#but i’m operating without any info. so like. what’s going on my guy

[graham--folger]

y’all should i be taking it personally that my boss has essentially been leaving me on read for over 4 weeks now?

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for just taking advantage of a luxury I haven’t had in so long??

Oh, god. I saw his post, and I can’t believe that I’m gonna have to step up and defend myself like this.

Yes, I’m subject of the ‘bucket-loving nonsense’ post. I’m the guy who loved a bucket so much that he got shoved into a desert wasteland for it. But you’ve gotta understand. There’s a few things he (???, m I think?) neglected to tell you all.

I (over 34 is all I know, M) have been without human connection for so many years that I’ve lost count. It’s the whole plot of his ‘game’, that I’m stranded alone and I have no clue where everyone went and I have to find out what happened to them.

He’s a lot better than when we started out, I’ll give him that. He used to be a complete prick to me. I was scared and alone and had no clue what was going on but he still thought it would be okay to try and kill me over and over and over. I’m pretty sure he isn’t even human, and maybe that’s why he missed the cue on the whole fact that humans need connection. And compassion. At least he could give me a little bit of that back then. But it wasn’t a lot.

Eventually, I think he seemed to get it, but I’m pretty sure that was after a… long time spent alone himself. I’m not exactly proud of what I did back there, but I didn’t have a choice. He doesn’t seem to remember any of it, which I guess… is a good thing. For him. But it changed how he operated, and he’s been a lot more friendly to me since.

It’s nice. It finally felt like I had someone on my side, someone to go through this with me instead of facilitating it against me. I really liked this new version of him, actually. He seemed a lot more open with his feelings, and less keen on killing me for his own amusement or plot or whatever.

I guess seeing his post now, he thought I was getting to like the new ‘features’ more than his game, which is typical to him, but I hated them just as much. I don’t know why he felt the need to impress me, but I guess he was just scared of me drifting from his game.

But one of the things he decided to give me was a bucket. He advertised it as a bucket that would keep me calm and feeling okay in this environment that he knew I didn’t like. Well, he advertised it as for the player of his game, but I knew he really just meant me.

I thought it was his way of trying to connect with me more, because he really seemed to project onto the damn thing. I liked it. I held it with me because it felt like actual effort in trying to make things better for me, and it made me feel better.

I am not crazy when I say the thing genuinely started talking to me. Everything seems hazy besides that. I don’t know where he got it, but every day I doubt more and more that he made it. There was something about it that changed my mind and behavior, and it was not my fault. I can’t even remember most of the time I spent holding it.

But he couldn’t see that, and he got so jealous and petty about the thing that, apparently, he thought it would be better to cast me away for it. Mind you, he didn’t tell me ANY of this before doing so, and all of a sudden I found myself stranded in a broken environment, without anything I was familiar with. I genuinely thought he DIED and the game had spat me out there because of it. Even after all the shit he put me through, I grieved for him.

I don’t even know how to feel about this. I’m pissed, I’m hurt, and I genuinely can’t believe the countless weeks(?) wandering alone in an absolutely broken haze was because he couldn’t keep his jealousy to himself and didn’t bother to actually address it with me. And for some reason, he thinks I’M the asshole. Christ.

[idk6123]

Unlikely Date (Jetstream Sam X Male reader)

It’s in the dark of night when the operation began. Rescuing children from the Sears Program and Desperado Enforcement LLC. Before going to the research center, the cyborg got all the info he needs to succeed with the mission without any causality.

So, he broke in the building without detection. Got into the room where around 10 kids are sitting.  Killed any threats and then lead the children to the exit. Once getting to the exit, the man makes sure to get the younger ones out of the complex. Once it’s his turn, he’s quickly looks back when he hears someone’s voice.

“Somebody is sneaky.” As he looks at who’s talking, he sees a black haired man in a ponytail. Like him, he uses a sword, though it isn’t out. He doesn’t get a reply and merely a scowl. “Cat caught your tongue? Or are you just the silent type.”

“Jetstream Sam.”

The other man shows a smirk. “Seems like my reputation reached you. If only I could say the same to you.”

“My name is irrelevant.” The cyborg says coldly. “I’m here on a mission. If you want to stop me, you’re going to force my hand to kill you.”

Sam tsks. “Tough audience. And you look strong. Oh, how scared I am.” He smirks, but the cyborg doesn’t look amused, merely holding his sword, ready to take it out of his sheath. “Tell you this. I’m willing to give this a blind eye to this whole situation. Though there is something you must do.”

“And that is?”

“Your name.”

“You know I can just lie, right?”

Sam laughs. “I know. But you won’t.”

“And why’s that?”

“Got a good feeling. Call it a hunch.” Sam says with such smooth, the other man can’t help but respect it just a bit.

“Fine. Y/N.”

“Y/N.” Sam pleasantly says his name. “I can tell you’re something special. And I feel we’re going to meet again.”

“Probably.” Y/N shrugs. “Hopefully without clashing swords.”

“I hope so too. I would prefer not messing up some cute guy’s face.”

“Don’t mock me.”

Sam chuckles. “It was a complement. Take it as such. Anyway, I probably took enough of your time. I suggest get out of here before they realize they can’t screw up children’s life anymore.”

“Took long enough. Pleasure meeting you.”

-

It’s yet another mission for Y/N. He managed to get a target up to assassination, and yes, it’s Desperado. It’s a scientist that has a part that caused all of the cyborg creation. It all looks easy, get in the building, stab the man, and get away. And so Y/N did, and yet once he goes through his escape route, he sees someone similar.

“Back again? Huh? You’re like a magnet.”

“Sam.” Y/N merely greets him, ready to take out his blade. “I heard about your little fight with my co-worker.”

“Raiden. That was his name, no?” Sam smirks. “How’s the man holding up?”

The cyborg hmphs. “Well, after you slashed his eye out and cut his arm, all things considered good.”

“Good to hear. He got potential, and once he gets there, I wouldn’t mind a rematch.” The man confidently looks at the wary man. The two body languages not matching at all. “You look like I’m going to kill you.”

“You already tried to kill my coworker. I doubt I’m an exception.” Y/N replies bluntly. “Besides, I just assassinated one of your men.”

“And you think I care.”

Y/N raises his eyebrow. “You don’t?” There is a silence, with an unsettling smile staring at him. “Excuse me, but what kind of lousy employee are you?”

Sam laughs. “The best kind. Let’s just say I got my reasons.” He steps besides, gesturing his enemy to leave. “Was nice talking to you again, Y/N. And liked you hoped, we didn’t clashed blades.”

“And instead of that, you’re going to leave me with an unsettling feeling.” Y/N makes sure to keep his eye on him. “You’re on odd man. You’re willing to let me go, but has no issue slashing Raiden?”

Sam shrugs his shoulders casually. “Maybe it could be it was an inconvenient time? Or it could be he tried to safe someone instead of killing? Ooor…” He slowly walks over to Y/N. “Could it be I try to safe that pretty face of yours?”

“And now you flirt with your enemy.”

“I don’t see why we can’t have a little fun.” Sam points out, now standing near the other man. Though before he could make another remark, the alarm begins to ring. It appears that they discovered the body Y/N made. Sam looks back at Y/N. “It appears our time got cut. How disappointed. I really enjoyed it.”

“I bet you did.” Y/N says. Afterwards, he heads to the exit. As he gets to it, he looks back at Sam, continuing to smile at him. “What’s it?”

“Nothing. I just got a feeling we’re going to meet again. Maybe next time with some coffee?”

Y/N can’t help but smirk back. “As long you don’t try to kill me, deal.”

-

The sun is settling down as Y/N gets across the land. He got requested for back-up, intending to help Raiden and Bladewolf with taking down Armstrong. So, he’s driving his car across the wasteland. However, he spots something odd on the field by the road. He stops his car to focus closer. That’s when he sees a silhouette of a body, whether it’s dead or not, he’s not sure. Doing the right thing, Y/N stops the car, get out of it and quickly run to the person, only to discover who it is.

“Sam?” Y/N blurts his name out. He crouches down to check out his wound. His torso has been slashed up, with blood everywhere. However, his vital signs still work. He’s still alive. The first thing he does is intending to stop the bleeding. Thus, he gets Sam to sit up to remove his upper body clothing. Although difficult, he successfully removed it.

That’s when Y/N quickly get back to the car to snatch a med-kit. Once he gets back, he begins putting a band-aid around his torso. During which, someone suddenly talks. “What a surprise…”

Y/N is quick to look up to see Sam with his eyes just a bit open. “That I’m here? Or you’re alive?”

“Both.” Sam chuckles.

Y/N continues applying the band-aid. “What happened?”

“Well, Raiden and I had our rematch…” He tiredly says, but he tries to sound as charming as usual. “You could see who’s the victor.”

“Karma is a bitch.”

“You could say that again.”

Sam stays half alive as Y/N helps him. With his cyborg implants, it doesn’t take long to get Sam’s body covered. Once he did, he put his arm around his neck and the two walk towards the car, though Sam legs gives up.

That’s when Y/N grabs his leg to lift him up like a bride. Sam can’t help but laugh. “You couldn’t wait until the wedding.”

“I could always wait until the funeral.”

“Never mind.” 

Y/N carefully puts Sam next to the driver’s seat. Then, he gets to the other side and begin starting to car. He put his finger against his earpiece. “Doktor, I found someone at critical stage. I’m bringing him to you.”

“Weren’t you supposed to be joining Raiden?”

“Plans changed.” With that, he signs off.

Sam looks besides him, while his entire body is sluggishly sitting. “You were to assist Raiden, huh? Help him.”

“He can take care by himself.” Y/N starts the car. Afterwards, he begins to turn around.

“Help. Him.”

Y/N looks at Sam. This is the first time he sees a serious face of him. “I need to get you to a doctor, or-”

“I already accepted death. I just want to see Armstrong dead. Raiden is strong, but I want his death to be guaranteed.” Sam explains. “Turn the car around.” Y/N thinks about it. After making his decision, he merely steps on the gas, making Sam closes his eyes. “You’re making a grave mistake.”

“I won’t.” Y/N says without any doubt of his voice. “Raiden is strong. You didn’t even knew I was coming. I know you putted all your faith in him, even if it was just him and Bladewolf.”

“It’s just to be secure.” Sam continues to protest. “You would risk Armstrong wining just to safe my ass?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“You owe me coffee.”

With a serious face looking at him, Sam can’t help but crack up a smile. “Oh, how the tables got turned. You know I was just messing with you.”

“Partly, yes.” Y/N responds. “But I can tell you’re the guy that tries to flirt his way to someone, even if you just met them.”

“Am I that much of an open book?”

“Not really.” Y/N responds. “I still don’t know why you joined with Armstrong despite wanting him dead.”

Sam smirks a bit. “It’s a long story.”

“We’re on a long road.”

“Touché. Well, let’s start…”

-

Walking in the office, Y/N is holding two cups of coffee, walking pass his colleagues. A smile is on his face once he heard Raiden’s victory over Armstrong. That face he shares with Sam, who he sees once he gets in the infirmary room. He’s lying on a clean, white bed, with the sheets covering his almost naked body. Although with his body looking beat up, he looks alive.

“How much?”

“3 bucks per coffee.” Y/N hands over Sam’s coffee.

“I grab my wallet once I get home.”

The cyborg grabs a chair to set besides the man. “I was honestly surprised that you’re not a cyborg.”

“I’m all natural. No funky gadgets, no implants, just skill and one good sword.”

“No implants?” Y/N says doubtfully. “You’re saying that your fat ass is all natural?”

“If you doubt it, feel free to touch it. I can promise you, all natural.” Sam drinks his coffee as he confidently looks at his date.

“Pass. But I take that offer later.”

“Nice to know.”

“But enough with the flirting… for now. Now that Armstrong is dead, Desperado is going die as well. Not immediately, but they will. Got any plans?”

“Well, considering who I was working for, I guess it’s behind bars for me.” Though sounding sad, Sam isn’t at all.

Y/N frowns. “We got good lawyers.”

“I doubt any good lawyer can justify working for a group that has connections with terrorists and child soldiers.” Sam takes a sip. “And that is just the beginning of the list of war crimes.”

“True…”

Sam can notice Y/N being disappointed. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t be together. We can call it a long distant relationship.”

“What am I going to say? That my date and potential boyfriend is living in prison.”

“Exactly. That way, nobody is going to mess with you.”

Y/N can’t help but chuckle. “How come you can always act so positive despite the shitty situations?”

Sam thinks about it. “I’m not sure. I guess it could be that it’s a good way to get with someone.”

[the-service-weapon]

Honestly, Canon!Saga will hightail it the fuck out of Bright Falls first chance she gets. She may end up working for the FBC but will always be wary of Bright Falls. She will never like Alan for endangering her daughter and putting her through hell.

But I am a fan of transformative works—so this is me focusing on a different version of the characters.

In my version, Saga joins the FBC and, unfortunately, ends up joining the ExSpouse club along side Casey and Kirin as a result.

By this point, 5 years has elapsed and her daughter has started college (maybe even at a west coast school?). So, when the FBC asks her and Casey to relocate to Bright Falls to help resettle The Lake House—whose main mission is to explore/research the Dark Place, but now also potentially recover Doctor Darling—she agrees.

Casey agrees because Saga agrees.

He is technically semi-retired and only works for the FBC on a part-time basis, so he doesn’t go out on field missions a ton—but I like to think being possessed by the Dark Presence gave him some mild but handy parautilitarian abilities.

The one that makes him most valuable to the FBC, however, is his interesting bond with Alan—who seems to have become a figure who can pop in and out of different versions of reality at will via his writing.

The FBC would very much like to have Alan as a permanent member of their team—I’m not convinced they didn’t try to capture him for interrogation after the event of Alan Wake 2 but lost him after he used his own blood to write his way out of their cell someone got fired over that—but he’s keenly eluding them.

Alan has very little interest in helping the FBC, his primary goal is finding Alice and he’s pretty pissed at them for tossing him in a cell right after he escaped 13 years of imprisonment.

However, he does feel guilty about what he put Saga and Casey through, so he’s willing to help them (with them kind of acting as liaisons between Alan and the FBC, when they really need info).

Anyway, due to the metaphysical bond between him and Casey, Casey can sort of…summon Alan into their reality.

It’s similar but not as direct a method of communication as Saga’s Mind Place technique (which is still spotty if she and Alan aren’t on the same plane of reality) but functions by Casey essentially focusing on Alan psychically and appearing as one of Alan’s “echoes”—which Alan sees while feeling an overwhelming compulsion to appear before Casey.

The visions will become more and more intrusive and the pull stronger and stronger the longer Alan attempts to ignore the “call.”

While Alan has discovered he can shut out Saga if he really wants to, he simply can’t manage it with Casey—who delights in discovering he now has a certain level of control over Alan.

If Alan ignores the call for too long, the visions become an overwhelming cacophony and the pull so great—he’ll be ripped out of whatever reality he is in involuntarily and deposited right at Casey’s feet.

(Again, Casey loves getting to do this. He’s almost disappointed now when Alan comes without much of a fight.)

However, Alan also discover the easiest way to voluntarily hop between any reality is find an Agent Alex Casey (real or fictional, such as worlds where Alex Casey is played by certain Finnish actors) and simply write the words “Time to visit my old friend, Casey.”

Alan will then immediately appear within a certain physical proximity to whatever version of Casey he focuses on.

It takes him a while to figure out the physical distance directly correlates to how close emotionally he is to that version of Casey.

He doesn’t have to travel realities by that method—it’s just the simplest way to do it.)

So, anyway, the whole gang ends up operating out of Bright Falls.

And—even better—Ilmo wiggles his way into being the guy who supplies their headquarters coffee supply.

Maybe he gets Saga to vouch for him—and is actually on the FBC’s payroll as a look out for paranatural shit on top of providing them excellent coffee—but either way he’s regularly in their office.

Hijinks ensue.

[my-mind-it-goes-blank]

mini (not so mini) psa

there are so many of y’all fantastic writers out there and i love reading alot of the fanfics, headcannons and asks of some of my favorite characters, but there are so many inaccuracies and i really wanna put out some info/pointers for anyone that wants their writings to be just a little bit more accurate.

