigarette dish placed haphazardly over the map, ashes building an eminence of embers on the glass platter. His tar-drenched lungs rasp as he talks, gritty voice booming as it ricochets from the walls in the tiny box room.

"Intel confirms a congregation of armed cartel members just beyond the Mexican borde-…."

Leaning against the wall, Ghost's shadow retreats from the tabletop and slinks back into the corner. He crosses his arms over his vast chest, charcoal grey fleece sleeves pushed to his elbows to expose the ebony ink scrawled across his chalky skin. His scarred knuckles bleach when he tightens his grip on his bicep, silently stewing in his own conviction.

He knows.

It's as though you can see them play like a film reel in his gilded irises, flickers of his trauma in Mexico. Ghost's file had been heavily redacted during your time as his equal, reams and reams of black ink ribbons distorting the writing and camouflaging his colourful history. Serving alongside him, you learnt that the SAS Lieutenant approached conversation similarly, censoring himself by remaining relatively silent.

Since your promotion to Colonel, you had gained access to transparent files and learnt precisely why Simon' Ghost' Riley kept mum about his time in Coahuila… You'd seen those gnarly scars, pink and magenta and silver welts that raised or gouged into the porcelain of his pale skin. Yet, the answer to your concerned queries was always a singular, gentle remark. "Classified."

Ghost's attempted brainwashing and the ultimate death sentence were confidential. He'd never told you that the scent of the decaying body of his Judas commanding officer, Vernon, had clung to the walls of his nasal cavities for weeks after escaping the coffin. Never revealed the way his hand sunk into the putrefying corpse when he attempted to break his way out of the casket. Wouldn't admit to ripping the jawbone from the rotting carcass to pry open the lid.

His reason for convalescent leave was also confidential. Extreme temper-management difficulties handing the vulnerable Ghost over to ex-teammates Sparks and Washington and the conclusive massacre of his entire family. Three generations, blown away with a bullet through the skull.

And the man at the centre of it all, Manuel Roba, stared back at him in the pictures of horrid, mangled, ripped flesh littering the table and pinned to the map. Puncture wounds from being elevated on meat hooks, emaciated following daily meals of mind-altering drugs––

"Riley."

Ghost's honeyed eyes dart from their fixated aim on the pictures towards Price. Concern furrows the Captain's brow as he observes Ghost's self-preserving body language. "You hearin' me?"

"Loud and clear, sir," Ghost's gruff voice rattles like gravel in his chest. His eyes appear hollow through the gaps in his ski mask, black grease paint making him look particularly gaunt.

It's a split second, momentary, but Price casts a precautionary glance your way. You know that expression, can translate the concerned crevices on John's face; he knows.

"... Good Hunting," Captain Price issues his dismissal, pointed looks urging the members of 141 out of the room quickly. The rubber soles of your boots stay rooted to the floor, gaze set on Ghost as the task force leave the conference single file. The Mancunian doesn't budge, his eyes aimed at their target on the table.

It takes a handful of moments, Gaz and Soap gawping over the brutal torture details and Price urging them both with an insistence to 'shut up' that was far too authoritative for them to ignore. Then, finally, the door swings shut, clicking in place. Ghost blinks at the sound, a minute, barely there flinch that wouldn't register with outsiders, but you notice it.

Silence creeps through the room and settles between you like a blanket of gunpowder, charged and ready to blow. Ghost's body is tense, oddly postured in an attempt to retain his intense emotions.

"Ghost." You say his codename, and immediately he moves his head in a slight shake—a silent urge for quiet. He pushes his back from the wall, slowly approaching the table he had glared at for hours.

"It's him, isn't it? Roba," Ghost's voice is tight with fury, those gravel pieces sounding a lot more like glass shards, "He's come back."

You watch, lungs seizing behind your ribcage when you hear him speak Manuel Roba's name. The vile man had lived like a ghoul amongst Simon's memories, fictitious as long as he remained unmentioned. Talking of him was almost like speaking the behemoth into existence.

"I know you read the file, Colonel," Ghost spits through gritted teeth, reaching forward to pinch a photograph from the table. You see it, the almost imperceptible tremor in his fingers as he does. "He did this to us- Strung us up like pig carcasses-"

"I understand that you're scared-" You begin your attempt to ease the spiral that Ghost appears to be silently falling into, his almost normal outward appearance betrayed only by microscopic symptoms of panic.

"I'm not," he insists, agitation edging his tone of voice as he holds up the image of a gutted corpse, "I'm not scared; you're all tip-toein' around this like I'm fuckin' stupid!"

"Riley."

The use of Ghost's surname makes the hulking mass of man stop in his tracks. He swallows the words he holds on his tongue, realising his disrespect to a commanding officer should not, and would not, be tolerated under any circumstance.

Stepping forward, you gaze right back at the shell-shocked man before you. "Manuel Roba is dead. You killed him. You know this. Shot him right between the eyes."

You demonstrate the bullet trajectory by tapping between your eyebrows with your index finger, triggering a visual for the shaken Ghost to project the image of the slaughtered drug dealer. "The bodies you're seeing are probably a result of his control over the Zaragoza Cartel. Remnants of his fighters lashing out in a last-ditch effort to obtain some power."

Ghost nods slightly, a singular tilt forward of his head as his hand lowers to his side, fingers loosening their hold on the gory picture so it falls to the ground. He clears his throat awkwardly, eyes following the path of the image as he casts his gilded irises to the floor. You note how vulnerable he looks, flayed raw by his memories and the stalking PTSD that had gripped him without detection.

"You're right. 'M sorry," he lets out a shaky sigh, chest trembling as he attempts to expel the tension in his chest, "Don't know what I was thinkin'."

You dismiss his embarrassment with a wave of your hand. "Don't mention it."

"How much do you know?" Ghost asks, the question uttered in a whisper.

You consider his query carefully. A good question. How much did you know? Had the files revealed the total of Ghost's catastrophic timeline from Mexico to Manchester? Or was there still unforeseen information hidden behind censorship walls that even you couldn't worm your way behind at this high a rank?

You're careful in your choice of words, attempting to curb any particular language that could trigger upsetting recollections. "I know Roba used to brainwash you. Drug you. Make you fight."

"And?" Simon urges you onwards, his aureate irises staring coldly at you through the blackness of the grease paint and mask–– awaiting the agonising stab of the truth.

"He used to offer sex or death as a means of control." You carefully place your palm against his shoulder, a warm and weighty presence to help ground him as you speak. "Attempted to hardwire your brain to find arousal in fear."

Ghost swallows. You see the bob of his Adam's apple beneath the thick material of the ski mask. A minuscule quiver of his eyebrow indicates his inner turmoil, the usually composed and inscrutable Lieutenant Riley slipping away as you peel away each layer of his trauma.

"Do you still? Find arousal in fear?"

Silence twists your stomach; Ghost's incessant, piercing stare causes the hairs on your forearms to stand up.

"On your knees, Riley."

"Yes, ma'am."

Simon sinks to his knees, slow and deliberate, in a latent attempt to please you. It's as though Everest has crumbled, its foundations bending beneath its enormous weight. Simon is an unshakeable force, an indomitable summit, yet when his patellas hit the floor, his giant palms meet the edges of your thighs in reverence for you.

His touch is precious and delicate with its weight–– not as though he's afraid he'll break you, but more like he's trying so hard to earn your favour as his superior. His blonde lashes dip low, heavy-lidded, unable to stand looking at your face when he's laid bare for you like this.

"Please." When Simon speaks, it's as though the cocktail of gravel and glass shards has excoriated the walls of his throat. It's broken, choked and pitchy as he begs you. "Please."

"Please what, Simon?" You query, maintaining an even, commanding tone. His eyelashes flutter slightly, trembling so prettily for you as arousal floods his spine.

"Please, ma'am. Can I be of service?" It's spoken through his gritted teeth as though he's mortified that he's voicing these torrid desires, even in the vaguest terms. You slip your naked palm beneath the woven canvas of his mask, clutching his jaw and forcing his face upwards.

It's amusing, you think, that Simon believes himself unreadable as long as he wears the skull mask. It couldn't be further from the truth. His eyes are so expressive, constantly betraying his innermost thoughts without even exposing the expressions of his visage.

The probing gaze you offer him has him twitching in his camo cargo pants. You see his thick length bob against the fabric, aroused by the ease with which you read him.

"Is that what you need, Riley?" It's rhetorical; you both know it. He's never required anything so desperately in his life. Simon had been lost in the Congo jungle without food for weeks and escaped a kidnapping attempt that had him stumble through the Iraqi desert without water, yet he looked at you with those keening eyes as though he'd die without a taste of you.

"Tell me."

"Yes," he gasps, inhaling sharply as though he'd forgotten to breathe, "Yes, ma'am. Please, I need to tast––"

Simon barely manages to finish his sentence before he pushes his trembling fingers beneath the hem of his mask on his throat, shoving it over the point of his chin and balancing the bunched-up material on the bridge of his nose. He groans out as he fumbles with your khaki belt, unwinding it with great difficulty.

While Simon busies himself with your zipper, your fingers delicately trace the silvering scars on his throat, many of Manuel Roba's love letters to evil etched into his ivory skin. The files had labelled each laceration and its cause; S2 below his chin issued by a butcher's knife, S5 against his clavicle the product of a dagger during a spar with another brainwashed hostage. You can't help but smile when your fingerprints find S7.

"S7 - a two-inch superficial scar from a tricycle accident."

A desperate groan rumbles in Simon's chest when he shucks the waistband of your cargo pants over the flesh of your hips. Your hand quickly grasps the edge of the table when he buries his nose against your clothed cunt, your heavy-handedness knocking more of the long-forgotten gory images to the floor.

"Fuck," Simon exhales, his warm breath fanning across the soaked fabric of your panties. "Thank you, Thank y- fuck."

Your gasp of pleasure catches even you off guard as Simon drags the flat of his tongue against the wetness of your underwear, a groan sneaking from his open mouth as he relishes in the taste.

"This good, ma'am?" he breathes, hot and heavy against your core. He's desperate to please, a slight flush to the lower half of his cheeks that you can see. It takes you a moment to compose yourself, overwhelmed by the exposed flesh of his face.

"Yes," you praise him as he uses his fingers to push aside the cotton in his way. "So fucking good for me, Simo-nhgn-"

The tip of Simon's tongue seems to find your clit almost instantaneously, curling around the sensitive bud and teasing it as though he knew exactly what you needed. His moan is muffled and pathetic against your soaked cunt, lapping at your arousal and drowning himself in you.

He keens when your fingernails dig into the soft flesh of his shoulder, digging reddening crescent moons into the skin. They blend amongst the charcoal of his tattoo sleeve, but they're there, little arches among the skulls, guns, and warfare.

Simon paws at the backs of your thighs, spreading the wingspan of his fingers across the curve of your asscheeks and squeezes, using his hold to drag your body impossibly closer to his mouth. He nuzzles in, the tip of his nose teasing at your clit as he sinks the hot, wet flesh of his tongue into your entrance.

"Hah-" you gasp out, Simon's moan vibrating against your needy clit forcing you to grind forward against his face in search of more friction. Your fingers find purchase in the fabric on the top of Simon's head, curling your knuckles around it but ensuring you don't lift the mask from his face.

The Lieutenant feels your grazing fingers against his scalp, burying his face further into your pussy as he tastes your arousal from the source. He sighs heavily, shakily into your cunt as he savours the ambrosia on his tongue, greed forcing him in for more–– licking and tasting and sucking and swallowing more of you.

"So good for me, Simon," you reward him, voice trembling as he assaults your cunt with his probing tongue. He retreats from the soaked flesh of your cunt to tease at your clit again. You can feel your pulse concentrating in it, thudding against his tastebuds.

"Mhmm," he huffs, vast chest heaving with heavy breaths that add another layer of pleasure to your arousal as they waft over your wet pussy lips. You could cry when you look down at him, his eyelids drooping (one lower than the other thanks to the scar that ran across his left eyelid. "S4 - a superficial scar from a fist fight during detention in Mexico").

A single, calloused palm skirts around your waist, splaying wide across your lower abdomen as Simon feels the muscles beneath his hand tremble and tense at his ministrations. He groans again, his other hand teasing at your pussy lips from behind in a silent plea for entry.

"Simon- Simon, do it," you urge him, desperate to be filled as he teased at your clit with his nimble tongue. You'd never had guessed a man so intent on disguising his countenance would have the perfect face to sit on.

"Yes, ma'am," he responds, only momentarily before reestablishing the relentless rhythm of the swipe of his tongue. Then, without much warning, he sinks his index finger into your entrance. A delicate press of his fingertip at first, testing the waters, so to speak. Only when you let out a blissful sigh does Simon continue to ease the digit into you.

His fingers are so thick. You stretch around him, your head dipping back between your shoulder blades and gasping a curse to the naked bulb hanging from the ceiling. The bliss that sweeps through you is overwhelming, toes curling in your combat boots as you attempt to escape the onslaught of pleasure.

Simon won't let you.

"Please," he moans in bliss as he pulls you closer again, your feeble body unable to fight his firm control when your limbs are gelatinous and malleable to his whims.

His cock is bobbing beneath his cargos, a dark patch of precum soaking into the camo print. A flood of arousal drips through you, your eyes rolling back at the realisation that he might fucking cum in his pants, untouched, just with the taste of you.

"S-Simon-" you wail, losing all control as your voice cracks. "Right there-"

God, he ratchets up the intensity of your bliss by sinking another finger into you. It faces no resistance, sliding down to the knuckle with an ease that had you seeing stars when it pushes up against something utterly devastating within your abdomen.

"There!"

Simon groans around your cunt, lathing his tongue over your throbbing clit with an eagerness that seems so alien for the stoic, unreadable Special Airforce Soldier. His fingers ease in and out of you ever so slightly, rocking back and forth against that mind-numbing spot inside you that has your knees buckling beneath your weight.

"Oh my g-aha-" you choke on your words, both hands now fumbling to hold onto the table with a white-knuckle grip. Tension curls in the pit of your stomach, twisting and shape-shifting.

You feel it before you hear it. The vibrations of Simon's desperate groans of bliss rock through your cunt before the sounds reach your ears, his mouth sloppy on your cunt as his own arousal begins to take root. The fingers not buried inside your walls take a bruising grip on your waist, branding you with his prints.

He notches that paradisical spot inside you one more, and your failing knees quake at the vicious burst of ecstasy it unleashes. You moan loudly, the lewd sound wracking through your body as though Simon had just set off a stun grenade, light bursting through you with a crack. Your hips buck against his chin and nose mindlessly as you ride through the peak of your bliss.

Simon lets his jaw hang loose, tongue flat as you ride against it— pathetic, utterly disgusting groans of delight drip from his lips as you use him. He pants, and you only just manage to force your eyes open as a particularly pitchy wail of your name to witness his undoing.

His hips rock forward against nothing, just barely finding friction on the seam of his pants as his orgasm rocks through him. You watch his eyelids flutter and his brows twitch as he cums in his standard-issue military cargos. He slumps back slightly, jaw loose as he sucks in deep breaths. It's utterly unbecoming of someone who appeared so unshakeable, a submissive, needy man taking his place.

At first, you allow him some space. The forceful inhale and trembling exhale of his lungs tick like a clock, in and out, in and out. Simon's hand delicately smoothes over the flesh of your ankle, a feeble attempt to feel close to you in this moment without overstimulating his vulnerable mind.

When he lifts those honeyed eyes to you, searching for your comfort, you allow your palms to smooth down the fabric of his ski mask and offer him some privacy, restoring some dignity to the usually stoic Ghost.

He leans into the weight of your palm for just a second. A barely there moment, like the grip of his biceps from earlier, the twitch of his brow. It fades quickly like his S7 scar, the dripping molasses of his eyes hardening beneath the skull image.

"Not a word," you order him, tone aggressively authoritarian when you issue your directive.

Ghost is glad for it, a curt nod of his head indicating his return to lucidity as he begins to rise to his feet.

"Yes, ma'am."

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thoughtsandbones · 1 year

Text

A not so forgotten history

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!MedicDoc ( codename: Blue)

WARNINGS: Mention of death, war, angst, mental health mention, drug mention, fluff, just getting the POV of our friendly neighbourhood masked menace..

Song inspo: Terra Firma - Delerium ft Aude and 1973 - James Blunt

(lol lowkey wanted to know what Ghost thought of Soap taking photos of Blue)

https://open.spotify.com/track/0fuQ65fX8W94q6QwTFyqgI?si=4fc4c93f25394143 (because you should all here this song.. :) )

I grew up with the OG MW2 game, so there are some references to the old one, so kind of a mix of both the OG and the new timeline... (Also I'm ignoring the OG Shepherd betrayal and keeping in line the one with the new timeline..)

spelling and some grammar mistakes as I am bad at times... :/

(FYI: bold sentences... that are like this... are supposed to describe redacted data/info to the plot... ;] .. )

Please do let me know how you all are finding this fanfic!c :D

PART 1, PART 2 and PART 3

Part 4

Once Soap came back from the bathroom, he was on his way to meet up with Ghost in the mess hall.

He began humming to himself

She seems like an interesting one Soap had thought to himself. Ghost had mentioned that you had a practically useless file which was mostly redacted.

Soap grew further suspicious once you handed over that piece of shite form to Ghost.

He's hoping Price knows what he is doing... Of course Price knows what he's doing... But that whole mix-up with you being charged for malpractice? That's a pretty big deal

Although he could say the same for their previous Doctor who was too much of a fan of glue in the field.

His thought process engulfed him has he nearly hit the door to the mess hall.

Has he entered the mess hall, he saw Ghost, facing the window watching the remains of the sunset. It was an odd sight... Usually he doesn't keep his back to the door.. Soap pondered

Ghost had his arms crossed, he was leaning against the table nearest to the window.

"Alright L.t?" Soap says once he got near him.. Ghost still had not turned to give him usual glare of this nickname that he would grunt at.

"Notice' you took photos of her" Ghost finally said, turning to face Soap, his arms still across his chest, letting out a sigh.

Oh yeah Soap thought

"I figured we needed intel L.t" Soap said, grabbing his phone out from his pocket and getting the photo he took. "Her forms, and file, like you said were redacted. Heavily"

"Yeah, well that was the usual with Shepherd back then" Ghost said, unfolding his arms and coming over to Soap to view the photo he took of you.

"Even you raised your suspicions sir" Soap said, handing over his phone to Ghost.

Ghost took the phone and held the photo of you in his gloved hands. You were looking at the sunset. He zoomed in, without even thinking about it.

Your face was still lit from the sun setting in the horizon, the orange and pink bleeding across the sky.

The way your eyes lit up from the light of the sunset, that change in colour. There was a softer 'ping' in his chest again, not as sharp as the first.

Not even Johnny's camera could capture a view like that Ghost thought.

'Hmmm'' Ghost says, the gears in his head grinding. He handed the phone back to Soap and crossed his arms again.

Is it really you after all these years? Ghost pondered There was a sense of familiarity with those eyes

Trauma does heavy damage to the brain, so many soldiers have come and gone, and most of them have blurred into one face. The name rang a bell, but he still couldn't picture you from all those years ago.

"Price said she worked here before" Soap said, trying to fill the silence whilst Ghost did his usual quiet analysis.

"Yeah, long time ago" Ghost responded

"Did you know her then?" Soap said puzzlingly. How could he keep this from him Soap thought

"Only from when I dug up some info in the archives" Ghost said

"What archives?!" Soap shrieked

"Restricted access kind" Ghost said back to him "She was a rookie under my ol' Captain"

'What Captain?" Soap asked. Just has felt like he fit into this place and was getting to know Ghost, something new had to ambush him.

Ghost noted the continued level of shock rising in Soap, so much so that his arms started to flap a bit.

"That's classified I believe" Ghost said, he noted a bigger wave and and even shocked expression expanding across Soap "I'll talk to Price 'nd see if we can tell ya Johnny" Ghost added, giving a brief tap on his arms and started to walk to the door.

"Is she dangerous?" Soap asked "After Graves.." Soap started

Ghost whipped around

"No. She's nothin' like that" Ghost quipped back.

Nothing like that bastard Ghost thought

"Sorry sir, didn't mean.." Soap said

"It's fine, you have questions, c'mon let's find Price" Ghost says, heading out of the door.

The both of them headed down the corridor to Price's office

Explainin' this mess to Johnny is going to be... interestin' Ghost thought to himself.

As they reached Price's office, Ghost knocked on the door

"Come in" Price yelled

As they entered they saw Price at his desk, soft jazz playing in the background whilst he typed away on his computer. As Ghost and Soap entered he looked up.

"Ah lads, you read my mind!" Price exclaimed

"Yeah, we needed to talk about some things.." Soap started again. He wanted to get right down to it, and was hoping Price wasn't going to send them to do some menial task when there was a juicy part of history to lap up.

"Yes, I gathered as much." Price said, finishing off typing on his computer, he gestured to the both of them to have a seat on his sofa in his office.

Ghost and Soap took a seat and waited for Price to join them on the small armchair opposite the sofa with a small table in between.

"Guessing you have questions about the new doctor?" Price says smiling at both of them leaning forward as he sat down.

"That and this old Captain?" Soap said suddenly

Price's head looked up from Soap to Ghost, Ghost's eyes darted from Price to Soap's who was still looking at Price.

"What'd you know?" Price says curiously leaning back in the chair.

"That our new medic - well doctor worked under him and that Ghost knows and I don't" Soap responded

"I know a lotta things that you don't Johnny" Ghost said, suppressing a small laugh

Soap turned to Ghost, frowning at him and turned back to Price

"The Captain, was Captain David MacAlasdair, a friend and colleague" Price started

"A fellow Scotsman?" Soap chirped

"Yeah, from Glasgow" Price added "He took under a few cadets and trained them up through the army and most them signed up and passed into the the early beginnings of the 141, before it was called the 141." Price reminisced.

"Codenamed Blue, our new doctor, was one of the cadets that the Captain trained. On a mission to obtain intel at a Russian base in Siberia, the Captain was captured and executed." Price says

"Jesus" Soap whispered a lot of shit went down here in the past that he had no idea about he thought Bad things have happened to too many good soldiers. Too many good men have lost their lives

"The Captain took Blue with him, she wanted to progress further in her career here so she went on this mission" Price continues.

Ghost's eyes widened. He didn't realise that one mission that you went on was that one.

"After the mission went south, contact was lost and we thought she was either KIA or MIA. She made contact with our Russian friend, Nik, and then came home."

"Why did the mission go bad?" Soap asked

"We do not know. The file Shepherd gave was redacted" Price huffed

"Yeh, a two pager turned into 7 words" Ghost gruffed

"Seen the file then?" Price asked Ghost

Ghost nodded back, wanting to hear more of the story.

"Why did she leave?" Soap asks, he felt like he was pestering Price, but he couldn't help it. He needed answers.

"Her choice." Price said, sighing deeply bringing his left hand to scratch his beard.

