#YOU'RE GONNA HAVE TO WORK FOR THAT TRUST MISTER

[fluentmoviequoter]

Cop Meet Cop

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader ; platonic Deacon Kay x reader

Summary: When your best friend, Deacon Kay, finds out that you're dating a cop, he wants to know everything. Introducing him to Tim Bradford is easier said than done.

Warnings: fluff! Tim's a little grumpy but we love him. cop show inception

Word Count: 2.6k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | S.W.A.T. Masterlist

Deacon yells your name before you even see him. S.W.A.T. HQ has become your home away from home, and your home away from Deacon’s home. As you walk in today, you’re greeted by Deacon’s excited greeting and a tight hug.

“It’s been too long,” Deacon says as he steps back.

“I saw you yesterday,” you remind him.

Deacon rolls his eyes before asking, “Is it wrong to miss my best friend?”

Your eyes widen as your smile grows, and Deacon regrets reminding you that you’re his best friend. You know, of course, he’s been your best friend for as long as you can remember, but you like hearing the acknowledgement in his own words.

“Adopted Kay,” Hondo greets when he sees you.

“Still funny,” you deadpan.

Since Hondo found out you and Deacon grew up next door to each other and have been inseparable since you could walk, he’s taken to referring to you as Deacon’s adopted sister, or his preferred sister from another mister. You don’t mind; Deacon is the best “brother” you’ve ever had (including any blood relatives you may or may not have).

“You ask her yet, Deac?” Hondo inquires.

“Ask me what?” you interject.

“The mayor is treating all of us and our families to dinner at La Boucherie,” Deacon explains. “You’re family, so I wanted to extend the invitation to you.”

“That’s thousands of dollars for that many people!”

“Why you should go when it’s free,” Hondo says with a smile and a shrug.

“When is it?” you ask Deacon.

“Next Friday,” he and Hondo answer.

You purse your lips as you think. Next Friday, you have plans with your boyfriend. The boyfriend that Deacon knows nothing about.

“I actually have a date next Friday,” you admit slowly. “Maybe we could reschedule.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Hondo interrupts, raising his hands toward you.

“A what?” Deacon yells.

“I was going to tell you,” you promise.

“This doesn’t seem like my business, so I’m gonna go,” Hondo says. He stops by your shoulder with his back to Deacon to whisper, “Fill me in later.”

You push him away before looking at Deacon. The apology in your eyes is enough to calm him, but innumerable questions are running through his mind.

“How long?” he asks first.

“A few months.” Deacon takes a deep breath, wondering why you didn’t tell him sooner. “How’d you meet?”

“It’s embarrassing,” you mumble.

“More embarrassing than when you fell off my bike because you weren’t tall enough to reach the pedals?”

“Why would you bring that up? Deacon, look, I trust you, don’t doubt that. I was worried that the relationship wouldn’t work out; he’s so different than anyone I have ever dated. If it fell apart after a few dates, I didn’t want to… push it on you or anything, I guess.”

“I am here for you, no matter what.”

“Thank you. We-“

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want to interrogate you. My house after work.”

“Okay. Be careful today, Deac.”

“What’s his name?”

“Whose name?” you ask as you walk away.

Deacon grumbles as you round the corner. He has a lot of information to find out tonight, and he hopes you’re more forthcoming in private. It’s been a while since he scared away a guy who wasn’t good enough for you, and he hasn’t had to deal with Lila dating yet, but S.W.A.T. operations and defending your honor can’t be that different.

After you leave Deacon, your phone buzzes with a text from the man you were just talking about. You smile as you read the short message but turn down his invitation to hang out later. As you pass a police cruiser on your way to your car, you have an idea. Maybe asking your boyfriend to meet Deacon would make everything easier. Hopefully it ends differently than junior prom.

Your afternoon flies by in a storm of nervousness and excitement. If Deacon expresses any interest in meeting your boyfriend, you will jump on the opportunity. Although, you know it will take some convincing to get your boyfriend to agree. You’re imagining his reaction as you knock on Deacon’s door, lost in thought.

“Lose your key?” Deacon asks as he opens the door.

Annie waves from the kitchen, and you give her a quick hug. Deacon shakes his head at your blatant betrayal and favoritism, and Annie reminds him that she doesn’t bring up past embarrassments and injuries like Deacon does.

“That’s what friends do,” he argues.

“Best friends, right, Deac?” you ask, batting your lashes.

“Did she tell you about her boyfriend?” Deacon asks Annie.

“Boyfriend?! Since when?” Annie turns to you with wide eyes, and you glare at Deacon across the countertop.

“Start asking questions,” you say with a sigh.

“What’s his name?” Deacon repeats.

“How’d you meet?” Annie asks.

“Um, he’s a cop,” you explain. “And we met while he was on patrol.”

Deacon falls silent as he considers every cop he has ever met. You don’t know half of them, at the least, yet Deacon still runs through a mental list. His search for one worthy of your time or attention comes up empty. While he thinks, Annie continues asking you questions.

“No, he’s not on patrol anymore,” you say to Annie. It snaps Deacon out of his thoughts as he realizes he’s analyzing the wrong officers.

“If he’s not patrol,” Deacon begins before trailing off.

“Metro Sergeant,” you say softly.

“Metro. Metro?” Deacon repeats. “Not at our station.”

“What makes you so sure?” you challenge.

“Because I know you, and you wouldn’t go for any of them.”

“David,” Annie chides.

“No, he’s right,” you admit. “He works at a different station, in a different division. But, if you want to meet him, I can ask.”

“Of course, I want to meet him! You’re not giving me answers and I need to vet him.”

“You’re talking like a cop.”

“You’re dating a cop!”

“Look, Deacon, my boyfriend is… he can be hesitant and standoffish. I’ll ask, but I can’t guarantee that he’ll agree.”

“They’re both police officers, so at least they’ll have something to bond over other than you,” Annie whispers as Deacon leans against the counter.

“If I don’t like him,” Deacon begins.

“You don’t like anyone I date.”

“If I don’t like him or he’s not good enough for you, I will tell you.”

“I know. You care, even if you show it by bringing up the time I asked to hold your keys to feel more grown up.”

“That’s adorable,” Annie murmurs.

“Ask him, please,” Deacon requests. “And let me know what he says. As long as you’re happy, I’ll give him a chance.”

✯✯✯✯✯

After your conversation with Deacon and Annie, you try to find the perfect opportunity to ask Tim. If he says no, you’ll just tell Deacon the truth. But then Deacon will get suspicious and will try to… You close your eyes and take a deep breath to keep your thoughts from spiraling.

When you open your eyes, you blink quickly at the sight before you. Your boyfriend is standing in the doorway with his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed. He raises his brows, and you know it’s his invitation for you to speak.

“Hi, Tim,” you say.

“No.”

You nod and interlace your fingers together before tapping your joined hands against your chin. Tim tilts his head to the side as he tries to decipher what is making you nervous.

“Do you want to come to my house for dinner this weekend?” you ask.

“Not until you tell me why.”

“Tim,” you groan. “Okay, just let me tell you all of it before you say no, okay?”

Tim nods once and you step closer to him.

“I want you to meet my best friend, and I thought having you both over for dinner would be the best chance to do that. He, um, my friend is a S.W.A.T. sergeant in the LAPD.”

“Is that all?” Tim asks.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think-“

“Look, he’s been my best friend for my entire life. We grew up next door to each other and have stayed friends for all these years, so he means a lot to me. And I know you’ve met a ton of S.W.A.T. officers and some of them are really stuck up, but you haven’t met him. Please just think about meeting my friend, not another cop, before you decide.”

Your plea was intended to convince Tim, but it only makes him more hesitant. His concerns don’t come from your friend being in law enforcement, but from the idea that it is a man who knows you and what you deserve very well. Probably knows you better than Tim does. Plus, Tim is not a fan of socializing and making more friends, for the most part.

“If you don’t want to, I get it,” you add.

It only takes another moment for you to wear Tim down; you murmur, “Please?”

“Fine. Tell me when,” he agrees with a sigh.

You bounce in place before throwing your arms over Tim’s shoulders to hug him. He sighs again before pulling you close and kissing your forehead.

“I promise it will be fun,” you say.

Tim raises his brows, and you take it as a challenge.

✯✯✯✯✯

On the day of your dinner with Tim and Deacon, you spend the day at home. You clean, cook, and do anything else you can think of to keep your mind off how the evening could go wrong. Being nervous that they won’t get along isn’t a completely unfounded idea, but you don’t know why it is bothering you. As dinner is nearing completion, someone opens your door, and because both men have keys, you’re not sure who it is until Deacon says your name.

“Kitchen,” you call.

Deacon steps in with a dish in his hands. He sets it down and you recognize it as Annie’s baking and your favorite dessert.

“Oh, thank you! And thank Annie!” you say before hugging Deacon.

“Sorry I’m early, I got off work after a call and wanted to see if you need any help,” he explains.

“No apologies necessary. If you can check the pot on the stove, I’m going to grab something from the pantry, and I’ll be right back.”

“Sure.”

When you return, Deacon is looking at you with a smile.

“What?” you ask, running your hands over your outfit to remove any nonexistent wrinkles.

“I know you said I’ve never met the boyfriend, but are you sure?” Deacon asks.

You don’t have a chance to answer before someone knocks. Tim usually lets himself in, but you’re sure the sight of another car parked outside is what deterred him. As you walk to the door, you take a deep breath and hope for a nice evening.

“Hi,” you greet.

“Hey,” Tim replies with a smile. “These are for you.”

He passes you a bouquet of flowers wrapped in cellophane and a gift bag before he closes the door behind him. You run a finger over one of the petals and smile.

“What is this?” you ask while looking at the bag. “A bribe?”

Tim’s lips quirk up as he murmurs, “Something like that.”

“Alright, uh, come on in.”

“You don’t have to be nervous,” Tim whispers.

He lays a hand on your back, and it helps to calm your nerves, at least until you see Deacon standing by the table and watching you.

“Deacon, this is my boyfriend, Tim Bradford. Tim, this is my best friend, Deacon Kay,” you introduce.

Tim removes his hand from your back to shake Deacon’s hand, and you watch them nervously. You invite them to take seats and you move into the kitchen to gather a few items. The quiet is unsettling, and you need to do something to eliminate the awkwardness.

“Deacon asked how we met,” you say as you lower into the chair between them. “I was out walking one night, and this guy was following me. After making a bunch of random turns and going in a circle, he was still behind me, so I called the police. Tim was the responding officer.”

“Who was the guy?” Deacon asks.

You look at Tim, who shakes his head before answering, “He and his teenage daughter live around here and were out for a walk together. He was distracted looking at his phone and answering work emails and ended up following the wrong woman around the neighborhood.”

Deacon shakes his head and smiles. “I tell her all the time that her youthful good looks are going to get her in trouble.”

“Oh, no, it gets better,” Tim continues. “When he did see her while we were questioning him, he asked her out!”

Deacon tilts his head back and laughs, while Tim chuckles, and though it’s at your expense, you’re glad they’re able to laugh about something together. You notice Tim glance between you and Deacon a few times; unknown to you, he’s wondering if you ever had a thing for your neighbor and best friend, Deacon.

“I’m glad the most frightening event of my life is so humorous,” you joke.

“Hey, that’s not even the weirdest call I had that month,” Tim offers.

“It’s not just me, right?” Deacon asks. “People are getting crazier?”

“Oh, absolutely. My last boot and I got called to a psychic studio in Hollywood, and the girl admitted she was making stuff up, but revealed the location of a missing person. She was more concerned with the condition of her $900 crystal ball and flirting with me though.”

“Hollywood calls are always more interesting,” Deacon agrees. “We raided an illegal poker club and everyone inside was dressed as assassinated presidents and their widows. Bloody clothes and all.”

“Oh, that beats anything I’ve got,” Tim concedes. “Metro doesn’t get as many calls as patrol cops, but I know they’re going to be good.”

You lean back in your seat and smile, glad to see the most important men in your life getting along. They start talking about how anyone will flirt with cops to get out of trouble, and you chuckle at their excited discussion of the weirdest things people have said.

“Luckily, your friend over here didn’t flirt with me until after,” Tim says. He winks at you as you roll your eyes.

“You asked me out,” you remind him.

“Not my fault you’re cute,” Tim murmurs.

“Oh, you think she’s cute when she’s being followed. Have you seen her when she-“

You cover your ears and look down, regretting bringing them into your house at the same time. Deacon reminding you of your worst moments is one thing, but telling your boyfriend is different. They’re both lucky you love them. Tim wraps his fingers around your arm to pull your hand away from your hand, while Deacon does the same with the other.

“All good things,” Deacon promises.

“I’m going to tell Annie that you’re being mean to me,” you threaten. Tim fails to conceal his smile, and you add, “And Angela.”

“I’m not apologizing,” Tim responds.

“Doesn’t do much good anyway,” Deacon adds.

“Why did I agree to this?” you ask yourself.

“Because you thought we could bond over being cops. You were wrong, we’re going to bond over you.”

“Careful,” Tim warns. “She won’t invite you to the wedding.”

You look up quickly, your eyes wide as they search Tim’s face. He and Deacon begin laughing at your reaction, and you stand silently before walking to the kitchen. Annie’s dessert will be your only source of comfort it seems; more so when Deacon and Tim walk in with half-hearted apologies. You love them, you remind yourself. When Deacon hugs you before leaving, and Tim pulls you into a kiss after, you forget all about the previous teasing.

“Wait,” you say, pushing Tim back. “What’s in the bag?”

“It’s a picture of Kojo. A failsafe apology if dinner didn’t go well.”

You smile before kissing Tim again. Everyone knows that this dinner wasn’t the last, and when you get a text from Annie asking how it went, you invite her to the next one.

[suguwu]

this is messy but—

it’s been years since the flames dabi set in his father’s office turned on him. set their sparking teeth in his skin and refused to let go. it’s been years, but his scars never let him forget. 

he’s out of prison now, but for all his counselor talks a big game, he can’t find a job. so instead, when the noise is too much, he takes refuge at the little flower shop around the corner from his rehabilitation center. 

the mist in the air feels good on his scars and cools him off and the scent of earth is grounding. brings him back into his own skin. he lingers but never buys anything but you—the owner—never seems to chase him out.

you smile at him and bob your head in greeting before returning back to the bouquet you're making. it's like you trust him. maybe you do.

one day, he's running a finger over a leaf of a flower, one that blushes like the dawn, sweet, soft pink. he's afraid to touch a silken petal; thinks it will rot beneath his clumsy fingers, considering the way it ripples like a wave in the barest breeze.

"ranunculus."

he glances over his shoulder at you. "bless you."

you laugh.

"the flower," you explain. "it's called a ranunculus."

"oh."

"here," you say, picking one out of the bucket it's tucked into. the water sloshes; it gleams on the long, thick stem of the flower. "hold that for a second."

he blinks as you shove the flower into his hands. then you're plucking more flowers from nearby buckets, your hands moving like fluttering little birds. you gather more and more, until he can barely see you behind the greenery and the blooms. he recognizes some: proud, leggy irises; fluffy ball peonies, as white as driven snow; crimson tulips so dark they're almost black.

"c'mon," you say, heading towards your worktable. he follows, feeling a little ridiculous carrying a single bloom versus your meadow-like armful. you lay your wares out on the table and beckon him closer. he holds out the ranunculus. you flick off the end of the stem with your knife. he hovers, unsure.

"well?" you say. "are you gonna sit?"

he eyes you. you meet his gaze steadily, a hint of a smile pulling at your lips.

"feel bad for me?" he sneers. "that why you're being so nice?"

you hum.

