#not as many non replica ones as i thought but looking through them these ones are the only ones i really liked

[gotham-native]

If your up to it can you share your favorite Demeter designs

Replica and non replica

there's a lot so buckle up

London 1995 (Michele Hooper)

Original Broadway Production (Wendy Edmead)

Hamburg 1990 (Kate Hamilton)

1998 Film (Aeva May/Linda Mae Brewer)

Zurich 1991 (Simona Ferrari)

Moscow 2005 (Olga Belyayeva)

UK/European Tour 2013-14 (Zizi Strallen)

Broadway Revival (Kim Faure)

China 2012 (Ding Zhenying)

Warsaw

Mexico Tour 2018

il sistina

[xxmarvelouslifexx]

Hello to the handful of you who enjoy reading about my adventures. I need to do something besides work and doomscroll so I am attempting to visit all the museums in Balboa Park and making you all hear about it. Since I am driving into the city more, might as well get some visits in while I'm at it. Long post so I will hide the rest of it down below.

First up, kinda mentioned it before but home to the fun cannibalism exhibit:

Museum of Us (formerly known as the Museum of Man)

Anthropology museum! Had a bunch of fascinating exhibits I didn't even get through half of them. They had some replica mayan stelae, which as it turns out are from the 1915 Panama-California Exposition, which was held in Balboa Park and helped turn it into the jewel of San Diego that it is now. This updated exhibit on Mayan culture I thought was well done. In the intro they explained how they worked with Mayan consultants to ensure the exhibit was respectful and reflective of modern Mayan communities. Throughout there were excerpts of the Popol Wuj, one of the foundational sources of their mythology, which I thought was very cool. They also very much went into the impact of colonization on their communities.

My favorite exhibit of the ones I saw: Hostile Terrain 94. It was heavy, I almost cried to be honest. It explores the very deadly human impact of the 1994 "Prevention through Deterrence" US border policy. Which for my non-american followers was the purposeful choice to make official border ports of entry and their surroundings urban areas more difficult for undocumented migrants to cross, leaving them with limited options, such as crossing the barren Sonoran desert instead. The map you see above is the Arizona, USA and Sonora, Mexico border. Those tags you see all over the map are identification tags for all the bodies found of migrants attempting to make the journey. 3,205 from the 1990s through 2020 alone. Manila are identified, orange are unidentified remains.

My parents immigrated from Mexico, as did many of my tias and tios. They were all undocumented for a time. Luckily for them, they all crossed pre-1994 with few difficulties. So I couldn't help it think, that could've been them if things turned out differently. Reading through the tags, seeing how young some were, a woman 19 years old, barely even had a chance to live. And the unidentified remains. How many families are out there still searching for answers? The border isn't just a political talking point. Congress' inability to move on immigration reform is a disgrace when there is so much human suffering occurring at the border and the routes to it.

San Diego Natural History Museum

Moving on to lighter subjects. Dinosaurs and fossils! This place is huge, 4 floors of some amazing exhibits. Again did not even fully finish one floor. Really enjoyed the ecosystems corner that explained the very diverse habits that exist around here. Not to brag but beaches, mountains, deserts, chaparral we got it all.

Look at the ankylosaur and mammoth skeleton. Neat! And below the California Grizzly Bear. It's the one our state flag and also the one we very sadly hunted to extinction in 1922.

One last one because this is getting long.

Museum of Photographic Arts (part of the San Diego Museum of Art)

Apparitions, Bill Armstrong, 2005

They had some very interesting photos here! I had to document this one for you all. No, I was not out of focus, that is what the photos look like. And the subjects are described only as "roman sculptures". So are some of our guys hiding up there? One of them is looking awfully caesar-y to me.

They also have a collection of daguerreotype, ambrotype, and tintypes. Which I had no idea were different things. So fascinating to look at. Did these people imagine we'd still be looking at their photos almost 200 years later?

I've knocked two more museums off the list this week, so another post coming soon. Hope you actually enjoyed this very long post :)

[namingofcatszine]

What do you look for in an art portfolio? Like is there a certain skill level criteria??

this is a tough one to answer! there are five of us mods who will discuss together when the application process ends, it wont just be me (mod peach) deciding. us mods also discussed which guest contributors we wanted to invite as well! our team is amazing and im glad to be working with them!

its hard to explain the criteria that i have when it comes to art. there are SO many different styles that i've seen from the applications so far and they look amazing! typically when it comes to page, i look for backgrounds and characters in a background setting. but if you're too scared to go for backgrounds, then merch is best for you!

i specialize more in merch so im actually also deciding whether or not someone would be more suited for the merch positions. your style could really look super cute as icons, stickers, etc. (please apply for merch its so fun!!!) if you're worried that you might not get accepted for page, you may be accepted for merch (only if you chose the pinch hitter option)!

by the way, im also not looking for one specific style, im accepting of all! someone could specialize in realism while another draws in a really cute cartoon style, i accept any! this zine will have so much variety just like the characters themselves, its so fun looking through all of the portfolios so far!

but these are my thoughts. the rest of the mods might have a different thought process, but we will discuss when the application forms close!

we hope this was helpful, please try your best signing up! beginner or not, maybe your art could design a lovely page or design a lovely piece of merch for all to enjoy! (or maybe even a non-replica production art print?????) the possibilities are endless!

[saraunailyqistfarees]

I Stand Here Ironing by Tillie Olsen (1961)

"I nursed her. They feel that’s important nowadays. I nursed all the children, but with her, with all the fierce rigidity of first motherhood, I did like the books then said. Though her cries battered me to trembling and my breasts ached with swollenness, I waited till the clock decreed."

When "I Stand Here Ironing" came out in the 1950s, family life and housework were often portrayed as perfect: women wore clean dresses, cooked perfect meals, and watched over well-behaved kids while their husbands worked. Tillie Olsen's descriptions of domestic life as grimy, boring, and hard are different from these overly romanticised ones. They tell readers that American family life wasn't always glamorous, especially for poor families. Because the narrator is poor, she has to do the same boring tasks over and over again. This keeps her from enjoying life and giving her daughter Emily the best care. Unfortunately, the narrator's work has value for her even though she is poor, and it is in part because of this work that she can imagine a future where Emily may have more freedom than she did.

The narrator and her two daughters find power and stress in being women. When men are unreliable, women learn to be self-sufficient and solid, which helps them through tough times. But male-dominated society's impact are large, even in the absence of related male support, prompting girls to internalise unrealistic beauty standards and fueling their conflict. Olsen claims that women must fulfil many contradictory roles at once, making it practically difficult for one woman to meet society's expectations. In light of this, femininity functions as a key to resistance in the narrative, but it also functions as a liability.

Even though the males in their lives are useless, patriarchal society's standards of female beauty limit Emily and the narrator. Emily was “beautiful at birth,” but she became “thin and dark and foreign-looking at a time when every little girl was supposed to look or thought she should look a chubby blonde replica of Shirley Temple.” This disparity in appearance contributed to Emily's social and emotional issues, while Susan, Emily's conventionally gorgeous sister, did not. The narrator tried to convince Emily she was lovely “to the seeing eye” but says “the seeing eyes were few or non-existent. Including mine.” The fact that the narrator couldn't always notice Emily's actual beauty illustrates that beauty is often overlooked, making its pursuit pointless. Even non-humans show how beauty deceives. The narrator calls Emily's childhood home “a handsome place, green lawns and tall trees and fluted flower beds.” Even though the house seems nice, Emily and the other kids hate it. Unreliable beauty decreases its worth and restricts its possessors' influence. Emily strives for typical feminine attractiveness, but the narrator is more cautious, implying her power is superficial. Femininity burdens the narrator and her daughter by forcing them to meet unrealistic beauty standards.

In this story, female connections are empowering and restricting, like beauty. Female characters' love can empower them, yet gendered social demands might cause anxiety and tension. The narrator realises that as Emily's mother, she must understand her better. However, she feels far from Emily, thinking, “She has lived for nineteen years. All that life happened outside me.” The narrator wonders if she failed as a mother after this separation, while showing readers how she has loved and supported Emily throughout her childhood. This relationship with Emily is meaningful, but the narrator feels like society wants a more mystical one. Despite her good relationship with Emily, motherhood leaves the narrator depressed in the face of unrealistic demands.

In the end, the narrator hopes Emily can escape the confines of ironing and domestic labour. Actually, Emily has accomplished this already: unlike her mother, Emily has reached the age of nineteen without getting married or having children. Thus, time is both restricting and productive, and it may help Emily escape poverty as it has guided her into it. The narrator also accomplished what she thought impossible by recounting Emily's childhood. She still feels bad about her failings, but she seems to have realised that there is no correct interpretation of the facts and no way to determine the full impact of her choices. Despite this enormous, incomprehensible fact, the narrator decides that Emily's life can be better than her mother's.

[dippedanddripped]

Old Nollywood aesthetics and fashion may be considered trendy today, but the films were not always so well-regarded. In the 90s and early 2000s, when these movies were made and watched in parlours across Nigerian homes as they were shot, straight-to-video, they were considered as bad entertainment, or ‘low culture’. To watch and enjoy Nollywood films was to celebrate mediocrity. But today, nostalgic young Millennials and Gen Zers are overlooking the jarring audio, grainy pictures, and sometimes hammy acting, to appreciate not only the grooming and style of the actors, but the original and diverse stories that reflect unique Nigerian experiences.

It was for this reason that sisters Tochi and Ebele Anueyiagu started Nolly Babes, a nostalgic Instagram account dedicated to celebrating the cinematic period’s women. Started in December 2017, their first post was of Nollywood’s biggest star Genevieve Nnaji; a still taken from 2004 film Sharon Stone In Abuja, directed by Adim Williams. Nnaji plays the titular character, a sexually liberated young woman who uses her beauty and charm to ensnare unassuming men into doing her bidding.

The account is an ode to the female characters of old Nollywood who were often portrayed as warning examples. The storylines were steeped in moral principles rooted in the patriarchal culture and the dominant Christian religion of Southern Nigeria. A large number of the female characters were considered immoral because they kissed other women, challenged men, smoked and drank, or wore mini skirts. Today, Nolly Babes and similar accounts are reimagining these women, taking their scenes out of the moralistic context of the films, and turning them into iconic feminist personas.

The first time Nollywood content seeped into the mainstream internet consciousness can be traced back to 2017 when videos of Nollywood’s favourite comedic duo Chinedu Ikedieze and Osita Iheme, better known as Aki and Pawpaw, rose to popularity due mostly to the influence of a now-defunct Twitter account @nollywoodroll ran by Nicole, a woman based in Brazil.

Their memes became the go-to reaction videos for expressing a wide range of emotions: joy, disappointment, sadness, frustration. The appeal was in seeing children making mischief or in adult situations – drinking beer and smoking cigars, wooing bigger women, or in oversized suits shouting instructions at people twice their size. Although both Ikedieze and Iheme were in their 20s in the early 2000s when most of the films were made, they mostly played children because of their body stature. By 2019, the memes had achieved such virality that brands like Rihanna’s Fenty would use them for social media clout.

Theodora Imaan Beauvais is the curator of Yung Nollywood, another archive of clips and stills from old Nollywood paying homage to its controversial female characters, after screenshotting moments from Nollywood she found “appealing or inspirational”. Yung Nollywood is remarkably distinct from Nolly Babes for its subtitling of the films’ stills from Nollywood films, something she attributes to Tumblr. While the idea to give witty captions to the actors’ facial expressions came from watching Netflix. “I thought, ‘If someone could describe Nollywood reactions in short phrases it’d be an art form on its own,’ and I became that someone.’”

In December 2019, Tochi and Ebele hosted a Nollywood-themed party in Lagos. Nollywood actor and musician Nonso Bassey attended the party dressed in a two-piece jean set and bucket hat, a signature look of the bad boy/alpha male archetype, and a role reprised multiple times by older actors such as Hanks Anuku, Emeka Ike, and Jim Iyke. Since that party, Nonso has attended social functions and premieres in outfits that make a nod to the fashion choices of that era of Nollywood. He insists, though, that he isn’t cosplaying Nollywood characters of that era. “I’ve always been attracted to the idea of merging old world charm with a new school approach,” he said.

The party caused a cultural stir amongst Nigerians and Africans both at home and in the diaspora – every other week, there seems to be a Nollywood-themed party held either in Lagos or London. Take for instance friends and business partners Imani Okunubi and Aseosa Uwagboe, two Nigerian-British kids who grew up in the UK. Nollywood was one of the ways they could connect back to their roots. That experience informs their event brand, Lasgidi to London, targeted at Nigerians living in the UK. “We wanted to create events that were reminiscent of the Naija hall parties (Owambe) we attended as kids, as we don’t want to see that culture die,” Aseosa said. Their next owambe is a Nollywood-themed party and guests are expected to come dressed in their “best nolly Y2K aesthetic”.

Below, the Nolly Babes sisters talk about creating and hosting the first Nollywood-themed party and the cultural moment it has inspired.

How did that first event come about – please take me through it, from the planning to how it turned out?

Nolly Babes: From the inception of Nolly Babes, we knew we had to throw a party. Fashion is a huge part of what makes Nolly Babes different from other Nollywood-themed pages and we knew we were the only ones that could set Nolly Babes as the dress code and have people commit as they did. There are many iconic Nollywood scenes and scenarios. The daughter meeting her evil mother-in-law, the ominous visit to the Babalawo, the campus stroll – just the mere mention of these scenes evokes images that have been embedded in the minds of our fellow Nollywood enthusiasts. The party scene is probably the most iconic of them all. Whether it’s in a club, a mansion while mum and dad are out of town (but coming home early to crash the whole thing) or poolside, the Nolly Babes party scene has its staples: mad music, dancing, and sick outfits.

December in Lagos is notoriously hectic. On each day, there are day parties, beach hangouts, concerts, and we just knew we had to be a part of it. Our flyer was the first thing we made sure was done right, and that has been replicated (but never duplicated) many many times. We went through at least six drafts of that until we got the flyer to be a realistic replica of the home video covers from the golden era. The DJs Kemi Lijadu and vIVENDII Sounds understood the assignment and played music from the Nolly Babes era. We’re talking Tony Tetuila, Mo Hitz, Wande Coal, Plantation Boyz… We curated a special cocktail menu: Genny Colladas, Jim Iyke’s Hard Lemonade, MargaRita Dominic, and our Lagos Island Iced Tea, in tribute to Nollywood stars Genevieve Nnaji, Jim Iyke, and Rita Dominic respectively. We had a video projection on the famous red wall at Nok showing a mashup of emblematic scenes. We were partying while seeing images of a young Jim Iyke dressed just like many of the attendees were dressed. It was magical! We have an event we’re planning in New York for the summer – it’s going to be a madness.

