my favorite part of a bugg is the tiny little itty bitty claws at the end of their feets. u know what i'm talking about.

the grabbers .. :) yeay

(photo cred)

What would happen if Darling showed a little jealousy towards the girls who flirt with Ezra?

Oh my goodness! i am so sorry covid kicked my butt and i’m still not better lol, but anonie ily, idk if you’re the same nonnie that’s been sending all or at least most of the ezra asks, but i am working on them all!!! i promise i just haven’t even touched this app in DAYS. T.T

anyway, Minors DNI as always 🥰 plz and ty

CW: GN/READER, no body or genitalia descriptions for reader (other than hole lol), kissing, biting, sex in whatever hole you have luv u bb, creampie, indecent exposure, public sex, ditching the body type beat

Status: Not Dating (but close to it)

You stab your pencil into the knot in the wood of your table. It’s so hard to listen to your professor next to Ezra. Today’s a little different though…

“Ezraaaaa~” a gorgeous peer touches his arm, and fawns over him. He’s watching you with some weirdly satisfied expression on his face. You roll your eyes at him. He chuckles back and your brows furrow ferociously. What? did he just— “When are you gonna come back over? we’re having a party this weekend…”

Now a few guys are walking up and one of them pushes another forward, He sputters for a sec before speaking up “H-hey Ezra! um, wanna go out this weekend again?”

“Oh my gods, can I please just focus!? leave him alone! the professor is literally speaking!” The pencil snaps, half of it stuck graphite first in that same wooden knot. It’s been ground a little deeper than it was earlier.

“Ew. You can always—” The gorgeous one starts, before Ezra cuts her off.

“Nah they’re right. This is boring as shit.” He leans over to your ear, “‘sides, I like you mad,” He’s wearing a beaming grin as he pulls back.

He grabs you by the waist and pulls you outside, the professor doesn’t spare either of you a glance.

As soon as you’re out in the hallway, his raw strength is forcefully slamming you into the lockers, rattling the metal doors.

“Ezra??” You never see him this passionate or nice? Sure he’s still rough, but he isn’t hurting you.

He lifts your legs and wraps them around his waist. “Owch,” One of the latches is digging in your back, you laugh a little “sorry, my back”

He moves you both down an inch or two, his lips crashing onto yours before he pulls away to take in the sight of you.

“Why do you make me feel this way…?” It’s like he didn’t mean to say that… You feel like you’ve seen something you almost… Shouldn’t have? You look down and away. “No. Look at me.” He pulls you back roughly with his hand on your jaw.

“Fuck, Ezra…. I don’t know… Maybe you shouldn’t” You choose your next words as carefully as you can. “have been so mean. Prolly feelin guilty or somethin’”

“That too.” His lips assault your neck now, teeth biting and air puffing against you. Your body is a whirlwind of sensation.

“too?”

He either doesn’t hear you or just doesn’t answer.

Your arms are locked around his neck but your fingers tingle with yearning. Youdecide to trust him with your weight and let go in favor of tracing his muscled arms. You both sigh into eachother. The Ozone and forest scent of him comes through and fill your senses once again.

Even the smell of smoke is starting to welcome you back. You don’t let yourself think twice. You deserve some feel good sex after everything he’s done to you. He owes you. “Yeah.”

“What?” He pulls back with glistening lips to inspect you his expression quizzical but still smiling.

“You owe me. a lot. actually.”

“Oh? hah! fine whatever. now open up.”

You push your crotch against his bulge harder, “I have been, just waiting for you.”

“Fuck, good” He pats your head affectionately. His hand falls down your face almost… Lovingly.

You try and shove those fluttery feelings down. This is Ezra after all.

Once inside he’s bouncing you desperately on his thick pulsing cock. His hands are wrapped around your throat getting you so close to blacking out it hurts. You try to tap out but he continues pounding furiously into you.

You deliciously sloppy hole stretches around his width perfectly. His grunts fill your fading and popping hearing.

“F-f-ff” you can’t speak at all. Finally you feel him shuddering and filling you with his thick streaming cum.

He drops you.

You slump unceremoniously down onto the smooth waxed floor. Cum leaks out of your still exposed hole.

You have to catch your breath, and while you are indisposed you see the flash of Ezra’s phone camera. Then he leaves you there. His walk a satisfied swagger down the hall away from the classroom and toward the front doors.

Asshole.

How about Ludger and Atsuro?

🌟 Drop one of my characters’ names in my inbox and I’ll tell you 10 facts about them 🌟 || @unborderedreflection (Oboi Atsuro too--)

The first time Ludger ever wore glasses was actually also the first time he ever stole something. He took a classmate's reading glasses and asked Julius how he looked in them. Julius said they looked good, but he also got a lecture about stealing for it.

Ludger keeps the knockoff Bunniekins on his bed as a momento of his time with his former friends. Sometimes he forgets it's there thought and he'll frighten himself when he sees its very... interesting face staring back when waking up in the morning.

On Julius' or Elle's birthdays, Ludger will ask Ms. Kitty Kat if she'd help him bring all her cats over to his apartment. Surprisingly, they actually all obey him like he's their new cat dad. It's a badge he'll wear with honor.

Ludger has accidentally signed documents for work as "Star Will Kresnik" on multiple occasions. Luckily Vera always checks over his work before he confuses a poor investor who the hell is 'Star'.

After setting aside a healthy amount of his paycheck, Ludger miiight have paid the right people to suddenly have the Loúlou constellation be officially recognized. You can't prove it was him-- even if you tracked the bill, the account's owner's name is "Rudoga Il Kresnik".

Ludger keeps a small memory book of all the Ludgers he remembers, along with little descriptions of what made each of them unique. Whether some are still around or not, he owes them to remember those who pushed him forward. Even if one of those shot and stabbed him to almost-death.

Ludger's special back door, the Bel Shard, was a gift from Kazuya before he departed on his mission as the King of Bel. Every 3 days, it can warp him to and from any dimension without using his Chromatus. Kazuya was real serious about him never turning into a catalyst after all!

Ludger keeps two gardens outside the apartment: the real one, and the "Zig one". The former is where he grows the rarer, fragile plants while the latter is fast-growing produce he doesn't mind Zig devouring without telling him.

Ludger's Brave Vesperias were a special restoration order by an odd vendor he met in the Nala Lava Tubes. While he knows they are a bit impractical, he sees them like himself: normally delicate like a feather, but deadly when it needs to be.

Wanting to make the older Elle and Victor official members of the family, he put down on the registry that Victor was his cousin, and Elle's Victor's adopted daughter. Paying to ignore the DNA samples being... weird was its own task.

Gonna be a blend of BE+ and Canon Cause LBR he's a Zig case--

Though he knows Ludger wasn't the best friend he knew for 17 years, he'll still lovingly call him "Ruru" all the same. Plus he kinda likes the reaction it gets outta Ludger, who still wonders how he got it from "Ludger".

The mysterious case for how the constellation Loúlou came to happen miiight have been partially due to a special data coverup job by a lovable hacker. 'course nobody except the hacker and "Rudoga Il Kresnik" would know the truth...

Though the Throne of Bel took away all the demons from Tokyo, somehow Niao is still living with Atsuro. He doesn't question it, but he wishes his Super Pigeon would stop acting like his mom, literally dragging him outside to keep a good exercise/IRL social routine.

Since Naoya got a pair, Atsuro does at times pop on a set of reading glasses so he can read long batches of code without going cross-eyed. They look like a certain someone's, for some reason...

On the Elle's Best Chef Ranking, Atsuro managed to rank 4th. His claim to fame was Niao-style Soup, which gets its name from Niao airdropping him spices from who knows where. He just hopes it's not from Hell.

Even though he's gone through multiple dimensions of Hell on Earth, if you were to ask what scares him most, that honor goes to Victor. He might barely know the guy (because of his fear), but he gets the feeling he ought to stay real far away.

After using his police baton so much, Atsuro actually likes who practice his swings at batting cages. Even without using his COMP, his swings are pretty impressive if he says so himself!

Through Ludger, Atsuro has met Balan and collabed on future Spyrite tech. The linchpin of figuring out Spyrite's signals being Spirit Language was helped by relating the comp using songs as the common tongue for demons.

Atsuro's crush on Yuzu is still years strong, but he's keeping it to himself now until he's got a steady job and shows Yuzu he's not just a little net junkie. Might take some years, but at worst he'll just confess when they're still best friends and Yuzu's married!

"What's in my bag? Well, besides my laptop, I got my glasses, my COMP, my baton, a couple snacks for Niao, the latest Spyrite research notes, and both my cellphone and my GHS! Gets kinda heavy, but the Lockdown sure toughened me up!"

In one respect, and maybe only one, The Patriot stands apart from similar war epic/action movies in the late 90s/early 2000s.  There is no big heroic speech.  Roland Emmerich’s Independence Day gives us Bill Pullman’s Fourth of July speech; Mel Gibson’s Braveheart gives us blue-faced William Wallace’s “Freedom!” speech.  The Patriot gives us a hero who delegates inspiration duties to his eldest son, who is less than successful. The people he tasks himself with convincing to join the South Carolina militia are his French and Indian war buddies, and they need very little convincing when it comes to killing redcoats.

When Benjamin Martin does try to persuade with words, he fails.  His pleas to avoid war at the Charles Town assembly early on only get him judged by his peers and son.  His attempts to placate Colonel Tavington only put his family in more danger. His success in persuading Cornwallis to free his men owes far more to what Cornwallis thinks he sees through his spyglass than to anything Martin says. In the face of trauma--whether his children’s, his friends,’ or his own--he is dumbstruck. Yet the movie never presents his lack of ability with words as a moral or intellectual failing. The same may be said for the other Patriot men.  Nothing Gabriel or Burwell says convinces Martin to join the war effort; Tavington’s actions do.

What becomes interesting, then, is who does produce effects through their words.

On the Patriot side, it’s girls.  Considering that she has fewer lines than any other comparatively important character, Susan Martin’s words are potent, so much so that her first ones in the movie are censored by her older brother.  Gabriel reinterprets “I hate him and I hope he never comes back” to Martin as “she loves you and she misses you” in order to spare his feelings.  When she speaks to her father herself, though, her words are even more powerful,  Her “I’ll say whatever you want me to say” speech heals her relationship with her father (and, apparently, her own trauma).  Anne Howard has the power to influence men who are not even related to her. Where Gabriel’s pleas fail to inspire the men of Pembroke church to join the militia, her shaming tactics succeed. She reminds the men of what they’ve said about liberty in the past and urges them to follow through with actions.  One by one, they look lovingly at their wives and children, and stand.

Anne’s tactic is a popular one in this movie, also used to great effect by its villain.  No character does more with words than Tavington. Not only does he speak violence into existence almost every time he’s on screen, but he uses other characters’ own words to lure them into participating in or condoning violence. When Captain Wilkins tells him “There’s no honor in this” when asked to burn the church with the militiamen’s families locked inside, Tavington reminds him: “Did you not say that those who take a stand against England deserve to die a traitor’s death?” Wilkins burns the church.  

When General Cornwallis tells Tavington he wants him to capture Martin, Tavington echoes his earlier words to call attention the reversal of his position: “I can catch him for you, but to do so requires the use of tactics that are, what was the word Your Lordship used? ‘Brutal,’ I think.” It’s worth noting that Cornwallis never verbally orders him to make use of these tactics.  He silently acquiesces by shifting the focus to how Tavington will be rewarded for Martin’s capture.  The power of words in this scene belongs entirely to Tavington.

It is, ironically, Tavington’s love of irony and using people’s words against them that gets him killed.  His words to Martin--”Kill me before the war is over, will you? It appears you are not the better man”--are not only his last but they give Martin the time and warning he needs to prove that, actually, he IS the better man by fatally stabbing him.  If Martin is totally ineffective with words, he is impervious to them as well.

But it’s one thing to have a hero who cannot use words effectively, but quite another when only girls and the main villain can.  Here, the movie seems to be making a point about wordiness and manly virtue, and it is that they don’t go together. That’s pretty extraordinary for a movie about the American Revolution, set in the 18th Century.  Thomas Paine? Thomas Jefferson? Obviously, the power of men’s words played an enormous role in the American Revolution even happening in the first place.  Skill in rhetoric was a vital part of 18th Century masculinity, at least for educated men, and it’s hard to imagine a man who is less effective with words than his betrothed or his young daughter being seen as anything other than an object of ridicule and/or pity. The strong, silent brand of masculinity popularized onscreen by John Wayne, Sylvester Stallone, Bruce Willis, and Mel Gibson has its origins much, much later. Like so many things about The Patriot, it’s centrality here tells us much more about American men in the late 1990s/early 2000s than anything remotely connected to American men in the 1770s and 80s. 

Peril comes out

Peril's wingtips touched Clay's as they silently soared through the soft gray rain.

Half an hour ago, she had asked him if he would take just one moment to fly with her. After everything that had happened, with Jade Mountain Academy under threat and those little rapscallions - Moon, Turtle, Kinkajou, Anemone, Qibli, and Winter - had all managed to save it. The past week... no, weeks? She had lost track of time. But they had been a blur - a blur of emotions, of frustration, of painful, deep searing guilt, Darkstalker's scroll looming in her mind, and of longing. She hadn't gotten to talk to Clay in so long, and she wasn't sure that at the end of it he'd still feel the same way about her that he did when she saved his life on the brightest night.

She turned to look at his face in the grayness. His expression was focused, concentrated, effortful.

He must still be in a lot of pain from that burn I gave him, Peril thought guiltily.

No! She shook her head. I kept him alive! If it wasn't for me he'd be dead! But that didn't make her feel any better.

She turned her gaze back down to the valleys below, vast and dotted in slate blue pine trees obscured by the falling droplets. They rolled harmlessly off Clay, but they sizzled when they hit her and dissolved into steam, making her look like a ghost in flight. The rocky outcroppings below resembled a sleeping dragon - as if the landscape itself, was, once again, put to rest after Darkstalker's second sleep.

"Peril," Clay spoke.

She whipped her head around to him. "Clay?"

"I'm... I'm starting to get a bit tired. Do you think we could stop somewhere down below? Maybe in a cave."

She quickly scanned the landscape below her, and saw an opening just a half mile away. "Yeah, I see something down there." She turned herself in the direction of the cave, and Clay followed her.

As they came in for a landing, Peril opened her wings wide, scattering a million fallen petals that intermingled with the rain. She softly touched down and carefully wrapped her wings around herself, and looked back at Clay, beckoning.

They both sat in the mouth of the cave, tails twined, watching the rain fall.

After what seemed like just a moment (but Peril knew full well was the better part of an hour,) Clay looked at her and asked "So... do you want to talk about Scarlet? Or Ruby? Or the stuff that happened while you were helping Moon and her friends save Jade Mountain?"

Peril stared at him, startled. "No! I mean, yes! I mean, just..." She sighed and looked at the roof of the cave. "I do, but like... hrmmmnnm." She closed her mouth shut and hummed.

"I get it. It can be hard to talk about stuff like this. It took us five forever to find the time to reflect and talk about our feelings after everything happened." He looked at the ceiling too and laughed. "Tsunami..." he muttered happily, and shortly his smile faded, his face a sad, wistful stare. "And Glory."

"I... hm." She fidgeted with her talons nervously. "I mean, I DO want to talk about Queen Scarlet and Ruby and-" she shook her head, "not-queen-Scarlet and- arghh, but it's so! CONFUSING! And it makes me mad to think about her manipulating like that. I trusted her, I really did and..."

Clay looked into the rain. "Like we trusted Morrowseer."

"I... I guess... yeah..." She looked into a corner awkwardly, but then curled her fist. "She shouldn't have betrayed us like that!" she roared.

"What about... Turtle?" Clay offered.

Peril's heart jumped in her stomach. She thought about Turtle, the only other dragon who had understood and trusted her, at least for a while. How protective she felt of him, how she wanted to follow him (and then not...) when they were trying to find Queen Scarlet. She thought about how he went underwater that night, making her rage about how she couldn't get to him, and how regretful she felt when she left him behind. He made her feel new things, just like Clay, new weird things.

"He was nice, I guess."

"How did he feel about being an animus? That must've been why he was able to sympathize with you. He knew if he revealed his animus secret he'd be thrust into the talons of others and the plans they wanted for him, and the only way to avoid that was deep, resolute isolation. He knows how that feels, Peril."

She fumed with fury for a second. Why could he hide! He got to choose that lousy isolation, but she didn't have a choice! Then she thought about his pain-stricken face when she found his healing rock, or his vengeful look as he bashed Chameleon upside the-

Chameleon.

She stared through the wall of water passing outside.

"Peril," Clay whispered.

"Oh. Right." She looked back at him.

"I know it's a lot of stuff to think about, but I can't keep carrying this conversation by myself." He softly chuckled with a warm, patient smile.

She blushed and fluttered her wings. "Right. Sorry, sorry. I was just- argh. Arghhh." She squirmed, as if caterpillars were crawling out of her skin.

Do I tell him?

"Turtle," she said resolutely, "taught me new things about myself. He reminded me of you, actually, Clay. You were my first exposure to life outside the Skywing Palace, and if I'm being honest I was kind of disappointed with the other dragonets at Jade Academy, how they treated me. I thought they'd be like you - I thought everyone in the outside world would be like that."

Clay winced.

"But Turtle! Turtle has his friends, and, surely, he's taught them! I keep getting letters from them. Which is like, weird, but the fact that someone's thinking about me!? While I'm not in front of them!?! Threatening to blaze their FACE or melt their SKIN off!?!?!" She yelled with a smile. "It's CRAAAAZY!"

Clay let out a hearty laugh, smiling as well.

"And Queen Ruby - she hated me, she hated me so bad Clay, she hated me just as much as the other Skywings did, if not more. If Scarlet's twisted love is what makes me ache, Ruby's absolute hatred of me tore me to the core. She looked at me and didn't want anybody, nobody in the whole world to do anything with me. Didn't want anyone to touch me, look at me, love me. She saw me as an irredeemable monster because of things I couldn't control." Peril's face contorted in despair.

"But Tourmaline... Someone who hadn't been fed Scarlet's lies... She saw right through that and she knew deep in my heart I COULD love." She scratched her snout awkwardly. "Well, at least I think I can. I'm not sure."

Clay lovingly jabbed her with her shoulder, and she giggled.

"But that pure strong spirit.... It's so." Her stomach dropped. "It's so scary what Chameleon did to her. Ripped her title, her memories, her life away just for some gold, some jewels." She spat on the ground.

"And Chameleon..."

Her stomach felt like a howling void, ready to collapse her from the inside out.

Do I tell him?