-in the military, relationships between superiors and anyone in their chain of command, or just two individuals within the same squad/platoon is HIGHLY frowned upon. like that’ll get someone dishonorably discharged at the worst, and have a career killed and getting restationed elsewhere for the best of outcome. (which would most likely end up with that person eventually getting kicked out of the military anyways) if there was two individuals that have any relationship other than a platonic or professional one, that relationship would be kept under extreme wraps, even to any best friends in their group. as much as it would be cute to have the 141 fawn over an OC and 141 member’s relationship or the 141 fawning over ghost and soap, it just would not happen. price himself would see to either having someone moved out of the group or forcing the two end the relationship without question because it’s a conflict of interest.

-kortac is a private military company (pmc) and although i really don’t know how frowned upon it is for two operators have a sexual/romantic relationship (probably still very since even big cooperations have policies against dating between employees) they also don’t completely operate like militaries do. they don’t quite have deployments but contracts or jobs. if you’ve ever played any of the metal gear solid games, that’s what these guys are, the diamond dogs and outer haven guys. these are companies that govts and businesses hire to get past any sorts of rules where militaries can’t operate (the campaign itself also stated this). and also, a lot of people that are typically work for these companies, do it for the money. i don’t want to say all, but quite a bit do. pmcs are also not really loyal to any nation or people and mostly follow where the money is best. individual operators may be very loyal to their own nation, but work is work and they go where work takes them.

-short of having undiagnosed illnesses, anyone that has any sort of illness like adhd, anxiety, depression, diabetes, asthma, anything at all, even poor eyesight, would not be able to join the military and if an individual somehow managed to enlist, they ALMOST DEFINITELY do not have careers within or near any sort of combat. combat is a no joke situation, full stop. if someone isn’t doing their assigned job to the best of their ability, it doesn’t just affect their life, it affects the lives of everyone around them. so if someone is having an anxiety attack or has a sort of breakdown in say training, they’re removed from that job o position until they’re fit for duty or if not, unfortunately they're out. if something where to happen out in the field, it could cost their teammates their lives. and usually, if someone were to get diagnosed with something that couldn’t be treated within a reasonable span of time, those individuals are usually medically discharged.

there was a very real reason why the army refused to take steve rogers in the mcu before he took the supersoldier serum and became captain america...

i’m sorry if this post comes off as nitpicky (but kind of not), or condescending it’s really not my intention and i don’t know about anyone else but at least for me, its a bit of a buzzkill when i see some glaring inaccuracies in writings. it’s like hearing that saltwater fish are thriving in a freshwater lake. also might add to this later...

[wildestdreamsblog]

Second, third, and hundredth chances

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: A very persistent Steve Rogers, that is the warning. And some swearing, and a soft! dark Steve, mention of injuries and blood, alcohol consumption, manipulative Steve, suggestive themes. If you’re not 18+, DNI.

A/N: HIIIIII. We have come to an end. Thank you so much for the kind words and interactions with you! It means a lot to me! I know some parts are not true to movie ‘Civil War’, but for fanfic’s purposes, I changed some info. I really hope you enjoy! Thank you for all the likes, replies, and reblogs!

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, END

It was close to a month and Steve was still not home. Bucky was not back. Sam was not back. And it made you anxious more than ever. There was no any form of communication you could do with him. You were told it was just an easy mission, that he would be back in no time. But he still wasn't home. You knew what others were thinking. That he left you again. Pitying looks were thrown your way, and whenever you went to Tony to ask, he just shook his head, he was confused as well that they still weren't back. It made no sense that they were not yet back. It made no sense to Tony, to Fury, to the team and to you. Where was he? Where were they?

You were scared out of your mind, your heart breaking as it remembered the pain it felt when he left you. Was that the case again? You just got him back, your heart had just started mending, would he be so cruel to make you go through that again?

A loud knock on the door startled you from your thoughts. You looked at your watch, it had just gone seventeen minutes past twelve and you were not expecting any guest or patient. Thinking that it just might be Wanda asking you out for a drink, you opened the door. The phone you were holding in your hand slipped from your grasp, your heart beating so fast you felt lightheaded. The man in front of you caught your phone before it even reached the ground- all without removing his eyes from yours. Everything felt like in a slow motion. Nothing and no one, and you meant it, could have prepared you for who was standing in front of you.

"Sweetheart?" He began, his large hand lifted to touch your face. "I have missed you, my love."

Before you knew it, your arms were thrown on his shoulder, hugging him with all your might. "Where have you been?" You were starting to notice the disheveled look he was sporting, his face with bruises, his gear with dried blood and dirt.

"What happened to you?"

He smiled at you, "Doesn't matter. I'm home now, my love."

Steve basked in the affection you were freely giving him. This was what he wanted, what he craved. You, without any reservation. He would go through it again if it meant having you in his arms like this. Steve thought back to the mission. It was, at first an easy one. But you needed the push. You needed to experience life without him again, for you to make up your mind. And so, he took a drastic measure. He manipulated the situation, claiming to Sam that the mission needed intense surveillance, that the root of the operation had to be pulled for peace to come. It wasn't hard, Sam trusted the captain. Bucky, though, on the other hand, looked at him with knowing eyes. He knew just how crazy he could be. He had removed himself from your orbit, making you think he was gone, for you to miss him. And so he decided to pursue the mission until the end, until all the operations of the bad guys were trampled on by him. Not included in the mission, true, but who would berate him?

After all, he did it for the safety of the world.

After all, he did it for you and him.

He brushed away the tears that were falling from your eyes. Good, you were crying for him. He looked intently at you.

"I love you, Y/N."

Your tears wouldn't stop falling, as you leaned in and kissed his lips. "I love you, Steve. So much." You whispered against his lips, your eyes closed as you took him in.

"We'll never be apart, again. I promise."

You didn't see the smirk he unconsciously made as you embraced him tighter.

————

Please take note that I give no permission for my work to be reposted or published anywhere other than on my Tumblr account.

REBLOGS ARE MUCHOOO APPRECIATED!!! If you made it this far, comments are highly appreciated!  Also, I don’t own the Marvel and any of their work, this is just purely a fanfiction written by a fan who has a huge crush on Steve :)

————

taglist:

@bananapipedreams @ladybug05

[youngbugandtonystank]

what's the difference between what wanda did to those people in wandavision and what tony did with ultron?

I have so many asks about this. Hate asks, and people wondering what’s going on. This is the only one I’m answering.

Both of them are responsible for their actions. I’ve seen people try and take away either Tony’s responsibility for that or Wanda’s engagement and accountability. 

In Tony’s case, the Ultron program was supposed to be a global peacekeeping program to protect the people, acting as a suit around the world to prevent events like the Battle of New York. He was doing it in the name of peace and safety. Tony was rightfully scared because he was the only one who knew what was coming. Wanda intentionally enhanced that fear in him and this drove him to create Ultron with Bruce. He has responsibility for it. Same as Bruce. He owns up to this, he took full responsibility and agreed that they needed to be regulated. 

Tony Stark: A few years ago, I almost lost her, so I trashed all my suits. Then, we had to mop up HYDRA... and then Ultron. My fault.

--

Tony Stark: There's no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I'm game. If we can't accept limitations, if we're boundary-less, we're no better than the bad guys.

--

Tony Stark: That's good. That's why I'm here. When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stop manufacturing.

--

If people think he needs to be in jail for it, then I’m guessing the rest of the Avengers too since all of them have made mistakes and killed people too. As a matter of fact, after the events of Wandavision, I’m sure that Wanda should be in the Raft, but because she’s ‘a poor baby’ yall won’t think she deserves that. 

SPOILERS

It’s a big possibility that we don’t have all the info about what happened in Wandavision but we’re going to go with what we know so far. 

In Wanda’s case, she did it to appease her grief and pain, and I can understand why she would get to that point, she’s been through a lot and maybe she was about to lose her mind. Instead of recruiting Wanda after the Sokovia incident, they should’ve given this girl treatment for her mental health problems. She just lost her brother and passed through a very traumatic war zone, of course she needs assistance. Cap and Natasha were the ones responsible for her because they were training the ‘new’ avengers. Sam was with them and he used to be a counselor to veterans with PTSD. He could’ve helped Wanda with some of her traumas. As shown in the series, Wanda did the whole hex business before meeting Agatha, which means creating that little reality was all Wanda’s responsibility. Hayward and Agatha did exactly what Wanda did to Tony (and the avengers/other people) in AOU. They manipulated her and played with her emotional traumas. Hayward showed her Vision’s body parts and Agatha started to pull strings to know how Wanda did what she did and her real powers while orchestrating against her. 

Both of them have made mistakes. No one is better than the other. I don’t understand why some fans want to make someone responsible more than the other or blame one character for the other. While Wanda gave Tony that vision and pushed his self-destructive side to obsess over saving the world, he did create Ultron, what Tony didn’t predict was that the robot was going to corrupt itself. Same with Wanda, while Agatha and Hayward contributed to her trauma, she held hostage and isolated 3,892 people to create her perfect reality, ripping these people away from their identities and free will to fit her own fantasy. Don’t turn this into ‘omg poor her, it’s Tony fault that she’s this way'. I can’t believe I have to repeat this but you don’t see Peter Parker obsessively looking for the person who manufactured the gun instead of the criminal who actually killed Uncle Ben. Ridiculous that I have to repeat this example. 

Oh and about Vision’s body (damn yall have a gift to turn everything into Tony’s fault for some reason). I can’t believe some of you think Tony (while grieving for 5 years) would give Vision to Hayward. You’re either pulling stuff out of your asses or you didn’t pay attention to the show. Maria Rambeau founded and was the Director of S.W.O.R.D. In 2018 (when IW happened), this is where she came up with a new policy within S.W.O.R.D. to ground snapped agents in case they ever returned. Maria was diagnosed with cancer, then two years later (2020), she passed away. Then, Hayward was promoted to Director of S.W.O.R.D., in his first years (2020-2022) he refocused the organization’s work from extraterrestrial operations to robotics, nanotechnology and artificial intelligence, etc. There, that was the 5 years. Then in 2023 it’s when he started project Cataract, which revolved around rebuilding Vision as a sentient weapon. Tony was dead when this happened. How come yall don’t get this part? I don’t understand, do you really think his dead corpse signed some papers to give Vision to those people? LMAO

Instead of thinking Tony would give up Vision just like that, think (possibilities):

Maria was the head of S.W.O.R.D., she might have just been keeping his body safe without doing anything with him. Maybe she trusted Hayward and he, obviously, betrayed her because he’s turning her organization into something else after her death. 

One of the Sokovia Accords regulations states that the use of technology to bestow individuals (the term ‘enhanced individual’ in this book is defined as any person, human or otherwise, with superhuman capabilities) with innate capabilities is strictly regulated by the government, as is the use and distribution of highly advanced technology. Vision signed those accords ('I'm saying there may be a casualty. Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict... breeds catastrophe. Oversight...oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand’) The Avengers were no longer be a private organization and they operate under the supervision of the United Nations. This means they (UN) were the ones that referred Vision’s body to S.W.O.R.D., to a trustworthy leader, Maria. 

Vision died in Wakanda, not in New York. Tony was missing for 22 days after the snap, the rest of the avengers should’ve taken responsibility for his body.  

Why is it always Tony’s fault but never consider that other parties are also involved in this? 

I want to address some other asks with this one. I know some of you are angry because people are starting to blame Tony all over again, so a few things to remember:

Tony did not create the Accords. The Accords were the result of all the collective actions the Avengers have done in their superhero careers. All of them have made mistakes and the collateral damage of that was taken into consideration by the government and 117 countries around the world. He signed the accords because he knew that he could amend them with the support of the rest of the avengers and he knew about Thanos (something big was coming). 

Obadiah Stane (it’s so bizarre for me seeing that some people don’t know who this guy is, I’m guessing that the people who are watching Wandavision are too young to remember or didn’t watch the Iron Man movies at all which is highly probable) was the one selling weapons to the wrong people, not Tony. Obadiah was the CEO of Stark industries and became second-in-command for two decades. He grew jealous of Tony and began cooperating with the Ten Rings in Afghanistan, selling them Stark Industries weapons illegally. Imagine blaming all of it on Tony when Obadiah basically murdered thousands only because he felt a little green. If someone who you trust (he had no reasons to doubt Obadiah since he was like a second father-figure for him) does something behind your back (take into consideration that people like Pepper; who was Tony’s assistant and had knowledge of all of Tony’s activities and responsibilities, Rhodey; who was the liaison between the military in the department of acquisitions and Stark Industries, and Happy Hogan; who was his personal bodyguard and Head of Security of Stark Industries, didn’t know what Stane was doing either), how are you going to know about it? Tony trusted him. And when he realized what was going on he immediately stopped all of it. He worked hard to be better and people overlook that because they want other characters to look better. 

Don’t act like Tony was the only one assisting the military. All of the avengers assisted in one way or another. Natasha (who used to be an assassin) was in the Red Room, trained in the Black Widow Program in association with Leviathan and the Soviet Armed Forces, served for KGB, etc. Bruce Banner used to work for the United States government and was commissioned to create a super serum for them. Same goes with the rest, Sam, Clint, etc. Steve Rogers was a soldier lmaoooooooooooooo like, what happened to Tony with Obadiah happened to Steve with SHIELD/HYDRA in TWS. He trusted the people working in there (SHIELD), served for them, did missions for them and as soon as he found out what they were doing behind his back he turned against them. 

Knowing all of this, how is Tony always the villain for yall? I’m guessing because Tony’s popularity in the MCU, but still, aren’t yall tired of not understanding the plot and having people repeat it to you constantly? Watch the movies if you want to understand the franchise, people. Stop following the crowd. 

Also, Wanda is not a kid, she’s a 35 year old woman in Wandavision, she was 26 in AOU and 27 in CW. Hardly a child. Tony had almost her same age (38) when he realized Obadiah was selling illegal weaponry behind his back. The only reason people don’t fully forgive Tony is because 1. he’s a man and 2. he’s a billionaire. Even if Wanda was poor she still killed and hurt many people over the course of her life. Stop trying to make Tony the villain only to downplay Wanda’s actions. 

Both have killed people, both have made mistakes. They’re both responsible for them. 

[dreamwritesimagines]

Burn The Witch 3 - Ensnared [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s the next chapter, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns.

Summary: Things aren’t always what they seem to be.

Series Masterlist

Finding out that the target you had been assigned to seduce and manipulate for information was actually a good person had its advantages and disadvantages.

For starters, the biggest advantage was that now you could prepare a strategy based on his personality. After all, good people were easier to trick, it was the people like you that would’ve given you a hard time if the roles were reversed. You had been taught to approach everyone with suspicion and pinpoint their weak spots to use against them and as it turned out, Bucky didn’t adapt the same strategy when it came to other people.

The disadvantage? You had no idea how to deal with that.

For years and years you had been trained to kill, lie, manipulate and not look back or feel guilty about any of it because you were told that all your targets were the kind of people that would’ve harmed you or others if they had the chance; so Bucky not being evil was surprising at the very least.

The infamous Winter Soldier hadn’t tried to hurt you when he was under attack, hadn’t tried to use you as a leverage to get out of there unlike what you would’ve done if the roles were reversed.

Needless to say, you were confused as hell.

“I mean when you think about it, it’s not surprising that he’s a good guy,” Chloe said, resting her feet on the table in the empty conference room, “Didn’t he fight against Thanos with Steve Rogers and everyone else?”

“I would’ve fought in that war if I could as well, it doesn’t mean that I’m a good person.”

She pouted, “That’s debatable. I think you’re a great person.”

“No I’m not. I swear to you I’m not.”

“Come on, you don’t give yourself enough credit.”

“If it were me, I would’ve pushed him into the line of fire without a second thought.”

“Exactly. We’re terrible people and we acknowledge that, Chloe.” Keith said as you tapped your pencil on the file,

“Back to the first impression strategy, guys. How do I meet Barnes?”

“Hold on, before we continue with the strategy you need to give me an answer about your cover job,” Chloe said, “We can’t have him suspect you’re hiding anything from him. Jobs are a huge part of someone’s life, it’ll come up.”

Keith raised his head, “What are the options?”

“Oh you know, the usual. Sales assistant, retail—“

“The last time you put me in retail for an undercover job, I ended up punching a customer.” he cut her off, “I vote no to the retail.”