"is putting you to work nice?" you ask, already on to the next flower. he watches the way you hold the knife, how it shines silver in the sunlight, how easily it slides through the thick stem. those hands of yours move with careful surety. he wonders if you do origami; he could see you creasing a thick piece of ornamental paper perfectly.

"i wouldn't call this work."

"no? then you shouldn't mind doing it."

he shoves his hands into his pockets. the misters turn on over the flower buckets; some of the spray settles against his skin, as if he's by the sea.

"fine," he says. "show me."

at the end of the day, you insist on paying him, despite the fact that he's cut a few of the stems too short—one of your bouquets is a little lopsided, but you have it displayed with all the others—and ruined a few blooms. there are petals stuck to his fingertips.

he goes home smelling of wet loam and your faint perfume. rei blinks her big doe eyes at his sudden appearance at the family dinner table, but she makes space for him all the same.

he goes back to your shop the next day. you smile at him, soft and pretty and a little bit sharp with knowing, and he ducks further into his hoodie so you can't see his scars.

"show me more," he tells you.

you tilt your head.

"alright," you say. "let's go."

and just like that, he has a job.

he makes it three weeks before he thinks about kissing you.

it's your hands, he thinks. they're careful and quick and fearless, despite getting pierced by thorns and clippers alike. you touch everything with a certain type of care.

including him.

he never had a chance against you. he thinks about your hands, about your lips, about the way you're so careful with him. not like he's breakable. he'd have left if you touched him like that.

no, you touch him the same way you touch your flowers: like he means something.

it's too much.

he stops going to your shop.

but he watches you, sometimes. you move like a dream, floating between the aisles, petals caught on your fingertips. you laugh with your customers; you chat with them as you roll their bouquets up tight in paper, tied off with a perfect bow. you smile at a man, as bright as the sun, and his hands tighten into fists. it pulls the scars tight enough to hurt, but he doesn't care.

he barges into the shop, shouldering the man aside as he tries to exit. ignores the disgruntled call from behind him. by the time he makes it to the register, you're watching him coolly.

he realizes he doesn't know what to say.

you reach out. he lets you slide that careful hand into the hood of his hoodie; lets you cup his cheek. your eyes don't widen at the rough texture of his scars against your skin. you simply smile at him.

"welcome back," you say, and he realizes he doesn't need to say anything at all.

[eggcats]

I saw a radioapple fic where Michael (Lucifer's twin brother) comes to visit (Hotel Stay by CBM_NotWeedGuys)

and a really funny fic similar to that would be just Michael thinking that demons are kind of like, a "vacation hookup" if you will - like nothing serious but a fun way to pass the time esp bc demons are exotic to angels, and so he spends So Much Time just flirting with Alastor bc cmon if you're gonna get a demon you're going to go after mister fancy voice sharp teeth occasional eldritch horror, right?

And Lucifer is SO Jealous but he has no idea that's what he's feeling. He's doing everything in his power to take up as much of Alastor's time and attention as possible, under the assumption that this is holdover resentment from the Fall - and not that suddenly he has potential competition and it's driving him insane.

He thinks he's upset about Michael upsetting the balance of the hotel, not respecting his people, and how DARE he show up and just harass the people who work for his daughter?! (him@himself: I'm ignoring me doing the same exact thing here)

He spends every second trying to get Michael away from Alastor because only ONE person is going to bother and have all his attention, and he was here first dammit!

(Them being twins makes this even worse, bc while Lucifer looks more hellish and Michael more angelic, they still look a great deal alike, so Lucifer once again is like I WAS HERE FIRST 😠)

Alastor, meanwhile, cannot figure out why him playing nice - LIKE HE WAS SPECIFICALLY TOLD (AND THREATENED) TO BY BOTH CHARLIE AND LUCIFER - keeps making Lucifer even more upset every time. Even when he does something unnerving and demonic towards Michael, Lucifer isn't any more pleased. Every time he turns around, he's practically underfoot and attached at the hip, like he thinks he's a wild animal who can't be trusted on his own.

I don't think either of these idiots will figure it out on their own. I think Lucifer will only realize when he blows up at Michael, having no idea why, and Michael is like, dude, if he's your boyfriend, you should have just told me? And Lucifer is like "he's my WHAT????!"

[little-mari-on-a-roof]

Frenglish differences in Miraculous - Episode 8

Rogercop

Adrien calling his father

En: It's parents career day at school, remember? I was hoping that you were gonna show up. Call me back.

Fr: Aujourd'hui au collège c'est la journée des parents. Vous deviez passer, vous vous souvenez ? Vous pouvez me rappeler ?

Today is parents' day at school. You were supposed to come by, do you remember? Can you call me back?

It's notable that Adrien uses the formal you when talking to his father. The French dub is even more depressing because Gabriel was SUPPOSED to come, it's not just that Adrien was hoping he would. (Plus they only call it parents day in French, as opposed to career day or parents career day in English.)

Miss Bustier refers to Alya's mom as the Head Chef of the Bourgeois Hotel in English, but as a starred Chef ("cheffe étoilée") in French, which makes her even more prestigious (as of today, there are only 33 women who have been decorated with a Michelin star and there were even less in 2015 when the episode first came out).

Mayor Bourgeois

En: Put it away, Chloe. It could get in the wrong hands.

Fr: Allez, range ça Chloé. Tu risques de le perdre ou pire, de te le faire voler.

Come on, put that away Chloé. You're risking losing it or worse, getting it stolen.

Wow great show of how much you trust literal children who are your daughter's classmates, mister mayor.

Chloé to Marinette

En: Jeez. Is there a day when you're not tripping over something?

Fr: Oh. Eh le boulet de service, ça t'arrive de regarder où tu mets les pieds ?

Oh, hey the "boulet de service", do you ever happen to look where you step?

I've already talked about what "boulet" means, but here she added "de service", which I have no idea how to translate but makes it even more derogatory.

Adrien - Plagg

En: You realise we have a big problem here, don't you? - If by big, you are referring to my rock-hard abs. Why, thanks for noticing.

Fr: Je sais pas si tu te rends compte, mais là c'est sérieux. - Alors, si par sérieux, tu fais référence au sérieux avec lequel je travaille ma musculature, sache que tu me flattes au plus haut point.

I don't know if you realise, but this is serious now. - If by serious you're referring to the seriousness with which I work on my musculature, know that you are flattering me in the highest degree.

I don't think Plagg has rock hard abs just yet... But he's working on it!! (Does he even have muscles???)

In French, Plagg says that if Adrien transforms while he (Plagg) is wearing the bracelet on his head, it could damage his miraculous (as opposed to harming his "powers" in English).

Ladybug to Rogercop

En: I can't let you go around accusing everyone of every little wrongdoing.

Fr: Si vous croyez que je vais laisser un supervilain dicter sa loi vous vous trompez.

If you think I'm going to let a supervillain lay down his law, you're mistaken.

Ladybug to Rogercop

En: Don't let the evil person who gave you these powers make an evil cop out of you.

Fr: Ne laissez pas celui qui vous a donné ces pouvoirs vous transformer en une mauvaise personne.

Don't let the person who gave you these powers turn you into a bad person.

Hawkmoth about Ladybug (and Chat Noir)

En: Their powers belong to me.

Fr: Il me faut son pouvoir.

I need her power.

Chloé calls Marinette "that Marinette girl" in English. In French, it's "cette petite peste de Marinette" lit: "that little Marinette pest". In French, the word "peste" can be used to talk negatively about a girl you find annoying or mischievous, one of the possible translations would be to call her a "brat".

Chat Noir after Ladybug catches him with her yoyo

En: Thanks for the lasso, lassie.

Fr: Merci pour le coup de main ma lady.

Thanks for the hand my lady.

No pun here in French.

Chloé

En: Who's going to drive his car?

Fr: Il croit pas que c'est moi qui vais conduire, quand même ?

I hope he doesn't think that I am going to be the one to drive.

Wow look at that, Chloé making everything about her even though no one even acknowledged her presence.

Chat Noir to Rogercop

En: Did I ever thank you for the lift?

Fr: Vous êtes sûr que vous avez votre permis ?

Are you sure you've got your license?

Chat Noir to Rogercop

En: Where did you get those shoes? I could use a pair like that.

Fr: Sympa, vos chaussures. Ils font les mêmes en 42 ?

Nice shoes. Do they make the same ones in a size 42?

A French/EU 42 is the equivalent of a US size 8.5 (27cm).

When Chat Noir "swims" in the air to get his baton back, he says "Nice day for a swim" in the English dub, but nothing in the French one.

Chat Noir (upside down)

En: Well, hey. I am head over heels to see you, m'lady.

Fr: Salut toi, c'est drôle, chaque fois que j'te vois je suis tout retourné.

Hey you. It's funny, every time I see you I'm all turned upside down.

In French, this means he's bowled over by her/that his world is rocked when he sees her.

Ladybug (after dropping him) - Chat Noir

En: You're welcome. You owe me one. - Sure thing, but I'll take the credit for that (he points to Rogercop's car smoking).

Fr: Comme quoi tu ne retombes pas toujours sur tes pattes. - Enfin pendant ce temps là, y'en a un qui nous laisse en plan.

It seems like you don't always land on your feet/paws. - Well meanwhile, there's one that's leaving us in the lurch (pointing to Rogercop's car).

Ladybug's joking on the assumption that cats always land on their feet (she already made the same joke in Stormy Weather).

Chat Noir - Ladybug

En: How many times have we saved Paris? - We're still saving Paris.

Fr: Combien de fois on a sauvé Paris ? - Des dizaines de fois et c'est pas terminé.

How many times have we saved Paris? - Dozens of times, and it's not over yet.

Chat Noir after tap dancing - Rogercop

En: Something about Paris just makes we wanna dance. - You won't be dancing after I'm through with you.

Fr: J'adore me produire à Paris sous le feu des projecteurs. - Tu feras moins le malin quand j'en aurai fini avec toi.

I love performing in Paris under the spotlights. - You'll act less smart after I'm done with you.

When Ladybug puts the oven mitts lucky charm on Rogercop's hands, he goes "Erreur. Erreur syntaxe. Erreur 404. Erreur. Erreur. Erreur. Erreur. Erreur. Erreur." in French ("Error. Syntax error. 404 error." etc.), whereas he doesn't say anything in English.

Chat Noir after his ring beeps - Ladybug

En: I'd stick around but then you'd see me without my mask and you wouldn't be able to resist me. - I doubt that. But I'll have to take your word for it.

Fr: Je serais bien resté mais du coup tu me verrais sans mon masque et tu ne pourrais pas résister à mon charme félin. - Ah oui ? Ça ça m'étonnerait mais je vais faire semblant de te croire.

I would've liked to stay but you'd see me without my mask and you wouldn't be able to resist my feline charm. - Oh yeah? I'd be surprised, but I'm gonna pretend I believe you.

"Feline charm" AND Ladybug joking back? That's peak Ladynoir for you.

Hawkmoth

En: One of those days, I'll be ruling the world and you and Cat Noir won't be a part of it.

Fr: Un jour viendra où ce sera moi qui ferai la loi, et Chat Noir et toi vous ne pourrez pas m'arrêter.

A day will come when I'll be the one laying down the law, and Chat Noir and you won't be able to stop me.

He refers to Rogercop's power in both dubs, just in slightly different ways.

[me-and-your-husband]

widow's bite (1) || e. williams

summary: "...the dangerous Black Widow is to be approached with caution, as the Black Widow's bite can cause death. she encases her victims with silk, then kills with poison from her fangs."

or

you're a black widow. you're sent to kill Spider-Woman. something inside of you just can't do it.

warnings: smut in future chapters, ellie is 18 and reader is 19, dreykov being gross which is canon, mentions of suicide attempt, canon death (sarah), swearing maybe? probs more, not proofread cause i'm lazy

word count: 4k

a/n: soooo i got this request and although it took FOREVER for me to write it, i was so excited that i just had to make it a series...i SWEARRR i'll try to update regularly but going back to uni is kicking my ass a little. also, ellie is basically mcu!peter. some of the avengers may make appearances. tony isn't dead.

You stood tall in front of the massive screen in his office. Videos of a girl in a red and black suit swinging through New York City illuminated your solemn features. At the top of the screen, there were only a few words: Spider-Woman: TERMINATE.

“She keeps coming so close to discovering our New York base,” Dreykov’s accent spread through the dark room. “I can’t have her getting in the way of my work. This is important.”

You nodded, eyes never leaving the screen.

“You will bring her body back to me. She seems to have some sort of abilities, abilities I can use to make you stronger. Better.” His thick hand slithered up your shoulder. “Do you copy?”

“I copy.”

His lips twisted into a sinister smile, his gross breath hot on your cheek. “Always so obedient.” He licked his lips.

He smiled, “You take off…” he glanced at his watch, “right now. I don’t want to see you again until she's dead,” he spat in your ear.

“Yes, sir.”

"Hey! Come back, mister criminal!”

Faint thwips filled the air as Ellie swung past corporate building after corporate building, chasing some burglar who happened to try robbing Delmar’s when she was ordering sandwiches for her and Joel. He would have to wait. She was just lucky she had her suit under her clothes.

He booked it down the sidewalk, cash flying out of the duffle bag, throwing pedestrians to the side as he tried escaping Spider-Woman.

She grunted as she dodged semi-trucks and cars, bikers and typical New York tourists. She almost lost sight of him when he turned a corner, but she could still hear his laboured breathing.

She could sense that he had stopped, under the impression that he had thrown her off his trail. He was resting in an alley up against an apartment building. Climbing to the roof, she perched herself on top as she looked down at him, hands on his knees as he panted.

“Hey, man, I think you forgot this!” She yelled as she dropped next to him. Before he could react, she cocooned him in webbing and left him stuck against the wall.

“You got a pen by any chance?” She asked, to which she had to dodge a ball of spit directed at her head. “Should've guessed.”

She pulled her calculus notebook out of her backpack with one of her good pens and scribbled a note on it:

“This is the one that robbed the bodega. I think you should cut old Delmar a tax break for his troubles.

Love,

Spider-Woman”

She called it into the station and webbed the note to the criminal, webbing his mouth shut too while she was at it.

As she walked out of the alley muttering “all in a day’s work”, she heard the faint pleas of a small child. Letting her heightened senses guide her, she swung until she found the source coming from an open window in a different apartment complex.

She slid the window open far enough to get inside, putting her hands out in front of her when the child noticed her and was frightened.

“No no no! Just your friendly neighbourhood Spider-Woman, not gonna hurt you! I promise,” she said, getting to the little girl's level. The girl’s eyes softened and she seemed to trust Ellie.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, lip trembling. “My sister…please help.”

“Okay, where is she now?”

The little girl pointed outside of her door, “The kitchen.”

Ellie took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m going to go help her. You stay right here, okay? Don’t move.”

Something inside of her told her that something was wrong. She brushes it off as someone else being in danger.

As she creeps out of the child’s room, she surveys her surroundings. It looked like a regular New York apartment, a little messy, but nothing her and Joel’s place hadn't seen. Everything was fine.

Until it wasn't.

She suddenly had difficulty breathing when you jumped from somewhere above and wrapped your legs around her neck, squeezing. You elbowed her head repeatedly.

She grabbed you by your hips and threw you off of her, gasping for breath. Her naivety still told her that you needed help.

Was it her naivety?

“Calm down, lady! I’m trying to help you!” she said, still gasping. She watched the girl scurry past her and over to you. “I thought I said—”

She stopped talking when she saw you hand the girl a twenty, eyes still trained on Spider-Woman.

Once you knew the child was a safe distance away, you attacked. His voice rang in the back of your head. No casualties. No witnesses.

You lunged at her, hands finding her throat.