What if he hates me?

He should hate me.

I'm just as bad as him.

I'm just like my dad.

She turned to Clay terrified.

"I-" she sputtered. "I want to tell you something."

Clay looked at her face, concerned, but he motioned around. "Just you and me."

"I-" Peril's muscles clenched, her veins wrapped all around inside her, her bones stabbed inside her, shame made her heat blaze ever hotter, shame and guilt and pain and fear. She wanted to fall into the ground and have it swallow her up, but she knew she didn't have a choice.

"I'm not - I'm not actually a girl. I was hatched as a boy. I- I- Queen Scarlet, she said, she- she wanted me to be like her and- " Words started running over one another. "When you got here- I- I- I just felt like protecting you- and- but- I didn't want you to give up on me- Having a relationship- I-" She wanted to die. She wanted to disappear. "I'm a liar. I'm- I'm just like Chameleon," she howled. "I'm faking it. I- I wanted you but I- I just-" She let go, and wailed.

She looked back at him. "P-please don't-don't hate me," Peril choked through tears.

Clay softly gazed at her, leaned in closer, his wings wrapping around her, and kissed her on her snout.

Peril tears turned to confusion as she leaped with delight and her scales roared a bright blazing blue, the searing heat singing any leftover moss in the cavern. Clay reflexively pulled away, and patted his singed scales, laughing.

"Ow, geez, haha! Not like that!"

"I- I- Huh??"

Peril stepped back, but looked up and peered at his expression.

He really doesn't hate me, she thought wondrously.

As Clay turned looking over himself, his scales settled, and as the smoke rose, he looked at Peril.

"You know, someone else actually said something similar to me a little while ago." He sat back down.

Peril crooned. "R-Really?"

"Yeah. It was - it was Sunny."

Peril's jaw dropped open.

"She'd mentioned to me how she'd - during our time fulfilling the dragonet prophecy, she'd... we'd kind of ignore her most of the time. Not take her seriously. When we first planned on escaping the cavern, we didn't tell her.... she was so upset, afterwards. And in all of our discussions and planning afterwards, we'd step on her feelings. Actually, you remember the Nightwing invasion? Or, well, whatever came of the invasion before they all came crashing into Glory's rainforest under fealty."

"Yeah?" Peril looked at him.

"She was the one who came up with the idea of using the sleeping darts! But Glory was planning, and the others were shouting, so she had to ask me to use my voice and SHOUT it at everyone. The point is, she felt small. And overly protected - we didn't respect her whole, y'know, feelings as part of the team."

Peril flicked her tail, anxious.

"So... A couple nights ago, she talked to me in private, and she told me how she'd been feeling, and... she said she didn't really feel like it was right to be a Queen anymore. Given Thorn had safely secured the position, and was doing a good job... And with everything about the Eye of Onyx." Clay shifted on his talons. "She could trust it to pick a new leader. And the thing is, you know how... you've seen Deathbringer. You've seen Riptide. You've seen Starflight and maybe even Winter and Qibli. And maybe even Darkstalker, and Clearsight."

He sighed.

"Male dragons have a strong feeling to protect one person, the one person who brings them all the light in the world. Sunny said she didn't really feel like that - like one person had captured her whole heart in their hands. But she certainly didn't want to be the object of that kind of affection either. And Sunny didn't feel like Queen Coral or Thorn or Scarlet either, where she wanted to protect her own kin, her own future. She wants to protect everybody. And more than that, she doesn't want to be Sunny the small and weak and lovable, or Sunny the fierce and possessive and loyal. She just wants to be... Sunny, helping out wherever she can."

Peril stared at him intently, blue eyes locked in brown. "And?"

"Well, at first we tried just referring to Sunny by name to sort of, you know, respect her decision, but Starflight looked through the library and found in some old scrolls people using 'they' to refer to - did you even know there were dragons who decided to live past being a boy or a girl in the past, just like Sunny? I was surprised."

Peril's mind was racing. "They must be so happy," she said, eyes sparkling.

Outside, the rain had cleared, and Peril noticed out beyond the cave was a huge field of sunflowers, waving and dancing in the cool wind.

Suddenly her thoughts returned to her.

"But that thing you said earlier about protecting..." Peril looked down at her talons uncomfortably.

"Oh yeah - sorry, I... I didn't mean to. I just..." Clay caught himself. "I... I'm sorry Peril. I know your feelings about this must be really, really complicated. I..." Clay looked away again with a twinge of guilt on his face.

Peril stared at him, trembling.

"But Sunny taught me something I hadn't even thought about before." He chuckled. "I did think about it too, but after a long night of restless staring at the sky and thinking I figured I was perfectly happy being a guy. But that look on Sunny's face... they must have struggled as much with telling us as you did."

"I love you, Peril. I don't think you're anything like Chameleon at all. He only used his identities to trick and manipulate others, to get what he wanted for himself. But you've only ever been trying to find yourself - with Scarlet twisting your thoughts from birth, with how everyone's avoided you and you've been excluded from all the Skywings and, man, even the other dragon's games on Jade Mountain. It must hurt so much to be that isolated."

Peril stared into the field, unable to meet his gaze, tears running down her face.

"I just want you to know, Peril, I love you for who you chose to be. For all of your heroism, and your kindness. Your self-restraint. Chameleon had none of those qualities. But you do."

He stared her straight in the eye.

"What you chose is noble, and so so hard. Being true to yourself - more than Chameleon ever was, he couldn't handle being boring old him - is so, so hard. I know."

Peril thought about the Chameleon's enchanted necklace that removed her firescales. She shuddered deeply."

But you did it. And you shouldn't have to live with the shame, or the guilt anymore. You can have a new beginning just like us." His eyes creased as he looked into hers so warmly, making her melt. "You might protect my scales, but I want to protect your smile. I hope you can let me do that."

"I-"

She rushed forward and hugged him, squeezing him tight. Tears streamed down her face, and she choked down a sob, but she hugged him as tight as she could, not letting go.

"Thank you, Clay," she said when she finally let him out of her little death trap.

"Woof!" He stumbled backwards, breathlessly. "I know I said be true to yourself, but maybe we can work a little on the intensity." He looked at her with a silly expression on his face. "Just kidding. You're perfect the way you are."

"Ha ha," she guffawed. "Tell that to anyone else at Jade Academy." She joked, but she knew deep in her heart that the others were starting to see her for what she could be, too. Not just a monster, or a weapon - but a friend.

"So my queen, shall we return to the mountain?" He curtseyed awkwardly, then looked up with one eye. "Actually, wait, that sounds kind of weird? Girlfriend? Babe?" He started scratching his head. "Names were never really my strong suit."

She howled with laughter and smacked him on the back, taking flight. "Just call me Peril," she triumphantly roared. As Clay lept into flight behind her, grinning, Peril thought... Not gonna lie - I like babe too.

Hot Peppers

Pairing: Geraskier

Warnings: i mean unless youre scared for life from a bad experience with spicy 

___________

"I'm not kissing you if you eat that." Geralt's nose crinkled in disgust at the plate of hot pickled peppers a barfly had challenged Jaskier to eat. 

"What? These?" Jaskier, with his flair for the dramatic, stabbed a fork through one and held it under his nose,  the acids bringing tears to his eyes, "Don't be daft, they're just peppers." 

Geralt pointed at him with a fork full of blandly seasoned meat and a small chunk of cheese, "I'm not kidding. Your mouth will not make contact with my body if you eat even one." Geralt regretted it as soon as he said the words, seeing Jaskier’s eyes light up at what he took as a challenge. 

Turning back to the original challenger, Jaskier smirked, “I never was one to back down. Here goes.” He toasted the idiot across from them and popped the whole thing in his mouth, biting off the stem with a rather disgusting squelch. 

Geralt sighed and shook his head, watching as his bard slowly went from pale to crimson, looking more like a tomato than human after a moment. When he ate the second one his heart started beating furiously. On pepper number three he was sweating. By the time he finished the plate, Jaskier was nearly dancing around the table, but he still hadn’t taken a drink of ale. 

The local grumbled in bitter disappointment as he handed over the few gold pieces he’d wagered and disappeared as Jaskier downed his, and then Geralt’s ale. 

“Was it worth it?” Geralt asked, handing him a chunk of cheese meant to suffocate the fire.

Jaskier just grunted, popping the dairy in this mouth and straddling the bench next to him, resting his forehead on Geralt’s shoulder. 

“Can I say ‘I told you so’ yet?”

Jaskier shook his head with a high pitched whine as Geralt flagged down the barmaid for more ale, cold if they had it. 

-------

Hours later, after Jaskier had eaten his weight in cheese and nearly drowned in ale, he was finally able to breathe normally and his heart slowed enough to ease Geralt’s nerves. 

“Geralt,” Jaskier called from the sink in their room, “I can’t feel my tongue.”

The witcher felt a pang of adoration despite the ridiculousness of it all, “I told you so.”

The bard shot him a pout over his shoulder, now brushing his teeth vigorously and attempting to speak around the brush, “Doo shoonb”

Geralt grinned back at him, settling into the chair in the corner with his leather polish and Roach’s bridle. He only managed to clean her chinstrap before the leather was being tugged from his hands and his bard fell into his lap.

“Kiss it better?” Jaskier asked, wrapping his arms around Geralt’s shoulders, one hand cupping the back of his neck in a way that always made him shiver. 

Geralt sighed and leaned his forehead against his bard’s, “No.”

“Geralt!” Jaskier’s whine of protest only made his smile widen.

“I warned you.”

“But I brushed my teeth!”

“I can still smell it. If I can smell it, it’ll definitely burn.”

Jaskier leaned back against Geralt’s arm keeping him from falling off his lap and rolled his eyes, “A kiss for your lover isn’t worth a little spicy burn?”

Geralt brushed his fingers through his bard’s soft, dark hair, doing his best not to look him in those irresistible blue eyes, “If it were just peppercorn, then it would be.”

Jaskier gently gripped Geralt’s wrist, bringing his palm to his lips and placing a gentle kiss on his callouses. When he saw his witcher’s jaw clench, not in the way it was supposed to, he heaved a deep sigh and clasped the hand between both of his. 

“Those damned senses.” 

Geralt hummed in agreement, pulling his bard close to his chest, resting his chin on the crown of his head when the brunet nuzzled into him. His arm draped over Jaskier’s back, hand resting on his shoulder where his thumb lazily drifted back and forth over the edge of his clavicle. It didn’t matter to Geralt how often they touched, he always did his best to commit every moment perfectly to memory. These were the nights he wanted to remember in his old age, not the beasts he fought or the nightmares that haunted him. He wanted to bottle up the peace and comfort for safekeeping when he needed it most. 

Jaskier was smoothing his fingers over the spot on his palm that still stung, his featherlight touch not doing much to soothe the pain, but it spoke of his apology. 

“I love you.” Geralt whispered his declaration as he pressed a kiss to the top of Jaskier’s head.

“I love you too. ...you big softie.” 

---------

Geralt woke to Jaskier gently tracing his fingers over his scars, head resting on the witcher's shoulder as he hummed a soft slow tune. He took another beat before opening his eyes, savoring the closeness and basking in the feeling of floating between states of consciousness. When he finally greeted the morning in earnest he was nearly blinded by the light from the window. As he squinted and willed his eyes to do their job, Jaskier propped himself up on an elbow to gaze lovingly down at him. 

His hair, tousled with sleep caught the light like a golden crown, "Good morning, darling." 

Even decades into their relationship, Geralt had to remember how to breathe with him so close sometimes, "Morning love." 

"Did I wake you?" Jaskier asked, resting a hand over Geralt's chest and his chin on the back of his knuckles. 

Geralt shook his head slightly, drinking in his ocean blue eyes like he'd never see them again. 

The bard frowned, "Did you have a bad dream?" 

Geralt simply shook his head again, a small smile gracing his lips. 

"Then why are you staring at me like that?" Jaskier giggled as he spoke, shaking the two of them ever so gently. 

The witcher tilted his head, bringing his hand up to draw a line down his lover's forehead to the tip of his nose, "You're exceptionally beautiful in the morning." 

"If I'd known all I had to do to hear such lovely words was be here when you wake, I'd have done it so much earlier." The blush in Jaskier's cheeks betrayed his cool words. 

"I try to talk more. I do." Geralt mumbled, tapping at Jaskier's bottom lip, momentarily fascinated by the little popping noise it made when he let it snap back up to it's partner. 

Jaskier shimmied up the bed to eye level with his Witcher to kiss him, a little passionate for such an early hour, but he'd been deprived the night before, "I know." 

For a moment Geralt was going to say something so sickeningly sweet even the bard might laugh at him, then the tingling and stinging reached his brain. 

"Ow! Oh shit. Fuck me, that's hot!? What the fuck kind of fucking torture peppers were those!?" He sat up, frantically wiping the spit off his lips, tongue, teeth, anything he could think of with his shirt sleeve.  

Jaskier rolled into his back, more than a little stunned, "You can still taste them? They were just habaneros." 

Geralt scrambled out of bed to turn on the sink, leaning over to stick his whole head under the faucet. 

"No! Geralt, that'll spread it around. Here, I've got some dried meat here somewhere…" Jaskier gripped him by his collar and pulled him away from the sink, keeping a grip on him as he dug through their packs. 

The salt did little to soothe the burn, but the chunks of smoked fat did wonders for his sensitive nerves. After a few minutes of chewing at the gummy tissue the sensation faded to the background and Geralt noticed the delight on Jaskier's face. 

"This isn't funny." 

Jaskier raked his teeth over his lower lip, "I never said it was." 

"You're practically giggling." Geralt argued, standing to spit the chunk of gristle out in the bin.

"You're just so cute. The infamous White Wolf taken down by the day old remnants of a pepper on his lover's lips." Jaskier crossed to him, resting his hands on his hips and laughing in earnest at the pout his words earned, "No more spicy then." 

Geralt kissed his forehead, "No more spicy." 

On making you happy. Part 7

Harry Potter AU- Marauders Era

Link to Part 6

Pairings: Regulus x Reader 

Rating: M

____

I’m going to kill him!

It was the first thought that came to your mind as your eyes opened.

He’s a dead man.

You were mad and ready to kick Regulus’ butt. Forget the fact that you were 8 ½ months pregnant and Regulus would definitely be able to move faster. You were going to kick his ass and make him feel some of the misery that you were feeling. It had been almost a month since you had seen Regulus. In your mind, daily letters and phone calls weren't the same as seeing your husband. It also didn’t matter how many times Regulus told you that what he was doing was to ensure a clean getaway to Paris.

Whenever Regulus would mention the “promise” of going away to Paris, you hung up or changed the subject. If he didn’t know that you didn’t believe a word that was coming out of his mouth at the time...he sure did now. Why he was still bringing it up was enough to make you want to strangle him.

“Dude, I wouldn’t even say the P-word to her. No, not that P-word you perverted little prick! I mean the place in France.”

It took all you had not to burst out laughing when Sirius answered the phone the night before after you hung up on Regulus. Sirius didn’t care to tell Regulus that he was an idiot for missing your pregnancy. In fact, he did it about twice a week. Sirius was going to make sure that his little brother knew exactly how selfish he was being and how heartbroken you were.

Had it not been for Sirius, Remus, James, and Lily, you weren’t sure how you would have held out as long as you had. In the beginning, you weren’t sure how you would handle being friends with the lot of them. Now there were no other friends that you would want to have in your life.

Heaving yourself out of bed, you made your way downstairs. Remus and Sirius were busy arguing over something trivial as Lily held out a small cup of tea with a smile.

“What are they arguing about now?”

You asked as Lily joined you on the other side of the counter.

“Keanu Reeves.”

Both Lily and yourself gave each other matching scowls about Remus’ ridiculous crush on the American actor that, for whatever reason, bothered Sirius beyond all reason.

“It's early for that? Was Remus watching Speed again last night or something?”

“Yes, he was!”

Sirius snapped in your direction. Remus held his hands up defensively.

“Y/n, help me out here.”

Sirius shook his head.

“Nope, she’s on my side!”

Remus’ mouth dropped.

“She hasn’t even said anything in your defense.”

“She doesn’t have to!”

You drank your tea quietly before speaking.

“I am not on anyone’s side. The last time that I fell in love with some good looking guy I ended up pregnant and contemplating stabbing said guy in the face.”

Sirius grinned. He was loving your savage attacks on his brother and was making a list to share with Regulus to prove just how sassy you were.

“I’m glad it wasn’t me that got you pregnant.”

Sirius chuckled. You put your tea down, giggling at the expression on Remus’ face.

“Yeah, me too. The three of us would be in one strange relationship. Something tells me that Remus isn’t much of a sharer.”

You smirked at the expression on Remus’ face until a sharp pain shot through your body. Wincing, you put your hands on either side of the counter and silently waited for the pain to disappear.

“You okay?”

Sirius asked, nervously. You shook your head.

“I think my water just broke.”

All of the color drained from Sirius, Remus, and Lily’s face. Lily quickly resumed her calm composure.

“Sweetheart, sit down. Remus, go find James. I’m going to go find Y/n’s bag. Sirius, get a hold of your brother.”

You sat down trying to remember the ridiculous breathing technique that Lily had shown you. Sirius quickly knelt down beside you on the floor.

“Need some water? A blanket? Want me to kick my brother’s ass?”

You nodded, for the last one.

“Yes, kick his ass. I don’t think that I am going to have this baby.”

Sirius’ panicked expression turned to confusion. He blinked a few times before scratching his head.

“Y/n, I don’t know what my brother or mother have told you but I don’t think it works that way.”

You smiled through your agony.

“This world’s too cold. Too cold and too angry for a baby to be born...if I was any kind of mother I would have never considered having a child right now.”

Sirius reached out and wrapped his hand around yours.

“Look, maybe it's what we all need? I mean, yeah, this world isn’t a great place but there are good things in it. This baby can be one. I really need you to have this baby because I have uncle things to do that I have already preplanned.”

Sirius was thrilled when you smiled. The two of you had developed a special bond that Sirius had never expected to have. Until this point, Sirius always saw you as the little girl who tagged around with his brother. Now, Sirius was relieved to say that you weren’t as twisted and backward as other purebloods in his family. You had a heart. A heart and a mind of your own that clearly realized how wrong Voldemort really was.

“You’re right. This is a good thing. We should probably get to the hospital before this baby decides to come.”

Sirius jumped up.

“Hell yes! I am not about to deliver any baby!”

A few hours later…

You sat in the hospital bed trying to concentrate on anything but the pain going through you. Lily lovingly stroked your hand while Sirius continued to try to get a hold of Regulus.

“This little fucker isn’t answering.”

