#they like attempt to put on disguises to go and spy on them

[stars-n-spice]

"Can You Feel The Love Tonight"

but it's TechPhee and it's Crosshair and Wrecker sneaking around and watching them, being pouty about their brother being "stolen" from them.

[thissnakecanbake]

Edward Nigma's Date

Batman: The Enemy Within ||| Edward Nigma/Danny Fenton ||| one-shot

POV Edward Nigma

Before the events of Episode one "The Enigma"

Words: 954

The theater was silent except for the flicker of the projector and the muffled explosions on the screen. It was perfect—quiet, empty, private. The kind of night I found myself enjoying more and more lately, especially when it was just Danny and me. Of course, the suspiciously empty theater was likely due to the... incident two days ago, but I assured Danny it was nothing worth concerning himself over.

“Ed,” he had said when I offhandedly mentioned the lack of patrons. His bright blue eyes had narrowed slightly, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You didn’t have anything to do with that, did you?”

“Of course not,” I replied smoothly, adjusting my tailored green jacket as if the mere suggestion of my involvement was an affront to my dignity. “Pure coincidence, I assure you. And even if I had orchestrated a little... chaos, it would hardly matter now, would it? We have the theater to ourselves. Surely, that’s worth celebrating.”

He rolled his eyes in that way he always did when he knew I wasn’t being entirely truthful but decided it wasn’t worth pursuing. “Sure, Ed. ‘Coincidence.’”

Now, as we sat side by side in the otherwise deserted theater, his hand in mine, I felt a rare calm settle over me. The movie—a spy thriller riddled with absurd gadgets, improbable stunts, and laughable plot holes—played on the screen, but neither of us was paying much attention to it. At least, not in the way the filmmakers intended.

We don’t watch these films for the plot. No, no—far from it. Our entertainment comes from deconstructing them, tearing apart the inaccuracies, the impossible stunts, the absurd gadgetry.

“That’s not how hacking works,” Danny mutters, shaking his head as the supposed ‘expert’ on-screen bypasses an elaborate security system in seconds. “Where’s the brute-force attempt? The countermeasures? Why is it always one progress bar?”

I smirk, amused at his indignation. “Ah, but you see, love, the audience is meant to believe espionage is effortless. No real waiting, no tedious back-end coding. Simply type furiously, look smug, and—voilà!—instant access to classified government files.”

Danny groans, slumping slightly in his seat. “It hurts me, Ed.”

I chuckle, a rare, genuine sound that I allow only in his presence. “If it makes you feel any better, their disguises are just as unrealistic. That man has simply put on glasses, and now he’s unrecognizable. By that logic, I should wear sunglasses and become Gotham’s next mayor.”

Danny snorted, biting back a laugh. “You’re such a nerd.”

“And yet, you’re the one who dragged me into this hobby,” I countered, a smirk curling at the edges of my lips. “I distinctly remember you insisting it was ‘part of the fun.’”

“It is,” he said, flashing me that boyish grin of his, the one that made my chest tighten in ways I’d never admit out loud. “It’s just funny hearing you of all people do this.”

As another implausible stunt unfolded on the screen—a car flipping mid-air while its driver somehow landed perfectly on a rooftop—Danny sighed and brought my hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles. The simple gesture sent a jolt through me, unexpected but not unwelcome.

I turned to look at him, arching an eyebrow. “Trying to distract me from the cinematic train wreck in front of us?”

“Maybe,” he replied, his tone playful. “Or maybe I just think you deserve some affection for putting up with my weird hobbies.”

“‘Weird’ is putting it lightly,” I teased, though my voice softened as I spoke. The warmth of his lips lingered on my skin, and I found myself unwilling to let go of his hand, even as the movie continued in its ridiculousness.

Danny leaned his head against my shoulder, his white-streaked hair brushing against my cheek. “You like it,” he murmured.

I hummed, a small, genuine smile spreading across my face. “Perhaps.”

The truth was, I did like it. Watching these absurd movies with Danny, picking them apart, laughing at their flaws—it was a kind of intimacy I hadn’t known I needed. It was quiet and unassuming, a far cry from the calculated chaos of my usual endeavors. But with Danny, it felt... easy. Natural.

The movie trudged on, the plot unraveling into a tangled mess of double agents and nonsensical twists. Danny occasionally whispered a comment or pointed out another glaring flaw, his laughter soft and contagious. I found myself paying less attention to the screen and more to him—the way his eyes lit up when he caught something particularly ridiculous, the way his fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on the back of my hand.

By the time the credits rolled, I’d forgotten most of the movie’s convoluted storyline, but I didn’t care. This wasn’t about the film. It never had been. It was about the time we spent together, the quiet moments that reminded me why I’d let this infuriatingly endearing man into my life.

As we stood to leave, Danny slipped his arm around my waist, leaning into me as we made our way out of the theater. “So,” he said, glancing up at me with a mischievous glint in his eye, “what’s the verdict? Worst spy movie we’ve seen yet?”

“Undoubtedly,” I replied, wrapping my arm around his shoulders. “Though I suspect the next one will somehow manage to be even worse.”

He laughed, the sound echoing in the empty hallway. “Good. That just means more fun for us.”

And as we stepped out into Gotham’s shadowy streets, his hand still firmly in mine, I found myself thinking that he was right. It was fun. And as long as it was with him, I didn’t mind indulging in a little nonsense now and then.

[cas-backwards-tie]

Chapter Six: The Summer of a Lifetime

Heiress of Gotham

Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: With things out of the way and perhaps a little more trust, maybe the reader will finally start to make some progress, and a few friends along the way.

Warnings: Spying, Being Spied On, Insects, Wet T-Shirts, Flirting,

Words: 3.6k

A/N: While this chapter may seem like it takes a lot of twists in turns in the vignettes, it's sort of meant to reflect the ups and downs and small moments we have during summer. Honestly, though, this is perfect for the introduction of certain characters and plotlines I wanted!

It'd been an interesting end to the school year, really, and that's aside from the fact that you'd had to deal with and go through the grief of your Mother passing. Within the few months you'd been at Wayne Manor, the family had quickly learned many things about you. Bruce had found out how frugal and tenacious you are, insistent on selling some of your old articles of clothing for money on some app he could never remember the name of, meanwhile refuting the many attempts he'd offered to take you out shopping. Who wants to go shopping with their Dad anyway? He'd been consumed with work, and therefore more time had been turned over to your brothers.

While school was out for both you and Damian, Tim had decided to take summer classes at the nearby community college since it'd make his college applications only look better. Dick, of course, was still working, and Jason, really, you had no idea what was going on with him since it seemed he had most days free and nights taken. While you'd considered the possibility that someone associated with the Wayne family had a night-time job, you also didn't want to think of someone who very quickly became a big brother to you in that manner. That was just... ew. With the three eldest gone or rarely home, you'd been left with Damian and Alfred mostly.

--------

“So… you’re spying on your own child because…?” Tim draws out, leaning against the motherboard as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Because it’s Bruce? You’re not the first. Thought you would’ve been the wiser, Green Bean,” Dick chides as he manually stitches another loop into his uniform. Seated on the edge of the metal table propped against the railing on the opposite side of the platform.

“She’s been watching television for over two hours straight. Is this unhealthy?” The man of the hour speaks, eyes unmoving from the image of you through the lens of one of his pesky drones.

“Hey, you’re the one who’s supposed to be parenting, yeah? You chose to bring her in, you choose what’s healthy and unhealthy,” the elder boy retorts, a clear sass in his tone that reminds Bruce where Damian’s gotten it from.

“Hn,” the old man groans, “That doesn’t mean I know what’s currently the standard in teenagedom,” he grumbles more to himself than anyone.

“Have you tried, I don’t know, just talking to her?” Tim asks, an eyebrow quirking as he doesn’t try and hide the amused smile breaking across his lips.

“You’re one to talk,” Bruce teases the boy. He’s still somewhat resentful of the way he’d handled things with Stephanie a few years ago now. Leaving her in the lurch only for her to seek answers by prying into their life.

A huff of annoyance leaves Tim and he rolls his eyes. Pushing off the computer, he turns to head for the stairs when he spots movement on the monitor. Dick doesn’t seem to care, rather, he’s focused on fixing and upgrading his equipment. However, Tim had come to a halt, now watching from just a few feet behind the old man’s chair. His drone follows you as you get up, bringing an empty dish and glass to the kitchen. You don’t notice, of course, as Tim knows this has to be one of the nano drones, most likely disguised as a fly following your movements through the Manor just a few hundred feet above them.

It’s uninteresting, really, the way he watches you put your empty dish in the sink along with your glass. Your visage shifts, heading back to the living room, but doesn’t fail to notice the nano drone. “Spotted,” Tim announces, curious to see where this goes.

“That doesn’t mean anything. Most people aren’t fazed by an insect,” Bruce defends, finally taking his gaze off the screen for a mere moment as he turns to Tim. The boy watches as you step closer to the drone; the still fly on the fridge’s handle was easy to spot, and while your eyes quickly move on in an attempt to seem as if you hadn’t noticed the bug, not wanting to disrupt it or scare it away, you step closer to the fridge.

On top of the box lies an item you’ve been grateful for ever since you’d gotten your Mom to buy it for you offline. Easily stepping on your tiptoes you grab the object’s handle and have your finger ready atop the trigger. Now all that’s left is to catch it off-guard.

The amused look on Tim’s face makes Bruce paranoid; blue eyes racing back to the monitor, he watches as a tennis-racket swatter comes his way. Lifting the nanodrone up and off the surface he barely escapes the touch of the electric swatter. Bzzt! He’s hit. Flying across the kitchen and landing on the counter, he turns the drone around to get you in frame again. “And you thought she wouldn’t do anything,” Tim laughs. An error message pops up, screen turning red along with the artificial voice alert. Clearly you’ve damaged the drone.

“It only took twenty-five percent capacity,” Bruce announces, clicking different keys to get everything back to neutral.

This elicits Dick’s eyes as his focus shifts up to the situation before him. An amused smile graces his lips and he can’t help but sometimes pity the man. Bruce… tries. He means well, but he doesn’t always have the best approach. “Gotta say, this is better than reality tv.” His Father shakes his head and, attention finally returning to the monitor once again after being distracted by Tim.

“You risked a drone for this? Come on, man. This is your own daughter we’re talking about,” Tim chastises. Even if he’s still laughing and more than amused by this. If he wants to waste his tech, by all means, let them watch. It’s not like he can’t get more.

The men watch as you look around the kitchen, eyes taking everything in. With an occasional turn, and a flip of your hair, he’s spotted again! This time Bruce sees you coming before he can be squashed. Out of sight, out of mind, he thinks. “Honestly, I’m just lucky she didn’t spot me earlier. Ace and Titus weren’t the most helpful considering they kept tracking my movements, clueing her in. But she didn’t get me until now.”

“I’m impressed she even got you at all, honestly,” Dick comments, drawing their attention again.

“Not a fan?” Tim asks, curious to hear his thoughts. After all, he hasn’t been around as much considering things have been busy with school, and hectic with Stephanie. Therefore, he doesn’t know as much about you. He hasn’t spent as much time around you as the others.

Met with a noncommittal noise, Tim watches Dick shrug. “I’ve got nothing against her aside from what she said at dinner and obviously her hate for the BPD,” he trails off, a shudder running through him, “then again, she was kind of insane when we were moving her stuff. Threatened to kill us and all. Not really the type of vibe you wanna have running around the house, you know? At least, not mine, I’ll tell you that.” With a chuckle, Dick lifts the needle to his mouth, teeth going for the fabric since he hadn’t bothered to grab scissors.

Tim almost laughs along with his brother, that is until he processes what he’d said. “Wait, what-?!” Eyes quickly darting between him and Bruce, he’s suddenly alert. “What do you mean she tried to kill you?! What’re you talking about? Hey- why didn’t you tell me this?” He zeroes in on Bruce, determined to get an answer. “Does Damian know? Why am I the last one to find out about anything around here?” He complains.

“I mean she tried to-” Dick begins.

“She did not! Dick, stop exag-”Bruce interrupts, turning to face them and argrue.

“Bruce-” Tim interjects, eyes suddenly on your approaching visage in the drone’s visual. “Bruce!” You’ve got the fly cornered. With one swift sweeping wack, and a press of the button, it’ll die.

“What?!” He yells. As soon as he turns back from Tim to the monitor he’s too late. Zzztt!!! They all grimace and wince. An alert pops up on screen:

‘V I S U A L L O S T’

The options to ‘connect to different device’ or ‘relay input’ lie underneath the big text, but ultimately you’d destroyed the thing. With the click of a button Bruce closes the tab and the background feed of the Manor’s security cameras linger. Alfred dances in the office as he dusts along, presumably, to music—Bruce knows his routine. On another, you’re carrying the nanodrone on the electric swatter to the trash, disposing of the ‘fly’ you’d killed. Lastly, Damian is reading, doing his homework as he sits in an armchair by the fireplace in the Library, Titus curled up by his feet.