“I’m sure they had it coming,” you deadpanned and Chloe hmmed.

“Fast food?”

“No, it makes my hair smell bad.”

“There’s a milkshake shop I can put you in, it doesn’t smell bad. It’s close to the coffee shop he and Wilson get their coffee from.”

“What’s the catch?”

A small grin pulled at her lips, “It’ll be good for the mission.”

You frowned as Keith sat up straighter, curiosity written all over his face. “Chloe? Share your devious plans with the class please?”

“It’s a retro milkshake shop and the uniforms are like….1940s pin up meets 1950s diner waitress.”

Keith started laughing and you stared at Chloe before letting out a groan, burying your face into your palms.

“I hate you so much.”

“Come on, it’s going to be Bucky Barnes’ wet dream, you know that!” Keith said, “On a completely unrelated note, can I see those uniforms?”

“No!” you snatched the phone from Chloe’s hand before Keith could take a look, “No you can’t!”

“I’m so going to take pictures, and when you become a handler I will use them to humble you.”

“I will shoot you if you do that, and can you please focus?” you insisted, “I have a meeting with General soon, and he will ask me about the strategy and I can’t go there with no ideas.”

“Just find something you and Barnes are interested in both, that never failed me,” Keith paused, “Well that, and my good looks.”

Chloe turned to look at him, “I gave her a huge file containing everything there is to know about him,” she said, “It will help her to make him fall in love, but meeting him is something else.”

“Guys,” he rolled his eyes “What are you, fifteen? It’s incredibly easy to meet people.”

“No, it’s incredibly easy to meet civilians,” you corrected him, “Or the bad guys. It’s not like Barnes goes to bars or anything, he’s not very social.”

“Yeah I get that but he has to do something.” he insisted, “Just hand me the file, are you sure you didn’t miss anything?”

“We didn’t—he does the same thing every superhero does,” Chloe threw her hands up, “He saves people if they’re in need, but how are we going to use that?”

You opened your mouth to answer but when the thought struck you, you took a sharp breath, narrowing your eyes. A smile lit up your face, the plan slowly forming in your mind and Keith frowned at you over the file.

“Y/N you’re smiling,” he reminded you, “It’s creepy when you do it genuinely.”

“He does, doesn’t he?” you asked as you turned to Chloe, “You’re right. Superheroes save people, and—and Barnes is not only a superhero, but he’s also a good guy right? He didn’t use me as a leverage while getting out of there, so he cares about people’s wellbeing, so to speak.”

“Yeah?”

You snapped your fingers, “I need to find someone to shoot me.”

“Same, you’re not special.”

Chloe gasped, “Keith!”

“Relax, she’s not serious.”

“No I’m very serious.”

He scowled, “Did you forget what happened when I accidentally shot you on a mission three years ago? It was just one time and you bitched at me for a whole month. You found me when I was working undercover in Brazil to show up at my apartment so that you could complain about it more, I don’t even know how you found my address, it was classified info.”

“I gave her your address.” Chloe held up a hand and Keith heaved a sigh.

“Thank you Brutus.”

“You had it coming,” you pointed out, “But forget about that for a second, okay? I think I just found our strategy. We’re going to use me as a bait.”

“What?”

“That’s how I’ll meet him. We will put me in a dangerous position and he will…” you tried to ignore the bitter taste at the back of your throat, “He will have to save me.”

“I’m sorry,” Chloe said, “He will help you and you will use that to lure him, did I get that right?”

“Exactly,” you grinned, “What better way to manipulate a hero than to give him somebody to save?”

She blinked a couple of times, then turned to Keith.

“Honestly, in times like these I wonder why I’m friends with you guys,” she commented, “Do you have any idea why on earth I’m friends with you?”

He shrugged his shoulders,

“I don’t know,” he said, “Because we’re fun when we’re not diabolical?”

                                           ***

The plan was pretty simple, it would look like a robbery gone wrong. You would be accompanied by one of the lower ranking agents who would pose as a robber so that if he got caught while getting away, it would pose no threat to your cover afterwards, not to mention it couldn’t be traced back to you or the operation.

Of course, you had to make sure that Bucky would stay behind and meet you while Wilson chased the bad guy off. Based on your observations on Wilson, saving people always came first rather than punishing the other person, he put the safety of innocents before anything else, so you had to find a way for them to think Wilson was more suitable for the chase.

Motorcycle. The rookie agent would get away on a motorcycle, which would require Wilson to use his wings to gain speed on him.

But God, you just hated playing the damsel in distress.

“I just want to say I’m honored that you picked me for this mission,” the agent was almost buzzing with excitement in the back alley while you waited until Wilson and Barnes was anywhere within hearing distance. “I heard- I heard so much about you Shrike. Ma’am.”

You leaned your back to the wall, crossing your arms.

“Is it true that you once killed a target using just a pencil?” he asked, “Or that you took down five armed people with a dagger?”

You turned your head to look at him better, amusement making you smile.

“Or- or that you can get information out of someone in just five minutes?” he held his breath, “Or that your father-“

“Don’t talk about my father.” You cut him off, the harsh command leaving your lips almost too fast and you felt the slight guilt pulling at your heartstrings before you shook your head.

“You’re a good shot, right?” you asked, “I don’t want to get the bullet stuck in my arm, you’ll just graze me.”

“I’m a great shot ma’am, top of my class.”

“And you need to make it look believable. Remember, if Wilson catches you—“

“He will take me to the nearest police station, and I will stay there until an agent is sent to pick me up. But do you want me to get caught?”

“Try not to,” you shrugged your shoulders “But if he does, don’t worry about it. He has no reason to believe it’s anything more than some mugging.”

His phone beeped and he checked it, then took a deep breath, “Barnes and Wilson are within hearing distance. Are you ready?”

“Let’s do this,” you said and he grabbed his gun, then pointed it at your arm. You cleared your throat, looking over your shoulder before you turned to him and let out a very high scream, probably enough to reach the people nearby. He pulled the trigger and the gunshot echoed through the alley, a burning spreading all over your arm and making you fall to your knees.

“Are you okay?” he stepped closer to you and you tried to catch your breath.

“Go!” you hissed and he ran to the motorcycle before he rode away and as soon as he was out of your sight, Barnes and Wilson ran to the alley and you started sobbing, holding onto your arm which throbbed in pain.

Good news was he was a good shot, and he had managed to only graze you. But considering that your cover was a civilian, you doubted civilians were used to gunshot wounds, so you had to make it dramatic.

“Ma’am?” Wilson rushed to you with Barnes following him and you tried to breathe through sobs.

“Thank God, please help me—“ you sniffled and looked at the other side of the alley, breathing fast, “He took my wallet, and-and he had a motorcycle…”

“On it. Buck, stay with her.” Wilson said and ran out of the alley as Barnes crouched down to your level while you kept panting, your knees pulled to your chest, leaning back to the wall.

“Hi,” he smiled at you softly and you took a trembling breath, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Hello,” you managed to say as he stole a look at your arm before his eyes snapped back to yours.

“I’m Bucky,” he said, “What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Can I look at your arm, Y/N?”

You pursed your lips together, pretending to consider it before you raised your hand so that he could see the graze on your upper arm. He furrowed his brows for a moment, and carefully lifted your arm to see it better under the street lights while you sniffled again.

“Am I—am I going to die?” you stammered and he let out a small chuckle.

“No,” he said, “No you won’t. It’s just a graze, it doesn’t even look like it’ll need stitches. I promise.”

“But how do you know?”

“Let’s just say I’ve had my fair share of arm injuries.”

You tried to keep the look of confusion on your face before you slowly averted your gaze from him to his metal wrist and you gasped, your jaw dropping as if you were distracted from the pain.

“Bucky? As in Bucky Barnes?” you asked, “Wait, no. Right? Can’t be.”

A look of regret flashed over his face, apparently he thought that would scare you but lucky for you, you had seen it coming while coming up with a strategy.

“I heard about you!” you said, “You fought against Thanos!”

He was taken aback at the fact that you didn’t accuse him of anything his head was obviously swarming with, and that would be the one thing you could base your whole plan on.

In order to make him fall in love with you and trust you, you had to act like you trusted him, act like you had little to no knowledge of the dark side of his past. Naïve civilian girl with a soft heart was the perfect cover because as far as you could tell from his file, Bucky Barnes just wanted to come back home from war.

He had been looking for something he could call his home for decades now and you’d let him believe you were his home until your orders told you otherwise.

“That’s it?” he asked when you didn’t continue and you pulled your brows together.

“Hm?”

“That’s all you…all you wanted to say?”

“Right—” you took a deep breath, “Right, I’m sorry. Thank you for all you’ve done, for saving the world.”

“No no, I didn’t mean—“ he stopped himself, “That wasn’t what I meant. Trust me, you shouldn’t be thanking me.”

“Well I am though,” you winced when you moved your arm before turning your head to check the dark alley “Bucky? Do you… do you think that robber would come back?”

“Sam’s got it covered.” he assured you, “Don’t worry. He’s not getting away, and he’s definitely not coming back here.”

“Okay.” You murmured and wiped at your eye again with the back of your free hand before you clutched at your arm again, a sob tearing itself from your chest. “God, it just—it hurts so bad...”

He shushed you gently, “I know it does sweetheart. Let’s get you to the hospital so that it will stop hurting, alright?”

Ah.

Even by 40s standards, sweetheart was a good sign.

You shook your head, “But I can’t go to the hospital.”

“Why not?”

“I’m on a budget.”

He blinked a couple of times, “Come again?”

“I don’t have enough money for the hospital. I’m sure if I put a band aid on it or something it’d work, you said it wouldn’t need stitches and there’s a pharmacy right around the corner you see—”

“That’s not how bullet wounds work, let’s go.” He helped you up but you stumbled into him, letting him catch you as you looked up at him.

“I apologize, I just feel dizzy…” you said and he smiled softly.

“Don’t worry about it,” his voice was soothing, “You think you can walk? I can carry you.”

“No I can—I can walk,” you stammered and let him lead you out of the alley, his arm wrapped around your waist tight before he looked down at you.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured to himself, then he took off his jacket to put it over your shoulders. You pulled the oversized jacket tighter around you, brushing the sleeve over your forehead to push back your hair and only when he turned to stop a taxi you let a tiny smirk pull at your lips despite the throbbing on your arm.

Well, your superiors were going to be pleased. The first part of the mission was done.

Now all you had to do was make him fall in love with you.

                             Chapter 4

[sunnysidekit]

Summary: All is fair in love and war. And boxing, too, apparently.

Pairing: Ben ‘Benny’ Miller x F!Reader (no y/n, reader’s boxing nickname is ‘Nyx’)

Warnings: Language, mentions of violence.

Word count: 2.2k

My masterlist

Everyone likes a good mystery. Don’t even try to deny it; whether you like Sherlock Holmes or if you’re more of an Agatha Christie fan, none of us can really escape the allure of a good conundrum every now and again. Some people can stare in the face of their mystery and not recognize it for quite some time, while others can practically smell them from a mile away. Ben Miller is part of, well, both groups.

Personally, he likes mysteries and surprises and such, but his army days have taught him all of those are a bad thing. A mission can collapse after the smallest detail changes, after all. Sometimes those missions are called off; other than the fact that he can’t do his job when that happens, he’s not really bothered by it. But when something catches him and his team by surprise during a mission and they have to get on with it anyway, things tend to… let’s say, not end well for everyone. And that’s gently put, of course.

Which is why when he’s at home between deployments, he likes his simple habits. They provide joy and adrenaline, and boy does he need both to function well. One of those habits is boxing. He likes it because of its simplicity; you punch your opponent, they punch you back, and so on and so forth until one of you stops. He’s good at it, too. Will always says that’s because he practiced a lot on him when they were younger. Ben says he’s the one with the good genes. Their mother was a fighter, too, after all.

The other reason he likes boxing is because your opponents always try to surprise you with a little mystery move. It’s fun for him to figure out how to respond in a split second, and the rush he gets when he does so successfully is almost unparalleled. Today, though, the only real surprise is the sudden appearance of his very own mystery. And, hey, you might know where this one’s going: it appears in the shape of a woman…

Benny whoops when he kicks open the door to his old high school gym’s changing room, but it sounds a bit less enthusiastic than it did after his last match. He knew he should have listened to Will and gone somewhere, anywhere else than back to Red Feather Lakes, but he’s not about to mention it when he can already imagine the smug grin spreading across his brother’s face.

He won, that’s what counts. And it’s not that bad to have done so after what is sure to be America’s easiest boxing match. That just means he’s good at it. The crowd went just as wild as it usually does, even though there were significantly less attendants than two weeks ago. Somehow, none of the arguments he tells himself really convinces him.

“All right!” Catfish says triumphantly from behind him. “Looks like all that training paid off, didn’t it?”

“Yeah…” Benny trails off as his slightly blurry vision comes back into focus. There’s someone sitting on one of the benches, someone he doesn’t know. It’s a woman; her aura tells him she’s all business, but her clothes tell him she also definitely plays. “Who’re you?”

The woman doesn’t respond immediately; only after half a minute of casually typing away on her phone does she look up and meet his eye. “Name’s Val,” she says, her facial expression one he can’t quite place. “And I’m about to ask you something you won’t be able to ignore.”

It’s important to notice that Benny isn’t particularly patient in his post-fight high, something Frankie knows very well. He becomes a bomb of electric energy that, once set off, won’t stop until every single muscle in his body gives out. And he’s about to be set off.

“Val, is it?” Frankie smiles at the woman, swiftly moving his friend to the showers. “Why don’t we talk while he cools down, hm?”

“You’re not the one I want to ask a question,” she says calmly, not taking her eyes off Benny. “You’re a Delta boy, aren’t you? I can see it in the way you fight. It takes regular boxers years to develop such a sensitive, quick response capability.”

“Yeah, and?”

“And that makes me think that oaf out there’s a long way from even thinking of acquiring your skillset. It’s impressive how easily you had him on the mat.”

“Ma’am, if you want an autograph-” Frankie tries, sensing the ticking time-bomb next to him is about to blow, but Val immediately interjects.

“Which is precisely what caught my eye. These men are no challenge for you anymore, but I think I know someone who could be. Should you accept their invitation, that is.”

“Do I know him?” Benny narrows his eyes at her, trying by god to figure out her angle in all of this. She smirks and closes her eyes a few seconds longer than a normal blink would take; touchy subject, maybe? Or perhaps he’s right and he has seen the guy before.

“You might have seen them around, sure. But I doubt you’d remember them.”

“So, what? I say yes and I’ll fight your friend here next week or something?” Benny snatches his towel from his bag and snaps it against the wall in annoyance.

“I’m afraid my friend’s a little more… complex than that, Mr. Miller.”

“Hey, uh, no thanks,” Frankie cuts in, waving his hands as if to dissipate the words in the air. “He doesn’t do illegal fights.”

“He’d have plausible deniability,” Val says with a slight tilt of her head, then turns back to face Benny and hands him a business card. "Anyway, the choice is yours, Mr. Miller, not your friend’s. I don’t need an answer right now. Do take your time to think it over, sleep on it a bit. Once you’re a little more comfortable with the idea, give this number a call. I’ve got a feeling they’d very much like to bruise that pretty face of yours until it looks like a Monet.”

She gets up from the bench and walks out of the changing room without looking back. Benny slips the business card into his jacket pocket, something that catches Frankie’s attention.

“Don’t do it, Ben,” he sighs. “I’m serious. You could get arrested, get your ass thrown in jail. You’ll get kicked out of the army.”

“Stop whining, Fish. I’m not gonna do it anyway.”

Despite explicitly telling Frankie he wouldn’t do it, here he is, standing outside his local gym with his phone in one hand and the curious looking business card in the other. There’s not a lot of info on it, but, hey, what did he expect? That an illegal streetfighter would publish their own name, address and contact info on a bunch of business cards?

There are only two things printed on the grey little card: Nyx, which must be the fighter’s nickname or something, and a phone number. It’s been in his jacket pocket ever since he left his old high school, but it felt like it’s been burning a hole in it the entire time. It’s exactly as Val said it would be. He can’t get her proposition out of his mind, no matter how hard he tries.