"She left, and went to medical school. Always knew that one had some top tier brains." Price resumed

"What about this malpractice issue" Soap asked without even thinking.

"That's a whole misunderstanding, and I believe she should be the one to tell you" Price stated

"What's her name?" Soap blurted

"Jeez Johnny, what is this? 21 questions?" Ghost sighed

"Lt, you saw her file, nothing on there." Soap replied rolling his eyes.

"Ghost, you don't remember her?" Price asked

"Vaguely" Ghost responded.

Price got up from his chair, and went to a standing cabinet near his desk, he went through the files and papers until he picked a small white envelope up. He then walked back over to the sofa where Ghost and Soap sat.

Soap perked up at the sight of the envelope.

He opened the envelope, which revealed a small collection of photographs, and flicking through, he found the right one.

"Hope this jogs the brain" Price said handing a photo to Ghost smiling slightly

Ghost took ahold of the photo. All of a sudden a switch triggered in his head when he laid eyes on that photo.

Soap moved towards Ghost to get a better look.

The Captain and you. You had the goofiest face; crossed eyes and your mouth, baring your teeth and the Captain, facing you, was there laughing. Both of you dressed in combat gear, ready for a mission or training? The Captain wearing his beret and you... had shorter hair. A pixie cut with the left hand side shaved.

That 'ping' in his chest flickered again. Deep within his brain the memory of you resurfaced. You were one of the five cadets trained by the Captain and before he was the Ghost...

"This was before the Captain's last mission" Price said, eyeing Soap's curious face.

"She looks completely different now" Soap said, noting your short hair and slimmer build.

"That tends to happen as people age Soap" Price chuckled, sitting back down in his chair.

Ghost continued to look at the photo. He could faintly hear your laugh from all those years ago.

"She thinks I'm dead" Ghost finally says, giving the photo back to Price

"How?" Soap asks

"She knew Ghost as Simon Riley" Price answered.

Ghost nodded

Of course Soap thought, all these revelations about her had made him forget that Ghost was a ghost...

"That's your decision of when you want to tell her Simon" Price said, using his name this time.

Ghost looked up at Price.

"Gonna be a bit difficult" Ghost says

"Would you rather she found out if you're injured or from someone else?" Price explained, slightly nudging his head towards Soap, unbeknownst to Soap himself.

Ghost sighed. Of course I need to tell her he thought

"Where is she now?" Price asked This will be interesting to see how Simon deals with this

"Infirmary" Ghost replied

"Right, guess I better go see her before she starts wondering the base" Price said, getting up.

Ghost and Soap also got up from the sofa and then walked to the door of Price's office.

"Johnny, go ahead, I need to have a word alone with Price" Ghost said

Soap looked at Ghost curiously, and then walked out, Ghost made sure the door was closed before turning to Price.

"What is it Simon?" Price asked

"I err.." Ghost started, he looked at the ground and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

Price looked Ghost cautiously.

"Ruhari, I called her that name" Ghost said finally

Price chuckled, shaking his head

"Of course you did" Price said "So you did remember her?" Price asked

Ghost grunted. He dug himself a hole and now he's ready to be buried.

"She is going to ask how you knew her name" Price stated, crossing his arms. "I'm not going to tell her Simon, but you need to tell her, she deserves that at least" Price said unfolding his arms and raising his right arm to pat Ghost on the shoulder.

"Yes sir" Ghost replied

Ghost edged towards the door, opening it and they walked out.

"I'll cover you this time" Price said, as they both stood in the hallway as he locked his office.

Ghost nodded and watched Price walk off to the infirmary.

Taking a deep breathe, Ghost put his hand in his front pocket to retrieve the key for your room. He walked down the hallway and found himself outside her soon-to-be room. A thin gold plaque was on the door that had a red cross on it. He unlocked the door and looked inside.

It was barren. Soon to be occupied by her.

The image of her trembling legs flickered in his mind. Her demeanour has changed. She wasn't the same person from before he thought.

Ghost left the room, not locking it, but made his way to an airing cupboard nearby that had spare towels, bedsheets and blankets in it. Pulling out two warm towels, he walked back to the room he was just in and placed the towels on the end of the bed.

He walked over to the window, staring outside. The sun had disappeared, the sky a mixture of dark and light blue. He sighed and then walked towards the door.

He turned around and looked at the towels he brought her, laying on the bed.

How am I going to get out of this one he thought.

Ghost opened the door and left the room, locking the door and made his way to the infirmary. Back to see you again.

#simon ghost riley #modern warfare fanfiction #fan fic ideas #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x doctor #simon ghost riley x medic #simon “ghost” riley x medic #simon riley x you #x reader #cod mw soap #mw2 ghost x reader #ghost cod #mw2 x reader #modern warfare smut

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prettyboybuckley · 2 years

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MAKE ME CHOOSE: @morganofthefairies asked: Buck's arms or Eddie's abs?

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erensangel444 · 3 years

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pretty young thing

DO NOT INTERACT IF NOT 16+ thank you <3

miya atsumu x reader x milf!oc

possible part 2???

the way i want this fic to be my reality. is there any milfs or dilfs that want me because bae i’m right here :-)

this fic is atsumu + milf!oc x fem!reader, if you guys would want to see some gender neutral fics just let me know in my asks inbox! i’m open to any suggestions, if you want a fic that’s specifically tailored to you whether that be race-wise, gender-wise, any disabilities, etc,. just let me know!

likes/reblogs/comments are always appreciated:D

this fic has been proofread but if i missed something just let me know!

a/n: so for the milf original character(atsumu’s wife), i imagine her to be the mom from erased, because she is one fine mf. i would love to place my head in between her mommy milkers and [REDACTED]....horniness is a disease.

warnings: language(most of my fics do contain language), smut: cuckolding??, sharing of lingerie(but no gross mentions), kissing, mentions of sex, slight mentions of spit.

word count: 3.8k

summary: it’s always fun to be someone’s little plaything.

you were broke, and in desperate need of money. college tuition is no joke, and that was what motivated you to pull the paper strip from the poster on the lampost. you had always been told you were good with kids so you figured babysitting would be an easy way to get money. you slipped the piece of paper containing the phone number into your back pocket, throwing your hands into your coat pockets as you headed home.

you had paced back and forth in your cramped kitchen, the slip of paper in between your fingers. before you could overthink anymore, your phone was in your hand as you dialed the number on the slip of paper.

“hello?” a deep voice interrupted the ringing you heard on the other line. “um h-hi” you cringed at your slight voice crack, “i’m calling about the babysitting offer, i picked up one of the slips outside of a cafe,”. it was silent for a moment before the person on the other line spoke, “oh yeah the fliers, babe!” he yelled, causing you to pull the phone away from your ear slightly.

“got someone for the babysitting job,” “really!” you could hear soft cheer in the background, causing you to smile slightly. you could hear shuffling for a moment before someone began talking on the opposite end of the line, a woman this time. “hi! i’m his wife,” her voice was sweet and soft, “did you tell her our names?”. though you couldn’t see it, atsumu shook his head sheepishly behind the phone.

“of course you didn’t, gotta come behind you and do all the hard work,” she grumbled jokingly, causing you to laugh softly. you swore you could hear a murmur of “last i checked you don’t mind being behind me sometimes,” a slight whine of “tsumu!” following in a chastising tone.

“sorry about that,” she apologized before continuing. “you can call me mrs. miya, if the interview goes well then we’ll be getting very close!” “i’m y/n,” you offered up your name, bouncing back and forth on the heel of your foot due to how nervous you were. “would you like to come by sometime tomorrow? i’ll send you all the details,” mrs. miya offered.

“that’d be great, thank you.”

their home was beautiful, arguably one of the of the prettiest one’s you’d seen. the stucco was a cream color, a beautiful walkway leading up to a set of dark oak doors. there were wall length glass windows looking into various rooms on the first floor of the house, green curtains slightly impairing the view into the home.

you stepped up the stairs of the walkway, ringing the doorbell. you opened the door to be met by a breathtaking man, but you internally shook your head at the thought.

he was happily married.

“hi, y/n?” he smiled. you nodded with a smile of your own, mr. miya opened the door further, motioning for you to come inside. you bowed your head slightly in thanks, stepping inside, mr. miya shutting the door behind you. you stood off to the side, the papers mrs. miya had told you to bring clutched tightly in your hands.

“follow me to the kitchen,” mr. miya smiled at you, to which you nodded in response, a soft smile on your face. their kitchen was beautiful, a dark oak wood floor accompanied by white walls. the cabinets were an olive green color, a few plants neatly hung from the ceiling.

your train of thought was broken as a cheer of your name sounded from across the room, “y/n!”. you turned at the sound, mrs. miya standing up from her chair at the kitchen table. you walked over, mr. miya behind you, smiling at his wife. “nice to meet you,” you smiled. mrs. miya offered her hand, to which you obliged, shaking her hand.

“oh who am i kidding, i’m a hugger,” she pulled you in for a hug. “is this alright?” she whispered into your ear, her hand rubbing at the small of your back. the best you could do was hum out an affirmation, hoping the large gulp you had taken wasn’t noticeable.

you pulled away, your cheeks feeling hot. mr. miya laughed softly from beside you, walking over to his wife, his arm falling to wrap around her waist as he spoke, “now what did we say about hugging strangers?”. mrs. miya just smiled in response, “i have a feeling she won’t be a stranger for too long, dear,”.

they shared intimate eye contact for a moment, causing you to look down at your shoes. “y/n, sit, please,” mrs. miya offered. mr. miya rushed over to your side, pulling out a chair for you. you ushered out a soft thanks, sitting down. “so, we’ll get started with some simple questions, no pressure” mrs. miya started. you nodded in response, shuffling slightly in your chair.

“any previous experience babysitting?”

the questions had lasted for about 40 minutes, the couple asking about your age, school experience, previous job occupancies, what you thought your wage should look like. the questionnaire had lasted barely an hour, but you had been at their home for three.

you had spent two hours conversing with the couple, learning about their life, and them learning about yours. mrs. miya had told you the story of how she had met atsumu, the details causing you to laugh. “he fell in the fountain trying to serenade me,” she laughed. “hey, you promised not to tell anyone that part!” mr. miya whined jokingly, playfully elbowing his wife.

you smiled at the couple, enamored by how in love they were. “what about you?” mr. miya asked, causing you to tilt your head and hum in a questioning tone. “are you in a relationship?” he clarified. the question caused your cheeks to heat up, but you answered nonetheless, “no, i’m not dating anyone right now,” your voice had gotten quieter, “i just ended a relationship about 6 months ago, so i’ve been weary about getting back out there,”.

you stopped there, worried you were boring the couple with the details of your love life, but when you looked up from fiddling with your hands, the pair of them showed that they were listening to you intently. “love’s hard,” mrs. miya said simply, reassuring you. you nodded in agreement before atsumu spoke up, “don’t stress about throwing yourself back into the dating field, you’ll know when your ready,” he bounced off of his wive’s words.

“hell,” mrs. miya spoke, the word sounding foreign coming from her lips, “maybe you’ll find someone when you’re not even looking for them,”

you’d had left their house that day with butterflies in your stomach, but you couldn’t figure out why. you had been over to babysit a couple times, and every time you arrived at their home, those butterflies reappeared. the butterflies magnified when atsumu caught you looking at him or his wife, or when their hands would brush against your body trying to get past you in the kitchen.

this was your fifth time babysitting, the miya’s home and the couple themselves becoming more familiar.

you rang the doorbell, playing with the rings on your fingers. hearing the doorknob turn, you looked up to be met by mrs. miya’s smiling face. “hi y/n!” she grinned, holding the door open for you to come inside. you smiled back, letting out a soft hello in response to her greeting.

you stepped inside their home, the feeling more familiar yet so strange at the same time. she led you to the kitchen as you walked behind her. they had explained that they were going to a work gala for mr. miya’s job. on your interview day, they had explained their professions, mr. miya being a professional volleyball player, and mrs. miya being a psychiatrist.

you had known they were going to a work gala, meaning you knew they would be dressed to the tee. if you knew this, then why were your eyes raking over mrs. miya’s figure in the way they were? her hair was pinned up, gold earrings being flaunted. from what you had seen at the door, she had on red lipstick, matching the insatiable red of her dress.

speaking of her dress, it hugged her figure so well. her hips were accentuated in the fabric, which fell down the entire length of her body. she had on gold heels to match her jewlery, her look being perfected.

before you could admire her any longer, you stopped suddenly, mrs. miya slowing in front of you. atsumu was leaning on the wall near the entrance of the kitchen, smirking at you. “she looks stunning, huh?” his voice having an all too-knowing tone to it.

you couldn’t help but blush, shame rushing through you. you had been caught ogling his wife, you couldn’t help but be embarrassed. “no need to get shy,” atsumu said softly, walking over to his wife who had now turned back to look at you.

you had expected her face to exemplify an expression of disgust, and yet, that sweet, saccharine smile was still on her lips. “y-you look you beautiful mrs. miya,” you said shyly, “you too, sir,”. atsumu was donned in a tux, his hair gelled slightly and brushed back to either side. “thank you, y/n,” mrs. miya offered her appreciation for your kind words.

atsumu was still staring at you, something unreadable behind his eyes. “you’re scaring the poor girl tsum’ say thank you,” mrs. miya chastised her husband. “thank you, y/n,” atsumu drawled. you couldn’t help but notice the way your name fell off his tongue, captivated by the way he could make it sound so desirable.

“money’s on the table,” mrs. miya spoke, “haru’s on the couch watching adventure time,” mrs. miya chuckled, causing you to smile. “we’ll be back around 11,” atsumu said, grabbing his wife’s hand. mrs. miya said her goodbyes, her husband doing the same.

you watched as mrs. miya placed a kiss on her child’s head, atsumu smiling down at his son. it was a heartwarming scene. “be sure to lock up,” atsumu said as he and his wife headed towards the door.

he looked over his shoulder at you, smirking, before speaking once more, “thanks again for the compliments, y/n,”.

you had sat down next to haru and watched adventure time for a good hour. eventually, you had gotten up to make him mac and cheese. he was a sweet kid, his parents raising him with wonderful manners. you ran a bath for him after dinner, the boy begging to bring his toys in with him.

you obliged, adding bubbles to the bath and one too many teenage mutant ninja turtles. once he had dried off from his bath, he got dressed for bed, brushing his teeth. he said his goodnight, and made you promise that you would tell his parents that he said goodnight to them too. you smiled down at the boy, holding out your pinky.

you switched off his lamp, “door closed or open?” you asked, “closed please,” he said softly. “alright, get some sleep,” you smiled at him, shutting his door. you had walked downstairs, sitting down on the living room couch. you mindlessly scrolled through your phone for a bit, double-tapping photos. you saw headlights flash through the window, the couple arriving home.

you figured you’d wait for the doorbell to ring before unlocking the door, in order to show atsumu that you had locked up as he had said to. you sat for a minute more, confused on why the couple wasn’t already at the door. you figured they may have been sitting in the car talking, your attention falling back down to your phone.

30 minutes, and long one’s at that, had passed. you didn’t want to invade on their privacy, but you were tired and ready to go home. you peeked out the window, and the car was in the driveway.

the windows were fogged, and the car seemed to have a slight shake to it. a hand slapped against the backseat window, and as your mind put 2 + 2 together, you quickly averted your eyes from the scene.

you couldn’t help the arousal that began to form in your lower area. you could feel your cheeks heat up as you sat back down on the couch, crossing your legs and rubbing your thighs together.

two minutes later, the doorbell rang. you rushed to the front door, taking a deep breath before unlocking the door. sex was written all over the both of them, atsumu’s gelled back hair now slightly falling over his forehead, his cheeks flushed a light pink. mrs. miya was in a similar state, her cheeks tinged a darker shade of pink then atsumu’s.

“sorry we’re so late,” atsumu smiled, his hand falling to the small of his wife’s back. he led her inside, walking to the kitchen and you followed. “how was haru?” mrs. miya asked, a slight breathlessness to her tone. “oh, um he was really great, he’s really well behaved,” you answered.

mrs. miya smiled at that, throwing her clutch down on to the table before sitting down. “water, hon?” atsumu asked from across the kitchen, mrs. miya nodding before letting her face fall into her hands.

atsumu set a glass of water down in front of his wife, the woman muttering out a soft thank you. he opened the liquor cabinet, grabbing the bottle of bourbon and a crystallized cup. “bourbon, tsum?” mrs. miya scolded slightly, atsumu just shrugging in response.

“i n-need to get this dress off,” mrs. miya said, seemingly growing slightly more unsettled. “atsumu’s drunk as a fish,” mrs. miya groaned, flailing her hands in the direction of her husband, “bet he wouldn’t even be able to find the zipper,”.

she turned towards you, her voice softening, “would you mind coming up and unzipping me? sorry to keep you longer, i just need to get this dress off,” she huffed out a sigh. “of course, i don’t mind,” you said politely, following mrs. miya out of the kitchen.

you turned back to see atsumu leaning against the counter, tipping his glass of bourbon towards you with a wolfish grin.

mrs. miya took off her other earring, setting the gold piece down in her jewelry box. their bedroom was close to how you had expected, elegant but comfortable and homey. “sorry it was such a long night,” mrs. miya said, her back still turned towards you as she fiddled with the clasp of her necklace.

“it’s alright, i really don’t mind,” you watch the clasp of the necklace open and close a few more times before you offered, “did you want help?”. “yes,” mrs. miya sighed, “that’d be great, thank you,” she turned back to smile at you.

she had unpinned her hair, most likely in the car, brown locks falling over shoulder. her hand grabbed her hair, brushing it over her left shoulder. your finger pulled down on the little gold clasp, separating the link of the necklace.

you lifted it over mrs. miya’s head before setting it down beside the jewelry box. “thank you,” she smiled, “o-of course,” you replied meekly. “would you mind getting my dress now,” mrs. miya asked. “oh um, yes,” you cringed at your awkwardness, your hands falling to the neckline of her dress.

you grasped the zipper between your pointer finger and thumb, pulling down. you had to tug a little harder as you got further down the dress, but eventually the item of clothing pooled at mrs. miya’s feet. you forced yourself to look somewhere else, eyeing the photo of mrs. miya and her husband at the beach.

“can i ask you something?” she paused for a moment, “just between us girls,”. you hummed out an ‘mhm’, looking down at the ground now. “do you think atsumu will like this lingerie? i was on the fence about it when i bought it,”. at her words, you couldn’t help but let your eyes rake up her figure.

the lingerie was blush pink, and lace, acting as a subtle parallel to mrs. miya’s skin. you became more and more aware of how hot the room was becoming, had it always been this hot? you looked up, mrs. miya facing you now, her eyebrows raised in question. “so?” she asked plainly, that sweet smile still on her lips.

“i-it’s lovely, mr. miya will love it,” you stuttered, forcing your eyes away from her body. mrs. miya walked over to the full length mirror on the other side of the room, her hands brushing over her body. “i don’t know, i think i feel weird cause i’ve only seen it on me,” she hesitated before her smile grew and she clapped her hands together.

“you have to try it on, i think i need to see it from another perspective,” her eyes were glinting in delight. “oh n-no, i couldn’t,” “please, i’d really appreciate it,”. you bit on your bottom lip before simply nodding. mrs. miya’s hands raised to the bra clasp but you stopped her before she could remove the bralette from her body, “i-i’ll! i’ll try it on the bathroom,” you quieted down towards the end of your sentence, your cheeks flushed with heat.

“oh okay,” she said, “walk right through the door, i’ll pass it through in just a second,”. you opened the barn door that led to the master bathroom, closing it behind you. you took a deep breath, rationalizing what was going on at the moment. a knock broke you from your rushing thoughts, “here you go,” mrs. miya’s soft voice sounded through the wood of the door.

you opened it, a green robe covering her body now, “i-i’ll put it on, and be-” your voice cracked slightly, “be out in just a second,”. mrs. miya nodded in understanding, smiling before you shut the barn door.

you unbuckled your jeans, folding them neatly before setting them on the countertop of the sink. you pulled your shirt over your head, folding it and placing it on top of your pants. you were embarrassed with the panties you had chosen to wear today, zebra stripes and hot pink hearts covering the fabric. you pulled your panties off, putting them under your jeans and out of sight.

your bra came off next, and you flung it atop your clothes. you huffed out a deep breath, pulling the white lace panties onto your body. you couldn’t help but think that mrs. miya had just worn these, the thought sending shivers down your spine. you put the bralette on next, slipping it over your arms before clasping it in the middle.

you looked over your appearance in the mirror, shaking away any insecurities. you walked over to the barn door, pulling it open little by little. you could see mrs. miya’s head turn expectantly and once the door no longer covered your body, her eyes lit up. “wow,” she sighed, and you couldn’t help but want to curl in on yourself.

your embarrassment must of been visible, mrs. miya quickly reassuring you, “you look fucking amazing,”. the curse word sounded so foreign falling from her lips, yet you reveled in the harshness of the word coming from her lips. “t-thank you,” you said quietly.

mrs. miya’s voice was cut off by the sound of the bedroom door opening. you quickly realized what that meant, but before you could even react atsumu’s eyes were locked on your face and falling down your figure. “got started without me, huh?”.

you felt like crying, embarrassed that mr. miya was seeing you like this. “atsumu!” his wife chastised. a single tear fell down your cheek, your throat burning and yet there was that hint of something you felt deep inside of you.

“i-i’m sorry y/n, we should’ve been more upfront with you,” mrs. miya said walking over to you, her hand brushing away the tear that had fallen down your cheek. more...upfront? what did she mean?

atsumu could sense your confusion, that slight smirk still lingering in his expression, “what my wife is trying to say is that,” atsumu started, walking closer to you, “we think you deserve a reward, been so good tonight, waited here for so long too,”. mrs. miya’s hand that was on your cheek was now rubbing your shoulder.

your hair had been tied up since earlier, and atsumu’s mouth latched onto the exposed skin of your neck, sucking on the skin. he pulled back slightly, admiring the reddish-purple mark blossoming on your body. he plunged in once more, leaving lingering kisses along your neck, your cheek, your jawline. mrs. miya was kissing your shoulder, her hands gripping your hips.

“atsumu stop for a moment,” atsumu grumbled, but pulled away nonetheless. mrs. miya grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at her, “is this alright? if you want to stop we can, we’ll forget it ever happened,”. your bottom lip was pulled between your teeth, your entire body feeling as though it was on fire.

“but if you want this, we need to hear it,” mrs. miya finished, her eyes glazing over your expression intently, searching for any hesitation. “w-want this,” you said quietly “want you both, please,” you whimpered. you heard atsumu chuckle lowly from behind you before your line of vision was shifting from mrs. miya to her husband.

“so fuckin’ pretty,” he said, his voice gravely. “we’ve been wantin’ to do this since the first fuckin’ day,”. next thing you knew atsumu’s lips were on yours, the distinct taste of bourbon flooding your senses. atsumu pulled away, a line of spit connecting your lips, before he moved back to your neck, sucking another hickey into your skin.