“Dammit! This is why you can’t just be in here. You’re either here for a purpose or you’re out,” Bruce dictates. “Dick is actually doing something, Tim. You’re just gossiping.” With a defeated drop of his hands to the desk, he raises himself from his computer chair and rounds Tim.

“You still didn’t tell me what happened,” Tim argues, the anger in his voice no longer hiding. “I’m tired of being out of the loop! What happened?” He demands. A sigh weighs Bruce’s shoulders down, and as Dick finally lifts his gaze to take in the men before him, he doesn’t dare to add any more fuel to the already burning fire.

“She was involved with Marin. Alright? She thought he was coming for her, momentarily figured we were in on it. Satisfied?” Bruce responds, turning to face the boy.

They all know he’s been hurt. That he has trauma… it’s no secret. Yet, it’s only in few and far between moments that the boys are able to see things for what they are in a crystal-clear view. This is one of those times. Their warped views on good and evil, right and wrong, revenge and punishment… they blur the lines of reality in ways he’s sure that you, a civilian, would never understand, and yet… Tim realizes the weight of this.

“Who-?”

“Angel Marin. Bludhaven’s biggest mob boss,” Dick informs. A ‘Hn’ leaves Bruce’s lips as he makes his way toward the stairs, and a sigh leaves Tim. With a grateful nod in Grayson’s direction, Tim follows after Bruce.

------

“You know, someone mentioned your birthday is coming up,” Bruce teases, a hint of a smile hiding behind his wine glass.

The quick flash of a smile overtakes your face before you try to hide it. None of them miss it. “Um… yeah. W-who said?”

It’s invisible, perhaps, to all besides those who know him best, however, Bruce pales at the question, faltering. While you’re good at reading people, you don’t notice. Whether it’s the subject matter or the way everyone’s staring, you simply wait for a response.

“Uh, the-” he clears his throat, eyes suddenly downcast as he reaches for his knife and fork to cut his steak, “the social worker! Yes, she mentioned it while you were in your meeting.” Obviously a lie. If anyone truly knows Bruce the way most at the table do, they'd know he found it in your public files and digital footprint.

“Oh,” you respond, putting on a fake smile as you too attempt to hide behind the meal. Birthdays can be a big deal for some, and others, not. It all depends, and you aren't sure where things lie in this family. You still feel like an outsider, despite their attempts, and you don't want to burden them further.

“We could have a party!” Damian suggests, to everyone’s surprise.

“You just want a party,” Jason comments with a chortle.

“Is there anything you want?” Dick asks thoughtfully, looking down at you from your side, putting you on the spot. His kind blue eyes stir something within you, and you turn your gaze back to your plate. Busying yourself by cracking your knuckles, your lips purse into a line. With a shake of your head, it’s clear no one is sated.

“There’s nothing you want? At all?” Bruce prods, eliciting your eye contact again. Lips pursing even more you shake your head again.

“Um,” eyes falling to your lap you collect yourself, not allowing your imagination to run wild. “You taking me in was enough. Thank you.” Voice quiet, everyone has their own reaction to your words, albeit unbeknownst to you.

“Oh, shut up! You know there’s at least one thing you want,” Jason teases from across the table.

“Oh? And what’s that since you know her so well?” Tim pries, knowing he’s setting his brother up. Jason hesitates, almost choking on his drink which elicits laughs from the boys, and an amused smile from Bruce. As bickering starts to ensue, you decide.

“I-” all eyes turn to you, “I want a party!” You announce. With a confident smile, you figure, how bad could it be? After all, parties don't need to be big! Something sweet, the family there, and a boardgame is all you'd need for it to be considered a party to you.

“See? At least I know what she wants,” Damian chides proudly.

“Oh? Well what kind of party would you like?” Bruce asks.

“Who do you want to invite?” Dick inquires.

“What’s the theme?” Jason adds.

“Actually, isn’t your birthday coming up now that I think of it?” Tim voices his concern over to Jason.

“Uh…” Jason shakes his head a little, taken aback, “I mean, I don’t really celebrate anymore since-”

“-the same day as Alfred’s, that’s right,” Bruce saves them, an unfazed smile on his lips, “though I believe we can celebrate both, can’t we?” While you’re not exactly paying attention, to the rest of them there’s a silent, yet menacing request behind his eyes. It’s clear they’re not allowed to speak freely anymore, no matter your new seat at the table of their family.

“Okay, but mine comes first- or did you forget again?” Damian asks with a bite. Upon the silence, he rolls his eyes and goes back to his meal with the exasperated sound of his breath hitting his tongue against his teeth. An audible ‘Tt’ sound.

“I didn’t forget, Damian,” Bruce clenches his jaw and grips his glass a little tighter. Does every family dinner have to turn into a fight? “You know I was with the Just-” he catches himself, “Hn- that I had to-”

“-just business calls… we’re well aware, Father. Perhaps you’ll do yourself a favor and won’t miss your other child’s birthday,” Damian finishes the conversation. “Not that I count on it.”

--------

Walking through the pool room, you’re focused on texting Daisha, intent on telling her the good news!

‘Omg you’ll never guess what just happened! I’ll hav-’

Splash!

A dissatisfied shriek escapes your lips as you stare at the wet stain on your shirt. “Really?! Dami-" looking up from your drenched navy tank top, your eyes widen and lips part.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I thought you were Damian.”

You quickly take in the super-soaker and the boy’s apologetic expression, and it’s easy enough to put two and two together. As footsteps quietly click against the tiled floors of the locker rooms leading toward the pool deck, you grab the boy’s hand and drag him back the way he’d come around the corner. There lies a linen closet between the pool, laundry room, and stairwell. With a swift hand, you open the door and shove him in, following after as you quietly shut the door.

A bemused smile appears on his lips as his eyebrows furrow. “You’re his sister,” he whispers with certainty, “I’m Billy.”

Whispering back your name, he repeats it. Visibly eager on saying something else, you place your fingers on his lips to shut him up. He follows your eyesight, both of you staring through the slats in the closet door. With a keen ear, he gets the gist and remains quiet. As moments pass, you can feel the boy, Billy, staring; curious, you meet his gaze only to find him searching your eyes. You can’t help but notice how pretty his are. Though you almost get swept up in admiring his features, you hear a faint creak only meters away outside the door; with a motion of your other hand, you beckon him to hand you the gun.

Transferred into your open hand, you slowly remove your fingers from his lips, cupping the barrel of the super-soaker while the other wraps around the handle, fingers ready at the trigger. With a head nod toward the door, you mouth the words: ‘On three! Ready?’

Billy seems to understand, as he holds his hands up in a ready stance to push open the doors. Together, you both mouth the countdown (which is really a count up, but anyway): ‘One… Two…’

“THREE!” Busting out of the closet, Damian is just a few feet from your right. It’s easy to spin and shoot as you’d been prepared, having watched him walk past the door together. Your brother had jumped, yet shot a few instinctive rounds of water, splashing both you, Billy, and the wall.

“Shit! What the hell! What are you doing here? Who let you play?” Damian curses, saying something in a language you don’t recognize, holding his gun in a stationary position once you’ve all recovered from the attack. His suspicious green eyes narrow as they dart between the two of you.

“I figured it was only fair since you didn’t let me know about your little game and I got caught in the crossfire,” you reason, pointing to your shirt with the gun.

“I accidentally shot her thinking I had you cornered, so…” Billy’s words die on his tongue. Without sparing the kid a glance, you shove the super-soaker back in his hands before offering him a grateful smile. At least you’d hit Damian once, you figure. With that, you’re more than happy to abandon the boys to their games as you walk toward the laundry room to see if your clothes are finished drying. That was the whole reason you were down here in the first place, after all.

“You didn’t tell me she was my age!” You hear Billy yell before a series of exclamations and curses follow with the sound of splashing water and rapidly receding footsteps.

--------

As stupid as it was to find your thoughts continuing to drift back toward a certain brown hair, green-eyed boy, you couldn’t help it. Though you’ve grown more tolerable of one another over the past few months, you still can’t believe that one of Damian’s friends is who’s on your mind. Nevertheless, fate would seem to have an amusing time linking the two of you together, constantly running into the other.

You suppose it isn’t strange after all, especially when considering he is one of Damian’s friends… however, you find him over the at Manor more and more often after the initial time he’d quite literally bumped into you.

--------

“Grab me a juice box? I forgot one too-”Damian’s voice echoes throughout the theatre as Billy yells back an affirmative answer and heads back toward the kitchen.

“Oh, hey-" You greet, backing up as a familiar figure exits the home theatre.

“Hey- what’s up?” Billy asks, a friendly smile gracing his lips.

"Was just gonna get a snack before we start," you tell him, "Guess we're headed the same way then," you tease. Walking down the hallway and up the stairs to the kitchen, you're aware of your brother's friend just a few steps behind.

“Are you gonna watch with us?” Billy asks hopefully.

“I mean, if that’s okay, yeah, I was planning on it." You respond jokingly, not thinking about it too much. It is family movie night. After all, you’re focused, wanting this popcorn to be good, not a burnt pile of charcoal.

“Oh, I didn’t mea-”Billy goes to correct himself.

“It’s fine. I’ll be down in a minute, I’m just making my own popcorn because the boys would eat it all otherwise,” you joke. Surely since he's friends with Damian he knows what the guys are like.

“That’s smart- that way you don’t have to share and keep passing it back and forth the whole time.” Billy adds on.

“Yeah. Do you want some? I can make another little packet,” You offer.

“Sure! I can do it though, you don’t have t-” He argues.

“-I don’t mind! I've gotta wait for it anyway and grab some bowls. So I'll see you down there!" With that reassurance, Billy offers you one last smile before taking the juice boxes downstairs.

The older boys and your Father had insisted you pick the movie considering it's your first movie night with the family, and while most of them had been dreading what genre you'd pick, everyone ended up excited to watch a classic comedy most of them hadn't seen in years. Snuggled up under the fluffy blankets with your popcorn and the laughs of your brothers all around, you couldn't help but enjoy the fun.

--------

Most of the summer felt like it was spent in your room. Whether it was trying to explore the things that truly make you happy, or being lonely in a place that still feels entirely all too unfamiliar despite the fact that it's been a couple months.

The material things did help at first, the new environment, the little gifts your Father and brothers would treat you to, like those little Squishmallows you'd always seen and wanted at the store, but never bought yourself. They were more expensive than you'd ever thought to casually pay. Nevertheless, you've started to make your room truly your own. With decorating, personalizing, and getting into your own sort of routine, it seems that everyone has been slowly becoming used to this new lifestyle.

Alfred insisted that as summer begins to come to a close, you all decide on either making time for a vacation, or perhaps you and Damian get involved in extra curriculars. In the sake of preparation for school, you'd taken up driving lessons as you'll soon be old enough to begin the process of obtaining your permit. Then there was also the announcements from the school you'll be attending in the fall; with sports and clubs gearing up for homecoming, tryouts were coming up. Your Father had insisted that Damian consider a sport this year, and Alfred equally has been trying to push you in any sort of direction that'll lead to getting you out of the house and your room.

