#always double check - not sure i want to find out what happens if the grenades accidentally go through the dryer with a trigger happy cat

[ghostoffuturespast]

Grandpa would like to make the arguement that crocs don't require socks to wear and that cargo pants because pockets for: grenades. Also, who needs clean pants when you're on call for merc work and are probably just gonna get stinky again anyway.

Lime green and mustard yellow goes with camo, right?

Style Points

V Rose +10

Darisha +10

Grandpa -20

Leave her alone, it's laundry day!

@shimmer-like-agirl says Darisha Voss would never be caught dead in cargo pants and crocs. @ghostoffuturespast says Valerie Hye Jin Li (aka Grandpa) would wear cargo pants and crocs while alive and well any day of the week.

I say Valerie Rose Barrère thinks they have utility but still must be color-coordinated.

[codfanficedits]

One fucking mistake - Part Eight.

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!Reader - She/her pronouns being used

Summary: Simon lost you after making a mistake on a mission.

Wordcount: 2125 | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: cussing, swearing, grieving, angst with no comfort, conversation, mentioning of memoryloss

A/N: Part eight! I had a lot of trouble starting this part. I'm a fulltime student and my classes have been kicking my ass, and I really don't want to be THAT person, but the next part might take a lil while, I'm sorry :(

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Part 7 ~ AO3 Link

244 days.

You finally can remember it all. How Simon begged you to come with him on this mission, something he could’ve done by himself easily, but he tried to sweettalk you, bribe you, just anything so he wouldn’t have to go alone.

And you fell for it. How could you not? After all, he promised you he’d do the dishes, and you hated doing the dishes.

You remember Simon double checking your gear, softly tugging on the bulletproof vest to make sure that it was safe and secure. He always made sure you were safe and secure, no matter what happened, Simon had made it clear that you were his number one priority. You, and you alone.

The moment of eye contact that follows after always makes your heart flutter, the little lines next to his eyes when his lips tug to a smile, it is enough to make your stomach do a million summersaults. The moment you smile, and the little apples of your cheeks start to rise, he brushes his knuckles against the sensitive skin on your face. The callouses on his knuckles was something that you always enjoyed feeling, a little routine before a mission. Something you always held dear.

It didn’t matter that he was wearing his mask on the chopper flight to the area you had to scout. You could see in his eyes how much he was smiling every time you added something on the list of dishes, the fine lines around his eyes, the sparkle in his eyes.

A gasp. “I’ll let you even wash the food dish of the cat.”

“Lovie, we don’t have a cat.” His voice sounds amused.

“Nuh uh, I’ve been feeding the strays that live just outside the base.” You protest.

“Fine, fine, fine.” It isn’t even a real protest, Simon would do anything to make you happy.

“AND.” Your voice sounds happy, as if you just got the best idea ever known to man. “You have to wear an apron.”

“An apron?”

“Yeah, I still have a pink one.”

“Fine.”

“Really?!”

“Yeah, but I’m wearing nothing underneath it.” Simon snickers.

“Deal!”

“And, you can only look but you can’t touch.” He adds.

“But that’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair, lovie.”

Life indeed wasn’t fair.

Because the next thing you remember is a white flash, ringing in your ears and a lot of stumbling. A lot of pain when you tumbled down the stairs. You can remember Simon calling for you, screaming your name and you want to react, but your body doesn't allow you to.

Another loud noise, and you realise that a grenade must’ve gone off when you’re getting covered by debris.

It is dark when you wake up again, the sensation of someone tugging on your ankles is waking you up, your body hurts and you’re disorientated, your eyes flutter as you try to stay awake, as you try to grasp what has happened. The men towering over you speak a language you don’t understand, and frankly, there is nothing you understand at the moment.

Who are you? And why are you here?

One of the men pulls you up, his hands under your armpits as he drags you away, your skin is grey from the dust and debris and as your eyes finally focus you can see the fear in the eyes of the people around you.

You desperately try to remember, your brain knows there is something hidden inside, something that would explain all of it, but you can’t. You can’t seem to find the key to the door inside of you that hold all the information you need.

Your dog tags get caught on a pole of metal sticking out of the rubble, and you groan a little when it cuts off your airflow, even if it is for a brief moment. Neither you or the man carrying you realise how important those dog tags are. But of you are just focussed on getting you out of there.

Another groan when the ground gets more uneven, sharp pain being unbearable with every bump. You try so, so, so hard to stay away, but your body tries to protect you against the pain, and before you know it your eyes start to roll back, and it gets dark again.

When you wake up again, you’re in a bed, stripped of your belongings, but a variety of bandages around your limbs, a woman speaks to you in a hushed tone, but you can’t understand the language they’re speaking. A soft groan leaves your lips as you try to speak, but your throat is dry and everything hurts.

Later, you learn that you’re taken in by the local villagers, who have been tormented by the war for the longest time. The same war you and Simon participated in, the same war where you were convinced you were on the right side, only to learn that there are only losers when it comes to war.

As the universe continues your injuries start to heal, and while you still don’t speak a word of their language, the villagers are nice to you, almost as if caring for you is just what they need to take their mind of the running war in their area. You know something is missing, you can’t remember your name, age, your life, Simon. Nothing. Not an ounce of recognition when they show you your torn up uniform. Not an ounce of recognition when you hold up a mirror in front of your face.

Not an ounce of recognition when the local men are shouting against each other, and while you can’t make out what they’re saying, you know it is about you, the way they point and glare, the way they call you a fucking filthy Brit. The other half of the group of men is a lot more quiet, they plead, and you can only imagine it is for your life, yet you do not fear for it.

What is a life worth if you can’t remember it?

But they let you live, and while you’re not sure why, you end up being thankful for it. At night you always end up dreaming about the same things, it is almost like clockwork, either you dream about yourself, walking around a maze, which seems to be without end, a skull mask in the middle of the maze. You always, always wake up whenever you find the mask.

The other dreams is about a faceless man, tugging on the bulletproof vest you wore when you were found, his knuckles brushing against the apples of your cheeks. He tries to shield you before the white flash goes off, but your dreams never reveal his face to you.

One time they dragged you back to the area where they had found you, a black chopper had landed nearby and you could make out that they wanted to know if the men rummaging the area seemed familiar to you.

But they didn’t. Four tall men, and while they wore the same uniform as you, none of them rang a bell inside your mind. You shook your head, implying you didn’t know them, no matter the matching uniforms. Not even the heartbroken screams from the masked man could crack open your memories.

Looking back, when the dreams started to come, you knew you recognized the mask one of them was wearing, it was the exact same as you would always find in the maze, but for the life of you, you couldn’t remember the face beneath it.

Slowly, but surely small glimpses of your life started to seep into your mind again, droplets of memories coming back. The smell of oatmeal brought a snippet of your childhood back, the memories of it being breakfast, and secretly feeding a spoonful to the dog.

With every little dot you could connect to your former, came an explanation to the people around you, with a lot of gestures, and some drawing, you could get your point across.

The smell of lavender brought you back to the house of your grandma, the strong scent always lingered in her house, and if you pressed your eyes shut and let the sun settle down on your skin, you could go back to that time.

While you peel off the skin of an orange you’re hit with a new memory, your breath hitching in your throat as your mind slowly makes the memory clear. You’re peeling an orange, a large hand holding on to your thigh as you peel the fruit. “Thanks lovie.” The gruff voice sounds so clear when you remember it, as if he is in the room with you and you know that it is someone important to you, as your body warmed up when you remember his voice.

But you just remember his voice, and not his name.

It would frustrate the living shit out of you, knowing that there is so much more memories hidden away in you, and you just can’t seem to remember them. You know that there is so much more to you, yet you’re unable to discover your own secrets.

When you’re stargazing, late at night, a new memory pops up, the masked man laying next to you in the grass, while the both of you look up at the stars, in the corner of your eye you can see him takes his mask off, the balaclava being pulled up to his nose, before he leans over and presses a kiss on your lips.

The realisation dawns on you, and while you can’t remember his name, it is clear that he is important for you, that you are important to him, and a cold feeling comes over you when you realise you let him slip between your fingers just because you didn’t recognize him. A knot in your chest as you try to remember who he is, who you are, why you were wearing the uniform. Panic taking over when your mind can’t answer your questions. The knot in your chest spreads through your body and soon you find yourself unable to breathe. Short, desperate burst in which you try to suck in as many air as you can.

Deep breath in through your mouth, exhaling out your nose.

Fuck.

You remember, you remember walking in on him having a panic attack, you remember kneeling down to him, telling him to take a deep breathe in through his mouth, exhaling out his nose. You remember. You remember walking in on Simon.

Simon.

A loud sob leaves your mouth and your hand claws at your chest as you remember. You remember all the kisses, the three squeezes on your shoulder, or your bicep when he couldn’t tell you he loved you but still wanted you to know, you remember all the late evenings and lazy mornings.

Oh you finally remember.

Your loud sobs wake up the people who had cared for you, they’re worried and you can’t yet explain if the tears are from happiness or agony. But it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter because you finally remember. You could be described as hysterical when you point to your old uniform, back to yourself, trying to tell them that you DO remember, that you DO know who you are.

And never had you imagined how easy it would be to go back to your old life. You’d learn that you would be considered missing and killed in action for more than eight months now.

Eight months. You had missed 244 days of Simon’s life, and he had missed those days in yours.

The ambassy was kind enough to listen to your story, your fingerprints confirming your identity. K.I.A flashing the screen when they pull up your information. And you want nothing more than to go home, to feel safe in his embrace again. You’re not allowed to call him, since the two of you aren’t married he isn’t your legal contact person, and you have to wait, but you’ve waited 244 days, how much more will a few more hours hurt?

God, how you have missed him, with the returning memories, the feeling of longing for him also came back, and right now the only thing you wanted in life was to hold him again, to feel him again, to be his again.

The rest of the trip goes by fast, your mind can barely cope with the returned memories, let alone process what is happening when they put you back on a plane to your base, but you can feel the excitement, the love, oh you can feel it all.

Just like you can feel the dread seep into your bones when you see him, holding another woman’s hand.

[jinmukangwrites]

Bad Things Happen Bingo; weep little lion man (1/14)

@badthingshappenbingo

Next

Prompt: Friendly Fire

Fandom: Star Wars: Jedi Fallen Order; Survivor

Rating: T

Warnings: light injury.

Notes: SURVIVOR SPOILERS PROCEED AT OWN RISK. Also yes I know this is a stretch interpretation of the prompt but hey if I'm going to lay awake at night thinking of Jedi Survivor one-shots then I'm going to put them to use and assign them a damn square. Also lemme know if you enjoyed this fic and would like continuations!

Ао3

Summary: After defeating Dagan Gera for a third and final time, the Compass ends up in Bode's hands without a scratch. He could go back to Jedha with Cal... but he's holding what he wants. He doesn't see the point in pretending any longer. He makes a split-second decision. Or: Bode's betrayal goes a bit differently.

-o-o-o-o-

The compass is in one piece.

Bode turns it over in his hands. It's odd, he almost expected his one way ticket out of here to be... grander. Heavier. Yet it's not, it's a simple cylinder with a greater purpose than to look as regal as the rest of the old Jedi temples.

And yet, he can't help but feel enchanted by the little device.

He's so caught up in finally holding the point of everything in his hands, that he almost misses what Cal says next.

"What if Dagan was right?"

Bode freezes. Laughs. "Are you sure you're not still, uh-" he uses a free hand to gesture vaguely. "You know?"

Cal stands up, face determined and step more steady that honestly Bode thinks it should be considering the still smoldering wound across his chest. "Think about it," he starts.

And Bode has thought about it. He's thought about it over and over and over again. It used to be something he didn't have to think about. When this whole thing started, it was so simple. He hardly cared about Cal Kestis, the Jedi who didn't know how to hide. He was a means to an end, a pathway to a greater reward. Yes, his friendship with him, in the beginning, was malicious. Parasitic. He needed Cal to trust him enough to let Cere Junda's location slip. It didn't take long for Cal to do so, but unfortunately, it also didn't take Bode long to find something... unintentional in their relationship.

He began to like Cal; and not only that, Cal's adventures eventually lead him to the perfect opportunity to take Kata and escape the Empire, the Jedi, and everything in-between for good.

He couldn't care less about Cordova, or Junda, Greeze, Merrin. They kept Cal noble. If it weren't for them, maybe Bode could have forced Cal to see that being selfish is the right call here.

Handing the Compass to the Hidden Path won't help anyone, especially not Bode's daughter.

It will keep people safe, sure, but for how long?

How long before the Empire noticed refugees and rebellious soldiers coming and going? How long before the Empire not only tracked them down... but found a way in without the compass?

If two determined Jedi of old could make one of these things, surely someone with the resources like the Emperor or Darth Vader would find a way easily.

His mind is decided even before Cal ends the conversation, a sympathetic smile on his face. "The others will want to see this, let's head back to Jedha."

Bode breathes. Nods his head. "Sure."

He makes an excuse that even to himself sounds lame, anything to get Cal to turn his back on him. It shouldn't make him feel as nauseous as it does when Cal doesn't question him. Doesn't bat an eye as Bode strolls a small distance away. Doesn't turn to double-check when he bends down to rub BD-1's head.

Bode watches with a lump in his throat, he doesn't want to hurt Cal, but he doesn't see any other way.

It's sickening how easy it is to throw the stun grenade and catch Cal in the radius. Cal is always on high alert, able to push a grenade, repulse a blaster bolt, parry a blow, within a pins drop of a notice. Bode knew how he felt about Cal, but this is the proof he needs that somewhere, Cal feels the same way.

Cal trusts Bode enough to let down his guard, and that's what makes it too easy to stab him in the back.

Bode wants to throw up.

But he doesn't, he doesn't waste any time as Cal's muscles seize in the radius of brutal electricity. He lowers the lethality of his blaster—low enough to be of no danger of killing, but high enough to hurt—and shoots Cal right at his knee.

The electricity stops and Cal goes down hard, screaming through clenched teeth at what must be the suffering of landing on his shoulder—jostling that still fresh lightsaber wound—with the added agony of twisting his now damaged knee on the way down.

Bode takes a step towards Cal, blaster drawn. "I'm sorry," he pushes through his teeth, "you'll understand soon."

"Bode?" Cal wheezes, his hands struggling to find purchase to haul himself upright.

Bode's heard his name said in that tone of voice hundreds of times. The Empire isn't the first galactic power to use his espionage. He knows the tone of betrayal well. Confusion. Hurt. He knows the look in Cal's eyes well when he turns to stare at Bode. The greens of his irises are so large and already watery. His face is twisted in pain, in anger, in shock.

He knows this all so well.

It's never hurt to see it like it does now.

But he can't go back. It's now, or failure.

"Bode? What is this?"

"Don't worry, I'm not going to kill you," he assures, approaching closer.

Cal's eyes flicker past Bode's face, but Bode notices too late before BD-1 is on his back jamming his slicer in-between Bode's shoulder blades.

Painful electricity bursts up and down his spine, but it's nothing compared to the shock in his grenades earlier. Those are meant to take down sapient creatures. A slicer is meant for simple electrical hacking. He's able to push through the pain, grabbing BD-1 by the head and launching the little droid across the room.

Cal's on his feet now, face twisted in agonized fury, knee bent wrong but persistently standing on it. "BD!"" He shouts as BD-1 hits a nearby control console and crashes to the ground. Cal glares at Bode, his shock at the situation melting at the sight of his droid being handled so roughly.

"I don't know what's wrong with you, Bode," he snarls, "walk away. We can talk. This won't end well, and we both know it."

His hand goes to his lightsaber, but doesn't grab it just yet.

Bode can't help but feel a flash of admiration for Cal. He's a survivor, to the point he's willing to fight friends who betray if it comes to his life.

That's the kind of Jedi this Galaxy needs now. Jedi who aren't afraid to fight for their lives and what they love, instead of hiding behind that passive aggressive neutrality. "Protectors" Bode's ass. It didn't work before the Empire, and it certainly won't keep anyone alive now.

That's why Bode has to do this.

Cal Kestis is his best friend. His brother. This beast fighting to survive will only become docile and weak if he continues like this, caring so much for the greater good at the cost of his own expense—at the cost of not thinking of what the consequences could be. It's suicide to take on the Empire, he wouldn't have joined them if he didn't think it would keep himself and his daughter reliably alive the longest.

Bode can't bear the thought of Cal ending like that, life wasted chasing an impossible dream. A noble one, Bode knows, but a useless one. He will die by the Empire if he continues like this, or worse, end up strapped to one of those chairs that turn good people into Inquisitors. Either way, it's as good as death.

"What's this about," Cal demands, eyes shooting down to the Compass Bode still holds in one hand. "Was this all for the Empire?"

Bode almost wants to laugh. He's so innocent. Not all the selfish people in the world are Imperial sympathizers.

Instead he meets Cal's glare as coolly as he can. "At first. But with this," he says, raising the Compass to chest height, "we can escape all of it. The dead Order, the Empire. We can be safe on Tanalor, never having to worry."

Cal looks so angry his ears are turning red at the tips. "That's the point!" He shouts, still leaning lopsided on his bad knee. "We can help people there, the Hidden Path-"

Bode shakes his head. "It's not that simple, brother. The Hidden Path, this grand plan of yours, it's only going to get you killed and destroy possibly the last and only safe place from the Empire. I can't let you take this back to them, and I can't let you die with them."

Cal freezes. "What are you talking about?"

Bode lowers the Compass, storing it safely in a pouch on his belt. "Surrender willingly, Cal. The Empire doesn't have to know about Jedha; about Cere." He takes a cautious step forward, Cal stays dangerously still. "The Inquisitors don't have to know."

Grim understanding falls across Cal's face, almost shadowing his features despite the room being pretty thoroughly lit.

A flurry of angry sounding beeps and whistles sound across the room. BD-1 has made it to his feet, the antennas pulled back like a predator. Bode doesn't know Binary, but it seems, that's all Cal needed to make up his mind.

"I'm sorry," Bode says, twisting the barrel of his gun towards BD-1, turning up the lethality. He doesn't want to hurt the droid—out of all of Cal's friends, Bode liked BD-1 the most—but it's just another soul to make Cal a martyr. The less people Cal has to justify his hero complex, the quicker Cal will understand what Bode is trying to offer.

A better life. No more looking over your shoulder.

"NO!" Cal shouts, sensing Bode's intentions.

Bode swears, he knows how quick a lightsaber draw Cal is, quicker than most Jedi Bode's seen even before the Order's fall. He swings his torso back towards Cal, shooting blindly at the droid and missing by metaphorical hairs. Cal has his lightsaber in his hand, about to burst it into power, and Bode does the only thing he can.

He grabs the lightsaber with the Force, tearing it out of Cal's hand and sending it flying towards his own. The surprise of the Force and the weapon being ripped from his grasp causes Cal to shout and stumble forward on his bad knee. His eyes are wide in shock, wider than they were at the initial betrayal, but Bode knew this revelation would hurt Cal more than anything

Surprise him, more than anything.

Bode grabs the lightsaber, not bothering to light it yet, or think too deeply on how wrong it feels in his hands, how deeply it does not belong to him, and he shoves Cal back with a burst of Force.

Cal gets knocked into his back, sliding a foot or two, groaning.

"You're not the only one who survived."

BD-1 makes to run towards them to do who knows what, but Cal holds a hand out and shoves BD-1 further away. "Warn the others!Tell them to run!" Cal shouts.

Growling, Bode aims his blaster at the droid once again, but BD-1 is already nearly out the door leaving a trail of sad, reluctant, but determined boops. Bode forces himself to ignore the droid, knowing that when it comes to an angry Force user, you don't have time to focus on anything else for long.

Cal's like a cornered animal, Bode discovers, when he's forced to fight without his lightsaber and on the ground wounded. He snarls at Bode and attempts to grab him with the Force, to do what Bode can't be sure. He's trained enough to know how to resist another's reckless tug on the Force, he may be a little rusty but it's childsplay to steady himself within the Galaxy, refusing to be knocked over.

Cal swears at him, abandoning his hopeless task of standing back up—Bode really would have appreciated having BD-1's STIMs right now—in favor of kicking with his good leg and punching with fists that aren't shaped right for something so offensive. Stars, kid barely knew how to fight without a lightsaber. Like this, he's no more scary than the corpse of Dagan laying a few steps away.

The scuffle that happens soon after takes longer than it should. Sure, Cal is a powerful Jedi with a decade of fighting dirty to survive under his belt not even considering the adrenaline he must be under, but Bode's bigger and physically stronger and he's not the one sporting a lightsaber wound to the chest and a blaster to the knee.

Bode can't get Cal pinned, not with him snarling—practically hissing—and squirming like that. Bode shoves him hard on the collarbone, pushing him so his shoulder-blades land roughly on the floor. "Enough!" he says, just as a bright flash of light and a familiar humming fills the space between them.

Cal goes deathly still, furious, as the blade of his own lightsaber rests between his jaw and shoulder, angling up from the floor and under his chin. The heat must be irritating from this small distance from skin contact, but Cal grinds his teeth and looks Bode right in the eyes; fingers digging into the belts of Bode's blaster holsters.

"Last chance, Bode," he says evenly.

"You'll thank me," Bode says back, "in time."

Then he slams down his other hand, hitting the back of his blaster against Cal's temples.

Bode knows how to knock out an enemy he needs alive. It's easy to do, like breathing.

Cal goes limp without a single word more, eyes fluttering but getting closer to closing. Bode retracts the lightsaber and stands up over his nearly unconscious friend. The communicator he lifts to his mouth feels heavy, but he gave Cal an option, and he didn't take it.

"This is a secure channel! How did you-"

"Listen to me, I'm an Imperial agent who has located a terrorist cell on Jedha. Don't trust your scanners, just follow these coordinates," he rattles off a string of numbers. "There are multiple Jedi at this location, inform the Inquisitorius at once. If Lord Vader wants Cere Junda, he'd better hurry."

It's tempting to drop the communicator then and smash it between the floor and the heel of his boot, but he doesn't. If he does he knows it would feel too much like regret.

Cal's lost his grasp on the land-of-the-awake completely by the time Bode works himself into the mindset solid enough to continue with this admittedly un-thought-through plan. He won't fool himself into thinking Cal wouldn't try to fight back the second he's awake enough to do so, so first thing to figure out is how to effectively keep Cal... helpless... until he can get to Nova Garon, get Kata packed, and nab some Force resistant restraints on the way out.

Luckily, right now, there's plenty of clothes Dagan Gera is no longer in need of. He tears strips from the thick robes and ties Cal's arms behind his back, wrists to elbows, and for good measure he takes a belt and wraps it around Cal's forearms. He then takes more stripped cloth and binds Cal's ankles and knees to their counterparts—careful of the wound, but not too much that the bindings are loose, it's nothing some bacta won't fix later. He also stuffs the blaster he gave Cal what feels like lifetimes ago now into his belt, refusing to think further into it.

He forces himself to work with efficiency, not thinking too deep about how wrong this feels. He never intended to kidnap Cal. He honestly hoped he'd have more time to convince Cal out of his martyrdom.

Hefting Cal over his shoulder, he quickly begins to make the trek back to where he left his ship.... Though not before grabbing Dagan Gera's lightsaber and hooking both blades onto his belt.

