#Waiting area Display Units

[itsgreti]

BENEATH THE MASK

pairing. simon "ghost" riley x f!reader

summary. (Y/N), Task Force 141's medic, saw Ghost's face for the first time while patching up his injuries.

warning. descriptions of gunfire, explosions, scenes depicting injuries, medical treatments, and blood (typical cod theme)

word count. 2.3k

a/n: english is my second language, so if you find any mistakes, don't hesitate and text me!

The desert wind howled across the rocky terrain as the Task Force 141 team moved swiftly through the night. (Y/N), their medic, felt the weight of her gear as she kept pace with Captain Price, Soap, Gaz, and the mysterious Ghost. She had been with the elite unit for a few months, but Ghost remained an enigma to her, a silent, masked figure whose presence was always felt but never fully seen.

Their mission that night was simple in concept: infiltrate a heavily guarded compound and extract crucial intel regarding a new shipment of chemical weapons. But as they approached the compound under darkness, their plan quickly unravelled. A patrol they hadn't anticipated stumbled upon them, leading to a chaotic firefight.

Bullets whizzed through the air, accompanied by the sharp cracks of rifles and the distant thunder of explosions. (Y/N) took cover behind a crumbling wall, her mind racing as she assessed the wounded. Soap and Gaz held their ground nearby, providing cover fire as Captain Price barked orders over the radio.

Suddenly, Ghost appeared beside her, his presence as silent as ever. He motioned towards Soap, whose shoulder was grazed by a bullet. Without a word, (Y/N) nodded and hurried to assist.

The firefight continued for what felt like an eternity, but the team managed to eliminate the immediate threat. With the area momentarily secure, they regrouped in a small, dimly lit room within the compound. Captain Price leaned over the map spread out on a makeshift table, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"We need that intel," Price said grimly, his voice low yet commanding. "Ghost, find it. (Y/N), patch up whoever needs it and be ready to move out."

(Y/N) nodded, her focus shifting to Soap and Gaz as she pulled out her medical kit. Soap winced as she began to clean and dress his wound, but Gaz remained alert, scanning their surroundings.

As (Y/N) worked, she stole glances at Ghost, who was hunched over a computer terminal in the corner of the room. His movements were precise and deliberate, his gloved hands flying over the keys as he accessed the encrypted files.

The tension in the room was palpable, broken only by the occasional click of Ghost's keystrokes and the muted sounds of the ongoing battle outside. (Y/N) couldn't help but wonder about the man behind the mask—his past, his motivations. But such thoughts had to wait. Right now, their survival depended on securing the intel and getting out safely.

Just as Ghost seemed to make progress, an explosion rocked the building, sending debris flying and knocking everyone off balance. (Y/N) stumbled, but Ghost was quick to steady her, his gloved hand gripping her arm firmly. For a brief moment, she felt the weight of his presence, his strength beneath the mask.

"Ghost!" Captain Price called out, his voice urgent. "We're running out of time. Can you get that intel or not?"

Ghost nodded, his masked face unreadable. With renewed determination, he returned to the terminal, his fingers moving faster now.

Outside, the gunfire intensified, drawing nearer by the second. Soap and Gaz exchanged worried glances, their weapons at the ready. They knew they couldn't hold out much longer.

"Almost there," Ghost muttered under his breath, his eyes fixed on the screen.

Suddenly, the screen flickered and then displayed a map with a blinking marker. Ghost's gloved hand hovered over the keyboard as he extracted the data onto a portable drive.

"We've got it," Ghost announced, his voice calm yet triumphant.

Captain Price wasted no time. "Good. (Y/N), pack up. We're moving out–"

Before Price could finish his sentence, a barrage of gunfire erupted from outside the room. Bullets tore through the walls, sending chunks of debris flying. (Y/N) ducked instinctively, shielding her head with her arms.

In the chaos, Ghost acted decisively. He grabbed (Y/N)'s arm and pulled her towards him, shielding her with his own body as they sought cover behind a thick concrete pillar. His masked face was just inches from hers, his eyes intense behind the tinted lenses.

"Stay down," Ghost ordered, his voice low yet urgent.

(Y/N) nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the heat of his body against hers, his presence a comforting shield amidst the chaos. For the first time, she found herself grateful for his silent strength.

Captain Price and the others returned fire, their shots echoing through the room. The enemy was relentless, their numbers seemingly endless. But Task Force 141 was relentless too, fighting tooth and nail to hold their ground.

As the firefight raged on, (Y/N) couldn't help but steal glances at Ghost. His mask remained firmly in place, betraying nothing of the man beneath. But now, with the adrenaline coursing through her veins, she found herself drawn to him in a way she hadn't before.

"We need to move," Captain Price shouted over the din of gunfire. "Ghost, (Y/N), cover us. Soap, Gaz, with me!"

Without hesitation, Ghost and (Y/N) provided covering fire as Price and the others dashed towards the exit. Bullets whizzed past them, impacting the walls with deadly precision.

"Go!" Ghost called out, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of battle.

(Y/N) nodded and followed Ghost as they made their way towards the exit, their backs pressed against the cold stone walls. The air was thick with smoke and the acrid smell of gunpowder, their lungs burning with each breath.

Just as they reached the exit, a stray grenade sailed through the air and landed at their feet. (Y/N)'s eyes widened in horror as she realized they were trapped. Without thinking, Ghost pushed her behind him and shielded her with his body once more.

The grenade exploded with a deafening roar, sending shrapnel flying in all directions. (Y/N) felt the force of the blast against her back, but Ghost absorbed the brunt of it, his body tensing with the impact. She could hear him grunt in pain, but he didn't falter.

"Ghost!" (Y/N) screamed.

"(Y/N)..." Ghost's voice was strained. He was conscious but clearly in pain.

"Ghost is down!" she shouted into her comms, her voice filled with urgency.

There was a brief crackle of static before Price's voice came through, sharp and focused. "Gaz, Soap, fall back to Ghost's position! (Y/N), get to him now!"

As the smoke cleared, (Y/N) peered around Ghost to assess the damage. His mask was scorched and cracked, revealing a glimpse of his face beneath. Blood trickled down his neck from a gash caused by a piece of shrapnel.

"We need to get him out!" she called out, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

A few moments later the team managed to get to the position of (Y/N) and Ghost. Soap and Gaz provided cover as Price helped lift Ghost. They moved quickly, bullets whizzing past them, the sounds of battle all around. Outside, the night air was cool against (Y/N)'s skin as they regrouped with the extraction team and jumped into the helicopter that was waiting for them. As everyone was situated, (Y/N) immediately went to work, her focus solely on saving Ghost.

Captain Price and the others scanned the area around the helicopter, holding off the enemy as they flew off. (Y/N) didn't hesitate, knelt beside him. Ignoring his initial resistance, she gently pushed aside his damaged skull mask, and her hands went to his fabric mask that was under the other one.

"I need to see the wound," she said, her voice steady despite the panic rising within her.

Ghost caught her wrist instinctively, his gaze locking with hers. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

"It's alright, I need to patch you up," (Y/N) said softly, her voice barely a whisper.

Ghost hesitated, his grip on her wrist loosening ever so slightly. He gave a barely noticeable nod, allowing her to proceed. (Y/N) peeled back the mask, revealing his face for the first time. His face was a canvas of battle-hardened features, each scar telling a story of survival and sacrifice. A deep, fresh gash ran from his cheek down to his neck, the wound raw and bleeding, but the older scars drew her gaze – the jagged line across his left eyebrow, the faded burn mark along his jawline, and the small, puckered scar near his temple. His skin was pale, almost ghostly, contrasting sharply with the dark stubble that shadowed his jaw. But it was his eyes that caught her attention – dark brown, filled with a mix of determination and vulnerability.

Carefully, (Y/N) cleaned the wound on his neck and applied pressure to staunch the bleeding. Ghost felt a strange mix of emotions. He was not used to being exposed, his face a closely guarded secret. The sensation of her hands, gentle yet firm, was foreign but strangely comforting. Despite the pain, there was a sense of relief, a small crack in the armour he had built around himself.

Even though the severity of the situation, she remained calm, her training guiding her every move. Ghost winced, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he watched her with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.

"There," (Y/N) said gently, securing a bandage around his neck. "That should hold for now."

Ghost's eyes met hers, a mixture of pain and gratitude in their depths. "Thanks," he muttered, his voice strained.

"I've got you," she replied firmly. "Just hang on."

As (Y/N) finished, Captain Price stepped over the duo, his expression a mix of concern and relief. "How is he?" he asked, his eyes on Ghost.

(Y/N) looked up, exhaustion evident in her features. "He'll be okay. The wound was serious, but he's stable now."

Price nodded, his respect for (Y/N) clear in his eyes. "Good work. You saved his life."

(Y/N) offered a tired smile. "Just fulfilling my duty."

Price clapped a hand on her shoulder, a rare gesture of affection. The helicopter blades whipped through the night, and (Y/N) stayed beside Ghost, her hands steady as she pressed the bandage on his wound. The field dressings had been held, but the ride was rough, so she kept a close watch to ensure he stayed stable. Despite the dire situation, Ghost’s eyes remained sharp, and focused, a silent testament to his resilience. (Y/N) looked at the others and Ghost knew that she wanted to check on them. He nodded and without another word, he moved (Y/N)’s hand from his gash and pushed her to go to the other injured comrades.

Once she agreed, (Y/N) turned her attention to Soap. She barely took care of his shoulder which took a hit during the firefight, and although he didn’t say anything, she knew he must be in pain.

“Soap,” she called, her voice cutting through the hum of the helicopter. “Let me see your shoulder.”

Soap glanced at her, his usual bravado dimmed by exhaustion. “It’s just a scratch, doc,” he muttered, but he didn’t resist as she moved closer.

(Y/N) carefully peeled back the torn fabric of his sleeve, revealing the graze. The bullet had grazed his shoulder, leaving a raw, bloody scar. She winced at the sight but quickly set to work, cleaning the wound with practised efficiency.

“You need to take it easy,” she said, her tone firm but gentle. “This might not be serious now, but it could get worse if you don’t let it heal.”

Soap grinned, a flicker of his usual humour returning. “Don’t worry about me, lass. I’m tougher than I look.”

(Y/N) smiled back, shaking her head. “Maybe, but even tough guys need to let their medics take care of them.”

As she bandaged his shoulder, Soap’s grin softened into something sincere. “Thanks, doc. We’re lucky to have you.”

She finished securing the bandage and patted his good shoulder. “Just doing my job, Soap. Now sit tight, we’ll be back at base soon.”

She glanced around the helicopter, checking on the rest of the team. Gaz was alert, his eyes scanning the horizon, and Captain Price was deep in thought, already planning their next move. Despite the weariness and the injuries, there was a deep sense of unity among them. They had faced the fire together and come out stronger on the other side.

As the helicopter touched down at the base, the team began to disembark, their movements slow and weary. (Y/N) remained beside Ghost, her presence a steady anchor amidst the chaos. His mask was back in place, hiding his features once more. But now, she knew the man behind the mask – a warrior with a haunted past, driven by a sense of duty and honour. She held his hand gently, ensuring he felt her support. Even through the pain and exhaustion, Ghost’s eyes flickered with a rare vulnerability, acknowledging her silent strength.

As the other medics arrived and began to transfer him onto a stretcher, Ghost’s grip on her hand tightened slightly. “You don’t have to stay,” he muttered, his voice strained but sincere.

(Y/N) smiled softly, squeezing his hand in return. “I want to. You’re my patient and my friend. I’m not leaving you now.”

Ghost’s eyes softened, a flicker of gratitude passing over his features. “Not used to... this kind of care.”

She chuckled lightly, adjusting the blanket around him. “Well, get used to it. You’re stuck with me.”

There was a brief silence as the medics prepared to move him, the sounds of the bustling base fading into the background. Ghost looked at her, his expression serious. “Thanks, (Y/N). For everything.”

(Y/N) leaned closer, her voice gentle but firm. “Just focus on getting better, Ghost. We need you.”

He nodded, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his mouth behind the fabric mask. “I’ll do my best.”

“You better do,” she said, walking alongside the stretcher as they moved him towards the infirmary.

[kasagia]

Bring me a dream pt. 1

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/general Kirigan x fem! sun summoner! reader Summary: Everyone has their soulmate—someone they are meant for. This was due to Sankta Maradaia, who decided to connect two souls destined for each other during their sleep to show them their other half, Sankta also sent them a tattoo of their loved one name, so that souls thirsting for each other can finally be united. Aleksander never had even one, short dream about his soulmate. Just a tattoo that has taunted him for ages. The Darkling believes this is his punishment for creating the fold, another privilege of being condemned. To never know his soulmate. But one day, a dream about a sun summoner comes to him. Someone equal to him. Someone meant for him. And he promises himself to find you at all costs. Not just because of your powers. Nonsense from me: This is an request from @morrigan-crowmwell I hope you like it! 💙🖤 P.S. I know it took me soooo looong again and I'm so sorry. I'm trying to fight my writer's block. 😅 I used a quote from Taylor Swift's Blank Space. Inspired by the song Mr. Sandman - SYML Wairning(s): mentions of blood, abuse, fighting, violence Word count: 6,7k Taglist: @aoi-targaryen @morrigan-crowmwell ~•♤♤♤•~ Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~

I've been waiting a long time to meet you in my dreams…

"My soulmate is great! I've seen her fight with a REAL sword! Can you imagine that, guys?! My father still teaches me on that wooden. Ugh! I envy her so much."

"Mine swims faster than either of you! Of course, he's not as good as me, but I've seen him shoot a bow. What I'd give to join him on a hunt!"

"And you, sahdow-boy? You sit more quietly than usual, don't be shy! Show off what she or he is like."

Aleksander tensed up, feeling the other boys' eyes on him. The young shadow summoner felt a blush of shame appear on his face. He hated such conversations. He already couldn't fit in with a group of other kids, and he was constantly reminded that he was different. Weirdo. Proteus.

"I… I haven't dreamed of her yet. But I know her name!" he tried to reply in a tone of voice that mimicked their enthusiasm. He couldn't show them that he was weak. That the fact that he had never seen his soulmate before hurt him. That he was a changeling again.

"My father also started dreaming about my mother late. Maybe she just wasn't born yet?" his only friend put a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him. He thanked the saints for Ivan. He was a light in his darkness for now. And heartrender wasn't talking about his shadows at all...

"Did you hear, guys?! Shadow-boy will be dating a baby!"

Aleksander was furious. He felt anger rise up in him as the other children laughed at his soulmate. Without knowing when, he summoned his shadows and plunged the clearing into darkness, stopping the laughter of the other children.

"Hey, take it easy, shadow-weirdo! We're just kidding!"

"The freak, as usual, can't control himself."

Voices came out of the darkness, and the footsteps of children receding were all Aleksander could hear before he was alone with his shadows again.

Even Ivan's hand disappeared from his shoulder as shadows blanketed the area.

He was utterly alone. And he hated it.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, smiling.

18 birthday. Your big day.

You adjusted the necklace your grandmother had given you around your neck, proudly displaying the amulet with your birthstone. Your mother's earrings hang proudly from your ears. Nostalgia is starting to get to you. You so wish she were here.

"I've lived in this world for so long that, for ages, I've felt that time moves infuriatingly slowly. But ever since you came into the world, I've felt it slip through my fingers. You've grown up so fast... you look like your mother." the woman sighs as she stands behind you in the mirror and looks at you tenderly, fixing your braid.

"I wish a madraya was here." you say sad. Grandma puts a hand on your shoulder and turns you around to look her in the eye.

"She is here, my sun. In our hearts and memories. As long as you can picture her before your eyes, she will always be with you. Watching you from heaven." you both stand in silence, remembering your recently deceased mother.

"I have something for you." the woman speaks as she pulls a beautiful gold bracelet engraved with your family symbol from her sleeve.

"Oh, grandma, you didn't have to… it's beautiful."

"And practical. Materialnik made it specially for me. Thanks to this, no one will see THAT on your wrist."

"Why should I hide it?" you ask, confused, when she helps you fasten the bracelet on your wrist where was your soulmate's name on it.

"I want you to be careful."

"Careful of what?"

"Powerful men." she replies seriously, stroking your cheek tenderly. "There is nothing worse in the world than the greed of men. Than their excessive ambition. We are the sun summoners, honey. You are my blood, my pride, and my only solace in this world. The love of men is fatal. You don't need it, and trust me, you don't want it. Promise me for your dead mother and my daughter..." your grandmother grabbed your wrist, turning it so you both could see that the black ink, that showed up this morning, disappeared. Aleksander Morozova. "Do not seek him. Avoid him. Treat him like the plague. Do not repeat the fate of your poor mother. I couldn't stand losing you because of another man's lust for power."

"I promise you, babushka. I will not share my mother's fate." you promise with tears in your eyes. Your mother trusted the wrong person... you were not going to repeat her fate.

"And you will always wear a bracelet and necklace from me?"

"Yes. I promise." you solemnly promise, while looking into her eyes. You two were one of a kind. Summoners of the sun. Long-lived. Powerful. You have to stick together if you want to survive in this cruel for Grishas world. "Can I go now and enjoy the summer solstice festival?"

"Yes. Have fun, sunshine. And return home no more than two hours after dark!" she screams after you as you run to get some freedom... to forget who you are for a while.

"That boy keeps staring at you!" your friend shouts through the crowd of people having fun and nods her head at the boy by the fire.

You glanced at the side she indicated. She is right. A handsome brunette with dark eyes looks straight at you. He looks away when he sees you noticing him and pretends to be talking to the boy next to him. You roll your eyes at your friend's behaviour and continue drinking your beer.

"And what do you think I'm supposed to do about it?"

"Go and have fun!" she says, offended that you don't know. "I've known you since you came here. You haven't had a single boyfriend, you're shooing all the suitors away. You're 18. Go and flirt with him, or I'll take care of this handsome one."