“so greedy tsumu’,” mrs. miya said, turning you to her once more before her lips locked with yours. her lips tasted sweet, her tongue slotting over yours and easily winning dominance. she pulled away flashing that sweet smile at you once more. they were going to be the death of you. mrs miya walked you back towards the bed, pushing you down onto the soft mattress.

“gonna be good for us, right?” she mumbled into the skin of your stomach, kissing down the length of your body. “look at her babe, she’s already fucking drooling,” you heard atsumu speak from above you, his body towering over yours.

mrs. miya pulled away from your skin for a moment, looking up at your desperate expression. “look so pretty,” she sighed, her hands playing with the waistband of the white lace panties. “gonna look so pretty when your full of tsumu’s cock too, huh?”. you whined at the thought, your hips thrusting up into nothing

“told ya we wouldn’t be strangers, tsumu,”

OKAY I KNOW KINDA A CLIFFHANGER ON THE SMUT I DONT MEAN TO EDGE YALL LIKE THAT :{ but i really wanted to get this out. maybe i’ll do a part 2 depending on how this part of the fic does??? thank you for reading love you<3

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sarahjkl82-blog · 3 years

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Artistic Instinct Chapter 1

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 2,595

Warnings: Language.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something!

This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

In art, as in love, instinct is enough.

Anatole France

Chapter 1:

That look crosses your face. The one that all your teachers at school said was a perfect mimicry of theirs. The one that forces grown men and women to quieten and pay attention. With your eyebrows slightly raised and a look of stop-fucking-about-and-listen in your eyes, the room grows quiet and attentive as the glow of the presentation lights up behind you.

“Have you ever wondered what makes art unique? Is it the piece of art itself or the hand that created it?” you address the latest batch of students coming through Mi5’s doors. Whilst it is highly probable that the majority of these trainee intelligence officers will not specialise in forgeries as it doesn’t quite capture the glory of fighting extremism, you only want those who truly cared to join forces with your team. Although, what team? Stephens had pretty much washed his hands of you after your latest exploits. Who knows what your new team on Monday would bring. You are too old to try and squeeze yourself into the buttoned up box that Mi5 like their agents to fit into and whilst your old team never expected you to completely toe the line, you knew where the boundaries lay. Or at least, you thought you did.

“If a perfectly painted Rembrandt or a superbly sculpted Rodin appears to be vivid as the original to the point where even an educated eye cannot spot the difference, why does authenticity matter?” you pose to the class. “The fact is, every artwork is an unparalleled expression of an individual creative talent and a result of a precise personal, historical and cultural context. Art forgeries, even if aesthetically pleasant or technically stunning, can cause serious misinterpretations with extremely damaging consequences for the art world and anti-money laundering services.” A couple of polite coughs, a not so polite yawn and a few shuffles of aching bums on their uncomfortable benches punctuate your lecture. You couldn’t blame them. This isn’t where you want to be either.

This lecture was a punishment by Stephens for your latest step out of line. He probably would have looked the other way if your paperwork had been correctly filed but it was still somewhere, half done on your quagmire of a desk. You’d love to be organised but that was for other people, who had their shit more together than you. The punishment slowly crawls to an end and the students gather their belongings and filter out of the theatre. Glad to not have any questions posed, you squeeze your eyes shut to try and rest them against the sharp light flowing from the overhead projector.

“Perhaps you missed your calling as a teacher?” a voice scoffs from the back of the room as you log out of the computer.

“Don’t be a total cockwomble,” you mutter in the direction of the voice that was now attached to a hand offering a steaming cardboard cup of black Americano.

“Oh I can see it now! Instead of teaching the ins and outs of international art crime, you could be doing finger painting and collages- your skin shimmering with a film of glitter!” Hephzi snorts into the foam of her chai latte. Your best friend from the first day of training knows how to lift your spirits with her subtle teasing and caffeine bribery.

After a gulp of coffee sets your blood caffeine level at its normal level, you poke her in the ribs before hugging her one-armedly. “Are we still on for tonight?” you ask, “I have severe cravings for halloumi fries and a massive mixed kebab while we lose ourselves in a nouvelle vague classic?”

“You truly walk a fine line between cultured intelligenzia and Friday night British food, my darling girl!” Hephzi purrs as she scoops one of your totes filled with scribbles and dog-eared books, tossing it over her shoulder, settling it next to the strap of her rucksack.

With a gentle roll of your eyes, you huff at her suggestion, threading your arm through her elbow and follow her out of the poorly lit lecture theatre towards the late afternoon gloom of a London March day.

✪✪✪✪✪

All airports are hell.

The black on yellow signs of Heathrow buzz like angry bees through Marcus’ mind after the seven hour flight from DC, the recycled aeroplane air still sitting heavy on his skin. He’d been to London many times and knew the airport like the back of his hand so his semi-zombified state isn’t an issue through the warren of staircases and corridors that make up Terminal 4. As he watches the slow, steady spin of the baggage claim, he rolls his shoulders and stretches his neck. Even despite his escape to DC, it still wasn’t quite far enough from Lisbon and Jane, the ghosts of their relationship haunting him through the hallways and offices, dreading seeing the toxic pair around the next corner.

Grabbing a small grey case, with his most treasured possessions that he didn’t want shipping over, he didn’t really look like someone who should be heading up the Five Eyes department of Art Crime. He just feels old, tired and irritated that he could just not shake the ghosts of his past.

The failed marriage.

The failed engagement.

Dressed in an old pair of jeans, a white henley and a baggy grey hoodie with suitcases rather than bags under his eyes, he looks more a middle aged, world weary man, than the sharpest American mind in art crime. As he heads towards customs, his navy passport in hand, he wonders if he’ll be pulled over again as he was in Lyon. He’d obviously matched a profile somewhere but there were certainly red faces all around when he’d got the American Embassy to ring through and explain that Marcus was exactly who he’d said he was. Fingers crossed, eh?

He needn’t have been worried. There was no price on his face today.

“Marcus Pike?” a slightly Northern, male voice asks gently.

Marcus swung out of his airport reverie, raised his eyebrows and smiled warmly in the direction of the voice.

“Andy Welbeck,” a large warm hand stretches towards Marcus, “I’m going to be your PA whilst you’re in London. I hope you don’t mind but I took the liberty to grab you a coffee- it’s a vanilla latte? I did check with the staff at your DC office as to what your preferred drink would be.”

Gripping the hand tightly, and accepting the steaming coffee, Marcus feels a wave of warmth and friendship wash over him from the handsome, young man in front of him. “This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship!” he goofily quotes and then instantly could have facepalmed- like this twenty-something would have any idea about Marcus’ favourite film!

Andy read the man’s discomfort like a book, raising a hand to soothe his awkwardness, “Casablanca is a favourite of mine- how is a film so incredibly quotable and still has such an incredible plot?” Reaching for the handle of Marcus’ wheeled suitcase, Andy continues, “in fact to me, the only other film that manages it, albeit with less of a plot is Withnail and I.”

The tension eases from Marcus’ brown as the younger man’s ease at conversation flowed naturally as they headed to Andy’s car. “So how are you feeling about Monday? Have you had a chance to check out the team yet?” Andy questions gently.

Marcus ran a hand through his hair, trying to lift the airport-flattened curls. “I have read their files, but I was wondering if you’d give me your point of view on the ones you already know?”

“Obviously, I can fill you in on the Brit - and the Canadian, who arrived a week early and still hasn’t stopped apologising.” Andy added with an eye roll, “Harper Gleason doesn’t get in from Melbourne until tomorrow morning, Kiritopa arrives on Sunday so I shall be moving my flat from Lewisham to Heathrow arrivals gate over the next couple of days.”

“Oof!” Marcus exhales, shaking his head in sympathy, “Ouch- is there anything we can do to make it easier? We could just order cabs for them? I need you in one piece for next week!”

“That wasn’t meant in any way as a moan, Sir. It’s the perfect opportunity to make some important first impressions.” Andy delivers firmly, “So, the Canadian is sweet as fuck. She’s super bright and just needs to stop apologising for everything. Dian seems to have this way of watching and seeing the very essence of people. Her clarity of understanding people around her is incredible. She will be such an asset to the team.”

“Great! What about Anushka?” Marcus enquired as he read down the list on his emails.

Andy laughs heartily, hitting the heel of his palm against the steering wheel. “Ah Nush, Nush, Nush! Where to start with my little firecracker?”

Marcus’ eyebrows raise at this reaction and then furrow. “There’s not much in her file apart from her personal info and yet she’s been with Mi5 since leaving university almost twenty years ago?”

“Probably had to be redacted, Sir.” Andy grins lopsidedly at Marcus.

“Please don’t call me sir- Marcus only! Stephens put her forward as one of the best?”

“She most certainly is. She’s also a bit of a car crash- albeit the most endearing one there is- but I can honestly say that if she lets you in, Nush will sweep you off your feet with her brilliance.”

Marcus ruminates over this information and the photo of you attached to your file. A striking woman with almond shaped eyes, olive skin and a Cupid bow mouth stared back him with a slightly raised eyebrow as if she was daring him to disagree with her. Scratching at the scruff on his face, he wonders quite what he’d gotten himself into, heading up the art division of 5 Eyes and being based in London for at least two years.

“Here you are, Sir, I mean, Marcus. This will be your digs until you find something a little more to your taste.” Andy shifts forwards in his seat to point out Marcus’s new building- a large newly built block stretching into the sky above them. “GHCQ have rented the penthouse suite for you for six months to give you time to settle in. I live roughly five minutes in that direction so please don’t hesitate to call any time. No penthouse for me, but it’s home!”

“Thank you so much, Andy. I’m grateful for the welcome you’ve shown me. This will be a great partnership.” Marcus pats Andy’s shoulder. “Whilst I promise not to bug you too much, can we go out for a drink sometime? If you’re local, it’d be nice to have someone to introduce me to the area.”

“Marcus, I’ve already got you pencilled in for a pint on Friday- you don’t need to worry, I’ve got your back.”

✪✪✪✪✪

“Fuck. Where the ever loving fuck are my fucking keys?” You grumble as you rootle through your rucksack. Years of receipts and scraps of paper with doodles from dull meetings obstructed your view and hindered your search for those elusive metal bastards that stood between you and your comfiest jammies, your sofa and A Bout de Souffle.

“For goodness sake, woman! So glad I got my own key cut.” Hephzi shakes her head, “Out of the way.”

“If you didn’t have a key, I’d have to live on my doorstep more!” you snigger to yourself.

As she turns the key, the door needs a swift kick to open it fully. “Has your landlord still done nothing about the damp here?”

“Course not!”

“Want me to send a couple of my brothers around? Sort him out?”

“Mate, I have three useless oiks of my own I could call on for the same outcome. No point in poking the bear,” you shrug resignedly. Hephzi licks her lips as you split the food between two plates- the rice and chickpeas spilling over the side onto the surprisingly clean work tops.

“Your mum been over?”

“How can you tell?” Your eyes crease in laughter, “Genuinely, I think she believes I’m a bit broken. All my brothers married and babied up and her only daughter is living in a shitty, ex LA, messy, damp filled flat and a nameless “IT” job that she wears an invisible ring for!” Your left hand does the Single Ladies dance as Hephzi roars with laughter.

With a glass of wine and a heaped plate of food in hand, you kick some of the cushions from the sofa onto the floor. “Do you ever see yourself meeting someone or are you just too married to the job?” Hephzi pries gently, knowing that even with her closeness to you that the door could quickly slam in her face.

“Honestly?” Your eyebrows slightly raise, “I’m not sure that my mum isn’t too far from the truth. Too broken for anyone who’d I’d let get close.” Hephzi snorts. “Excuse me! I let people get close! Well, as close as I’d like them to be.”

“You’re not broken, just guarded. To be completely honest, I just think you haven’t met anyone deserving of you yet.” Hephzi reaches over and pats your thigh.

You exhale sharply and shake your head as you mutter quietly gesturing towards the cluttered flat, “No one deserves this. Now shush, I need to escape into the black and white.”

✪✪✪✪✪

Marcus shrugs his hoodie off as he enters the sparsely decorated apartment, his eyes roaming around his new home. New job. New country. How long could he keep running from his past? With a sigh and rolling up the sleeves of his Henley over gently muscled arms, he starts unpacking his suitcase.

In some of the drawers, he found some basic t-shirts, pants and hoodies with a note from Andy saying, “Just in case your luggage gets lost!” In the cupboard, there are two suits- one navy and one grey and five shirts. Perfect size, fit and style. Is there anything this man doesn’t know about him? Marcus lets out a nervous laugh- kinda seems like Andy is underused as a PA and should be put into the field!

A light filled, floor to ceiling tiled en-suite with a full sized tub and separate shower was lined with expensive smelling shower gels, shampoos and creams. Opening one, and inhaling deeply Marcus cocks an eyebrow as he enjoys the cedar, amber and rosemary scent. He is dragged back to that heady summer honeymoon he’d spent with his ex-wife in the South of France, drinking glasses of sauternes with frozen grapes keeping it cool as the air carried the scent of the lavender fields and sun warmed herbs floated on the mistral. That familiar ache returns to his chest, but perhaps it is time to lay that ghost to rest.

Marcus walks further into his discovery of the beautiful apartment. The kitchen is small but functional with two French doors that open onto a small Juliet balcony looking towards Canary Wharf and the many towers that organised all the money coming into the UK. All of the cupboards in the kitchen are stocked with a basic range of cooking ingredients and the fridge even has a few ice cold beers and a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc.

“Andy, whatever you’re being paid, it isn’t enough.” Marcus sighs and reaches for a beer, grabbing a bottle opener from the top drawer. It almost feels like it could become home.

Whatever that is.

Ok some notes:

5 Eyes is a real thing- used for sharing information about international terrorism between those countries named above.

An ex-LA home means ex local authority home. Post world war 2, Britain built a lot of social housing which Maggie Thatcher allowed in the eighties to be sold off to private buyers at a lower price to not local authority buildings. They’re not necessarily the prettiest but as the owner of an ex-LA home, they are solidly built and with a great amount of storage space!

The mistral is a strong, cold, northwesterly wind that blows from southern France into the Gulf of Lion in the northern Mediterranean

I welcome any comments, questions or just chats!

tagging: @astroboots for your perusal

@mouthymandalorian @lv7867 @songsformonkeys

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike #pedro pascal fanfiction #josé pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal characters #the mentalist

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luimagines · 3 years

Note

Subject 10-Mulan Link

You have now gained the accesses file page of the chain links case number #19835 Corrupted heroes for Subject #10

Current state: Safe

legal name: Link,last name unknown

Nicknamed: Mulan

Biological age: unknown

Chronical age: unknown

Hieght: Unknown

Weight: unknown

Visiting accesse time for subject Zero: Must be planned ahead of schedule time in order to have private meetings and clerance from head chief researcher Queen zelda and level 5 personal clerance

Physical description: Subject 10 is a short haired Hylian woman who wears a green tunic and knight gear armor.They have a well built muscular body and a ferret that rests around thier neck as well as scars and cuts around thier body.The most noticeable scare they have are three little cuts under thier chin and a long vertical cut across thier right cheek.

Information: Subject 10 first arrived at the castle carrying subject zero and subject 11 bloodied and badly injured with a broken arm and serveral fractured bones as well as stab/slash wounds.They came in as duplicates of four identical versions of subject 10 dressed variouse colors such as brown,cyan,yellow and green.Only one of the 4 sets had arrived at the castle with subject Zero and Subject 11 while the others fought off to keep back the “chain” while back up knights and town gaurds were deployed to apreheand them.Subject 10 is not placed under any containment but is required to come to the SCRPP research site to have check ups and testing as well as recorded interviews with research personales.Subject 10 refuses to have to go anywhere without her ferret campaion so all interviews and meetings are held with subject 10′s ferret either on the site with them or curled around subject 10′s neck.Subject 10 is in current possesion of the master sword and four sword as well as veriouse other items from the group(but not all for research purposes and other classified resons).They are to be informed of any drastic procedures that are to be done to any of the known subjects and participats of case file #19835.Subject 10 is one of the only subjects out of all the links who dose not show a red essence seeping out or show any signs of agression or possesive behvaiors for subject Zero. Research is still going underway to find out a way as to why it is and if blood or dna samples can be exracted from subject 10 in order to find a cure.

[interview recoding of subject 10 #1]

Dr.Jean: Now beining case file number #1983 dash 1 subject 10 interview of the anomalie the Curropted Heros. Time started at 10:89. Interview researcher personale Dr.Jean, tag number 893 of site 13 room A14.

Dr.Jean: Ok,lets start.Rember at anytime you start to feel uncomfortable we can stop the interview,alright?

Link: ok..

Dr.Jean: ok,lets start off with something simple.Subject 10 can you please state your name?

Link: Mulan.

Dr.Jean: I am sorry,let me clarify I meant your real name.

Link: oh,right..its uh,its Link.

Dr.Jean: Good,can you state your last name as well?

Link: I dont have one.

Dr.Jean: Are you sure? No documnets? Family? Anyway to file for one?

Link: Yes,I am sure.I dont have one.Thats it.

Dr.Jean: Right,right, *ahem* can you tell us how long you’ve know the links?

Link: We had all know each other for about a year and a half, and today would have been our second year together if…you know,had things still been normal with everyone.

Dr.Jean: how did you meet these people to begin with?

Link: I was out exploring the outskits of the forests behind my house one day and saw a bright light,so i got curiouse and followed it.I found a portal and went through it.I was transported to the guredo desert and wondered a around for a bit before I found the chain.it turns out the portal took me to a diffrent time period and there was some time,dimentional stuff going on and we were all gathered to fix it or something.

Dr.Jean: How did you meet subject Zero?

Link: Subject Zero? oh,do you mean [redacted]?

Dr.Jean: Link,please reframe from saying subject Zero’s real name during this interview.

Link: Fine.

Dr.Jean:thank you,pleas contiue.

Link: We first met them a few months after lucky came when [ audio connection has been temperarly lost]

Dr.Jean: Intresting and how did you feel about Subject zero?

Link: I didn’t think much of them, I thought that they were ok.they were kind of nice and everyone liked them,so I did too.But there was something just…off about them.

Dr.Jean:Off like what? Did you distrust them?

Link: no,no,no not distrsut or anything like that…just that something was not right…there was just something…..something WRONG with them,I dont know how to describe it, they were just not normal in a very bad way.But I ignored it and didn’t think much on it. I think they were just…diffrent.

Dr.Jean: Why did you help them escape?

Link: Because it was the right thing to do.I wanted to get them out of a situation where they were held captive and also keep the others from killing each other on who got to keep them.Its not that complicated. besides it my fault for not stopping this sooner.

Dr.Jean: How?

Link: What?

Dr.Jean: How do you think it was your fault?

LInk:[sighs] its…it was all right there I didn’t want to see it,I knew everyone was starting to act a little wierd but I didn’t want to take it that seriously,I didn’t want to think badly about my fami-friends..my friends…Until one day when they had gone completly overboard and uh…..I had found some of them beating down on a man after they were flirting with..with subject Zero…and to say that they looked like they were thugs when they were doing it would be too much of a understatement…They looked like they were having a good time doing it too.I swear when I saw them that day at the allyway they were not the heros I knew and travled with and as faw as i was concerned they were strangers-no,not even that,they were monsters…And the look on thier faces when I yelled out to them and they turned to me…it was like they were going to kill me right there and then……[Inhales heavily before exhailing shakingly] they weren’t normal….thier eyes….I don’t think I can really ever forget those empty vacant looks..it was like someone els was there…Since then things had started to get worse.

[suject 10 begins to pet her ferret at this time seeming to find comfort in it from thier stress]

Dr.Jean: Who were the ones that were there at the time of the incident?

Link: it was…I think Twilight,Four,Sky and Wild were all there.

Dr.Jean: Even Sky?

LInk: Yeah, him too.I rembered the second I started yelling and taring a new in asshole for them he just came up from behind the group and started to try to “calm me down” and explain how the shit I just saw wasn’t what it seemed like and yadda yadda yadda,typical gaslighting you know? But I wasn’t going to fall for some shit like that so I got the man out of there and to a medic, payed for all his expenses and reported them to Time and Warriors. Honestly I was so pissed off and in shock about it all that I had finally started notice and realize more and more things that were wrong about the group that I use to just keep ignoring.I still didn’t try to do anything serious about it though until the end of our journey.

Dr.Jean:What did you mean by noticeing things?

Link: …….just things….and looking back at it now should have been obviouse red flags but I never pressed for them.I think the first time I did it was with Wsrriors but he kept brushing me off saying things like “everyone is just protective of [redacted]” or “that you are looking way too into this” and when he did listen to me he would tell me that he’d keep a closer eye on the group.I suppose you can take a guess that, he did not, in fact, keep up the promis that he made.

Dr.Jean: did at any point in your adventures feel,were attempted to or successfully attacked or harmed by any members of this group during you adventures before the escape?

Link:No-well I mean yes but…[ exasperated sigh]…yeah….yeah there were a few…ok maybe a lot…But I guess the one that really stuck with me was when,uh,when Time held me up against a wall and tryed to cut my throat during a heated argument about…..them.

[Subject 10 reaches over to rub on a faint cut across thier neck]

[the ferret circles closer to her neck nuzzling it head into hers in an attempt to comfort Link]

Link: Aww,its ok little guy,I am fine right now.Don’t worry fluffy.

Dr.Jean: i am sorry if its too much but what was the argument about?

Link:…….

[subject 10 stays silent for a few minutes before speaking again]

Link: It was about if we should kill subject zero.

Dr.Jean: Then do you think we should kill subject zero?

[subject 10 stops petting fluffy and stares at the doctore without giving an answer for several more minutes]

Link:[a shallow exhale leaves thier mouth] …….I……..I….

[the sounds of sirens and alarms going off]

Annocemnet :There is a containment breach in the D -12 containment building floor,please all personels and staff go to the evacuation exits and safety rooms while special elit force knights handle the situation.Subject 4 case 19835- 1,2,3 and 4 cololrs have all escaped.If you see him or any of the colors they are to be neutralized and brought back to thier containment cells.All other staff do not ingage unless -

Dr.Jean: oh Hylia,looks like we’ll have to cut this short and we have to hurry and-wait where are you going! The safety room is this way! Link!

Link: [distant and muffled]I know,I just need to go out and kick a few stobbern little butts back in thier cells first-!

Dr.Jean: Link the elit knights can handle it you don’t have to-Link!! Link! Sir Link! Lin-!!

[audio ends here]

I am doing wind next

This is long, so I'll react as I read.

oh SHOOT THEY RAN!!!

MULAN USES THE FOUR SWORD!!

[REDACTED]?!?!!?

LUCKY!!!

AUDIO CONECTION TEMPORTARILY LOST!?!?!?!?!?