Did you envisage it becoming the cultural movement it’s now become?

Nolly Babes: We really didn’t. We hosted the party because we knew people were taking inspiration from our page for styling jobs and music video treatments, and wanted to give everyone a chance to recreate some of their favourite looks. Now every week we see people planning Nollywood-themed parties and sending people to our page for references. It’s awesome. Toke Makinwa even recently attended a Nolly Babes-themed party and she was dressed as a character we have immortalised – Regina Askia in President’s Daughter. She killed it! Even though the character wasn’t referenced, it was clear as day and it was awesome to see that she pulled it off! Honestly, when we see people really pay attention to detail and execute the theme well it’s so, so dope.

How has TikTok helped grow Nollywood's influence? You posted a scene from Girls Cot, the famous “you stink with poverty” clip on TikTok and it went viral and birthed these recreations even by non-Africans.

Nolly Babes: We’re just happy to see that another aspect of Nollywood that we champion – the iconic scenes and one-liners – is also resonating across the world. We see Nolly Babes as an archival work and as much as we focus on beauty and looks on Instagram, it’s nice to be able to point people in the direction of the scenes that are forever embedded in our brains. These are scenes we recreated in jest ourselves before there was even a Nolly Babes to begin with, so to see it catching on TikTok is exciting and a new frontier for us to fully explore. I think what distinguishes Nolly Babes from other Nollywood pages and what contributes to our TikTok success is that we really watch Nollywood movies. We grew up watching these movies and continue to do so now so we can capture those moments in films that the casual consumer or poster of Nollywood content might not.

What are your thoughts on Nollywood’s influence on the Alté scene? Music videos of artists such as Lady Donli and Odunsi nod to the aesthetic and fashion styles of that era.

Nolly Babes: Nollywood, and specifically the aesthetic we have shone a spotlight on, is probably one of the biggest influences in terms of visuals in that scene right now. I have never seen so many Eucharia (Anunobi) eyebrows on TV and we love it! It’s awesome to see our images and scenes being used in treatments and storyboards. If we’re being candid, we think it would be great if we got the chance to step into our stylist/creative direction bag and help with the execution of the aesthetic.

“The bottom line is really that Nolly Babes has brought what was already an international cultural influence to the modern social media realm with a new lens” – Nolly Babes

How far do you see Nollywood's influence on pop culture, beyond Nigeria and Africa?

Nolly Babes: When we moved to New York we found our Dominican and South American friends had also grown up watching Nollywood films. The bottom line is really that Nolly Babes has brought what was already an international cultural influence to the modern social media realm with a new lens. Nollywood clips were online everywhere – but it was always in a comedic way. Aki and PawPaw are meme gods now, and that’s because their expressions transcend cultural boundaries. Black Twitter eats that stuff up.

Nolly Babes chooses to center the beauty, style, and iconic imagery, even the home decor with our #NollyDecor hashtag of the golden era of Nollywood. We share the makeup, accessories, fashion, iconic phrases, and scenes in a way that isn’t just comedic but inspirational and aesthetically groundbreaking. I see Nollywood being at the centre of this Y2K resurgence that is happening all over the world, from TV to runways and fashion collections. That era is coming back around and, this time, the Black experience is being revisited and centered in a way it wasn’t back in the late 90s and 2000s. (Black people) were always the originators of the trends and this time they’re tapping into the source and Nollywood, particularly the era we celebrate as Nolly Babes, is a great resource for that.

Follow Nolly Babes on Instagram

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

The arrogant, ruthless Supervillain, who was always so vicious and condescending, defeated, broken, and too delirious to do anything but beg when the hero finds them... that is my fave trope.

Same, mine as well.

I didn't think this was an ask to write, so if it isn't, I'm sorry, but I had a really good idea for this.

Astronaut

@shydragonrider @the-sky-writes

Warnings: delirium, fever, captivity, space chase, bombing, panic attack, vomit, wounds, partial nudity (non sexual), past torture

*not edited*b

~

Hero sat Supervillain on a seat and buckled him in, mindful of where his injuries were in relation to the belt. He groaned in pain and protest, throwing his head backwards in a hoarse sob.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Hero said quickly, momentarily cupping his cheek before rushing to the controls of her rocket. It was a intricate thing with too many different buttons, levers, and colors to make sense of. Still, she knew exactly what to do. She rammed the aircraft into flying mode and switched on autopilot, taking a split second to navigate a safe path through the infinite cosmos.

She returned to Supervillain's side and looked into his pale, unfocused face. He breathed heavily between wails and sniffles, not making eye contact with his savior. His fingers naturally curled and clenched as his sides as mucus gurgled in his chest. Tears sprang from his eyes.

Hero had found him, in a space ship, beaten brutally and deliriously crying in his agony. After breaking him out of the small chest that his captors called "his room", he had started to beg incoherently. He made no sense whatsoever, babbling on and on about random things. Then he would scream suddenly and sporadically, clawing aimlessly at Hero's chest.

He was awake, but not there and was vividly still trapped in whatever fantasy he imagined himself into.

So Hero carried him out, kicking and knocking out many of Vigilante's underlings- they were weak and not very well trained, in their defenses.

When she finally set him in that seat and buckled his writhing form in, she was somewhat exhausted and sweaty herself. But she knew that she had to drive her rocket away as fast as possible and take care of the bleeding man who was currently slumped in a seat at the verge of falling unconscious.

Hero ran a hand through his grimey, blood coated hair with a sigh and gently unbuckled him. She pulled off his shirt, watching as his arms limply fell to the sides as if he lost all muscle mass.

Immediately, he doubled over, body curling to a seemingly natural position for him. It made Hero's heart wrench- he had been in that box, a box hardly the size of a dog crate, for so long that even unconscious his body was conditioned to react.

Hero straightened him back up to examine the injuries. His ribs were heavily bruised and jutting out in various areas. His torso was covered in welts and old cuts, many infected, as if he was whipped. A lot. Those would need antibiotic cream, probably some draining-

The ship jerked suddenly to the side, throwing her off balanced. Instinctively, she strapped the buckles over the supervillain's chest, and ran to the controls. Every alarm was blaring red and screeching. She glanced over at the computerized pixels that made up a small replica of her ship- the rear side seemed to be hit by something. Nothing was critically damaged, but it still meant that something hit her.

A flaming, green ball of something whizzed past the corner of Hero's eyes. She stiffened, heart beginning to race. They were being bombed.

Hero took the rocket out of autopilot and turned on the cameras. Looking at the small, live recording in front of her, she saw Vigilante's ship chasing after her's. The sharp pointed nose and wide wings made it look daunting, but Hero knew that was all design.

It wasn't fast, though it had decent aim. All Hero had to do was get out of there as fast as possible.

Hero made a sharp turn, jostling Supervillain around. He groaned loudly, but Hero didn't have the time to comfort him.

Another bomb raced past her.

Hero started zig zagging, desperate to rid herself of the lethal balls of fire. They were incessant, one after the other after the other.

"Please don't hurt me!" Supervillain suddenly screamed. Hero glanced behind her to see him cowering in his seat, panting. However, in that split second of distraction, she was rocked sideways again.

Hero focused back on her mission and steered the rocket to the left. The bomb she evaded smacked right into a neaby asteroid, causing it to burst into peices.

"Please!" Supervillain hollered, thrashing against the seatbelt. His heavy breathing turned shallow, but Hero had bigger things to worry about.

Not only was she dodging flying fireballs, but know she had asteroid debris clocking in at one hundred miles per hour. She flew past them with professional precision.

"N-no," Supervillain whimpered, now smacking his head into the headrest of his seat. Hero risked a glance. His face was noticeably even paler, blanched to the point of white, as his fingers trembled. His dazed eyes darted around like a fly, buzzing here and there, taking in everything.

And everything was overwhelming him.

"Supervillain," Hero called, watching her camera. "You need to calm down buddy, okay? No one is going to hurt you anymore." If you would shut up and let me concentrate...

"N-not not... t'day pleas," Supervillain slurred, head dangling limply in fatigue and exhaustion before he picked it back up again, crying loudly.

"Shh," Hero tried to shush him, but failed. He wiggled like a worm as his voice locked itself in an endless current of screams.

A bomb flew by overhead, missing Hero by only five feet. She groaned and focused back on the black abyss she was traveling through, illuminated by the celestial bodies floating about. Supervillain's episode woule have to be ignored, for the sake of both of them.

The ship was suddenly deathly quiet.

However Hero did not realize that the cause of the supervillain's sudden silence was because he was hyperventilating, choking on his own breathing. She was zoned into the camera, watching the coming fireballs intently.

Supervillain watched her, trying his hardest to calm his rapid breathing and heartbeat. The world was growing out of focus... he couldn't breathe... couldn't breathe.

He felt like he was going to throw up. Oh gosh he was. The world tossed and turned in front of his eyes, pivoting forward and sideways.

"H-hero," he moaned, nausea thick in his voice.

She didn't reply.

Supervillain vomitted all over the floor, finally able to draw in a shaky breath. He gasped for air, to satisfy his burning lungs that didn't possess it for so long.

Only, he started sobbing again. It wasn't intentional, of course it wasn't. Crying was for the weak and he wasn't weak. Or was he? Because he was crying now? He was weak wasn't he?

These thoughts sent Supervillain back into another panic attack. His chest seized threateningly, but he did not thrash like before. He just allowed the cloud to wash over him.

When Hero finally escapes the bombardment, she idled the engine down in a bade to save fuel and ran over to her new ward. He was half-asleep, eyes halfway closed as his body breathed for him- air rushing into his body in large gulps.

"Supervillain? Supervillain? Hey, hey." Hero tapped Supervillain's cheek. "Wake up for me, will you? You're hyperventilating. Breathe, bud, breathe."

Supervillain slowly took a breath in before falling against his savior's shoulder, sniffling.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Flying High, Falling Fast

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; fingering, oral, fucking, subtle creep factor, deceptive charm, the usual fare you know

This is dark!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You meet the new Captain America at an event and impress him with your homemade project, but his interest is more than friendly.

Note: We all need some dark!Sam, right? This is a pretty long one shot, just over 7k words but it was super fun to write a character I don’t get to a lot. But I hope you love him as much as me!

Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You’d never been to a meet and greet before but it seemed like the perfect opportunity to meet up with Reese. The two of you met a year and a half ago on a Discord server for PC builds and eventually waded through the awkward blank cursors to real conversations. Little updates on new additions to your machines, memes about coding, and the occasional gaming session. He became a stalwart in your mostly solitary existence between work and your empty private life.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Reese but you felt safer meeting a stranger from the internet in a public setting. Plus, it was his suggestion. His roommate fell through on attending the event with him and you eagerly accepted the unclaimed ticket. Of course, Reese insisted it was his treat but you made him promise to let you pay for lunch.

Even more exciting, you were going to meet the new Captain America. THE CAPTAIN AMERICA. You wanted to squee but had to play it cool as you waited with Reese in the winding queue. 

As exclusive as the meet and greet was, it was stiflingly crowded, even more strenuous as you and Reese tried to adjust your rapport to a face-to-face environment. You mostly ended up chuckling and struggling for some cogent thought.

“What’s in the bag?” Reese asked, finally cracking through the stunted small talk.

“Oh, oh my god, I almost forgot,” you carefully lifted the bag and opened the top to let him peek inside, “I made this last year during lockdown. It’s silly but it was fun.”

He poked his finger around the opening of your drawstring knapsack and his brows rose in surprise. The drone had taken you most of your spare time but you hadn’t yet had a chance to do more than hover it around your bedroom. It was an exact replica, or exact as you could get, of the former Falcon’s Redwing.

“Holy shit! You never mentioned it,” he said.

“Oh, well, I guess… I never thought to. I just spent about an hour or so whenever I could, getting it together. Most of the time was spent on programming,” you closed your bag and let hit hang from your elbow, “and that’s another checkbox on the nerd list.”

“Please, look who you're talking to,” he joked with a snort.

You smiled at him sheepishly and looked ahead of the bodies in front of you as the line shifted forward. He wasn’t exactly disappointing, if anything, he was exactly what you expected. Skinny with black-framed glasses and a bright tee with the Captain’s shield emblazoned across his chest. He wasn’t bad-looking and thankfully not an incel.

“So, uh, you gonna give it to him or something?” Reese asked.

“What-- uh, no, I was hoping he’d sign it actually,” you chewed your lip anxiously, “if I don’t spaz out and just walk away.”

“Right,” he scoffed, “the last time I went to one of these I almost passed out.”

“Oh? Who was it?” you wondered aloud.

“Tony Stark. But I was still in high school,” he explained, “everything else sells out before I get to it. These I got by luck. If David hadn’t swiped them, we’d be standing outside wishing we were in here.”

“I can’t believe he passed on the ticket,” you uttered.

“I’m happy he did,” Reese said, “it made it easier to convince you to meet.”

“Well… we didn’t have to--”

“I’m teasing. Sorry. I’m not very… experienced at this,” he fidgeted.

“It’s fine,” you shrugged as you moved with the line, “I’m just nervous about meeting Captain America, you know? You’re not as intimidating… but I like that.”

“Uh, thanks,” he laughed as you got closer to the table and fidgeted with the straps of your bag. You were almost there.

You stepped up when the people ahead of you cleared away and you couldn’t help but stare at Bucky Barnes’ metal hand as he signed Reese’s special edition Blip magazine. He cleared his throat and you looked the Winter Soldier in the face. 

“Oh, sorry,” you slid the poster you got from the shop on the way in onto the table and he unrolled it and signed. You tried really hard not to focus on his hand, you were so curious as to how it all worked. “Thank you.”

He smiled through tight lips and said, “your welcome” before you sidled down to Sam Wilson as you rolled up your poster.

“Don’t worry about him,” Sam said, “he hates these things. I can’t take him anywhere.”

His laughter received a sharp look from the super soldier. Sam took Reese’s magazine and asked his name. You were too lost in thought to answer when he asked for yours. You coughed and sputtered as you tried to remember and Reese answered for you, adding that you were nervous.

“I, uh, oh,” you lifted your bag, “I was hoping, maybe, you might sign this instead,” you handed the poster to Reese and reached into your knapsack, “if you don’t mind?”

You carefully placed the drone on the table and his brows shot up in surprise. He lifted it just as you let it go and admired it as he leaned back, “you make this?”

“Yeah,” you answered shyly, “doesn’t have all the cool features like yours but it flies.”

“That’s awesome,” he put it back down and uncapped his marker, “where do you want me to sign?”

