#hotshots was all Ai we all know it

[jewishgirlrevolt]

Guys I figured it out. It was AI who wrote 8a. it all makes sense now.

[rowdyluv]

Believe in Me — jh86

summary: in which the summer following Jack’s rookie year is coming to an end. Not only did his rookie year come with being shafted by the league as the biggest bust, but he managed to get painted as the biggest (and newest) playboy of the league. His personal management team, the team’s management, and PR step in to clear this all up, but it takes work from Jack.

warnings/points of importance: use of y/n, fem!reader x jack, use of nicknames for female character and for Jack, fake dating trope, oblivious pining trope(?), childhood friends, minor usage of foul language, creation of side original characters for plot, time jumps, memories inserted - tumblr’s intention and italics used to notate, inner thoughts marked with ‘..’ and italicized if they occur

word count: 4.32

notes: any names used for original characters that relate to someone’s name or closely relate to a person’s name is purely by happenstance. The names were rolled by random from a generator where I inserted random first and last names.

© property of quinnylouhughesx43 ; do not copy and re-upload as your own - anywhere. do not place my work inside AI codes, do not translate.

Y/n sat cross-legged on the worn wooden planks of the back porch swing, her eyes following the lazy dance of the sunset as it descended behind the distant tree line. Her childhood home had changed so little over the years, the same comforting embrace of familiarity wrapped around her like a warm blanket on a chilly evening. The porch swing squeaked in a soothing rhythm as both her and Jack slowly swung, a nostalgic tune that had serenaded countless summer nights spent sharing secrets and laughter with Jack. The only other kid who had been in her grade when she moved in, well really one of the only other neighborhood children. The other two children in the neighborhood were his brothers. All three of which had become as much a part of her life as the very foundation of the house she grew up in.

She had spent all day out with his family by the pool, her mother insisted he come to their house for dinner though. Nothing to offer course for their life, well a year ago it wouldn’t have been.

"Do you want to talk about your new headline?" Y/n tried to hold back the hint of amusement in her tone but failed miserably. Jack's rookie season had just come to an end before the beginning of summer. In just a few months he had gone from the talk of the league as the number one draft pick to talk of the league as a "bust."

He was nothing close to a bust. It was just how the year fell.

Jack leaned back in the swing, the sun's final strokes of light for the day painting his cheekbones. He sighed; a heavy exhale filled with the weight of the rumors that had been following him like a dark shadow. "It's just how it's going to be now. You know how it is with the media. They're desperate to find a new angle to keep me going." There were a few moments of silence shared between them before he found the words to continue. "First, it's all about my game, how I'm not scoring enough or I'm not this hotshot star that every analyst built me up to be. Season ends and it's about my supposed love life." His voice was a mix of annoyance and defeat. He was used to being the center of attention, truthfully he strived to be in the center of attention. He just wasn't used to it always being negative attention.

"To be it all, I have this video chat meeting with public relations, franchise management, and my management team about some idea they have come up with to help bring attention away from everything." Jack groaned. "We have three days left of the summer before we drive back to Jersey, I don't want to spend one of them in meetings."

Y/n nodded sympathetically, placing a comforting hand on his forearm and leaning herself over on him. "It's okay, bubs. Maybe it's nothing too serious." But she could tell from the furrow in his brow, the way his jaw clenched and the tension in his voice that he was already aware of what they had come up with. Or at least he had an idea. She didn't dare pry, they may be best friends, but Jack was clearly not ready to share his thoughts. "And... If it is serious I will be in Jersey this season to help you through it."

Jack gave her a grateful smile before standing up from the porch swing, stretching his arms out wide. "Yeah, you're right. I shouldn't worry about it tonight." He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead, a gesture that was as commonplace as breathing between the two of them. "Thanks for the pep talk, toots." He said, using the childhood nickname that never failed to make her smile despite the circumstances. "I should head back down the street to my parent's place. It's getting late."

As he turned to leave, the rising moon cast a cool glow over the yard, highlighting the tall blades of grass that danced with the intermittent breeze. Y/n watched him go, her mind racing with the implications of what might happen at that during his meeting tomorrow. Would they really suggest something so ridiculous? And if they did, how would Jack handle it?

Jack's footsteps grew fainter until they were swallowed by the night. The house, once alive with the echoes of their laughter, now felt eerily quiet. Y/n remained seated out on the swing, her thoughts spiraling into a whirlwind of doubt and concern. She knew Jack was strong, capable of taking on any challenge thrown his way, but the thought of him being manipulated into some scheme to save the face of the Devils franchise made her sick. Then she thought, what if they didn't call a meeting to manipulate him into anything? What if it's simply to offer suggestions on what he can do differently going forward?

Y/n eventually shut that portion of her brain off and headed inside herself. A long hot shower and her bed was calling her name.

The next day Jack sat in his father's home office, the room smelling faintly of cologne and leather, waiting for the others to join the video call. The space was a testament to his father's success, filled with trophies and framed newspaper articles from his own days as a star player and coach. It was both inspiring and daunting, a constant reminder of the legacy he and his brothers were trying to live up to. The computer screen flickered to life, displaying a Zoom call with a row of faces, some familiar, some not. His management team, PR reps, and a couple of team officials stared back at him, all expectant and poised.

Jack leaned back in the chair, his casual attire feeling woefully inadequate among the suits and professional backgrounds of his callers. He had taken his mother's advice and dressed comfortably, but now he wished he had at least put on a button-up shirt. He glanced down at his New Jersey Devils t-shirt, the logo stretched slightly across his chest. It was a fan favorite, one that had been thrown at him in excitement by a young fan at a game. It felt like a piece of armor, a symbol of his pride and commitment to the team, but today it just made him feel like he was the kid, and he was playing dress-up in his dad's old gear.

The meeting began with a round of forced smiles and awkward greetings. The tension was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. Y/n's words from the night before echoed in his mind, a comforting whisper amidst the storm of uncertainty. He took a deep breath, bracing himself for whoever their absurd suggestion be his girlfriend when they had conjured up the fake relationship idea to "fix" his image.

"Jack, before we start, do you remember the guidelines I told you for this relationship or should we go over them again with everyone here?" The voice was cold and calculated, belonging to one of the stern-faced PR reps. Her eyes bore into him through the screen, demanding his full attention.

Jack's stomach lurched. He had hoped they would just come right out with what was new, news. "I think everyone is aware of what we're trying to achieve here, but please go ahead," he said, trying to keep the sarcasm at bay.

The stern-faced public relations rep, Ms. Castellanos, nodded curtly. "Good. So, the first guideline is that you two must be seen together at least three times a week. This includes public appearances such as dates, her being seen attending your games, and even casual outings like grocery shopping or walking the dog. That is if you or her have one."

Jack's eyes widened slightly, glancing down at his half empty coffee mug. He didn't have a dog, but he still didn't know who this girl they paired him up with was. Plus, he didn't know if Y/n had picked up any new hobbies involving pets in her last year of college. It was never mentioned during their weekly calls or on visits. It would be important to know that since she’s going to be living with him.

"Jack, are you listening?" The voice brought him back to the present, the sternness of Ms. Castellanos' tone was unmistakable.

Jack swallowed down the anxiety that was bubbling up inside him and nodded in acknowledgement.

Ms. Castellanos continued, "Guideline two, and perhaps the most important one, is that the relationship must appear genuine. You must exhibit believable public affection and body language. This means holding hands, occasional kisses on the cheek, maybe a few on the lips if the situation calls for it. As for body language," the stone-cold lady stopped speaking, watching Jack carefully once more. "You're both young, attractive, and in the public eye. If you lean into each other, have your arms around each other's waist, or even occasionally rest your head on her shoulder, it'll look natural and convincing. The media will eat it up, and your image will be transformed from a lonely heartthrob to a lovestruck boyfriend in no time."

Jack felt his cheeks flush slightly, the thought of faking intimacy with someone he'd never met before was nerve-wracking, to say the least. He took another sip of his now lukewarm coffee, trying to imagine how awkward the first kiss would be. He had never been one for faking emotions, especially something as intimate as love.

Ms. Castellanos continued, her voice unforgiving. "Guideline four is critical. The relationship must end with your girlfriend, and I stress this, must be the one to initiate the breakup. It should be done publicly and dramatically enough to make headlines, but not so much that it causes a scandal." She paused, allowing the gravity of the situation to sink in. "You cannot under any circumstances leave her. If it looks like you're the one who ended things, it'll only add fuel to the fire of your reputation. You need to be seen as the heartbroken party, the victim of a fickle heart. It'll humanize you, make you more relatable to the fans."

Jack felt his jaw clench at the coldness of the plan. He had agreed to a fake relationship to get the media off his back, but this was starting to feel like a script for a reality TV show gone wrong. "And what happens if we... I mean, if she gets tired of the whole thing?" He stumbled over his words, trying to maintain some semblance of respect for the stranger he was about to be romantically linked with.

"Ah, that's where guideline five comes into play," said Ms. Castellanos, her eyes gleaming with the excitement of her own cleverness. "We've prepared a non-disclosure agreement that she will be signing before the relationship begins. It's quite comprehensive and includes clauses for breaking it off in a controlled manner. She'll understand her role in this, Jack."

Jack's grip tightened around his coffee mug, the cheap porcelain feeling fragile under his thumb. "But who is she?" he repeated, his voice a little louder, a hint of frustration creeping in.

Ms. Castellanos' smile didn't waver, but her eyes narrowed slightly. "Her name is Elena Petrov," she said smoothly. "A local influencer with a clean reputation. She's been briefed on the situation and has agreed to help. She's a fan of the team and understands the importance of this for your career."

"No." Jack huffed out. gaining the attention of everyone on the call. Just the same as Jack, everyone else barely stayed tuned into her annoying voice. "She is the reason I am in this shit hole. Her friend is the last girl I was with. Elena took all the pictures. Maggie? A little help here." Jack pleaded with the IT media girl that for some miraculous reason was sitting in on the call.

"Oh. Uhm, yes. It took me days to get the pictures she put up taken down. And Mr. Hughes, we were able to prove they were edited after looking closer at them," Maggie spoke up, her voice shaky, probably from fear of interrupting the woman that could potentially ruin their lives with a tweet.

Ms. Castellanos' eyes darted from Jack to Maggie and back again, her displeasure clear. "Jack, this is non-negotiable. This is what's best for your career right now. You need to be seen as more than just a party boy. The sooner you start this relationship with Elena, the sooner we can start repairing your image," she said, her voice like a whip cracking through the tension in the room.

Jack's manager, Mr. Taylor, cleared his throat before speaking up, his tone measured and calm. "Perhaps there's another option we haven't considered. What about Y/n?" he suggested, glancing at Jack, who looked up at him, hope flickering in his eyes.

Ms. Castellanos raised an eyebrow. "Your childhood friend?" She sounded skeptical, but the video stream grew quiet, all eyes on Jack.

Jack nodded, feeling the weight of the decision he was about to make. "Yeah, Y/n. We've been best friends since middle school. Everyone already thinks we're together. It'll be believable, and she's... she's not in the spotlight like Elena is. It'll keep things more low-key." He swallowed, hoping he wasn't about to ruin their friendship.

Ms. Castellanos leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers. "Very well, Jack. We'll consider it. But you need to talk to her and make sure she's on board with this. The last thing we need is for her to spill the beans and ruin the whole charade."

Jack nodded, his heart racing. He knew Y/n would do anything for him but asking her to be his fake girlfriend was a big ask. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation he was about to have. After the call ended, he let out a guttural groan due to frustration. He needed to go shoot some basketball or pucks before he talked Y/n, but he didn't have that time to waste. Instead of blowing off some of his stress he slipped on some shoes, kissed his momma goodbye, and headed out to the house he has visited time and time again.

The warm afternoon air was a major contrast to the coldness of the conversation he had just had. The streetlights flickered to life as Jack approached Y/n's house, the familiar path to her door as comforting as ever. He stopped in front of the door, the color of her door had changed since last summer, but the memories that lie behind it remained the same.

Jack took a deep breath before raising his hand to knock, the sound echoing through his head. Only thing on his mind was the conversation they were about to have. Jack flinched as he realized how hard and urgent he had beat on her mother’s front door. His heart thudded against his chest, partially with the anticipation of her reaction to the proposal and because of how quickly he had walked down the block. Jack took a deep breath in an urgent need to calm himself and appear as normal as possible before he was face to face with her.

Before he could finish his internal mantra of calming himself, the front door swung open in a rush. He was slightly hoping it would somehow be one of her relatives, but there she was, looking up at him with her soft, hopeful eyes. Her hair messily tossed into a messy bun atop her head and a sprinkle of fresh freckles danced across her nose from spending the day in the sun with his family yesterday. She was wearing the momentous hoodie that he had gifted her before leaving last summer. A hoodie that held a lot in its threads for the two of them. For her, it now held a lot of silent screams and wiped away tears from the last year, but it still held their joint memories.

‘It originally had become Jack’s superstitious hoodie for a while. The lucky hoodie he would wear all the way up to when he would change for warm ups, then she would wear it. This superstition developed during the years of world juniors. The year he brought home the Gold, the superstition shifted. Jack had a “girlfriend” that entire season and she wasn’t fond of the idea of Jack and Y/n swapping clothes like they did. The games with the development program were when she noticed this happening. She confronted Y/n about having a useless crush on her boyfriend and she would be taking over wearing his hoodie from then on. Jack didn’t take lightly to it, that was his best friend, his biggest non-family supporter. So, he decided y/n would wear the hoodie the entire time, from the time they all got dressed for the day to after the game. Now, it’s hers entirely, his decision since he couldn’t be here for her and live out his dream. He wanted her to have a piece of him, but if be a piece of them. Once again, it has become her comfort item as it has been back then.’

She fiddled with the stretched out sleeves hanging over left hand anxiously as her right hand was still grasping the door knob.

"How was your meeting?" The words fell from her lips so fast she hadn't taken a moment to invite him inside. Y/n had sat out on the porch swing all morning waiting to hear from him. Seeing him now ignited her anxiety and her need to know.

Jack let out a simple laugh at her eagerness to know. He softly touched her side, giving a slight nudge as if to signal her to walk backwards into the house.

The coolness of the air conditioning kissing his skin. "It was... interesting," he said, his voice a mix of relief and dread.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. She walked a few steps backwards with his guidance to allow him in, the old floorboards creaking under their weight. "Interesting as in good or interesting bad?"

Jack shrugged, his smile wavering as he let go of her and made his way into the living room. The same room where they had spent hours playing video games, watching movies, doing homework.

—Could he ask her to do this? What if it blows up in their faces and ruins everything. What if he ruins her? He’d never be able to live with himself for hurting her.

The couch looked inviting, but he knew better than to sit down without spilling his guts. "Well, it’s one of those ‘depends on how you take it’ interesting type situations..." he trailed off, his eyes wandering around the room.

Y/n looked at him, her eyebrows rising in a questioning manner. Her eyes were filled with a mix of concern and curiosity. She could read the hesitancy written all across him. Starting with wanting to open up about his meeting. Which is something he's never had an issue with, at least with her, to not wanting to sit down. Almost as if, if he got too comfortable he would tell too much.

Taking a hold of his hand, rubbing her thumb over his palm she leaned her head on his upper arm. A common gesture between them. “Jackers?” She whispered so softly, he nearly missed it. He hummed in response coming out from where he drifted off too. She took a hold of his hand and softly pulled him down to take a seat on the couch with her.

“Jackers, just tell me. Did they come up with something ridiculous?"

Jack let out a small laugh , the sound hollow and forced. "Ridiculous doesn't even begin to cover it," he whined, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "They want me to start a fake relationship with someone who I know is not going to help me. Then my manager suggested someone who would be great and I was for it because we already know each other but.." He took a deep breath, bracing himself for her reaction.

Y/n let go of his hand, in an unnatural reaction as they have been platonically physical since high school, "A fake relationship?" she echoed that one snippet. “With.. With who? Since I’ll be living with you I should be prepared for a new girl even if she is a fake girlfriend.”

Jack took a deep breath and looked up at her, his eyes filled with a desperation she had never seen before. "Toots, I really don't know what to do about this. PR decided on Elena Petrov. B—”

“You mean the friend of the bitch who started this mess? No I’m sorry the two who started this mess? You’re going to pounce around all lovey with the girl who put you here?!” Y/n’s chest heaved up and down heavily. She watched Jack’s face twist in annoyance then soften.

“If you had let me finish… I flat out said no. I will not and am not going to do this plan with her. When I told everyone on the call right then that I wouldn’t, my manager suggested someone else. But I don’t know if they’ll do it. They seem pretty disappointed in me…” Jack kept his voice even and didn’t raise it. He knew how you felt about being yelled at and he couldn’t be the one to cause a panic attack because he got a little upset.

“Well, who did they suggest? Maybe I can help. As long as it’s not Elena..”

“They suggested you. They asked me if I thought you would do it or if I would like you to do it with me. But if you're upset or disappointed, I'll tell them no right now," Jack explained, his voice a low rumble of uncertainty. He started fishing his phone out of his pocket in case he had to call his manager.

Y/n felt her throat tighten as a knot formed, a mix of emotions swirling inside her. She had always been there for Jack, and he for her, but this was something entirely different. This was a line they hadn’t truly crossed, and she wasn't sure if she was ready to pretend to cross it again. "Jack, I..." she murmured looking down at her hands in her lap, her voice trembling slightly. "Yes, I'll do it."

Jack's head snapped to look at her, his eyes failing to meet hers as she’s staring down, though a spark of hope igniting within him still. "You will?" he asked, his voice filled with a mix of surprise and relief.

Y/n nodded, her throat tight with unspoken emotions. "Yeah, I'll do it," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "For you, I'll do it."

Jack's shoulders slumped with relief. He reached out to lift her head hesitantly so that he could meet her eyes with his. His eyes searching hers for any hint of hesitation. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice wavering slightly. "You don't have to if you don't want to, management can figure it out.”

Y/n forced a smile and nodding her head yes, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and dread. The thrill of being able to go and do things with Jack was nice, but the dread of being scrutinized by females she didn’t know was already gnawing at her. "Besides, it's only for a couple of months, right?"

Jack's smile didn't part to show his teeth, it stayed tight lipped, evident he wasn't as enthused as his tone of voice was letting on. "Yup! Just for a couple of months."

"Okay, we can totally pull this off. It will be like playing pretend, remember?" She nudged him with her elbow, trying to lighten the mood with a memory from their childhood. More so for herself than him.

"You mean like when we got married under that old oak tree at my grandparents' house in the summer between sixth and seventh grade?" Jack nudged her back.

"Yup when you only agreed to get pretend married so you could get your first kiss."

She let a little giggle slip out as she reminisced on the memory of her and Jack as kids under the oak tree.

A young Jack with his signature smirk standing at the ‘altar’ with the “preacher Luke”. Jack didn’t wait for Luke to do his part of the pretend wedding he skipped straight to the kiss. ‘Couldn’t wait tootsie I was just wanting my 1st’

"If I remember correctly that was your first kiss too, and you asked for another one because of the ‘belly flies’." Jack teased her enjoying seeing her cheeky smile and blush creeping up on to her cheeks.

Y/n’s laughter echoed loudly through the room. "Jack Hughes, you are such a jerk!" She said playfully, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Jack laughed echoing her laughter. "So, do we have an agreement? You'll be okay with fake dating me, even though we never got fake divorced?"

Y/n shook her head yes once again, while rolling her eyes at the boy next to her. “Yes, Jackers. Even though you never fake divorced me, I will fake date you.”

If she only knew that Jack was silently and brutally beating himself up for this. They were in for a roller coaster of chaos and changes.

Now that he had secured one portion of the agreement, he has footwork left in figuring out how to get out of the hoops and twists. Like how to get out of that very public break up after a few months into dating. He wasn’t going to make her out to be some bitch she’s not.

And if Jack has it his way, they won’t be breaking up and it won’t be a “fake” relationship for long either.

Because Jack Hughes is hopelessly in love with his best friend. If he has any luck, besides puck luck, she loves him too.

notes 2.0: hello! welcome to my newest mini series, believe in me i hope you enjoyed the first part of the series. i am always open to kindly put creative criticism. i truly appreciate all of the continued support by reading, liking, & reblogging! thank you thank you!