Needless to say, he wouldn't let go of the idea that your mental health could use less isolation and more friends, hobbies, and pursuance of your 'passions' even if you're not entirely sure what those are yet. It didn't take long for you to succumb to your butler (essentially) grandpa's badgering. Though you have a plan in mind for what sport you'll be trying out for, you haven't revealed them to the family. The way they seem to share everything is... still new, and somewhat unsettling to you.

~~~~~~~~

forever taglist: @ohdamnadam , @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic ,@moonlightsolo

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[lyricalt]

[tf2 minific] hot goss

Note: playing around with some backstories for longer future fics, but really this is just me slapping things on the wall for practice. and more jokes.

sniperspy (R!Sniper/R!spy) - rated M for nsfw talk

+++

Sniper gets seven seconds of Spy’s blissed out silence before Spy suddenly sits up in the bunk.

“I don’t believe you utilize my skillsets enough,” Spy says, wiggling around for a cloth to wipe himself off. 

Sniper becomes wedged in the corner. It’s hard not to bristle. Sure, it’d been the old reliable doggy styles and nothing elaborate, but he’s fucked Spy thoroughly into the mattress, as proven by the seven seconds of silence. If it’d been bad, he would never hear the end of it.

“What’re you on about?” he grumbles, urging Spy to use the corner of the bedsheet instead. He’ll change them out after. “This better not be some stupid metaphor for getting my back stabbed.”

Spy doesn’t take it. Rather have his arse leaking than put anything with less than a 200 thread count between the cheeks, apparently. 

“Have you considered that I can be anyone?” Spy asks, reaching for his disguise kit. Instead of his usual cigarette, he reveals a stack of paper masks, fanning them out like a hand of playing cards. “Man. Woman. In-betweens. Any celebrity. You know, most people would be thrilled to experiment with something like this, and I’m willing.”

Sniper gives the paper masks a polite look. He shrugs. “Eh. Nah. You’ll do.” 

Spy snaps the disguise kit shut with a sigh.

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” he says, even though Sniper is sure he did not mean to flatter him at all. Spy looks disappointed by Sniper’s lack of adventurous spirit. “Surely you have thought of changing things up. I quite like to play pretend as well.”

“Oh. Like some kinda roleplay,” Sniper says, more thoughtful.

“Yes,” Spy says, picking up on the crumb of interest. “So? Have anyone in mind?”

“Yea,” Sniper says, drawing out the word for the drama of it all. He curls against him, rubbing his face into Spy’s damp chest. “BLU Spy.”

Spy stares at him. There is an icy silence.

“Haha, just fucking with you, mate,” Sniper says, patting Spy’s chest. “You grub. Oh. C’mon. Don’t be fussed about a bloody joke when you’re the one asking. Come back.” He attempts to reel Spy back into the bunk by grabbing a fistful of his open shirt, but Spy isn’t deterred. “Wait! Fine. You win. I’m just all barro about fessin’ shit like that, you know this. I’ll tell you, just come back. Please.”

At the sound of ‘please’, Spy turns around. When Sniper throws him an additional pleading look, he reluctantly puts one foot back on the stepladder and lets Sniper place a hand around the back of his neck, drawing him in. 

Sniper licks his dry lips. He takes a breath and leans close to Spy’s ear.

”The Administrator,” he whispers, voice cracking at the last syllable when he can’t keep a straight face.

Spy jerks away, but only to start climbing back onto the buck with raised fists and a cold deadly look in his eye. “I am going to beat you senseless. Respawn won't know where to start.”

“Hah! I'll get you on the private radio channel and you can whisper sultry overtime announcements in me ear while I—heh, heh, heh—wank off, haha! C’mon, let’s hear your best impression-” and Sniper has to stop a moment when Spy’s hands go around his neck, “Argh, mate, ohh noo, not my top four sex fantasy-” which does the trick of getting Spy to quickly release him, “Ahaha, fuck.” Sniper wipes his eyes and flops back down into the bunk. “Christ… heh. Where you going? Off to fetch the PA mic, I hope?”

Spy is getting dressed in that huffy kind of way that Sniper assumes is an empty threat. If Spy really means to leave he’d just cloak out of the camper, dressed or no.

“Perhaps the BLU sniper will be more appreciative of my talents,” Spy says calmly. He pulls up his trousers and makes the mistake of forgetting the leftover wetness between his thighs. With much more dignity than he can afford, he slides his trousers back off and grabs the hand towel off the sink.

“Aw, don't piss on the poor thing.” Sniper says, rolling on his side to get comfy. Watching Spy clean and dress is always fun to observe in a satisfying kind of way, like watching the mess of him disappear. “He's a decent bloke, no matter what you say ‘bout his brain size.”

“Small brain, big feet, as they say,” Spy says, now sufficiently wiped down, and gives another go with the trousers.

“No one says that. That ain’t a thing anyone says.” Sniper rolls his eyes. “His feet are reasonably endowed, might I add.”

“You would know,” Spy mutters, evidently out of comebacks while he attempts to find his tie.

“Spot on. Regular arse bandit, that man is. Puts me to shame.” 

Spy accidentally drops the tie back on the floor. He hastily picks it up again, glancing at Sniper with a furrowed brow. Sniper lets the silence sit for a bit before chuckling.

Spy stares at him. “...Is it common for you snipers to be easy?”

“Huh? You think I’m easy?” Sniper raises an eyebrow.

Now it’s Spy’s turn to shrug. “I had meant to say slutty, but thought it’d be rude.”

“Nah, yeah. Strong verbage there, mate, but I suppose so? Not much to fuck in the Outback.”

“The kangaroos,” Spy says without missing a beat.

“Ooh, it’s been three hours since I’ve been called a roo shagger. Bleu’s beat you to it.”

Spy’s shoulders roll with the hint of a defeated sigh in his breath. The man can’t resist personal gossip or potential blackmail material, especially against BLU Sniper. Sniper doubts the bit of info will amount to anything, and he suspects Bluey wouldn’t be much fussed about it either. He’s actually surprised Spy hadn’t already known in some way.

“You two have slept together?” Spy asks, edging closer, like wary cat after a treat.

“Well, yeah. We got handsy once during a con. Way before our contracts here. Was fun,” Sniper says. He smiles. “‘Fraid I can’t give you a letter of reference if you wanna shoot your shot. Last I heard, he’s spoken for.”

Spy’s mildly interested expression immediately turns into a sneer of disdain. “Shoot my shot? With that filthy, piss-throwing, dehydrated-”

“Big feet.”

“-big footed, foul, unmoisturized, carcass-stuffing bushman? Non. I would sooner eat my own suit.”

“Why don’t you ever come on to me like this?” Sniper says dryly, rolling onto his back. 

He hears three footsteps pattering over the floor before Spy’s face suddenly hovers over him. The bunk creaks in protest as Spy leans over the edge. 

“You’re much worse,” Spy says. 

“I’m much worse,” Sniper agrees happily.

[moonlight-tmd]

Idea! I think I remember seeing somewhere on your blog that Shockwave was a civilian frame amongst the many Warframes on the Decepticon side. Going off of that-and probably going to be angry as heck-but now I can't help but think in your "Con's are good" au, that Shockwave was originally one of the few good Senators who did their best to prevent the worst of the anti-warframe acts from going through. When his support for the Deceptions was found out, he was tortured, empuertad without trial and on false allegations, and left for dead before he was found and rescued.

I mention this because I feel a major turning point for the earthbound Autobot team would be for them to uncover this information. This could also serve as a catalyst for them losing trust in the council entirely. What do you think?

Yeah that does sound like something Shockwave might have experienced in this...

Originally I didn't have much info on his backstory but with your input- yeah I can see him being in the council before everything happened.

He was one of the lower position ones but still had much input on how things turn out. When he first heard of the propaganda and plans to eliminate warframes he tried his best to discreetly change the enforcement of that. Even risking stealing and changing the orders. That unfortunately didn't last long as he was caught with the act and upon discovering the reason, the council automaticaly aligned him with Decepticons and send him off to be empurated and locked away. The council couldn't risk having their reputation dirty so they covered it up with him being assasinated.

While in prison, he took his time to re-evaluate his decisions and goals; he didn't regret one bit of his actions, he only wanted the best for the citizen. He spend years reflecting and making plans for no apparent reason- he never thought he could get out of the prison he himself helped build for most dangerous criminals,.. that he now was a resident of himself.

But fate had it that a Decepticon ship attacked the prison in attempt to get their comrades out. He found himself running with the criminals and by all luck managed to catch a ride. Universe had gived him another chance and he wasn't about to waste it.

He changed his name to Shockwave and managed to consult with Megatron himself about his fate and possible aid in return for support from Decepticons. And thus he began helping them overthrow the council.

He was scared of initiating the plans he offered, but it was the only way- he was gonna climb the ranks under a disguise and be their infiltration. His odd frame type granted him the ability to alter his appearance but with empurata helm it was almost impossible to make it pass... Fortunately for them all there was one femme who specialized in self-taught medicine and frame alterations. Blackarachnia made it so his helm could shift along with his frame and therefore made his alter persona, Longarm.

During infiltration of boot camp, Shockwave met a young minibot- foolish and swayed by the tales of the amazingness of Elite Guard. Shockwave felt bad that such a passionate and high-spirited mech would only be disappointed once he learned the truth. Shockwave was surprisingly young for a senator back in the day, so he understood the excitement Bee had- maybe that's why he became friends with him. When Wasp became to be apparent issue for Bumblebee and the officers weren't doing anything despite several notices, Shockwave decided that enough was enough- he was well aware of the rumors of a spy around the camp. He learned from his mistakes and was far more careful about his actions but still it somehow got out. He used the rumors and crafted a well-suited evidence for Wasp to step right in. It worked and Bee was safe, although this satisfaction didn't last long for he was kicked out for some stupid thing few months later.

Now for some events that I don't know how to put in line of time;

When Shockwave learned about Wasp trying to get revenge on Bee he felt guilty- he should've known that putting Wasp in jail wasn't gonna be a permanent solution but he also hoped that he would be stuck there for longer. He didn't like that Bee had to carry the consequences of his lies which is why whnn he revealed that it was him that put Wasp in jail he tried his best to explain his reasoning. He was lucky that Bee understood where he was coming from and forgave him.

When Shockwave learned that the same minibot he was friends with in boot camp had a relationship with Blitwing he was.. shocked to say the least. For someone who believed in the council's fake good so much it was quite controversial. In the end he was happy that Bee was happy, more so when he acknowledged that Bee was not as foolish as he thought and actually looked into the true side of the council.

When the earth rebellion was forming, it was difficult to get Team Prime to trust Decepticons- Shockwave has decided that if they were gonna help them they need to know what the council was capable of and shared his story. He watched their expressions shift to shock and disgust as he described the punishment for simply not wanting a war. The sad part about it is that Optimus actually met Shockwave before all this... As brief as it was, Op saw the mech Shockwave used to be and it pained him to see the same happy mech turned into a bittersweer avenger of the council's victims. It was what pulled the final straw and caused the rebellion to solidify.

That's all for now, thank you for the ask and sorry for the long wait!

[blackjackkent]

All right. Let's go smack us a hag. :D

I left off with Rakha having met the Hag Support Group, which consists of two civilians, one very depressed cleric, and (apparently) Mayrina, who is currently a sheep.

All things considered, Rakha is not really thrilled to see Mayrina again. She hoped to come here and make an effort to learn about having normal conversations with people who have shared some of her non-tadpole-related experiences. But the last time she met Mayrina, she was still deep in the grip of her Bhaalspawn heritage, and Mayrina more or less screamed in her face for helping her escape Ethel. So an ordinary conversation seems fairly off the table.

For that matter, her only experience with sheep has been the disguised redcaps in Ethel's swamp and the time a wild magic surge turned Rakha herself into one.

[ANIMAL HANDLING - FAILED] Examine Mayrina.

Narrator: It appears to be an ordinary sheep.

To the degree that Rakha knows what an ordinary sheep is... sure.

She's sensitive enough to the Weave, though, that I think she has no trouble figuring out how to break the hex currently keeping Mayrina hostage.

Really, the biggest question is how Adrielle DIDN'T pick up on the fact that this was clearly the problem. Anyway, it's immune to fire so Rakha blasted it apart with a lightning bolt.

And as the hex fades and Mayrina emerges from the sheep transformation, there's the sudden sound of heavy boots on the stairs.

The strange, smooth-headed dragonborn that was standing behind Adrielle downstairs looks at Rakha with a strange, dreamy blankness in his gold-glowing eyes.

"You removed my hex?" he says, his gaze drifting past Rakha's shoulder. "Ah... that's annoying. I wanted to play a little longer. Auntie likes her toys broken... She's not going to be happy I had to get my hands dirty."

Rakha blinks. 'Auntie'?

It's clear enough what's happened. The dragonborn is a traitor, a spy for the hag that hexed Mayrina. He meant to betray the whole support group, and probably would have gotten away with it if Rakha hadn't arrived.

But... 'Auntie.' It's possible that all hags go by 'Auntie' and Rakha is just not aware of it... but somehow that seems unlikely.

Damn it.

Perhaps someone more practiced at being reasonable might stop to talk at this juncture, to try to find out if it truly is Ethel this man works for, despite Ethel most certainly having been killed. Rakha did, after all, come here partly with the express purpose of practicing being reasonable.

But the abrupt and unexpected threat puts her hackles up, and habit takes over.

Ready yourself to attack.

In a blink, her staves are out in both hands. She levels them before her, ready to strike... and the dragonborn just laughs.

