#but maybe he'd talk more about his family instead of only when absolutely necessary

[noandnooneelse]

#i think bertie had to have had no inkling that queenie and esmond getting engaged was a risk no matter who queenie was#because they’re trying to get him together with gertrude#so if he’d suspected anything between them he would have warned catsmeat regardless#i don’t think i remember any cases of him going ‘hm you and queenie seem to be getting awfully close no?’#so yeah jeeves mentioning it to bertie and bertie mentioning it to catsmeat feel equally improbable#jeeves probably wouldn’t have mentioned uncle charlie if he hadn’t been asked how he knew so much about deverill hall#and when he was he probably considered the uncle to be sufficient explanation#it IS odd though that he keeps trying to share the gossip on his aunts but never mentions any other relatives though#maybe his aunts just have more applicable problems. or maybe they DON’T have these problems and jeeves is making up stories about them#columbo style. instead of a wife he has aunts#i suppose he wouldn’t have brought up mabel a) because it wouldn’t be nice to her to broadcast that she was stood up by her fiancé#and b) because coming right out and saying ‘i don’t want to help biffy because i’m mad he stood up my niece’#would’ve been too direct and familiar for him#then with stuff like egbert it might be just his usual reticence or maybe#the theatrical little shit likes to hold that kind of info back so he gets the maximum impact when he explains his master plan later#with the sister i dunno i suppose if she’s alive he’s just pulling a spock#i’m glad we’ve settled who the hansom-addicted aunt was though#not that i would have suspected it was aunt silversmith because as you know i headcanon that side of jeeves’s family as jewish#(and therefore their solution wouldn’t be to get a priest to talk to her)#oh and then with comforting the parlormaid he might’ve mentioned it to seppings because seppings is another servant#which is probably what you were saying actually. that he’ll mention that sort of thing to someone at his status level but not above#now that i think about it he didn’t mention hos servant friend in indian summer of an uncle until he absolutely had to either#in conclusion he’s a weird little guy

tags by @yeah-thats-probably-it

So about that thing where Jeeves will just not bring up that he's related to someone way past the point where it'd be normal. because we go the entirety of The Mating Season without Jeeves bringing up that since Silversmith is his uncle and Queenie is his daughter, she has to be his cousin.

‘Yes, sir, in the servants’ hall. He was helping Queenie, the parlourmaid, with her crossword puzzle.

On one hand, why on earth wouldn't he mention here that that's his cousin? On the other, if Jeeves had mentioned it Bertie couldn't be surprised about it when Silversmith talks about how his daughter has gotten engaged to Catsmeat - and if Bertie had known, he might have told Catsmeat to stay away from her, so he wouldn't have ended up engaged to her, which might have made for less entanglement, and entanglement is what the entirety of The Mating Season is about. But realistically, would he even have told Catsmeat? Bertie-knows-Silversmith-is-Queenie's-father-and-doesn't-tell-Catsmeat isn't really any more contrived than Jeeves-doesn't-mention-that-he's related-to-her, though of course, it's a very Jeeves thing to do. (so is the reason why Jeeves never talks about family in detail because of all the times he has tried to tell someone and also Bertie something about some of his aunts and gotten the answer that actually no, We Do Not Care About Your Family and he's taking it to heart?)

(and it isn't that Jeeves never talks about his affiliances with other servants - way past the point where he regularly brings up his friendships with other servants, in Tie that Binds, Seppings talks about how Jeevs is "comforting the parlourmaid" after she got struck by a potato.)

Same with Egbert - he doesn't mention the cousin until he absolutely has to. And also Mabel, who he only tells Bertie is his niece when he genuinely can't avoid it. To the point where the fact that in order to have a niece he has to have a sibling - side note, it has to be Mabel's mother who is his sister instead of her father being his brother, right? Since, when reminded of the address of his hotel, Biffy recognizes it, but Bertie mentions that he'd left the address with Jeeves - and if Biffy, who can be reminded of and then recognize things he's forgotten, is thinking about how he's forgotten Mabel's last name, wouldn't he have noticed that oh actually, her last name was Jeeves? Which opens up the option of her being dead, this being the reason why Jeeves never mentions his sister, despite the fact that the common ground between a milk-walk in Clapham or a boot-shop in Crinklewood is that it's located in London, so Jeeves should have family he never mentions basically next door. But seeing as how he never mentions family either, she could be perfectly alive and well and Bertie wouldn't know.

The same being true for Charlie Silversmith's wife - he has a daughter, so chances that he has a wife are quite good, actually. She might be dead, but then, she doesn't have to be. Given that Uncle Charlie is in service as well, it could be that Jeeves just doesn't know her as well, since Uncle Charlie married her at some point after becoming a butler, and that that happened at some point after all of Jeeves' childhood visits, but extrapolating from Jeeves' reticence to talk about his family, she might be attending the village concert and spending her time catching up with Jeeves.

Which would work out to the three aunts Jeeves claims to have in Tie that Binds - Aunt Emily who is interested in psychical research, Aunt P.B. Pigott with the cat, and the third aunt who is married to Uncle Charlie. (out of all the mentions of aunts Jeeves has, that'd mean that there is at least one that is clearly assignable to a specific aunt - Jeeves has "an aunt [...] who resides in the south-east portion of London. Their temperaments are much alike. My aunt has the same taste for the pleasures of the great city. It is a passion with her to ride in hansom cabs", which would then have to be Aunt Emily with the psychical research, since Aunt P.B. Pigott lives in Maiden Eggesford and Aunt Silversmith would likely live in Deverill Hall in Hampshire)

[thepenultimateword]

Love Thy Enemy Part 6

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

For all Callista's talk of winning Vorrin over, it was surprising that she returned to ignoring his existence. Pins and Switch even informed him that his designated visit to her chambers had been canceled for the week. Usually, Vorrin would've been thrilled, but considering the circumstances... How was he supposed to gain the empress's trust if they didn't see each other?

"Is she busy again?" Vorrin asked as he took a bite of strawberry scone. He kept his tone bland and stared with what he hoped looked like disinterest at the wall.

"I hear she's taking a trip to the border cities," Pins mumbled, sewing needle held between his lips as he turned the half-finished embroidery in his hands. "Probably takes a lot of prep work."

Vorrin had felt rather guilty about his outburst the other day, and remembering Switch's comment about waste, he'd asked the manservants if it was possible to repair the torn shirt. The short answer was no. Nothing could get the shirt exactly back to its original state. The longer answer, with more cloth and designs to hide the stitches, the outfit could be salvaged. So here the pair were, with more work thrust upon them, though Vorrin couldn't say he wasn't grateful for the company.

Vorrin set down the scone, turning full attention to the manservant. "The border cities? Why?"

"I only caught pieces from the soldiers while fetching your dinner the other night, but I think an emissary from Avarose is meeting her there."

"An emissary?"

"She has been out of the country for almost a year now. Maybe she needs an update from Prince Suthand on the state of the kingdom?"

"An update can be sent in a letter."

"You know more about politics than us," Switch said, stacking up some of the empty breakfast plates. "Why do you think she's going?"

Vorrin pondered it a moment. Callista was calculated, and she knew her hold on Totholan was tentative. She wouldn't leave the capital unless she thought it was absolutely necessary.

Perhaps she wanted to check on the strength of the border troops. But she could outsource that to a general couldn't she?" And then there was the emissary. That would be political. But why would she need a representative from her own kingdom? And why didn't they meet her here instead of the other way around?

"I don't understand anything she does," Vorrin said finally, picking back up his scone. He only managed to nibble it a little further before asking, "When will she return?"

Switch raised a brow. "You're certainly eager to see the empress again."

"I wouldn't say eager. Simply...interested."

"Well, she hasn't left yet," Pins said. "She might still come to say goodbye."

As if Vorrin was worried about not receiving a proper farewell. He was her consort, not her lover. He forced a smile anyway. "Maybe."

Pins smiled brightly back and turned the finished tunic around for him to see. "How's this?"

A spattering of golden stars and a large sun now hid the repaired tear. They glimmered against the white fabric like the celestial bodies they were imitating.

"It’s beautiful,” Vorrin said, “it’s a wonder you were hired as a manservant rather than a tailor’s apprentice.”

Pins flushed appreciatively and lowered his eyes to the ground. “I used to do the repairs to the servants' uniforms, back before I was officially hired. My mum said I had a gift. But…apprenticeships don’t pay in money, just room and board, and my family couldn’t really live on one income so…” His face fell a bit, but as he lifted his head again, it abruptly brightened. “When I was offered this position, it paid twice the amount as a regular manservant, and I still get to do sewing, so better off for me, I say.”

Vorrin fought the frown dragging down the corners of his mouth. He knew what it was like to come from humble beginnings. Living day to day on whatever scraps he could get. Going hungry. Survival topping every other thought or desire. The main reason he'd joined the King's army as a boy was for the pay. Squires received a gold piece every month, and the stipend only grew the longer he stayed alive. Not to mention the free board in the barracks. As he’d risen in the ranks, he’d created a comfortable place for himself. Luckily, or maybe unluckily, he hadn't had any family to rely on him, so he’d only had to worry about himself. He could only imagine the pressure of supporting a family at such a young age.

“Is your mother in Totholan?”

“No, she stayed back home. But I send her half my earnings whenever any of the soldiers travel back to Avarose with the Empress's letters.”

“Which they skim,” Switch muttered.

“It’s fine,” Pins said, forcing one of his bright smiles, “I just think of it as a delivery fee.”

This time Vorrin did frown. “That is not fine. They recieve their own wages, they don’t need any of yours.” He doubted it was something Empress Callista would allow either. “I’ll speak to the Empress about it.”

Switch audibly choked.

Pins shot to his feet. “Oh, no! You don’t have to— It’s much too small a matter to bring so high as the Empress.”

Yes, Vorrin understood it was unconventional. King Duras would have imprisoned a servant for wasting his time with such a request, that is if he even allowed it to reach the level of audience, and with the state of the kingdom, Empress Callista probably would brush it off too, but…

“If she cares about me, she’ll care about you,” Vorrin said firmly.

“I don’t want her to think I’m complaining or gossiping about the soldiers. Especially not to you."

"Because you don't want to be blamed for my poisonous attitude toward all things Avarosian?"

Pins pressed his lips together, his lack of denial an admittance all its own.

“If it bothers you, I won’t tell her it’s you.”

"I...well..." Pins slowly folded the tunic over his arm and moved gingerly across the room to tuck it away in the wardrobe. "I guess its ok. If it comes up that is. And as long as it doesn't inconvenience her. If she seems put out, tell her to forget it. And don't make it seem too urgent." He cleared his throat and plucked out a new outfit, lithely changing the topic. "How about this?"

It was another set of robes, this one a couple layers, the bottom a silky vibrant gold and the top a poofed, gauzy white that muted the underlying fabric, almost like looking through fogged glass. Glimmering gold strings hung loosed off the sleeves, ready to hold each one in perfectly puffed sections."

Vorrin grimaced. Where did the empress even get all these clothes from? Had she sent for them as soon as she’d taken him hostage or had she planned for this ending in advance? From what he'd seen Pins and Switch wear, robes were not uncommon for Avarosian men, but the fancy ones in his wardrobe were on another level. Either high-class styles were different, or the empress had some tastes. Maybe a bit of both.

"Well, I was hoping to attend the training grounds today," Vorrin said. "That is if there is a soldier to escort me today."

One of the things he and the empress had agreed upon in their last conversation was that Vorrin should have more freedoms. The training grounds to practice his sparring and more visits into the city were at the top of his requests. Surprisingly, both had been granted, on the condition that he was watched at all times.

"Oh!" Pins put the garment set back and sifted around the wardrobe for something else. "Then this?"

The new outfit was two pieces, a bottom and a top, so that was at least closer to Vorrin's regular style.

The top was a black compressed shirt with the sleeves cut off mid-shoulder and silver-threaded embroidery stretching from the shirt's high throat to the middle of the chest, giving the appearance of a layered necklace. The bottoms...were a skirt. Blue. Long. Plain except for the embroidered hem in matching silver.

"Er...I can't exercise in that," Vorrin said. It was the more diplomatic reply.

"This is a sparring outfit," Pins said. "An expensive one, but still equipped for actual sparring."

"I don't see how I'm supposed to fight in that." Vorrin stepped closer and flicked the hem of the skirt. "It's too long. And constricting. I'm not going to be able to move without tripping, ripping it, or showing everyone everything."

"It's not a skirt if that's what you're worried about," Switch said, setting the stacked dishes on the breakfast tray. The young man was as sharp as ever. He marched up the proffered outfit and grabbed the hem by one side, pulling it up to show the wide trouser legs beneath. "The overskirt is for show. It's split so it doesn't get in the way. Think of it as robes for fighting. Most of the military has switched to more obvious trousers, but most generals still wear this style. I don't know if you've noticed."

Vorrin couldn't say that he had. He didn't really pay attention to what his opponents were wearing in battle, and since becoming Empress Callista's consort, he'd been mostly confined. He assumed he'd seen mostly low-level soldiers since then, but it was also possible he'd missed it, either being in too much of an angry fog to notice or assuming they were robes like any other.

"The outfit's fine," Vorrin said crisply.

"Good!" Pins said. "Then let's get you ready!"

"I'll send for a soldier to escort you," Switch said. A shadow of a grimace crossed his face, but just as quickly it was gone. Replaced by his usual straight expression. "It might take a little while, so I should go now."

"We can go together," Pins offered.

"No, no." Switch drew himself up proudly. "I'm fully capable of finding someone. And it will be more efficient this way."

With a short bow toward Vorrin, he was out the door.

Pins had Vorrin dressed within a half hour. The bottoms were much more comfortable than he'd expected. His hair had taken on a simple style today, tied up into a tail. However, Pins still managed to make the simplicity elegant by using a silver hair ring instead of a regular hair tie.