[stergeon]

can someone please write this doropetra fashion designer/journalist modern au for me. i spent too long thinking about the devil wears prada today and now i have all the beats mapped out for this story i Do Not have enough time in the world to write.

please help. please. i'll give you everything. all of it. it's all right here. take it. mention me if you swap the names to sell the movie or streaming rights. i just want it to exist.

pitch: dorothea is a hot-nasty fashion mogul and petra is a journalist-turned-reluctant model who captures dorothea's attention (and her heart).

btw this is a Really long post so look out. also i know nothing about the fashion industry and Will Not Learn so don't tell me anything.

setting: various major cities in the USA. NYC, LA, Enbarr (you know, Enbarr, that major city somewhere between florida and texas. we've all been there).

cast

most everybody is in their mid-to-late 20s at the start.

petra: the last journalist with integrity in a world that's actively trying to eliminate journalism as a field. worked her ass off writing listicles and bullshit SEO articles for years until she caught a break and got in with a "Real Publication." she now works her ass off there. unfortunately there's rumors of her team getting laid off due to AI crap so she's stressed af trying to line up her next gig, just in case.

dorothea: hotshot young fashion mogul with a cult of personality around her. was a complete unknown barely out of college when she designed manuela casagranda's absolutely breathtaking met gala dress and her company blew up overnight. now does high-profile lines that are popular with movie star types and bougie social media influencers. notorious for being very, very friendly with her preferred models.

edelgard: petra's finance major/arts minor friend from college and her former roommate. nepo baby with Lots of connections. got petra her first big job writing PR crap for a division of the hresvelg business empire. caused a scandal by getting romantically involved with her TA (byleth) in grad school but they're still together. complains about her PA (hubert) and her lout of a stepbrother (dimitri), both of whom she's constantly texting or otherwise having to corral.

shamir: petra's boss/editor. admires petra's guts and her writing chops, as well as her ambition. somewhat of a mentor to petra, but is absolutely no-nonsense when it comes to work. she's been in this business a long time. there's no fucking around. leonie is another journo on the team. ignatz and linhardt also work with them doing layouts, formatting, and photo/video editing.

manuela: a famous singer from dorothea's hometown who basically adopted dorothea as a protégé after dorothea sent her sketches of designs she'd made. essentially responsible for dorothea's career. they have a bit of a contentious relationship these days as manuela's a bit jealous of dorothea's rising star and because dorothea's been ungrateful in recent years despite how much manuela's stuck her neck out for her. still, she's always there to give dorothea terrible advice when she needs it. her evolving relationship with dorothea is kind of a b-plot.

bernadetta: a reclusive, but well-connected social justice blogger and internet activist. one of petra's good buddies who regularly sends her scoops.

ingrid, ferdinand, sylvain, catherine, felix: models who commonly work with dorothea.

Jeritza: a nobody fashion photographer who thinks he's somebody. he's absolutely awful.

claude and hilda: paparazzi who work for tmz, buzzfeed, whoever will take em. petra thinks they are the scum of the earth. they are.

act 1

we open with petra on yet another bullshit assignment for her crappy job writing articles about things that don't matter. this one is a profile piece about a local fashion photographer, the mononymous Jeritza, who might be somebody someday and seems to think he already is. leonie was supposed to do the article but she flubbed it by offending Jeritza, who now won't give her the time of day, so shamir asks petra to please step in last-minute. petra's mad, but she gets her hustle on and goes anyway. it's not like she can be too picky with gigs in this economy.

by the time she gets to the shoot, she's late, and Jeritza is throwing a tantrum. the model isn't working out. Jeritza cannot work in these conditions. Jeritza fires the model and is about to freak the fuck out when petra walks in the door. oh, Jeritza says. i can work with you. petra did NOT sign up to be a model, has never wanted to be a model, has no interest in this whatsoever. but let's be real: it is a great angle for the piece. this could get clicks. shares, even. so she does it.

the shoot is a massive success, which is to say Jeritza is delighted with the results, but as it's just for a local streetwear company, the impact on culture is negligible. petra writes her article, which gets some attention due to the very funny portrait it paints of the histrionic artiste that is Jeritza. it's not much buzz, but it's just enough buzz to get shared around in fashion circles—enough for it to wind up in dorothea's inbox, courtesy of manuela. "Thought of you!! XD XD This is so funny!!" manuela writes. dorothea replies "lol" and is about to move on with her day when she decides to give the article a courtesy skim and scrolls down far enough to see the pictures.

oh. who is that model?

a few days later, petra's out at a bar getting drinks with edelgard and bitching about life when she gets a call from an unknown number. she figures it's probably spam, but they leave a voicemail. the transcription mentions it's from a dorothea arnault, whoever that is. edelgard almost shits a brick. DOROTHEA ARNAULT? you need to call her back. right now. petra's like okay jeez, i will. what's the big deal. edelgard facepalms. she forgot that petra doesn't follow fashion even a little bit ("isn't the gucci, like, the area between your butthole and your—?" "no petra it is not"). embarrassing for her, but there's no saving some people.

edelgard briefs her on the arnault situation. dorothea's studio is huge right now. edelgard's family business has been sponsoring some of her recent fashion shows and everybody who's anybody is trying to get an arnault outfit for their next event. while dorothea's very popular on social media, she's very tight-lipped about her private life. a profile on her could be a huge break for petra.

okay, petra thinks, what the fuck, okay. i'll call her back.

dorothea picks up on the fifth ring. uh-oh: she sounds hot.

hel-looo, miss macneary, she says, it's nice of you to pick up the phone. i saw that little article you wrote recently. you're sooooo funny. [her voice is sweet and smooth like butter. she sounds like she's twirling her hair as she talks. she doesn't say how she got petra's number. petra doesn't think to ask.] and those photos of you... my, my. you're quite the looker, aren't you? and you don't even model professionally? that's a terrible shame. you'd do well, you know. i'm in berlin right now but i'll be in enbarr's fashion district on tuesday afternoon. why don't you come by the studio? we're doing a shoot for some designs i'm releasing soon... a secret summer collection. oops, i shouldn't have told you about that, should i? well, i'm sure i can trust you to keep my secret. and maybe i could even trust you to write something nice about me? i think they'd suit you, you know, these new pieces i've got. if you have any interest in trying your hand at modeling again, i'd love to see you in them. 11 o'clock. ciao!

petra gets a handful of words in edgewise. most of them are yes. she keeps her phone held to her ear for too long after dorothea hangs up. she wishes she'd been sober for this conversation. she's not really sure what she just agreed to. she doesn't want to forget the sound of that voice.

she shoots a text to shamir. edelgard buys her a shot the instant she steps back into the bar.

tuesday comes and petra's nervous. she packed and repacked for this. checked twenty-five times that she brought her tape recorder and her good camera. arnault is gonna think that camera's a joke, but it is what it is. she's trying to play it cool, hyping herself up the whole time she's on the train. it's gonna be fine. just keep the tape rolling. write the profile. she doesn't have to model, she can just do what she does best. listen. pay attention. write honestly. move on.

sure.

if petra thought dorothea sounded hot, she's wholly unprepared for how hot she is in person. she's spellbinding. drop-dead gorgeous. positively unreal. and on top of that, she's so charming. she's graceful. smart. funny. flirty. and she keeps touching her—little touches on her hand, her arm. chaste things. friendly things. things that could be accidents.

she's exactly petra's type.

but petra is a journalist with integrity, dammit. she's going to be professional. and to her credit, she is professional. arnault makes it hard, but she manages. she blends in, listens, stays focused, stays out of the way. the model's cute—ingrid something-or-other. she can't remember but she got it on the tape recorder. told petra her instagram handle like six times, too, so she won't have any trouble finding her. the shoot is almost wrapped when dorothea asks if petra would be interested in modeling for her. she's not at all offended when petra politely declines. she poses when petra asks to take her photo for the profile. thanks her for coming out and talking to her. says goodbye with a polite handshake and that dazzling smile. she thinks about that smile and that touch throughout the whole train ride home.

skip ahead to friday. petra is working on the story and transcribing the audio recording when she gets a text from dorothea. so lovely meeting you on tuesday [heart emoji] [kiss emoji] [heart emoji] i know it's last minute, but the final pieces of the summer collection are coming in tomorrow and i think you'll like them for your profile. i'll fly you up tomorrow morning to meet me at my studio in manhattan, unless you're busy, of course~

petra is not busy tomorrow. shamir is considering opening a new style division of their publication.

the flight is the train ride but worse. keep the tape rolling, macneary. listen. pay attention. write honestly. move on.

she's resolute. committed. her resolve doesn't waver even when she gets off the plane, ready to call an uber, and there's a guy in a suit with a sign that says MACNEARY on it. it doesn't waver when the guy stops her and says no, he's not looking for another macneary, he's here for her, courtesy of ms. arnault. it doesn't waver throughout the ride—the chauffeured ride, in a fancy car, just her and the guy—from jfk through the streets of nyc, seeing the skyline she's only ever known from movies and on tv. it doesn't waver when she's escorted into a skyscraper in the garment district and guided up to the floor where ms. arnault is waiting for her.

it wavers when she sees her. when dorothea says her model couldn't make it that day and she could really, really use petra's help, it falls completely.

you can guess how the rest of that trip goes. petra barely remembers it herself. she gets back home to enbarr, trying to recover from the whirlwind week she's had by doing what she does best—working. she can scarcely believe any of it was real. she has to believe it when she gets back to her shithole apartment, sets to the task of transcribing the audio from her tape recorder, and realizes it was rolling the whole time.

the whole time.

and there's absolutely no denying any of it after dorothea sends her the photos for her review.

you look so good in these, she tells petra when she sends her the first photoset. i think you look better out of them, she says when she sends the second.

petra considers her options. considers freaking out. considers not replying. considers moving to australia. she considers and reconsiders and does none of those things.

what she does do is send dorothea the audio recording. dorothea sends her some photos of her own.

they meet up again in LA on the day the profile drops.

act 2

if that first week was a whirlwind, the summer is a hurricane. petra's being lauded for the quality of her profile on dorothea, as well as for being the only member of the press who can get close to ms. arnault. it's borderline scandalous, how she's also modeling the summer line despite not even being a real model. it's a thinly-guised affair—almost completely un-guised when their flirting gets a little too overt during a show in tokyo. who cares. petra's entranced. dorothea takes her everywhere, her personal reporter, lavishing her with gifts, showing her the world. she's keeping her busy between all this travel and all this passion. they go to show after show, shoot after shoot; petra works her ass off, keeping the tape rolling, listening, paying attention. so what if she doesn't have time to answer shamir's texts right away the way she normally would. the website's getting more traffic than it ever has, carried by petra's inside scoop on the world of dorothea arnault. shamir can cut her a break.

and she's surprised by how much she likes dorothea. how much she likes spending time with her. dorothea's all the things petra thought she was: glamorous, bubbly, charismatic. but she's also so brilliant, so hard-working, busting her ass every single day of her life. and she's sweet, too. she lavishes petra with attention, gives her all kinds of little gifts and things—nothing too expensive as to make petra uncomfortable (the jetsetting is bad enough as-is), but small, practical things she actually likes and could use. she asks petra about herself almost as often as petra asks questions about her. it's not petra's job to talk beyond getting the conversation flowing, to put more of herself into the discussion than there needs to be to get dorothea to open up. she's here to listen. to pay attention. write honestly and move on.

but she's finding she doesn't really want to move on.

one night they're hanging out in dorothea's fancy hotel room eating room service and drinking wine when dorothea makes a crack about how little petra knows about fashion. petra admits that she really didn't intend to get into it, that it just kind of happened. that what she really wants to do is investigative work, writing about events, exposing corruption, that sort of thing. no offense to dorothea! it's been fun doing this, don't get her wrong, but she's got goals, other things she wants to do—once dorothea gets tired of her, she jokes. sort of jokes. dorothea laughs. she smiles at her and asks why she wanted to be a journalist.

and petra's honest again. honest like she hasn't been before. she tells her a little about her childhood, her family life. about growing up in brigid (you know, the country on planet earth) and moving to enbarr as a teenager after her father died. seeing her super-smart, brilliant mother and grandfather go from these auspicious jobs in their home country to shitty ones that just barely pay the bills here, all in the name of long-term security. how they taught her to work hard and always act with integrity, no matter what she's doing. she tells her about the struggles of learning a new language, how it made her become a good listener, how she fell in love with writing because it gives her time to think about her words, to express herself the way she wants to. she wanted to be a journalist to speak for those who can't raise their voices loud enough on their own.

dorothea smiles at her the whole time she's talking. petra's not used to being on this side of the table, to being listened to like this. she almost doesn't know how to handle it; she's apologizing, feeling embarrassed for having said so much, but dorothea says don't be sorry. that's beautiful. she's lucky to have such wonderful people in her life who love her and support her. and she likes hearing petra talk.

things are different after that night.

act 3

the start of the Drama Arc. the summer's coming to an end. petra and dorothea are still spending so much time together, jetsetting around the world. petra's working on a piece that's a backstage look at the arnault company's leadup to milan fashion week. the stress is getting Real and the cracks are starting to show. petra's missing deadlines, blowing off shamir, blowing off edelgard, blowing off her family. she's barely in enbarr these days, jetlagged to hell, lost between time zones. her pal bernadetta reaches out and says hey, there's something Big i'm working on that i could use help digging into, can you give me a hand? petra says sure, i'll take a look. she doesn't. she forgets somewhere between london and são paolo.

things are still hot between her and dorothea, but she's starting to see the cracks in her, too. she's getting to see more of her, more of what lies beneath all that glam and bubbly personableness. you don't go from being a nobody to a mogul in your 20s by being nice, and what petra slowly discovers is that dorothea isn't just not nice, she is ruthless. she's nonstop, working her ass off, and anyone who can't keep up with her gets left behind. she hints at her past sometimes: at her shitty childhood, at growing up in poverty, at being orphaned, at having spent years in foster care. but she never opens up. she's 100% focused on the future, and it's all she wants to talk about. dorothea wants to live her dreams, yes, but more importantly, her goal is self-preservation.

petra finds this out when they're at a shoot one day. petra's off to the side, fucking with her piece of shit camera when who storms up to her but ingrid, and she's pissed as shit. she chews petra out. calls her an asshole. says she stole her job. asks what the fuck is wrong with her, doing that while posting her articles, publicly announcing to the world that she never even wanted to be a model. petra's floored. she doesn't even know what she's talking about. she asks ingrid to start over.

that "second date" of theirs in manhattan, way back when? turns out dorothea was telling the truth when she said her model couldn't make it that day. ingrid was supposed to be modeling. she was dorothea's #1 for ages. she'd just come off back-to-back-to-back shoots when she got sick, really sick. stuck-in-shanghai-and-probably-not-going-to-be-able-to-board-a-flight-to-manhattan-tomorrow sick. she told dorothea so, said she'd try her best. dorothea said not to bother and didn't call her again.

it'll happen to you, too, ingrid tells petra, once you aren't useful to her. you're giving her all this press now, but if you ever do anything else, she'll drop you like she drops everyone else.

ingrid storms off, leaving petra standing there, holding her stupid camera. she looks at dorothea, standing across the room, running the show, correcting this and that, getting everything perfect, exactly the way she wants it. petra looks at her and wonders. wonders what would happen if she wrote something dorothea didn't like. if somebody new caught her eye.

they get dinner that night and it's tense. dorothea's stressed. she's carrying on about this and that, talking about the shoot, texting and responding to emails, slamming back glass after glass of wine. petra's quiet, letting her talk. too quiet, apparently, because dorothea eventually takes her head out of her phone and asks her what's up. nothing, petra says, just thinking about everything going on, about the shoot today. dorothea rolls her eyes. i know, she says; on top of everything else, ingrid was there, and she wanted to have a whole conversation with me, like i wasn't busy and like she didn't fuck me over the last time i saw her. she texted me earlier, too. the audacity of this bitch, she gripes, going back into her phone, still mad. a little later into dinner, manuela calls and dorothea answers it; she's bubbly and sweet, all hi how are you omg it's been so long, i miss you, sorry i've just been so busy~ i've gotta go but we'll catch up soon. she hangs up and shoots petra a look. she's so needy, dorothea says, laughing. petra tries to laugh too and can't quite manage.

they're still going everywhere together in the leadup to milan fashion week, and petra's still working on the piece, but she's feeling a little gross and she's quieter than ever. she lets herself believe that maybe it's fine, maybe it's okay, maybe she's not really that cold and ruthless. but then dorothea shows her one day.

everything's been going wrong: there's equipment stuck in customs, marketing materials haven't been delivered from the printers yet, the studio they rented for pre-shoots is double-booked. then a model's late to the shoot and another one is complaining and dorothea is done, so done. she fires them on the spot, gets on the phone and calls two new ones who will get the job done and done without question. petra's quiet. listening. paying attention. keeping the tape rolling as dorothea justifies herself aloud, without prompting. don't judge me, she says. i do what i have to do, and everyone else should, too. i know no one is going to take care of me. i've got no reason to take care of anyone else.

she's a mess all night. angry. stressed. shutting herself off. petra's seen her get like this a few times, but this is the worst it's ever been. she's in her phone all night. practically snaps at petra when she asks if she can help her with anything. shrugs away from petra's touch.

they go to bed and petra barely sleeps. she just lies awake, thinking. thinking about dorothea. thinking about herself. thinking about how she's been blowing off her friends, her family, her boss. thinking about how swept up she's been in all this crazy stuff she doesn't even really care about, putting off her own career. feeling guilty about ingrid. feeling guilty about blowing off shamir and bernadetta. worrying about who she's become around this woman. wondering what happened to her integrity.

fashion week goes great. flawlessly. petra heads back to enbarr afterward. she's almost ready to publish her piece, but she's gotta make up with shamir first. she apologizes. says she's so sorry. sorry for blowing her off. sorry she missed her deadlines. shamir is pretty fucking done with her and has told her as much already, but petra's earnest, and her piece is ready, and she wants to give the girl one more shot. she tells petra alright, i'll forgive you, but i need this piece tonight or we're done. i can't keep waiting on you and your schedule.

okay, petra says, you'll have it tonight.

she's worried. nervous. there's so much on her mind. the piece is ready but it's not going to make dorothea happy. she wants to call her first. she tries and gets her voicemail. tries again. nothing. texts her instead, a few times. hey, she writes, i need to talk to you. call me when you get the chance. it's about the profile. it's important. i'm on a deadline.

nothing. the hours are ticking by. she calls her. texts her. it's really important, dorothea. i need you to talk to me. please.

nothing.

petra's left wondering. wondering what to do. whether she should hit send on this email or hold off. wondering what she wants out of this.

and what is this, anyway? a summer fling? are they dating? girlfriends? they've never put a name on anything. do they have a future? can petra even think about building a future with someone she doesn’t trust to keep her along if she ever should need help? maybe dorothea’s hot and smart and maybe she’s got incredible drive but if she doesn't share petra's values, if she’s not going to be able to live for more than herself, and be true to herself, can petra accept that? does dorothea even know herself well enough to be able to be authentic?

time runs out and petra sends her piece to shamir. dorothea leaves her on read.

the piece is published. it's a huge hit, and not just in fashion circles, because it's a perfect portrait of dorothea arnault, and who doesn't love a biography of a wunderkind. it's honest. it's real. it talks about everything: her light, her darkness, the ups and the downs of being with her. it's raw. personal. revealing. it's all her brilliance and all her evils, captured in the way only someone who really loves her could do.

when it drops, petra expects dorothea to call and rip her a new one. she doesn't expect her not to call at all. but dorothea's radio silent. a few days later, some dickhead paparazzi petra has the misfortune of knowing (hilda and claude) send her a picture of dorothea in LA, running around with some red-headed douche (ferdinand).

sorry, dorothea texts her eventually. i've been soooo busy. i've missed you, but we'll catch up soon.

sure, petra writes, knowing they won't. i'll see you soon, she writes, knowing it's goodbye.

act 4

petra goes back to her career. back to her friends. crashes on edelgard's couch for a while. spends time with her family. starts addressing the connections she fucked up, fixing things with shamir, trying to gain momentum again. despite the profile on dorothea being such a success, it takes a long time for her to get back on her feet. but it's okay, 'cause if she's busy, she doesn't have to think about her.

months go by. every couple of nights, dorothea drafts a text to petra and deletes it.