THEY GONNA KILL A GUY-KIL MULAN!!? SKY IS GASLIGHTING!?!?

TIME CUT THEM?!?!?

MULAN GONNA KILL SUBJECT ZERO!?!?!?

THEY ESCAPE!?!?!? THE COLORS ESCAPE!!!!

MULAN GOES TO FIGHT?!?!?

MY GIRL!!!!

OH MY GOD

#pinky replies #SCP LU #PINKY IS SCREAMING #pinky is screaming #i don't know which one I use anymore #violence #yall gotta let me know with tags #i don't think this was so bad in terms of being graphic....#but let me know because i can't think...#yandere #yandere linked universe #horror

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snelbz · 4 years

Text

Lovely {6}

@tacmc x @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty collaboration

A/N: Hello, you beautiful people. That’s right, it’s back. We love to see y’all’s reactions to our stories so please reblog and comment and let us know what you think! Enjoy!

FIND PREVIOUS CHAPTERS HERE

SHELBY’S ASK BOX // SHELBY’S MASTERLIST

TARA’S ASK BOX // TARA’S MASTERLIST

Azriel opened his eyes, enjoying the comfort of his bed. He assumed it was fairly early, considering only the faintest stream of sunlight had peeked through the curtains, and Asher wasn’t crying to be released from the confines of his crib yet. Until then, he would lay and relax.

There was a shift on the other side of the mattress and Azriel cursed himself, silently, for waking her; but, when he rolled onto his side, Elain was still fast asleep.

Her hair had come undone at some point in the night, and the brown curls were sprawled out across Azriel’s dark gray sheets. Her plump, pink lips were parted, her breathing even. His comforter laid just below her breasts, and it took a hefty amount of self control not to reach out and brush his fingers over her peeked nipples.

The night before had been incredible. They’d made love twice, and every other second was spent in drunk kisses and soft giggles. He took his time exploring her, and she with him, and he’d never experienced anything so wondrous and enthralling.

He was falling in love with her, and the thought was terrifying. It was one thing to like someone, to even like them a lot, but now he was falling, head over heels, at full speed. He had never fallen in love before, not like this.

He came with way more baggage than most men his age, and that was just the messy custody battle with Ianthe. He was dreading the conversation they’d have when she asked about his parents.

Draeven was not his father’s last name. No, he’d taken his mother’s maiden name as his own when the bastard was officially sentenced to prison. His name had never been formally released, always redacted in every story and news segment, so very few knew the truth, the notoriety of his childhood. He didn’t want to see the look of pity in her eyes when she found out.

He rolled over, pressing soft kisses to Elain’s shoulder, and just as she was starting to stir-.

A cry came from the baby monitor.

“Thanks, little dude,” Azriel groaned quietly as he pulled his discarded boxer-briefs on from the night before and hurried across the hall. Asher was sitting up in his crib, eyes wide as he gazed around the room. “Good morning,” he cooed, lifting his son from his crib and carrying him to the changing table. “We have a guest this morning, so we can’t be screaming this early, yeah?” Asher just chewed on the pacifier Azriel had popped in his mouth and stared up at his father while he put a fresh diaper on him. Azriel pressed a kiss to his belly and said, “Glad we’re on the same page.”

A cute onesie was a necessity and after getting Asher as adorable as possible, Azriel carried him back to his bedroom. Where he found the bed empty.

He glanced towards the bathroom, seeing the light was off and it was empty. Then he heard a noise from down in the kitchen. He crept down the stairs and found Elain in front of his coffee maker, his shirt skimming her thigh. He could tell she wasn’t wearing anything underneath it.

On quiet feet, Azriel stepped up behind her and pressed a kiss to her neck. “Good morning, beautiful.”

She jumped as she spun around, and for a second Azriel thought that she might curse him for scaring her, but her eyes were on Asher’s. She took the giggling baby into her arms and said, in a perfect, high-pitched voice, “Good morning.”

Asher clapped his hands together, his toothless grin wide as Elain set him in his highchair. Azriel was already mixing his cereal together, which was a good thing, because Asher was obviously hangry. His angry little voice filled the air as he banged on his highchair tray.

“I know, I’m coming,” Azriel promised, grabbing a little spoon from the drawer and pulling a chair up in front of the highchair. After putting a bib around Asher’s neck, he was chowing down.

Before he could even ask, Elain had set a cup of coffee down in front of him. Azriel smiled as he put Asher’s spoon up to his little lips. Most of the cereal trailed down his chin.

“Thank you,” Azriel said, looking at Elain, who had sat on the opposite side of the table. “It’s going to be a coffee day. Someone kept me up all night.”

Her cheeks turned pink as she sipped from her mug. “Pretty sure it was the other way around.”

Azriel’s grin widened. “Fair enough, I’ll take the blame.”

Elain sucked in her bottom lip, and Azriel was just about to say something when Asher blew a raspberry and Azriel got splattered with cereal, all over his face and his chest.

He slowly set down the bowl and the spoon before looking at his giggling infant and saying, “Thank you. Thank you, so much.”

Elain’s hands were covering her mouth as she laughed. “Go clean yourself, I’ll take over.”

Azriel couldn’t help but laugh at Asher’s joy, and as he stood up, he kissed Elain, softly, before she took her place in his chair and started to feed Asher.

Azriel had only just made it to the sink when there was a knock on the door. He blinked, then looked to the clock above the stove. It was only just after seven.

He wiped off his face, but when the knock came again, he was hurrying toward the door. After pulling on a pair of sweatpants that were hanging over the back of the couch, Azriel opened the door, and stilled.

Ianthe was there, in her jogging attire - which didn’t amount to much. When she saw Azriel, bare-chested and hair still a mess, a wide, feline grin spread across her lips. “Well, good morning, baby daddy.”

He gaped and finally said, “What are- Ianthe, what are you doing here?”

“I’m here for my baby. Where is he?” She tried to peek around him into the house, but he angled the door where only his entryway could be seen.

“It’s seven in the morning. On a Saturday.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the frame, becoming a veritable wall blocking her view.

“Well, we have plans this morning and I have to get him ready,” she said, taking another step up his porch stairs.

Before he could say anything, Asher’s happy giggle could be heard echoing through the house. And then Elain’s voice was floating towards him. “That’s not very nice, Asher. You can’t spit your breakfast on daddy and on me. No, you can’t. No, sir.”

Azriel had tensed and when he turned back to Ianthe, she had an eyebrow raised and her eyes were like ice. “Who’s that, daddy?”

“None of your concern,” Azriel said back, his voice calm. “And I have him until tonight. I’ll drop him off at six, like we agreed on.”

“Plans changed,” she snapped. “Now get my baby away from the whore or I’ll go in there and grab him myself.”

Azriel’s jaw locked as he stepped out onto the porch and shut the door quietly behind him. “Watch your tongue.”

“Or what?” she asked, intrigued. “What will you do, Az? As of right now, you have to do what I say, legally, and I’m telling you to get your pretty little ass inside, grab my son, and bring him to me so we’re not late.”

Azriel didn’t move.

Ianthe took a step toward him. “Or it’ll be awhile before I let you have him again. Understand?”

Azriel crossed his arms. “I don’t like threats.”

“Too bad,” she said. “I have the power, and you’ve already pissed me off by letting my son around that skank. As you’ve said, it’s seven on a Saturday morning. Now, why would a woman be in your kitchen so early?”

“Oh, fuck off. How many men have you been with this week alone, Ianthe?” The words came out of his mouth before he could think better of it. He pressed on before she could bite back. “Nothing in our agreement stipulated that I wasn’t allowed to be in a relationship.”

“Consider it added now,” she said, a wicked smile on her face, pulling her phone from her leggings, the gods knew where there was room. She typed out a quick text message and Azriel stared at her, in absolute shock.

He breathed, “You vindictive bitch.”

She smiled up at him again and was about to say something else that was meant to wound him, but he gripped her wrist with far too much gentleness considering the conversation, and turned it over.

Because that crazed look in her eye, it wasn’t only delight at fucking him over once again. There was a reason she was so chipper at seven on a Saturday morning.

The words were deathly soft. “Are you using again?”

Her arm was jerked from his grip before he could react. “Get your hands off of me. That’s none of your fucking concern.”

Azriel chuckled, humorlessly, as he shook his head. “You’re not taking him. You’re on a high, and you’re not taking him.”

“Don’t fu-.”

“You didn’t even drive here,” Azriel began, exasperated, his hands shaking from the pure anger radiating throughout his body. He looked behind her to find the street nearly empty, her car nowhere in sight. “What was your plan? Jog him on your hip back to your parents house? Fuck, Ianthe-.”

“Give me Asher.”

“No,” Azriel said, firmly. “I’ll drop him off, at your parents, at six tonight, so that I know he’s safe. And that was our agreement.” He’d have a talk with them, too, Ianthe’s parents.

Because he sure as hell wasn’t going to let Asher go with Ianthe. Not if she was back on drugs, not again. He would fight it, and if he lost his parenting rights in the process…

No, he wouldn’t let himself think that way, wouldn’t let his mind wander to the horrid, unfair possibilities. The world couldn’t be that cruel.

Then again. As a child, himself, the world was that cruel.

Ianthe hadn’t said another word. She stared at Azriel, venom igniting those teal eyes.

“Go home, Ianthe,” Azriel warned.

There was a small list of things he had expected her to do in response, but spitting in his face wasn’t one of them. His body tensed as her saliva smacked him in the face, right between his eyes. But then she was walking back down the porch steps, all while saying, “You made a big mistake, Azriel.”

He didn’t move, not until she was down the street, jogging around the corner.

Azriel stepped back into the house, heading straight for the kitchen sink. He took a paper towel off of the holder and wiped Ianthe’s spit off of his face. When he turned around, he froze.

Elain was sitting in the same chair, still in his t-shirt, and Asher was asleep in her arms. She was watching Azriel, though, her eyes full of concern.

All he said was, “Did you give him his bottle?”

She nodded. “Burped him, too.”

His smile was tired, but he said, “Thank you.” He sighed and let his head fall. “Elain, there’s something I have to do today, but I don’t think I can do it alone.” He swallowed hard. He’d never once taken anyone with him to meet with Helion, nor had he ever wanted to. But today, he needed someone there to steady him, to keep him grounded.

Because he’d never been so angry in his entire life. He’d seen red and couldn’t allow himself to do so, but the fact that Ianthe had actually intended to take their child while she was…

Elain stood, cradling his son as if he were the most precious gift, and walked to him. She took his hand in her free one. “I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

___

Rhysand had given Feyre a cup of coffee, but she couldn’t drink it. All she could think about was Tamlin, still lying on her couch. All through the night, it was all she could think about. No, she and Rhys hadn’t had sex, and every time they got a little too hot and heavy, she pushed him away and looked toward the doorway of her bedroom, thinking that Tamlin would be standing right there.

But he hadn’t moved, all night, and now that morning had come, she wanted him out of her fucking house.

“Do you want me to wake him up?” Rhysand asked, for the tenth time since they’d rolled out of her bed.

Feyre didn’t answer. She had told Rhys no so far, thinking that if Rhysand was to wake him up, there would be an instant fist fight, and that was no way to start a Saturday morning. So, instead, although she was unsure how it was any better, Feyre went to the cabinet by the sink and opened it up, retrieving a glass. After filling it up with water, she walked to the back of the couch and dumped it on Tamlin’s face.

With a shuddering gasp, Tamlin was sitting up and looking around. “What the fuck?”

“Time to go,” Feyre said, setting the glass down on the side table, with a little more force than necessary. He flinched at the sound, but she couldn’t find it in herself to feel bad about it.

He groaned as he leaned forward, water dripping from his hair.

She sighed and said, “Come on, Tam, I’m serious. I need you to leave.”

He narrowed his eyes, but didn’t say a word. He just stood and turned to leave, but when his eyes fell on Rhysand, he froze. “You always have to win.”

Rhysand rolled his eyes, but he remained silent. Feyre stared at the floor as she listened to his heavy footsteps walk through the foyer, and out the front door.

For a moment, the small townhouse remained silent, but then Feyre looked up to meet his gaze. “What did he mean by that?”

“I don’t know, Feyre-.”

“Bullshit!” she yelled, exasperated. She was annoyed, angry, and sleep-deprived. She didn’t have the time or patience to be dancing around the subject any longer. “I have to know what happened between you two, Rhys. I like you, I really do, a lot, but I can’t deal with secrets, not anymore.”

His lips snapped shut, and for a moment, she thought that he would tell her he didn’t want to, that he wasn’t in the mood, yet again, but then he sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “Fine.”

As if she wasn’t expecting it, which she truly wasn’t, her body stilled. Then, before he could change his mind, she was slowly sitting in the chair next to him at the kitchen table. She didn’t push him, didn’t rush him, only sat perfectly still, her anger turning into nerves. The possibilities of what he was about to say had her stomach churning.

He took a deep breath and said, “I’ve known Tamlin pretty much my whole life. We went to the same elementary school, played on the same teams, and we were… we used to be friends.”

Shit. Feyre had known there was history, but she didn’t know it went that far back.

Rhys continued, “I don’t exactly remember when we had our falling out, but Tamlin’s dad was always pushing to be better, by using me as an example. He’d talk to my dad at work, find out how I was doing in my classes, and then he’d go home and berate Tam about how much better of a son I was.”

Tam. The familiarity of the nickname made Feyre’s heart hurt.

“In short, somewhere in middle school, he started to hate me, and I understood it,” Rhysand continued, shrugging. “His dad was an asshole, and he had to have someone else to blame it on. Considering I was a part of the equation, it made sense that it was me.”

There was something sad, something regretful in Rhysand’s eye, but Feyre didn’t question it. She remained quiet, and she listened.

“Anyway, middle school went by and then high school began,” Rhysand went on, staring at his intertwined hands. “We didn’t talk much, only when we had to. We’d drifted into our own groups of friends, found our own places where we belonged, even though we still played on all the same sport teams yet. Anyway, that’s just kind of how it was between us, at least for a while. Things were tense, but they were never bad, you know?” He didn’t wait for Feyre to answer before he went on. At this point, it was like he was talking mostly to himself. “Our junior year, my parents were out one night, coming home with my little sister from a dance recital. They got in an accident, and none of them made it out alive. My parents died instantly, having gotten hit head on. And my sister, who was only thirteen at the time, was in a coma for two days before they made me make the decision to pull her off of life support.”

His voice had become a deadly quiet, and Feyre couldn’t breathe. Rhysand wasn’t looking at her, he was still staring at his hands. His eyes had lined with silver, those tears nearly about to fall, but he only cleared his throat.

“It, uh,” he started, then shook his head, sending those tears that had held themselves in down his tanned cheeks. “It was Tamlin’s dad that had hit them. He was drunk, behind the wheel, and swerved in his lane, going way too fast, hitting my parents and my sister.”

Every thought in Feyre’s mind faded away. She had never met Tamlin’s dad, and Tamlin wouldn’t talk about it, only told her that his dad was gone. She didn’t understand, not yet, but as Rhysand went on, all the pieces came together.

“He hated me after that, blamed the fact that his dad was in prison for life on me,” Rhysand said, a humorless laugh loud in the quiet of the townhouse. “And I hated him for that. I hated him for blaming that shit on me, just because he needed someone to blame it on.”

Feyre stood, rounding her table and taking his hands in hers. She knelt in front of him.

“Rhys, I’m so sorry.”

He smiled at her, it was sad, but it was a smile nonetheless. “You have nothing to apologize for. You had every right to ask, I just… It’s a part of my life that’s still painful to open up. I’m glad Rayn doesn’t remember any of it, but that doesn’t mean we don’t miss our parents everyday.”

Feyre’s phone rang from the kitchen counter, and she glanced at it, but Rhysand said, “Go ahead, baby.”

She hurried to catch her phone before it was sent to voicemail, but when she saw her father’s name on the screen, she hesitated.

With a sigh, she answered, “Hello?”

“Feyre? Hi.” Isaac sounded far too cheery for such an hour. “Busy today?”

Feyre looked over at Rhysand, who was watching her with furrowed brows. “I’m...not sure. What’s up?”

“I was going to meet your sister for lunch. Was wondering if you’d like to join us?”

Feyre blinked. “Which sister?”

Isaac laughed quietly into the phone. “Nesta. Elain says she’s busy.”

Of course, I’d be the last one you call.

“I don’t know, dad, I-.”

“Come on,” Isaac begged, and the sincerity in his voice was overwhelming. “I haven’t seen you since I’ve been back in town. Hell, I haven't seen you in six months. It’s just lunch. To catch up.”

Feyre leaned back against the counter, nibbling on her bottom lip as Rhysand continued to watch her, intently.

“Okay,” Feyre breathed. “Fine. What time?”

“Nesta told me she’d be at the diner at noon, will that work for you?”

She nodded, regardless of the fact that he couldn’t see her. “Sure, dad, I’ll see you then.”

Isaac sighed, “Thank you, Feyre, dear.”

She cringed. She hated it when he called her Feyre, dear. It felt so...formal. “You’re welcome, bye.”

As soon as she hung up, she closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the cabinets, which gently banged with a soft thud! Feyre groaned. The last thing she wanted to do, especially after a night of little to no sleep, was go sit through a forty five minute cold shoulder contest between her father and eldest sister.

But then she smelled jasmine and nightshade and citrus, and she felt fingers skimming up the outside of her thigh. Rhys breathed, right by her ear, “Don’t tell me I took the day off of work for no reason.”

Feyre tilted her head down until her eyes met his. He lifted her up onto the counter, stepping in the space in between her legs. She let her arms drape around his neck and said, “I’m afraid so. I have to meet my dad and sister for lunch.”

“What time?” He asked, leaning down and pressing kisses to her jaw.

His fingers dug into her bare thigh, her shorts having ridden up. She said, “I’m meeting them at noon.”

He glanced over her shoulder at the clock on the microwave. “We’ve got about five hours, don’t we?”

Feyre groaned. “It’s that early? Why aren’t we in bed?”

Rhysand leaned back and met her gaze. “Are you inviting me back to bed?”

Feyre grinned, tilting her head as she pretended to think on it. “If you carry me there.”

Rhysand didn’t have to be told twice. He lifted her off the counter and slowly carried her up the stairs, his lips never parting from her skin. Feyre closed her eyes and dwelled in his touch, in the way the touch of his lips set her on fire.

Rhysand carried her back into her bedroom, where they’d spent their night tangled in each other’s arms, and dropped her on her mattress.

They kissed for a little while, but due to her night full of worry and anger, Rhysand didn’t pressure her for anything at all. Instead, he pulled her back into his arms and rubbed her back until she fell soundly, peacefully asleep.

_____

Lunch had been horrible, just as Nesta had expected it to be. Nothing too eventful happened, but it was horribly awkward. She got a free meal out of it, she supposed, so that was a plus; but, she was grateful that it would be another six months before her father asked her out to lunch again.

There had always been that pattern.

Nonetheless, it was over and done with and the day was still fairly young, which meant she got to spend it at Cassian’s.

His apartment was on the other side of town from the diner she had met her dad at, and by the time she had gotten there through the busy city, she had nearly lost her mind. She hoped Cassian had wine, and that he didn’t judge her too much for starting to drink so early in the day.

He’d given her a key, just in case he was asleep when she arrived back, as he’d claimed that the previous nights’ activities had completely exhausted him. He’d even said that without a nap, he’d have no energy to please his girlfriend all night again. She’d rolled her eyes and kissed him goodbye, before smacking him in the face with the pillow she’d been sleeping on.

True to his word, when Nesta called Cassian when she was about five minutes away, he hadn’t answered. She laughed quietly, debating on the ways she could wake him up. She parked and let herself into his apartment, careful not to let the door slam. But Cassian wasn’t sleeping.

A gentle melody floated through the apartment from down the hall. Nesta froze in the doorway as the music grew louder, and slipped off her shoes and put down her purse before quietly tip-toeing down the hall. He was in his office, across from his bedroom, facing the wall where a small, wooden piano sat. It was old, but finely tuned. He said it had belonged to his grandmother who was a music teacher for young students back in the day.

He constantly thought about getting a new one, but he’d always said there was something about the piano that made him love to play even more.

She couldn’t see his face, but she knew by the way his head was tossed back that his eyes were closed. He wore sweatpants and an old t-shirt, his hair tied up at the back of his head. He obviously hadn’t heard her come in, and she didn’t want to ruin the moment she’d caught him in.

As his fingers danced gracefully across the keys, Nesta leaned against the doorway and watched.

She closed her eyes, listening as the melody flowed around her. It made her heart want to dance, when so many things these days didn’t. Her soul felt like it could breathe and as she listened, she imagined the dance she would craft to his songs, the stories they could tell together.

Nesta hadn’t realized she was crying until she sniffled quietly and Cassian’s hands slowed and stopped on the ivory keys.

He looked over his shoulder, surprised to see her standing there, and hesitated when he saw she was crying. “What’s wrong? How long have you been standing there?”

He was up on his feet and walking toward her when she answered, “Long enough to get emotional, apparently. You play beautifully.”

His eyes softened as his arms wrapped around her and he kissed her, softly. “You used the key.”

She nodded, her forehead falling into his chest.

He was quiet for a moment before he said, “You should keep it.”

Nesta kept her head pressed into his chest as she stilled and said, “It’s… Cass, are you sure? You don’t think it’s too soon?”

He shrugged and she finally looked up at him. “I want to spend as much time with you as possible. If that means giving you a key so you can come see me, so be it.”

Nesta could feel her walls rising, could feel every instinct she had telling her to run, that it was too soon, that she couldn’t get attached. But regardless of all of that, regardless of the pit in her stomach, she nodded and said, “Okay.”

He could tense the tension in her body as he ran her hands down her arms. “You don’t have to always use it,” he followed. “Just when I’m lost in my music, or sleeping.” She chuckled and then he added, “Or, you know, when you miss me.”

She pushed back from his chest and lifted a brow. “And what makes you think that I ever miss you?”

He pulled her back toward him by her waist as he grinned. “Oh, you miss me. Judging by all the noises you were making last night-.”

She pushed him in the chest, trying to suppress her laughter as she did so.