"How cute. I see why Auntie has her eye on you." He twitches restlessly, his head cocking to one side. "They want to hurt Auntie," he whimpers. "They have the book. I will *die* before I let anyone touch a hair on her head."

Certainly he means Ethel. The hag they met south of Moonhaven is somehow still alive in spite of all Rakha's attempts to punsh her for what she did - for the false eye that still itches and throbs in its socket after her betrayal.

She is starting to get used to the fact that her anger no longer controls her like a mad animal, now that the beast in her head is gone. But it is still anger, and it still burns hot, and violence is still the best solution she knows.

"Tell the hag I'm coming for her," she growls.

The dragonborn laughs again, higher-pitched now, and his form begins to twitch and shift, the draconic features sliding away to reveal the redcap underneath. "The others I will leave to rot in this house," he hisses. "But you? I will gift Auntie your corpse wrapped in your own intestines!"

[cupidjyu]

when we sway, i go weak

hyunjae x reader

genre: hyunjae teaches you how to dance!!!!! spy au, slow dancing, this takes place in the olden times with those fancy ball dance parties, friends to lovers, flirting, first kiss, few suggestive jokes because that's my immature humor, tension, i purposely made them talk fancier because i think it’s fun to write LOL, prince hyunjae??? notes: i got this idea from a movie i watched (enola holmes 2) that scene got me giggling like omg you guys should totally search up the dance scene hahahaha word count: 2.5k

Your mission was simply impossible.

“Dance with a man, they said?” You scoffed, leaning over the railing as you peered over the dance floor below you. You could see a few couples, dressed in their most fancy and expensive clothing, gracefully weaving in and out as if they were professionals. “Dance with a man to get the information that I need? This is… absurd.”

As a spy, you often needed to disguise in order to get what you wanted. You were used to it anyway. You’ve done tons of them and the roles you had to act out were fairly easy. A servant? All you had to do was listen to what the others needed. An elderly person? Just walk really slowly.

But to act like a rich, well-dressed magnate is where you crossed the line. Acting elegant and proper wasn’t your forte and you didn’t quite enjoy it. At all. But, you had a target and the only way to talk to him was by… asking him for a dance.

“Ridiculous,” You mumbled to yourself, collapsing against the railing.

A shuffle of footsteps next to you.

“What is ridiculous?”

You raised an eyebrow and turned. That was when you came face-to-face with Hyunjae. Hyunjae, Jaehyun, he went by many formal names.

He himself was actually a rich, well-dressed magnate.

“You.” You narrowed your eyes.

“Me?” His shoulders raised and his eyes widened.

“Yes, you!”

“Okay, so I’m ridiculous.” He goofily smiled. You groaned in frustration. Hyunjae, an affluent person, a man who knew much about business and money, was frankly a doofus. You had worked with him a few times and you had found that he was much, much different from how he looked. Despite his tall build, broad shoulders, and objectively… handsome face, he was a complete fool. And he accepted that. Because he was a fool.

He liked to joke and he would always point out when your lips curled up into a smile. He also liked to hug. A lot. Even when you insisted that he didn’t need to, he would only hug tighter.

Putting it simply, Hyunjae is a friend. A slow, slightly dense, friend who you could rely on. No matter how many times you complained about him, you always found him right by your side. 

“I only worry for you.” 

Hyunjae had once replied this when you asked him why he continued to help you, even during the more hazardous tasks. He couldn’t even fight.

He could probably dance though, right? You sucked up all of your dignity and you reached forward, grabbing his firm arm in yours.

“I need you for something,” You stated, leading him off into a room, any room that would be empty.

“Oh, you need me?” He purred with a cheeky smile. You clicked your tongue and ignored his words.

Finally, you pushed open a door and it seemed to be a library. Bookshelves covered the walls and the floors were empty except for a single desk with ancient-looking books stacked on top. Hurriedly, you closed the door and you pressed him up against it, leaning forward. You were so close that you could feel his breathing against your lips.

“Are we about to kiss, sweetheart?” He smiled.

You jabbed him in the stomach with the blunt side of the pocket knife that you tend to carry around in case someone attempted to stab—no pun intended—you in the back. He hissed in response.

“That hurt,” He grumbled.

“I hope it did.” You scowled. “And no, I don’t want a kiss. Especially from you. I need to learn how to dance.”

“For what exactly?” 

You stuttered, “…nothing.”

“Another one of your missions isn’t it?” He tucked a stray strand of hair away from your face. You swallowed, your mouth going dry.

“Maybe,” You shakily sighed. With his incredibly annoying personality, for some weird reason, you couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous around him. 

It’s definitely because of his obnoxiously charming face.

“You won’t get hurt from this will you?” He gazed at you worriedly.

You recalled the time when you had gotten injured and Hyunjae had brought you into his lap so that he could tend to the cuts. You never mentioned how your heartbeat had stuttered that day.

“I cannot guarantee you anything.”

He sighed. “Okay.”

“Okay?” You looked at him expectantly.

“I’ll teach you how to dance, but not because I want to help you complete your dangerous mission.” You could see the way his smile lilted up mischievously.

“Then what for, Jaehyun?” Hyunjae, Jaehyun. the formal names never mattered to you. In fact, he often smiled dearly when you used his real name.

“Well…” He started with a glint in his eyes. “Simply because I would quite enjoy this opportunity to hold your waist.” And then his hand rested there. His warmth almost pierced your body, making you inhale sharply.

“What are you—“

“I’m teaching you, am I not?” He spoke softly. “First step is to get into position. My hand on your waist.” His thumb stroked your side softly, making you squirm. He gently led you into the center of the room, his hand never leaving its position. 

“That’s it?” You blurted out.

“Of course not,” He laughed. His other hand took yours and he brought it up to his shoulder. “Your left hand stays here, on my shoulder. And the other…” He intertwined your fingers with his, holding firmly. You suppressed the shaky sigh that threatened to leave your parched throat.

Hyunjae easily noticed your silence and he bent closer to study your face.

“Everything alright there, sweetheart?” 

Your hand, still resting on his shoulder, slapped it briefly.

“Refrain from calling me sweetheart, sir.” You whispered. “I’m simply a spy for a good cause.”

“Spy or not, you’re still a sweetheart,” He replied.

You couldn’t help yourself from blushing slightly. Immediately you were conscious of him noticing and so you began to ramble. “You’re obnoxious. If we weren’t friends, I would be taking my knife and—”

“And…” He grinned, cutting you off. “We should start dancing.”

“Yes.” Your eyes widened. “Right, that was what we were doing.”

Hyunjae smirked. “Don’t get too distracted.”

“You underestimate me. I’m a very focused person.”

“It doesn’t seem like that around me.” He hummed.

You grew quiet at that, knowing very well that he was correct.

“I will take the lead. If I step forward,” He proceeded to do so. “You step backward.”

You held your breath. unable to ignore his sweet cologne anymore. 

“I step to the side, then you do the same,” He muttered. 

His hand was warm too, holding you securely.

He looked up briefly and he smiled back down at you. You could only stare, doe-eyed.

“It looks like the music has started.” He grinned. “My instructions might not help. Sometimes you just need to follow the rhythm. It is, what really should lead us.”

“Poetic,” You remarked, trying to ignore the way your heartbeat fastened at the way he gazed at you so tenderly.

“Focus.” He raised an eyebrow with a small smile. With a shaky breath, you began to dance. Stepping forward, right, backwards, and left. His eye contact was almost luring you in, shifting your body impossibly close, right up to his chest. 

“This is easy,” You breathed out.

“You did step on my foot three times,” He pointed out.

“I’m still learning,” You snapped.

“I can say that you’re doing really well.” Hyunjae smiled softly.

“Am I really?” You couldn’t help but smile back.

“Certainly. We can try the twirl now.”

“The what?”

But he didn’t respond. Instead, he led your hand up and over your head, forcing you to twirl. Then, he brought you right back to his chest.

“Like this.” He gazed down at you, his eyes lingering on your lips for a brief second.

“A warning next time would be pleasant.”

“Simply follow the rhythm.”

Your breath hitched when just at that moment, the music had picked up. And so, your steps became faster, that one twirl move coming more frequently. The music was soft really, since it was in the background, playing in the actual ballroom and not in a mere library. Your footsteps and his breathing was much more evident.

After another twirl, you rested your forehead against his chest, taking in a deep breath.

“This is nervewracking,” You spoke with honesty, still following his steps. But there was something else distracting you from the calming music. His pounding heartbeat.

“Is it me who makes you nervous? Or the dancing?” He said, his voice vibrating against his chest.

“I cannot guarantee you an answer to that,” You whispered.

“It’s me, isn’t it?”

You abruptly pulled back, only to meet his knowing smile. “Oh, shut up.”

Hyunjae soon introduced another move. One where you both pull away, drifting off to opposite directions with only his hand grasping yours, and then you gravitate back to the same position, his other hand returning to rest at your waist.

“You look annoyingly good in that suit, you know,” You muttered. And again, he pulled away so you at least had a chance to hide your burning face. But you heard his laugh as he dragged you right back against his body,

“If I’m not mistaken,” He breathed out, searching your face with affection. “You just called me handsome.”

You shut your eyes in embarrassment. “And what about it?”

“Well you…” He brought your intertwined hands up to his chest, right where his heart was. “You have quite the effect on me.” You inhaled sharply when you realized just how fast it was beating. It was beating so fast, that it felt almost like it was on fire.

A moment of silence. The two of you had never once stopped dancing, constantly stepping side to side. But neither of you were focused on the music anymore, instead more on gazing into each other’s eyes, trying to find a non-verbal answer behind them.

Finally, you spoke quietly, breathlessly. “Why?”

Hyunjae stilled for a second, causing you to almost trip on his feet.

“Why is my heart beating so fast?” He chuckled. “I’d figure that as a spy, with your wits, you might have an idea.”

“No, I–” You bit your lip. “I know about that. I’m asking… why do you feel this way?”

He blinked and he gave you a tender smile, before twirling you around again. “Why wouldn’t I?”

You shook your head, frowning. “You don’t understand.” You stumbled against his chest. “I am a spy, Jaehyun. You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

“You are not just a spy,” The man whispered. “You are more than that. Should that stop me from falling in love with you, is out of the question. You are… beautiful and you make me smile in so many ways possible. There’s so much more to you that I see, and I would be honored to learn more.”

Your eyes fell down to where his hand had slightly tightened at your waist, your cheeks flaming red.

“Focus.” His voice was low. You looked back up. 

“If you are really so certain about your feelings for me, Hyunjae,” You uttered. “Let us continue to dance.”

“What will that resolve, sweetheart?” Another twirl, another step forward and right.

“You must trust me.”

His gaze fell and he nodded. The two of you tuned back into the music. It was different now, you had realized. Slower and more… romantic. Your hand was still resting on his shoulder and his hand was still on your waist. Your other hand continued to be encased in his.

At the change of note, he twirled you around. You began to lose your breath and it wasn’t because of physical exertion. It was something beating in your chest, so strong that you could barely focus anymore. Hyunjae seemed to be the same, his grip on your hand and waist tightening, his eyes searching you with so much endearment that it left you even more breathless.

Another step. Forward, right, backwards, and left. 

Another twirl. 

And with a deep breath, as you were being pulled back, instead of returning to position, you leaned up and pressed your lips against him. Alarms were going off in your brain but you simply ignored them, shutting your eyes and falling into his arms.

Hyunjae didn’t even hesitate to kiss you back, his lips parting and his head tilting. He gave a satisfied hum as both of his hands fell to your waist, pulling you closer. Your hands wrapped around his neck, deepening it in which he happily responded. 

Your lips moved in unison and you could feel his pulse right against you, beating erratically. Just like your own. 

You pulled away first, resting your forehead against his, giving him a shy smile.

“How would you rate my performance today?” You whispered. 

Hyunjae smiled widely and pressed another kiss to your lips. “Outstanding. We shall do this another time… when you aren’t busy.”

You widened your eyes, pulling away abruptly. “My mission.”

“You must go,” He spoke, urging you on. But his hand on your hip said otherwise. You gulped. He wanted you to stay for the rest of the night. You could see the plea in his eyes.

“I must go, yes,” You agreed, nodding. “But, I assure you I will return. You can hold me and… kiss me, all you want.”

Hyunjae smiled, bring his hand up to your cheek and caressing slowly. “Excited?”

“What, for my mission or for your affections?” You raised an eyebrow.

“My affections.”

“Indeed, that I am.” You shied away from his touch, your ears burning. “But do not get so full of yourself, Jaehyun. I have many things to do tonight.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” A corner of his lips raised. “Me being one of those things.”

You gulped and pushed him away. “Desist. You are to be wealthy and unaware. Not lewd.” You then turned on your heel, walking to the door to return to the ballroom. But, you turned back longingly. Oh, how you wanted to just be with him.

“I cannot believe that you’re going to dance with another man right after kissing me.” He shook his head playfully.

“I have a task to complete.” And then you smiled to yourself. “I never took you as the jealous type, Hyunjae.”

“I have a right.” He frowned in response. “I can’t afford to lose someone so pretty, can I?”

You rolled your eyes fondly before opening the door, the bustling of the crowd and the instrumentals of the music interrupting the previous silence. 

“You are insufferable, Jaehyun.”

He once again smiled at your use of his real name.