You are laughing at her words. You look at the boy again, and you can't deny that you feel a strange pull… a bond that wants you to come to him. But you don't listen to it.

"So take him. I'm going home," you say as night falls completely. The flame of the torch and bonfire is the only source of light.

"Really? Will you waste an opportunity like this?" you just laugh with a shrug at her words and make your way to the path through the woods leading to your house, pushing your way through the crowd of people.

You leave the clearing where the festival is taking place and enter the forest. You sigh with relief to be alone, away from people's voices. You walk confidently into the darkness without being afraid of it as you watch the stars above you.

You are walking down a familiar path when suddenly you hear the crunch of leaves and branches behind you. You turn slowly with your hand close to the hidden dagger at your hip.

You see in front of you the same boy who was staring at you by the fire. You watch him warily, waiting for his move.

He takes one slow step towards you, his dark eyes never leaving yours. Without knowing why, you stare spellbound into his eyes again, unable to utter a word. It's only when he crosses halfway between you that common sense returns to you and you raise a dagger in his direction.

"Don't worry. I won't hurt you." he says, stopping and staring at the blade glistening in the moonlight. "Of course, only if you don't hurt me either."

"Why are you following me?" you ask without lowering your weapon, still holding it as a warning between you two.

He frowns, looking from the dagger to you. "I have no bad intentions. I saw you going this way and this forest… is not the safest place."

"I know. Nowhere is safe." you reply coldly, eyeing him carefully. "Which doesn't answer my question. Why did you follow me in here?"

"I wanted to make sure you made it through safely." you snort, amused, not for a moment believing the stranger's concern for you. He stays where he is, not moving for a moment, undaunted by your reaction. If anything, curiosity only grows in his eyes. "You haven't experienced much kindness from others, have you?"

"I'm not going to answer a stranger's question like that. You do not know anything about me."

"I can see you're too distrustful, and if the lack of trembling in your dagger hand tells me something, it is that you've threatened someone more than once."

"That's right… shouldn't you run as far away from me as possible, then?" you ask, raising an eyebrow at him as you watch his impassive reaction…but you certainly didn't expect him to raise the corners of his… pretty mouth in response.

"I'd rather walk you out and make sure you're okay... or anyone who dares stand in your way." you bite your lip, holding back a smile so you don't react to his teasing.

"I doubt you'd be able to do anything."

"I'm tougher than you think." he says, answering your challenge with a mischievous smirk. The sparkles in his dark eyes shine in the moonlight… and you involuntarily agree with your friend. He was handsome… and dangerous.

"I don't need a man to play my prince on a white horse. I can be my own knight."

"Well, if you want my opinion…" you cut him off before he could finish.

"No, thank you. I have my own." he laughs at your words, shaking his head in amusement as he licks his lips.

He stares at you intensely, and you know that if you were anyone else, you would have pounced on him by the campfire. But you were a sun summoner. You couldn't trust someone like that. Even if you wanted to...

"Very well then... but, I'd feel better walking you through the woods at least. May I?" he asks, extending his hand towards you. "Or are you too afraid that you will enjoy my company?"

You snort, placing your hand in the crook of his arm. You could have let him. Clearly, he has had no ill intentions so far. You glare at him defiantly as you see a spark of amusement in his eyes and a wild smile on his lips.

"What?" you ask dryly.

"Nothing. I just thought you couldn't look prettier… you seem to glow even more when you prove people wrong."

"I'm too smart to be seduced by you." you warn him, looking at him carefully as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. You feel your cheeks blush slightly.

"Maybe that's why I'm so drawn to you?" he asks, whispering, staring into your eyes.

You're drowning in the moment. His smell, the depth of his dark eyes… and without knowing why, the feeling is… actually the opposite of what you felt when others tried to flirt with you.

"Careful... you've stared into my eyes for too long to say you don't care." he says, sparks of malice appearing in his eyes. You snort and are about to respond to his taunt when his expression suddenly cools and he pulls you into his chest.

You're about to yell at him and attack him when suddenly an arrow flies right over where you used to stand. You recognise its distinctive arrowhead. "Drüskelle." you whisper.

You don't waste time. You back away from him and grab your daggers. You can't show the world what power you wield, so you limit yourself to melee combat. You're also not sure if your companion is Grisha.

You kill the first of them, and next to you, you hear the sounds of your companion's fight. He's doing fine. You deal with most of the Drüskelle pretty quickly when suddenly one of them comes up behind you. Before you can engage, your companion pulls you back to his chest. You see nothing. He makes sure of it when you hear Drüskelle's desperate cry from behind you, who wanted to kill you as well as the others who managed to stay alive. Suddenly it's quiet again... but it's darker around you than before.

You gently pull away from him as he releases his strong grip on your hair. You look around, seeing Drüskelle's bodies as if they were… cut.

"I… how?" you ask, dumbfounded, not believing what you see. You turn your gaze back to him. "Are you a Grisha? Heartrender maybe?"

"It's... a little more complicated." he says, looking down at your hands and bloody daggers.

"I'm guessing you're not a Grisha, then?"

"It's a little more complicated." you say, repeating his words. He looks up and stares into your eyes again. Without knowing why, you both giggle. "I... thank you. I wouldn't handle them all alone."

"No problem." He says, still staring at you. Without knowing why, you lean towards him.

You swallow, smelling his scent again, involuntarily remembering the warmth and safety his arms gave you. You shouldn't feel that way about a stranger. And yet...

"I… I should probably go now."

"Me too." he whispers back, but you're both too hypnotised to move. Not thinking much about the bodies around you or the blood on your clothes.

For some strange reason, the eyes of the other and this closeness seem much more interesting to you both than the world around you.

He leans towards you too. A short distance separates you as you both stare at each other in silent anticipation and excitement. However, that moment is effectively cut short as you hear another movement around you.

You both draw your daggers and aim at where you heard the movement. There is a woman behind you. Her dark eyes are remarkably similar to those of your companion. You are surprised to see how his irises have already been etched into your memory.

"You find yourself a friend?" the woman asks him mockingly, staring at the two of you.

"I'm going, mother." he says, obviously waiting for her to leave. But she stands there, watching you curiously. He sighs in annoyance and turns to you. "See you soon." he whispers, placing his dagger in your hand.

You shiver at the skin of his hand on yours as unimaginable power rushes through you. But that's not what keeps you staring at him speechless… and you think you both know it as he gives you a wistful, longing look before turning away.

You can only stay there and stare at the receding silhouettes of the two of them. Then you are all alone again. You turn around and continue on your way home. With a small smile, you tighten your hand around the black dagger.

You were coming home to your grandmother. It was winter, and it was getting harder and harder to drive through the snow from town to your house. But someone had to do the shopping.

As you walked, you heard the sounds of a struggle. Interested, you veered off the path to the house and walked slowly through the snow, trying not to alert anyone to your presence.

You froze as you saw a group of teenagers fighting the same boy who gave you the dagger and helped kill Drüskelle.

The rational part of you told you to get out of there and not deal with this stranger. And you almost did, but then you saw one of the girls stab him in the back and shove him into the ice hole.

You threw the wicker basket with your groceries in the snow and ran towards them. You used your light and stunned them all into unconsciousness. Not enough to kill them, but enough to make their heads hurt for days and some of them lose their eyesight.

With your light, you melted the ice in the river and pulled the mysterious boy out of it by his shoulders.

You held him close as he coughed, spitting water into the snow. You only let him go when he's back to normal.

"Do you attract trouble, or do you just like getting into it?" you ask him with a laugh, trying to lighten the atmosphere. You take off his soaked coat and cover him with one of yours.

"Both, I'm guessing." he says, still shivering. You don't know if it's from the cold or from the attack.

"Get up. We need to keep you warm." you speak and help him stand on two legs.

If he notices the bodies of his unconscious tormentors, he decides not to say anything or ask how you did it. You pick up the basket you dropped earlier and guide both of you to your house.

Surprisingly, he doesn't protest when you enter the house, and luckily for you, your grandmother hasn't come back yet.

"Stay here for a while. I'll go get some dry clothes for you." I speak as I disappear into the other room for a moment.

"How did you overpower them?" you hear his question. You swallow and try to think of an answer as you walk back to the main room.

"It's... complicated." you reply, handing him the clothes. "You can go there and change. I'll put some water on for tea."

He nods and takes the clothes from you. He wants to say something, but instead he sighs and goes to the next room.

You place the kettle over the hearth and wait for the water to boil for tea for the two of you.

"Do you often save people from trouble?" he asks jokingly as he joins you. You smile when you see that he's feeling a little better. He still has a red nose, though. And you're pretty sure if you took his hand, he'd be icy.

"Selected only. Feel honoured." you snort, amused. His laugh makes you shiver. A strange warmth begins to spread from your chest.

"I am." he replies, looking deep into your eyes. He leans closer to you, examining you intently, searching for any reaction from me that would indicate that you are uncomfortable with him.

He finds nothing.

So he leans in a little more. Your noses brush against each other as he waits, giving you the option to either kiss him or pull away from him.

You feel your heart beating fast... you know that if he was a heartrender he would have leaned forward and kissed you a long time ago. You also know you should back off, he was a stranger, a man, you shouldn't trust him.

But after the look he gives you and a glance at his enticing pink lips, you lean forward and press your lips uncertainly to his.

His cold lips warmed up.

You close your eyes as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer with one hand on your waist and the other in your hair. You sigh, feeling how wonderful it feels, how proper it is to kiss him even though you don't even know his name. What's undeniable, however, is how great you feel around him.

But you feel something else… like an unimaginable amount of power flows into you with his touch. How your light calls for release. And for a moment, you feel like you're going to lose control if you keep kissing him.

Fortunately, before you stupidly reveal your powers, you pull away from each other, startled by the sound of a whistling kettle.

You both laugh, resting your foreheads against each other. You eventually pull away from him, take the kettle off the hearth, and shift your gaze to it. He's warmer from your kiss than from the fire.

You shift your gaze towards him. And experimentally, you take his hands in yours. You feel the surge of power buzzing through your veins again. Your gaze returns from his warming hands in yours to his irises, and you get lost in his dark eyes again.

"You... are the amplifier." you whisper as you look at him. "That's why they wanted to kill you... they wanted your bones."

He swallows, moves his gaze from your eyes to your joined hands. He doesn't take them out of your warm embrace as he nods, trembling without looking at your face.

"What are you going to do about it?" he asks, realizing full well that you must be Grisha to sense his ability.

The very idea that you, the only person who has shown him any kindness (not knowing him at all) will suddenly want to hurt him after what happened between you two a moment ago makes him sick.

But Aleksander has been through it more than once. Last an hour ago. Despite everything, he still holds a strong grip on your hands, trembling unconsciously.

Your response is to pull him close to you in a tender embrace.

"You're safe." you say simply, and from the way he holds his breath before burying his head in your neck after a few seconds of complete shock, you know that you must be the first person in a very long time to show him such affection.

And you're realizing that you don't need to know his name to know that it's good to hold him in your arms.

And Aleksander feels warm for the first time in a long time. He feels like he's holding the sun. But the most striking thought for him is that he is no longer alone...

"Is that all, General?" Ivan's question pulled Aleksander out of his thoughts. He stopped stroking the tattoo with his soulmate's name hidden under his kefta and glanced at the heartrender.

"Yes, you can go." he sighs, shifting in his chair and rubbing his eyes with his hand.

Ivan looks like he wants to say something but changes his mind at the last moment and leaves the war room, closing the door softly behind him.

Aleksander sighed, staring at the map in front of him. The king was going to bring down Ravka. Only his Grishas were able to hold Ravka's borders. He shuddered, thinking of all the good soldiers the Fjerdans, Drüskelle and others had taken from him. He felt powerless. And if he knew anything in his centuries-old life, it was that he hated that feeling.

He ran a hand through his hair, glancing at his watch on the wall. It was long after midnight. He sighed as he got up from his chair and walked towards his bedroom. He won't help his army if he's barely conscious. He took off his kefta and pushed the books to one side of the bed. He lay down in the free space and fell asleep as soon as his head rested on the pillow.

Something was different… otherwise, Aleksander could sense it the moment his dream began.

There was a strange feeling in his bones; his heart was beating much faster, excited, as if it couldn't wait for what was about to happen.

He was alone again in the deep black shadows. He took a step, and suddenly the shadows parted. He looked up and gasped as he saw a figure in a black-golden kefta in the distance.

He'd had that dream many times before… especially when he was a little boy. That he was irretrievably lost in the darkness.

He had never met anyone in the depths of his shadows before. He took another hesitant step towards the mysterious figure, not taking his eyes off it, afraid that it would disappear at any moment.

But it's not.

A figure in a gold-black kefta stood with its back to him.

Aleksander is afraid. He's afraid that it's just another trick of his mind, that as soon as he utters the name that has haunted him both asleep and awake for hundreds of years, you'll disappear, leaving him utterly alone in the darkness of his shadows again.

But Aleksander had been patient enough for a long time... maybe he could finally give in to what he most wanted, what he missed most, what he craved for like a foolish boy.

He came over to you. Hesitantly and slowly. As if he could spook you at any moment. He raised his hand, but instead of touching your arm, he met air as you took a step away from him and slowly turned to face him.

He held his breath in anticipation, waiting for you to pull down your gold-black hood to reveal your face to him. He watched in fascination as golden threads of light slowly began to flow from your hands.

He had been accustomed to the darkness for centuries. But he couldn't take his eyes off you as your threads of light slowly grew stronger. He watched in utter awe as your light changed from gold to pure white after dispelling the shadows around you two.

His eyes widened as your hood fell back to reveal your familiar, beautiful face. He sighed, letting out a long-held, shaky breath.

And when you took his hand, which he still held out to you, and ran your thumb over his palm? He completely lost himself in your irises, feeling your light grow stronger through its amplifying powers, enclosing the two of you in a silver and gold orb.

But before he gets a chance to reach out to you and caress your cheek tenderly, to feel again that warmth he always felt from you and which turned out to be your light, you suddenly disappear. And with you, your warm light.

His cold shadows enveloped him again…

He wakes up and finds himself in his bed, in his chambers. But for the first time in a long time, instead of being disappointed that he didn't dream of his soul mate this time, he's relieved. And happiness. Excitement. And something he's clung to so desperately all these centuries, much to his mother's taunt... he feels hope.

He doesn't know what has changed. Why suddenly did the saints decide to reveal your face to him after you had met so many centuries ago? For a moment, the bitter thought crosses his mind that he could have had you by his side much sooner. That together you could carry the weight of eternity... but he shakes his head.

He had a chance to implement all his plans now... and to meet his soulmate, whom he had missed for so many centuries. All he had to do was track you down.

And he's not going to lose.

"I'll find you... moya solnishko." he whispers to himself, fondly stroking the tattoo on his wrist. "And when I do, I'll make sure you'll never hide from me again." he promises, placing his lips on the tattoo on his wrist.

He would do anything to finally have someone to call his own…

"I was hoping to find you here." Aleksander turns around in surprise when he sees you standing behind him.

"How did you know?" he asks, putting the book back on the shelf. You see the title out of the corner of your eye.

The Lives of Saints

"I know many things." you say, leaning against the shelf. "But honestly? I didn't take you for someone who prays to saints. Or maybe your ego and ambition are so big that you want to become one of them?" you say teasingly, smirking at him. He rolls his eyes and takes your hand, leading you out of the library. You let him lead the two of you into the woods.

"You must have wanted something if you took your precious time to find me." he starts when you both walk a familiar path. This is where your strange "friendship" began, if you could call those stolen moments, kisses, and nights between you two like that… how poetic that it will end here as well.

"I am leaving." you speak briefly without looking at him.

You feel him tense up. It was probably not the answer he ever expected. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him swallow.

He clears his throat, trying to look composed. However, his dark eyes, as always, reveal his true feelings to you. You wonder if you're the only one who can read him like that. "Why?" he whispers.

"Apparently my warning was… not strong enough. One of the people who tried to kill you complained to my grandmother. I have to leave."

"I can talk to her…"

"No!" you cut him off quickly, letting go of his hand and standing in front of him. The last thing you need is his intercession with your grandmother. "I know you mean well, but it's the final decision."

"I see." he says coldly, looking away from you. "Is there anything else you wanted?"

"Yes." you say, pulling his dagger out of your sleeve, handing it to him. "I wanted to give it back to you."

"It's a gift. I'm not in the habit of taking back what I've given someone." he snorts, offended, at which you giggle, amused. He turns his gaze back to you, raising an eyebrow.

"I knew you'd say something like that. That's why…" you pull out a second, identical dagger to the one he gave you. The only difference is that the dagger's handle is decorated with a sun… an eclipsed sun. "I did it." you say, handing it to him.

He takes the dagger from you and examines the engraving. "Why it?" he asks curiously. "Why the eclipsed sun?" his gaze is burning, inquisitive. You know there's no turning back now. You take a step back, his dark irises following your every move.

You shrug. "Guess, shadow summoner."

He stares at you in shock. A thought… a ridiculous and beautiful thought crosses his mind. He knows there's no point in chasing after you. You'll run away from him anyway. But he can't help but scream after your receding silhouette. "What's your name?!"

You're smiling. But you don't turn around to look at him one last time, to steal one last look at his dark, piercing eyes, to get one more moment... Instead, you scream over your shoulder: "Call me sunshine!"

You disappear from his sight. Deep down, you know you'll meet again… But you weren't going to share your mother's fate… even for such mesmerising, dark eyes as his.

After hundreds of years, you've become accustomed to dreamless sleep.

It was your conscious choice. A promise to grandma, mother, and you. You didn't pray to the saints to bring you a dream about your soulmate. You didn't want him... even though his name on your wrist, hidden by your grandmother's bracelet, had tormented you for hundreds of years.