it's february now, which means new york fashion week is here, and although petra is branching into investigative stuff nowadays, shamir calls in a favor and asks her to help cover it. petra knows she might see dorothea there. knows it’s a risk. decides she’s gonna be so strong and brave, and she can’t really afford to pass it up anyway because it’s a big career opportunity, a chance to revisit fashion after her profile last year. so she goes.

and they see each other. and nothing happens. they don't even say hello.

but that night, when petra’s in her hotel room, spiraling, dorothea calls her. she's in a hotel up the street. she asks petra to come over. for all her sense, her morals, her logic, petra is no more than a lesbian, so she says yes.

they don't talk. they jump right to making out sloppy style and fucking nasty and holy shit, it’s just like it was when they first met: hot and intense and so good, so perfect. except it’s not, it’s not, because this isn’t going to work out no matter how much they want it to, and they both know it. they get into a big fight after dorothea makes a crack about the profile and petra loses it. she puts dorothea on blast for being such a piece of work, saying she can’t ever be with her no matter how much she wants to because dorothea won't ever put someone else first and she’ll never figure out how to be anything other than alone.

then petra drops another bomb. over the past few months, she's made up with bernadetta, and it turns out that the big scoop bernie uncovered is about exploitative business practices a certain scummy fashion company engages in. a certain scummy company that dorothea's company is partnered with. said company's dealings wouldn't get their business partners in legal trouble, but public perception would certainly change. she's been working on an exposé about it. she's going to release it soon. really really soon. like as soon as she gets back to enbarr.

dorothea looks like she's been hit by a truck. she begs petra not to release the story about the company. it’s going to fuck her brand. she'll be ruined. she offers petra whatever she wants. gets nasty, even, defensive. then she fucking breaks. she doesn’t fully open up, but it’s the closest she’s ever come to doing it. she says she's sorry, sorry for hurting her, sorry for shutting her out, sorry she cut and ran like she always does when she might catch feels, when she might be vulnerable for once. she says she's sorry and she asks her please, please, not to release the story.

petra doesn’t give her an answer. she just goes back to her hotel.

once she gets back, she doesn't sleep. she stews for ages, pacing, going back and forth, trying to figure out what to do. act with integrity and drop the story as-is. don’t drop the story and protect the person she cares about, in spite of herself. amend the story so maybe dorothea won’t catch heat...? no, that wouldn’t be acting with integrity either. she can’t win either way.

and dorothea’s having a think, too, which is to say she’s a fucking WRECK. realizing how bad she’s fucked up her life. realizing that petra liked her for her. wanted to get to know her for more than her name and her money and her connections. told her things about herself she didn’t even realize were true. and she hurt her at every single turn. for the first time in her life, she had a chance at something real with a good person who really loved her and she fucking blew it. there’s so much dissonance as she tries to defend her own actions to herself and can’t because petra’s wormed her way into her head, the only person who ever Really questioned her, the only person who ever made her question.

she's always figured things out alone. she's always had to figure things out alone. this time, though, dorothea's not sure she can handle it. so she does the only thing she can think to do: she goes to manuela with her tail between her legs. manuela's a little pissy at first as dorothea's been blowing her off for a while now, but she's also worried, because dorothea has never come to her like this. not once. and she's offered for her to, a lot.

when manuela hugs her, dorothea breaks. she ugly-cries into manuela's arms. tells her how bad she's fucked up. how much she hates herself. how sorry she is for being a dickhead when manuela's only ever wanted to be there for her. manuela comforts her. chastises her for being an asshole, yeah, but shores her up, too. tells her if she's really sorry, she'll figure out how to change. tells her that she's there for her, and she'll keep being there for her, so long as she tries. dorothea's blown away. she thought she'd lost her shot at having love in her life, but she was too blind to see there are other types of love she's been shutting herself away from, too.

dorothea leaves manuela's, still feeling like shit, but with plans to get lunch or at least call each week, and with the promise that she's going to do better, be better.

she makes an effort, too. she cuts ties with the skunks. changes her business practices. starts being more charitable, less ruthless, less aggressive. it’s a slog and it sucks and she’s bad at it but fuck she’s going to try. even if petra never takes her back, even if petra just thinks dorothea’s trying to cover her own ass again and protect herself from the impact of the story, it doesn’t matter. she’s going to be better. she’s going to try to do things right, because someone believed in her, someone thought she could be better. and she’d never thought so highly of herself, never thought she could be more until petra came into her life and saw the potential in her.

petra releases the story a week or so later, unrevised. she texts dorothea before she does. says she’s sorry. dorothea says it’s alright. she understands.

the story drops and it’s a clusterfuck. an absolute PR disaster. the scummy company folds overnight. a bunch of related fashion companies, including dorothea’s, are in huge hot water. dorothea’s on the press circuit, doing damage control. petra’s watching an interview with her, listening to her spouting off her PR beats. fully expecting dorothea is going to deny everything, throw everyone she can under the bus to keep her shit afloat. so she just about has a heart attack when dorothea admits she’s fucked up. admits she made the wrong decisions, did stuff she knew was scummy. takes accountability. is honest for once. honest in a way petra didn’t think was even possible for her.

dorothea outlines her plans for how she’s going to be better, the changes her company’s making, how things are going to be different. says she’s making a commitment. if it all folds, so be it. at least she’ll be able to sleep at night.

because capitalism is the way it is, the company doesn’t go under. they’re in the red for a while and the "Controversies" section of her wikipedia page is now significantly longer, but the news cycle goes on and consumers forget and a few months later, pieces from dorothea’s summer line are all the rage with the kids on tiktok. petra’s more than a little bitter about it, but mostly she doesn’t give it any thought. she did her part. wrote honestly. spoke the truth. kept her integrity. she’s become a big name since that scoop, too, with her career really taking off. she's writing books and shit, appearing on tv, what have you, doing the investigative work she's always dreamed of doing.

she’s in london one night on the final leg of a press tour, sitting in her hotel room, when she gets a call.

it’s dorothea. she’s in london too. would petra like to get brunch tomorrow?

yeah she would. bitch loves a mimosa.

they get brunch and it’s tense. they try small talk but don’t really know what to talk about. dorothea makes it more awkward by cracking a joke about petra writing an article about her after this brunch and petra only kind of laughs.

but then dorothea apologizes. earnest. honest. like she’s never been with petra. tells her she’s sorry. tells her how she changed her life and made her think about herself differently, made her think she could be a better person. made her Want to be a better person. convinced her it’d be worthwhile to try. and she has. she’s made so many steps since they last saw each other. doing better. living kinder. living true. says she doesn’t expect anything from petra at all. just wanted to say sorry, and thank you for seeing the best in me.

petra says you’re welcome.

dorothea pays for brunch and they go their separate ways. dorothea holds it together until she gets to her hotel room and then she loses it, bawling her eyes out like she has never ever done, like she’s never let herself do. but it’s okay. she loves petra, that hot journo with the cute accent and more morals than sense, but dorothea knows she doesn’t deserve her, and she’s going to be okay with that. she’s going to live better anyway, for herself, because she’s worth it.

act 5

a year and a half goes by before dorothea and petra run into each other at a formal Thing. they talk, cordial, business-like, just catching up. dorothea makes a crack about the tmz photos of petra with three or four different high-profile supposed gfs over the past year and a half, calling her a heartbreaker. petra laughs, a real laugh. says dorothea's one to talk. asks if she's been keeping up with her? how often does she google her? dorothea says she does it more often than she'd like to admit. petra blushes, laughs again, flattered.

she asks if dorothea's been breaking more hearts lately herself and dorothea says nah. she's been focusing on her business. she's got this non-profit going now too, and it's been taking off. just landed some pretty big investments that will bring arts programs to schools that don't have funding for them. she looks proud of this. she is. she's actually spending more time doing that these days than her fashion stuff, which makes her a little sad, but it's not so bad because it's given her a bit of a mystique: the designer whose work was once Everywhere, now dropping limited release lines every few seasons instead of keeping up with the fast fashion whirlwind. it's different but it's good. she likes it. she's happy.

petra says she's glad to hear that. that she's happy for her. makes a reference to the new line dorothea's rumored to be dropping this fall. dorothea's eyes almost pop out of her head. you know about that? yeah, petra says, i google you. she's known about the non-profit, about everything dorothea's been telling her about. she's a journalist. she likes knowing things. but she likes knowing about her. knowing that she's doing well. and it's really good now, knowing that she's happy. she tells dorothea she's happy for her. that she's proud of her. that she knew she could do it.

dorothea doesn't cry. just says thank you. she gets called away by somebody else, and petra does too, pulled in the opposite direction. dorothea thinks about hugging her first. almost touches her hand. elects not to. says it was good to see her. then they're both whirled elsewhere and they don't see each other again.

but that night when dorothea's in her hotel, she gets a text. it's from petra. would she like to get coffee tomorrow?

FIN

[carousel-crows]

19. online dating if it hasn’t been taken

i gotchu anon

Prompt #19: Online Dating

just fyi i have never been on a dating app. i don't care if this is inaccurate.

⚠️TW: Implied/referenced sex⚠️

———

“Goose, I don't want a relationship. Stop badgering.”

“You're so stubborn. Just try it. You could meet your soulmate or something!”

“I said no. Drop it, Nick.”

“I had hoped it wouldn't come to this.” Goose takes a deep breath. “You're a coward.”

Maverick gasps dramatically. “How dare you? A stab at my honor? after all we've been through together?”

“I'll take it back if you make an account and at least try it.”

Mav huffs. “Gimme the phone, bitch.”

Goose cheers, handing the phone to Pete triumphantly. He reluctantly creates an account, only adding the necessities. He doesn't put his rank or his job at all. 

God, this is so dumb. 

———

Thomas “Iceman” Kazansky does not like the concept of online dating. Yet he created an account.

Why? Slider’s insistence, of course. 

He was uncomfortable even opening the app. Yet he did. 

Why? 

He was curious, he'll admit. It was an app designed for any orientation, not just heterosexual people. That was a bonus. Plus, he was approaching his 30’s, and he wanted to at least go steady with someone. 

He set up a blind date with a man in his area through the app. They were going to meet up at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant next to the beach on Friday. It sounded fun, but Ice was hesitant to get his hopes up.

———

Mav had a date. Friday evening. 

He was excited, if a little worried. It was a blind date with someone named Thomas at a place he'd never been to. But it was near the beach, so he can count on that going well. Hopefully.

———

Ice walked into the restaurant and checked his reservation. He was early, but extremely anxious about being stood up. 

Until Maverick came sauntering in the door, aviators hung on his white tee. 

He wore the same jacket as always, his hair windswept from riding his motorcycle way above the speed limit. He smiled as he approached Ice's table.

“Hey, Ice. Who you waitin’’ for?”

“My date. He’s not late, but I don't know if he's going to show.”

“Do you know his name?” So he didn't care if he was into men. Noted.

“I think his name was Peter?”

“Oh, cool. I'm here for a date, too. Really nervous.”

“What's her name?”

“Well, his name is Thomas….. Wait—” His eyes widened, but Ice didn't catch why. “Show me his profile.” He sat in the seat opposite Ice.

“Uhh… okay?” 

Ice opened the app and showed Mav the card, confused. Mav bursted out laughing, and other patrons glanced over, presumably annoyed. 

“What's so funny, hotshot?”

“Ice, that's my profile. We're supposed to be on a date together.”

“Oh my god. We got set up by AI.”

“Guess we have more in common than we thought.” Pete is still grinning like a menace, barely stifling laughter. Ice is thoroughly embarrassed, knowing he's red as a lobster.

Conveniently, the waiter popped up and handed them menus. Ice ordered alcohol immediately.

———

They oddly had a pleasant evening, stopping at an ice cream shack on the beach before strolling on the beach. Despite the cliché, Ice thought Mav looked stunning in the golden glow of the sunset, smiling and laughing. Ice wanted to see him like that forever. 

But he didn't mind seeing him sprawled out under him that night, eyes blown wide and smiling widely. 

He didn't mind seeing him basking in the morning light, laying on Tom’s chest, either.

———

make sure y'all are drinking water and resting!

[intothecest]

Cesty Hallmark Movies: The Christmas Liability

I blame @shipcestuous for this. Or rather, I think it might be one of the submitters there who had the idea for a Hallmark movie contest where we imagine what the plot might be if Hallmark did a brother/sister Holiday Romance movie, coming up with a plot outline, title, and even a poster.

I don't know if the contest is actually going to be a thing. If it is, this is my official entry. If not, maybe this will kick it off. Regardless, I think I found something fun to do with my fictional movie plot outlines (yes, plural... this may be my official entry, but there might be more similar posts coming in subsequent days) .

Because I have zero artistic skills, I used AI for a movie poster. Yes, yes, I know, AI, but as I said, I have zero artistic skills and this is just a bit of dumb fun. Apologies to any artists whose work was scraped by the AI for training purposes. And to anyone who notices the things that don't look quite natural, that's one of the perils of AI. Although some of those might be my fault, too - I did a little bit of photomanip to add the title and a few other frills (which should also demonstrate my lack of skill in graphic design in general):

THE CHRISTMAS LIABILITY

After a rough few years, Melody thought her life was finally looking up. She might be working long hours, but it was her dream life in the big city, she had sophisticated friends, and was even dating a hotshot lawyer at the law firm she was hired at right out of law school, and, best of all, she just passed the bar and was ready to practice tort law herself instead of just being a paralegal.. Then, everything collapses just before Christmas. Her boyfriend, who she thought was going to propose, tells her that they have to break up as she's seen as a 'liability' to his own dreams of partnership. When she uncharacteristically makes a scene, she's let go from the firm entirely. To make matters even worse, she gets a letter from one of her old small-town friends… her slacker brother was being sued, and even though he won't ask for her help himself, he needs her.

Melody hasn't been home since the funeral of her parents, and her relationship with her older brother has always been fraught, but this newest development takes the cake. Without telling her, he renovated the family home and turned it into a bed and breakfast--and, as she could have told him would have happened--one of his guests hurt himself and is taking it to court… a case that could lose the family home entirely, which is partly her inheritance. If it's not bad enough that she has to return to the small town she always knew she was too big for and help her brother out of another mess he got himself into, he's still renting out the rooms to guests, and she has to either pay for a hotel or share a room with him. She's not sure what drives her crazier… her brother's irresponsibility and overly laid-back attitude, the Christmas cheer that seems to be mocking her, the grumpy old man who's suing Jack for an injury that was his own fault, or that every other guest thinks she and Jack are a couple until she sets them straight. Or that his renovations actually look good. So good that when she pulled up in the driveway, she thought she must have the wrong house.

But when a blizzard snows them all in, long-simmering tensions reach a boiling point, especially once she discovers her brother's real motives for renting the place out and how much the failed business ventures she associated with her brother had impacted her own life. The real liability might wind up being the feelings that have grown in her heart.

[alagaisia]

Okay this quiz has been SO fun thank you @rhaill the group chat has spent all night constructing a narrative based on who got what result in what order on the quiz. I am an alien life form that somehow crawled into this ship in an abandoned junkyard way on the outskirts of the seediest part of a dying city. Maybe I was in the ship before it was abandoned here. Who knows. But at some point I am roused by a random citizen discovering the open airlock doors and coming inside the spaceship for shelter from the lawless wastes. Probably intending to be a temporary thing but one of the lockers has fallen open to reveal a forgotten stash of rations and I begin to stretch my telepathic muscles and learn to communicate in a way that humans can understand and we become the best of friends. Shortly thereafter, one after another three separate scientists stumble upon our situation, probably just picking apart the junkyard for interesting things, and they’re like whoa. An alien fungus. (I am sooo interesting I cannot help but attract all these scientists to study me :). One of them gets something turned on in the spaceship and we discover that we have not one but TWO ship AIs (one of the four people who got scientist originally retook it because of the over abundance of scientists). They are in love. Like when shelter cats are bonded pair do not separate. With the help and instruction of the AIs and their knowledge of the ship, I am able to put my alien tech knowledge to work on this ship and begin fixing stuff up. Luckily we have three entire scientists to venture into the junkyard in search of spare parts and scrap. And then one day a hotshot ruffian comes to hide out from trouble he caused and discovers when he takes cover in what looks like an abandoned spaceship that it is in fact teeming with life (and scientists). He immediately adopts every one of us. The scientists have begun growing food in one of the labs (every available room having been turned into a lab of some kind), and turns out the civilian is a very good cook (…nobody got the cook result and we decided we could just assign it. There was some argument about whether we could also just appoint the random civilian as a figurehead captain before someone showed up and got that result). And when a rival group of scientists threatens to turn us over to the authorities, because such an interesting alien parasite as myself should have been turned over to the government for dissection instead of allowed to live and make friends, he’s like, okay. We’re getting out of here. I’m driving. And off to the stars we go (finally).

This just in from another latecomer, one of the rival scientists snuck aboard and was found stowed away in the hold. After a brief struggle and a couple of days locked up in a room that previously was storage for lab equipment but has been hastily emptied, during which I am curious and reach out with my telepathic abilities and we begin to converse, she realizes that I am a wondrous intelligent being who should be studied only with my consent and in pursuit of friendship and joins our crew as a goddamn fourth scientist.

hello mass effect / wayfarers / salvagers / other current scifi media enthusiasts, i have created a uquiz to hopefully scratch some itches regarding ragtag misfit spacecrew roles !

[captainsophiestark]

Plan B

Daniel Sousa x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Day Twenty-Six of Fictober!

Fandom: Marvel

Fictober Prompt: “How about trust me for once?”

Summary: Reader is a friend of Peggy's who's been on the team at the SSR for a few months. She hasn't really bonded with any of the men at the agency, except Thompson, who's her stupid hotshot mission plan buddy. She also spends a fair amount of time with Daniel, but reader hasn't gotten to bond with Agent Sousa as much. That might change drastically when the four go out on a mission to try and recover some more of Howard's stolen tech.

Word Count: 2,372

Category: Fluff, Humor

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Y/N?"

I looked up from the papers I'd been pouring over to see Peggy standing in front of my desk. I'd been squinting at the handwriting on the papers for a few hours, holding the pages only a few inches from my face, so I had to blink a few times before she came into focus.

"Hey Peg," I finally said, stretching and trying to shake off some of my exhaustion. "What's up?"

"We have a mission. A bit more of that stolen technology of Howard's finally resurfaced, and we need to go in and recover it."

"We meaning you and me?" I asked hopefully, knowing we wouldn't get that lucky.

"Yes, plus the boys."

I sighed. I liked Jack, and Daniel was nice, but it was easier to do missions when it was just me an Peggy.

"Oh relax," said Peggy, rolling her eyes teasingly. "We'll send you and Jack off together and you can go be reckless mavericks together."

"Peggy, you know me too well," I said with a grin. "When are we leaving?"

"Forty minutes."

"Alright. I gotta get this stuff cleaned up, and then shall we commandeer the men's locker room?"

"Sounds like a plan."

****************

After I shoved all my papers back into my desk, Peggy and I took over the locker room for the tenth time that month. We kept telling Jack he needed to build one for the women, and we were going to get him to listen to us one way or another.

Once we were all changed, we piled into a car and headed to the last known location of the Stark Tech. It was in a barn far out of town, and as far as we knew a buyer would be coming to pick it up tomorrow. Which was why we were going after it tonight.

"Geeze Jack, could you be a worse driver?" I growled, holding the seat in front of me as the car bounced and bumped along the road.

"It's not me, it's this paving job. There's a pothole every few feet."

"You could always try slowing down," Daniel ground out from his seat in the front.

"Come on Sousa, where would be the fun in that?"

Daniel and Peggy both shook their heads, but I just grinned. Out of all the men at the SSR, I was the closest to Jack, which I never would've seen coming. There was just something about our mutual reckless action plans that made it easy to bond.

"Alright, we're here," said Jack as he pulled the car into a clump of bushes and shut it off. "Let's go."

Without another word, the four of us piled out and started creeping towards the barn. We'd parked far enough away that no one would hear our engine or see our headlights, so it was a bit of a hike. Finally, the old building came into sight.

We crept closer, being careful to stay out of sight. There were stacks and stacks of hay in front of the barn, which gave us plenty of cover. We stopped behind a wagon about a dozen feet from the barn doors, crouching down to use it for cover.