“Woah, at least take me on a date first,” she remarked as she easily slid out of your grasp, jumping up to the ceiling and latching on. She webbed your left arm to the wall. You let out a grunt of dissatisfaction as you squeezed your fist, a blade coming out of your cuff and slicing through the web. It was installed in all of the Widows’ suits in case of capture.

“Oh. That's pretty cool, honestly,” she said as she dodged a bullet from your pistol, flipping down from the roof. You charged her again, this time taking out her legs and pinning to the ground. You threw a hook right at her jaw, to which she exclaimed “Ow!”, catching the next one with ease. Your eyes widened as she flipped the two of you over, pinning you underneath her.

“Look, I don't want to—”

Before she could finish, you had sent electric currents through your suit, effectively tazing her.

In her incapacitation, you were able to flip over again and pressure your knee against her neck. While she struggled for air, her legs flailed underneath her. She managed to knee you in the stomach, opening up an opportunity to throw you off her. You both stood up, ready to go at it again, both slightly out of breath.

“Are you gonna say something?” Silence. “Can you even talk?”

She lunged forward in an attempt to pull down the mask that covered half of your face, a piece of fabric resting atop the bridge of your nose. Before she could grab it, you grabbed her wrists, locating her web cartridges. You released another electric current, frying them.

She stepped back, trying to shoot webs, but to no avail. That's when she saw the text on the bicep of your suit: WIDOW-893. “Shit!”

You threw a swift kick into her abdomen while she was caught off guard and knocked her down to her knees. Her eyes widened as you threw punches at her face, too dazed to think of blocking. When she finally grabbed your fist, she could feel the blood from her nose leaking through her mask and could taste metal.

“You’re a Widow? Like Nat?”

You struggled to get your hand out of her grasp. Instead, you pushed all your weight forward and landed on top of her chest, pinning her arms.

You reached forward and slid your fingers under the fabric of her mask. She struggled underneath you, but you had her pinned and she wasn't going anywhere.

You basked in her struggle, slowly sliding the mask off her face.

“I was sent to kill you.”

“So you do talk. Wait—”

“And that's what I’m going to do.”

“Please don't take my mask off. Please. Please don't kill me. Oh god, I have so much to live for, please—!”

You slipped her mask off completely to be met with her perfectly curved and soft lips, her delicate green eyes, and her pretty freckles, her auburn hair messy from having it under the mask. Her brows furrowed and she squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for it to happen. When it didn't, she slowly opened one eye, and then the other. She was met with you admiring her face, gaze raking over her features.

Your eyes were wide and seemed slightly glassy, and she couldn't help but wonder why they looked so distant. Why it looked like you were trapped behind them.

She realized you weren't pinning her down anymore. She loosened an arm slowly from underneath you and brought it up to the fabric around your face, gently beginning to tug the mask down.

Your cold grasp on her wrist stopped her. “Don't.”

“Why not?” She whispered.

You tore your gaze away from her, standing up. You turned your back to her.

Looking back at her once more, you said, “Because it will end badly."

You moved to leave through the window, but a thought stopped you briefly

The truth is, you didn't know what to do. It's like you had just gained free will, like she had broken some spell. You had thought you were operating on your own terms until now.

You'd been sent to take out powerful men, some women, usually old, usually established, usually somewhat corrupt. But when you saw the fear in the eyes of a girl your age, your body shocked you back into free will.

Your back still to the girl, you just shook your head and jumped.

She coughed as she pushed herself up off the ground and shoved the mask back down over her face, wondering if she'd ever see you again. If she'd ever find out who you really are.

“This is WIDOW-893,” you said into your comm-link, talking to an obscure agent you'd probably never meet. “I need an extraction. I’m sending you my location now.”

Static sounded in your ear before a harsh male voice began, “Has the mission been completed?”

You elected to ignore the question.

“Has the target been eliminated?”

More silence as you hunted for a place to lay low for a bit.

“Widow, has the target been eliminated?!” The agent’s frustration was palpable in his voice.

You swallowed. “Negative.”

“What do you mean, negative? This mission was of utmost— Sorry? Yes, sir.” Some keyboard clicks. “She can hear you now.”

“893, why wasn't your mission completed?” Dreykov’s invigorated voice droned through the comm. You searched for an excuse that wouldn't get you terminated. Or worse.

“The target seems to have heightened senses. She was able to get the jump on me before I was in position. My identity was almost discovered so I was forced to retreat.”

Dreykov let out a pained sigh. Slowly, he said, “I’m only going to tell you this once, agent, so listen very carefully. You are disposable. The mission must proceed, regardless of your comfort. We can easily terminate you and move on to the next Widow. Copy?”

“I copy.”

“Now, if this happens again, I will have you terminated. You get a pass this time because you're one of the…finer specimens we have. You will not be sent an extraction. You will complete this mission in terminating Spider-Woman. Do not make contact until then,” he said, and you could almost feel his hands slithering up your back and around your neck. “And don't think you're not being watched.”

With that, the connection was severed.

Ellie threw the soggy McDonald’s bag down on the kitchen table as Joel stood at the sink washing dishes.

“Couldn't get sandwiches from Delmar’s. Poor guy got robbed again,” she said as she began digging in the bag for her fries.

Joel turned around to give her a shocked look. “Someone’s gotta look out for the people in this city. Lord knows the cops ain’t doin' much,” he said, shaking his head.

“Well…Spider-Woman looks out for people,” Ellie said, tearing the waters. Joel never really sided with J. Jonah Jameson from that stupid news station, but he was never really for the “vigilante” either.

He sighed. “Look, Ellie…I know you think Spider-Woman is cool and all, and I think it's good that she looks out for the normal people of New York, but I think it's irresponsible. I mean, I’m sure she's got people in her life that love her and she’s puttin’ her life at risk seven days a week,” he said as he dried the dishes and put them away.

“Yeah but,” Ellie said through a mouthful of fries, “If you had that power, wouldn't you be responsible for using it for good?”

“Yes, I suppose. But with great power comes great responsibility, Ellie. And with responsibility comes an immense need for balance. Remember that,” he said, turning to look at her.

Ellie swallowed the last few fries as she took a moment to digest what Joel had said. She gave him a meaningful smile before he turned back around to put the last few dishes away.

She couldn't help but think about your “power”. Was it given to you, or forced on you? How did you become so skilled? You were her age, or at least not far off. She’d never met someone so close to her age who held such a huge responsibility. But was it really a responsibility if you were being forced into it?

She knew she'd probably never come across you again, so there wasn't really a reason to overthink it. Right now, she just wanted to finish her Physics homework and watch The Empire Strikes Back with Jesse.

Weeks had gone by and every moment plagued your mind with thoughts of Ellie. Or rather, if you had it in yourself to kill her.

Your immense training in Covert Ops was indeed handy for situations like these. You shadowed Ellie almost 24/7. You followed her on her commute to her high school, which you noted to be Midtown. You surveilled her through the cameras you'd planted in all of her classes. You followed her after school to the alley where she'd leave her school stuff and switch to her second life. You climbed from building to building as you followed her web-slinging as closely as possible without being seen. You searched and searched for something to justify it, something to prove she's a bad person and deserves to be terminated. But nothing. Nothing when she helped old ladies carry their groceries inside, or rescue little girls' cats from trees, or stop lecherous men from harassing women on the street. Especially nothing when you spied through her living room window and saw her laughing with her dad every Sunday morning.

Three weeks after your first attempt at termination, you had stumbled across the perfect moment to investigate your target’s bedroom. She was at a field trip to the Museum of Modern Art with her class, and her dad was at work.

Around noon, you whistled as you climbed the stairs to the apartment, smiling softly as you find the right one. You knock for good measure, and when nobody answers you slide two bobby pins out from your hair when to pick the lock. Classic, but it always works.

When you open the door you lock it again from the inside so nothing would seem astray. You feel an uncomfortable, throbbing pain in your chest as you look around at the framed portraits of your target and her dad, lots from when she was young. One of her holding a medal in a soccer jersey. One of them at a planetarium together. One of them with a model dinosaur in the background, a hat atop its head, both of them grinning.

You creep through the hallway, looking for one room in particular. Opening the first door, you enter an office space. You decide it might be useful in gathering intel on her family.

You slide open a drawer of the filing cabinet labelled “records”. There seemed to be two sections, one for her father’s business, and one for their personal records. The latter had significantly less material. You slid out the folders and placed them on the desk, taking a seat in the chair.

The first folder read: ADOPTION RECORDS

You skimmed the papers and deduced that about five years ago, a man named Joel Miller (presumably the target’s father) and a woman named adopted a girl named Ellie Williams, but had fostered her long before that with a woman named Theresa Servopoulos, the word “deceased” in brackets next to her name. Anna Williams, her single mother, died shortly after childbirth and a woman named Marlene took her in. However, Marlene gave her up to a foster home once she hit school age.

Another folder read: MEDICAL RECORDS

Ellie had a long history of optometry visits prior to about two years ago, then they just suddenly stopped. There was nothing else really interesting in her file.

Joel, however, was a different story. Medical records that yellowed and flaked at the edges sat in his file from over 20 years ago. He was admitted for a self inflicted GSW to the head shortly after the death of his daughter, Sarah Miller. He was admitted to a psychiatric ward by request of his brother, Tommy Miller, shortly after.

Another file read: ELLIE’S SCHOOL RECORDS

It was evident that Ellie had excelled in school ever since she had settled in with Joel, specifically in the math and science areas. Her transcripts highlighted a bright 4.0 gpa. She had a bright future.

Now with a name for your target, you decided to search her room to gain some more personal intel. Tucking the files away and closing the drawers, you stalked out of the office and down the hall to what was Ellie’s room (the words “Ellie’s Room!” scrawled on a banner on the door making it painfully easy).

The door creaked slightly when you pushed it open. You were immediately hit with the vague sent of pine and mahogany. Dirty flannels and socks were piled in a corner or sometimes littered around the room. An empty ramen cup sat on her nightstand. Notebooks and textbooks filled with complex calculations sat open on her book. Her blankets were peeled back, revealing astronaut bedsheets. “Cute,” you thought.

The cracked open window let in a nice breeze. The light blue walls were littered in posters, photos, and banners. Next to a lesbian flag above her bed were photos of her and the two friends she was always with. Plastered around her room were covers of comics, something called Savage Starlight. There were silly math reference posters, Star Wars posters, and just about everything you would never expect from a crime fighting vigilante.

Her laptop was left open, and a few clicks and an easy password guess later, the screen unlocked to Ellie’s web browser. Her search history made your brows furrow. You expected to find “How to buy weed NYC” or “porn” at the very least.

Search: Is there more than one Black Widow?

Search: Natasha Romanoff history

Search: The Red Room

Search: Dreykov The Red Room

Search: Dreykov Russia

Search: Black Widow Assassins

Search: Natasha Romanoff Phone Number

She had been researching you. Hell, she hadn't done a very good job by the looks of it. And did she really think The Black Widow’s phone number was public information?

You grabbed a figurine from Ellie’s desk and toyed with it as you took a moment to think. Was it really worth taking the life of an innocent girl just for the sustenance of your organization? Was it even your organization? It's not like you could remember how you got there. It's not like you remembered your family, or your friends, or what it was like to have them… It wasn't so bad if you didn't really have anything to compare it to, right?

A soft pressure around your ankles made you look down. Silky webbing coated your boots.

“Sit down,” her voice came from near the window. You turned as much of your body as you could and watched as Ellie gestured to her desk chair. With no choice but to oblige, you sat. She webbed your arms to the armrests, not taking any chances.

She spun the chair to face her direction and then leaned back against the window.

“What do you want with me?” She inquired, green eyes searing into yours.

“I told you. My mission is to-”

“No. If you were going to kill me, I’d be dead already.” Good point.

You broke eye contact and looked around her room dramatically. “Cute room. I like the flag.”

“Tell me what you want with me,” she said, stalking closer to your chair. “I’m not asking this time.”

“What happened to the ‘friendly neighbourhood Spider-Woman’ I met? Do you rest all your guests like this?” You quipped.

“Yeah? Well, forgive me if I’m not so friendly to the one who tried to kill me, has been stalking me for weeks, and broke into my apartment.”

You roll your eyes.

Her large hand wraps around your jaw, forcing you to look in her eyes.

“Roll your eyes one more time and see what happens,” she growls. “Now tell me.”

You jerk your jaw away and kick her in the stomach, enough time for you to effectively sever the webs around your wrists and ankles.

“Fuck, I forgot about those,” Ellie says under her breath as she webs her bedroom door completely shut and stands in front of the window to block your exit.

“Move,” you demand.

“Nope.”

“Move. Or this won't end well for either of us.”

“Nah, I think I’ll just stay right here ‘till you tell me what you want with me.”

You charged her, attempting to throw her to the side and leap through the window she entered through, but she's stronger. She's like brick as she pushes you back.

“Just let me go. I’ve made up my mind anyways. I’m done with you.”

“No can do. I’m not in the habit of letting pretty girls who try to kill me go so easily,” she said, and you felt your cheeks heating up. She webbed the window shut and sat down in her bed, gesturing to her desk chair again. “Come on. I just want to know what your people want with me. Then you can go, I promise.”

You knew it wouldn't hurt to tell her. You'd have to go on the run from Dreykov anyways. Rip your tracker out and all. So you sat and watched as she reached into a drawer in her nightstand and pulled out a pack of peanut M&Ms.

“Want some?” She asked as she peeled it open. You shook your head and she shrugged. “More for me, then.”

“What do you want to know?” You asked.

“Start from the beginning.”

You cleared your throat. “I was given the mission to find you and-”

“No. I get that part, I’m not stupid. I want to know how this happened to you. And how I can help you out of it."

permanent tags:

@winters-fairy @idkwhattonamethisblogs

ellie taglist:

@chrry1ovr @milly-louise @dankpunks @starhrtz @pedrobaby @urlocalgingersnap @wrendermedone @kissyslut @felsweb @darleneslane

a slash thru your user means i'm unable to tag you!

taglists

[berry-club]

- Hot & cold -

Minors dni

Contains: afab reader x wonbin, unprotected sex, rough sex, creampie, 1.5k words

You've found a job as a barista in a coffee shop inside a prestigious hotel. It was a renowned hotel so of course working here wouldn't be easy but the pay made up for it. On your first day, you were so happy to see that you had a colleague your age, but you quickly realised he was gonna be your nightmare. Everytime you made a mistake he was basically telling you how dumb you were, and how you should just quit if you were just gonna mess up everything. He had the face of an angel, so it was no surprise clients loved him, especially women, and he knew that well. He always used his charm on the clients to make sure they buy more than they should, but despise that, Wonbin was very diligent about his work. Always working seriously, making every cup of coffee with the most care. After a week, you became much better at your job, but you still made some mistakes and you still had a lot to learn. This time, a client ordered an intricate latte art, one that you still struggled with, but you decided to do your best anyway. You prepare everything and before you start pouring the cream, the client speaks to you.

"You're really pretty you know, which time do you get off work?"

"Sorry it's against the hotel policy to keep contacts with customers."

That was obviously a lie but you needed to be the nicest possible to the clients.

"They don't need to know honey."

Obviously the middle aged man wouldn't get a clue. You try to think of something to say while you stare at the cup of coffe that you desperately want to throw at him, when you hear a set of footsteps behind you. Wonbin gently pushes you to the side and smiles at the client.

"Excuse me mister, I heard your order and I must say, my colleague just started working here and can't do that order yet, let me do it for you."

The client agrees and Wonbin starts skillfully making the latte art. Sure you hated how he scolded you, but something about the way he made the coffe, in his white buttoned shirt and black apron was mesmerizing. Even the client was in awe, Wonbin puts the cup in front of the man while tilting his head showing you to get away from his sight while he's distracted. You go in the kitchen to wait for a bit, after some times Wonbin comes back to you.