That's why, when your first dream started, you knew it was something bad. You knew your grandmother's necklace had somehow fallen off your neck. And so, you were dreaming. You dreamed about him... and he probably dreamed about you.

You galloped on a horse. It was early morning. The clearing where you galloped was shrouded in mist. The cool wind hit your skin, and your cloak billowed behind you as you tried to lose the black rider following you.

People usually run to their soulmates. They wanted to meet them at all costs. Not you. But the saints have never been merciful to you… maybe because you never prayed to any of them.

Or have they stopped letting you prolong the inevitable.

That's why the black rider soon caught up with you. He rode by your side for a moment, then shot forward. You knew he was trying to block your way, so you sped up and managed to catch up with him for a moment. You rode side by side for a while, but you didn't dare look and atface.

But your wishes no longer mattered.

He sped up ahead of you and stepped sideways, causing your horse to stop and stand on two legs. You held on tight to keep from falling. It wasn't until your horse had calmed down and stood on all four hooves that you loosened your grip on the reins.

"Moya solnishka..." his whisper made you shiver. You lifted your head and looked into those familiar, damned dark eyes that were the cause of all your troubles.

You sat still as he rode his horse closer to yours so he could touch your cheek with his hand. His thumb caressed your skin gently. "I've been waiting a long time for you."

You shivered, hypnotised, as you watched him lean closer to you. A familiar warmth spread through your body as you felt him amplify your powers. But his lips were too close for you to notice anything else than him; his touch and dark eyes, which were looking only at you...

You wake up suddenly. Your hand goes to your neck. Panicked, you discover that your grandmother's necklace is not there… you must have lost it in a fold.

"Fuck." you whisper, running your hand through your hair. The only defence against dreaming about your soul mate is gone. And now he knew who you really were... just as your fears were confirmed.

He was your soulmate. General Kirigan, Darkling, Black Heretic, the boy who was your first kiss hundreds of years ago…

The monster who created the fold…

And as it turned out… Aleksander Morozova.

You look around the room, realizing you're in a tent. And the red keftats of bustling healers confirm your worst fears.

During your journey through the fold, the ship was attacked by volcra. And you, obviously not wanting to die or let other people die, decided to use your power. You've done it hundreds of times before. Only much more discreetly… and you've never fainted from using so much of your power.

Your grandmother must be cursing you from the grave. She warned you a thousand times not to go near Ravka or the fold… and even after her death, you didn't listen to her. Now you have to sneak out of here somehow before word about the sun summoner spreads around the world. Hundreds of years of hiding will be wasted just because you weren't careful enough…

He was excited. He couldn't stand still.

His soulmate, his sun summoner, the solution to all his problems, his little sunshine was here.

He had been waiting for this moment for centuries. He had imagined it thousands of times. However, he never thought that his soulmate would be brought to him by his heartrender after they captured her after rescuing a ship full of people from the fold.

He dismisses everyone from the tent. Only he and she remain.

"It's been a long time, solnishko." he speaks softly. He is prepared for her silence and gives her a moment to process the situation. But he hoped to see a little more enthusiasm from her...

So he takes the time to look at her. On noting all the changes he might notice in her… her cool, indifferent look in those eyes that captivated him so much is one of the worst changes.

He clears his throat. You are still silent. You still ignore him. And Aleksander can't stand it.

"I had an interesting dream recently…" he begins, but you don't pick up on it. You don't really take your eyes off the floor… he's starting to get annoyed.

"You won't look at me?" he asks, waiting for your reaction. However, he finds nothing. Just a blank stare at the symbol he has chosen over the course of several hundred years. Eclipsed sun.

"You won't even comment on that? What a pity. I've always liked your sharp tongue." he says, taking a step towards you. You watched him carefully. He's a little triumphant to see that he's managed to catch your eye. Saints… he missed those damn eyes. "The cat stole your tongue? Or did they finally cut your tongue out for your insolence?"

"I thought you liked my sharp tongue." you snort sarcastically, avoiding his gaze as you realize he won't come any closer.

"She can talk!" he says, clapping his hands. "I was afraid something had happened to you, sunshine." you flinch at his words.

"Don't call me like that." you growl angrily, turning your stern gaze on him.

"You told me to call you that yourself. Don't you remember?"

"And now I take away your right to do so, Black Heretic. Or maybe you prefer a Starless Saint? I think I remember that you wanted to become one; what a pity people didn't even try to remember your name." you taunt him, and for a moment you see that he is offended, even hurt by your words, but his eyes quickly become blank, unmoved by your words.

As if he had heard them hundreds of times before and gotten used to them…

"I don't remember you being so… hostile to me before. What has changed?" he asks instead, watching you carefully and looking for answers in your eyes. But after all these years, you too know how to hide your emotions behind a stony mask of cold indifference.

"Maybe you didn't know me at all?" the question hangs between you for a while. You see for a moment that he hesitates with his answer, but his indecision is quickly replaced by a mocking, derisive smirk.

"When I heard about the mysterious Grisha, who can summon light and was stupid enough to throw herself into battle against hundreds of volcra, I immediately thought of you. And guess what…"

"At least one of the two of us should be concerned about Grishas' welfare. Why am I not surprised it's me and only me?" you see him clench his fists in rage when you insinuate that he's selfish, that he doesn't care about his people.

"Or maybe you don't know me at all?"

"I know men like you."

"There are no men like me. There are no others like us. And there will never be. I thought you had enough time to accept and understand it." he says bitterly, staring at you, disappointed. "Anyway, I have to go through the formalities. Your sleeve, please."

You stand still, too stubborn and angry to cooperate with him. He snorts, expecting your reaction, and takes two steps over the distance between you. You lift your head slightly, giving him a defiant look. He just gives you that irritating, confident smirk and grabs your hand gently, rolling up your sleeve himself. His dark eyes never leave yours. Even when his ring pierces the skin of your forearm.

You're so intent on each other that there might as well not have been that beam of light between you that shot the moment he made a small cut on your arm. It's just you and him. And from the unreadable smirk on his face, you might as well expect anything.

If you used to do it easily, now you can't read his eyes anymore. A skill he had to acquire over time. Hiding true emotions.

You both have changed. Each in its own way. He was no longer the nameless boy you met. And you weren't the mystery girl he used to know. He became the darkness he so often summoned... and you became the light you were meant to carry. If you once had anything in common, now you are completely strangers. Time heals wounds... or deepens them, but it always and undeniably changes people.

But neither of you could deny the connection between you. Even after all this time and even after what happened. It was a bound that was pulling you both towards each other…

"You and I are going to change the world, Y/N." you shivered hearing your real name for the first time come out of his mouth as lightly as if he had always called you that. Like he's always known you by that name deep in his heart.

Even if you didn't agree with him, you have to admit that he was right...

It's gonna be forver or it's gonna go down in flames...

[zeruss]

A fun project on the side while doing a photoshoot of some Eva figures, finally assembling the 'Petit Eva - Welcome to NERV Base' minifigure set (that I hadn't even opened in 3 whole years). The full set is made up of 5 pieces: 1) Entrance and Escalator + Unit-00's Containtment area. 3) Entry Plug Simulator + Vending machines. 4) Unit-00's cage + Infirmary. 5) Central Dogma with Lilith inside impaled by the Longinus Spear. 6) Top of the Pyramid with Command Center. All pieces connect to each other, which can be transformed/closed into NERV HQ's Pyramid structure (for easy storage). Each piece has a moveable mechanism of a sort such as the Entry Plug Simulator door (open/closes), NERV HQ's mechanical stairs (platform goes up/down), or Unit-01's Entry Plug hatch (open/closes). Comes with several accessories: 5 minifigures (Shinji, Asuka, Rei, Misato and Gendo); Lilith with its very tiny Longinus Spear; an infirmary bed; the door for the Entry Plug Simulator; Unit-01's horn; the Command Center graphic display, and a small 'welcome to NERV' sign. This set took me years to find, precisely because each piece was sold separately but didn't want to risk not finding the missing ones, so had to patiently wait for a listing of the whole set. Since I have a weak spot for Lego and miniature sets (the Pokemon mini sets come to mind) this was one of my most wanted pieces of Evangelion merch ever; very happy I found it -and got to assemble it- at last! And here's a bonus: there's a secret watermelon garden under one of the pyramid's corners, wonder who it could belong to...

[horseshoegirl]

Damn Those Dog Tags: Part 18 - Sapling

📖 This is it - The one song that inspired this entire fic. It’s so bittersweet I’ve gotten to this point. When I posted Part 1: Be Still, a small part of me thought I’d never get here.

I know everyone is probably sick of me saying thank you, but I honestly cannot stop. I could have never imagined the support or the amount of people who’ve loved this story as much as I’ve loved writing it. Whether you’ve been here since I posted all those months ago or just started reading, I cannot describe how important each and every one of you is to me.

Here’s Part 18: Sapling - The one I’ve been waiting for 💛

(If there was ever a song to listen to for this story, even though I know most of you guys don't, this one is it. I hope you do💛) . It's Liz through and through/and the one after this one, but more on that later.)

❗️+18, strong language, godmother reader/original female character, mentions of an original child character, sexual themes, angst, fluff, deployments, apologies, and mentions of shitty family dynamics.

# 5k words

Part 17 | Masterlist | Part 19

"Attention on Deck!"

Jake and Bradley stood in sync in the empty hanger, the sound of metal chairs scraping across the hard stone floor. Much like the day they were called in for the Uranium run, the space had been turned into a mock classroom. Only two desks sat before the podium this time, and Jake and Bradley were the only ones who had been requested to report.

Jake kept his eyes forward as two pairs of footsteps echoed off the hangar floor behind him. Cyclone appeared in the corner of his eye, the man holding two manila envelopes and a thick black binder. He wondered what awaited him or Rooster in those files. While Maverick had torn them apart for the dramatic display, he wouldn't be surprised if Cyclone suddenly decided that wasn't enough.

But Jake could only think it made sense the patterns and exercises they had been flying for the past week were in preparation for something greater.

At least, he hoped they weren't getting kicked out.

But as Cyclone each tossed a folder in front of him and Bradley, Maverick trailing close behind indicated it had to be something worse. Even with his eyes facing forward, Jake could catch the look on the Captain's face out of the corner of his eye.

Worried and apprehensive.

Jake had an answer to his question. It wasn't a reprimand from his and Bradley's dangerous flying from the week previous.

This was a special deployment.

Cyclone stepped up onto the podium, not once lifting his eyes as he dropped the binder down to the wooden surface, stating, "You may be seated."

Jake and Bradley did as they were told, instantly reaching for the papers in front of them.

"Good afternoon." Cyclone finally looked up and nodded to the pair. "Intelligence has gotten word of another illegal facility violating United Nation’s Peace Treaty accords. The flight tests you and your team have been flying these past weeks were a simulation of the area we expect to the best of our intelligence."

Most of what Cyclone was saying flew over Jake’s head. Not after Cyclone explained the stakes. Not after Jake started to read the mission report. Next-generation fighter jets. In enemy hands. And they wanted an air assist while they went after the factory responsible for making them.

Even if he believed he was the best, there was too much at stake for him to say he could make it out of there unscathed confidently.

This was the literal fucking definition of a suicide run.

Rooster suddenly pipped up from beside him as Cyclone paused. "Has the rest of the Squad been briefed, sir?"

Cyclone started him down, his face emotionless. "You misunderstand me, son."

Maverick bowed his head as Cyclone continued, "Only the both of you are going. This is a two-person run."

Bradley side-eyed Jake, who leaned forward slightly to gauge his reaction. All Jake could do was draw in a sharp breath.

"Take it for what you will, gentlemen. Looks like the Navy was impressed with your reckless display and wanted to award your bad behaviour," he remarked, turning the pages of the files before him.

"Now, the factory will be taken care of by ground forces. The technology and the data within the facility are too valuable to be destroyed. We need two F-18s to assist..."

Jake began to drown him out, despite his instincts telling him otherwise. Cyclone explaining everything to them was only a formality, a chance for them to ask questions. Jake didn't need to. Everything he needed to know would be in the brief.

Time.

That's what was on Jake's mind.

How much time did he have left?

How much time did he have left to make it right?

How much did he have left to give to you? And make it up to Sadie?

He jolted slightly when Cyclone hit the edge of his binder against the edge of the podium.

"Get your affairs in order," the older man commanded, walking away. "You have till 22:00 today."

---

The thick fog settling over your neighbourhood this late at night wasn't helping your current mood. You were extremely uncomfortable at the errieness, the dimly lit street lamps casting an unreal green glow. You couldn't even see beyond the neighbours' backyard from your kitchen window.

The rest of the house was silent, too. The lack of noise indicated the place was empty, except for the occasional creek or rustle of a tree branch against the roof. You were utterly alone, with nothing but your thoughts as company.

You wish you could say it was a welcome notion.

With everything that had happened the night Tyler was arrested, Penny closed The Hard Deck for the week, waiting for the insurance money to come through. The damage wasn't as bad as it could have been, and she didn't really need to close it down, but in a way, you realized she was probably using the chance to take a break.

Or at least try to give you one.

So, she decided to go sailing. That's where Sadie was, sleeping over at her place so they could go out on the water tomorrow. Penny had offered to take you as well.

You had refused.

It was funny to think you suddenly needed to process what had happened - you had never been good at processing shit before, so why would this time change that now?

Maybe you just wanted to be alone.

Even the cup of tea you made wasn't helping, having long since gone cold and still practically full. You didn't know what to think, finally alone for the first time in a while, finally finding the opportunity to allow yourself to sit and process.

And you still couldn't bring yourself to do it.

It wasn't as if you didn't know what you should be thinking about. You were thinking about all of it... Tyler, Sadie, Jake... and..

No, not that one yet.

Each thought was laid out in your head like an itemized list, neatly written and bullet-pointed. Each stood out on their own, colour-coded and organized into categories to the point you couldn't do anything more with them. Picturing each in your mind was easy, but you couldn't bring yourself to do anything beyond that.

Something was stopping you from going deeper. Maybe you didn’t want to admit you didn’t know how.

A hard couple of knocks on your front door startled you out of your trance, echoing through the quiet house. It took you a moment to acknowledge them and realize they were, in fact, coming from your front door. You placed your mug on your kitchen table, scraping your chair along the title as you made your way to the front hallway.

It wasn’t quick enough for the person on the other side of the door, impatiently knocking their knuckles against the wood in rapid succession again. The sound quickened your pace, socked feet on the coarse rug thumping with each step.

In retaliation to the urgent knocks, you ripped the door open in an aggressive pull, only to find Jake hunched over, forearm resting on your doorframe. His head was bowed, handing low between his shoulders until he realized you had finally opened the door. Lifting his head, several emotions flashed across his face. Hope. Despair. Then, determination, with wide and wild eyes staring back at you.

You realized he was dressed in his flight suit, his hair was flicked back, and his face looked like it had been freshly shaven.

And he was panting like he had run a marathon.

“Jake?”

"I thought we would have more time," he heaved roughly. "I thought we had all the time in the world to figure this out. For me to find a million different ways to say I'm sorry for what I said. For what I did."

The corners of your mouth quivered, and your eyebrows furrowed, knitting together.

"No matter the length of time, I never would have gotten it right. Because there is no right way to apologize for what I said,” he lamented.

He opened his mouth to say something else but froze, the words dying in his throat like he suddenly lost whatever drive he had while coming here. Pushing himself off the frame, he turned towards your driveway, looking lost. With his back facing you, he reached for the bannister of your front porch, leaning over and bowing his head between shoulders.

You didn't know what else to do except remain frozen in your doorway, watching him look utterly defeated.

“Rooster and I got called up. It’s dangerous. Extremely dangerous,” he said, his voice low. “I might be the best, but even this one worries me.”

Whatever feelings of anger or resentment you had been carrying towards Jake were suddenly overpowered by concern.

Despite knowing you would never be privy to the details of the Navy, you found yourself stepping forward, a hand reaching out as you asked, “How dangerous?!”

You stopped yourself from touching his shoulder when he lifted his head, a sad smile on his face as he looked out to your yard. “You know we can’t tell you more than that, Darlin’.”

You crossed your arms below your breasts instead, gripping your elbows with a hint of apprehension as you gulped. “Do you know how long?”

He dropped his head again, shaking it while doing so. “At least a month, maybe two.”

A month, even two, was too long. Not when… You didn’t even know. You didn’t even know what to say or to do. Because Jake had hurt you, had protected you, and then shown up on your literal doorstep late at night before another deployment to leave all his cards on the table.

Sarcasm, sass, or any attitude or brave face you've ever used from behind that fucking bar couldn't save you from this. Not when Jake was facing yet another death sentence.

That fact alone made your heart break just a little bit further.

“George called me,” he told you, filling the silence. “Said the first thing he did was kick the hell bringer off the ranch. I didn’t trust him. But then Janet called, saying his name was on the deed for some tax reasons, so George had every right.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you joined him, coming to stand next to him and gripping the front railing tight. It almost hurt - the way the wood felt under your nails.

"I never expected that. I never expected George to seek me out after what I did to him either. I honestly thought he'd report home, saying the damage had been done," Jake sighed, rocking his shoulders back and forth. "But he did. And the first thing he did was admit he was scared of you."

You dropped your chin to your chest. You couldn’t deny that maybe a little bit of shame was starting to eat away at your stomach. Yelling at George was more than just you being upset at both Seresin brothers. It was a deep-seated weight you had been carrying for too long, waiting for any moment it could unleash itself. George and Jake… had been the perfect excuse to scapegoat the underlying issue you refused to acknowledge in yourself.

Jake straightened himself, turning to face you with a bated breath. You spun with him, leaving your one hand on the railing.

"He told me the reason he wanted to change was not that I had shown him up at darts or that you had torn him apart with your words, but that either one of us should’ve to begin with. You made him realize that.”