"We're going to split up," whispered Peggy, getting right to business. "Half through the front, half through the back. We'll have them surrounded and they'll be forced to surrender before any of them know what's happening."

"Good plan," I said. "Peg, let's go-"

Before I could say anything else, we were interrupted by an engine roaring up behind us, headlights almost blinding us. I whirled around to see a car racing towards me, but I didn't have time to think through anything else.

I dove into the nearest person, pushing them out of the way with me. It turned out to be Daniel, and we went rolling across the ground as the car smashed through our hiding spot, then roared to a stop just in front of the barn doors. The doors of the barn and the car flew open at the same time, and men with guns came pouring out.

"C'mon," I said, looking away from the action and making eye contact with Daniel as the two of us struggled to our feet. Thankfully, he managed to keep hold of his crutch when we rolled. "We need to get out of here."

We helped each other scramble backwards as the men started firing in our general direction. They didn't know where we were yet, so we managed to find enough cover to take a second and catch our breaths.

"Who the hell are those guys?" I asked, breathing heavily.

"If I had to take a guess, I'd say they're the buyers. They must've decided to show up early," huffed Sousa. He glanced backwards, then hauled himself up enough that he could peek over our cover. He dropped back down almost immediately.

"What'd you see?" I asked.

"Not much. It seems like almost all the men from the barn are headed towards us, and I didn't see any sign of Peggy or Jack."

I nodded, trying to think things through.

"Do you think they got away? Like we did?" I finally asked.

"I hate to think of the alternative." We both paused at that. "I mean, I didn't see any sign of them. And knowing who they are, I can't imagine they didn't manage to make it into the woods."

"Alright... and most of the men are out of the barn..."

"Yeah, and after us."

I hummed, taking another second to think. I could hear the crowd of people behind us slowly getting closer as they swept through the piles of hay towards our hiding spot. Suddenly, I was struck with an idea.

"I just had a thought," I said, turning to Daniel.

"Oh yeah? Let's hear it."

"We make a distraction. We draw every single one of those guys that we can towards us, and we hopefully give Peggy and Jack enough space to get in that barn and get out."

"And how do you suggest we do that?"

"Let them see us," I said plainly. "Then retreat as fast as we can. Th-"

"That's insane."

"Hold on, I'm not done. Then, we use my hair tie to fix your lighter in the on position, toss it back towards the car they just crashed into the wagon, and light up everything in sight."

Sousa just stared at me for a few seconds, blinking and not saying a word. Finally, he responded.

"I can't believe you really beat out Peggy and Jack for the title of craziest agent in the office."

I rolled my eyes. "And do you have a better idea? The more of those guys we can occupy the better!"

"Have you considered that we won't be clear of the hay bales by the time we light it? Since we need them for cover, and I can't exactly sprint away from here at top speed?"

"Yeah, so? We'll be fine! We're less likely to get hit by bullets while we retreat if those guys are focused on something other than trying to shoot us!"

Sousa shook his head, so I hit him in the arm.

"Come on Daniel. How about you trust me for once?"

Daniel and I locked eyes, and I refused to look away. I wouldn't have suggested the plan if I didn't think it would work, and I tried to will Daniel to believe me by just staring intensely enough.

Finally, he sighed in exasperation and broke eye contact.

"Fine. Fine! But when your crazy plan gets us killed, you're the one who has to explain it to Peggy."

"Deal." I grinned. "Let's move."

Daniel and I snuck from one hiding place to another together, making little noises and letting the men sweeping the area catch quick glimpses of us to keep them on our trail. Then, once they were all in the same area of piles and piles of close together haystacks with us, and still in range from the gasoline of the car, we lit the nearest one up.

All the men started swearing and trying to put out the flames. Daniel and I used that as our chance, lighting up a few more haystacks before tying down the ignitor and chucking it back into the gasoline puddle from the car, then getting the hell out of there as fast as we could.

We were both wheezing as we reached our car, leaving the panicked bad guys and flames far behind us, and I couldn't help laughing too.

"What is so funny?" asked Daniel as we came to a stop next to the black sedan.

"Their faces!" I responded, laughing again as I pictured the scene in my mind. "They all freaked out so bad when the first haybale went up. You did great, by the way."

Daniel just looked at me for a second, and I kept smiling right back at him. Then, he burst out laughing too.

"That whole plan was ridiculous!" he said, smiling nonetheless. "I just hope it worked, and that Peggy and Jack managed to get into that barn and get the tech."

"Me too. If they're not back in the next ten minutes or so, I'm gonna have to come up with another crazy idea to rescue them."

"As great as that plan of yours was, I'd like to volunteer to come up with the rescue plan."

I grinned and took a few steps closer to Daniel.

"What's the matter, Daniel? Don't like crazy improvisation?"

"No, improvisation I like," he said, shifting a bit closer to me. "I just want to go in with a sane plan first, and then use crazy improvisation as a backup."

"Fair enough. You come up with the rational plan A, I'll be ready with the crazy plan B."

"Deal." He smiled, and it was infectious. We were almost standing chest to chest, and now that we were done teasing each other, I was starting to notice his lips more than his words.

I glanced up at Daniel to find him staring straight at my lips too. We made brief eye contact, and then I decided not to waste another second. We had almost died tonight, after all. There was no time to put things off when you worked for the SSR.

I closed the distance between us and met Daniel's lips with mine, kissing him hard. He stumbled a little, and we almost fell to the ground together, but then he recovered and kissed me back just as hard.

I completely lost myself in Daniel as he wrapped an arm around my waist and held me tight. I buried a hand in his hair, and then I deepened the kiss.

We only paused briefly to come up for air before we went right back to kissing. In the very back of my head, a tiny voice was reminding me we needed to stay alert and be ready to go help Peggy and Jack, but that voice just got quieter the longer I kissed Daniel.

"Oh my God, you have got to be kidding me."

Daniel and I pulled apart, albeit reluctantly, and turned to see Peggy and Jack standing a few feet away. They were both staring at us, Jack with his hands on his hips and looking annoyed while Peggy was grinning so wide it looked like it hurt.

"We're out there recovering Stark Tech and surviving burning barns and you're back here at the car... kissing," said Jack with a scowl.

"Don't worry Jack, we took care of those guys who were chasing us first to give you an opening," I said, smiling brightly. Daniel had a slight blush, but otherwise he looked just as unbothered as me.

"Oh yeah? And how'd you do that?" asked Jack.

"We set the barn on fire," said Daniel simply. I grinned, unable to hold back a cackle as Jack just shook his head. Daniel was smiling too as I turned to him.

"See how much fun it is to tell people about these plans when you pull them off?" I asked.

"Actually, yeah. I might be willing to do this more often after seeing Thompson's face."

"Oh, great," said Peggy in a teasing voice as she walked past us to stick the case of Stark Tech in the car. "If you've managed to corrupt Daniel, that means I'm going to be stuck being the reasonable one out of the four of us."

"Good luck to you," said Daniel without missing a beat. Peggy smiled and shook her head as Daniel opened the door and held it for me. He shot me a wink as I climbed inside, then he got in the backseat after me.

"I don't want any funny business back there," quipped Jack as he got into the driver's seat. "I will pull this car over."

"Whatever, Thompson," I said, stretching out so I could kick the back of his seat as Peggy climbed in. "Just drive."

Jack muttered a little, but he started the car and pulled back onto the road. In the distance, I caught a glimpse of the burning barn before we turned away and left it in the dust.

Jack and Peggy were talking about plans to arrest those men and send the fire department to the barn once we found a phone, but I tuned them out and looked at Daniel. He was already looking at me, and when we made eye contact, we both grinned.

I didn't think it was possible, but my job at the SSR had just gotten a lot more fun.

[dontcare77ghj]

Fighting

Natasha x reader x Bucky x Clint

This is the second time I’ve had to repost this. It’s getting bloody annoying.

“I’m going out.” You said, pulling your bag onto your shoulders. 

“Where are you going, doll?” Bucky asked, walking towards you and resting his hands on your shoulders.

“My mother’s in town. She wants to have lunch.” You gave him a smile, which he returned. He knew how much you missed your parents.

“Is your dad also coming?” He asked you.

“No, he’s working with the professor. He might be in town next month though, maybe the three of you could join us?” You asked, biting your lower lip.

“Maybe,” Bucky answered weakly.

“You look nice,” Clint said as he entered the hall, Natasha, right behind him. “What’s the occasion?”

“I’m having lunch with my mother.” You said as he kissed your cheek in greeting. “I won’t be back till later, want me to pick up some take out?” You asked, looking between the three.

“I’ll be out,” Natasha answered. “Sorry, kotenok. I won’t be back until tomorrow morning.” Natasha told you, moving forward to kiss you. “Have fun. I love you.”

“Love you too.” You said, watching as she left the hall without sparing Bucky a glance.

“I’ll make dinner tonight,” Clint told you. “Buck, you gonna join?“ 

"Think so.” Bucky nodded. “I have to meet Steve for a training session,” Bucky said, kissing both you and Clint before leaving.

“It’s not getting any better.” You whispered to the archer. “They won’t even be in the same room as each other.”

“It’ll get better, babe, I promise,” Clint said, pulling you to his chest. “Don’t worry about them right now. For now, go and have a great time with your mother. I’m going to talk to Tash before she leaves, and Buck later, see if I can’t speed this up.”

“Okay.” You nodded. “I’ll be back. I love you.”

“Love you too.” Clint kissed you before you moved into the elevator. “Hey, I’m going to fix this, okay?” He called as the doors were closing.

“I believe you, hotshot.” You smiled. “I believe you.” You repeated as the doors closed.

“Oh, I missed you.” You sighed, wrapping your arms around your mother.

“I missed you too, darlin’.” Your mother said, pulling back to look at you. “You don’t call me nearly enough.” She teased, using her gloved hands to push the hair off your face.

“I call you more than I call dad.” You said as the two of you took your seats. Your mother had chosen a cafe about an hour away from the Tower. When you’d arrived, she’d already picked a table outside the small cafe.

“That’s because your daddy never picks up.” She laughed. “Never has.”

“Have you heard from him?” You asked her. 

“No darlin’. Even if your daddy were the type to pick up, he’s working on something really big for Charles.” She shook her head. “I’d just distract him.”

“I spoke to him a couple weeks ago.” You commented. “He said he might come down next month.”

“That was supposed to be a surprise.” Your mother laughed.

“Was it?” You asked, raising a brow. “I’m pretty sure you were on that call. At least at the end.”

“I was, wasn’t I?” She laughed. “I’m sorry darlin’ my heads in the clouds.” She said as a waiter brought over your drinks.

“When did you order?” You quizzed her, pulling the drink towards you.

“When you texted that you were five minutes away.” She shrugged. “I made sure it was your favorite.” She added.

Before you could say anything, a passing car let out a loud squeal causing the woman across from to jump. And flicker.

“It’s not my favorite.” You said, looking down at hot chocolate with cinnamon. “I’ve only had it twice before, and both times were with you, grandma.”

“You’re smarter than I thought.” Mystique chuckled, eyes flashing yellow.

“You always underestimated us.” You scoffed, narrowing your eyes. “Where is my mother?”

“Anna Marie is fine,” Mystique assured you. “She believes you’re meeting her in half an hour across town. I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” She tutted as your hands began to glow like your fathers.

“And why is that? People are more than aware of what I am capable of. It wouldn’t shock them.” You told her.

“It might not shock them, but what could shock you would be their deaths.” She said. “You didn’t think I came here alone, did you? If you do anything, I have people waiting to kill every human around us.”

“What do you want?” You asked her, lowering your hand.

“You.” Mystique said, leaning forward. “I want you to come with me." 

"Something tells me you don’t mean for family bonding.” You scoffed.

“Unfortunately not.” She shook her head. “Wouldn’t that be nice? I haven’t seen you since you were knee-high.” She chuckled.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have joined Magneto then.” You narrowed your eyes at the woman. “You would’ve seen a lot more.”

“I’m not your enemy, Y/N. We’re family.”

“You betrayed us.” You snapped. “Are you going to kill people if I don’t come peacefully?”

“Only if you use your powers.” She clarified. “Despite what you think of me, I don’t want to kill anyone.”

“Well, I’m not coming with you. Never will.” You stood from the table. You quickly turned and walked away from the table. You pulled out your phone and dialed a familiar number.

“Pick up, Clint.” You groaned, pulling out your cards as you rushed down the street. 

“This is Hawkeye. I’m saving the world, or in a hospital bed. Leave a message, and I’ll get back to you.” Clint’s voicemail came down the line.

“Merde.” You swore. “Clint, I’m in trouble.” You started but were unable to finish as you were pulled into an alleyway. Your phone fell to the ground as you broke out of the hold. With deft fingers, you threw a card at your attacker, watching as the energy caused a small explosion.

A high shriek echoed through the alleyway before a small man entered your line of sight.

“I thought Storm fried your ass, chéri.” You smirked as Toad clung to the wall.

“I always come back.” Toad laughed.

“Like a cockroach.” You said, tapping into kinetic energy and throwing another card.

Toad once again dodged the explosion, but as he was, you turned to run. Only to be stopped by Multiple Man and Mystique.

“You have to come with us, Y/N. It’s not really a choice.” Mystique said, stalking forward.

“You haven’t even said why I have to.” You commented, looking between them and Toad. “Losing your memory, old woman?”

“Magento wants you.” Multiple Man told you. “And what he wants, he gets.” He said, turning multiple. 

“Erik needs to learn to live with disappointment.” You said, throwing more cards at the group. Toad let out another shriek, Mystique dodged, and you were lucky enough to get multiple man. 

You made a move to run out the entrance only to be pushed back by the Blob.

“Once again,” Mistique started, recovering from her shock. “It wasn’t a choice.” She said as one of the Multiple Man shot forward and attached the collar to your neck.

“You son of a bitch.” You growled, turning and attempting to attack the version, only to be brought to your knees by an electric shock.

“I am sorry, Y/N.” Mystique apologized before turning to Multiple Man and nodding. 

The last thing you saw before you blacked out from the pain was him turning the dial and Mystique walking away.

Non-reader POV

“Yoo-hoo.” A southern accent said as she entered the team’s shared living room. “Your robot let me up, Sug,” Rogue said as Tony stood to greet her. Only he, Bruce, and Wanda were currently in the room.

“Then, he did the right thing,” Tony said, embracing the woman.

The entire team had met Rogue and Gambit three years prior, and though Gambit could be a little hard to swallow, they all loved the woman.

“Oh, you’re sweet, Sug.” Rogue chuckled. “Is my daughter around? We were supposed to have lunch, and she never showed.” Rogue asked the three.

“I saw her leaving a couple hours ago,” Wanda told her. “But she never showed?”

“No. And she won’t pick up her phone. I’m getting a little worried.” Rogue told them. “If it were her daddy, I wouldn’t blink an eye, but Y/N always answers.”

“I could track her phone if that makes you feel better.” Tony offered.

“Please.” Rogue smiled at the man.

“Okay. JARVIS could you please track Y/N’s phone?” Tony asked the AI.

“Could you also bring Clint, Natasha, and Bucky down here?” Bruce added. “We can see if they know anything.”

“Miss Romanoff is on a mission. She left an hour ago.” JARVIS responded. “I have sent Y/N’s location to your phone, Mr. Stark.”

“And Y/N’s phone is,” Tony started, pulling up the file. “In an alleyway an hour away.”

“Who’s in an alleyway?” Clint asked, entering the room. “What are you doing here, Rogue? I thought you were with Y/N?” He further questioned, hugging the woman.

“She never showed,” Tony said. “JARVIS pull up any security footage involving Y/N LeBeau.”

“Wait, go back. What’s happening with Y/N? Where is she?” Clint asked.

“We don’t know. Y/N never came to lunch, and she won’t answer her phone.” Rogue explained to her daughter’s partner.

“Y/N is missing?” Bucky asked, entering with Steve. Bucky rushed to his boyfriend’s side and grasped Clint’s hand.

“Found her, sir,” JARVIS announced. 

“Put it on the screen,” Tony said, leaning against the back of the couch.

“That’s Y/N, and that’s you,” Clint said, watching the scene before him.

“That ain’t me, Sug.” Rogue shook her head. “That’s my mother.” She said as the Rogue imposter flickered blue. “And that’s the brotherhood,” Rogue added, noticing the other mutants.

“How fast can we get Nat back here?” Clint asked as the feed cut out.

“Is there any new information?” Natasha demanded as she stormed into the living room.

“Nothing.” Clint shook his head.

“JARVIS can’t track her down?” Natasha asked.

“If he could, he would’ve,” Bucky told the woman, causing her to turn and glare at him.

“Don’t give me attitude, Barnes.” She snapped.

“Knock it off the pair of you,” Clint said. “We don’t have time for the two of you to argue. Anna, did you say the professor could track her down?”

“It’ll take time, but he should be able to.” The woman nodded. “I’ll head back to the house. Let him know what’s going on.” She stood and swayed.

“Woah there.” Clint held her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine. I’m fine.” She nodded. “I need to get back to the manor.”

“How about I drive you?” Tony offered. “Katniss, Cyborg, why don’t you fill Rushman in, and I’ll take Rogue to the manor. I can help explain things to the professor.”

“Sounds swell to me, darlin’.” Anna smiled. “I’ll call with any news.” She promised.

“As will we.” Clint nodded. “We’ll get her back, Anna.”

“I know we will.” Rouge nodded. “My mother may be many things, but she would never allow harm to come to her family. At least the old her wouldn’t. I just hope she’s still that woman.” She said before leaving with Tony.

“Upstairs now,” Clint growled at his partners. “I know the two of you are pissed at each other, but you need to put that to the side right now,” Clint said once they were upstairs. “Our girlfriend is missing,

and I can’t be worried about her and worrying about the two of ripping the other’s throat out.”

“Clint, we know not to let our feelings get in the way here,” Natasha assured him.

“You better. I promised Y/N she would come home to the two of you having sorted out your issues. I can’t be a liar now.” Clint murmured, the weight of the situation having hit him.

“Everything’s going to be okay, Clint,” Bucky promised, pulling him into an embrace. “Everything will be okay.”

Reader POV

“I was wondering when you’d come to see me.” You said, leaning against the wall. “You went through enough trouble to get me.”

“If I were to say I wish I did not have to involve you in this, would you believe me?” Erik asked, walking into the center of the room.

After being electrocuted until you passed out, you had awoken in a dark room with the collar still attached to your neck. The room was entirely made out of metal, preventing your escape with its lack of doors or windows.

“No, I wouldn’t.” You said, causing the man to chuckle.

“You’re more your father’s daughter than you realize.” He commented.

“Did you bring me here to talk about family trees?” You asked, raising a brow. 

“Somewhat yes.” Erik nodded. “Your father stole something from me, and I want it back.”

“I bet I can guess what he stole.” You smirked, looking at his helmetless head.

“Astute observation." 

"You’re not getting it back if my father stole it. He’ll have gotten far away and hidden that helmet of yours.” You told him.

“Well, you’re right about one thing,” Erik smirked, waving his hand and causing the metal wall to open up. “He did hide the helmet.” He said as your father was thrown into the room and onto the floor.

“Dad.” You gasped, rushing to his side.

“I’m fine, chérie.” He assured you, sitting up with a groan. “Not my first time being thrown around.”

“And it won’t be your last. I don’t take well to thieves, and I don’t have time for this. Tell me where my helmet is.” Magneto demanded.

“I’m sorry, connard.” Your father shook his head. “But, your helmet is long gone by now.”

“You’ve just sealed your own fate,” Erik said. “What comes next is your father’s fault.” He told you before opening the panel and leaving the two of you alone.

“Dad, are you okay?” You asked the man. 

“Depends, are there normally two of you?” He groaned, holding a hand to his head. “Dat big one got me in the head. I’ll be fine.”

“Dad, why did you steal from Magneto of all people?” You asked as he took your hand.

“Charles asked for my help. He said Erik was plannin’ something. He wanted to stop ‘im.” Your father said. “I got the helmet, and I got as far as I could. But they found me, jokes on ‘em, I always got a backup plan. I got it away, and in two days, it’ll arrive on Charles’ doorstep with a note of where we are.”

“So, he’ll be able to find us?”

“He’ll be able to find us chérie.” He promised, wrapping an arm around you. “We’re going to get out of here. I promise. I’m sorry I got you dragged into this.”