[wh6res]

chase — renhyuck

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”

tw bullying, violence, swearing, yandere themes, possessive themes, blood, weapons (a gun, a grenade), implied noncon, implied kidnapping, mentions of stalking

disc i dont condone this behavior

wc 5k

‏‏‎ ‎

29 hours before the annual purge

“hold her down—i said hold her down, idiot!”

putting everything into account, they saw you more like a glorified chew toy than an actual person. 

they ruined your life simultaneously and it's ironic, that despite being sworn rivals, it seems you were their neutral ground—after one has had their own fun, you’re passed on to the other person so they can deliver that final, shattering blow that weakens your resolve. 

it was meant to be that way because it had always been that way. you’re the unlucky loser that ignited the worse sides of both lee haechan and huang renjun. 

they’re like oil and water; they don’t mix but with you, they found a compromise. stealing your lunch money, trashing your homework, quickies in between lectures. all of these should’ve been enough to give them a good power trip. but they’ve developed a hunger so severe that these past instances are but mere crumbs that hardly satisfy their cravings. 

it was beyond exhausting, being caught in between two headstrong people that were unwilling to back down at any cost. their aggression and anger towards each other directly being channeled onto you as they shove and swing you around like some ragdoll. 

you weren’t a bunch of kids, you knew that. you don’t cry and sob and say that it’s unfair, you hold your chin high and walk up to the guidance counselor’s office to report them for bullying. but you never should’ve underestimated the power of money and their respective families’ broad network of connections. 

without a doubt, the empty promises for justice is what broke your heart the most. it breaks with every bruise, every tight grip, and every nasty name the people willingly turned a blind eye to. 

it’s sad but it was a reality you taught yourself to get used to—the meek mouse learning how to evade the cats hot on her trail. 

but you weren’t as lucky today. 

“i am holding her down.”

a pair of lips comes in contact with your neck. its feathery and light at first until its biting down to mark you with his teeth. not too strong to draw blood, but enough to dent the surface of the skin. 

haechan has an oral fixation. biting his lips. his nails. whenever you see him, he always has a lollipop on his mouth and if he doesn’t, he’s painting hickeys across your skin. you hated his oral fixation, especially when makeup and clothes proved useless to hide the marks he gives you. 

“why run?” renjun asks you, slipping his fingers underneath your skirt as he kneels. “you know you have nowhere to hide in the campus.”

haechan snorts. “or anywhere else.”

it’s always the same thing. you go to school. you sit in your first period for thirty minutes until one of them shows up. then the other boy probably felt a gut instinct that he’s missing out on the fun. last time, it was an empty classroom in the abandoned left wing. 

they like taking you there all the time, it was always dark, the blinds pulled and shut tight. not to mention it was incredibly dusty. but both male knew you’re afraid of the dark, exactly why it’s their favorite spot. but empty classrooms and supply closets are close seconds, too. 

“you’re so pathetic. useless—only know how to whine like a fucking pornstar,” he quickly comments, feeling you arch against him when renjun’s tongue comes in contact with the pearl between your legs. “my cumdump.”

you feel a sharp exhale against your lower lips. you shudder. renjun clicks his tongue in annoyance. “can you shut up? you’re making my dick soft with all that talking.”

but haechan had ignored him completely, blissfully ignorant of the petite boy’s frustrations as he angles your head up to crash his lips onto yours. when he slightly pulls away, still playfully nibbling your bottom lip, what he said next made your blood run cold. 

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

6 hours before the annual purge

the price to pay for protection started rising again this year and you, much like your neighbors, are in a sense of turmoil. jamming the doors with cabinets and nailing your windows with wood is hardly enough to satisfy the gnawing feeling in your stomach. much less when you didn’t even have a weapon to wield other than a wooden bat and a cheap taser you bought on sale. 

“its not like anyone will be coming for you, right?” the little girl says, touching the randomest stuff in your apartment. her name was naeun and she never really liked pink and sparkles like most girls her age, maybe that’s why she took a liking to you. 

her mom works a 9 to 5 and her grandma stays with her on occasion. but the old lady loved to sleep, naeun said, so she gets the chance to slip out and come knocking on your door. you tried shooing her out of your apartment countless times but she’s stubborn. 

she reminds you of yourself. 

“well, i hope no one does.” you joked, putting on a turtleneck. 

naeun’s mom doesn't like you as much as it is, but if you yourself let naeun see the bruises on your skin? you’d hate yourself forever. “now, come on little missy, go back to your grandma. i need to head over to the bank to settle my protection fees.”

“but you just said no one is going to come for you anyway,” she whines stomping towards the door. “mom already settled ours yesterday becase grammy forced her to. mommy said it was just a waste of money because who’d bother to rob us anyway?”

a memory flashes in your head. two boys who’ve sandwiched you between them in the dark of a fucking supply closet at uni. wandering hands, labored whispers, curt giggles, one pair of lips trailing up your neck while the other up your inner thigh.

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”

you needed that protection. that was no slip up because haechan never makes mistakes. if he wanted to make you feel like some animal on the run after catching a whiff of trouble then he sure is doing a good job. 

“hey! i think you just went someplace else there,” naeun says, nudging your side irritably to get your attention again. 

you try forcing out a chuckle but it doesn't work, still deeply peeved by a memory from last week replaying vividly in your mind. if they ever mean what they meant (which you know they do) then this is now more than just trying to get through the night—you have to survive, prepare, and pray neither of them finds you. 

“i think your grandma’s right in doing what she did, naeun. with humans, you’ll never know.”

and just like that naeun went silent, bid you goodbye, and disappeared behind the apartment door.

the bank was a quick walk from your apartment. you hardly broke much sweat and you even managed to stop by the grocery store to make some last-minute runs. the store’s nearly empty, deserted of any human being as the seconds slowly but surely ticked away. it was only when you walked past aisle seven did you pause, the hairs on your back standing as a slow chill crawled up your spine. 

you look over your shoulder. 

no one’s there. 

you swallow, quickly looking down your watch to check the time as you made your way to counter. 3 hours before the annual purge. you needed to get your ass moving. you just need to grab one more thing and you’ll best be on your way. 

you practically ran towards the dairy section and just as you spin around, strawberry ice cream pint in your hands, you jump as he appears before you in thin air and you drop whatever you’re holding. 

“such a skittish little kitten,” renjun clicks his tongue, bending down to retrieve the ice cream on the floor. “here you go.”

you couldn’t even stare at him in the eye. your hands shook but it wasn’t because of the cold desert. now you get it. it’s his eyes you felt on you earlier, ever intrusive and piercing as he watched you from afar. was he stalking you?

“i didn’t quite catch a thank you, kitty.”

how foolish of you to think he’ll let you duck away without at least speaking to him, hm?

“thank… thank you?”

renjun grins, satisfied with your stuttering as he raises a hand to ruffle your hair—he ignores how you flinched away from him—before walking away with one hand in his coat pocket, whistling an eerie tune that can haunt your nightmares way after purge night. 

“see you later, kitten.”

if it wasn’t the whistling that set you on edge or that clear promise of your doom—it’s the pack of zip ties and duct tape in his hands.‏‏‎ ‎

you were watching a rerun of your favorite morning reality tv when it cuts to the dreaded blue screen showing the flag of korea. 

this is not a test.

this is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of the annual purge sanctioned by the south korean government. 

weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the purge. all other weapons are restricted. 

commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours. 

police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning until 7 am when the purge concludes. 

may god be with you all.

you’ll never get used to the blaring siren that echoes through the empty streets. you can feel the floor vibrating and it travels throughout your whole body as the dread starts sinking deep into your skin. 

you’ve already double checked all your windows and the front door. activated the security system provided by the bank. and you’ve also already charged your taser and have hammered down nails into your wooden bat. fine. if they wanted to scare and bully you into a panicked frenzy, it did its job but fuck no will you go down without a fight. 

you shut all the lights, the apartment basking in the moonlight glow brought by the translucent curtains as you make your way to your bedroom, nearest the emergency exit just in case they barge through your front door by force. 

at first, nothing happened. it was peaceful. tranquil. you can hear a pin drop with how quiet it was. both inside and outside. you were almost tempted to cover your mouth in case you were breathing too loud. 

it’s silent. until it wasn’t.

your phone rings. it’s there, vibrating on your desk and you make long strides until you’re face to face with a set of numbers on your screen. an unregistered contact. there’s a debate inside your head whether to answer it or not, fingers hovering between the red and green button… until it eventually lands on the green. 

you put it up to your ear, hands sweating as you wait with bated breath for the person on the other end to speak. 

“kitten?”

it’s renjun. you don’t answer. 

“i can hear you breathing, you know. i can’t wait to see you. we’ll have so much fun together. it’s sad that i have to share with that imbecile but better half of you than nothing of you, right?” he laughs and you feel a rush of anger surge through you. yet, you don’t bother to give him the satisfaction of a reply. 

“i can see you’re angry, little kitty. while it’s cute and hot… don’t be. turn that frown upside down for me, wouldn’t you?”

but the blinds are drawn he couldn’t have seen you—

“you’re never going to get me, you fucking bastard. i’m not scared of you,” you sure do hope he can’t hear the tremble in your voice. “whatever you plan on doing to me, you’ll fail.”

you walk back slowly, eyes darting everywhere to look for a camera they could’ve installed in your room. they have connections and the money to do it so you won’t put it past them. 

“oh, my stupid kitty. how can we fail when we already got a head start?” 

the floorboard behind you creaks and before you could turn around, someone slams your head against the desk. you hear a crack, whether it’s the screen of your laptop or your nose, you couldn’t tell. the person is agile and silent as he maneuvers you to the ground and seals your lips with duct tape. 

“after all,” haechan giggles. “you can’t lock out what’s already inside, kitten.”

your phone lands somewhere near your head. renjun has already dropped the call and the line goes silent. 

squirming, you glared at the person on top of you. is this how you’re gonna go? you can’t deny, even you yourself find this pathetic. the security alarms you bought, the nail-studded bat, your taser, everything was all for naught? just because you didn’t check under your bed to make sure no one was there?

how long was haechan waiting? when naeun was still here? when you went out to buy groceries? 

you thought it would be fear you’ll be feeling as you get caught but the emotion isn’t present at all. instead, it’s white hot anger that overrides your system and forces you to act without thinking—and it just fucking saved your life. 

haechan always saw you as a vulnerable, sad little human being who couldn’t do shit on her own. it’s easy to underestimate you and that’s his first mistake. 

the second is rather foolish—not tying your legs up first. it’s all too easy to slam your forehead against his before jerking your leg up to knee him in the balls. 

you can see the anger in his eyes clear as day as you made a run for it to the kitchen, having come up with another escape plan—because surely if you went down the emergency exit, haechan would’ve caught up easily with those long legs after he’s recovered from your assault. 

your nose was probably bleeding and your head is in the early stages of a full blown migraine, at least you were able to function enough to wobble your way towards the trash chute situated near the stove. you had cursed that chute the first day you moved in here (who would put a trash chute next to a fucking stove) but the day has come for you to thank the gods that you have that in your house. 

going for a swim in all your neighbors’ trash is disgusting and unplanned (plus, falling down maybe six floors to your doom) but you’ll choose that over lee haechan and huang renjun any day. 

“don’t you dare fucking think about it!”

you flashed him the middle finger to tick him off. a petty retaliation for all the bullshit he and renjun put you through but it felt good nonetheless. 

“catch me if you fuckers can.”

and you were falling down the trash chute.‏‏‎ ‎

okay, yeah—maybe you should’ve thought it through before hurling yourself six floors down only for some half-filled dumpster to catch you but at least you’re still alive, right? alive and free, mind you. but you don’t have time to celebrate. 

it smelled awful and you swear your knees and elbows are bruised but you scramble to climb out and run away as fast as you can. 

it was only haechan inside your apartment. no sign of renjun but he did see you somehow and you have no doubt it was a camera inside that room. you didn’t have much time to ponder for how long they were installed in your room. it’s the least of your worries at the moment.

you’re outside. 

during purge night.

even if you did manage to escape it felt more like a win than a lose, forced out of your own apartment in nothing but shorts and a shirt—heck, you don’t even have shoes on!—it felt like they won. again. 

if you’re not going to die in the hands of some other wacko, you’ll die of hypothermia. how nice. 

you didn’t know where you were running to, the only thing you knew was you need to get the hell out of this neighborhood as fast as you can. you didn’t want to run in alleyways and risk getting stabbed for fun. maybe the sewer system… oh, right. you don’t have your phone on you and it’ll probably be pitch black down there. 

you really, truly, genuinely didn’t want to run so out in the open but it was the best you can impulsively come up with. 

when you feel like you’ve put a reasonable distance between you and the apartment, you stop, hands resting flat on your knees as you crouch to catch a breath. just as quick the adrenaline appeared as fast as it had disappeared. you feel the weight and tension crushing your legs, not to mention you’re really starting to feel that headache settle after headbutting haechan. 

you almost collapse against the brick wall. 

the last person you ever thought you’ll see jumps out from the corner of the alleyway and you almost broke their nose. 

until you saw who it was. 

“NAEUN?”

their apartment got raided, some buffy sickos who they had the misfortune of breaking into their house to purge. luckily they got away, but after getting attacked on the streets, naeun got separated after she ran for her life just like you did. you can’t help but feel sorry for the little girl, who experienced the full effect of this godforsaken holiday. 

this is bad. you can’t leave her but it’s tough enough to have to fend for yourself. you’re not so sure whether you can protect another human being but you’ll have to try. 

“did your mom or grandma tell you anything? anything at all?” you ask, crouching to her eye level. “you said your mom knew the way… where? what do you mean?”

“mom said they’re providing refuge on the other side of town but it’s a 30-minute drive. walking would take longer.”

shit. you didn’t want to risk it. you don’t have a car and you’d rather die right here right now than walk another step out in the streets—

“who’s ‘they’?”

“i don’t… i don’t know. she didn’t say.”

you licked your chapped lips. you can’t trust what she’s saying, not when you didn’t even know these people. it’s too risky, not to mention you’re already running from not one, but two people.

naeun sits next to you against the bricked wall of the alley, looking down at her lap. “i’m scared,” she admits. you hear a tremble in her voice. “are mom and grammy de—”

“no,” you cut her off, pulling her tiny body against yours. when you feel her fists clutching your jacket, you swear to protect this girl with your life. “no, they’re not. i’m sure they’re heading there now to the refuge center just like we are.”

her head pokes out, looking up towards you. “we’re going? i thought you didn’t want to.”

you shake your head, wiping her tears. “well, it’s the one way for you to meet your mom and grammy, right?”‏‏‎ ‎

walking down the streets during purge night—man, this has got to be the most ballsy thing you’ve ever done after that one time you spat at renjun in the eye. you managed to find a litter of bodies way into thirty minutes of walking and you nearly sent naeun flying onto the asphalt with how hard you pushed her back. she couldn’t see this mess, you’d be damned to allow a nine-year-old walk right into psychological trauma. 

you pocket a gun—you didn’t have enough courage to fight with a knife. you wiped the blood off using your shirt before shoving them down onto the garter of your shorts. you didn’t bother to take their shoes, none of them would’ve fit you anyway and it’ll just slow you down. 

“hey, are you alright? is that blood—”

“it’s not mine, naeun. come on, let’s get moving.”

for two hours you walked towards this mysterious refuge center on the other side of town and both you and naeun managed to evade death three times. 

the first attack: a group of high schoolers with their uniforms on. there were three of them, about your height, and while you weren’t responsible for the blood on your shirt, you’re not so sure about their lot. they looked crazy, excited even, but sloppy in the way they flung their knives and bats around. their first purge, you assumed, so it was fairly easy to take them down. a bullet to the head worked like a charm. naeun didn’t say anything when you urged her out of her hiding place to flee the scene. three bullets left. 

the second attack: it was a surprise, one that got you stabbed in the shin of your right leg. it was a drunkard with a knife, you could smell him as you walked past by his slumped form in the sidewalk. he wasn’t moving, so you thought he was dead and it was poor judgement on your part. it’s pathetic getting injured this way, you thought, but at least it was you who faced the consequences and not naeun. two bullets left.

the third attack: two men but deadlier than the girls and the drunk. you didn’t get to reason out with either of them, not when they drove their cadillac at 140 miles per hour and nearly ran you over. a chill crept up your spine when you saw the bloody, naked women strapped down onto the hood. victims. you didn’t engage in any form of combat, it’s impossible, so you took naeun in your arms and ran straight to the back alleys. number of bullets remain the same.

three lucky strikes. 

three times you’ve cheated death. 

but time is up and your luck has run out. 

“beating up a girl? what a coward, if you ask me,” you say, spitting out a tooth after someone kneed you in the face. you were in no position to say such things when they’ve got you busted up and bloody, left eye swollen after one hard punch. 

naeun is nowhere to be seen. 

good. 

who knows what these assholes could’ve done to her. you told her to run so she better fucking run and make sure she lives through this nightmare. 

another kick flies to your ribs and you lie sprawled on the dirty pavement of an alleyway—what an uncool way to die but at least you’ll die with a clear conscience. 

you passed by city hall a few minutes ago. surely, the refuge center is not too far from there. naeun will make it safe. she’ll make it. 

“what’s that look on her face? is she dead?”

another one scoffs. “well… if they’re after her then she’s as good as dead.”

you blacked out. ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎

you hate the scent of disinfectant. it crawls up your nose and you hate how the stench is so strong you can taste it on your tongue. this isn’t heaven, not when you know you’re better off burning in hellfire.

unless you weren’t dead—your eyes shoot open, sitting up in haste as you clutch the thin blanket. 

rows upon rows of the same cot you were lying on greets you. people injured, some standing, some sitting. there were people treating them, too, but they were in normal clothes so this can’t be a hospital. in fact, it looked like you’re in some warehouse, stacks of metal crates sealing off all entrances. 

“it’s the refuge,” you whisper. 

“you’re awake!” before you could even turn around, a body launches itself onto you and nearly makes the cot collapse. judging by the small frame and the pitchy voice—

“naeun, be careful!” her mother hisses but the girl in between your arms couldn’t care less. if she’d been an adult, she’d be squeezing the life out of you. when she pulls you closer, your healing ribs made a strike of pain surge through you. 

you groan, bowing in the pain. distantly, you can hear the mother and daughter fighting and it was a banter you’ve never experienced with your own mom. it nearly made you tear up from the overwhelming wave of emotions you were feeling but all else disappears when a person tenderly grips your shoulder. 

“thank you for taking care of my granddaughter.” the old lady was smiling appreciatively as she stared at you. 

that was it. it could’ve been the happy ending to a gruesome and bloody storyline—it should’ve been, family of three reunites again and that was all thanks to you, right?

but even heroes have their own bad endings. 

you heard the ticking of the grenade only seconds before it detonates. the other refugees didn’t even have the time to take cover as some closest to the sealed doors were sent flying so far back they crashed into the row of crates behind you. 

you were severely injured, limping, ribs broken, and you only had one good eye to rely on—yet the first thing you thought of was protecting naeun. maybe the midget had a way of worming herself into your heart. but before you even push yourself off the cot, a figure emerges from the smoke. 

petite and harmless, pretty as the tips of his hair grazed porcelain cheekbones. renjun’s eyes are as cold and calculating as can be and it’s the only thing that terrifies you to no end. when he opens his mouth, anger is hidden well underneath that calm tone. 

“i’ll give you one minute to come here willingly.”

there’s no room for bargain, he needn’t when he knows you have absolutely nothing to offer him but yourself. he doesn’t finish his sentence but he trusts you’re smart enough to figure out the silent threat—come, or he’ll turn this place into a fucking bloodbath. 

cornered and weak, defenseless. weird how they have a fixation for calling you ‘kitty’ when they’re the cats in this chase. 

“naeun,” you whisper, trying to crane your neck to look for her in the filth of rocks and debris. please don’t be hurt.

you freeze when you feel a barrel pointing at your head. it was only there for seconds, haechan probably doesn’t have the guts to hurt you in any way permanently (unless it’s inflicted with his own hands and not through some other medium). 

“ah, look. now we have matching black eyes,” he giggles like a madman, craning your neck up and the leather in his globes brings discomfort to your skin. 

you see the way the other refugees looked at you—scum, dirt on their feet that brought about trouble in their lives. they were already badly hurt as it is and now, this happened? you don’t blame them. 

not one man tried to stand up for you as haechan hauls you up and throws you down on renjun’s feet. your ribs were screaming and you’re cold and so, so afraid. with shaky fingers, you gestured towards the crowd. “just... please, don’t hurt them. they don’t have anything to do with this.”

renjun coos. such a cruel smirk for a pretty face. “aw, such an angel my darling is. always thinking of others instead of her own safety. funny because i don’t think you’ve ever done such a thing for me and haechan, though. i wonder why...”

the latter digs his heel in your injured legs and you scream as black starts to surround the corners of your vision. you tried to crane your neck back, pleading eyes wanting to look at the assaulter but renjun’s calloused hand is gripping your chin too tight.

“should we make a bargain, kitten?”

you stare deep into renjun’s eyes. he knows you don’t have anything left, he can see it in your glassy eyes, too wide and vulnerable. he’s doing this all for show, trying to make you even more desperate and self-aware of your eventual demise.

and you thought haechan was the only cunning one.

“what… what bargain?"

renjun practically gleams in pride. “i’ll let everyone walk free—even your precious little naeun—that’s her name, right? the little girl you’ve been protecting the whole night?—we’ll let her and everyone in this building walk away unharmed. that’s my bargain. you know how those work, right? now, you need to give me something i want.”

forcing you to offer yourself up to them.

what a brutal way to crush your pride.

choice wasn’t an option. if you don’t oblige and choose to run away on your own, they’ll kill them and still hunt you down. you gotta say, it was a tempting bargain that appealed to the sense of heroics in your heart. naturally, you have to choose where there is less blood shed. and as renjun lets go of your chin and lets you look over your shoulder to meet little naeun’s eyes, how she sobbed against her mother’s arms and shook her head and screamed…

“hurry, kitten. i don’t like to be kept waiting.”

you know what needs to be done.

“me. i’ll give you… me.”‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎

they stood playing a game of pool in the dead of night. it’s peaceful inside the estate while the city beyond rampaged and burned. they achieved their goal, had finally seen an end to a plan that had been set in motion for years. they’ve succeeded and the broken woman lying on the bed meters from the pool table is proof of their victory. 

“don’t you just love it when an elaborate plan works like clockwork, injun?” he asks, voice like trickling honey as he hits number 9 with the cue ball. 

the other, more petite male, rolls his eyes but doesn’t disagree. “oh, please, people like us always triumph, donghyuck. it’s nothing new. although i am surprised that little girl and her so-called “family” played along so well. almost had me fooled.”

“i agree. it's such a shame they had to go.”

‎

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[razorblade180]

Twin Snowflakes 26: Preparation

[part 1 of 2]

TSF pt25 here! <-

“THANK YOU, PEOPLE OF MANTLE!” Summer yelled, shredding each note of her personal favorite songs. One after another she played to her heart's fill. Each song was more aggressive and brimming with vigor than the last. Summer would’ve played till dawn if she had her way but neither her body or promise to her brother would allow that. It wasn’t time to leave yet but she needed a break.

Summer begrudgingly got herself to get off the stage to let others perform. Their music wasn’t terrible by any means but the other musicians could easily stand to have more practice. A rave audience isn’t hard to please however, so the crowd ate up the talent all the same. A little insulting to her own performance but eh, this wasn’t an actual contest. Summer was happy enough blowing off steam and listening to the beats from behind the stage. Not even she could deny the beats and tempo. Her hips couldn’t help but sway!

From the corner of her eye she could make out a familiar figure keeping an eye on her. “Did Nick tell you to keep an eye on me, Eliza?”

“Not really.” She walked over and poured herself a cup of water. “I was training in the area.”

“Are you saying he had nothing to do with you being here?”