The bedroom door burst open. Switch stormed in red-faced and hair-mussed, slender hands barely catching the door before its handle could hit the wall.

"I found someone," he said, easing the door shut before sitting hard in one of the dining sets.

"What happened?" Vorrin and Pins said together.

"Nothing. Like I said. It just takes a while to find soldiers who aren't busy."

"Switch, you're shaking," Vorrin said, his voice falling into the firm tone of his old station.

Switch looked down at his trembling hands with a surprised expression.

Switch clenched them. "I'm not scared or anything. I'm just mad."

"What happened?" Vorrin pressed again, this time summoning the authority Switch responded to.

"It's just soldiers being soldiers," the manservant spat. "Being crass and difficult and idiotic as usual. I swear, this is why I dropped out of the military. They're all so stupid. But of course, they can't let it go. I'm a traitor because I didn't fight in the war and even more so because I serve a Totholi consort." Switch's tone grew sharp and sarcastic. "Apparently, it's very unpatriotic of me to be at the beck and call of a Totholi general. Oh, and I think I'm better than them because of my cushy safe job and better pay and face-to-face meetings with the Empress."

At that last part, Switch let out a little gasp and pinned his lips tightly shut.

Another time, Vorrin would have seized that slip-up. He knew that Empress Callista was getting information on his behavior from someone. His manservants had been the most likely suspects, and this confirmed it. However, this was not the time.

"I didn't know you were military," Vorrin said instead.

"Was." Switch looked steadily at the ground a couple feet ahead, clenching his fists harder so the knuckles turned white. Vorrin knew that look. He kept dry anger at the forefront of his emotions, but he was probably fighting off tears. "I only squired for a year. I hate soldiers."

"Is that why you sometimes have a hard time with me?"

Switch flushed a little and a long pause stretched over the room. "Maybe. I don't know. I guess sometimes I see the resemblance. But you're not like them. I know that. Even if you are aggravating." He cleared his throat abruptly. "Sorry."

"Did the oh-so-proper and strict Switch make a joke?" Vorrin said with a mock gasp.

Switch rolled his eyes, but a small smile crept up his face. "Don't tell anyone."

"They're just being jerks because they're jealous," Pins piped in.

Vorrin nodded. "As a once stupid soldier, I have to agree. For men like them, there is a pecking order, and they're worried you're on top. And they hate that, so they're trying to convince you that you're not."

"But I don't want to be a part of their stupid pecking order at all," Switch said.

“Then you need to find the biggest instigator and give them a good punch in the nose.”

“You are a soldier.”

Vorrin shrugged. “It’ll at least show them you’re not going to take their rubbish.”

“But it’s so unrefined…”

“And they are? They’re a bunch of insecure bottom feeders with too much space in their skulls. I’m telling you, the only thing people like that respect is brute force.”

“I’m really beginning to doubt your strategic ability as Totholan’s best general.”

Vorrin chuckled. “Well, I can always punch one for you. I doubt they’re allowed to hit me back.”

Switch let out a long sigh, though it wasn’t entirely exasperated. He scrubbed his tearless face. "I’ll think about it. Pretty sure letting the royal consort get into fights isn’t a much better look. Anyway, the escort is waiting outside when you're ready."

Vorrin stood, stretching his arms over his head. “Time for me to go then. Guess I better show this little guppy who’s really in charge. ”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t worry, Switch. I know how to handle grunts.”

“Seriously don’t.”

Vorrin only grinned, flexing one of his bare arms before sweeping out the door.

As he stepped out into the hall, the soldier leaning against the outside wall stood up straight. He was about what Vorrin had expected: young, a little below average height, and built just enough to have real muscle but still feel uncomfortable in his own skin. Vorrin could see the inexperience in his shifting posture.

“Good morning, Royal Consort,” the soldier said offering a short bow. Obviously, his feelings on a Totholi consort were much different when face-to-face with him. “My name is Raoden. I’ll be escorting you.”

“Yeah, I’m not remembering that,” Vorrin said, stepping past the man without a second glance and starting toward the training ground. “How about I call you Button?”

“Well, er…”

“Perfect. Come on."

The soldier scrambled after him, needing to use his full stride to keep pace at Vorrin's side. As they reached the end of the hall, he angled toward the right, the direction to the main entrance of the arena.

Vorrin turned left.

"Um, I think the training grounds are--"

"I know how to get there," Vorrin said.

He strode the full length of the hall, turning left and then left again. He barely glanced at the other soldiers and servants they passed along the way, only stopping when he reached a worn, narrow door the same grey as the stone around it.

"Royal Consort--"

Vorrin was already pushing inside.

"Hello, boys!"

The whole room scrambled to their feet. A couple of men fell off their beds. One hit his head on the bunk above him as he rushed to stand.

“So this is where you all go to slack off.”

One of the soldiers without his shirt or shoes squirmed. “We’re off duty, your…Royal Consort…sir.”

“Of course. Don't mind me.” He mosied down the aisle, looking idly around with each step, gaze skimming past the soldiers enough that they dropped their heads to avoid eye contact. “I just wanted a look at my old quarters before Button here escorts me to the armory. Well, close enough. These were the squire quarters. You're all full-fledged soldiers, aren't you?"

"Er...most of us," Button interceded from behind. When Vorrin glanced back at him, the man stood by the entrance, looking desperate to lead Vorrin back out. "Military rankings work differently in Avarose. Um...should we perhaps..."

"Really? That's interesting." Vorrin sat himself down on one of the now-empty bunks. He crossed his ankle over his knee and leaned back on one hand. "How is it done in Avarose?"

Button looked around the room, but no one else spoke up. "Royal Consort Vorrin, I really think..."

Vorrin raised his brows. "Yes?"

"Uh...well, in Totholan there are three titled ranks, right? Page, squire, and knight? Though of course some knights can reach the higher rank of Knight General or the highest rank, like yourself, Grand Master."

Vorrin shook his head. "King Duras was the Grand Master. I'm just a general."

Button blinked and glanced toward his comrades and back. "Respectfully, sir...that wasn't what we were told in our briefing. That's why the Empress specifically--" He abruptly cut off and cleared his throat. "My point was Totholi military is more simplistic."

One of the soldiers snickered but stopped before Vorrin could identify who it was.

"Whereas Avarosian military is sort of...complicated."

Vorrin leaned his chin into his hand. "Oh?"

"There are ranks within ranks. Sort of like your knights, but with much more variety." He lifted one end of the wide scarlet sash wrapped around his middle. Looking at the colors may help. The lowest rank is yellow. Children in training wear the palest shade and it deepens as they move up. Green is the next rank, usually utilized as messengers or apprentices to higher-ranked soldiers. Blue is reserved for military medics. Red is for ordained soldiers, again the palest shades are always reserved for those with the least experience. Generals wear black. The sovereign wears white. But only on the battlefield.

Vorrin closed his eyes a moment, tentatively summoning a memory. He could still picture that day perfectly. Empress Callista standing over him, half of her hair escaped from its braid, the long tails of her "white" sash whipping in the wind. In reality, it had only been white in small patches; the majority of it was dyed red with blood. The point of her blade pressed carefully into his throat. He'd swallowed. She'd grinned.

Vorrin's eyes shot back open. He pushed himself back to his feet, shoving the memory's emotions deep down and instead surveying the soldiers once again.

"It seems every one of you carries a red sash. I'm surprised."

"Sir?"

"It took thirty minutes for my manservant to acquire one of you. You do realize that a request from my servants is a request from me?"

Button bowed his head. "Yes, Royal Consort."

"Tell me, how long did you spend arguing, drawing straws, and over me instead of doing your duty."

Button sank so far between his shoulders he resembled a turtle. "Too long, Royal Consort."

A part of Vorrin wanted to punish them further for Switch's sake. But Button had admitted his fault without excuse. Vorrin had to give the man credit for that. Many of the men looked equally chastened. No need to press further when a reprimand was being received.

"I suggest being a little quicker next time," he finished.

"Yes, Royal--"

"You're not in charge of us, Tolothi," another soldier interrupted. The man was all wiry muscle and unruly hair. Vorrin noted that his sash was vermillion whereas many of the other's were crimson.

Vorrin stalked up to the man, gazing down at him from under half-lowered lids. "Am I not?"

"You're a pet."

"Argin," one of the crimson soldiers hissed warningly.

"A dog may be pampered and protected," Argin continued, meeting Vorrin's eyes. " but that doesn't make it less a dog. And a dog holds no authority no matter who it belongs to."

Vorrin only smiled. "You sleep in a bunk bed. I sleep beside the Empress. Maybe I am a dog, but between the two of us, I wonder who has more authority. I suppose if you're really concerned I could ask the Empress what she thinks."

Argin paled a fraction and clenched his teeth hard enough to crack. He ducked away from Vorrin's gaze. "Aren't you supposed to be practicing sparring or something?"

"You're right. Thank you, Kitty."

The man flushed equal parts embarrassment and anger.

"Come along, Raoden."

Button looked a little shocked at the usage of his real name, but he quickly fell in step, following Vorrin through the door at the back of the room into another room of bunks, this one empty. The Knights' old quarters. They passed rows and rows of beds before exiting another door into the armory.

Unlike the barracks, this room had been completely reorganized. Probably so it could hold all the weapons that the Avarosian army had brought with them.

Vorrin ran his hand down the row of spears lined along the wall. "Any limits on which weapons I'm allowed to use?"

"I don't think Empress Callista established a rule." Button looked around the room nervously. "Maybe nothing too sharp?"

Vorrin tsked. "Do you have so little faith in yourself that I need a handicap?"

"When it comes to you, sir, yes."

"Really? You don't think you could stop me if I was armed? A little concerned for the person who is supposed to keep me from escaping.

Button swallowed. "I don't know, sir. But I know it took the Empress to defeat you, and I couldn't win against the Empress." He gathered himself taller. "However, Royal Consort, I don't think you plan on running. Even if I fell, there are at least a hundred guards between here and the end of the palace grounds. They would catch you immediately."

Button's tone begged Vorrin not to try anything. He almost seemed to be trying to convince himself as much as Vorrin. He was right though. Vorrin suspected that having a watch was more about preventing him from stealing weapons than stopping an escape attempt.

"I'll stick with the quarterstaff then," Vorrin said, plucking the long wooden pole off the wall. "I only want to practice some movements today anyway."

Button nodded, relieved, and they exited the armory into the training grounds. A light breeze wafted the smell of the dusty earth, and the musty hay of the training dummies to his nose. Vorrin closed his eyes, breathing in the familiar scents. It had been a long time.

The quarterstaff felt a little strange in his hands. Though his hands instinctively gripped the right places, the weapon no longer fit the same against his too-smooth palms.

Vorrin spun the staff a couple times before trying a stab. He stumbled a little and gritted his teeth. He'd overextended.

His immediate reaction was a surge of rage, but he exhaled the emotion slowly. This is fine. Just go back to the basics.

He fell into a defensive stance. Block, parry, stab. Block, parry, stab. He moved slowly, perfecting each movement as he went. After about four times, he picked up speed, throwing in a few dodging movements and thrusting out the pole in low and high attacks.

Button yawned from the sidelines.

Vorrin half-wanted to ask the guard to spar with him, but he doubted that was allowed. Maybe he should asked for two guards next time, one to spar with and another to watch him. Better yet, maybe he could begin bargaining for the release of his soldiers. Not at all at once, but one or two at a time. He missed their familiar company. Not to mention, he’d need them if this uprising was going to work.

Having enough of the repetitive movements, Vorrin imagined an invisible enemy before him. He’d done this all the time as a boy when the other pages refused to be his sparring partner. Having Captain Kenric for a mentor had remedied that, but he’d still found solace in solo sparring once in a while.

He lowered into a defensive stance, holding the quarterstaff diagonal from his body. He circled slowly, searching for weak spots, knowing his enemy was doing the same. Abruptly, he thrust the staff forward. The enemy dodged, swinging back at him violently. He barely stepped back in time, throwing the staff sideways to block the blow. He gritted his teeth and widened his stance further against the imaginary weight. He shoved forward hard, knocking the figment backward. He stalked forward, raising his elbows in preparation for the finishing jab. He thrust the weapon forward, and...

A very visible, very real sword collided with the end of his staff.

Vorrin inhaled sharply, retreating back a couple steps and instinctively throwing out his quarterstaff in front of him. It took a couple moments for him to make sense of the red-and-gold-clad figure in front of him.

Empress Callista glanced at the weapon then casually back to his face with a widening grin. She slid her sword back into its sheath. “Hello, dear."

Vorrin exhaled slowly, doing his best to hide the tension ebbing from his muscles. He'd felt like a hair-trigger ready to fire. "What are you doing here?"

"What, I can't visit my consort? you weren't in your quarters; I was told I could find you here." Her eyes roved back to the weapon. "It's been a while since I've seen you in action. Serious as ever I see."

Vorrin furrowed his brow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Some people spar for fun, you know. But you have that same look you have in battle. Fighting isn't a game to you, is it?"

Where did she get off acting like she knew anything about him?

"I spar for fun," he said a little sharper than intended. "But there's nothing fun about swinging a stick around by yourself. Besides, if I'm going to regain all my skills, I can't afford to be lax."

Empress Callista let out a little amused breath. "Well then, we'll need to spar together sometime."

Vorrin's face warmed. "I wasn't implying that I wanted--"

"I like the outfit," she interrupted. "Very classic."

“Well, it was in my wardrobe.”

Empress Callista gasped in mock offense. “Are you suggesting that I gave you those clothes just because I wanted to see them on you?”

“Is that not true?”

“Well, maybe.” She winked, her smile landing somewhere firmly between flirtatious and wicked. However, the sly curve quickly straightened into a more serious expression. “I didn’t know what you looked like until the first time we faced each other in battle. I had no idea what would suit you, so we brought lots.”