You failed to notice Jake’s hand slowly sliding along the bannister, inching closer to yours.

"My relationship with him is anything but fixed. He is more of an asshole than I could ever be. But when I told him he needed to live his own life, he said he couldn’t claim anything he had earned for himself without the hell-bringer handing it to him. Or say he did it with good intentions.”

It wasn’t a shock when Jake slid his hand over the top of yours, gently curving his fingers around your wrist. In fact, you let him, allowing him to pull you towards him as he stepped closer gently.

“But he also said he found you on the beach the night Tyler stormed the bar.”

You failed to hide your grimace at the mention of Tyler’s name, and Jake offered a sad smile. “He said he tried to make things right. Because after I quoted a dead president, he took what you said to him to heart..”

You swallowed hard, knowing just exactly what George had been referring to. It was the same point you made when you yelled at him, the words echoing in your head.

‘So you can gallivant around letting someone who has lived their life decide what you do with the rest of yours?’

And when you asked point blank on the beach the last time, he had been happy. Which was when he did something for himself.

"He's never thought highly of me, but he said meeting you and Sadie was the best damn thing I could have ever done." Jake reached for your other hand, looking down. "Because my arena has two people willing to be in it with me, no matter what I've done."

“I’ve always loved that quote,” you laughed quietly to yourself, trying to avert your eyes.

“I know,” he replied sadly. “It was in a worn book on your bookcase.”

You lift your head, finally allowing yourself to stare into his eyes. It pains you to think you had forgotten how green they were. And how easy it was to get lost in them when so much happened between you.

"I should have let you explain yourself that day."

Jake huffed a small laugh, reaching up to stroke a piece of hair away from your face. “I shouldn’t have said those words to begin with. And not that it’s worth anything, I’m so sorry they did.”

Jake doesn't drop his hand but rather cups the side of your face.

"But you deserve more than an apology on the eve of a deployment. It's not fair to you. But I have to try because there is a chance I might not be able to. Because I'm trying to listen to the advice of a ten-year-old girl who once said she believed in me.

The admission guts you. Sadie’s impact on the world and those around you would always gut you.

“So let me be honest with you now before I don’t have the chance to,” He urged, his thumb caressing under your eye and across your cheek. "I'm in love with you, Elizabeth Beck."

A strangled sob tore from your throat, attempting to pull your hand out of Jake's and your face away from his touch. He was quicker, tugging you forward into his chest with a hand on the back of your neck. You were too weak to protest, allowing yourself to be pulled towards him.

"No, you're not running from this, darlin'," he shushed you, both arms encasing themselves around your waist, preventing you from escaping. "Not this time."

You couldn't do anything but cup your face in your hands, pressing yourself against his chest and sobbing. Tilting his head down, he whispered gently against your ear, "I'm not saying it to hear it back. I'm telling you so you never doubt that I do."

Strange enough, you didn’t doubt him. Not ever - even when he had hurt you.

He kissed your collarbone once through the thick fabric of your sweater, feeling as if he had touched your bare skin. He took a deep breath under your hands, body heaving up once as he gathered the courage to continue.

“Darlin,” he whispered. “ I know I can’t ask this of you, but I can only hope you love me back. Even after… Because I know how badly I fucked up. For a split second, back at the Hard Deck, I thought you would be better off without me."

"You hurt me, Jake," you cried into his chest. "You said those things..."

"I know, darlin'," his voice sounded broken next to your ear. "I went for the things I knew you'd leave me for, not because I believed them. Just the opposite. You didn't need me in your life, in Sadie's life, when I have so much baggage following me around. You didn't need another pair of assholes tainting your life, whether it be George, the hell bringer, or myself."

You gripped his flight suit tight at his confession.

"Then Sadie cornered me on the beach. And told me to get my shit together or not bother coming around anymore. Because you two would be just fine without me," he sniffed. "And it fucking hurt coming from her."

"Oh, Bug," you coo. You're not mad at her for going against your rule.

“I can’t promise I’m not going to fuck it up again. I’m the furthest thing from perfect compared to everyone I know. But I promise, I won't stop trying to get it right or at least stop at how many times I have to apologize to you for being me.”

You hate him. You hate him.

Except you don’t.

“I brought you your favourite flowers the first time I apologized because I couldn’t offer anything else. And I cannot bring you flowers when I’m apologizing for a second time, not because tulips are currently out of season, but because a man shouldn’t do that when apologizing to the woman he loves.”

He let go of your hip to stroke a piece of your hair behind your ear before pressing his lips to your forehead, letting them rest there for a moment.

“I should give them to you just because I can,” he murmured against your skin.

As Jake pulled back from you, he reached down to the side pocket of his flight suit against his thigh, his hand a firm fist as he pulled out something attached to a balled chain.

“So, I can’t ask you to forgive me, Elizabeth. Or even to wait for me. I don’t know what will happen when I am gone. Or if I’m worth accepting an apology from.”

He grabbed your wrist gently, pulling it up between the two of you, only to press something metal into your hand. But rather than let go, he threaded his fingers through yours, keeping the object between the palms of your hands, the chain dangling between.

“But if you can still find it in your heart to trust me, trust me when I say I want you and Sadie in my life. It’s you two or nothing at all,” he croaked, before adding, “I broke my ways for a literature-loving bartender and her ten-year-old niece because they both chose me knowing I am probably the most flawed human being, besides that asshole, ever to grace their path.”

You sobbed at that.

“If I make it back…” he trailed off. You shook your head vehemently. “When you make it back…” You corrected him. Yet, a small part of you died inside when he gave you a hesitant, bittersweet smile.

“I want you to tell me your answer then.”

Jake let go of your hand, leaving behind and revealing a pair of worn dog tags, making you gasp.

“I want these to stay with you until then. So you know I’m with you. Always.”

"Jake.. I can't.." you stuttered.

He ignored you, grabbing them from your hand to grab the chain in both hands. “They’re my first pair. My current set is in my bag.”

Watching him lift and guide the chain over your head, the protest dies on your lips. The intimate act brought him close enough to feel his breath on your face. The weight of the dog tags was a new feeling on your sternum.

"You know, in basic, they scare the hell out of you with these," he said, grabbing one of them and holding it between you. "Tell you that if you crash and burn, these are the bits they use to ID whatever's left."

He glanced away, eyes briefly distant. "They find you, leave one tag, take the other." He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "Guess it's also their way of grounding you, reminding you of what’s at stake."

You stared at the tags between the two of you, gulping hard. 

"For me, giving you them is... it's not just some sentimental crap. It's me leaving a bit of myself with you, no matter what happens." 

Your breath hitched, and as he dropped the tag, a new weight was placed on your chest. The fog around you seemed to grow thicker, and if you didn't know any better, you would have blamed it for constricting your breath. 

You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice. "Jake, I... I haven't... I haven't fully dealt with losing her," you whispered, trembling.

"I know you haven't, darlin'," he mumbled, wiping away another stream of tears on your face. "And I'm only adding another burden to your plate." 

Jake leaned forward to press another kiss to your forehead before peering down at your face, taking in the sheer devastation. He caressed your bottom lip, huffing affectionately, “I guess it's only fair. I broke your heart. You need to break mine, too.”

“Jake…” 

As you reached out, your voice was soft, barely above a whisper. Your hands moved around to his back, sliding up against his shoulder blades. He was tall and broad. And as you tried to pull him into you, your arms didn't stretch enough. You wanted to hold to so many parts of him, latch on in hopes he wouldn't leave you so soon. 

You don't know how long you stood like this, on your porch in the fog, holding on to each other. It took you a while, but you eventually realized the two of you started to sway in a silent rhythm, back and forth gently. 

The action was so reminiscent of the night he drove you home. When he found you closing by yourself and swept you into his arms - before everything became so chaotic. 

It makes you look back on every memory with him, like a film reel in vivid technicolour. 

Water and Sand, a Mona Lisa smile. Math homework and Sadie's cheeky smile. Yellow flowers in apologetic hands. Dirty dishes and clean slates. A game of darts and an almost kiss. Walking next to mountains and trees. Poloarids, video chats, and scary moments. Fireworks on New Year's Eve, to a slow dance in safe arms. 

Thunderstorms and Sadie's tears to passionate kisses. First dates, Ferris wheels, Sadie in the hospital, and Jake catching your tears. Bradley lashing out, and Jake standing by. 

Purple blues and orange-reds, the sunset colours that made you cry for your sister for the first time since you don't remember when. 

Looking back on what was leaves you wondering what will be. 

Jake's voice cuts through the silence, faintly humming a Chris Stapleton song. Your voice is muffled against his chest. "I wanted to take you to a country concert for a date."

You felt him smile against the top of your head. "Would you have let me pick you up and put you on my shoulders?"

You huffed affectionately into the fabric of his suit, turning your head to rest your cheek against his chest. “Oh, people would have hated us for that.”

He laughs quietly. “I’m sure you would have come up with something sharp and witty to reply with.”

“Enough to get us thrown out?”

“I could always pull the military service card.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Jake chuckled softly into your hair.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, swaying on your front porch under the green-lit fog. Not that you would have noticed. You were too busy trying to imprint this into your memory. How he felt holding you, how he smelled, the sensations in your chest. Or how his heart felt beating under your ear.

Until the alarm on his watch ruined it all, and he stepped away from you, pressing another long kiss to your forehead. You felt him grimace each time he tried to pull away.

"I have to go, darlin'," he murmured. "I have to report in 30. Otherwise, I'd drag you inside and abandon my post."

I would have let you.

As Jake lets you go, you reach out to grip the railing again. Before he turns to leave, he says with a smile, "Send me letters if you can."

Watching him proceeding down your front steps, your heart ached in a way it never had before. Your hand moved to the dog tags, gripping them tightly. 

The idea of losing Jake, never seeing that cocky grin or hearing his sarcastic quips again, was paralyzing. But even more terrifying was the thought of him leaving without knowing how you truly felt.

If he were to... no.

You couldn't wait. You couldn't let him leave with things unsaid. The fog outside was thick, and Jake's form was about to become a silhouette in the distance, but you wouldn't let him leave without knowing.

"Jake!"

Running down the steps of your porch, you flung yourself towards him. He spun, eyes wide as you reached for his face, hands cradling either side of his jaw as you pulled him down, pressing your lips to his.

You put everything into that kiss, struggling to breathe, fearing you would lose him before you could ever truly be with him. Jake wrapped his arms around your waist, moulding his lips to yours. And with each press, you commit them to memory, pushing away the thought this may be the last time you could.

You were already struggling to grasp the death of someone you loved. You couldn't survive a second.

Jake always kissed you like he was a man starved of affection. This time, he was holding himself back, hands deliberately resting lightly on your hips, unmoving and researching. His kisses were less than firm, hesitant against your more urgent ones.

It gave you the strength to continue pressing on.

You pulled back with a gasp, looking him square in the eyes. "You don't get to do that. You don't get to tell me you love me and expect me not to say anything. Not to call you out for your shitty perception of yourself when you, Jake fucking Seresin, are worth it."

You can feel the heat on your cheeks and more tears running freely down the sides of your face.

"I do forgive you,“ you rushed out in a breath. “I forgive you for all your faults and everything you will ever do to me, whether you are Jake Seresin or fucking Hangman. Life is short, and... and.. if I woke one morning to find you were gone,  I would never find the strength to carry on had you not known that I lo.."

Jake didn't let you finish, quickly grabbing the sides of your face to kiss you roughly, all open mouth and tongue. You whimpered into his mouth, struggling to breathe and to keep up with the onslaught.

He bent you backwards, your back curling around the sudden added weight of his arm. You tugged on his flight suit in a desperate attempt to pull him closer to you as he attacked your mouth. His fingers were locked deeply into the roots of your hair behind your ear, angling your head just right so he could capture your lips in all the ways he wanted to. In all the ways he might never have the chance to do again.

Jake considered himself selfish. For most of his naval career, he had been selfish. But he never truly felt the weight of that feeling until he was trying to memorize these last moments with you. As if this was all he would ever get to have with you.

It was selfish to do this to you. To kiss you one last time.

Your body is warm under his touch. He tries to imprint the sensation.

Your kisses are firm. He tries to akin the taste.

Your grip on his suit is tight. He tries to remember the pain it creates.

Your whimpers and moans. He tries to imagine they’d be exactly what you’d sound like if he’d ever get the chance to be with you. Truly.

Or if they’d be enough to sustain his dreams.

He knows he needs to go. Needs to pull himself away from you before the next kiss, or the next touch is the one that convinces him to stay. So he tugs away first, and you chase his lips, whining at the loss of contact.

"Tell the bug she was right," it's a whisper against your lips. "And I'm sorry I disappointed her too."

Your bottom lip quivered as Jake finally wrenched himself away from you with a deep grunt. He climbed into his truck and started the engine, backing out of your driveway like a man possessed. As if one slight moment of hesitation or if he looked away from the task at hand and saw your face, he’d drag you back inside the house and lock the two of you away in your bedroom.

He would have if there were more time.

Your footsteps against the pavement were muffled in your ears as you followed his truck. You couldn't bring yourself to look away, even when you found yourself frozen at the end of your driveway, watching his red taillights fade into the fog.

And when you finally found the courage to move, absentmindedly walking back up your driveway, up your front steps to close the front door behind you, you fell against it. Your back pressed hard into the grooves and ridges as you collapsed to the floor. Your tears were falling freely, and the sobs racking your chest were each more devastating than the last. You heaved for each breath, trying to gather the strength to do anything but cry.

For Jake.

For Bradley.

For Sadie.

For Ridley.

...For yourself.

After working the heels of your hands into the corners of your eyes, you grasped for the dog tags, looking down at the worn-out pieces of metal in your palm. You could still make out his name and call sign imprinted on the surface, a finger tracing over the imprinted ridge.

The damn things were both a reminder he was still out there and could never return. A reminder he couldn’t promise more sunsets with you. A reminder there was a chance you'd never get to tell him you loved him, too.

You pressed your fingers to your lips, the other clutching his dog tags over your heart.

Come back to us, Jake.

Please.

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Part 19 - An Evening I Will Not Forget is being edited 👀

Wickett ;)

[escapingrealtiylovinginsanity]

Nick Amaro: Protest 

This technically is a pre-story to this but can be read as a standalone. Warnings: Slight mention of Sexual Assult  

Nick walked back into the bullpen as a herd of protesters were being led in. There had been a slut walk tonight. Hundreds of women had flocked to the streets to protest victim blaming and slut shaming. There had been a case of rape that had been all over the news where the police and media had been more concerned with the length of a victim’s skirt and how many drinks she had consumed than going after the big wig producer. Nick understood their frustration but didn’t see how a bunch of half-naked women walking down a Manhattan Street was going to help. With how hostile the case was going it seemed like asking for trouble at this point. 

Trouble had of course been found. A few men had protested the protest, three had been flashers running through the crowd exposing themselves, one being as bold as to rip down the protester's top. Now gaggles of girls were waiting in the lounge area to pick the assailants out of lineups. Nick notices a barely dressed girl hovering in the lobby. He downs half of his energy drink in one pull before going over to tell her to return to the lobby to wait. 

“Excuse me, are you here for the lineup-” Nick cuts off when you turn around and it takes him a moment longer than it should for his brain to register that it was you. He has known you for a couple of months now. You were a cute little thing. A part of the Crime Scene Unit. The two of you had talked and been around each other at various crime scenes. Nick liked you, you were sweet and funny if not a bit of an oversharer. Granted you seemed to like poking fun at yourself and your rather strange decisions that had some interesting fallout and it got people laughing. 

He is used to seeing you in a shapeless, oversized dark blue crime scene jumper. It takes his brain time to process the cute girl to the sexy woman in front of him. He couldn’t help the appreciative lingering glance. You were wearing high-heeled boots and a short skirt that he was at risk of flashing your underwear if you attempted to bend down or move too quickly and left a glorious amount of toned skin from your calves to upper midthigh on display. A sleeveless wide-dropped, white top that was barely covering your generous chest was only held together with a tie at the bottom snug under your breast struggling to keep them contained. Across your bare stomach written in red was #METOO. His jaw tightened as he wondered about the events that could have caused you to join.    

“Detective Amaro,” His dark eyes shoot up to yours as he focuses on your face. “Yes, I’m waiting on the lineup. All the crazy things always happen at the protests I swear, at least I’m not the one under arrest this time.” You grin self-indulgently. 

“You’ve been arrested at a protest?” He couldn't imagine you getting into any kind of trouble.  

“Once or twice. Charges were never filed.” You cross your arms over your chest, which causes your breasts to strain even more against your white top. The movement caught his gaze. Nick could just make out the lines of your hard nipples through your flimsy top. You seemed completely unaware of his heated gaze as you told him about being sprayed with a water hose and pepper spray, cuffed, and booked for a night while protesting the fracking of Indian land while you were in college. You thought they felt bad and that’s why they released you so easily. You had been pushed down and broken your nose giving you two gnarly black eyes. He couldn’t help but chuckle when you stated that another woman who had been arrested with you spiritually healed and blessed you with sage-infused water in the cell you shared claiming it would help with the physical pain too. It hadn't. 

“Your college days and mine were very different.” You didn’t get a chance to answer as a cuff perp was walking in and saw you. He ogled you and whistled before being pushed into holding. Nick moved to stand in front of you defensively. You shift uncomfortably remembering that you didn’t have much on and suddenly feeling very exposed. You weren’t the type to flaunt your body. This protest had just called for you to go over the top and out of your normal tomboy zone. You feel the warmth over your shoulders and look back to see Nick wrapping his suit jacket around you.  