“Oh no, that would be a lie. You know Nick, always negotiating. He really knows how to persuade a person. I wouldn’t be surprised if he could sell a heater to someone living in Vacou. Anyways, he didn’t ask me to stalk you or anything like that. He knew where I’d be and told me if I could swing by for a spell. No harm in that.”

Summer smiled. “Funny. That sounded like you were defending him. Don’t want me getting upset with my own brother?”

“Shut up. It would be a pain if I caused unnecessary controversy in a household. Need I remind you that you both have duties to the school that require your full attention? Frankly I’m glad I arrived. I don’t go to your concerts so my opinion of your performance skills was limited.” Eliza sipped her water, giving Summer’s attire and overall attitude a once over. “Where’s all this when you're getting harassed in the halls?”

“That’s...school is different.”

“Pfft, yeah okay.”

“It is!” Summer said, defensively crossing her arms.

Eliza watched the girl's face soften into the meek and reserved Summer she was used to. To think that’s all it took to shut her down. “I swear you and your brother don’t have a consistent bone in your body. Whatever the case, I don’t really care much as long as you bring your best effort to rehearsal and the live performance.”

Summer squinted. “Not the actual tournament?”

“Hey I don’t participate in the duos. You can bomb that for all I care. But you know, Nick is counting on you to pull your weight. Also it would be pretty annoying if you lost to Max and his asshole know-it-all, Darren. Gods know he’d talk about it until graduation.”

“Was the fight that happened in the school bad?”

Eliza shrugged, “Can’t say. Wasn’t there. He’s always been a thorn to me though so I don’t doubt he made things ugly. He was very rude to Veronica in the principal’s office as well. An act I find inexcusable.”

Summer couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Look I know you admire her and all that jazz, but I’d bet she didn’t help the situation.”

“My views on her have nothing to do with it!” Eliza huffed. “I would think you off people would be sympathetic to a person like her.”

Summer leaned against a wall. “Call me jaded, but Veronica has a habit of bringing out the worst in people.”

Eliza frowned. “You know her better than I. Tell me, is she the type to lie about being harassed?”

Summer didn’t have to think long, especially after learning more about her in the forest. Then there was Veronica’s sketch journal. Summer still couldn’t make sense of all the scratched out pages. On top of that, Blake’s request made Summer even more uncertain. “No. Veronica’s a piece of work, but she isn’t a liar. She might actually be too honest if you asked me. I’ve never had to deal with Darren personally but Nick’s not a fan by any means.” Summer bit her bottom lip. She couldn’t believe it, did she just defend Veronica’s qualities!? It was only fair. Veronica did almost end up a frozen husk.

“Well it’s good to know we can all agree on at least one thing without fail. So not to rush you but how long are you planning on staying in a place like this?” Eliza asked, watching all the party animals.

“Haha, not your type of crowd?”

“The crowd is fine. I can handle a little noise and rowdiness, but it is technically a school night. I- ah! Summer!?” The girl had taken Eliza by the hand and started pulling her to the dance floor.

“If you keep bringing up assignments 24/7 then all you’re gonna look like is a stick in the mud. Live a little. School sucks!”

“School is important!” Eliza protested.

Summer grabbed Eliza’s other hand and started making them sway side to side, back and forth. The blood rushing to Eliza’s cheeks made Summer giggle. “Awww you know you dig it. I’ll make a deal. Cut loose with me for a few songs and I’ll gladly let you dance me right out the front door. Show me that colorguard rhythm!”

Eliza watched the petite girl actively laugh without reservation. Summer jokingly shimmied towards her and swayed her hips, getting lost in the music. Just how much did this girl go out to rave? She looked like she belonged here! The beat got more intense by the moment with no sign of stopping. With her pride in check, Eliza began to sway steadily, getting into the music.

Summer’s eyes lit up. “Aye!”

“Two songs and then we’re out of here.”

“Works for me! Show me what ya got!” Summer turned up the heat by dragging Eliza deeper into the chaos. She might not be as persuasive as Nick, but Eliza quickly found out Summer was definitely more pushy. Forget the tournament. Eliza was beginning to think they’ll beat her at everything!

xxxxx

“This is crazy. How did I not know about this!?” Nick said, walking down the rainy sidewalk.

Veronica smirked as she held Nick’s hand, allowing rain to pass right through them. “Why would you? I barely have any reason to use my semblance; let alone in the more complex ways.”

“You don’t use it when making clothes?”

“Haha, I’m not entirely sure how it would help. Unless I wanna get out of my clothes and into something new in an instant. Not a real trick to show others. Unless…” she blushed at her lewd teasing, refusing to finish the punchline. “Never mind.”

“Okay?” He had a feeling he knew where that was going but chose not to pull that grenade pin. “Speaking of clothes, that brings up a question. Why aren’t our clothes falling off now?”

“Control. Anything I touch can phase like me. My clothes are touching me, so are you. I can keep it strictly to myself though with control and timing. I can also start it and end it on any spot on my body; which is why we aren’t falling through the street.”

“That sounds hard.”

“Little bit. Really flexing my semblance like a muscle right now. Still, I’ve done harder, like not breaking surface tension.”

Nick did a double take. Did he hear that right? “Surface tension? Like...for water?”

Veronica nodded. “Yeah that’s the one. Well I’m not actually walking on water. It’s more of me beginning to fall through the water with my semblance, and shutting it off quick enough to push me back up just above the surface. Took a lot of practice but I got it most of the time. Waves suck.”

“Don’t you burn through your aura quickly?”

“Well it’s like flicking a switch on and off. Also I’m quick about it; not to mention not fighting anything in the water. I’m bound to fuck up them.”

“Still sounds like an extremely large amount of work and multitasking. You got real talent. I’d get a headache.”

“Says the king of multitasking.” Veronica chuckled, “It’s less thinking and more of reaction; knowing how to feel the shifts to the things connecting you.”

Her explanation was interesting. Veronica had an understanding of her semblance to a complex level though she didn’t fight. And here was Nick, struggling with a candle exercise for a semblance that didn’t interact with physics or molecules. “A reaction huh? Maybe I should try that more often? It might help with-”

“Valerie.”

“What? No my-” His hand was squeezed a little before being brought up to point towards the Schnee gate. Nick’s eyes went wide. Valerie stood by it with her mother’s car, staring just as surprised. “Oh…” Nick said.

The three stood quietly, not prepared in the slightest. Valerie was the most shocked. She was prepared for an awkward conversation with Nick by the door. Not catching him outside in a suit; next to Veronica. Nora, who was in the car, wanted to take initiative but found her lips tucking themselves in.

“Oh boy. Maybe convincing Val to see him was a bad move on my part.” She thought. Ren was gonna have a field day whenever Nora got back home.

Done with the shock, Veronica finally spoke. “Umm I can give you two a minute, if you need it?” All the events that happened tonight made her feel very pleased. Veronica did not want to taint those moments and knew it would be for the best to remove herself from this before she said anything...emotional. She turned to Nick and smiled awkwardly. “I’ll see you inside?”

Nick could only blink while he thought about it. Veronica was a bit quicker to the draw though. “No, no, it’s...clearly you two are in the middle of something. I was just leaving anyways” Val said, a hint of irritation and even a bit of sarcasm crept into her voice. It might not have been that big of a deal but for some reason it made Nick tense up.

“This is only happening because of you.” He said instinctively, catching everyone off guard. “I don’t see how you can be upset about a thing you caused. I did invite you originally.”

“Don’t see how that has to do with anything.” Valerie lied, clearly offended. “You can do what you want.I only came here to-”

“It’s always your terms.” He interjected, grumbling a bit. “You tell me you want space and we’ll see each other at the tournament, but then show when you feel like talking. If I did that you’d be pissed.”

“Hey! I came here to try and smooth things over.”

“Yeah well maybe I don’t want things smoothed over right now? I...I have nothing to say to you right now. We’ll talk at the tournament.”

Valerie let out a subtle gasp. Her brows furrowed and she bit down on her lip harder than she meant to. “Forget it. If you wanna be made then be made. Tournament it is.” Valerie didn’t waste another breath, getting back into the car so it can drive off.”

Veronica was in disbelief. Did that really just happen? In now way did she think the conversation was going to be good, but she at least thought there was going to be one. She might’ve thought this best if it wasn’t for Nick visibly sulking next to her as he started walking her up to the manor. The solemn look on his face did nothing but make her feel bad. Not to mention a little guilty.

“Hey...I know this is a dumb question but are you okay? If I influenced that in any way during dinner, that wasn’t really...what I mean is...”

“I know, and don’t worry. That wasn’t me being caught up in my emotions. I just really want to think about all of this for at least a couple days. Besides, I made a deal with Eliza. I might not keep it if Valerie tries patching things up.”

“You’re plotting on her? That’s...wow. Now I know for sure that you’re pissed.”

Nick rubber the back of neck. “For once I think I’ll get greedy, act the way I want. Does that make sense?”

“Make sense? It’s my language. Fair warning, your best quality is that heart of yours.” She poked his chest. “Keep it safe, or I’ll be the one getting greedy by knocking the optimism back into ya.”

“Oh is that right? Haha, maybe try praying to me first, then I really know you must mean business!” He teases.

Veronica gave a playful shove. “Like I’d know how to start one? I think I’ll stick with the tough love approach.”

“Tough love huh?” Nick opened the front door. His eyes never left the girl as she walked in, seemingly content. Veronica eventually looked back at him and gave a head tilt.

She blinked, “What?”

“Nothing.” He chuckled. Nick was starting to think that just maybe, he understood Veronica’s choices and beliefs a little more than he used to. If he learned anything from tonight it was just how differently they saw the world around them. “Well I guess this is the end of our date. Didn’t go as planned but I’ll admit it, I really liked spending alone time with you.” He said, rubbing the back of his head.

Veronica couldn’t stop herself from letting out an anxious chuckle.“Hehehe, what’s with the sweet talk all of a sudden? Trying to butter me up?”

“No, just being honest with myself. A date should end as well as possible.” Nick stepped towards Veronica and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. Eager to not let this moment linger, Nick swiftly left for Summer’s room to see if she was back. Without thinking about it tonight, Nick had left two girls red and speechless. One of them standing in the main hall with a smile growing wide; while the other watched the rain fall during a quiet ride home, frustrated and jaw clenched.

Nora took care to drive slowly. Getting home quickly would only mean Valerie would march to her room. Nora let out a sigh. “Whether it’s me or your father, one of us is gonna make you talk about this. So-”

“What’s there to talk about? I’m upset and he’s upset, because we want different things. So we’re taking a break. Simple as that.” Valerie leaned against the cold glass.

“And what is it exactly that you want?” Nora asked. She was given no answer. Not that she was expecting one. “I love you, but if you don’t know the answer yourself then how can you expect Nick to not upset you? Life is like any sport you play. Gotta know the rules if you wanna do well. Only way to figure that out is knowing yourself.”

“I know myself pretty well.” Valerie huffed.

“Really?” Nora dragged out. “So tell me, do you like Nick, romantically?”

“No.” She said instinctively.

If Val could see Nora’s face then she would’ve been upset that she was rolling her eyes, not believing her daughter. “Okay, but just so you know, taking a break is not what most friends say about another.”

Valerie’s eyes widened. She turned to her mother to see her focused on the road like she hadn’t said a word. Val went back to looking at the window. “Good to know.” Valerie controlled the urge to huff. Talking to Ren might’ve been less painful.

xxxx

Nick walked into Summer’s room to find it sisterless and a little cold. “Guess she’s not home yet.” He closed the door behind him as he went further in. Nick made sure to keep the light off but turned on the heater. A cold room was the last thing this night needed. His chill hadn’t kicked in all this time so Nick had no real reason to worry about Shiva, yet his nerves would feel better actually seeing Summer come home safely. Pulling up a chair to sit in may have been a bit much but he did it anyway. Overbearing or not, Shiva would never be a subject he’d take lightly. Not like he had in the past when he was younger, naive of the danger that thing had. He could his body ache at the thought of it. Pain fades and the body heals, but it also remembers. Not like he needed a reminder. Not when the memories rear their ugliness often in his dreams.

A scroll rang loudly, bringing Nick out of the dark thoughts. He reached in his pocket to see it was in fact Summer who was calling.He wasted no time answering. “Where are you? I thought you’d be back by now?”

“That didn’t sound like hello.” Summer grumbled. “Relax, I'm close by. I actually called to ask for a favor. You’re home right?”

“Yes?”

“Cool. Can you open my window?

Nick walked over to her window and opened it. In the distance he could spot his sister and Eliza outside the gate from the right side. “Done. What-”

“How’d you do that so fast? Were you already in my room!? You aren’t snooping are you!?” She yelled.

“Quiet before you get caught. No, I wasn’t snooping. Pretty sure whatever secrets this room holds is one that would scar me. Though I’m curious about your journal, wherever you hid this time. Perhap under your nightstand?”

“Do you really want to rummage around a young woman's nightstand?” Summer could hear her brother let out an overtop gagging noise. “Grow up.”

“Say it to my face. You better hurry before I decide to close this and watch you hit the glass like a pigeon.”

“Fine, ya baby.” Summer hung up. “Thanks for walking me home, as well as helping me stay dry.” She looked up to see the small dome of water floating over her from Eliza’s magic.

“Exactly what was the plan if I had said no or not shown up at all?”

“Glyphs aren’t just for platforming and dust ya know? Not that it matters. I knew I’d see you tonight.”

Eliza scoffed, “Tah! That confident in your predictions about your brother?”

“Well yes, but that’s not it. It’s not a secret you practice at the pier. It’s also terrible luck on your part you almost shot a captain with a bolt of lightning. One time.”

“W-What!? B-but how would-”

“Is it a Marigold thing to be attracted to my family like a magnet? That captain is my cousin. He says your aim could use work. Bye!” Summer made glyphs to trampoline over the gate and platform through the air and through her window.”

Eliza couldn’t believe it. Why was this her life!? It had to be a joke. Atlas or Mantle, you’re bound to be in Schnee territory. It would’ve been fine if she wasn’t practicing moves to fight one! Now she needed a new training spot. Who knows what they might now. “Damnit, now Nick’s offer is even more to my best interest!”

“Sup bro. How was your date?” The rock n’ roll twin kicked off her shoes and took the black wig off before falling backwards onto her bed.

“Well Valerie was at the front awhile ago.”

Summer sat up. “Okay, that’s not what I expected. Did I miss a fight? No wait, I’m pretty sure I’d hear Veronica scream bloody murder because there’s no way her dress would stay flaw-” her rambling was cut short when Nick suddenly sat beside her and fell on her lap. “Woah. Hey, are you still sick!?”

“No, just tired. The past week has been a little...draining. To be honest I don’t think I even have the energy to shower right now.”

“Well you probably smell better than me right now so I’m not complaining.”

“How was the rave?”

“Fun. Got Eliza to dance a little. The crowd worshipped my performance.” She chuckled.

“What did you sing?”

“Nothing special. A few Linkin Park songs; an experimental original. Oscar thought it would be a good idea to take a few of my journal entries and vent it out through music.”

“Hmm, anything you’ll share to your actual fan base, or me?”

Summer looked at her ceiling to let out a composed sigh. “I don’t think I’m quite ready, or the song for that matter. It and myself are...a work in progress. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Just know your fans think you can’t do wrong and there’s no world where I won’t support you. Family and all that.”

“Love you too.” Summer patted his head. “Sorry if I’ve been causing you trouble. Well, more than usual. Tomorrow is a new day.”

“That’s the spirit. Push yourself but not too hard. That’s my territory. Speaking of which, I’ve been racking my brain with ideas. You can talk to Shiva in that headspace whenever you like right?” He felt her hand stop. Nick looked up to see Summer look apprehensive.

“I can...but it’s not a thing I look to do. Plus tonight has been good. I really don’t want that to-”

“Summer, do you trust me?”

Nick’s words were calm and real. Summer didn’t know what he had in mind. It wasn’t like Nick to invite danger. Her eyes looked to the floor to the orange glow of her heater. Like usual it appeared that her brother had already taken strides for her and everyone’s sake. Just how far would he go, ever making herself feel like she’s at a stand still? Maybe tomorrow could start today. Just a little bit.

“What’s this idea of yours?” She said cautiously.

“Nothing too crazy. You’re just gonna take a page out of Veronica’s playbook.”

xxxxx

You would think a person would know what goes on in their head. Unfortunately, that’s hardly ever the case. Summer never got a full understanding of what went on upstairs in her mind. Then again that would only make sense. She was in therapy after all. Though no amount of emotional talking could explain why her headspace imagery was inconsistent at times. A void of nothingness, her own room, those were the usual shapes that took place. However, this time she found herself back at the frozen lake. Going back and triggering an episode must’ve left a lasting impression. At least her trauma brought variety. The only separation from the real place was the ice ceiling and a distinct lack of cold nipping at her skin. Her psyche though, it was definitely feeling something.

She began walking through the white hell of her own making until she found her target, Shiva. The being was skating across the lake like how Summer once did. “Shiva.” Summer called out.

The woman of ice and snow looked over, surprised. She stopped right in the middle of the lake. “Well, well, well, come to properly thank me? You’d be in a grimm’s stomach by now if it wasn’t for me. You and that idiot girl. Tell me, is she in pain from our encounter?”

“I’m not here to thank you or chitchat.” Summer bluntly stated. “This is an in and out thing.”

���I’ll take that as a no then? Pity. I wouldn’t mind seeing her cry and despair. I bet her tears are uglier than yours. Though I'll say that this look you have going on isn’t gross. Honestly it helps to see you better in this place. You’re always so pale when you’re talking to me. Afraid I might hurt you?” A smirk spread across her face. “Oh I do hate you so.”

“Feeling is mutual. I came here to tell you that from this point on things are gonna change.”

“Pfft, heard that before. You’re all talk.”

“Am I?” Summer reached her hand out. Right before her eyes, the shape of a shovel formed. Hiding her surprise, she focused on Shiva’s own shock. “My mind, my rules. If I can subconsciously make this hell then I can shape it to an extent. Summer tossed the shovel at Shiva for her to catch. “Keep that safe for me.” Summer’s body began to slowly fade from this space.

“And what exactly is this for?”

“Your grave. Feel free to dig it yourself.” Her final words before disappearing completely while witnessing a smug smirk vanish before her eyes. Right as she faded, Summer could hear one last remark.

“We’ll see who buries who.”

Summer opened her eyes to find herself back in her room. Good, she hadn’t moved an inch. “Well I’ve thoroughly pissed her off, but it actually felt good to be the one harassing her. Thank Ni- huh?” Summer failed to realize she’s been talking to herself. Nick was fast asleep already! “Unbelievable. What if I would’ve messed up?”

“Zzzzzz.”

“Quite the convincing answer.” Summer returned to rubbing his head. He felt a little warm but nothing serious. Taking breaks needed to be at the top of his list from now on. Only way that would happen is if things weren’t hectic. It was time to step up. “I’ll do right by you. I promise. Just...give me a little more time.”

Her eyes became heavy. It appears the day’s events weighed on her more than she realized. Both twins fell into slumber there for the entire night, finally getting some rest.

[ladydorian05]

Fluff 4 and Angst 8 for Whiskey? From the sentence starters post?💓

Angst 8. “Is that blood?” “…No?”

Fluff 4. “Have you always been this beautiful?”

DArling!!! This became a monster of a fic, hope you like it, I struggled a bit with Whiskey, the mother fucker refused to do and say what I wanted him to, but at the end I got him to do it. (I’s probably a mess, but I’m proud of this mess)

The angst well there’s a bit of it but the fluff won over it. Tried to make it gender neutral AND THEN I failed so it’s F! Reader,there’s no Y/n (that I remember).

Give me something to write about from this list

Alright so here it is (excuse the title all my creativity went to the story):

Whiskey x f!reader

Warnings: Guns, mentions of death, some specific stuff but not really detailed or extremely gore like.

Word count: 2K and something

I apologise for any typo, I was too excited to post it to make any kind of proof read.

Small Edit: Okay I think a I fixed all the typos and filled in some things my tired brain thought it wrote but it actually didn’t. Plus Oloreaa’s suggestions.

His huntress 

It was supposed to be an easy mission, the easiest assignment the both of you had been send to complete ever since you were paired up with agent Whiskey. Get inside the base of a small terrorist group, terminate their operations, call for clean up and go back to HQ. Easy. Until it wasn’t.

The base wasn’t that big, but it was well hidden underground inside an old nuclear bunker, surrounded by a thick forest, they counted seven men patrolling the perimeter and only two guarding the entrance, no cameras according to the new Ginger. The men were silently taken care of with the modified glove-crossbow on your right wrist and Whiskey’s electric lasso. 9 down, 5 to go.

“Ginger, I’m moving in,” you said.

“Copy that, you’re going underground, there’s a chance we’ll lose contact once inside.” His voice came through your earpiece.

“Got it. Whiskey, cover me.” Out of the two, you were better at being stealthy.

“You got it sweetheart.” With him at the entrance, you proceeded to go down a flight of stairs to get inside the base. You found yourself in a long corridor, three doorways ahead, two on each side of the hall and a bigger one at the end, you went inside the closest one to your right.

The small room was used to store wooden crates, inspecting an open one you found it was full of assault rifles of an impressive variety, another box held some bullet proof vests, it seemed like you stumbled upon their armoury. Idiots, who leaves all of their resources right at the entrance.

You go back to the corridor to check the second room, this one slightly bigger than the first. Inside you found at least 6 cots arranged to leave just enough room to walk around. Two of them were currently being in use.

Checking that your crossbow was loaded and with the safety off you slowly made your way to the man closest to the door, while you prefer to operate with your, according to the man that carries a whip and a lasso at all times,  ‘weird’ choice of a weapon for it’s quiet characteristics, you can admit some times it wasn’t the most accurate choice, unless you were the one using it of course; still you couldn’t take any chances of missing.

Once you were happy with the distance, with a well-controlled move of a finger the metal arrow went flying, puncturing a hole into the side your target’s skull killing him instantly, you made quick work of the second one in much the same way.

You were about to retrace your steps when you heard the small noise of dirt scraping against the sole of shoes behind you. Discreetly grabbing one of the throwing knifes strapped to your torso in your hand, you waited for your would-be attacker to make their move.

Then you felt someone’s breath over your shoulder. Turning around you made an arc with your knife aiming to lodge it in the throat of whoever dared to sneak up on you.

However, your hand was stopped by a bigger hand wrapping round your wrist.

“How we doin’ darling?”

Oh, you’d recognise that accent anywhere.

“Whiskey! What the fuck are you doing here!?” You exclaimed in a hushed tone. The asshole had the nerve to throw a smug smirk at you, making his stupid dimple appear.

“Got bored waiting outside,” he said shrugging “besides I wanted to show you that I can actually be quiet.”

“Yeah, right I heard you coming. Come on, only three left and one more area to check.”

“Ladies first.”

Rolling your eyes, you made your way back to the hall. The last room seemed to be the biggest judging by the double doors keeping you out from it. Guns in hand, you flanked the left side while Whiskey took the right.

“So how do you want to do it? My way or your way?” You asked him.

“What’s the difference?”

“For starters, I don’t have much of a flare for dramatic entrances.”

“It was ONE time.” There was a moment of silence as you stared at each other. “Fine, your way.” He grumbled.

You slightly pushed your door to take a peek inside the room.

“Shit.”

All of the intel given to the both of you before leaving HQ was on point, the location of the base, the number of people guarding the entrance, their lack of actual surveillance equipment, even the fact that they had a big arsenal. Everything was just as they were told it would be, all except that their base was bigger than they thought and they had more people than anticipated.

Either these guys were smarter than you gave them credit for keeping most of their members inside their base or the Statesman intelligence department needed an upgrade. Probably both. This just complicated your ‘easy’ mission.