“You didn’t think we had clothes here?” Vorrin said.

“Dressing you in our styles was intentional."

"And now?"

"It still is. But your comfort is also important, so we'll find a compromise."

Vorrin let the butt of the quarterstaff rest against the ground. He leaned into it like a walking stick. "Dressing me like an Avarosian isn't going to win over the people. They're just going to be mad that I'm betraying our culture."

"Maybe. But it does show them who you belong to." Her gaze darkened. "And it's not just for your people. Mine need reminders too."

Vorrin's insides went cold. Empress Callista was so confident, so domineering in every action and word, he'd never considered that her people might have as many disagreements with this plan as he did. He was safe...wasn't he?"

"Anyway, darling," she said, shattering the frozen feeling encasing him, "as much as I love our little tiffs, I came to wish you farewell. I'm heading to the border this afternoon."

Vorrin remembered what Pins had said about the Empress saying goodbye. He sincerely hoped that neither manservant had shared his interest in her departure. "You don't need to do that. My servants would have told me."

"Ah. Of course." She cleared her throat and gathered herself up a little straighter. "It's a two-week trip--5 days to the border and another 5 back. I would have felt strange saying nothing at all."

Vorrin didn't quite know how to respond, so he stayed silent.

The empress cleared her throat again. Wait a minute. Did she actually feel awkward right now?

“Is there anything you need before I go?” she said

"I need your soldiers to stop terrorizing my manservants."

The empress's forehead furrowed. Not confusion, or doubt. More...disciplinary. The look of a parent when they're told their child has been caught teaching curse words.

"Explain."

"Pins gets his wages partially stolen whenever he sends money back home to his mother. And Switch gets harassed when he makes requests on my behalf. It has to do with serving a Totholi, which, I would like to remind them, is literally his job."

Empress Callista raised her brows. "Switch and Pins?"

"That's what I call them."

She didn't push it further.

Vorrin continued on. "They're in positions of power and servants to the Empire. They're abusing those positions for personal gain. If it were my men they'd be cleaning everyone's armor for the next week. Or be working directly with me until they wised up."

Vorrin caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Perhaps his voice had risen too loud because Button shifted uncomfortably from his post at the arena's edge. His eyes flicked their way, briefly connecting with Vorrin's. The young man's shoulders leaped a little, and he hastily averted his gaze to the empty space ahead of him.

The young man had been properly chastened earlier, but Vorrin wanted him to bring this information back to the others.

"They can't be allowed to act this way, can they?" he said, letting his anger raise his voice even louder.

"No," the empress said firmly. "Their behavior is unacceptable. Unfortunately, I don't have control of every action the people in my employ make. However, I will be alerting my generals and captains of the issue. They should provide some correction. Let me know if it continues."

Vorrin nodded. Despite the many things that bothered him about the empress, the one thing he could count on was that she was fair. King Duras had allowed, even encouraged, a toxic dynamic in his army. One where power and physical strength reigned as dictators. It had taken a long while for Vorrin to clean up once he became Knight General, so he couldn't help but appreciate the empress's standards.

She tipped her head to catch his gaze. "I assure you, Vorrin. The trust I have in my army is critical to me. I allow error, and I allow redemption, but those I deem untrustworthy have no place with me.

"I know. Thank you." The words came out before Vorrin knew what he was saying. To his surprise, he actually meant them.

"Anyway," he said, diverting the attention from his last words. "Why are you going to the border?"

Empress Callista smiled thinly. "There's confidential information I don't want to be written in a letter. At least not one that passes many hands. Not only that, but I'm going to be surveying the area for construction."

"Construction?"

"For the new capital. With the kingdoms merging, I can't stay here. Avarose would be outraged. But I can't return as if nothing happened either, or I risk losing my foothold. We need a neutralized city equally distant between both locations."

"Idosa won't be the capital anymore?" Vorrin didn't know why he hadn't thought about that sooner. Technically, Idosa had ceased being the capital the moment Empress Callista won the war. Yet, everything remained so much the same, the castle, the stationing of the guard, the mannerisms of the city... He'd never imagined this type of reform.

"Don't act so sullen. This will be a massive change for all of us. Streles has been the Avarosian capital for centuries. I'm anticipating a heated argument with every noble and advisor I have over the next few months."

"And me?"

It wasn't a very articulate question, but the empress seemed to understand.

"You'll come with me, of course. Not only to the new capital but to Avarose as well. The new city will take time to build, so we may travel back and forth for some time."

"I could stay here." That was something consorts did, right? Have their own homes? At least, King Duras had gifted his mistresses residences within and without the city. Then again, many of them were not official consorts. Still, it wasn't as if Callista needed him outside Idosa. If she gave him this place, he could fix it. It wouldn't be exactly as it was, but it could be close.

Even as he tried to convince himself of nobler intentions, the truth gnawed at him. He was scared. Outside of battle and expeditions for the King, he'd never lived anywhere else. He'd grown up here. He'd become something here.

Empress Callista shook her head, a little sympathy peeking through her steady expression. "You're my token. A representation of our countries' union. You'll always be with me."

Always?

Vorrin's lungs suddenly felt tight. Like he'd been shoved into a space--a cage--too tight for his body.

The empress's hands found his face, stroking his cheekbones with her thumbs. "It's alright, love. I will take care of you."

As if that was what worried him. Like he was a child who needed consoling about moving away from his friends. As if this was just about him and not everyone in Idosa--no Tothalan! And him a helpless bird with clipped wings.

No. No, don't think about that.

He released a shuddering breath.

He could stop this. None of this had to happen if he completed his mission. Calm. Calm. He just had to endure a while.

Vorrin stepped back out of her reach and looked down at her gold-button travel boots.

"Good luck, on your journey."

Empress Callista's hands dropped to her side, but she stepped forward, regaining the ground between them. "If you need anything, if you have any trouble, send for me. I'll return."

"Ah, so you expect trouble," Vorrin joked, not quite able to summon the humor into his smile.

She gently took his chin, raising his face to her eyes before withdrawing again. Her eyes appeared almost molten in the sunlight.

"I will be back before you know it."

Vorrin wasn't sure if that was meant as a comfort or a warning, maybe both. It made him feel strange.

He took two long steps back this time, properly distancing himself.

"Well, goodbye then. Bring me back something nice." With that, he turned his back on her, striding back to Button. "I'd like to go back to my room now."

Vorrin allowed the soldier to lead him through the proper exit this time. As they left, he felt the empress's eyes following him.

He did not look back.

Taglist:

@whatiswhump, @aprilraine, @ilovescarletwitch, @conniedensazation, @feedthebirds, @bloodinkandashes

[yetanothergreyjedi]

Left and Returned: Definitely Nothing Wrong

Ao3

Danny Phantom x Supernatural Crossover

Chapter 2

Dean orders the largest burger on the menu, Bobby orders something with potatoes that will absolutely have him commenting that he could make a better one himself. Sam orders a salad. Danny orders chocolate chip pancakes off the breakfast menu and Dean looses any reservations he had about refering to the young man as 'kid'. Realistically he's probably not much younger than Sam, but if he has a problem with it he can start acting like an adult.

No. Dean isn't huffy about the handstand thing. Why do you ask?

"So it's following you, but you haven't seen it. Like haven't seen it like, invisible or like being watched from afar or what?" Then again, the kid was asking good questions.

"Like its invisible, but can't hide its presence, realizes its making a mess then pisses off."

"Because its afraid of being noticed or because it doesn't want to do harm?"

"How am I supposed to know?"

"Vibes."

"Gut instinct," Sam adds, which makes more sense than 'vibes'.

"It shattered every window in the place. I don't think its scared."

"Fair."

"I know a psychic, a couple hours from here. Something this big, maybe she's heard the other side talking." Bobby suggested.

"Hell, yeah. Its worth a shot."

"A psychic..." Danny tapped the table, "Okay, sure. Why not?"

---

"What the hell is this?"

"An ipod jack... It's been my car for a year, Dean."

And what could he say to that? Instead Dean points sout the part that is far worse than douching up his car with modern niceties. "Its pink."

"Yeah... well, it's not mine, it's Jazz's. She left it in here and if I move it I'll forget to bring it back to her."

"Huh," Dean had no idea what he expected. Maybe some comment about how pink wasn't that bad? He turned the key and some girly romance song filled the compartment. "Really?"

Sam smiled a little at the song, and Dean hit pause on the device instead of throwing it into the back seat.

"Soo, she your girlfriend or what"

"That's complicated."

"Of course it is, the hunting making things weird?"

"No, actually. Her family hunts."

"But not her?"

"Only when necessary, she's in medical school."

"I'm, uh, noticing some parallels, Sammy."

Sam laughs. "Thats part of why its complicated."

"Just part, huh?"

"Yeah,"

"What about Ruby? She still around?"

"Probably. She shows up when she thinks she can make a case for wanting the greater good or whatever... there was a whole thing. When I was still convinced I could bring you back..." Sam trails off, clearly deciding how much to say. Sam had tried to bring him back?And failed? Did Bobby know about any of this? "That's done now.”

"Huh...You been using your freaky E.S.P. stuff?"

"Every time I think its behind me something weird happens."

"What?"

"It shows up at weird times, stressful situations. Afterwards its hard to tell if it was real or not."

"Sam..."

"I know, look, one thing at a time okay? We worry about this for now."

---

"I am curious... why aren't you doing this yourself?" Pamela asks Danny.

"You're a psychic?" Bobby asks.

"...I guess I could count? I tend to only talk to the dead when they're right in front of me."

This, of course, meant Pamela forgot she had been flirting in favor of talking shop with Danny. Which meant he didn't get a chance to chat with the lovely lady, instead got to listen to her quiz him on ‘'energies'' and 'conduits' and other psychic mumbo-jumbo. Like really, he just got outta jail, why can’t he enjoy it? It's probably for the best though, the kid, in his own words, "knew enough to do some incredibly stupid things." So, Dean figured letting Pamela explain the basics of a safe seance was probably saving someone a whole mess.

Not that he thought Danny would intentionally be stupid about it. They'd have done this four hours ago in the back of the kid's van, if he'd thought he could, and who knows how that would've ended.

He's less willing to accept it when Pam decides Danny should be the one touching Dean's shoulder.

"Jesus, kid! You been holding ice cubes?!"

"Don't judge my hobbies." Kid quips, settling his hand back over the handprint. "Just poor circulation, chillax."

Dean immediately regrets glancing at his brother. At least Sammy has the decency to stifle his smirk, but really, taking your not-actually-brother-in-law-because-its-complicated's side over your own flesh and blood: Rude! Just rude.

"Okay." Pam begins, her tone both sharp and comforting. The unspoken command is heard and they somber, close their eyes.

"I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle." She begins, her voice clear and authoritative.

"I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle." She repeats, energy runs between their circle linked hands. Dean couldn't let go even if he tried. What was this?

"I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle." Something turns on, a television or a radio, Dean doesn't know. He's a link in a chain meant to bind, every sense is dull except the feeling of clasping hands and the brand on his shoulders. Accept the single sound that rings in perfect clarity.

"I invoke, conjure, and command... Castiel? No. Sorry, Castiel, I don't scare easy."

"Castiel?" Dean repeats, how he says it, he isn't quite sure, chainlinks don't have mouths.

"Its name. It's whispering to me, warning me to turn back."

"Warning, not threatening." Gasps the link that connects Pamela to this link. The static grows, the space beneath them shakes. The world itself wants to tear the links free from the chain, but they hold. Power runs freely between them, they are as much a conduit as they are a chain. They will not break, they cannot break, keeping hands linked is effortless.

"I conjure and command you, show me your face." Pamela chants. The cacophony around them grows louder and more hazy, her voice is clear through each repetition.

Another link says something. This link does not hear it.

"I almost got it. I command you, show me your face! Show me your face n—"

"No," The link between them breathes.

The link in the chain is a body. The body is Dean. The burn on Dean's shoulder ache's with the absence of a relieving cold removed.

Dean crashes backwards. The impact of his back on the floor knocks the wind from his lungs. Sound returns. Breaking glass and splintering furniture, someone is screaming. He gasps. Three, four, five breaths before he's aware of the broken chair beneath him. He grabs a leg of it, and holds it like a weapon as he scrambles to his feet.

Bobby has already gotten to Pamela, she's covering her face and muttering about sight. Dean catches a glimpse and turns to Danny as Bobby shouts to call 9-1-1.

He can hear Sam stumble over scattered items in the direction of the phone. He kneels in front of his brother's friend.

Danny's eyes are closed, but he has eyelids, so Dean thinks that's a good sign for now. Blood is gushing from the kid's nose.

"He's beautiful." The kid whispers, clearly dazed.

"You okay, kid?"

" 'm not'a kid, 'm 24, plus all that time that didn't happen, so I'm even older than I am."

"Right, Sammy's calling the 9-1-1, you're gonna be—"

Danny jerked away like someone had soaked their hands in ice water before grabbing his shoulder. "No hospitals."

Dean remembered that the kid was also a hunter, but a lot more vivid than that, was the image of Pam's eyes seared out. "Okay, okay, let me see your eyes, then we'll decide what to do."

Danny obeyed. He blinked his eyes open, and while bright green irises' surrounded with angry red lines, they were like, normal levels of bloodshot and not 'stared into eye gouging power' bloodshot. So that was good, better than Dean had hoped. "Okay, you come with us while Bobby handles the EMT's."

"Promise?"

"Yeah, promise."

Danny nods. "He's beautiful, Dean. Like something past hoping, like the things that live in the silver."

"Um." Dean regretted his choices.

"Neverborn and Neverdead for sure. But not the embodiment of a concept I dont think. Maybe something like a wisp? If wisps liked to burn your corneas off."

"I don't think it was a wisp, buddy."

"No, Castiel isn't a wisp name. Wisps have names like:" Danny whistled a few notes.