“Just on the top is fine,” you pointed, “thank you so much.”

“My pleasure,” he put his signature after spelling out your name and he grabbed the drone again, “hey, Buck, look at this? I don’t see any fancy arms that need signing.”

“Shut up,” Bucky grumbled and eyed the drone, “pretty cool, though.”

“Thanks, uh, well, we should get out of the way,” you said.

He handed you the drone and smiled. You began to shuffle away and he called you back to the table, “you code? Do a lot of programming?”

“Mostly just corporate sites,” you answered.

“Here,” he reached into his pocket, “send me a text. I think I know some people who’d like to meet you.”

“What?” you took the card rigidly.

“Sure, we’re always looking for techs,” he said, “and if we can’t find a spot for you, maybe you can see the real Redwing. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Wow, thank you, you… don’t have to do… that,” you stuttered.

“I’d be stupid not to,” he waved off your protests, “you go have fun, you two.”

You backed away and turned to walk away with Reese as you shoved your drone back in your bag with the card, numb with disbelief. 

“Wow, I can’t believe…” you trailed off as you mind wandered.

“Me either,” Reese said oddly, “that’s… wild.”

You looked at him and smiled. He didn’t look mad, only serious. You tightened the neck of the knapsack and slung it over your shoulders.

“So what are we doing for lunch?” you asked.

🌠

In the two weeks since you attended the meet and greet, you and Reese kept up mostly online, many arrangements interrupted by your real life responsibilities. It wasn’t until you offered for him to come with you to the SWORD labs that he had any free time for you. After a stressful text exchange with Captain America, you were too anxious to go alone and he was more than welcoming when you asked to bring a friend.

You stood on the subway as Reese sat and played his Switch. He was jittery as you kept your own nerves hidden just beneath the surface. You found it easier to stay standing as you felt as if you might combust if you sat.

“This is so awesome,” he said as he zipped his Switch up in its case, “thanks for inviting me.”

“I figured I owed you since you got the tickets for the meet and greet,” you said, “and it’s been a while.”

“Sorry about that, work’s been nuts,” he stood as you approached your stop and held onto the pole above your hand, “I kinda skipped out on half a day for this.”

“No,” you frowned, “you didn’t have to--”

“And miss a chance to see the real Redwing? Come on,” he scoffed.

“Oh,” you hung your head, “yeah, I guess that’s worth it.”

“I didn’t mean-- I’m happy to see you too, it’s just kinda a big deal,” he said as you approached the door with the few other passengers readying to hop off.

“No, I get it,” you hooked your thumbs under the straps of your knapsack as the doors slid open and you stepped out onto the platform, “I just… I couldn’t go alone. It’s so… scary.”

“Scary? Jeez, Captain America invited you to a job interview!”

“No, that’s not--”

“Uh, yeah, that’s exactly what it is but I promise, I won’t get in the way,” he said as you head for the concrete stairs, “maybe if he needs an extra coder I might piggy back.”

“Uh huh,” you came up onto the New York sidewalk and came into view of the immense SWORD building, “well, I don’t think it’s all that.”

“So why’d you bring this?” he tapped your bag as you neared the large glass doors and men in suits with coiled wires at their ears squared their shoulders.

“He asked me to,” you said as you were approached by one of the big security guards.

“This isn’t public entry,” he said sternly, “no tours.”

“I have an appointment or… I’m expected,” you pulled out your phone and pulled up the electronic pass Sam sent you, “see?”

“Hmm,” he eyed it and took your phone without asking. Another guard came and scanned it with his phone, “checks out but we’re gonna called down Mr. Wilson and get confirmation.”

“Oh, okay,” you fidgeted as he made no move to return your phone. Reese seemed to shrink as the two men spoke into their headset and nodded at each other.

“Hey,” the glass door burst open as Sam appeared and strode towards you, “hey, sorry, these guys are such buzzkills,” he approached and patted one of the men on the shoulder, “they’re with me.” He assured and waved you after him.

“Um, my phone,” you said to the taller man with the buzzed head. He tilted his head wryly and held out your cell between two fingers. You took it and followed Sam to the doors.

“Anyway, we were just going over some basic maintenance today and I thought you might like to observe. See everything that goes into keeping me and my toys in the air,” he smiled as he held the door and nodded at Reese, “nice to see you again, man.”

“You too, Cap...tain,” Reese answered dumbly.

“Sam is fine,” he chuckled back and tailed the two of you across the lobby as he pointed you towards the elevators. He made Reese look even more like a stick bug. “You bring it?”

“Yeah, it’s in my bag,” you stopped yourself from popping your knuckles out of nervousness, “thank you so much for this. I usually work in cubicles so… uh, yeah… I don’t know what I mean.”

“Hey, don’t be nervous, you built that thing all by yourself? I’m sure you’ll fit right in,” he said.

You got off the elevator and had to hold in a gasp at the shining laboratories as the hi-tech equipment gleamed through the glass walls. Sam led you down the curved staircase onto the lab floors as techs and assistants in both lab coats and starched suits milled around the tables along the edge of the room.

“Hey, Greta,” he called out as he showed you to a metal table, “get a look at this.” A woman with twisted red hair approached as Sam tapped his fingers on the table, “show her,” he urged you.

You swung your bag around and took out the little red and silver drone. You placed it in the middle of the table and the woman, Greta, tilted her head curiously.

“You said you can make this thing fly, right?” Sam asked as Reese watched from the other side of the table.

“Um, yep,” you unlocked your phone and brought up the beta app you designed, “just…”

The drone rose slowly and steadied before you as it hovered over the metal. Greta lifted a dark brow and ran a nail along her chin thoughtfully, “cute.”

“Ah, come on, tell me that isn’t awesome? She did it all by herself,” Sam boasted, “so, what do you think? She’d be a great tech, huh?”

“Tech? I…” you blinked and giggled, that was absurd.

“Does she have a resume? A list of her credentials, at least,” Greta rebuffed.

“Greta,” Sam warned playfully, “I’m her credentials. I’m giving her a reference right now. Hire her.”

“What?” you mumbled under your breath and you saw Reese’s eye cling to Sam darkly, almost enviously.

“You know, if I hadn’t let that kid go for hi-jacking the alpha, I’d tell you to go back to breaking your toys,” she warned, “but I trust you and… I cannot say I’m not impressed,” she narrowed her sights at the floating drone, “how long did this take you?”

“A year or so,” you answered, “it was… just meant to be a hobby but--”

“Well, make it your life,” she said tersely, “Wilson, you deal with HR, Sheila likes you better.”

“Leave it all to me,” he grinned and she walked away.

“Here,” he turned back to you, “I’ll show you the operating system for the real deal.”

He ushered you and Reese over to a computer after you lowered your drone. The real Redwing sat on a module next to the screen and Sam punched the keys and took a hooked earpiece from a small stand, “put this on.”

You slipped the earpiece on as he revealed a bracelet and adjusted it on your wrist, a small ring looping up your index finger. 

“Bend your finger,” he said and you did it, “lift it up, back… like that.” Redwing rose and you watched in amazement, “tilt your head…” the drone aimed in the same direction as your head, “now back,” it flew higher, “just like that. You’re getting it.”

You steered the drone in a circle and Sam helped you maneuver it back down. He let you hand the controls over to Reese who had more fun with it and nearly took out one of the workers. He apologised and Sam just chuckled, though it didn’t sound so amused. 

When Redwing was back in its place, Sam took you all around the room to show you every gadget; his wings, his suit, all his little weapons, and even pulled up some Wakandan schematics of Bucky’s arm. Much of it wasn’t in English however and you could only decipher what was visually laid out. 

He left you there for a moment as he excused himself to chat with a tech about his wings. Reese huffed and leaned against the wall. You were quiet, mostly stunned, though your usual reticence could also be blamed. 

“I don’t think you should’ve brought me,” he said, “I told you it was a job interview.”

“I didn’t know, I thought you would enjoy it,” you felt awful as Reese had given up trying to hide his jealousy.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, “well, it is pretty cool but…”

He was interrupted as Sam returned, “sorry about that, guys, I kinda messed up one of the engines on the wings on my last mission.”

You smiled and said it was fine. You hadn’t expected so much attention and thought it would be a brief little show and tell, not an entire tour. You returned to the table where you left your drone and shut down the app. You packed up your Redwing, it felt lighter but you were sure you were just imagining things as your head spun. You looked down at the bold signature across the shell and knotted the drawstring above its nose.

“Sorry, I…” you took your bag from the table, “I hate to bother but is there a bathroom I can use.”

“Oh yeah, just head back up the stairs, left of the elevators,” Sam pointed above, “we’ll wait here, there’s one last thing I wanna show you.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back,” you headed for the stairs and latched onto the railing before you could trip upwards.

You bumbled up the stairs and after a brief moment of blankness, you found your way to the bathroom. You quickly slipped into the stall and spent a minute at the mirror after washing your hands to get your head straight. It felt like a dream, or worse, a joke.

You headed back out and Sam was waiting just by the elevators to your surprise. You pursed your lips and glanced around, “where’s Reese?”

“Oh, yeah, uh, he left,” he said as he shoved his hand in his pocket, “said he wasn’t feeling it.”

“Really?” you shrunk, just a little, “erm… that’s too bad.”

“Yeah, kinda weird, I don’t think I’ve ever just ditched a girlfriend in the middle of the city,” he said.

“Girlfriend? Well… it’s… it’s early,” you rubbed the back of your neck, “I hope he’s okay.”

“Damn, I hope he didn’t ruin it, I still wanted to show you the shield,” he intoned, “but if you’re not feeling up to it--”

“No, no, I’m here, that would be awesome,” you forced a smile. 

Had you done something wrong? Was it rude to invite Reese and have all this rubbed in his face? You thought he’d feel worse if you didn’t invite him. Your doubts flurried in your head as you stepped onto the elevator with Sam, chewing your cheek as you tried not to show your disappointment.

You were brought back to the present as the metal doors opened and Sam nudged you as you stared right through the open space. You stepped out ahead of him and he caught up and walked beside you as he explained what was hidden in every room; mostly offices and training gyms.

He unlocked a door at the far curve of the circular hallway and jiggled until it opened. He pushed it open and the lights flicked on automatically.

“Bucky,” he grumbled, “he almost took the handle right off… so now I gotta fight it.”

“Oh,” you entered as he beckoned you inside and you looked around the spacious office.

“You know, there’s lots of paperwork when you take out a whole bridge, even if it is an accident,” he laughed, “and it gives me a place to show this off.”

He went to the wall where the shield was held on small metal hooks and slid it out easily. The vibranium sung in the air as he turned to you and held it out. 

“You wanna?” he asked.

“Sure…” you murmured as he turned it around and held it so you could hook your arm through the straps. He let it go and stood back to look you over.

“It suits you,” he said, “got your own Redwing and you hold that like a real champ. Maybe it’s time I step aside.”

You laughed nervously and shook your head. You peeked down at the metal and lifted and angled around as you admired the smooth curve. 

“Thanks,” you offered it back to him and he took it with one hand, “for everything.”

“You’re taking the job, right?” he prodded, “it’s perfect.”

“Mmm, well, I got a job--”

“Better than here? Better than suiting up the Cap?” he chided.

You bent your ankle under you and swayed on your feet. It was a great opportunity and way better than your desk job. It just felt like you didn’t deserve it.

“I need an answer. Greta doesn’t like indecision,” he said.

“O-okay, okay,” you surrendered, “I… if I said no, I’d feel even worse.”

“You won’t regret it, promise,” he said, “if you do, Redwing is yours. The real one.”

“No, no, I’m…” you rocked as you gripped the straps of your knapsack, “I’m sure I won’t.”

🌠

Your two weeks notice rolled by. Your boss was less than pleased by the sudden departure but you didn’t care much as you wouldn’t have to deal with him for much longer. You wrapped up your last day with your replacement and left feeling free, though the anxiety of your job loomed on the other side of the weekend.

In those weeks since your visit to the SWORD facility, you hadn’t heard much from Reese. That night when you messaged him to make sure he was okay, he didn’t say much more than ‘just tired’. After that, he was always offline when you signed onto the server and all your co-op requests were declined. You were ready to give up. 

Oh well, it was an online thing anyway, you were stupid to think it could work out.

But you were not entirely isolated. To your surprise, you got several messages from Sam, you still couldn’t help but think of him as Captain America and feel like you had nothing interesting to say to a hero. When he found out you liked to game, he even joined you for a session on headset but again, you were hyper focused and quiet. You were flattered that he was trying to make you feel welcome, that he even bothered to get you a job, but it all felt so above you.

When you got home that night, you logged in and sent a request to Reese, just one last attempt. He didn’t even respond, even after fifteen minutes of waiting. You shut down your PC and grabbed your switch instead. You changed as the system updated your Animal Crossing and flopped onto your bed.

You laid across the mattress, one leg over the edge and the other bent. You ran through, planting, fishing, and selling as you tried not to think too much. You’d done enough of that lately. You zoned out as your eyes narrowed at the small screen but in your peripheral, you felt a shadow move. You shrugged it off as the sunlight playing through the curtains and rolled onto your side to ignore it.

You kept on, ready to log out as you didn’t want to spend another Nook Ticket to go to and island and get nothing but flowers. You heard a subtle whirring and glanced over at your computer. It was sleeping and it was never that loud. You noticed that light shift again and turned. There was nothing. Nothing but your dresser and the signed drone, just as you left it.

You squinted and turned off your Switch. You went out to the front room to drop it back in the dock. You stretched and grabbed your phone from your purse to put in an order for some take-out. You stopped as you noticed Sam’s unanswered messages.

‘Whatcha doin’ tonite?’ and several that assumed you must be busy.

‘Sorry, got caught up gaming,’ you replied guiltily. 

Your phone shook before you could close out of the chat and you answered as Sam’s name flashed across the top. 

“Hello?” you squeaked.

“Hey, hope I’m not buggin’ you but I thought-- stop, Jesus Christ, sorry, we’re on our way to dinner and we hoped you might join us.”

“We?” you echoed.

“Oh, ha, yeah me and Bucky, Greta, and some of the techs. Not too many of us but you’re more than welcome,” he said, “since you start on Monday, it will be good to get to know some people.”

“Y-yeah, for sure,” you answered. It felt more an obligation than an invite. You didn’t want to come across snobbish or lazy even if you’d rather eat fried noodles and watch some trash reality TV.

“Great! I’ll send you the address,” he growled and hissed under his breath, “sorry, again, I’m just dealing with this-- I’ll see you there. Save ya a seat.”