#lovely 6 #lovely tacmc toab #toab tacmc collab #throne of ashes and beauty x tacmc collab #tacmc x throne of ashes and beauty #elriel #nessian #feysand

175 notes · View notes

itsclownhours · 3 years

Conversation

merlin as tumblr posts again because when i edited a typo in the original it fucked up the formatting

everyone: you have to make time for yourself

morgana: *stays up until 1 am every night crying* me time

morgana: ohhhh so the pain is forever and endless i get it now

young!mordred: once i learn how to read and write it’s over for you hoes

lancelot, in cursive: i can’t read cursive handwriting

gwaine: what does this say

elyan: i can’t read cursive handwriting

gwaine: bitch me neither that’s why i asked

arthur, to merlin, about lancelot: is he...y’know…*gestures downard to super hell*

uther, straight: hey what’s up guys do you want to go get some food

arthur and morgana, gay: ??????

uther: oh sorry i mean asgdhjdhs guys do you??? want some food??? lmao ashdjdjhs

arthur and morgana: oh! agshdjjshsj yeah lmao agshdj

morgana: do you ever associate the word “girlfriend” with wlw so much that you forget straight boys have girlfriends

gwen: am taking care of a tiny kitten. have given it an excellent name. dad thinks i’m calling her “minty” but this is actually short for The Government

gwen: The Government bit my finger and pooped on the floor

gwaine: peak art is when you were like six and you scribbled all over ms paint and then carefully paintbucketed in all the different shapes in the scribbles to make “stained glass”

morgause: forcing my car to commit sins so it goes to hell with me when i die

leon, after arthur gives the knights a pep talk: so motivational...time to drill a hole in my skull

morgana: i want to be a she really did that!! kind of girl but i don’t do anything

arthur: pros and cons of being my friend:

arthur: pro: you have a friend

arthur: con: it’s me

gwaine, to lancelot: bro let’s watch a horror movie together...bro you look scared do you wanna share a blanket dude? if you wanna hold hands it’s ok. if you wanna rest your head on my shoulder it’s alright bro...bro if you wanna kiss that’s understandable that was a scary movie...we can keep cuddling after the movie is over it’s alright dude…

lancelot: old town road but he just keeps listing all the places he has horses

gwaine: i got the horses in the back

gwaine: horses on the track

gwaine: horses in the shack and i got horses fetching snacks

gwaine: i got the horses in earth’s core

gwaine: down under the floor

gwaine: horses in the store and i got horses on the moor

gwaine: died and came back as a cowboy i call that reintarnation

morgana: *shows up at college* excuse me will someone please direct me to the leftist brainwashing class? i’m here for the leftist brainwashing class

merlin: finally found someone i was more disappointed in that myself: the entirety of america camelot

morgause: customer (derogatory)

arthur: business major (derogatory)

leon: leonardo dicaprio date a woman over 25 challenge

gwaine: thought that said “leonardo da vinci” and was confused since da vinci was gay and also since you were calling out someone who’s been dead for well over 7 years

leon: well. da vinci has been well over 7 years, i’ll give you that

morgana: the retirement age needs to be lowered to 25. i’ve had enough

gwaine: i’m fucking in luigi’s mansion

leon: who?

gwaine: some italian freak

gwaine: oh you meant who am i fucking. your mom

leon: stop setting things on fire because you’re curious about what will happen. what will happen is fire

gwaine: but what if...something else happens. just this 1 time

morgause: bored? burn an orphan. who’re they gonna tell? their parents?

morgana: due to personal reasons i will be a serial arsonist

mithian: fruit (affectionate)

arthur: going to the fruit (derogatory) store do you want anything

gwen: fruit (salad, yummy yummy)

morgana, to gwen: i’m allergic to hookup culture and too weird to participate anyway. die in my arms

kilgharrah: i am fast and full of teeth. i will die in a barn fire

morgana: not evil anymore i want to be loved now

morgana: evil again

morgause: every day i put on my evil little clothes and do my evil little tasks

percival: megan thee stallion and timothee chalamet are the same age

gwaine: megan thee stallion 🤝 timo thee chalamet

morgana: hey how many swords do you have

morgause: sword of a lot

morgana: blocked

morgause: parried

morgana and gwen simultaneously in 1x10: *chanting* girls with swords girls with swords

morgana: the more knives you have the more valid you are

kilgharrah: blocked. blocked. blocked. you’re all blocked. none of you are free from sin.

morgana: seven deadly sins speedrun

gwaine: i want 6 pet sloths so i can name them after every sin except for sloth

merlin: the eighth deadly sin is networking

arthur: online school culture is constantly wondering if there’s a sneaky little assignment you missed...is it tucked under modules or assignments or heaven forbid, announcements? who’s to say?

gaius: asynchronous learning

merlin, a clown: mmmnaptime

arthur: have you ever just cried because you’re you

elyan, to percival: bro, we are teens . it’s ok to cry around me . i’m your best friend . i love you … bro we are kissing now … no don’t stop bro … bro …

morgana: mad bc i was told as the bride my wedding would be “my day” but actually where will be a whole other bride there and we will have to share it

leon: i’m disgusted every time someone does a gender reveal and it’s about a gender i already know about, what kind of reveal is that

leon: gender reveal party??? no, this is a gender repeal party. we out here revoking genders

gwaine: you’re laughing. i asked you who sings party rock anthem and you’re laughing

gwaine: make no mistake not only am i party rocking but i’m also in the house tonight

elyan: are you shuffling?

gwaine: everyday

morgana: lung extensions

morgana: with extended lungs you can: scream longer, breathe harder, brag about extended lungs

morgana: this procedure is not legal but i will do it for you

morgana: do not tell the police or morgause

morgana: i’m so sick of dna, i’m going to have all mine removed

morgause: good news! this is a real thing that can happen to you

morgana: perfect, sign me up

morgana: if YOU die because i poisoned you...how is that MY fault like i’m sorry you aren’t immune to my poisons i think that’s genuinely something you need to work on. fix yourself before blaming others

arthur: my body is NOT a “temple”...it is a CLOWN CAR and NONE OF THESE BITCHES KNOW HOW TO DRIVE

morgause: live

morgause: laugh

morgause: l u r k

mcdonald’s employee: please sir get off the table

gwaine: I ASKED FOR TWO LARGE FRIES *dumping bag of fried out onto the floor* BUT INSTEAD GOT A HUNDRED FUCKEN LITTLE ONES

merlin: i relate to vampires because i too must be clearly and specifically invited in before i have the audacity to try to participate in anything

gwaine: it can’t be september, just yesterday is was marchgustuary

lancelot: today’s date: [REDACTED]/[REDACTED]/20

gwaine: why are internet friends not normalized. it’s 2020 they’re probably making robots that will wipe your ass for you and i can’t text grace in the uk and tell her to have a good day? fuck you

percival: imagine if halsey was in beauty and the beast

elyan: are you insane like gaston. been in pain like gaston. bought a hundred dollar bottle of champagne like gaston

arthur: my dad is learning about pronouns/gender identity and he called me in the middle of the night to tell me he is cis

merlin: ough. those first 400 bites of dirt were not so good. maybe the next one will be better

morgana: i’m at the dark candy store, buying sorrowful ranchers

merlin: i’m surprised no one has ever punched me in the face

gwen: i want a gf so i can send her memes about loving my gf

morgause: oh to cook with my wife and stand directly in front of cabinets and drawers she needs to open

morgause: decided i will no longer be paying taxes. what are they gonna do, tax me more? go ahead. i won’t pay those either. oh i’m going to prison? the one paid for by my tax dollars? sorry, didn’t pay em. now there is no prison. i am at least 3 steps ahead of the government at all times

merlin: lab safety but the teacher just wants to you die

merlin: lab safety: 1. drink whatever’s in that beaker. i know you fucking want to

morgause: my therapist is selling her house so i’m gonna find the listing online and make her living room my zoom backgrounds before our next session. you wanna get in my head? ok well i’m in your home babe. i’m in charge now

morgana: yeah i see why you’re in therapy

morgana: i hate it when people ask me to “explain my thought process” like hell if i know

morgana: what’s going on in that head of yours?” nothing i want to be a part of

mordred: hey girls what’s the hot gossip what’s new what’s the 411

morgana and morgause: everything is bad and getting worse by the day

morgause: common letter greetings from 1889

morgause: dearest my-soon-to-be-enemy

morgause: salutations and i hope you enjoy contact prison

morgause: i hope this letter finds you in a ditch

arthur: *highlights all the wrong and unimportant stuff with full confidence*

merlin: i’ve tried opening my mouth and saying words before and i’ve gotta say, i’m not a fan

morgana: a large group of humans is called a fuck that

website: synonyms for blood: juice

mithian: thank you thesaurus.com, that is absolutely not what i was looking for

gwaine: gen z humor was single-handedly cultivated by the zoo wee mama comic and you can’t convince me otherwise

morgana: screw this it’s halloween now *turns into a swarm of bats them consumes the moon*

morgana: i can’t believe the heterosexuals are gone. they’re gone

uther: we’re still here

arthur: who said that

gwaine: no more france

gwaine: society has progressed passed the need for france

morgause: girls night out (of body experience)

morgana, to morgause: what do you mean “what have i been up to”...i’m out here ruining my own life as always bitch

merlin: stop complaining about your life. there are literally people living in camelot

arthur, trying to find new knights: oh so you’re a human? name three pictures with traffic lights in them

gwaine: we mcfreaking lost her doctor

morgause: looking for a wife in the walmart

morgause: arrested for visiting www.killing.com/murder

gwaine, to merlin: no bro this isn’t a date listen bro

gwaine: it’s bruhnch

morgause, to cenred: if you think i’m not interested, you’re right

gwen: put a pancake on a girl’s head when she’s asleep to keep her warm and safe

morgana: idk what mad scientist needs to hear this today but your goggles and lab coat are incredibly flattering and all your experiments will block away the scientific community who called you a fool

morgause: i’m gonna fucking die disease

morgause: symptoms: back hurts a bit too much for a bit too long

arthur: if you think i’m annoying now wait until i get over my fear of being perceived as annoying

merlin: sorry if i’m bothering you

surgeon: how do you keep waking up and saying that

gwaine: home depot needs more small tunnels for me to crawl through tbh

percival: hot tip: soup is customizable! go wild but know your limits

morgana: brains say “i know a spot” and take you to a traumatic memory from 2011

mithian: “can you multitask” yes actually i am losing my mind and chilling at the same time

morgana: quarantine schedule to keep you on track

morgana: wake up

morgana: neglect online school

morgana: yearn (ongoing project)

morgana: again!

mithian: if cats don’t want to be held like little babies maybe they shouldn’t be roughly the size and shape of little babies

morgause: fuck this pandemic i could’ve ruined 2020 on my own

morgana: a cute girl told me she has lots of plants in her house and i told her for some fucking reason “damn the oxygen at your place must be mad crisp” and somehow still got her number so. chase your dreams. nothing is impossible apparently

morgana: oh to wear a knife strapped against my thigh beneath a silk dress

morgana, running off with morgause at the end of season 2: i hate this place i want to go to build a bear

morgana, at work: i’m evil

morgana, 1 second after clocking out: not evil anymore i want to be loved now

morgana, the next day at work: evil again

season 2 morgana: i am fine thank you for asking! though recently there has been a darkness growing within me

morgause: *thinks about love* okay well i am just losing my mind and being insane now

arthur: you think you can hurt my feelings? i’ve been the least favorite in every single friendship group i’ve had since i was 8

morgana, staring out the window at arthur and merlin: look at them plotting my downfall

mithian: i wanna buy clown noses in bulk and start sticking them on every person i see whose mask is pulled too low

mithian: oh to be a tiny cat whose biggest concern is the looming threat of being gently picked up and kissed on the head

morgana: i deserve to be kissed

morgana: did you have a homoerotic friendship with a girl in high school that ended in tragedy and you two are never talking again or are you normal?

mithian: just diagnosed with forehead kiss deficiency :/

morgana: i think i’ll continue to wear a mask when this shit’s all over, and huge sunglasses. my face is none of your business

morgause: my therapist told me that sometimes when a person consumes the same piece of media over and over they may be unconsciously coping with a mental block so now i’m trying to figure out what the fuck i was going through that made me watch ratatouille 8 times a day for a solid month in middle school

morgause: opposite of depression nap. depression awakeness. refreshing the same three websites over and over. there’s nothing new on any of them. eight seconds have passed and it feels like a century

morgana: very homophobic that my head is not laying on the chest of my maidservant as i am drifting off to sleep

merlin: no no, it’s fine, i’ll text myself back

morgana: *pines* *longs* *yearns* *pines* *longs* *yearns* *pines* *longs* *yearns* *pines* *longs* *yearns* *pines* *longs* *yearns* *pines* *longs* *yearns* *pines* *longs* *yearns* *pines* *longs* *yearns*

arthur: i’d have to be a fool not to? being a fool and not doing things are my top two activities

gwaine: you think it’s easy to be me? you think it’s easy to get up every. single. day. and be an industrial grade dumbass? well it’s not. but that’s what i do. and i’ll never stop.

morgana: ah shit i’m sorry man, my schedule for the week is all booked

sunday: yearn

monday: pine

tuesday: long

wednesday: ache

thursday: sigh

friday: lament

saturday: crave

morgana: talents include: being a public menace, denying God’s will, petting dogs, yearning, being dramatic, witchcraft, quoting classic literature when no one asked, napping, befriending a murder of crows, being gay, covering up my emotions by being “the funny friend” when in reality i’m really going through it, wistfully staring out the car window

merlin: *doesn’t even do the bare minimum* all in a day’s work

cenred: a “period” is not an excuse to have an attitude

morgause: i miss the times when men would go to war and die

morgana: the cheap halloween vampire fangs stay ON during sex

gwen: maybe i pspspspsp’ed you because i love you. did you think of that? huh?

morgana: mom said it’s my turn to hand out the ominous and vague warnings

arthur: that wasn’t mom

uther: she JUST SAID it was her turn

morgause: i’m a chill person but if my back doesn’t stop hurting i’m going to take out my spine and beat God with it

mithian: one of these days i’m going to say the f word

mithian: then you’ll all be sorry

morgause: 3 words every girl wants to hear

morgause: club penguin membership

morgana: hmm, yes.

morgana: time to s i p

morgana: some *~crispy~*

morgana: d i h y d r o g e n m o n o x i d e

morgause: roll call! raise your hand if you’re in the following fandoms:

morgause: 1. suffering 2. the pain of living

morgana: *raises both hands and a leg*

leon: it’s so hard being a single mom when you have no kids and are a male teenager

merlin: yeah bro hit me up and we’ll cancel some plans sometime

morgana: my brain, or as i like to call it, the suffer contraption

morgause: my circle so small i almost cut myself off

morgause hyping herself up before entering any public area: i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal

arthur: today in french we learned how to say “what’s in the bag” and i couldn’t stop laughing because

arthur: swaggity swag qu’est-ce qui dans le sac

merlin: even when i am not speaking, know that horrible sentences are raging within me

mithian in 5x04: sorry bro i can’t go out tonight. i’m stuck in an eternal state of melancholy

morgause: shower gel label: immerse yourself in this new “Me Time” luxury frooty tooty. abandon all sense of identity and dissolve your memories into this soothing chemical broth. one billion melons are in this tube...use them wisely

leon, writing a headline about the most recent knights’ mission: local dumbasses knew that what they were getting themselves into and did it anyways

morgana: *feels random pain in body*

morgana: kill me

mithian: *slowly inches closer to your pet*

morgause: *refuses to look at texts* i love conversation and communication

arthur: cute gender neutral things to call your partner

arthur: significant annoyance

leon: the most unrealistic fantasy trope is the one where half of the pair works in some sort of shop and one is a customer because i have literally never thought about a customer with anything other than contempt

gwaine: why is everyone talking about 1d all of a sudden did one of them die

elyan: they’re 10 years old now

gwaine: i wish them luck 4th grade is tough!!

gwaine: must i pursue a career? is it not enough to be passionate about tv shows and snack foods?

leon, aroace: cool date idea: me eating oatmeal by myself

morgana: i have no self of steam

gwaine: i hate wearing a mask. i miss being able to gently kiss my trader joe’s cashier on the lips after they ring up my $8 box of blueberries

morgana: committing acts of violence today…*pushes morgause’s glass of water off the counter*

gwaine: mario will do anything to put a smile on your face

morgana: haha we get along so well...our brains just work the same way

morgause, after changing her entire personality to match morgana’s after analyzing the way she talks and texts: haha yeah it’s incredible

gwaine: covered in sauce, trembling

arthur: *says the vaguest most incoherent shit ever*

arthur: you know what i mean :/

[online]

morgana: *screenshots things her girlfriend said to her so she can read it again later* yeah i’m not gay

uther: dude no offence i don’t want to sound like an sjw or anything but if you have a girlfriend you’re straight. that’s just how it works

morgana: i’m a girl

uther: what the fuck

morgana: the second you say “family group chat” i know we are not the same

gwen: what if early in the morning after buying groceries we got caught in the rain and i used my jacket to cover your head ut we still got soaked and we made a fire at home and brewed tea and sat together watching the rain as our cats hid under our feets at each sound of thunder and we ate stew for dinner and watched tv until we fell asleep on the couch with your head resting on my shoulder

gwaine, to percival: hold my hand bro we’re crossing the street

percival: imageine if we all just started ignoring celebrities though

percival: i can’t stop thinking about how funny this would be. imagine kyie jenner posting a selfie and it gets 12 likes

morgana: this isn’t fun anymore i need a kiss

morgause at 1159 pm: life’s great lol

morgause at 1201 am: does anyone really know me? most importantly do i really know me? what if life doesn’t get better than this?

merlin: king i needbfjdjgnjfg qldkr snmsmdjgjt ….. .. i need--fjrjkrhgphpqn dd

arthur: huh *dunks merlin’s head back underwater*

morgana: i don’t go to therapy or take any pills i just rawdog life and let my brain turn into soup

mordred: dark emails

morgause: to whom it WILL concern

morgana: now that this email has found you

gwaine: hi waiter could i get the spaghetti i promise i’ll behave this time

merlin: the sexiest thing about me? everything hurts my feelings

gwaine: how is sex fun if i have to remove my crocs to have it

elyan: if he makes you remove your crocs for sex he isn’t the one

morgause: a motherfucker could use an embrace

morgana: every night after 10pm my feelings start crawling out, starved, as i beat them with a moderately large stick vigorously hissing “stay back” until i inevitably fall asleep

fanfiction: there’s only one room available…

morgause, who specifically chose a rated m and explicit story: oh my gosh there’s only one room they’re gonna share a bed what’s gonna happen next

morgana: i can have a little unrealistic romantic fantasy. as a treat

arthur: some of y’all weren’t asked out as a joke in middle school and it shows

morgana: how is everyone doing. i’ll go first i’m doing badly

morgana: being a kid was so fucking funny we’d just go around lying to each other’s faces constantly to impress each other one of the knights told me he was the first person to visit the sun and when i asked him what it was like to prove he was lying he said he didn’t remember because they sent him there when he was a baby and to this day the mental image of nasa launching an unsupervised baby into the sun still makes me crack up

elyan: do you wish you were seeing somebody

leon: a therapist

morgause: when you see someone from high school and they don’t recognize you that’s the exact opposite of the mortifying ordeal of being known. the gratifying relief of being forgotten

[texting]

morgana: you seem hard to kill

morgause: aw thank you

morgause: i haven’t been killed yet

morgana: to your knowledge

morgause: what

morgana: just truly bonkers how much i love lying down……..like being horizontal? Unparalleled

arthur: when i was younger i really thought that piranhas were going to be a bigger issue for me than they’ve turned out to be

morgause: filling out the depression and anxiety checkboxes at the doctors is always so sad but also very very funny

morgause: i am handed a piece of paper. i check off a box that says “every day i wish i were dead”. i hand back the paper. the paper and its contents are never again discussed.

morgana: unfortunately, due to several experiences in my youth, i cannot just “walk up and join the circle of people talking”, but it does sound lovely thank you

morgana: if california is so expensive why don’t you move to somewhere like ohio

morgause: full offense but i’d rather be dead in california than alive in ohio

morgause: ugly and uninspiring--review of ohio

morgana: staying up late not even fun anymore it’s just sad

morgause: everyone should be comfortable in their own skin :)

morgause’s brain: except for you

morgause: except for me :)

mithian: please peer pressure me into finishing projects

merlin: do it or you’re straight

mithian: i said peer pressure not threaten

morgause: the year is 2030. bakery art is so realistic, literally anything could be cake. the uncertainty has gripped the world in fear. i go to hug my wife for comfort. she is cake.

morgause: i sob in despair as i eat my cake wife. she is delicious

gwen: do ladies love stupid men or do they just love men who don’t exhaust every opportunity to feel smart

gwen: “i used to think that melancholy was a vegetable” that’s incredible, let’s hang out more

morgause: basically i accidentally listened to a song a few years ago and it led to this

morgana: *desperately tries to romanticise her homework*

uther: do i have to be pretty? is it not enough to simply be the loudest person in the room with the worst opinions

morgana: oh i can’t possibly study, i have allotted the next six hours to yearning vaguely

morgause: allow me to de-introduce myself

morgause: my name is [redacted]

arthur: i have no good posts today i’m sorry guys

merlin: haha “today”

mordred: “do we perhaps use magic because we were bullied and needed blah blah special interest blah blah” shut the FUCK up i use magic to see my anime husband’s big fucking honkers. sorry you got pantsed in front of your crush

morgana: i came here to bully people

mordred: is it because you got pantsed in front of your crush

morgana: no it’s because i’m deranged

mithian: pretty sure seven deadly sins is a bit excessive

mithian: just combine wrath and gluttony and make hangry

mithian: sloth and pride make Bottoming

morgana: despicable me ruined the word minion whenever i become a supervillain i’m just going to have to call them my homies or whatever

gwen: as a bisexual i am attracted to lanky boys with dark hair, girls who look like they could kill me, and anyone wearing vampire teeth

morgana: if someone tried to assassinate me that would make me feel so important and valued and beloved

gwaine: turn down for whom?

mithian: fact: usage of the word “the” has begun to decline. this is because as more and more people become educated, usage of the word “thoum’st” has become more common.

morgana, kidnapping mithian in 5x04: truth or dare? uhhh i dare you to………………………………..fall in love with me. haha i’m just joking bro………………..unless…………………………?

gwaine: my thoughts are like a clearance sale

gwaine: once it’s gone it’s gone

morgana: *pronounces “hors d’oeuvres” as “horse divorce” specifically to piss off morgause*

gwaine: do you prefer women or men?

leon: death

morgause: honestly no offense but i love falling asleep and sleeping. it’s like. ok goodnight

morgause: ngl it’s kinda difficult to be the moody and mysterious background character in everyone’s life when you’re quarantined at home

morgause: i need to get laid

morgause: --to rest. put me in a coffin, let my soul ascend

gwaine: it takes a lot of heart to be this stupid

gwaine: it takes real strength not to know shit about fuck

elyan: what’s your favorite anime?

leon: i’m a christian

arthur: just bought this tapeworm from etsy!