She’s right about the competition. They’re no match for him, not the ones here in Red Feather Lakes. And, sure, he could always just sign up for something three towns over, but it wouldn’t matter much. How she found out he’s in the Delta Force is beyond him, though. It’s policy not to broadcast such a position if you want to stay in it. Maybe she has connections in the army…

That’s another thing; his place in the army. It would be gone as soon as he gets caught, and it’s not like he’s got great job prospects waiting for him back home when all he’s done for the past ten years is train to get where he is now. No college degree, no other jobs to list on his resume, no wealthy parents to fall back on… His whole life would go up in smoke.

But it does entice him. He technically does illegal things for his job all the time, and the matches he engages in when he has some down time aren’t really scratching that one particular itch anymore. Let’s face it: one phone call can’t hurt, right? He can still refuse, say no, put his foot down. Maybe even convince this guy to go legit.

He pushes the little green receiver on the screen, then puts his phone to his ear. The dial tone beeps three times before someone picks up. He opens his mouth to say something, but the person on the other side is quicker.

“Ben Miller, I presume?” It’s… a woman. But not Val. “Val told me you’d be giving me a call.”

“And you’re…” he quickly flips over the card just to be sure, “…Nyx, then?”

“Got it in one. I do so hate it when Val forgets to mention my name in the initial interview.”

Benny huffs out a confused laugh. “Interview?”

“You aced it, by the way. Not saying too much is best when talking with my… let’s call her my associate,” the woman says. Her voice is softer than Val’s, and a lot smoother. It sounds like what taking a sip of hot chocolate feels like. “Shall we get on with it and discuss the rules of this little arrangement?”

“I don’t-- rules? I haven’t even given you an answer.”

“Oh, don’t fool yourself into thinking you’ve got any restraint left,” she chuckles. “You want to tell me you called just to say hello to a total stranger?”

“No, but-” Benny splutters, but he doesn’t get to finish his sentence.

“Then your answer, even if you haven’t given it to me yet, is as clear as the Pope’s Holy Water. Now then, the rules. In order to keep you in the warm, sunny, light side of the law, I’ll arrange a time and place. All you have to do is show up.”

He can’t help but grin. She’s clearly on top of this whole cloak and dagger operation, that much he can tell. Who she is, though, he can’t say. Not yet. Maybe he’ll recognize her when he sees her. “What about my gear?”

“Do take it with you, please. I’m not a charity, giving away free gear to any John, Charles or Mary.”

“All right,” he says, clicking his tongue. “Anything else?”

“Val will pick you up and get you back home safely, so don’t worry about the whole transport situation.”

“This doesn’t sound very... safe. I mean, you do realize this sounds a lot like kidnapping, right? Or murder, or something like that?”

The woman laughs. It sounds like the melody to a song he knows but has never heard at the same time. It’s the kind of laugh that makes everyone around laugh as well. “Why would I tell you all this and then still proceed with it if my intent was malicious? You can easily call the cops and have my dear Val arrested for whatever crime you think me capable of, and that wouldn’t be very good for my business.”

“Fair enough.”

“Speaking of Val, she’ll pick you up next Wednesday at nine.”

Benny kicks a piece of gravel onto the street next to him and swallows away the last of his pride and dignity. “All right, I guess I’ll see you then.”

“Good lord, I can’t believe Val forgot to tell you that, too,” she laughs again, then clears her throat and continues a lot more seriously. “I only dance in the dark. Have a good night, Mr. Miller.”

Usually, waiting takes ages, but not this time. For Benny the rest of the week practically flew by him and before he knows it, it’s already Wednesday. He went training with Frankie just like any other week, only this time he accidentally forgot to mention his fight with Nyx. He told himself that the less people know about his, uh, date, the better, but he also knows Frankie would have immediately pulled the plug.

Val arrives at nine o’clock sharp in the front seat of a cab, which is no surprise. The drive that follows doesn’t take very long; he also isn’t blindfolded or anything like they do in the movies. The car stops in front of an old warehouse in the east side of town, and that’s when Val turns around in her seat and very concisely tells him to get his ass out of her cab himself, since she’s not going to hold open the door for him.

Instead of driving off, Val simply pulls the keys from the ignition and tosses them to him, calling it his ‘insurance policy’. Then she waves her hand as if to tell him to hurry up and get inside, which he promptly does.

Well, that whole dancing in the dark reference seems to have been meant literally; as soon as the warehouse door closes behind him, an inky, suffocating darkness envelopes Benny and makes a shiver run up and down his spine. He takes a few tentative steps, holding out his arms and moving them around to make sure he doesn’t hit anything while he walks.

Suddenly, a voice calls out to him from a bit further into the sole, big room this warehouse seems to consist of.

“Good evening, Mr. Miller. Let’s get swinging, shall we?”

A/N: Hey there, you made it to the end! Thanks for reading through the whole thing, I hope you liked it. If you’ve got any suggestions or spotted a mistake or two, don’t hesitate to tell me so that I might fix it. I hope you’ll stick around for round two!

[angloie]

Charms.

(1/?)

> Percy likes to deceive. Lie, manipulate, more lies; it was a part of his job, after all. Annabeth has been deceived. Lied to. Manipulated. She's an woman of many secrets- secrets she'd rather not let anyone know.

> Assassin! Percy x CEO! Annabeth.

> Warnings: Mostly angst + fluff, character death and some violence. Nothing too explicit. Mentions of blood/mild injuries as well as alcohol. (characters are aged up!)

pt. 2 || pt. 3 || pt. 4 || pt. 5

Percy's thumb rule was never do anything he didn't want.

To live a happy and healthy life, that was completely normal; especially for such a laid back guy like him.

Choosing this... rather wild career was something he wanted to do, willingly. Life was short, so why not make the most of it? It was getting awfully bleak with the normal civilian life. After all, no one would believe the nice young man who helped the old man carry the groceries to his car would be someone who killed for a living. A smile so bright that it could give the sun a run for its money and warm sea green eyes could hide so much more than just innocence.

The ceiling to floor windows of his penthouse showed a breathtaking view of the New York skyline, sun moving behind the tall buildings and moon replacing the orange hue. Being an assassin had its perks- despite endangering his life on multiple occasions. The pay was just out of this world. All that cash just to kill off some sleazy politician, or that one corrupt buisness man? Sign him up. Zero hesitation.

Percy frowned at the dried blood on his once pure white gloves. He was quick to peel them off. He shuddered at the unsightly view of a small stain of blood on his onyx-colored suit.

He would just buy a new one later. Small things like that didn't matter. Sure, that might've been a gift from one of his clients, but it wasn't anything he couldn't replace.

Hanging his coat on the rack beside the wide entrance, he sighed with clear tiredness. One night of forced politeness and smiles took a toll on him- Also due to the fact that he had just done his job as an assassin. It wasn't what you could call easy.

His muscles were aching and sore in all the worst places, every move throbbing with full pain. The shallow slash on his lower abdomen had soaked his shirt in a dark crimson red, most likely going to leave a bad stain. He would have to clean that later.

The penthouse was big and rather spacious. White Walls and abstract paintings lined them, reflecting off the almost pristine marble floors. It took a while for Percy to get settled in, it being a huge place and all that. But he soon made it feel like home with the help of old picture frames that held memories and the Nemo stuffed animals resting on the leather couch.

“WOOF!”

And Mrs. O'leary.

Mrs.O’leary- a huge, slobbering dog with thick black fur- bounded towards him in a frenzied greeting. She hopped up on her hind legs to lick his face, tail wagging at a unmatched speed. She barked again, this time more quieter.

“Yeah, yeah. It's nice to see you too.” Percy laughed as he tried to pull away. Once he went to the kitchen to grab a bone-shaped treat. “Who’s a good girl?” He cooed, tossing the snack in the air. Mrs.O’leary jumped up to snatch it before barking and padding away. Her tail still wagged with elation.

When Percy first moved here, it was quite nerve-racking. He'd heard that this place was an especially good spot for people like him- meaning people who did some illegal activity. Well, that was what he assumed. Percy was 99% sure that his neighbor just in the penthouse below him, (Leo was it?) had to be involved in some sketchy stuff. That creepy smile of his with a mysterious staining his shirt never meant any good. Or maybe when his other neighbor, had a odd looking duffel bag slung across his shoulder. Oddly human shaped, maybe. With a horrible smell of something rotting. Percy recalled introducing himself a Nico DiAngelo. A pretty reserved and quiet guy, usually having a frown of his face. Well, other than that time when he had his boyfriend over, a sunshiney guy with sun-kissed hair. He never got the chance to catch his name.

Wrapping a white cloth around his wound, Percy's met with a sense of familiarity. Fixing his own injuries by himself. It would bee nice to have some help once in a while, but that would mean exposing him. He's definitely not ready to risk that.

Other than his boss and a couple of really close friends, no one knows about this. Percy nearly slipped up once- when a old companion from high school came over to visit, and his small arsenal of weapons were revealed. The little compartment hidden behind a painting. Not another word wasmsaid about it. Percy made up some half-assed excuse about auditioning for a movie so they were fakes.

It didn't take much of a expert, but the were far from fakes.

His phone rang from beside Percy, making him jolt in surprise. The contact name made him smile just the tiniest bit.

"Hey, mom," Percy began. "Why'd you call?"

"Can't your mom check up on you once in a while? How are you?" Sally beamed, cheerful voice on speaker mode.

He walked over to the bathroom where he stood in the full length mirror. A hint of blood seeped through the white bandage; now full wrapped. "Good. How's Paul and Estelle doing?" He asked.

"They're doing great! Me and your step dad went out with Estelle yesterday to see the movies." Sally smiled. "Estelle is growing into such a energetic ball of energy." She joked. "Just like you."

"Is that so?" Percy laughed, splashing his face with water. It felt cool on his skin, causing tiny pricks of coldness to pop up all over.

For a while, him and Sally conversed. She told him about her day (mostly gushing about Paul and Estelle) while Percy smiled and listened. He did his best to hide the fact that he'd been fixing up his wounds in silence. He cursed silently in pain when he touched an sensitive spot on the slash.

"Percy? Are you alright?" Sally asked in concern.

"Yeah! I just... hit my elbow. Its nothing. " He hastily replied.

"Okay," Sally exclaimed in relief. "By the way, when are you going to visit your old woman? Estelle misses you, you know."

"Yeah, well tell her I miss her too." A sense of gloom over took the conversation. "Look, I'm busy now but..." Percy looked over to the mirror again. "I'll call you later. Maybe I can visit you guys over there soon." He exhaled.

"We're looking forward to it! Isn't that right,             Estelle?" Sally gave the phone to the little girl who was jumping with excitement.

"Come over soon Perce!" She garbled. It sounded like she was eating something halfway.

"I will. Talk to you later, 'Kay?"

"'Kay!"

A wave of guilt overwashed Percy as soon as he ended the call. It was killing him inside, to not be honest with them about his real job. They just thought he was a simple marine biologist who got one hell of a promotion. Yeah, he wished. That seemed easier than killing for a living. He was going to tell them sooner or later. He just had to. Not today- not anytime soon, that is.

Jolting himself out of his thoughts, Percy's phone rang. He was quick to answer it. Was it Sally calling again? Percy put down the metal spoon he was holding, letting it rest in the pot of soup bubbling on the flat stove. 

“Hey, Percy!” The horribly familiar voice rang from the other side of the line. Percy grimaced.

“What is it?” He groaned.

“Is that any way to talk to your boss?” He tsked. “But I have news for you!”

“Do tell,” Percy muttered and went back to his soup. 

“I have a mission.” Apollo grinned widely. “You up for it?”

“Again? Didn't I just do one yesterday?” Percy rolled his eyes. He was tired; completely tired. Usually the missions weren't this close together- sometimes they could be even months apart.

“Yeah, but this one won't happen for a week or so. And it ain't just the typical mission.”

“Yeah? And what's that?”

“Its a info operation. Meaning-”

“I know what that means!” Percy interjected. “Just tell me the details already. I’m hungry.”

“Jeez, okay mr. grump. Annabeth Chase. You know her?” Apollo said, scoffing at Percy's tone.

“You mean the owner of that one architecture company? What about her?” He asked.

“She’s connected with Thalia Grace and Luke Castellan.” Appolo explained. “Apparently people have been talking about their new heist that they're planning. By what I've heard, it's going to be huge.” 

Those three names- Thalia Grace, Luke Castellan, Annabeth Chase. Annabeth especially, was the most well known in the regular world. Her being the stoic founder of Athchase as well as being a crazy rich and famous person, that's a no brainer. Luke and Thalia, on the other hand, their heists were well known anywhere. Annabeth didn't have a criminal record of any sorts. That's a big reason she can keep up her reputation. It's not like the woman did anything wrong, its just that... the fact that she is connected with the two is enough to ensure suspicion. Growing rumors of her planning some of their crimes were spreading fast. Percy's heard of things like that, her being the mastermind of killing and stealing.

“Alright," He nodded. "Im interested. Go on."

“New York. That's where the three plan to meet up. Get information, maybe use your charms into getting her to trust you."

"N-new york..!?" Percy was left shocked at that.

"I've booked a flight there. 5 in the morning sharp tomorrow. I reccomend you arrive on time." Apollo chuckled.

"Yeah, whatever."

"And Percy?" He called out.

"Hm?"

"You have my full permission to kill Annabeth when you're done." Apollo darkly said, hanging up without another word. Percy rolled his eyes for the tenth time on the call.

Well, all right.

Next destination: New York.

"So, New York, huh." Annabeth swirled some of her cocktail in the glass, circling her wrist in a rotation. The blue liquid swirled together in a repetitive motion. Sapphire Martini tasted rather bitter on her tounge, but decent nonetheless. She enjoyed the slight orange twist.

"Why here of all places?" She asked.

"Its a golden opportunity, dear Annie. The Olympians only gather once in a blue moon, so we're going to make the most out of this!" Thalia sipped from her own glass, some regular red wine. She'd never had such a taste for 'Those fancy rich drinks'. Whatever that meant.

The Olympians, as Thalia said before, were a group of 12 of some of the wealthiest and prestigious people from across the world. Only a few select people could be a part- it was exclusive as to anybody who was just normal as a couple million rich. New York would be holding a auction quite soon on a famous opera house; and surprise, they would be there.

"Don't call me that." Annabeth winced at the name. "And who exactly is we?"

"Don't go all acting like you didn't agree, alright? Plus, you can gain a thing or two from all this." She grinned.

"I have a company to run, Thals, You know very well that I dropped that type of business years ago." Annabeth shook her head. "This is seriously risky."

"But you love that. Don't you?" Thalia pressed, standing up.

She truly did. The thrill, the rush of energy you couldn't get anywhere else. Thats what had driven her to join Thalia and Luke in the first place. That feeling alone made her eyes sparkle with desire.

"Yeah." Annabeth places her drinkdown back on the glass table. "I do."

Okay I'm back with some more hot garbage!!! here's my latest thing-- a assassin au. I need to do a ship other than percabeth tho 😔😔

[tiramisiyu]

【未定事件簿】 Tears of Themis: Xia Yan Personal Story 4-1 Translation

Translation Masterlist | Xia Yan Masterlist | Video

Chapter 4: 4-1 / 4-2 / 4-4 / 4-5 / 4-6 / 4-7 / 4-9 / 4-10 / 4-11 / 4-12 / 4-13 / 4-14 / 4-16

Xia Yan’s Home

Our interactions after I moved into Xia Yan’s house had a long-lost familiarity to them, but also… a strange unfamiliarity.

When I walked up to the washroom door, the door suddenly opened from inside – Xia Yan had just finished showering and was just in the middle of wiping off his hair when he pushed the door open.

Just like in the past, he didn’t try very hard to dry it off, such that the white T-shirt that he was wearing was slightly damp, clinging onto his firm body.

Xia Yan: Why are you up so early?

MC: Sphinx said that he was going to contact us about collaborating on the case, right? I was afraid that he’d come over really early…

Xia Yan: Don’t worry, he won’t.

MC: How do you know? Did he contact you alone?

Xia Yan: Oh, he didn’t. I’m just speculating.

Xia Yan: Sphinx has always preferred operating alone in the dark. Even if he needed to work with us right now, he still probably wouldn’t want to reveal his identity.

Xia Yan: Plus, even if he doesn’t mind that, right now isn’t a good time.