He hung up abruptly and you stood dumbfounded staring at your jacket. You dropped your phone back into your purse and headed back to your room. You had to find something to wear that didn’t seem like you were trying too hard or not trying enough.

As you entered, that same whirring floated through the air and suddenly stopped. You looked around confused; not a fly, not your PC acting up, nothing. You grimaced at the poster with the star emblem across it and went to your dresser to pick out an outfit. It was probably the neighbour fucking around. Apartment living was rarely peaceful.

🌠

The restaurant was bustling as you were met by the hostess at the door. You told her you were there to join the party from SWORD. She showed you to the table and Sam saw you above the din and waved to you then shoved Bucky over on the cushioned bench. 

“Right here,” he pointed as he waved you over and stepped aside to let you past. You sidled along and sat, apologizing to Bucky as he rolled his eyes, “not too late.”

You gave your drink order as a waiter came by and shrugged out of your jacket, letting it bunch up around your back. Sam offered his menu and introduced the people you didn’t know at the table; alongside Bucky and Greta, were Xan and Wyatt. You said hello and opted for the fiesta salad as you set aside the menu.

“Are you excited?” Sam asked.

“For what?” Bucky huffed, “she’s gotta put up with you.”

“Hey,” Sam took the lemon off the rim of his glass and tossed it at Bucky, “he lightens up… sometimes.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky grumbled but you could hear the humour in his voice. 

You sank into the background as the night went on. You spoke up when you were called on but felt it hard to assert yourself, especially with someone as outspoken as Sam beside you. Still, he made sure to make you feel included when you started to feel forgotten. For that you were grateful and he was right, it made you feel a little less anxious about your first day.

As you came out onto the sidewalk, your wallet painfully lighter, you bid goodbye to everyone but Sam hung around. You clutched your purse and peered down the street.

“Thanks for inviting me,” you said.

“Ah, you know what, I shoulda asked that guy, Reese? How’s it going with him? He your boyfriend yet?”

“Ha, no,” you sucked in your lip and took a deep breath, “I don’t even think we’re friends anymore.”

“Oh no, what happened?” he asked.

“I dunno,” you said wistfully, “but it is what it is.”

“He’s missin’ out. You’re a cool girl,” he said, “building drones for fun. Kinda why I had to snag you, you know? Someone with your skills, that’s dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” you chortled, “no.”

“Well,” he checked his phone, “how are you getting home?”

“I’ll just take the train,” you said, “my place is only about a ten minute ride from here.”

“You sure? I can give you a ride,” he said.

“Nah, really, you’ve done… more than enough.”

“Alright, well, see you Monday?”

“Monday?” you wondered.

“I’ll pop in before I head out,” he said, “got a mission so I might not be around more than that.”

“Okay, Monday,” you confirmed, “see ya.”

🌠

Monday was a whirlwind. It started on a high as Sam suited up and showed off his wings before he headed up to the jet pad. Greta muttered that she was happy he’d be out of your way before she went through the task of getting you acquainted not only with the tech but with their workplace rituals. It was a lot to take in but you did your best to absorb every word and second.

When you got home, you had a folder full of notes and spent too long going over them before you remembered the groan in your stomach. You ate a lazy super of Kraft Dinner and lazed across your bed doing nothing but watching Youtube tutorials on your tablet. You fell asleep early and woke to your alarm and a dead tablet.

You got up, got dressed, ran out, and did it all again. The first week dragged by and yet it felt like you didn’t have enough time. On Friday, you got home and fell across the couch in your work clothes. You held your phone above you and scrolled dozily through your feed.

A dot popped up and you flicked over to your notifications. The selfie you posted on your first day at the lab with Sam in his suit had lots of hearts but your first comment was less than pleasant. Beside Reese’s icon was all caps: MUST BE EASY SLEEPING YOUR WAY INTO A JOB!

Your heart pattered and you sat up. You deleted the comment but another soon appeared; several as you kept deleting and finally blocked him. ‘Slut, whore, dumb bitch…’ it was the last thing you expected from him.

You opened Discord and clicked on his chat. ‘What’s going on? Why are you doing this?’

The text flicked across the bottom that Reese was typing but he stopped and you sat there for what felt like forever before his response popped up.

‘I can’t believe you brought me all the way there to rub my face in all that shit. And for what? You should’ve just told me I had no chance and I woulda left you alone. If you wanna fuck Sam Wilson, do it, but don’t chain me along like your little bitch boy. Get fucked slut.’

You flinched as you read it and re-read it. You typed shakily as your eyes watered. ‘I’m not fucking Sam and I wouldn’t. I brought you there because I wanted to and thought you would like it. I didn’t know you felt so strongly about it. But I see what you think of me so I only wish you the best and hope you find peace.’

You sent the message but just as quickly, you were blocked from sending any more. You tossed your phone and fell back against the couch. That must have been why he took off but you couldn’t figure out how he thought you of all people were sleeping with Sam Wilson. Really? He was just another incel after all.

You phone jangled with your annoying ringtone and you grabbed it, expecting to be insulted by Reese again but it was Sam calling. You really weren’t in the mood to talk with him. You just wanted to be left alone. But you couldn’t just ignore Captain America.

“Hello?” you answered.

“Hey, I just got back in town. Whatcha doing?” you could hear the wind in the speaker.

“Just got home. I’m exhausted. Probably gonna just nap.”

“You okay?” he asked after a moment.

“Fine,” you said dully.

“Don’t sound fine,” he said, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you insisted.

“Oh, so it’s not what that boy said on your photo?”

“You saw that?”

“You tagged me, remember?”

“Oh, yeah, no, it’s…”

“Shit, don’t listen to him. He’s just a boy, he blew his chance and he’s bitter about it,” he said, “how about I come over, make sure you’re really okay?”

“No, I don’t think--”

“Ah, come on, don’t make me worry all night about you,” he chided.

“Sam, you really--” There was a knock at the window and you froze. “Sam?”

The line clicked and you heard the tapping again. You lowered your phone and went to the window. Outside, geared up in his wings and suit, Sam hovered before the glass. You blinked and he rapped again. You snapped out of your shock and unlocked the window and slid it up.

“What are you doing?” you asked, “wait? How do you know where I live?”

He grabbed onto the frame and hooked his leg through as he retracted his wings. He bent under and sat half-in and half-out of the window, “forgive me? I did a bit of snooping in HR.”

“I told you not to come. I really don’t feel up to-- It’s really weird that you’re here,” you sat as he ducked pulled his other leg through and stood, “Sam, I think you should go.”

“You shouldn’t be alone, especially after that moron sending you that shit,” he said coolly as he took off his tinted goggles.

“Well, I want to be alone, so you should--”

“I mean, I haven’t even fucked you yet and he’s jealous,” he snickered, “so I guess we should give him a real reason.”

“What are you talking about? That’s… gross. You should go--”

“Come on, girl, you think this was really about a drone,” he tossed his goggles down and set his shield on the chair as he strode around the room, “convenience. I want you close.”

“I don’t--” you looked down at your phone, “get out, Sam.”

The tone of your finger pressing ‘9’ sounded and he spun quickly to face you. He stormed over to you before you could hit ‘1’ and ripped it from your grasp. 

“You’re gonna call the cops and say what? I’m Captain America,” he snarled, “but you can just call me Cap.”

He winked and threw your phone out the window smoothly. You gasped as he chuckled and lifted his wings off his back. He leaned them against the wall and stretched out his shoulders. He looked around as he twisted his tongue between his teeth.

“I like this, looks cozy,” he toed the side of the couch with his boot, “look better with you on it.”

You watched him stroll around the coffee table as he unzipped the collar of his suit. The scene was like some tainted nightmare. Maybe you’d fallen asleep. You were so tired you must have just passed out but you weren’t waking up.

You spun around and ran into the small hallway that led to your door. You were caught from behind, pulled back by the nape of your blazer as Sam tutted. His arm went around your waist and he lifted you off your feet. He turned and carried you back into the front room. You kicked and writhed as his strength enwrapped you.

“Please, please,” you begged, “I… I don’t understand. This isn’t-- this isn’t what I wanted. I didn’t--”

“Baby girl,” he cooed as he brought you close to the couch, “be good and listen to your Captain. Now stop this.”

“No, no,” you gulped at air as the panic rose in you, “I never-- please, you don’t have to do this--”

“You gotta do what I say,” he snapped and flung you onto the couch, “I don’t want to make you.”

You looked at him as you trembled in fear and disbelief. This couldn’t be. He was Sam Wilson, the Captain America; he was a nice guy.

“You have one minute to get naked,” he said and you just gaped at him, “you gonna make me repeat myself?”

Your throat tightened as his dark eyes bore into you. His hand balled to a fist and finally you found an ounce of strength. You pushed your legs over the edge of the couch and slipped out of your blazer. You stood carefully and watched him cautiously. You had to look away as your hands quivered over the buttons of your blouse.

You turned and folded your shirt over your blazer. You could hear him behind you as you unbuttoned your pants and pushed them down your legs. The question of what you were doing flitted through your head but the fear pulsed through you and took over.

“Ah,” he sighed and you peeked back as he freed himself of the top half of his stealth suit.

You turned back and hesitated. You knew there was more, you knew what he wanted, but your body locked up as your fingers curled and your insides knotted.

“Let me get that,” he came close and his fingers tickled along your shoulder blades and he unhooked your bra, “hmmm,” he let go and the cups fell off your chest, “almost there, baby.”

He stepped back and you shuddered. You dropped your bra and hooked your fingers under your panties. You wiggled them down a little at the time and heard the intake of breath as you pulled them down entirely. You stood still, unable to move, too mortified to face him.

“Come on, baby,” he said, “get comfortable.”

You inhaled and turned slowly. You went to the couch as he shed his undershirt and added it to the pile atop his shield. He looked at you and tilted his head as he licked his bottom lip. He snarled as he took in the sight of you and pointed you to the couch.

You sat and hugged yourself as he stripped off his pants along with his boxers in a single swipe. You flicked your eyes away as you glimpsed his hard dick as he stood straight and you stared at the open window. You smushed your lips together in horror and held in the tide of tears.

He came closer and you tried to tune out the room. This couldn’t happen. It just couldn’t. You felt his hands on your knees and he urged your legs apart. You resisted for a moment then let him guide your limbs. It would be over sooner if you just let it happen.

He knelt on the floor as his hands kneaded along your thighs and framed your vee as he leaned over your lap. You winced and he kept your legs from closing as he pushed his body between them. His thumb grazed your folds and he pushed between them. You let out a hushed gasp as he swirled around your clit.

“See, it’s not so bad to be good, is it, baby?” he purred, “you’re wet already.”

He slid his thumb up and down and spread the wetness along your cunt. You were shocked and humiliated by your obvious arousal. You shouldn’t be turned on by this. Your body was not listening to your mind, it was obeying his touch.

“Mmm,” he hummed as he turned his hand and poked along your entrance with one finger. 

He pushed inside and you clenched around his intrusion. He pulled in and out and added another finger. Your nails clawed at the cushion and you pressed back into the couch. He kept his thumb on your clit as he worked his fingers inside of you and the tension clustered between his fingertips.

“Oh, baby, listen to you,” he bet forward and replaced his thumb with his tongue as he kept fingering you.

You turned your face up to the ceiling and squeezed your eyes shut. You bit your lip as the ripples radiated from your core and your breath hitched. His hand moved faster as he suckled at your bud and his free hand groped your chest blindly. You slapped your hand over your mouth as you came, your back arching as you pushed into him.

He teased you through your climax and pulled away only as you quaked and whined at his unyielding touch. He drew his fingers out of you and sat back to lick them clean. You peeked down at him and quickly away as his eyes blazed back at you.

“Up,” he stood and stroked himself shamelessly as he strode around the coffee table, “put your hands on there.”

You rose unsteadily, legs shaking beneath you as your entire being felt like jelly. You went to him and turned your back to him. You bent over and he grabbed your ass and squeezed with a growl. You gripped the table and hung your head as the cool air grazed your cunt.

He shoved his hand between your legs and rubbed you again. He stepped closer and bent his knees as he lined himself up with your entrance, sliding in between his fingers as he spread you wide. You choked as his tip poked inside and he eased himself inch by inch into you. He held your hip as he reached his limit and groaned.

“Baby, oh god damn,” he thrust so that your whole body jerked. It was painfully delightful. Of the few men you’d been with, he was the biggest, or at least the thickest.

He rocked slowly and a moan escaped your lips. Despite the torturous pressure of his intrusion, you could ignore the pleasure laced in the pain. His hand brushed up your as and along your back. He bent over you as his fingers curled over your shoulder and he pressed his body to yours as he fucked you.

You kept your head down as you tried to measure your breaths and the pathetic noises rising from you. He pushed his hand down your stomach and between your legs again to play with your clit. He moved his legs against yours and forced them together so your cunt hugged him even tighter. He grunted and you whimpered as his fingers added to the new pressure.

He sped up so that the table scraped against the floor but kept you up with one arm around you. He rutted into you wildly as his sultry voice filled your chest and his heat consumed you. You cried out as another orgasm swept through you and your cunt quivered around him desperately.

He pulled you up suddenly so you stood on your toes. He tilted into you as he brought his arms up around yours and tined his fingers behind your head. His flesh slapped yours loudly and you opened your eyes as you heard a familiar whirring. The drone flew before you, the signature on its shell, but a light blinking at its nose. Yours didn’t have a light.

“What--”

“Ah, yeah,” he rasped through rampant breaths, “looks like they got mixed up.”

“Huh--” you sucked in your breath as he thrust harder and deeper.

“I didn’t mind, he helped me keep an eye on you,” he said as he nuzzled you above his hands, “you look so cute in your little tee shirts.”

You groaned and leaned your head against him as another rush of fear was met with unwanted bliss. You murmured senselessly as he picked up his pace and the drone came closer. He purred as you felt his muscles tighten.

“Don’t worry,” he puffed, “I’ll make sure the boy knows he was right.”

He buried himself in you, nearly taking you off your feet, and twitched as he emptied himself into you. He rocked his hips subtly as he rode out his climax and stilled you as his voice gristled to rampant pants. His arms fell to embrace you and he kept you flush to him as he lingered inside.

“Or I can keep that little video to myself…” he brought his hand up to cradle your chin and poked his finger along your lower lip, “it’s all up to you, baby.”

[mel-the-fangirl]

Toss A Coin to Your Witcher

Henry Cavill x Reader

Words: 2,362

I am so so so nervous to post this because this is my first time writing a Henry fic and I know that the Henry Cavill fandom is such a tightknit family, I hope you guys have room for one more hopeless Henry stan. I know this isn’t even half as good as the other Henry fics out there but I had this idea stuck in my head for a very long time.