“I can assure that you love my affections. That in which you will be experiencing more later on tonight.” He winked and tilted his head. 

You winced and stepped through the entrance. “I will see you later. And… thank you for teaching me how to dance.”

[lazyrants]

Sportafake (prod 108)

BoredJedi (youtube.com/user/LazyBlueHaze) gave me an .iso of the "Superhero" Australian DVD from 2008. To finally put the .iso to use, I decided to take all the screenshots in this episode myself. I also watched it using VLC.

Original airdate: August 24, 2004

Story by Ole Olsen Steen, Magnus Scheving

Written by Noah Zachary, Cole Louie, Magnus Scheving

Directed by Raymond P. Le Gue

Executive producers - Magnus Scheving, Ragnheidur Melsted, Raymond P. Le Gue, Mark Read, Brown Johnson, Kay Wilson Stallings

Starring Magnus Scheving, Stefan Karl Steffanson, Julianna Rose Mauriello

Puppeteers - Ronald Binion, Gudmondor Thor Karason, Jodi Eichelberger, David Matthew Feldman, Julie Westwood, Amanda Maddock

Sportafake is undeniably one of the most critically acclaimed and recognized episodes of the series. But.. is it really all that Spectacular?

The episode begins with Sportacus flipping around in his airship, fiddling with some of his things, ready to visit the town. He then flips into his pod and then flies straight into town.

Anyways, Milford has agreed to help fix some "odds and ends" around Bessie's house because he just can't say no to her. (S I M P. A L E R T ! ! ! ! ) Milford is however, not experienced in this type of stuff (he can't use a hammer properly..). Bessie replies by saying it's only a couple of things and then gives him a comically large list of things to do, assuming Milford can handle it. I don't think Bessie has ever MET Milford before.

Anyways, Robbie is in his lair sulking about how nobody listens to him. He then starts a heartfelt speech about the topic, and once he's finished he plays a stock applause sound on his speakers (he turns the volume up twice). Man, he needs some friends, but he's so vicious and funny.

So, that aside, the kids have once again completely forgotten what Sportacus has been teaching them FOR SEVEN EPISODES, and they are relaxing in the hot sun. You think it's hot in Iceland? Try experiencing a heatwave in Australia for a week.

Stephanie throws what seems like a very very very very mini hula hoop and asks the kids to play catch. They decline because they are too sweaty and Trixie asks Stephanie to go with the flow. She then attempts to sound like she's at the beach by saying stuff no normal human would say unironically.

So, anyways, Sportacus has come to end this awkwardness (or add some more it seems) by asking the kids what they're up to. Since they seem to be enjoying sitting down and doing nothing, Sportacus does a frontflip and lands in the chair next to Pixel.

However, it seems to just be a prank, and Sportacus says that they can play catch. (Why does nobody wanna be active until Sportacus says so?) Except for Pixel. But it turns out it is just another prank. This scene was cut out from the Discovery Kids and Super Sports Show DVD versions for uh.. y'know, racism?

So, anyways, they all enjoy themselves playing catch while Robbie is spying on them. Robbie assumes that they listen to Sportacus because of his mustache. He has the amazing idea to disguise himself as Sportacus (for some reason the number on the back of Robbie's shirt has a 9 and not a 10.. maybe Robbie was Number 9 and that would explain why he never liked Sportacus).

However, he when he tries to exercise and stuff, he fails miserably. So maybe call him Weakacus. Anyways, back at Bessie's house, Stingy is looking around and claiming random stuff (for example, a FENCE). Once he sees a ladder he says it belongs to his father (now that's just greedy) and takes it. At the same time, Milford is trimming leaves off a tree when a big bee gets in his way and he decides to get off.

Meanwhile, the kids are still playing catch with Sportacus when his crystal beeps, and he promises he won't take long. He climbs up in his airship and as soon as he flies away, coincidentally in comes Robbie. Is it just me, or does Stefan look hilarious with a mustache?

Anyways, Robbie climbs over the wall in his Sportacus costume with a gruff voice. It turns out he swallowed a hairball (one that looks like a ball of fluff from his chair). He coughs it out and throws it and it somehow breaks a glass window. The logic in this show is sometimes just.. non-existent. Also, look at JRM's face in this screenshot!

Anyways, Robbie "plays" catch with the kids, and manages to get all the hoops on his arms before he yells at them to stop playing. Meanwhile, the real Sportacus is out to save Milford, and he catches him once he falls off.

Anyways, with the kids, Robbie has just yelled at them to stop playing and he declares that he wants the kids to start listening to him now. Ziggy obeys saying that they do that all the time.

Anyways, Robbie says that he wants all the kids to eat some bubble gum, and he spouts the excuse that it is good for your jaws. I mean, just at this point you could tell it's not him. And that crystal, obviously made of plastic! Anyways, Pixel says he is joking but Robbie says 'BINGO BONGO YOU ARE WRONGO', the famous quote that was stolen from Steven Universe.

Robbie's crystal 'beeps' and he goes to 'save someone', then he falls over the wall. Ziggy asks what he is doing, Robbie says he is taking a nap and Ziggy BELIEVES IT. Little by little every episode I like his character less and less and less. Stephanie feels something is wrong and she writes about it in her diary. She is afraid to say anything in fear that her friends will laugh at her.

Anyways, Sportacus has just finished saving Milford, and he asks Sportacus to help him with some of the work Bessie wants to do. He accepts to do so right after he saves someone.

It turns out to be Pixel and Trixie shaking Ziggy by the legs for some gum, which might be one of the most idiotic things they have ever done. It's already in his mouth, let him eat it. Anyways, Ziggy spits it out on Sportacus' mouth and he vomits the rest.

Maybe it's better not to show a screenshot of the vomit.. anyways, Sportacus recommends that the kids play basketball. Sportacus' crystal beeps and he goes to Bessie's house. The fence wood has fell off, but Sportacus puts it back up in a jiffy. Then he goes to his airship, and they perform 'No one's Lazy in LazyTown' ONE OF THE ABSOLUTE BEST LAZYTOWN SONGS IN THE WORLD. The song ends when Robbie yells at them with a pile of junk food. Burgers, fries, pizza, popcor and chocolate. Stephanie wants to complain about it but Trixie stops her. They want to eat that food (and I don't blame them!).

Meanwhile, Robbie is at Bessie's house and he throws the fence wood away. To Bessie who has her eyes closed, it sounds like Milford is fixing it. Meanwhile, the REAL Sportacus is bringing them some Sportscandy, but they're too full to eat. After all, they ate all of Robbie's junkfood.

Anyways, Robbie is looking at the kids and he is filled with joy. Sportacus is confused. Stephanie goes over to Milford's house to talk to him about the whole situation. Milford's advice is to speak up about the situation, and ironically, Bessie yells his name and he runs right to her.

Anyways, while Milford is running to her, Bessie's drink spills all over her dress. In comes Sportacus, and he says his work is just beginning. Then Robbie says HIS work is done. BAM! They walk into each other. Then they start testing each other to see if they will do the same things.

Anyways, Milford has now arrived at the scene, and even after the real Sportacus does his power jump, they still think that a race is the right way to declare who's who. Sometimes I wonder why I watch this show, but then I realize if the LazyTown kids were smarter that would make for a really boring short episode. While Milford is at the end of the race track, Stingy is carrying a ladder and he says it is his. Milford agrees.

So, anyways, the race starts and Sportacus is bound to be the winner until his crystal beeps. So anyways, Bessie is standing in a wagon while Stingy accidentally hits her with it and the wagon goes rolling. Sportacus loses the race to save Bessie.

So, anyways, everyone believes Robbie is the winner, Sportacus must leave the town and that he is Sportacus until Stephanie speaks up and pulls off his mustache. Sportacus is glad Stephanie spoke up. Bessie is glad Milford helped her with some housework and almost kisses him, then they perform Bing Bang.

Robbie is in his lair on his fluffy chair, sitting down, and sleeping. Thus marks the end of the episode.

THIS EPISODE IS A LITERAL TREASURE TO THIS WORLD.

10/10 NO FURTHER EXPLANATION1111!!!!1111!11!!!1

[doctorstrangereview]

0048: Strange Tales #154

Cover Date: March 1967 On-Sale Date: December 8, 1966

The title is "Clea Must Die" yet Ms. Severin decides to put Clea at the bottom of the splash page prominently highlighting Umar, Doc and a Mindless One. Presumably this is the Mindless One that Umar disguised as Clea so perhaps that counts. There's also a caption that claims Doc invaded the Dark Dimension when he was, in fact, kidnapped by Umar (multiple times if you've been following closely.) I'm sure Stan was busy and just forgot what he wrote two months ago.

Weakened and facing the now undisguised Mindless One, Doc attempts to form a strategy. This strategy turns out going ghost, which he hasn't done in a while. We now learn some new secrets about astral travel. It grants him extra powers, allows him to recover his strength and renders his body immune to harm. This certainly would have come in handy in some earlier stories.

Doc also realizes that Umar is doing what he has done in some many earlier stories. She's not finishing the job and assuming he's dead. Silly Umar needs to watch that episode of The Odd Couple. Meanwhile, as Doc's astral body floats around doing something, his physical body has gone all Kitty Pryde with the Mindless One's eye beams and fists going right through him. Damn, this would have come in handy in SO MANY situations.

The Mindless One eventually gets bored and walks away. Doc needs an incantation to rejoin his physical form. That's a first! But, now he's all rested up and back to his old, powerful self!

Doc continues on his quest to rescue Clea, wherever the heck she is. He continues through the Dark Dimension which Ms. Severin has give a makeover. Bill Everett made the Dark Dimension look like outer space. Ms. Severin makes it look like Latevria after a few years of Zorba's rule. This is not your father's Dark Dimension.

Where did all the weird floating stuff go? Why is Umar hanging out in Castle Dracula?

Heck, it looks like Umar even managed to kidnap one of The Wicked Witch of the West's flying monkeys!

Anyway, Doc has sent the eye from his All-Purpose Amulet to spy on Umar. She assumes Doc is vanquished and is proceeding with her plans to conquer everything else. If you don't like it, well, the Dungeon of the Doomed seems nice. Doc is horrified that Umar is sending people to this dungeon and goes there to free them. Uh oh! It's protected by a coating of liquid fire! (Yes, Doc calls it a coating.) Like every other barrier in the Dark Dimension, this one doesn't take much effort to get past. Once past the fire, Doc is sucked into a giant vacuum. How does the vacuum not suck in the fire? At least we get a slightly trippy panel, finally.

Doc confronts the prisoners who all turn away since they think he works for Umar. How do they know? Part of the punishment seems to be turning prisoners monochrome, while Doc is still in full color.

Doc attempts to wring the truth out of the prisoners. They won't talk to him. One, who is just a floating cloak approaches him. He's just a hooded cloak floating in mid air. This is Veritas, the living embodiment of truth. He's there of his own free will and can come and go as he pleases, apparently.

Doc asks Veritas to take him to Clea. Instead he takes him by Umar's Dracula like castle where he's seen by a purple bird. Umar then sends more purple birds after him. What happened to the flying monkey? Doc casts a spell which makes them as heavy as lead and they all fall out of the sky? Did Doc just murder a bunch of living beings?

Doc invades the castle and proceeds to Umar. Umar doesn't like this and strikes him down.

Why didn't she do this two issues ago? It would have save everyone a lot of time and effort. Doc has a secret weapon. Veritas enters Umar's chamber or throne room or whatever it is. He shows her her real self and she's distracted long enough for Doc to get free. I feel like we've seen this scenario before!

Doc's now in Umar's presence. There's also one of those smoky, floaty magic TV things there. These seem to be very common in the Dark Dimension. Clea appears on the TV and Umar uses it send a death ray her way.

This was an interesting set of obstacles Umar sets in Doc's path in his attempt to rescue the girl he loves, yet hardly knows. Marie Severin's vision of the Dark Dimension is disappointing. It's creepy, but not bizarre. This really could just be earth. Where are all the floating paths and doors in the sky? Where are all the freaky creatures? There's definitely too much Wizard of Oz referenced here. There's less lucky coincidence than usual, which is a good thing, and Doc actually has to think and work his way out of deadly situations. Things will improve a bit next issue, thankfully.

If you're young and wondering what the heck The Odd Couple has to do with this, watch this short video.

[averagepsychouser]

Talk about zephyr pretty please she sounds super duper uber cool

Holy shit…. Oh my goodness….

Zephyr is my original courier (named after a Red Hot Chili Peppers song) who I have dedicated 22175 words worth of time to (and soon more). The fic is about a third done.

Minor warning for mentions of violence, s/a, and slavery. nothing graphic though. You have been warned.

Her basic story goes like this.

After helping Caesar’s Legion to take over New Vegas (the reasons for which consists mostly of greed) she decides to mope around the Lucky 38 most of the day. After a couple of months a small group of legionaries are like “you’re married now.”

Lets back up a little. Vulpes Inculta had begun a relationship with an NCR colonel to get access to important information for the war against the NCR. They had children closer to the second battle, and once Hoover Dam had been won he was like “surprise, I’m actually a Frumentarius and our relationship has been a lie.” Gets promoted, shipped off the kids, “married” her (now that he is promoted he is in control of the majority of the Strip, and so has the option to marry) and continues to live like that for a little while. About a month before he purchases the rights to marrying Zephyr, his wife tries to poison him by putting cleaning supplies in his food. He has her tongue cut off and sends her away.

Back to Zephyr, she finds out she has been married to Vulpes Inculta. She doesn’t particularly like him, but he might be more forthcoming with information on what happened to her friends now (spoiler alert, most of them are dead). The marriage is a relatively peaceful one, as far as relationships in the Legion can go (no s/a, I’m a firm believer that Vulpes has no “need” to assault someone because he is a spy and infiltrator and can engage in profligate activities whenever. There is a small amount of domestic abuse but Vulpes is cautious of Zephyr and never bruises her) the marriage is mostly just a bid for even more power on Vulpes’s part. At some point Zephyr learns about Vulpes’s past wife, but that’s more important in the story than in this explanation. She also receives a Fixer perscription due to her smoking addiction, and Inculta absolutely abhors smoking.