"He left, now get back to work."

Of course, Wonbin was still the same as usual.

"Yes, thank you."

After some time passes, you ended up being really good at your job, Wonbin had no more reasons to yell at you, but somehow he always had something bad to tell you. Even with that terrible personality, you've often found yourself looking at him, sometimes even making awkward eye contacts. Most of the times when you looked at him, you saw him flirting with the clients in full prince charming mode. This time when he came back to the bar after flirting, you wanted to get back at him for all the hard time he puts you through.

"I wonder what those women would say if they knew you were a jerk." His eyesbrows frowned and he looked visibly pissed.

"If you have time talking it means you don't do your job correctly."

You let out a chuckle seeing him so annoyed by your comment, later the boss came to ask you two stay late to close the shop which you both agreed on. When everyone left you decided to eat in the kitchen before leaving, to your surprise, wonbin said he would cook.

"Are you gonna do a vendetta on me for calling you a jerk and poison my food?"

"Trust me if I wanted to kill you, you would already be dead."

"I don't know if that's a good thing or not."

He smirks as he takes all the ingredients and starts chopping some vegetables. You sit at the counter behind him and watch his back, his long hair was falling gracefully on his shoulders, his apron was hugging his waist, making his shoulders look even larger. The back of his apron was open making you see his perfect ass in his tight pants, it's a sight you couldn't get sick of even if you tried. You could probably watch him cook for hours, every one of his mouvements was perfect and full of convidence. You could definitely see why so many costumers were head over heels for him. While you're lost in thoughts, you hear the clink of his knife being put down and you see him turn around, closing the distance between you and leaning over you until his face is just a few centimeters away from yours.

"I can feel your gaze, why do you stare so much for?"

"N-nothing." Your voice came out way higher then you wanted it to be, but seeing his plump pink lips from so close was making your head spin, thinking about how good they must feel on yours.

"I wanted to keep you for dessert but, oh well."

Wonbin grabs your head, exposing your neck before kissing it.

"What are you doing!?"

"Come on, you've been looking at me everyday like I'm a piece of meat."

Ugh, busted, Wonbin grabs you with ease and puts your ass on the iron counter.

"Eeeek! it's cold."

"Trust me, you won't be cold for too long."

Wonbin puts his tongue in your mouth without  even a warning, things went so fast, your mind goes blank. His actions are so rough you don't have time to anticipate anything, but somehow you liked that. As he told you before, your body was already boiling hot and you already didn't felt the cold of the counter anymore. He rolls his tongue deep in your mouth, not even giving you time to breath. You feel his hands all over you, your breast, your waist, your thigh before you feel him lifting your skirt and sliding his hand in your panty,

"You're already soaked."

"Shut up" you try your best to sound mean, but your voice just sounds pleading.

You put your hands around his neck as he slides a finger in while putting his thumb on your clit. You always wondered if he was skillful in bed just as much as he was in the kitchen, and now you got your answer. The man you despised for yelling at you was making you fold under his touch like it was nothing. Wonbin looks at you as he slides a second finger in, you close your eyes and he starts going back and forth, when you suddenly feel a sharp pain in your neck.

"OUCH! Don't bite me!"

"It's your fault for looking so apetizing."

Maybe you would be more mad at him if he didn't look this good right now. The kitchen lights would make anyone look bad but somehow, he could still pull that off. He keeps moving his fingers in and out, sometimes bending them, making all sorts of sloppy noises while he watches your face blush, as you try so hard to hold back your voice. He looks at you like an hungry beast, the prince charming was long gone, but you liked this wonbin more anyway. He slows down the pace and you take this opportunity to put your hands on his back, untying the knot of his apron before unzipping his pants. He suddenly grabs your shoulders and turns you around, making you lie on your stomack before you could even take a look at his cock. In the blink of an eye you feel the cold air on your ass, realising your skirt was now resting on your ankles. His hands were grabbing your waist firmly, his hard dick was playfully running over your pussy and slapping your ass cheeks, he clearly knew how to make you eager for him.

"Do it already."

"I can't understand what you want if you don't tell me clearly."

You could hear his cocky smile in his voice.

"Put it in."

"Good enough."

His whole dick slides right in with ease like you were made for him. He thrusts inside you quickly making it now impossible to even think about holding back your voice. Your whole body slides back and forth over the counter. He grabs your arms and pulls them making you arch your back as he keeps thrusting deep inside you. Your vision gets blurry and your back pushes against his body, he drops your arms to cup your breast in his hands. He wished he could just rip out your shirt to touch them bare, but you would have trouble explaining to your boss what happened to your uniform. You weren't the type to be loud in bed, and yet wonbin has you screaming his name and beg for him. You grab the side of the counter as he keeps pounding hard making you gasp for air while he doesn't even break a sweat. His body presses harder against your back and you feel his dick throbbing against your clenching walls. You hear his groans until you feel his hot cum releasing in you, he moves his hips slowly but deeply before removing himself from you. You feel his cum seep out from your slit, while he casualy puts his clothes back on before he calmly says.

"I can focus on making dinner now."

[stone-stars]

Transcript:

Zirk: But I know this much, Mom, I-- I'm gonna make it. I'm gonna make it real. I've got a couple leads, I've got more knowledge than I've ever had, I learned a lot while I was away. I think I know how to make the All-Cure Elixir. It's gonna take a lot of work, like you said, and… I don't know if I can do it on my own, but I also don't know if I can trust you to help me. Caldwell: Um, while I'm working on this, I think that the way that this kind of-- the way that this looks visually is I'm… basically crafting like a metal music cylinder. [Murph: Mm!] 'Cause I feel like one of the things that this needs in addition to like, the complex spell work to cure wounds but also hold a body in stasis, kind of using some of Fia's time magic, is some sort of like… beacon. And I think that, as opposed to like the single chime of a bell, it needs almost like-- a song. And as I'm like tinkering with this I turn to Hank and I say-- Zirk: Hank, that song you sang about Ill Luck Henry. That-- that was like a sea shanty, right? Henry: Yeah, yeah that's right. Zirk: Do you know any other sea shanties? I just need something that could maybe… help a soul find its way back. Caldwell: Zirk reaches into his pocket. And he pulls out a golden cylinder with little notches on it. And around that cylinder is wrapped a scroll with the instructions on it for how to replicate the Revivify spell. He presses it into Henry's hands, and then puts Fia's hands on top of that. Henry: Hey. You're the doctor, buddy. What are ya-- What are we gonna do with this? This-- Fia: Mister Zirk-- Zirk: Sometimes-- Fia: Mister Zirk we can handle her. We really can. Zirk: Sometimes you think that you're the ending of the equation, but in reality you're just the messenger. You're just there to get it to the right hands. It's been an honor being a Third Mate. Murph: So, Fia, Zirk gave you the stuff for Revivify. This is a near impossible task, the spell has not been cast in forever, normally this would be a DC 30, the DC for something that's near impossible, but since Zirk took it down 5 levels from level 9 to level 4, we'll take 5 off of it and make it a DC 25 arcana check. Emily: I got a fucking 27 right off the fucking bat. [Everyone laughs in relief.] Emily: Oh I didn't even [rolls] technically a 28. Murph: A 28. Caldwell: Oh, yeah. [Sighs in relief] Okay. Okay. Murph: Um, you see Fia goes over, reads-- reads the um, spell that Zirk has put together. Um, and for the first time since Old Zelbuldar was banished, a Revivify spell is cast. Um, you guys see Zirk on the ground, whose body has frozen… Zirk as you died, you felt like-- as if you had like hypothermia. You felt like, a warmth, and you just went to sleep, and then all of a sudden [gasps] you come back. [Zirk coughs. He continues gasping and coughing as Fia talks.] Emily: You wake up to me crying just being like-- Fia, distraught: It should've been you casting this spell. Why is it me? It should've been you, you did all this fucking work, for what? Me to waltz in and fucking do it? Henry: It works! Hey, it works! Fia: It should have been fucking you! It should have been fucking you! Henry: Hey-- Open you-- Open your eyes, Fia. Fia: What? Henry: It-- you did it Zirk. The All-Cure. [Fia breathes heavily, relieved.] Zirk, weakly: They should call you… Doctor Fia. [Henry and Fia laugh.] Fia: I am not accredited. [Caldwell and Murph laugh.]

[bredforloyalty]

Hii would you like to share your favourite fics?? In any fandoms tbh i just trust your taste a lot 🫣

oh i am an animal i don't think i have good taste i have the taste of someone who's always horny and a teeeeny tiny bit fucked in the head jcsgbhy but i'm honored you asked and i'll share<33 you said you don't care if it's more smut or more plot so i didn't worry too much about that 👍

first off, a warning: most of these are explicit, involve incest, rape, child sexual abuse, and more!!! also most of them are on the shorter side + all are male slash! you'll be able to tell based on the pairing and the concept (i'll describe them a little) so just go by common sense and, idk. beware ahaha i'll go from some pairings to assorted and then the rick and morty ones will be under the read more (i feel like i can't leave them out because some of them genuinely made me insane and changed me as a person or allowed me catharsis like very very few fics before and even though it's repulsive to most others i can't deny that. there are big favorites in there. favorites of all time if i'm being fully honest). let's go..

gcest:

ghost dancer - by the lovely and talented rye @ supersonic1994!!!! noel overdoses on coke. i looove the image of kissing your brother when you think you're about to lose him forever,, does that make sense? love is love is love when one is desperate and if it's deep then it can transcend taboos and boundaries of self and all that shit. you know

things we never see - told through jill furmanovsky, their photographer, noel comes back (after they had almost broken up and he went to san fran without telling anyone). when it comes to them i do love an outsider pov. speaking of outsider pov,

you never notice you are blind - five times alan mcgee thinks he catches something between them and one time he definitely does. it is what it is

i don't really want to know - Nawt consensual, made me a bit sad hehe liam is not sick like him

some that are like, unhealthy jealousy possessiveness dubcon angst and so on: sins like scarlet, fishhook, what am i gonna dream now

samdean:

hungry til well fed - by the wonderful bug @ deanjohn (and mandymovie)!!! iconic cannibalism fic, just so them

brighter wound - wound blood pain codependency babeyyy

take the things you love - hathfrozen is iconic also.. i loved the heaven fic (you'll find it. if you want) but i want to share this because i like how conflicted sam is about their relationship and about the way dean treats him. smutty though

manhattan for beads - what i wrote down is this is the one where they try and it doesn't work and it's heartbreaking. so yeah candle_beck can be trusted w spn, iconic too

serpent round your heart - one of the first ones i read haha ^^

deanjohn:

where the evening splits in half - bug fic also!! all of bug's fics are great do check them out if you're interested in this pairing or dadson at all, seriously.. "Sam says, "I know how you felt about the man." No, he doesn’t. He doesn’t know that Dad was a pig. He has no idea how far down Dean was in the mud with him. How dirty they both were, how much Dad ruined him."

midnight midnight - first time, dean hooks up with men so john can take blackmail pics and he gets jealous and yeah, hooray

and you learn how to settle for what you get - sex again but they're fucked up so it's always fucked up. dean never asked for it

waltjesse:

like i'm underwater - by the amazing @ kuleaxoxo!! yayyy power imbalance!! "Mister White's showing him off, isn't he?"

monaco - jesse gifts walt the watch. dubcon

i'm asking you to - rape roleplay, ignored safeword

others:

countercontrol - terence fletcher/andrew neiman, "Andrew leaves; but he always comes back. He likes to think that it’s of his own accord. But then he thinks of those paintings of staircases with the optical illusion of the stairs going nowhere except winding into each other, going the same place again and again, and ultimately going nowhere."

beach fag - roman roy/jeryd mencken, "Roman wishes he was a kid with an adult boyfriend."

the serpent under it - aaron stampler/martin vail, look i fucking love primal fear this is post-canon they get together etc. important to me

simple pleasures - edward nygma/bruce wayne, this is a big favorite i can't leave it out because when this was um coming out i was fucking obsessed. it's long i don't even read long fics

there's a head in the refrigerator - michael afton/william afton, this one's sort of self-explanatory..... i felt we needed necrophilia representation here

rick and morty:

bitter and begging - FAVE.. after the jealousy and possessiveness in vindicators 3 (the episode with the avengers copies that morty is enamoured with. who rick slaughters when he's off his shit and then covertly confesses how much he loves morty basically). this one really got me i think i cried because it's all so sad but um. full of love

that's my boy - this is the first of a series, i like that it's the start of.. the sexual abuse and they're still uncertain like i enjoy the in-betweens and when lines are crossed

love is a solitary thing - this one i love so much, it's about morty's fantasies and unrequited feelings for rick

safe - gen, morty starts talking with another morty whose rick rescues mortys from abusive ricks. i always really liked how the multiverse is like a prism? you can explore the different facets of their relationship and the possibilities and the extremes through it, you can have your characters meet their worst and their best versions, i just think selves from different dimensions are a great tool. in storytelling. and eliciting emotions. anyway rovingotter is fucking solid here

hands - a favorite.. the atmosphere... "He wonders if he'll still be sitting here in ten years, handing Rick his screwdrivers, feeling that hot instinctive rush of pleasure at knowing what Rick is going to ask from him before he even asks: bred for it."

the shape you made me - morty's stream of consciousness. i usually don't give stuff like this a chance but when i tell you that this affected me. because fuck it did affect me

the damage has been done - um..... internal cardiac massage fic 🥴

repurposed - "Is it ethical to leave the horrors of the universe at a boy's fingertips?"

and last but NOT least there's this series that i haven't read in full, just a little bit broken, that fucking killed me. tbh! i sobbed at some parts legitimately. maybe that's just on me i don't know maybe it isn't. the first 5 are crazy. admittedly alcoholism runs in my family too (lol!) and their relationship is so tragic.... this fic is about when rick quite literally stole the kid's dreams, concocted an entire plan to erode morty's love of heists and make him stop writing his heist movie script (and having any aspirations or plans outside of rick). when i watched that episode these are exactly the emotions i wanted more of.. it's madness......

[hel-phoenyx]

New Year's Eve (?), part 12

An ongoing story with @corneille-but-not-the-author and @soupedepates

Sigh.

In the end, we couldn't plan anything before the end of February. Because Tyr had to finish his thesis. Vacation is over for him.

heh. Since the deadline is in June, his doctorate is soon to be over, so he has less work. I guess working at Kriss' also helps him dial down the perfectionnism.

Yeah, because he still hasn't come back to his flat. Brynja visits him sometimes, brings him the mail. An angel of a woman, that one. It enrages me even more to see what she's enduring.

I can't take the file over because of personal relationship. But I know Amandine is taking care of it, and even though I don't like her much (honestly, there's no colleagues I like.) I trust her to know what Brynja's living.

There's that new one muted recently, also. A complete wet rag, but at least he doesn't stay much in my way. Everyone has started to kinda bully him, I didn't join in because I had other things to take care of, so I guess now he stays more near me.

His name is fucking unprononceable, even if I'm used to those of my family. So many generations living under my roof one has to have a very typical Syrian name.

Anyway. I just got out of a patrol with Sigismund. Fucker is on leave after that. Guess he was needed. He can"t function well anymore, and the fact he doesn't know it is worrying. Walpurgis almost forced him to take those days off. I'm jealous, because last time I got injured badly I had to come back the morning after, but I don't think mister kidnapped with mental health in shambles is the right target to aim for, right now.

He doesn't deny anymore Domhildr is his girlfriend.

I can't say that to Tyr. I promised to stop meddling in. But I feel very angry on his behalf. Ironic, after so much time trying to separate both. But hey. I guess if I didn't succeed in almost ten years, it's not an unresolved crush that will separate those two.

I'll wait and see, and try to uphold my end of the bargain. I promised.

You don't betray promises made to family members.