“Thank you,” You shrug further into it sliding your arm through the sleeves. The scent of his cologne musky with a spicy tinge overwhelms you. Nick is taller than you and the jacket hangs down nearly to your knees. You go to do up the button to completely cover yourself before remembering the red lettering on your stomach, you don’t want it to bleed onto his clothes. You feel his gaze on you. Nick felt something in him change when he saw you wearing his jacket. Lust pooled in his belly and he didn’t think he would ever be able to reconnect his mind with you just being the cute CSU girl who overshares again.  

“You can button that up if you want, I’m not worried about it.” You give him a grateful nod before buttoning the jacket. It helps cover the bare skin, but your chest is much larger than Nick’s and it stretches the fabric bunching it awkwardly, and your breasts are still falling out. 

“You can ask if you want detective.” He had led you over to his desk and you leaned against it. 

“You’ve been sexually assaulted.” You hum in response, “Did you ever press charges? We could file a report-” 

“That’s not necessary. It was years ago.” You play with a ring on your finger, twisting it. “It’s not like the cases you get here.” 

“Any sexual assault-” 

“Yeah, yeah I know the spiel.” You shake your head at him, “It wasn’t anything crazy. Just one incident in college. I was at a party and there was this drunk guy. I didn’t really know him or anything and he didn’t know me, clearly.” You laugh to yourself before rolling your eyes. Then turned back to look at Nick, “He cornered me and slid his hand down my pants. When I told him no, he didn’t listen. He was clearly drunk and thought I was too. I wasn’t. I only had one drink. What he didn’t know was that I had been wrestling since middle school and took kickboxing classes throughout high school.” You shrug your shoulder nonchalantly, “So, when I told him to stop again, and he didn’t I kneed him in the junk hard enough that he spit out blood.” 

“And then?” You start tugging at the jacket sleeve.  

“Then nothing. I got up and left. I was called into the office the next day. They gave me a choice if I didn’t report it as sexual harassment then I wouldn’t get in trouble for violence and underage drinking on campus.” 

“You get harassed, and they try to put the blame on you to get you not to report to save their school image.” You watch his frustration spike and grin at him. 

“You’re a good fit here. It’s nice to know that some cops are still on our side.” He calms down and feels great satisfaction at your praise. “Honestly though, I wasn’t planning on pressing charges. I think he got the picture. I kind of feel bad sometimes... about how hard I hit him. I wonder if he will ever be able to have kids now.” 

“I don’t think it will hurt the world if he doesn’t.” Nick sighed as he read your face. You seemed fine talking about what had happened and he was glad that you had been able to take care of yourself but your not reporting did bother him. You heard your name being called and saw Liv waving to you to do your lineup, so you stood. “Hey, do you want me to call someone for you? To take you home that is. Are you dating someone?” He feels the air pulled out of his sails when you respond. 

“Yeah, Teddy Jackson from homicide. No need to call him though. He’d be pissed if he found out I went to this protest. I don’t feel like another fight.” You give him one more smile before slipping out of his jacket and handing it back to him. “Thank you for the company though Detective Amaro.”     

This was supposed to be a short two-pager. Oh well, I have two more parts to this of Nick pining after you while you are with my made-up homicide detective. I have a notebook of ideas for Nick and I'm trying to get through them before I start up new ideas or they usually get trashed. Hope you enjoyed xoxo

[fatgumsurpremacy-remastered]

It Takes Time to Sew a Doll Yan. Vox x CIS. FEM Reader

It Takes Time to Sew a Doll Yan. Vox x CIS. FEM Reader Pt 1.5 [Lunch Hour]

Warnings; Confinement, chasing, obsessive thoughts, yandere tendencies, Vox yelling at his employees, possible descriptions of body horror, foul language, misogyny, yelling, verbal threats, violent urges, electric shock.

Pt [1]

To my besties: @bloodypeachblog @omniuravity

Vox’s offices were the usual, sterile white one would expect from most office buildings- with a splash of black, blue, and red here and there. Modern art strung along the walls; some flecks of colour in the carpet here and there. But most of the time it was just the glaring white of each and every thing.

It felt like an asylum. But his main rooms were a cool black, with Cyan strip lighting.

Vox knew that if he kept her in the main waiting areas she might just run away- he might not ever be able to get to her again. She could run off with someone else and get in trouble or die-

No. He wouldn’t allow that.

He instead smiled politely and apolozed has he wheeled her around- everywhere.

They were the talk of the office as those murmurs from the morning turned to gasps of awe when they passed.

“Now this is conference room 2-b where we do star cast interviews and little company debreifs-“ he shook his head, “Well- I say WE I mean my employees. We as a company.” He knelt down, shaking the chair and looking at the disinterested face of his captive audience. “As a unit.”

She turned her face up in complete dissatisfaction, the gaze of a migrane clear in her eyes and the way she refused to speak. Vox cringed a bit at that. Laughing and clapping his hands he decided to wheel the chair further down the hall, paying no attention to the looks he was receiving from his employees. Kicking open a door his own little waiting area was on display. 4th office B, for potential client interviews. It was possibly the coziest- well insulated- and protected rooms.

The air was cold and the only light came from the blue of an idle computer and a small fish tank. Vox picked the woman up from her chair to a more comfortable couch, smiling as she instantly nestled in. There was a pause when he opened his mouth, and nothing came out. He just shut it again and nodded, rocking on his feet before swaying a bit.

“I hope you enjoy the room, I designed it myself.” Suddenly his bow tie was in desperate need of attention as he pulled on it, looking to every inch of the room but the one she sat in.

“It’s bland.” Shot through the heart. “You’d think if you had the money you’d at least get a bookshelf with books and not just a fish tank with a broken fm radio.”

“Listen-“ he said sharply- voice nearly peeking but calmed by the static on his tone, “you’re a guest but that doesn’t mean I don’t have limits.”

“You could let me go.” She snapped right back before getting a quilt from Vox’s office chair thrown over her face.

He pointed at her. Menace in his gaze locked onto her eyes as she glared back into his own. “Don’t speak to me like that.” The panels at the top of the room shook menacingly as electricity popped somehweee else. “You’re allowed to be mad, you’re not allowed to act out of line. Capiche?” Tilting his head he hoped he wouldn’t have to strain this situation more, and sighed when she didn’t back down in the slightest.

“Look-“ blue tipped fingers pressed flat against his face as he tried to pinch his temple, the other hand came up to run a hand through his no- hair. “I want to run through some legal stuff, make sure this is covered and you get compensated fairly because I don’t think we want to go to court now do we?”

Shaking no-

“Good! See- we’re on the same side here. Neither of us want messy little lawyers getting in our way, it’s the whole reason they’re down here- Off topic- I don’t have time enough in the day to deal with that. Sooo until then I need you to stay-'' his hands pointy the ground as she slowly backs away. “Here. Alright? Don’t make me get security.” With about a half a step forward he got on one knee, placing his hands on her shoulders and looking her in the eyes.

“I will be back.”

The door shut as he tried to rally the thoughts in his head. There was too much to do to think about a coincidence. And that was ALL that this was. A coincidence.

A small, menial event in the breadth of his long long afterlife. He could get through it! He’d done it in the past he’d do it again.

Or so he thought.

Meeting after interview, after press conference later he found himself spacey- monitor occasionally actively disengaging back to his idle motion picture.

He forced himself to stay awake. Plugged himself into every outlet he could, but something gnawed at him even as he sat on charge- gaining energy. Was she ok? Did she eat? He didn’t give her anything it’s stupid to think she ate anything, but he couldn’t leave her with nothing—

He ripped himself from the wall and clung to the sides of his head for dear life, huffing angrily as he attempted to recollect himself.

***

“You don’t need to resort to that sir!” Elliot yelled, bounding down the hallway after his boss as he clung to the tablet in his off arm. “I can see if maintenance will run a reboot on your main mon-!” Vox cut him off- pinching the fish sinners lips to keep them shut.

“Just— keep everyone calm until I can get transferred over, ok? And cancel my three o clock I have a special guest who I’ve got to cater to.” A quick zap sent Vox into his office, where he trudged over to that trusty spare. His old cathode head. Many memories, much better thought processing given there wasn’t 50 thousand plus apps inside of his brain at any given time.

Today he’d go classy, if only to grant him some sanity amongst the chaos of the morning.

When he slipped his head off his neck he grunted- not accustomed to doing it himself- but he pushed through, taking the box head and slamming it down on the stump of his neck with a click. In an instant the current from his monitor traveled up his claws, through his veins and back into the old tubing of his old head. He groaned in relief when the old screen buzzed- black and white back into life. Sound hazy around him as static played faintly at the top of his mind.

“Much better-“

Running his hand along the wall he attempted to transport himself but ended up ramming his head into the wall. He cursed and rubbed the side, hoping the plastic didn’t crack. But of course it didn’t. It was covered by a hard wood panel. The smirk on his face was small but satisfied as he pushed the heavy doors open instead, earning a shocked gasp from the cleaning lady outside the door.

“Scuzi!” He said with a laugh, putting a hand on her side to get past her as she gawked. Half of the staff had never even seen his old face, but that wasn’t a shock to him. He’d laid off a good portion of his old staff due to their censorship policies back in the 70’s. All for a partnership.

He scoffed at the thought, tapping his foot the moment he pressed the button for the elevator. When it opened he stepped in quick, looking in a circle for the right button, tatting a tune in search.

“A tut tut tut tuuu ah floor two!” Quickly he pressed it, and the doors shut silently. Pleased he whistled out a faint tune to keep himself company, enjoying the serenity of quiet. He didn’t really enjoy the buzz that came with his screen but he could deal so long as it didn’t make him sound like HIM. Vox shivered a bit, expelling the thoughts from his head. There was barely a recollection as to why he came down to the second floor before he realized the entire floor was quiet, stock still and hunched over their computers. He entered slowly and frowned a bit, before standing up taller on the center and putting his hands on his hips.

“Hey fellas.”

The office greeted him in scattered ways, each tone displaying a bit of hesitancy in doing so, heads still kept shoved into their screens.

“What’s goin’ on… what’s happening?” His tone was cheerful but his face was speculative as he scanned the area.

“Everything cool?”

No employee spoke and chills ran down his spine. He shook his head to the side and ran a hand down his face.

“Come on guys! Was NO ONE watching the fucking door? Did no one seem to think- hey- this woman seems important, maybe Ill look up from my computer- FOR THREE SECONDS- to- '' in his rage he watched all the faces pop up like meerkats from their desks and he rapidly waved his hands down. “No no! By all means- keep working. Not like what I did fucking mattered when I was taking EXPLICIT MEASURES to keep someone here!” They all turned their heads down. And he stormed away, backing up at the end of the room, he swept a point across the room.

“All your pay is getting cut-” groans rung out from every corner of the room, some people slamming their fists on their desks or putting their head in their hands. “Fucking, lazy-ass millenials. STUPID-” He muttered, wildly gesturing as he paced the halls, turning around and flipping shit over when he couldn't find her.

“FUCK-” another trashcan went whizzing down the hallway and three armed guards appeared with a whistle. “Spread out and find the bitch. I want her BACK here by 2:45. If you dont Im having your asses expedited to Val.” The guards turned to one another, grimaces across their faces as they stood still. Vox grabbed one by the collar, standing tip-toe to get in his face. “GOOO already get out- are you listening???”

***

“Let me the fuck go! Your boss already said he didn't need me… here..” Vox stood with a stone cold expression on his face, arms crossed in annoyance, desperately trying not to just take his hand and-

“I was worried sick!” Vox squeaked out, rushing over and taking her from the guards arms, holding her limply in his grasp. He brushed hair from her face, looking over her with horrified arms. “You left even though I said not to– what if you would have gotten killed, or picked up or or- I don't know.” A gasp, he took a breath and tried to recollect himself. “Im glad youre ok-”

“Let me go you sick bastard!” She pushed against his face, wriggling around in his arms as he watched in a feigned look of surprise. He cooed fakely, shushing her and pushing her other hand away when she tried to reach up again. Her final attempt ended with him grabbing her forearm and staring her straight in the face.

“Stop, stop it, stop- look at me. Look-” He pressed his head against her forehead as she tried to pull back. “You're being belligerent, you need to stop.” The guards left them to do what they needed to as Vox ushered her by the arm over her head and into a smaller meeting room nearby.

When they entered and he locked the door he allowed her to break away, growling in fury (rightfully so). Disinterested, he watched her pull at her head before turning to him. He didn’t do anything but raise an eyebrow as she shook a finger at him, body tense. Admittedly when she shoved him he was surprised but he shoved her right back.

She seemed shocked before he stood above her.

“Do not act that way with me. I could’ve let those men do away with you instead. Would you have liked that? To be thrown out and abused at the hands of jack offs who don’t understand you?”

“You’re crazy!”

“Maybe!” He asserted, pulling her up by the shoulder and shaking her so she’d face him. “But maybe that keeps you safe, because any other person who would DARE, to push me would be strung and shot with a smile.”

A bell rung elsewhere and he turned his head in its direction.

“Sit down-“ he said, shoving her in a seat and pointing. “I’m calling lunch in, you’re going to eat and we’re going to have a lovely little meal together. Are. We. clear?”

In a snap the walls around the room transformed, changing into a cushy upper class living room pulled from the 1950s. She looked around, holding onto the plush red seat beneath her.

“This is sick.”

“Manners.” A zap was sent through the floor and up into the chair, causing her to pull her arms back and gasp in shock. “If you want lunch you’re going to have to behave. If not I’ll have to eat alone.” He tilted his head to the side. “Neither of us want that, and my faculty definitely doesn’t want that so, don’t paint a bigger red mark on your back.”

“I thought you didn’t want me.”

“Legalities remember”

“What’s with the setup then?” She retorted, gesturing to the room now.

“It’s more comfortable.” He lied, crossing one leg over another before pulling a newspaper out from his suit jacket and opening it flippantly.

She sat restlessly.

“So you’re going to pull me in and not talk to me?”

“Hmm? Im sorry doll I cant hear you from over here, you’re going to have to get closer.”

[whats-it-mean]

Hey, sorry for not putting that important detail! Can it be a normal request please?

Can I have a few hcs for Tsukasa with a long distance s/o, like Europe distance away?

I hope that that's alright with you.

Have a nice day or night!

Distanced Romantics ☆

A/N - not really headcannons bc i am not at all confident in my ability to write headcannons, so im sorry about that, but i hope you enjoy!! this was very cute to write <3

C/W - None !

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You loved Tsukasa. Really, it was hard not to, the way his cheeks went red at every compliment, the way he tried his very best to please you, the way he was the best gentleman he could be for you. He was adorable in every sense of the word, from his hair to his eyes, even to the way he carried himself with so much class. It was all so, so endearing.

And words couldn’t describe how hopelessly in love with you he was. 

Everything about you was perfect to him- you were his best prize, his most precious jewel, and this knight would do anything and everything in his power to keep it that way.

Your phone buzzed, and you found yourself grinning at the illuminated screen as it displayed Tsukasa’s contact name under your notifications. You brought the phone up next to your face, and smiled at the sound of his voice greeting you.

“Darling! How are you?” You could feel his excitement through the screen, and giggled at the pet name he’d always address you with.

“I’m good- How’s everything on your end? I hope that it hasn’t been too busy over at Yumenosaki…”

“All is good, don’t worry! The king has been a bit if a handful, as always, but we’ve been managing- but, that’s beside the point. I called you for something else.”

“What is it?” You tilted your head, playing with the strands of your hoodie as you waited.

“I managed to get my hands on some tickets to see you for the holidays.” He sounded so proud as he said that, and even without seeing it you could imagine his grin. “Sena’s going to be in your area for a modeling job, and Narukami insisted I go with to see you. The trips in about a week- Does that sound okay to you?”

You smiled, eyes sparkling as you nodded fervently despite him not being able to see you. “That’s great, Tsukasa! It’s been forever since I’ve been able to hug you…”

Butterflies started in Tsukasa’s chest as he heard your excitement, but he tried his best to ignore it, and you could hear the faint call from his side of the call urging him to return to practice.

“I’ve got to get back to practice, but I’ll text you after, okay, darling?”

“Of course- tell your unit-mates I said thank you?”

Tsukasa let out a hum of approval. “Right. I’ll see you soon, darling!”

You giggled to yourself as he hung up, smiling and kicking your feet at the prospect of a holiday visit from Tsukasa like some sort of schoolgirl. It wasn’t long until you were up and about, already making preparations for him to be able to stay a few nights with you and scribbling out a shopping list of his favorite sweets, smiling to yourself as you did so.

“This’ll be a good holiday season~”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── End.

[thefanficmonster]

One hell of a love story

Steve Brodt x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing, Mentioned Trespassing, Referenced Paranormal Investifations

Genre: FLUFF, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: What modern love story doesn't feature a bit of crime and paranormal activity?

When two posts broke the color monotony of Steve's Instagram everyone - except Dylan, of course - was rather surprised. Not so much the sudden pop of color, but rather the content of the images.

The photos being of a beachside sunset featuring a lovey-dovey couple.

What those pictures don't reveal is the long, long story behind them, behind the relationship they display. They show the progression, but not the roots....and the tiny criminal activity they include.

So, allow me to tell you the story, for the purpose of which I will take you back to five years ago. Back before Haunted Nights was officially up and running.

A solo urban explorer and a solo paranormal investigator.

Steve knew it was a bad idea going to this warehouse when he it first came to his attention. Although it was visually in an abandoned state, it was still privately owned and under surveillance. So, despite being very used to jumping the occasional gate or fence to get into places, this one specific instance was a rather clear case of trespassing waiting to happen.

And it wouldn't have been at all like Steve to keep it waiting.

With a backpack loaded with some cheap ghost hunting equipment over his shoulder, he made his way to the warehouse, a mask covering his nose and mouth. He did a great job keeping himself incognito and below the radar as he watched each and every step he took, leaves and branches cracking beneath his feet on a few inevitable instances.