But you can’t blame the new Ginger Ale, even if he was a genius, he was still pretty young and had to step in to fill some big shoes when their dear former Ginger made the jump to field agent.

In any case, the lack of that particular bit of information got you and your partner into quite the sticky situation.

“What?” Whiskey’s attention focused on your troubled expression. “Jäger, what’s wrong?” The use of your code name snapped you out of your inner turmoil.

Slowly you closed the door, returned your gun to its holster and took a step back from it.

“Ginger, do you copy?” Nothing.” Ginger?” Fuck, no signal.

“Sweetheart, you okay there?”

“Maybe we should go back to their armoury and check if they have some grenades we can use” You muttered biting your thumb.

“Hey, sugar, talk to me, please.” Whiskey said grabbing your shoulders with his hands, you could see the worry in his eyes. “What did you see in there?”

“There are more than 3 people inside that place, and it’s way bigger than the other rooms.” You answered with a sight.

“Fuck, how many?” He took off his black Stetson and ran a hand through his hair.

“I don’t know, I counted at least ten moving around that side of the room. They were going over some board with a map.”

“Ten, okay, we can work with ten, we’ve taken more than ten before. Piece of cake.”

“Whiskey, that was just one side, there’s probably more of them.”

“Hey, calm down sugar. I know you don’t like it when surprises like this happen, I don’t like it either. But we’ve been through worse with less.”

“You’re right. You’re right.” You said nodding you head slowly, a plan already forming in your head. “Okay, we’ll go back to the first room and see what we can find.” He gives you a quick nod before leading the way to the room.

You were in luck, you actually found a couple of smoke grenades inside a smaller crate along with gas masks, they would work just fine. Taking one of the grenades and an assault riffle for each of you, together you walked towards the door.

“Hey, Whiskey, ready for the rodeo? In the end we’re actually going to do it your way.”

“Only if you’re ready for the hunt, Jäger.” He answered with a dashing smile.

“Always.”

“Alright, put your mask on.” You nodded; mask already secure on your face “On three. One. Two.”  You pulled the pin of the smoke grenade.

“Three.” Whiskey kicked the doors open, giving you the chance to confirm that there were definitely more than ten people inside; and you threw the grenade inside. In seconds the whole place was filled with smoke, alarmed screams and the sound of people coughing.

“Hey sweetheart! Bet I can take more than you!”

“You wish”

At first it was fairly easy to pick on the men in the confusion of the surprise attack with the cover of the smoke. But it seemed the place had a better ventilation system than you thought. The smoke began to clear from the space and with the renewed visibility came the actual fight.

“Eight!” You heard Whiskey shout over all the noise

Shit.

You ripped the mask from your face. Bullets began to fly, both from their guns and yours. You were lucky to find that they only had handguns on them, their heavy so all weapons were back at the first room. Discarding your now empty rifle you grabbed your handgun from its holster. One by one the men began to fall, some with bullets others with crossbow bolts. The ones that didn’t have guns had knifes on them, you made sure to take care of the ones with guns first, and the ones with knifes, well none could get close enough to actually make use of them.

“Twenty-five! How you doing over there, cowboy!” You shouted over your shoulder after falling another knife guy.

You turned completely when you got no answer from the boisterous man.

“Whiskey?” You called, only now noticing that you were the only one still standing inside the room. “Fuck.”

You swept the room with your eyes in search of your partner, finding only the dead bodies of your attackers. He wasn’t there.

“Whiskey! I swear if this is a fucking joke, I’m going to kill you myself!”

How was that possible? Only seconds ago, you could hear the distinct noise of his custom-made guns. Was he taken? Where you so engrossed on your stupid bet that you didn’t even notice if your partner needed help?

FUCK.

Fear began to creep up on you, you were about to retrace your steps back to the way you came. Then you felt slight breeze coming from the back of the room, soon after you heard the crack of a whip.

Without thinking you ran in that direction finding a short corridor with a single turn to the right, it led to a flight of stairs and an open door. Taking two steps at a time you soon found yourself outside surrounded by tall trees.

Scanning the place, you finally found what you were looking for. A good 6 feet away from you, leaning his back on a tree, right hand still holding his whip while the other was holding his side.

You made your way to him, breathing heavily, you don’t know if it was because of the fight or the near panic state the disappearance of your partner left in its wake. And you certainly didn’t care.

“There you are sugar. Was beginning to wonder if you’d find the little back door in there.” Taking notice of you, he slid to ground with a grunt. “You seemed be having too much fun back there.” He looked at you with a smirk on his face once you were almost at his side. “So, how many did you take down?”

“Is that blood?” Was the only answer he got.

“…No?”

“Really, then what is that red liquid stuff coming out from your side?”

“Would you believe me if I told you it’s ketchup?”

“Seriously Whiskey!?”

“It’s nothing, just a scratch. One of the assholes got lucky that’s all, but hey, I got him back for it.” He said nodding to his left were a few feet away laid the beheaded body of a man. Some times you forget that his whip is also electrified.

“Whiskey? Jägermaister? Do you copy?” Ginger’s voice in your ear interrupted the reprimand that was about to come out of your mouth.

“Jäger here, good to have you back, mission completed, call in the cleaning team. And send case evac, Whiskey got hit.” You said as you took out a small emergency kit from a bag strapped to your thigh, removing Whiskey’s hand from his wound to take a look at it.

“You got it. ETA to your location 5 min, I had them on hold when I lost communication with you guys.”

“Thank you Ginger, Jäger out.”

“Have you always been this beautiful? How lucky am I to have such a vision taking care of me?” Whiskey said letting his body relax a bit more against the tree. “Mmmm, getting’ handsy already I see.” You felt more than heard the way his already deep and rich voice turned husky when you tried to get his clothes out of the way to press some gauze pre prepared with some antibiotic liquid.

“Really Whiskey?” You let out a sigh, exasperated with the man you were trying to help so that he wouldn’t bleed out before actual help arrived.

“What? The mission’s over, we got them and we’re both alive.”

“We’re still out in the open on enemy territory, what if there’s more of them?”

“Don’t think so. And back up is on the way.”

“So, this time is going to be you, huh? You’re breaking character already? Not even going to wait until we’re on the road.”

After becoming a couple, the both of you figured out that this was only going to work if you separated, even if only in a small way, your work from your private life and so you agreed that on any kind of mission you were first and fore most partners covering each other’s back, keeping the easy friendship and banter from the first year of your partnership. Even if that meant having to put up with his old douchebag personality.

It wasn’t always easy, especially when one of you got hurt, it was mainly in those circumstances when the charade fell apart and both of you behaved like the couple you actually were behind closed doors. Champ didn’t mind as much, bless you boss for putting up with both yours and Jack’s shit, as long as it didn’t affect your jobs.

It even became a game between you, on who would break character first.

“Nope.” He chuckled for a bit before his face turned into a grimace. “Fuck that hurts. Besides, it’s probably because of the blood loss.”

“Dammit Jack, even more reason for you to let me check that wound.”

“Alright, you win. With one condition.”

“What.”

“Let me use your lap as a pillow when you’re done.”

“If with that you’re going to let me work, then yes.” After that he stayed silent letting you work on his wound in peace. Once you finished applying a dry piece of gauze to help stop the bleeding, you patted his arm,” Come on hot stuff, get over here.” You watched as a big smile appeared on his handsome face.

Slowly you helped him get comfortable taking off his Stetson from his head, how he always manages to keep it on it’s beyond you, leaving it on your other side. “Hmmm yes. I’m feeling so much better already.”

“Just don’t get too comfy. We’re getting out of here soon.”

“Mmmhmm” You began to run your hands through his hair. “ ’M gonna fall asleep if you keep doing that.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Then stop.” There was a moment of peace between you two, just enjoying the fact that both of you made it out of another dangerous situation. “So, how many?”

“Hmm?”

“How many did you get?”

“Oh, 25.”

“Really!?” His eyes opened up in surprise.

“Yup.”

“Damn baby. That’s my girl!” You could hear the smile in his voice.

“You?”

“20. Got distracted running after the asshole that poked me. Can you believe it? He actually tried to run away! No sir, not after poking my gut with a knife.”

“You call that poking!? God, I don’t want to know what you consider an actual stab.”

“Oh, you really don’t want to know! So, you won, my gorgeous huntress, what shall you ask for as a prize?”

“First, I want you to get patched up, then I want to take a shower, after that I was thinking about going back home and sleep for the rest of the day. The mission report can wait.”

“Hmm that sounds nice love. How about you wait for them to release me and we change that shower for a bath with me once we’re back home.” He said wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“But I still want to sleep the rest of the day after that, so don’t get any ideas.”

“We’ll see.”

The sound of a bunch of trucks closing in on your location brought you out of your small moment with the man you love.

“Well, looks like we’re going home sweetheart.”

[fourdaysofrain]

In a Flash

Summary: Peter sees a familiar face during patrol.

(Post-Far From Home, ignores the end credits scene)

Read on AO3

Peter Parker was standing in a cemetery.

It’s not the first cemetery he’s been in. He’s had experience with grieving, of course. His Aunt May and Uncle Ben helped him process the death of his parents, and then his Aunt May alone helped him with the death of his uncle. Even before that, he was brought to the funeral of his great-grandfather before he was old enough to realize why everyone was crying.

But now, he stood in front of the grave of Tony Stark. It was bare, with dirt that hadn’t yet begun to grow grass. Peter slowly leaned down and placed a single white carnation against the gravestone.

“Mr. Stark, I–” his words caught in his throat, countless unsaid feelings floating just out of his reach.

Peter kept taking slow, deep breaths. He didn’t plan anything to say, he had hoped it would come to him in the moment. He settled for just looking solidly at the dirt, too afraid of the finality of seeing the name engraved in the stone.

He watched as a small spider slowly stalked through the ground. Another unearthed right behind it. And another to the left. Peter tried to shift backward, but his shoes were glued to the earth beneath him. He couldn’t even look away.

He saw the dirt shift almost imperceptibly. And then it continued to shake, a mound forming in the center.

A gauntlet burst out, one that was too achingly familiar. Peter wanted to move, to run away, to do anything, but he couldn’t even blink. He was trapped to watch as the rotting carcass of Tony Stark pulled itself out of its grave and grabbed him, pulling him down into the earth.

If you were good enough, maybe Tony would still be alive.

Peter slowly slid his window open, not wanting to disturb Ned, who was still snoring loudly underneath a pile of blankets. They had yet another sleepover last night, both still too afraid to sleep comfortably alone. They both passed out to Ned’s laptop almost judgmentally showing the “Are you still watching?” screen from Netflix.

Peter had nightmares about Tony’s death even before he sacrificed himself to save the world. But after Mysterio, they were happening more and more frequently. Thankfully, he was able to wake up without screaming now. He cringed as he remembered the first couple weeks when he would feel Aunt May softly rubbing his back as he sobbed himself awake. But tonight, he just needed some fresh air to calm down. Sticking to the outside of his bedroom, he double-checked that his suit was sealed correctly, and then put his mask on.

“Hey Karen, how’s your night going?” he asked casually.

“Good evening Peter. Your heart rate seems to be elevated, is there anything I can do to help?” Karen’s voice cut cleanly through the dull sounds of the city at night.

“Uh- no, no I don’t think so, I just need to swing around for a while. You know.”

“Of course, Peter. Would you like me to play your patrol playlist on Spotify?”

“No, that’s okay, Karen. Thank you though.”

“I’m here if you need me.”

Peter took a deep breath before jumping from the wall and falling to the ground below. He felt the rush of wind around him and waited as long as he could before shooting a web and pulling himself back into the air.

He tried not to think about when Karen would offer to call Mr. Stark on nights like these. She would read his fast heartbeat, figure out he had a nightmare, and Mr. Stark would call him with a lazy excuse about needing his opinion on a project. They would end up talking for so long he’d forget what the nightmare was even about. Or, Mr. Stark would get an alert that he was using the suit past curfew, and he’d get an angry phone call on his display. The current lack of supervision was almost oppressive, some nights. Aunt May was always willing to help him, but she had no way of knowing what he did after he went to bed each night. Happy kept in touch with him, of course, and he was able to get some information from the suit, but he didn’t even know the half of all the protocols Mr. Stark made. Peter himself was only barely starting to scratch the surface.

The first time he went out patrolling after Mr. Stark di- after the blip, he got stabbed. It was nothing he hadn’t seen before, he just needed to get to the MedBay. Karen had innocently asked if he wanted to call Mr. Stark, and he broke. He was barely able to tell her to call Happy instead. The next day, he went through her code with Ned and removed any reference to him. The next month, he put it all back in, and slowly struggled through telling her the story of how he saved the universe.

The night progressed slowly. He swung from building to building, no end destination in mind. The beating of his heart eventually slowed to match the steady rhythm of his swings. He finally ended up on the roof of a nearby building to take a break before going back home. He wasn’t keeping track of how much time had passed since he left, and he wanted to get home before sunrise.

The hair on his arms stood up, and he got a short burst of adrenaline. Something was wrong.

“Karen, what’s happening?” he whispered.

“There seems to be a mugging happening in the alleyway to your right,” Karen responded.

“Thanks, Karen. I’ll check it out.”

He slowly peered over the edge of the building to get a read on the mugging. There were three men surrounding someone who was cowering against the end of the alleyway. He couldn’t see any weapons out, but that didn’t mean there were none.

“Hey Karen, activate enhanced reconnaissance mode. Let me hear what they’re saying.”

“On it, Peter.”

A small rectangle appears over them in his mask’s display and magnifies his vision.

“C’mon kid, just fork it over and no one gets hurt,” a gruff voice said.

The reply consisted of mostly whimpers and heavy breathing.

“Dude, if he’s not gonna just give it to us, we’re gonna have to take it,” a second voice grunted.

Peter decided this was a good time to jump in. He dropped slowly down to the ground, making sure to remember Nat’s advice about landing on his toes so he didn’t alert the muggers.

“Thing like that must cost a pretty penny, eh? Not like your daddy can’t just get you a new one, with how much you were runnin’ your mouth back there,” the third voice finally chimed in, a small flick of his wrist revealing a switchblade.

Peter took one more slow, deep breath before intervening, putting on the Spider-Man persona like an old leather glove.

“Hey, guys! Looks like you’re all having fun, but unfortunately, I gotta break this up.”

When the three criminals turned around, Peter shot a web at the third’s hand that held the blade to pin it to the wall. His hand instinctively opened, and the switchblade fell to the ground. One of the remaining two dove for it.

“Oh no you don’t,” Peter shot a web over the knife to make it unreachable, “don’t you guys have more than one of these? That’s poor planning on your part.” He shot a web across the torso of the third, who was trying to pry his hand free. He was pinned to the side of the alleyway. Now he just had two to worry about.

They were both moving towards him aggressively. He threw a web grenade at the side of the alley, and when it detonated it threw the two of them to the opposite side. All three of them were stuck to the wall in some way or another. He could handle petty criminals like these in his sleep. He mumbled a quick reminder to Karen to alert the local precinct and got a short confirmation in return.

The person at the end of the alley was still curled up in the fetal position. All he could see was the top of a very gelled hairstyle. He shot a quick web over each of the mugger’s mouths before starting to approach the victim.

“Hey guy, or uh- person! Don’t worry, these things happen all the time. Are you hurt? Do you need help?” Peter could hear a staccato rhythm of quick, sharp breaths underneath the muffled yelling of the muggers as he got closer. He slowly crouched and put a hand on the person’s shoulder, when they yelped and started to run out of the alleyway. Peter froze for a beat and then lightly jogged after them.

“Hey! Hey, you can’t just run away! I know it’s kind of scary but I want to make sure you’re okay!” Peter called as he caught up. It didn’t take long, but they were able to make it out of the alleyway. At least he didn’t have to keep looking at the wild eyes of the three men webbed to the walls. Peter grabbed their shoulder again and they whipped around.

“Hey, do you have anyone I can call for–” he froze. It was Flash. He just saved his high school bully from a group of muggers.

“Holy shit!” Flash exclaimed, eyes wide.

“Hey, hey, hey. The bad guys are gone now, it’s just you and me.” Peter tried to sympathize with him, being in danger for the first time can be a big shock.

“Jes- Jesus Christ! They could have killed me!”

“They didn’t though, you’re good, they’re stuck back there for a couple of hours.” Peter awkwardly motioned to the alley before trying to find a natural position for his arms.

Flash let out a huge sigh and slumped against the wall of the adjacent building. Peter looked at him and sighed in turn while he wondered how to proceed. Sure, Flash gives him a lot of shit in school, but it’s not like he was irredeemable. Peter also knew that he was a huge fan of Spider-Man, and he didn’t want to ruin that.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Flash looked at him with a start.

“Are you Spider-Man?” he yelped.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I am.” No, these are my pajamas.

“You’ve saved me before.” Peter didn’t want to give anything about his identity away.

“When?”

“I was in the Washington Monument when the elevator broke. Part of an academic decathlon team, if you know what that is.”

“Oh yeah, I remember that. Were you the guy who tried to save the trophy before himself?” C’mon, just because he was helping him didn’t mean he couldn’t make a little fun of him.

Flash gave a dry chuckle.

“Yeah, I guess that was me.”

Peter hummed in response, wondering how he could end this conversation quickly.

“You also stole my dad’s car.”

Peter’s gaze quickly snapped back to Flash, but he didn’t sound angry. He just sounded… sad.

“I’m really sorry, you were the first person I–”

“Don’t apologize,” Flash interrupted, “That was the first time in a long time that my father paid any attention to me.”

The statement hung heavily in the air between them as Flash’s breaths started to even out.

“Y’know,” Flash started, “I swear I’ve heard your voice before, Spider-Man.”

Oh shit. Peter felt his blood turn to ice. He knew he should have made a voice modulator, but he kept putting it off. All the ones that Mr. Stark had made him were over-the-top and dramatic, just like the man himself.

“Voices are weird like that, huh? You just said we met before anyways, so…” He tried to subtly deepen his voice.

“You just changed it, you sounded different before.”

“Listen, Flash, it’s not a big deal.”

“How do you know my name? You said it while you stole the car, too.”

Double shit.

“I– Someone said it in the Washington Monument, and I remembered it because it’s a cool nickname?” Peter squeaked out, hoping Flash would be blinded by the compliment.

“Are you spying on me? Is this because of what Father did? I know he’s rich, but he’s not worth all this trouble. Because if you hold me hostage, it’s not like he’ll give you anything. And he’s not available, anyways. I tried calling him when those thugs tried to get my phone, but I only have the model early because he paid for an exclusive prototype. If you want it, just take it, they weren’t lying when–”

“Woah woah woah, hey,” Peter cut him off before he ran out of oxygen, “I’m not spying on you, don’t worry.” Flash’s fear turned to anger. He pushed off the wall and got into Peter’s personal space.

“Then tell me how you know my name, Spider-Shit. And why you sound so familiar. I’m just tired of no one listening to me.”

“It’s not a big deal, don’t worry. I’m just going to leave now.”

“I’ll show you a big deal”

Then it happened. Before Peter could lean away, Flash grabbed the top of his mask and pulled.

Peter stilled, cursing his supposed Peter tingle. He kept eye contact with Flash, blinking a few times to let his eyes adjust to the change in brightness.

Flash was frozen, his mouth in an almost perfect “O.” He stuttered a few times, not knowing what to say first.

“I– You– Wh–”

Peter’s inner conscious was swinging between fight and flight like a metronome on meth. Eventually, it stopped on one.

“Bye Flash. The cops are already coming, you can leave,” he said grimly. Before Flash could form a coherent sentence, Peter jumped off a nearby streetlight to gain momentum and grabbed his mask from Flash’s hand with a web as he used his other hand to swing from a nearby building. He quickly put it on before getting out of Flash’s line of sight, turning his head to see him staring right at him.

“Shit,” Peter murmured.

—

Peter was able to get back to his bedroom before anyone woke up. He changed back into his hand-me-down pajamas and booted up his laptop. There was no way he’d go back to sleep now. Thankfully he didn’t have to see Flash until Monday, and it was still Saturday.

He checked the clock. Scratch that– Sunday. He sighed and rubbed his face. He had no clue how he was going to face Flash knowing he was Spider-Man. He checked Spider-Man’s mentions on Twitter and Instagram, but there wasn’t anything online about his identity yet. That was a good sign, at least. The only people who weren’t superheroes or part of Mr. Fury’s group that knew his identity were May, Ned, and MJ. And Liz’s dad, but he figured it out last year and nothing has happened yet. He really didn’t want to add anyone else. Flash knowing was… manageable, as long as he didn’t tell anyone else. He decided to just mindlessly browse Twitter while he waited for the rest of the world to wake up.

—

“Are you sure I can’t miss a day?” Peter groaned out from underneath his pillow. Sunday went by too fast. He managed to not let it slip that Flash found out his identity to Ned or May, but it still sat like a stone deep in his stomach.  

“Peter, superheroes don’t get sick, you already miss so many classes. Ned’ll be here soon, chop-chop!” May yelled from the kitchen, no doubt trying to get the coffee maker to work.

Peter stretched his spine before quickly throwing on the cleanest looking clothes he could find on his floor and made it to the front door just as Ned was knocking, being sure to grab his wrapped up lunch and snacks from the counter before he left.

“Bye May, love you!” He yelled behind him as he walked out, locking the door behind him.

Peter and Ned walked to school together, like always. Ned was talking about LEGO’s new Avenger Tower set when the secret bubbled up into Peter’s throat. He made sure no one was around, and then interrupted Ned.

“Flash saw me in the suit!” He said harshly.

“What? When?” Ned looked at Peter with the same wide-eyed look that he always has when talking about his extracurricular activities.

“During our sleepover, I went out after you fell asleep and I stopped some people who were mugging Flash and then he took my mask off and I just left and now we’re going to see him in school and he’s probably already told everyone!”

“Why did you let him take off your mask!”

“I don’t know it just happened!”

“I thought you had your Peter tingle?” Ned acted out his words, waving his fingers near his temple.

“Stop calling it that, I’m freaking out right now, man!”

“It’ll be fine Peter, we can figure this out together. Does May know?”

“No I didn’t tell her, are you crazy? She already hates Flash, this would just give her an actual reason to go murder him!” There was only one adult he would feel comfortable telling, and he was six feet underground somewhere upstate.

“Okay, just… Deep breaths. We can figure this out.”

Peter and Ned’s conversation kept ping-ponging between the two for the rest of their walk. Eventually, they reached their lockers.

“Ned, we have chemistry first period with him! What’ll I do?” Peter said, sounding more like a strangled cat than a teenager.

“Guy in the chair, I’ll figure something out. I can cause a distraction whenever you need. I’ll just drop all my stuff onto the floor, just give me the signal,” Ned said pointedly, grabbing an extra textbook he doesn’t need from his locker.  

“I don’t see how that will help,” Peter hissed at Ned before they walked to class.

—

Flash was already in his seat and had a crowd of students around his desk.

“I was scared out of my mind, when all of a sudden–” Flash’s eyes snapped to Peter and he choked on his words for a second. He cleared his throat before anyone listening to him noticed and returned his attention back to the group around him– “Spider-Man came in. He just wiped the floor with these guys, it was awesome. I got to see it all happen five feet away.”

Peter tried to keep his face as neutral as possible as he watched Flash from across the room. Ned, meanwhile, was looking visibly anxious as he fiddled with his stack of textbooks put purposefully near the edge of the desk.

“After he was done and all the guys were stuck to the wall, he just swung away, probably off to save more people’s lives,” Flash finally looked up from the small group of students and made eye contact with Peter as he finished his story, “I wasn’t even able to say thank you.”