Please like and reblog or leave me some replies if I should do a second part! Thank you!

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The makeup brush swept precisely along your cheekbone, covering it in a subtle shimmer. Production staff milled around behind you, testing sound, testing lights. Being an actor, these things were nothing new. 

"Now remember, say it with me," 

"Don't say or do anything stupid." you recited with your long time agent and friend, Marge.

You thanked the makeup artist and made your way to the set. 

"When have I ever said or done anything stupid though?" you asked

Marge looked at you appraisingly before replying, 

"There's always a time for everything. Now go on." 

The vibe on set dialled to a hundred when you stepped on. It was really flattering how they cheered as you plonked your butt down on the wooden chair, a red tarp was set up behind you and the studio lights surrounded the area.

"Ready when you are Y/N!" the producer aka the ring leader of this whole operation flashed you a thumbs up

You nodded, feeling the nervousness bubble up your throat. 

Surprise, surprise. You still got nervous in front of the camera. It wasn't hard to handle though, you took a couple of deep breaths and you were good to go. 

"Hey guys, gals, and non-binary pals! I'm Y/N Y/L/N. I'm here with Buzzfeed and we're gonna be playing Twenty Questions." you winked at the camera with your arms wrapped around the little jar that had your questions in it

 "Let's get started, shall we?" 

Eager to begin, you stuck your hand into the jar without a second thought. 

"I freaking love Buzzfeed, really. Especially Tasty, I mean, I don't cook. But," you shrugged, wiggling your fingers, hearing the tiny bits of folded paper move around in the jar. "I love watching people cook. Then I love eating."

Scattered chuckles broke out through the crew. 

After a few minutes of rustling around, you figured you’d just come clean, "Okay. Small problem." 

You lifted your hand, the jar coming along with it. The pieces of folded paper crowding around your encased wrist as you waved your arm. 

Another round of shocked giggles started up as a couple of assistants rushed to you and tried to yank the jar off. 

"This is too good," the producer chortled, "Mind if we keep this in?"

"Fine by me!" you watched intently as Marge rolled up your sleeve so one assistant could pour oil all over it. Eagle eyed, she watched as a drop of oil landed on the bottom hem of your sweater.

"Great job, Y/N. This sweater was a gift from that designer you met last week, he said he made it just for you." she scolded, taking charge by grabbing the jar with two hands

"It was an accident, Marge. It's not like I planned on getting my hand stuck in a jar today!"

With a tug and a pop, your hand was free and slick with olive oil. Marge landed on her butt on the floor.

"Marge!" you howled with laughter, helping her up

She straightened her blouse, all business but her cheeks were stained red with embarrassment. 

"Can someone help Y/N wash the oil off her hands? Let's get this show on the road, people!" she barked marching orders at the staff, clapping her hands as she went. She wasn't in charge here but no one dared to question her. 

You chuckled, knowing that this was a cute little anecdote you’d be sharing with anyone who was willing to listen.

A few minutes later, you were back in your chair, having a laugh with everyone. The jar incident already stripped away the majority of your anxiety so you were ready to go.

"Okay! First question!" you squinted at the strip of paper, "What is the most expensive thing you’ve stolen from any set you’ve been on?" 

“Well!” you widened your eyes at the camera, “Bold of you all to assume that I’ve ever stolen anything!”

Marge scoffed rather audibly, making everyone raise their eyebrows at you.

“Okay, fine!” you held up your hand. The stunning ring you had on sparkled underneath the lights, nearly blinding anyone who looked.

“I did a period movie a while back and they had these drop dead gorgeous, and I mean gorgeous pieces of jewelry. I wore this piece,” you gazed down at the ring fondly, “for the whole of the film and I just pinched it after we wrapped, I couldn’t part with it, okay? I’m like a fricking magpie, I love shiny things.”

The crew burst into fits of laughter, making you laugh along with them.

“To clarify! This is the replica the props department had made, a very expensive replica. I can see you freaking out, Marge. And no, you don’t have to call the insurance company.”

You were a big hit, to say the least. You had them in stitches every time you opened your mouth but all good things had to come to an end, right?

It didn’t matter how carefully you dipped your hand into the question jar, this next one was going to make things very messy for you. 

"What do you like to do in your free time?" you read out loud, tapping a finger against your chin

"There hasn't been much free time lately,” you chuckled, “Let’s see… I play video games, yeah. I am so obsessed with the Witcher, it's borderline unhealthy. I’ve read all the books and played the games so many times." 

"What do you think of Henry Cavill as Geralt?" the producer asked you

Henry Cavill.

Just hearing that man's name was enough to make the blood rush to your cheeks. You brushed an imaginary hair out of your face. From behind the camera, Marge raised a knowing brow.

"Well," you cleared your throat and sat up straighter

"To be honest, at first I was really skeptical about his casting. I mean, he is way too good looking. Like way. Way. Too good looking. But…"

"But?"

Your mind drifted to the first time you saw a picture of Henry Cavill in full costume. The white hair, the golden cat eyes, the intense gaze and all that leather? It definitely made you feel… Certain things.

You cleared your throat, propping yourself on the table with your arms. To be honest, your head was still in a Henry Cavill haze so you had zero control of what came out of your mouth next.

"I'd definitely toss all my coins to that Witcher. Toss a few other things as well."

Everyone in the room ooh'ed and whistled, delighted by your saucy reply. The ruckus snapped you out of it and your hand immediately flew to your mouth.

“Please tell me I didn’t just say that out loud.”

“You did.” Marge mouthed at you, trying but failing to contain her laughter

"So you enjoyed his performance as Geralt?" the producer pressed on, hoping to get more audience-raking answers

How many times were you going to blush during this interview?

"Oh, well, about that, I haven't really gotten around to actually watching it.” you admitted sheepishly, “But I've seen photos and some clips. Very impressed by what I've seen so far."

"You will watch it though, right?" 

"Oh, absolutely. No way I’d miss out on that! Henry Cavill is an incredibly wonderful, talented actor. I think he’s also a fan of the franchise so I have no doubt that he played Geralt to perfection as with all his other roles." you nodded solemnly, putting a hand to your heart

Everyone in the room with you caught on that you were gushing over the actor, the sly looks they all exchanged with one another were a dead giveaway. Too bad you didn’t notice before you could try and play it cool.

“Alright! I think it’s time for the next question!” you declared, swiftly plucking another question out of the jar

By the time it was all over, you had convinced yourself that your little crush-related blunder wasn’t even a big deal, it would probably just be a little footnote in that video. No biggie.

But, Jesus Christ were you wrong.

The video took a couple of weeks to edit and in that time, you were busier than ever. A movie you had just done was getting a lot of attention, your performance in particular had critics singing your praises. At that point, you were definitely getting noticed a lot more when you stepped out for coffee.

So, the timing was just perfect.

The second the video went live, your phone was going off non stop. Twitter mentions, Instagram tags, and articles. A few notable entries being:

“WATCH: RISING STAR Y/N Y/L/N GUSHES ABOUT HENRY CAVILL IN CHARMING BUZZFEED VIDEO”

“@geraskier-rights: Y/N Y/L/N REALLY SAID SHE’D TOSS ALL HER COINS TO HENRY CAVILL’S GERALT AND WE ALL KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS”

“@geralt-of-vengerberg: Y/N The Fond™ is showing👀👀👀”

Marge sat on your sofa with your phone in hand, absolutely thrilled while reading tweets out loud. You scheduled a panic session with her over lunch once everything blew up.

“Oh my God.” you groaned, massaging your temples. “Marge, what do I do?”

“About what?” she didn’t even bother to look up at you

You plopped yourself down next to her, laying your head in her lap, “All that. It’s everywhere.”

“And? There’s nothing wrong with it, they all think you’re charming and funny. A true Relatable Queen.”

Was it your sanity slipping through your fingers? Or the overpowering embarrassment? You had no idea but whatever it was, it had you laughing until your stomach hurt.

Marge tugged at your hair, “Get it together, bitch. Jeez.”

“What are you so worried about anyway?” she asked, placing your phone on your stomach

You swiped through your emails absentmindedly, “I’m not worried about anything, it’s just that what if…”

You left the words hanging in the air, you might as well have been dangling from a cliff from how much colour drained from your face.

“What if what?” 

Marge shoveled some pasta into her mouth before noticing that you essentially turned into a statue right next to her.

“Y/N!” she shook your arm with a grip you were sure would leave some bruises. “What’s the matter?”

Wordlessly, you passed your phone to her, the comment from a certain verified account displayed prominently on Buzzfeed’s Instagram post of a little snippet from your video, the “I’d toss all my coins to that Witcher” part, naturally.

“@henrycavill: Dear Y/N, how many coins are we talking about here? Let’s talk about my reward.”

It was all Marge could do to not throw your phone across the room. Her eyes went wide, following your every move as you paced back and forth, a thumbnail in your mouth.

“That did not just happen, I did not just see that right now. I didn’t.” you babbled, your heart beating thunderously in your chest

There it went. Your very own ticking time bomb finally went off. Number of casualties? Just one. You.

“Okay. Just calm down, Y/N.” Marge caught you mid-pace, squeezing your arms

“Maybe it was a fan account. Tell me it was a fan account, Marge. Henry Cavill did not just hear me imply what I implied.” you grasped at her hand with your clammy one

“Well if he has a fan account that’s verified and has fourteen point five million followers?”

“Oh god.” you groaned, sinking to the floor and hugging your knees

“Oh, Christ.”

Marge hauled you to your feet and thrust your phone in your hand. She looked you hard in the eye, “Stop your whining and answer him. You’re Y/N fucking Y/L/N, one of the hottest people on the planet, start acting like it.”

You stared at her, eyes wide. Your chest rose and fell rapidly. Marge’s words started to make sense in your mind and adrenaline started surging through your veins. You nodded fervently, psyching yourself up.

“Fuck yeah.” you breathed, clicking ‘Reply’

“@yourinstagram: @henrycavill I know you take orens, crowns, and florens but maybe we should discuss further?”

Before you could even stop yourself (did you even want to?), your fingers already landed on the blue paper plane.

“I did it.” you exhaled, staring as the likes and overly enthusiastic replies started pouring in

“Fuck yeah, you did. Now, come on. Leave your phone. We’re getting drunk.”

More weeks passed and you actually ended up forgetting about that little reply you left Henry Cavill. You were busier than ever. Guestings, endorsement deals, and awards shows left and right. So, when you finally had a couple of days free, you decided you would set up camp on your sofa and finally watch Henry Cavill as Geralt of Rivia.

You even threw on your Superman pyjamas, “What the hell.” you shrugged

If you were going down this road, you might as well do it right. Maybe you would even watch the Man from U.N.C.L.E after or would it be Night Hunter? The decision would have to wait.

You watched, absolutely riveted as the White Wolf battled against the kikimora, his silver sword hacked at the creature with unmatched expertise. You were only a few minutes in but you already knew you’d be stuck on that sofa for hours.

When the kikimora had Geralt pinned underwater with his trusty sword just beyond arm’s reach, you found yourself on the edge of your seat, one of your cushions in a chokehold.

“Come on, come on, come on.” you muttered as Geralt reached for his sword

You wouldn’t find out if he got it or not. A knock on your door literally made you fall off the sofa.

“Fuck!” you exclaimed, your hip was already smarting from the impact

Whoever that asshole was, you swore you were going to give him a piece of your mind. You stomped to your front door just as that idiot started knocking again.

You huffed and threw the door open then your mind immediately went blank.

“I am so sorry. Are you alright? I think I heard you fall?”

Oh yeah. You were definitely falling.

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You can find the second part here!

[heynikkiyousofine]

A just because little fic for my dear friend @enchantedink-ag​, hoping you have a wonderful weekend!

Ao3: Part 1  l  Part 2 l Part 3

“I don’t give a fuck whoever you are, where is my wife?” His growl growing louder, laced with venom, causing the twin demons to shiver. Inuyasha tightened his grip on Tetsusaiga, golden eyes darting back and forth between the two, readying himself for whatever they had planned next. Sniffing, he could smell the faint jasmine on their silk clothing. Kagome.

The female demon on the left, whose long blue hair glistened in the moonlight, smirked at him, her silver eyes giving him the creeps. “My my, someone’s a little angry. Who knew the half-demon had a little wife? Did you know that’s who she was, Kimoto?”

“I didn’t Kirigaya, but it seems the woman has a protector.” The green haired demon’s matching grey eyes filled with laughter, turning to her. “It seems he has come to rescue her.” Inuyasha’s jaw clenched as he searched for some way to defeat them, unsure of their abilities. His anger coursed through him, boiling his blood beneath. His thoughts returned to Kagome. What would she do? Find out what they want with me.

It was as if she was standing right beside him.

“What do you want with her?” He seethed, his knuckles white and shoulders tense as he waited. He needed to find her and not kill them on the spot.

“As if it matters to you, we need her spiritual powers to bring back our sibling, on the night of the full moon.” Kimoto explained, with the wave of his hand, before turning glistening eyes his way. “Though I don’t why we bother telling you. She’ll be long dead by the time you find her.” Kimoto’s fangs appeared as his smile widened, a laugh coming from his chest when Inuyasha growled louder this time.

All common sense seem to just fall away as Inuyasha raised his fang above his head, calling on the adamant barrage when a loud, painful sound pierced the air. Folding his ears back, he managed to side step just in time to see Kirigaya swipe her claws, aiming for his face. Closing his eyes quickly, he shielded his head with his robe wrapped arm.

When the excruciating sound stopped, Inuyasha opened his eyes to see the pair gone. Shit.

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Kagome knew this wasn’t a good position to be in. The twin demons had caught her off guard and came from behind, striking the back of her head when she was picking herbs in the forest. She remembered a painful signing in her ears and then pain as blackness followed shortly. Turning her throbbing head as much as possible, she saw the rope that bound her arms behind her tied in an intricate knot around a wooden pole. Sighing to herself, she knew her best chance was to wait it out and for Inuyasha to arrive. If he can find me.

Frowning, she peered into the dim light room, her only source a small candle that hung on the wall behind her. The small room was painfully empty, her mind attempting to come up with an escape plan, but becoming unsuccessful. Glancing down at her dirtied hakama, she noticed a bit of blood splattered. Oh great. Inuyasha is going to have a field day with that. Faint footsteps could be heard coming from the door across the room, Kagome’s gut tightened as two matching demons strolled in, smirks on their smug faces.