lancelot: where are you gonna keep it

arthur: :)

merlin: i don’t like this conversion very much

gwaine: i’m home alone with the tv repair man

gwaine: i’m no fool, there are only two possible outcomes of this scenario

gwaine: porn or murder

gwaine, an hour later: apparently there was an unforeseen third outcome where he fixes the tv and then leaves

morgause: well tomorrow fucking sucked

morgana: dark brunch

morgana: *mixes a mimosa with evil intent*

morgause: this is just what being gay is like

gwaine: movie idea: guy finds a stone tablet engraved with a mysterious alien language and gets caught up in a national treasure-esque adventure to decipher its meaning, only to learn that it’s just an alien “live laugh love” decoration

arthur: sorry i didn’t mean to open your ig story 20 seconds after you posted i’m just unemployed

arthur: why do you say men are objects? that’s not true and hurtful

morgana: men are on sale at the grocery store for a few dollars

cenred: why do you say men are objects? that’s not true and hurtful

morgause: men are on sale at the grocery store for a few dollars

morgana: wow would you look at that. it’s already that time of the night where i move the stuff on my bed to my chair. can’t wait until tomorrow when i move the stuff from my chair back onto my bed

gwaine: hi i’m bethany with girl defined ministry and today we are going to be talking about how to stan my chemical romance in a God-honoring way

morgana: bottom: ,,, !!! ;;; vers: …. top: no punctuation whatsoever

morgause: tops are illiterate

morgause: i slept for almost 12 hours but i might still be tired so let’s go for 12 more just in case

morgana: morgause that’s a coma

morgause: sounds festive

mithian: i am a simple woman. i enter the kitchen. i eat four servings of bread products. i leave.

gwaine: it’s one serving if you serve all of it to yourself

mithian: i like the way you think, friend

gwaine: spencer from icarly and rodrick from diary of a wimpy kid are on the opposite ends of the same spectrum

elyan: the gay older brother scale

merlin: i found a rock :)

merlin: my troubles will soon be over

gwaine: parasite (2019) dir. bong joon ho

percival: uncut gems (2019) dir. josh and benny safdie

elyan: cain

morgana: social distancing is okay for me bc i’ve been touch starved since the 15th century. i’m used to it

mithian: fanfiction hits different when you’re gay and yearning and haven’t experienced an ounce of romance in your life

morgause: callout for rude baby seen at grocery store

morgause: i’m calling out a baby (approximately 12-14 months old) from the grocery store due to its rudeness. i’m guessing its age based on appearance, motor skills (atrocious) and whatnot. anyway, i smiled at this baby and it just stared at me. as soon as i began to move on, though, the baby said “no!” and started giggling when i turned back around. this happened multiple times. the baby’s actions were toxic and manipulative. the baby was also manhandling a package of dried fruit which wasn’t yet paid for (quite minor) and was just generally sitting around and not helping

gwen: we need to melt down all the pennies and make the statue of liberty a girlfriend

morgause: had a realization in a dream i just had that this isn’t real and i can just do whatever i want and so i started shrinking the face of this guy that was talking to me and then once it got real small i woke up sleep paralyzed

morgause: i was given godlike powers over the universe by realizing it’s all in my head and the first thing i did was use them to torment the nearest man

morgause: and the actual God woke me up and put be into a 5 minute timeout to lay frozen and think about what i’ve done

morgana: does anyone else feel an awkward tension whenever you see another person your age in the grocery store

gwaine: the number 87 kinda looks like a plague doctor

percival: you’ve just changed the fucking game

elyan: [|87

morgana: a lonely bitch...a loner...i love isolation AND detachment

gwaine: i will not call the judges “your honor”. in america we don’t have titles of nobility. they will get a simple “yes dude” from me

gwaine: calling big bird just “bird” because i do not respect him

morgause: *photo of a pizza in a bad* caught the bae sleepin

mordred: now why would you waste a perfectly good pizza :(

morgause: that “waste” happens to be my wife getting her beauty sleep. think before you speak

gwaine: *finishes wedding vows* don’t forget to like and subscribe

morgana: *is bitter but is also right*

morgana: how dare you not notice me when i’m ignoring you

morgause, killing cenred: men be like i’m bilingual i speak english and over women

gwaine: after i move i really wanna get a used roomba

percival: i love that you’re adopting instead of buying from a breeder

mordred: joking about a kink is a gateway drug into developing said kink

morgana: my kink is mental, emotional, and financial stability

morgause: unrealistic, settle for choking like normal people

gaius: gay people use halloween props as home decor year round

morgana: shut up shut up this black jar with a raven painted on it is holiday-neutral

[texting]

morgause: can you come out?

morgana: yeah gimme a minute

morgana: morgause, i’m gay

morgause: i know that. come out to the car

morgana: car, i’m gay

morgause: God FUCKING damnit i’m such a hopeless romantic one day someone’s gonna say “i love you” and i’m just going to let out an agonized scream so horrible that they immediately change their mind

gaius: i’m not wearing glasses anymore i’ve seen enough

morgause: sorry my battery’s on 96% i gtg

morgause: you hate me? wow you think you’re hot shit and original huh well i hated me first so you can go grab a number and wait your turn

morgana: don’t ignore me ?? i despise being ignored ?? i mean i’m ignoring like 8 people right now but still ???

morgana: shoutout to my favorite coping mechanism, isolation

morgana: the concept of physical beauty is a scam unless you’re calling me cute in which case it is valid, actually

merlin: oh, so when other people go outside it’s “good for their health” and “highly recommended”, it’s only when i do it that it’s a “containment breach” and a “high-level threat to public safety and security”, huh?

gwaine: a charming photo of young john mulaney, seemingly celebrating the kennedy assassination

merlin: princess diana wasn’t john mulaney’s first kill

morgause: hate when i got out in public and the public is there

morgana: it seems the public is no longer in the public

morgause: i’ve won...but at what cost?

morgana: girls will see a chance to commit arson and be like “sorry, i have to take this”

morgause: girls will see a building that’s not on fire and say “is anyone gonna burn that” and not wait for an answer

#puff does things #long post

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wolf-555-writer · 5 years

Text

Target On My Back Part 3

Hope you guys still like where this is going xd. And thanks for all the comments, likes and reblogs, I’m so glad you like it, it really means a lot! Thanks! :)

PART 1 | PART 2

Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow x Reader

Summary: You desperately need answers about your connection between Natalia and you. Will you find them? And will you like what you’ll find?

Word Count: 2,712

Charming, sparkling green eyes, piercing right through you. With an intense longing gaze and a mesmerizing grin. Drawing you closer, leaning in, she’s got a hold of you. Absolutely enchanted by her, and her impressive skills, her amazing figure and total fearlessness for everything. Her beautiful red hair tickles on your skin as she presses her soft, red lips on your neck. Melting away at her delicate touch. The fact that she shot you in the leg, minor detail, you’re already over it. Still alive and kicking, right? Her hand moves from your waist to your hips smoothly, and ends up on your back while she pulls you closer. Her body pressed against yours, she has complete control over you. “Stay…”, you beg her, exhaling a bit shaky since you struggle to breathe correctly. Giving in and closing your eyes in satisfaction as your heart flutters. With a soft voice she whispers in your ear, sensing her warm breath on your skin:

“Agent (Y/L/N)? Are you hearing this?”, Coulson presses, snapping his fingers displeased, probably in response to your silence and absent-minded stare. “Yes, loud and clear sir”, you answer with a straight face, seated in a small, cramped space on an uncomfortable chair. No windows and barely any fresh air judging by the fusty smell hanging around. “Well then, can you repeat the question for me?”. “...Um-”. Debriefing. That's what they call it. After the second time it started to feel more like an interrogation. “I thought so. I asked if you can walk me through that moment just before Agent Hill arrived. One more time please”, Coulson insists, now leaning on the metal table while assuming an intimidating stature. You’d rather go back to that daydream…. Despite the several ‘interrogation’ attempts by Coulson and Hill, you haven’t told them what exactly happened between Natalia and you, both times. All these questions, asked in a particular, distrusting way. He’s really pushing it. Why even believe some deadly assassin over a government organization anyway? You have mixed feelings about it, about Natalia, about SHIELD and about yourself. Can’t pinpoint the exact reason where it’s coming from, but you have to figure it out. If you had known her before, you would know right? ‘Cause seriously, you don’t forget someone like her that easy. “So, are we done here?”, you urge, suppressing the rage, trying your best not to let it all out. “Yes, all clear Agent (Y/L/N). You’re dismissed”, Coulson states, closing the file in front of him, not written down a single word because you told the exact same story, just like all the previous times. Not cleared for field work yet as you’ve been recovering from the gunshot wound in your leg. Taking it easy and slow, which you undeniably hate. Although, it has given you enough time to think. Not too powerful, you slam both hands on the table in a passive-aggressive way and stand up, hearing the screeching of the metal chair on the floor as you push it back. Without saying another word you exit the room and march off. With a slight limp though, so it’s not as overpowering as intended to, but he got the point.

“Hi Maria!”, you greet, walking through the hallway at SHIELD headquarters, seeing her approach with a fast pace and a dead serious look. “It's Agent H-”. “Agent Hill, I know, I know. I was wondering if you have an assignment for me. It’s okay if it's a routine mission or anything, just give me something to do”, you ask in despair, being bored as hell around here. “I can't. I'm sorry. You haven't gotten the clearance from Coulson yet”, she answers while still moving. “From Coulson?”. Wait, so the doctor already cleared you for duty, yet Coulson didn't? Agent Hill clearly has other matters to attend to, no time to stop or respond as she continued her course with haste. Well… Coulson’s credibility really hit a low point at the moment. Loyal to SHIELD. Trust the system. Words you don't believe in anymore. Okay, it’s true, SHIELD always keeps secrets. But you need answers. Right now. Obviously asking for the information is by far the worst option, no doubt they would lie or cover it up anyway. A group of Agents pass you. They’re gazing at you just a bit too long with their judgy eyes. The story of your failures has been going around, or whatever you might call them. Missing and failing to apprehend the target. Losing the package. You're being watched, your every move, like you’re a traitor, a criminal. Especially Coulson is giving you that feeling. So you have to be careful. Probably the reason why you haven't considered the more obvious choice, which is tracking down Natalia. You have to do this, before talking yourself out of it, it’s now or never.

You chuckle, it’s kinda ironic, the skills taught by SHIELD now used to break-in into their own compound. It sure comes in handy, knowing the routines, codes and how to bypass the security system. Standing in a dark corner with your back against the wall, looking at your watch while counting down the seconds. A couple of guards will pass by any moment now. And… go. Setting the timer. You’ve got 8 minutes, should be enough. Looking over your shoulder one more time while you type in the passcode and covertly slip past the door, into the records room. You’re in. The blue screen lights up your face, and with a hypnotic stare you search for the info, now scrolling through the data of previous SHIELD operations like a maniac. Maybe you encountered her on a mission before, or you were part of a secret SHIELD program, forced to wipe your memory. Can’t find a connection between Black Widow and you. There has to be one, right? Because it feels like there is one. There’s a strange familiarity about her. You have to dig deeper. Accessing your personnel file, maybe that will shed some light on it. 4 minutes and 30 seconds left. A lot of stuff about your past is redacted, the file is filled with secrets. Why? Then you stumble upon a medical report.

“(Y/N)! Can you hear me?!”, Coulson shouts using both his hands to focus the sound while slowly progressing through the thick layer of snow beneath him. The desperation in his voice is all too clear. “Are you sure it’s here?”, Agent Barton asks with a loud voice, also searching, several meters away from Coulson. “Yes, it’s here. It has to be...”. A low, almost inaudible groan has caught Coulson’s attention as he jolts his head and immediately struggles towards it. “Quick Barton, HERE!”. He kneels while pushing some of the ice-cold snow out of the way. “Don’t you think we’re too late Coulson?”. “No. I won’t believe that. I can't”, he utters in concern. No optimism left, until his expression suddenly changes. “I still feel a pulse. It’s very weak, but it’s there. Let's go!”.

Perhaps those recurring nightmares were telling you something… Heavily beaten up, a couple of broken bones, and in your chest, close to your heart, a gunshot wound. Covered in snow mixed with blood and a whole lot of other injuries you were brought into the infirmary of a remote, classified SHIELD location by Coulson and Barton. How did I even survive this? You think, reading the file in disbelief. If that bullet had pierced you a couple of centimeters lower, you would have been dead, no doubt. And the cold temperature apparently saved your life too. There’s more information, it’s of a meeting between Coulson and you. Were you an informant? With Coulson being your handler? But you were told that you’ve been a SHIELD Agent your entire life, and a well trained one too. You believed them, didn’t question them. You even have your own academy records to prove it. “Was it all a lie? Was I a target? A criminal?”, realizing you are one of them. The people that you despise, and hunt for a living, the ‘bad guys’. Turns out you and Natalia are not so different after all. “No, NO. this is- this can’t be true”. There’s an audio file. You’re about to open it when you hear a noise.

“Hey, there’s somebody inside!”. “Fuck”. You still had 2 minutes left!? “Good evening fellas. This doesn’t have to go the hard way”, you advise in a nonchalant fashion, carefully shifting towards them with your hands up, trying to close the distance. “You’re not authorised to be here!”, one of the guards barks at you as two of the four enter. “Okay, suit yourself. Hard way it is then”, you decide while sprinting forward and forcing the door shut with your foot, locking two of them out. The other two inside promptly react and one swings his baton at you. You slip by ducking down. Making a spin while moving up, you hit him with the backside of your right elbow, followed by a left hook just below the eye. The other one moves towards you, swinging his baton. But you grip it tight, along with his other arm, preventing a blow to your head. Perceiving a crackling electricity sound right beside you. Okay... so these are also tasers, how convenient. You toss the guard to the side and taunt with a wide grin: “I can keep this up all day, guys”. Turning your head to the door as it opens again. The short distraction caused you to be forcefully thrown against the just unlocked entrance, with the guards arm crushing your throat. Gasping for air while you're being choked. However, the other two guards luckily can’t get in as you feel them banging on the door. Powerfully kicking him between the legs - always effective - now able to shove the guard back with your arms, to end with a kick in his stomach. You hunch over, hands resting on your knees, and cough due to the lack of oxygen intake. The other guard took this opportunity and has tased you around the waist area with his charged weapon. A painful shock radiates through your torso and you let out a painful cry. Quickly kicking the baton out of his hand and pivoting your whole body, loading up for another one. With the heel of your boot you strike him on the temple. Knocking him out before he crashes to the floor.

“Stop Agent (Y/L/N)!”, a familiar voice orders. It’s Coulson. “Stand down!”. A stinging pain in your neck makes you stop and you reach for it. He shot you with something. Displaying your left hand to see what it is, holding a type of dart in your palm. “This is for your own safety”. “What the h-”. Mid-sentence you collapse on the ground. Your body feels heavy, fading away as it gets dark before your eyes.

“Hello, this is Agent Coulson”. “Sir, the prisoner has finally woken up”, a doctor informs on the phone. “Good. It’s been weeks. I'll be there as soon as possible”. Coulson enters the room inside the remote infirmary facility, however the bed is empty and the cuffs are opened. “What? How-”. He gets grabbed from behind. Trapped in a strong headlock and an IV needle firmly pressed on the skin near his carotid artery. “Easy, easy. So ...I see you’re feeling better (Y/N)”, Coulson carefully speaks as he puts his hands up to show that he's surrendering. “How do you know my name and who the hell are you?! Why was I chained to the bed!? Talk!”. “Do you want answers or not? Then you have to let me go first. Okay (Y/N)?”. “This is Fury”. “Director, it's Coulson. Sir, I'm back in Eastern Europe again and I have an interesting case here. My informant is awake, but has no memory”. “No memory?”. “Yes, sir. No idea about their past whatsoever”. “I see... We could use an Agent with that specific skill set here at SHIELD. They could be a valuable asset”. “My thoughts exactly sir”. “It’s best if no one knows the details about this”. “Nobody will know sir”. “Okay. I trust you Coulson. Agent (Y/L/N) is your responsibility now”.

“I thought I would find you here, sooner or later”. Perceiving Coulson’s voice as you slowly open your eyelids, feeling a little fuzzy. Wanting to move your arms and legs, however you can’t. “What the hell did you do to me?!”, you yell, tied to the chair with your wrist and ankles secured. He definitely injected you with a paralyzing agent earlier. “I should have never assigned you that mission. But I thought you would be the only one that could match up to Black Widow”, Coulson reveals, avoiding eye contact with you. Why would he say that? What is he playing at? Still trying to free yourself by moving around as you feel two hands grasping your shoulders. You shrug them off, but it only causes you to be pushed down with even more force. Detained by the two guards that you fought, having a hateful expression on their face. Can’t blame them though. “You need to fix this Coulson”, you protest, never having felt so enraged and betrayed before. “I can't. It can't be fixed anymore. And trust me, you don't want it to be fixed either”. “Trust you? Not a chance”, you scoff. “You kept this from me, lied to me”. He clearly doesn't want you to know about your past. “You have proven yourself over the years, being an excellent Agent here at SHIELD. Do you want to destroy all that?”. “Cut the crap Phil. What did SHIELD do to me?! I want answers, now”, you demand, not actually in a position to make these at the moment, being tied up and all. “Well, you may not like what you’ll find”, Coulson comments as he’s pacing back and forth. “I don’t care. I had your back. And you took advantage of me, used me for your own means”. Sick of all the secrets, cause it’s driving you crazy. “I just need to know who I am and where I’m from”. Coulson stares at you with a conflicted expression. “You can't know. That is why we lied to you in the first place. The secrets are there for a reason”. “I will never stop looking for answers Coulson”. “I know you won’t”. He looks away and sighs while shaking his head in an upset manner. You hoped this trip to the archives would trigger a memory, yet it didn’t. You’re desperate, not knowing who you are anymore. After some minutes you break the cutting silence. “Did I know her? Did I know Natalia? Come on Coulson, I need to know”. Coulson takes a strong breath in and ponders, hearing the gears turning in his head. “Guards, can you give us the room please?”, he instructs, sending the guards away, leaving you and him alone. He finally decided to give in. Now standing right in front of you, he tells with a deep sigh: “Okay, but you might want to sit down for this”. “...Really Coulson”. Considering the position you’re in, you give him a look, raising your eyebrows. “Well you know what I mean”.

Sitting outside, watching the sunset, Natalia has a picture in her hand. One of the edges is torn off and it’s wrinkled, probably due to the fact that she always carries it with her. The slight discoloration suggests it's an older picture. It's the last and only one she has, possibly the only personal belonging too. On it are two people wearing a uniform, standing side by side. One of them is a red-headed woman, winking at the camera, matched with a subtle grin. The other person close next to her is staring at her with a longing gaze and smiling. Left arm wrapped around her shoulder, being completely enchanted by her. By her laugh, her fiery green eyes and fearlessness. It’s you. You and her in this old picture. Together. Holding it close, Natalia gently caresses the image of you with her thumb and softly whispers:

“I hope one day you’ll remember me...”

PART 4

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crew-of-the-detz · 5 years

Text

The Broken Shield

"So Peacock, I'm told you're the one that found our new friend."

Peacock took a long drag from her cigarette, a nasty habit she had picked up "Yeah, I'm the one that found him. Poor thing."

Kev moved the audio recorder closer to her, "Please, go on."

-Yesterday-

Peacock had been sent to scope out a pharmaceutical company that had been rumored to be producing military grade chemical enhancements. Infiltration wasn't hard, she posed as a high ranking officer sent to check progress on the product. Synthetic skin was printed to cover her tattoos, fake ID's were made, a fake history put in the Military Databass.

Easy as pie.

Into the facility she went, the lead scientist himself lead her down into the testing center where ex-convicts were being used as lab rats. Peacock hated places like this, using fellow man as an animal for testing.

Then, she saw him. Experiment 009.

Looking at him, one could barely tell he was human. Large sheets of formed plasteel riveted into the mans flesh, a hulking behemoth of flesh and steel that must have been seven feet tall. His face obscured by a large full face bucket helmet, narrow slits for breathing and sight.

"So this," the weasel of a man gestured through the glass, "Is so far the best result we've gotten. Previous subjects couldn't handle the rapid muscle development and well. Popped". He chuckled and Peacock gave him a disgusted side glare. "And well, while that problem is solved there still is the issue of the cognitive degeneration. Stupid as an animal now." He slid a keycard through a mag-lock and the door slid open, gesturing for Peacock to enter the room. He was bound by the ankles and neck to the wall by chain. His chest, back, front of the legs, and arms had those plasteel plates seemingly riveted into his body. On his left forearm a large shield like piece jutted out, about 3 feet wide and coming down past his hand into a wicked point.

The scientist pulled a shock baton out from under his lab coat, "While the pain response is still there, instead of giving him a nasty jolt it also exponentially increases the level of adrenalin in the subjects bloodstream." He activated the baton and pressed the end against the man's exposed thigh. He strained against the chains that held him in place and threw his head back, howling and screaming at the top of his lungs. He pulled at the chains but wasn't able to break free and his howls slowly turned to sobs as he stopped resisting. "Do you want to give it a go?" The scientist offered the shock baton to Peacock and she took it. Peacock had never seen anything like this before. The pure Human suffering in this place, the unnatural torture of other souls.

She had seen enough.

Peacock activated the shock baton, and sent it into the side of the scientist's head. With a shock and a twitch the man fell to the ground. The test subject looked up and saw the man fall, then at Peacock. Peacock then pulled her side arm and shot out the chains, releasing the test subject. By now, every guard in the facilty had been thrown on high alert, and sure enough armed guards had started to come for them.

The subject took a few shakey steps forward, then realized he was free. The first thing he did was walk up to the incapacitated scientist and punched down with his left hand, bisecting him across the torso. Then, gore dripping from the shield, turned to Peacock.

Peacock holstered her sideaem, and put her hands up. The giant of a man walked up to her and grabbed her by the waist, and stared directly at her. And through the slit of his helmet, Peacock saw brilliant green eyes that matched the green on her tattoos. She whispered to the giant of a man, "Let's get out of here."

Then, the test subject's eyes softened, and let her go.

The first of the guards had made it to the testing center and opened fire on the newfound allies. Rounds bounced off the plasteel plating of the giant and again he threw his head back into a roar, charging the guards. Peacock tore off her fake arm sleeves and mask to show her tattoos and pulled her side arm, but by the time her side arm was out it was already over. Guards laying broken and shattered all down the hallway, the giant man on an absolute rampage. Using his bare hands and shield to decimate anyone who got in his way. Peacock ran after him and joined the fight, taking down a marksman that had set up on a balcony with a dropped rifle. He took care of the immediate threats, she dealt with the far away ones. Quite beautiful teamwork.

Then, a kill squad breached a nearby door. A piece of shrapnel went into Peacock's leg and she fell to the ground. She looked up helplessly as the front rifleman lowered his barrel to take her out. Then, she saw nothing.

She saw nothing because the left arm of the giant subject punched his shield into the ground before her, the plasteel taking the rounds. Poor kill squad didn't stand a chance against the enraged goliath.

Peacock radio'd in, "Code Black, job went sideways and I am hit. Need extract.

A Duajhaq man responded, "Copy, extraction on its way. Get to level 4 of the facility, there's a landing pad there."

"Hey! HEY!" Peacock called out, and the big man looked down. "Pick me up! We gotta get out of here!" The large man picked her up and kept her behind his shield. He seemed to understand her, maybe... maybe he wasn't so stupid as the scientist claimed.