Peter let out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding.

Peter nodded slowly.

Flash nodded back.

And if either of them noticed Flash started calling him Peter, they wouldn’t tell.

[raven-wraith]

A Completely Subjective (Objective) List of Titles to Examine (Purchase), Play Through (Waste Your Life), and Enjoy (Enjoy) During Quarantine (part 2)

We know what’s happening. It’s April 1st, but the joke has been going on for far too long. Trapped in our homes with Covid-19 actively shooting people in the streets outside, we have to find a way to pass the time. As an avid gamer and professional uncooked cookie dough eater, I have compiled a list of games, both multiplayer and singleplayer that anyone and everyone should play for an enthralling experience. These games range from the newest releases to golden classics, so be warned if, I don’t know, Halo Reach appears. By the way, Halo Reach is appearing.

Multiplayer Games: 

I would like to point out that the following games are more directed to be in the vein of multiplayer, however, the single player experience should not be disregarded at all with these titles. I just find that the replayability comes from the multiplayer modes in these titles, but go ahead and check out the single player. After all, these games have strong versions of those modes either way.

A Way Out

Okay so I already lied. A Way Out is exclusively multiplayer. But before we hop into the gameplay itself, I do want to emphasize that only one (that’s right, one) copy of the game must be owned for 2 people to play, even online. A cooperative 2-player interactive drama game, the game paints a story that involves a prison break, found family, betrayal, and interesting and original levels, each with unique controls involved in every set. 

The game plays in split screen, even when playing online, allowing for one player to be in a cutscene talking to a guard while their partner is to be off somewhere else, in full control. A Way Out also has very interesting mechanics, where branching discussions can be given depending on either player’s interests or playstyles.

A Way Out is a once in a lifetime experience and it won’t be the same after replaying it, but the time spent with a partner is special and unique for first time players. I had an amazing time, I’m sure you will as well.

Monster Hunter: World

What is better than hunting parking garage sized Pokemon on crack? Hunting parking garage sized Pokemon on crack with three other friends. Monster Hunter: World threw things like story and development out the window to focus on gameplay, and for that, I appreciate their direction with this game. 

In this game, the idea of the hunt is everything. Figure out your prey, find and craft potions and weapons that are best against it, track that fool, beat that thing’s head in 500 times. Rinse. Repeat. While it sounds simple, MHW’s massive size would prove you wrong. This game is so gigantic, you and your friends have to camp out in the game, you may have to in real life, just so you don’t lose too much sleep.

The game runs closer to an RPG as well, with weapons and armor that can only be wielded by players seeking a specific role for their hunting party. It’s like every good part of hunting things in The Witcher, only you do it with teammates that never brought enough health potions. For people with a lot of time on their hands, this game is a must have.

Did I mention that you kick the shit out of monsters?

Borderlands 2

The most self aware game I’ve played since the Stanley Parable, Borderlands 2 is a phenomenal game that only gets better the more friends you throw in it. A first person shooter built around a campaign of limitless side quests, an expansive class and character system, and of course, guns. Borderlands 2 brings humor to an already mixed genre of looter shooter that there is so much to unpack, I feel it’s unfair to do so here.

Borderlands 2 is the ultimate hunt for treasure and glory. You journey through the planet of Pandora, a mixture of Mad Max and a 2012 mlg compilation video. The game has a strikingly intriguing story with multi-dimensional characters and a fascinating intro to anyone who is opposed to shooters, RPGs, or both. The game offers hundreds of hours of content with the numerous DLC’s, all offering new areas, quests, and characters. The unserious Destiny, COD Diablo, whatever you want to call it, it’s all there in Borderlands 2.

The game, however, goes above and beyond what it already has when you incorporate two or three friends. After picking classes/characters and starting a new journey or just dropping in and out of co-op, the game is always fresh and welcoming with endless things to kill and loot. All in all-

Look. Just play it. Seriously. It's good. It’s like Spider-Man

Halo Reach

Ha, what’d I tell you? Boom, Halo Reach! Let’s get into it.

You don’t even have to play any of the other Halos to even start to understand what is happening. The game has so much to do, not in comparison to world size or gameplay, but in just sheer amount of modes to participate in. There's a campaign (with 4-player support), firefight, forge, custom games, and all the different playlists in multiplayer like infection, SWAT, Invasion, Big Team Battle, and more. 

While I did say that these games were centered on the multiplayer experience, I do have to highlight the campaign of Halo Reach. It is filled with beautifully destroyed battlefields, detailed corridors of enemies, and a cast of dynamic characters, all with impressively delivered voice lines and performances. I can give just the campaign alone a 9/10, honestly.

Back to the real shit, there is an incredible amount of things to unlock in Halo Reach’s armory, a list of cosmetic items that you can slap onto your super soldier to make your flex just that much harder when you kill and t-bag a person online. And also, everything that can be done between the multiplayer and single player ALL accumulate experience to your level, meaning no matter what you play in this monster, you can still access the armory and look fly as hell. Even for those who haven’t even heard of Halo, I guarantee that this entry into the series is the strongest. 

Titanfall 2

It is fucking criminal how underrated this game is. This is the only game, the ONLY game I know where Hollywood level shit happens on my screen every match. Every. Single. Match. Things that aren’t in cutscenes or in the background, we’re talking player to player encounters in the game. This is the only game where you can run along a wall at mach speeds, drop kick a guy, hop onto the back of his thirty foot tall mech suit, throw a grenade into it’s engine, blow it up, double jump onto a different building, hack a robot, kill a guy while invisible, teleport to a different fucking dimension, and board an evacuation ship all at once. 

Titanfall 2 offers a shooter experience that anyone who has ever played online has to hop in and see. While the skill gap is high (like Snoop Dogg high), it is beyond exhilarating in every match. The game allows for customization for your skills, suits, guns, and of course, your big ass Titan.

The game’s online modes feature a pick and choose system in loadouts where players of Call of Duty games will feel at home. However, players of Mirror’s Edge will feel at home with the fast paced mobility of Titanfall, where the player actually shines. The game sports wall running, double jumping, slides, movement assisting skills like grapple hooks, and momentum physics to all feed into an impressive movement experience to an otherwise simple online shooter.

Multiplayer revolves around less diverse playlists than Halo Reach, but between a surprisingly short and sweet campaign and an online experience that I think is unmatched, Titanfall sports such clean animations, well done lighting and curated maps, that I think that it holds an unparalleled online experience (3).

And that’s the list, really. I didn’t include games I thought were 10/10’s, perfect, or otherwise critically acclaimed just because everyone else had played them. I went off to analyze these titles and try to comprise them into just a few short paragraphs using the experience in writing and gaming I knew. Stay safe during quarantine. And please…

Check out Titanfall. Those dudes need more players. Seriously.

(3)  Also, see the campaign. Seriously. It’s a little too good for a shooter.

[edmund-valks]

A Family Reunion - Part I

Traveling the Ghostlands on foot was always an experience, and never the good kind.  Under the circumstances, a trip through the Nightwood was probably inadvisable, so she'd had to ask Miss Winford for the favour of a portal. Hopefully she'd be taking the Nightwood back, though.  Otherwise the trip home was probably wasted and returning to the Respite would take far longer than she'd planned for.

So far she'd had to kill several large spiders, one troll she regrettably had no way to collect pieces from, and a small batch of the angry dead.  Not the high-quality kind, thankfully, so it had barely dented her small stash of grenades.  The Scourge really only cared about numbers, not the craft, which was kind of upsetting on a personal level, even if she understood it from a waging-war-on-all-life perspective.

But that wasn't her problem.  Right now she had to decide the best way to approach her homeland, meaning the way that was least likely to get her killed.  The easiest paths were closed to her, and even the hard ways had little trinkets one could use to make them easier.  She had none.  She'd never needed them before, so she hadn't thought to palm a few during her previous visit.

Still.  Here she was.  The portal hadn't been a disaster, she was unharmed, and the western border of what Quel'thalas tried and failed to claim was before her.  That was the real danger, not stray nerubians or mummified trolls.  It was where her family lived and they were not fond of visitors.

Gear check, she thought.  Last chance to remember where everything is in an emergency.  One eye on the invisible line separating the Ghostlands from her childhood home, Ilandreline knelt down to make sure what she needed was where she'd find it.

Her family knife was on her belt, resting lightly alongside the leg of the coverall she'd worn.  That was the most important thing, but it was hardly her only weapon.  Two smaller knives of less sentimental value were stashed in the sleeves of her kodohide bike jacket, one in each.  There were four small grenades remaining: one frag, one smoke, two blinding.  She put the last two on her belt, opposite the ritual blade.  The others could stay in the satchel.

Everything else was boring: a change of clothes, food, water, a multitool, two half-pint jars of viscous purple liquid.  Oh, and that handy preparation Miss Winford had given her back in the Plaguelands.  She tucked the vial into one of her more accessible pockets.  Never knew when something like that would come in handy.

Content with her accounting and organization, Ilandreline took a few minutes more to arrange her bags and pack properly.  A lot of people didn't realize how easily you could die if you weren't willing (and able) to abandon your possessions.  Especially here.  She idly wondered how many of the elves over in Tranquillien had found that out.  There were only a few she remembered being brought in to join the Endless Dark, but the forest was hostile enough even before her family got involved.

Enough stalling.  With one more tug on the backpack's straps to get them just right, Ila squared her shoulders.  You can do this.  You've done it before.  Except before she wasn't trying to sneak in to talk to her grandmother.  Before she'd been sure the forest knew she belonged.  Before she hadn't been truly alone.

"Fuck 'em," she said aloud.  "Let 'em try and stop me."  She broke into a sustainable jog, waiting until the uncanny darkness had swallowed her before removing her goggles.  Some things could only be seen by the eyes of a Glimmerbow, and those were always the most dangerous.

***

Things had changed in the last fifty years.

The possibility hadn't really occurred to her -- planning wasn't exactly her strong suit -- and now she was regretting it.  What should have been an easy trip among undead patrols and the occasional angry shade had turned into a constant game of evasion and guerilla strikes to keep from being clobbered by angry bones.  Ila deeply regretted leaving her largest wrench at the farm; it was perfect for bashing skeletons into pieces.  It was also too heavy for extended use and detrimental to any attempt at stealth.

For the moment she was catching her breath in the lower branches of a tree.  What kind, she didn't know.  It was too twisted by local conditions to recognize unless you were really into trees.  Meaning her mother would know.  Not that Ilandreline had any plan on asking her about it, but… She sighed.  Wasn't there supposed to be some deep, unbreakable bond between mother and daughter?  She was fairly certain there was, but Mellura'thel must've missed the memo.  Unless it's my fault, I guess.  That wasn't a great thought, so she pushed it away.

Focus.  There were several shades she could see, drifting aimlessly through the trees.  Though they looked harmless, she knew they would either try to possess her or leech all the warmth from her body.  They didn't recognize family members, couldn't distinguish those who belonged from those who didn't.  Such an oversight seemed careless until one remembered their relatives were possibly more dangerous than whatever was in the woods.

A more traditional member of the family wouldn't be threatened by most of these creatures anyway.  Everyone had a basic knowledge of necromancy, at least enough to chastise an angry shade.  Even Ila could have managed it if she'd had any spark of magic; she knew enough theory to where she probably could have taught someone else how.  That wasn't an option, though, so here she was, perched in a tree, trying to figure out how to avoid dying to a distant cousin's creations.

Grenades weren't much use against the ethereal, nor were knives.  She could have probably cobbled together an ectoplasmic disruptor in her lab, but that wasn't much help in the present.  That left only a few workable options.  She processed them as she would any other list of branch-paths.

One: don't get seen or caught.  Pros: effective, requires no equipment.  Cons: really damn hard to manage, no backup if it went wrong.

Two: leave and go back to the Respite.  Pros: low risk, nicer people, could prepare and come back later.  Cons: lots of wasted time, would have to get close to either Silvermoon or the Argent Crusade, wouldn't actually help literally anything.

Three: sprint.  Pros: will be over fast one way or the other, exercise is good.  Cons: terrible idea even by her often questionable standards, likely to get her killed, would do nothing to address the threat of the area's living defenders.

None were great; she wasn't sure any were good.  Choosing between three flavours of awful wasn't ideal, but it had to be done.  Option Two was out, meaning… Option One, with Option Three as the contingency?  She grimaced, washed down some of her trail rations with a mouthful of water, and started mapping her route through the patrolling horrors.

The only good news was there wouldn't be any mechanical traps.  She hadn't installed them, therefore they didn't exist.  Magical traps, however, were almost a guarantee, along with mundane things like hunting snares.  Those were fine.  They were intended to take people alive, unlike everything before them.  Even if she got caught at that point, she could probably argue her way out of consequences.  Probably.

Committed to her decision, a path chosen, Ilandreline waited for the nearest shade to be safely distant before dropping back to the ground.  She rolled to ease the shock to her legs.  Just like when we were kids.  Then she was on her feet, moving with as much speed as she could manage in some kind of silence.

Most people assumed shades could hear as well as the average person.  More learned individuals knew their residing in an ethereal state left them cut off from such physical phenomena.  Both were wrong.  They could hear, but it was like through a heavy fog or maybe a blanket.  That meant you could get away with a certain amount of noise, just not being in their field of view.  Precisely what amount was a bit nebulous, but that's what made it so exciting.  Like when you weren't sure what kind of game you were playing or if the other kids had brought daggers without telling you.

She'd been very good at these games as a child, before she'd understood the stakes.  Nowadays she was better prepared; hopefully that would minimize the impact of being a bit rusty.  Sneaking around Ashenvale or Andorhal wasn't quite the same life-or-death situation as the family's summer night festivities.  Those experiences were why she kept her hair too short to get in her eyes, why she always wore something more form-fitting under her robes.  Why she always carried a knife, too.

That served her well now.  She avoided the first of the shades without incident and began picking her way through the next one's path.  Line of sight was a double-edged sword: she didn't want to be seen, but it also meant she couldn't be certain the entity was going where she expected.  Her heartbeat was louder in her ears than her footsteps, strong and rapid with the influx of adrenaline.  The effect warped time as well -- every moment without knowing where the shade was stretched into eternity, every one where it was visible infinitely shorter than needed.

But suddenly she was through the second ring, moving into what she hoped was still the last of the minion-patrolled sections.  In fits and starts she moved from tree to tree, barely breathing.  Her footsteps weren't silent, but light enough to avoid complications.  Somehow, some way, she didn't snap a branch or fall on her face.  The shiver of passing through the barrier came over her and… that was that.  The undead and shadow creatures were on the other side, couldn't sense her any longer.  Relief flooded her, premature though she knew it was.  Whatever happened next wasn't going to involve having her soul sucked out through her eyeballs or whatever.  Not without an argument, at least.

Exhaling all the stress and fear she hadn't been entirely conscious of, Ilandreline took a step forward, almost smiling for the half second she had before she felt the trap under her foot.  Despite instantly pulling her foot back, she wasn't fast enough to avoid the curl of wire going taut around her ankle.  Only the durable fabric of her jumpsuit and the fact she stopped moving immediately kept the sharpened filament from actually cutting into her ankle.  Swearing, she knelt down to check for a way to extricate herself without sawing off the whole foot.

The mechanism was simple -- it had to be since it was being made by Jaelenash, and he was a competent smith, not a good one -- but she needed to make sure whoever designed it wasn't smarter than she was.  For instance, if it was one of her traps, there'd be an obvious way to disarm it that would actually be a trap of its own.  Ila sighed, regretting on her family's behalf what they'd missed out on when nobody had taken her chosen profession seriously.  She pulled the multitool from its sheath on her belt, unfolding it to get what she needed.  Taking out the wire wasn't easy without causing damage, so she'd have to work on the frame holding everything together.  If she put the blade there and then twisted like so-

Thrum.

Her whole body went flat reflexively.  The razor-snare sheared through the canvas with the new motion, digging painfully into the flesh inches above her ankle, but at least the arrow missed.  It passed through where she'd been, so well-aimed she watched it pass directly overhead.  Black fletching, tiger stripes in alternating red and silver.  She knew those arrows.  "Put it away, Teth!  I'm here to see Grandmother!"

She heard quiet swearing, giving her the chance to snip the metal loop that had given her a bloody leg.  He didn't need to know that, though.  Ila peeked her head up from the undergrowth, looking for her distant relation.  Where was he hiding?  It wasn't clear he intended to stop trying to put arrows in her, so figuring where he was seemed important.  She slipped a decent length of the trap-wire into a pocket while she searched.  No reason to let it go to waste.

"You really going to kill a family member, Teth?  Particularly one who declared her purpose and just wants to see Grandmother?"  The answer was probably yes, but asking was polite.  The engineer eased her sight above the plant cover with trepidation, trying to watch every direction at once.

Once again her hearing saved her life.  She heard the bow creak as he drew the arrow back, could almost visualize the whole scene.  There you are.  Her roll started right before he loosed, giving plenty of space to the shot.  It would have been safest to stop behind the nearest tree, but she kept rolling sideways until she was at the one after.  Should give her a good angle.

"You're not family," he said, sounding annoyed.  Petulant, maybe?  "For all I know you're wearing that form to sneak in and kill us."

That was bullshit and he knew it.  Not because it hadn't happened -- it had, but back when Mellura'thel was still on her first (or was it second?) husband.  They'd fixed that gap in their defenses afterward.  The shades and the barrier were the result.  Pointing her mouth away from where she intended to be, she responded.  "Of course I'm family, we used to play hide and seek here.  You, me, our brothers and sisters.  How is your sister, anyway?  She still got that fungal thing in her leg?"  That earned her another arrow, but it was way off the mark.  Grinning to herself, she scurried toward another hiding space.

Closer, not yet close enough.  She knew where Teth was, even if she couldn't remember his full name.  He didn't seem to realize she was more behind him than in front.  Good.  Gave her time to figure out what the correct social response was under the circumstances.  It was considered very rude to kill someone for doubting you were family, but did that apply here?  He knew she was.  Hell, he'd given her brother a scar, and their sisters had been engaged briefly.  So he definitely shouldn't be killing her, but did that mean she had to keep him alive?  Probably.  Again, rude to kill family, regardless of circumstance.  She sighed silently.

"Don't you dare talk about my sister," he growled, treading carefully through the knee-high brush.  As she watched, he abruptly shifted direction, apparently curving around something.  Interesting; another trap, if she had to guess.  "Your whole family lost that right years ago."

What?  Oh, right!  She'd forgotten how that engagement had ended.  It hadn't been pretty.  Unless she was misremembering, that had been when his little brother had died.  Not a big loss, to her mind, but he probably felt otherwise.  Although that did give her an idea…  "Fine, fine.  What about Glairien, then?  How's he doing?"

He spun suddenly, drilling an arrow dead center into the tree she'd skipped over.  A quick assessment of his face suggested a pictorial reference for the phrase "contorted in rage".  Great, you pissed him off.  Could be for the best, though.  An angry person made mistakes a cooler head wouldn't.  "You'll die for that, Ilandreline, as all of you should have back then!"

Diplomacy was definitely out.  Probably mentioning the dead brother wasn't the best idea, despite the effectiveness at getting a response.  That left one more thing to try before she could act freely.  "Oh, right, sorry.  I forgot."  She hadn't.  Glairien had been an absolute prick and if they hadn't killed him, someone else would have.  "You sure you want to piss off Grandmother, though?  You know how she gets when someone goes against her, and she's made it clear she's the only one who gets to decide if someone meets with her."

"I don't need her permission to defend my home.  She knows better than to get in Grandfather's way."

Ah.  So that was it.  The old game continued.  He -- so his whole family-group, most likely -- was on the other side.  No wonder his brother had been so awful.  She grabbed a length of fallen branch at the same time she pulled a blinding grenade from her belt.  Ila tossed both in quick succession, the first to make noise to get his attention (success!), the second to ruin his vision.  His scream after the detonation indicated it had worked.

She charged from her hiding spot, making more noise than intended.  He shot another arrow, blind as he was.  It wasn't even a bad shot, but it deflected off the reinforced shoulders of her jacket.  Committed as she was, Ilandreline didn't slow, gritting her teeth through the stinging pain in her leg from where the trap had cut her.

A better fighter might have performed some graceful or devastating maneuver to end the fight in a single blow.  What she did was execute a flying two-legged dropkick directly into his sternum.  His bow and breath departed in opposite directions from his body, which flew back.  Teth landed with a heavy thump and the sound of a thin covering giving way.  A split-second later there was another, wetter sound.  No screaming though, surprisingly.

Slinking over to the area where her cousin had disappeared into the pit trap he'd avoided earlier, Ilandreline took a peek at her handiwork.  About two meters below the surface she stood on, he lay in a semi-crumpled heap, unconscious.  There was a length of sharpened wood -- many, really, but only one he'd managed to land on -- through the middle of his forearm.  Clear through, having slid between the bones and broken them in the process, by the look of things.  No wonder he hadn't screamed; he'd probably gone into shock before the landing had concussed him.

For a moment, she considered hopping in to help him.  Whether she meant help him live or into the next life, she couldn't decide, so she decided to pass on it altogether.  She'd been taught to never be indecisive about treatment.  Reason enough not to do any treating in this case.  What she did do was take his knife.  And break his bow, of course, because fuck him.

Having received the warm welcome she'd expected, Ila hurried off into the deeper territory, where Grandmother held more sway and people might think she should be taken alive.

[avid-author-activist]

The Princess Andromeda (2): What Could Possibly Go Wrong? Everything, Apparently

read it here on ao3

chapter 1 is here

I set off at a brisk pace, holding the layout of the ship in my head as we went. We followed a narrow corridor down to the service stairwell. A sixth sense stopped me in my tracks, and I threw an arm across Percy’s chest.

The snarls of a telekhine drifted down the stairwell. “I don’t care what your nose says! The last time you smelled half-blood, it turned out to be a meatloaf sandwich!”

I tried to pinpoint the monster’s voice: maybe the landing above us? In any case, the engine room was floors below. I gestured to the stairs, and we descended as quietly as possible.

My heart was pounding so hard in my chest that I was sure every monster on the ship could hear it.

Next to me, Percy seemed calm, unruffled. He was probably going to come out of this alive. He was practically guranteed to survive until sixteen, when the fate of Olympus would be decided or something. He’d taken on Titans, gods, and basically every monster mythology had to offer. Exploding a cruise ship was just another day on the job for him. Me, on the other hand…

My camp necklace had five beads for five completed summers, from eighth grade through senior year. I had been on exactly zero quests, not counting the missions earlier this summer.

I was enrolled at NYU for the fall semester. My life was about as normal as a demigod’s could get: I had a girlfriend, a little brother, parents. They were strapped for cash, relying on money I made doing repairs when I was home. I tried not to think about how they would feel if I didn’t make it back.

We arrived at the engine room. The doors were bolted shut. I rummaged through my bag for a pair of chain cutters, careful not to jostle the jars of Greek fire. I didn’t want to think about what would happen if one of the jars broke. It probably did not involve getting off this ship alive and preventing the end of Western civilization.

With a sigh of relief, I closed my hand around the handle of the tool. I carefully severed the chains one by one, easing the door open. There was a second where we both held our breath. If an alarm was going to go off, it would be now. Nothing happened.

I grinned and strolled into the heart of the cruise ship.

Wow. I couldn’t help but be impressed. Big yellow turbines the size of grain silos lined one wall. I could only imagine the amount of horsepower it took to keep a cruise ship of this size going. I’d always wanted to build a boat when I was younger, like maybe a flying warship or Greek trireme…

There would be time for that when we survived this war.