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Inuyasha sniffed, searched, studied, even crawled in the dirt to catch the faint scent of his wife. He couldn’t help but be frustrated, because this was getting him no where. The two demons didn’t have a scent, which in his right mind, would’ve struck him as odd, but he was so focused on locating the calming jasmine, he didn’t care. A soft jingling could be heard approaching and he knew it was Miroku arriving by his aura. Inuyasha raised his gaze just as Miroku jogged over the crest of the hill, panting as he stopped in front of still kneeling half-demon.

“Inuyasha, what happened to Lady Kagome?! Are you okay?” He managed to get out between breaths.

“Twin demons kidnapped her, but I can’t locate her scent. It’s faint and these arrogant assholes don’t have one.” His growl growing louder as he finished his explanation. He didn’t have time to waste, Kagome could be seriously injured. Kagome. His heart ached at the thought her bleeding, crying out for him.

“No scent? How odd….” Miroku mused as Inuyasha focused his attention back to the air. After a few quiet moments, Miroku continued. “What do these demons look like?”

“One had blue hair, the other green, matching grey eyes. Pale skin, gave me the fucking creeps. No scent from what I can remember. Spoke something about reviving their dead sibling.” He sniffed at the dirt, his claws digging in the hard ground when he couldn’t come up with a direction.

“Nothing is coming to mind. Anything else?” Miroku’s fingers stroked his chin in deep thought. 

“There was this painful ringing in my ears, then they disappeared.”

“Ringing? Like a bell or a gong?”

Nodding, Inuyasha looked towards the setting sun, he needed to hurry and fast. The full moon was tomorrow night and not knowing which direction to head was making his head swarm with anger and anxiety.

“Inuyasha,” Miroku’s quiet voice came from behind him, “If these twin demons are who I think they are, you might be in for a rough battle….” Golden eyes snapped his way, filled with something Miroku had seen many times in the years he had known his friend. Fear.

“Tell me everything you know. Let’s find out form Sango and Kaede too. We don’t have much time. I’m leaving tonight.”

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“You are even prettier in the moonlight.” Kimoto purred as he held Kagome’s chin between his slender, pale fingers. “Sister, it’s a shame she won’t be alive to meet our big brother. He would love her as a companion.” Kirigaya’s gaze only stared at them for a short second before returning to the scrolls she had in front of her.

When they returned to the small room, the lit the remaining candles, bringing a soft glow upon the room. They had uncovered a small window, where the moon shown upon her features, giving her a little hope. Inuyasha had to have known by now she was in trouble. Damn, why hadn’t she grabbed her bow and arrows…. 

Kagome watched as the female studied the scroll, ignoring her brother, who reminded her of Jakotsu, a dead member from the Band of Seven. His figure as a bit on the lean side, but he wore masculine clothing. His voice, mimicking Jakotsu’s tone at times and his head, though a different color, was almost a replica of the dead mercenary. The female however, was the one who radiated energy from her aura, clearly the leader at the moment. Her stance, legs apart, back straight like a soldier only enhanced her perfectly fit clothing. It wasn’t until she was studying that what Kimoto said registered. Won’t be alive?! No way would she be a sacrifice!

“Wait a minute!” She cried, catching both of their attentions, “I will not be some sacrifice. You are going to be sorry once Inuyasha finds us!” Anger and tears began to fill her vision, as the blurry female figure stepped towards her.

“Priestess, we met your little half-demon protector.” Her smile grew broader, little fangs poking out beneath her top lip. Kagome struggled against the ropes, bringing more pain to her already aching body. Grimacing at the tight pull, she did her best imitation of an inu growl, hoping Inuyasha was alright. How dare they hurt him?!

“What did you do to him?” She seethed. Her teeth grounding against one another, the faint taste of blood on her tongue.

“My my, someone’s angry.” Kimoto laughed, clapping his hands together, as Kirigaya grabbed a fistful of dark hair and tugged Kagome’s face forward.

“Your precious husband,” she spat, “will never find you and after we are done with you, there won’t even be a body recognizable to him. Now shut up and sit there like a good little girl.” Releasing her hair, Kagome could feel streaks of tears falling down her cheeks, wetting her red hakama as the two demons grabbed their papers. Snuffing out all but one light once more, the last thing she saw was soft moonlight as she closed her eyes to sob.

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“Sango, your sure this should work against that screeching?” Inuyasha paced as he asked the others a million questions. Everyone could tell this wasn’t like him. Inuyasha is more of a fight now, talk later kind of guy, if he’s this worked up over and taking his time to figure out information about these two demons, this is a serious situation. Kaede mused to herself, grounding some healing herbs for him to take. She wasn’t sure of Kagome’s condition but he could use all the help he could get. She listened to Sango gently explain everything to Inuyasha once more, as Miroku sat beside his demon slayer wife, writing out a few scrolls. Kagome could use them easily, her apprentice having grown much stronger in the months since her return. 

“Inuyasha, take this with ye. It will help with most ailments, since we do not know Kagome’s condition.” The older woman gathered a small pouch and handed him the small plum bag, carefully setting it in his palms. Seeing him nod a silent thanks, she smiled softly for him. He had come along way as well.

“Bozou, whatcha got for me. Kagome don’t have her weapons, so these had better work.” Inuyasha settled the pouch in his robe, before turning towards his best friend.

“These should work, especially with her spiritual power. These two demons, Kimoto and Kirigaya were once part of a trio before their older brother was killed during your father’s reign by non other than Ryūkotsusei and his hoard of dragons. They were powerful in their own right, controlling the air around them. It is most likely why you couldn’t pick up their scent or much of Lady Kagome’s, because they can control the air around them. In turn hiding away anything. Finding them will not be easy. But if what you was true, I think I know where they will be. This ritual, is supposed to be fatal.”

Silence filled the small hut, the crackling of the fire the only sounds as Inuyasha tried to calm his breathing. He had to find her and soon. He hadn’t told her yet, her scent has changed. She doesn’t know she carrying our child yet.”

“Miroku, tell him about the ringing sound.” Sango whispered, her hand gripping tightly on Inuyasha’s arm.

‘Ah yes, excuse they can control air and such, the youngest, Kirigaya has developed the ability to send this painful sound, wrapping the noise around your head. Controlling how loud and painful the sound can be. Much like Kagura could with the wind itself. The plugs Sango gave you earlier should help with the intensity of the screeching as you call it, especially with your sensitive ears.”

“Is that it? Anything else I should know about these demons?” Inuyasha’s shrugging Sango’s touch off, before grabbing a small stack of sutras from him and reaching for Kagome’s weapons.

“There is one more thing, my friend. Their brother, Koyanagi, the one they are planning to bring back from the dead, is said to be very powerful. Much more than Kagura ever was in controlling the wind. Be wary. Though, if my suspicions are correct, even killing one of the three will weaken them greatly. Do you remember the Panther King?” Seeing him nod quickly, Miroku continued. “It will be much like that, with the sacrificial part, but this ritual is needing some serious spiritual power to bring someone back from the dead. A full moon, a special scroll, and the blood of a pure powerful priestess are the key ingredients, take away one of those things and they won’t be able to finish it. But Inuyasha, if completed, or done wrong, it could kill Kagome instantly.”

“I won’t let that happen. Now, where the hell do I go?” He ground out as a wave of nausea came over him.

Author’s note: Hope you enjoyed! Let me know if you would like to be tagged when part two and three comes out! A special surprise for part 3 will be featured along as well. Have a great Thursday guys!💕

[yandere-daydreams]

requests are open!!! what about a soft yandere fairy with a darling that accidentally wanders into their forest and won't let them leave? thank u sm!

I’ve never been able to resist a classic Yandere!Fae who can’t seem to understand why their lovely little Darling won’t give them a name and volunteer their free will without a struggle. It’s nice to be soft for a change, too, if only for the dialogue.

Title: Creation and Control.

TW: Imprisonment and Mind-Control.

~

You chose not to dance, tonight.

It wasn’t because you had anything better to do. The fae could hunt, they could harvest and maintain their make-shift homes and do whatever they wished once the sun slipped low in the sky, but as a human, a guest who’d been forced to overstay their welcome, you could only choose between joining one of the swirling, ever-growing circles or not doing so. For whatever reason, you’d picked the latter, taking a seat on a fallen tree-trunk and watching as strangers without names laughed and smiled and sobbed, some of them unfamiliar, and others prisoners like yourself, unable to leave because of magic or fate or in your case, a golden elixir you hadn’t known better than to drink. A goblet of it sat at your feet, now, but you didn’t pay it any mind. If only for the sake of protecting your pride.

Despite this, your attention dropped to the grail as a familiar figure started to approach, heavy footsteps muffled by the soft glass of the clearing. You didn’t have to greet him or be greeted in return, not when there was only one person who dared to speak to you.  Who bothered to speak to you, really. It wasn’t like a conversation with someone else’s personal pet would draw much interest, not from a group that had already seen so many of your kind come and go.

You only looked up when a long, lean hand came to rest on your shoulder, pressing down for a moment before you gave in, tilting your head back and letting your eyes meet the swirls of green and gold just beginning to pry into you. Durin, although that was more of a title than a name. The warden to your prison of trees and mushrooms and enchanting, unnerving smiles.

He spoke first. He always did. You were an object to be addressed, here, rather than one expected to speak out of turn. “My dear,” He started, already sliding a thin wooden comb in your waiting hand. “Indulge me and I promise, you won’t be pestered again until sunrise.”

You didn’t need further instruction. You pulled your legs onto the trunk and Durin lowered himself into the space they’d once occupied, soon sitting outstretched in front of you. It was a mind-numbing activity, braiding a head of long, pale hair into whatever dizzying pattern its owner requested, but you had plenty of practice, both from the task you were currently performing and the less patient stallions you used to care for on your family’s farm. You wondered if anyone took up to responsibility, now that you weren’t there to carry it out. You wondered if anyone even noticed you were gone. “It’s not difficult,” You mumbled, running your comb through a series of non-existent knots. “You could learn to do this yourself, if you wanted to. It’d be faster than coming to me.”

“I could, hypothetically, but I’m afraid we monsters don’t share your talents.” He paused, letting out a pleased hum as your blunt nails scraped idly against his scalp. “Hunting braids, perhaps, but nothing so…” He trailed off, rolling two fingers in a vague, arbitrary gesture. “Nothing so pointless. The Gods blessed us with many things, but alas, no one thought to add ‘creation’ to that list.”

Your response was delayed. You’d heard of their curse before, in tales of the suffering that was said to accompany any slight endeavor into turning one thing into another, but you’d never quite believed it. You supposed it was fitting, though. Durin didn’t seem like the kind of refined soul who would dwell in the sparsely decorated cave he called a home for any reason less than necessity. “I hardly think brushing your own hair would incur divine wrath.”

“If you can break one rule, you’re bound to break the rest. I wouldn’t be reduced to a pile of smoldering ash, but I doubt the consequences would be pleasant,” He explained, twisting to his side just enough to see you without disturbing the three tangled trails you were desperately trying to guide to an agreeable meeting point. “Are you trying to say you don’t enjoy my company, love?”

You didn’t answer him. With a particularly harsh tug to the strand you were holding, you forced him to wince, freeing you from his gaze with minimal effort. “And that’s why I’m here?” You asked, the words more a declaration of grudging recognition than a real question. “To braid your hair and tend to your every need, because you’re so tragically unable to?”

At that, he seemed to take offense, leaning back and into your lap, spoiling your progress as carelessly as he’d demanded it. You could see his face, like this, an expression of defined lines and pointed ears and traits that weren’t quite not uncanny. You might’ve said there was a hint of a collar bone beneath his loose tunic, but there could be no hints, not with Durin. He was the romantic interpretation of a man, something that got so close to being a perfect replica, but whose creator was too fond of embellishments to truly design something real. You could accept that you’d once thought of him as human, but you couldn’t forgive yourself for holding onto that belief for so long. Others in his entourage their otherness more obvious, decorating themselves with horns and hooves and whatever they liked, and while Durin was less apparent, he made no attempt to hide his wrongness. His grin, suddenly full of pointed, predatory teeth, was enough to prove that.

“You’re here because I want you to be.” He never looked away, never blinked, and abruptly, it occurred to you that he might not have to. “You’re here because I saw a young, vulnerable human wandering through my territory, following the calls of members of my court, and I decided to take pity on what should’ve been the main course of our next feast. And, because I’ve come to care for you despite your doubt, you will remain here. Allowing you to dote on me is just another privilege I’m kind enough to provide.”

It wasn’t the first time you’d had this conversation. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last, and you knew that. As well as you knew the color of the sky and the time of day, you knew that. You knew it, and yet, you found yourself frowning, stiffening, gritting your teeth as you resisted the urge to shove him away. “If you were kind, you would let me go. You know I don’t want to be here.”

His smile wavered, then dropped. “I don’t think I like your tone.”

“I don’t think I like being a hostage.” You didn’t try to stop yourself, pushing him off of your lap and fleeing from your informal, ruined haven. You had to force yourself to breathe, to inahle and exhale and make yourself calm down, but even that did little to calm your temper, only making you feel more like a child attempting to express their discontent. “You trapped me here. You took me someplace I don’t wish to be, and now, I can’t leave. How is that kind? How are you guiltless--”

“(Y/n).”

It was a silent command. You could feel it, something vile forcing its way into your veins and solidifying, rendering you speechless and paralyzed as Durin shook his head, letting out a ragged sigh before he bothered to raise a hand, gesturing for you to come to him. You didn’t have a choice, your movements rigid and your thoughts barely your own, but your body was quick to obey him, to stumble its way to its captor and fall into his lap the moment he expressed his desire for you to do so. His control faded as his arms wrapped around you, but Durin didn’t act to reinstate it, only reaching behind him and pushing something small and solid into your palm.

The comb. Sleek and wooden and so, so awful. You were tempted to cry, if only in frustration.

But, you didn’t try to resist.

Instead, you choked down your complaints and began working where you left off, attempting to ignore the contented, toothy smile now pressing into your skin.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Out Of Time ~ 124

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 7,320ish (I know... yikes)

Summary: Y/N tries to help Simmons and Daisy save Fitz, Mack, May, Director Mace, and Coulson. (Sorry, I hope it’s not too confusing as you read it. It’s a lot...)

“Okay… So… Let me get this straight…” Y/N’s mind was trying to comprehend everything that Simmons and Daisy had just told her. “Dr. Radcliffe created a Life Model Decoy—“

“LMD for short,” Simmons added.

“Right. He created an LMD of his computerized assistant… just saying that takes me back to Ultron.” A shiver went down her spine. “Anyway, and she went crazy, building more LMD’s to replace the team. She put those she replaced in what is called the Framework, some sort of computerized alternate universe where consciousnesses can live… Am I getting this right so far?”