So we're finally having our seven squad meeting, and I have to keep silent on any news on that bitch.

Oh, yeah, still haven't forgiven the outing. The rumor hasn't died down. It won't ever. But now some of the yonger cops come see me and ask if I can be their... I don't know. Gay mentor ? In the police ?

I can't tell them I joined in because I am in the perfect position to be a mole for my anarchocommunist groups. They still believe in the fascist militia's values. It's enraging.

Sun is low, we are in February after that. Hector and Aarni are talking about something I don't care about, and Thorfinn is next to me looking at me with their unreadable eyes. We're just waiting on Tyr, Gustav and Brynja, that shouldn't take long.

Speaking of the devil, there they are. Tyr is holding Brynja's gloved hand. A new necklace shines on her neck. Right. Valentines' was a few days ago. I suppose they made it official.

Good for them.

"Tyyyyyyr ! Shouts Aarni when they come at ears' range. Finally out of your cave, my man ?"

"Not quite, he smiles, a bit weakly. Gustav and Kriss want to supervise me while I finish my thesis for good. They're also helping me look in teaching positions."

"Right, with a doctorate, you can do a lot of things, smiles Hector. Soon enough I will call you doctor Tyr. Sexy, not gonna lie."

Brynja pouts.

"Hey, com'on, don't steal my boyfriend..."

So they did make it official.

I am the only one seeing Hector's jaw drop a few quarters of inches. He's still smiling, tho.

"Far from me that idea !"

"I think Tyr is big enough to be shared anyway, laughs Gustav. Plus there's still... Well, the four you-know-who's."

He throws me a stern look saying that, and I just shrug. Don't want to hear about that, but I promised. I promised.

That's also the moment Tyr spots me.

His eyes get colder.

"'evening, Fenrir."

"Hello to you too. Glad to see you're doing better."

His eyes squint.

"Not because of you."

....

I probably deserve that, but still.

"Alright, alright, no tension today, interjects Thorfinn the voice of reason. Let's go to the bar and get wasted, I already called that good old Galmar. He told me he doesn't want to see a catfight. Honestly, me neither."

"You place so little trust in me, Tyr sighs. But you're right. Let's go."

He places himself at the other side of the group, Brynja still at his arm, talking softly with him. This the first time I see him in person since New Year, last time we talked it was on Kriss' phone, I didn't expect better.

It still hurts.

I don't try anything that would end in failure. I just listen to the conversations. Everyone in the group somehow avoids me, anyway.

"I got an invite for Qamar's marriage, says Hector to Aarni with a smile. Was surprised, since we only know each other through mom, but it's a good occasion to get out; You got one too, Tyr ?"

Said Tyr shrughs.

"Kriss got one, so I guess I did. Haven't checked my mail in a while, tho."

"You did, actually. Also, Qamar said you could bring a plus one, since you guys are very close...."

"Oh, lucky, groans Hector. I wanted to drag in Aarni."

"Ew weddings."

"Just to annoy her."

"Ew Hector."

I don't listen. Marriage in Muslim traditions is very big and more often than not a lot of people are invited while knowing the bride from afar. Also, the Lulea are rich af, so they can drop money in those kind of festivities. My parents may be in, I don't know. I won't.

"I'll have to find a costume, continues Hector shrugging. You're in for suit shopping, Tyr ?"

"I'll see about that. But I'd better go with someone my size, no offense..."

"Bitch ?!?"

Yeah, yeah, just say to our face you'd rather go with that guy, I get it. I promised, once again, but it doesn't make me happy. Thinking about him helping you dress and choosing the color of your suit is making me want to puke. But hey, I wouldn't be here anyway, so there's absolutely no reason to subject myself to that kind of torture-

"Tyr ?! I haven't see you in two months !!!"

.... Tell me the world is fucking kidding me.

There's two people in front of us. One, small, with braces around they knees. Brown-skinned, with a lot more grey hair than last time I saw them. Happier, too.

The second one...

The second one....

Tyr steps forward with an astonished face.

"Kaizarz ? I.... Didn't expect to see you like this...."

Instantly everyone turns towards me with warning-filled eyes.

I don't move.

I am statufied.

The last time I saw you, you were next to my friend in an hospital bed. Holding what was left of his hand, eyes full of tears, yet I couldn't believe you were there before me.

The first time I saw you it was back in elementary. I was held by a detention, and when I got out I saw Tyr that promised me to wait for me playing football with you in a corner of the school I couldn't go in.

I couldn't believe you were there before me.

All there years I have hated you for always being the first.

Today I am the first one. I had priority. An he stills leaves us to come near him, Brynja on his arm.

He still

He still hasn't noticed me.

"Shit, says Oli with wide eyes, where were you, man ? Do you know the number of calls I left on your phone ?"

"Uh, yeah, I noticed... Sorry. Kriss told me I needed to disconnect. She took care of the news."

"Yeah, thanks for her, she took care of that diligently. Well, uh, I don't think Domhildr took her calls..."

He frowns.

"..... Expected."

That guy extends a hand. He's trying to put it on his shoulder, I'm sure of it.

Get

Get

Get

"Get the fuck away from there, asshole."

Couldn't restrain myself.

The giant asshole finally notices me. His face scrunches up on something that looks like both embarassment and discontent. The others are staring at me, and I see Hector extending a hand to stop me. Stop me from what ? Hitting him ? I won't.

Even if I'm dying to land a fist on his damn cleft lip.

The only one who hasn't moved is Tyr.

He slowly turns around.

His eyes

His eyes are the coldest I ever seen.

His voice is even colder.

"Do me a favor, Fenrir. Be a good boy and mind your own damn business."

He makes a sign of the finger, with his prosthetic hand. The classic one for "turn around".

I can't do anything else than shut up and retract myself.

I am a tall man. Yet, in front of those cold eyes

I feel so tiny.

The conversation carries on. They're talking about Domhildr now. Her new boyfriend. The fact she still hasn't tried to recontact Tyr. That he didn't, either. That they were happy to see him again, and, should we tell her that he's now at his sister's ? No, apparently. If she wants news, she can ask them from Kriss, not sure if she wants to see him, anyway. That she looks happier.

Qamar's wedding. Him asking Tyr if they want to go suit shopping together, Hector grimacing but giving them his blessing, how can he be so calm. Brynja doing her little lighthearted joking about their relationships and the fact she will soon not be the only lady in his heart. Oli asking how many plus ones they're bringing now.

That sort of thing.

Gustav is looking at me in disapproval. The other chime in the conversation. They look happy, together.

When they're all ignoring me.

[pesterloglog]

Jake English, Dirk Strider

Page 633-636

JAKE: Fuck!!!

JAKE: Why did she have to go and build a moon laser!!!

JAKE: Why did she have to go and

JAKE: And SAY all that!!!

DIRK: It's not over.

DIRK: That moon laser doesn't mean shit.

JAKE: ...if theres no one to press the button?

DIRK: Boom.

DIRK: Or, you know.

DIRK: No boom.

JAKE: Her guard is down...

DIRK: And you have a gun.

JAKE: I have TWO guns.

DIRK: Let's be real, this wouldn't even be the first time you've thought of it.

JAKE: Its... an option.

DIRK: Or.

DIRK: You help her win the battle.

DIRK: Avoid baptizing the Earth with laser-fire.

DIRK: And she uses The Point, and the world doesn't end.

DIRK: Probably.

DIRK: Who the fuck knows.

JAKE: What should i do?

DIRK: I'm not gonna tell you.

JAKE: I already know youll want me to do whats heroic.

JAKE: But you wouldnt want me to kill jane either.

JAKE: Would you?

DIRK: Stop staring at me like I'm gonna tongue-kiss the answer into you, dude.

DIRK: You know what you need to do.

JAKE: But jane was right about me!

JAKE: I cant be trusted.

JAKE: I dont even like 99% of people.

DIRK: Then do it for one person.

DIRK: Aren't you tired of spreading yourself thin trying to believe in everything?

DIRK: Because it's looking pretty fuckin' likely that the future where Tavvy is happy and the future where Jane is alive don't coincide.

DIRK: You have to kill one for the other to survive.

JAKE: It sounds like youre gunning for her.

DIRK: It sounds like *you're* gunning for her.

DIRK: Say what you will about Dirk, but he always wanted you to be your best self.

DIRK: He pushed you hoping if he did it hard enough, you'd push back.

DIRK: That's a far cry from whatever neutered domestic purgatory Jane's offering you.

DIRK: Wasn't it nice to be believed in, man?

JAKE: Ugh.

JAKE: Can i make an honest query?

JAKE: Did i really kill him?

DIRK: Hm.

JAKE: I did, didnt i?

DIRK: Common sense says no.

JAKE: Cant you swing that one by your esoteric telepathic dirk connection?

DIRK: That's a tricky fuckin' wicket, man.

JAKE: Its "sticky wicket".

DIRK: It's nothing, because that's a stupid fucking phrase cooked up by fake people about a fake sport from a dead planet.

DIRK: Anyway, it's tricky because there's not really all that much of anything left of the big man.

DIRK: Not here, anyway.

JAKE: Oh, baloney!

JAKE: Thats not how this works. Youre the supernatural tsaheylu of our combined "steezes".

JAKE: This isnt my first ride in the rodeo, mister, I KNOW THE RHYTHM OF THIS BUCKING BRONCO.

JAKE: HES STILL HERE, DAMMIT!

DIRK: I'm sorry.

DIRK: He's gone, dude.

JAKE: OH FUCK OFF.

JAKE: YOU CHARLATAN.

DIRK: Yeah.

JAKE: HORSES ASS.

DIRK: Get it all out, man.

JAKE: YOU MALEVOLENT MASCULINE MALFEASANT.

DIRK: I know a crisp glass of personal culpability isn't what you ordered, but hey.

DIRK: It's better than relapsing.

JAKE: Im drunk right now.

DIRK: And that sucks, buddy.

DIRK: But I'm talking about the big show of "everything's fine now" kitchen table red undie dirty dancing you did.

JAKE: Oh, i forgot about that.

DIRK: You fuckin' wish you did.

DIRK: It'd be the only reasonable excuse you'd have for nipping this uncomfortable epiphany in the bud so you could slink back to following orders from Dirk.

JAKE: ...

JAKE: Gods hooks, i backflipped right into my old ways!

DIRK: Don't beat yourself up about it. It's a running theme with literally everybody we know.

DIRK: You all get caught up in these feeling jams, hugging it out in self-realizational bliss.

DIRK: Then, bam.

DIRK: Premature ejaculation.

DIRK: That passionate growth grind ends before it builds to anything actually satisfying.

JAKE: :(

JAKE: Are you saying i need to be red undies jake again?

DIRK: Absolutely the fuck not.

DIRK: Hands off the belt, buddy. You've graduated.

DIRK: You're fully dressed Jake now.

DIRK: Sitting on the sticky floor of a custodial closet, hidden away from anything certain and good in this world.

DIRK: Alone.

JAKE: This is scary! I dont like this.

DIRK: Fuck yeah it is. This is sweaty, achey, burning transformation, brother.

JAKE: I want to go back! I want to be the other guy again.

DIRK: You can't be the other guy anymore, Jake.

DIRK: We're sending him upstate to live on a beautiful farm, where they're gonna immediately drag him out back and put him out of his fucking misery.

DIRK: Remember when you told Egbert you wanted someone to hold you accountable?

JAKE: No.

DIRK: Well.

JAKE: Nooooooo.

DIRK: "Here's Johnny!"

JAKE: AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!

JAKE: Oh...

JAKE: *sniff*

JAKE: Oh, dirk...

JAKE: Cripes, if there really is no magical component to all of this,

JAKE: if youre really gone,

JAKE: then i am simply a forty year old man... being led by the nose... by an imaginary friend.

JAKE: That is not cute.

DIRK: It's kind of cute.

JAKE: No!

JAKE: Its mental illness!

DIRK: It can be both.

DIRK: Look.

DIRK: What you need to do is stop sobbing into your own fucking arms and make a decision.

DIRK: Spying for the rebellion, running away... these were steps in the right direction, but they also had, y'know.

JAKE: Plausible deniability.

DIRK: They were deflections.

DIRK: And at the end of the day, that's what choosing Jane would be, too.

JAKE: Its odd, but...

JAKE: Shucks, i dont want to cut her down right before she makes this big turnaround.

JAKE: If shed decided to keep her promise...

JAKE: thatd be bitter fucking berries to live with.

DIRK: But?

JAKE: But she probably wont change, will she?

DIRK: Why in the fuck would she?

DIRK: She'll have won.

JAKE: But... i dont think she was meant to be this way. Do you?

DIRK: Like, was she born to be a wildly racist dictatorial cake boss?

JAKE: Ok, when you put it that way it sounds a bit bonkers.

JAKE: What i mean is...

JAKE: Take me, for example.

JAKE: I know its not my fault janey got a bit rough and tumble with our relationship. That fundamentally, i didnt deserve it.

JAKE: But that doesnt exactly make me a mensch by default, does it?

JAKE: In fact i worry there might be more of me thats, well... inherently bad than not.

JAKE: And thats why everything tends to get so furiously fucked all the time!

JAKE: Everyone is waiting around for this better version of me to pop up, but thats never going to happen.

JAKE: Because if it did, it wouldn't be me anymore.

DIRK: So, are you trapped being Mr. Pissy Pantyloos Loser Man no matter what?

JAKE: Sort of.

JAKE: What do you think?

DIRK: I don't know.

DIRK: Maybe?

JAKE: Oh...

DIRK: Who even gives a fuck?

DIRK: This is some big philosophical philandering you're trying out, and we didn't even finish elementary school.

DIRK: The best we've got to work with is whatever you gleaned from "My Dinner with Andre" and "Blade Runner."

DIRK: And you fell asleep during "Andre."

JAKE: Point taken.

DIRK: Here's what we do know: when you face our friends tomorrow, they're gonna be none-the-wiser about the insane masturbatory matrix bullet time battles you've been having with yourself in your own head.

DIRK: What will be real to them is what you DID.

DIRK: That's it.

DIRK: Show them you're trying.

DIRK: Or don't, and get left behind.

JAKE: Good god...

JAKE: This is the worst pep talk... ever.

DIRK: It's you, dude, what did you expect?

JAKE: True.

DIRK: Do you want to be left behind?

JAKE: No!

JAKE: I want to see tavvy grow up!

JAKE: I want to choose him!

JAKE: But i want to believe in jane too...

DIRK: Sigh.

JAKE: Listen.

JAKE: I never really understood all that much of the "doomed timeline" hoopla you cerebral types tend to gab on about.

JAKE: But... its nice to think that there might be countless janes somewhere out there who never stopped being happy.

JAKE: Baking, getting up to all manner of lighthearted mischiefs... true blue all around.

JAKE: When i think of her, thats whats real to me.

JAKE: What she is now, what these rotten unenviable circumstances have made of her, its all just...

DIRK: Happenstance.

JAKE: Is that stupid?

DIRK: Probably, but you're a god of Hope.

DIRK: You're a poster-child for making stupid shit feasible.

DIRK: And no one has the power to say what's true for every Jane.

DIRK: I'm sure if you asked a couple of them how they feel about labor camps and domestic violences, they'd hit you with a "Woah there, buster jones."

JAKE: "Thats not for me!"

DIRK: "No siree!"

JAKE: Hehehe.

JAKE: Exactly.

JAKE: If i can believe in those janes,

JAKE: i think i can let this one go.

DIRK: Extravagant hoops to stumble through just to keep believing, man.

DIRK: It's sneaky. I like it.

JAKE: Its decided then?

DIRK: Seems so.

DIRK: You can finally leave the closet.

JAKE: Har, har.

JAKE: Goofs aside, old buddy...