The other wall was lined with computer terminals and pressure gauges, manned by a single telekhine. Percy sliced him from shoulder to hip, and he exploded into yellow powder.

“One down,” I said, wiping the monster dust from my forehead. It was caked with my own sweat, forming a thick yellow goo. Gross. “About five thousand to go.”

I surreptitiously wiped my hand on my cargo shorts and handed Percy a jar of Greek fire and a roll of duct tape. “Slap those on the console. I’ll get the turbines.”

It was humid and hot in the control room. It wasn’t as bad as the forges at camp, but it was warm enough that both of us were drenched in sweat in no time. My fingers were slipping as I taped the jars to the turbines. More than once, I fumbled the jars, which would’ve been very bad for us if I hadn’t caught them before they hit the floor.

There were two turbines left when I heard the pounding of feet on the stairs outside, getting louder by the second. I blanched, thinking about the number of monsters that could be headed this way right now. There was no way we could hold them all off. Percy met my eyes, wiping the sweat from his face. “How much longer?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Too long,” I said around the roll of duct tape, fixing the second-to-last jar of fire in place. “I still have to wire the receiver and prime the charges. Ten more minutes at least.”

Percy seemed to come to a decision. “I’ll distract them. Meet you at the rendezvous point.”

I straightened, looking him in the face. Percy Jackson was maybe the best fighter I’d ever met, but even he couldn’t take on a shipful of five thousand monsters at once. “Percy–”

“Wish me luck.” He uncapped Riptide and unlatched the door.

“Good luck,” I sighed, and he disappeared outside. I heard telekhine yelps and snarls, then the swish of Percy’s blade as he cut them apart.

Part of me—the part that wondered if this was the last time I’d see him alive—wanted to dart outside and help him. Then I took a deep breath. Percy was doing this for me so that I could finish the job. I couldn’t let him down.

I attached the last jar of Greek fire to the last turbine. I pulled the receiver out of my bag and began wiring the circuit. My mind focused until there was nothing but the job in front of me. There was a cruise ship that needed blowing up. I was the one that was going to blow it up. That was all.

My hands flew, priming the explosives and setting the timer. Then I paused. The original plan had been to set it for five minutes so we could escape before the boat exploded.

I looked at my watch; the LED face read 10:29 PM. How long had it been since Percy had left? Five minutes? Seven? If he had been captured, neither of us would be getting off this ship alive.

I took a deep breath and set the timer to zero. When Kronos discovered the explosives, it would be far too late. I could detonate them at any time. Besides, if we were captured and the ship exploded, it wouldn’t matter to us.

Either way, we would be dead.

I finished wiring the receiver and packed everything up in my bag, minus the Greek fire. I took a deep breath and unlatched the door. All I had to do was make it to the rendezvous point—the helipad on the bow of the Princess Andromeda. What could go wrong?

Footsteps—many, many footsteps—echoed from the corridor to the right. I was faced with a split-second decision: engage them in front of the engine room, or take my chances with the hallway to the left, which was the way we had come. Think! I have to think.

This was the second large wave of monsters that had come this way within fifteen minutes. That couldn’t possibly be a coincidence.

Somehow, Kronos knew we were here.

Either Percy had been captured and let something slip… or someone had told them that we would be here. A spy. A spy at camp.

Our entire mission had been compromised, and I had to find Percy and get out of here as soon as possible, hopefully detonating the explosives along the way.

I desperately wracked my brains for a way out of the situation. If the monsters checked the engine room, they would disable the explosives, and our mission would fail. New York would fall, and Olympus would follow. I couldn’t let that happen.

So.... if I wanted them to avoid the engine room, I had to create a diversion. Then I had to convince them the explosives hadn’t been set yet, so they wouldn’t come to check. A plan began to take shape in my mind—a stupid, crazy plan, but it was the only one I had.

First. Kill any monsters that were coming to check the engine room right now. I unhooked a Greek fire grenade from my utility belt. Yanked out the pin. Took a second to think about how stupid I was being: if the corridor caves in, I’m doomed.

Before I could do any more second-guessing, I chucked the grenade into the horde of monsters rounding the corner, shut my eyes, and clapped my hands over my ears.

The resulting blast shook the floor, but the walls seemed to contain the shock wave well enough. I cautiously opened my eyes, ready to finish off the survivors. There were none. The walls weren’t even scorched, and any leftover monster dust had been totally incinerated.

I blew out a breath, trying to calm my racing heart. Next step, I told myself. What’s the next step?

Second. Convince Kronos’s minions I was heading towards the engine room and hadn’t set the explosives yet. Backtrack. Find fake explosives.

I turned and ran down the left-hand corridor, retracing my steps back up the dingy stairwell where we had first heard the telekhines. I heard noise from the flight above me, and I instantly spun around and pretended to be heading downstairs.

Two dracaenae snake women slithered around the corner and spotted me. “What issss thissss?” one hissed. Her forked tongue flickered. “An enemy demigod?”

“Yup, that’s me,” I said automatically, my brain running on autopilot. Stupid.

They made their way down the stairs, every step making an audible thud and causing their armor to clank. It would’ve been funny if I wasn’t stuck on a cruise ship with five thousand monsters and only one demigod for backup.

“For Kronossss,” one hissed, jabbing at me with a spear. I sidestepped and lunged, slicing it to dust with my sword. Then I turned and sprinted down the stairwell, leaving the other one to raise the alarm.

Next step. Fake explosives. Where was I supposed going to find fake explosives on a golden cruise ship?

Glass jars. The kitchens. I swore, trying to remember where the kitchens were as I ran. My armor and bag clanked loud enough to raise Hades. With my luck, I’d attract another horde of monsters by stumbling around like a bull in a china shop.

I skidded around a corner and almost ran straight into a Cyclopes. It froze when it saw me, a hotdog halfway to its mouth. Before it could react, I stabbed it through the eye and sent it back to Tartarus.

I darted into the kitchen, sword at the ready. There was no one else in there, possibly because it was nearly eleven o’clock. Or maybe most of the monsters on this ship ate something else—like demigod.

I rummaged through the kitchen pantry, past packages of Froot Loops and Double Stuf Oreos. Please, I prayed. Please let there be something useful.

Finally, in the very back, I unearthed a dozen jars of peach preserves, in pristine condition, as if they’d been waiting for this very moment. Was it divine intervention, or was it the fact that Greek monsters liked preservatives instead of preserved fruit? I sent a quick prayer of thanks to my father anyway.

Right outside the kitchen, the hallway forked again. I knew the left corridor would lead to the engine room—where a third horde of monsters was probably heading—and almost certain capture and death. If I went back there, I wouldn't be able to make it off the ship before detonation. I would go down with the Princess Andromeda.

The other corridor… if I took it, maybe I would be able to escape detection. I could make it to the rendezvous point with Percy, and we coud get away and detonate the charges from a distance.

A choice. I have a choice.

No, I didn’t. Not really. If I ran, Kronos would find and dismantle the charges. Our only hope for success lay in me getting down to the engine room before the third wave of minions came to investigate.

Deep down, I knew I would never be able to chicken out. I had committed to this mission. It was my responsibility to see it through to the end.

I took a second to catch my breath, making sure my watch was set to the detonator. I fastened it more securely around my wrist—it would be just my luck to have it slip off in the next fifteen minutes. I glanced at the image of Silena in my pocket one last time. If everything went to plan… I would never see her smile again. I’m sorry, Lena.

An ice-cold clarity settled over my mind. For the ruse to work, the enemy had to see me creeping towards the engine room. I would be captured, and after that, there would be no way off this ship. I would detonate the charges, and then… I would die.

Don’t get me wrong. A part of me was freaking out. I was, not to be cliché, too young to die. I wanted to go to college, drive my brother to football practice every day, and major in political science. Maybe start my own crafting business on the side.

If I hit the big red button on my watch, all of those dreams would go up in a giant plume of Greek fire. There wouldn’t even be a body for my parents to bury.

I blinked away sudden tears.

But if I didn’t do this, I would still die. If this ship made it to New York, it wouldn’t matter if I survived tonight. The Titans would take Olympus. All of Western Civilization would crumble within a week.

I had to do this.

[profoundnet]

Header by @cryptomoon and is available on merch from her redbubble store. You can use all those fancy emojis (and more!) on our Discord server!

The Masterpost is open for all creations by ProfoundBond members which are posted in their entirety during that month.

MEMBER CONTRIBUTIONS FOR SEPTEMBER 2019!

Featuring works from Arielaquariel, @saywhatjessie, @nickelkeep, @mittensmorgul, @andimeantittosting, @banshee1013, hvnlyangel80, @wingsandimpalas, and @lunastories!

Masterpost below the cut.

Arielaquarial - ArielAquariel

The Proper Care and Feeding of Houseplants (G, 9.5k)

Cas is a YouTuber who makes videos primarily about plants. Dean is the unwilling recipient of a fern. Despite his mediocre efforts to keep the thing alive, it's only a week before its knocking on death's door. Desperate to save it before his brother finds out, he stumbles onto Cas's youtube channel.

Tags: Meet cute, youtuber castiel, Missouri always knows, alternate universe, fluff

JessJesstheBest - @saywhatjessie - JessJesstheBest

He’s a Little Bit Country (T, 8.5k)

"Tell me what we’re doing here today, Clarence.” Castiel shifted on his feet, moodily, but answered her in a grumble. “We’re putting on a concert benefit for Planned Parenthood.” “Right! And why is that?” “Because this country is run by a monster who is trying to take away the reproductive rights of women and we need to raise money to continue to fund our program which helps women have agency in their own bodies." Or the one where Castiel, as part of planned parenthood, puts on a joint punk and country benefit concert where he meets Dean Winchester, the handsome country enthusiast who is also an asshole.

Tags: Ace!Cas, Punk!Cas, Planned Parenthood, Cas has tattoos and wears makeup

Hey Baby (Uhh, Ahh) (G, 3.5k)

He had a pretty significant following already from NXT but… this was the big leagues. This was Monday Night RAW. To make his prime time debut during the Monday Night RAW after Wrestlemania was how you knew things were happening. This is where shit got real.

Or a Dean and Cas's first match against each other as professional wrestlers (Prequel to "Nobody Puts Baby In A Corner")

Tags: WWE au

nickelkeep - @nickelkeep - nickelkeep

Paradise by the Dashboard Light (E, 7k)

"It's not our viewers I'm worried about." Castiel groaned and walked to his room.

Balthazar laughed as he headed outside to the car. "I guess I'll have to edit this video. I'll consider this payback for when he put grape juice in my wine bottles."

Castiel stood in the doorway with a pot of water and a suction cup dildo in his hand. "Is there anyone around?"

"Just me. Now come on. You don't want that water to get cold, do you?" Balthazar goaded.

"No." Castiel rushed to the car as quickly as he could, hoping he couldn't be seen. "I swear, I hope none of our neighbors are subscribers."

Balthazar took a few steps back as Castiel poured the water over the dent. After the pot was empty, Castiel handed it to his brother and aimed the suction part of the dildo into the center of the dent. He counted down, "Three. Two. One," and slammed it into place.

Tags: AU - Modern, Strangers to Lovers, Semi-public Sex, Sex on Baby, Morning After Sex, Public Nudity, Sex Toys Not Used in the Way They're Supposed to Be.

What About Us? (M, 9.5k)

Dean ran his hand down his face and headed back to his bedroom. He pulled out “Sweetcheeks'” information and grabbed his phone. After double and triple checking the number, Dean pressed the call button. He wasn't sure what to expect but took a deep breath in and out for each time the phone rang.

After several rings, the voicemail picked up:

Hello, you have reached the voicemail of Castiel Novak. I'm sorry I was unable to take your call at this time. If you could please leave your name, your number, and the reason for your call, I'll be glad to call you back as soon as possible. Have a wonderful day.

Dean frowned. The guy sounded like a decent sort. It also meant that he had probably been the other guy. As the tone sounded, Dean let out a heavy sigh and left his message.

"Hi, Castiel. I'm probably the last person on the planet you ever want to hear from, but my name is Dean, and I think we need to have a talk. It's about April. My number is (555)-555-6767. That's my cell. I'll have it on me all day, so please call as soon as you can. Thanks."

Tags: Modern AU, Infidelity (Not Dean or Cas), Implied Domestic Abuse (Not between Dean and Cas), Author is not a Lawyer, Slightly Dubious Interpretation of the Law, Revenge is Best Served Hot, Implied Queerphobia, Car Destruction (Not Baby), Happy Ending

Stay With Me (E, 7k)

Cas nodded and followed after Dean as they made their way to the elevator. They took the ride up in silence, Dean trying his damnedest to not stare and admire Cas. He knew that Cas humored him for the evening, listening to him rant about issues in Modena. But the looks he received in return, the smiles, the genuine interest. If there was any interest returned, Dean was screwed.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened, letting them off onto their floor. They walked the few feet to their shared room, with the single bed and the probably not-as-comfortable couch. Cas unlocked the door and opened it, and Dean followed inside, turning to close it and lock it.

As Dean turned back around, Cas was already sitting on the couch, taking off his shoes. He walked closer and looked at the bed before looking at Cas. "So, I was thinking."

Cas looked up. "About?"

"We're adults, right? It's a king-size bed. There's room for both of us on there. There's no need for you to sleep on the couch. It's not like you were kicked there for doing something wrong. You haven't done anything wrong."

Tags: AU - Modern Setting, Archaeology/Anthropology, Strangers to Lovers, There Was One Bed!, One Night Stand, References to Recent Events (Lovers of Modena), Angst with a Happy Ending

Something So Magic (T, 5k)

About halfway through cleaning and treating the wounds, the cat started to stir. It let out a very confused sound meow, causing Dean to chuckle. "I know, right? Last thing you know, you were outside with a big bad bird swooping in over you." The cat turned to look at Dean. "Aren't you a bright little guy? Sorry, I figured that out while cleaning you up." Dean tended to a final spot along the cat's rear leg. "Almost done, and I can get you something to eat."

The cat chirped in response and tilted its head.

"All done." Dean held up a finger and turned his head before sneezing. "Sorry little guy, I'm allergic to cats. But you do need some strength. I'm pretty sure I've got a can of tuna or something around here." Dean wandered over to the kitchen area and looked through his cabinets.

The cat rested it's head on its paws and watched as Dean dug through his rations. "Here we go. One can of tuna. I guess that's a little cliché, but you work with what you've got." Dean opened the can and drained out the excess water. "While we eat, I'm gonna look for a spell to heal you up a little more so you can be on your way, okay?"

Tags: AU - Modern with Magic, Witch!Dean, Familiar!Castiel, Light Angst, Fluff, Spells and Enchantments, Happy Ending

Use Both Hands (E, 2.5k)

“I’m still not going to talk about it, Sam.” Dean’s back was to the door, and his head was resting in his palms. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Would caffeine help, Dean?”

Cas’ voice caused Dean to whip around and look at the door. “Uh. Yeah, it’s um...” Dean ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s appreciated, Cas.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Dean.” Cas set the coffees and the bag of pastries down on the table before carefully pulling one out of drinks out of the tray. He crossed the room and sat down on the bed next to Dean, handing him the cup. “Sam told me that you were suffering from some head issues.”

“Son of a bitch.” Dean let out a half-hearted chuckle before taking a sip of his coffee. “Of course he’d say that.

Tags: Canonverse, Love Confessions, Sammy Ships It, Pray for Sammy, Porn with a Little Plot

mittensmorgul - @mittensmorgul - MittenWraith

It’s Lily Dale (T, 14k)

They were at it again, Sam thought to himself as his eyes closed and he tilted his face up toward the heavens for mercy. He squeezed his eyes shut, knowing full well there was no mercy to be found in Heaven, but maybe silently hoping the ceiling might cave in on him and put him out of his misery. It was an old bunker, after all, and who knows if they actually repaired all the damage from the grenade Dean fired off in there a few years back? It could happen, but unfortunately, sitting at a table in the library researching for a case-- any case that would give him an excuse to leave for even a day or two-- was probably his best bet. Even worse, the three hours Dean and Cas had been out running the long list of errands he’d invented to get them out of his hair for a while hadn’t been long enough for him to find that precious, precious case.

Tags: Alcohol, Love Confessions, Fluff and Humor, Sharing a Bed, Misunderstandings, Long-Suffering Sam Winchester, Background Case, Curses, idiots to lovers

Eleven (T, 2.5k)

It's been eleven years since a hunter an an angel walked into a barn... it's time they gained some perspective on how incredible the last eleven years have been.

Tags: Feelings Realization, Dean Winchester Talks About Feelings, Castiel (Supernatural) Talks About Feelings, it's all just a bunch of feelings

andimeantittosting - @andimeantittosting - andimeantittosting

Friends With Benefits With Tentacles (E, 7.5k)

Dean's never been embarrassed about his porn collection before, but that was before he found Cas holding his prized copy of Sweet Princess Asuka and the Tentacles of Pleasure. Dean finds himself sweating bullets—because this is Cas, sweet, nerdy Cas. Cas, his friend. Cas, his roommate. Cas, his—only slightly out-of-control—crush.

Cas, with his big, blue eyes and muscular arms and perpetual sex hair.

Cas, with his tentacles.

The last thing he expects is for Cas to suggest they experiment together.

Tags: Alien!Cas, Consentacles, Friends with benefits to lovers, Roomates, Miscommunication

Banshee1013 - @banshee1013 

Toes In The Sand (SFW)

"Toes In The Sand', Art created for the Suptober Art Challenge (Days 4, 5, and 6), with accompanying fluffy ficlet.

hvnlyangel80 - hvnlyangel80

Kiss Me Under The Mistletoe (M, 7k)

Holiday Prompt Challenge: Dean Winchester loves the holidays. Every Year just after Thanksgiving at the local mall they have a contest and give away something fantastic. This year it is a 1967 Chevy Impala and not just any Impala, It is Baby, his Baby.

The contest is called 'Kiss Me Under The Mistletoe'. You have to kiss someone for as long as possible lips cannot break. Last lips touching win Baby and 10g's. The trick is you are blindfolded and you wander around until they tell you to 'Kiss me under the Mistletoe ' Dean will do anything to get his Baby back. ANYTHING.

Enter Dr. Castiel Novak College grad with too many student loans to his name, he needs the 10g's and could care less about the car. He signs up for the contest and when the buzzer hits he feels the most sensual pair of lips. Cas does not know how long it goes for but he wants more of this man.

When the blindfolds are removed what will be their reaction to the other? They say there is magic when you kiss your soul mate under the mistletoe. Do you believe in magic Dean Winchester? Time to find out.

Tags: Castiel and Dean Winchester First Meet; Professor Castiel (Supernatural); Mechanic Dean Winchester; holiday fic; Meet-Cute; Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss; Castiel (Supernatural)'s First Kiss

Wingsandimpalas - @wingsandimpalas - WingsandImpalas

Watching from the Window (T, 2k)

Castiel's neighbour is singing again and it takes all of his willpower not to laugh. It’s not that he's a bad singer, quite the opposite, in fact, he's brilliant. It’s just that without fail every time the man steps into the shower he will power belt of all things: Disney songs.

Tags: Getting together, Neighbours, Dean is in a band, Disney songs 

Lunastories - @lunastories - LunaStories

Only One Fucking Bed (T, 2k)

Dean and Cas get a call from Sam requesting their help on a ghost hunting case he'd been working on. They head off to meet him but end up at the wrong cabin. As if that wasn't enough, there was only one fucking bed.

Tags: fluff, there was only one bed, cuddling

[lord-explosion-baku]

Villain!Bakugou x hero!reader

Warnings: swearing, violence

A/N: This was shorter than I’d like it to be. But still fun to write! As a writer it’s hard to read though. I’ve actually started reading my writing before posting it and IDK I WAS PERFECTLY CONTENT NOT DOING THAT AND NOW I GOTTA CRINGE AT MYSELF like can I go back to blindly posting shit without a second thought? Also, HELLO I’m a hopeless romantic stupid stinky girl and so i threw in some fluff bc I could. I’d like to be a spicy edgelord but snag daggit I sure love love. ALSO I did really wanna do this justice pero I rushed it. I don’t know where the race is. I’m in pain. I’m so sorry lmfao.

“Tsk, it took you long enough.” His voice called from quite a ways away but of course he could hear you coming.

You mentally cursed at yourself for not being quieter as you approached your target but the theatre you saw him enter echoed and you were wearing heels. The reason you didn’t kick them off the moment you were in pursuit of the infamous Katsuki Bakugou was beyond you.

You poked your head around a stage curtain and saw him, lounging in a theatre chairs with his arms draped around the seats beside him.

He smirked up at you. “Well?” He said, “we don’t have all damn day.”

To hell with trying to be sneaky. You already knew where this was going to lead you. You strutted out to the center of the stage and crossed you arms. “Why a theater?”

His grin widened as he stood up and walked towards the stage. He wore a white dress shirt with a skinny red tie that fit neatly in his black vest. He leaned against the thrust, resting his arms against the stage and cast a lasting stare at your legs. You shifted your weight to your right. You thought the dress you wore had been too short and the way Bakugou was looking at you now had confirmed your suspicion.

He snickered, “I was hoping you’d put on a show for me.”

“I don’t have time for games Bakugou. Where is she?”

“She? She who? There’s nobody here except me and you, sweetheart.”

You scanned the the auditorium. All empty seats, no sign that anyone had been anywhere near here for at least a couple hours. You shook your head and turned on your heel and started marching away from the blonde. Kiyomi Sakamata had to be somewhere else in the building.

A blast rang and echoed throughout the theater. You tensed and closed your eyes. Here we go.

A hand grabbed the back of your arm and pulled you around. You ducked and slid under him, trying to kick him down but he tucked and rolled back to his feet. You faced each other.

It had been Kugo Sakamata’s niece’s wedding and since you had formed a pretty tight bond with him and his family while working under him for a few years, you had been invited to witness two people form an eternal bond. Halfway through the reception, there had been an explosive ruckus and Kiyomi Sakamata had been taken. You didn’t get a great look at him but you were sure you saw then kidnapper wielding the same grenade gauntlets as the man standing before you usually carried with him.

Taking in his current appearance you laughed. “You dressed up? For me?”

Rolling up his sleeves he chuckled and shook his head. “I had to blend in somehow, didn’t I?” You did a double take on his vest. He was sporting the same look as the other servers in the reception hall. So he had been there. That was smart of him. Gluttonous celebrators never looked twice at people providing service to them if they were doing their jobs right, especially if they were serving food or champagne.

“Damn it, Bakugou,” you moved towards him, kicking upwards towards his face. He ducked and towered over you. You pushed him against one of the stage props and grabbed him by his tie, pulling his face down to level with your own. “Where. Is. She?”

His smug eyes looked at you and then to your lips. There was a complacent grin stuck to his face. “I don’t have her and I never did. She’s back at the reception hall enjoying her time with her significant other. I just needed a way to get you here.”

That didn’t make sense. You saw someone take her and had been at the reception.

He laughed at your puzzled expression. “You just took off so fast, didn’t you? Eager to see me? So what are you going to do now that you have me all to yourself, huh?” His hands were on your wrist and he pushed you off of him. You stumbled back, catching yourself before you could fall.

“Oh, give me a break. You conducted all this just to spend time with me? Was I not giving the poor little boy enough attention?”

“Don’t act like I don’t see right through you L/N,” Bakugou began loosening the tie that hung around his neck, “You saw me walk in here alone. You knew she wasn’t with me and yet here you are. Pretending to fight me. Admit it, you’ve missed me.”