Everything comes to a head when one night Zephyr cooks Vulpes dinner. Although it was extremely unusual for Zephyr to cook (Vulpes only cooked food for himself after the poisoning attempt) Vulpes decides “hey, wow, look at that, she’s finally becoming a good wife.” He does not know it, but she has spiked the wine. He drinks a glass and it is enough to affect him. She leads him to the bed where she sits on his stomach and eats him alive.

After spending a couple of nights in the apartment with Inculta’s corpse in the bathtub she decides to escape on a night with no moon out, disguising herself as a vexillarius (asshole’s coyote hat) she makes her way out to the wasteland. Here’s where things get a bit tricky.

She knows that Boone is defending Jacobstown and slaughtering legionaries that get too close, so she heads there, is discovered, and I cannot figure out what happens next. Her and Boone definitely have a conversation since they used to be friends, and I’m leaning towards Zephyr trying to get him to kill her and him saying the equivalent of “you made your bed, lay in it.” So that’s all I have so far.

There’s also a few things I didn’t mention, like Arcade’s death and glasses, Veronica’s death, Raul and Cass’s disappearance, how Boone managed to keep living, the Arizona wives, the tiny statue of Juno Vulpes slipped to Zephyr unbeknownst to her, Vulpes being promoted because he’s actually going to be replaced soon, et cetera. But that’s pretty much Zephyr’s active story! She also has a very lengthy backstory.

[the-dye-stained-socialite]

A Study of Tattoos

@house-of-mirrors here's my fic for you for the @fallenlondonficswap! I hope you enjoy!

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1,290

Summary: An academic has an encounter with a spy, and can never go back.

Contains: The great game, Judgements, tomb-colonists, the khanate, permadeath, and brief mentions of zailors and implied intimacy.

Ao3 Link

It has been weeks since I saw her.I was not supposed to open that door. She had been redressing, pulling her blouse back on when I noticed them. Dozens of tattoos covered every available inch of skin, some overlapping even, like the sketching book of a Bohemian who could not yet afford a fresh one. My mind has since become that sketchbook. They fascinate me. I look for tattoos everywhere I go now, hoping to catch a glimpse of more. Sometimes I do.

I have found out more. She was a surface runner. A spy. Staying in the Neath for as minimal time as possible so as to not die, and lose her usefulness. My accidental involvement with her has set off a chain reaction which I do not understand. A chain reaction which I must understand. Ripples have consequences. 

My final term is nearing an end. My professor, a demanding man who always oversees every minute detail, is demanding a long-form research project. I will choose the coding of tattoos to demonstrate my academic expertise.

***

I have made an error. Examples of spy tattoos are hard to find in full for one simple reason: It is vital that they be decoded only by the intended recipient. Even after one is put onto the body and then delivered, it may still be decoded by others to find out a plan. I had to figure out a method that would enable me to find these tattoos.

I bumbled around Wilmot’s End for near to a week. I would pin any spy I could recognize as such with conversation, like an amateur entomologist clumsily practicing on an abundant species. I realize, only now in the aftermath, the flaws in my method. At the time however, I was stumbling through, unseeing, blunt and broad in my brushstrokes.

I did not realize what would be the consequences of my actions. The game I was playing was not long enough. One of the spies began to spread such a storm of scandal that my own professor booked me a ticket to the Tomb-Colonies! As such, I leave today.

***

I have been here a week now, and made friends with a very old Colonist. They are dead now. I watched them crack open, like a cocoon made not of silk, but rather of dusty bandages. Before they died, however, I was permitted to see beneath those bandages. I had been explaining my thesis, and how my attempts at finding samples was what brought me here, when they told me they had something that might help. Indeed they did.

As part of my research, I had studied tattoos extensively. In addition to the time I spent in Wilmot’s End, I had also spent an entire week staking out Clathermont’s parlor, watching those who came and went. When the Colonist unraveled their wraps to show the aged parchment of their skin, I saw tattoos and symbology I had never come across before. I took very detailed drawings, noting everything from direction to color to location.

***

I am back at the University. The Colonies gave me the time and space to think. I took some gifted rags back with me. I wrap myself in them now, and keep a scytale of my notes. Depending on where I choose to wrap them, I can disguise many messages.

***

I have gone through the entire libraries of both Benthic and Summerset. They contain hardly anything about spycraft, and even less about what it looked like before the Fall of London. This place is hindering my research more than helping it. I will go back to the Tomb-Colonies, this time of my own volition. I tire of things happening without my understanding of how or why. I will learn, and I will grow.

One of my classmates is a pawn. He is clearly a spy, but he never operates of his own free will. Is there a way to, in this game? If so, I will find it. If not, I will become it.

***

Once more I am here among dust and moths. A Tomb-Colonist who reminded me of my Aunt spoke with me. I ended up asking her about older tattoo works. She pointed me across the Zee.

“There, in the Khanate. My granddaughter traveled there once. Its people are descendants of those who escaped that last fallen city.” She gave me some of her wrappings, to fill the gaps in my own. I thanked her.

I will spend the remainder of my time here, constructing a false identity with which I may enter the city.

***

I wonder. Was I pointed to the Khanate by chance? Am I still part of someone else’s schemes? Perhaps, like a puppet that resents the one who claims to be her master, I will take up a blade, sharp and precise, and slice off both blindfold and bindings in one neat cut.

***

My disguise is complete now. The Kindly Colonist had parting words for me.

“They will use every last part of you. Death, true death, will not be the end. They will use your memory to haunt and persuade others. They will use your tombstone as a dead drop. They will use your dying breath to pull in another. You cannot love or be loved. Travel safe, and if you do try to escape… Do not do it partway. You cannot have a foot in each world.”

She gave me a small cloth bag. There is a scrap of irrigo fabric inside, which causes a fog in my mind.

***

I have found a captain willing to zail my false identity East. I study the crew’s backs and shoulders, looking for ink.

***

My disguise has held so far. It is a good thing I have learned not to be reckless. My second day in port I saw a junior pawn removed by the White and Golds. I have a growing distaste for them. I played shatar for much of the day. Unlike London, tattoos are kept much more secret here.

***

I intercepted a message today. I danced with a charming woman all night long, and used our intimacy to make a study of her tattoos. The shapes themselves are smaller here, but still just as detailed. They know how to prolong usefulness. The symbols are different as well, though I see similarities reflected in the tattoos of the zailors who brought me here.

***

Last night I dreamt of a chessboard. I was clothed in ruby armor. A man in ivory approached me.

Once within arm’s reach, the world around me transformed into a glittering castle. I could see checkered fighting out of the windows.

Someone guarded him off to the side. He talked carefully and with precision, and explained many things. How he was interested in my development, how I moved across the board quickly for a mere pawn. How he had arranged all of this. His eyes were blue like snow as he dropped carelessly back onto his self-proclaimed throne.

His right hand twisted, and marionette strings tightened against my limbs. I grew furious. I did not want to be controlled. He was not allowed to manipulate my life.

He spoke of bleaching my ruby vestments, and his eyes gleamed. They glowed such a bright light, in fact, that it burned to look upon his shining throne.

My fury kept me grounded. I wanted nothing more than to snuff out that bright white light. I snapped my strings, and all at once, his castle folded and faded, like crumpled notes.

A man who reminded me of someone I once knew rushed up to me. His armor was deep ebony. I looked at my tattooed limbs, and saw that so was mine.

I woke up.

[oc-am-i-ta]

AITA for attempting to assassinate a foreign head of state?

I (25F human), am a Republic citizen currently in the country of Skysheer following a lead on fixing a complex magical situation my friend (25M robot?, we'll call him M) has found himself in. In order to do this, I applied for and got a job as a palace seamstress in order to gain easier access to the library at the Spearsong palace - the Spearsongs being the ruling family of the city I'm in. I am actually a great seamstress and do my work well, I've just been sneaking into the library on the side to research a way to help my friend M.

After a few days of working for the Spearsong heir (235NB elf, we'll call them A), I decided to end my night with some research and snuck into the library. Only, when M wandered off to find a book for me, I suddenly felt a cloth over my mouth and nose, and that's the last thing I remembered.

I woke up tied to a chair in an unfamiliar location, no M in sight. I managed to break out, set a fire (don't worry about it), and took a guard hostage (don't worry about him either, he's fine). I demanded to talk to the leadership of whoever had kidnapped me and ended up face to face with a pair of scruffy-looking locals (I and T, 189F and 466M elves, respectively). They told me that they were the leaders of the Salis Legion of the People, and that they had kidnapped me so they could put their disguised agent in my place to get close enough to assassinate the Archduke Spearsong, ruler of Salis.

They explained to me that the serfs of Salis have experienced many hardships (no child labor regulations, price gouging, feudalism, etc) and after many attempts at a peaceful solution, they had decided that assassinating the Archduke was the only way. They also apparently have a plan for keeping the city's population safe, which involves holding the rest of the nobility hostage until the Queen of Skysheer either agrees to their demands or doesn't, in which case they will declare independence and form their own city state.

By this point, they were making some good sense to me. The people of Skysheer are treated poorly. I grew up on a Republic debtor farm, so I understand where they're coming from. I and T promised that if I helped them (I'm a skilled rune scribe on top of my lovely embroidery work), they would get M out of the palace before the assassination is carried out by a spy disguised as me. I ended up agreeing to their terms.

Anyways, am I the asshole? They said no nobles would be hurt, but I think we're robbing a weapons depot tomorrow, so who knows if that's going to hold. The Archduke doesn't seem personally like a bad guy, and neither does his heir (A is pretty cool, honestly), but he has been permitting his people to starve in the street. This isn't even my country, but maybe if we succeed in this, the nobles down in my homeland will be scared into straightening up their act?

I don't know, what do you guys think? Is this the only way?

[cheemscakecat]

Refrigeration

A little fanfic about BLU Spy.

TW: BLU gets confronted about the pictures he took. And why he shouldn’t have been so causal about showing them to Scout

When becoming a mercenary, one had to prepare for the worst case scenarios. Failure, torture, death… death of a loved one. All things that Spy had spent years preparing and accounting for. But RED team still found ways to push the envelope.

It all started with the 1st battle against the nearly identical looking RED team after his nemesis stole their intelligence. And the pictures. Spy kicked himself for falling for the Scout disguise and showing the enemy Spy the pictures. Pictures of said Spy and the BLU Scout’s mother having sexual congress.

BLU Scout was far too outgoing, too trusting. And very annoying, once he got tired of Spy trying to give him a taste of reality. So, those photographs of his two-faced mother were indispensable. The perfect way to wise him up, and now they were gone, wasted. Soldier stupidly shot him, his own teammate in an attempt to out the RED.

The team’s intelligence? Taken by RED Spy. The evidence of Scout’s mother acting treacherously? Most likely destroyed, and now Spy had no recourse for proving the truth to the boy. And of course, the whole team was angry about a singular Spy crippling them and getting away.

But he could use that anger to his advantage. It didn’t take much convincing to get Pyro and Demoman on his side. For one thing, they had been the last two killed in battle, distracted when RED bolted out of base, Scout struggling to catch up. For another, Scout was Pyro’s best and only friend. If anyone would want payback for that Spy outrunning him, it would be the dragon.

—————————

They caught the RED Spy off guard. Together, Demoman’s bombs and Pyro’s fire incapacitated him. Spy watched his RED doppelgänger writhe with a satisfied smirk. Then he noticed the earpiece, which was now visible because fire had burnt a small hole in the Spy’s mask. He grunted an angry, desperate “NO!” as Jacques snatched the device. Demoman pressed his foot down on the RED’s belly to keep him from making any surprise attacks.

Spy heard a voice on the other end and slid the tiny microphone into his own ear, being careful not to reveal his face as he pulled up the mask. “Ay! I’m talking to you ******* , pick up!” It was RED Scout. Spy smugly turned towards his doppelgänger. “Alright! I’m not deaf! Just had to deal with those ****ed BLUs for a moment.” RED Spy gaped and wordlessly mouthed the word “No”.

Good. Now he knew how it felt. Even Pyro seemed to be holding back a hearty laugh. “We’ll hurry up and get to the control room. I ain’t waiting all day.” The RED -thoroughly beaten and helpless- struggled to free himself like he wasn’t going to respawn anyway. How stupid. “Don’t! You can’t-“ He pleaded. Spy merely aimed the revolver at his forehead and pulled the trigger.

He found the RED Scout slouching about near the control room. “Took ya long enough! Thought’ ya planned ahead!” Spy frowned. “It’s not my fault! Those BLUs were paranoid as Hell.” RED pursed his lips and glared like a spoiled child. “Whateva. I bet they’re halfway to the intel by now. We gotta get movin!” Spy tilted his head and jerked it towards the hallway.