Sirius said in almost a panic. Remus stood up and gently took the phone from Sirius.

“You should sit down and calm down while you're at it. Y/n needs some peace.”

Both men glanced over at you. You winced as another contraction hit.

“I am never having sex again!”

You hissed. Sirius quickly turned to Remus.

“Remus, find my brother. I told Regulus I would help keep her safe. I’m the fun uncle. I never said anything about going through labor with her.”

Remus disappeared from the room as Sirius turned and sat back down. Had you not been in so much blasted pain, you would have made a comment about the panicked expression on his face. He was no longer “cool calm Sirius Black.” Now he was about one stone short of going crazy.

The nurse that came into the room looked like she loved her job about as much as you loved feeling like you were being torn in two. She checked your vital signs without much as a word.

“I really need to push.”

You said, meeting her gaze. The nurse shook her head.

“The doctor isn’t on the floor yet. You will have to wait a few moments.”

You fought the urge to push as she walked from the room for just a moment.

“She’s a toad of a woman.”

You muttered to Lily, who was looking annoyed herself. The nurse came back in with a clipboard in one hand to finish her notes.

“Lady, I need to push...like now!”

You snapped. The nurse gave you a displeased expression.

“You will be just fine.”

“Please don’t make me wait any longer. You don’t need a doctor. You’ve got this. You can do it.”

You said, hoping to sound reassuring. Sirius jumped up, having enough.

“You there, blondie! Go find that doctor or for Merlin sakes’ me and red here (scowl from Lily) will deliver this baby ourselves.”

By the time Remus came back after playing phone tag with Regulus, Sirius sat outside of the hospital room looking pale as a ghost.

“Sirius, what’s wrong? What happened? Is Y/n okay?”

Sirius looked up.

“Did you find my brother?”

Remus nodded, sitting down and took Sirius’ hand in his.

“I did. He’s on his way. Sirius…”

Remus started as Sirius cut him off.

“He owes me. Regulus owes me big!”

Remus was still confused. Had something happened? Was the baby okay? Were you okay? What exactly did Remus miss?

“Sirius, you aren’t making any sense.”

Sirius took a deep breath.

“ I watched Y/n give birth to my niece. There isn’t anything grosser than that. That is why I am glad that I bat for the same team because I do not want to see that again.”

Remus was silent for a moment.

“The baby is it okay?”

Sirius nodded.

“She’s fine. Y/n is fine. I, however, am not fine.”

Remus had to resist the urge to laugh. Now that he was positive that everyone was okay; he could focus on his poor boyfriend who looked ready to vomit.

“What did you expect, Sirius?”

Sirius looked up.

“Not that. I couldn’t leave her though. Lily handled it like a champ. I think I screamed a few times.”

Remus couldn’t help it. He was laughing now. The expression on Sirius’ face made him laugh harder.

“Yeah, laugh it up.”

Sirius hissed as one of the other nurses stepped out.

“Excuse me, but are you the child’s father?”

Sirius shook his head.

“Oh, hell!”

“I’m the father.”

Both Remus and Sirius spun around to see Regulus. The poor guy was about as pale as Sirius. Sirius immediately gave his brother the biggest death glare as Remus turned back to the nurse. Thank Merlin, this one had a better personality. Remus internally was thankful that Regulus didn’t witness the other woman’s horrible attitude. He would have probably used the cruciatus curse on the old hag.

“Can you give us a moment, please?”

Remus asked the older woman. The nurse nodded and walked away with a grandmother-like expression.

Regulus finally met his brother’s gaze.

“I missed it, didn't I?”

Sirius nodded, sinking back down into his chair. He put his hands back over his eyes as if he was fighting a wave of nausea.

“Yep but I sure didn’t. You owe me big, you little shit.”

Regulus didn’t say anything for a moment. Sirius didn’t have to look up to know that his brother was panicking internally.

“You watched?”

“I really had no choice. I wasn’t going to let Y/n go through that alone. Just so you know, she has already decided that you are never going to touch her again. She’s convinced that sex is bad.”

Regulus sighed. He wasn’t going to play into Sirius’ games. At the moment, Regulus wanted nothing more than to kick his own butt. He wasn’t supposed to miss this! Regulus was supposed to be there with you. He didn’t want you to go through having a baby alone as Walburga had. Orion didn’t have the presence of mind to even take the rest of the day off. Now here Regulus was being the exact same way.

“How is Y/n and the baby?”

Sirius sighed.

“Fine. Y/n is resting. The baby is fine too. She’s a little small. You may want to put a bell around her neck or something so we don’t lose her.”

Regulus glared at his brother.

“She isn’t a dog.”

Sirius shrugged.

“Well, we have to find some way to take care of her. You aren’t going to be around. Hell, you weren’t here for the pregnancy so why change now?”

Remus quickly put a hand on Sirius’ arm to signal for him to shut up. Regulus’ eyes widened as he kept his attention laser-focused on his brother. Remus was worried that the younger boy was going to start throwing hexes in the middle of the hospital.

“We should stop.”

Remus said, quickly. Regulus, however, wasn’t ready to back down. He already felt shitty enough about missing his daughter’s birth. Sirius’ venomous words were the last thing that he had time for.

“Shut the fuck up, Sirius! You don’t know what I have been dealing with over the past few weeks!”

Sirius jumped up.

“You need to apologize to Y/n! All that she has wanted during this whole ordeal was you. You think that all of this was you doing some amazing shit but it's just been you being selfish. You haven’t changed, Regulus. You are still the selfish little self-absorbed brat that you have always been. Y/n and Elara are going to be the ones that suffer because of it. Fuck you.”

Sirius turned and stormed off without another word. Remus blinked a few times before turning to Regulus. He stood looking at his feet with angry tears in his eyes.

“Come with me.”

Remus said, gently. He knew that Sirius would probably be annoyed with him for showing Regulus any bit of kindness at the moment but Remus couldn’t just let the boy cry.

Regulus’ eyes rolled up to Remus. He was clearly guarding himself against whatever Remus had to offer.

“Are you going to start in on me too?”

Remus shook his head.

“It won’t do me any good besides, you feel like shit enough as it is.”

Remus motioned Regulus to the hospital room. The room was quiet and dimly lit as Regulus stepped in. His eyes immediately went to your sleeping form. You looked like a doll lying in the hospital bed. Guilt was putting the feelings that Regulus was feeling mildly. He was morbidly depressed and if Voldemort suddenly popped out of nowhere and killed him, Regulus wouldn’t be too upset.

“I am fucked.”

________

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20 it only hurts a little more of a ow then a holy fuck I've been stabbed

Patton winced as the plate he had been holding shattered on the floor. 

Deceit perked up from the living room, tone concerned and panicked.

“Patton?! You okay?”

Patton looked at the pieces of the plate scatted along the floor, the only thought coming to his mind being, Huh, I didn't mean to so that.

Before Patton could blink, Deceit was by his side and clutching the hand Patton  had been holding said plate in.

Patton realized Deceit was screeching in Patton’s ear. 

“Patton! You’re hurt! You gotta be more careful!”

It was only then that he felt a sharp slice of pain rip through his hand and he cried out in pain. Unfortunately, that only made Deceit’s voice become more panicked and high pitched.

“Patton, are you okay, does it hurt that bad?”

Patton shook his head and looked down at his hand to see a sizable slice in his hand, with blood sluggishly oozing from it. 

When Patton realized exactly what had happened, he put on a smile and said:

“It only hurts a little. It’s more like, ‘Ow,’ instead of, ‘Holy fuck, I’m stabbed.”

But instead of this consoling Deceit, it only made Deceit wail harder.

“You don’t curse like that unless you’re trying to cover something up! I does hurt bad! Don’t worry! I’ll take care of you!”

And before Patton could react, he was suddenly being placed on the couch and  a blanket being thrown on him. The moment he tried to speak, a gloved finger would be placed on his lips to quiet him. He watched as Deceit lovingly treated and bandaged his wound, glancing at Patton every so often to make sure he wasn’t in pain.

When that was done, Deceit left for a moment back to the kitchen and came back with two cookies, offering both to Patton. Patton knew he wouldn’t take no for an answer, so he accepted one cookie and pushed the other back towards Deceit.

At this point when Deceit got like this, there was no arguing with him, he was going to take care of you no matter what.

Deceit’s eyes flickered between a deep concern for Patton and happiness that Patton didn’t want a second cookie. (Technically he didn’t even want the first cookie, but Deceit was too stubborn to notice and Patton’s sweet tooth was calling him.)

Deceit, trying to make sure this was truly what Patton wanted, pushed the cookie back towards Patton. But Patton again just pushed Deceit’s hand gently back towards Deceit.

Reluctantly, Deceit brought the cookie to his mouth and started to nibble at it. Patton did the same, wanting to preserve that sweet taste of chocolate chip.

They sat in silence, with Deceit continuing to study Patton and Patton being in a constant state of exasperation but knowing he couldn’t pull Deceit from caring for him until he felt Patton was 100% okay.

And if Patton, with a belly full of cookie and feeling safe in the presence of someone who he knew was watching over him and protecting him, however unnecessary, slowly drifted off, no one other than Deceit knew.

All the others know was that when they came down for dinner, there was a certain snaky side curled up and spooning the fatherly side, Patton’s hand wrapped in bandages and the plate still shattered on the kitchen floor.

Someone made a comment on ‘that overprotective himbo, not even cleaning the mess up’ but neither Deceit or Patton heard them, peacefully sleeping on, both content and happy.

House Keys

chase…oh chase i love you so but you’re in for it now. chase brody, the former bro average superstar, comes home for the first time in a year.

part 1 part 2 part 3 Even if Chase Brody had moved out the year prior, he still has the keys to his brothers’ house. He stands now on the crisp, green lawn and swings the key-chain around. He cards a hand through his hair and rubs his eyes—he doesn’t get much sleep these days. Three years before he moved into his brothers’ house, he was sleeping in the back of his car. He’s been conditioned to fall asleep on the hard leather of the car seat, not in his own bed. He didn’t have a bed those weeks. Stacy and him still don’t talk.

He shoots Marvin a text.