You swung a fist through the air and he dodged it. He was laughing. Every time you swiped he was always evading. You finally managed to grab on to a fist full of his collar and he grabbed your arm. Struggling to break away from his hold, your hand quickly sliced down his chest, the buttons of his shirt popped off and danced across the floor. Droplets of his own blood fell from the cut you left him.

“Oh so now we’re undressing each other are we?” He grinned.

Your eyes slid down his exposed chest and onto his abdomen. You hated the blush the creeped into your cheeks and you hated yourself even more for wanting your run your hands down his stupid ripped body.

“Ha! Remember that time in our second year when you accidentally walked in on me changing after a hero drill? How you squealed out an excuse for your intrusion and you couldn’t even look me in the eyes?” You did remember. It wasn’t like you hadn’t ever seen him shirtless before that day but just the fact that you could have been walking in on him at any point of his routine was what got you flustered. You rolled your eyes. It was always reminiscing with him. You moved your hand to cross check him but he easily dodged it and grabbed your arm to twist you around so you face away from him. He spoke into your ear, “Do you remember what we did after that happened?”

You slammed your elbow into his jaw, knocking him back. “You’ve always been an arrogant prick,” you jeered.

He was cupping his face. He spat onto the stage and you could see a spot of blood on his mouth. “And you’ve always been a shitty girl,” he growled.

He ran towards you. Before you could even react he had you spun around and pushed up against him. “Always so easy to read. Hey, why don’t you do yourself a favor and admit to me what this actually is, yeah?” You thrashed in his arms but he only pulled you closer proving there was no manner of escaping. “Admit that you get a thrill whenever you find me up to my not so conventional schemes. Admit that you love having me up against you like this,” he pushed his sharp chin on your shoulder. “Hell, we both know what this is, I’m sure. You haven’t even used your quirk all night long.”

“You’re one to talk,” you spat. “This has all just been a game to you for a while now. You haven’t actually done anything bad in weeks.”

“Ohh but I could do something bad right now,” he purred in your ear, “I could do lots of bad things to you.” He loosened his grip and placed a hand on your hips, squeezing lightly.

“I hate you.”

“I’m sure you wish that were true,” he soughed and began kissing your neck. You let out a slight sigh and moved your neck, allowing his kiss to deepen. His hands trailed down to your dress and he pulled on the him, hiking it up, and he placed his calloused fingers between your thighs, sending shivers through your body.

You felt him harden against your butt as he pressed against you. Fuck.

You swatted his hands away and faced him. He had his signature shit-eating grin on, the one that you remember him doing as kids.

You pulled your dress down and adjusted your now messy hair. You pursed your lips at him, admiring your handy work. You drew his blood and there was hardly a scratch on you. He never did really hurt you, did he?

You shook your head. “I have a wedding reception to get to,” you said.

He out his hands up and chuckled, “I’m not keeping you.” There was a hint of disappointment in his eyes.

“Then what the fuck are you doing?” He didn’t answer. Ignoring the thrum of your heart, you began to walk off the stage.

“It’s funny,” he called and you stopped walking. “The wedding, I mean. The concept of forever.” You glanced back at him and he was smirking. “It makes me wonder how long we can keep this up. Do you think it’ll be forever?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Is that some kind of proposal, Bakugou?”

He laughed. “All I’m saying is... I wouldn’t mind. If we did this.. forever.” His smirk had softened into something that seemed to be a normal smile. He wasn’t putting on an act to get you flustered.

You turned your face to hide your smile. “You’re a sap, you know that?” You could hear that dumb snicker.

“Hey, you put on a good show, sweetheart, but make sure next time you stick to your character, hero.”

You heard a blast to signal his exit. You made the same promise to yourself that you’ve made the last dozen times you saw him. Next time... next time you’ll get him.

Little did you know that Bakugou was making a similar promise to himself as he watched you walk down the street, back to the wedding reception.

~

Tags for EVERYTHING: @yandere-inamorata @doriichii @miitaart @dessiedawnwritesfanfiction @kido-is-not-a-ghost @wickedlewicked @chickennuggetsarequestionable @nevermorelanore @kpanime @jetblackjessie @ayeputita @captain-sin-allmight-queen @diisasterbii @iceformer @meganofmars @colagirl5 @colorbookshd @grimmjadeskye @sm0kingcrack @sarcastictextstuck @zellllyyyy @psionicsnow @mynahx3 @andie-in-tumblland @iamthe-leaf @midnightfeline666 @bungou-stray-alies-tales-of-aly @rubyred-28 @bokunoheroes-stories

[dzvagabond]

even numbers for wesker and odd numbers for caustic for the tropes ask meme >:3c

@cryptidchaos​  fuckfuckfuckfuckfu-

Aborted Declaration of Love: How long did it take for you to finally confess to your F/O? How did it go? Were there several attempts, or was it just The One?

Caustic: first off aklshkdsghaekfhsk;, second: it took a few months for Shield Breaker to swallow their pride to actually talk to the scientist about their feelings and several, several attempts and being on their team for Nox to reciprocate. The first time ended in disaster with Shield telling Caustic at an inopportune time and leading him to get killed in the ring. 

Accidental Hand Hold: When did you first hold hands with your F/O?

Wesker: Ren and Wesker first held hands during their first meeting with Dr. Marcus and Mr. Spencer. Ren was super nervous about giving the presentation to the literal heads of Umbrella that she grabbed Wesker’s hand and squeezed without truly realizing it until he had squeezed hers back before they entered the boardroom. 

After-Action Patch-Up: How does your F/O react when they see you got hurt? How do they tend to your injury?

Caustic: At first, when they both classified their relationship as “FWB”, he didn’t really care if Shield Breaker got hurt in or out of the ring. Now, however, the first thing he does is help them get patched up and/or to safety, then tracking the bastard who hurt them and personally shoving a Nox Grenade down their throat. Shield find it endearing...and kinda hot…

Almost Kiss: What was your first kiss with your F/O like?

Wesker: u..uhh… The first kiss Ren and Wesker shared was after a breakthrough with the t-virus. Out of excitement from finally getting somewhere, she turned to her partner, and again without thinking, giddily grabbed his face planted a kiss to his lips then almost immediately started writing down all of her notes. She didn’t realize until the next shift, the first thing he did when walking into the lab was kissing her back and walking away to work. 

Beautiful Dreamer: Who’s usually the first to fall asleep while the other stares and admires?

Caustic: Oh the scientist for fucking sure. Shield Breaker is usually the first one out of them to fully pass out for the night and Caustic can’t help but to stare in full admiration over the perfect specimen that has fallen into his grasp. To him, they are the perfect killing machine, and the fact they can love a man like him astonishes Nox. sakdfk emotions!!!!

Bodyguard Crush: How does your F/O make you feel safe?

Wesker: He makes her feel safe by just the promises behind closed dorms of not letting Umbrella get under their skin despite everything that was happening. Not to mention after he became the leading Captain of S.T.A.R.S. did help Ren sleep better at night knowing her partner could take someone down easily without hesitation. 

Caught In The Rain: How does your F/O react if a sudden rainstorm interrupts your date with them?

Caustic: Shield wouldn’t mind at all, but Caustic on the other hand would be downright aggravated since he planned everything down to the pieces of silverware that lay upon the table; and the simple fact he didn’t take in consideration a forsaken rainstorm bothers him. But as soon as he sees that it’s not truly ruined and Shield is acting a bit of a fool dancing in the rain, you may see a slight smile grace his features.  

Grow Old With Me: How long have you and your F/O been together?

Wesker: Ren and Wesker were together from roughly two years after killing Dr. Marcus with William Birkin until July 1998 after the Spencer Estate Incident and Wesker “turning up KIA.” it’s more complicated than that after the fact however…

Laugh Of Love: What are some things your F/O does to make you laugh?

Caustic:  Things that make Shield laugh due to their partner: how sarcastic he is to every single other legend (especially Mirage and Octane), how flustered he gets when Shield will whisper some… not so work appropriate things during training, but mainly anything that pertains Nox messing with Mirage will have Shield on the floor dying.

Love Epiphany: When and how did you realize you loved your F/O? When and how did they realize they loved you?

Wesker: Ren realized she was head over heals for Albert Wesker was shortly after the T-Virus breakthrough in their earlier years at the Arklay facility. She was previously smitten with the man beforehand but that’s when she really knew. Albert however, not to get all sad up in this bitch but we gotta, didn’t fully realize the kind of love he had for her until he discovered that she had been killed in Raccoon City by her own creation: the Nemesis. I mean you know what they say? You never really know whatcha got until its goooone. 

Marry For Love: Are you and your F/O married? If so, how was the wedding like? If you aren’t, do you plan on getting married, and if so, how would you like it to be like?

Caustic: slhfksghdsklfhg… THEY ARE IN FACT MARRIED!!!! The wedding was a very small, secluded ceremony on Caustic’s home planet (Shield’s idea), was very semi-formal but they both ended up wearing Tuxes that had splashes of their significant color and a flower representing their partner’s. ;u; They both keep their wedding bands on chains underneath their gear so they’ll always have it close to their heart. FUCK NOW IM CRYING THX. 

Post-Kiss Catatonia: How did you and your F/O react to your first kiss together?

Wesker: Ren hadn’t realized what she had done until she was about to go to sleep when it fully hit her like a goddamn truck and she had butterflies in her stomach the entire evening and even then some when they worked together the next day; after feelings were reciprocated, she was giddier than a school girl. Wesker was just a straight up smug little bastard enjoying Ren’s flustered reaction to kissing him for the first time and many times after. 

Sickeningly Sweethearts: Do you and your F/O engage in PDA? If yes, how do the surrounding people react?

Caustic: PDA isn’t really Caustic’s thing. Shield tried in the early beginnings of their more serious relationship with the scientist, but to no prevail. The best things you’ll see is Caustic will shuffle just a tad bit closer if Shield sits next to him, and small, barely lingering touches before a match. 

You Must Be Cold: How does your F/O keep you warm when it’s cold outside?

Wesker:  isn’t one to give up his overcoat so easily unless its a certain fellow scientist who won’t stop pestering until she gets what she wants. 

Zip Me Up: Does your F/O help you get dressed for the day? Do you help them?

Caustic: Shield usually doesn’t help Caustic gets dressed, but does like to double check that he has all the proper equipment before they head to the drop ship and vice-versa. 

[brandyxlynn91]

Galaxies Together pt. 6

Garrus was feeling a little down that Jane hadn't come visit him since taking down the doctor. He had told her he needed time to think but he had still hoped she'd continue her frequent visits. They were always the highlight of his time on the Normandy when they weren't out shooting Geth.

"What's wrong, turian? Missing a certain female commander?" Wrex teased from across the bay.

Shit, he noticed. Garrus thought but before he could retort they heard Jane on the comm.

"Wrex. Garrus. Suit up. We're reaching Feros." She told them.

Well, at least I'll get to see her and get some geth action, Garrus thought as he smiled.

As soon as they exited the Normandy, they saw geth attacking some colonists. They immediately stepped into action. He and Jane sniped the geth from a distance while Wrex did his usually deadly head butting whenever his shotgun started overheating. Afterwards, Garrus stole a glance at Jane but before he could say anything she had started running towards the colonists. After talking with the leader they learned that they were a small colony on the planet with the exogeni research facility. The leader told them that their big problem was the geth transmitter in the tunnels and they had mediocre problems that the other colonists could tell them about. Jane decided she wanted to talk to them. Upon doing so they found out they had a water shortage, a need for power cells, and a problem with an alpha varren. Upon asking about the colonists odd behavior, the leader just excused it as an effect of the geth attacks though Garrus noticed Jane didn't seem convinced. He also told them not to worry about the menial problems but Jane seemed determined to help them with everything. Yet again she showed such compassion even though it wasn't necessary of her. Garrus had learned to admire that about her, he even stopped arguing about it or pointing it out and just went along with it.

Inside the tunnels and through a doorway, they ran into the alpha varren and after taking the pack down and grabbing power cells, Jane mentioned something about wanting a varren as a pet. He thought she was joking but realized she was probably crazy and tough enough to handle one. Further into the tunnels, she had turned on the water pumps and they ran into a lone colonist. He seemed like he was trying to warn them about something but then he started yelling at himself and Garrus thought he was plain crazy. Jane tried to offer him help but he claimed she couldn't do anything and stopped talking. They then took out the transmitter and headed back. The colonists seemed grateful but were still acting odd. They decided it would be best to head for the exogeni facility, along the way Jane took out geth with the mako guns again, even though a few times he swore she was going to drive off the edge. They intercepted radio chatter and found some of the scientists holed up. Two of them were arguing about what to do. The woman seemed to be worried about her daughter and the man was telling her to forget about it. Jane told the woman she'd keep a lookout for her and upon asking they claimed not to know why the geth were attacking. After telling them to stay hidden, they continued to head towards the facility. Upon exiting the mako in the garage, a gunshot had barely missed Jane. Garrus immediately aimed his gun at the direction to see a scared young woman.

"Shit. I'm sorry. I thought you were a geth or varren." She apologized profusely.

"Look. It's fine. Just try not to do it again." Jane told her.

"Who are you?" Garrus inquired. He wasn't happy about her almost shooting Jane and was still holding up his gun.

"Easy Garrus. It was an accident. I'd be jumpy too if I was her." Jane told him.

"I- again I'm so sorry. My name is Lizbeth. I was trying to finish up some data when we evacuated and got stuck behind this forcefield." She timidly replied.

"Lizbeth? Your mother was looking for you." Jane told her then turned to Garrus. "Seriously, you can put the gun down."

"She's alive? Thank God." Lizbeth said gratefully.

"Do you know what's causing this forcefield?" She asked the girl.

"I think they have a ship powering it." She told them.

"Alright. Stay here. Guys, let's go take down this forcefield." Jane told them.

"I hope it involves blowing something up!" Wrex exclaimed.

"Probably. but we just got done blowing up geth on the bridge." Jane told him.

"Yeah but that was like over 20 minutes ago, Shepard." Wrex said while both she and Garrus just shook their heads while they headed into the building.

They took out the geth room by room until they came into a room where it looked like the geth was worshipping some kind of tech. They were puzzled about it but decided they needed to move on. They finally happened upon where the geth ship was attached to the building. Upon reading a note, they learned the bay doors that the ship's legs were attached to were being glitchy. Jane used this to her advantage to make the doors slam down on them, making the whole ship fall and blow up.

"Look at that. Your girly human is pretty resourceful." Wrex told Garrus while nudging him.

"Knock it off." Garrus told him even though he had grown impressed with how she handled situations like that.

"You guys say something?" Jane asked.

"Yeah! You sure know how to show a krogan a good time, Shepard. I mean we get to shoot geth and blow up their ships. Whoo!" Wrex exclaimed. At least he hasn't let Jane know about his teasing and suspicions Garrus thought. Jane just smiled at him and for some reason that made Garrus lose himself for a moment. After a little banter, they decided to go ask about this Thorian creature they found out about from the VI. Upon asking Lizbeth about the thorian, she confessed that it was some creature they found that seems to have mind control powers and the real reason she stayed behind was to try to get a message out because she didn't agree with using the colonists as test subjects.

Down the road, they heard arguing on the comm again and upon investigating they saw the man aiming his gun at the woman. Lizbeth ran over there before Jane could stop her so they were forced to show themselves. The man was yelling about exogeni forgetting them and that they were expendable in a panic. Jane somehow managed to use her charm to calm him down although Garrus would've personally preferred to shoot him. She told him she knew about the thorian and the colonists. He confessed to his involvement while the woman seemed generally confused. He told them that the thorian was under the colony but its control over the colonists would force them to die defending it from being found. Jane expressed the desire to find a way to not harm the colonists when the woman inquired that she could concoct a gas for their grenades that would simply knock them out. Jane agreed to it after finding out it wouldn't affect them at all.

"Remember do not kill the colonists." Jane told them.

"Are you sure this will work?" Garrus asked her. He was a bit skeptical.

"Well, we'll find out. Just don't shoot them. They're under mind control of that creature." She told him before they headed out. There she goes being all compassionate again he thought as he smiled. It used to annoy him as a hindrance but now he was happy to comply with her wishes.

Once reaching the colony, some zombie like thralls that were beyond saving were mixed with the colonists. Garrus and Wrex carefully shot down the thralls while Jane perfectly threw the knockout gas at the colonists. Upon reaching the crane control and lifting part of the building up to reveal a hidden tunnel the colony leader showed up with a gun. They all pointed their guns back. Jane tried reasoning with him but he was incoherently talking about being controlled before shooting himself in the head. Jane looked away for a moment and seemed bothered she couldn't help him before leading them into the tunnels. Upon entering they came across a giant plant like entity that spread throughout the tunnels.

"We're gonna need bigger guns." Jane expressed.

Then a green looking asari was spit out from the creature. The asari told them that Saren struck a deal with the thorian in exchange for a cipher for the prothean beacon, he would leave the thorian be. She then tells them that Saren betrayed it by sending the geth to attack it to prevent Jane from getting the cipher. The asari then called them meat bags and attacked. After taking her and the thralls down, Jane started shooting at the thorian roots attached to the walls. Garrus realized what she was doing and he and Wrex shot down the thralls as they came at her until she finally shot enough roots to knock it down, killing it. After wards, the asari came from a pod in the wall. She explained that she was with benezia and was left as a gift for the thorian from Saren. She then told them she could give Jane the prothean cipher for the beacon and linked with her just like Liara had done before. Jane seemed a little drained afterwards but said she was fine when Garrus asked. He wasn't sure if she really was but decided not to push it but he kept an eye on her as they headed out. Upon exiting they saw the scientists had rejoined the colonists. The colonists thanked them after they were asked if they were okay. The colonists and scientists told them they were gonna stay behind and rebuild. Jane double checked to see if they were okay before they headed back to the Normandy.

In conference, Liara offered to join minds again to see if the cipher helped. Afterwards she said it seemed to be a warning but still didn't understand what it meant.

Later on in the cargo bay, Garrus heard the elevator and was delighted to see Jane.

"Hey Garrus. You up for talking?" She asked.

"Yeah." He replied, trying to act casual despite his joy. "I wanted to thank you."

"Thank me?" She asked, seeming confused.

"Yeah. After what happened with the doctor, I've been thinking I might go back to C-sec. Of course, not before we take down Saren." He told her. It looked like she seemed conflicted for a moment but then she smiled.

"That's great!" She exclaimed.

"Yeah. You make fighting for the innocent seem a little easier than it felt before. I see everything you do and how you stick to your convictions has inspired me. I don't think I've met anyone like you before. I just--" He was telling her before he heard Kaidan on her comm asking her to come up.

"Yeah. One minute, Kaidan." She replied into her comm. "I'm sorry. You were saying?" She said turning back to Garrus.

"Uh, nothing. Just like I said I wanted to thank you and I can't wait to take down Saren." He said, feeling a little disappointed.

"Okay. Well, I'm proud of you, Vakarian." She told him before heading back.

"Well, that went smooth." Wrex laughed from his corner.

"You guys know that Alenko is sweet on her, right?" He heard Ashley say from the lockers.

"Oh. Looks like you have competition, pyjak." Wrex teased him.

"No. It's not like that." Garrus replied, defensively. Of course, he's sweet on her. He thought. Who wouldn't be? She's beautiful, strong, smart, charming, and resourceful. Then he shook himself off trying to get rid of those thoughts. Thinking she'd rather be with someone of her own kind anyways.

[imaginetonyandbucky]

The Passcode

Prompt by Anonymous: Okay, so I've read a lot of wonderful bodyguard AUs with these two, but it is always Bucky as the bodyguard (understandably). Anyone up for trying the reverse, Tony as Bucky's bodyguard somehow? Maybe it's an AU where Iron Man's identity isn't known, and when Bucky for some reason or another (maybe he isn't even the WS, maybe he's just suddenly famous and/or in danger) needs a bodyguard, Tony sends his own personal one - the Iron Man.

A/N: I’ve opted for a 616-kinda setting, but not really? It’s come out more like a mix of MCU and 616 and I don’t even know how that happened...but anyway ;D Secret identities are a thing and Tony (and Bucky) is a pining mess ^^ Hope you’ll enjoy it! <3 ~Lantia

“You want me to…what?” Tony stares at the Captain like he grew three extra heads.

“It would be temporary, just until we locate the HYDRA strain and deal with it,” Cap raises a placating hand and initiates the puppy dog eyes he refuses to admit he has.

Not even half a year after Bucky Barnes - the Winter Soldier joined the fold, HYDRA is already scheming to get their former assassin back. So Cap may stand here and sound all casual but Tony’s not fooled.

He’s anxious and worried and wants to wipe HYDRA off Barnes’s back as soon as possible…because God forbid they would succeed and get their slimy tentacles back on the man.

“But if Iron Man is otherwise engaged - ”

“No! I mean…I’ll have to double-check with him but I’m sure he’ll make some space in his busy schedule after I lay down the situation to him.”

It’s times like these Tony wished everybody would know he is Iron Man. Or at least the Avengers. As it is, Cap’s sweating it over here thinking Tony will refuse to let Iron Man bodyguard his bestest friend until HYDRA’s dealt with because Tony and Barnes aren’t exactly friends.

That’s where the split personality sets in. Iron Man and Bucky are friends. They hang out after missions all the time. No way Iron Man wouldn’t lend a helping hand to his metal bro and aside from Cap, Iron Man is the only one Bucky would voluntarily spend time with.

Tony is…well, he’s just the eccentric engineer that has a giant hidden crush on the former HYDRA assassin and occasionally fixes up his metal hand so Cap really has no reason to believe he’d go out of his way to help Barnes beyond that.

These secret identity shenanigans are giving him a headache.

“But if you need him - ”

“Cap! It’s fine. I’ve got no big plans ahead other than working on the new version of the armor and I don’t need Iron Man to cover my ass while doing that. In fact, I don’t want him anywhere near the lab…the guy’s a menace around tech,” he laughs, a little too high-pitched for his own liking but Capsicle pays it little attention.

“I’ll owe you one, Tony. A big one,” he smiles at him, squeezing his shoulder gently.

“Hey now, anything for friends. Besides, Iron Man is going to do all the work so take it up with him,” Tony shrugs.

“I will. Thank you, Tony.”

Another mission, another week of pretense to get ready for. Just his luck.

(read-more ahead!)

  “I told Stevie I don’t need no bodyguard,” Bucky rolls his eyes, but greets him – the Iron Man – with a smile the next day on the common floor.

“He didn’t want to lock you up…which was the only other option. And it’s not like I mind. Any HYDRA that dares slither near us I’ll happily blast away to dust.”

He chuckles, flipping a gun into his thigh holster. “You and I both, man. Stark okay with this?”

Is he okay with this? Nope. He needs Bucky to stop calling him Stark. And more importantly, he needs to stop these…these…feelings. “Pffft, sure. Why wouldn’t he be?”

“Dunno. I don’t think he likes me very much.”

Is this guy for real?! Tony’s been positively giving him the bedroom eyes for months!

Behind his back. Secretly and cowardly. God dammit.

“If he didn’t like you, I wouldn’t be here,” he points at himself, the entire sentence entangling his brain with its ridiculousness. There’s only so many more times he can refer to himself in third person while pretending to not be himself before he goes certifiably insane. “Even if he didn’t like you, I doubt he would hate you enough to let HYDRA just have a go at you. The man hates HYDRA with a passion.”

Bucky hums, not looking very persuaded. “Anyway, we’ve got a hella lot of time on our hands…I’m thinkin’ we make the most of it. Any ideas?” he grins.

A wide range of variously dirty ideas, yes. “No video games. Thor is destroying enough controllers for all of us, I don’t need Tony on my back because of that too.” Not to mention Bucky is way too good at Mortal Combat.

“Movie?”