Xia Yan: The two of us just appeared in front of Meng Qishan. Even though I’ve already threatened him to not reveal any info on us to Oedipus…

Xia Yan: It’s always best to take every possibility in consideration. If Sphinx seeks us out right now, he just might send himself to Oedipus for nothing.

Xia Yan: If I were him, I’d also opt to work underground. We’re out in the open while he’s hidden, which is more beneficial for the investigation.

MC: Makes sense.

MC: Right, why did you shower so early?

Xia Yan: Uh… I just finished up my morning run, so I took a quick cold shower.

Xia Yan: Right, are you also going to wash your face?

Xia Yan: Wait a bit, I just noticed that there’s no more toothpaste. I’ll get you a new tube.

MC: No need, I brought some.

MC: If you also haven’t washed your face yet, we can just use my toothpaste.

I helped Xia Yan squeeze out the toothpaste. Then, we stood side-by-side in front of the mirror to wash up.

Because we had grown up, and because Xia Yan’s home washroom was comparatively smaller, Xia Yan and I kept bumping into each other.

The steam that hadn’t dispersed yet in the washroom filled the air with the scent of shower gel. This was just a typical scent, but because Xia Yan was beside me, it felt… somewhat different.

Right now, the past commonplace occurrence of us washing our faces and brushing our teeth together… made me feel somewhat nervous.

The mirror in front of us candidly revealed all my emotions with complete clarity. I shifted away my gaze as if in escape, not daring to look at the mirror again.

MC: Xia Yan, are you still using this brand of shampoo?

The items on the shelves, the shampoo, the shower gel… were still the brands we used at home, eight years ago.

Xia Yan: Yeah. I had to buy new daily necessities after getting back, but I’m no good at picking them out…

Xia Yan: So I chose them based on our old habits – easy and saves me from worrying, haha.

In all these years, he still hadn’t forgotten those little habits. I suddenly felt a little happy.

But Xia Yan’s and my mouth-rinsing cups were a pair in the past, while they were now two completely different ones.

MC: What about your mouth-rinsing cup?

Xia Yan: There’s no one who sells that cup model anymore.

The small happiness that had just surged in my heart suddenly turned into a bit of disappointment.

MC: Is that so…

MC: Uh… about that, Xia Yan…

Xia Yan: Huh? What?

MC: A few days ago, I saw a pair of mouth-rinsing cups that look really nice online, and your cup just happens to be kinda worn… how about we change them together?

Xia Yan: Sure.

--

Xia Yan’s Home, Second Floor

After washing my face with Xia Yan, Sphinx called us, describing his action plan.

Just as Xia Yan had said, Sphinx was planning to continue hiding his identity. We would work out in the open while he remained hidden as we investigated together.

Sphinx: That’s what our plan is.

Sphinx: For these few days, I’ll first confirm whether there are other victims that corrupt detectives are harassing, and deal with their issues.

Sphinx: After confirming that those corrupt detectives have to do with Oedipus, you two can use other methods to investigate while hidden.

Xia Yan: Okay. Then we’ll wait for you to contact us.

Sphinx: Alright, that’s all-

MC: Wait, Sphinx.

The moment before Sphinx hung up, I called out to him.

Sphinx: Does Miss Lawyer have any other questions to bring up?

MC: I have some questions regarding our approaches towards cooperation. Sphinx, I acknowledge the reasons why you do not want to reveal your true identity right now.

MC: But we’ve already started investigating with you. You should at least display your sincerity, should you not?

Sphinx: …

Sphinx: Then how do you want me to display my sincerity, Miss Lawyer?

MC: Return Xia Yan’s box.

I heard a faint chuckle on the other side of the call.

MC: (What’s so funny about that?)

Xia Yan: Sphinx.

Perhaps because the pressure in Xia Yan’s voice, Sphinx’s brazen laughter stopped.

But there was a still faint layer of mischief in his voice.

Sphinx: Of course. I will get in touch with same-city speed delivery right after. You’ll be able to get your box today.

Sphinx: But after receiving it, I’d like to trouble both of you to examine it carefully.

Sphinx: Though you can consider me as a rogue, the point of stealing the box was to develop a cooperative relationship with you…

Sphinx: Logically, I wouldn’t play any tricks on these little things, but the two of you should still personally, carefully confirm it all.

Sphinx: For example, what if something happens with the delivery company and they break the box… then won’t I end up getting a really unfair accusation?

MC: Don’t worry, we will carefully look over the delivery.

Sphinx: If you say so, Miss Lawyer, then I can be at peace.

Sphinx: Although, Detective Xia Yan, why aren’t you speaking? You’re the most important involved party here. You, of all people, have got to be there to look over the delivery.

After Sphinx mentioned his name, Xia Yan’s face twisted very visibly.

Xia Yan: I… will.

MC: (Why does Sphinx sound like he’s messing with him…)

MC: (He hasn’t put something weird in the box to prank us, has he?)

--

These doubts continued until that afternoon, when we received the delivery Sphinx had sent.

I looked at the delivery box with severe caution.

MC: Xia Yan, could Sphinx have messed with something in the delivery box?

MC: I felt like there was something suspicious about his tone in the call.

Xia Yan: That guy definitely isn’t acting out of the goodness of his heart.

MC: No surprises there, you also feel the same…

Xia Yan: Mhmm… I messaged him after, asking what his goal was, but he just deliberately rambled on without saying anything important.

Xia Yan: How about I open it myself first, then call you over to see after confirming that there’s nothing wrong with it?

MC: That won’t do. No matter what happens, we’ve got to face it all together.

MC: Plus, didn’t you say before that Sphinx is an alright person? I bet that, at most, he’s just pranking us somewhere.

Xia Yan: … But I want to rescind that evaluation on him now.

Xia Yan sighed, then opened the package.

That box with the Sherlock Holmes pipe printed on it was wrapped in layers of bubble wrap, looking like it hadn’t suffered any bumps on the way here.

MC: He sure did give it enough protection. Just based on that, I’m willing to forgive him even if there is a prank somewhere.

Xia Yan: Well, that’s something he should be doing.

Xia Yan scoffed and opened the wooden box. The inside was filled to the brim with various little items.

His biology competition gold medals, the models he made himself… as well as many familiar objects. And what was piled at the very top of everything was a ring.

A ring with very crude worksmanship. The ring had been wound from copper into a circular shape, and a laminated four-leaf clover was sitting on the top.

This was the first thing that Xia Yan had personally made for me.

MC: Isn’t this the ring you made for me during kindergarten?

When we were still in kindergarten, we “played house” often, that popular child’s game.

One time, we got too into the game and thought that the ring braided from dog’s tail grass didn’t look nice enough, so we secretly took mom’s ring.

And then… we were both reprimanded severely.

Back then, I didn’t know how valuable the ring was or what its special meaning was, so I really didn’t understand why mom was unhappy.

MC: Back then, dad explained that the ring was one that he gave to mom, so only mom could wear it.

MC: But in the end, you hollered—

Back then, Xia Yan had earnestly yelled “Then I’ll just give her a ring”…

MC: …!

Xia Yan: …

We were long past those times when children’s words held no weight.

MC: (Does Xia Yan… still remember what he said back then…)

I lowered my head in a fluster, rubbing the ring in embarrassment.

When we were little, Xia Yan accidentally made the clover ring too big, so we comforted each other, saying that it would be just right if I wore it after we grew up.

And right now… I couldn’t help attempting to fit the ring on my middle finger.

MC: It’s on. The size is perfect…

Xia Yan: Yeah… perfect.

Xia Yan repeated the words in a whisper, then stared quietly at the four-leaf clover ring.

I stroked the ring on my hand. Suddenly…

MC: Xia Yan…

Xia Yan: Huh? What’s the matter?

MC: It seems like I can’t take off the ring…

Xia Yan: Huh?

Xia Yan held up my hand, trying to shift the ring, but the ring didn’t move in the slightest.

His brow wrinkled as he snatched a small plier from the toolbox on the table.

MC: What are you doing!

Alarmed, I stared at Xia Yan.

Xia Yan: I’ve got to hurry and cut off the ring, or else your finger will end up swollen.

MC: I refuse!

Xia Yan: Don’t fuss, this is just a toy ring. Your finger’s more important.

As he spoke, Xia Yan had already grabbed my hand. I rushed to cover the ring with my other hand, resisting desperately.

MC: No way! You gave this ring to me, so it’s mine! I refuse to let you break it!

Xia Yan: Jeez, I’ll make you another one in the future, okay? Be good.

MC: The one in the future is for the future, but you can’t break this ring either!

We traded fast verbal shots without realizing anything. Only after coming back to my senses did I notice… something wasn’t quite right.

MC: !!!

Xia Yan: …

Xia Yan: Sit tight, I’ll find some lubricating oil to see if it’ll work.

--

Xia Yan soon brought the lubricating oil. He applied some to my middle finger first, then tried to rotate the ring gently, trying to push it off.

MC: Ugh…!

Xia Yan immediately stopped.

Xia Yan: It hurts?

Xia Yan: Looks like this really won’t work.

Xia Yan sighed helplessly, then took a small plier from the toolbox.

MC: You’re…

Xia Yan: Don’t worry, I’ll be really careful. I’ll do my best to not break the ring.

Xia Yan: Don’t fidget, I don’t want to hurt you by accident.

To make working on it easier, Xia Yan half-knelt in front of me, holding up the hand with the ring gently.

His actions right now lent a particular ambiguity to the scene all of a sudden.

MC: …!

Xia Yan: What’s the matter? Did I hurt you?

MC: No… keep going.

How exactly… does Xia Yan see me?

Bit by bit, each scene after my reunion flooded my mind.

MC: (Xia Yan’s always carefully held onto this ring for so long…)

MC: (To me… does Xia Yan also…?)

As soon as this thought popped into my head, my heart started to beat wildly.

Although, why didn’t Xia Yan make it clear with me?

⊳ Out of caution ⊳ Because I didn’t give a response

MC: (Speaking of which, there’s often a lot online about long-time friends who are too scared to confess.)

MC: (They were afraid that if the romance failed, they’d lose an important friend.)

MC: (Xia Yan… probably also wanted to be cautious, so he didn’t say anything.)

MC: (If I do a little something, would he… understand?)

  ⊳ Out of caution ⊳ Because I didn’t give a response

MC: (If I think about it carefully, I think I’ve done a lot of low-EQ stuff…)

MC: (It’s all my fault…)

MC: (I should be able to make changes in time right now… what should I do to get Xia Yan to understand my emotions?)

--

I was just in the middle of my messy thoughts when I heard Xia Yan’s light voice.

Xia Yan: Alright, it’s off!

Xia Yan: Great Lawyer, hurry and inspect it to see if it’s perfectly fine.

MC: Absolutely perfect! Great Detective Xia, you’re way too amazing!

MC: (Either way… since I’m living at Xia Yan’s house now, I’ve got lots of time to figure something out.)

Xia Yan: What’s the matter? You seem a little absentminded.

MC: Not at all, just wondering about what we should eat for breakfast.

Xia Yan: I know several decent breakfast restaurants. Let’s go, I’ll take you over to try them!

[fate-pride-order]

Info + Rules

Hi everyone! On this blog, I recreate pride flags by color-picking from Fate/Grand Order characters. Feel free to use them however you want! Credit is appreciated, but not required. Blog inspired by ygoprideflags and operated by spring-ephemeral.

Link to tag list for mobile users (you'll probably have to open it in your browser).

This blog is open to requests, and you can find some guidelines/rules below the cut. Don’t be deterred by the length, I just like being thorough, though TL;DR: Be nice, don’t start discourse and don’t be vague if you want something specific.

Feel free to send in asks if anything is still unclear to you.

Any sorts of bigots or exclusionists will not be tolerated.

1. Any character from FGO with official art can be requested, and I can also put multiple characters on one flag. Asking for multiple flags at once or combination flags is also fine. I will do other characters from the TYPE-MOON franchise if requested, but my main focus will be on FGO.

2. Do not ask for more than three flags per request, and don’t send in another request until all of the ones you asked for last time have been posted. I’m trusting you guys not to misuse anon features for this.

3. No straight/ally flags, no joke/gimmick flags (e.g. rabies, superhell), absolutely no MAP-related flags. Requesting the latter WILL get you blocked. Pride flags related to disability, neurodivergency etc. are allowed.

4. If you want me to use a specific ascension stage for the character, please mention it, otherwise, I’ll just use the one that’s easiest to get the right colors for or that I personally like the most. Also tell me if you want me to use Alter or Summer versions.

5. Asking for some color or positioning adjustments is just fine! But for the former, please remember that I can only do so much with what I have.

6. If there are multiple iterations of a flag (such as the rainbow flag or the aroace flag) or if the flag is relatively obscure, please specify which one you want me to use unless you’re okay with me just taking the first ones that show up on tumblr or Google. For the given examples, if you don’t specify, I will use this rainbow flag and this aroace flag. 

7. If you simply say “gay flag”, I will do both the MLM and the rainbow flag, so if you only care for the one, please differentiate in your request.

8. I’ll ONLY use official art (unless you can somehow get permission from the fanartist), and I’ll usually try to go for the Expression Sheets first unless otherwise requested. I might be willing to occasionally make other official art transparent by myself, but I can’t do that for every flag if I want to regularly update. Because of this, some flag/character combinations will just not be possible for color-picking. I can still make you an icon where only some or even none of the colors are picked from the character (usually with some other decorations to make up for it), but I will try to ask you about it beforehand. Art that was created by the official character artists but not implemented in the game still counts as official art and may be requested.

9. Under NO circumstances will I ever make flags for:

Summer Frankenstein (stage 3/4)

Ibuki Douji (Stage 1)

Chloe von Einzbern (any stage)

Jack the Ripper (stage 2-4)

Wu Zetian (stage 2-4)

Mochizuki Chiyome (stage 1)

Kama + Summer Kama (stage 1)

Abigail Williams (stage 2-4)

Summer Abigail Williams (stage 1)

I won’t block you for asking anyway, but I will give you some serious side-eye for some of these.

10. If you try to start debates about my rules (especially #3 or #9) or complain about certain flag/character combinations, there’s a 99% chance I will block you without engaging.

[sapiowoman28]

Try (Chapter 1): Just do it.

Pairing: mark x reader x Johnny

Genre: smut fluff undercover Au

Warnings: mentions of drug addiction, cocaine addiction, drug ring, taeyong being a tyrant, y/n being stubborn

Note: I’m sorry TY seems like an asshole in this story. He will get nicer I promise

Note 2: this chapter has no smut.

Read the preview first!!!!

Y/N loathed Doyoung with every fibre of her being, and the feeling was mutual, but Doyoung was nothing compared to the jackass she had to deal with now since D was recovering from that accident which almost killed him.

D understood she had been hacking since she was 14, and gave her a free reign on anything tech related.

Taeyong? Not much.

“What do you mean you can’t extract the data files from the server?”

“We can, but I’m not going to do it. They recently installed some new defence technology that can track everything. We risk getting found out if we extract anything from the server. Then there goes our entire operation.”

Taeyong glared, fist tightening.

“Listen. I don’t want any more excuses. I want the files. By tomorrow. I thought we already discussed this, Y/N.”

“And I made it clear I won’t do it, Taeyong,”

She said firmly

The whole room was silent, tension in the air so thick you could cut a knife through it. Kun looked down, pretending to write in his notebook. Taeil got up and announced he was going to the restroom.

Mark took out his phone. This was going to take a while. He might as well order lunch.

But he was listening, as Taeyong and Y/N argued, both refusing to give in.

“Look, if we get found out and the operation fails, I’ll be the one bearing the responsibility, not you, Y/N. We seriously don’t need to talk about this further. The files, by lunch tomorrow. Understand?”

Y/n looked away.

“Hey Taeyong,” said Taeil who had returned with a cup of coffee. “How about I work with Y/N on this? I’ll speak to my guys undercover at the targets headquarters to see if they can physically extract the info.”

Taeyong’s face softened as he turned to Taeil.

“Your guys can do it?”

“Yuta is in the field...”

“Yuta’s drinking and coke problem has gotten worse,” Y/N scoffed. “I saw him at the club last week.”

“We’re looking for a solution here not bitching at every idea,” Taeyong snapped. He turned to Taeil. “Let’s do that. Work with Y/N.”