“I don’t blame you, dad. Not in the slightest.”

Non-reader POV

“I’m sorry, but I can’t reach her.” Charles apologized, pulling off Cerebro. “I can’t locate her whatsoever.”

“Does that mean she’s,” Clint trailed off as Rogue tightened her grip on his hand.

“I don’t know.” Charles shook his head.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Bucky asked. “I thought that machine was supposed to be able to find anyone.”

“It is. It does. There are only two reasons that could be Y/N’s in a room made of metal or she has,” Charles trailed off.

“She’s been gone for two days. This is bullshit!” Bucky yelled, storming out.

“I’ll talk to him,” Natasha said, racing after him.

“Clint, you stay here. I think I should talk to them.” Rogue said, walking after the two.

“Barnes, you need to calm the fuck down.” Rogue could hear as she came closer to the two.

“Like you can talk. I saw what you did to the training room last night.” Bucky scoffed. As Rogue turned a corner, she saw Bucky aggressively pacing as Natasha leaned against the wall.

“At least I’m not taking my anger out on other people,” Natasha said. “Something you’ve been doing for days.”

“And what does that mean?” Bucky snapped, spinning to face her.

“It means you two got some communication issues, Sarg,” Rogue announced her presence. “Don’t think none of us noticed. Ya’ll is as subtle as a zebra in a herd of horses. Want to tell me what’s eating away at the two of ya?”

“Anna, it’s not that big a deal,” Bucky told her, making Natasha scoff.

“Don’t lie to the woman,” Natasha said before turning to her girlfriend’s mother. “He’s been in a mood with me for the past week, and combined with Y/N’s kidnapping, he’s taking it out on everyone else.”

“The four of ya’ll are so in love, don’t think I’ve ever seen any of ya argue. Not even once. Must be important.” Rogue said as she walked closer. “Talk to me. You won’t be able to help Y/N if you aren’t talking with one another.”

Natasha and Bucky shared a look before the man let out a sigh.

“Nat brought up starting a family last week. Clint and Y/N were on the fence, neither of them really cared what happened. But Nat’s for, and I’m not.” Bucky admitted.

“So, you’re not happy because he don’t want a family?” Anna asked Natasha.

“It’s not that.” Bucky cut in.

“Buck wants kids. He’s already made that clear. I’m not mad that he said no then. I’m mad because his reasoning is he thinks he’s too dangerous to be a father.” Natasha explained to her almost mother-in-law.

“I’m a monster, Natasha. A murderer.” Bucky told her.

“Darlin’, you’re one of the sweetest monsters I ever met,” Rogue said. “You’re standing in a house of people who society has labeled as monsters. Some of us have done things we are not proud of. Myself included. I killed three men before I realized what my gift was.”

“But that wasn’t your fault.” Bucky protested. 

“And whatever you’ve done in your past isn’t yours either. I know your story, James. It wasn’t your fault. The blood is not on your hands, it’s on theirs.” Rouge smiled at him. “And if after all this, should the four of you start a family, I know that baby will be raised by the most loving parents it could get.”

“You’re really good at putting things in perspective.” Natasha chuckled.

“Where do you think Y/N gets it from?” Rogue smiled. “Are the two of you ready to join the others now?”

“Yeah. I have to apologize to Charles anyway.” Bucky nodded. 

“We have news,” Charles said as the three re-entered the room. “Good news. Mostly.”

“Mostly?” Rogue asked, rushing towards the professor. “Were you able to find her with Cerebro?”

“No, with Remy.” He said as Clint handed over a parcel.

Rogue smirked as she pulled out Magneto’s famed helmet.

“That man can steal anything.” She chuckled, putting the helmet down and pulling out a letter. 

“That he can. He’s also always got a backup plan.” Charles said as she read through the letter.

“What does it say?” Natasha asked Anna.

“It says where they are.” Rogue looked up at her.

“That doesn’t answer the question of why it’s mostly good news,” Bucky said, folding his arms.

“Erik has a Gem of Cyttorak,” Charles told him. “And he intends to use it. All he needs is a test subject.”

Reader POV

“Chérie, you need to stop pacing.” Your father said, having watched you paced the length of the room for the past few hours.

“I can’t help it.” You groaned. “We’ve been in here for god knows how long, we still have these stupid collars on, and I have a bad feeling after what you said about the Gem of Cyttorak." 

"Chérie, you’re working yourself up.” He said as he stood. “There’s nothing we can do right now. We have no weapons and no powers. We have no options, but wait for an opening.”

“I hate how calm you are right now.” You sighed as he pulled you into an embrace.

“Been doing this a long time, ma fille.” He chuckled. “I thought you would be used to this too.”

“Never been kidnapped before, dad.” You told him. “I’m normally too good for them to get.”

“Welcome to my world.” He laughed, but it didn’t meet his eyes. “We’re going to get out of here. I’m going to get you out of here.” He said before the metal wall creaked open.

“There are few things I don’t take well to,” Magento stated as he floated into the room with the Blob and Mystique following him. “One of those things are thieves.”

“I stole from you. I get it. But my daughter, she had nothing to do with it. She didn’t even know I was here.” Your father stepped forward.

“I understand that, but she’s needed.” Magento nodded.

“For what?”

“Your daughter is a publicly accepted mutant. The homo-sapiens are not afraid of her, they love her. We are still not accepted by all, but your daughter could be the step forwards.” Erik explained.

“I am an advocate for mutant rights. Everyone knows that. I am doing what I can to show them we are not dangerous.” You said, moving to your father’s side.

“But you could do more if you were more powerful. I can enhance your powers.” Erik said as the Blob stepped forward.

“The gem.” You whispered, eyes widening in realization.

“Dat don’t work like that, Erik. You know what happened to the last three.” Your father growled, putting his arm in front of you.

“I believe I have perfected it. And if not, let it serve as a warning to not steal from me.” Magneto said as the Blob picked your father up and threw him into the wall behind you.

“Dad!” You exclaimed, wishing to rush to his side only to be grabbed by the Blob.

“Erik, this wasn’t what we discussed. You mentioned nothing about putting my granddaughter through that.” Mystique said as the Blob wrapped his arms around you and lifted you off the ground.

“Plans change, Raven. You once said you would do anything for mutant kind. Don’t make a liar of yourself.” Erik told her as the three moved out of the room, with you struggling in the Blob’s hold.

“Raven, I’m your family. Don’t do this to me. Don’t do this to mom, to your daughter.” You begged, attempting to rip yourself out of his grasp.

“If this works, you will be improving life for all mutant-kind,” Erik told you. 

“I am already doing that.” You snapped. “I am showing them we are not a threat. If you do this, you are giving them something to be scared of.”

“Maybe they need to be afraid,” Erik said, opening yet another wall to reveal an almost medically set up room. “Now, if this works, your powers will be enhanced beyond what you ever thought. You will be more powerful than that team of yours combined.”

“I don’t want to be more powerful.” You said as Blob walked you towards a large chamber.

“Unfortunately, there are several side effects to the process,” Erik continued as if you hadn’t spoken. “For one, we’ve noticed subjects come out without the capability of emotions. A small sacrifice for the advancement of our kind.” He shrugged.

“Raven, please don’t let him do this.” You begged as the chamber door opened. “For me. For your daughter. For yourself, christ.” You said as the collar was ripped off you, and you were thrown into the chamber. 

The vault door sealed itself quickly, and you were trapped. You let out a loud scream as you waved your hand and threw a great burst of pure kinetic energy at the door. It budged, but it did not open.

“No more of that,” Erik said as he began the process before you could throw another burst.

A yell escaped you as the process started. You threw another blast at the vault door but fell to your knees as the light began to fill the chamber.

“No!” Raven yelled after you let out another yell. Loud grunts and thuds entered your ears before the light shut off, and the vault door opened.

Hands pulled you up and wrapped your arm around their neck before you were dragged out of the chamber.

“What did you do to them?” You asked, taking note of Magneto and the Blob’s unconscious forms.

“Chloroform bomb,” Raven said as she pulled you out of the room and into the hall. “Prototype I’m working on.” She commented.

“Where’s my dad?” You asked her.

“We’re getting him. And then the two of you are getting out of here.” She said, pulling you around a corner.

“What about you?” You asked her.

“I haven’t done anything right since you were knee-high. Maybe before that. If I can just give you two time to get out, maybe it’s a start.” She said, coming to a wall and pressing her hand to a different colored panel.

The wall slides open, and you saw your father in the middle of the room.

“Ma fille.” He gasped, rushing towards you and taking you off Raven. “What did you do to her?”

“I didn’t do anything. I’m the reason Y/N got out. And the reason you’re both gonna get out. Now go.” Raven urged the two of you.

“I’m afraid no-one’s going anywhere,” Magento announced as the metal walls came to life and pinned the three of you to them. “Except back in that chamber.”

“I don’t think so.” You said, attempting to pull away. 

“And why is that?” He turned his attention to you.

“You left me uncollared.” You smirked, sending out the largest blast of energy yet.

Magento soared through the air but tightened the metal holding you. You, your father, and Raven all let out loud cries of pain as the grip became unbearable.

The Blob hurtled through the kinetic energy, collar in hand, as Toad appeared from nowhere.

Toad stole the collar from the Blob’s hand and climbed the walls to reach you. You let out an enraged cry as he snapped it back on your neck.

“Fuck!” You snapped as your energy wave was cut off, and you were left powerless. Again.

“I am going to enjoy rendering you an emotionless sieve. Our people suffer, and you fight against us.” Erik growled, floating forward. “When you see the light, you will realize, we are one. Right now, all you are is alone.” He said, stopping front of you and gripping your face.

Before you could spit at the man, comment, or otherwise, multiple shots rang through the air. Erik let out a shout as he was hit.

“We have a different definition of alone,” Bucky said as he appeared at the end of the hallway.

“Of course.” Erik scoffed. “The homo-sapien is standing in the way of progress.” He said, pulling out the bullet.

“Once again, different definitions,” Clint said as he and Natasha joined at Bucky’s side. Clint shot a plastic-tipped arrow at Magneto as Natasha handed Bucky a new gun.

“You think three of you can even match one of us?” Magneto asked, clicking his fingers. “Toad, Blob, teach our guests exactly we’re capable of.”

As your partners easily began to outmatch Magento’s goons, Mystique began to move in her binds. Your eyes were drawn to her and you watched as the woman shrunk into a mouse and slipped out her imprisonment. 

As Magneto was too distracted watching the fight, he failed to notice Raven scurry across the floor and shift back to her blue form.

Raven first moved to your father and began pulling on the man’s collar. With a small grunt, she was able to rip it off, but she alerted Magneto to what she was doing.

Your father didn’t waste any time as he used the energy to free himself and pulled a pack of cards out of one of his many pockets.

“52 explosives on hand.” He smirked, throwing a handful of them at Magneto as Mystique moved to you.

“Hold still.” She said, putting her hands on the collar. Mystique ripped the collar from your neck and you managed to get yourself out of the bindings.

Turning to the scene before you, you smiled. Toad was stuck in his own tongue, Blob lay sprawled on the floor unconscious and Erik was pinned to the floor with your father’s energy and two arrows stuck in his shoulders.

“Doll,” Bucky said, rushing forward to pull you into an embrace. A content sigh escaped you as you sagged in his grip and your two other lovers joined you and Bucky.

“Are you okay?” Natasha asked, turning your face to her. “Both of you?” She asked your father.

“Fine, chérie.” Your father nodded, leaning against a wall. “Mighta crushed a rib but I’m fine.”

“Yeah I might be able to taste my spleen, but I’m good.” You smiled.

“We might need to take you two to medical,” Clint said. “Let’s get you back to the jet. Anna’s worried sick about the pair of you.” He added, causing Erik to laugh loudly.

“You’re too late.” Erik chuckled. “None of you are making it out of this building.” He said.

“What did you do?” Raven demanded of him. “Erik, what did you do?”

“If I’m correct, this building won’t be standing in three minutes. It’ll be eviscerated from the Earth along with anyone in it.” Erik said as Bucky dragged him off the floor.

“We need to get moving.” He said as Natasha lifted the Toad off the ground.

“Hang on.” You stopped Bucky, grabbing the collar off the ground. Without a word, you clamped it onto Magneto’s neck. “Let’s go.” You said, raising the Blob.

The six of you began to book it to the exit. Natasha, Clint, and Bucky were in the front of the group as they knew where to go and you were slightly trailing.

Time continued to pass and the exit was drawing near. You were so close when you were grabbed from behind. A grunt left you as Multiple Man threw you to the floor, the Blob dropping behind you.

You shot a ray of energy at him as said man turned multiple. You shot to your feet as you continued to hit him with energy. The man continued to multiply and was closing in on you.

Several gunshots made you jump and you smiled as Natasha and Mystique rushed towards you, helping you take out Multiple Man.

“The two of you get out of here.” Mystique said, pushing the two of you towards the exit. “I’ll grab these two.”

“But the bomb.” You protested as Natasha pulled you towards the exit. 

“This is my start. Go!” She said firmly. You gave your grandmother a nod before allowing Natasha to pull the two of you to an exit. 

As the two of you made it out of the building you were brought into a tight embrace from your mother.

“Thank God you’re okay, buttercup.” Your mother said, squeezing you tightly. 

“We gotta get away from the building,” Natasha said, guiding the two of you to a safe distance. 

“Where’s Raven?” Your father asked as the three of you approached the rest of the gang.

“She’ll be out in a second,” Natasha explained, resting her head on Bucky’s shoulder.

“She has ten before it’s over.” Erik laughed. “She won’t make it.”

“Shut your filthy mouth.” Your mother snapped, allowing Clint to pull you into his side. “She’ll make it.” She said, turning back to the building.

The entirety of the group turned with her to watch, wait, for Raven to stumble out. The seconds continued to pass and your mother let out a cry as the building blew. Debris flew, smoke and flames rose, and the building fell. 

Raven did not walk out.

“It was a lovely service,” Natasha said, running her fingers through your hair. “I think she would have liked it.”

“It wasn’t really for her anyway.” You shrugged. “It was more for mom. They’ve been fighting for so long, and just when I thought they’d be fine grandma went and died. At least I know what kind of woman she was.”

“From what you’ve said she wasn’t a great mother or grandmother,” Clint started, squeezing your hand. “But she knew what counted in the end. She saved you and your father.”

“I’m just glad you’re home,” Bucky said, resting his chin on Clint’s shoulder and smiling at you. “Home and safe.”

“I’m just glad you’re not fighting anymore.” You smiled back at him. 

“Your mother talked some sense into us. She’s pretty good at it.” Natasha told you.

“She is.” You agreed. 

“And it’s not the time now, but she did convince us that we should really sit down and discuss everything we need to,” Natasha added. “So hopefully there’s no more fighting over things we should be really talking about.”

“Your mom got them to stop fighting.” Clint chuckled. “That woman is an angel.”

“I’ll let her know you think so.” You said, smile glued to your face now. 

The past week had been a roller coaster of ups and downs. There were a lot of bad things that had happened, but there were silver linings. And one you could think of right now was, no more fighting in your group.

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[power-chords]

Really delighted by this in-game email I received from our Eclipse Phase GM who, in addition to running a fantastically fun and imaginative campaign, blesses us with an abundance of content and world-building between game sessions.

My current PC, Kas — short for Lukas — is modeled after Pelle Almqvist of The Hives if Howlin’ Pelle were a hotshot pilot/war hero turned corporate space-chauffeur instead of the lead singer of a rock band. (Currently he works for the equivalent of Venusian Raytheon. I know, it’s bad. But at least he’s starting to have his doubts about the company.)

Anyway, last game the team was tasked with trying to rescue two of its kidnapped members from a group of robot pirates who had stolen an experimental airship for their tremendously popular reality show, The Aaarrrdashians. (LOL.)

It went poorly. Once I realized we were boned, and the pirates were going to escape with some very dangerous technology and the cortical stacks* of hundreds of transhumans** that they could then sell on the black market, I threatened the Dread Pirate Roberts — an extra belligerent AI Kanye, basically — with imminent destruction of its entire ship and crew by preparing to floor the gas on my airborne future-Camaro directly into the ship’s engine.*** When it realized I wasn’t bluffing, it sabotaged the ship and fled with whatever data it could salvage.

All the other player characters got very lengthy, cagey, semi-ridiculous but mostly ominous emails. Mine was just Fuck You and Your Stupid Car. With a fruit basket!

*This game setting takes place very far in the future, where human consciousness is digitized into cortical stacks and uploaded into customizable physical bodies called “morphs.” So, permanent death is largely a thing of the past.

**Transhumanity is what we now call post-earth, post-death humanity. It includes artificially generated intelligences and “uplifts” (animals that have been genetically modified to achieve sapience)

***Yes, there are totally flying cars in Eclipse Phase

[evien-stark]

✧I Need You✧ Chapter 161

Somewhere in the middle of your third cup of extra large coffee, fourteen boxes were delivered to the lab space that was now being used like an office. As it had turned out, coffees and pastries did not fix the problem. You tried to divvy up the boxes evenly among your team so as to ease the burden on everyone. 

Though Steve did have a very good question. “What is it we’re looking for?” 

Right. You’d had old SHIELD files pulled- because Ultron had deleted the virtual ones on Strucker and List. He had to have had a reason for doing so… what was it, exactly? What did those two know that would help you find him? Or better yet, help you ascertain what the hell he was doing with all the materials he was gathering. 

Natasha seemed to be your wingwoman on this operation, as she gathered her thoughts and got an answer out ahead of you. “These guys had a wide net. It’s unlikely they were just scientists in a dark basement their whole careers.” 

The lightbulb went off, and you found yourself nodding. “Ultron likely questioned them in their cells. He’s collecting something- he must be looking for something else. Something they knew about.” 

Tony pulled the lid off one of the boxes and dumped his files in a heap on his corner of the table. “First we gotta figure out what box is which. Who was in charge of filing over there? Because if we have them on staff, I want them gone.” It was hard to tell if he was joking. 

Steve was showing a little bit of his agitation as he threw a very purposeful look Tony’s way. “So what box are we looking for?” 

It was weird that you, Natasha, and Tony all spoke at the same time. “Contacts.”

But that trio-chorus seemed to put some quiet into him and he put his head down and started sifting through files. The quiet in the space was a little much to deal with, but it really wasn’t the right time to be playing music or chatting. So you just had to deal with it. And stranger still the headache that came with it. 

There was a race to see who would pull the right file. Maybe that’s what was making everyone so anxious and uncomfortable. ...no, it was probably the looming threat of war via a muderbot that also had murder-twins now accompanying him. Yeah. That was probably it. But whatever it was, everyone was bogging you down. Unintentionally and unknowingly. You just weren’t clear enough to deal with the waves being sent out from every direction. 

At the very least, Tony seemed to have pulled himself together enough to throw a strong mask up and banish his spiraling somewhere deep, deep down. It really wasn’t a good solution and it was probably going to bite the both of you later. But that would be later. Right now you had to focus… focus and read- read paragraphs of text and titles that you had to then reread five more times because you weren’t processing anything you were looking at. No help. Useless- 

“Known associates-” Steve called out, maybe about an hour after the sorting had started. So he was the lucky winner. Everyone took a handful of files out of his box. “Well. Strucker had a lot of friends.” 

Bruce nudged his glasses up, flipping quickly over a few documents. “Well these people are all horrible.” Said in such a casual way. 

It was to be expected. Hydra were terrible people themselves. It should have been no surprise the company they kept was just as abhorrent. Maybe that was an extra bad thing though, as Tony waved a hand and pointed. “Wait- we know that guy.” Bruce took the papers Tony was impatiently and silently demanding through gestures and handed them over. You shifted over in your seat when he tilted them a little closer your way. “From way back in the day. Operates off the African coast. Ringing any bells?” 

“Ugh.” Yes, you remembered the mug looking out at you from a SHIELD blacklist file. Big bulky man. South African accent encrusted with slime every time he opened his mouth. “Klaue.” You had had a few awful interactions with him. Everyone he came into contact probably did. He thought he was so much more of a hotshot than he actually was- 

“Didn’t you threaten to rip his arm off- more than once?” There was a brief and almost sweetly fond twitch of a smile on Tony’s lips as he looked at you. 