“The last time I checked, you like Star Wars. I don’t want to be seen watching that anywhere in this time, space and dimension.”

“A TV show then.”

“If you say Star Trek, I will puke all over the inside of this armor.”

“Widow recommended somethin’ new to me a while back…what was it…a Game of Dragons?”

Tony laughs, moving on to the sofa. Leave it to Widow to have some proper cinematic sense…and sense of humor. How many times do they say ‘Winter is coming’ in there again? “Game of Thrones. Sure. I’m up to re-watch that. JARVIS?”

“I shall queue up the first season for you then.”

They sit down, lifting their feet on the coffee table – since Cap is nowhere around to scold them about it – and JARVIS rolls the intro.

“Winter is coming? Seriously?” Bucky laughs at the title of the first episode, but enjoys watching the rest of it anyway.

  They spend the next few days in the Tower – watching TV, sparring in the gym, having lazy conversations over ice coffee. With majority of the Avengers deployed to deal with the HYDRA problem, they’re mostly left alone.

Spiderman hangs out with them one afternoon after school – that he still stubbornly denies to still be attending, Wolverine goes for a couple rounds with Bucky in the gym and Deadpool drops on them out of nowhere after they’ve had a couple of drinks and were failing at karaoke - singing Careless whisper with them…twice.

Cap keeps them updated on the mission and by the looks of it they’re hot on HYDRA’s tail. Tony’s both relieved and…disappointed. Cap’s efficient work means there will no longer be a threat to Bucky’s wellbeing – that they know of – and so there will be no need for Iron Man’s services anymore. Which is good. Bucky safe and sound is good.

Tony will have to find another excuse to keep the man company – preferably one that doesn’t include imminent threat of kidnapping or death.

So much for him being the cocky flyboy flirting with everything that moves…when it comes to Bucky, he’s completely useless.

It’s easy to quip with him in the armor. Bucky likes Iron Man. Tony on the other hand…just the idea of striking up a friendly conversation with him as Tony is…scary. He never did good with rejection after all. And it would be the worst…to be accepted as Iron Man, rejected as Tony. As if he’s two people instead of one.

It’s all over on day six.

“We got them, Iron Man! We secured the base, got all the evidence we need and when Widow’s done with the agents, we’ll have even more.”

“That’s…great news! Well, take your time, Cap. We’ll be waiting for ya right here,” he tells him, hanging up on the call after Cap gives him an ETA of their return.

In few hours, the HYDRA scum are going to be stuffed in prison and the Avengers will return victorious. They’ll celebrate, Iron Man will make some likely excuse to why Tony wouldn’t be attending – not that he expects to be invited – and by tomorrow morning, Tony will be locking himself up in the lab for a week, moping like a lovesick teenager.

When did he get this pathetic?

Before his brain can conjure up some disturbing reply, Bucky appears in his line of sight, beer in hand. “Everythin’ alright?”

“Uh…yeah. Everything is…perfect. Cap and the team found the HYDRA base and are in the middle of raiding it as we speak,” he tries going for a happy tone, failing quite miserably. The helmet does have its uses at times like these. His face would betray way too much right now.

“Oh,” Bucky frowns, which is definitely not the reaction Tony is expecting. “I mean, yeah, that’s…good. So. How about we start the celebration of mission well done a lil’ early?”

“Sure…looks like you already started,” he points at the beer.

“Heh. Anyway…we could invite Stark up here. Did he even leave the lab for one second in these past few days? Or is he back to working himself into oblivion on some fancy new tech stuff?”

“Yep, you said it. There’s no bringing him out of the lab when he’s working on an exciting project. What do you say, JARVIS? Think Tony might be up for a party?”

Poor JARVIS had to get used to this hidden identity bullshit as well. He finds it amusing most of all. That little…

“Uhm…JARVIS?” Bucky frowns at the lack of a reply from the AI and unbeknownst to him, so does Tony.

“JARVIS! Report,” he demands but the comms remain ominously quiet.

“That ain’t good,” Bucky whips up a knife out of nowhere, grabbing onto his forearm and trying to push him out of the open.

Tony doesn’t budge. He has the perfect view of the hallway leading to the emergency stairwell exits and that’s why he sees it coming. It being three different grenades flying their way. Without JARVIS to do some quick thinking for him, he pushes Bucky as far away from the expected impact as he can, shielding him with the entirety of his body.

A flashbang goes off first, followed quickly by two explosions. What are they trying to do?! Get the Winter Soldier back in pieces?!

He stands up, repulsors at the ready while Bucky scrambles behind the sofa for cover – and the gun conveniently hidden underneath it. They shower the hallway in gun and repulsor fire, keeping the intruders at bay.

Just as Tony makes his way towards the stairwell to introduce them to Iron Man’s fists up close, a deafening explosion rings throughout the room, shattering all the windows and sending him flying against a wall.

A wave of HYDRA agents flood the room from both the stairwell and the outside – likely coming down from the roof and before Tony can get back on his feet and blast them all to hell, they’re surrounded and most – if not all – of their weapons pointed at Bucky.

Those bastards came prepared, he curses, his brain already going through possible ways out of their predicament.

“Better stand down, trash can. Or your buddy’s toast,” one of the agents steps up to him, hands in his pockets – must be the wannabe leader.

“Better toast than back with HYDRA,” Bucky spits, his gun sill pointed at the closest agent in front of him.

Tony would prefer neither option. But there’s too many of them. Even if he targets them all, chances are one of them gets a lucky shot…and that’s all it takes. He lowers the repulsors – they are not his only weapon after all and this way he might get some more time. Maybe…hopefully…

Bucky growls, definitely not approving of the gesture. “Just shoot ‘em all, Iron Man!”

“Good move,” the leader snickers, taking another step toward him. “Now…you’re going to tell me the passcode to Tony Stark’s lab.”

“What?!” Bucky blurts out, the gun flying sideways to aim at the leader.

“What?” Tony frowns, confused more than anything else.

“You think we bothered with all of this just for you?” the man glances at Bucky. “Nah…now that we’re here, we’ll be leaving with everything we can get. So,” he turns back to him. “Surely Stark’s very own bodyguard knows the code to get into the lab. Turns out just disabling the AI isn’t enough to get in there.”

Despite the situation, Tony finds himself grinning from ear to ear. “What do you want with Stark?” he asks, trying to hide his mirth.

“Oh this and that. Now, trash bucket. The code or we’re shooting this one through and through.”

He would usually point out how ridiculous that threat is – if they were to do that, he would just shoot them all and they’d get nothing. But Tony would lose…everything. So he keeps his mouth shut and instead focuses on the tiny plan already taking shape in his head.

“That’s a little greedy of you, isn’t it? Tell you what…I’ll give you the passcode,” he offers, ignoring the pair of widened eyes that pierce through him. “Take Stark, do whatever the hell you want with him…but you’ll leave Barnes here.”

“Hell no,” the former assassin growls some more, this time deep and threatening.

The leader smirks. “Done.”

“No! You can’t do that!” Bucky yells at him.

“I can and I will,” Tony shrugs, noting the sting of betrayal in Bucky’s voice. “How do I know you’ll honor your end of this bargain?”

“If we get Stark, what’s the point of having this…broken thing,” the man sneers at Bucky. “He’s obsolete. And we’re looking for a new model, if you know what I mean. Stark can provide us with that and more.”

“Fair enough.”

“What are you…you’re supposed to protect him!”

“Yeah…I’m tired of doing everything he tells me, what am I, his slave? Stark’s a jerk and a damn handful…chances are, you’re not even gonna want him once you find that out for yourself,” he tells the leader, ignoring Bucky altogether.

“You owe him…everything! He made you!”

Oh Buckaroo, you have no idea. “Exactly. And I don’t need him anymore,” he gives Bucky a look, the neutral face of the helmet betraying nothing.

The amount of hurt and disbelieve on his face is painful to see…and at the same time interesting. It would almost seem like he cares. About Tony. Which is unexpected, but plays right into his hands.

“We have a deal then, Iron Man,” the leader finally addresses him properly and they shake hands.

“The code is 12161991,” he tells him, barely containing his grin.

The leader nods at his lackeys. “You and your team stay here – just as a precaution of course. Once we have Stark, we’re out of here before the Avengers get back.”

Just as Tony predicted, most of the agents move along with the leader, which leaves only seven agents guarding them. And seven is much better than twenty. He can work with seven. They can.

Despite the raging schizophrenia he’s beginning to sport because of their hidden identities, they are good for something after all. Everybody knows Tony Stark is the genius – and Iron Man is just a guy in a can. If they knew Tony Stark is in fact inside the armor, nobody would ever be so easily fooled by him into anything, under no circumstances. This way, he is being underestimated from the get go.

Perfect.

“How could you!” the now quite furious supersoldier growls at him, the gun actually pointed at him. “I thought…I thought…,” he trails off, his steely gaze never wavering though. “If anything happens to him, I’ll never forgive you!”

Tony reels back, falling out of character for a second before JARVIS’s voice brings him back to the mission at hand.

“Emergency reboot complete, Sir. I have regained control over the armor’s systems but I’m afraid my systems in the Tower are still not fully functional.”

“Never mind that, just target these assholes and let’s get this over with, J!” he commands only for JARVIS to hear.

The targeting initiates, locking onto all but one of the agents – the one positioned behind Bucky.

Tony tries maneuvering to the side a little but the still furious assassin moves with him. Looks like he has no other choice.

“Nothing will happen to him,” he says carefully, eyeing the agents for suspicious reactions.

“Do you have any idea what they’re gonna do to him?!”

“Bucky…”

“This is HYDRA! Not some wannabe villains of the week!”

“Snowflake?”

“If they get away with h - ” he pauses, blinking at him. A small frown caresses his forehead as he stares at Tony.

“You must be a real special kinda snowflake to jam a screwdriver up your arm thinking you could fix it,” Tony says, echoing the first sentence he’s ever told the assassin.

Not Iron Man. Tony.

Bucky cocks his head to the side, eyes narrowed before they widen with realization.

“Sorry, you were probably about to shoot me. So why don’t you get down to it?” Tony adds and it only takes a second for the assassin to register the command and drop to the floor, leaving the last agent exposed to the armor’s gunfire.

It happens fast from there on. The agents have just enough time to look surprised before JARVIS deploys the shots against the locked on targets and a moment later, they are mere corpses on the ground.

“Targets neutralized,” JARVIS confirms.

“Thanks, J. You’re the best. Let me know when you’re a hundred percent back online.”

“Will do, Sir.”

Bucky gathers himself up from the floor, glancing around at the carnage before his gaze rests on Tony. Before either of them can speak up, the steady hum of the quinjet sounds from the outside and the room is suddenly full of very concerned-looking Avengers.

“Is everyone okay?!” Cap approaches them, glaring at the corpses. “We got here as fast as we could after Widow got the intel on their plan B.”

Right…back to Iron Man mode.

“Was this supposed to be it?” he waves at the dead agents. “So much for plan B, I’d say.”

“There should be more of them,” Widow warns them, still in full alert.

“Yeah, they’re in Stark’s lab,” he shrugs.

“What?!” Cap blurts out. “How did they get there?”

Tony sighs, raising his hands defensively. “Just relax, okay? They got a bit greedy and wanted Stark as well as the Winter Soldier…so I gave them the passcode to the lab that lets them in but also triggers a trap, locking them in there.”

“With Tony?!”

What’s with the supersoldiers today?! “He flew to London this morning. Some emergency SI business or something.”

Cap breathes out, nodding. “Good. Let’s go take care of the rest of them then.”

“Lead the way, Captain,” he prompts him and they all head down to the lab, subduing the now very salty wannabe leader and his minions.

 For a week, Tony successfully evades the former HYDRA soldier. He even stoops as low as having JARVIS make sure the coast is clear whenever he emerges from the lab to go to the kitchen for snacks and coffee. It’s not like he wants to avoid him. But there are certain conversations he is so not ready to have, no matter how helpful they would be in the long run.

In fact, there’s not much to converse about anyway. Bucky knows.

There’s no way he doesn’t know, unless he has a brain the size of a peanut. Like Hawkeye. Nope. Bucky knows. So Tony sticks to his ninja play and spends his days sulking in the lab.

Maybe he should go on a vacation as well. If Iron Man can go on a vacation, why can’t he? He is Iron Man!

And if that isn’t the source of all his problems ever, he doesn’t know what is.

When he returns to the lab one evening with a Hulk-sized mug of coffee in hand, he almost spills it all over the workbench when he spots a certain soldier lurking in the shadows in front of him.

“The fuck - ” he places a palm over the arc reactor, the frantic beating of his heart drumming through the reactor’s calming hum. “Where did you come from?!” The lab can’t be accessed any other way than through the doors and with the correct passcode. Not unless someone dares to wiggle through the vents – now impassably rigged with tripwires and explosives, since a certain purple-clad superhero decided to use them instead of hallways.

Bucky emerges from the darkness with one of his rare huge smirks and nods at the entrance. “The door?”

“You don’t have the passcode!” he glares at him.

“I have a passcode. 12161991?”

Son of bitch. That’s…resourceful. “Why would you wanna lock yourself in here, you weirdo?”

“Because you’re here,” he shrugs, the smirk turning toothy.

“O…kay?”

“Thought it’s the perfect opportunity…with Iron Man on that vacation of his. He better send me a postcard or somethin’.”

He stares at Bucky like he’s just grown a second head, which only makes him smirk harder.

“Better be a good fucking postcard. In the meantime, I’m thinkin’ dinner. You, me, burgers…milkshakes?”

“Wh – what?!” he blurts out, shaking his head as if trying to wake up from this Twilight zone he fell into.

Bucky sighs, the smirk easing into a soft smile never before seen on his face. “You really think I jammed a screwdriver into my arm because I was trying to repair it? Who do you think I am, Hawkeye?! And what was the excuse after this one? That I tried stopping elevator doors with the arm and that’s why it looked like it’s been almost split in half with a vibranium shield? It was the shield…and it didn’t just slip from my hand either, I slammed it down real damn hard. The doombots didn’t even touch the arm the week after that, I actually stuck that bot claw into it myself and then the excuses to come down here to hang out with you got even more ridiculous.”

“You…what?!”

“I like you, you jerk,” he rolls his eyes, folding his hands over his chest, metal intertwined with flesh. “How much more obvious do I gotta get?! So when you just…ignored me, hell even flirted with everyone but me I figured there’s no chance. Guy can take a hint, you know?” he shrugs, the smile turning sad for a moment. “That said…I really can take a hint.”

Tony forces his brain to finally start working again and quickly absorbs everything the man has just said.

He knows.

And instead of interrogating him about it or demanding explanations he’s…he’s…using the newfound information to apparently continue flirting with Tony and actually asking him out. On a dinner date.

Tony. Not Iron Man.  

Well, technically both, because he knows…he knows.

Tony emits a startled chuckle, lips twitching into a grin. “Uhm…I uh…guess I can be an idiot sometimes? Like, one out of a million times. Which isn’t really that often. Of course it isn’t, because I’m a genius after all. We do get to be stupid every now and then. Every ten years maybe, or twe - ”

“Tony?” Bucky interrupts his ramble, still with that stupidly perfect smile directed at him.

He could listen to the man saying his name like that all day. Or forever.

“Yeah?”

“What about that dinner?”

“Wh…dude. That rant a second ago? That was me saying hell yes I wanna go to a dinner with you…how obvious do I gotta get?!” he laughs, becoming unusually shy under the intense look Bucky’s inspecting him with.

“Hella obvious,” he winks and slips past Tony, lingering close to him on the way towards the doors, shoulders only just touching.

Metal and flesh.

“I’ll pick ye up in an hour,” Bucky looks back before JARVIS lets him out of the lab, leaving Tony absentmindedly nodding, staring at the door.

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe being just Tony beats being Iron Man. And maybe being both…and being seen as both isn’t as climactic as he thought it would be or have to be.

Because Bucky likes him – in and out of the can. And for tonight, that’s all that matters.

~Fin

[belost-the-watcher]

| “Don’t let anybody near the tracker.”

Artillery fire shook the underground bunker. Dust and loose concrete huffed from above, lights dimmed on particularly violent impacts. It was almost a ritual at this point. The Galra knew where the bunker was somewhere in the jungle. They just couldn’t tell where. It explained why the soldier in holding was a tracker.

Soros stepped through the dust filled hallways. He knew better than most how this would go. After all, he’d been directing the artillery fire away from the bunker for the last three months. Despite his effort, the various species there still regarded him suspiciously. He guessed being a galra would always carry some level of suspicion, even if he was on their side.

He hammered on a heavy steel door, the two guards beside it ignoring him for the moment. They had their orders to let him be. “Come in, Soros,” a voice from within said.

The galra hoisted the door open and stepped inside. A four armed figure sat hunched over a desk and old radio that outpoured static.

“I don’t like how close these shells are getting, Soros. You said there was nothing to worry about.”

“Actually I said there was nothing to worry about as long as you laid low for a while. But you had to raid the storage depot and remind everybody how much they want to kill you. This is what you get. Double the volume of artillery and reinforcements.”

“Our food was almost gone. You know we couldn’t-”

Soros cut him off with a wave of his hand, “It’s fine. We’ve still got it handled. The artillery is still far off enough that we can just wait it out. We might not be able to leave the bunker for a bit, but it shouldn’t actually hit us. And their specialist is in holding. Everything’s fine. Just wait it out and don’t let anybody near the tracker.”

Ros’Se sat on the cold floor, eyes shifting towards the lone guard keeping watch. Every rumble above made her more impatient. Her hand tightened around the grip of her knife, fingers squeezing the spine of the blade. Finally she’d made up her mind. The alien stood. Waiting was over.

She sheathed the knife and walked to the door who’s guard quickly rose his hand to stop her. “Sorry, Se. I’m not supposed to let anybody over here.” His voice was shaky. Nervous about either the shells raining from above or the sergeant looming over him.

She didn’t stop coming towards him. “Naa’M, open the door.”

He looked to the door and back to her, “I- Se, I can’t. Soros and Tambu both told me not to let anybody in here.”

“Soros and Tambu? Last I checked we were supposed to be fighting the galra. Not taking orders from one.”

“Yeah, I know. But-”

“I know you won’t stop me. I’m going in.”

Belost stood upright in the small cell he was given. A blood encrusted lump on one temple still pounded uncomfortably, courtesy of the traitor Soros. There was nothing he could do but simply wait now. Wait for-

“We really shouldn’t be in here, Se. Please can we just go back?”

-an opportunity.

“I just want to see it, Naa’M.”

Ros’Se peered around a corner and found the tracker, standing, back turned to the cell door. Her eyes narrowed. She was tall for her species and even then she nearly out-sized the galra.

“Hey. Galra.”

No answer.

She stepped closer and rammed the palm of her hand into the barred door. “You!”

“Se! Come on, don’t-”

“I’m talking to you! How’s it feel to be weak for a change? Huh? Like everybody else.”

Naa’M tugged at her shirt, eyes darting between her and the door.

“You know everybody here has some kind of history with your people. I’d sure hate to be you.”

If the tracker could hear her, he made no move to acknowledge it.

“You know I killed three galra in our last raid? Maybe they’ll let me add a fourth soon.”

Silence.

She huffed, “Come on, Naa’M. Let’s get out of-” a voice from inside the cell cut her off. It spoke low and steady, a hint of gravel on the edges of his tone.

“You know the funny thing about you rothnians? You all talk yourselves up so much, always so proud about that warrior culture and all. But the way you scream when you get that head plate ripped off..” Ros’Se froze. Her fingers drifting up to the ridged plate of bone that made up her brow and forehead.

“You know your eyes fall out when that comes off? Just dangling around. Doesn’t kill you either. It made for a great distraction back on Rothna, before we gassed it.”

She turned to him, Naa’M seeing her face contort in anger. “Shut up! Don’t listen to him Se.”

“You know the bone around it doesn’t stop forming as you get older? Makes it harder to pry off. But young enough? You can get it off with just your hands.”

“Give me the keys.”

“Se-”

“Keys!”

“Sir!” There was a knock on the door.

“What is it?” the four armed commander asked.

Soros turned as the door opened and one of the guards pushed his way inside.

“We’ve got a report of a dead body down in A4.”

“What? What happened?”

Belost rolled his shoulders as he adjusted the familiar light armor he’d feared would be long gone by then. The harness around his legs clicked into place and he drew the long hunting knife from its sheath at his side. It sat just right in his hand, much better than the bloodied rothnian knife on the floor. The Bell hung heavily at the front of his belt. He felt right again and stepped over his gift to whoever might come into the armory next, a belt of grenades strung across one shoulder. 

Soros had heard more than enough and was out the door. His hurried walk quickly turned to a jog and then into a run. A distant shout and muffled explosion had him sprinting to the open holding room door.

He rounded the corner and stopped when he found the cell door open, the now faceless corpse of a guard and a mutilated rothnian the only inhabitants.

Soros drew the officer’s pistol that hung at his side and stepped out of the room, eyes darting side to side through each branch of the hallway. The lights flickered and strobed then shut off entirely.

He winced and shut his eyes tight, then opened them, the darkness beginning to subside into simple shapes as his eyes adjusted. A form moved to his side and he fired a shot. It dropped and he shuffled his way to it, nudging it with his boot. He flipped it over and found the feathered face of a drazian.

Soros took a deep breath and walked with a hand outstretched, retracing his steps back through the hallways. Distant shouting echoed through the halls now and again alongside the hammering of artillery from above. At this rate he would almost rather take his chances on the outside.

A voice rang out from farther ahead. “Soros!” It was one of the guards from the commander’s room.

“I’m here! What are you doing out here?”

“The commander told me to find you, hold on I’ll be-” his boot tugged a thin wire loose and he was lost in the report of a hidden grenade.

Soros’ ears were ringing, he could barely register the sound of his own footfalls. He moved onward, stepping through what remained of the guard, figuring there could not be any other traps ahead if the guard already went through there.

He knocked on the commander’s door. Nothing.

Despite already having an idea of what was inside, he opened the door anyway.

The artillery had stopped and Soros hobbled his way to the main gate of the bunker, blood trailing from his boot. He’d been wrong about no more traps.The commander’s door had more behind it than just two corpses, but yet another one of those damn trip wires.

His mind raced with how close the other galra could be. The other guard could have only been away from the door for no more than four minutes. How fast did that tracker work?

He found makes of the tracker’s presence all around him, the random bloodstain across a wall, a bullet hole, bodies strewn across the floor, scorch marks and chunks of missing concrete.

The galra drug himself through an open security gate and turned a corner to where the blast door of the bunker stood shut tight. And in front of it, a figure in red armor, yellow eyes watching him all the while.

For once, the tracker was the first to speak.

“I owe you for that pistol whip you know.”

“I’d say you got me back more than enough,” he gestured toward the blood pooling around his boot.

Belost shook his head, “Not looking where you’re going. You pretty much did that to yourself. An officer? You should know better.”

“Right. So what now?”

“Now, I think I’m going to get out of here. I’ve got ten minutes to get out of here before the next wave of artillery starts. And they’re not going to miss this time.”

“And you’re going to leave me here?”

“Can’t really take you with me, can I? An officer gone traitor? Not a good story to break. No, I think ‘killed in action’ is actually better for morale.”

Soros’ hand tightened on his pistol. His gaze met Belost’s. A mutual understanding between two galra soldiers. No surrender. And die fighting

He rose his weapon and an explosive crack rang out. Soros last saw the smoke from The Bell before its payload delivered him to the ether.

Belost rubbed his ear while Soros splattered across the floor. “Fuck that’s loud indoors.” He pressed a button on the wall and the blast doors opened.