Y/N grinned as Taeil smiled affectionately at her like she was his baby sister. Never mind she was 2 months older than he was.

“Let’s do it!” She said.

He found her on the roof in the next evening. He knew she’d be there.

“Hey,” he said softly as they leaned against the railing looking up at the stars in the sky. “So how’s operation Rainbow coming along?”

“Yuta managed to sneak into the CEO’s office and extract the data from his computer. It’s in Taeyong’s inbox now.”

“Everything?”

“Yeah. All the amounts and bank transfers. And emails. We also got info about who they’re canoodling with. Turns out this whole operation is larger than we thought. We’re talking multimillions, maybe billions here. It’s really a drug ring disguised as a family business selling school uniforms for kids.”

“You just made it sound like a movie.”

“Yeah mark, with a coke snorting, booze guzzling anti hero. His head is going to be so big.” She gestured animatedly

Mark laughed as Y/N grinned.

Silence.

“You ok?” He asked, wondering if she was going to mention hacking at 14. “Taeyong has been tough.”

“Taeyong’s an idiot. I’ve been hacking since I was 14! What does he know about tech stuff?” She huffed, eyes growing huge as he chuckled.

“What?”

“I knew you’d say that.” He giggled.

She smiled, then grew serious.

“We’ve worked on this for two years. Imagine all that going to waste just cos he insisted we hack the servers.”

Mark sighed. “You know that’s just Taeyong, dude.”

“I miss going on operations.”

“I’m sure they’ll let you go back soon.”

“Not anytime soon. I’m training Kun and Lucas.”

“Lucas?” He said teasingly. “Must be fun.”

“Don’t.. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“That bad huh?”

“I wonder if he’s even computer literate.”

Her phone beeped.

“It’s Taeyong.” She rolled her eyes. “I gotta go. He wants to see me in the study.”

She opened the door to the study. he was looking at some paperwork at his desk.

“You wanted to see me?” She asked plopping herself down on the chair opposite him. He looked up.

“Good work on getting the info we need. They’re sending in a squad in the next few days for a raid after everything has been analysed.”

“Taeil and I work well together.” She said. He agreed.

He put his pen down.

“I’m going to be honest with you. I’m not a fan of you disrupting our operations. Because you refused to extract the data I had to look for alternatives which could have delayed us. We’re lucky Taeil could help.”

She froze. Not again, she thought. She bit her lip. This was a losing battle.

“In future if I tell you to do something just do it. Do you understand?” He asked looking straight at her.

Silence.

“Yes. Is that all?” She asked standing up.

He nodded.

She left without saying anything else.

[starlightinhumanform]

Friday Night Lights: Chapter Two

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ship: Romantic Prinxiety, Platonic Sleepxiety 

Summary: Roman and Virgil play opposite positions on their rival high school football teams. It’s the Homecoming game and tensions are high. Neither are willing to lose but one must rise above the other...

Warnings: Descriptions of pain/injury, Moderate language, One mention of drinking (Please tell me if anything needs to be added)

Genre: High School AU, Rivals to Lovers, Fluff 

A/N: Well... nearly a year since the first chapter came out I’m finally writing again!!! I really love this AU (even though I know very little about football lmao) and I have a lot of ideas about how I would like to include more Sanders Sides characters into this world. If I can get some more of my unfinished fics done, I really want to expand this series. Until then, I hope you enjoy! Love you all 🖤✨

Chapter One   Ao3   Fic Masterpost   Fic Request Info

The first play passed by in a blink. Most of the guys at the front went down quickly, even the largest crumpling under Prince and his brigade. Somehow in the chaos, the ball had been passed to Remy instead of Virgil and the fullback was tackled to the ground.

Virgil rolled his eyes at Remy as the team fell back into formation, only a few feet forward from where they had begun, “Dude, why’d the fuck did it get passed to you? It’s not like a knucklehead like you would know what to do with it.”

Remy huffed a laugh in response, “I have no clue. I’ll make sure it gets to you this time… hopefully.”

He glanced over in the direction that Remy was grimacing. It was Prince, of course, lumbering toward his position with what seemed to Virgil to be nothing but brutish arrogance. Roman acted like the entire game was about him; he acted like it was West Shore Vs Roman instead of West Shore Vs Knights. He probably didn’t even care about the game— it was all about showing off.

Crouched in the back of the formation, it was hard to see anyone at the front but he could picture Roman, somehow managing to smirk behind his mouthguard. Virgil hoped that Remy would rub his face in the turf.

—————————————-

Roman prepared for the second down, glad to see that the jock in front of him wasn’t looking nearly as confident as he had at the first down. Knocking someone to the ground always seemed to do the trick.

The ball was hurled straight back to Tempeste and the bitch who had growled at him earlier didn’t even try to block Roman. Good. All that was left between him and the weird little halfback was Remy Ristretto.

Roman tried to steady himself before the expected slam, but Ristretto’s tackle hit him low in the stomach, managing to knock him off balance. From the ground, he could just barely see the purple form of Tempeste weaving down the field and avoiding every single one of the Monarch Knight’s defense.

Roman tried to throw off the weight of the boy on his back but found himself thoroughly pinned down. His mouth was filled with the taste of plastic turf and dusty rubber and almost the entirety of his vision was blocked by the grape juice flavoured uniform on top of him. It was humiliating. And Tempeste was still running, reaching the end zone without being touched by a single Knight. It was like his feet didn’t even touch the ground, flying across the field.

The West Shore team were given the chance to make a field goal, and made it, but Roman hardly noticed. He was too busy grumbling about how he was going to get back at Tempeste the second he got the chance.

—————————————-

By halftime, Virgil felt like he had been driven over by a steamroller. Multiple times. A steamroller covered in baseball bats.

As the marching band paraded past where Virgil was sitting, he wondered vaguely about the operability of a steamroller that had baseball bats attached to it. Maybe the hit he had taken to the head earlier in the game had been harder than he thought.

Remy sat down besides him, “What’s going on in that big old head of yours?”

“Uhhhhh, a lot of cartoon gong sound effects. Now that I think about it, that might just be the band.”

Virgil looked out across the field as the marching band made their final pass around the turf. The sky was completely dark by now but the stadium glowed bright as day under the huge lights. It was always wonderfully surreal to Virgil, the time of night when the field became its own little world still holding onto the glory of day. He hoped glory was still how he felt about this field by the end of the game. The alternative would be shame; the alternative would be defeat.

And defeat was not an option for a game right before homecoming. It’s not that Virgil particularly cared about the school dances, quite the opposite in fact, he hated them. They were crowded, noisy, and you had to wear uncomfortable clothes and stand around with a bunch of people you don’t like instead of being at home watching scary movies and eating pizza in your pajamas. But there’s only one thing worse than going to a school dance— going to the a school dance after losing the biggest game of the season.

“You’re worried, aren’t you?” Remy’s voice broke through Virgil’s thoughts, “Well stop it. We’re ahead of the Knights—“

“Barely.”

“—you’ve made some great runs so far—“

“I’ve gotten blocked plenty of times too.”

“—and you’re always at your best in the second half of the game. Now stop putting all your energy towards making the little hamster wheel in your brain turn faster and go use it on the field. C’mon man, the third quarter is about to start.”

Virgil shook his head as if to dislodge the distracting thoughts, letting his purple bangs fall in front of his face for a moment before brushing them back and putting his helmet on. Remy was right. Virgil had started football as a way to channel his anxiety, not to cause himself more. He just needed to get on that field and start running.

He jumped up and started bouncing on his feet, letting the adrenaline flow through his body until it felt like he was buzzing. Virgil was ready to win.

—————————————-

Roman was ready to win.

He could feel it boiling in stomach, the drive, the push to alway be the best. The teams had been neck-and-neck the entire game but West Shore’s grape-coloured menace had managed to scrape by with a slight lead by the end of the second quarter. Roman had no idea how Tempeste could even run that fast; he had short little legs and was about as delicate as a twig. Maybe West Shore just hooked him up to a car battery and gave him 20 energy drinks before every game.

However they made it happen, the kid could run. He didn’t look like he belonged on a football team, more like a trackstar or even a dancer. Roman knew he looked like a football player— tall, with broad shoulders and a thick waist, his extra weight part of what made him such a good defense. But Tempeste... he was like no player Roman had ever seen. Maybe that’s why Roman couldn’t beat him like any other player.

As the teams fell into formation, Roman looked across the row of helmets and accidentally made eye contact with Virgil. His stare burned with intensity. Roman hated to admit it, but he liked that about the rival school’s halfback, the feverish energy that seemed to storm around him. In fact, if Roman was being really honest, he loved playing against the West Shore because he loved playing against Tempeste. The energy was infectious. Playing against him made Roman want to run faster, hit harder, be better.

Roman smiled behind the mouthguard that rested on his bottom teeth. Maybe he did know how to beat Virgil; maybe he had to be just as crazy and vicious as his opponent.

—————————————-

Virgil knew what it felt like to get tackled. In his high school career he had gotten jumped on top and thrown to the ground by various sweaty, muscly dudes more times than he could ever dream of counting or would ever care to. He had been dragged to the ground, sat on, and pushed over from every angle and in every way.

But he had never, never felt a tackle like Roman’s in the beginning of the third quarter of that game.

He saw it coming, practically in slow motion, before Prince actually hit him. The boy’s shoulders were nearly twice as big as Virgil’s even with all his gear. He came charging towards Virgil head-down like a bull, his bright red helmet set with a direct trajectory to Virgil’s solar plexus.

Virgil tried to sidestep, skirting just past the moving wall of Roman Prince, but somehow Roman was moving simply too fast. The impact struck just at his core and a deep kind of pain, like a bruise that goes all the way to the bone, resonated outwards through his entire body. A vibration ran all the way to his fingertips.

Virgil could see the crowd going wild, booing and cheering and maybe just screaming with no inflection, making noise for the hell of it. He couldn’t hear any of it. Maybe the entire world had been put on mute or maybe the ringing in his ears was drowning it out.

He fell backwards and Roman flew over him, momentum carrying him forward. When he landed— and boy, did he land— he fell on directly onto Virgil’s chest. Virgil thought Roman had knocked the wind out of him by hitting him in the sternum. By landing flat on his chest with the entire bulk of his body, Roman found another ounce of breath left in Virgil’s body to shock out of him.

His vision and hearing tunneled out, focusing on the one thing capturing his entire attention: Roman. The boy on top of him was heavy, crushing Virgil through his thick shoulder pads. The heat of Prince’s body spread through his gear as well, although, based on the sweat damping his hairline, Virgil really wasn’t one to talk.

Roman was strong, stronger than him. Virgil tried to squirm away but he could feel Prince throwing his weight downwards and his arms straining to keep Virgil caged to the ground.

Just as intense as his physical strength, Prince’s eyes seemed to burn. Before, they always seemed to be depthless, simply dark and brutish like a bear. Now, breathlessly close, there seemed to be a light behind them, a thousand times brighter than the stadium lights. Gold tones shining through the dark brown of his eyes. It was the most beautiful thing Virgil had ever seen. It was also easily one of the most terrifying things he’d ever seen.

Virgil kept the ball close to his chest. As long as he could keep it, the West Shore team would still have possession and could continue to move forward across the field. They could still win.

—————————————-

Roman had Tempeste pinned to the ground and somehow it was the most exhilarating thing he had ever done. Which isn’t to say he had never tackled the halfback before— they had been playing against each other for several years now— but this was different somehow, more personal.

Tempeste growled beneath him, wriggling to escape the tackle like water slipping between his fingers. Roman push down harder, refusing to let him go.

Footsteps pounded behind them, turf crunching under the stampede of Knights quickly charging forward. Roman braced himself for the pile-up he knew was coming, over a thousand pounds worth of his team jumping to join the tackle.

One guy slammed into Roman’s back then another, then another. The pressure of the game must have been getting to them as well because they threw themselves at Roman and Tempeste like a pack of wild animals.

It felt like every single Knight, including the offense players, were joining the tackle. And feel was the correct term. He could hardly see anything besides Tempeste’s face within his purple helmet. But he could feel everything, every hit of his teammates as their full weight fell against his back. Beneath him, Tempeste’s breath began quickening, like he was sprinting again. But of course he wasn’t, he was pinned down just like Roman was.

Roman glanced down into the depths of Virgil’s helmet, searching past the grill. Shining in the dark, his eyes caught a small reflection of the stadium lights. They were large, startled, and obviously panicked. He looked like a trapped animal and his breathing only continued to become more rapid.

Their eyes met as Roman looked down and he realized this was the first time he had ever seen Virgil look really, truly afraid. He had seen Tempeste in the fourth quarter, 20 points behind and looking as determined and fierce as ever. He had seen Tempeste sprint across the field, followed by the entire Monarchs team, with a huge grin on his face like there was nothing he would rather do than be hunted after. He had seen Tempeste stand toe-toe-to, small chest puffed out and jaw set confidently, with some guy over a foot taller than him because he tried to mouth off about Virgil’s ability. He had never seen him like this.

“Hey, it’s going to be ok,” Roman set his helmet grill against Virgil’s. He knew Virgil couldn’t hear him and probably didn’t even know why he was putting his face so close. Hell, Roman didn’t even know why he was doing it. There was something about Virgil’s genuine fear that he felt the need to comfort him, tell him that it was just a game, that he would be alright.

The weight of another player hit him and Roman was slammed against Virgil’s chest. The sudden shift forced Roman onto his wrist, the small joint carrying him and the entirety of his team. Something cracked. He gasped sharply as pain struck every molecule in his body. Roman’s vision went black.

—————————————-

Virgil sat in the locker room, staring vaguely across at the rows of blue shelves in front of him as he held a pack of ice against his shoulder. The nurse said that it might have been dislocated in the pileup.

He wished he could blame it on Roman, that oaf was the one who had tackled him to begin with. He couldn’t though. It was Roman’s job to tackle him and that’s exactly what Roman had done and as much as it confused and somewhat infuriated Virgil, he also knew the other boy had protected him from the blunt force of his teammates. Why? Why would he do that?

Dull pain throbbed through the entirety of his body, clouding his mind. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t quite wrap his head around what had happened.

Virgil was pretty sure Roman got hurt too. As he had walked off the field, gritting his teeth, he caught a glimpse of Prince cradling his hand as he walked in the opposite direction.

It was one hell of a pileup; four years of football and he had only been in a tangle that bad the first time he had played against the Monarchs. Maybe he and Roman were just destined to create disasters.

Virgil grimaced as his mind kept wandering back to Roman. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t help but worry if Prince was alright. Virgil had no idea what was going on in his mind, or on the field, or in the locker room on the other side.

—————————————-

Roman was bored. He sat on the bleachers, watching the game drag on ahead of him as he held a pack of ice to his wrist. The nurse had told him it was probably just strained but Roman wasn’t convinced. He could feel the ache throbbing up his arm with every beat of his heart. Between the pain and the pressure spreading out from grinding his teeth, Roman’s head was trapped in a haze that he could barely see through.

From what he could tell, the Monarch Knights were winning. With Virgil out, Westshore’s offense had been greatly weakened. Roman hardly cared; he wasn’t out there, Virgil wasn’t out there, none of the spark was left in the game. What was the point of winning if there was no one to win against?

The crowd roared as the final quarter came to a close. The Knights won, but Roman didn’t. He felt disappointed, dejected, and like he didn’t quite understand where he was. This wasn’t his game.

The night came to an end and Roman opted to go straight to the locker room instead of shaking hands with the other team, blaming it on his wrist.  Usually, he loved facing the other team after a win— admittedly because it gave him a chance to gloat over them— but he just couldn’t find that same feeling tonight.

—————————————-

Virgil leaned against a cold concrete wall of the bleachers, staring up at the stadium light’s false sun above him. If he looked far enough, he could find the dark sky and the twinkling lights of the city below him and beyond the intense glow of the school.

A cool breeze was picking up as the world shifted into night. It was beautiful but Virgil couldn’t appreciate it. He just wished there had been some sort of ending, a closure of some kind. He and Prince’s last hurrah against each other. But they hadn’t gotten a hurrah, all they got was a game that petered out and came to sputtering stop as they both sat on the sidelines. Virgil didn’t even care that West Shore lost; it was never about West Shore and the Monarchs. It was about him and Roman.