hey bro im outside. will come in with the keys. jackie okay? are you all okay? There’s no response. Chase shrugs and tucks his phone into the pocket of his jeans. He’s a little hurt, but it’s fine. It’s Chase’s first visit since he’s moved out. It’s exactly as he remembers it. The lawn is in immaculate condition, with the hedges trimmed neatly and flowers springing up all over the place—Jameson was always in charge of that. He has an eye for lawn care. He takes after Jack. The door and porch are dark mahogany, though it’s washed in orange now as the sun is starting to set. The house itself is painted an egg white. The tiles of the roof are black. Potted plants litter the porch, some new, some old, but all beautiful and trimmed to perfection. No doubt it’s Marvin’s work. The sidewalk he stands on is decorated with faded chalk drawings. Robbie. Of course. Chase is standing on his own face drawn in chalk. It’s a wonderful likeness and Chase can’t help but smile. Robbie even got the faded green in his hair. He steps off. He doesn’t want to ruin a masterpiece. The light in the wide upper story window—Henrik’s room—is off. The doctor’s probably getting his much needed and deserved forty winks. The only light on is in the living room. He takes a deep breath, the kind that pulls his shoulders up like he’s shrugging, and walks towards the door. Anxiety wriggles in his belly. He clutches the keys tightly in his hand—they bite into the skin and leave an impression with their teeth. He remembers the call with Marvin the night before. He had been in his apartment putting together some videos when his phone had rung. Marvin had explained everything to him; finding Jackie bleeding out in the city, teleporting him home, the surgeries…all of it. Jackie was okay, Marvin had assured him, and that he would heal. But the fact that it was…was you-know-who’s work… It hadn’t stop his hands from shaking as soon as he said goodbye and dropped the call nor did it let him breathe. His panic attacks were always bad, but he managed the one he had that night fine. And the one in the bathroom this morning. On the drive here, too. He doesn’t have everything under control yet. Being here again reminds him of all the times you-know-who had been there. He had been there, for Jack and Henrik. It went the same way; a phone call. A panic attack. The fear. Now it’s happening all over again. Why can’t he ever escape the demon? Why can’t any of them? Even a year after…he still looks over his shoulder and tosses and turns at night. When will he stop being afraid? The keys bite into his palm like his old dog had lovingly done. He misses him. Stacy had to take that away from him, too. The sting and the thought of Bulls-eye grounds Chase and he lets go, letting it hang by the key-chain instead. Deep breaths. He slides the key into the lock and turns. The door opens. Chase looks around as he steps into the hall. It’s just the same. The walls are orange. The umbrella stand to the right of the door filled with Marvin’s props, the coat hanger opposite, and the stairs upwards at the very front. To his immediate left is the closed door to Henrik’s makeshift clinic. To his right is the doorway to the living room. There’s a movie on, though Chase can’t identify it as the volume is set way down low. He doesn’t know where to go first as he stands awkwardly in the middle space. “Hello?” He says to the seemingly empty house. “Is anyone home? Marv? Schneep?” “Chase,” His heart skips a beat when he hears the raspy call from the living room, but he brightens when he recognizes the voice. “In here.” Chase has to stop himself from running into the living room. Brown couch, flat screen TV (playing Die Hard, of course), wide windows, and white curtains that blow softly. The coffee table has coffee mug rings on it and abandoned medical supplies like gauze, cotton balls, and antibiotics. Henrik’s neatly folded coat, too. Jackie sits on the couch in a black t-shirt with the brightly coloured graphic of a cartoon dog on a bicycle. He wears the flamingo shorts to accompany it. It’s the first time Chase has seen the hero out of his supersuit; it almost feels wrong. His hair is the neon green Chase remembers it to be. He’s wearing his mask. The only sign he’s been hurt at all are the bandages around his neck and forehead. He’s hardly watching the movie. He has a big smile on his face, the toothy kind of sunshine Chase missed so much. “Jackie,” he breathes. Chase wants to cry with relief. He settles with hugging Jackie as tightly as he can. “I missed you, Jackie,” he says, muffled as he buries his head into the hero’s chest. “I was so worried about you!” “O-ow, ow,” the other hacks out a laugh and winces, patting Chase’s back. “I missed you, too, bud, but…stab wound.” “Shit, right, sorry.” Chase lets go, albeit reluctantly. “Dude, how are you? It’s, I mean—I’ve never been stabbed before.” “I don’t recommend it,” Jackie grimaces. There’s humour in his voice but he also sounds exhausted. “You get here okay?” “Parked out front,” he says, “Came in with the keys. Still have ‘em.” He holds them up to confirm that. He drops them in his lap. “How’re you holding up?” “This thing—” Jackie pats his stomach, presumably where the wound is. “—is a bitch and a half of pain. The neck thing I can handle. It just hurts to talk.” He coughs. It sounds like shaking a dead bush. “Really hurts.” “Oh, I can do the talking, if you want.” “No, it’s okay, Chase. Marvin did something to me, I think, when I was out. Makes my mouth and throat taste like mint. Pretty soothing, actually. Besides, I haven’t seen you in forever! I want to talk.” How can he be so chipper even after he almost died? Chase doesn’t understand it. He really is a comic book superhero. Always getting back up again. “Aw, it hasn’t been that long,” Chase ducks his head, sheepish, but straightens right away. “Can I ask, though? What…what happened?” The silence is thick with tension. Chase bounces his leg, the sole of his sneaker squeaking against the hardwood floor, and pulls at the rubber bracelet around his right wrist under his hoodie sleeve. He picks at the multicoloured bandages on his fingers and arms. Jackie turns the TV off just as John McClain launches himself through a window. He turns to Chase. Their knees touch. “This is what I remember,” Jackie says, and begins. He had met Anti during one of his day patrols, but it wasn’t the song and dance number they usually did; it was in the back-alleys where no one could see them. Maybe that’s what Anti wanted. Maybe it wasn’t. “Anti had…had said something to me,” he mumbles, “that I’m not the hero I think I am. That all of what we do, this hero versus villain thing, is just a show. I-I don’t know why he’s been pretending this long, or…or what he hopes to gain, but…” Chase watches him closely. Jackie stops, shakes his head, and moves on. That’s how the hero has always been. Hit a wall? Just go around. Forget about the wall and keep going. He remembers the fight—and the pinning stab through the gut. The words Anti whispered into his ear. Chase is trembling with raw anger as he sees the large dark bruise marks wrapped around Jackie’s neck where Anti’s hands had been. “But after that,” he growls in frustration, “I can’t remember anything else. By my wound here, I can guess what finished me off.” He taps his neck. “Everything else is beyond me.” “Fuck him” Chase breathes, voice quivering with fury, “You’re a hero to me, to everyone. To Jack.” Jackie flinches when he hears those words. “I don’t have any powers,” Jackie mutters. “What? Yeah, you do! That—that super strength of yours!” “Anti can manipulate objects,” Jackie shoots back, “Time and space, just like Marvin can. How do I know he hasn’t been doing it for me this whole time?” “I…I don’t know.” The anger evaporates as quickly as it came. “I-I don’t want to talk about this.” Jackie throws his hands up. “Please, Chase, let’s…let’s talk about you, okay? I want to hear about where you’ve been—what you’ve done.” Chase bites his lip, trying to find a way to stop the subject from changing. The one frustrating thing about superheroes? They build walls around them, shutting the people they love out hoping to save them from whatever inner turmoil they’re wrangling with. …Chase isn’t stupid or in denial. Even he can admit the similarities between them. But that’s just it. Chase knows he does it—Jackie doesn’t. He’d rather not push further and get into an argument, spoiling the whole visit, so Chase drops it. It’ll sit in the back of his mind, though. He tells Jackie about the new apartment; it’s spacious and less of a dump than the last one. Modest kitchen, shower instead of a tub. “I miss the tub here,” he says forlornly, gesturing to the stairs. “And my little rubber ducky. Shower’s okay, though.” He earns Jackie’s laugh. The apartment is far into the city, maybe ten blocks away from the alley Marvin had found Jackie in, and just across a coffee shop. Having cleaner, more colorful walls than ugly white granite that popcorned helps a lot to take his mind off more…painful things. He hung up posters, bought a flatscreen, had a whole new gaming rig up for himself—he’s doing okay for himself, he thinks. The therapy, the talking, has brought him out of the hole he was in three years before. He tells him about new friends. Baristas at the coffee shop who’ve recognized him as a regular. YouTube is more fun than anything for him right now. The Bro Average brand was dissolved, but he couldn’t care less. It had been time for a fresh start. His channel is up and running and he’s been invited to panels, talks, and conventions. Some people from AA said they had watched his videos. He tells Jackie about how good it is to just. Work. To produce content for others to consume, to make people happy, but not at the cost of his own happiness. He notices he’s rambling when Jackie says nothing and keeps beaming at him. He falters and lets his words trail off into silence. “What?” Chase says. “I’m so proud of you,” Jackie replies, and the pride is trembling in his voice. “Chase, you’ve gotten so far without us. You’ve got a job, a new house—you’re practically shining!” “You’re…you’re proud of me? You mean it?” Chase feels himself smile, too. “Yes. I’m proud.” Jackie puts a hand on his shoulder. “You’re my bro. You’re the bravest damn person I know and you’ve come out of this so strong, so…it’s…Jack would be proud too.” Chase understands why he starts crying. That’s all he ever wanted. To hear those words come out of Jackie’s mouth. It means he’s done it. He’s gotten better. Maybe not recovered fully, not just yet, but better. Even in his joy, he hates himself for crying because whenever he cries he bawls like a big baby. He buries his face into Jackie’s chest, shoulders shaking. He’s staring at the cartoon dog through blurry, teary eyes. The dog says, in a neon bubble, “RADICAL!” The other rubs his back in soothing circles. “That’s it, buddy,” Jackie whispers, “I’ve got you, bro.” Chase swallows thickly, sniffles, and wipes his face with the back of his hand. Jackie hands him a tissue and he blows. His eyes are stuffy. He looks up into Jackie’s eyes, milky white, hidden behind the film in the mask, but he can tell they’re full of soft, unspoken love. The hero holds his cheek. “Chase Brody Mcloughlin,” Jackie declares, “I, your loving bro, will never stop being proud of you. Don’t forget that.” “Thanks, Jackie,” he sniffs, wiping his eyes. “Thank you. It’s…i-it’s nice to hear that what I’m doing is finally right.” “We’re all proud of you.” Jackie’s hand drops but gives Chase’s shoulder one last firm pat. “S-speaking of,” Chase clears his throat. “Speaking of…where is everyone?” Jackie blanks. “Uh,” he says, unsure. “Good question, actually! No idea. I woke up, like, ten minutes before you came in. I kind of assumed Henrik went to work, and who knows where Marvin is at any given time? JJ and Robbie are out on vacation or something. It’s just Henrik, Marvin, and I.” “Huh,” Chase frowns and stands. “You wait here, Jackie. Henrik can’t have gone to work; he’d never leave you here alone.” “Marvin would be watching over me!” He argues. “This is Marvin we’re talking about!” He shoots back as he leaves the room. He considers going upstairs but stops before he can do it. He notices, to his surprise, that across the hall the clinic’s lights are on. How did he not notice that coming in? The harsh white fluorescents bounce off the tiles and under the door. Chase knocks. “Doc? Marv?” He says, “Yoo-hoo. Anyone in there?” Of course, unsettling silence follows. Great. Chase has played enough horror games to know that whatever’s on the other side is bad. He flinches as glass shatters behind the door. A shadow moves under the door. “Henrik?” “Schiesse!” comes a muffled curse to answer. Angry German swearing? Yeah. That’s Henrik. “What the hell was that?!” Jackie says from the couch, halfway to standing. Chase notices he’s wobbling like a newborn deer. “Jackie, get back on the couch,” Chase scolds the hero, “You’re in no condition to walk!” He turns back to the door. “Doc, I’m coming in.” He takes a deep breath, grips the doorknob, and turns. What he finds on the other side isn’t horrible, so he releases the breath he didn’t know he was holding. Henrik, hair messy and eye bags seemingly darker, clutching his head, is kneeling among shattered glass. From the way the metal table beside the hospital bed is on its side, Chase surmises that Henrik knocked it and the beakers that were on it to the ground when he tried to stand. “Doc!” He exclaims, rushing over to Henrik. He takes the doctor by the arm, helping him up, and looping the arm around his shoulders. “Danke,” Henrik grumbles, eyes still squeezed shut. “Chase, is that you?” “A-are you blind, Henrik?” Panic momentarily flares up in him. “Oh, jeez, I can get something for your eyes. Maybe ice—” “No,” Henrik sighs, but in the most affectionate way possible. He opens his eyes halfway, tired grey-blues looking up at him. “Chase, relax. I’m not blind. It’s these damn fluorescents—they could make me go blind. I don’t know why I thought they were a good idea. This nausea…it’s like someone took a hammer to my skull. Might as well have… I see enough of those lights in the hospital. Is it any wonder I wear glasses…” Henrik reaches into his pocket for something. He swears again as he brings out the bent and cracked frames of his glasses. “Oh, that is just great,” he hisses under his breath, “They must’ve gotten smashed in the fight.” “T…the what?” This is plenty strange already, but of course, he just has to notice only now that Marvin is crumpled in a desk chair, long, flowy hair messy and tangled, falling behind him as his head leans back, showing his neck. “Oh my God—Marvin!” “He’s okay,” Henrik straightens, though he’s still too weak to stand. Chase helps him into another chair. The doctor sits down with a sigh of relief, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. “What the hell happened here?” Chase gestures vaguely to the entire room. “To Marvin? Actually, to you? Was it…was it you-know-who?” “Anti,” the doctor spits. Chase winces at the name. “It’s not right to fear his name. He and I had an…encounter last night. I thought I was going to die.” He briefly touches his neck. Chase sees all the scars crisscrossed there; it’s why the doctor wears turtlenecks to work. He’s always been insecure about them. “I thought it was all over but…but I woke up here. My head hurts like a bitch but I’ve got no other wounds. My neck, my concussion—they’re healed, like they were never there. "So, I have reason to believe,” he continues, “Marvin used the full extent of his magic to save me. It’s probably why he’s passed out.” “He’s always been shit at restoration magic,” Chase jokes, but turns serious right away. “Jesus, doc. Are you really okay? Why the fuck did you-know-wh—I mean,—A…Anti go after you?” “Teach me a lesson? Finish me off?” Henrik raises his shoulder in a shrug. “Your guess is as good as mine. God, I’m sorry, Chase, that this is the scene you’ve returned to. You’ve had enough of this…this Anti business, and now we’re dragging you back into it. Forgive me.” “No, doc, don’t say that,” Chase waves him off, “it’s not your fault. Besides, the guy’s messing with my brothers. That’s not gonna fly with me.” His voice shakes. He knows how unconvincing his moxie is. He swallows the stone in his throat and turns away before Henrik can call him out on it. The man crosses the room and takes a trauma blanket from the cabinet—he practically knows the clinic as well as Henrik does—and drapes it over Marvin. The magician barely stirs. He’s completely out. “CHASE? IS EVERYONE OKAY?” Jackie shouts from the living room. Chase startles and nearly knocks some important doodad over. Henrik’s blue eyes crackle to life at the sound of the hero’s voice. “He’s okay,” he says more to himself than Chase, “Oh, God, he’s okay.” To Chase, he says, “Chase, help me up—I must see Jackie.” “But what about Marv?” “He’ll need rest. Neither of us are strong enough to move him upstairs. Please, Chase, let’s go.” Henrik is almost begging. The tone unnerves and stirs Chase into action. He helps the doctor, slowly and surely, into the living room. “Henrik?” Jackie breaths, “What happened to you? Why are you limping? Is Marvin o—” Henrik launches himself from Chase’s arms and onto Jackie, nearly tackling the hero into the sofa. Jackie grunts in pain. “You idiot,” Henrik growls, though with utmost love. “You had me so worried! You could’ve died.” He hugs Jackie tight, despite his weak state. “Don’t ever do that again.” “What, get stabbed?” When Henrik glares up at him, he sobers. “Okay, okay. I won’t. I promise. Chase, where’s Marvin?” “Getting some rest,” Chase explains, “He used a whole bunch of his magic to heal Henrik. A-Anti attacked the doc last night.” “He…what?” Jackie’s tone is dangerously quiet. His shoulders are tense—he looks like an apex predator. It takes everything in Chase not to back away. “Calm yourself,” Henrik cautions, “I’m okay now. Marvin made sure of it. It is true; I had a fight with Anti and…I did not emerge the victor. But it’s alright. I’m alright.” Jackie deflates and hugs Henrik back. “I’m glad you’re okay, doc.” “You too, Jackie.” Chase bites his lip and leaves the room. He knows what he said about Anti, that he’d be ready to fight the demon again, given the chance. It’s one big lie, because he is fucking terrified of Anti, terrified of the fact that this is all very real, and that it had gotten all too real very fast. He wants to run away in that stupid little way of his, where he drives and drives until he can’t or locks himself up in his room, anywhere where Anti can’t reach him. He’s managed not to see the demon for a full year. He can’t do this. He can’t. Not again. Not again. – Chase goes up to his room and finds the hatch to the roof still unlocked. He goes out and sits there, on the uncomfortable tiles, and stares up at the stars. It’s somewhere around 11:30, maybe midnight. He doesn’t check his phone. Henrik’s gone to sleep. Jackie had helped Chase move Marvin to the couch. The both of them weren’t nearly strong enough to bring him up to his bedroom. Some part of Chase is telling him to relapse. To drink. He snaps the rubber bracelet against his wrist over and over instead. It makes an angry red mark. It’s a distraction. It makes him all the more ashamed of how fast he crumbles in the face of all this. He’s hasn’t gotten better. Even in the darkness, he knows what the bracelet says. He’s seen it, worn it ever since the last time Anti had tormented him. Alcoholics Anonymous, in white letters against a garish neon green. His mouth tastes of smoke. His eyes are heavy. He is tired and deflated. His brothers nearly dead—what a sight to come home to. At least now, he’s here for them. He is so tired, he doesn’t turn around when the hatch opens and Jackie sits beside him. He’s changed out of that cartoon dog shirt—he sports one of Henrik’s striped shirts. “Hey,” Jackie greets him softly. Chase can see the hero watching the bracelet snap repeatedly against his wrist, which he doesn’t stop. “Hey.” Silence. Cicadas. Snap. Snap. Snap. “How long have you been sober?” Chase knows how much Jackie wants to say more, but he doesn’t. It’s a simple question. “A year.” An exact year from the last time Anti hurt him. He and Jackie match in scars now. Not on the neck, though. “Dude, that’s awesome. I’m proud of you.” The words are hollow. He doesn’t deserve them. Snap. Snap. Snap. “Chase?” Snap. Snap. Snap. “Welcome home.” Chase breaths shakily. His wrist stings. He cries, the fourth time that day, and bites back the urge to scream. “He’s g-going to f-find me again,” he says through quick breaths, “I’m n-next.” “Chase…” The man shakes his head furiously. “I-I’m not leaving. If he think he can fucking s-scare me,” Chase hiccups, “he’s w-wrong. I’m tired of r-running away. I’m going to fight.” Nothing, for a moment. Then, Jackie says, “It’s what Jack would’ve wanted.” Chase cries harder at that. He wants to toss his house keys off this damn roof and never see them again, because they remind him too much of the doors he’s just opened up. He’s not afraid. Shaking and sobbing, he is not afraid. He is furious.

Bring Them Home Ch 9

Shared Milkshakes <- ao3 link

Prev - Next

The second they walk through the door Liz clocks them and drags them over to a free booth near the back.

"You guys are a godsend I was about to stab that guy in booth 8 if he tries and makes one more pass at me. Please tell me you've got news or something I can use as an excuse to leave. I was going to ask and see if you'd take me to your bunker so I could work on making more of the serum to give you guys a boost and… I-" she finally takes a second to notice them and how they're sitting, her and Alex on one side with Michael across from them. From Alex.

Her eyes go wide and am excited smile spreads across her face.

"Omg are- is this-"

Michael taps his foot against hers and gives her a look.

"A date. Yes." He looks to Alex and crosses his arms to settle more comfortably in the booth cushion. "Told you we'd be bugged."

Liz  glares at him and knocks her shoulders into Alex's.

"Your date is rude. Leave him."

Alex throws his arm around her and gives a quick hug.

"You could be working on being a better friend and letting me enjoy my date. If it's a disaster you can whisk me away upstairs."

Liz rolls her eyes at them and wiggles out of Alex's hold. "Fine. Enjoy your rude date and food made with love."

She drops next to Michael to give him a quick hug. "You both want your usual's?"

"Kyle's too but not for another hour."

Alex adds.

Michael smirks and gives Liz a hopeful look. "Add pickles to his shake for me Ortecho." He whispers loudly.

"Not if you want them in yours too." She throws back.

They watch her walk back to the counter and pass by booth 8. The guy Liz was talking about with a hand reaching out to touch her behind but jerks back when his drink tips over to spill all over the table and his pants.

Most of it gets on him.

"Consider yourself no longer a rude date." Alex says with a knowing look.

Grinning Michael uncrosses his arms and leans closer to him. "The few times being an alien comes in handy. Now before we start this I have one deal breaker question."

"Shoot."

"Do you still dip your fries into your shake like the heathen you forever are?"

With his elbows propped on the table and chin resting on his hands, Alex just smiles with a tilt of his head.

"Do you still eat your burger burnt and slurp your shake like a slob?"

They stare each other down with equally giddy and a mischievous glint in their eyes.

"Alex is a lost cause but at least Michael's learned to no longer slurp."

A deep voice answers and they both look up to see Arturo standing with their orders ready on a tray and his kind smile.

"Thank you Arturo. See I've grown and gained manners."

Michael taps his shoe gently against Alex's left as Arturo places their food in front of them.

"Will you two be needing anything else?"

He asks as he watches the two slowly get sucked back into their own little world.

"I think we're good Arturo. Thank you."

Alex says as he picks up a fry and dips it into his shake before eating it, never breaking eye contact with Michael who grimaced at him.

"I'll keep Liz busy. You two enjoy your meal." He winks at them before heading back to shew away his nosy daughter.

They eat and simply enjoy each others company, only venturing to talk about easy and light topics. When Michael brings up that he still finds it hilarious that Kyle didn't know the difference between Star Wars and Star Trek, it's surprisingly easy to steer clear of the extra stuff that's connected to it.

The reminder spawns a debate about which character, movie, and show is better.

"You can't beat either of the originals Alex. Like it's the reason why it's still so popular." Michael declares as he points a fry at Alex.

Alex snatches it and eats it. "True but the new stuff is good too and we're able to do way more stuff that wasn't possible before."

"Ok ok. The old and first stuff is what made it good but the new stuff can get more creative. How's that sound?"

"Like a nicer way to say I'm wrong and you're right. Listen we can argue about this all day but the one thing I know we can agree on is that Oscar Isaac is hot."

"No no no the best character is BB-8 because they are small, adorable, and round. Also Finn is hotter."

"They're both pretty hot."

A silence falls upon them before Michael blurts out "they have the most chemistry out of everyone."

This seems to launch Alex into excited chatter.

"Oh thank god if I hear someone say that Rey and Finn are meant to be then I'm going to tackle them."

He grabs another fry and waves it around as he talks.

"Rey is the most badass though. Like sure she and Finn are nice but she doesn't really need anyone. What happened to being friends and found-family themes?"

Michael nudges the nearly empty milkshake out of the way when Alex's hand almost hits it as he keeps talking.

"She has actual practical skills! I'm still mixed on The Last Jedi but Rey and the new cast are awesome. Everyone just being together and working towards bringing back peace, that's what the people want."

All Michael can do is stare lovingly at him, soaking up Alex's attention and presence.

Alex raises a brow at him in question.

"What?"

"Can I hold your hand?"

Alex slides his right across the table to rest between them with his palm facing up. Michael swallows and stares at it before extending his right, just letting a finger trace along the lines and creases of Alex's. After a few seconds of that he gently takes it and leans closer so he can raise it to his face, letting it be held in his hand and pressed against his cheek.

It's like something finally settles, a grounding feeling. Being able to do this gives Michael the reassurance that it's happening, that he's here with Alex and their on an actual date. They're working on being together.

"You good?"

Michael just hums in answer, his eyes blinking open to see a look he can't place on Alex's face. There's this lightness  in them and happiness.

"Oh." He has seen that face before, only twice and he's only understanding what it means now.

"You love me."

His words make Alex's face do this complicated thing, like he's offended and trying not to laugh at Michael.

"I did tell you like two days ago? You were there and-"

Michael just stares.

"-And I thought you knew."

Closing his eyes Michael thinks those words over, for once his mind slowly working through everything. What to say, do, think.

"Sometimes I thought you did but I was never sure… I mean like we both knew it, that there was something more there but like I guess I didn't actually believe it until now."

Michael presses a quick kiss to Alex's hand before setting it down on the table, keeping his on top.

"I love you too. Still have and always will."

Alex laces their hands together.

"I know. I've known and held onto that for so long because loving you was never the problem, it was me and everything else."

Michael wants to correct that, that it wasn't all of Alex just the everything else, but he doesn't want to fight or this happy mood to drop.

"You are stubborn."

Alex smirks at him. "A bit."

"Can't seem to accept nice things."

"Oh and you're nice things?"

Instead of a teasing grin Alex expects, Michael smiles at him with a fond one.

"I'd like to be. You deserve nice things, things you want Alex."

The pained but hopeful look those words bring to Alex's face twists something in Michael's chest but he feels like it's good, what Alex might need to feel to start believing him.

"I'll think about it."

"You better."

They settle into a comfortable silence and unashamedly just look at each other.

Then a bag is dropped on the table bringing them back to reality.

"Sorry but Kyle's food is ready and we're gonna get a rush soon. You both can stay as long as you want though." Liz quickly turns and glares at the people coming over to the table. "They're still ordering."

The couple, tourists who've come straight from the UFO Emporium going by their headgear and shirts, look down at the empty plates but quickly move to a different booth when Liz's glare turns deadly. It softens when she turns back to them.

"Tell Kyle he owes me tip money. Good tip money. Leave your stuff I can grab it on my way back."

"Liz what about our-" Michael tries to ask, hand already reaching for his wallet but she leaves to grab more orders and seat the new people entering.

Alex and Michael share a look, Michael pouting as Alex eyes dance with amusement as he grabs Kyle’s food. The Crashdown is getting too crowded for either of them to enjoy the space anymore.

They exit the booth they're in and bring their things to the counter, getting an exasperated sigh from Arturo who takes them and waves them off when Michael tries to pay. Once the curtain covering the kitchen falls shut, Michael pulls out a 10 and drops it into the tip jar. He watches as Alex pulls out a 20 and shoves it into the jar before grabbing Michael’s hand so they can run out.

Alex is grinning giddily and Michael really wants to kiss him.

The need barrels through him and he starts leading Alex to his truck, hands moving to slide up to Alex’s shoulders and carefully pushes him against the drivers door. Michael is somehow out of breath as he just stares at Alex; his happy smile, the light in his eyes, cheeks starting to turn red from excitement, how his lips are a beacon calling to him but he needs to know what Alex wants. Alex must see it in his eyes, and Michael can see that it’s reflected right back.