"Are you sure you don't need a hospital?"

He wiped his nose with his sleeve. This succeeded only in smearing the blood around his face and getting his sleeve dirty. . "Yeah'm sure. Don't ask me to do anything with depth perception though."

"Danny, I don't think—"

"You promised." And Dean had promised.

---

"What'd Bobby say?"

"Pam's stable. And out of I.C.U." Sam returned to their table.

"And blind, because of us."

"No, it looked a lot worse than it is, she should retain some eyesight, but we still have no clue who we're dealing with."

"We're dealing with Castiel." Danny muttered from where he was hiding his face from the "oppressive concept of LED lights". Dean was pretty sure the lights in here were normal, but he wasn't gonna argue with the kid who might be concussed about if the diner lights were a reasonable brightness.

"That doesn't exactly help us, though."

"Sure it does, With the right mumbo-jumbo we could summon him, bring him right to us."

"You're crazy. Absolutely not."

"We'll work him over. I mean, after what he did?"

"Pam took a peek at him and her eyes burned out of her skull, Danny's..." Sam looks at Danny, who may as well be a sweatshirt artfully arranged on the table. "You want to have a face to face?"

"You got a better idea?"

"Yeah, as a matter of fact I do. I looked, there are signs of Demons in town."

"Okay." Dean doesn't like where this is going, but he's aware of how strongly he doesn't want this to be a demonic plot, so he keeps his mouth shut.

"So, we go find them. Someone's gotta know something about something."

Dean opens his mouth, then shuts it again as the waitress approaches. Ah the awkward silence of 'don't freak out the locals.' They didn't have that in Hell, he doesn't miss it.

Three plates, each with a perfect slice of pie, makes their way to the table. They didn't have this in Hell either, this, Dean missed a lot. The sweatshirt on the table must agree, because it revives into a human person and pulls his plate to himself. It's the first thing the kid did since the seance that doesn't make Dean regret letting him skip the hospital.

Then, before Dean can dig into his own slice with the same intense focus, their waitress joins them at the table.

"You angling for a tip?"

"I'm sorry. Thought you were looking for us." She smiles as her eyes go absent of light. Then the man behind her does the same, then the cook in the kitchen. The front door locks with a resounding click.

"Oh, you will not." Danny hisses. And Dean tenses, for a moment, just a silly, ridiculous moment, he thought the kid was going to throw himself across the table, attack the demon with tooth and claw. Dean tenses, ready to drag the kid off the demon, because not even it deserves his full wrath. But Danny doesn't move, because that would be insane. The kid is not that insane, Dean has seen 0 behavior that would make him expect such a ridiculous action.

The demon locks eyes with the kid, several seconds pass, then moment is gone, and only Danny's half-given threat hangs in the air. The kid goes back to his pie. The demon turns to Dean as if nothing had happened.

"Dean. To hell and back. Aren't you a lucky duck." She tries to play it cool, to pretend that she wasn't just as rattled by... whatever Danny had done— and rest assured Dean will find out what that was— but she was rattled, and the threat of her backup did nothing to help her regain control.

She tells him nothing they didn't already know. Dean tells her nothing she didn't already know. Dean doesn't bluff, because for some reason they don't need to bluff. They finish their pie, pay and leave.

A block down the road, when the feeling of being watched by a predator fades, he turns to the kid.

"What. Was. That?"

"Uh... the demons? I thought you guys dealt with those semi-regularly?"

"No. What you did."

"Ate pie?" Dean pushes the kid against the wall.

"Dean, what's going on?"

"You're telling me you didn't feel that, Sammy?!"

"Feel what?"

Dean searched his brother's face, it was pure worry not a trace that he was hiding something. Danny however, held not a trace of concern, not even the slightest fear that Dean might hit him. Cold blue eyes watch him with morbid detachment.

"Dean, what is it?"

"Nothing." Dean lies. Releasing the kid as his brother tried to pry answers out of him.

There is something wrong with Danny, and Dean is going to figure out what.

---

Dean's plans for investigation are stalled slightly. Because Danny's plan, apparently, was to sleep in the back of his van. As the kid still looked like a walking corpse, and his nose had started bleeding again, Sam had taken pity and insisted he stay in the motel with them.

Dean, now half convinced Danny was in league with the demons from earlier, (yeah the theory didn't make sense but Dean didn't have a better idea at the moment. It had been a long day.) was not thrilled with this plan. Did he have an argument that would stop Sam from being protective of his girlfriend's little brother? No. No, he did not. And to be fair, the kid did pass out the instant his head hit the pillow, so he probably wasn't an immediate threat.

Dean took the other bed so Sam would have to live with the consequences of his actions. He falls asleep thinking of jokes to make for either sleeping arrangement his brother chooses.

---

Dean is shaken awake. He swings the moment he realizes the dark figure is too short to be Sam.

Danny blocks him easily. He grabs Dean's arm to pin him for exactly the time it takes to look him in the eyes and say. "He's here. Castiel's here."

Then he lets him go, but Dean is still frozen, still pinned by the younger man's gaze. Green eyes almost glow in the beam of an outside streetlamp. It is not the same as a shapeshifter's ‘lazer-eyes'

but it is something.

But there's no time to think about it, the television flicks on with familiar static and the radio follows. There is too much glass in here. Between windows and mirrors and why on earth did they choose a motel with a mirror on the ceiling when the thing chasing them shattered glass? He shouts a warning and barely has enough time to throw the comforter over them both before the world explodes.

They huddle between the beds in a haphazard blanket fort that does nothing to stop the whistling scream. It feels too thin to be real protection against the glass either, but it holds, and the kid's eyes are definitely glowing but it's the least of his concerns.

It's not so different from hell. The noise, the danger, the cramping in his muscles as he tries in vain to protect himself. He can't tell the difference between a few seconds and a few centuries. But he's breathing, so he counts his breaths and loses count twice.

Neither of them move the blanket when things seem to calm. Another century that is actually six breaths, and Bobby is rushing through the door, shouting for them.

The glass heavy blanket is pulled away and then they're both being checked over.

"Where's Sam?" Dean demands.

"I don't know, he wasn't here when I woke." Its probably stupid, but Dean believes him.

They have no new cuts or bruises, though Danny's ears are bleeding a little.

They have the hospital argument again, Danny is feeling better(or worse) than before, because he threatens to spit on all of their socks. When that doesn't work, he threatens to not tell them what Castiel said. That does work.

"He says to meet him at the church on south street. He didn't give a time, but he promised he'd be in a form we can handle."

Bobby and Dean share a look, yeah, they're not doing that.

But the idea that it could be a trap seems foreign to the younger hunter. Danny argues that the spirit might be offended and that "A summoning might cause him to lose concrete form, then we'll just repeat the glass nightmare."

Well that was a good point: building with no windows it was then.

Needless to say Danny loses this argument.

---

So Sam is lying to him, they're in some old building marking it up with every religion known to man and Danny's claimed a whole section of wall for the doodles not known to man. Bobby gets sidetracked by it every fifteen minutes, but Danny must have credible sources for the marks because Bobby tells the kid to copy them down for later study.

Dean really needs to decide what to do about the kid. He's been helpful so far... but that was how things started with Ruby.

"This is still a bad idea." Bobby tells him. They're ready.

"I second!" Danny shouts from where he's copying his symbols into Bobby's notebook.

"Yeah, Bobby, I heard you the first ten times. What do you say we ring the dinner bell?"

Bobby sighs, but begins.

---

Castiel tries to knock the kid out, just like he already did to Bobby. It takes everything in Dean to not panic.

"Yeah, no. Not doing that." Danny deadpans to the man-shaped thing.

"I need to talk to Dean. Alone."

"Well, you could've just asked. Going all sleepy magic on a guy is kinda rude. Dean? Want me to sit in the car?"

"Are you nuts?!" He checked Bobby's pulse.

"Your friend's alive." Bobby's pulse is even and strong.

"Who are you?"

"Castiel." "He's Castiel." Both human shaped things say. This conversation was going to be painful.

"Obviously, I mean what are you?"

"I'm an Angel of the Lord."

"Which Lord?" Danny asks before Dean can say something dumb like 'nun-uh.' Danny's question definitely offends Castiel more than any denial Dean could've come up with. The guy actually staggers a bit.

"The One True God."

"You realize like 40% of the gods I've met say that, right?" What? And with that the kid has rendered the angel speechless with indignation, Dean's not gonna lie, he's kinda impressed.

"Quit pulling our legs, angel's aren't real."

"Dean, this is your problem, you have no faith."

Dean's not sure how to describe the fact that he was suddenly aware of Castiel's wings. Not that he saw them exactly, or felt, or heard them, he just suddenly knew where they were, how they unfurled from Castiel's body and were held out in proud display. Then the moment passed and they were gone.

Danny clapped politely. It ruined the rising feel of awe inspired dread and Dean hated how much he was starting to like this kid.

"You burned out that poor woman's eyes." Dean started. He wasn't letting this guy off the hook so easy.

[avocadoguru]

hi can we very kindly (absolutely not in a greedy way) ask for sneak peek 🫣🥹?

Harry was relieved that everything had gone so smoothly with Edward, and how he seemed to have integrated so easily into what would now be his new home. But most of all he felt good to be back to what was essentially his home for a large part of his life. After his parents had passed when he was just 9 years old, he came to live with his uncle until he came of age and moved with his original pack, of which his brother had turned leader of. 

But he’d always missed this place. He felt like a traitor to have always preferred his uncle’s pack to his own, but there was just no comparison. He never dared speak it out loud to anyone, not even his uncle, let alone his brother while he was alive.

He couldn’t help but think that here, with this pack… maybe he could tell Y/N the truth and their lives would be completely different. He wouldn't need to give up this part of himself like he'd been doing for her sake.

Because he now knew, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that when they got back home he needed to start putting wheels into motion and step back from his pack. 

He was going to renounce his title as alpha leader and go on his own way, as a lone wolf, the same way Niall had.

But with this pack, here… maybe he wouldn’t have to. 

The capital rule of never disclosing the secret of their existence to humans was common for every pack. It was to ensure the continuity of their species, and it was universally applicable amongst his kind. But he knew that here, he could make it so that the pack members would make an exception for her. For him. They loved him here, and so did he, and they were family. They would understand what predicament he found himself in and would allow this one exception. Because he trusted Y/N to not tell a living soul about them. And they, in turn, would trust his trust in her.

That, of course, if she would still want him once she learned the truth about him. Once she knew what he was, saw him in his wolf form even… something he couldn’t even dare imagine. In his mind, she could never want him after discovering what he was.

…But what if she did?

Harry couldn’t stop from fantasizing about this perfect scenario. That would solve all his problems. All his guilt he felt, having to lie to her about it to keep her safe… He could finally be free of that burden. Free to be himself, his true self.

“You’re very quiet today.” Y/N pointed out as she unpacked some of her stuff from her overnight bag. She’d been the one to do most of the talking on their car ride, too. “Did the drive tire you?”

Harry loved seeing her there, in the house he grew up in. Seeing her surrounded by his kind was surreal. She had no idea how dangerous it was for her to be there, even though she was in no danger at all. Nobody would hurt her. But if they wanted to…

And she was oblivious to it all. She trusted him completely, to bring her with him there, and she had no clue as to what kind of danger she was putting herself in. 

No human had ever spent the night amongst the pack. Sure, their community was much different than the one he ruled over- this one was hiding in plain sight. Living amongst humans, apparently- but in reality, humans only came through there in passing but never lingered more than necessary. Their community was enclosed to only their kind, albeit not in a literal sense, without it being in the least obvious to the human eye that they were different in any way.

But Y/N had been allowed into the alpha leader’s house. She was sleeping over. Everyone in the pack knew and gave their silent agreement. Everyone in the pack saw Harry and her together and didn’t bat an eyelid. Because they trusted Harry. And they could tell, of course, that Y/N was absolutely unaware of the truth of the matter. He knew he’d have their undivided support.

And Lester had brought this up with Harry before- asked him to consider staying with his pack, instead of going back to his own when he turned 18. But Harry felt he owed fealty to his own pack, to his brother, and his father’s legacy. He felt that was the right thing to do, to go back to his own family.

He’d been wrong.

Harry realized pretty soon that his own pack wasn’t all he’d remembered it to be- and a far cry from the one he’d grown up with. His own were much colder, boorish, and aside from Niall who he made friends with right away, he wasn’t close to anyone other than his immediate family- Harry’s brother and his wife. 

And he could feel it affecting him as well- it made him colder, more incisive, cutthroat, and scheming. He went from a curly-headed adolescent with dimples and a bright smile to a long-haired lanky young man with a perpetual scowl on his face at all times in a matter of months. He called it growing up, maturing, becoming an adult- but he felt robbed of the life he’d had back with his uncle’s pack. He felt alone and built walls around himself to gain respect and instill fear amongst his own.

Up until now.

Harry circled Y/N’s waist from behind and rested his head on her shoulder, hugging her to him. It felt so comforting. He never knew all these small touches could make him feel so good. “No, I’m not tired.” He nibbled at her earlobe a bit and felt her squirm in his hold and her breathy giggle was enough to have him thicken in his trousers for her. “Not yet. Want you in my arms again; can I have you, Y/N?”

Her eyes widened as she turned in his hold, “What, here?! But– your uncle…”

Harry grunted, digging his fingers into her waist, “What about him? We’ll be discreet. I know you like to be loud for me, but you can try to be quiet, right, kitten? Be a good girl for me and hold those pretty moans in this pretty throat of yours?” he lowered his eyes to said body part and then grabbed it abruptly, pulling her in for a kiss that turned heated very rapidly.

Y/N nodded against his lips, “Yes. I will, I’ll be good for you.”

Harry could purr at how easily she fell into her role with him in the bedroom. It was like second nature for her to turn to putty in his hands, and it made him absolutely feral for her.