They made it to the elevator and, naturally, it had been de-activated. "Damn!" Peacock cried out. A giant glass window looked out over the city, and two stories down was the landing pad. They had no way down and extraction was on the way. "We need to get down there," she pointed at the landing pad, "but there's no way down. Give me a second to think." The large man looked down at the landing pad, then started to walk away from the elevator. Once about 30 feet away he turned towards the window. "What are you..." She looked at him, then at the giant window "No, no way. It won't work. Too steep of a drop plus the distance to the pad. Absolu-" The giant broke out into a sprint.

He sprinted down the hallway, jumped, smashed through the window using the shield to protect Peacock from the glass, and stuck the landing on the landing pad.

Extraction had been coming in when they did this and over the radio came a "HOLY [REDACTED]. Peacock is that you?" Peacock stuck her head out over the shield and waved down the shuttle. The giant man barely fit inside but off to the Detz they went.

"So sir, where are we putting him?"

Kev clicked off the audio recording device, "For now, we'll keep him in the auxiliary hold. Make it homey for him. Who knows, we might need him and his shield later. Good work Peacock."

Peacock cleared her throat, "Kev. Can he work with me?"

Kev locked his five eyes on to her, "Should the need arise." And he dismissed her.

Down to the auxiliary hold she went, and the giant man was there sitting on a large custom cot. They had gotten clothes for him too, cutting away parts where the metal stuck out. After a bit of work they were also able to get the helmet off and refit it so it could slide off and on comfortably. He sat there, examining his new room and turned to Peacock when she entered. He was completely bald, no hair on him but he had pale skin and striking green eyes. She sat down next to him on the cot, "My name is Peacock, thanks for helping me out yesterday."

He grunted and nodded.

"Do you have a name?"

Mumbling he shook his head no.

"How about... Goliath?"

With a grin, he nodded again.

#alien #aliens #humans are space orcs #project orc #original #space #spaceship #fiction #humans are weird #scifi #literature #original fiction #humanity #sci fi

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books-bring-you-to-wonderland · 5 years

Text

Be Our Guest

A request for REDACTED! Title should give this away, Disney BBS AU- enjoy! Ohmtoonz and Terrormoo- sorry if the formatting is off, Tumblr is a bitch

Ohm was a bit worried, walking through dark and unfamiliar halls. He made sure to stick close to Brian- the candlestick providing a rather warm glow in the dusty corridors. Evan was toddling next to the candelabra, his wooden feet echoing loudly on the stone-tiled floors- nearly in time with the ticking of the clock that made up most of his face. “Brian! Slow down! We’re going to lose Ohm-” “Slow down? Thought ye always wanted to be on time?” Brian turned to his friend with a smirk, hopping just a little faster just to spite the clock. His laughter was nice to hear, and Ohm found himself smiling despite the crazy circumstances he had been thrown into. Magic appliances? A beast with one eye? He did say he wanted something more than the provincial life… “Maybe I should be more careful with my wishes.” Ohm said, more to himself than to his hosts. His mouth was open, poised to ask a question, but the words died on his tongue as they all rounded the corner and the dining room came into view. Even dusty and nearly barren it was still gorgeous; with a high painted ceiling, unused but pretty china resting in a cabinet along the fall wall, and most importantly the table- a long piece of mahogany that shined like ice despite the rest of the room’s rot. Brian and Evan seemed to pay no mind to the state of the dining room, jumping onto the table with surprising ease. Ohm wandered in after them, trying not to eavesdrop but it was hard not to when Brian was shouting- in the direction he assumed to be the kitchen- before turning back to Ohm with that charming smile on wax features. A bright light fell straight upon the candelabra, making him glow even brighter than his own candlelight. “Mon cher Monsieur! it is with deepest pride and greatest pleasure that we welcome you tonight. And now we invite you to relax, let us pull up a chair-” As soon as the words left the candle’s lips, a chair swept up behind him from seemingly out of nowhere- his knees buckling as the edge of the seat knocked against him. In any other circumstance, he would have screamed- but he was more charmed than anything; enamored with the magic and mystery that hung around the castle like a thick fog. With the chair snug against the table, Ohm had no choice but to look to the candle once more, whose snuffer looked more like a fashionable hat atop his head. “-as the dining room proudly presents: your dinner!” One look at Evan showed that the clock wasn’t too fond of whatever antics Brian was up to (if the eye roll was anything to go by). Soft piano, barely audible, sounded through the nearly empty room. Ohm turned his head in any attempt to find the source of the music, but his attention was quickly diverted when the flirty candle on the table started singing, his voice just as accented in melody as it was in speech. “Be our guest! Be our guest! Put our service to the test. Tie yer napkin 'round yer neck, cherie and we'll provide the rest!” Brian had to sing just a bit louder as the sudden clanking of metal and china drowned out the song- trays and dishes spilling from the kitchen and heading straight for them, whereupon they danced onto the wooden surface with linens to cover the tabletop. Brian didn’t seem unfazed at all, dancing around silverware and platters to get a bit closer to Ohm. His candle hands, which were still lit, gestured to a few covered trays- and they opened up like clamshells, wafting heavenly smells of fresh bread and cooked veggies. “Soup du jour, hot hors d'oeuvres- why, we only live to serve! Try the grey stuff, it's delicious! Don't believe me? Ask the dishes-” With a mouthful of sweet bread, Ohm turned his head to the dusty china cabinet where a ruckus had started. The plates tumbled and rolled out of the open cabinet doors with ease, swirling around in a synchronized dance as more melodic voices filled the dining room. “They can sing, they can dance, after all Sir, this is France- And a dinner here is never second best! Go on, unfold your menu- take a glance and then you'll be our guest, be our guest, be our guest!” Evan seemed to be having a pretty hard time- clumsy on his feet the more wound up he got (literally). Brian just smirked as he twirled around the clock, narrowly dodging a swipe aimed his way. More trays opened up at Brian passed them, his candlelight casting a pretty golden glow over all of the dishes. “Beef ragout, cheese soufflé, pie and puncakes en flambé! We'll prepare and serve with flair a culinary cabaret!” The candelabra sidled up onto the arm of Ohm’s chair, leaning close enough so the inventor’s son could feel the heat from his light on pale skin. Ohm found he couldn’t wipe the excited grin from his lips even if he tried- he did have to stop himself from bouncing in his chair, though (mainly because he didn’t want to hurt the thing). “Yer alone and yer scared- but the banquet's all prepared. No one's gloomy or complainin’ while the flatware's entertaining! We tell jokes! I do tricks-” As Brian sang, he tossed the hard wax of his hands in the air, juggling them for a moment as he belted the words, eyes closed and smile wide on his beige wax features. “-with my fellow candlesticks, and it's all in perfect taste that ye can bet! Come on and lift yer glass-” A dozen or so cups, filled with wine and beer alike, hopped and spun around Ohm’s side of the table- just narrowly keeping their liquid contained as it sloshed around the sides. “-ye've won yer own free pass to be our guest- if yer stressed, it's fine dining we suggest. Be our guest! Be our guest! Be our guest!” The upbeat music seemed to die down a it, replaced with music more somber and softer- and the dancing came to a standstill all at once. The lights dimmed down one more, this time Evan in the spotlight- frozen as he was singled out from all of the silverware and china. Brian sidled up to the clock, wrapping a spindly arm around wooden shoulders. With one small blow Brian’s lights in his hands were out- but the candelabra started singing as if it didn’t happen, voice low and solemn. “Life is so unnerving for a servant who's not serving- he's not whole without a soul to wait upon.” Brian shook his head sadly, memories flooding blue eyes. Evan seemed to somber up a bit too, his clock ticking slower and sadder, if that was even possible. Ohm bit his lip, clearly missing a bit of context as the staff reminisced. It just made him even more curious about the beast that was currently residing god knows where. “Ah, those good old days when we were useful… Suddenly those good old days are gone…” A pause, and Brian draped himself over one of Evan’s arms, looking far too dramatic- especially when his candles lit back in a snap, bathing wood and gold in a bright glimmer. “Ten years we've been rusting- needing so much more than dusting. Needing exercise, a chance to use our skills! Most days we just lay around the castle…” The mood as well as the beat seemed to perk up instantly, as if flicked on by a switch, and Brian’s voice came back cheeky and sultry as it always was. “Flabby, fat and lazy- You walked in and oops-a-daisy-” Maybe Brian’s sudden enthusiasm had to do with the lovely teapot that made his grand appearance, all smiles and twirls as he sashayed across the white linen- past numerous trays of food and dessert. His little boy- Squirrel- the teacup with the chip in his left side, hopped behind him eagerly, sloshing tea a bit over the clean tablecloth. “It's a guest! It's a guest! Sake's alive, well I'll be blessed! Wine's been poured and thank the Lord I've had the napkins freshly pressed!” Brock’s smile never left his face, nearly as bright as the white porcelain that made up the majority of his body, sans the multicolored pieces that were more decoration. Pink, yellow, and orange paint stood out as colorful as the teapot’s personality. Ohm pushed himself out of his chair- unable to stop himself from dancing as the melody picked up. He saw Brock’s gaze follow him, but the teapot just kept smiling and hopped with a bit more spring in his step. “With dessert, he'll want tea- and my dear that's fine with me. While the cups do their soft-shoein', I'll be bubbling, I'll be brewing. I'll get warm, piping hot-” Brock trailed off from his thought, eyes focused on the little teacup at his side- and when Ohm twirled around he managed to spot a little smudge on the right side of the cup’s face. “Heaven's sakes! Is that a spot? Clean it up! We want the company impressed-” Ohm watched with a giggle as Brock wiped at Squirrel’s face like an overbearing mother, the teacup giggling too as he was spun around, his laugh bright and so innocent. “We've got a lot to do, is it one lump or two? For you, our guest!” “He's our guest!” “He's our guest!” “Be our guest! Be our guest! Be our guest!” The music picked up once more, Ohm taking in the sight with pretty green eyes as more and more and more plates and silverware flooded the table, along with dusters and trays, their metal glittering with every turn and swivel as they swept across the now clean tabletop. In a loud but nice harmony- voices loud and belting in the dining room. Even Evan seemed to join in the clock’s tick clicking in time with the fast beat, and the hands on his face spinning faster and faster across his cheeks and over his eyes. “Be our guest! Be our guest! Our command is your request. It's been years since we've had anybody here- And we're obsessed! With your meal, with your ease yes, indeed, we aim to please. While the candlelight's still glowing let us help you, we'll keep going…” Brian cut in, his Irish lilt cutting through the many different voices of the table. Ohm kept swishing from side to side, watching with bright eyes as the candle hurried over to dip Brock- the teapot flushing pink across white porcelain. “Course by course, one by one- 'til ye shout, ‘Enough! I'm done!’. Then we'll sing you off to sleep as you digest! Tonight you'll prop your feet up But for now, let's eat up-” There was so much for Ohm to take in- so many dancers, plates and napkins spinning fast enough to become blurs. Voices louder than ever, lights flashing with gold and yellow wherever Brian sashayed by, Evan and Brock hot on his heels with a small teacup hurrying to bounce along with the rhythm behind them all. It was better than any book he had read, the books long forgotten as the fantastic scene in front of him came to a climax. “Be our guest! Be our guest! Be our guest! Please, be our guest!” A cacophony of music, loud and bright and enchanting as the last note was held. With careful ears, Ohm could pick up the four distinct tones of the servants he had gotten to know the best. His heart felt close to exploding- and it did- Or rather, the dining room doors had slammed open, the beast standing in the doorway. His sudden appearance made everyone shut up in an instant, forks and knives clattering on the tabletop and making the subsequent silence that much more awkward. It was broken by the beast, a snarl on his lips, his good eye filled with hate and anger as he roared, “BE QUIET!” before storming off just as quickly as he appeared. Like lightning and thunder; a flash and a boom, leaving the servants shaken and a bit upset. “Well, that was rude.” Ohm was certainly going to give this Cartoonz a piece of his mind.

#bbs #bbs fanfic #banana boat #ohmtoonz #terrormoo #disney au #my writing #my art?#bbs au #be our guest #Disney #beauty and the beast #the candle and the teapot dont fuck in the movie but here they do #fight me

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devilsknotrp · 5 years

Photo

Congratulations, Maria! You have been accepted for the role of Abel Hawker (FC Change: Jeremy Irons). Woah. I may be biased, but I was blown away by your interpretation of Abel. He’s a human being made up of dichotomies and you found such a beautiful way to write him. His gentle yet terrifyingly stern manner of speaking, his war hero past, everything is perfect. We cannot wait to see what kind of Mayor your Abel will turn out to be! Please have a look at this page prior to sending in your account.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name: Maria Age: 23 Pronouns: She/her Timezone: GMT Activity estimation: Every other day Triggers: REDACTED

IN CHARACTER

Full name: Abel Byron Hawker Age : 05/08/1923 Gender: Male Pronouns: Him/Her Sexuality: Straighter than the Tennessee Line Occupation: Mayor of Devil’s Knot Connection to Victim: Abel Hawker knows pretty much everyone in Devil’s Knot, whether they realise it or not. The same could be said for the Goode’s. Though he never personally interacted much with Brian, Abel certainly positioned himself at the forefront of the search. After all, a Mayor has to take responsibility for the safety of his citizenry. In Abel’s case, he does so by putting pressure on the police on Ms Goode’s behalf. Not that she asked him to, of course. Alibi: According to Abel and members of the Chapter, he attended his regular meeting after church but left early due to a headache and went home. It was, like many evenings, the usual for the Mayor. Faceclaim: Jeremy Irons

WRITING SAMPLE

The Michigan sun poked through the veranda, the soft, not too warm glow basked Mayor Hawker’s face in its orange hue. A curl of smoke cut through the clear blue skies as it wafted from the end of his thickly rolled cigar. He remained like that, leaning on his rocking chair, its long swinging creeks creating a lulling song that he could and had listened to most of his life.

It was his father’s chair, and his father’s father likely sat on something not too dissimilar. Carved from the wood of one of the many red oaks that lined the property, it represented everything the Hawker’s were about. Longevity, home-grown and standing the test of time. He fingers, rough and coarse from the years, ran over the expertly polished arms, just appreciating the craftsmanship as well as the weather.

As he sat, relaxing and looking out, a little song crept into his mind. It drew a slow forming, gentle smile on his lips, his crisp paper-like skin pulling with it. There was no one around, and that was just how he liked it in long afternoons like this. For a moment, he let his eyes closed, heeled shoe clicking against the hardwood of the patio, drumming the beat for an old ditty.

“I loved a girl in Saginaw, Michigan…” His voice was underlined with a faint croak that matched the eek of his chair, the tune rumbling deep in his chest to produce the consummate voice of an older singer.

An image began to form in his mind as he took another deep intake of his cigar. Him and his boys in the brushy fields of Pyongtaek, the beginning to the Korean war stretching out ahead of them. Benny banged his metal mug against the table with all the enthusiasm of Buddy Rich reborn, and Tony clapped completely offbeat as Abel and Ryan started up a song. It wasn’t this one, but that didn’t matter. He could still see them now, their eyes bright and ready to return home as heroes. It wouldn’t take long, after all, it was just some country folks who had caught up with the Russian’s red curtain, that’s what they thought. “The daughter of a wealthy, wealthy man…”

The image of Benny sprawled across the dirt floated up in Abel’s mind as the song continued. His guts had been a pollock-esque splash of reds and browns, glistening in the summer heat. Next to him, Tony was slumped with a bullet hole in the centre of his head.

“But he called me, that son of a Saginaw fisherman…”

And Ryan? Well, Ryan never quite came back right. They found him drowned in the river just two months before the end.

“And not good enough, to claim his daughter’s hand…”

The front gate creaked down the long garden path that led up to the porch, causing Abel to crack an eye open. He pulled the cigar reluctantly from his lips, licking the spot that it had sat on, its warm presence still a ghost against the skin.

“Now I’m up here in Alaska, looking around for gold…”

He continued, a little louder, letting the words drift towards his new guest. The flash of the Sherrif office’s brown uniform was all he needed to see, continuing to idly rock as if he hadn’t noticed anything at all. Only once the visitor was climbing the porch steps did he deign to speak rather than sing away.

“I was startin’ to wonder if you were gonna turn up, my boy.”

The youth was a rookie; it only took one glance to tell. Blonde hair and greener than the fields, the 20-something kid awkwardly grasped his belt and tried to stand straight, but it was evident with the uncertain flicker of his eyes around the large Hawker estate that it was all for show. Abel thought he recognised him, one of those good for nothing kids that got raised on the poorer side of town. Typical that George Adam would give these economic rejects a chance. “Urm…ur…Mayor Hawker, sorry to bother you sir but-”

“Aye, aye, I’m aware boy, you gotta do your due diligence and get the story of what I was doing that night.”

Abel slowly pulled himself off his chair, with all the speed of a seaswept turtle, which was entirely on purpose, as anyone who knew Hawker knows that the Mayor kept himself in good health. He gave the standard ‘ah’ that an old person was expected to give after completing menial physical tasks as if they had climbed the summit of Everest. With a wave, he gestured the kid officer to follow, pushing open his ornately carved front door and shuffling into the Hawker estate.

Estate was a polite word for it. It was a mansion in pretty much every regard, an ancestral home that would immediately put anyone at unease. There was just a vastness to it that put one on the back foot, as they look up at the ceiling that seemed almost as far as the moon, it’s large traditional beamed structure overlaying a pure white paint job. The walls were a half mix of beaming, polished to a shine, wooden panelling and delicate fleur-de-lis sprouting wallpaper that made it feel akin to a royal’s home.

Confronted by a large hallway that could easily fit three people shoulder to shoulder and a long, winding staircase that enticed one to see what the three upper floors held, the rookie police officer did what anyone would have - he froze.

Abel for his part kept walking a little down the way until he glanced over he shoulder, that grin coming out again. It was the full simper that belonged to a man a few decades his junior, but he wore it now just as he had in his youth, the life in it flashing in his eyes like claps of thunder. It that moment, it was as if he filled the space of the whole house, as grand and extensive as it was. “Come on boy, ain’t time for slack jaws, your boss will have your ass if you take too long.”

The cop shook his head free, quickly stepping after his guide. The house on its part kept an eye on the visitor, the walls lined with sprawling quantities of photos, whose subjects stared out to those passing. It went from old sepia constructs that desperately tried to fight the effects of ageing behind their glass windows to much more recent copies, showing the Mayor, his own children and a plethora of grandchildren.

Eventually, they turned into one of the adjourning rooms, revealing a parlour lounge. Abel didn’t waste a moment, his body immediately cut to the side of the room where a tray sat with a collection of alcohol, whiskey duly placed in a decanter. The rookie didn’t even have a chance to speak before the older man was thrusting a delicate crystal tumbler with the perfect amount of ice and bourbon in it.

“Ah..” The officer blinked after what seemed like an age, finally processing what was being offered and responding to it with a gentle shake of his head.

“I’m flattered sir, but I’m duty I can-”

“Hogwash.” Abel cut in. His voice had a sense of power to it, a thick with husky confidence that was at once both honeyed in Michiganian drawl and intense in its strength. It was almost like being hugged and punched at the exact same moment, it winded you, and you found yourself wondering what exactly happened.

“Ain’t your ma told you that it’s rude to refuse what is offered in a man’s home? It’s just one glass, ain’t no one gonna know.” He pressed the glass into the boy’s chest, and let it go, forcing the poor chap to hold it to avoid it following.

Abel turned around to sit on one of his lounge chairs, the movement hiding the sly smirk that drew across his lips. It always was so easy to play people to a fiddle. More often than not, all it took was a level of firmness, confidence that just begged people to question you and say no. Most people fold because humans, by nature, try to escape conflict. It only took fighters like the Hawker patriarch to know how to only bend to your own will.

“Aren’t you having some as well, sir?”

Perched on his old leather chair, Abel gestured at the boy again, his old veiny fingers beckoning him like a lazy puppeteer. He seemed almost like a relaxed king, his chin lifted in what could be confused for an old man trying to adjust his sight but was, in fact, concealed contempt. “Me? Oh no, I’m going on eighty, son, I gotta pick my battles with the booze. So, whatcha gonna ask me?”

Deputy took a sip of the bourbon likely to try to avoid causing offence and cleared his throat awkwardly before drawing closer to the Mayor. “Well sir, I just need to know your whereabouts and actions on the night of Saturday, 5th October.”

“Boy, if I told you about my whole day, we’re gonna be here till morn, how about you just give me some times to work with eh?”

A blush drew across the officer’s cheek, and he took a longer sip of the bourbon, trying to drown out the embarrassment. It was quite the social awkwardness to waste the Mayor’s time after all. “Ah yes well, any time in the afternoon would be helpful, urm, sir.”

“Well, I spend most of my evenings by the church, meetings and such with the local community. Wasn’t any different that way. I was doing an after prayer meeting at the church like I’ve been doing for longer than you’ve probably been alive.” It didn’t seem like a cutting remark, more just a flag clearly planted. It spoke clearly to the situation 'I’ve been doing this for a very long time. Have respect’.

“Yes, of course, sir, I’m sure the group will also confirm that, ah…um…” The poor newbie was struggling on the whole 'interviewing’ process, he juggled between his glass and getting a notepad from his shirt pocket. In what could only be described as an awkward tangle of limbs, the deputy eventually flicked to a page of notes and setting down his glass, he starts to write.

“Did you do anything after that, sir?”

Abel paused. It was just a minutia of movement, a brief hesitation that was entirely missable. He had to think about what he wanted to say for a moment, which was a rarity. “I got a headache, my age you know, soon as you get a whiff of a cold it hits you hard. So I came home early, and just…relaxed.”

“Of course, understandable, sir.” The youngster gave a nervous smile that likely was trying to be charming, though Abel barely gave it the time of day. Took more like cordial social interactions to actual gain his favour. He was at his heart, the sort of man that appreciated action over the frivolity of words.

“What’s your name, boy?”

The deputy blinked, and stared at Abel as if to ask 'me?’. The Mayor just raised a patient brow, a corner of his lips curled in a half-smile to encourage the boy.

“Urm, D-Deputy Roger Turner…sir.”

“Roger, old sorta name that. Did Sherriff Malvo recruit you?” Abel asked his questions with a gracious smile, but his tone was the kind that a police officer may have wielded ironically. It held a profound sense that answering wasn’t optional.

The deputy just nodded, putting his pad away and blinking away like an epiphytic deer in headlights.

“You know, I went to school with the Sherriff. I was older, but I knew him well enough. Still know him.”

Still completely lost on where this is going, the officer just bobbed his head along like a toy being shaken. His eyes were wide-eyed as if the prospect that his boss could know the Mayor well was surprising, even though anyone with even a modicum of a brain would expect it.