“Can I-”

Alex grabs the lapels of Michael’s open shirt with his free hand to drag him in and crash their mouths together in answer.

Michael thinks this is his favorite kiss besides their first one. It shares that joyful giddiness from that first kiss but it's grounded now, certain. There's no fear of it being their last or trying to put as much feeling as they can because of a time limit. The promise of more. The feeling of finally.

"Have you ever been in love?" "Once." "How did it end?" "It hasn't." Whichever pairing you so decide at the moment you get that spark! :) Could be fluff like... horrid flirting or the mega sads. Whichever mood you in!

so i made myself sad with one longer oneshot. what’s better than one sad oneshot? two sad oneshots! f!handers, split between act 2 + inquisition (here lies the abyss spoilers)

-

“oh darling, have you ever been in love before?” her mother asks, a hand pressed gently to her own chest while skimming what reyna is sure is another letter from her mysterious suitor -- all in that loopy longhand that makes reyna dizzy. and nearly disgusted. not that she’d want to blackmail her own mother, but it’s so boring she’s sure even the Maker would look at it and cringe.

there’s a reason she doesn’t read the letters that come in willy-nilly anymore. if her mother is happy, then that’s enough for her. she doesn’t need to read all the mail anymore.

“considering i exist, i’m sure you have been.” she chuckles. habitually, her thumb finds the mark on her neck, hurriedly going to tie her damp hair up into something manageable, “but why do you ask? you aren’t attempting to marry me off again?”

leandra smiles wearily, though reyna is about halfway sure her mother truly is only taking a jest at her, “i won’t be around forever, reyna. then the estate will be all yours someday -- surely you’ll want an heir to the family home, yes?”

her dark eyes are nothing but hopeful and reyna coughs. as the last living amell (well, non-mage amell. she’s sure captain rutherford would have a fit if she installed bethany as the heir to the estate and family wealth...that wasn’t such a bad idea actually) she supposes she owes her mother that much.

she shudders at the thought though. leandra shakes her head good naturedly, eyes still turned downwards toward the mess of letters on the desk, reyna making to descend down the stairs, careful not to catch the fine linen on the staircase, “sure mother, maybe one day. and to answer your earlier question, yes. i have. just once.”

“and how did it end?” her mother asks, looking up to her once she pauses on the stairs, “i don’t remember you being particularly broken up about anything while we were in lothering.”

reyna hesitates, leaning on the banister with her head in her hands. she’s not ready for the possible disapproval she’d get from her should she admit that anders has been on her mind for ages now -- or that he’d already spent the night,“oh mother. that’s not important. who’s to say it has?”

leandra presses the letters against her chest, sighing dreamily, nearly girl-like, “yes. i suppose you are an adult, your own woman now. i won’t press you for information,” she smiles, patting her daughter on the shoulder lovingly as she passes by, “though i hope you find someone that makes you as happy as your father made me, reyna.”

she tracks her for a moment longer before she hears the door close behind her. reyna grins to herself, if only her mother knew that she’d both found someone that made her beyond happy, but someone who was nearly just like her father?

has she ever been in love?

there’s a letter on the desk scribbled off with her name and address of the estate when she eventually meanders over there, her dog brushing up against her legs while she leans against it. written quickly and methodically, but enough that she definitely thinks so. she’s beyond girlishly happy to read the words, ‘love, anders.’

oh, she has definitely been in love.

-

this is not how it was supposed to end. this was not at all how her life was supposed to end.

and yet? she knows this is her last stop. even before the inquisitor says anything, even moves, she’s preparing to grasp her daggers. both of her present companions are years upon years younger than she, and this was her burden to bear. she’s the reason corypheus is even here -- none of this would’ve happened if not for her. and she has to pay the heavy price in blood.

and she wouldn’t have their deaths on her conscience. she couldn’t. she couldn’t morally say that she wouldn’t stay behind to save their lives.

it’s still startling when she hears that voice, one of the last voices she hears call out for her. for her to do her duty to thedas. she knew it was coming, but it still sends a shiver down her spine when it does, so small, so scared and yet it only propels her forward, “hawke-”

“i know, lavellan,” she nods, her knuckles turning white on the hilts while she turns her head upwards toward the beast, “go on, get out of here, you scoundrel. you’ve got a world to save.”

lavellan visibly winces, indigo eyes considering before alistair starts, “hawke--”

“don’t. don’t even start with me theirin, i know your wife would throw a fit if i let you die,” she smiles sadly. from the sound of it, warden-commander tabris would destroy her limb by limb if she let her husband die here because she was too selfish to give up her own life for theirs, “just...tell anders that i’m sorry, and that i love him.”

“inquisitor-” alistair seems like he’s about to argue before the nightmare demon takes a swipe at them, a green shield encasing the group. lavellan is thrown backwards from the force of the blow, skidding across the ground in a heap before clambering back to her feet a moment later. hawke sighs a breath of relief, that meant the tiny woman was at least hardy enough to make a dent in corypheus. that means they have a chance to at least save the world.

“i said go, alistair. get lavellan out of here,” when he pauses again, she snaps, “now!”

that snaps him into action fast enough to follow after the elven woman just on her heels. she barely registers what she’s doing by the time the demon eclipses her view of their retreating forms, but she’s fighting with a vigor she can’t compare to anything else.

the fade is a terrifying thought. she’s been within it’s confines twice, but she had a mage (well, spirit) with her last time. someone who could guide her through. someone who could keep her from slipping into the abyss.

there is no one with her now. suddenly her fear tombstone makes a lot more sense.

she’s terrified of being alone.

her last thoughts are of anders when she shoves one of the daggers deep into the fleshy creature, it crying out as she stabs it over and over again before being thrown prone against something. 

she thinks of what she’s left behind while trying to stand, her own blood dripping out of her nose and staining her armor. of how surely someone, probably lavellan herself, would end up writing a letter to her love, how she bravely gave up her life for the inquisition to succeed. internally, she smiles sadly, resigned to her fate as she rushes the creature again, a battle cry on her lips. 

oh lavellan, she would destroy herself over this.

she remembers lavellan asking her, ever so timid up on the battlements just before they left for adamant, how her relationship with anders had ended. reyna would be a fool not to notice she was fishing for advice under the guise of friendly curiosity, but she indulged her.

reyna is flung backwards again, swiped at hard enough that she’s sure she’s snapped a few bones, if not all of them. she can’t even see where alistair and the inquisitor disappeared to, having been so far behind at the time.

she was confident to say, ‘it hasn’t.’.

J/H 5-04: Heartbreaker

And here, we're just adjusting the beginning of the episode up until the first confrontation between Kelso and Hyde.

You may be wondering, "are there any full rewrites of Season 5 episodes?" Well, don't worry, reader - I've saved the best (or at least, the most comprehensive) for last... stay tuned...

FF.Net AO3

***

SHOW TITLE   INT. FORMAN KITCHEN – NIGHT   The last moments of the previous episode. KELSO, amiably confused, giggles at the sight of JACKIE and HYDE kissing through the patio door as ERIC and DONNA look on.   KELSO: Why’s Hyde kissing Jackie?   He looks to Eric, who looks down at his feet, and to Donna, who shakes her head. Slowly, he understands. He slams his soda down on the counter.   KELSO: What the hell? He's dead!   DONNA: Kelso...   He pays her no mind, but bolts to the patio door. When he tries to open it, however, it won’t budge. He struggles with the door, even as Jackie and Hyde walk away.   KELSO: Open, dammit! No, they're getting away! (to Eric) What is wrong with this thing?   ERIC: Well, this is against my better judgment, but...   He flips down the lock on the door.   KELSO: Thank you. Now, Hyde's really dead!   He takes one step, and hits the screen door behind the patio door, knocking it off its frame.   KELSO (cont’d): OW! That's invisible!   He throws the screen door to the ground and steps back inside.

MAIN CREDITS   BUMPER   MUSIC NOTE: “Heartless” by Heart.   INT. FORMAN KITCHEN – NIGHT   Moments later. Eric and Donna lead Kelso over to the kitchen table and sit him down.   ERIC: Donna, we have to stabilize him. We're gonna need pudding, and lots of it.   She nods, crosses to the fridge. Kelso stands and begins to pace.   KELSO: Who chooses a chick over a friend?   ERIC: What? Kelso, come on. Remember when you made me walk home in a blizzard 'cause you wanted ten extra minutes to make out with Pam Macy?   KELSO: No, but I didn't steal Pam Macy from you. And you could've played in the snow until we were done. (points to door) How long has this been going on?   Donna, giant bowl of pudding in hand, crosses to them.   DONNA: I guess since we left for California.   KELSO: WHAT?   DONNA: You’d already ran out on Jackie by then, remember? She wanted to get married, you bailed, so she found someone else. Look at the facts, Kelso.   KELSO: No. I don't care. I'm kicking Hyde's ass.   He moves for the door, but Eric blocks his path.   ERIC: Whoa, Kelso, Kelso, come on. You couldn't open my kitchen door. I mean...   DONNA: Seriously. Think about how this plan usually turns out.   CUT TO:   INT. FORMAN BASEMENT – DAY   FLASHBACK. Hyde and Donna sit on opposite ends of the couch, watching TV, while Kelso stands and chews gum. He sneaks behind Hyde, leans over, and spits the gum into his hair. He gets maybe three full seconds to laugh before Hyde pulls him over the back of the couch, flips him over, and punches him in the eye.   KELSO: (Groans) That's my eye!   CUT TO:   EXT. FORMAN DRIVEWAY – NIGHT   FLASHBACK. On the porch, Eric and Donna sit in the chairs while Kelso hangs on the railing. Hyde steps out from the kitchen with a plate of brownies.   HYDE: Nice.   He sets them down on the railing and heads back inside. Kelso bends over and licks both brownies. He’s still doing that when Hyde comes back out with a glass of milk. He sets the milk down, wrestles Kelso onto the pavement, and punches him in the eye.   KELSO: Ah! My eye!   He stands up, pouts, and then marches off in a huff through the garage.   CUT TO:   EXT. FORMAN DRIVEWAY – DAY   FLASHBACK. The El Camino is in the driveway, the radio on full blast. Hyde lovingly polishes the hood of the car while Kelso watches from the porch chairs.   Hyde goes to the garage. As soon as he’s out of sight, Kelso hops up, drops his pants, and sits on the hood of the El Camino and wiggles his butt around. Unfortunately, he isn’t out of Hyde’s sight.   HYDE: Bastard!   He races back out. Kelso hops off the car and tries to run around it.   KELSO: No, no, stop! That's my butt print! Look at it! No two are the same!   Hyde catches and tackles him back behind the El Camino. We hear a very ugly THUMP.   KELSO: Ow! (Crying) My eye!   CUT TO:   INT. FORMAN KITCHEN – NIGHT   Back to the present. Kelso crosses back to the kitchen table and sits down.   KELSO: Well, what am I supposed to do? I mean, he broke the code! He's wrong!   He looks to Eric for support; Eric shrugs and gives a reluctant nod.   KELSO (cont’d): He's, like, my oldest friend, and he stabbed me in the back.   Donna steps forward with a cheery smile and the bowl of pudding. Kelso takes it and start eating.   DONNA: So, Kelso, how many things around here have you put your butt on?   Kelso takes a long look around the kitchen.   KELSO: Let's start with what I haven't put my butt on.   ***   INT. FORMAN BASEMENT – DAY   Eric and Donna sit on one end of the couch, and Kelso on the arm of the other. “How Long” by Ace plays on the radio.   KELSO: I can't believe that you knew Jackie and Hyde were together and you didn't tell me.   DONNA: We didn’t tell Jackie when you were cheating on her with Laurie.   KELSO: (scoffs) That is not the same!   DONNA: Why not?   KELSO: Laurie wasn’t Jackie’s best friend! And neither was Pam Macy. Or Mrs. Ferguson. Or the ones I never told you about.   Eric and Donna share a look as Kelso turns away, pouting.   KELSO (cont’d): I'm - it's just - how can Hyde do this to me?   KITTY and FEZ come down the stairs, Kitty with a load of laundry.   KITTY: Uh-oh. It sounds like he knows.   FEZ: Finally.   KELSO: What, your mom knew? And Fez? Fez never knows anything!   FEZ: I know. I'm really coming into my own.   KELSO: Whatever. You know, none of this is as bad as Hyde not telling me. I mean, I know Jackie had a crush on him for a while when we were broken up, but I’m starting to think all those times, when me and her were dating, when Hyde took her side, and taught her stuff, and tried to get me caught screwing up? I think he might have liked her then too!   ERIC: (flat) No. Really?   KELSO: That’s right. The mindblowers are comin’ left and right today, Eric! Keep up! You know what I'm gonna do? I'm gonna make him tell me.   DONNA: How are you gonna do that?   KELSO: By outwitting him conversationally. What a fine game of cat and mouse it will be.   KITTY: (beat) I'm gonna go find an eye patch.   She hurries up the stairs as Fez takes Hyde’s chair.   Hyde himself enters through the basement door. Kelso hurries to meet him.   HYDE: What's up?   KELSO: (circling Hyde) That's an interesting question, Hyde. What is up?   HYDE: (beat) Well, I guess you know about me and Jackie.   KELSO: Ahh! So the battle of wits has begun!   HYDE: What battle of wits? I admit it. I've been messing around with Jackie.   KELSO: I hate you!   He lunges at Hyde, but Hyde side steps. Kelso crashes face-first into the corner of an old speaker.   KELSO (cont’d): Ow! My eye!   He slaps a hand over his eye, pouts at Hyde, and storms off through the basement door.

Ingvald Bloodhound: There you are, you hellion. Helisent Wynter does a 'who, me?' gesture. Ingvald Bloodhound: Yes! You! Helisent Wynter: ... What did I do this time? Ingvald Bloodhound: My first-ever linkpearl call from my brother, and it's about you. And your antics. Ingvald Bloodhound smirks. Ingvald Bloodhound: Well done. Helisent Wynter bursts out laughing. Helisent Wynter: You should've seen his face when I fell off the cliff when he refused to teach me initially. Ingvald Bloodhound: Oh, he told me of that. I can just about imagine the face he made. Helisent Wynter grins at that, shrugging. Helisent Wynter: I felt bad for giving him a heart attack so I kept it to a minimum for the next few days. Lif Silverlode descends the stairs with several books in her arms and nods a greeting at at the two unfamiliar Hyur as she passes them. Helisent Wynter snaps her fingers. Helisent Wynter: You're ... Lif, right? I think we met a while back. Ingvald Bloodhound is still ready to berate Helisent Wynter - lovingly - but stops at the arrival of the young woman. Lif Silverlode squints at the woman, taken aback, then her eyes light up.