“Yes,” Daisy nodded.

“And Aida, the crazy LMD, has replaced May, Coulson, Mack, the new Director, and Fitz. And to stop them, you blew up the base and now need to go into the Framework yourselves and pull the team out. Correct?”

“Basically.”

Y/N sighed, running a hand down her face. She was still dressed up for her date, standing in front of Simmons and Daisy who were both injured, with Yo-Yo standing beside them.

“Okay, where do you need me then?” Y/N asked.

“If we’re in there too long, our bodies will… give out,” Daisy said.

“Well, that’s the hypothesis,” Simmons clarified.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, right?” Y/N exclaimed. “You guys want to go in there knowing your bodies might give out?!”

“We have to get our team back,” Daisy stated.

“I know but just… I’m going in.”

“No. You need to stay about here and—“

“And what? Watch over your bodies with Yo-Yo? No thanks. You’ll have a better shot with me in there.”

“Yes, but we need you out here,” Simmons said. “The Government won’t be far behind looking for us and you can help stall them.”

“You realize I’m a fugitive of the law, right?”

“Do you realize we found you with Tony?” Daisy retorted. “Isn’t he suppose to arrest you on site?”

Y/N clenched her jaw with a huff. “Fine. I’ll stay in the Zephyr. When do you need to go?”

“Now,” Simmons answered.

Y/N watched as Daisy and Simmons set up everything and connected themselves to the needed equipment.

“Meet at the rendezvous right away,” Daisy told Simmons and they both laid down. “That’s where I programmed the backdoor to get out.”

Y/N stood in between the two beds. “Listen, you two,” she said, trying to hide her worry. “Living in there too long may kill you, but dying in there will definitely kill you, so… just be careful.”

“Remember, Y/N and Yo-Yo,” Simmons started, “even if our vitals are going haywire, do not—“

“Do not pull you out or wake you up,” Yo-Yo finished. “We know. It will cook your brains like huevos rotos.”

“Cause permanent damage to the cerebral cortex, test.”

“Just promise me you’ll get our guys back, okay?”

“I promise.”

Y/N watched with bated breath as they hooked themselves up and seemingly feel asleep. Feeling around in both their minds, Y/N could tell they were in the Framework though. Now it was only a matter of time.

~~~

“They missed you,” Yo-You said. 

Y/N had changed and the two of them had been sitting in silence, watching their two friends, for who knows how long.

“I’ve missed them, too,” she replied. “I… I really didn’t want to leave.”

“They knew that. And they felt terrible for what had happened when you woke. They had many arguments with Director Mace about it.”

“I didn’t like that guy.”

“He grew on me,” Yo-Yo shrugged. She leaned back in her chair. “Where have you been?”

“I can’t say,” Y/N shook her head. 

“Understandable. They never stopped searching, you know?”

“I figured.”

“They actually caught sight of you once. In South Africa, I think.”

“They wouldn’t be the only ones. I was stupid for staying too long in one spot.” Y/N silently watched her unconscious friends for a moment. “I was going to say that I can’t imagine what’s going on in there, but I kinda can. Falling asleep, walking up in a new world. It’s how I got here.”

“Except they’re walking up to a demon world.”

“Truth,” Y/N chuckled. “Very true… Do we have any idea where the others might be kept at?”

“No.”

Y/N let herself comb over Yo-Yo’s thoughts briefly. “You and Mack, huh? That’s…”

“Interesting?”

“I was going to say exciting. The height difference must be a real challenge though.”

Yo-Yo laughed. “I don’t let it stop me.”

“Never thought you did.”

“And you and Stark?”

“It’s complicated. Especially now.”

“I can imagine.”

“Honestly, Yo-Yo, I don’t know if you can."

~~~

“Agent Rodriguez!” A woman came jogging up to Yo-Yo and Y/N, who were still watching over their friends. “Agent—“ She came to a halt. “Agent Rogers? I thought—well, you should be—“

“On the run. I know,” Y/N responded. “You are?”

“Agent Piper, ma’am.”

“And what seems to be the problem, Agent Piper?”

“We’re running out of power. Keeping them plugged in is draining the Zephyr faster than we thought.”

“Are we cloaked?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Y/N took a deep breath, thinking over the options. “It’s going to be risky but I need you to uncloak the Zephyr.”

“What?” Yo-Yo questioned. “You can’t be serious? They’ll see us.”

“Just trust me and do it, Agent Piper.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Agent Piper responded, heading back to the controls.

“And please stop with the ma’am, it’s annoying.”

“Are you sure about this?” Yo-Yo asked her.

“No. But if anyone tries to take this bird down, I’ll take them down first.”

~~~

“Zephyr’s got 24 hours till it runs out of power,” Agent Davis, a man, informed. 

“We can’t wait anymore,” Agent Piper chimed in. “We need to touch down and refuel.”

“Let’s not have this conversation again,” Yo-Yo said.

“Okay, we don’t know who we can trust at SHIELD and, the government, Talbot’s been trying to reach us. Maybe it’s time we talk to him.”

“Not an option,” Y/N said. “You’ve seen what they’re saying in the news. We’re lucky they haven’t shot us out of the sky. Not to mention that I’m on board and that if they turn off the Framework—“

“That thing’s draining all our power,” Agent Davis stated.

“Might be time we figure out a way to wake up Daisy and Simmons,” Piper suggested.

“Again, not an option,” Y/N argued. 

“We must find something else to turn off,” Yo-Yo said.

“We already shut off all non-essential functions,” Davis stated. “Including the heat and the cloaking.”

“Why haven’t they shot us from the sky yet?” Piper wondered. “We haven’t been cloaked for almost a day.”

“Because I’m cloaking us,” Y/N stated.

“What?” / “How?” / “You can do that?”

“I’ve never released the amount of power I’m releasing for this long of a time, so I really don’t know how much longer I can hold it for.” Y/N turned to Daisy and Simmons, nibbling at her thumb nail. “They’re taking too long though… I think I need to go in after them.”

“No!” Yo-Yo exclaimed. “If you’re what’s keeping us safe, then we need you conscious.”

“It’s still only a matter of time before we have to land and I can’t hold it anymore. I can get in there and pull them out.”

“You don’t even know where the duplicate of you is.”

“What makes this world different, Yo-Yo? Why is it different than ours?”

“Simmons said something about taking a regret away.”

“So everyone has one regret taken away?” Yo-Yo nodded. “Then I have a pretty good guess where I’ll be.”

“You have no way of knowing if your powers will work.”

“If it’s basically a replica of our world, then I’m pretty sure they will. Besides, I’m not an inhuman, my powers are from sources much more powerful than some stupid computerized world. Now hook me up, we’re running out of time.”

~~~

Y/N gasped as she woke, immediately taking in her surroundings. She was in a casket, in the ground, inside of the Framework. She wasn’t surprised at all to find herself there, there was only two things she ever regretted. This regret Y/N had was one she always kept to herself, for reasons as to not hurt the ones she loved. She took a deep breath.

“Here goes nothing,” she whispered to herself. 

She put her hands on the top of the casket and focused. The purple energy quickly glowed from her hands, blasting forward to free her from the ground. She crawled out of the hole, analyzing her surroundings. Arlington Cemetery in Virginia, just outside of Washington DC. Looking down, she realized she was in an old, warn out, military uniform. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the headstone. Turning to look at it she wasn’t shocked to see what it said:

Y/N Rogers

July 4th, 1918 to November 1945

A Hero Of World War 2

A Champion For Women

“Okay,” she whispered to herself as she stood up, brushing herself off, “If I were SHIELD, where would I be?” 

Raking through her mind, it didn’t take long for her to come to a conclusion.

“The base.”

~~~

When Daisy woke up in the Framework, she was shocked to find out that here she was working for HYDRA, her powers weren’t active, she’s was still Skye, and that she was dating Grant Ward. HYDRA had taken over the world, SHIELD had fallen. Trying to find Simmons without the rest of HYDRA, she’s followed by Ward.

Simmons woke up in a mass grave of SHIELD agents, her Framework double having died in the fall of SHIELD. She eventually came across Coulson on her way to find Daisy. Here, Coulson’s a teacher teaching a HYDRA-approved curriculum that warns against the dangers of inhumans. Simmons tried to convince Coulson that he’s inside a virtual simulation, only to fail and have him call HYDRA on her.

When Daisy and Simmons finally met up, they tried to exit the Framework using a safeguard they created. They realized they were in over their heads in here and they needed back up. Unfortunately, Aida, the Director of HYDRA, blocked their way out. Ward then revealed himself to be a mole in HYDRA for the Resistance, out to protect Daisy since she’s inhuman.

On the run from a HYDRA attack, Simmons explains what happened with Coulson. This caused Daisy to go visit him, where he remembered her name. Ward took Simmons and Coulson to the Resistance, though he wasn’t so sure to believe the story Daisy and Simmons were telling. The Resistance is the remnants of SHIELD, led by inhuman Director Mace. 

Daisy went back to HYDRA to find Radcliffe, hoping he could help them escape. But May, now a top HYDRA agent, gave her a new mission on the orders of Fitz, lead HYDRA scientist, and Aida, though she goes by Ophelia or Madame Hydra in the Framework. Daisy sent the information to Simmons on Radcliffe’s whereabouts before going with May to arrest Mack and his daughter Hope. May forced Mack to trick Daisy into confessing her true allegiance. Daisy gets placed in a cell and tortured. Mack, after him and his daughter are freed, joins the Resistance, having felt bad about what he did to Daisy.

Ward, Simmons, and Coulson find Radcliffe living in seclusion with Agnes Kitsworth, the woman he based Aida off of. Radcliffe explains that him and Agnes cannot leave the Framework since both of their real bodies have died. Fitz and Madame Hydra arrive. Radcliffe attempted to appeal to Fitz, though Fitz seemed to already know of the “other world” and believed that Radcliffe had enslaved Aida there. Fitz killed Agnes and takes Radcliffe as a prisoner, all while Ward, Simmons, and Coulson watch. 

Ward, Mace, and Coulson then infiltrate a HYDRA “Enlightenment Camp” to free an undercover agent, Antione Triplett. They are tracked there by May, who uses a super serum to fight Mace. Coulson attempts to save one of his former students who he sees being held in the camp. Mace followed him into the building to help free all the other kids. HYDRA brings the building down with a missile. Entering the rubble to ensure Mace is dead, she finds him stopping debris from crushing a student, with Coulson and Tripp helping other children escape. May is horrified to find children being victimized by HYDRA. With the others having escaped to safety, Mace is crushed beneath the debris, dying in both worlds.

Through the vents of their holding cells, Daisy learns from Radcliffe about a backdoor he installed to escape that Aida is unable to disable. Turning on HYDRA, May sneaks a terrigen crystal into Daisy’s cell so she can gain her abilities within the Framework. The two women work together to escape HYDRA, with Daisy using her abilities to break Ophelia’s back.

Ophelia insists that Fitz, her lover, complete the work on their secret project, Looking Glass, after which her Framework body will no longer matter. Fitz then, with his very much alive father, becomes the head of HYDRA.

~~~

Y/N knew that it wouldn’t be smart to just appear in the base, so she showed up at a known SHIELD meeting spot. Appearing, she saw May and Daisy get out of an old car.

“I saw the building collapse on him,” May stated, getting out of the car. “I have the body-cam footage to prove it.”

“A building collapsed on who?” Y/N asked, worried.

Daisy spun around. “Y/N?” She questioned.

“You were taking too long.” The two women rushed into a hug.

“We tried to get back out to get your help, but Aida—“

“Stopped you. I got it.”

The three women pressed themselves up against a storage container.

“That’s not possible,” May whispered, staring at Y/N. “You’re Y/N Rogers. You died in World War 2, in the plane crash.”

“That, let me guess, my brother survived,” she responded.

They heard a security drone whirring near them and they pressed themselves up further against the storage container. May glanced around the corner to see the drone fly away.

“This is our window,” May stated.

The three then walked around the corner, Daisy leading the way. They were all on high alert, two of them now being considered terrorists. Daisy knocked on the red door of the building. A man quickly appeared, gun out.

“Get out of here,” he ordered.

“Hey! Hey,” Daisy exclaimed, hands up in surrender. “We are friends of the Resistance.”

“I know who you are. There’s chatter all over the police hand.” The man kept switching who his gun was pointed out.

“We weren’t followed. We were careful.” Then tires screeching were heard.

“Not careful enough,” May said. 

Daisy and her quickly pulled out their guns. They took cover behind a trash can as those in the speeding car began shooting at them.

“Milkman, I have contact!” The man shouted into a walkie-talkie before getting shot down.

May and Daisy were firing back as Y/N pulled the man into the building.

“Come on!” She shouted. May followed.

“Incoming!” Daisy yelled, seeing a bomb thrown their way. She stood up and quaked it back into the car. She was shutting the door to the building as the car exploded.

“I’m going to be honest,” Y/N began, “I have not missed getting shot at.” Y/N began pushing large things in front of the door.

“He’s still breathing,” May said checking on the man. “But we’re gonna need to find another way to get out of here.”

“How long before HYDRA busts down the door?” Daisy asked.

“Not long. They’ll be following SOP for a hostile inhuman. Six teams to sweep the area. And if the hostile’s taken cover they’ll call in an air strike and sort through the rubble later.”

“Like what they did with the Patriot?”

“What I did. That air strike was on my order.”

“You didn’t know.”

“Doesn’t change what I did.”

“I’m sorry, who’s the Patriot?” Y/N asked.

“Director Mace,” Daisy answered.

“So, he’s…” Daisy nodded. “Oh, gosh.”

“May, you can’t blame yourself for their lies. Once you learned the truth, you fought back. That is what we need.”

“Daisy’s right. If more people see what you saw, they’ll probably start fighting back too.”

The three of you froze, hearing the HYDRA agents break down a door down the building. The three women hid, waiting for the agents to come to them. When they did, May jumped down on one from the ceiling, Daisy took one from the side, and Y/N appeared behind another, quickly knocking him out. The three HYDRA agents were quickly finished off.

“Three down,” Daisy whispered.

“Stop right there,” a HYDRA agent ordered, aiming at Daisy.

May and Daisy held their hands up, while Y/N’s hands slowly started glowing purple. Before any of them could do something, Mack showed up from the side, knocking the guy out with his guy.

“Mack?” Y/N and Daisy questioned. The three headed towards him only to freeze when he aimed his gun at May.

“Mack,” Daisy called.

“I’m here to help you,” Mack stated, “not the woman who held my daughter hostage.”