“I know, that if he knew one of his deputies, sent here to question me formally in the capacity of his office, decided to stand around and sip my bourbon, he’d fire them quicker than you could say missing kid.” It was said with the clinical cut of a surgeon. A master of the board calling out his checkmate, though Abel had to admit when it came to dimwits like Rogers, it so easy as to be boring.

The penny dropped. No, in fact, it tumbled down with the force of a loosen boulder, and just like that the naive youngster realised the brevity of his mistake. The only thing deputy could offer was a bumbling mess of words. “I well, you, um, I don’t…what?”

“It’s alright, my boy, I ain’t that cruel. I think we can come to an arrangement, make sure you can keep doing your good work. Take a seat.” To say Roger took the seat was being charitable, it was closer to collapse, the heavy browned leather of seat wrapping around him and making him seem like the 'boy’ that Abel had been calling him from the start. He just mutedly nodded, putting himself in the Mayor’s mercy.

The grin came back as Abel sat forward, a cat who had spotted its next meal. His eyes narrowed in conspiratorial slits a that broad smile of a kindly old man could now be seen to be what it actually had been, the deadly visage of a man who was unforgiving in exploiting your weaknesses. A game hunter in sight of prey.

“Now, why don’t you tell me all the hard work ya’ll have been doing. Don’t leave anything out.”

ANYTHING ELSE?

> Abel Hawker is a man of the draft. Not only did he serve in the Second World War upon turning 19 in 1943, but he then went on to make a second draft into the Korean war in his twenties. He’s a man who has killed and be trained to kill, causing violence to be no stranger to him. However, being a soldier has its price. There’s a simmering rage in Abel that’s hidden beneath his advanced age and small-town manners. It takes a lot to unsettle a man whose been in such brutal wars, but if you do, expect to find a hurricane of force that would rival many of Michigan’s infamous tornados.

> The Mayor was a loyal husband while he still had a wife, and can be quite the caring partner back in the days when he bothered with relationships. A sense of loyalty runs deep in him, and it spreads to his family. While he could never truly understand the interracial and liberal relationships that his children took on, he never removed his support (though he did spare a comment or two of opinion on it), because to him, family sticks together, always.

> No one is entirely sure of the source of the Hawker family wealth. It seems to be an accepted part of Devil’s Knot. The sun rises, the snow falls, and the Hawker family are wealthy. Only Abel and his father before him genuinely knows how the fortune was built and continues to be maintained. Make no mistake, the Mayor does not just sit on his inheritance, he grows it, to pass on to his son and his grandchildren. A tree after all, without the right care, only withers.

> The day of Brian Goode’s disappearance, Abel did indeed attend his usual Chapter meeting, he did also leave early. However, the bit he fails to often mention is that he had visitors to his house that evening when his grandson was seemingly long asleep. Man in dark coats and suitcases, who spent quite a few hours speaking to the Mayor about matters not uttered very openly.

> Mayor Hawker is quite the singer. Back in his day, in fact, Abel was part of a travelling band for a few years after the Korean war. It was just a hobby of boys trying to find work (Abel’s father was notoriously frugal), but should someone look hard enough, they may see old photos around Devils Knot of the band’s past shows. Still now, one can often catch him singing an old tune or listening to a recording on his record player. He surprisingly keeps up with more modern music too, but you’d never catch him admitting it. Perhaps in another life, he could have tried at it for real.

#dkaccepted #accepted #abel hawker

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undertakinggraveshift-blog · 6 years

Text

Law at Death’s Door Pt 1

@Law AR and PI will be having a meeting at Pendleton's Parlor, Death's funeral home. AR has extended the meeting to the rest of the law force so. Scene: Death's funeral home. Death: Perplexed and vaguely bewildered Tea: On Coffee: Also on

@dilldaydreamer @lawtula @lassofthelaw @cautionarylaw @dickshalfthesolution @fishprincessofthelaw @ectocrimefighter@redstringsandpidgeons ....I probably forgot a few I’m sorry 8′B

Mabs (PI/02)Today at 8:14 PM

You enter the parlor, pick up your cat who is already waiting for you, and proceed to beeline to the pile of pillows so that you may begin the slow suffocating death of comfort.

Percy (06/💀)Today at 8:21 PM

Death is skittering about, making the parlor people friendly. It's always people friendly, actually, but now it's got a whole lot of law around and Death cannot help but worry he might have a mobster-delivered body around. Oh god, don't somehow magically know about all the real unfortunate bodies buried in unmarked graves. Ahahaha. Anxiety isn't something unbeknownst to Death but lord is it at an all time high. However, he does know the danger is over for now... and things are hopefully settling down, for now, so it eases soon enough. For the officers who have come, a short hallway leads into a large room. Death leads those who come in into the kitchen connected. Nicely lit, with a kitchen table and awaiting chairs. Coffee is in the process of being made and a kettle is on the oven. Uh... snacks are... hm. He should probably make something but, he's only oh so fast and honestly his concerns are more on Pembrooke who went off into hiding for now.

pi3shark (Eridan/AD)Today at 8:25 PM

You drive yourself and Feferi to the parlor in a slightly damaged by yourself car. You are mostly silent during the entire ride, you have turned your phone off and by this point all you want and need is a break. You aren't quite sure if you want to actually go somewhere or you are looking from solace of this mess. You could do with something to de-stress. For now you park out of the Parlor. "Lets go in shall we."

Lissaloo (Ms. Paint/Feferi)Today at 8:28 PM

"Yes sir," you hop out of the car and wat for him by the door. You keep your own phone on, just incase something happens and Eridan needs you. Or Sol. You should check on him too. Another text is shot off. Hopefully your matesprit and friend will be fine.

Percy (06/💀)Today at 8:29 PM

The door is open and waiting, but Death pops up regardless, smiling and tapping his fingers together.

Mabs (PI/02)Today at 8:32 PM

Pembrooke is currently being suffocated by his cat and will make an appearance later once he realizes this is not going to work.(edited)

Resh (NB)Today at 8:33 PM

After making the arrangements for the royalty stay at the hospital, you make sure that all the officers on duty there are up to date. Soon, Amir is texting you with coordinates for a meeting. He doesn’t necessarily soon urgent, so you deem it appropriate to acquire healthy snacks and such for everyone. Heaven knows they probably forgot. You show up and walk through the door with a few bags of food and an expression of weariness, melted only at the sight of who you assumed was Elliot.

Percy (06/💀)Today at 8:36 PM

Death gives Nuavi a mental gold star for showing up with food. A blessed woman.

fuck this shit (01/AR)Today at 8:37 PM

@Homosexual Shark (05/JH/CD) [AR>JH: [COORDINATES REDACTED] AR: if you wanted that interview.

pi3shark (Eridan/AD)Today at 8:37 PM

"Hello, thanks for the invite." Ace walks in. "Nuavi, good to have ya here too. " OH FOOD, good lord you could eat a whale.

Homosexual Shark (05/JH/CD)Today at 8:38 PM

(JH>AR: RIGHT AWAY SIR over I WILL BE THERE IN 10 over)

Percy (06/💀)Today at 8:38 PM

"Not a problem." He motions down the hall, taking a step while offering to help Nuavi with the bags, jumping right into funeral director mode. "There's coat hangers if you would like to shrug them off. I'll have the doors locked behind you once everyone is here, not to worry. Follow me into the main room and we're settling in the kitchen."

Lissaloo (Ms. Paint/Feferi)Today at 8:39 PM

You enter as well, quiet which is abnormal for you, but you're in a mood and your worried. You go to stand out of the way, leaned against a wall and watch the people around you.

Percy (06/💀)Today at 8:40 PM

(Pokes Mabs into the RP-DMs first!)(edited)

Mabs (PI/02)Today at 8:42 PM

(woops! So much chats!)

Skippy (13/John)Today at 8:44 PM

When you arrive you see some of the others are already here. Oh yay, no awkward being early or last stuff, thank god. You walk up just as Death finishes speaking. "Hey. Officer Egbert reporting for the meeting." You shrug off your jacket and hang it on a coat hanger. "Don't worry, I come prank free." Not really, you have a joy-buzzer in your pocket but that's just because you forgot to take it out earlier. Still, you don't exactly plan on using it. This is serious so it's time to get into serious mode. You follow Death, giving a friendly wave towards Fef.

Percy (06/💀)Today at 8:46 PM

"You're a blessing, Officer Egbert." Death's lip tugs to the side, an amused smile. He leads them towards the kitchen, motioning to the seats if anyone so wished. "Officer Ra... mm, I'm using first names. Amir will be down shortly to speak with you all. I have coffee, and can make tea. Water, milk, and apple juice are options too. For tea there's-- well, I'm not sure how much everyone knows on tea, but feel free to use a descriptor and I'll surprise you I suppose ahaha. Floral, fruity, mint."

pi3shark (Eridan/AD)Today at 8:49 PM

"If you got one of those spicy teas I'm down for that." You are slightly peppier with the mention of possible nutrients. Ace needs nutrients. "If you need setting with anything I'll be glad to help." You say at Death as you are basically tail him around. Thats a way to put that you are nervous and hungry.

Resh (NB)Today at 8:51 PM

You nod at Ace with a smile and let Elliot help you with the bags as you follow the rest of the crowd over to the table. After setting down the snacks, you take everything out and just, dump it there. “F-f-“ You cough, casually, “Free for all sustenance here, if anyone would c-care to indulge.”(edited)

Homosexual Shark (05/JH/CD)Today at 8:51 PM

You had no idea if you were supposed to bring something, it was an interview so you thought colombian coffee package was a good gift, would that be considered bad? to bring a gift to your future boss?. You thought so but also you realize that the address wasn't the police station and so maybe this was a bit more personal, besides who makes interviews at this hours of the night. You drive yourself to the...parlor? what. You check the message twice to make sure this is the place. >knock on the door and wait.

Percy (06/💀)Today at 8:56 PM

Spicy, spicy, did he have spicy. Now that was an interesting one he didn't partake in often. Desth watches Ace play the nervous role, and he keeps the smile, brows knitted down. If the man wanted to get to work, he could do that. "Middle shelf, over there-" Death motions in the direction of the cabinet, "There's a number of mugs, cups, and what have you. Please bring enough to the table for everyone, if you could? Now do forgive me, some of you are new faces, and some are those I've only met online... I am Death, or Elliott, Amir might have introduced m-- ah..." Door knock. "One, one moment." He shifts to go answer that real quick.

HandyToday at 8:59 PM

Latula had kind of been privvy to what was going on, but just barely. She'd been outside when everything happened, doing the sk8ter gorl thing before everything went to shit. She spends a good long time marveling at the sight in the sky before the message sends her towards Death's. She kicks her board up into her arms and begins in a walk before approaching the dude waiting outside. He must be new! She stops right next to him and gives him a nudge with her shoulder. "Sup my dude. You here for the big sleepover?"

Percy (06/💀)Today at 9:02 PM

"Hello-- oh! Latula! And ah, a new face I see." He knew the troll thanks to Amir, he talked of her occasionally. The skateboard gave her away, and the well, everything else. "Do come in, Amir will be down shortly I'm sure."

pi3shark (Eridan/AD)Today at 9:02 PM

"alright." Ace follows the instructions as requested, he goes back and forth bringing all those dainty cups and mugs, this are particular of ... huh Elliot as he said. Its interesting. ACe raises an eyebrow, thats the first time you've seen that troll. Ace shoots a look at Feferi like trying to get an explanation before noticing that obviously not all trolls know eachother. Idiot.

Homosexual Shark (05/JH/CD)Today at 9:05 PM

"Ah- Jude! i'm Jude It's ah- very nice to meet you " Stretch your hand to salute then don't then again. Try again Jude "T-thanks - over". Don't trip on your own feet when you enter the place.You say on a corner like a god damn spider.

HandyToday at 9:10 PM

Latula giggles at the new guy, turning to beam brightly at the person she recognized as Elliot by description. "Thanks so much for hosting our lil' meeting! It's super awesome of you." She's sure to leave her board by the entrance before following them inside with a tip of her shades.

Percy (06/💀)Today at 9:11 PM

Death chuckles softly at the stumbling. "And I am Death. Pleasure- I think I've seen you about." He makes sure to lock the door behind them, before leading them to the kitchen with the others. "Make that too more cup if you could."

Lissaloo (Ms. Paint/Feferi)Today at 9:12 PM

You eye your phone for any messages, then seeing none, fetches the extra cup for Death.

Homosexual Shark (05/JH/CD)Today at 9:14 PM

"Death?...." DO NOT ASK WHY HIS NAME IS DEATH JUDE TAHT'S RUDE "You have? ah- I don't remember you but ah. It's good to meet new people"duck duck duck you follow as tense as a board

fuck this shit (01/AR)Today at 9:15 PM

AR, feeling very. Very tired. Lets the ducklings mingle while he finishes coffee cup number two, silently closing the door behind him as he returns downstairs. He picks out Elliott in the crowd, giving him as soft a look as he can manage. He cannot thank the man enough. What an excellent host.

Mabs (PI/02)Today at 9:16 PM

Pembrooke finally makes his entrance, holding the tiny potato of a cat in his hands. Bastet immediately wiggles free, new people meant new pets. As she beelines for the one that smells a wee bit fishy, Pembrooke zombies his way to the coffee.

Homosexual Shark (05/JH/CD)Today at 9:18 PM

Jude is separated from the crowd holding the coffee hoping somebody would take it.

Lissaloo (Ms. Paint/Feferi)Today at 9:18 PM

Feferi, seeing the cat, kneels and pets like crazy. Nothing like a soft creature to help sooth one's mind

Percy (06/💀)Today at 9:19 PM

"Apologies for that. The door is locked by the by, to let everyone know. I assume there may be others coming, I'll handle that as you all get comfortable." Death offered a hand towards the coffee with a soft inquiry? If given, he'll take that up and incorporate it into the coffee going on. After, Death moved to the tea cupboard, rummaging before finding a spicy chai for Ace. "Introductions, as I was trying to go for, to help me familiarize." He spots Amir and Pembrooke, perking some, but in the process and not about to break it even if he wants to.

fuck this shit (01/AR)Today at 9:28 PM

Zombieing for coffee is the exact verbage applicable. AR steps into the kitchen silently, maneuvering around the crowd of officers, and interrupts Elliott's tea process, looping his free arm around the man's chest to hug him from behind. He needs to convey his gratitude just as much as he needs the scent of chamomile to calm him. He stays like that a bit too long, sluggish from the days events. He breaks the hug with a soft peck and whispered 'thank you' to the side of Elliott's hair. Fuck it. He's too tired to pretend. He proceeds to move past him, settling in front of the counter. The dersite leans for a long moment, looking over the gathered crowd. He assumes they are waiting for him to speak. Hm. ...... A long sigh. A turn behind him to pour another cup of black coffee. And a returns to face his team. "Good evening."

Percy (06/💀)Today at 9:30 PM

Death dies.

fuck this shit (01/AR)Today at 9:30 PM

.......................... He proceeds to quietly, slowly, drink the entire cup of coffee in one go. A fourth is poured. "Let us start with a debriefing."

Homosexual Shark (05/JH/CD)Today at 9:31 PM

Jude looks very confused. Why is he in such an important meeting.

Resh (NB)Today at 9:32 PM

Nuavi gets comfortable leaning against one of the walls with a bag of dried fruit. This was her first meeting with Amir, so she was almost excited to see how much of his character she had guessed right.

Percy (06/💀)Today at 9:34 PM

Death's entire momentum is thrown off and he's not sure what to do at this point. Okay so. He was making... a thing. What was he making. Oh, the thing is in hand. Chai tea. ...How make tea. Oh fuck, he didn't say thank yo-- er, you're welcome. You're welcome is what you say to thank you. A noise is made. It's probably a 'You're welcome', and Death then goes back to making the tea for Ace.

pi3shark (Eridan/AD)Today at 9:39 PM

Well thats a thing. Ace just kinda takes a seat.

fuck this shit (01/AR)Today at 9:41 PM

The coffee. It does nothing. "Earlier today, as many of you witnessed..." He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Many of you witnessed, our very own white queen had been located, followed by an outburst from the white king, who made arrangements with Snowman of the felt to make an exchange for the queen, completely disregarding proceedings of the law, and if I am being frank, embarrassed our outfit as a whole." He observes particularly the prospitians, making note of their reactions. "I brought you here, and not to the precinct, because I wanted to address you without....the royals. I am surprised to see most all of you. Though will admit I do not know half of you."

Homosexual Shark (05/JH/CD)Today at 9:42 PM

Jude is even more confused, also , take notes.

Resh (NB)Today at 9:43 PM

As soon as the outburst is mentioned, Nuavi seems to shrink in on herself. Disappointed and visibly ashamed of how the king had acted towards the situation and everyone involved.

Percy (06/💀)Today at 9:45 PM

A hot cup is placed near Ace, murmuring a quiet, 'Be careful, it's hot' as to not interrupt Amir's speech. He makes sure to set the pot of coffee on the table on a cozy to keep it from damaging the table, along with a pitcher of water. Everyone could pick from the finger foods and drinks while they listened during the meeting before Death went off to park himself next to Pembrooke.

Skippy (13/John)Today at 9:45 PM

John leans back in his chair and resists his usual habit of propping his legs up on the table. Don't forget your table manors Johnny boy.

fuck this shit (01/AR)Today at 9:47 PM

"We have taken a blow tonight. The law as it stands now is just a puppet of prospit's 'missionary' services. The media knows we answer to the dime of thugs. There is nothing we can do if we do not work together." "I want to start with your names. I need to know you. You need to know each other. Consider this a team building exercise." John is picked out of the crowd for those rude table manners. "Egbert. Proceed. State your name and rank and where you are from."

Percy (06/💀)Today at 9:48 PM

Death gives Amir a double thumbs up!!

pi3shark (Eridan/AD)Today at 9:52 PM

Ace whispers a 'thank you' back to Death before sipping onto the tea. It is hot in all ways possible, you love it.

Skippy (13/John)Today at 9:54 PM

John perks up when he's called upon and then grins wide. "John Egbert. I'm a standard patrol officer. I was born and raised on Earth, till Dad and I moved to Derse a few years ago."

fuck this shit (01/AR)Today at 9:55 PM

"Next.""Which of you was briefing me earlier on the computer."

Percy (06/💀)Today at 10:01 PM

Death was about to point someone out to help people choose since... in a large room, and telling everyone to make their own line, generally ended in disaster. Understandable for Rashid to make that hiccup- or any of them. It's been a night. Amir continues though and Death hesitates briefly, side eying Pembrooke before looking around the kitchen. "Ace, would you like to go?" Death looks to the man, knowing him well enough. It was easy to make guesses for some of them when he put two and two together with how they behaved online and how they behaved face to face.@pi3shark (Eridan/AD)

fuck this shit (01/AR)Today at 10:03 PM

"Shit." Amir rubs his hand over his face. "Scratch that, I do not need your ranks. Those are on paper. State your name. Where you are coming from. And why you joined the law."(edited)

Homosexual Shark (05/JH/CD)Today at 10:05 PM

Oh no this makes Jude sweat even more. he haven't yet.

pi3shark (Eridan/AD)Today at 10:12 PM

"Sure why not." Ace gets up and leaves his tea on the table. "Name is Ace Dick... Bullock." Besides WQ and PS no one knew that little extra tibit. "I'm form prospit and huh....I just wanted to make things right you know. Its cheesy as heck but I was made to be the Enforcer what a better way to enforce an protect my huh... citizens than being a cop. Make them follow the law, all of the laws make this place safe. So when the offer and eventual move happened I got here late I figured this was going to be the hardest thing any of us ever had done... and intuition was right. And after the archagent got fuckin stabbed it got reafirmed on what i wanted to do, thats about it. I will protect everyone who deserves to be, thats what I am."

Percy (06/💀)Today at 10:15 PM

Death nodded. "A noble wish if I ever heard one. Thank you, Ace. You do a wonderful job. ... Nuavi?" Death picked her up quick, catching that controlled stutter when she spoke. @Resh (NB)Death also sounded a little unsure. New-ah-vee? He looks apologetic. Sorry.

fuck this shit (01/AR)Today at 10:23 PM

"You did not have to stand up." He mutters, but Ron Swanson nods at Ace. Good answer.(edited)

Resh (NB)Today at 10:36 PM

Nuavi perks up at the mention of her name, mid fruit grab, and slides off her spot on the wall. She was already standing, so Amir’s correction wasn’t of much use to her. After nodding at Elliot’s correct pronunciation of her name, she speaks. “Greet-tings. My name is Nuavi Bakul, agent of Prospit and servant of the innocent. I joined the law bec-c-cause I knew that I could do it better then the fools that kept being assigned to it. Up t-to that point, every time I had seen an officer do their duty, they did it sloppily. Simple, obvious steps were skipped, and I couldn’t bare t-to see that kind of incompetence within a profession that demanded perfection.” She looks miffed, angered by something, or maybe someone? “That’s why, when I was asked t-to come here by my Queen, to make a difference in a place that needed it more the prospit could ever c-care to have, well, it’s no wonder I couldn’t t-turn her down.”

fuck this shit (01/AR)Today at 10:37 PM

"Do you want to do this job well to protect people."

Resh (NB)Today at 10:39 PM

She gives him a surprised look of disbelief. “Of course! Why else would I w-want to do this job?”

fuck this shit (01/AR)Today at 10:42 PM

"How is your coding handling this." He has never beat around a bush in his life, addressing both NB and AD. "I ask to all whiteshells. I do not know if there are more here."

Resh (NB)Today at 10:52 PM

Nuavi raises a brow, not suspicious, just curious. There is a very dull and aching pain that hums throughout her nerves, but that’s just because she’s had years to perfect her ability in dulling the sensations she gets through her connection to the Queen. “It’s fine. I c-can control what I receive from it. Granted, as long as long as the Queen doesn’t wish t-to override my commands. Which has only ever happened near t-two or three times over the many years I’ve worked with her, ergo, it-t’s not an issue.”

pi3shark (Eridan/AD)Today at 10:58 PM

"Aside form the obvious stress nothing too particularly bad. A headache that is gone was the worst part of it. Even during overrides I can work around it, I've had to train to not let emotions take me over since everything is at 200% all the time so it aint that complicate to flush all extra things out. Also an emotional cop is not a fuckin' good idea."

Percy (06/💀)Today at 10:59 PM

Also Death gives Nuavi two thumbs up for her part. That was wonderful, I'm so proud.

Resh (NB)Today at 11:00 PM

Nuavi’s trying her best not to show it, but, at Elliot’s silent encouragement, she’s immediately filled with pride.

fuck this shit (01/AR)Today at 11:01 PM

Nods at those two. Will go with coding workarounds later. "Egbert clone. Who are you."

Percy (06/💀)Today at 11:01 PM

Death clears his throat lightly, "Possible family member, humans don't have clones."

fuck this shit (01/AR)Today at 11:02 PM

"Oh."

Homosexual Shark (05/JH/CD)Today at 11:02 PM

Jude just look all around see if anybody reacts to the call then points at himself.

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