“Good girl, Y/N,” he cooed, pecking at her lips and parting from her, “Let’s practice first, hm? I’ll give you something to muffle those moans and whimpers. Go on, get on your knees and take me into your mouth and let’s see how well you can keep quiet. If you do a good job I’ll give you a treat, hm? How’s that sound?”

sneak peek from Lupus noctis- Chaper 9

[rosie-kairi]

Hello I heard an excuse to ask about Rosemary and the seedlings

Who proposed, Rosemary or Ephemer? How long were they dating? How long were they married before they decided to have kids?

Which of the kids are keyblade wielders? Who takes the brunt of the social obligations as a famous family? Who spends the most time with each parent? Which kids end up having kids themselves?

What position do you envision Rosemary having in the rebuilding of Scala? How does she feel knowing that Lauriam is lost somewhere in time and will likely outlive her? How does she honor Strelitzia's memory? Does she know the full truth of the situation, that the public wouldn't? Does she forgive Ventus for his part in it?

Rosemary and Ephemer get married around their early to mid 20's, I think. Rosemary is about 1-2 years older than Ephemer, so I'm thinking maybe 22 + 24? Ephemer being around 16 at the end of khux and her being 17-going-on-18 sounds about right. Probably don't start dating until at least a year of knowing each other. (Ephemer not wanting to jump right into a close relationship out of fear of losing her/feeling like he's using her to soothe his guilt due to her similarities with Lauriam). Idk.

Anyway, the story of their marriage is a very funny one that can be summed up thusly:

Ephemer proposes to her pretty much on the spot after this. I imagine it would be mostly due to a lot of the public probably having more.. traditional values? Basically, Ephemer doesn't need people judging him for having children born out of wedlock when he's trying to build a society from the ground up. But it's also something he had been wanting to do but didn't know the right time for. So they get married soon after, and if the kids are born only a handful of months after the wedding instead of at least 9, who's to say?

As for the kids, I think they'd all wind up with keyblades at one point or another. I don't think Nico is much of a fighter, though, so he doesn't see reason to use it unless absolutely necessary. Reggie, as the oldest, takes on most of Ephemer's responsibilities once she's old enough. The other two help out as well, but they're also busy running around the various worlds trying to gauge the extent of the damage the keyblade war caused, for science and for funsies.

June is very much a daddy's girl, and Nico's a momma's boy. Reggie has no real "favorite" parent, but if asked she'd probably say Rosemary as well. They all love each other equally, but it's clear who took after who on the family tree lol. As for their kids, I think all three of them have at least one. June carries the Belrose family name which eventually leads to Sigrun in DR, and Nicolai somehow leads to the creation of good ol' Nort.

Rosemary's role in the rebuilding of Scala is being the person doing all of the talking. Growing up in a well-respected southern family has taught Rosemary her fair share of conversational tactics to get someone to agree to exactly what you want them to. Call it manipulative, but she does it mostly through being very very polite. You just can't say no to a face like hers, and she's asking you so so nicely. Ephemer eventually finds his footing as leader, but everyone always listens to Rosemary.

With regards to her cousins, Rosemary probably doesn't know all of the details. Ephemer tells her most things but leaves out some of the stuff that he'd think would really wreck her emotionally. So, as far as she is concerned, Lauriam and Strelitzia are dead dead. No Coming back, she can only hope to see them in whatever afterlife exists in KH. She honors them by creating multiple gardens in their names and treats them with the utmost care. Her and Ephy probably have statues of them put up in the gardens, or maybe something meant to represent them.

As for Ventus, I think Ephemer would explain it to her in the best terms a non-wielder could understand. There was this kid, he was lonely, Lauriam embraced him as a brother in the absence of Strelitzia, but then it came out that the kid had accidentally caused Strelitzia's death. They're probably the only two that know that last bit, as Ephemer saw no reason to stain the poor kid's legacy with that, knowing that'd it would probably be twisted over the years and lose the "unintentional" part. So, I think Rosemary understands that Ventus didn't want Strelitzia to die. I think Rosemary would wish she could've been there for him, at least a little bit. Roads not taken, and all that.

[deadendtracks]

responding to @divinekangaroo's response to me!

re: the Lizzie scene in s2, I never feel like I can articulate what I see in any kind of coherent way. It's one of those completely *weird* scenes that CM throws in every so often that isn't quite what you'd expect it to be but isn't particularly easily defined, either.

The impending assassination and his emotional shut down over Grace are definitely elements!

The ability to get away from being used to kill, but then being locked back into it against his will.

Yeah, absolutely, this is incredibly important to both season 2 and season 3 (and arguably season 5 in a different way).

I have such a sense he’s almost *forcing* himself to do it.

Yeah absolutely, that's how I look at it too. I don't sense any anger in it, but Tommy does often react to situations he can't escape by 'going away' in a sense (dissociating, detaching, withdrawing emotionally).

I wonder how this fits with what you talk about later regarding him 'acting out' on Lizzie what's being done to him -- would he have to so obviously force himself to do this if that were the case? It seems like it would be more compulsive/irresistible and feel necessary for him if that was the motivating factor? He doesn't seem to be aware enough to have it be the case that he feels this compulsion and knows where it's coming from and is struggling with it by becoming detached, idk.

From Lizzie’s words (and how warm the two of them are in the typewriter scene) I have to assume they’ve had a relatively amicable paid sexual relationship, and Tommy’s definitely acting different in that particular scene.

Yeah definitely. This tends to be misinterpreted by some parts of fandom as how he *always* is with Lizzie, but Lizzie's reaction to him is definitely a little "idk what *that* was about" and she wouldn't behave the way she does if that was how he typically treated her. There's also the fact that despite his demeanor in that scene where he seems to be dismissive of her, in the next scene he shows he'd listened to her and thought about what she said.

It’s not really about pleasure or release before a risky venture that might kill him. It’s not even about Lizzie at all, or a comment on his prior (or upcoming) connection with Lizzie. A reminder to himself about being used, the way certain disadvantaged people are always used no matter what they actually want, the way he feels about being used that way. And a very strong reminder at the end when Lizzie outreaches for connection that you take the money and treat the exchange as a transaction.

Yeah, that could be part of it, though to me it doesn't feel like he's aware enough even of Lizzie's presence for this to be a kind of acting out of that dynamic on another person -- instead it's like she's not even there (and he's not there either). In some ways you wonder why he's doing it at all. One of my theories about Tommy & sex is that he uses it to get out of his own anxiety spirals/out of his head, so maybe that was what he was hoping would happen and he was just too dissociated from the fact of what he was about to do to get anything out of it but taking the edge off.

So he uses Lizzie, not cruelly or unfairly in that desk scene given she is a prostitute then: she’s his only lover that he doesn’t have to perform with. He can have terrible sex, he doesn’t have to think about her pleasure, he doesn’t have to perform or satisfy her or try to influence her.

In some ways she's also the only person he doesn't have to perform for period, he's always performing for his family, he's always performing for his enemies and for the upper classes. He can often be quite 'flat affect' with them but never quite to this extent; with Lizzie he can drop even the pretense that he's present. Which isn't great for her! But his reaction to her wanting *more* from him ('i wish just once you wouldn't pay for it like normal people' or whatever she says) could be all about the fact that what he *wants* in that moment is to not have to be anything or anyone to her or himself, he wants to *not be.*

Tangentially: I also think a lot of his behaviours with Lizzie are actually about what’s going on in himself, not about his feelings for her.

Yeah, absolutely. His first scene with her at Epsom is about this; he's too wrapped up in what he's about to do to even hear what she's saying or how she feels about it; and I don't think it has a lot to do with what he thinks about her as a person, he's just dropped into that headspace where he can't spare anything for anyone.

This Lizzie as a Tommy-distorted-mirror warps and shifts over time, but I think S2 in particular she’s almost this “sexual-tool / extension-of-himself” to be that mirror of him being used as a “killing-tool��� where he has no choice, and he actively uses her that way in the sex scene and at Epsom.

That's an interesting point. To riff on it a bit I think it connects to "everyone's a whore, Grace" and to "everyone gets tired, Finn" -- I think in a wider sense Tommy's thinking is nearly always war-time, in that everyone around him is also a combatant and there are no civilians. It's the same with his brothers often, it's the same with how he has disregard for the civilians in the housing project in the season 4 shootout: this is a battlefield for him so he treats everyone else as if they're also in the battlefield situation with him.

Which... at least for Lizzie and those civilians in s4, they didn't sign up for this! He blurs the lines between how people use their bodies-as-tools, including, later, himself. I think a lot of this comes from having been a lower level officer ranked over his brothers -- to have mentally survived at some point he'd have had to detach from any personal feelings about who he's 'using' to fight these battles and how, and now he can't turn it off.

He also fully intended for Lizzie not to have to go through with it, which is important; at the same time he'd have to know there'd always be a risk of that going wrong in ways that (at that point) wouldn't be true of himself (he'd end up injured, killed, arrested rather than raped).

asking for Lizzie as a thing/a Tommy substitute -- well, he actually did do that to Lizzie at Epsom, because he couldn’t do it himself. 

And it shows how he changes by s5 where he absolutely would never offer Lizzie to Moseley even if it would be strategically advantageous; instead he'll keep putting himself into the position where it's possible he'll have to do it himself, which terrifies him.

[princess-lvcifer]

i told you so

samoth/ihsahn • 1K • hurt/comfort

summary: Tomas and Ihsahn have an important conversation before going to prison.

A/N: This is similar to my previous Samoth x F!Reader and Ihsahn x F!Reader drabble and is going to be similar to my next Ihsahn x Faust drabble because I love exploring the angst of a loved one going far away for months and years. I wrote the first paragraphs and I thought "Wait this could be also yaoi... What should I write...? Fuck it I'll write every version I have in mind."

𖤐 𖤐 𖤐 𖤐 𖤐 𖤐 𖤐 𖤐 𖤐 𖤐 𖤐 𖤐 𖤐 𖤐

He was always aware of the things his band members and other friends were doing, he didn't agree and didn't want to participate, but he kept quiet and just like them thought they would never get caught, but Varg ruined everyone's party. Øystein's murder at the hands of Varg the year before culminated the fun in the Norwegian black metal scene.

The months between then and now had been very hard, with all his band members and other friends being questioned and judged, including himself. The police, quite rightly, started a witch hunt and unfortunately his best friend and boyfriend had ashes on his hands. The relationship became strained and cold, now they were the ones who needed the fire instead of the churches. He didn't want to tell him "I told you so", but he told him.

Vegard had a year to psyche himself up, and yet he was still hurt and furious that absolutely every member of his band was going to prison for church burning, robbery, possession of explosives, grave desecration, extreme knife violence and even murder. He was furious with all of them for what they had done, and although he knew they deserved it, he was also angry with justice — he didn't want to be left alone, he didn't want any more change.

The one who kept him most awake at night was Tomas, no doubt about it. His crimes were no big deal compared to the rest of them, and luckily he had only been sentenced to sixteen months, but at the same time it seemed like an eternity. He was his best friend and secret boyfriend, he loved him madly and although they could still communicate by letter and maybe even talk on the phone and visit him, it wouldn't be the same. They would spend a long time apart, and their future and the future of the band was uncertain.

He tried to console himself by saying that he had lived most of his life without him and that he could live without him for a little more than a year and if necessary for the rest of his life, but he didn't want to because he started to live with him always by his side. He couldn't imagine his life without him. Everyone was replaceable in everything, except Tomas.

There were still a few days left before the future prisoners would enter prison, and before that they would go to their parents' house to spend their last days of freedom with their families. Tomorrow they would pack their bags and leave, and he wouldn't see them again until God knows when.

A knock on his bedroom door caught his attention, snapping him out of his thoughts. It could be any one of them, though the only one he saw knocking on his door at night, and more so that night, was him.

"Come in," he said and the door opened. No light came in when he opened it, the light in the corridor was out, as was the light in his room. He could barely see who it was, but his silhouette was enough to tell him apart.

"Can I lie down, please?" Tomas asked in a whisper as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"Yes," he replied moving to the wall, trapping himself between it and him.

They were silent for a few long seconds, staring at the dark ceiling and rubbing their little fingers together. Tomas wanted to cuddle with him, but didn't even dare ask permission to do so. He already felt he'd done too much by asking if he could lie beside him, and was surprised that he agreed. He only dared to turn his neck a little to his left and open his mouth slightly, unsure of what to say.

"...I'm going to miss you," he dared to say, being sincere but also manipulative to hear what he wanted to come out of Vegard's mouth: an "And I miss you", a token of affection. And luckily he got it, though it didn't sound too sad, but tired in many ways. After a pause, thinking about what to say again, he opened his mouth again to ask something he dreaded the answer to. "Do you... want us to break up?"

"Do you?" he said turning his neck slightly to the right.

"No no," he answered quickly, "I love you."

"Don't say it too loud, lest Bård kill us," he said sarcastically.

"What do you want?" he asked after a pause.

"I don't want you to leave, fuck," he replied annoyed. Tomas was touched by that answer, but it was of little use since he couldn't fulfil that wish no matter how much he wanted to.

"Yeah, me too... It's my fault we have to have this conversation, and I'm sorry. On the bright side... It's only sixteen months...?" he said, not sure that this positivism was going to work with Vegard.

"An eternity," he translated, and Tomas was again touched by the fact that his boyfriend considered it an eternity to go sixteen months without him.

"I know. But however long it takes, I'll wait for you if you want me to," he said daring to take his hand. "I know it's been hard months, but when I get out of prison I want to be by your side, in everything. Being your best friend, your boyfriend and your guitar player... I'll make it up to you, just.... Don't replace me," he begged, on the verge of tears.

"How could I? Fuck Tomas, you're irreplaceable," he said annoyed at the situation and at having to say something so obvious, although he was also touched that he was afraid that he would replace him in some way.