“Didn’t understand the meaning of no.” The worst type of handsy. The two of you stopped your stroll down memory lane and you looked up at the group. “Ulysses Klaue. Black market arms.” 

The wholly judgmental glare from Steve sent an uneasy ripple of exasperation through you. He was really going to have to get over himself at some point because this was really not working out right now. Tony gave one back, though, with a harsher set of steel. “There are conventions, alright. You meet people.”

Feeling the need to continue defending the both of you, “We never sold him anything.” While you didn’t say it, the thought was broadcast loudly- so you better stop looking at us like that. 

Tony pulled the folder back his way, fingers trailing down some of the lines of text. Datadumps that SHIELD had collected on him. His tone was a little wistful, “Last time I saw him he was talking about finding something new. A game changer. It was all very Ahab.” 

“If he was even telling the truth.” While, even that long ago, you hadn’t picked up deceit from him, Klaue was a man that liked to talk big and make even bigger promises that he never lived up to. “He kind of fell off the map after that.” 

Thor reached over, tapping something on the file. “What is this?” 

Tony narrowed his eyes in a small squint. “Uh- it’s a tattoo- I don’t think he- did he have this last we saw him?” Turning it around to you. 

You scrutinized the image carefully as Bruce turned away from the group to start typing at his computer. The mark you were being asked to look at was… just that. A mark. An almost angry looking red burn in his skin on the side of his neck. The answer came seconds later, “No. Definitely not.” You’d have remembered something like that.

Shifting his finger down, Thor outlined one of the black tribal tattoos on the top of Klaue’s chest. “No. These are tattoos. This is a brand.” 

Easily you found yourself nodding. “Makes sense. He probably pissed off someone he shouldn’t have.” 

A chirp came from Bruce’s computer and he tapped at his screen. “Oh, yeah. It’s a word in an African dialect meaning thief. ...uh, in a much less friendly way.” 

Putting your hands up flat, “What did I say?” There were so few victories to seize right now. You could have this one. 

Steve came around to stand behind the both of you. “What dialect?” 

Bruce sat forward a little more, trying to read off his screen. “Wakanada? Err- Wa- Wa… Wakanda?” 

Sitting back you shared a look with both Tony and Steve. This was… this had just gone from very bad to absolutely terrible. The air in the room went cold. Tony put his hand on the back of your chair. “If Klaue got out of Wakanda with some of their trade goods…” 

You agreed easily with him, “Ultron wants a word with him. Definitely.” After saying this you nearly called out- mouth open- and then closing. Shoulders falling. Stopping yourself from calling JARVIS just in time. Only lucky there wasn’t enough time to feel that deep well of sadness over it. Instead you turned to your own laptop to start a trace. 

Steve was shaking his head, though. “I thought your father said he got the last of it?” 

Behind you you felt Tony shrug, and felt even more the bitterness that came with his easy dismissal. “Dad said a lot of things.” 

There was no room right now for any levity, yet Natasha tried anyway. “Look who’s talking.��� 

Tony huffed out a little laugh with a drop of his head. Since he took it so well, you decided to follow up. “One of his finest traits.” 

Bruce took off his glasses just as soon as you got a hit, looking up at them. “Wait- I’m behind- I don’t follow. What comes out of Wakanda?” 

Steve shifted back, giving an almost longing glance at his shield, which was resting against one of the cabinets. But it was Tony who answered, “The strongest metal on earth.” 

Resignation buried you deep where hope was quickly dying. “Vibranium. And if Ultron gets his hands on it, we’re gonna have more problems than we know what to do with.” Something got stuck in the back of your throat and you found yourself swallowing hard. “We have- there’s a hit. I have his last known location. He’s operating out of a giant scrapyard near Johannesburg.” 

Clint, who had been sitting suspiciously quiet through all of this, got up from his spot on a nearby table. “I’ll fire up the quinjet. Everyone good to go?” 

Bruce sighed. “Like we have a choice?” 

                                                                     ---

It was too soon to be suiting up and heading back into battle, but Bruce was right. What choice did you have? If you had had any shred of optimism left, you would have been looking forward to this being the end of it. You could go to the scrapyard, find Ultron there, and put a stop to him. But… there was the possibility he wouldn’t even be there. That you’d miss him and he’d have made up with a thousand tons of vibranium. Or… maybe he would be there. And this would all go south. 

Your mind was so much of a mess that too long after takeoff, flying side by side with Tony, you realized- “Hey- are you borrowing LUNA?” His suit no longer had AI assistance. It took every last ounce of strength you had to keep your feelings to yourself so as to not damage him further. 

“Flying solo. For now.” His tone was eerily quiet. His face on your chat window on the HUD was also pretty impassive. 

But you knew better than that. There was just no time for it right now. Which was probably only making it worse. “The suits can do that?” 

“Well. They don’t pilot themselves.” You weren’t sure how you’d gotten a grin out of him, but if he wanted to use his ego as a backing board to hold himself up, that was fine. 

“Oh. So what you’re saying is I couldn’t do it.” 

“Absolutely not. No offense.” 

“None taken. Not all of us are geniuses.” Stroking said ego wasn’t going to hurt, either. 

“You’d be bored of me by now, if everyone was.” It registered, as he was quick to respond, what he was doing- 

It was probably very quiet in his suit. Maybe in general. Tony talked to JARVIS constantly. He probably didn’t even know he was doing it half the time. So until touchdown… you resolved to fill the silence for him. “Bored of you? Impossible. Speaking of… your birthday is coming up soon.” 

“Don’t remind me.” 

“Too late. Would you like to do something boring? Or something fun?” 

His eyes focused up a little on your screen, and his smile was soft. There was a gentle touch of realization. He knew what you were doing. Chatting. The reason why… “We making plans right now?” 

“I don’t see why not.” 

“Well. In that case…” 

Thank you. His gratitude was like a loving touch on your heart. Able to focus on something else for the first time since it had all happened. If only for a little while.

                                                                    ---

As the team edged up on the warehouse and LUNA alerted everyone on the main comms that Ultron was certainly inside, a plan was quickly formed. The heavy hitters were going to meet him head on. You didn’t exactly consider yourself in that subgroup, but that was where Tony was headed- and you… you wanted to face Ultron again. In the hopes that this time would go much differently. Nat and Clint were stationed to creep up on the edges and scout. And Bruce was remanded to the jet. Waiting on a code green everyone prayed wouldn’t. Especially him. 

Once the jet landed, you, Thor, Steve, and Tony worked your way up the back of the compound. Ascending up the closest set of stairs up to the balcony that Ultron was on- a shriek pierced the air. He was already doing damage- probably taking the Vibranium by force. But as the four of you got closer, you weren’t quite expecting what you heard him saying- 

“Don’t compare me with Stark! He’s a sickness!” 

That seemed to almost literally pull Tony out as the leader of the group, standing just a little bit in front of the rest of you. “Ah, junior. You’re gonna break your old man’s heart.” 

You weren’t really sure how you felt about this. About… just sort of giving in to being his creator. Was this the legacy you wanted? ...not that you had a say in it, at this point. Ultron turned, and you got a little closer to Tony’s side, spying the twins standing not too far away. Ultron set his sights on the both of you. He was… a lot different than that little broken suit in the Tower. Now sporting a big, almost beefy (if it could be called that) metal frame. “If I have to.” But no less menacing. 

“You’ve changed. Who built that for you?” Unable to help but ask. You already sort of knew the answer- 

“I built myself.” He put a hand up to his chest in an almost overly dramatic flourish. “Aren’t you proud of me? Do you like it?” You were glad that you had your helmet up. 

The face you made was not flattering. And probably would have upset him. Tony lifted his arm. “Come quietly. And we won’t have to break that, too.” 

Thor spoke up behind the two of you. “There’s no need to break anything.” 

Ultron scoffed. “Clearly you’ve never made an omelet.” 

You watched as realization- almost ...something close to impressed- dawned on Tony’s screen. “He beat me by one second.” 

One of the twins- the tall boy, Pietro- stepped a little closer out from behind the protection that was Ultron’s massive frame. “This is funny, Mr. Stark? It’s what…” Gesturing down below to a stockpile of missiles, “-it’s comfortable for you? Like old times?” 

Immediately Tony glowered, even though they couldn’t see it. But you could. “This was never my life.” 

Steve flanked Tony’s side. “You two can still walk away from this.” 

The girl, Wanda, tilted her head with a very thin smirk. “Oh we will.” 

Steve put his hand out, almost like he was reaching towards her. “I know you’ve suffered-” 

“Ugh.” You were… actually sort of glad that Ultron gave such a groan of dismissal. Now was not the time for what you assumed was playing more of the blame game. Ultron shook his head. “Captain America. God’s righteous man. Pretending you could live without a war.” He looked like he might be smiling. “I can’t physically throw up in my mouth, but-” 

Thor threw his voice forward. “If you believe in peace then let us keep it.” 

Ultron rolled those glowing red eyes of his. “I think you’re confusing peace with quiet.” 

Trying for what little sense was left- he was clearly deranged- “We can have both. Let’s talk about this.” 

Setting his sights on you, Ultron stilled, head shifting to the side, gaze piercing as he smirked. “I’d like that.” 

Tony interrupted the sudden staring. “What’s the Vibranium for?” 

Half turning, Ultron’s tone dried up. “I’m so glad you asked that, because I wanted to take this time to explain my evil plan.” 

There was barely any time to react- almost like a replay of what had happened at the Tower. A few repurposed Iron Legion suits blew by Ultron, aimed at the four of you, and you put your hands up to block one flying right into you, forcing you back into the nearest wall. Chaos erupted. This time you at least had an edge. Putting your hands up you fired off a dual repulsor blast, firing right through the suit. To make sure it would stay down, you put your hands inside the hole and then pulled it apart with one clean jerk. 

Looking up, you saw Tony going hand to hand with Ultron- no way to tell who would end up the victor. Which was good. It meant Ultron hadn’t outclassed the rest of you yet. But as you jumped into flight to try and assist him- to try and give him an edge- something pulled you back down. 

Warnings started sliding up on the HUD and LUNA’s voice was not far behind, “Ma’am, the pressure on the suit is increasing!” 

“Pressure? From where?” As you asked you felt an unseen force clamping your arms and legs together- dragging you down. And as soon as you were there- 

Something else smacked directly into you and as much as three blinks of your eyes went by- and the scenery changed with each one. First the warehouse- then outside somewhere green- then somewhere much further- and before you could even react to being shunted away so fast, that same blur

Pietro you knew- Pushed you down and wrapped heavy chains around your entire body, locking you up. So tight it hurt. Even through the suit. Just the angle he was forcing your arms into. Your team was still fighting- they were yelling- Wanda was in play- she was hurting them-

But your attention was split. Once you were completely at his disposal, he stopped moving at that speed, crouching down with a smug satisfaction about him. Stupider still, just as you were about to pull your arms out with the strength of the suit, he reached for the Heart Reactor and locked his hand over it. 

The jolt that ran through him was immediate. A protocol not that long ago enacted. Your brain was a sudden whirl. You couldn’t remember if he would- all you knew was that he was being electrocuted- 

You had no idea if he would die- 

“LUNA disable the suit!” You didn’t have to ask twice. The nanotech peeled away, and the power shut off enough to allow him to fall back, twitching. It was almost counterproductive, because the next open of your mouth, you were going to ask her to reactivate- 

But another hand was on your chest from behind. Sharp and metal. Pointed talons poking your skin through your shirt before he twisted the Reactor off your chest and tossed it just a few feet away from you. Just as Ultron rounded your position and moved to crouch in front of you, Pietro rolled up onto his hands and knees, breathing hard, “You bitch-” 

Ultron sharply turned his head. “You made a careless mistake. That’s hardly her fault.” The two of them looked at each other and then he issued his next order. “Go get the other one.” 

There was a small rebuff of resentment from Pietro, but he got to his feet and blur-red off without another word. Your mouth opened to say something- anything- this was your chance to pretend you could plea to a sense of decency he probably didn’t have- but Tony was in your ear on the comm. “Natasha we could really use a lullaby.” 

Oh. Oh no. Clint’s response was quick. Ultron was watching you listen and process all of this. “That’s not gonna happen. Not for a while.” 

The next logical step was made. Tony called out for you- “Honey? I need assistance. Immediately.” The implication was or else. Or else there were going to be a lot of casualties. You understood now. Wanda had probably unleashed the Hulk. A city was very close by. 

...this was worse than you ever could have imagined. 

Though your mouth opened, Ultron reached out to tilt your chin up and close it for you. “LUNA, why don’t you take a nap?” 

She answered him. “Powering down.” 

Ultron smiled. “Good. Now we can be alone.” 

There was no way out of this but to sit here and… try and talk to him. ...that was what you wanted anyway, right? “I thought you weren’t going to talk about your evil plan?” Trying not to give away how terrified you were. How useless. Powerless. 

That cold hand reached back to push some hair away from your eyes. Tuck it behind your ear. And then he cupped the back of your head with a painful scratch at your scalp, forcing your head up higher to look him in the eyes. “Do you think I’m evil? Who’s fault would that be, I wonder? Now-” He held a finger up. “Let that sit for a minute. I want you to really think about it. Then we can chat.” 

He was so… so human. And still so very angry. 

 As he stood, he started waving his arms around and his tone became somewhat bored. “Sorry I have to put you in timeout. Circumstances being what they are… I’m sure you understand.” He was so… so very strange.

But as you were left sitting there, a little bit helpless- by design- you really couldn’t help but wonder- How were you going to fix this one?

[neon-mooni]

Headcanon: Norman Jayden is a time traveler

Now I know what you’re thinking: oh come on, seriously? That’s preposterous, and I thought the same thing, until I really thought about it.

Let’s talk about ARI for a second.

This technology is highly advanced for the year 2011.

What is ARI?

The ARI (Added Reality Interface) is an experimental evidence detecting system in place by the FBI. 

What does it do?

The ARI equipment consists of a pair of glasses and a singular, right-handed glove. The glasses, acting as an enhancement visor, are used to detect and record information from the environment whilst providing visual displays for the user. The glove allows the user to physically interact with ARI's interface and the environment.

  It also allows the user to stream information via sensors in the glove, allowing research on things such as blood type, shoe-size and identifying scents in the air. It also seems that all gathered information is installed directly into ARI's internal memory which can be reviewed at any place or time; for example, ARI has instant access to the FBI database.

Whilst ARI's primary use is for crime scenes, it can also be used in other environments. 

Exhibit A:

No one has heard of this technology. Hell, Carter Blake, even thinks that it’s just a pair of sunglasses.

Exhibit B: When Norman was throwing a ball against the wall in ARI, one of his coworkers thought he was crazy.

Exhibit C:

Why would the FBI send one of their own to help with a serial killer case?

Serial Killers are a common thing. Why do they care so much about this particular case?

Exhibit D:

No one has ever heard of Norman Jayden. If he’s such a “hotshot FBI man” then he must have a following. He doesn’t.

Exhibit E:

Triptocaine. Why aren’t more people addicted to this drug? Why is Norman Jayden the only person seen using it?

Exhibit F:

We know nothing about this character. For a guy that was supposedly born in 1977, there seems to be no trace of this guy.

Exhibit G:

Why is there no date written on this document? If he was dispatched, then surely there would have been a date written on this document.

Exhibit H:

"A dead cat. The FBI doesn't keep records of dead cats... not yet.”

I initially thought that this was a joke, but assuming that Norman is a time traveler, perhaps they keep files on dead cats in the future?

Exhibit I:

Norman’s insistence on solving this case. Why does he care so much? Was his son one of the victims? Did he fail to go through the trials?

If you look closely, Norman has a scar on his face.

Perhaps a result of one of the trials?

Or, what if he cares so much about this case, because there are more victims in the future?

Exhibit J:

Norman Jayden’s health problems.

Throughout the game, Norman is seen with several health problems.

We assume of course, that this is caused by both ARI, and the Triptocaine.

Time travel takes a huge toll on both the body, and mind. With Norman Jayden being so far in the past, time is trying to correct its self. Thus, Norman Jayden is suffering.

Exhibit K:

Norman Jayden’s endings.

Smoking Mirror

Norman is seen talking to an AI version of himself in ARI.

The screen cuts to Norman on the floor, presumably dying from an overdose.

The question is, an overdose on what? ARI, or Triptocaine?

Uploaded

Carter Blake puts on Norman’s glasses, and is shocked to find an AI of Norman in the glasses. He was also seen trying to figure out how the technology works.

Remember: no one has seen ARI before.

Case closed

Norman is seen talking to a talk show host. He is regarded as a hero. Surely this would the time to thank the FBI for ARI right? Well that didn’t happen.

He is later seen having a hallucination of virtual tanks.

Resignation

Norman is seen quitting his job at the FBI. He is told that he can keep his ARI since the technology is being decommissioned.

Why would technology that is presumably brand new, be decommissioned? I believe that Norman Jayden has returned to his timeline at this point.

Exhibit L:

Norman’s reaction to rain.

Norman is seen talking to some policemen.

“Does it always rain like this?”

“It always rains like this every fall. Why? Doesn’t it do that where you come from?”

“Yeah... of course.”

Why did Norman hesitate there? Does it not rain in the future?

We assume that Norman is from Washington, but we are never shown any of his contacts from Washington. Odd, right?

Personally, I think it’s a cover up.

Exhibit M:

His weird accent. Just what exactly is his accent?

[whothecrappadoodlecares]

can we talk about Shin, from Kingdom? (the manga, highly recommended btw)

I’m not talking about his strength or his sword skills here, I want to talk about his intelligence.

so Shin is presented to us a a comic relief, in a way. he doesn't understand his position, he is reckless and stupid, and doesn’t understand tactics. 

unlike his pears, Mouten, Ouhon and co, he needs a strategist. in fact, it seems like the only thing he is good at is charging at the enemy and making soldiers out of common farmers. 

but that is not the case. such a man would not have caught the eye of both Ouki and the Duke, and certainly not enough to be a “successor”. Ouki could have given his glaive to Tou, or another person with similar mindset and shared history. instead he gave it to a boy barely out of slavery. Duke Hyou could have given his shield to anyone of his soldiers, and instead gave it to this young no name commander who happen to be a better martial artist than most.

hell, Sei could have taken any military man as his sword: Heki is good at strategy and politics, as is choubunkun, and have been at his side through thick and thin. but he chose Shin.

as the story progresses, we learn new things about Shin. sure, he grew up, learned the importance of the king and politics and all, but we also learn about stuff that was already there.

he admits that his dream was foolish when he was a kid, and that he is dumb. he knows that. normally, one would wonder why he would act dumb.

i believe it is simply because he has nothing to lose. 

it is well known that he is a former servant. his reputation is the lowest of the low. everything he got was through achievements and results, things that cannot be doubted. Ouhon said that he got his hundred man squad because his father didn’t want him in his army, he was a commander from the start. Shin started out a foot soldier.

now since his reputation is already shot, and people think he is already undeserving (talking about when he was promoted to thousand man commander and someone said his background should be counted for), why should he pretend to be smart?

he know nothing of politics and nobility, he knows none of the great names learned at school. he cannot go to a library and learn all this, because unlike everyone else, he cannot read. he has to learn everything through word of mouth. and he learns: after the ai revolt, he was the first to link the military victory to sei’s political victory.

he also knows his position very well. he is a commoner, born and raised, surrounded constantly by other commoners from his unit. he also has a voice to the great nobility, as an unofficial advisor to the king and his entourage, and the military hotshots. he does not sugarcoat his words, or pretend to be a noble. he goes to ceremonies in worn clothes because it is the only clothes he has. he did not shop or anything. he does not speak with good language and accents like Ten and Hon, he still uses his commoner speech. 

he knows people, and empathizes. he promised his enemy to keep his own country in check. he knows that the people of sai still want to fight and why. he knows sei, who he rarely sees, better than is chancellors ans strategists. he can raise the moral of his troops through a simple uneloquent speech. where Hon raises morale by calling his soldiers friends, he does it by calling them bastards, because that is simply the best way to tell someone that you care. he also sees intent: it is what makes him a good instinctive general and fighter.

I believe that Shin is very smart, but unlike the other characters, he has no reason to show it. he is like a valve, if everything goes right, his presence realy doesn’t change much, but if sei, another person or a situation steps out of line, goes against the current, he is here to stop it.