Lif Silverlode: Oh, you're...Helisent, right? I think we met shortly after I first came here. Helisent Wynter: Mhm! Yeah, that sounds about right. How've you been? Lif Silverlode: I've been well, thank you for asking. Work has been slow, but I've kept myself busy with the Sandsea's library. Lif Silverlode gestures to the books in her arms. Lif Silverlode: How have you been? Helisent Wynter: Terrorizing his twin brother so he will teach me how to be a monk, she says, motioning at Ingvald. Ingvald Bloodhound: It's going well. For her, at least. Lif Silverlode turns to the stranger. Lif Silverlode: My apologies. I haven't introduced myself. I'm Lif. Ingvald Bloodhound: Reading anything interesting? Lif Silverlode: I just found a few books on Sil'dih that I haven't read before. Helisent Wynter's head tilts curiously at that. Ingvald Bloodhound nods in greeting. Ingvald Bloodhound: Ingvald. Lif Silverlode nods. Lif Silverlode: A pleasure to meet you. What brings you to the Sandsea? Are you another Riskbreaker? Ingvald Bloodhound: Something like that. I patrol Gyr Abania most of the time. Lif Silverlode nods to Ingvald Bloodhound. Helisent Wynter gives him the most innocent grin. Ingvald Bloodhound shrugs at Helisent Wynter. Lif Silverlode looks at Helisent Wynter with relief. Lif Silverlode: I was actually just wondering that. I don't think I've met your sister yet, but I'll keep an eye out for her. Lif Silverlode: So how do the two of you know each other? Ingvald Bloodhound: We're both Gyr Abanian. We met at some point during the reconstruction, and she hasn't left me alone since. Helisent Wynter: He looked like he needed some brightness in his life, really, she shrugs. I also met Orella, his partner, while I was traveling through the Fringes. Lif Silverlode: Well, after everything Ala Mhigo's been through, I think most of your people could do with some cheer. At least you now have a chance at finding some. Ingvald Bloodhound doesn't quite know what to say to that statement, except for the opinion that he thinks “cheer” may still be a ways off. Ingvald Bloodhound: Hm. Helisent Wynter kicks his shin. Helisent Wynter: Stop brooding, for fuck's sake. Just be happy. Ingvald Bloodhound: Ow! Helisent Wynter kicks his shin again for good measure. Helisent Wynter: Or do I need to do something drastic. Ingvald Bloodhound: You brat! Lif Silverlode bites her lip, suddenly realizing how flippant her statement had been. Lif Silverlode: I am so sorry. That was insensitive of me. I did not mean to make light of what Ala Mhigo's been through. I am truly sorry. Helisent Wynter sticks her tongue out at Ingvald Bloodhound. Ingvald Bloodhound: No, I should apologize. As this one can doubtless tell you, I'm an ornery old man with little to no conversational abilities. Helisent Wynter: I mean, yeah, it's been horrible, but ... You also kinda have to learn to try and be happy, or you just stick in the same patterns of sadness and bad moods. That's why I'm working at getting him and the other block of wood to at least smile sometimes. Ingvald Bloodhound: You are deeply unpleasant. Helisent Wynter: And that's why you kicked me off to go bother your brother! Ingvald Bloodhound: Well, it worked. Helisent Wynter stage-whispers to Lif Silverlode. Helisent Wynter: He likes me, don't let him fool you. Lif Silverlode can't help but smile at the antics of the two Gyr Abanians. Lif Silverlode: I'll have to take your word for it. Lif Silverlode's smile falters for a moment as she feels a stab of nostalgia and longing, but she quickly numbs herself to it. Lif Silverlode: You sound like siblings. Ingvald Bloodhound sobers at that. Helisent Wynter: I implied that he and Orella adopted me, actually. Helisent Wynter gently guides the conversation away from siblings. Helisent Wynter: They both had heart attacks. Ingvald Bloodhound just sighs. Lif Silverlode: It sounds like you didn't have much say in this, Ingvald. Ingvald Bloodhound shrugs at Lif Silverlode. Ingvald Bloodhound: She knows I can throw her into an ancient Ala Mhigan pit if she ever truly irks me. Helisent Wynter: ...You know I can fly, right. Ingvald Bloodhound: Oh, I'm all too aware. Ingvald Bloodhound: ...And now, so is Wilhelm. Ingvald Bloodhound can't help but let out a single chuckle. Helisent Wynter sighs; a breeze that ruffles her clothes, despite being indoors. Helisent Wynter: True. I can only play that joke once on unsuspecting people. Lif Silverlode: I don't mean to pry, but who is Wilhelm? Ingvald Bloodhound: My aforementioned brother. Ingvald Bloodhound has never willingly divulged information about him before. Lif Silverlode: Ah, I see. Lif Silverlode nods, but does not pursue the topic, having sensed the tenderness around the subject. Ingvald Bloodhound: What about you? How long have you been a Riskbreaker? Helisent Wynter looks over interestedly. Lif Silverlode: Only a few months now. I joined up shortly after I first met you, Helisent. Helisent Wynter blinks at that, not having really realized that at all. Lif Silverlode: I'm still trying to learn faces, and there has not been much work to do, but I try to make myself useful where I can. Helisent Wynter: Hey, that's more than I can really say, honestly. I'm mostly here at Nive's invitation. Lif Silverlode: Well, you clearly bring some much needed levity to all of your dour countrymen. Ingvald Bloodhound: Have you been put to any tasks as of yet? Ingvald Bloodhound ignores that last comment. Lif Silverlode: No, I mostly impose upon the Grand Steward's hospitality and read her books, unfortunately. Ingvald Bloodhound: Then we've that in common, at least. Helisent Wynter: That sounds about right. I also heal people, on occasion. Lif Silverlode: Well, at least you didn't accidentally lure a foul-tempered Seeker here. Honestly, I'm surprised I still have a job after that. Helisent Wynter gives a slow head tilt of incomprehension and starts to mentally go through a list of any Seekers she may know. It's not a lot. Ingvald Bloodhound makes an almost identical face. Lif Silverlode: An old friend of mine followed me here and forced herself into the free company. She's a good person...but she can be... a lot. If you see a small, brown-haired Seeker with a scar on her cheek, tread carefully. She's prickly. Assuming she hasn't gotten herself killed antagonizing someone bigger than herself, that is. Ingvald Bloodhound: Given the nature of this company's membership, I imagine that would be most everyone she meets, if she's a Seeker. Lif Silverlode: She's small, even for a Seeker, so you're not wrong. Helisent Wynter smothers a giggle, mostly at Nivelth Ajuyn's offense. Helisent Wynter: I'll keep an eye out. Oh, speaking of short Miqot'e: If you want a research partner, Nive might be willing to help. I don't know if she knows anything about Sil'dih, but... Lif Silverlode: I appreciate that. I am just reading for pleasure, but I always enjoy talking with people who know their history. Ingvald Bloodhound: Supposedly there's an author in residence at the Sandsea. I've not met her yet. Helisent Wynter: I'm not much of a scholar myself. I can read and write, and I know a fair amount of history, but that's mostly because I travel around a lot. Lif Silverlode: An author... Might that be... Priscilla, I believe? The Ga-er... *ahem* Ingvald Bloodhound: Hm? Helisent Wynter knows that name from somewhere, she thinks. Then she turns slightly pink, and coughs, looking away. Ingvald Bloodhound: What. Helisent Wynter: Nothing. Lif Silverlode: I... met a woman named Priscilla who said she was an author. She handed me a book to read, but it had a different name for the author. It was... something. Lif Silverlode turns pink and shifts uncomfortably. Helisent Wynter: That they are. Ingvald Bloodhound looks back and forth between the two young women, and shrugs. Lif Silverlode: *ahem* Anyway... Helisent, you said you are a healer? As I recall, you are skilled in conjury, correct? Helisent Wynter nods at that, grateful for the subject change. Helisent Wynter: Mmhm. Gridanian trained, at that, though I left the Fen. Lif Silverlode smiles, pleased that she remembered. Lif Silverlode: And what kind of work do you do, Ingvald? If I may ask. Ingvald Bloodhound: Red magic. As to what I do with it, that's another question entirely. Ingvald Bloodhound isn't even sure of it himself - aside from hunting down fugitives and surveilling for Garleans. Lif Silverlode nods, inwardly pleased that her guess had been correct. Lif Silverlode: A red mage? That's a talent you don't see much anymore. I'm not sure I've even met one outside of a book. Lif Silverlode is very careful to keep her expression straight and her voice curious. Ingvald Bloodhound: Which makes it difficult to learn from others, as one might for a more common discipline. Helisent Wynter taps her chin, thinking. Lif Silverlode: I bet it does. I'm glad that there are still some that art alive, and I hope that a day will come when I can meet more. Ingvald Bloodhound: As do I. Ingvald Bloodhound looks around briefly. Ingvald Bloodhound: Speaking of which, I'd best get some training in. I hope you'll excuse me. Ingvald Bloodhound: It's good to meet you, Lif. Helisent Wynter: I've heard stories of the Crimson Duelists, while I traveled around Gyr Abania, actually. They sounded interesting. Ingvald Bloodhound: I'll tell you what I know of them. Perhaps another time. If you're good. Lif Silverlode: It was very nice to meet you, Ingvald. Feel free to seek me out any time you're here. I will be around for the foreseeable future. Helisent Wynter, in true contrary fashion, goes to kick his shin again. Helisent Wynter: I'm always good. Ingvald Bloodhound manages to dodge this time. Helisent Wynter almost overextends and faceplants, only to be saved by a breeze that seems to push her up from the ground. She makes a face at Ingvald Bloodhound. Helisent Wynter: Spoilsport. Lif Silverlode: The same goes for you, Helisent. I would love to talk with you again at some point. Helisent Wynter turns back to Lif Silverlode and grins. Helisent Wynter: Sure! I'd like to get to know you some more, if that's alright. I'm just currently sort of in training, and only came back to grab a few things. Lif Silverlode: Ah, right. The monk training you mentioned. I hope your training goes well, and you don't give your 'parents' too many grey hairs. Lif Silverlode smiles. Helisent Wynter: Orella's hair was already grey. Ingvald Bloodhound makes a straight face. Helisent Wynter: ... Don't look at me like that. I'm the light of your life. Ingvald Bloodhound thinks it's more silver, but says nothing.

Elegant Criminality

  Steven groaned as he walked into the loan office; holding his side, sporting a black eye, dishelve hair, and a bloody nose, not his blood. He looked around the office, hoping it was truly as empty as it seemed. With a painful sigh of relief, he walked to the medical cabinet, getting the first-aid before heading to the back room.

  "That could have gone better...So much for my sweet tongue..Heh-heh..ow!."

  A simple talk became...not so simple. It all started when there was suspicion of foul play in a property they own, A host bar renamed Shangri-la. A place where the clientele had fat, deep pockets, nearly as big as their bellies and deep as their secrets. There's been rumors about the runner Connie put in place being a bit more comfortable with the certain customers outside of the bar. Customers, they weren't exactly used to seeing around their city. 

  No problem as long as they opened their pockets, they basically ignored it. As for the runner, let them have fun. As long as they remember their place, no need to chase rumors. Then once too many times, the weekly total has been lower than its usual amount, it’s predicted amount. The rumors of the bar runner making moves against his team, his family; because of his new friends, started to ring true. 

  Now, while no one took this blatant act of disrespect kindly; Connie, his 'queen' was especially annoyed. Shangri-la was something Connie...Procured from its last owner. It was her pet project; this spot was something she brought in and since then it’s been a little moneymaker and info bank. Having the runner getting out of line made her look bad. She decided on visiting the runner of the establishment herself.

  His gracious lady, giving them a chance to get in line without broken pride or bones. How he admired her elegance and civility, even when dealing with these kinds of riffraff. Still he couldn't allow her to be bothered with such tripe matters.  

  No need for her to dirty her hands or give them her time. It was precious and needed with more pressing objectives. Still, a lesson had to be taught and dues had to be paid. He'd do it himself as a favor to her. She won't even have to worry..

  It was supposed to be a simple sit down, almost a parlay. 

  Supposed to be..

  *Few hours ago* 

  Steven got out of his black Lincoln continental after parking across the street from the Shangri-la, not before his ritual though. He pulled down his driver-side sun visor and smiled lovingly at a picture of his lady, in a black bikini. A candid shot he took on the family's last vacation to their island villa. She'd kill him if she'd ever found out but hell, in this life he could die anyway; might as well have something sweet on his mind if it comes to that.

  With a breath the mafioso walked into the bar.

  "Ain't this a bitch."

  His timing was either fucked up or on the money, cause his surprise visit coincided with the goddamn snake in the grass giving their money to some zoot suits wearing little shits he never saw before. 

  "Really Sam? These mother fuckers got our money."

  The nine of them turned to him standing at the doorway. The face of shock on Sam's face and fear based anger on the other eight. It would've been funny...If he hadn't seen what he saw. With a kiss of his teeth he walked calmly towards Sam and he supposed the head of the group of nobodies, fishing some black leather glove out his back pocket of his slacks.

  "Know you're blind in one eye, but you didn't see us finding out about this."

  Sam was an older mustachioed man, pencil thin; always with a suitcase brown three piece suit and a comb over. He also was an ex info broker. He got caught up selling the wrong info and was chased all through the city by a hitman. Would have been dead if he never ran into this very bar and met Connie..or if the hitman never made her drop her egg for Prairie oyster.  In the end Sam got to keep his life, Connie got a runner for her bar, and the hitman…was no longer available for services.

  So to see the man his lady saved openly betray them, well Steven was not in the mood for a parlay. Steven took the money he was handing out of the punks hand and placed it in his pocket, leaving the stunned, before turning to Sam eyebrow arched.

  "Hey..Steve.. I was just-

  "Betraying Connie..Betraying us."

  Sam took a deep breath before settling into a glare. As Steven was about to comment, a hand rested and gripped his shoulder. It was large and it belonged to an equally large man in a green zoot suit. Steven took a look around at the rainbow of zoot suits. Indigo, violet, cobalt, black, brown, gray, yellow, red and..

  "Get your jolly green giant ass off me."

  Green squeezed hard on his shoulder before talking.

  "Now now..don't yo--Kugh!"

  Steven did not care for his words and showed it by ramming his elbow into his grimy mouth, making him swallow the five front teeth, he knocked out. Green fell back hitting his head on the nearby table leaving him unconscious..or dead. It really didn't concern Steven, not like the blood green left on the elbow of his white button-up. Steven, in a quick spark of anger stomped on greens pointy nose, breaking it and eliciting a moan from the pale skin giant...

  "Oh come on..Have some class, Bastard. blood stains are hard to come o-ugh!'

  Steven stumbled back as red's skinny little fist, popped him in the eye. His nostrils flared as he touched his left eye, feeling the tenderness. He nodded as Red, Yellow Violet and Cobalt stood ready to fight. The other four were busy trying to drag green out the way and Sam was hiding behind the counter.

  Steven stood ready his fist up, held at face level.  His left leg slightly pointed, held forward bent at the knee. 

  "Fucking zoot suit skittles bastards."

  That set them off as red ran forward first, throwing a wild right hook towards Steven skull, only for him to grab the offending arm and pull red close. He grabbed red's tan face in a vice-grip before slamming his skull to the counters  metallic edge. denting it. Steven grimace as he let red crumbled upon himself.

  ' yikes...Gotta remember, this is my lady's place. She'll be pissed once she sees that.'

  As Steven was thinking to himself, Violet attempted to lay a stiletto kick to his throat. He barley ducked the attack, feeling the air from the would be blow mess up his hair.

  Steven delivered a harsh straight the guys solar plexus, making Violet double over, before ramming his knee to the afro bearer face nose. Another k.o.

  Yellow and Cobalt, nodded at each before attacking together, Yellow with a straight kick to Steven's chest and Cobalt with a left hook to his mid. Steven grabbed the foot before grimacing and coughing in pain at the punch.. losing his grip and being kicked back to the wall. 

  Steven breathed deeply as he rubbed his chest looking closely at Cobalt hands…

  'Bitch have knuckle dusters hidden in her sleeves. Ok..Her first.'

  Steven stood up straight and stepped forward, before grabbing two nearby ketchup bottles, wielding them like batons. The two laughed before attacking in unison again. Cobalt struck with an axe kick, causing steven to dodge to the left when yellow fist flew towards his skull, a knuckle duster on it.  

  Steven batted the fist downward, breaking the bottle on the back of their hand, before stabbing the palm of it with the bottle. Yellow screams of pain were silenced almost instantly by the second bottle being broken against their temple knocking them over to Cobalt in a daze before they joined red on the floor. Shards of glass ledge in their face, mixed with blood and condiment.

  Cobalt looked fearful as she looked at Steven, broken bottle in hand. She took a step back before swallowing it down, going for a desperate flurry of punches. 

  "Wild, unorganized, useless . How the hell did I let you get a hit on me?"

  Steven sighedat the thought, dancing through her assault easily, before catching both her wrists and head butting cobalt, breaking her nose. As she groaned, he twisted her arms behind her back holding them against her upper back. He kicked  the knees from under her, making cobalt buckle onto them. Before she could protest, he had the business end of the broken bottle press on her windpipe. He crept down to her ear and spoke in a cold whisper.

  "Here what's gonna happen. You are gonna to leave your friends here, cause you're a coward. Say it."

  Cobalt growled in protest before winching as Steven  gave the bottom of her chin a jagged bloody cut. He didn't say anything as he looked expectantly.

  "I'm a coward."

  "You're not gonna run with these fools anymore, cause you're a coward.."

  "I'm a coward." She teared up as she held her head down, defeat washed over her.

  "You're going to give me the location of your hideout and your brass knuckles. You're then going to walk out of here and out of this lifestyle. Cause…

  "I am a coward." Cobalt cried, heartbroken.

  "And cowards don't belong in the world of mafia. Take your life and blend among the other normal civilians…Coward."

  He let the girl wrist go, before holding out his hand to her. Cobalt almost took it when he spoke.

  "Knuckle dusters and info"

  She sneered as she took off the weapons  and handed them to him. He placed them on his gloved hands trying them out with a few swings, whistling in satisfaction, he turned to the girl on the floor.

  "Info."

  "East ridge Blvd. The old cookie cat factory near the pier...can't miss it."

  He nodded before he did help her to her feet.  He nodded his head towards the door looking at her.

  "Go."

  Cobalt nodded as she walked out, wiping the tears from her crystal blue eyes. She stopped when he heard him clear his throat. She turned to see him looking back at her.

  "Not gonna thank me. For letting you live, unlike these fools."

  Cobalt eyes widened, breath caught in her throat  as the tears ran anew. In her eyes he was a monster...a gentle looking monster.  She grinded her teeth and grabbed the bottom of her coat as she looked down, shame and fear destroying her heart.

  "Thank you, for my life sir!"

  "Hehe. You're welcome..Go.."

  Cobalt walked out of the bar sobbing hatred for the mafia world and herself evident.

  With her gone Steven turned  his attention to Sam, who was quick to grab a pistol as Steven walked around the counter and stalked toward him,  Fist tight, knuckle dusters on and bottle still in hand.

  Sam shakingly held the gun in his hand, scared as hell. "Steven..Come on man...Don't  make me shoot you." 

  Steven didn't say anything as he twirled the broken bottle in his hand, still walking forward, smirking as he did. 

  Sam took a chance and pulled the trigger.

  *click* *click* *click*

  "Forgot to get bullets, deadeye?"

  Sam nearly crumbled in fear as he looked directly into the mafioso eyes. they gleamed like cold artic ice in the sun. He didn't get to plead as the first blow collided with his jaw, blood flying towards the liquor as he stumbled to the left, falling on to the floor. He gazed up and saw Steven looking down rage in his eyes. He spoke to him despite the looseness of his jaw, the filling of blood and the burning sensation in his mouth.

  "Can I asthk refore you do whatsever, shouts shonna do to sme...let me spexplain?." Sam spat our some blood to the side, wiping his mouth.

  Steven smirked, then snorted,  then laughed...The rage in his eyes rising.

  "Really Deadeye?..You openly betray us, betray Connie..and you think you can talk your way out..ok."  Steven crouched over Sam, elbows on his knees, hands still closed into fist. Clicking the top of his mouth with his tongue,Steven stared at the mustachioed man.

  "Speak. Honestly."

  Sam nearly pissed himself at the  cool command, looking at the younger mafia with pure fear, knowing that his life was on the line..or at least his livelihood.

  "Zhose guys..Zhey're new..parz of shome riszing kamily, frim the Motor Zity."

  "You're boring me.." Steven clenched his fist clucking his teeth a few times in annoyance. "Get to the point."

  Sam growled the best he could before speaking.

  "Yous guys kave so manies propkerties in the cifie and so munz influeznce.. brouns to zring aivalies and seing oppozitionz."

  "And you didn't want to get caught in the middle of anything. So what? Were you paying your way to safety?"

  Sam, despite his position laughed; darkly and coolly. "heh..Zou woulz think that, with hos we mezs and all, putz no. I kuts vanted zo pe ooseful...oose ny ztill  as a inro proker. Zomezing, Connie, kuzt Igmored. ..No..She ooses ne as mozhing nore zhan a bamn...BAR MANAGER! Zits enzulting!.”

  “So you betrayed us because of hurt pride, is that what you saying?” Steven threw a quick jab stopping just in time to give his nose a glancing blow. “We gave you a job. .A new lease on your life, and this is what you do!?” 

  "I didn't dezrayed zanione! I zwear! I swas zrying to jet ya'll zome info on them."

  "The money? Why were you giving it to them?"

Sam lips pursed into a thin line as well as they could, swollen as they were. He knew steven well enough...He swallowed some spit and Iron before speaking.

  "Zrugs.  zuns...I swas trying some from zhem.. zee what they got..didn't get much. Zhose suits, just surveillance, small time pushers and muscle. shirst time xoming, but zeen them Around."

  Steven let out a sigh as he rubbed the back of his head...So Sam was playing nice to gather info...Fair enough, not a traitor..hlHe did step out of bounds though. 

  'Broken jaw and strange talking is punishment enough.'

  That being said, he didn't have the heart to tell him the truth. 

  They already were aware of the Motor city family for a while thanks to the host and hostesses. They were the information system here; could charm the dirtiest and most protected secret out of the most stoned face. Just had to liquor them up a bit.