JAKE: I get the strange sense i wont be speaking with you again.

DIRK: You won't. Why would you?

DIRK: You're normal now.

JAKE: But-

DIRK: You don't need him.

JAKE: It feels good to pretend, though.

JAKE: To hold on a little while longer.

DIRK: Don't.

JAKE: Fine! Fine...

JAKE: Hope is the crummiest aspect of the lot, huh.

JAKE: I swear the only time its worth a lick more than delusions and hot air

JAKE: is if it really fucking hurts.

DIRK: Welcome to being a person, Jake English.

[srovtl]

Obbligato of Soot-Coated Bravery Chapter 2

Arthur: Indeed... you're right.

Arthur: As I said before, with the southern wizards at its center, the Wizards’ House has taken its first step toward the future.

Arthur: Unlike the magic manor, there is no barrier, so people can visit this place freely.

Arthur: That's why I want more people to know about it.

Arthur: And in the near future, I want them to think thus.

Arthur: "If you have a problem, first visit the wizards’ house."

Akira: You mean a problem that has nothing to do with the Great Calamity?

Arthur: Yes, exactly.

Rutile: People do come to the magic manor with requests for help, but only the calamity related ones.

Shylock: For humans, it's a bit of a tall order to consult a wizard about their problems.

Shylock: After all, being able to discern whether a wizard is sincere or trying to cause problems isn't exactly an easy task.

Arthur: That's why I want the sage's wizards, whose identity is guaranteed, to use this place as a starting point to help people.

Arthur: I believe that lending them our strength and building trust in wizards one step at a time will lead to a brighter future.

Heathcliff: If so, first of all, we need to find a way to get as many people as possible to know about the Wizards’ House.

Heathcliff: Something that will reach the eyes and ears of people in trouble…

Lennox: How about making the sign even bigger?

Rutile: Maybe decorate it so it stands out.

Chloe: Then why not dress the sign in a dress or suit?

Shylock: What a great idea. Maybe we could cast a spell on it and make it whisper, "Please come in, we welcome you."

Akira: T-That's quite...

Shino: Stop it, people are gonna call it a freak house.

As everyone was brainstorming, a cheerful voice rang out from the entrance.

???: Hello! Is anyone here?

A lively and elegant boy popped his head out of the open door.

He seemed about the same age as Arthur and Shino.

Rutile and Lennox's expressions brightened when they saw him, it seems like it's someone they know.

Rutile: Hello, Luchino.

Lennox: Welcome.

Luchino: Sorry for coming without prior notice. I wanted to hear everyone's stories, so I came again!

Luchino: There are so many people here today that I'm meeting for the first time!

When the boy saw us, his eyes lit up with joy. It wasn't just curiosity, it was genuine goodwill and respect. He straightened out the collar of his jacket and gave a beautiful bow.

Luchino: Nice to meet you. My name is Luchino Addison. I'm a reporter at the Felzer Newspaper Company.

Chloe: A reporter?

Lennox: Yes. Luchino is interested in wizards, and often comes here to talk to us.

Rutile: He said he hopes to write an article about us someday.

Luchino: Yes! I'm still a budding reporter, and I'm still a rookie who doesn't get many articles published…

Luchino: You are all the saviors of the world. My dream is to report your accomplishments to as many people as possible in a grand yet accurate way!

His eyes are full of enthusiasm and hope.

I can sense from him pride in his work and the straightforwardness of youth.

I was delighted that such a person said he wanted to write an article about everyone.

Akira: Nice to meet you, Mister Luchino. I am...

Luchino: You are the Sage Master Akira! I wanted to meet you...!

Luchino: You came from another world, for the sake of this one, welcome to our world.

Luchino: Please call me Luchino.

Akira: Thank you, Luchino. So you know me.

Luchino: Of course! I saw everyone's faces at the parade.

Luchino: I'm still a budding journalist, after all. I've been working hard on my research beforehand.

Luchino: You're Mister Chloe, the tailor. The costumes for the parade were amazing!

Luchino: I'm incredibly curious about the inspirations! I'd love to interview you sometime.

Chloe: What, an interview?! Wow, it's like a celebrity, I'm so nervous.

Chloe: Hehe. If you're okay with me, I'd be happy to do it! Nice to meet you, Luchino.

Luchino: Yes! And you're Mister Shylock, the bartender from the Western Country.

Luchino: They say all the wizards in the West are crazy about you.

Shylock: Hehe. Please come visit the bar someday and see for yourself if it's true.

As they shook hands, Luchino joyfully told him the names and characteristics of the wizards one by one.

When he finally saw the hand that was held out to him, his eyes widened in shock.

Luchino: Oh, you're... Prince Arthur!?

Arthur wrapped his hands around Luchino's frozen hands.

Arthur: Yes. I'm Arthur Granville. Nice to meet you, Luchino.

Luchino: Oooh, Prince Arthur held my hand...! I'll never wash these hands!!

Arthur: Haha, please wash it. It would be terrible if you become ill.

Luchino: (So kind...!)

Akira: (Haha. His expression is changing all the time. Luchino is such an honest person.)

Rutile: Oh yeah. Why don't we ask Luchino for advice on advertising the Wizards’ House?

Lennox: That's a great idea. I'm sure Luchino knows more about how to spread the word than we do.

Shino: Well if that's the case, this guy writing an article about us would be quicker.

Luchino: Am I allowed to interview you?

Shino: Yeah. Today's your lucky day.

Shino: Write about our exploits in this newspaper thing, and spread it around the world.

Luchino: Eh?!

Heathcliff: Shino, you're skipping too much, explain to him a little more.

Luchino was wide-eyed in surprise, so we started to tell him how we created the Wizards’ House.

We want to listen to the troubles humans have and solve them, but right now we don't have a foothold.

Luchino: So that was what you meant, Of course, I'd be happy to help if I can!

Luchino: I'm still new, so there's no guarantee that my article will be published... but! If it's an article about you all, I'll talk to my boss about it!

Luchino: After all, you sage's wizards are the center of attention in the central country.

Luchino: Dealing with the resurrected dead, purifying the black feathers that have covered the country, helping with the recovery from the Calamity...

Luchino: Not only are you doing great things in the central country, but recently rumors have been circulating among insiders that you fought a giant creature in the west.

Luchino: I never thought I'd get to interview you, people who will one day attract the attention of the whole world...!

Luchino: Even if I risk my life as a reporter, I'll give it my all!!

Luchino nods vigorously, his eyes burning.

Rutile: Oh my. Thank you, Luchino. That's very reassuring.

Chloe: I can't believe there will be an article about us. I wonder what it'll be like!

Shino: Shylock. You're quite well-known. Once the article is finished, put it in Bennet's bar too.

Shylock: Hehe. We can discuss that after the article is finished.

Shylock: Now to the important part, how would one advertise the Wizards’ House?

Akira: That's certainly something we need to discuss. Hmm, what would be good?

Arthur: First of all, I'd be grateful if you could spread the word that there's now a place where people can casually ask for advice on any magic-related problems.

Luchino: Advice on your problems... Ah!

As if he had suddenly thought of something, he took out a leather-covered notebook from his jacket pocket. He flipped through his notes with his fingers…

Luchino: Everyone, let me make a suggestion.

Luchino: Actually, my boss has instructed me to investigate a strange phenomenon at a certain coal mine.

Lennox: At a mine...?

Luchino: Yes. Apparently, miners there have been collapsing one after another, with no known cause...

Luchino: I'd like you all to accompany me on the investigation, and I'll write an article about how we solve the problem. What do you think?

A few days later. As per Luchino's suggestion, we gathered at the Wizards’ House to head to the mine where the strange incident had occurred.

Akira: I'm glad you made it here in time, Arthur. I heard you had a lot of official business and it was hard to coordinate.

Arthur: Thank you for your concern. But it's an important interview that will affect the future of the Wizards’ House.

Bradley: I don't care if it's important or not, but it's a real pain in the ass to be dragged along because of it.

Luchino: (Wow, this is Bradley, Leader of the Death Bandits...!!)

Luchino: (To be able to see a northern wizard so close… He's so handsome. But he looks really scary...)

Arthur: Sorry, Bradley. But it's reassuring to have you accompanying us.

Bradley: In any case, central prince, You get it, right?

Bradley: When this is over, you tell those geezers to give me a generous pardon, got it?

Arthur: Sure. I'll ask the two of them from my side too.

Luchino: (S-so this is a northern wizard. To talk to Prince Arthur so casually...)

Bradley: Bo!

Luchino: Eek!!

Bradley: Haha, what a hilarious face. That's what you get for staring at someone like that.

Bradley: Kid, I heard you're a journalist.

Luchino: Y-Yes!

Bradley: If I catch you writing about my exploits poorly, you better be ready for consequences.

Luchino: Y-yes...! Of course...!

Shylock: Bradley. Luchino is trembling like a kitten.

Heathcliff: D-don't scare him too much.

Chloe: There's no need to be scared, Luchino. Bradley is a little wild, but he's kind, cool, and reliable…

Rutile: Fried chicken is his favorite food, and his habit when he gets drunk is—.

Bradley: Hey, quit telling him useless stuff.

Shino: Sage. Was it a good idea to bring this guy here?

Akira: Of course. Bradley is reliable, and it was Snow and White's advice.

Akira: This is our first attempt to be involved with wizards’ house, so it would be better to have wizards from all five countries, is what they said.

Lennox: I think that's a good idea too. If something were to happen, having a northern wizard's strength or not makes a difference.

Arthur: Also, I want Luchino to convey the greatness of each wizard, without being biased towards any particular country.

Luchino: Yes, I'll do my best!

Previous Chapter - Directory - Next Chapter

[kaixserzz]

The idea of reader and dottore flirting but also bickering Infront of the fatui is just so humorous and interesting to me, I saw some ppl on fatuismooches's blog (I love their content go check them out ❤❤) and it just kinda rubbed my brain in the right way

Dottore doesn't know what to do with us, we're a wonder he's still figuring out, even after all these years! He's undoubtedly loyal to you and adores you whole heartedly <3

But that's not to say he'll bend over all the time for you,, you can be quite the handful at times.

The doctor will bring you to various meetings, most being for important affairs regarding the fatui, but he trusts you enough as his assistant and partner to not break his trust. This allows you to have access to much more of a perspective on situations dottore may be dealing with.

And with that being said, you would give him your personal opinion after things are finished being said and done. Dottore takes your thoughts in consideration, but that doesn't mean he entirely agrees with you. This leads to silly arguments insuing in his office, you not agreeing with something, and he acting out in a stubborn fashion. The fatuus that guard the area within the laboratories can hear you two talk, trying to ignore any possible information that may lead to issues for them, but also trying to understand what makes you feel as though you have an opinion on the matters of anything!

Hearing you talk to the doctor, the 2nd fatui harbinger, the madman known for the horrors created within the confines of the lab, being talked down to as if the two of you were equals.. 😓

I wonder how workers like mister krupp (manhwa readers 🤭) viewed you.

YESSS THIS i love for dottore and reader arguing!!

you're the only person who can argue with him equally because he values your opinions and perspective!! you're not like the assistants he had where they would just agree with everything he says because they're too scared to voice out their opinions. even then, their opinions are always "that's too inhumane" or something like that. you are bold, and absolutely holds no fear towards him. that just excites him! he loves riling you up, seeing your brows furrow or you roll your eyes at him.

arguments don't usually get too heated. its comparable to those arguements you and your classmates have trying to solve a problem a teacher presented to you. there could be snark remarks, shouting or very sarcastic gestures, but it's all light! you've been like this since the akademiya, arguing who's more right or wrong, teasing each other. ya'll argue like an old married couple and dottore would never have it any other way 🫶🫶

when your views clashes against his, ofc he's gonna wanna hear why you think of that while also defending himself!! its like always a debate whenever you argue!! always happens with experiments and scheming!!

thats why he made the segments anyway! perspective! yours just matters the most of course :3

i think most of the fatuis regard you with great respect. mostly because if they upset you, they will very much upset dottore as well. if you were nicer, then they would absolutely love to work for you. body guard? heaven sent job. but if you are just as mean and horrible as dottore? they'd wish they never got into the fatui :3

[lorellaishc]

First Haggling

(( DWC February 2024 Day 3, Bargain/Myth, CW: None, @daily-writing-challenge ))

Clinking sounds filled the air as a goblin laid out various flasks and phials on the counter where Lorellai could see them. Behind her, Ghorren leaned against the door frame, acting every part the bored bodyguard-slash-father figure. "I'm telling you kid, you came to the right place. Your problems will disappear in a puff of applied alchemy, or my name's not Bindle Glintgold, accomplished alchemist!"

"I thought it was Bindle Glintgold, excellent entrepreneur?" Ghorren scoffed.

"That's enough out of you, or you might find your special weapon oils delayed by my emotional distress." Bindle shot back, turning back to Lorellai. "Now then, what seems to be the problem, young miss?"

"Well, it's not me, but my Hornswog. He got out of the pen and was rolling around in something just outside the city, and now he's got a nasty rash on his underside. The hornswog experts said I would need a mixture of decay-roused saxifrage and unaltered bubble poppy to salve it?"

"Ahhh, not a common mixture, but one I know well! I should be able to have a nice big jar ready for you by sundown, so all we need to discuss now is how you'll be paying for this wonder cure?" the goblin answered, all smiles.

"Well, I've got plenty of gold, how much will it be?"

"Ah! Great to hear. Let's see, we've got the raw supplies, there's a bit of a price adjustment on the decay-infused herbs these days, market forces, what are you gonna do, two hours labor, overhead fees.." Bindle began to list, before looking past the earnest eyes of the dwarven girl to see the glare of the troll behind her, idly cracking his knuckles. "-and of course, a discount for a bonafide hero making her first visit to my shop, hopefully the first of many eh?" the goblin quickly corrected.

"Oh! Well that's very kind of you mister Glintgold!"

"I am nothing if not kind, and I do love to provide first time customers with a true bargain so they remember me kindly when next they have need. Just come back this evening with thirty gold, and I'll have your salve ready," Bindle declared, ears drooping a bit as he looked at the troll again, who nodded quietly.

"If you're done here, girl, we still need to get those bags of gryphon feed for Jeb," Ghorren declared, pulling aside the curtain that seperated Bindle's little space from the greater chamber the alchemists were working out of.

"Coming! Thanks again mister Glintgold, see you tonight!"

They waited until they were out of earshot before speaking again. "You know he wanted desperately to wring out every last gold piece from your wallet."

"I'm an optimist, but I'm not a fool. When you and Hlin recommended him she mentioned that he was always looking for a big score. Why do you think I asked you to come along? I know I can trust you to have my back, big fella! Now I'll be able to deal with him more truthfully in the future."

"You aren't half as dumb as you look, short stuff," Ghorren teased, chuckling as she aimed a punch at his shin.

[annaphoenix1994]

Horseshoe Overlook - Money Lending and Other Sins l, ll, & lll

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

"You alive?" Arthur heard Lenny say with a faint echo. His eyes fluttered open as he hadn't yet taken in the surroundings around him. "Arthur..."

Arthur groaned, "Shut up. I wanna die," He sat up, rubbing his throbbing head and looking at his boots, taking note of the caked-on mud. His eyes darted around, realizing that his nightmare had come true - waking up in a jail cell. He sighed, "What did we do?" He asked Lenny.

"I don't know!" Lenny said from the other cell.

"Where's she?" He hesitated to ask.

"I-I don't know!"

Arthur sighed as he massaged his temples with his hand, "Shit!" He cursed.

"You pair of degenerates," The jailer said, followed by a familiar feminine face. "Is this him?" He asked her.

"Sure is!" Minnie replied, getting Arthur's attention. "Just where I assumed to find you! When I heard you were runnin' around with some woman last night!" She lied. "And to think you were a dear husband!"