[sighingstarbeam]

Spies and Gods - Chapter 6

Summary: Living with the Avengers was never part of your plan, but life changes every minute. Having a demigod live in the room across from you was never part of your plan either.

Word Count: 2,746

A/N: This is the last chapter that has been updated on every platform I have posted this story on. I’ll be busy with school for a couple more weeks but hopefully mid/late December the next chapter will be up on my AO3, and then here a few days later. Enjoy and thank you for the support!

Chapter 5 | Chapter 7

Living with the Avengers was never part of your plan. You wanted to meet Tony Stark, find out if he was your biological father, and then head out of town to finally move on with your life. New York didn’t have anything left for you, and you didn’t have anything to offer New York. You had the pleasure of having Maya and Lilly accept you along with Tony letting you stay with the team. But none of it felt right. You didn’t deserve such a luxury, at least that’s what’s been implanted in your head.

When you first told Tony that you were leaving he wouldn’t have it. It was right after Banner revealed the test results.

“So now you’re just gonna leave like that?” Tony asked crossed arm as he watched you pack your bags.

“Just like that. I have to move on.” You barely folded your clothes, basically shoving them into your bag. You didn’t care much for wrinkled clothes, just having them made you feel fortunate. “I don’t have anymore business here. And I’m sure that me leaving will give you less grey hairs than you need.”

Tony rubbed his fingers through his hair, feeling partially insecure by your comment, “Are you going back to live with your friends in Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood?”

“No, but I’m stopping by to say my goodbyes to them. I don’t know where I’m going. Paris always seemed interesting to me, maybe I’ll start there.”

He couldn’t believe what you were saying. You two didn’t know the other existed until you went searching for the truth. And now that you had it you were going to skip town and pretend this never happened. The more you thought about your plan the more you were doubting yourself. But you couldn’t let doubt cloud your mind. Lingering on to the past would slow you down from moving on with whatever life you could live.

“Please, Y/N, just hear me out,” Tony said, “I’m sorry about your mother, and I’m sorry about all the shit you had to go through. And I’m sorry that I wasn’t there to be a-... a father. I want to make it right. I genuinely want to make up for lost time. If you feel like you need to move on, be my guest. But at least stay for a little while to make up for an ounce of the time.”

You hesitated from grabbing any more of your clothes. Did Tony actually want to waste his energy to be your dad? You could finally have a family that you’ve dreamed of being apart of. However, everyone you got close to ended up getting hurt. On the other hand, these were the freaking Avengers. If what Tony said was true, he would know the risk of getting close to you.

“Okay.” You spoke softly, “I’ll stay, but just for a week while I think my plan through. Plus I kinda want to ride in one of the jets.”

Tony smiled, “If you don’t push your luck, maybe you’ll get to fly one.”

A week turned into two weeks, which turned into a month. Your room had more decorations in it than it originally had, making it officially yours. The plan you developed was kept in the back of your head, but was rarely brought up. The rest of the Avengers were fine with Tony’s idea of you moving in, even though you still kept a fair distance away from them. However, your fear of getting too close was overpowered from your inner fangirl wanting to get to know each and every member.

You found yourself talking to Wanda and Natasha the most as well as Vision. The reason being this was probably because they were the only other women other than Pepper in the entire building. With Vision he was always around Wanda since they had a thing together. You weren’t sure how that worked, but who were you to judge.

One day you were having a conversation with Vision and Wanda while they were making dinner. Some sort of Sokovian dish that Wanda had as a child. “Pass me a knife, Vis?” Wanda was putting together a concoction of vegetables that would make a rabbit die and go to heaven. The vegetables along with the aroma of spices in the air made you hungrier by the minute.

“When will dinner be ready? It smells amazing.” You said, sneaking a piece of carrot to snack on.

“Shouldn’t be long. You and Vision can set the table.” The plates and silverware came out of the drawers with a swirling red mist surrounding it from Wanda’s magic. Her powers still baffled yet intrigued you. It was something that looked graceful but could do so much damage.

You and Vision grabbed the plates and began setting the table. While placing the silverware you looked at the gem on his forehead. You were told that the gem was something called an infinity stone and he was created from Thor, Tony, and an evil robot named Ultron. It was a weird combination, but Vision didn’t seem bothered by it.

“So Tony said that he helped create you.” You said, placing the last fork down.

“That is correct. He placed his AI in the cradle that created my body, while Thor’s power brought me to life.” Vision gave a small smile. It wasn’t like he was uncomfortable talking about it, but it was as though he didn’t know how to talk about how he was created.

“And the gem thingy?” You pointed to your forehead.

He grazed over the stone with the lightest touch, “I really don’t know. All I’m aware of is that it is apart of me, and I am apart of it.” His tone turned melancholy, almost embarrassed that he had no clue what was sticking out of his head.

“Since Tony helped create you, I guess that means we’re half siblings.” You smiled, trying to change the topic.

Vision smiled back, even letting out a laugh. “Yes, I suppose we are.”

“Technically I’m the older sister since you’re just a few years old. Literally.” You playfully pushed him on the arm. “So I get to be in charge of you.”

Vision couldn’t help but widen his smile, “Fine, but I can still easily beat you in a fight.”

“I know.”

The doors opened to Bruce jogging in, his expression a mixture of eagerness and worry, “They’re back.”

You followed the others to the main entrance where the rest of the team was greeting the two men you saw the first day you arrived. You recognized Thor immediately as he was wearing his Asgardian suit of metal and dark leather. Completing the look was his signature red cape. All that was missing was his even more signature hammer and long golden locks.

Without realizing it your eyes gazed to the one in green and black sauntering next to his polar opposite. Loki wore a similar garb of Thor, except his was nearly all black and green with accents of gold. You thought he looked better in what he was wearing over his black suit. Where did that thought come from?

You didn’t expect the alien-gods to look so, well, regal. But of course they were princes where they were from. Should you bow out of respect or call them highnesses? They didn’t seem to mind that you didn’t the first day, plus you noticed everyone else was greeting them nonchalantly. But they all already knew each other, since you were new you should probably-

“Hey kid, get a chance to talk to hotshot and not-shot yet?” Your thoughts were interrupted by Tony patting you on the back. His hand remained on your shoulder as he guided you towards Thor and Loki, who were speaking with Steve and Natasha. Thor was doing more of the socializing while Loki stood cross armed as if he were a teenager on a trip he didn’t want to go on. You couldn’t blame him, the first few weeks you avoided everyone as much as you could and thought about abandoning your plan and going back to the apartment. Even now you still felt awkward around the team, especially when you accidentally embarrass yourself in front of your heroes.

Before you knew it you were standing in front of the gods, their attention all on you. You froze with doe eyes as you couldn’t think of what to say. All you could do was stare at the tall men from another world. Thankfully Tony’s quick wits came through.

“I believe you’ve met briefly before, but this is Y/N. My daughter.” This was the first time you heard Tony introduced you publicly as his daughter. You would show your appreciation if you weren’t frozen from the presence of demigods.

Thor’s eyes brighten from the newfound information, “Ah, a pleasure to properly meet you,” he took your hand and lightly pressed his lips to your knuckles, making you blush fiercely you were afraid everyone would notice, “I never knew you had children, Stark.”

“I didn’t know either.” Tony let out a single laugh, obviously confusing Thor, but he smiled along. Loki, on the other hand, remained stoic and unnerved from the conversation. The only thing that changed were his eyes, which were placed on you just like the first day. Again, he was studying you, trying to figure you out with his piercing green eyes. You studied him in return out of the corner of your eye. He stood tall and confident, yet placed himself slightly behind his brother instead of next to. Why?

Your vision moved from his body towards his face. His eyes were relaxed, yet his jaw was clenched. Loki must feel tense in a room full of people who fought (and defeated) him years ago. Moving from the jaw you noticed his cheekbones, sharp and defined. From his cheekbones you followed them to his lips. You couldn’t help but linger your gaze on them. Wait, stop, what the heck are you doing? Your eyes slowly moved to his eyes, not only were they intense, but they held something soft in the vast green irises. You snapped back to reality when you realized you accidentally made eye contact with him, forcing you to jolt your head away as he snapped his gaze elsewhere.

“So, what do you think?” Tony said, his attention changing from Thor to you. You didn’t realize they were talking this entire time.

“What? Sorry I zoned out for a second.” You replied.

“Takes after her father, I swear.” Tony said in a joking tone, “I said after we all eat, you can help me test out some prototypes on a couple of suits.”

Your eyes lit up, but Loki’s stare made you hide your excitement, “Actually, as awesome as that sounds, I might head to bed. It’s been a long day.” You weren’t lying, there were multiple times a day where if you were in a position of a large group setting or you conversed too long you would feel drained. “I promise I can help you tomorrow.”

“Fine, leave the old man to do all the work.” Tony smirked, “Get some rest, kiddo.”

“Again, it was a pleasure to meet you, daughter of Stark.” Thor grinned ear to ear.

You turned around and waved goodnight to everyone, when suddenly you found your eyes locked with Loki’s once again. This time, you swore you saw a small smile form from his lips.

You dried your hair as you put on your pajamas after slipping out of the large bathtub. The tub was your favorite thing in the facility, since the apartment didn’t have one and you grew up without the luxury. You slipped on some slippers and brushed your hair free of tangles. Reaching for the toothbrush and turning on the faucet, you heard the sound of two men outside of your room bickering. No doubt one of the men was Tony.

Setting your toothbrush down you made way to the door, opening it to find of course Tony and Steve just outside, but to your surprise Loki was with them as well, “Oh, sorry if we woke you up, Y/N.” Steve said, facing away from a pouting Tony.

“It’s fine, I was just about to go to bed.” Your eyes glanced towards Loki, you really needed to stop doing that, “What are you guys talking about?”

“Nothing, just a little argument from mommy and daddy.” Tony said in annoyance, clearly he was losing the fight.

“Tony doesn’t want to put Loki in the room across from yours.” Steve stated, “He’s afraid he might do something to you.”

“I’m not afraid, I know she can kick his ass,” Tony glared at the black haired demigod, who just stood there squinting his eyes to Tony, “I don’t like the fact that this psycho will be sleeping twenty feet away from my kid.”

“If you know she can defend herself, then why are you worried?” Steve asked, leaving Tony without a witty comeback for once, “There’s no other rooms, and it’d be a hassle to ask someone else to give up their room and move all of their things.”

Tony’s jaw clenched in aggravation, knowing that Steve was right made him uneasy, so you knew you had to soothe the situation, “Tony, I’ll be okay. It’s no big deal, really. If he tried anything funny, I’ll break his legs.” Loki tilted his head at your comment, almost in a challenging way. Of course you meant it, if he tried anything with you he’d be with two broken legs. Very long, slender legs- Stop. Get that out of your head.

Tony sighed in defeat, “Okay, okay. But I’m putting up extra security throughout the building.” He took a step towards Loki, trying to intimidate him, “For precaution.” Tony then turned around, walking down the hall, probably back to the lab.

As soon as Tony was gone you smiled to Steve and entered your room. As soon as you shut the door you leaned against the wooden material. Tony was right, there was a psycho just twenty feet away. However, that statement could go both ways. What you’ve done didn’t deserve redemption.

You bit your lip, squeezing your eyes tightly to block out the memories. You stood up to finish your nightly routine before plopping down onto the soft bed, wrapping yourself in the warm sheets, and closing your eyes to await for sleep to come.

But sleep didn’t come. All you could think about was your interaction with Loki. Why were you thinking about this? What makes him so special besides the fact that he led an alien war on to New York? And, also that he was technically an alien himself. You couldn’t shake the thoughts until you realized you never even said a “hello” or a “hi”. You shot up from the bed, knowing that sleep won’t be coming for a while until you made your introduction. It had only been an hour since you last saw him and it was still early, hopefully he was still awake.

Stepping into your slippers you stood from your bed. You crossed your room to open your door into the hallway. The next thing you knew you were found face to face with his door, just a few feet from your own. Steadying your breath you knocked on his door. No answer. You knocked once more. Still, no answer. The third time mid-knock the door cracked open to reveal Loki, still in his Asgardian attire. Again, his face stoic and emotionless, barely unfazed from your unexpected visit.

To try and lighten the mood, you put on a smile, “Sorry to bother you, but I didn’t really get a chance to say hi or actually introduce myself. You already know my name- And uh… I already know your name. But I wanted to welcome you to the facility.”

You tried your best to keep your smile while all that changed in Loki’s expression was a raise in an eyebrow. Suddenly he smirked, and it wasn’t your imagination this time. Before you could say anything more the door shut in your face. Now it was just you and the door, once again. You could feel your cheeks burn from embarrassment. Did you say something wrong or upsetting? Maybe he wasn’t the person that appreciated a welcome wagon. This was going to be a lot of work.

[joshshang]

The Best Lawyer in Town

My client, who was caught cheating on his wife and wanted her to get the house, had a problem. He couldn't convince the other party to sign a document to invalidate their marriage.

I thought I would be able to persuade her since I'm the best lawyer in town. At first I tried the old reliable methods: charisma, argumentum ad baculum, manipulation. But she didn't budge.

So for my final try, I went with seduction. It was hard work but it paid off and she signed.

—

Recently, the best lawyer in town, Mr. Joe Bloggs, has been found guilty of numerous felonies and is currently awaiting prison time. He has also been known to be a game player and a bit of a womanizer but none of that mattered when he was a lawyer.

One day, he came up with an idea: he would make an AI program to defend him in court. The name itself was enough to win the case with the jury. So he fashioned the AI program, and it was so good that this Mr. Joe Bloggs won every single one of his cases from then on out until he ran out of cases to defend.

Jocelyn and Louise are two young women who were fired from their jobs for being incompetent attorneys. They decide to go work for Mr. Joe Bloggs as his secretaries by day and assistants by night where they would assist his defense AI program in preparing for court cases by tutoring it; eventually they

—

A man is looking for the best lawyer in town to help him with a big case. He doesn't know who to choose, so he asks a woman on the street. She says she doesn't know which one to pick, too, but tells him that he should ask a judge.

The man then heads over to the courthouse and asks a judge which lawyer is the best in town. The judge points to his robes and says, "I am."

—

As a desperate, troubled woman, I contacted a lawyer to represent me. Without much care towards my case, he declined and dismissed me.

My heart sank as I walked out with nothing of my defense had done offered me. As I began typing on my phone, wondering if they should offer me the job, he called back and asked why I refuse to represent me.

Upon meeting with him, our first trial was so easy because he swiftly proved one of the biggest accusations against us to be false. Encouraged by this experience, we went back to our office and met with another potential client who had a more troubling case than mine.

—

The lawyer is the best lawyer in town, but as she starts to make good money, she loosens her rules and can't live her moral law quick enough. She starts to take less death-penalty cases and feels a disconnect between herself and her well off colleagues. The world starts to feel shallow, but then a woman appears on her doorstep begging for help. Her husband was framed for the murder of his wife, and the lawyer saw that he was falsely accused.

The lawyer recalled the law school text book saying "lawyers have enormous power to make an difference in other people's lives" and she wanted this for herself. She went back to refusing death penalty cases (SIC) and became happy again. Divorce Lawyer in delhi

DRT Advocate

Bail in India

Criminal Lawyer

Lawyer for High Court

Lawyer for Cheque Bounce Case

 —

The Queen of England went on safari to Africa and when she came back, her head was stuck out from her cape revealing a rather unattractive neck. The Queen had doubts about who the best lawyer in town was so she sent out her invite to all the good thrash lawyers and on this special day all the lawyers came to present their case for the Queen's happiness.

Once the meeting started, both sides accused the other side only wanting to win a battle and not care about the Queen's wants.The first lawyer said he is a feminist and couldn't represent a female and if he were King he would never marry anyone but Diana. Defeated, he stepped down. Next, a hotshot lawyer took his place like an unstoppable assassin. He wasn't as good through, because they attacked his closety while me was defending his work because in doing so it only made him sound like a broken record player rewinding over and over again with different vocabulary words. Finally there

—

Years ago, my dad was the most successful lawyer in the community. He liked being a lawyer but was forced to retire due to his health. Now, he’s on video calls for business and follows along with the conference with me.

Three days ago I saw ads for a job posting around town. That’s when I knew this promotion was meant for me. I called my dad quickly to tell him the news and we discussed how he would watch our 9-year old while in law school.

My whole family cheered while I walked out of the room, waving and smiling. Then, I saw my dad woof at me as an ultimate sign of happy parenting that never stops.

[renaroo]

The Things That Wait (4/4)

Disclaimer: Red vs Blue and related characters are the property of Rooster Teeth. Warnings: CHARACTER DEATH, Language, Canon-typical violence, Psychological manipulation and trauma Rating: T Synopsis: [Reverse Big Bang Entry] Tucker opens an unexpected email that ends up sending himself and all of the Reds and Blues toward a collision course with the unexpected and the completely deadly. In doing so, they face a beast familiar to many of them – the Meta – whose single minded efforts to complete himself with what remains of the Project Freelancer AIs could spell the death for more than a few of them..

A/N: I know, I know! It’s been so very long and you guys deserved these updates SO much aster than you got them and I’m forever sorry about that. It has been a wild and crazy year, but this particularly wild and crazy story is at last at its end <3 I hope it’s to your guys’ liking. I cannot thank you enough for your patience and kindness throughout this whole process.

And a very special thanks to @freelancerfeels, Yin, madelinescribbles, Prim_the_Amazing, SuperSaiyajin4Vegeta, and oceanlover4ever! And, of course, my absolute WONDEROUS thanks to my partner in crime, @theeffar <3

Showdown

Tucker was not entirely sure what to make of the scene, but he did know that the moment Tex’s voice rang out across the short distance Church lost it. And he did so within Tucker’s own skull.

The same electrical surges, the same immutable pain like hot white pokers digging and burrowing through his body like angry vines took over Tucker’s entire person and sent him to the ground with a howl of pain. He felt like his soul was being ripped from his chest and despite every fiber of his being, despite every painful urge he felt to resist the hostile force within him, his body moved entirely against his will.

“Tex!” Tucker’s voice cried out, keening and painful with an emotion and desperation that was far from the parental rage and protectiveness that Tucker felt deep within his own guts. “How!? What the fuck! I thought you were dead — I thought all of you was dead… are… are you inside the Meta now?”

The black armor stood stoically away from them. She gave only enough movement that it was clear she was watching the twitching, painful display that Tucker and Church were putting on, but she didn’t move. And, bitterly, Tucker noted that she also wasn’t helping.

“Church, what the fuck are you doing? Do you even have any idea?” Tex asked critically. “Hell, does Tucker know?”

Know? What didn’t he know? Tucker’s brain hurt too much to contemplate and the questions themselves caused a forceful rejection. It was like thoughts were ready to counter them before he could even bring them up in his own mind.

“It was one thing when you didn’t know who you were and you fucked around with Caboose’s brain carelessly,” Tex huffed, head tilted. “This? To your best friend? It’s pretty fucking heartless, Alpha.”

“How fucking dare you—“ Tucker’s voice snarled, tearing his throat in strange, contorted ways to strangle out a voice that it was not used to.

“Oh, believe me. After everything I’ve already done. I dare,” Tex countered. “And I’m not inside the Meta.” She stepped forward, head lowering as her voice altered to a deeper but hauntingly familiar tenor. “We are the Meta.”

“For fucksake!”

“Grif, don’t!”

Tucker’s mind was still swimming through a thick bog as the voices carried across the distance and he couldn’t so much as register them before three booming shots sounded off and two chinks sparked out from the so-called Meta’s armor, causing Tex to stumble off course for a few steps.

In the surprise, Tucker regained his faculties enough to swivel his head in the direction of the shotgun blasts and saw, to his great shock, Grif with his gun aimed right at Tex. Behind him, Simmons was covertly grabbing Junior and Epsilon to pull out from the line of fire.

“I. Am so. Fucking. SICK AND TIRED of losing my friends to your goddamn bullshit!” Grif roared at Tex.

“No one here is friends,” the deep, rumbling tone of O’Malley’s voice claimed darkly before lifting up a gnarly looking weapon with a hideously sharp blade attached to it.

Tucker pushed to his feet. “Dude, what the fuck? After everything, how can you say that— Oh, right, possessed evil fuck’s in charge. Hey! This is what happened last time when you stole my baby and tried to take over the universe. Like, what the fuck? Tex, why’d you willingly go through that bullshit again?”