   Though, he didn't expect the Zoot suits, never mentioned in the reports. Probably, a nobody gang they hired to ensure a presence, before sending a real force. Steven stood up with a little pain in his side from the hit earlier. 

  "Gonna call a clean up crew for these four. You get the bar ready for tonight, and get yourself  proper. Wear a mask or something. "

  Sams' eye widened as Steven started to walk away. He was gonna live another and keep his job. He wasn't even gonna tell Connie. The man got to his feet looking as Steven walked past Red, relief  in his damn

  "Zhan yous." 

  Steven growled and turned back towards Sam, a cold glare present. "Do the damn job you're assigned to. Run this bar.  Nothing more, nothing less."

Sam nodded in fear as he lifted up his hands in surrender.

  Steven scoffed as he turned and head out of the bar. As soon as he walked out  and got into his car, a few SUV's pulled up to 'Shangri-la'. 

  A small army of black vest and white shirt (the same as his) walked into the bar and quickly loaded the knocked out zoot suits before pulling off. One of them gave Steven, a nod before heading off, the army leader; Amethyst.

  "Well she knows..Don't know why I would think differently." Steven kissed his teeth and sighed thinking about going back to the office. 

  * Present*

  Steven grimaced as he looked at the blackish and purple bruise to his left side through the mirror, the knuckle duster really digged in. Still he had worse.

  "That's a nasty one, Biscuit."

  Sucking in his breath hurt, but he couldn't  help it. Her voice came out of nowhere. He turned around and saw Connie already getting some comfrey cream and  bandage wrap from the first-aid, a neutral look on her face. She signaled him to raise his arms so she could dress his damage.

  He shivered at the touch of Connie's meticulously callous yet very soft hands  as she rubbed the cream on the bruise.. Being ever so careful to cover every inch. He nearly purred at the heat of her hand. She started wrapping him with care and tenderness she hardly shows. Making sure it wasn't too tight or uncomfortable. When she was done securing that it would stay, she offered him a kind smile and a stroke of his cheek with her right hand; one he allowed himself to nuzzle into, kissing her palm as he did.

  "My Bisky." 

  The velvety tone of voice made him gulp In a bad way...He knew that tone..She killed people using that tone.

  "M-My rein-Ahhgh!!" 

  He groaned in pain as he felt her vice like grip on his bruise. He looked at her face the same smile was there but her eyes were burning in rage.

  "Who the hell told you to damage 'Shangri-la'. Does my bar look like a fight club!? Do I have an arena or a ring somewhere that I don't know about?"

  Steven grimaced as he clenched his fist to withstand the pain.  "Ugh I'm sorry! Sorry please let go-ho-ho!"

  Connie sighed as she released her hold on him feeling a bit bad about what she did. She rubbed the back of her head as she got his shirt, vest and tie. She stood behind him as she placed the shirt over his lightly tan body,having him slip his arms through the sleeves, tapping his shoulder to have him face her so she could button him up.

  “So you went and talked to Sam yourself, huh?” Connie teased.as she buttoned him from the bottom up.

  “As if you weren’t aware, were you watching the whole time?”

  “I alway have an eye on what’s mine.” Connie gave a small smirk as she looked him in the eye, black meeting brown. She buttoned the second to last button before flipping up his collar and getting the tie, earning a disapproving groan from Steven. 

  ”Shut it...So? What'd you think?”  Connie threw the tie over his shoulders before bringing it to against the collar, starting to Windsor tie it. 

  Steven shrugged exhaling In annoyance “Think I should have hit Sam one more time…As for our visitors."Steven smirked darkly as he slipped his hands into his ladies back pockets, giving her a squeeze. "Maybe we should give them a welcoming party...We got their location after all...The old Cookie cat factory near the pier."

  "Isn't that sweet?" Connie chuckled before pulling him closer to her by his tie, the same smirk on her face. "Can't wait til I finish?"

  "Hey, you grabbed me first, on my side..my bruised side."  He gripped her bit harder, kneading her bottom, making her shiver a bit." Just returning the favor… Eye for an eye and all that jazz."

  "You messed up my bar, Big baby."

  "Your baby."

  She rolled her eyes as they shared a kiss. Her eyelids dropped shut as she allowed him to melt her, hands stroking his cheeks and pulling him even closer as tongues twisted around each other. Breaking the kiss only to reunite as she made him guide her to the table in the center of the room.  Letting out a little giggle as he sat her on the table and stood between her legs palms on her thighs, rubbing them and evoking snarl from the woman.

  "YoHo..I know that sound."  Steven teased as his kisses moves trailed from her lips to her neck becoming nibbles along the way, making his her moan as he unbuttoned  the first two buttons of her shirt to sink his teeth into her collarbone sucking and licking into her brown skin.

  "So I'd this part of ...ah…. Damn...Of your apology for..Hmm UUMMMM.." Connie couldn't  finish, losing herself to the his mouth stroking of his thumb on her inner thighs. Which was why she was thankful when the phone rang..Bringing her back k to a more clear mind. Reluctantly, she moved from him to check the phone.. It was Sam..

  "No..Not yet." She scoffed as let the phone ring out. With a sigh she fixed her shirt., smiling as Steven held her from behind..and feeling his...Charisma...on her ass. She nearly was put to trance again  when he started with the kisses again.

  "Hey.. Later ok..At your place." She turned giving him a tender kiss and little suck upon his bottom lip. "For now...We got to get a team ready."

  Steven smired at the tone of voice and sneer  on her face. Dark and elegant. Civil and criminal. What he expected from his queen. He nodded  as she got his vest and placed it on him. Gripping it by the sides she pulled him in for one more kiss, catching him pleasantly off guard with a  sweet "Chu", she broke the kiss, sniggering at his love struck stare.

  "That was for doing a good job. Now go fix your hair, while I gather some others for the welcoming..and farewell party." With a sinister yet sweet smile,  Connie took out her cell and dialed the first person on her list, walking out as she did.

  He watched her go, paying attention to the sway of her hips until the door closed. He smirked as he turned his attention to his hair. Fishing a comb out of his back of his pocket and running through his hair, back and fro until it returned to its normally slick do.

"Alright. Spinel, Lars, Amethyst and Garnet are on their way there." Connie announced as she walked in wearing the coat of her three-piece suit, completing her outfit.

  Steven whistled before shaking his head, with a smile.  "Called the extermination squad, huh? Well, that's what they get for trying to make moves in secret."

  "No..If they just try to be snakes we would've  just rough them up, but they try to pull shit in bar; even worse they bruised your side and blacked your eye." Determination and slight sadism in her voice as she slipped on some black mid-finger gloves. "Now, now we gotta make an example out of them...You about ready?"  

  Steven nodded before following behind the shorter woman, who was just about withering  in pleasure a few moments ago; now wore a devil's smile on her beautiful features and a grave glint in her eyes. While Steven didn't mind it, he did prefer  her to be a bit brighter.

  "Hold on, Mi Reina."

  Connie stopped for a moment turning back to him only to have him steal one last tender kiss from her. She squeezed his hand to keep from moaning.  He broke it, taking a look at her now gentler smile and now burning eyes. 

  "nāṉ uṉṉai kātalikkiṟēṉ...Damn punk." 

  "Love you too, Reina."

  The two shared a small smile before stepping out into the world they are accustomed to. Ready to once again do whatever needed to obtain wealth power, and prestige. To do whatever  needed to protect what was theirs. A world of criminals, violence, civility, elegance, and family. A world of Mafia.

wake from death (and return to life) chapter iii

AO3 Previous AN: Hey, it’s chapter 3! I fully admit that to fiddling with the mechanics of Betty’s DF in this chapter, but it’s my fic so I get to do what I want

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Kuina woke up sore and confused, alone in a room she did not recognize. Her clothes were stiff with dried salt and blood, and when she jerked up in a panic she discovered the bunk above her by bashing her head into the wooden slats.

“Ow....”

Slowly her eyes adjusted to the dim light, and memories of the previous day trickled in. Kuina groped for her sword, letting out a small sigh of relief when she felt that it was by her side, her bag tucked between her pillow and the wall.

Did ships have walls? Other than her voyage from Shimotsuki Village to Loguetown, she didn’t have much experience sailing. It had always seemed like too great a risk when everything she needed could be found within the city.

Kuina snorted as she sat up, careful to mind her head. Her past self would be appalled to know all the stupid things she’d done in the last twenty-four hours.

There was nothing for it now but to move forward. Kuina brought her bag into her lap and began surveying the damage. There was the beginnings of a hole near one of the seams that Kuina didn’t trust, and the thick material was still damp and heavy with seawater. When she opened the flap, Kuina couldn’t stop a small noise of dismay from escaping her throat. Nothing inside had been waterproofed, and her tumble down the cliff had smashed the bento Ipponmatsu lovingly prepared into pieces, smearing bits of rice and god knew what else over the inside of her pack. The clothes could be washed and the bag repaired, but her money—so carefully horded after years of bounty hunting—was a soggy mess of paper and ink that threatened to disintegrate in her hands.  

The loss of the money didn’t bother her. At least, not much. There was always a need for bounty hunters, and pirates in the Grand Line tended to be worth more than those in the East Blue. No, what Kuina found more distressing was the implication of failure. She had spent the better part of nine years dreaming of the day she would escape the East Blue. She’d planned and schemed, imagining what it would be like to reunite with Zoro at last, only for it to all fall to pieces the moment he made it to Loguetown.

The shattered expectations were like a kick in the teeth, and now she was at the mercy of a bunch of terrorists, at least one of whom wanted to kill her. It wasn’t fair, and Kuina felt herself getting angry all over again. She welcomed it. Anger was better than having to think about the fact she’d thrown away every protection her father had given her for nothing.

She wouldn’t let her guard down again.

Taking a deep breath, Kuina hurried to get ready as best she could. She was acutely aware that she stank and probably looked like a hobo, but a quick survey of her quarters didn’t reveal anything that could help her in that regard. She settled for brushing the salt out of her hair and changing into a pair of clothes that didn’t have any bloodstains, As she moved Kuina took an inventory of aches and pains, and was pleasantly surprised that other than a little soreness and a gimpy ankle she was unharmed.

She’d cleaned and oiled her sword before allowing herself to sleep, but Kuina inspected it again anyway. A fresh scar gashed across the black lacquered scabbard, but the night’s escapades hadn’t damaged the sword itself. There was a quiet elegance to the katana her father had given her. It was a blade that didn’t feel the need to draw attention to itself, from the plain, straight hamon, to the simple black handle, to the unremarkable round guard devoid of engravings. There was nothing about Kuina’s sword that stood out as exceptional, but to hold it was to know true craftsmanship. It was shorter and lighter than Wado Ichimonji without sacrificing durability. There weren’t many swords who would have survived being stabbed into a cliffside without shattering. Hers hadn’t even dulled.

Kuina gave a few experimental swings, blade cutting through the air noiselessly and steel singing in her hands. Satisfied that it was in good condition, she hung the sword at her hip, feeling more at ease despite the less-than-ideal circumstances she found herself in.

With her katana taken care of, Kuina looked around her surroundings for the first time. There were beds all around her, enough for at least two dozen people, but the Revolutionary Army was nowhere to be seen. Kuina frowned, senses sharpening with her alertness. There was a slight sway underfoot, but the sea wasn’t as rough as what she’d expect from the Grand Line. She could hear people outside the cabin and the pounding of feet above her, but their voices were too muffled and far away. Kuina skulked to the door and tested the handle—unlocked. Confusion deepening, she left the cabin, only to come once again to an abrupt stop.

A giant of a woman was sitting outside her doorway, eyes closed and arms wrapped protectively around the biggest crossbow Kuina had ever seen. A bolt was loaded into the chamber, one meaty hand laying too close to the trigger for comfort.

Kuina hadn’t made any noise, but the woman blinked awake. With a yawn, she looked up at Kuina, eyes unreadable behind thick glasses.

“Good morning,” Kuina said.

The woman nodded in response and clambered to her feet. She was as tall as Dragon and nearly as broad, built as solid as an oak tree. Thick shocks of short brown hair spiked in all directions, looking like it hadn’t been combed in weeks and giving her head the look of an unkempt hedgehog. The wildness of her hair seemed at odds with the rest of her face, a square jawline, narrow nose, and thin lips lending her a severe, humorless expression.

“Are you going to shoot me?” Kuina asked cautiously.

“Only if I have to,” she said, her voice too soft for someone so large. She beckoned Kuina to follow as she headed down the corridor. “This way. You slept through breakfast, but I’m sure we can find something for you to eat.”

Nonplussed, Kuina followed. “Who are you?”

“Lyudmila Kuznetsova.”

Kuina waited for her to elaborate, and when she didn’t, asked, “You’re a part of the Revolution?”

Without turning around, she said in that too-soft voice. “We all are, but you. We took you because Dragon asked and nothing else, so do not presume to think you are privy to our secrets.”

As if Kuina wanted their secrets. People...Revolutionaries...stopped at the sight of them, many wearing masks or with their faces covered in bandanas or cloth wraps. Kuina could hear them whisper before they even got out of earshot.

She squared her jaw and kept her hand near her katana, refusing to be cowed. “Fair enough. Have we made it to the Grand Line yet? I know the entrance is near Loguetown, but I didn’t feel us ride up a crazy mountain so…”

A ghost of a small passed over Lyudmila’s features, gone almost before Kuina had to register its existence. “We are not going to the Grand Line.”

“What.”

“You join a Revolutionary ship, you run on the Revolution’s timeline.” Lyudmila stopped to pound at a thick wooden door. “Elizabeth!”

After a few seconds of silence the door flew open, revealing a five foot bundle of wrath and irritability in the shape of a woman wearing thick rubber gloves and a backward baseball cap. “What is it, I’m busy!”

Lyudmila gestured to Kuina. “Guest needs food.”

“Guest can kiss my ass!”

Elizabeth’s attempt to slam the door shot were foiled by Lyudmila stretching out one thick arm, effortlessly arresting the door’s momentum. The smell of something sulfuric wafted into the hallway.

“Guest needs food,” she repeated.

“Then take her to the galley. I’m busy.”

“I don’t need anything to eat,” Kuina said. “When is this ship going to the Grand Line?”

“See, she doesn’t even want food. Now go away and—” Elizabeth was cut off by a sharp popping noise, like someone had set off a firecracker in the room behind her. With a strangled yelp, she rushed back towards the smell of sulfur, which was getting stronger by the second. Unperturbed, Lyudmila went in after her, with Kuina sneaking in close behind.

The room looked to be a converted storage closet, crammed with shelves of strange bottles full of mysterious liquids and dominated by a solid oak table that had been bolted to the floor. The source of the odor seemed to come from there, where a large beaker of bubbling fluid was threatening to boil over into an electric burner that for some reason had been wired to half a dozen potatoes.

Elizabeth quickly cut power to the burner, waving her hands to disperse the fumes. She gave Lyudmila a look that could have peeled paint.

“If that’s how you cook potatoes, I don’t want any,” Kuina deadpanned. She smiled innocently as Elizabeth turned the full force of her glare on her.

“I see the Revolution’s recruited another meatshield,” she said acidly. “Probably spent too much time learning how to wave around pointy metal sticks to ever go to school, or you might have known it’s a battery. Idiot.”

Kuina’s grin sharpened. “Didn’t grow potatoes back home, my teacher used lemons instead.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “You’d think Revolutionary agents would know how to recognize a joke since you joined up with one, but I guess that’s my fault for not lowering my standards. Idiot.”

Sighing softly, Lyudmila set her crossbow on the table and stepped between them. Clasping one hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder and another on Kuina’s, she forced both of them to take a step back. “Enough. Elizabeth, you are assistant cook. It is your job to make sure our guest is fed. And you—” A coldness passed over her, even as her expression remained perfectly neutral, “—would do well to keep your mouth shut.”    

Her grip on Kuina’s shoulder was like iron. There was no indication that it took any effort for her to hold her in place. Part of Kuina wanted to push her just a little bit farther, just to see how far that strength went, but the sensible side of her knew better than to test the generosity of the Revolutionary Army. At least while Dragon was aboard.

“I just want to get to the Grand Line,” Kuina said.

Lyudmila loosened her hold, eyebrows rising over the rims of her glasses. “You have chosen a very odd way of doing so. Elizabeth?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get the asshole her breakfast. Just give me a sec.”

Kuina decided it would be better to wait outside the strange room full of exploding liquids and potatoes, and a few minutes later Elizabeth emerged to thrust two slices of toast into her hands. One side was burnt so badly to be charcoal, while the other was still cold. Kuina looked up at Lyudmila in silent question. The giantess only shrugged.

“I did not say she was a good cook.”

Xxx

“Okay, but seriously, when are we going to the Grand Line? Because if it’s going to be awhile I might as well get off at the next island and hitch a ride with someone else.”

They were above deck, waiting outside the captain’s quarters, but why, Kuina didn’t know. She was impatient and ill-tempered, but tried not to show it as she scanned her surroundings for potential enemies. In the daylight she could see that she’d lionized the ship the night before. Without the storm and the lightning it seemed like a perfectly average brigantine with a crew of about a hundred men. There were no signs betraying its true nature; it sailed under the flag of a merchant company and there were no cannons on deck to draw suspicion.

There were a surprising amount of women, maybe a quarter of the crew in total. Some, like Lyudmila, carried weapons, and all looked to be competent sailors. Kuina couldn’t recall a single ship passing through Loguetown with so many women aboard, pirate or otherwise. Even the marines base, despite their relentless recruiting efforts, couldn’t boast so many, and they had a Tashigi as their second-in-command.

Kuina didn’t know what to think of that, so she pushed the thought aside. The gender ratio among the Revolutionary Army wasn’t her concern.

“Why do you wish to go?” Lyudmila asked.

Kuina’s grip on her sword tightened. “You have your secrets, I have mine.”

Lyudmila inclined her head. “Fair enough.”

The two of them fell into a comfortable silence, and Kuina felt a knot in her stomach loosen, grateful that Lyudmila didn’t pry or seem suspicious of her intentions. There was a steadying presence about Lyudmila, like an anchor during a storm, that made it easier to bear the uncertainty of not knowing what was going to happen next.

They had waited for about five minutes when a figure descended from the crow’s nest and bounded toward them like a bullet. It was yet another woman, taller than average but nowhere near Lyudmila’s hulking height, with a willowy build and crow-black hair pulled into a braid that fell halfway down her back. She grinned mischievously, white teeth flashing against coppery brown skin. “The stowaway lives!”

“I’m not a stowaway,” Kuina said.