Scout blinked at him incredulously. “Don’t change your plan now! Ya said you wanted to lead!” Curse that lousy RED Spy, he planned ahead. “I was just making sure you remembered. Keep your voice down boy, they could be here any minute.” Spy hissed urgently, pretending to be concerned. The Scout stared at him with an unreadable expression. “Well come on! You’re the impatient one.” He urged. The Scout put his hands in his pockets and meandered forward,

Spy didn’t like having the enemy behind him. It was supposed to be the other way around. He’d have to come up with a good reason to pull out his revolver. Maybe pretending a member of his team was-

Something heavy hit him square in the back of the head. His RED Spy disguise disappeared. **** it! He caught himself haphazardly before his head could hit the floor. Scout was just snapping out of his shock when he turned to face him. “I KNEW IT!” He roared. Jacques glared up at him and lunged with his knife, but the Scout easily dodged. He got smacked upside the head again with a red baseball bat. Scout must have pulled it out of his bag with an absurd lack of sound.

Before long the relentless RED Scout had pummeled Spy with the bat until he was unable to move. He was still awake though, which meant he could be taunted. Scout squatted down with a satisfied goonish grin. “Hard to stab a guy in the back when he’s beatin your fricken head in, huh?” Spy refused to respond to the man-child.

RED cocked his head to the side and sneered with disgust. “Our Spy’s a lotta things, but an idiot ain’t one of ‘um. Like Hell he’d call me boy.” Spy cursed himself in his head. Of course they didn’t call him boy, he had a bad attitude the size of Texas! How could he forget…

“Ah! Scout! Can you refrain from killing that Spy, please?” No. Not him! Spy looked on in horror as the RED Medic strode towards them, holding some strange device. The Scout shuffled in confusion, his shoulders tensing. Even the REDs fear him. “Thank you! I have a vunderful new machine I’d like to try.” “Oh! Uh, you wanna use this Spy?” The Scout relaxed, realizing he wasn’t the target.

“Yes! It’s so lucky I caught you like this, we usually kill the BLU team so fast..” Spy tried not to panic, especially since the mad Medic was staring. “Uh… Yeah man. Do what’cha want.” From his tone, Spy could tell that Scout was just as surprised as him. No, no NO! “I’ll leave ya to it then, doc. I gotta go fight n… all that.” The excuse fell on deaf ears, for the Medic was too busy with his device and bone saw to listen. Spy watched hopelessly as the enemy Scout left him alone with the freak.

——————

Decapitation. That’s what the Medic went with. Under normal circumstances it would have been fine. Spy would merely die and respawn back at BLU Base. But RED Medic was anything but normal. And that’s why he was still alive, hooked up to the device and being carried around like a trophy. Spy forced himself to keep a poker face, to try to conceal his fear. He didn’t want to give the Medic any sick kicks or new ideas. Whistling, the Medic trotted into RED’s respawn room with him. The other teammates froze in surprise.

There were rumors about this Medic. Rumors that were not unreasonable. They knew for sure that he experimented on his own team, replacing vital organs with the animal equivalent. There was much speculation about what such a mad-man was capable of, what his end goal could possibly be, and how insane he was. But one of the worst rumors was that he was cannibal. It made sense, what else could he be doing with the discarded organs? On second thought, Spy didn’t want to know.

So he wasn't really surprised when the RED team spoke cautiously with the mad-man. “What’cha got there, Doc?” The Engineer asked. He spoke with the cadence of a mother or school teacher. With underlying unease, of course. The Medic shifted in excitement and held him out further, so they could see.

“I’ve designed a machine to keep heads alive! There’s a vindow of opportunity after the spine is severed, and I wanted to put it to use! Say something!” He shook Jacques’ head like a toddler with a Christmas present, then paused to let him speak. It was risky, but he knew exactly what to say. In French, he viciously insulted Germany; their food, their leadership, and their women. A short but appropriate phrase he learned back in occupied France.

The RED Medic laughed loudly until he was nearly out of breath. “Oho! Ho-ho, that is true!” He UNDERSTOOD?!

———————-

Nicotine was the only tool getting Jacques through the stress of what was happening. Thankfully, the RED Medic provided him with a steady supply of bitter, cheap American cigarettes. It was cold in the fridge. He felt light in a very uncomfortable way; like a balloon that a child failed to hold onto, rising into the sky with the knowledge that he’d pop from the air pressure. He missed his hands, and he missed his heartbeat, and he missed the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. He missed eating and he missed warmth.

He didn’t hate all Germans, but he sure hated this one. He liked the BLU Medic well enough, and looked up to the escaped artists and filmmakers who made it to Hollywood during the war. But he hated RED Medic and his stupid feral grin.

Over the next few days, Spy heard incomprehensible voices through the fridge walls. He could discern the number of people in the room, but never what they were saying. RED Medic was always chortling and talking to his birds. This time, he could tell that the Medic had left the room, leaving him with one other enemy teammate. It turned out to be the RED Spy.

It was an embarrassing situation, being a disembodied head in a fridge and all. But the RED surprisingly didn’t taunt him or gloat about the situation. It actually looked like he didn’t know what to say.

But Jacques knew that RED had a score to settle with him. He had gotten pictures of him and the youngest BLU Teammate’s mama having intercourse. No Spy or man in general would take that invasion of privacy lightly. RED was probably there to interrogate or torture him, since he hadn’t come to gloat.

BLU prepared himself for whatever might come next, strengthening his poker face and praying that the RED would accidentally detach the battery on the device under his neck. He may just be put out of his misery.

RED Spy sighed in frustration and looked away. He paused, still bent down with the fridge door open. Evidently being a decapitated head wasn’t enough punishment for what had happened. Wait. My mask. What if he’s here to take my mask? Jacque himself had only bothered to take the dirtier pictures to see if he could get a picture of RED maskless. But he’d been planning to give it to the Administrator, and had no idea who RED might reveal his identity to. Or who in his family would be in danger.

He tried not to balk at the idea. “Look” RED started. He sounded tired. “We both know what you did.” Spy forced a poker face, hoping he wouldn’t give RED the satisfaction of seeing him fearful. Hoping he wouldn’t slip up. “But it would be childish of me to pitch a fit. You snuck past me fair and square.”

Jacques blinked in surprise, the first reaction he had shown since getting trapped here. He’s not planning revenge? Why? The RED teammate kneeled down closer, frowning grumpily as he did. He stared at his foe with a heavy exhaustion dimming his eyes. This was unexpected.

”You still have more of those pictures, I presume?” “Yes.” He replied without hesitation, feigning confidence. The truth was he might have one or two more of the photographs left, buried under files or tucked away somewhere. But the RED Spy had taken the majority, if not all of the pictures when he stole their intelligence that day. Disguised as poor, naive little Scout.

It was a shame that he’d probably never find another one of those photos, the boy needed to know. He needed to stop trusting his mother with whatever information she knew, so she couldn’t consort with this enemy teammate. But Spy could play the part of someone who still had a collection of evidence, at least long enough to fool RED Spy.

“When we let you go, there won’t be any way to stop you showing him.” The RED Spy sounded almost defeated in addition to exhausted. He looked away, putting his hand over his mouth and letting it fall. When he looked back, his eyes were pleading.

“Can I just make one request?” “What sort of request?” “Don’t show him the pictures of her naked. I saw that you had photographs where she’s clothed, and those will get your point across.” Jacques blinked up at him dully.

“And why should I be so discerning?” You two are the ones going behind the boy’s back for cheap pleasure. RED inhaled and exhaled with a slight shudder. “It doesn’t matter if he hates me. I’m an enemy teammate that he’ll fight regardless. But it matters if he’s estranged from his mother. They’re family.”

Spy felt a burning, deep anger swell in his veins, even without a chest. Family? “Oh, so she can keep mining his naive *** for information? So she can keep lying to him and playing with you? Please, don’t make her sound so innocent.” RED Spy glared at him suddenly, before his expression softened and he looked away. He sighed softly.

“She’s not a double agent. For all you know, I could be lying to her.” Jacques hadn’t considered that. “Look, it’s going to be hard enough when he confronts her over the clean pictures. She’s not the type who’d document her bedroom activities.” Red swallowed. “It’ll distract her, make her stumble over her words thinking about her son seeing things he was never meant to. I’m sure the pictures are an issue she’d like to discuss calmly with him.”

Spy though for a moment. He really didn’t know how guilty Scout’s mother was, or how the real boy would react. But now he knew that RED Spy cared about it. He could take advantage of that, but something held him back. The way the enemy Spy talked and his body language reminded him of something. He couldn’t place it, even with the gnawing familiarity.

But more than that his thoughts drifted to his own mother, and what would happen if there were dirty pictures of her. If he were young, and hormonal and stupid. If some creep showed him pictures of her private business, blaming her for a crime she didn’t commit.

Mrs, Murneau was a cheerful, upbeat civilian who kept her private matters private. And it would be hellish to put her through something like this. To have her son barge in with 500 questions and a file folder of disturbing content, questioning her integrity. And he could picture her horror and difficulty in defending her name, even if she was innocent. He felt a sinking pang of guilt.

If RED Spy wasn’t lying, Scout’s mother was the same way. In fact, Scout might have gotten his overly friendly and trustful personality from her.

“That is something to consider..” RED Spy stared. “Alright. I’ll sort through and find the clean ones. You have my word.” The RED sighed with relief, relaxing his tense shoulders. He’d been expecting his rival to remain unyielding.

“Thank you.” This time when he looked away, it was more casual. “Before I go, would you care for a cigarette?” “You keep a cyanide handy?” “Thankfully, there’s no need. The others are ironing out the details with Medic, but you should respawn sometime this evening.” He stared in shock. They were going to set him free? He’d get his body back! He’d finally be back at BLU base and away from that freak doctor!

Jacques tried hard to conceal his excitement and remain somewhat professional. “If you wouldn’t mind, then.” RED pulled the nasty, cheap cigarette out from between BLU’s teeth and replaced it with one of his better quality ones, lighting it before he closed the fridge door. He savored that good cigarette, which wasn’t the same brand he preferred but tasted delicious and smooth. It was sweeter and lighter in flavor than the ones he bought, which meant the hidden cyanide would stand out less.

——————-

When he spawned back at base, the rest of the team was caught off guard. Apparently he’d been gone for four days, but everyone assumed that he’d taken vacation time. It was his habit as a Spy not to announce his days off ahead of time, so he couldn’t be mad at them for the assumption. When he told them that that RED Medic had decapitated him and kept his head alive, they were horrified.

BLU Medic, who unfortunately looked almost identical to RED, was gibbering and tutting like a hen whose babies jumped in a puddle, and examining him already. Jacques repressed the urge to fight the poor Medic as he got up in his face looking for injuries. He’s only doing his job. It’s not his fault the freak has the same face as him.

The last thing he wanted was to be examined by another German, and that feeling boiled over when the doctor unexpectedly pulled up part of his mask. Before he could think, Spy found himself violently pushing Dr Ludwig and tugging his mask back into place. There was a very awkward hush as Scout and Pyro helped the doctor to his feet.

“I’m sorry. I should have told you what I was doing.” Still shaken by having more gloved hands on his neck, Spy could only nod curtly. Fritz couldn’t blame him for being jumpy and lashing out. “What were you checking for?” He asked apprehensively. “Um… Respawn complications on your neck. Or anything that the crazy Medic might have.. left?” He was not terribly surprised when Spy decided to head to bed for the night without a checkup. He wasn't ready.

———————-

after excusing himself to go to bed and rest, Jacques throughly checked for anything wrong with his neck. He’d insisted that Medic leave him be, but had no intention of dying or getting an infection from an unseen wound. Thankfully there was nothing suspicious, which soothed his nerves and the paranoid itch he’d been feeling. Then he was free to appreciate having his body.

He flexed each of his fingers in turn and balled his hands into fists. He put a hand against his chest to feel his own steady heartbeat and breathing. Jacques felt like sprinting through a field of tall grass - no, wheat- actually tulips, tulips and hyacinths. And then he wanted to roll around the warm grass, not that he’d let his team know that dirt didn't bother him. He had an image to uphold.

But here in his room, with its kitchen and amenities, he was free to celebrate.

Spy set a large pot of water to boil and grabbed a hefty serving of frozen cheese stuffed pasta from his fridge. He chopped and fried up some salty ham, and made a really good béchamel sauce with white wine, cheese, and heavy cream.

When his meal was ready, he devoured it like a starved animal and emptied half a bottle of brandy. After about 3 cigarettes and a glass of wine, he finally got into his pajamas and tumbled into bed. And even as someone who preferred to avoid sleep, he was content to curl up in the bed in the safety and comfort of his own room and body.

[raxistaicho]

Is Fire Emblem bringing the aristocracy back?

So something I’ve seen claimed in the leadup to Engage’s release is that Engage would show us nay-saying Edelgard fans that IntSys isn’t gonna turn on Nobles or Dragons like we supposedly thought they would. Honestly, sometimes reading through anti-Edelgard attempts to analyze the things we think feel like Christians telling Atheists what they believe.

But anyways... yeah no duh, Engage is kinda making Dragons (Divine ones, anyways) and Nobles look good again. Sorta. Not really. It tries to SAY they look good, but actually the whole calamity with Sombron returning is squarely the fault of the current reigning monarchs and Lumera being awful at their duties.