"Really?"

"What a question."

"Just say it, please."

"I love you," he said at last, calmer now. "I'd wait for you even if you were rotting away for years..." and he hated that, but so much love did he felt for him that it was true.

And though he couldn't see it because of the darkness of the room, Tomas smiled hugely like the love-struck boy he was. Happy with the direction the conversation had taken, he shifted his position, moving to his side and finally daring to snuggle up to him.

𖤐 𖤐 𖤐 𖤐 𖤐 𖤐 𖤐 𖤐 𖤐 𖤐 𖤐 𖤐 𖤐 𖤐

A/N: Sorry if something was weird expressed, English isn't my first language.

Crossposted on my AO3. 🇪🇸

[kerryweaverlesbian]

Lofty of BBC's Holby City was maybe one of the worst characters on the show. Is this a hot take? Do people outside of me and my family somehow adore Lofty? I can't imagine how. Here is my hateful mean and nasty reasoning. Read at your own risk I'm not accepting criticism at this time lmao:

A) he was effective comic relief on Casualty because it's the Emergency Department and moments of Lofty tripping over or doing a social faux pas are necessary tension breakers in episodes where people are constantly at deaths door.

Casualty is (when it's GOOD) required to have at least a third of the episode dedicated to a narsty horrible accident (hell yeah) and tensions are always running high so you can see how having someone a be awkward is not going to be the worst thing that happened to them that day.

Holby City is a more hospital staff focused show (although again. If there's less than a third of an episode focused on patients it is probably a bad episode. PLEASE HAVE PATIENTS IN YOUR HOSPITAL SHOW.) but there's a lot of waiting around for people in Holby because it's the longer term care zone. If Lofty is dropping stuff in the background of scenes with this lower energy it suggests he has some sort of untreated disability rather than 'argh I'm frantic OOPS'. He is painted more as incompetent on Holby compared to their more grounded staff. Which makes everyone ELSE look incompetent for putting up with it. (To be clear!!!! I'm not saying people with disabilities are incompetent lol if he had one it would have been a storyline!! And if he had one and none of the doctors who see him every day flagged it it also makes them look incompetent. He doesn't CARE enough to be CAREful. And in a show ABOUT caring for vulnerable people as far as you absolutely can. That's a big problem.)

Like the thing is. Characters on Casualty can be one note architypes forever because they're doing medical CSI. Holby spends so much more time with the cast, they NEED to become more complicated and Lofty never does, he's the same guy no matter what happens. The only other guy like that in Holby is the incomparable Guy Self and he's a villain! He is a villain for never changing or trying for anyone! And even he TRIES to reform occasionally. Lofty (and the SHOW) doesn't see a problem with him perpetually disengaging from making emotional choices, putting most of the work of maintaining relationships on other people, and generally coasting through a profession that everyone else is giving 110% to. The building could be on fire and he'd wander outside and not think to rescue any of the patients unless someone else told him to.

B) the B is for Bisexual. Bisexual representation on Holby City where he cheats on his husband with a woman. It's a yikes from me.

C) speaking of Dom. God their relationship was horrible. POOR FUCKING DOM. tw abuse. Lofty talks to and believes Dom's abusive ex over him? He hugs the guy that RECENTLY pushed Dom down a flight of stairs? And they're still supposed to be a cutesy couple by the end of this? He shuts down Dom's excitement constantly? Hello??

D) the D is again for Dom because. It's their one year anniversary. By the way it was on their honeymoon that Dom couldn't go on to support his sick mother that Lofty cheated on Dom. Just by the way. BY THE WAY if your husband says he's going to stay home for your honeymoon and insists you go by yourself so he can stay home to support his sick mother. Maybe. Hm. Stay and support him instead. Just a fucking thought.

Lofty decides it's not working and they amicably split up (Dom is an angel sent from gay heaven by the way. I perhaps have my biases.) Dom kindly gives him the quirky and personal gift he'd bought him for their one year wedding anniversary as Lofty unicycles away (it may have been a bicycle but I picture it as a unicycle). Lofty gives him. Nothing. Which means that this man sat there as they planned a big anniversary party and not ONCE. not ONCE did he consider buying Dom an anniversary present. Because he's an arse!!!!

E) he only does this :| or this :/ for any emotion. I love characters with flat affects, for example my close personal friends Hannah Supernatural, Abed Community, and also as well my actual real human friends who do this 💖💖💖. HOWEVER. Lofty doesn't show emotion any OTHER way either. There IS nothing going on in his heart. He has passion for nothing. He goes where other people point. He avoids giving his opinion because he doesn't have any. This makes him a bad tv character for a drama. Opinion IS story on Holby. There is an issue, they all take sides and fight over it, and he doesn't get involved.

Anyway. Show's been over for over a year I will never have to see Lofty's face ever again as long as I live unless I for some reason decide to do a bizarre Holby City Rewatch and keep going to season 19.

By the way as I was looking up when he came to the Holby side of Holby City Hospital, I found this quote from his wiki page:

"Lofty is portrayed as a nice person who is likeable and popular."

Hm. He IS PORTRAYED as a nice person. The show thinks he's a nice person who is likable. However.

This concludes my ministry of hate.

[captainkingsley]

1, 3, 9, and 44 ^^

Bg3 act 1 asks

Tell us about your Tav! Name, class and subclass, race, pronouns. Do you have a headcanon for where they're from? Their family? Are they a Dark Urge? Or did you choose an Origin Character? Was it an easy decision? (1)

My Tav's name is Encore! He's a trans man tiefling swords bard with the charlatan background. He's from a couple different places — he was born outside of Baldur's Gate in a more rural area, his mother was human. His father, however, is actually Mephistopheles, who wound up taking him to Cania when he was around 9-10ish. For devil reasons. I won't get into it here tbh, it deserves its own post

He lived there (unhappily) for quite a while, and eventually managed to find his way out and partially lose the fiends his father sent after him. But ducking back into the Hells on the nautiloid gave his location away and made him easier to track again. So, he's from both Baldur's Gate and the Hells, and he'd much rather stay in Baldur's Gate... But Mephistopheles has plans for him and wants him back in Cania.

Has your Character been using their illithid powers? (3)

Maybe once or twice, but he avoids it at most possible times. He hates the feeling of it, hates the fact that it's something else sharing his mind. Sometimes even just the shared thoughts between the party gets uncomfortable for him, and he only purposely dips into that when absolutely necessary. But he never uses it against anyone, even if it would benefit him.

In game mechanics speak: he's only used the bond to talk to party members when it's come up. He's never used it on a check of any kind and he intends to keep it that way.

Do you have a favorite member of the Tiefling Refugees? Is it the same as your Character's? (9)

Alfira!!! She's my beloved and I adore her, and so does Encore. He thinks she's really talented, and if circumstances were different, he'd have enjoyed traveling with her and collaborating on music together.

Asker wants Blogger to choose a question from the list. (44)

How did your Character resolve the situation with Nere and the gnomes? (34)

(dropping this under a read more for possible spoilers!)

Used a random number generator to pick a question and. Uh. Boy oh boy. I don't even know what happened with this situation.

Party went down there, decided to back up and explore around a bit more.

(because in my last savestate, my party blew up the wall, a fight broke out, they all got knocked around and thrown in lava and it was. A mess. No amount of revivify scrolls could save the situation.)

Went into the forge instead. Forged stuff. Came back. Everyone was dead. Wall was blown open, too?

No idea how. But Encore then tried to, uh, claim Nere's head for the myconid circle, and that went … about as well as you'd expect for a bard with -1 STR.

But, yeah, uh. No situation to resolve. Because everyone was dead.

[suddenrundown]

im about to go absolutely feral over "#small touches that are Allowed Touches." please say more.

I bluescreened when you sent me this cuz the tag was just #vibes lol but in my attempt to turn the #vibes into coherency, I just got rambly. But we’re going with it!

So an interesting thing about Eliot is that his designated job is not actually “hitter”. Like, he does hit people a lot but only out of necessity and when it comes down to it while doing his actual job, which is retrieval specialist. And in the case of Leverage, what he’s retrieving is the team, getting them in and out of places safely in whatever way he can, often using violence as a tool, which is why his designation gets lovingly shorthanded to hitter.

When he’s not resorting to violence out of necessity, he’s physically directing the team, leading them around with a guiding hand or using his own momentum to get them where he thinks they should go. He doesn’t just do that on the con, though. I can’t find the post that talks about it right now, but Eliot likes to herd people around. Off the top of my head, there's the moment you were talking about in your post with Eliot leading Parker away from the hospital window with a hand to her bicep that trails to her wrist as he gets her to walk, and then I know there's a gif from the 12 step job floating around where Hardison and Eliot, after gleefully whispering about getting to go to a strip club, walk away from Nate with Hardison in front and Eliot very closely at his back. I can’t find it but like you know the one.

You could just say it’s out of habit that he does that. If he leads them around on the con then he habitually leads them around everywhere else, right? Maybe, sure. But here’s another fun thing about Eliot:

He’s ~repressed~.

Eliot’s protector of the team but he’s also protective of them as his friends/family. And he does things to show that. Cooks them dinner, talks them through problems, etc. Those are the things he allows himself to do. But that’s not all he wants from them.

At least, not from Hardison.

Or Parker.

There's a closeness he does apparently want, but doesn't allow himself to have. Eliot full on hugs Hardison in moments when he's not quite in control of himself and lets Parker sit close and invade his space when she feels like it (with only mild grumbling at times). If he didn't want it, it wouldn't happen.

He does want it, though. More than he'd like to admit to himself, which is why he grumbles and pushes away. These are things he's not allowed to have because people like him don't deserve that kind of love and affection. Besides that, the affection that Hardison and Parker have to give should be reserved for each other, right? That's not Eliot's to have. So he doesn't seek them out when he can help it.

Instead, he does his job. He herds and he guides and he prompts and he pushes and pulls because he's allowed that. Even when it isn't necessary. Three seconds of a gentle guiding hand leading Parker down a hall or a quick high five/fist pound combo with Hardison in a celebratory moment are small things, really, in the grand scheme of things, but they mean everything when you're starved for a soft touch in between all the violent ones.

[kirisaki-daichi-scenarios]

Not sure if this has been asked before but, do you think any of the KiriDai or Imayoshi would fall for someone who's got a shitty personality as them (the KiriDai at least)? Not like hurting a person physically but very spiteful and antisocial kind of girl? Why or why not?

i don’t think of being antisocial as having a shitty personality; spitefulness can be, but it varies a lot person to person. anyway, so i’ve gone for would they like those specific traits in a s/o instead.

Imayoshi Shouichi - Would he like you, maybe date you? Yes. Would he truly fall for you? It’s 50/50. The thing is, he'd enjoy approaching you when it’s clear you don’t want to talk to anyone, and he’d find your spiteful nature entertaining (especially cause he can guess perfectly just how much you hate others and his presence. And he’s also very good at making mean comments!), but up to a point. Those traits make him interested in you, yet Imayoshi’s got his head screwed on his shoulders. He knows he sucks, but he knows also how to succeed in this world. He may not be willing to consider a long term relationship with someone who’s not going to make an effort to hide personality trait when necessary, and keep up false pretences.

Hara Kazuya - Depends. For the spitefulness, he’s fine with someone who makes bitter/catty comments (he’ll probably find them funny) but he needs a light-hearted laugh sometimes too - so spitefulness to an extent, but not someone 100% like that. He’d enjoy annoying someone antisocial with his presence, so he might end up falling for them. But the relationship would only work if they didn’t mind him dragging them around with him sometimes, and putting up with him wanting to go do stuff with them.

Hanamiya Makoto - Bro he’s got so much bitterness and cynicism in him, he’d love being with someone who feels the same way about everyone and everything. Your being antisocial wouldn’t be too much of a problem. Would he occasionally put you in situations where you were forced to socialise, just so he could enjoy how irritated you got? Yes. (That said, tbh, I feel like a relationship between the two of you has a high likelihood of being seriously flawed. The two of you would egg each other on, getting increasingly nasty and spiteful until it starts getting taken out on each other.)

Seto Kentaro - Absolutely no problems with you being spiteful towards other people; he’s never bothered to be like that but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t think it sometimes. Also not keen on socialising too much, or going on tons of dates, so the antisocial thing works for him (as long as you’re willing to socialise once or twice a year and be his date to a family event - it’s important for appearances.)

Yamazaki Hiroshi - Definitely not. a) I don’t agree with kurofes on much, but I do agree with it that Zaki would mostly fall for cheerful types. b) I don’t think it’d be good for him to have a spiteful s/o; he’d internalise their criticisms of other people. c) He’s not going to force someone anti-social to spend time with him, but he’s pretty social, so he’d end up feeling miserable. So I doubt he’d fall for someone like this, and, if he somehow did, the relationship would make him fall out of love very quickly.

Furuhashi Kojiro - Probably. He’d be able to handle that kind of personality very well - he's known that feeling of spitefulness many a time (though, for him, it rarely comes out in words, more just glares and, rarely, violence), and he likes his own space too. Aka he doesn’t consider either of those traits as bad. He’d enjoy spending time with this kind of person (provided they don’t start insulting things he likes), so falling for them isn't unlikely.

[imbackmrstark]

《——————》

• l e m o n b o y •

It was the kid from next door. Brown, curly hair and those sweet, thin lips. His eyes, God, his eyes, Tony could stare into them for hours. He was barely 15 years old, the boy, maybe 16, Tony had never asked and never intended to. Talking, that was the problem. Tony never had a word with the boy, not even at the welcome party; the boy's family, the Parkers – he knew that from the door sign – only moved here a few months ago, Tony had fallen in love immediately. He couldn't take his eyes off the smaller one all day long, staring at him like a hungry lion at its prey, but instead of attacking the teenager, he just smiled insecurely every now and then. He looked like an angry hamster – a sweet, angry hamster. You couldn't take him seriously, he was far too cute. Tony was head over heels in love with the boy next door. And so it began that Anthony E. Stark watched the younger one from his room window every day as he built and hammered on something outside, curious what it would be.