“Eh, close enough. Name’s Darareaksmey, but most call me Dara. It’s a pleasure to meet you at last. Although I guess technically we met last night,” She clasped her hands together and gave an irreverent bow.

“We met?” Kuina said.

“Kinda sorta—you were asleep by the time my watch ended. Did you know you snore?” Dara looked up at Lyudmila. “So what’s the verdict? Does she get to stay, or is someone going to have to throw her overboard?”

The door to the captain’s quarters opened before Kuina had a chance to voice her indignant protest. Dragon stepped out onto deck, along with Betty and another woman Kuina didn’t recognize.

“Dara, if you’re going to eavesdrop, you better learn how to do it quietly,” the woman Kuina didn’t know said. “Now scat. If you have time to loiter, you have time to work.”

Dara stuck out her lower lip. “But, Boss! I want to know what happens—”

“I said scat.”

Still pouting, Dara slunk away with the unrepentant mulishness of a cat that’d just been scolded for clawing up the furniture. Betty smirked, a look of fond exasperation on her face. “I bet that one gives you grief.”

“Not as much as I suspect this one will,” the woman retorted, jerking a thumb in Kuina’s direction. “Are you sure you can’t take her?”

“You know that’s impossible.”

“Only until you reach the Grand Line,” Dragon said soothingly. “Then she must decide where the wind will carry her.”

The woman narrowed her eyes at Kuina, her hand resting on the elaborate hilt of the rapier she wore at her side. Kuina had always wondered how people could fight with a sword like that. It looked like it would hold up in a real fight about as well as a toothpick against a machete. “I don’t like it.”

“It’s a week at best,” Betty said.

A week. They were going to delay her entrance to the Grand Line by a week. Under any other circumstances Kuina would have been ecstatic to be so close after so many years, but she’d just been at the entrance the night before. She should be there now, not however long it took for the Revolution to tire of dragging her around for the hell of it.

“Don’t I get any say in this?” Kuina asked.

“You got your say when you demanded for Dragon to take you in the first place,” Betty said. She gestured to the woman beside her. “Kuina, meet Aria de Gris. She will be the captain of the ship that will take you to the Grand Line. Aria, this is Kuina.”

The two women regarded each other warily. Aria was stockily built and carried herself with feline grace. There was a sharpness to her features, which were more handsome than beautiful, that was accentuated by a jagged scar on the left side of her face that ran from temple to jaw. Her hair was kept shorter than even Kuina’s, with garish streaks of purple in her otherwise dark hair.

Like many experienced sailors, she was weatherbeaten in a way that made it difficult to tell if she was thirty-five or fifty, and she wore a heavily-embroidered doublet and black breeches that she tucked into scuffed, knee-high boots. A long jacket hung from her shoulders, empty sleeves rustling in the breeze.

Kuina narrowed her eyes. Only marines wore their jackets like that.

“I appreciate the offer, but when I asked to go with you I was working under the assumption you’d be headed directly for the Grand Line,” Kuina said. “Now that I know that’s not the case, I think it would be better for everyone involved if you guys just drop me off at the next island, and I’ll find my own way.”

“And you would think wrong,” Betty said.

“Look, I’m trying to be reasonable here,” Kuina snapped. “It’s clear you don’t like me, and I sure as hell don’t like you, so why can’t we just part amicably and call it a day? It’s not like I’m going to be able to narc after what happened at Loguetown. The marines don’t cut deals with people who attack their junior officers, even if the info’s good. I don’t plan on ending up in prison.”

Aria snorted before reaching into her breast pocket for a cigarette and a lighter. “There’s no planned stop till we get to our destination, and I doubt you want to hang around a war zone. Not many ships headed to the Grand Line there.”

“War zone?” Kuina echoed.

“This is an army, kid, not a pleasure cruise. So put on your big girl panties and let Mila show you the ropes. On this ship, if you don’t work, you don’t eat.”

“You trust me to do work for the Revolutionary Army?” Kuina asked.

“Nope, but I already told Mila to put a bolt between your eyes at the first sign of trouble, and I do trust her. So I guess it’s up to you how this charade plays out.”

Kuina’s eyes flickered up at Lyudmila, and wondered if she was as fast as she was strong. She suppressed a grimace and forced her hand away from her sword. As much as she didn’t like it, she couldn’t deny that it was her own fault she was on this ship. With her money nothing more than a soggy lump of paper, it was only fair that Kuina earn her keep.

Dragon nodded approvingly. “Listen to Betty and Aria, and when you arrive at the Grand Line make your choice. I can’t guarantee your safety otherwise.”

“You make it sound like you’re not going to be around,” Kuina said. Dragon didn’t respond, but his silence said plenty. A quick glance was enough to show that Betty was no happier about their arrangement than she had been the night before, and Kuina didn’t want to find out how she’d act when her big boss wasn’t around. “Where are you going?”  

There was a delicate pause, broken by an unladylike snicker. Aria hid her face by taking another drag from her cigarette, but couldn’t stop her shoulders from shaking with surprised laughter.

“It’s the Grand Line, isn’t it?” Kuina said. “You get to go to the Grand Line while I’m stuck sailing in the opposite direction.”

“Yes.”

Kuina bit back a caustic remark. She didn’t know what game he was playing, but whatever it was, she wouldn’t let him win. A swordsman paid their debts, and as twisted as the deal was, the Revolutionary Army had promised her a way into the Grand Line.

And if they tried to renege on their promise, then, well, she could pay that back, too.

“Fine. You’ll have my blade for a week and no more. What kind of war are we walking into, anyway? Has the Revolution taken over some backwater island, or are you going after the Government directly?”

��Oh, you won’t be doing any fighting,” Betty said.

“Why not?” Kuina asked. “I’ve already proven my skill, and I don’t have much choice but to do what you say. I won’t go after civilians, but I’m pretty sure any marine who knows who I am is going to attack me on sight anyway.”

“I’ll show you why.”

Betty reached behind her and pulled out a small flag from somewhere on her person. Where, exactly, Kuina would never know, because the volumes of her skirt didn’t appear to have pockets, and the only other articles of clothing she was wearing was an unbuttoned jacket and tie. It was the most uncomfortable ensemble Kuina had ever seen, but before she could make a smart remark Betty had waved the flag in front of her.

Kuina saw the black lettering on a scarlet background, a stylized dragon standing proudly between the R and the A, showing for all the world to see who exactly who the Revolutionary Army fought for. Kuina tensed, bending down into a ready stance, but Betty didn’t seem to be attacking.

“What the…?”

Sudden, naked fear pierced past Kuina’s defenses. Her stance wobbled, cold sweat beading at her forehead and heart pounding in her chest. The echo of cold, mocking laughter reverberated in her mind, memories half-forgotten painted anew, rejoining the terror and powerlessness she felt when she had been unable to break Dragon’s hold. The bruise on her wrist throbbed where he had grabbed her, the acute awareness that her blade had failed to even touch him leaving a dread heaviness in her gut.

This is what happens when you do business with the Revolution.

Kuina wanted to puke. She wanted to run, to throw herself into the sea, because to be in the same space as the Revolutionary Army was to court death and pain. It didn’t matter how altruistic they seemed, they were the enemy. An enemy that was much stronger than she.

“Devil Fruit?” Kuina spat between clenched teeth. “That’s playing dirty.”

“A flag properly wielded inspires those who fight for it. But for those that don’t, it brings nothing but terror,” Betty said. “And put your sword away before someone gets hurt.”

Kuina looked down at her hands. She didn’t even remember drawing her blade. Her hands shook so badly she doubted she could swing it, although at that moment there was nothing she wanted more than to cut the smug look off of Betty’s face.

“I’m surprised she can even hold it,” Aria said thoughtfully.

“A trapped animal bites hardest,” Betty said. She raised an eyebrow at Dragon. “Are you sure about this?”

Dragon turned back to the captain’s quarters, cloak billowing behind him. “Until the Grand Line.”

He shut the door behind him, leaving Kuina alone with the three other women. Lyudmila patted her bracingly on the back, the force of the blow almost making her stumble. “Welcome aboard.”

Kuina didn’t trust herself to speak. Despite the tremor in her hands she managed to sheathe her blade cleanly. Swallowing hard, she gathered a modicum of her composure before glaring balefully at Betty. The Revolutionary remained unmoved.

“Dragon seems to think you have potential, but I can’t help but wonder why someone who was nearly cut in half by the World Government would hold such resentment for the people fighting against it.”

Without waiting for Kuina to respond, she and Aria rejoined Dragon. Once the door shut behind them Kuina looked up at Lyudmila. Between shaking breaths she said, “Just so you know, I’m not going to let myself get shot.”

Her expression was impassive as stone. “Then I ask that you do not give me reason to do so, because I will not miss.”

.

.

.

How Ben Proposes

Ben Hardy x Reader 

Summary: While Ben’s on the press tour for Bohemian Rhapsody, an interviewer asks Ben about he proposes to the reader. This is what happened.

Word Count:  2.1k

The press tour was in full swing for the Borhap cast, Ben had lost count of which one they were on “Ben, Ben Ben,” Joe gasps holding up a ballpoint pen to Ben mouth as they sat backstage.

“What the hell are you doing?” Ben questions as he looks at the pen.

“Which scene was your favorite?” Joe snickers. The blonde rolls his eyes and pushes his friend away. He’d also lost count at the repetitive questions, he and Gwil even formed a betting pool amongst the cast. When one of the production crew came to get Ben and Joe they both smiled but shared a look that read they weren’t ready for another one.

“Ben Joe, thank you for sitting down with me,” the older woman with wavy blonde hair greeted as they all took their seats. The men smiled and gave the typical intro before they paused to show a trailer clip of the movie. Ben internally sighs as the woman directs her attention to him “Before we get started on this fantastic movie. Ben, congratulations on your engagement,” she beams. Ben’s head perks up and puts on the biggest smile as Joe laughs at him.

“T-thank you so much,” he says.

“I know we’re here to talk about the movie but I think everyone would like to know how it happened,” she leans forward and places her hands over her clipboard. Ben turns to Joe who gives him a quick nod to go on, it was his favorite story.

“It’s a funny story actually,” he starts, leaning back in his seat. The smile never left his face as he told the story.

“Ben watch out!” Y/N gasps. Ben grips the steering wheel a little bit tighter and furrows his eyebrows together. They were on holiday in Wales, driving through the narrow road up to the private cottage, much to Y/N displeasure. She sat in her seat, one hand on the ‘oh shit bar’ and the other pressed against the cloth ceiling, one of her feet was on the dash to brace herself just in case. She was terrified to say the least. “What if another car comes? Oh my God, we’re going to die!” She cries dramatically. Driving in the UK made her nervous but when the bushes get higher and the roads become more narrow she was ready to jump out of the small car to safety.

Ben turns his head and holds back a laugh at her distraught face, she was precious, even if she was yelling at him to focus on the road “Baby relax,” he sighs, resting a hand on her elevated knee. “I know what I’m doing.”

“I know! I trust you, I don’t trust them,” it came out more like a scream when she saw the hood of another car come into her field of sight. The dark car pulled off to the side, politely waving at the couple as they drove past. Ben smiled and waved before turning to his girlfriend, giving her a knowing look “See?”

“Whatever,” she sighs in relief and puts her leg down but tightens her grip on the handle. Ben stole glances at her as he drove, he watched her face journies as she tried to peer into the thick bushes as he head rested on the cold window. He was in love, deeply, madly in love with the woman in the passenger seat.

Terrifying moments felt like hours until they arrived at the small cottage. Y/N quickly got out of the car and marveled at the fact that she survived the devil’s road. She caught her breath that she held for most of the journey and finally took in the sight of the home. It was white with a dark brown roof and was covered in green leaves that had beautiful colorful flowers growing at the side. She grinned and walked up the stone walk away “Ben how did you find this place?” you ask, walking through the old front gate “I’ve never seen so much green!”

“Gwil recommended it to me,” Ben grunts as he takes out the heavy luggage out of the trunk. The Y/H/C girl folds her grey sweater-clad arms and smiles back at him. He walks up to her and kisses her cheek “I’m glad you like it, Darling. Let’s go see it.”

The inside was as beautiful as the outside, it was modern with plumbing, no faulty wiring, and a flat screen tv but it kept the charm of the Welsh countryside. She happily stared out the window at a heard of sheep that were roaming a few houses down, the man silently walks up behind her and wraps his strong arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder “I love you,” she whispers.

“I love you more,” he whispers back, looking at her near transparent reflection in the window. As he watches her, he’s hit with a realization. His green eyes open wide, taking a step back away from her which makes her turn to face him.

“Is everything ok?” she questions.

His sudden nerves begin to show “Y-yeah, of course, Darling, why wouldn’t I be?” he stammers, trying to dig out his cell phone from his back pocket.

“Ben?”

“I need to take care of some business stuff. Post production and all,” he laughs nervously before nearly running upstairs. Y/N shakes her head in confusion and cocks her head, what the hell just happened. She shook it off and walked into the kitchen, finding a take out menu on the fridge, praying the driver would make it through the bushes while he dialed the number.

Ben slammed the door o the bedroom and pushed back the locks of hair that fell when he was going up the stairs. He quickly took off his jacket and dialed a familiar number as he fixed the blue t-shirt he was wearing. He paced back and forth tapping anxiously on his hip.

“How’s the holiday?” the voice on the other end asks when he picks up the phone.

“Gwil you know Wales the best…I need your help,” he nearly whispers, just in case Y/N was coming to check up on him.

“Are you alright Mate?”

“I’m going to propose,” he whispers lowly.

“What the hell? That’s fantastic, you’re a lucky man,” he cheered.

The excitement and joy were short-lived when Ben told him the hitch “I don’t have a ring.”

“You don’t have a ring?”

“I only decided I was going to do this 2 minutes ago,” the blonde defended.

“How fast can you meet me in town? I need help.”

There’s a brief pause on the other line “Alright, can you get out of the house? I can be there in 30.”

“I’ll try. I owe you one.” Ben hangs up the phone and regains his composure before heading back downstairs, thinking about what to tell her.

“Ben is everything ok?” She asks worriedly from the couch.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sorry for worrying you but I have to leave for a while, I promise I’ll be back for dinner,” he explains as he walks behind the couch and kisses her lovingly on the forehead.

“Borhap stuff?” she guesses.

Damn, she was smarter than he was, he didn’t even think of that excuse “Borhap! Exactly. Gwilym and I have to sign some papers in town.”

Her worried expression softens “Tell him I said hello, be safe. I’ll save some take out for you.”

With that he ran off, muttering that he’d be safe. Slamming the door behind him she chuckles to herself and turns on the tv, immersing herself in a baking show “She forgot sugar,” she gasps in shock. She glances over at the kitchen and shrugs, this vacation was important for Ben since he finally finished wrapping the biggest movie of his career so far. An idea popped into her head, she hops up the couch and grabs the decorative basket off the table.

Later that night, Ben walks into the cottage with his hand protectively in his pocket, checking if the coast was clear. He smirks as he sees the living room that was now decorated with flowers from outside, she spent her time well he thought “Y/N!” he calls. She hurries down the stairs in a short white dress decorated with colorful butterflies.

“How was the signing?”

“Signing?” he questions, wrapping her in his arms.

“With Gwil?”

“Oh! Right, it was good, got it done,” he laughs, tucking a lock of curly Y/H/C behind her ear that fell from her messy top knot. She lowers her eyebrows in confusion, staring up into his eyes, she could tell he was nervous.

“Ben, what's wrong?”

“Nothing, Y/N I promise. I’m just hungry,” he covers, walking away from her.

“T-There’s take out on the table,” she informs him sadly, picking at her nail polish.

“I don’t deserve you,” he smiles “I’m going to change, start without me.”

She sat at the table, pushing back and forth a piece of broccoli on the plate while she waited for her boyfriend. What was his problem? Was he cheating? She gasps to herself but quickly composes herself, he wouldn’t do that. Probably just pressure of the job.

Ben finally came down the stairs in a dark yellow sweater and black jeans, smiling to himself “How’s dinner?”

“Cold,” she retorts.

“What's wrong?” he sits across from her and grabs one of the cartons.

“You’ve been acting weird all day,” she stabs at her meal roughly with her fork “Did I do something?”

Ben looks up in surprise “Of course not,” he reassures, “it’s not you I promise.”

“Then what is it?”

“I’m just hungry,” he answers, taking a bite.

“Fine,” she exhales and leans back in her seat, looking at him with doubtful eyes. She lays down her fork and stands up “I’m going to go look at the stars,” she tells him while she walks to the couch to grab the grey blanket that was laying on the back of it.

Y/N murmurs to herself as she walks outback, her bare feet squishing against the green grass below her. She steps out further taking int the cool early fall air, moaning in delight while she pulls the blanket around her shoulders tighter. When she looked up her breath was taken away, the millions of stars shown brightly, twinkling amongst themselves. She grins and looks around dreamily, picking out the familiar constellations.

She realizes why Ben took her here, you can’t see this many stars in the city, this was the perfect place. She wanted to share this with him, maybe it would calm him down. She turns around and sees him standing at the back door, a smile on his face and his hands in his pockets “It’s beautiful!” Y/N calls to him.

“You’re beautiful!” he responds before coming closer.

“Thank you for this, it’s remarkable.” She wraps her arms around the actor's neck and admires the way his skin glows underneath the moonlight.

“I knew you’d like it,” he kisses her forehead before joining her gaze up at the dazzling night sky. He brings her in closer, inhaling the sweet scent of her perfume and kissing her covered shoulder. “There’s something I need to tell you,” he starts. This was the moment he’d been waiting and preparing for. He steps back and puts his hand in his pocket.

“I love you more than anything in this life Y/N.”

“I love you too Ben,” her response comes out more like a question as she watches him.

“Today something happened and I have never been more sure of anything,” he pulls the black velvet box out of his pocket and gets down on one knee, half regretting it due to his clothed knee now damp and covered in dirt. Tears start to for min both of their eyes, Y/N lets the blanket fall off her shoulders and her hands come up to cover her heart.  “Y/N Y/L/N, will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?” he asks.

“Ben Hardy, of course I’ll marry you,” she answers as the tears fall from her eyes. Ben stands up and shakily puts the diamond ring on her finger, she looks down at her hands “Is this what you were doing all day?”

“Gwil helped,” he noted.

“It’s beautiful, I love you so much,” she says before kissing him.

Ben got lost in the story, a goofy smile plastered on his face. Joe finally nudged him before his friend spilled all the details.

“That is a beautiful story, again congratulations,” the woman tells him. Ben smiles graciously and gets comfortable in the couch. The interview was at least now a little more bearable with his fiancée on his mind, he’d let the other guys answer all the questions for the day.