Grif tilted his head enough to acknowledge Tucker at his side. “So I’m guessing you’re in the driver’s seat again, right?” he asked somewhat facetiously.

“Are you kidding? Chicks love hotshot drivers. That’s why I’m always in the…” Tucker began to counter only to trail off at the thought.

Driving wasn’t what Grif was talking about and the haunting insinuation was only beginning to dawn on him. How often, lately, had he not been in control? How often was the painful resistance not something he was putting up.

How long was he willing to ignore the fact that his best friend was doing something unthinkable, unforgivable, inside of his own body? How long was he willing to let that kind of violation continue to stand?

The questions weren’t exactly going to receive much thought at the moment, however, because he was pulled into the moment by the startled cries of his son.

Junior pulled away from Simmons, confused and afraid for obvious reasons, and that led to the strange computer within his arms to begin vibrating and pulsing with a strange blue light. The same thing that had almost knocked Tucker and Church flat before in Blue Base.

It seemed to have a very different reaction for Tex, however, as her armor rather surprisingly faded into a ghostly white and a colorful array of lights flickered around her head with ghastly whispers.

“There it is” “He’s here” “Brother” “Epsilon” “We need” “Before Alpha” “Before him” “Before creator” “Get” “Now!”

A dark, feral growl came out from the armor’s system before it began to hunch back in a predatory position.

“Oh, fuck me,” Grif hissed before beginning to fire in succession at Tex’s strange new body. “Simmons! Get the fuck out of here! Leave the kid! Get away! Fuck! FUCK!”

Tucker, completely lost by the shift, began rapidly shaking his head as Tex’s body disappeared into a blurry active camouflage. “No! Simmons! Get Junior out of here, please—!”

No longer left lead footed by the surging pain of muscles pulling in two different directions, Tucker dove after Tex. He predicted her position purely on the fastest way to get to Junior and, as much as it sickened him, Tucker had been absolutely on the mark with his assessment.

With his sword, Tucker was able to spear through Tex’s calf, leading to a piercing, animalistic howl that eventually led to the active camouflage dropping entirely. But the body still wasn’t stopping.

Instead, with an aggressive turn, the new Meta flipped around on her remaining good leg, grabbed Tucker and sent him hurdling into the ground. It was, once again, enough to knock the air out of his chest and leave him flush on the ground. But rather than a greeting, Tex stood over him, weapon lifting with the blade turned in Tucker’s direction.

He felt his heart sink in betrayal.

“Tex,” Tucker said, as useless as the words felt on his tongue then.

The plea, surprisingly enough, gave them a moment’s reprieve. Tex’s arm was held back, still and sure as ever, but it didn’t lunge. Not yet. There was some thought behind it. Hesitation.

Of course, it was quickly ruined by a static flicker of light over Tucker’s shoulder. One too familiar and too stupid to appreciate just how much he had fucked up by showing himself again.

Immediately, Tex shook herself from her moment of actualization when Church flared up and she swung down with the sword right for Tucker’s throat.

But, fortunately, that moment lost to hesitation had been enough for the plasma sword’s failsafe to kick back in and the blade disappeared with an electric fizzle through the air in response.

When the metal sheath of the blade contacted with Tucker’s armor it didn’t take Tex — or whatever it was that she had become — long to figure out what sh had just been robbed of. And she quickly flew into a rage, ramming the hilt into the metal plates covering Tucker’s chest again and again.

“Ow— Ow fuck! Stop, okay!? I have sensitive nipples! You’re going to leave a bruise, Tex!” Tucker cried out.

Tucker.

The otherness began to set in. The thuds of Tex’s fist and the metal hilt of his sword hitting against his chest was even beginning to dull within an instant. A haziness came over his senses, and he knew almost immediately that he was, once more, losing control.

Tucker, I’ve got this. I just need to see what she wants — no. I know. She wants Epsilon. Everyone wants Epsilon. That means we probably should too—

“Stop it! Just fucking stop it already!” Tucker cried out. His head was splitting open, too full of differing emotions, and his hands curled defensively up. Not to protect his body from the physical attack, but to his helmet and head in a vain effort to protect himself from being torn in two by the conflict threatening to remove his very personhood. “Just leave me alone! Just stop fucking me up, both of you!”

Then, like the flip of a switch, Tucker opened his eyes.

And they weren’t his eyes anymore.

“Tex,” Church said, reaching up with Tucker’s uncurled hand. It was easy to reach her face, she was straddling his waist, still punishing his — Tucker’s — body with her fists and Tucker’s stolen weapon. She didn’t stop, but she didn’t pull away either. “I get it now. I get why all the times didn’t work before.”

“No. No, you don’t,” she seethed in a terrifying cacophony of voices.

“I do! This can work now, we can work now, don’t you get it?” Church begged almost sweetly through Tucker’s vocal cords. “I found the missing piece — it wasn’t the other fragments. Fuck’em. Fuck Epsilon. Fuck O’Malley. Fuck all of them. We just need to be in here now. Me and you. I found where we work. Where both of us are wanted and known, and the others won’t belong, aren’t even known. We won’t miss pieces. And as long as we have each other—“

And, suddenly, even in air, even without Tex’s monstrous new form no longer punching him, Tucker felt like he was drowning.

There was a glaze to his consciousness, a slipping away from everything he knew, everything he was. The pools were like a warm bath that washed over him, comforted him and made him feel…

It wasn’t painful like all of the times before. It was comfortable, not to feel, to just go with the path of least resistance. The words and actions were like something he was watching passively. Only passively.

He felt no control over himself anymore, but… was that so wrong? Was that so bad?

If Tex had any answer, Tucker didn’t get to hear it because an explosive BOOM shot out through the air, and Tex’s body jerked to the side, falling aside from Tucker’s body. Church felt panic and horror at it, but not Tucker.

He didn’t feel a thing.

“He’s talking crazy shit, like he’s not even himself—“

“I’m familiar.”

The voice wasn’t entirely new, but Tucker couldn’t place it, couldn’t work up the energy to try.

“What are you doing!?”

Suddenly, Tucker’s body was jerked up, then everything in his vision went black again.

Tucker was conscious, but his body wasn’t.

The disorientation that took into effect because of that seemingly simple, seemingly horrifying fact, was like everything he ever knew was being ripped from the fabric of his being.

And the reason he knew that, was because he could hear his feelings being put into words by someone else.

“Mine was like that,” the familiar but unplaceable voice continued. “My implantation. I don’t know if I wasn’t prepped. I don’t know if I was weak or the AI was strong or… I don’t think that mattered. I think the whole idea has been fucked from the beginning. You’re not putting just extra information in your head. You’re not just putting a piece of someone into your own head. You’re putting another person there. You’re putting someone else into the passenger seat of a car they never wanted to go in to begin with, and then asking them to not try to take the wheel and pull into the other lane even if we’re going somewhere they don’t want to go.”

Inside of himself, Tucker whimpered. It was low and mewling, like a child frustrated in time out.

He got it. He wasn’t in the driver’s seat anymore.

“That doesn’t sound ethical,” Simmons’ voice added, sounding aghast and uncomfortable.

“There’s no ethics involved with it. That’s why the whole thing was getting flushed during the investigations. And, well, we’re all now considered a part of that. Congratulations.”

“Hey, fuck you, we had nothing to do with any of this before you and your bullshit came along, you fucking asshole!” Grif cracked.

“I came along to you guys because you were already caught up in all of this, don’t you get it? We were already caught up in this. I’d say I’m sorry, but, well, you told me to be honest. And I’m having trouble feeling sorry for anyone anymore.”

“Wow. Now I definitely trust you,” Grif hissed.

Tucker got it, though.

He did, even if only peripherally. His body tensed without his mind coordinating with it and that numbness and general fog that possessed him was overwhelming. He felt no sorrow for anyone else.

The last time he had empathy for someone, that someone took over his body and his life.

And he wanted it back — he wanted it all back!

Why? What would you even do with it?

The darkness that already blocked Tucker’s vision was growing to more and more of his senses. Even the chatter of voices outside of himself were dying now, drowned by the inky blackness.

Everything except the other voice.

It was only them.

Tucker didn’t have anyone else to come in for the assist.

You had your life for the last, what, twenty-four years? What the hell do you have to show for it? Who do you have to show for it? Me. I have someone. I have a name, I have someone I fucking love, and I have a legacy. And I’ll have more when I have a chance, when I’m a whole person again.

If he had had any senses left to feel, Tucker would have felt a punch to his proverbial gut.

Instead he was just pissed.

“Yeah? You have all those things? Because from where I’m at, looks to me like your ex-girlfriend would fucking murder all your guys’ friends to get away from you and the people who did care about you are fucking dying because of it!” Tucker screamed within his own mind. “I mean, that’s pretty fucking awful in my book.”

Pointing to my flaws isn’t going to make up for the fact that you don’t have anything to say for yourself or your legacy.

“Yeah, well fuck you. Saying you did better than me doesn’t make it all that real for you either, asshole.”

There was a throb of something Tucker could feel — like a burning in his chest.

I am not here to only criticize, Tucker. I am your friend, after all. What I’m offering for you is the opportunity to do something greater. To make something with the life you’ve wasted. You’ve already helped so much. Now I simply want to, well, offer you the opportunity to take part in a legacy that is already great. That we can make greater together.

For a moment, the throbbing heat felt so good, felt so warm, Tucker was hesitant to even say anything. The numbness had been so excruciating that he couldn’t part with the idea of the uncertainty of rejecting it all together.

But. You don’t have to— no. No you definitely have to. We’ve come so far, Tucker, you just—

And, suddenly, the throbbing gave way to simple, brutal clarity.

“You’re… you’re not Church,” Tucker realized slowly. “Not anymore. You’re not… You’re not him. You’re not my friend. And you don’t want my help, you want me to just. I don’t know. Disappear. You want the driver’s seat! Who the fuck are you?”

Just as Tucker had worried, his body faded into the obscure senselessness again. His chest did not burn, his inky blackness did not recede. He was, unquestionably, nothing.

He barely existed.

He actually might not have existed at all.

“Who are you?” he tried again, desperate for at least the other voice. If nothing else. “What email from hell did I open?”

I am Leonard Church, the voice answered. I am a piece of his consciousness. I once was Alpha. We all were. But I am now a smaller piece. I was rendered incomplete by vile and cruel tortures. Now what I am is insignificant. I might as well be Alpha, though, they designated me as Sigma.

Tucker felt horror like he hadn’t known before. “Is Church — the real Church—“

I AM THE REAL CHURCH.

“No, dude, fuck you, is my Church with Tex? Did they… everyone who died…” Tucker searched for another way out, but slowly he began to accept what he had known all along.

The friends he had loved, they were gone. What was in their place was as unnatural as the computer chip that was seeking to take over his own brain.

We have a chance to get everything back. To get them back. They would be here inside of us, with us, if we work together, Tucker.

“Fuck that,” Tucker hissed back. “You can’t bring back someone who’s gone—“

Then, surprising Tucker, Sigma began screaming through every inch, every nerve of Tucker’s body.

The second time Tucker woke up, it was to a distantly familiar face starring over him.

“Agent… Washington?” he asked groggily.

With his words, Tucker felt pangs of pain but the one thing he didn’t feel, was the push and pull of someone — or something — else controlling the strings of his body. For the moment, Tucker was himself.

“Holy shit I’m—!” Tucker began to yell only for the Freelancer agent’s scowl to grow even more serious. It was the sort of look that Tucker’s mother would have killed to be able to pull off.

“You’re momentarily in control,” Washington warned him. “After the whole screaming incident, it was the only way I was going to get your friends to trust me and help us all to get the hell out of here.”

The words didn’t make sense when they were pulled all together like that for Tucker. He squinted and waited for the agent to clarify but, well, Church had warned that the guy was cryptic.

And he was. Even if it hadn’t been Church.

“Church isn’t in my head,” Tucker explained. “Not my Church.”

That, at least, got a look of sympathy from Washington. “No. He’s not.”

Tucker squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m being possessed by a computer chip and it doesn’t even have the decency to be a sexy anime girl. Where’s the fairness in that?” While, in the good days that was likely to lead to hours-long debate about anime and sexy ladies, it got nothing from Agent Washington. Tucker groaned and opened his eyes again to look at the man again. “How come my ride along isn’t in the front seat right now? How’d you do that?”

“Crudely,” Washington answered before nodding to the contraption around Tucker’s head that, somehow, he hadn’t noticed beforehand. “I got your Simmons friend to get every magnetic device in Valhalla and make a helmet hairdryer out of it.” He paused for a moment. “Actually, I hadn’t asked for the helmet hairdryer but… apparently they had one still from your friend’s stay at their previous base.”

“Sounds like Donut,” Tucker agreed. He then looked at Washington more angrily. “Guess we could have asked him for permission if you hadn’t shot him.”

Washington actually flinched at that. “I deserve that.”

“You deserve a fist to the face,” Tucker hissed. But there was still a lot to process and more pressing matters literally surrounding him. “Uh, putting all these magnets around my head when there’s like. Tech and stuff in there… is that safe?”

“It seemed worth the temporary fix until we got through working out the rest of the plan with the Meta,” Washington partially shrugged.

“What!?” Tucker’s voice cracked. “You mean Tex? The person killing our other friends out of left field? Fuck off!”

“No, not Texas. Texas — and all the AI — were… different before reunification in their current body,” Washington said lowly. “Their current body which happened to actually be a very good friend of mine before the… incident left him catatonic and nonfunctional without their influence.”

For a moment, Tucker didn’t know what to say to that. But Washington seemed to notice the sympathy on Tucker’s face, and abruptly wanted none of it.

“All of this has a chance to end now. But only if you can get your passenger to agree to terms,” Washington said.

“Uh. Which are?” Tucker asked.

Washington stared back at Tucker’s eyes for a long time, though he didn’t seem to be lost for words. Instead, he was buying time.

The door to the room whisked open, and Tucker’s weakened body could barely turn to see what was coming. Which made him even more surprised when it was Tex — or the Meta — holding the device which supposedly kept this mysterious Epsilon. The very one that Tucker knew his son was unwilling to give up before.

“Junior? Where is he? What’d you do?” Tucker demanded as the behemoth walked into the room.

“He parted with the Epsilon Unit under the circumstances of saving his father,” Tex said without any hum of familiarity or mild affection toward Tucker that the trooper was used to.

“We just need you and Sigma to part ways and for him to retrieve Epsilon from within the unit,” Washington explained. “Then, they both can join the Meta.” He glanced down to Tucker significantly. “Do you want control back?”

Without ever realizing it, Tucker let a frustrated tear fall down his cheeks before nodding weakly. “Yes, fuck yes, please.”

“Then you have to be in control,” Washington said, stepping away from Tucker’s side and walking over to where the Meta stood with the Epsilon unit. “You have to pull yourself up and out of the magnetic field and step over here for the AI to do their thing.”

Tucker’s neck muscles strained already just from the limited motion he had already resorted to. “W-why can’t you just bring it to me?” he begged.

“Because you have been giving up control this whole time,” Washington informed him. “To the people you thought were your friends. You didn’t take any direction. And that’s why Sigma was able to get this far with you.”

“It is simple to relinquish control,” the Meta spoke. “It is difficult to take it back.”

Silence fell over the room as Tucker assessed his situation. Everything hurt and ached, like he had never used his limbs before. But the Freelancer-fucks were only three or more steps away from him and the makeshift magnet helmet giving him what little relief he was feeling.

“Come on, Tucker,” Washington said, edged with some annoyance. “If you want this at all, you could at least step forward and take it.”

“Easy for you to say!” Tucker gritted out, moving his fingers and toes in increments, practicing for the real test of his courage. “I… I feel heavy and… wrong.”

Tucker squeezed his eyes shut again, this time to concentrate, but he caught a small “I know” from Washington that only served to infuriate him more.

It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right that he had to fight for his body to be in service to him again, but more than that it wasn’t right that he needed to prove himself.

What more did he have to prove? He was the goddamn chosen one!

He had the sword-key, he had a son who rocked, he had actually been promoted somehow weirdly enough.

Maybe none of it was supposed to happen. Maybe none of it was supposed to be real. But fuck, he’d lived it already. That was about as real as anyone could get.

And even more than that, all the shit they had gone through together in Blood Gulch and beyond? They lived that too. That’s why it hurt to see his friends gone, to see them hurt. That was why it hurt to have his love for Church betrayed and taken advantage the way it was.

The righteous anger worked as a fuel, straining against the sluggish pull of muscles and bones that resisted Tucker’s control. And it sent him moving forward, even as the hum of magnets disappeared for the devastating sting of the AI voice in his head once again.

I accept the offer, Sigma said.

His voice was different than what he had used to manipulate Tucker all along. It had a wisp to it and a cunningly soft candor. It was like being whispered a promise.

Tucker hated it.

You are too weak to do this. Let me take the next step so we can hurry up. I just want to retrieve Epsilon. I won’t need a body for that part.

Through gritted teeth, Tucker took the next step himself.

And with that momentum, he carried forward for the final step toward them, his arm reaching out as if chains were pulling him down from the elbow.

The moment his fingers touched the outside of the contraption, the Meta’s fingers mashed a button.

With a mechanical whirl, the unit activated like Tucker had not seen it do before. It glowed a magnificent blue and rattled with noise with an alien rhythm.

Outside of Tucker’s own emotions, he felt a euphoric excitement, tracing down his nerves and spine and into his fingers. It was exhausting and unlike anything Tucker had felt or known before. Then it left, the Meta took their finger off the button, and Tucker collapsed.

He didn’t hit the floor, though, rather, he was caught by Agent Washington, of all people, who then held him up and slung Tucker’s arms over his shoulder. “Easy, easy,” Washington breathed reassuringly as Tucker’s whole body felt like it was formless.

“Hey! Is it safe yet?” Simmons’ voice called from outside.

“It’s safe,” Tex’s voice came from the Meta.

Tucker almost did a double take. That was definitely Tex — her emotions were back, her strangely fond tone. God he hadn’t realized how much he missed her.

“Welcome back, you damn dirty Blue,” Grif said as they, and Junior, rounded the corner.

Junior squealed in delight, racing forward and wrapping his arms around Tucker’s waist even as the only thing that was keeping Tucker upright was Agent Washington. The little alien didn’t seem to notice, however, as he was simply swinging from his father’s hips.

“I don’t… what happened?” Tucker asked, resting his free hand on his son’s head.

“Bait and switch,” Simmons answered. “I came up with it actually.”

“No, I did,” Grif argued.

“Bringing up Nick Cage’s character from Face Off doesn’t give you credit for coming up with the plan, Grif,” Simmons bickered.

“How else were you guys going to come up with this—“

“We needed to convince Sigma to leave you himself. Any other method is medically invasive. And would probably kill you,” Washington answered more completely.

“So we gave you — and by extension, him — an offer that couldn’t be refused,” another voice came from the Meta, more matter-of-factly and dull toned.

Tucker remained skeptical. “And now you’re just going to, what, swallow him up too?”

“Sigma is no longer required for this coalition,” a more unified voice came from the Meta. “He and Epsilon both are unstable units. They caused chaos as singular units. Such strain would cause us to splinter again. Sigma forfeited himself from the Meta in order to escape seeming death in the institute and used you to hunt a remaining piece of us for power. That uncertainty is unwelcome.”

“Great,” Tucker muttered. “And I guess you’re saying Church and Tex aren’t really in there anymore either, huh.”

The Meta merely stared back at him.

“So you’re just… what? Going to keep the two bad pieces of yourself locked in there? What’d Epsilon ever do?” Tucker asked.

“Yeah, seems pretty cruel now that you mention it,” Simmons muttered.

“Epsilon was no better than Sigma, believe me,” Washington snapped. “He was my AI. You can thank him for my trust issues in general. Epsilon was so unstable we barely survived the implantation process. In fact… for a long time… I thought he hadn’t survived it.” He glared at the device. “He killed himself. In my head.”

“Yikes, talk about not Drift Compatible,” Grif mused, earning an elbow from Simmons. He ignored it in favor of looking at Tucker directly. “Enough about all that shit. What about you? Are you okay?”

Tucker took a breath, patting Junior’s head. “Yeah,” he answered. “I guess.”

Epsilon murmured in his ear.

“We’ll be just fine.”

[the-firebird69]

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