Someone cleared their throat behind him, “You mind if I join your sulking or would you rather be left alone to mope?”

Virgil spun around, his body tensing at Roman’s voice and sending a twinge of pain down from his shoulder, “What do you want?”

Roman stepped closer, “I told you, I came to sulk with you because that’s obviously what we’re both doing.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, “Yeah, right well... fuck off.”

“Man, I thought you might bite before but now I’m sure of it.”

Prince took another casual step forward as Virgil’s mind began racing. What is he doing? Virgil’s eyes swept over Roman. He had never really seen him out of his football uniform and damn. In denim jeans and a red tee shirt, Virgil was actually able to see him for the first time. Most guys were greatly exaggerated by the uniform, making them look bigger and stronger, but nope, Roman was really just built like that. His gaze reached Prince’s face. Like the rest of his body, his features looked like they had been sculpted and chiseled like some type of statue. He was reminded of how beautiful Roman’s eyes were when he actually took the time to look at them, the warm shades of brown filtering through each other.

“Uh, what are you looking at?” Roman laughed, a hint of nervousness creeping into the edge of his voice.

Virgil felt blood rushing to his face as a deep blush rose to his cheeks. He had been staring, hadn’t he? “Sorry.”

Roman stepped even closer, clearing his throat again, “I actually came over here because... I wanted just wanted to tell you I’ve really enjoyed playing against you. And it can’t just be summed up by saying ‘good game;’ it’s been a hell of a good four years... you’re a phenomenal player.”

Virgil stared down at his feet. This was not what he had been expecting, not that he had been expecting any of this, “You know... it hasn’t been easy to be the smallest person on the team— shit, I’m the smallest player in any of the district teams. I don’t think I would have kept playing, or would have tried as hard to stay on the team if I wasn’t absolutely set on kicking your ass.”

Roman laughed— a deep, genuine sound flooding from somewhere in his broad chest— and Virgil couldn’t help but grin.

“So yeah... thanks for that. And good game,” Virgil smiled up at the other boy.

“Well, we can’t exactly shake hands like usual,” Roman glanced down at his swollen wrist and Virgil’s shoulder that he was still nursing.

“Can we do something else then?” Virgil moved so he was standing face to face with Roman, his heart pounding in his ears.

Virgil could feel Roman’s breathing quicken as he reached up with his good arm, sliding his hand to the base of Roman’s neck. Put he didn’t startle, he didn’t try to move away. If anything, he seemed to be leaning into the touch.

Virgil moved forward, standing on the tips of his toes to press his lips against Roman’s. For a horrific second, he thought Roman wouldn’t return it but after a moment of apparent shock, Roman bowed his head to deepen the kiss. He tipped them forward, supporting the entirety of Virgil’s weight with his uninjured hand.

When they finally broke away, Virgil was completely breathless. He definitely hadn’t seen that coming at the beginning of the evening.

Roman looked equally surprised but he began grinning like an idiot as the realization of what had just happened settled over him, “Can we do that again??”

Virgil laughed at Roman’s eager, puppy-dog-eyes expression, “At least buy me a drink first.”

“Well, I can’t exactly do that seeing as we’re both like 17–“

“Excuse you, I’m 18,” Virgil stuck his tongue out in mock indignation.

“Yeah, well, uh, would you maybe want to go to homecoming with me?” Roman began rushing his words out, “I mean, I totally get if not. There’s absolutely no pressure. And I’m sure you already have plans so—“

“That’d be cool,” Virgil broke in, “I’d really, really like that.”

Roman’s face once again broke into a beaming smile, “Really??”

“Yeah you big idiot, that’s why I said it. Besides, it’s awful going to a dance after losing a game so I might as well bring a trophy,” Virgil slipped his hand into Roman’s and began leading them out of the stadium and into the parking lot. Nothing could have prepared him for what happened tonight. He had started the evening determined to win, but even though West Shore lost, he didn’t feel disappointed.

Virgil looked at the silhouette of Roman against the fading campus lights as he walked alongside him. Maybe he had won something even more important than the game.

if you would like to be added to the Friday Night Lights taglist, please just send an ask or reply to this post ;D

General Sanders Sides Taglist: ~ @centimeter-tries-to-communicate @bee-syndrome @fandomfan315 @cas-is-a-hunter @reggieleigh07 @endless-rain-of-words @mossdeemo @im-actually-ok @softnic @catolicabuena @queer-disaster106 @lunawolf89 ~

Friday Night Lights Taglist: @lcrnbw @amazing-creepyfloof @badluckkaren @athenashipsthings @chronophobica @icequeenoriginal @delicateherolightscissors @romano-hottopic @yourneighbourhooddisaster @sonny-ray-of-goth @itsnycto @captain-oats

[anthemxix]

whumpay bonus: deleted scenes

my final offering to you for the month~ :)

there were some prompts i started to write but didn't finish, and a few instances where i began a prompt, decided it wasn't working, and then completely started over. i have no idea if these scraps will interest anyone, but it seemed like a shame for them to go to waste. so i hope you enjoy :) thank you <3 <3 <3

day 4, part 2 (fire) - first attempt

“Can I just say again that I really don’t like this plan?”

Wind groaned. “We know, Captain. You’ve been saying that every five minutes.”

“Because it’s a terrible plan!”

Scowling, Wind shuffled back from the impossibly massive archway he’d been peering through. “Look, we decided on the plan hours ago, so just give it a rest already.”

Sky cleared his throat. “Well. I’d like to say that I don’t like this plan either.”

“Oh, how nice of you to contribute that, Sky,” Warriors growled, rounding on him. “Couldn’t have said anything before the literal last minute?”

“Hey, I’ve dissented to this idea the whole time,” Sky retorted, holding his hands up defensively. “Not just because it’s dangerous, but because it’s not our place to meddle in local political affairs.”

“Agreed,” Warriors said. “We’re putting that whole town at risk. It’s not too late to turn back.”

“Since when do you run away from a fight?” Wind goaded.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Time said. Five heads turned his way, expectant, tense, and he sighed in resignation. “The Sailor is correct. We discussed the merits and drawbacks this morning. We’re committed to this plan now. I’m sorry, Captain.”

Wind smirked triumphantly despite Warriors’ heavy frown. “Great. I’ll see you all later then.”

He offered a sloppy salute and turned towards the archway, only for Warriors to grab his arm and spin him back around.

“Ugh, now what?” Wind griped. “You heard the Old Man! The plan is a go!”

The Captain grasped both of Wind’s shoulders and ducked to his eye level, his expression all hard lines. “Listen. At the first sign of danger, you get out of there. This is not worth sacrificing your life over.”

Wind defiantly tried (and failed) to wiggle out of his iron grip. “I’m gonna be fine, Wars! Why don’t you trust me? I’m the most skilled thief we’ve got!”

“I do trust you, and I don’t doubt your skills in the least,” Warriors said. “It’s just…” He hesitated, swallowed. “Tell me you’ll get out of there as soon as there’s trouble. Don’t be reckless.”

The somberness and sincerity (and was that fear?) in Warriors’ tone was sobering, and Wind finally conceded, “I will. I’ll be careful. Promise.”

Warriors’ hands lingered on his shoulders a moment longer, and Wind was surprised to find he missed their weight when they were gone. He didn’t dwell on it, though, nor did he look back as he deftly slipped through the stone archway and disappeared over the ledge.

The Captain crossed his arms, not bothering to conceal his concern as he watched Wind go, and Legend murmured to him, “Hey. You don’t do anything reckless either. Got it?”

“Of course.”

They all knew he was lying.

---

The chamber Wind had entered was more astronomical than any he’d ever seen—it must have filled the entire berth of the mountain, he thought—and even more wondrous still, it was jam-packed with mound upon mound of shimmering rupees, jewels, armor, weapons, vases…treasure. The most extensive treasure trove in this or any era, surely.

Wind grinned to himself. Tetra and her crew would never believe this. Maybe he could smuggle out a shiny little gift for them.

He picked his way across the hills of treasure, disturbing them as little as possible, and stopped near a colossal column. Steadying himself on it, Wind peered around the enormous chamber, and, for the first time since they’d departed the lakeside town that morning, felt a flicker of dismay. He had, of course, expected that locating one specific gemstone in a vast hoard of treasure would be difficult, but he’d underestimated the task. Like kind of, really, severely underestimated the task.

Well, no matter. He didn’t make it this far in his adventures by shying away from impossible odds. Besides, he felt he was graced with the goddesses’ favor today. He and the others had climbed up the mountain, strongarmed their way into the mines, and navigated the maze of corridors without one blip of trouble—and, best of all, there was no sign of the one major threat they’d been warned about again and again.

Wind smiled as he continued across the treasure trove, pausing to sift through some of it now and again. He just needed to be patient and deliberate and quiet, and then he could sneak back over to where the others were waiting and prove to them what a capable hero he was. Warriors said he didn’t doubt Wind’s skills, but he must, at least a little, or he wouldn’t have been so reluctant to let Wind do this.

The Sailor peered across the chamber towards the archway he’d come through. It was well above him now, as he’d descended from the peak of a treasure mound, although he was nowhere near the floor yet. The candle chandeliers suspended from the cavern’s apex offered a fair amount of light, which reflected brilliantly from all the gold rupees and splendid diamonds, but it was not sufficient to see any of his friends.

All the better, he thought as he continued his hunt. If he couldn’t see them, then neither could their enemy, whose other senses outweighed its sight—as he’d been repeatedly reminded by the others, who had all info-dumped him on this particular foe, as if he hadn’t dealt with any himself before.

Wind really did not understand what all the fuss was about. What made this different than any other dungeon, or any other enemy therein? Yes, this particular mission was complicated by the fact that they were helping restore some fallen regent and give him access to this treasure hoard without having all the details on the guy. Wind regularly operated without having all the details, even on missions as significant as this, and he suspected the others did as well, so he wasn’t too concerned about that.

But what was the big deal with the enemy? He understood that provoking this monster put the proximal town at risk, but didn’t that happen with every big baddie they faced? What was so different about this—?

Wind froze, thoughts cut off as he tuned in to the nearby jingle of tumbling rupees. He slowly turned his head, hand on the Phantom Sword’s hilt, expecting to see some stalfos or something emerging from the depths. There had to be someone guarding this treasure, after all.

He was not anticipating a stream of treasure would part to reveal the snout of a dragon sighing in its sleep.

Panic jangled Wind’s nerves, and suddenly he felt like he understood Warriors’ reluctance very clearly.

The tip of this dragon’s muzzle was utterly massive, with yellow, jagged teeth as tall as Wind protruding from its mouth. The rest of it, still concealed by treasure, must have been unimaginably gargantuan. Its steady breaths smelled ominously ashy.

Wind backed up a step, rupees clinking beneath his foot, and held his breath. Perhaps it was time to return to his friends…

As he began to creep back towards the archway, leaving the dragon’s snout a considerable berth, Wind felt a tug of magic. It wasn’t a variety of magic he recognized, but the sensation was unmistakable. His eyes darted around, scanning, until they landed on a strikingly sparkly gemstone, iridescent and oval-shaped and nearly the size of his head.

Dumbfounded, Wind blinked. That. That was the stone! It had to be!

It wasn’t too far from him, but it was downhill, i.e., in the opposite direction of his destination. But he was so close. He couldn’t give up now.

Wind threw a cursory look at the dragon snout before switching course and tiptoeing down towards the stone.

There was another rattling jangle behind him, and Wind paled as treasure shifted to reveal some of the dragon’s tail, ridiculously far from where the snout lie. He tried not to let this bother him as he reached the stone and carefully tucked it into his bag.

Acquiring the target item filled him with some relief, and he started the long trek up the treasure mountains to reach the archway, choosing his footholds cautiously.

He was halfway there when he slipped, smacking face-first into the rupee pile and backsliding several meters with an insufferably loud clanking from the treasure.

He froze, breath bated, heart slowed, as he gazed over at the dragon.

It didn’t move.

Releasing a soft sigh, he straightened up, prepared to resume his ascent, when the dragon snorted.

With dreadful slowness, it lifted its head from its beloved treasure, amber eyes flitting around its chamber as it swiveled its long neck around, searching.

Then it slowly rose, gems and gold cascading from its back, as its enormous, folded wings appeared.

Wide-eyed, Wind didn’t move. He couldn’t. This was, by far, the largest creature he’d ever seen.

The dragon inhaled a great snuff of air, sniffing, then another. Forked tongue flickered between menacing teeth.

And then it spoke, its baritone voice echoing off the mountain walls as it dragged out each syllable.

“Where—are—you?”

Wind couldn’t help the involuntary twitch of his hands. Some coins jingled, and the dragon gazed in Wind’s general direction. It didn’t see him.

“I know you’re here,” the dragon drawled. “I can smell you. I can hear your breathing.”

One massive, clawed foot rose from the treasure depths, smacking down on top of a pile.

Swallowing, Wind shakily began to climb again, with painstaking slowness, on his hands and knees. He was good at stealth. He could do this. Absolutely.

“I can sense your fear. Little thief.”

He faltered, hand twitching, but continued. Slow. Steady. Come on. You can do it.

The dragon lifted another foot, and its third and fourth, until it was fully free of the treasure, its tail swishing in its wake. It grazed against the high chandeliers, causing them to quiver and shoot strange fluttering shadows across the room.

“I do not have much patience for foolish little thieves.” The dragon drew a deep, rumbling breath, its chest beginning to glow a burning orange. Smoke began to filter from its nostrils. “Come out.”

Wind looked up. The archway was still so far away. He tried to move more quickly while staying as noiseless as possible. He had to hurry. He was running out of time. As soon as he got there, they could escape unseen—

“If you come out now, little thief, I won’t kill your friends quite so painfully.”

Wind tripped again, setting off a mini-avalanche of treasure.

The dragon’s head snapped in his direction, its eyes narrowing and lipless mouth curling as if in a smirk. It took a step towards him, and another, its claws clinking as the dangerous orange glow built up along its neck, up its throat, more smoke churning from its snout.

“Are you over there, little thief? I’ll give you one more chance. Come out. Now.”

Wind scrabbled, slipping again, sending more treasure tumbling, and when the dragon opened its mouth, its internal flame heating the room significantly, he lost all caution and tried to run.

---

When the dragon lifted its head, Legend wrapped his hand firmly around Warriors’ elbow.

As more and more of the dragon emerged from the depths, Four said quietly, “I think we need to prepare.”

There was a murmur of agreement, and Legend frowned. Reluctantly, he released Warriors’ arm and muttered, “Old Man, keep an eye on him.”

Time nodded, eyes already on the Captain, and Legend, Sky, and Four headed out for their destination.

Time pulled out his Biggoron Sword, watching the dragon take a step, its booming threats resounding around the chamber. He picked out Wind among the mountains of treasure.

“I need you to know,” the Captain started, drawing Time’s attention, “that I cannot live with myself if he…”

Time nodded, even though Warriors wasn’t looking at him.

“If he goes down, I’m going to save him or die trying,” Warriors said. “Those are the only options.”

“I know.”

Warriors looked at him grimly. “It’s been an honor fighting by your side again.”

Time put a hand on Warriors’ shoulder, and left it there until the dragon opened its mouth, and Warriors jumped down into the pit of gold without another word.

---

Warriors aimed for the dragon’s amber eye, but hit its cheek instead. The arrow bounced uselessly off the impenetrable scales, and Warriors doubted the beast could even feel it; yet the dragon, to his relief, turned towards him.

Warriors nocked another arrow and shot again for the eye, but the dragon simply lowered its head, bringing it close to the Captain, heat radiating from it.

“Another little Hylian,” drawled the dragon. “Where did all your little friends scurry off to, hm?”

day 10 (screaming/silence) - unfinished

Distinguishing night from day is impossible in these woods; the opaque fog that consumes them occludes both sun- and moonlight, perpetually casting a bland grey pall across the trees. It’s disorienting, and Time has entirely lost his grip on the passage of his namesake. He has no conception of how long he and Sky have been wandering around this forest, searching for an exit, and that disconnect disturbs him, prickles beneath his skin.

When Time spots an x carved into a tree trunk, he stops and drags his hand through his hair with a sigh.

Lagging several paces behind him, Sky, too, pauses. “What is it?”