Engage spoilers under the cut.

So what do we know? Elusia was pushed to worshipping and restoring Sombron thanks to Brodia constantly invading them and killing innocent civilians, we know this from Ivy and Framme’s supports with Diamant. Now obviously Hyacinth was desperate and after he freed Sombron he lost his free will, but he can’t be so easily be forgiven for bringing Satan back from the dead. So Morion and Hyacinth’s failures are obvious.

Lumera just watched this take place - and it’s been going on so long that it’s in history books now - without interfering. What’s her actual job as the Divine Dragon if not securing peace in Elyos?

Let’s not overlook Queen Eve of Firene either, who forged a peace pact with Brodia and Solm and just kinda ignore Elusia since they didn’t share a border. Brodia’s invasions of Elusia were known to Alfred so they were known to her, and there’s no indication she did anything to get Morion to lay off.

And then when Sombron did return, the Solmians were immediately aware of it thanks to their spy network, but once armed with that knowledge they focused solely on defending their own borders and waiting for the Divine Dragon to hopefully come to them. They almost completely missed the war and Alear’s death if not for Ivy being the Only San Woman.

So what we’re trying to do in Engage is restore or save the Status Quo, even though the Status Quo is directly what allowed for Sombron to return. The only indication things might change is that Diamant at least knows his father was a dipshit and Brodia has to stop warring on their neighbors.

So luckily Diamant and Ivy at least have their head on straight and are set to succeed their parents, but unfortunately Lumera is still being treated as a spotless paragon who did nothing wrong so there’s no sign Alear will do better than her.

I can’t comment on Solm, having only met Timerra and Fogado, but unfortunately the future of House Fierene ain’t so rosy either. Given Alfred was so sickly he nearly died while Celine was old enough to remember it, I wouldn’t be terribly surprised if Eve just checked out on the idea of Alfred succeeding her and focused on preparing Celine instead (Celine’s B support with Alear even implies that Eve is still conscious of the fact that Celine might be the one to succeed her even though Alfred’s health is improved compared to his younger years) but he’s still a complete puts who seems wholly unsuited to the thrown. And Celine’s not exactly spotless either, as though she’s infinitely more mindful of her duties and responsibilities than her brother, she still travels about in disguise, alone, to get tea despite the fact that her brother’s health is suspect.

So yeah, while the writers might THINK they’re writing a story that casts the nobles, royals, and dragons in a good light, the state of Elyos just demonstrates why it’s in dire need of reforms like Edelgard’s.

[pink-booty-butts]

Valentine’s Day Prompts - Peanuts & Promises (Chris Pitt-Goddard x Reader)

(this gif is iconic)

Pairing: Chris Pitt-Goddard x gn!Reader

Word Count: 1,045

Summary: it’s valentines day with Chris :) based on the prompt “i used to hate this holiday, you know?” “you remind me every year, honey.” from this list

Warnings: none I think!

A/N: requested by an anon, I’m so so SO sorry this took so long and I’m sorry it’s short!! Also I’m sorry if it sucks, chris is probably a bit ooc because i’ve only watched spy once haha. happy very belated valentine’s day!!

-----

It was the third Valentine’s Day the two of you were spending as a couple, yet nothing has changed since the first. You bring home heavy grocery bags filled with overpriced chocolate, and Chris picks out a selection of movies to binge watch while he cuddles with you. You were currently attempting to get the keys out of your jacket pocket without putting your bags down, but Chris apparently heard you struggling as the door swung open and you were greeted with the widest smile you think you’ve seen your boyfriend produce.

“Well hello there, cinnamon roll,” he mentions nonchalantly; quickly grabbing the bags from your hands and giving you a kiss on the cheek. He sets them down on the coffee table before sitting on the couch, tapping the cushion next to him impatiently as he waits for you to sit down so he can smother you in affection. “I missed you so much today,” he expresses.

You chuckle while you take your shoes off, touched by Chris’ comment. You lock the door before walking around the coffee table, sitting down next to Chris and sinking into the couch cushions. As soon as you do so, Chris wraps his arms around your waist and leans forward, causing your back to hit the couch cushions while he lays on top of you.

“I missed you too, Chris,” you smile. At your admission he snuggles his face into your neck, pressing a kiss there, before using his other hand to press the play button and begin your movie marathon.

A couple of finished movies later, Chris is busy finding the next movie he has selected for you guys to watch and you’re in the middle of your bathroom break. Once he finds the movie he was looking for, Chris leans back against the couch and notices your beverage cup is empty, so he picks it up and goes to refill it. While doing so he gets lost in thought, looking around your shared apartment that was currently a trip hazard due to the overwhelming amount of clear plastic wrap, chocolate wrappers, and heart shaped box ends littering the floor that neither of you could be bothered to dispose of neatly. While Chris laments that he wouldn’t have it any other way, he is abruptly shaken from his thoughts when he hears the toilet flush; a blessing in disguise as he nearly overfilled your cup of water. He walks back over to the couch with your cup —expertly navigating the mess as he does so— resulting in him setting down your cup on the table right when you return. He sighs happily, gazing at you like a love-sick puppy.

“Thank you for filling up my water,” you tell him, smiling while taking another sip.

Chris grins, amused by the sight of you drinking water after having just gone to the toilet. “If you keep drinking water like that your peanut-sized bladder is going to make you have to get up during the next movie, peanut.”

“You know Chris, normally the food names are cute, but considering you just used the same word to describe my bladder, I’m not sure how to feel about that one,” you laugh.

“Well, peanuts are cute, you are cute, and since your bladder is inside of you, that means your bladder is also cute,” he explains matter-of-factly.

Your eyebrow raises in mock confusion, but you can’t hide the grin spreading across your face no matter how hard you try. “I wish there was something else inside me right about now, if you know what I mean.” Chris smirks at your dirty joke, giving you an eyebrow wiggle and a saucy ‘oh really?’ before the two of you erupt in a fit of giggles.

Chris wraps his arms around you again, laying on top of you the same way as before. “I used to hate this holiday, you know,” he tells you, his voice muffled against your neck.

“I know Chris, you tell me every year how ‘corporations are just profiting off people’s insecure relationships with their significant others, and if they really loved each other, they’d do it everyday.’”

“Exactly peanut,” he agrees. He raises his head to give you a quick peck on the lips, before burying his head in the crook of your neck once again. “You get me, this is why we’re perfect for each other. I love you so much,” he expresses, squeezing you tightly. 

You fall into a comforting silence, enjoying the warm embrace of each other’s presence. However, Chris begins to remember what he was thinking about when you were in the bathroom, and his thoughts quickly turn sour. “Do you think we’ll still be together next year?” he asks, a hint of insecurity in his voice.

“Of course, why wouldn’t we be?” you question, panic rising in your chest. “Is something wrong?”

“No of course not,” he adds quickly. “It’s just, do you ever think about how our relationship is so perfect? I always thought relationships were supposed to be hard, but when I’m around you everything just feels... easier.”

“I used to think that too, but now I think it just means we’re super compatible,” you respond, trying to ease his anxieties.

“Yeah, you’re probably right, butterscotch,” he lazily leans his arm over the table to put a chocolate in his mouth. He chews slowly, savoring the taste. “We’re going to be together forever, right?”

“Definitely,” you answer, wrapping your arms around him and holding him close to you.

Chris smiles against your neck in response, before lifting his head up again to give you another kiss; almost as if he couldn’t help himself. You then exchange little, fleeting kisses with plenty of giggles in between them, which slowly grow more desperate and heated. 

Through your exchange of soft touches, one of you manages to accidentally hit the remote and the movie Chris selected begins playing right when he slips his hand underneath your shirt. The two of you stop your movements to look at the TV briefly before glancing back at each other, nodding in agreement and diving in for another passionate kiss. The movie continues playing in the background, but it was long forgotten in favor of feeling your skin against his.

[savingthrcw]

She looked down at her dress, "It's just a dress, and I'm supposed to be trying to impress you," she pointed out, but it was no surprise that he had found something to disapprove of. But he was going to pay for his criticism later, when she'd use that 'one look at your-' against him, since she doubted he was speaking of her hair.

Now Caleb was a whole different beast: she had no idea yet if that was just his normal personality, since he may be from the same school of thought as Ben and not hide it in the slightest, or if he was playing a part for whoever may be watching. She wasn't sure if his look was also to be taken at face-value or a smart way to hide in the crowd, because it certainly didn't scream 'detached dangerous spy'; she knew better than to assume anything from his appearance, but if it was a disguise, it worked.

Her smile was as warm and shiny as the sun, the perfect happy girlfriend who was putting up a face after fighting with her boyfriend, "Hiiii..." she waved while walking up to him. At least it was easier to play 'happy, light-hearted person' with someone so exuberant. "So nice to meet you!"

While she had no intention of answering the sister question seriously, it was good that Benjamin interjected with that comment, because it gave her the chance to reply: "Well, at least he knows how to be a good guest. Thank you for the wine, Caleb." Nothing like a little good-natured teasing to establish that she and Benjamin were already joking around behind the curtains.

"He didn't tell me you were coming until it was too late to cook anything decent," she added for Caleb's benefit, "So I could only pull a quick Catalina Chicken for you. I hope you like it."

It seemed that yes, both men were very comfortable asking questions, unless Caleb was just pretending to study her and he was far colder than he appeared - but then, she had also attempted to be friendly and cooperative when she had first met Tallmadge since they were coworkers, the animosity had come after. "Oh, huh, at work?" he had to be talking about real life. "I'm nearly always out, I'm in Director Graham's department. We asked Ben to help us because I was looking for a partner to do this little job, so he's technically the one who transferring. By the way, inside the house it's completely safe to talk, but we can't be certain the same is true for the garden and the street," she warned, in case Ben hadn't made clear the radius of their protection from enemy ears, and made her way back to the kitchen aisle. "And if you see me act bubblier and clumsier than you'd expect from an operative it's because if anyone looks at the window, I want them to see Ben's civilian girlfriend. As Ben will confirm, I'm not as fun in real life. Or so he keeps implying," she teased, giving Ben an amused look.

On one hand, if he knew Graham's department better than Ben he'd likely know they were all trained assassins; on the other, he and his friend had clearly mastered keeping at least a semblance of normalcy in their lives, as if they were civilian themselves during off hours, and it wouldn't be impossible to believe that she had a real personality that involved teasing Ben at dinner and being somewhat warm to coworkers. Someone the real Ben could eventually want to try dating.

Despite the almost playful quality to Sarah's threat, Ben knew better than to try and test that theory. He still didn't entirely trust that she wouldn't eviscerate him, so once she'd sauntered off to shower and change, he busied himself by tidying up the house. It was mostly perfect, aside from the occasional box laying about, so by the time he heard movement from upstairs, he was starting to get restless.

"Women," he muttered under his breath. At least with himself, all Ben needed to do was shower, put on a passable outfit, and then perhaps dab on a bit of cologne. What in God's name was taking so long?

The sound of clacking heels reached him first, followed by the pseudo-sweet melody of Sarah's voice once she entered the room. Ben turned and his heart stammered in his chest, his lips flapping soundlessly as he struggled to form a coherent thought.

"Uh..." Perhaps he should try for more coherence than that. "Er..." Coughing, he amended, "Why are you wearing a cocktail dress to meet my best friend? You do realize this guy looks like he bathes in a wharf, right?"

Sweeter?

Scoffing, Ben muttered, "It certainly couldn't hurt if you were sweeter to me -- but truly: Caleb will not care. He'll take one look at your..." attributes "...well, he'll find you very pretty and won't really think much beyond that. When it comes to women, he's the least picky man I know."

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Exhaling, Ben raked a hand through his hair and shrugged, wishing Sarah would at least put on a jacket. "I'll get it," he muttered. "With any luck, it'll be an assassin trying to take me out."

Despite his jest, he did keep a hand on his concealed weapon as he moved to the front door. Peering through the peephole, the tension in his shoulders lessened upon spotting Caleb, then he nodded to Sarah before opening the door.

All at once, Caleb held up a bottle of wine and crowed, "Hey-heyyy, Benny-boyyyy! Where's this girl, uh? Didn't think I'd see the day when you'd get a move-in girlfriend before me."

Ben laughed, though the sound was strained. "Yeah...right." Putting a hand onto Caleb's shoulder, he steered his friend inside and said, "Brewster, this is Sarah Walker...Sarah, this is-"

"Your new best friend," Caleb cut in, approaching with a grin. "Goodnight, Irene, are you beautiful or what? I think Tallboy here was downplayin' it to keep you all to himself." Taking Sarah's hand, he kissed her knuckles and waggled his eyebrows. "Do you have any sisters, Sarah?"

Ben sighed, though he was smiling. "In case it isn't obvious, Brewster's the entire reason the phrase 'hide your kids, hide your wife' was invented."

Caleb playfully socked him on the arm. "Funny. I didn't realize gettin' your 'skiddle diddled' turned you into a comedian." To Sarah, he added, "Where you from, uh? You just get transferred? I don't remember seein' ya at work before."