One day – Tony just came out of his bathroom, hair freshly washed and with a towel around his waist – he saw a small booth with a sign on it saying "lemonade $2". A smile played around his lips and he completely forgot to put something on and comb his hair, far too distracted by the sunshine down on the street, which at that moment took some lemons and pressed them into a lemonade. That's when Tony started calling him 'lemon boy', whether in his head or when he talked to his parents about the Parkers boy.

He supported his elbow on the windowsill and leaned his chin on the palm of his hand while watching the neighbor. To live across from such a beauty is a curse and a blessing in equal measure. Tony thought that even a blind man would see how much he was in love and that scared him. He couldn't–.. to be honest, he didn't even try to talk his way out of it, he had no chance, he knew he had lost to this disgusting love. Pah, who needs love! The teenager pulled a face, he needed love. Oh dammit.

He let his gaze wander back to the street and only noticed too late that Little Parker had looked up at him. A sweet smile adorned his face and he raised his hand briefly to wave sweetly. Tony's eyes widened in shock before he threw back a quick smile and jumped away from the window, getting tangled up in the blanket and falling to the floor. A soft laugh was heard from the street and the older one puffed offended.

Tony wondered why the boy had just opened his shop at the beginning of his school days. Every day from 8am to 3pm at school and then up to two hours of homework and studying. How is he supposed to find time for his lemonade? Talking about school: The teenager was sitting right now in the school bus on his way to personal hell, while Parker was once again being brought fine by Auntie. Aunt... Tony had heard that the boy's parents had died and that he was now living with his aunt and uncle. Even though he loved them, he felt bad for him. The brown-haired teen got up and grabbed his bag when the bus came to a halt, then left it to find his friends with a quick glance. That was the less difficult task, but getting there first... almost impossible.

"Tonyy!" A girl with brown hair waved at him before she ran to him with her bouncing boobs to give him a cheerful hug. "How was the holiday, big boy? You're fine?"

"Sorry, but who were you again?" Faces and names, not Tony's domain at all, especially when he sees so many of them a day. Most popular boy in school problem.

The girl made an offended expression on her face and was about to start complaining when she was harshly interrupted.

"Stark. Why don't you stop flirting and join us? We've been waiting here forever." That voice... That fucking voice. It could only come from one lady, and you better not fuck with her. A request was a request and she never took no for an answer, never ever.

"Natasha, darling... Of course, I'm on my way," he replied instantly, looking forward to having his peace and quiet from all the annoying students, because one thing was made clear on the first day of school: James Barnes hates people and will beat up anyone who didn't get official permission to stay near him. Even Steve, an old best friend, now just a friend, to get him into the group took days and now... now the two of them can't be separated anymore. They are one of the favorite couples at this school.

"Hey man," Steve grinned at him slightly, his typical greeting after the holidays, just to get warm again. They parted quarrelling back then - Tony had caught him sleeping with his girlfriend, now ex-girlfriend, Pepper, and instead of an apology he only got to hear that she was a slut and he just wanted to show him that she was wrong. It took years to stand so close to him again without Tony wanting to punch him in the face.

"What's up?" He wasn't a real speaker, he hated this job most in everyday life anyway. He listened to his friends most of the time and answered everyone only the most necessary questions. Only with some of them he could come out a bit more. For example his best friend Rhodey and maybe even a little bit with Natasha.

The happy expression on his face when the bell rang couldn't go unnoticed by his friends, which is why a little grin crept across Rhodey's face before he put his hand on Tony's shoulder and went to class with him. The hours stretched like chewing gum and the teenager became so bored that he voluntarily started talking to the people around him. Sometimes a little word with the girl next to him and sometimes a few sentences with a buddy of his named Thor. They got along well, even if Thor wasn't the brightest candle on the chandelier. It was always funny to listen to the boy, how he put up crazy theories. Weirdo. After the English lesson they walked together through the corridors to their lockers, which happened to be close together. On the way there, the paths of Tony and the Lemon Boy crossed, who smiled softly, then immediately looked down at the floor again. At school Tony wore the pants, here he was braver and here he could stand his looks and smiles. At home then rather less, the boy made him weak.

"Earth to Stark," Thor curiously waved his hand in front of his face to regain the attention he was currently giving the sugar sweet boy. And by "giving" he meant staring at the boy like a stalker, so that even he noticed it and speeded up his walking with red cheeks. Maybe Tony was creepy, yes, maybe, but it was all due to stupid love. If it didn't exist, none of this would've happened. He puffed, glanced back up at Thor, who raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Why don't you ask him out?"

"Just shut up, you have no idea." He grumbled discontentedly and turned back around to see Bucky leaning against Tony's locker, smiling knowingly. Of course he knew what was going on in Tony's head. He'd been through the whole thing himself. With Steve, in fact. He shook his head, his hair falling unintentionally into his face, so Steve's hand slid towards him instantly and brushed a strand of hair out of his face. Of course the blond guy was not far away from his lover, always at his side, that asshole. Tony rolled his eyes, stood right in front of them and showed with a quick movement of his head that he wanted to get to his locker.

"What do you want, idiot? Ohh, your locker. Ah sorry, but I am standing here right now, find yourself another place, will you?" Bucky replied with wagging eyebrows and a smirk on his lips.

"Fuck off or I'll punch you in the face, idiot." Tony's nerves were shot to shit. First the beautiful boy who gave him a smile and now a fucking bastard who interrupted his daydreams. "Come on, just say what you're getting at. Come on, one word and I'll show you some respect, you little pain in the ass."

"I haven't heard so many words from you in a long time, you little bitch." He laughed happily, like this was all some sort of game to him. Being a bit annoying to his friends, his favorite hobby, it seems. Not to Steve, apparently, because his body showed something quite different. He was tense and his hands were clenched in fists as if he was about to intervene any second to protect his lover, even if he could do it well himself.

"Okay big boys, that's enough." The redhead who almost always got Tony out of difficult situations, intervened again. "There's a real tense atmosphere here, don't you think?"

"Completely agree with you," confirmed Thor, who was a little tense himself. It wouldn't be the first time that Bucky and Tony would fight, it happened almost every month, but it hasn't been as bad as today for a long time.

"The motherfucker's in love, totally, and he knows that I know and he knows that I know who it is and that... that scares him." That grin on his face and those eyes that radiated such joy, like he thought he'd won. Tony couldn't help himself. He swung and punched the asshole right in the face.

"Tony!!!"

"Gee, I've already apologized. He's just a little drama queen, we all know that." Tony paced the hallway outside the hospital room trying desperately to talk his way out. Meanwhile, Thor sat in the far too small chair and watched him pacing as if it was even remotely exciting.

"Holy shit, you broke his fucking nose!" Clint, another friend of Tony's, or rather Natasha's, interfered and threw the facts back on the table. Tony shrugged his shoulders.

"He provoked me. He always provokes me. I hope this has taught him a lesson."

"Absolutely, motherfucker," Bucky muttered sarcastically as he came out of the hospital room with Steve holding his hand and his face in pain. He had a white bandage on his nose and some blood on his upper lip. Tony leaned against the opposite wall and crossed his arms in front of his chest, raised one eyebrow while trying not to look as if he was actually worried. "Don't pretend, you son of a bitch, I know you love me and you're really, really sorry. And you know what? I forgive you, okay? Because I love you too, pal."

"Dude, what? I don't love you, man. That's totally gay, stop fucking around. Damn, now I've wasted my time with all this shit too. I'll see you guys tomorrow, you little pesky kids." He shook his head with a sigh before he pushed himself off the wall and walked down the corridor to the exit. It was already 4pm, he had wasted a whole hour.

When he opened the glass door and went outside, he saw an all-too-familiar brunette sitting there on a small wall with his arms wrapped around his backpack and fear in his eyes. Tony curled his eyebrows. What was Parker still doing here? He didn't want to, but he had to. He gathered up all his courage and walked towards the boy, who noticed his neighbour much too late and quickly looked up with big eyes.

"Hey, lemon boy," murmured Tony softly, avoiding eye contact most of the time, but when the boy didn't answer, he raised his head. "What are you still doing here?"

"You're Tony S-Stark, right? The boy next door.. right?" The smaller one wiggled his legs unsteadily around and bit his lower lip.

"Yes, I am, but that wasn't my question." He shifted his weight to one leg, tried to look a little cooler and also tried not to stare at the kid the whole time.

"Oh, yeah, right, sorry. I... um... Ben, my uncle... he was gonna pick me up, but he doesn't answer, and, yeah, so..-"

Tony took a deep breath before he just let his question shoot out of him. "Will you walk home with me? Then we won't be alone and I don't have to feel bad about leaving you here. I'll have to walk anyway."

"I, um... Sure, why not. I'm Peter, by the way, I'm not sure if you knew that yet. So, um, yeah..." He bounced off the wall and shouldered his bag before he walked down the street beside Tony. He was glad he was asked, he would never have dared to walk alone along the main road and then across country roads while it was already getting dark.

"To be honest, I didn't know, sorry." The older one gripped the straps of his backpack tighter so his ankles turned white. He looked down, barely daring to look at the smaller one, but he was so incredibly beautiful, how could he not?

Tony had to admit that his idea to ask Peter to come along was really good, considering the long way in darkness. Living in a village two hours away from the nearest school and then having to walk across country isn't the yellow of the egg, but Tony was used to it. He grew up in this house and even his parents always had to go this way back then, so he couldn't complain. As long as you caught the bus that ran twice before and after school, everything was fine. If you got detention or missed it, you were just unlucky and had to walk or to ask someone to pick you up. When Tony looked at the boy, he shivered under the cold of the night and he couldn't help but take off his jacket and put it over his shoulder, even if he was freezing to death himself. Peter looked up in surprise, then smiled thankfully and squeezed himself a little more by Tony's side.

"Are you afraid? I mean, in the dark?", asked the taller one quietly after a short time, while he was about to protect the boy with his arm.

"When I'm alone, sometimes." muttered Peter uncertainly, then looked up with his round eyes. Tony just wanted to bend down and kiss him, but he didn't. He'd talked to the boy for the first time today, so he couldn't ambush him with a kiss.

"And now? Are you afraid?", the older one asked after a long time of silence, just looking straight and avoiding trembling. This cold was killing him and the sweet boy with the far too big jacket next to him as well. Tony's jacket was like a blanket for Peter, his fingertips could barely be seen and then there was this magical smile on his lips.

The next moment the little one shook his head to answer the question that was asked a few minutes ago. "Somehow, no. This jacket makes me feel safe, I don't know... Thanks again.", mumbled Peter and crawled a little more into the fabric.

"Just the jacket?" He squinted his eyes over to Peter, suppressed his grin when he noticed the red cheeks.

"No, because of you too, my hero." Peter raised his arm and pointed to the first houses they saw after two hours walking. "Almost there!"

"Finally. My feet are killing me and I'm hungry, too. It's all Bucky's fault."

"Who's Bucky? Ah, wait, is that the boy with the long hair? The one you punched in the face?" They turned into a street and walked a few more blocks until they were in front of their homes and they were still standing outside to continued their talk. "Why did you hit him, anyway?"

"Not so important. He was an asshole again, and he was begging for it." Tony shrugged and walked towards Peter's house like it was normal, leaving him stunned. "You coming? I'll take you home like a gentleman."

"Oh, yeah, yeah... thanks, um, sorry, I'm coming." Peter hurried to get to Tony and smiled thankfully at him, while he was already knocking at the door. It was opened by a young woman with long brown hair who looked surprised and then tore Peter into her arms with relief.

"Oh God Peter! I was so worried! Ben feels so bad, he had to work late and his phone... and... and..."

"May, breathe! It's all fine, Tony brought me home, nothing happened." Peter slowly separated from his aunt and looked over his shoulder, smiling, at Tony, who only raised his hand briefly.

"Thank you, Tony... How can we ever repay you? You know what... You come over for dinner tomorrow and Ben takes you back after school, no buts."

A smile was on Tony's face and he quickly thanked her. "See you tomorrow, lemon boy."

It was until late in the evening - Tony was sitting up in his room, on his bed, thinking about what happened today - when he noticed that Peter still had his jacket. He sighed and looked over his shoulder out of the window to look into the boy's room. Apparently he was already asleep; the light was off and the curtains drawn. He just hoped that the younger one would give him his jacket back tomorrow.

Being back at school the next day and standing next to Bucky was more than uncomfortable for him. The teachers had all put a few more eyes on him and he felt like he was being watched almost the whole time. While he listened to the others talking, he kept an eye out for the boy he saw after a few minutes with another boy and a girl. And what took his breath away was that Peter was wearing his much too big jacket and looked outrageously cute. Without thinking about it, Tony walked up to the boy, ignoring that his friends were silent and watched him. After a short time Peter looked up and smiled softly, raised his hand and waved briefly before Tony stood right in front of him.

First he just stared at the little one, then opened his mouth and closed it again until he remembered why he came here. "My jacket."

"O-oh, yeah, right, sorry about that." Peter was about to take them off when Tony took the hem of the jacket in his hands and tightened it more.

"No, don't. It looks really good on you, makes you even sweeter," murmured Tony softly, just looking at his chest.

"Um... Thanks? I can give them back to you after dinner tonight, though. I mean-" When Tony looked up, he saw Peter biting his lower lip uncomfortably.

"You can keep them." The teenager smiled slightly, then nodded again, let his hands slide off the jacket, turned around and went back to his idiot friends, who all grinned at him knowingly. "One word and the next nose's broken."

"Since when?" Steve asked quietly, nodding towards Peter, who was giggling around with his friends.