Time points to the marking. “We’ve been here before.”

It takes Sky a moment to register what he’s being told, and then he visibly wilts like an underwatered flower. “Great. That’s great.”

“I can’t keep track of this place,” Time confesses. “It’s as if it’s…shifting.”

“Or we’re getting shifted,” Sky says. “Wild said the fog in his Lost Woods can move him.”

“That’s…unsettling, to say the least.” Time glances skyward out of habit and frowns in annoyance as he’s reminded that he can’t see the sun here. “How long do you think we’ve been walking?”

“I…I really don’t know.”

The elder hero side-eyes Sky, who, alarmingly, appears considerably more ill than he did before. Some time ago, the two of them had stopped to sleep, certain they’d meandered the day away, and Sky woke up dizzy and pale. He insisted he was fine to continue—for what other option did they have?—but he had been growing more and more sluggish as they walked. Now he grips his sailcloth, pulling it tight around his shoulders like a blanket, and looks as colorless as the fog, swaying slightly where he stands.

“Do you need to rest?” Time asks.

Immediately, Sky shakes his head. “I’m fine.”

“…Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I just want to get out of here.” Sky releases his sailcloth to scratch behind his ear, something Time has observed him doing on multiple occasions today (tonight?).

“You keep scratching,” Time says, gesturing towards his own ear.

“What?”

“Your ear. You keep scratching there.”

“Oh…” Sky removes his hand and clutches his sailcloth again. “I dunno. It really itches for some reason. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Time steps towards him and brushes Sky’s hair aside to see a small but very red bump. “Looks like an insect bite. You should leave it alone.”

Sky hums in acknowledgement. “Let’s keep moving.”

Unsatisfied, Time chooses a direction for them to proceed in. He thinks they’ve taken a different turn than the last time they crossed paths with this tree, but he can’t be certain. Before they leave the area, he pulls out a knife and marks the trunk with a second x.

Time has no idea how long it takes, but eventually, they wind up back at the same damn tree.

His eye twitches as he scrubs a hand over his face. “Okay. We need a new plan bec—”

“Uh, Time?”

He looks behind him to see Sky holding one hand out, blood smudged across his fingers. “What—?” Then he spots the blood trickling down Sky’s neck, staining his hair.

Time moves closer and brushes Sky’s hair aside again, causing the knight to jump a little. “What are you doing?”

Substantially more inflamed, the insect bite behind Sky’s ear has split open. Worse, now that Time is up close, he can see that Sky’s hands are shaking and his pallid cheeks are blemished with feverish pink blooms. “You scratched the bite so much that it’s bleeding… Let’s clean it up.”

He steers Sky beneath the contemptible tree and sets to work washing the bite. It’s worryingly hot to the touch, but what really dismays Time is that the bump, which he expected to feel malleable, is hard, as if there’s a stone beneath Sky’s skin.

“Sky, are you allergic to insect bites?”

“No… I don’t think so? I don’t know, really.”

As soon as Time finishes bandaging the bite, Sky is reaching up to scratch it. Time grabs his hand. “Sky. It is imperative that you do not touch that.”

“But it—” He makes a throaty, frustrated sound. “It itches so badly.”

“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing we can do about that.” Time looks around, as if he’ll magically spy an exit from the woods that he somehow missed before.

“Okay. Okay.” Sky grits his teeth and clenches his sailcloth until his knuckles turn white.

day 17 (phobia) - first attempt

For half an hour, rain had been falling in a steady, serene drizzle so light that Sky hardly noticed it until a stray droplet snaked beneath his tunic collar, slithering cold and uncomfortable down his spine. Absently, he scratched at his collar, as if that would alleviate the remarkably unsettling sensation, just as the rainfall picked up.

He blinked up at the sky, which brimmed with plump, grey clouds, promising wet weather for the remainder of the afternoon.

“Guess there’s no point in waiting out the rain,” he commented over the downpour’s soothing heartbeat.

Beside him, Legend swept his damp hair away from his eyes, minutely scowling. “Yeah, let’s just keep going. The sooner we meet up with the others, the sooner we can track down some suitable shelter for the night.”

Sky hummed his agreement, hoping that in scouting this new area they’d been dropped in, some of the others had found a town. He and Legend had discovered an overgrown trail and followed it for most of the morning, but their efforts were fruitless, as the path seemed to stretch endlessly through uninhabited wilderness.

Minutes later, a resonant boom of thunder rolled across the sky, followed swiftly by a flickering tongue of lightning in the near-distance. All of Sky’s muscles locked up so suddenly that he awkwardly stumbled, only staying upright because Legend’s hand shot out to catch him.

“You okay there, bird boy?” Legend asked, eyebrows arched.

“Yeah, of course,” Sky murmured. “Tripped. That’s all.”

He reached back and grabbed a handful of his sailcloth, pinching and rubbing the silken fabric as he tried to ignore Legend’s scrutinizing stare boring into his temple.

day 25 (goodbye) - unfinished

Dinner is eaten, the dishes washed and packed, and the campfire doused, all in dreary silence. As the last of the fire’s smoke dissipates, Wind speaks. “What happens if we don't go through them? Will they disappear?”

No one answers for a moment. Eventually, Legend says, “We have to go through, small fry.”

“I— I know,” Wind stammers. “I’m just asking, like...what if we didn’t? What would happen?”

“Hypothetically,” Hryule offers.

“Yeah! It’s hypothetical.”

“There’s no reason to consider hypotheticals,” Legend says.

“There’s not,” Wild agrees bitterly. “Don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

He stands, gathering his belongings with a scowl as he adds, “As a matter of fact, we should get this over with.”

“Wait!” Wind jumps up, practically vaults across the now-damp firewood to grasp Wild’s arm.

“No, there's no point in stalling any longer,” Wild says, even as he involuntarily leans into Wind’s touch.

“Of course there is,” Wind argues, eyes wet. “Any more time I can have with you guys is worth it. Even just one extra minute.”

Wild looks away from him as he lightly pulls out of Wind’s hold.

Legend stands now, too, eyes averted. “You’re just making this harder, kid.”

“Goodbyes are always hard,” Four says quietly.

Another moment of silence lapses, until Time stands, plates of his armor shifting.

day 29 (lies/terrible truth) - first attempt

In the lean privacy of a secluded clearing, Twilight offered his confession without pretense or embellishment, a simple statement of facts. He didn’t appear nervous as he spoke, like someone who had been caught off-guard might; rather, he seemed resigned, his words rehearsed, as if he’d known this conversation was an inevitability.

Wild expected—hoped—he would glimpse some relief on Twilight’s face when the confession was done, but that wasn’t the case. He seemed sorrowful, ailing, but not relieved to be rid of the heavy secret he’d burdened himself with. Not remorseful for his wrongdoing.

The oddest thing about this moment, Wild thought as Twilight looked squarely into his eyes, was the quietness. How could the moment feel so still and calm, even as it decimated him? Even as it violently impressed its place into his personal history as a pivotal event? Even as it cleaved his life into a clear before and after?

Through Wild’s cluttered, confused thoughts floated a memory. Not a century-old, faded memory, the kind that abruptly flickered to life in the deepest fathoms of his subconscious and dragged him into catatonia. No, this memory was recent, crisp, bright. He could still feel this memory, could still smell its scents and hear its sounds. It replayed over and over, an inescapable loop, as he stared at the man who only minutes before had his unshakeable trust, his highest admiration, his purest love.

Wild broke eye contact and shook his head, trying to clear it. “You’re lying. You have to be. This makes no sense.”

He only looked back to Twilight when he heard the unmistakable sound of a sword being drawn. He came face-to-face with Twilight’s blade and reflexively jumped back, hand flying to the hilt on his back.

[escapethewonderland]

It could have been you

Pairing: JakexFem!MC (Nadia)

Word counts: 1.8k

A/N: Hi darlings, I got the itch for a bit of Jake angst over the last few days so here it is this little OS. Kindly inspired by a song that stuck in my head while writing, Muddy Waters by LP. Hope you like it! SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 7 ENDING, BE AWARE!

TW: swearing, angst, mention of blood

Nadia was sitting on the edge of her bed, watching her closet intently like she was trying to find an answer to the incredible mess that her life had become over the last month. The doors were hanging open, patiently waiting for the girl to start gathering the clothes she needed for the trip to Duskwood.

She felt like her head was on the verge of exploding. Rabid thoughts were chasing each others around unbounded, hammering against her temples and begging to set them free.

She squeezed her hands together, quivering nervously while trying to release that ugly tension off her body. Seeing Richy bloody, slowing fading away on that hellish forest’s ground was the last straw for Nadia: someone got severely hurt and, all of a sudden, the game her and Jake were playing got extremely real.

Nadia couldn’t afford anymore to wait on the sidelines, protected by the distance and her hacker because sooner or later, they would come knocking on her doors. Although the strong gut feeling of running far away in the opposite direction, Nadia couldn’t deny the inescapable bond that was calling her to Duskwood. Even more now that both the girl and Jake may had the blood of an innocent guy dripping from their hands.

The young woman closed her eyes against that cruel image, breathing slowly from her nose, flexing her fingers.

Richy was going to make it; he had to.

He might survive. Those were the feeble words of hope that the doctors had said and the whole group hold on to them with ferocity: the idea of losing Richy was unacceptable.

A notification from the phone distracted the young woman, making her wince: she couldn’t recall how long she had been standing still in front of the wardrobe.

  Nadia…I just read your texts. Is it true? Is Richy…?

The girl let an unsteady breath slip out between her lips, fighting back the tears.

Yes Jake, he’s fighting for his life on an operating table.

She got up from her bed, walking aimlessly around the small apartment in an agitated frenzy. Jake’s answer came right away.

I’m so, so sorry. I…I wasn’t expecting that. I…I’m at loss for words.

“No shit” Nadia snorted viciously under her breath, wiping away a traitorous tear that slowly crept down her cheek. Her breath was now ragged, but she still tried to keep her cool and not hyperventilate. Panic wouldn’t get her nowhere, she needed to be sharp right now.

Holding her phone in a tight grip, Nadia walked back to her bedroom; mind settled.

I don’t know what to say too, Jake, but I know what I have to do.

She threw the mobile on her bed with more vehemence than what was necessary. With few, swift strides, she found herself back in her room, standing in front of her closet to retrieve an old backpack from the tallest shelf. She scrutinized the clothes with a clinic eyes, opting for something practical, taking only the bare minimum she needed for a week or so.

Nadia didn’t bother to check her phone when Jake’s first reply came. Nor the next one or the other after that.

She was on autopilot, a ghost wandering around and haunting her own house.

Nadia spared a look at her reflection in the mirror while collecting the stuff she needed from the bathroom: her face was strained with harsh lines, eyes wide with messy makeup and even messier hair.

She brought her things to the other room, dumping them merciless inside the backpack and only then looked at her phone.

There were several messages from Jake but it was the last one that caught the girl’s attention.

Are you packing, Nadia? Please, answer me.

The phone slipped from her fingers after reading that words. A hint of paranoia emerged in her chest and she scanned her bedroom with meticulous care, calming down again only when she had checked twice every possible hiding place. No one seemed to be lurking in her room and the curtains were closed shut, a few sun shines peeking through them. She was still safe, it was still her home, no danger lurking in the shadows.

With trembling hands, Nadia retrieved the phone from the carpet.

She frowned, slightly afraid to look at the camera, before a wave of scolding hot anger filled her bones. Mouth set in a straight, harsh line, she started typing to Jake.

Are you fucking spying on me through my phone, Jake?

No answer. The girl felt like boiling with everything she’d been trying to repress since the first time Thomas texted her.

Are you fucking serious, Jake? Are you fucking with me or have you lost your mind along the way? Do you think that you can just go around spying people through their phone whenever it sooths you, whenever it’s convenient for your agenda?

Jake. I fucking trusted you! YOU…

The girl stopped there, unable to type anymore given the trembling that took control of her hands.

Nadia brought the back of her hand against her lips, suppressing a sob that would inevitably destroy the already fragile dam that was barely holding back all of her destructive emotions.

She fought it with all of her might, eventually falling on her knees because even standing felt crushing in that moment.

Nadia felt like she was going crazy, slowly loosing herself in something that was so much bigger than her.

Her phone started vibrating in her hand, signalling an incoming call from an unknown number.

Nadia stood there for a moment, debating if accepting the call or not. Could it be…?

“Hello?” she answered with a shaky voice.

Nadia heard a sight and a male voice greeted her, no distortion this time.

“Please, don’t go” pleaded who she assumed was Jake on the other side of the line.

Nadia let out a wet sob, almost chocking on the longing and sadness that built up in her chest at hearing Jake’s voice for the first time. His voice sounded so warm and comforting like a soothing balm, but it was all ruined by the ill-timing of the call.

“How much have I longed for this moment… you have no idea, Jake, you have no idea. I can’t believe it, it’s actually you” she mumbled under her breath, almost too quiet to be heard.

Another sight greeted her words, but Jake didn’t say anything.

“I would have loved to hear your voice for the first time under different circumstances” she continued, tears rolling freely down her grieving face.

“But the situation is pretty fucked up, Jake. I can’t afford to wait on the side-lines any longer”

“You can’t go, Nadia, please. You can’t really be thinking of going to Duskwood” replied Jake fast, almost eating up the words like he was in a hurry to get them out, to keep her safely where she was.

“But I am going, Jake. It was all my fault: Jessy’s attack, Cleo’s letters and now Richy… if I didn’t get involved, if I stayed out of it, nothing would have happened to them. It’s only fair I stand by their side to help them, actually help them” Nadia said with deep-rooted sadness in her voice, slowly getting up from the carpet. Her knees felt weak but her mind was strong.

There was a loud thud on the other side of the line, like a fist being slammed against a wooden table.

“No, no, no! Nadia, please! Duskwood is even more dangerous than before right now and you could put yourself into bigger troubles!”

She snorted without humour in her voice, now fully standing, sliding a hand through her hair.

“Well Jake, it’s not like you can stop me, can you? Because you’re not here… You’re not fucking here with me. What would you have me rather do, uh? Don’t you think I’m scared!? I’M TERRIFIED BUT WHY DON’T YOU…”

“IT COULD HAVE BEEN YOU, DAMMIT!” Jake almost screamed into her ear, panting like he had just ran a marathon.

Nadia closed her eyes while more tears carved their path through her reddened cheeks, biting hard on her lower lip. Her heart clenched painfully at his words cause only now she realized how much she’d been craving to feel his barriers coming down.

“It could have been you, bleeding out in that nightmarish forest, for fuck’s sake. And only the thought of you being hurt or worse, of losing you…it’s enough to drive me insane” he confessed softly, his silky voice like sweet honey in the Nadia’s ear, a tempting offer of haven.

“But it wasn’t me” she replied hesitantly, not trusting her voice not to break “it still could have been Lilly. It could have been Hannah”

That was a low blow, Nadia knew that but his sisters were the only family he had left and if he couldn’t be on the front line to save them, she would step up to be in his place and protect them.

“I don’t wanna lose you, not you too” Jake whispered, voice heavy with despair, so close to the mic that for a moment she had the faint illusion of having him right by her side.

“And you won’t, Jake, I promise you. You won’t lose any of us, we will see each other at the end of this. We’ll all be together and make up for all the time we spent apart.”

She almost smiled at that idyllic picture taking shape into her mind.

“But I have to go” Nadia simply stated, softly as to not hurt him, even though she was already doing that.

She closed the call before she lost all of the courage she had mustered up, Jake’s no’s haunting her while she turned off her phone. She exhaled deeply, before hitting her wardrobe’s door with her open palm, muffling a scream against her folded t-shirts.

It took Nadia five whole minutes to regain her composure and fight back fat tears of sorrow, but when she finally looked back up, there were flames in her eyes.

She set her body into motion, retrieving an object from the drawer under her desk: the older phone used to be her main phone, but Nadia was sure she was going to need a backup since everyone in Duskwood already had her info. No one knew her new number though, so she hoped it could turn out to be a secret advantage. Only Lilly was aware of it, she was the one to help her out to settle everything and she was the only soul that knew she was coming to Duskwood and they both preferred that way.

She braced herself, backpack on her shoulder and keys in her hands: even though she was filled with much uncertainty, Nadia knew she was on the right path.