Arthur's heart fluttered as he looked at her, noticing that she had changed clothes, now wearing a navy-blue skirt and cream blouse, accompanied by a hat. He briefly scanned her up and down, his jaw almost dropped at hearing her addressing him as her husband, knowing she was doing this to get him and Lenny out of jail.

"I-I'm sorry, darlin'!" Arthur pleaded, playing along.

"Sure ya are! I'll go ahead and take him home, Mister," Minnie said as she turned to look at the jailer. She nodded her head towards Lenny, "Him, too. He's his buddy he runs around with." The jailer nodded as he took the keys from his pocket after she had handed him twenty dollars.

"Ya sure you don't wanna stay here? Because by the time I'm done with ya, sleepin' in the doghouse won't be an option!" Minnie continued to playfully scold him.

"I-I-"

"That's what I thought. Now come on, you got some work to do - the pair of you!" She continued, pointing her finger at them as they made their way out of the cells, looking like a pair of dogs with their tails tucked between their legs. "Thank you, sir." She smiled.

"No, thank you," He replied, eyeing her one last time as she made her way out of the jail.

"You two regrettin' it now?" She asked, sweeping away her act.

"I do now," Arthur sighed, checking on Lenny as he had regurgitated. "Where did you go last night?" He asked.

"Well, after you two got arrested, I made my way to the hotel and slept in a nice bed after takin' a nice hot bath," She smiled as she crossed her arms. "Don't worry, those lawmen weren't goin' to do shit. They take in drunken bastards and hold 'em overnight to sleep off their sins." She explained.

Arthur scoffed, "So you just left us?"

"Yeah, what else was I supposed to do? Shoot up the whole town? I don't think so. I got ya out, didn't I?"

"I guess you're right."

"I'm always right, Mister Morgan," She smirked. "You two need a bath and a change of clothes before we go back to camp. I'm surprised Dutch hasn't come lookin' for us!"

"He'll send someone for sure." Lenny sighed.

"Well, I suggest we hurry up and get back before that happens. He already doesn't trust me, so I'm sure he'll put the blame on me when we get back."

"Nah, I won't let him." Arthur said.

Lenny waved his hand as he leaned up against the hitching post, "I'm gonna make my way back to camp and sleep this off..." He groaned.

"You don't wanna go to the hotel and wash up?" Minnie asked.

"Nah, I'll be fine." He replied, shaking his head.

"Okay, then," Minnie said before turning her attention to Arthur, "Shall we?" She asked.

"Sure, I could use a bath." He chuckled.

"I'm glad you said somethin' before I did!" She teased, playfully slapping his arm. "I'll wait for you while you take care of things, then we can go back to camp?"

"You're awful eager to get back to camp," Arthur smirked. "Need I remind you that you have to be tied back up to that tree?"

Minnie sighed, "I'm well aware, Mister Morgan. I guess I'm just a prisoner to you, ain't I?"

"Not to me, but to Dutch, you are... That is until you earn his trust, which is very hard to do..." He sighed.

"I'm sure you won't believe it, but I'm very trustworthy," She stated. "I think he's got trust issues because he knows how my past was - workin' for the Pinkertons and what not."

"I know. Just understand that we can't afford to be losin' no more folk, nor do we need to be movin' around again. I kinda like where we're stayin' now,"

"I do too. Haven't seen much of it, but by what I've seen bein' tied up to that tree, it's beautiful." She chuckled.

───※ ·❆· ※───

"Nice to see you two returning back!" Hosea greeted as the pair slowed their horses at the hitching post. "I was afraid Miss Barlow had robbed ya and run off!" He teased.

"Not yet." Arthur poked, looking over at her as she shook her head.

"I don't plan on it," She replied, loosening the cinch on Trace's saddle. "Is there anything I can do?" She asked, referring to chores.

Arthur shook his head, "Nah, I have to do what I need to do..." He sighed, tilting his head towards the tree she had once been tied to.

"Okay..." She sighed, doing as she was told and walking in front of Arthur as Hosea had paired up with him.

"I'm lettin' her go after I talk to Dutch." Hosea whispered.

"'Bout time," Arthur sighed. "I'll catch up with you after I finish here - tell you about last night." He grumbled.

"Okay, Arthur. I'll be at Dutch's tent." Hosea replied as he parted ways.

"Your wrists still hurtin'?" Arthur asked her in a low tone as they approached the tree.

"No more than they have already." She sighed, slowly sitting down, pressing her back to the tree and putting her arms behind her, opening her wrists to him.

"Good. I reckon Hosea is gonna talk to Dutch about lettin' you loose after tonight." Arthur explained, pulling out a rope to bind her wrists together. This time, rather loosely, cautious of her raw skin.

"Like... Loose from the camp? Or just keepin' me untethered?" She asked.

"Probably disposing of ya..." Arthur said, chuckling as her head turned quickly towards him, her eyes widened. "I'm just kiddin'... Yeah, lettin' you go so you don't have to be tied to this damn tree!"

He watched her chest rise and fall in relief, "Thank God, even though I was wishin' to be killed not too long ago."

"I know, but you'll be okay." He assured her as he finished his task before meeting Hosea at Dutch's tent, walking in on the two men talking on the brink of an argument.

"Tell me why it's a good idea to let a killer like that loose in my camp?" Dutch questioned.

"She ain't gonna hurt nobody, Dutch." Hosea argued.

"How do you know that? Huh? I remember you readin' us the papers on her. She has a history of leadin' people on, makin' 'em think different about her before she makes her move. I ain't puttin' up with it. She will sit right there at that tree until she gives me her whole life story for all I care. If not, we'll turn her in!" Dutch demanded.

"If she's really that dangerous, why did she save my life?" Arthur intervened.

"Excuse me?"

"Back on that train in the mountains, she saved my life and disappeared. I know it was her because I helped her out when we got the train to stop. Some man jumped her and I shot him," Arthur explained. "And, if it wasn't for her, me and Lenny still would've been in jail!"

"Jail? When?" Dutch and Hosea both said in sync.

Arthur hid a smirk, "Last night. We got a little too drunk and got caught. Woke up like a pair of jailbirds. Minnie came in and got us out with no bounty. She may be what you've read in the books, but that's not who she is when she's here."

"He's right, Dutch," Hosea said. "The first thing the girl asked me when they got back this morning was what she could do to help around camp. I don't think I've ever heard that from any woman here. Besides, she's far more than just another mouth to feed. I don't doubt that she will work, rob, hunt, whatever, but you gotta give her the chance." He coaxed.

"You gave that O'Driscoll the chance..." Arthur muttered.

Dutch sighed, "Fine, but one wrong move from her, and she's either dead or turned in. I'll give her a few days to start puttin' some work in."

"Where will she be staying so I can have Miss Grimshaw start making room?"

Dutch's eyes wandered his surroundings before replying, "Put her close to Arthur. Seems like he doesn't mind to keep an eye on her."

Hosea looked at Arthur, chuckling at how he had been blushing, "I think that's a great idea."

'Dammit, Hosea!' Arthur muttered to himself. It was true that he didn't mind at all, but he hated when Hosea would try to play matchmaker, knowing that quite possibly, this game would turn out well.

"Good. I'll go tell her and give her the rules while you tell Miss Grimshaw about her stay," Dutch said as he walked out of his tent, his spurs jingling as he walked towards Minnie.

"Miss Barlow, good to see you," Dutch said to her as he pulled up a chair. "I have made my decision."

"And what might that be?"

"Well, with some coaxing from your dear friends over there, I have decided to let you prove yourself to me in this camp. Everyone knows about how dangerous you are, or were, but you are not here to be another mouth to feed, understand? Everyone does their share. You can start by doing chores around the camp with the women-"

"What if I want to go out and hunt or rob a coach?" She questioned as doing dishes and washing other men's clothes was not her favorite past time.

"Then do so, but no ruckus around camp and make sure you're not followed. If you know you're leaving camp, have someone go with you. You will be staying close to Arthur's tent since he likes to be the babysitter."

"Okay."

"But I'm warnin' you: mess with my gang, you will wish you died at the hands of an O'Driscoll." Dutch warned.

'I just love it when men try to be dominant with me, thinkin' that it works!' She thought to herself. "I understand."

"Good. Once Miss Grimshaw gets everything ready, Arthur will be back to cut you free."

"Okay, thank you, Mr. Van der Linde." She nodded.

"Call me Dutch." He replied as he was now walking away.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Minnie watched as Miss Grimshaw pulled Arthur aside briefly as he was on his way to her. She couldn't hear what was being said, but by how she read Miss Grimshaw's lips, it looked like she had informed him that her cot was ready. "Alright, ready for your first job?" He asked her as he crouched down, unsheathing his knife as he quickly cut the ropes from her wrists.

"Sure, why not?" She replied, looking up at him before he pulled her up by her hand, which in her mind, was the sweetest gesture a man could do. "Where we goin'?"

"Business. I don't much like doin' it, so I'll have you help me. You might have to get your hands dirty." He chuckled.

She scoffed, "I am more than fine gettin' my hands dirty, Mister Morgan."

"We'll see about that." He nodded his head, nudging her to follow him to the horses.

She smiled as Trace turned his head towards her, his nostrils flaring as he greeted her with a soft whinny as his ears were pricked forward. "Hey, Bubs," She giggled, patting him on his neck before taking out a small bag of peppermints from her saddlebag, feeding two to him before looking to Arthur, her expression looking as if she were six years old again, her child-like expression wiping away the woman he knew her as. His eyes softened for her, holding back a gentle smirk as she was the cutest thing in the world to him, but he couldn't let her know that. For once, he had faith in Hosea's little 'matchmaker' game as he couldn't deny the chemistry the pair already had. "Can I give your horse some?" She asked.

"Sure," Arthur nodded, stepping a step backward as she squeezed by him, his mare giving her the same gesture as Trace did.

"She's so beautiful. What breed is she?"

"She's a Dutch Warmblood. Bought her not too long ago, actually. Had a little stud for a little while, but I sold him and bought her because he was too small for what I was needing him for," Arthur replied. "Her name is Dahlia." He blushed.

"That's a good name for her. She's huge compared to Trace!" She replied as she gave the mare a couple of peppermints as well. Soon enough, Trace had nudged closer to Minnie, wanting more treats as he seemed to not like Minnie giving another horse more attention. She giggled as she was almost sandwiched between the two horses, taking turns in giving them peppermints. Arthur did not like the sight as he saw it as the potential for her getting hurt - standing in between two horses like that, especially when they weren't too close to each other, but the thought soon left his mind as he had confidence that he knew horses quite well, looking at their body language, eyes, and ears before making any false judgment.

"Thank ya," He smirked. "You ready now, horse whisperer?" He teased.

She pouted playfully, "Don't be mad that your horse likes me!"

He finally released a smile, a smile that he was so scared to show as he always saw himself with low self-esteem, but what he didn't know that he showed a smile that she instantly fell in love with, "I'm not mad, we just need to go!" He chuckled, shaking his head, noting how she had been looking at him as he spoke the entire time.

She nodded softly, "Okay."

"Be back in a while!" He announced to Hosea as he had appeared almost out of nowhere. After a second glance, Arthur had realized that he had stepped into the quieter region of camp to enjoy his coffee.

"Where're you off to?" Hosea asked, looking up at the pair as they had now mounted their horses.

"Doin' a collection for Strauss. Seems like I'm the only one good enough at demandin' money." Arthur sighed.

"Ah, the devil's work," Hosea shook his head. "So you're takin' a lady to do work like that?" He rose his brows, followed by a soft smirk as he was suspicious that his plan to match them worked faster than expected.

"Figured she'd want to get out of camp for a while..." Arthur replied.

"Sure," Hosea nodded. "Be careful out there and don't let her show you up!" He teased, winning a chuckle from the pair.

"I'll try not to this time." She winked, adjusting herself in the saddle, thankful that she was still wearing her pants instead of changing into her new skirt.

"Alright, show off, let's go." Arthur scoffed.

"Why you so hateful today, huh?" She chuckled, nudging Trace to trot up to the side of Dahlia.

"I'm not, just hatin' how I have to go and do someone else's dirty work." He replied.

"Like what?"

"Old Strauss, I guess who you would call our bookkeeper, lends out money to people he knows won't pay it back. He gives them a deadline and if they don't pay it by then, then he sends me to almost beat it out of 'em." He explained, ashamed that it had to be that way.

"You can't just ask 'em nicely?" She asked.

"What do you know about 'nicely'?" He questioned. "By what I've read, you are one of the most notorious outlaws of the past decade. Killin' and robbin' as you did. Shit, we'd all like to do some of the shit you've done." He admitted.

She scoffed, "I know quite a bit about 'nicely,' Mister Morgan. Lest you forget: I robbed the people who robbed me: the government. Those slimy bastards'll steal a coin from your dead eye if they got the chance!" She argued. "I started workin' for the government, thinkin' it was honest work, but fuck, it's just a joke! They get you to do their dirty work when all they do is sit in an air-conditioned office jerkin' off to the next workin' girl they can't get their hands on!" She exaggerated as he chuckled at her foul language. "My former supervisor plotted to have me killed because I knew too much about the government's dark side, afraid I would spill the beans to someone else. You'd think the government would be more planned out when conspiring something like that, but old Trace here is smarter than that!"

"Bad business." She heard Arthur grit.

"So, what are we doin' anyway?" She asked.

"Like I told ya before: business!"

"Alright, then, what ever you say."

───※ ·❆· ※───

The pair rode southwest of Valentine to a small homestead. Arthur had informed her that they had three payments to collect, which was going to be a full day's work. She gulped as they finally arrived to the small stead. She looked the place over, feeling comfortable as she didn't sense one bit of urgency at that location.

"Thomas Downes!" Arthur shouted.

"Y-You're collectin' from Mister Downes?" Minnie intervened, stopping Trace next to Dahlia. "I didn't think he'd owe any money... He was good friends with my father..."

"Gotta do what I gotta do." Arthur replied, taking his foot out of the stirrup to dismount.

"Mister Morgan... I'll pay whatever he owes. He's been real sick!" She whispered harshly as she too dismounted her horse, rushing to step in front of Arthur, their torsos bumping briefly, sending a slight shock throughout the pair, hitching his breath.

"Minnie, I-I don't care." Arthur replied. She frowned as she looked into his eyes. What she used to recognize as bright blue orbs were now dark and determined. Empathetically, she could see through to his soul or his emotions, recognizing that he had changed his demeanor when he had a task at hand.

Boldly, she pressed her palms against his chest, stopping him dead in his tracks. She felt his heartbeat quicken as he inhaled a sharp breath, forcing himself to look away from her, attempting to hide his embarrassment behind the brim of his hat. "Yes, you do care. I'm not stupid. You are not forcing money from him, you understand? I'll give you the money he owes, now we leave him alone. He's hurting enough as it is." She begged.

He sighed, covering the back of her hands with his own, pulling them from his chest, "I can't do that, Miss Barlow."

"You can and you will." She replied sternly.

"Goddammit, if you try to stop me again, I will send you back to camp." He groaned.

"Make me," She argued, daring to look him in the eyes. "I'm not afraid of you."

"That's your first mistake," He replied. "Your second mistake is not getting out of my way."

"What're you gonna do, huh? Make me sit in time-out?" She protested. She was in no mood to argue, nor play.

He looked away briefly towards Dahlia before looking back at her, "Actually, yeah." He hissed as he roughly pulled her against him, bringing her arms around her back, holding her wrists tightly in one hand as he gripped her arm with the other, making her walk with him as he took the rope from Dahlia's saddle before taking her to a nearby tree across the dirt road, out of sight. He was too late to scold himself, hating how he was treating her this way, but he knew what his orders were, nor did he know who the true Minnie Barlow was and he didn't mind handling her rough when she needed it.