"Since when what? Since when am I in love? Since when do I want to turn my whole life upside down for this one person? Since when would I do anything for that one person? Holy shit!" Tony angrily ran his fingers into his hair and ripped it. "I've been so fucking in love and I have been ever since I first saw him..." Unintentionally a tear of desperation rolled down his cheek as he squeezed his eyes to avoid the glances of his friends.

"Actually, I was going to ask you, since when are you into guys too, but it's probably not important. Come here." Steve then opened his arms and pulled his old friend into them, then held him tight. Tony put his head on Steve's shoulder and sighed deeply.

"It's okay, Stark," mumbled Bucky after a short while, before carefully putting his hand on Tony's back.

Tony then tore himself away from them, straightened his clothes, wiped away his tears and put on a smile. "Whatever, boys. Class is about to start, we should go inside, don't you think?" He didn't even wait for an answer, he immediately went into the school and to his locker to get his new books. As he turned around and walked on, a small figure suddenly stood in front of him, looking worried.

"Are you okay, Tony? I just.. saw you.. with the blond guy. You looked sad. Is it because of the jacket? Does it mean anything to you? Do you want it back?" Peter's eyes radiated such warmth and such concern for nothing. Tony felt bad that Peter thought it was his fault. Even if it was, but he didn't want him to think it was. He shook his head.

"No. It makes me happy that you're wearing mine. It's just... nothing." The taller one leaned his side against the lockers, looking down with a would-be cool look at the boy, who pressed his lips together, shook his head and flinched slightly when the bell rang. "Don't you want to go to class?"

"I'd rather talk to you. You're not well, something makes you sad...", Peter said, crossing his arms in front of his chest and panting discontentedly.

In the corner of his eye, Tony noticed Bucky and Steve walking past him, smiling softly and winking at him. They really could never stop. Deep inside, Tony wanted to prove something to them, just kiss the boy, but when he looked into the dark brown round eyes, he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"Shall we go to the library? Talk?", asked the younger one quietly, pulled gently on his sleeve and then went with his neighbour into the room of books. Once there, Peter sat down with Tony at a table that was a bit more private and then looked at him gently. "I haven't known you long. In fact, yesterday was the first time we spoke. But... I feel like I've known you for years, it's weird. And I just want you to be happy... that you know that you can talk to me when something's wrong.. And you can even come over to me anytime.. We could sit in my room and do something. Play games or talk or just lie on my bed and... It sounds crazy, sorry."

"It doesn't sound crazy at all, it's rather nice. I'd love to come to your house sometimes and do stuff like that. Or invite you over to my place. You know, Peter, I like you. I really like you a lot and that scares me a bit," confessed Tony with an insecure smile on his lips. Peter struggled with himself for a few seconds, but then smiled and nodded in agreement at him.

"If you're coming for dinner tonight, we can go to my room afterwards.. if you want?"

Tony nodded quickly, maybe even a bit too quickly.

Tony smiled slightly at the unfamiliar man as he took off his backpack and put it on his lap as he sat in the Parkers' car. His friends, who were waiting for the bus as usual, looked at him in confusion and then grinned a little. He couldn't even remember when the last time was when he was picked up from school in a car and apparently you could see it in his face because Peter, who was sitting next to him, was smiling happily at him and if Tony was honest, it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"So, Tony, I heard you're coming over for dinner later?", asked Mr. Parker him after a short time in which Tony and the boy were just looking at each other smiling.

The teenager looked up quickly and nodded at the man. "Yes sir, that's right. Um... thanks again for picking me up and, of course, for the dinner later."

"Wow, easy, boy. No problem. I'd really do anything to thank you for bringing my boy home. I still can't forgive myself." With clenched lips, the man kept driving, only looking back through the rearview mirror once in a while.

"Ben it wasn't your fault, okay? Your boss was giving you trouble again, you couldn't help it. I was safe with Tony, he even gave me his jacket." Peter talked about Tony as if he was head over heels in love with him, as if he wasn't even there right now and Tony only noticed much too late that he was grinning up to his ears.

"You're welcome, little lemon," muttered he with a smile, placing his hand delicately on Peter's knee, who widened his eyes a little, but then wrapped both his hands around Tony's wrist and smiled sweetly at him.

"'Little lemon,' sweet... Look, Pete, he even has a nickname for you already. I think you're gonna be great friends," said Ben as he rounded the last corner and pulled into the Parkers' parking lot. "All right, guys, get out and get in. May should have dinner ready by now."

"Oh eat already? I was counting on tonight... um, yeah, okay, well, then now." Tony scratched the back of his head slightly, then got out of the car with Peter and Ben and went into the house behind them, where it already smelled wonderfully of food.

"We're more like those people who eat lunch instead of dinner, so don't be surprised. I hope you don't mind," Peter asked the taller one quietly, looked up at him and seemed a bit anxious. He was apparently panicking that Tony maybe leave because he might not be hungry.

"And we talk about dinner all the time." Tony laughed briefly, then put his arm around Peter's shoulder and walked into the dining room with him. "No, that's okay, I'm hungry anyway."

The room wasn't really large, but therefore totally cosy and the brown, long table that was standing there seemed to have already gone through some moves. The chairs seemed to be comfortable, Peter also immediately dropped on one and knocked on the chair next to him, indicating to Tony to sit down as well, which he did directly. After a short time the woman from last night entered the room with a pot in her hands, which she placed on the table in front of Peter and Tony. May smiled happily at Tony, greeted him very briefly and then sat down on the chairs opposite of them with Ben.

"So Tony, how you doing, my boy? Why don't you get something to eat, come on. Have as much as you want." May took the big spoon and filled Tony's plate so that he thanked her overburdened and looked at Peter, who also put something on his own and started eating.

"I'm fine, thanks for asking." Tony smiled broadly, kept peeking over at Peter, eating carefully and full of manners.

Suddenly it became quiet in the room and the two boys looked up in wonder. May had a satisfied smile on her lips, exchanged a few glances with her husband, who nodded knowingly and shoved another spoonful of food into his mouth.

"Peter, my boy... Tony look at you like you're his entire world..", recognized she warmly, as warmly as Tony's cheeks after he had noticed how he had been staring at the boy the whole time.

"T-That's not true at all!" Tony tried to talk his way out, his cheeks should be as red as strawberries.

Peter's eyes fell on Tony's plate and he hesitated briefly before opening his mouth and quietly asked if he was finished and if they wanted to go to his room. He nodded quickly, apologized to the adults and then went upstairs behind Peter.

Tony tensed as he sat unsteadily on the edge of Peter's bed. The boy himself, meanwhile, grabbed all his dirty laundry off the floor and tossed it into some corner before scratching the back of his head in shame.

"I'm sorry.. about.. you know. I forgot to clean up..." Peter shyly clasped his hands in front of him and rocked back and forth unsteadily while he smiled slightly.

"That's okay. At least your room can still be considered as a room." A soft laugh escaped his throat and a moment later two brown eyes looked at him, squinted a bit because he had to grin too.

"Yours that bad?" The boy asked, tilting his head and grinning broadly.

"Oh darling, you have no idea. My room resembles a jungle and to be honest, I don't really feel like changing anything about it." Tony shrugged his shoulders indifferently, before he slid a little to the side to make room for the other, who now wanted to sit down on the bed as well. Unlike Tony, however, he crawled back to the wall, against he leaned with a smile.

"You don't have to sit there like that... Come here." Peter lightly tapped the mattress beside him with the flat of his hand, and after a moment's hesitation, the older one took a seat beside him.

He made himself a little more comfortable before looking down at the boy with a smile. Just a little, they were almost at eye level as they sat there like that. Peter bit his lower lip briefly and batted his eyelashes quickly as he tried to tear his gaze away from the other. Silence fell between them and when Tony realized that Peter would not be looking at him anytime soon, he gently took his chin with two fingers and delicately turned his head in his direction. His smile fell easily, so captivated was he by the eyes in front of him.

"So.. You gonna kiss me.. or?" Peter murmured softly as he got closer and closer to the teenager. Along the way, he tried to read the other's body language so as not to have misinterpreted anything.

"So you want me to kiss you?" Tony asked in a somber voice before carefully sliding his hand up Peter's leg to his hip to pull him even closer. "I mean.. we're both boys and..–"

"I don't care. Doesn't matter. I want it, kiss me." He took it in his own hands now and pulled Tony close so he could feel the other's breath on his lip. "Kiss me..."

Tony opened his mouth in surprise, clawing deeper with his fingers into flesh beneath him before making a tortured sound and placing his lips on Peter's. He wasn't sure if that had been the boy's first kiss, but instead of asking, he just pressed his lips to the ones in front of him again. Peter ran his delicate fingers into Tony's hair and tugged lightly on them, so he was separated from the younger one with parted lips.

"Wow..."

"Wow....."

"Um. Can we just... lie here a bit now? And do nothing? While Holding hands?"

"Yes.. Yes we can."

• T H E E N D •

Thank u for reading c:

[border-spam]

Leech Lord prompts: Hatred

Troy

He cannot fucking stand the makeup and costume team.

Can't.

He sits quietly with so much rage boiling in his abdomen as they scurry around him that he's started needing to remove the prosthetic for most pre-stream prep sessions

He told them it's so they could maneuverer easier, that he was sick of them catching on the sharp edges and jostling him as he'd wait in silence for an hour while they worked his face and body, but it's really because of how many times he's splintered an armrest or come far too close to just grabbing one of them when they won't.. shut.. up.

He hates himself for it more than anything because he knows damn well they aren't actually doing anything wrong. He used to do all his own makeup, all his own costume prep, but as years passed and his attention and time had to be stretched further across more responsibilities and daily tasks, Tyreen insisted they give up on running their own prep sessions and leave it to a group with more skill and far more efficiency than a man with one arm..

She was right. There is no argument, she was right, but God he wishes he'd never have to fucking see any of these people again instead of having to endure them daily, controlling his breathing while they swarm about like insects, applying accessories and fixing problems with how he looks.

They have to talk to each other, of course they do, how else can they do this job, but what they talk about? He hates it.

"No, go up a shade, his undereye is darker than yesterday."

"Need a green tone to cover the bruising, A-410m, no *dab* it on, don't smear, his skin's not great today"

"These need to come in another inch they're barely staying up, call in tailoring."

"Define the bridge harsher, yeah, makes him actually look masculine, stops the eyes looking as sunken too."

"This isn't working - it's just drawing attention to how flat this pec is, do we have any contouring shades we can lift the definition with? He's not balanced, right side’s smaller."

He loathes them, and they have no idea how close they come every day to finding out exactly how much.

Tyreen

There are exceptionally few in Tyreen's sphere of influence who can say no to her. Her followers absolutely do not. The sponsors, the business people, the grovelling off-planet mayors and politicians who travel to the Holy City to beg for her ear certainly don't either. Troy? Rarely, and she can usually muddle him enough afterwards with crocodile tears and gestures of care to get what she wants even when he denies her at first, but his Saints?

Some of his Saints... she wants to eat alive.

Ur-Aurum is the worst by far. He's impenetrable. Has been for near a decade, ever since they handed over their first $5k to him in his citrus scented dust-free luxury office on Promethea. She's not sure she's ever seen the little man look intimidated yet alone act it. A stony-faced, immaculately dressed and groomed business mogul who sacrificed any spark of joy he was born with for hard logic a long time ago, and who has no problem telling God Queen Calypso, Holy Mother of the Vault... no.

He's told her no more than any living person has, including her father. Threats don't work and never have, he's never so much raised an eyebrow at what she does to people in his presence. Manipulation doesn't work because for all her skill, he is so much smarter than she will ever be and he damn well knows it. He's untouchable, Solomon runs all of finance at her stupid fucking brother's decision, and reports to him, not her. He has no family, he has no friends, he's a self-contained fortress of a man she can only scream frustrations at when she's denied, when he shoots down a request for budgeting or vetos a new project she wants to push.

She's disarmed around him, powerless because of this horrible little gremlin, this weakling half her size and weight, and she hates him for it. Loathes him for being so strong without needing to hurt anyone, so dominating without saying a word. Solomon commands respect without a gun or threat or nightmarish cosmic power..

He's stronger than her. She hates him.

Seifa

-- Ur-Machina:// - Mechanica Dept - Internal Com --

U-M : Update immediately - why was 100Ur0B-na blocked with your sign off? That shipment was cleared through lead meetings, it was meant to touch dock 3 hours ago and we're only finding out it was cancelled now. No comms?-

U-C : No need for comms, Saint permission levels are equal, we don't need to send your side updates for every decision made here, remember? Calm down, from what I hear things are stressy enough down in your waste pit without you embarrassing yourself in front of your poor crew by throwing one of your little tantrums.-

U-M : Xan that's very interesting, really. So you without any warning whatsoever cancelled a high-security order that's going to end up causing a major project disruption, and you did this with who's authority? You need to go through Sol to redirect funding and you've left a hell of a messy paper trail here, very easy to follow... did he ok the budget for this new marketing venture?-

U-C : None of your concern, junker. The Holy Father clearly doesn't keep a tight enough grip on your kind's leashes if you don't know your place yet. Necessary channels and processes were followed. We're airtight, you can stop wringing your greasy hands together and put them to some use for once, do some actual work that doesn't involve spreading your legs for a change.-

U-M : Sorry Xan, some of that com text was garbled or something, shame! You should have your techs check out the connection on Marketing's side. Pinged Sol by the way! He's surprised, never heard of this request? I'd expect a call shortly. Honestly, considering who's shipment that was, I'm pretty shocked myself. Maybe I could send you some of my crew over some time, give your team a hand with double-checking data before you dig your own grave in the future!-

//File attached: 100Ur0B-na: Sec code GKT -Personal order- High prio

U-C : We'll have this resolved shortly, thank you for your time.-

U-M : Always got time for you, hun.-

Asks are Open!

(Amazing art from Sick Mick in source)