He was well aware of the risk he was taking. But it was a temptation he couldn't refuse. He'd been hearing ghost stories stemming from this very place ever since he moved to the town. He just had to live one of those said stories himself to believe it.

Little did he know he'd live a whole different genre of a story.

Three floors and an underground storage unit and nothing. Nothing concrete anyway. No activity with the motion detectors, unrelated words coming in through the Ovilus and no physical activity. Whatever energy may have been stuck between those walls wasn't intelligent or just wasn't in the mood to talk. So, to prevent his trip and taken risks to be in vain, Steve resorted to taking some pictures of the place and the surrounding area.

As creepy as it looked, it was still a beautiful location to capture a few shots of with the underlying agenda of maybe possibly catching something in the photos he couldn't spot with his naked eye.

He'd eventually figured out a way to climb up to the roof which was a pretty bad idea for several reasons. For one, that roof didn't look anywhere near safe to withstand the weight of a human, not to mention he wasn't particularly sure on how he'd get down without injury but hell, he decided he'd cross that bridge when he'd get to it.

And last, and potentially most, was the danger of being spotted by the aforementioned surveillance.

To Steve's utter dismay, that last one was the one that got him in the end.

He'd taken a seat on one of the more solid looking panels to look through the footage he'd captured when he heard the unmistakable sound of car tires over leaves and gravel. All color immediately drained from his face.

Scurrying as quietly as he could up to his feet and over to the opening he'd climbed up through, he found himself forgetting all his previous concerns regarding getting down unscathed. His decade long experience going into abandoned places came in real handy when he managed to land on his feet rather steadily from such a high drop.

He was in the middle of debating whether to make a run for it or hide until the coast was clear when he heard hurried footsteps approaching, giving him no time to pick either option before a figure rounded the corner and startled the ever-loving daylights out of him.

Except, it wasn't a cop. Something he immediately picked up on from the attire - which included a face mask much like his own and a pair of fingerless gloves - and backpack.

Steve knows an urban explorer when he sees one and this girl fit all the criteria.

He was quick to press his finger up to his lips, sliding his mask under his chin to be able to mouth "Cops" to her, eliciting a nod in response.

"We need to hide." She whispers, clearly having taken in his appearance and deemed him one of her own instead a threat she should be mindful of along with the cops that just pulled up to the site.

Fleeting was no longer an option when they heard the boom of someone's voice echoing off the walls in a shout, provoking the trespassers to show themselves.

Although his newfound companion was frozen like a deer in headlights, giving him a look of terror, Steve was luckily thinking on his feet.

With barely a couple seconds to spare, he grabbed the girl's hand, hoping to God it wouldn't earn him a slap, and whispered a quick, "Let's go..." as he tilted his head in the direction of a long hallway leading to the underground unit entrance.

He gave her a second to agree, which she thankfully did with a very accentuated nod, before the two took off down the hall, cringing at the loud thumping of their footsteps.

His heart was beating against his ribcage, blood pounding in his ears. He wouldn't be this anxious over the whole ordeal has he still been alone. The weird need to protect his companion was driving him into a faster running speed and more complex ideas.

"There..." He pointed to the gated off stairwell to the lower level, completely out of breath as he carried on to explain: "Hop the gate, I'll make a distraction."

"What if they catch you?" She whispered back, her voice further muffled by the mask she was still wearing.

Clearly, the need to protect was mutual.

Out of instinct, he gave her hand a comforting squeeze, reminding himself to drop it, "They won't." With those reassuring words, they parted ways.

He lingered around almost a second too long to make sure she got over the gate ok before he booked it to a side exit, purposefully making a ton of noise, leaves crunching beneath the soles of his shoes.

Once he was certain it'd be enough to mislead the cop(s?) that had entered the building, he made a beeline for a window he'd taken notice of earlier while he was exploring the underground unit. It was just wide enough for him to squeeze through and hop down. Just in the nick of time, as well, seeing as how there was barely five seconds of time between the sound of his feet hitting the floor and the footsteps of a cop running out to where he'd made the diversion just moments prior.

Standing stiff as a statue, he listened as the cop spoke into his radio, "I scared the fuckers off." He muffled the sigh of relief that escaped his lips with the back of his hand.

He made a point of waiting to hear the car driving off the property before going to seek out the girl. Props to her - although the space wasn't particularly large, he couldn't pin point her location even after scoping out the area for the third time.

"Hey!" He whisper-yelled, still wary of raising his voice, "The coast is clear!"

He watched in amusement, a smile tugging at his lips, as a lid of one of the empty crates was lifted, the girl emerging from within.

That's when all caution was tossed out the window as the two broke out into laughter.

"Come on, let's get you out of there." Steve said, taking the lid from her and setting it on the ground before taking a hold of her hands, helping her stay balanced as she hopped her way out of the crate.

"Damn, was it hard to breathe in there." She chuckled, finally removing her mask, flashing a bright smile at Steve in the process.

Would it be an upmost cliché to say he was enamored right off the bat? Maybe, probably. But it'd definitely not be a lie. She was indeed beautiful, he was aware of it before she even took the mask of. However now, with her full face on display there was no denying it. The tension had been lifted off her shoulders, replaced by her usual lightheartedness.

He had to recalibrate himself for a moment to regain cognitive thought and remember how to function in human interactions. He successfully managed to extend his hand for a handshake, "I'm Steve, by the way."

She captured it with hers immediately, his smile impossibly brightening, "Y/N. Nice to meet you, Steve. And thanks, I owe you big time."

He shook his head, mind racing as to how to navigate the conversation without making an ass of himself, "Nah, you owe me nothing. Us urban explorers have to look out for one another."

Her eyebrows quirked up, "Ah, so my observation was right, we're in the same boat."

"Well, actually..." Steve smiled, slinging the backpack strap off his shoulder, setting it on the ground to unzip it, "I'm more of a paranormal investigator." He explained, showing Y/N the ghost hunting gadgets inside.

The look she gave him was nothing short of amazed, much to his relief, "No way! I love that! I've always been curious but never had the balls to do it. Not on my own at least." That last bit was added as more of an afterthought but it didn't fly under his radar.

"Well, if it means anything to ya, I've been told I'm great company for ghost busting." He's never been a flirt, ever. Not a successful one anyway. Well, not that he's often put himself in situations where quick wit and a few flirty remarks would come in handy. Still, even he's aware that he handled that well. He picked up what she put down.

And if her beaming smile was anything to go by, he did so well. "Aren't I glad to hear that." She too reached inside her backpack, rummaging around for a few seconds before plucking out a pen and handing it to him, "Maybe you could show me the ropes, instruct me on how to use those thingies." She pointed at his ghost hunting equipment and offering him her arm. An action that earned her a puzzled look from him, causing her to giggle sheepishly, "I have nothing to write on, the arm will have to do. That is if you wanna give me your contact info, of course. No pressure."

All hesitation evaporated as soon as it had plagued her mind when, with the goofiest smile, Steve accepted the offered arm and jotted down his phone number.

"Thank you." She smiled, cheeks flushed.

"No, no. You'll thank me only after I've made a ghost hunter out of you." He mused back, cranking his charm up to eleven and hoping for the best.

"I'll take those words to heart."

"And I'm giving them to you as a promise."

With said that and a professional handshake to officialize it, the two made a deal. A deal that would kickstart a series of wild explorations, fun - and some slightly terrifying - memories, stories they'll be retelling their whole lives. And, of course, a company.

A company known as Haunted Nights.

That intel makes the caption under the aforementioned posts much clearer.

"It's my pleasure to introduce you to the cofounder of Haunted Nights, who also happens to be my fiancée @y/n_hn"

To top it all off, we have Dylan's comment right underneath.

@snevets_nalyd: I can't believe she said yes @y/n_hn blink twice if you need help

[unitleada]

❝ Every technology money can possibly afford and you're telling me that no one is able to get a better fix on that-that thing out there! We're right in the heart of London for gods sake! ❞ Hands placed on her hips, casting a nod towards the half a dozen screens mounted to the wall before her. All six displayed a similar image, albeit from different vantage points, the same grainy, CCTV footage of a Cherry Blossom tree peering out at her, smack bang! in the middle of a suburban street.

One could be forgiven for assuming it was some sort of street art, or political demonstration. Under any other circumstances she might've assumed as much....had UNIT not received intel of government lines being tied up left right and centre, tens of eyewitnesses phoning in, swearing that they had seen that tree falling to earth! Barely an hour later and they had mobilised, she and a small elite team in an unmarked van, parked as close to the site as possible, the entire road cautioned off and under armed watch. She wasn't about to go taking chances.Certainly not in such a densely populated area.

Biting down on the inside of her cheek, Kate mulled over her options, knowing very well that there was really only one way to get the best view of this thing.. ——And then, as if it was some preordained sign from above, a distinct whirring sound echoed over the comms. There was no mistaking it. She knew the TARDIS when she heard it.

In the next moment, her UNIT issued firearm was in one hand, the safety switch disengaged. Her other hand reached for the door handle. Osgood's protests rung in deaf ears, "Ma'am I really think we should wait for more intel. How can it even be him, I mean, it isn't usually .... " ❝ a police box, I know. ❞ And yet, how could it be anyone else? ❝ You are all to stay put, awaiting further orders until I have a clear visual, is that understood? ❞

She could sense the concern, but, faithful as ever, a chorus of "yes ma'am!" followed her out of the doors. A brief nod to the soldiers standing guard and they allowed her past, finding herself standing mere inches from the tree now. She could hear it clearly out here, without the static of the comms. If this was the Doctor's TARDIS, then the sound was slightly different to what she remembered. Although she supposed, that could be another factor of the chameleon circuit. Still not a very good disguise, she noted. If it was him. Well. There was only one way to know for sure. Kate took a deep breath, reached out with her free hand, and rapped her knuckles sharply upon the tree's trunk, mindful of how foolish she must look in this moment.

@chloevlinder / accepting

[olet-lucernam]

A Hollow Promise [22] chapter v, part iii

main tags : loki x original character, post-avengers 2012, canon divergence - post-thor: the dark world, canon-typical violence, mentions of torture

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summary: In the aftermath of the Battle of New York, the Avengers need a few days to build a transport device for the Tesseract. With the Helicarrier damaged and surveillance offline, SHIELD sends an asset to guard Loki in the interim: a young woman who sees the truth in all things, and cannot lie.

Even long presumed dead, her memories lost to her, Loki would know her anywhere.

And this changes things.

Some things last beyond infinity. And the universe is in love with chaos.

(Loki was never looking for redemption. It came as an unexpected side-effect.)

-

chapter summary : despite his chains, loki begins gathering his pieces on the board. astrid works on escaping her own confines, and mitigating the damage of disasters to come.

recommended listening : venus in gemini, dezi

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[PREVIOUS] | [MASTERLIST] | [NEXT]

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“So. What do you think?”

The question rang slightly in the room, ricocheting against metal plates and graphite-grey walls.

Arms folded, facing out into the open floor, Fury allowed the slight turn of his head and expectant silence to serve as invitation.

After a moment, Alethia- sleekly attired for the autumn chill like a native Manhattanite, in black skinny jeans, mid-heeled ankle boots, and fine-knit turtleneck sweater of berry wool- pushed herself off the wall, stepping forward.

She and Romanoff had been on the roof before Fury called them into the VERITAS testing area, drinking coffee in the cold and soundscape of noise above the city. Alethia had stripped the long wool coat she had been wearing when she arrived inside, draping it over one of the chairs, but Romanoff was still wearing her camel leather jacket, curls soft and mouth faintly pursed, eyes fixed on Alethia’s back.

Glancing over the two of them, Fury could easily understand why Romanoff had identified with her. The resemblance between their circumstances was self-evident, but the subtler physical similarities were in the details; it was written small, in the simple facts of their heights, their builds, the way they moved- a confident ease with a slight tension underneath, like a dancer waiting to fall into the right steps.

They matched nicely against each other. Fury could envisage sending them out into the field together, on intelligence retrieval and social reconnaissance- Romanoff’s ability to assess and assimilate, and Alethia’s eye for truth and steel nerves, would make for an invaluable combination.

Fury’s eye flicked back to Romanoff where she remained in place, exuding a faint anxiety like the vapours from paint thinner.

He knew that Romanoff wasn’t unaware of her bias. But neither did that awareness make her immune to it.

Rather than letting it become a liability, Fury had warped it into an advantage; if Alethia saw the truth in all things, it was better to offer her a favourable truth, in the form of a handler who wanted her recruitment to be successful for reasons beyond fulfilment of mission parameters.

Alethia halted- coffee cup still in hand, its heat-sleeve stamped with SHIELD’s eagle insignia- before the centrepiece of the room, head tilted consideringly, the sheen of her curls shifting across her shoulders.

The wide chair was set on a high swivel, aggressively angular, constructed from darkly brushed titanium, strict right-angles, and heat-sensitive fabric. A biometric plate was affixed into the centre spine, metal cuffs locking at the armrests, leashed with black electrical cables; a unit reminiscent of a cranial halo capped the structure, winged forward to encase the temples of its occupant. Immediately behind where Alethia stood was a large, simple control centre, inset with a touchscreen display.

“The fruits of your labour.” Fury announced with a wry twist of aplomb. “Thought you might like to see it. Ninety-six variables in total, monitored and analysed by a unique algorithm, based on and verified in efficacy by your contributions. Say hello to the alpha version of VERITAS- the Verification Enhancement for Response Input Technological Analysis System.”

“Stars. If that acronym were any more tortured, the Geneva Conventions would have something to say about it,” Alethia quipped, almost more to herself than the room.

“It was the initial code name for the project,” Fury replied with the intonation of a shrug, unfolding his arms and stepping forwards, the leather drape of his overcoat shifting with the motion. “We’ve got a few like that. But, if you feel that strongly about it- give it a new name. The DNA of it is mostly yours.”

People tended to be more reluctant to destroy or abandon that which they felt personally invested in, Fury found.

Alethia gave a quiet hum from the back of her throat, and lifted a free hand to skim the closest cuff of the chair.

“You think so.”

“It wouldn’t have been possible without your input,” Fury admitted, “not on this time scale. Maybe not even in this generation-”

“It was your design, Nicholas. So- congratulations,” she lifted her voice to call out. “It is a highly sophisticated piece of scrap.”

She rapped a fingertip against the cuff, two neat taps.

“I hope that you’re satisfied.”

Fury took a long moment to study her.

In most cases, he would avoid rising to the bait. Not unlike another troublesome asset that came to mind, Alethia had an element of narcissism to her character- and worse, just cause for it; like Stark, she acted like she knew more than anyone else in the room because, most often than not, she did. Fury’s general policy was that they did not feed egos, particularly those attached to individuals that liked to provoke. Indulging it was a short-term solution that would result in long-term headaches.

Alethia was an exception. Unlike other consultants, they had little information to use as leverage, her available history alarmingly sparse- something that happened approximately never, given SHIELD’s not inconsiderable reach and resources. And as Alethia had deduced with irritating accuracy during their negotiations, the threat that had brokered her cooperation- to flag her with every agency that SHIELD had backchannels with, threatening her meticulously cultivated anonymity- was a card that could only be played once.

Romanoff’s evaluation had found that the most effective strategy was to play her game. Alethia would speak in circuitous riddles and rhetoric, but the more you paid attention to her words, the more you engaged, the more threads she would cast out to watch you follow, chasing towards the truth that she was hinting at.

It was a power play- but one that Fury could tolerate. The rules were consistent, for the most part, and Alethia played fair.

“That the most advanced lie detector system in the world,” he answered patiently.

“Nicholas, you couldn’t even use me properly.” Smoothly, she pivoted to face Fury, unimpressed and unusually direct. “This machine can’t talk back when you’re asking the wrong questions. If not scrap- it is a monument to irony.”

“With regards to what?”

Alethia pushed off the chair, shoulder set, a strange pressure gathering in the air.

“SHIELD is a monster. You might be the hand feeding it, but you are not the one holding the leash.”

She flicked her head back towards the gleaming chair.

“Call it Cassandra.”

With that parting shot, Alethia cut a path out of the door.

Romanoff shifted her weight, as though moving to follow her- but Fury halted her with an open palm and quelling look.

Six minutes later, Fury emerged onto the rooftop.

The Base- codenamed in recognition of its legacy as the original headquarters of SHIELD, after it was established on the foundations laid by the SSR- would have been an imposing building in any other city. Within the cloistered, oversaturated streets of Midtown, however, the broad tower block of dark stone and glass panes blended in amongst the billboard-plated skyscrapers and storefronts that lined the avenues, glossed over like any other corporate office building on the island. At over a dozen storeys tall, the roof was far enough above street level that the coordinated chaos melded together into a rush of tires on asphalt and idling engines and a miasma of passing chatter, punctuated by the distant blare of car horns, sirens, and rattle of construction work- a cocktail of sensory overload, diluted down to a half-ratio. The rubble of the Incident had been cleared, its smoking wounds cleaned and under repair, returning the great aortic chambers of the city to full capacity.

Alethia stood near the edge of the roof, gazing down at the traffic below, vanilla hair and underdressed torso caught in a cross-breeze. As the wind twisted around her, Fury thought he caught a snatch of a high-contrast melody- something that rang of Rodgers and Hammerstein, and the golden age of Broadway showtunes and classic jazz standards.

“For someone who was so determined to keep her mouth shut when you got here, you’ve sure got a lot to say,” Fury interrupted, projecting his voice above the rush of traffic and whip of the winds, strolling up behind her.

“For someone who demands answers at every opportunity, you’re not very willing to listen,” Alethia retorted swiftly, knocking back the dregs in her cup and setting it on the raised edge of the roof. From the drop of liquid left on the plastic rim, it seemed that Romanoff was continuing to keep her sweet with a supply of matcha lattes.

“I’m listening now.”

“Ah, right. Like you were with the Tesseract?”