He forced her to press her back against the tree, tying her wrists together almost too tightly, but she didn't let him know that. "Is this how you like to treat your women? Tyin' them up?" She groaned.

"By the way I figure it, you asked for it, darlin'," He teased. "I'll be back. Interfere on one of my jobs again and I'll make sure you stay tied up in camp." He threatened her before returning to his task. He cursed under his breath as he had realized that he did, in fact, change his whole demeanor within a few minutes. He wished he would've been shot for treating her the way he did. She had been right, providing him the proof that he did care, but in his mind, he had no time for caring when he was given a mission to do. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he continued to think back of his stupid act of manhandling her like she was an object. All he wanted to do was nurture her, wondering what had happened to the Arthur that kept a caring and soft eye on her in camp to an Arthur that wouldn't let her talk to him when it came to looking out for him. 'Hosea ain't gonna give me the time of day on this one...' He grumbled.

"Thomas Downes!" He yelled, approaching the homestead, scanning the area for any sign of life. He growled in frustration as he saw the man he had been looking for tending to his garden, or what was left of it.

"What ever do you want?" The man replied with a harsh cough, his grip tightening on his pitchfork.

"Mister Thomas Downes, you owe me money." Arthur grumbled.

"Oh, no-no, I'm...I'm..." Thomas shakily replied.

"Come here, you maggot," Arthur growled, making entry into his garden. He blocked a weak attempt from Thomas as he tried to hit Arthur with his pitchfork, only to be knocked in the jaw as Arthur had pushed him into the fence, holding him by his collar. "Really? Threaten me, did you?"

"Please, I have a family, sir... Please!" Thomas begged.

"I don't care about your family!" He replied, pulling him closer. "You borrowed money from my business partner Herr Strauss. You owe him. You took the money. He wants it back. What's not to understand?" Arthur reminded.

Thomas' breathing shook as he released a harsh cough, a faint bloodstain appearing on Arthur's chin. He hissed as he wiped what he could from his skin, keeping a firm grip on Thomas's shirt. "Where's our money?!"

"I don't have it!" Thomas cried.

"Sell your place."

"We already owe more than it's worth..." Thomas explained.

"Then sell your wife, or your family, or somethin'! We ain't your idea of charity! Is that clear?" He grumbled, releasing the fragile man's frame as he collapsed to the ground, realizing that he had just wasted his time.

"Thomas!" He heard a woman say as she had come closer.

"What you looking at?" He gruffed as he stomped from the garden.

"Thomas!" She repeated.

"I said what you lookin' at, woman?" He sternly said, keeping his head low as he knew he would rather get spat on by Thomas Downes than deal with the wrath of Minnie Barlow.

"My husband isn't well!" She argued. "If we could just have more-"

"Like I said, we ain't nobody's idea of charity get us the money!" He reminded before making his way to receive his punishment as he knew it was coming. 'Why does this woman already have me whipped like a damn workhorse?' He thought to himself as he refused to look at her.

"You cooled off now?" He dared to ask her.

"Me?! I'm not the one beatin' sick people!" She argued.

He sighed, before crouching down, pulling free the knot he had tied, ready to receive a slap to the face from her. He braced himself for it, but never felt it as it never happened. She slowly got up, refusing the open hand he had for her to help, but he understood why she didn't accept his offer. She sighed as she looked at the blood on his face, daring to wipe it away from the corner of his mouth, "You got it, didn't you?" She said lowly.

"Got what?"

"You didn't hear a damn word I said before you went marchin' in there, huh?" She argued. "I sat and told you that he was sick, but I guess that went through one ear and out the other!"

"Sick? So? Everybody gets sick."

"Not everybody gets Tuberculosis, Arthur!" She replied, crossing her arms. "That's what he has! That's what my mother died from! You may have it too all because you wouldn't listen and take my money for him!" She cried, bowing her head.

He sighed as he knew she had been right, "Why do you care?" Was his selfish question, craving the feeling of being cared for and wanted, which what he felt like he hadn't been giving her.

"Why do I care? It's not just about you, Arthur. Thomas has been sick for a long time. Now you probably shortened the stick for him. You thought I was a horrible killer? At least I don't kill people like that! Like I said, I rob and kill the people who robbed me, not innocent people that work for a living trying to pay back thirty goddamn dollars to that selfish creep who pries in his books all day!" She argued.

'This woman is gonna be the death of me...' He thought as he hung his head, ashamed of himself. "You're right, Minnie..." He frowned.

"You don't have permission to call me by my first name, Mister Morgan." She reminded him, which was a bigger punishment than getting a terminal illness. Taking away that one piece of personal connection hurt more than the many times he had accidentally stabbed himself in Five Finger Fillet.

"I'm sorry..." He sighed.

She shook her head, "I need time to think. You go on and do your thing. I'm not goin' with you." She said as she walked towards Trace, patting his muzzle as he nickered at her as she approached him.

"A-Are you goin' back to camp?" He dared to ask.

"Ain't none of your business where I'm goin'," She replied, raising her brows. "You didn't care enough about me to listen, so why should you care where I'm goin', huh? Why do you care?" She mocked him. "You didn't care to manhandle me and tie me up all because I ruined your plans, what goes to stop you from robbin' me in my sleep or worse?"

"I'd never do something like that." He replied.

"How do I know that?"

"Because you have to trust me." He said, hopeful, not wanting to take a chance in ruining anything.

"I did trust you," She stated, turning around in the saddle to look back at him, "I'll see you back at camp."

He frowned, bowing his head, the gut-wrenching feeling of embarrassment and shame swarming through him. "There goes my shot... You goddamn fool!" He cursed to himself, mounting Dahlia. He looked ahead, still being able to see Minnie far ahead of him, loping Trace at a comfortable pace, taking the right turn leading back to camp.

[ask-the-flirty-fighters]

Fighting Flirty: Character Select PT4 (Act 4.9)

"Are you ready?" Connie asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes, as she prepared to capture Steven's picture, continuing their photoshoot and friendly challenge.

"I'm ready, are you?" Steven replied with a grin, playfully teasing his Heartberry. "After all that reprieve, I think you deserve a drink, Bottom Berry." As he spoke, Connie's cheeks flushed a warm maroon, and she couldn't help but spread an impish grin.

"Ah, now I'm going to put you through your paces, you mischievous Mister," Connie said with determination. Her nostrils flared as she emitted a low, determined noise that was a blend between a purr and a growl.

"Uh-oh, it seems like I may have just flipped her competitive switch," Steven teased, causing Alex to giggle and watch the two of them.

"You two are wild," their photographer giggled from behind her laptop.

"Oh, I have been quite tamed," Connie stated with confidence as she lifted the camera in hand and lined up the lens crosshair. She caught sight of Steven in between them and pursed her lips in a determined smirk. "Not anymore though."

"Give me your best shot," Steven challenged eagerly.

"I will make sure you can pose correctly," Connie responded with a flirty fire. "Give me a reverse bridge."

Steven's eyes widened at the request, about to speak.

"And don't think you can distract me with those puppy brown eyes, I'm in it to win it."

Steven let out a chuckle, his eyes sparkling dangerously. "Oh, you really are something, aren't you, Connie?"

Connie winked as she began to focus the camera, capturing Steven's every move. "Of course, it's why I'm so lovable. Now Reverse Bridge, let's see that core strength." 

Connie tapped the sides of the camera as a substitution for clapping as she allowed a heartfelt giggle to escape her chest.

Steven licked his lips as he stood on his tippy toes and folded his arms as he bent backward in an arch, lowering the top of his head onto the floor. Steady and sturdy, abs tight as he holds the pose.

"Wow, nicely done," Alex stated, impressed. "Didn't think a guy of your size would be so flexible."

"Looks can be deceiving," Steven joked as Connie looked around him, looking for a good shot.

"Hmm, yes. I agree, I wonder if your bridge is as sturdy as it looks," Connie teased before sitting on his costumed stomach. Her legs crossed as she grinned, camera still in her hand. "Not too heavy, am I, Mister?"

"Never heavy, perfectly 'hearty' as always," Steven flirted as he raised his midsection a bit, enticing an impressed gasp from his 'Heartberry'.

The thin material of their costumes hardly barred the heat between the two. Steven's hard and warm gem kissed and snuggled itself into Connie's supple posterior.

"You're not being very professional," Steven responded, keeping the pose as he tried to keep his cheeks from glowing pink.

"I'm not doing anything unprofessional, just looking for the best shot."

"She says as she shuffles her hips on my stomach."

"You're at fault for being such a comfy throne," Connie snickered.

"Unprofessional."

"Just trying to motivate my model for the best shot. Hike your midsection up a bit more, Mister."

"Oh, you're really trying to make me work for it, aren't you?"

"Told you I was going to put you through your paces. Not gonna let me down, are you?" Connie said as she leaned in closer, her eyes meeting Steven's gaze. "You know, I could always stabilize you better if you just let me." A smirk played at the corners of her lips as she pulled back, giving Steven a sultry once-over.

"Oh, I don't trust that tone," Steven half-joked.

"My, oh my," Connie faked shock and insult, exaggeratedly placing her hand on her breast as she widened her eyes. "My Biscuit doesn't trust me, Alex. A decade of memories and no trust for me, his berry, his best friend, his knight, his Jambud. For shame."

"For shame indeed," Alex played along holding in her laughter as she watched them interact.

"You know I trust you with my heart, with my very life," Steven said seriously, a look of admiration and adoration in his tone steeped in affection for the woman leaning upon him. "My lovely birthday Heartberry."

"Oh, Steven." Connie mewled feeling her heart skip and her cheeks glowed a bit. 'My lovely sweet Biscuit. I swear you're the only one who makes me feel just a bit of fantastical romance,' she thought as she gave him a gentle kiss. "You're a smooth talker."

"The old universe charm," he chuckled. "But I'm still not trusting you to help." He smirked, "I know how cunning you can be, little minx. Probably gonna try to tickle me to make me fall on my back."

"Ah...hmmm."

"Oops, seems he figured you out, Nini," Alex laughed.

"That's the problem with knowing someone so long. It gets harder to trick them," Connie chuckled before getting off him and stepping back to get him in the frame.

"Well, all is fair in love and photoshoots," Connie retorted, adjusting the camera and taking a step back. Steven's amusement was infectious, and Connie couldn't help but smile at the way her heartbeat seemed to sync with his laughter. 

Click.

"Ok, that's a good shot," Connie said, standing up and checking the photo. "You can stop showing off and stand up now, Mister." Connie played as Steven allowed himself to fall flat, spread eagle, breathing a bit. "I have a new respect for models; holding the poses is hard."

"Tell me about it," Connie agreed as a thought came to her, seeing Steven spread out with a smile on his face and his eyes closed. Stepping to him and stepping over him, she positioned her legs to his sides as she readied her camera, catching his face as his eyes half opened.

Click.

"And that shot, Seven," Connie giggled, seeing his shocked and blushing face.

"I wasn't even ready," Steven half-heartedly complained.

"That's why it's a near-perfect shot: a natural look of accomplishment after a long-fought mission or a daunting task. Tired but victorious," Connie answered.

"Yeah, carrying your big 'heart' without grabbing you was taxing, to say the least."

Steven looked up at Connie, his eyes filled with a combination of mischief and admiration. He couldn't help but feel drawn to her, even after all these years.

"You like my big heart, hippy."

"Never said I didn't," Steven laughed. "Though the shot doesn't really scream 'Shinji Ikari,' don't you think? A bit too positive when I'm supposed to be 'sexy depression.'"

"I mean, is Shinji Ikari...attractive really?" Alex asked.

"No, of course not," Connie answered quickly with finality. "But Steven Ikari." Connie let a small flirtatious smug grin on her lips as she shrugged as if she was considering it. 'Of course, he is, just look at how he fills out that plugsuit, Rawr! Shinji could never!' Connie thought, mentally giggling, unaware of the slightly amorous face she was making.

"Heartberry, you're getting a little lost in your fantasy there, huh?" Steven teased as he poked Connie's nose, making her back up and rub her nose tip.

"I was not, and where did you come from?"

Steven only laughed at her comment before looking at her, love in his eyes as he reached to caress her cheek.

"Hey." Connie nuzzled his palm, basking in his touch and their bond. "Being all affectionate isn't gonna save you."

"Oh, I'm sure you have something planned to break me. Give me your best shot, Heartberry."

"Oh, I will." Connie kissed his palm. "Just don't regret it."

Steven gulped, seeing her passionate and determined black eyes burn with impish mischief. He watched as Connie walked away and behind the desk to get a steel folding chair. She returned it and placed it behind him.

"Sit, since you wanna be Shinji so much," she commanded with a grin, looking at Steven's confused expression.

"What?" Both Alex and Steven wondered where Connie was going with this as Steven did as he was told.

"Now then," Connie began as she positioned Steven in the pose she wanted. Alex watched with wide eyes as Connie put Steven's knees together and giggled as she folded Steven's hands together and put them on his knees. She straight up guffawed with laughter as Connie lowered his head and buried his hands almost in a fetal condition.

"Now, get in the robot, Steven."

"Oh my god!" Alex howled in laughter at Connie's words and impression of Gendo Ikari.

"That wasn't even in that episode!" Steven yelled, trying to hold back his laughter. "You got me in a meme! You're memeing me."

"As a great ninja once said, 'Memes are the DNA of the Soul,'" Connie reiterated with a faux sage tone.

"Based," Alex agreed.

"Disgraced. Monsoon should never be quoted," Steven retorted.

"Well, if you can't meme your partner, who can you meme, right?" Connie smirked before her cheeks burned at her own words.

"What?" Steven began to raise his head.

"Keep your head down," she ordered, putting his head back down quickly. "Gotta take your shot."

Her soft voice tingled his ears as her hand rubbed his scalp and black curly locks. A look of cherished affection on her face as she gently removed her hand and moved back to get Steven in her camera crosshairs. Giggling at how cute and hilarious the scene looked. Unaware of the pink-faced grin on her Mister's face.

Click.

[theworldibuilt4you]

[Addie melted in his embrace, eyes closed in bliss. Truthfully, they wanted him to stay, but felt a little selfish taking up so much of his time…]

"Oh, trust me I know…! I mean, you still owe me those fancy digital bandages, so you've gotta come out again soon!"

[Their tone was teasing, but they really meant it.]

"For the record - you don't need my permission to come out here and hang whenever, 'kay? My den is your den! And no, before you start thinking it, you won't scare or bother me or whatever, so don't let that stop you mister!"

[They poked him in the chest and shot him a pretend glare, but their gaze softened quickly.]

"I've seen wild strawberries and blueberries in the woods just outside I want you to try - oh! And there's a ton of cool foods in the marketplace! Ah, but… It's always kinda dangerous to be there…"

[They lost themselves in thought, tracing the simulated wrinkles and lines of his shirt in deliberation that totally wasn't to stall his departure.]

"Um! I'll figure it out! I can also stop by the junkyard to maybe find extension cables we can use to take my computer further out, or something… Yeah!"

"Hahah.. Well I'm sure it's going to be nice, dear.. Just don't try to push yourself and go out there until you're healed up a bit better, alright?"

[He quietly rubbed the back of his neck, thinking through it all.]

"It might be a bit... Before I came out I was gonna try to work on patching up Sam's code, and... I have no idea where to start with that."

[He grimaced]

"I just hope Pumpernickel didn't open that file... Or that anything bad didn't happen..."

[Sonny gave them a gentle rub on the shoulder, still delaying himself.. Before he took in a deep breath, and started walking back out to the monitor.]

"O,Oh, uhm-....thanks for the meal, too... I... I enjoyed it.."