Fury’s visible eye narrowed.

“What did you mean by that jab? About monsters and leashes.”

Alethia drew her bottom lip between her teeth, glowering, eyes burning like a golden-hour sun behind storm clouds.

Eventually, she filtered out a shallow sigh, her expression cooling.

“There is a principle,” she began slowly, dark lashes lowered as she watched the traffic below, “in regards to statecraft, that you cannot design a seat of power solely with regards to what will allow one individual to do good- but must also consider what will prevent another from accomplishing evil, if they were to acquire the same position.”

Alethia looked directly at him, sombre in a way that she only was once she had given up any attempt to fight or undermine.

“I would strongly urge you to consider what evil could accomplish in your position, Nicholas.”

“Implying that you don’t think I’m evil,” Fury observed, with some intrigue.

It was an unexpected, and interesting concession; Alethia had made no secret that she held SHIELD wholly in contempt, and Fury by extension as the one at its helm.

“I think that you’re a manipulative, opportunistic bastard with few scruples and broadly altruistic intentions, which makes you very good at your job,” Alethia answered, glancing away with a dismissive air. “I also think that you’re arrogant enough to think that you’re paranoid enough, and about the right things, rather than what fits your worldview and skillset.”

Fury absorbed on her appraisal. He had received less scathing evaluations, but he found himself oddly unoffended by it.

“So what should I be paranoid about?”

She looked to him with a slow blink, her expression hard, more resolute than angry. Her irises seemed deeper than the usual hazel, verging upon amber, despite the flat light of the overcast midday skies.

“I told you. You are not holding the leash.”

The meaning clicked.

Fury’s initial, instinctive reaction was outright scepticism.

SHIELD was strictly compartmentalised for a reason. Trust was a commodity both coveted and scorned in the industry, and any system worth its salt in resilience did not merely trust in the integrity of its participants, but enforced it. SHIELD was no different. Its structure split its various branches and operations in such a way that its design could trap and isolate the first hairline-fracture roots of subversion, before they could sink deep enough to alter the fabric of the organisation, or its directives.

The structure of the organisation was not of Fury’s making, but it was one that he had maintained and improved upon since he had been appointed as director, and it worked. A certain level of grime was to be tolerated- in an organisation like SHIELD, entrenched as its operations were within the global network espionage, geopolitics, and commerce, both legal and black market, there was no such thing as clean hands, and even less so of a clean house. It would be the height of naivety and idealism to believe otherwise. But Fury would have detected the swells of a schism forming, of acceptable margins for disagreement becoming an unacceptable division. The sharks may circle, and there would always be blood in the water, but they would never get close enough for a bite.

SHIELD’s identity, and its purpose, was as secure as they had been when Peggy Carter and Howard Stark had founded it.

Common sense dictated that he should verbalise none of this to Alethia.

“So what do you recommend? Tell me what I should be looking at.” Fury began consciously convincing himself into a counter position that he could justify- that there was more to gain than to lose in hearing her, that it was eminently for Alethia to have noticed a risk that they had failed to assess.

Truth was the only shield that held against Alethia. If he didn’t believe it, then neither would she.

The irked tightening of her eyebrow was not encouraging.

“I know you’re humouring me, Nicholas, but let’s ignore the subpar charade otherwise for now.” Alethia shifted into resigned slant, arms folding against the brisk air. “Alright. First. You need a stricter delineation between personnel files, and dossiers on civilians and associates. Especially in regards to storage and access permissions. The keys to unlock one door should not work on another. It’s a security risk, and more than a little alarming that I have to bring it up. Second- stop kidnapping people. Human rights and due process aside, it’s a good way to build up ill will with the very people you may need help from in the near future. Less vinegar, more honey.”

“They are people of interest-”

“Stop kidnapping them.”

“So you’re telling us to ignore the risks-”

“I am telling you that the secret is out,” Alethia interrupted sharply, “and that the bell can’t be unrung. So- exploit it. Instead of trying to wrench the curve backwards, stay ahead of it. Advise the appropriate legislative bodies. Drive the drafting of fair laws to cover the hypotheticals that have become realities- just like with every other advancement in history. Provide evidence for public trials. Give people due process if and when they violate the law, and stop kidnapping people on the basis that they might, possibly, at some point, become a threat. Offer them the resources to help them control their abilities, instead of the choice between constant intrusive surveillance, working for you, or getting disappeared to a facility that doesn’t legally exist.” She paused, with all the ominous inertness of an active hotplate. “And get some actual oversight.”

“This may be hard for you to believe, but we have oversight.” Fury replied, wondering exactly how inept she was under the impression SHIELD was.

“Your oversight is faceless, tried to nuke Manhattan, and has yet to face any questions in regards to it.” She said flatly, staring at Fury with a particularly blank contempt. “Get better oversight.”

Regrettably, she had a point.

Although, Fury was slightly more concerned with where and how, exactly, Alethia had acquired that information.

“I am well aware of their shortcomings,” Fury answered evenly, “and, frankly, I’m a little insulted by the implication to the contrary.”

“Nicholas,” Alethia sighed, part impatience and part resignation, seething, “I don’t like you. But that does not make me intellectually dishonest. There is a reason why I am talking, despite the fact that you are proving incapable of listening. I know that you know. And I am aware that you are not unreasonable. Or- entirely incompetent.”

Fury ignored the qualifier. It was impressive that she had held out this long without a thinly veiled insult.

“But you don’t trust me.”

Alethia smiled slightly, in a way that declared I would have to be an idiot.

She wasn’t entirely wrong.

“You and yours are not answerable to the public,” she said simply, combing her hair out of her eyes as the wind picked up and tossed it into disarray. “And the Avengers have to be, if the project is going to be sustainable. You had a good idea, but- SHIELD is not the right organisation to execute it. It is not what you’re good at, or suited for.”

“Protecting the world from threats that it’s not ready for?”

“By sealing truth in the well. Yours is a war of cloak and dagger- a necessary one,” Alethia added with a pointed glance in Fury’s direction, as though daring him to accuse her of being unfair, “and you’re good at it. But you cannot protect the public by keeping them ignorant ad infinitum. And treating people as though they’re helpless children won’t help them develop critical thinking skills. It will just keep them- reactive, and uninformed, when the situation forces their awareness. This is not a terrorist cell with a glowing cube that defies the established laws of thermodynamics. This is an entire world that has been emerging for decades, and is past being kept a secret.”

Fury felt his chest expand with a deep, slow breath, his gun holster tightening briefly, leashing in his thoughts.

“So. Stronger protections for our data, more outreach to enhanced individuals, focus on laws, improvement of oversight.” Fury concluded. “Those are your recommendations?”

“It’s not a panacea,” Alethia said, lifting one shoulder, “it’s a safety net.”

“It’s a pretty reasonable report.”

“I’ve learned to lower my expectations.” She lifted her face to the open air, soaking in a sudden break of sunshine from between the clouds, warming her colours and sharpening the contrast between her golden complexion and fair hair. “Nothing that I mentioned should offend your sensibilities overmuch. Although, I notice that you omitted the no kidnapping clause.”

Not for the first time, Fury resented that Alethia was so determined to distrust SHIELD. In some respects, she reminded him of Maria Hill, driven and intelligent and unapologetically argumentative, first to point to flaws that no one else would mention due to adherence to chain of command.

The crucial difference was that Hill was capable of doing what she was told.

“I never thanked you,” Fury decided to say, eventually. “For guarding Loki."

It seemed gracious to acknowledge it, as they neared the end of Project VERITAS.

“It’s unnecessary to,” Alethia stated tonelessly. “You would have forced the issue if I had refused, and I had my reasons to say yes.”

“Such as?”

Alethia lowered her gaze, to cast it out over the city, serenely blank.

“Some that you wouldn’t understand. Others that- you probably wouldn’t credit.”

“Well, I might surprise you,” Fury murmured, before shrugging. “That was a pretty good pitch, by the way.”

“Oh- thank you,” Alethia said, the lightness of her cadence surprisingly devoid of sarcasm. “I spent a considerable amount of time refining it. Including editing out a point about SHIELD’s double standards, hypocrisy, and lack of self-awareness over the concept of unbridled, unknown power in the hands of obscure organisations with dubious motives. I thought it might be- unproductive?”

“Smart call,” Fury replied dryly.

Alethia’s mouth flicked into a smirk, before fading into something more solemn.

“But this doesn’t guarantee that you will take my advice, does it?”

Damn right. A good argument makes you a good orator, not a good strategist.

“You knew it probably wouldn’t. So why make the case?”

This time, Alethia laughed outright, sudden and disorientating as a sun-shower.

“Sometimes,” she said through a luminous smile, “I really just want to walk away, and let all of you die.”

But she wouldn’t.

That much had been proven, by the warnings she issued about the Tesseract, by the fact that she had taken up watch over Loki despite the considerable personal risk, by the arrogance-clad counsel that she offered an organisation that she openly abhorred.

Fury let his mouth quirk.

This, he could be satisfied with. Even if SHIELD had not acquired Alethia’s loyalty, her cooperation was no longer a complete impossibility.

And Fury was reluctant to slam any door shut forever. So long as it was left ajar, he could allow the matter to rest as success enough.

-

[PREVIOUS] | [MASTERLIST] | [NEXT]

[mechwarrior-rose]

HOWLING VALLEY VINTON CLAN HOMEWORLDS 8 NOVEMBER 3047

The night sky of Vinton's northern continent was exceptionally clear. Stars were not only visible, but appeared to fill the heavens like iridescent grains of sand. Rose's Shadow Cat was nestled into a crack in the canyon's sloped wall, its upper body nosed out just enough to let her sensors scan the area. And enough to give her an incredible view.

MechWarrior Rose had never seen a sky like this. She was used to the nearly opaque clouds of Bearclaw, where she had spent her whole life before this tour of duty began. Even on Paxon, Rose had only seen pink daytime skies. The Ghost Bear 68th Striker Cluster had been engaged in training exercises prior to their departure for Vinton; Rose had spent nights on Paxon in the barracks or carousing with her starmates in the covered promenade in Thermopolis.

A soft blip in her ear and a faint point on her tactical display alerted Rose that her active probe was picking up a fusion engine beginning its warm-up cycle. She activated her radio to send a tightbeamed message to her Star's commanding officer, Star Captain Stunner Tseng, in his Mad Dog tucked away in another niche just a few dozen meters up the canyon. "Star Captain, the Smoke Jaguars are readying to move. I see one, now two units firing up."

"Affirmative." Tseng offered no further acknowledgment. He had always been taciturn in the field. Rose knew that he was now sending a low-power confirmation signal to Bravo Striker Star. Star Commander Noelle would meet the Jaguars on the field, but well ahead of the Jaguars' anticipated site for the conflict, giving the second-line 'Mechs of Bravo Striker the advantage. Once the Jaguars' second star began nearing the fight, Alpha Ranger Star would power up, sweep up the canyon to a washout that granted access to the ridgeline road, and strike the Jaguars from the rear.

In the night sky, a beacon was suddenly lit. Was it a DropShip's engines? No, it was unmoving. Rose realized it was the Theta Phyxidis nova beginning its flare period. An eager merchant on Paxon had told her about the event, only visible every seventeen years or so, which was celebrated locally with a week-long festival. At the time, Rose had dismissed it as lower-caste foolishness. Now, alone in her powered-down cockpit, she could see how one might get caught up in the romanticism of it. It would be even more brilliant on Paxon than on the more distant Vinton.

The Jaguar Star had fully powered up. It took several moments for her probe to sort out their models and configurations, cycling through multiple possibilities before settling on a final determination: Lynx C, Stormcrow A, Nova B, Griffin IIC, and Ebon Jaguar Prime. The 'Mechs made good speed up the ridgeline road, approaching Alpha Ranger's hiding spot none the wiser. Rose sent the data to Tseng and waited for the second Star of 'Mechs to appear on her display, but the screen continued to show no further units. Only when the Jaguar Star passed directly overhead did Rose understand: the second Star was a full Star of Elementals, each Point hitching a ride on a 'Mech. That had been what had briefly confused her sensors.

"Star Captain, every one of those 'Mechs is loaded with Elementals," she tightbeamed. "Bravo Striker will be overwhelmed while they wait for us to arrive."

Tseng's reply was immediate. "Just the data, Warrior; leave the tactical analysis to your commanders."

"Aff, Star Captain."

"But I agree with your assessment." Tseng switched to the regular radio on the Star's frequency. "Alpha Ranger, we are moving early. Form up on me. We will intercept the Jaguars on the ridge. Bravo Striker will reinforce us. Sending tactical data now."

Rose recognized her cue and instructed her tactical computer to share its information with the rest of the Star. Then she engaged the engine power-up sequence and watched her HUD cycle go through its boot cycle.

Tseng's Mad Dog finished coming to full power at the same time as Rose's Shadow Cat. She stepped into place beside him and a little back, echelon right formation. Aster's Crossbow A, Deman's Conjurer, and Susan's Ice Ferret B followed suit. Rose loved the Shadow Cat's low-slung lope, its hunter's stride, weapons high and ready. She loved seeing her starmates to either side, loved the beauty of the formation before battle broke its measured lines.

The engines' signals had caught the Jaguars' attention. They were beginning to turn about to face Alpha Striker. Tseng's voice crackled through the radio. "Susan, Aster, make for that washout. I will be right behind you. Rose, Deman, bring up the rear and keep an eye on those Elementals. If they begin hopping off their rides, jump to the ridge and hold them in place as best you can. Let us keep their attention until Bravo Striker arrives."

"Aff, Star Captain," Rose said in chorus with her starmates.

Susan spoke up. "I wager the next round of drinks that I will take two points by myself before Bravo Star gets here."

"Keep it down, cubs," Tseng said, affably.

Rose settled her fingers on her triggers and grinned in anticipation.

++++++++++

The Shadow Cat wasn't heavy enough to completely crush the final Elemental warrior under its foot. Two squeezes of the laser interlock finished the job. HarJel poured in vain over the empty space where the warrior's upper torso had been. Sparks fell from a short in the Cat's active probe, showering through its rent cowling to sizzle in the black mess below.

Deman's Conjurer lay peeled open, a victim of the powered infantry's quick work; four Elemental corpses lay in the wreckage of the second-line 'Mech. Though given just how tough Elemental warriors were, perhaps dismissing them as dead was a foolish conclusion. Deman himself had been dragged out of his cockpit and torn apart. Rose didn't let herself think about it. File it as an honorable death and move on.

Next target. The Nova and Griffin IIC had leaped down into the canyon and were harassing Tseng. As was expected from combined-arms combat (and from Jaguars in general), zellbrigen had been a formality that had been quietly and hastily ushered off the field. Both 'Mechs peppered the Mad Dog with fire, trying to keep Tseng pincered between them. But he was wily and knew how to use the terrain to his advantage.

A shriek of anger snapped Rose's attention to the remainder of her Star. The Stormcrow and Ebon Jaguar were both focusing their fire on Aster's Crossbow; it was already missing both arms. Susan loped her Ice Ferret into the fray, SRMs firing as fast as they would cycle, blind to the enemy Lynx closing on her flank.

Tseng could handle himself. Aster and Susan were less seasoned and had fallen into a trap. Not that I am any more battle-hardened than they, Rose thought. They needed Rose's help more than her commander did.

Rose pushed her Shadow Cat to flanking speed and ran for the fracas. She twisted slightly, alpha striking into the Lynx's already damaged right torso without slowing her pace. The superstructure of the entire torso-hip assembly melted away, and the engine flared before engaging emergency shutdown, crumpling the 'Mech into an immobile pile of limbs on the ground. She kept running, turning now to fire another Gauss slug into the Stormcrow, crushing its LRM launcher.

Rose snapped her radio to wide-band. "Pilot of the Ebon Jaguar, I am Warrior Rose of Clan Ghost Bear, and I challenge you to single combat."

All firing stopped. The Ebon Jaguar twisted to face Rose, moving like a living thing. They're good, whoever they are, Rose thought.

"Very well, brave little bear cub," the pilot replied. The Stormcrow began stepping back. After a moment's hesitation, Aster limped her Crossbow to the side, and Susan followed suit. Not quite a Circle of Equals, but good enough.

Rose opened the Shadow Cat's throttle and took off running on a slanted approach vector. The Ebon Jaguar let off a full salvo. An autocannon slug caught her 'Mech's left shoulder, damaging the actuator. Laser fire stitched up one leg, and the Gauss round slammed into the other, but the missiles went wide. Rose fired her lasers, barely aiming; she was counting seconds and tracking the enemy pilot's own tracking of Rose. The torso stayed locked onto Rose's approach, but the arms were a little slower in following. That meant the pilot was focusing on obtaining a missile lock over aiming their direct-fire weapons. Or so Rose was betting. Her life was the ante for that wager.

...two, one, now! The moment Rose figured the heavy weapons had cycled on the Ebon Jaguar, she dug in with one leg, pushed off to the side, punched her jump jets, and streaked into the air on a plume of blue plasma. Her juke worked, and ammunition flew fruitlessly beneath her. She wasn't entirely lucky; half the flight of LRMs and both SRMs connected with her legs as she flew, stripping the remainder of the armor and damaging a foot actuator. Rose's landing was rough, but she wrenched herself upright through sheer will. There was the Ebon Jaguar's untouched rear armor, begging to be attended.

The Gauss round flew first, tearing into the Ebon Jaguar's left torso and setting off the LRM ammunition stored within. The lasers went into the center torso and scored deep gouges in the 'Mech's engine shielding. The enemy pilot tried to turn their right side to face Rose and bring their own Gauss rifle to bear, but the Shadow Cat was inside the rifle's minimum range. Rose easily slid under the shot and went back to work on the enemy 'Mech's exposed rear. Two more pulls of the laser interlock trigger, and the Ebon Jaguar went down.

Riding high on adrenaline, Rose turned to face the Stormcrow. As she activated her mic to issue another challenge, however, another voice came through on the radio. "Bravo Striker is here, Star Captain. Ready to receive target assignations."

Sure enough, there was Bravo Star coming down the ridgeline road, pristine and looking to raise hell. The Stormcrow thought better of taking on seven 'Mechs at once and signaled the power-down of its weapons.

After a few moments, Star Captain Tseng came through on the radio. "Bravo Striker, the enemy has surrendered. The Elemental manufacturing facility is ours." He was out of breath, and static interference from what was likely a damaged engine threatened to overwhelm his radio, but he was still alive.

The lead 'Mech of Bravo Star, a Rifleman IIC, stepped forward to survey the field. Star Commander Noelle let out a low whistle. "You have left nothing for us, Alpha Ranger. What are we supposed to do here? Take potshots at birds?"

Rose finally relaxed her grip on her sticks and let herself slump in her command couch. "You could always indulge in a little stargazing, Star Commander," she said. "Theta Phyxidis is lovely tonight."

[the-clawtake]

“Clawtake Actual calling Kinship Control. I repeat Clawtake Actual calling Kinship Control, over.” Jehan released the transmit toggle on his comm, and scanned the terrain ahead of him.

He was, much to his dismay, not at the head of the convoy, the damage his Kodiak had taken relegating him to a position further back, just ahead of the heavy salvage trailer. It bore the wreck of a Dire Wolf andhad been hitched to the pair of captured Blakist LRM Carriers, the bulk of their crews riding on the trailer alongside the crippled Assault.

They were shivering in the cold wind, despite the heavy coats that had been found for them, although they were luckier than the drivers. Those poor fellows were sitting in the fighting vehicles cramped compartments, made even more cramped by the unarmoured Elementals riding shotgun with them, to prevent any trouble. Another Elemental was riding the trailer to keep watch on the prisoners, while their officer, Point Commander Eirik, manned the captured Dragon Fire, and the final member of their point had the crippled Fafnir, with both ‘mechs trudging along carefully behind the trailer.

Ahead of Jehan ranged the rest of the Battle Star, while Rauda brought up the rear with her Mad Dog and the two Stormcrows. The rest of the Clawtake, the remants of the Fire and Striker Stars ranged along the sides.

“Clawtake Actual, Kinship Control, we read you, over.” the incoming transmission startled him out of his reverie and it took him a moment to hit transmit

“Kinship, we are approaching on the south road. Count Fourteen battlemechs, two vehicles and a salvaged trailer, ETA...” He paused as he checked his speed, and the map on his display, and ran some quick calculations in his head. “ETA One-Zero Mikes. Road distance roughly four clicks, over.”

“Confirmed Clawtake. Have you any requirements, over?”

“Aff, Kinship. We will require a prisoner control team and technical support. We have one injured prisoner and most of our pilots could do with a once-over by the medical teams, over.”

“Confirmed, Clawtake. See you soon, Over.” With that, the comms went silent, and Jehan settled back to focus on movement. The missing left arm, from the elbow down, was throwing off the balance of his Kodiak, and while it was a minor inconvenience it did mean he had to pay slightly more attention to his movements.

Soon enough, the lights of Kinship came into view, shining against the sky.

As he approached the perimeter, his comm crackled again. An SLDF Lieutenant with a pleasant husky voice introduced herself as being assigned to Kinship Traffic, and guided him through the hustle and bustle of the base, and his unit with him.

Under her careful direction, Arrangements were made for the dispositions of the prisoner. A custody team (with medical staff, for the Nightshade pilot) met the recovery trailer at the salvage zone, and took the captured Blakists off to the detention area. Two of them stayed with the Elementals as they escorted the two LRM Carriers to their assigned parking area, and then directed them to their assigned quarters for their stay.

While that was being dealt with, she directed those Warriors who’s Battlemechs required simple rearmament and some armour reinforcement to one set of ‘Mech gantries. Here technicians were waiting to see to their requirements and then get their ‘Mechs moved to a mustering ground as soon as possible, to make room for the next such Pilots.

Those Battlemechs that needed more involved repairs – such as his own Kodiak – were directed to a second set of gantries where they could remain until the more difficult and time-consuming tasks were completed. As Jehan carefully brought the huge Assault Mech into place, and began the shutdown procedure, she wished him an uneventful stay at Kinship and signed off.

[basicallyblank]

Paris Olympics MD4; France vs Brazil Quarter final

Quarter finals of the Olympics, Brazil, a fairly young team that have a lot of fight. They're an attacking team that look for the counter attack and focus on wingplay. They played a 4-4-2 formation today, as they have in every game apart from against Japan. They have never beaten France.

France are the hosts of the tournament, They've ever quite managed to get over the line in tournaments, but they have one of the best attacking lines in the world and can build up play very quickly. They like to play attacking flowing football and like to press.

France started off very quick, as they always like to do, they always look to start strong to display their dominance early on. Brazil showed off their physicality early, trying to win those battles in midfield.

Brazil's players were making good runs forward down the wings, they love getting their fullbacks forward as support. Gabi Nunes showed some excellent skill on the wings, dribbled passed her player and puts a good cross in, Brazil start to look more confident in attack, and aren't afraid to put a tackle in.

France get awarded the penalty in the 12th minute, Cascerino was brought down in the box after a challenge from Tarciane, too much contact and Cascerino knows that if she goes down she wins a pen. Her pace was too much for Tarciane and Rafaelle and they were left scrambling.

Karchaoui steps up to take, she's left waiting for 4 minutes whilst the ref sorts everyone out, you can see her routinely taking deep breaths throughout to reassure herself but her penalty ends up being saved.

France would be looking even more to get forward now, trying to turn the momentum of the game in their favour, they start building out from the back, their usual style.

Both teams rely heavily on players coming down the wings and being able to shoot crosses into the box, Brazil players attemping to dribble their way into the box but unable to beat Renard.

France were easily getting bodies forward in attack whereas Brazil were struggling to get bodies back to defend, France progress up the pitch as a unit and make sure they always have options available, they were able to cut Brazil open a few times in the first half but nothing ever came as a result.

Brazil defenders doubling up on French attackers, I imagine a big defensive point was to mak sure they have no room to cross, this is an area France ose the biggest threat, Baltimore was ruthless, always looking for that inch of space to try get the cross off, France always have options in the box and their players are quite good on scoring headers.

Both teams were wasteful on set pieces today, France had more clear chances off freekicks but failed to make anything happen, and corners for both teams were easily headed away.

Brazil constantly trying to get France on the counter attack, quickly turning and driving up the field, trying to catch them out and get attacking players up the pitch. France lost majority of aerial duels today, long balls just weren't coming right and Brazilian players are fantastic in the air, France cheaply gave away posession a few times.

Both teams were eager to get ahead before half time, France have scored early on in all of their previous games in the tournament, they haven't scored a goal after the 49th minute.

SECOND HALF

Brazil started the second half on the attacking foot, they will be looking to assert themselves more, it took them too long in the first half and didn't really generate that many chances, they have no shots on target and struggled to get out of their half due to the pressure France was applying.

France hadn't been attacking centrally often, but it was a route they started going down in the second half, when they had done it previously, they cut Brazil open, but just struggle in the final third. Brazil will be looking to try something new in attack, they just can't beat Frances defence.

In the 54th minute, after making a last ditch tackle, Rafaelle has to be stretchered off due to injury. She's a massive loss for Brazil, she's a brick wall in defence and is also a target for corners. She dealt with everything that came her way and has a good partnership with Tarciane.

France's defence starts getting sloppy, a mistake from Renard gifts Brazil a golden opportunity, Polinho just drags it wide and is unable to find the right angle.

On the other side of the pitch, French attack is attempting to inject some pace, Brazillian defenders not being given much time on the ball, having to think fast as there's always an opposition player over their shoulder.

France quickly trying to create something, building up from the back and using Cascerino's pace to drive towards the box, Brazil try to slow the game down, gaining back possession and passing the ball around, calming themselves on the ball. France know that if they aply the right amout of pressure, Brazil will crack, their attacking players are ready to fire from all angles.

It all goes wrong very quickly for France, a huge defensive mistake in the 82nd minute, a misplaces pass that was going nowhere, Polinho comes off the back of De Almeida's shoulder and easily slots it in the back of the net, Brazils first shot on target.

France are exerting themselves trying to get a goal, Brazil will be happy to overload on defence and see the game out. It starts getting sloppy and physical from both teams, France make silly mistakes as they're playing frantic, a mistake from Picaud almost see Brazil capitalize again.

In the final minutes of the game, it becoes obvious France let their emotions overpower them, they made foolish mistakes, wasted set pieces and just weren't able to get the upper hand. It's the same tale as it's always been for te French, a great team that just can't get themselves over the line, you start to wonder when it will eventually happen for them. For now, World Champion's Spain await Brazil in the Semi Final.

[razorroy]

Ignorant. Selfish. Irresponsible.

Three words can summarize Saturday afternoon's shocking and unexplainable actions: Ignorant. Selfish. Irresponsible.

The attempted assassination of former president Donald Trump was ignorant. If you want your voice to be heard: #Vote #SpeakOut  but do so in a respectful way. Allowing others to respond and also be heard. Listen. We live in a democracy. Have you forgotten this America?

Saturday afternoon also showed an act of selfishness. You don't decide to take another person's life just because you disagree with them. Or whatever the motive, soon to be discovered is. Each of us is just one individual with an individual opinion. Regardless if it is shared by many. Once again: #Vote to have your voice heard. And yes, disappointment is a part of life. So be prepared to accept the results of the voting decision should it not go your way. Grow up America!

The last word is irresponsible. The irresponsible act of an emotionally unstable person. Even at the young age of just twenty years old we must act responsible and in control of our own emotions. And seek help if you find this difficult to do. The irresponsible act of attempting to assassinate a former president is unthinkable. And resulted in the loss of an innocent supporter's life. One of the basic responsibilities of owning a gun is being trustworthy. Being responsible for your own emotions and knowing when to get help. Help is available. Seek it. The irresponsibility of one individual has cost us a life and injured multiple people and scarred a nation.

These three words were also on display Saturday afternoon through the actions of the former president of the United States, Donald Trump.

Donald Trump ignorantly told the Secret Service: let me get my shoes. The Secret Service was surrounding Trump at the time, forming a human barrier to shield the former president of the United States. Attempting to move him off stage.

Really? Your shoes? You just survived an assassination attempt and your first thought is your shoes. You can't leave without your shoes. You claim to be very, very wealthy. A billionaire. Multi-billionaire. You can't leave the shoes behind and just purchase some more later? Perhaps you have a second pair of shoes? #Ignorant

Donald Trump acted selfishly on Saturday afternoon. After being saved by the Secret Service. The Secret Service was given the "all clear" to move the former president to a waiting SUV. But Trump decided he'd delay (something he's become well known for doing) his exit off stage. Trump stood still and raised his fist into the air and mouthed the word "fight", repeatedly. Finally after several valuable seconds passed, Trump, guided by the Secret Service team left the stage. Trump's selfish, defiant act endangered the men and one woman who were risking their lives to protect and safely escort the former president off stage.

Trump as he has shown throughout his life acted selfishly and was thinking of his own interests. Whatever Trump's motives for failing to leave the stage when the Secret Service wanted him to were purely selfish. The Secret Service has as we all witnessed an extremely difficult job protecting the former president. Trump made their job more difficult and endangered their lives with his thoughtless, selfish act. The Secret Service thought that they had removed the shooter. They were correct. However, mistakes happen. Saturday's failed securing of a business rooftop less than 200 yards away from Donald Trump was a mistake. The Secret Service wanted Trump off stage for countless reasons. He had been shot. They assumed the shooter was permanently down. They had no idea yet if a second or more shooters were in the area. The president was to be removed and placed in a safe SUV. Trump selfishly delayed this process. #Selfish

Trump irresponsibly mouthed the word "fight" to the camera and to the crowd. An irresponsible word. An irresponsible idea for the moment. Most people had wisely taken cover moments after the shooting began. Wisely. They didn't react by fighting. Fighting what? Fighting bullets going through the air? There were people injured in the stands. One was killed. Fight? Once again, an irresponsible act by former president Donald Trump. #Irresponsible

Trump was a victim of senseless, shameful, and unacceptable violence. Trump's actions moments after tragedy struck were ignorant, selfish, and irresponsible. 100% Donald Trump .

[driftingvoid-155]

//((Ruin spoilers))//

Theory that the pizza plex, along with pizza sim, is built on top of the underground facility in sister location.

(I just let my brain run, so don’t take any of this too seriously, and did like, zero fact checking. Just a interesting theory / some connections I noticed. Also sorry if this is like, super obvious and I'm just slow on the uptake).

Was telling some friends how in Ruin it felt like once entering from Roxy's Raceway, it was going down forever until you finally reached the mimic. The stairs, the elevator, the cave, more and more stairs. Was thinking about it again tonight and realized I’ve felt that before. In the sister location game when the elevator just keeps going down and down for what must be minutes as hand unit talks. I mean, how many very deep areas with pizzerias/ facilities at the bottom can there be in this universe? Plus the sister location room in the plex?? Maybe referencing the fact that like in SL with Mike’s house, the plex sits on top of the facility?? The fact that help wanted 2 is sister location based??

Other connections:

Candy Cadet's story about the little boy going to the basement feeling similar to Liz going to Circus Baby in the sense that once the parent was gone, the child was lured in. By a lullaby in case of the boy and by ice cream with Elizabeth.

The scooper arm thing that comes for the mimic in one of the endings. Perhaps a revamped version of the SL one. Cassie pushing the button and watching through the glass also has a very similar feeling of when we watched Ennard do it to Mike. Plus the way the mimic wears the suits feels similar to the way Ennard wore Mike like a suit. Perhaps the mimic had seen that done before.

Connecting to that - “What is bad is always left behind,” maybe something didn’t make it out with the rest of the funtimes and has been waiting down their for its own chance to escape.

The eyes in the AR world just scream Ennard/ Ennard connections to me.

Sister location was also used as a storage as seen with both the funtimes and, according to Baby, when she tells Mike she’s put him in something from, “my old pizzeria.” In that case, if they had old/ unused springlock suits down there, then why not the mascot costumes as well? The lion, bird, and elephant? (I get the feeling the mascots might have been Will and Henry's original ideas before they scrapped them and made the springlock suits instead. Which then those are what they decided to open the first restaurant with so the mascots actually never got to see the light of day in terms of performing/ being on display).

Overall, I think it’s kind of neat to think it’s all stacked on top of each other. Items from the Fredbears Family diner (springlock suits) and stuff from before (mascots) all shoved into sister location which then has Pizza Sim built on top of it (the house before it either being renovated into sim or destroyed) and then finally the plex. Years of Freddy’s getting buried and replaced with the new yet all still stacked right on top of the other.

Also as a final thought, sister location was one of the first instances in the games where we saw evidence of experiment with AI and false life with the robot heads in the primary control module. I think it would be neat if it all this talk about AI and false life in the plex tied right back to where it started.

Again, I might be talking nonsense but it was fun to think about so hope anyone who actually read all the way down to here had just as much fun entertaining the idea for a moment as well :)

[dollsonmain]

And the fucking decision paralysis again.

So.

I decided to free up floor/work space by putting dolls in the doll house for now, because fixing the doll house floor will cost money. Either I need to buy new floor boards or I need to buy two boards to press them between.

So that can wait.

I also thought about whether or not I'd want to change this side of the room or move anything from here to other walls and I think no. this is ok as it is. Those pieces fit in that space rather well. There's about a 12in space left in the corner, which is where I've stuck the lamp. There's no light on that side of the room for some reason, so I put in that lamp, even though I rarely to never turn it on.

I'd have to hire someone to install another can light in the ceiling and don't want to.

-

I also freed up floor space in front of the ponies by dumping all of the stands I had sorted back into the stands box. I'll resort them some other time.

Now.... Those four little end tables rearranged to be a horizontal line instead of a square could potentially be used as the pony display area.

It would be nice to have more room for the ponies so I could space them out a little. It's a bit too chaotic in the center segment for me.

I don't know if you can tell, but I prefer varying heights in my displays. I don't like everything to be the same height or all of the shelves to align across the book cases. That overwhelms me for some reason, when everything is too homogeneous. I need the line to be broken.

The four end tables would be a little wider than this unit because this one has a little overlap on the ends. Each of those end squares are, I THINK, the same size as the end tables and the center segment is just slightly wider than two end tables.

That would make the pony area a little more boring, though. I'd have to do more manual variation of the display with risers and boxes, and that's fine. I don't mind.

However, I don't think that TV stand thing would be suitable for my BJD. I need more room for BJD, not less.

It's overfull as it is, and there are nine more upstairs in the office right now...

Those same 4 end tables would be less than double the width of the existing BJD display area, but can be spaced out a bit and rely on the stair-stacked boxes as surfaces.

There is the issue of the staired boxes being too shallow for the stands I have a few of them on, though.

Another option is to put the toy box and coffee table side by side between the book cases, but that does again saddle me with the dead space where the toy box is.

The toy box is ugly. It has clowns on it, so I keep it covered up, and that's ugly, too. It is an option, but not one that I want to do.

I mean, the toy box IS full of stuff but it's completely inaccessible when there are things on top of it which makes it non-viable for doll-things storage which was my intent.

I would get rid of the toy box but my grandmother asked me not to and she's still alive. I'll consider it again when she isn't.

I could get a really cheap table cloth and cover up the toy box in a nicer looking way, but it's still dead space.

-

Anyway, I think what I will do is empty out, wipe down, and separate the little end tables and then push them around and see how I feel about them here and there. They're relatively easy to put back together if I decided I don't like how that turns out, where dumping off all the ponies and BJD to try things out would be a huge pain in the ass.