“May is the only reason I’m alive. She helped me escape. HYDRA messed with her head, but she’s fight back now.”

“How do you know she’s not lying?”

Coulson and a SHIELD agent ran in. Assessing the situation, Coulson stopped between May and Mack. Y/N was relieved to see her long time friend.

“Not a good time to be holding guns on our allies,” Coulson said.

“Alpha One, report in,” a HYDRA agent requested from outside. “What’s the situation down there?”

“We have to go, now.” Coulson slowly walked towards Mack. “Mack, I get it. These wounds don’t heal overnight. But for reasons I can’t fully explain, I trust this woman. And so should you.” Mack put the gun down.

“This place was originally build during the prohibition,” the SHIELD agent explained. “We have a secret tunnel out of here.”

“Lead the way,” Y/N said.

Mack grabbed the SHIELD agent from before and they all jogged towards the secret tunnel. Coulson moved so he was beside Y/N.

“Y/N? Right?” He questioned.

“You remember?” She asked.

“Little things. But you’re also known here. Not necessarily in a good light, but you are.”

“I’ve missed you, Phil.”

“Weirdly, I’ve missed you, too.”

“Y/N?” Daisy called. “Do you think you could just portal us there? It would be faster and safer.”

“And miss all this fun?” Y/N smirked. “You kidding?”

~~~

“Welcome to SHIELD,” Coulson said as the group walked into the base.

“So the secret base is the base,” Daisy said. “Probably should’ve guessed that.”

“I did,” Y/N said. “I just didn’t want to scare everyone.”

“Been looking for this place for years,” May said, looking around.

“I got to go find my little girl,” Mack stated, leaving.

“Thanks for your help,” Coulson said.

“Thank goodness you’re alright,” Ward said, coming towards them. “We’ve been combing the streets looking for you.” Y/N clenched her fists and they slowly began to glow purple.

“I can take care of myself,” Daisy responded.

“And you are?” Ward looked at you before noticing your hands. “And what are you doing?” He went to grab his gun but Daisy quickly stepped between the two of you.

“Woah, woah, woah.” She had her hands out. “Stop. Y/N,” she turned to her friend. “This is not the same Ward that shot you.”

“I shot you?” Ward repeated.

“Yeah,” Y/N responded. “I almost died.”

“That wasn’t me.”

“Y/N…” Daisy called. “Calm down.” Y/N looked at her friend and nodding, powering down. “Now, you want to explain the purple hands?”

“It’s complicated,” Y/N answered.

“How about we go take a look at that body-cam footage,” Coulson suggested. “Could really hep the cause.” May and Coulson left, leaving Ward, Daisy, and Y/N.

“Y/N and I are gonna go talk to Simmons,” Daisy said.

“She and, uh, Agent Triplett are on a recon mission,” Ward said, stopping them.

“Tripp?” Y/N repeated.

“Mm-hmm.”

“That’s the best news I’ve heard in weeks,” Daisy smiled.

“What’d you need to talk to her about?”

“It’s not exactly—“

“She told me about the other world.”

“Ah.” Daisy nodded. “Right.”

“Is that what you believe?”

“Yeah. And I need you to trust me. I know a way for us to get back home.”

“By ‘us’, you don’t mean me.” Y/N stepped back, feeling the tension. “I guess I was holding out hope that Simmons was wrong and that you’d still be… the girl I knew… I’m glad you’re safe, Daisy.” Ward walked away.

“Well that was…. Weird,” Y/N said. “Do you want to tell me—“

“Not really.”

“Okay.”

~~~

Y/N and Daisy walked in as Coulson, Ward, and May had just finished the body cam footage of Mace’s death.

“Getting this footage out isn’t enough to make up for what I did in HYDRA,” May spoke up. “But it’s a start.”

“Changing people’s hearts and minds is great,” Daisy said. “But I know a way to destroy HYDRA for good. Remember the place Simmons and I were trying to find? Radcliffe told me where to go, how to find it.”

“The way out of this?” Coulson asked.

“Yes. If we can get there, all of our problems go away. We just— we need all the help we can get.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” May stated. “THere’s no magic bullet against HYDRA.”

“Yeah,” Ward agreed. “This footage is a close as it comes. I mean, people will finally wake up.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Daisy said. “None of this will matter in the long run. It’s— it’s… Coulson, this is the only chance to actually wake people up.”

“Maybe the only way to solve our problem,” Coulson replied, “is to solve their problem.”

“What does that mean?”

“Getting to Radcliffe’s coordinates right now is next to impossible. We need a way to divide HYDRA’s forces.”

“To save ourselves, we need to save the world,” Y/N said. “Well, I’m in. But I guess none of us really have a choice, do we?”

~~~

Using both Y/N’s and Daisy’s powers, a small SHIELD team broke into HYDRA’s broadcasting center. All their people hand their hands held up. Bakshi was sitting at his news anchor desk. Coulson, May, Y/N, and Daisy walked up to it.

“Heard you were looking for some enemies of the state,” Coulson commented.

Y/N and Daisy looked at each other with small grins. Coulson would always be Coulson, even if he didn’t remember everything. With a nod from Coulson, Y/N controlled all the people to stay in their seats. Ward tied Bakshi to his chair.

“Stay quiet and we won’t have a problem,” Ward warned Bakshi.

“May and Coulson are getting everything set,” Daisy told Ward and Y/N.

“We’re good to go out here. No one’s putting up a fight.”

“That’s because I told them not to,” Y/N explained. Ward looked at her, confused. “I have a variety of abilities. Just don’t plan on crossing me.”

“Yes, but we will,” Bakshi said. “If you think you can force me, Sunil Bakshi, to go on air and slander HYDRA, then you’re delusional. I am the most trusted voice in journalism—“ Daisy quaked him back so that he hit the wall behind him. “Just, uh, put it in the teleprompter, then.” Bakshi was scared.

“We don’t need you to say a damn thing,” Daisy said. “The facts will speak for themselves.”

~~~

Y/N waited by herself for Coulson to finishing filming his speech. She longed to know the truth about what happened to Steve, Bucky, and Tony in this Framework. She was just too afraid. With a sigh, she looked to the side and saw a HYDR computer. Y/N contemplated for a moment before finally giving in and searching.

Steven Grant Rogers

Born: July 4th, 1918

Died: December 6th, 2007

First super soldier created. Helped defeat HYDRA. After his sister, Y/N, crashed a plane in 1945, Rogers married Peggy Carter and helped found SHIELD.

James Buchanan Barnes

Born: March 10th, 1917

First HYDRA super soldier ever created. Alias is The Winter Soldier. Still in regular use. Currently under cryo. 

Anthony Edward Stark

Born: May 29th, 1970

Died: dated unknown, during the fall of SHIELD

Former CEO of Stark Industries. Son of Howard and Maria Stark. Died trying to stop the fall of SHIELD.

After reading everything, Y/N quickly turned off the screen. She wanted it get out of this hell whole faster now. This was not the place she longed to be. She met up with Ward, May, and Daisy, right before Coulson entered the room.

“Well,” he began with a breath, “that’s that.”

“Let’s get out of here,” May stated.

Coulson noticed that Ward’s gun was on the table and he knew that Ward was planning on staying. “The Patriot would’ve been proud of what we did today.” 

Ward and Coulson nodded to each other before Coulson walked out of the room, with Y/N following. May and Daisy were close behind. Ward began the broadcast, playing it on every screen.

~~~

Daisy stood by Y/N’s side as they watched the news from the base. Everyone in the room had their eyes on the screen. Madame Hydra had sent crews to take back control of the broadcast center. Y/N huffed as she watched people getting beat up by HYDRA agents.

“She’s not subtle, that Madama Hydra,” Daisy commented.

“Yeah, just look at her uniform,” an agent said from beside them. “It’s so crazy hot.” They both gave the guy a look. “I-I mean, if you’re into the whole ‘bad girl’ vibe. Not—not me. I’m just… making an observation.”

Just then, Tripp and Simmons walked into the room.

“Tripp,” both Daisy and Y/N gasped.

“It’s so good to see you!” Daisy laughed, pulling the man in for a hug.

“Hey… person I don’t know,” he said, hugging her back.

“Right.” Daisy immediately let go. “Yeah, sorry. I-I heard about your mission. Awesome job.”

“Thanks.” Tripp looked at Y/N, studying her. “I… do I know you.”

“You might have seen pictures,” Y/N responded, thinking back to the conversation she had with the real Tripp. That seemed like so long ago. “Y/N Rogers.” She held her hand out to shake his. “I worked with your Grandfather, Gabe. He was a—“

“Howling Commando.” He shook her hand. “I’m sorry, but shouldn’t you be dead?”

“Long story.” Y/N pulled her hand away.

“Tripp,” Simmons got his attention. “Do you mind if Daisy, Y/N, and I have a quick word?”

“Sure,” he agreed. He looked at Daisy. “You can finishing hugging me later.” He chuckled before walking away.

Simmons grabbed grabbed an arm from each of the other women, pulling them to the side.

“Aida’s building a body for herself in the real world,” Simmons stated quietly. “A human body.”

“She wants free will,” Daisy said.

“Which would allow her to unplug the Framework… killing us all.”

“Okay,” Daisy sighed. “We can still stop her. Radcliffe gave me the coordinates to the Framework’s back door.”

“Will it work?”

“According to him, all we have to do is pass through the exit point, and then our minds will disconnect from the Framework.”

“So we just need to get everyone there.”

“Which own’t be easy,” Y/N said, “with May and Mack having no idea what’s really happening.”

“Well, and Fitz had HYDRA guards around him at all times.” Y/N and Daisy shared a look. “What?”

“Simmons, we can’t reduce Fitz right now,” Daisy said. “There’s no time.”

“We can’t just leave him behind. He’s part of our team.”

“And the current head of HYDRA,” Y/N reminded them.

“The Fitz in this world wants all of us dead,” Daisy added.

“Guys—“

“I know that it’s not his fault, but that is the reality that we are living in. If we don’t get Coulson, May, and Mack out of here, Aida will kill all of them.”

“I can try to get Fitz, if the time is right,” Y/N offered. “But I can’t promise anything.” She shook her head slightly. “What I can promise is that we will find a way to get Fitz out once everyone’s safe. Okay?”

“Okay,” Simmons agreed quietly.

Daisy left quickly, realizing Mack was leaving. Y/N stayed by Simmons. 

“When did you even get here?” Simmons asked.

“When May and Daisy were escaping HYDRA,” Y/N answered. “The Zephyr is almost dead. You guys were taking too long, draining the power. I had to jump in to see if I could help.” 

“Thank you.”

~~~

Y/N found herself mindlessly watching Mack interact with Hope. She didn't even notice that she had been staring too long until Mack met her gaze. She looked away, trying to compose herself.

“Hey,” he greeted, walking up to her.

“Hey,” she replied. “Sorry about staring. I just… you two are a good pair.”

“Yeah.” He smiled softly, looking at Hope. “Have any kids of your own?”

“I… I should have… He… there was a big fight and I lost him before he was even born.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—“

“It’s no problem. Really.” She waved him off. “I’m… it’s still a little fresh.”

“Did you, uh, pick out a name?”

“Anthony James, or AJ for short.”

“That’s nice.”

“It is.” She nodded. She looked at Hope, thinking about how Mack will after to leave her soon. Even though she’s not real. “Just.. Mack, don’t wast any second. Every moment is precious.”

~~~

Y/N met up with Daisy and Tripp in the Director’s office. They were leaning over a map.

“Okay, so, Radcliffe’s coordinates should put it right about here,” Daisy stated, drawing a circle on the map. “DO you think you can fly us there?”

“No problem,” Tripp agreed.

“Great.”

“But what’s with this team of yours? A HYDRA agent, a school teacher, and a dad? Looks pretty bad news hears to me.”

“Trust us, I think they’re up to the task,” Y/N replied.

“Does this have anything to do with that other world Simmons was talking about?”

“She told you?” Daisy questioned.

“What can I say? I’m easy to confide in.”

“Okay. Yeah, you, May, Mack, and Coulson were all apart of our team in the other world.”

“So that’s why you were so happy to see me.” He smirked. “You and I,” he pointed between Daisy and himself, “we must’ve, uh, you know—

“Dated?”

“Sure. We’ll go with that.”

“Uh, no. Sorry.”

“Right. Me and Simmons, we probably—“

“Nope.”

“Agent May?” Daisy shook her head. “Y/N?”

“Sorry, Tripp,” Y/N smiled.

“Damn. And this is really a place you two want to go back to?”

“Easy, playboy. Right now, we have to round up Simmons and the rest of the team.”

“Doubt she’s back yet.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I thought you two knew. Simmons left base an hour ago.”

“Where was she going?” Daisy asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Let’s go ask Coulson and May,” Y/N suggested. “Maybe she told them.”

The two women rushed down to find May and Coulson walking the hallway.

“Do you know where Simmons went?” Daisy asked them.

“No, sorry,” Coulson responded.

“She went to find Alistair Fitz,” May replied, like it was no problem.

“What?” Daisy questioned. “Why didn’t you come and tell us?”

“Because I don’t answer to you. Not here or any other fantasy word you three might have cooked up.”

“You told her?” Y/N asked Coulson.

“It came up in conversation,” he shrugged.

“How does the existence of an alternate reality come up in a casual conversation?”

“I’d like to think it’s because we were bonding, though I don’t really want to speak for her.”

“You’re really not helping,” Daisy said.

“Don’t worry. Melinda here said she’d keep an open mind.” May sighed.

“We can’t leave without Simmons.”

“She knows how to stay off-radar,” May stated. “I’m sure everything’s fine.”

~~~

The small team packed up the quinjet. And now the only person they were waiting for was Simmons.

“Hey,” Daisy went up to Tripp in the pilot’s seat. “We all good?”

“Ready when you are,” he replied.

“Yeah. We just can’t leave without her.”

Y/N was waiting at the end of the ramp. She was the first to notice Simmons.

“Jemma!” She exclaimed rushing towards her friend. “You okay?”

“I was trying to save Fitz,” she answered, clearly shaken up.

Daisy noticed blood on Simmons jacket. “Please tell me that’s not his blood,” Daisy pled.

“No. It’s… It’s from his father. I—I killed him.”

“That’s—that’s okay. Fitz’s dad is just an avatar. You didn’t kill anyone. You just made some ones and zeroes disappear.”

“But Fitz won’t come with us now. We’ve lost him.”

“No, we haven’t,” Y/N said, shaking her head. She rested her hands on her friends shoulders. “We will figure something out. But first, we have to get back to the real world before Aida makes us disappear. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Y/N and Daisy guided Simmons into the quinjet and Tripp took off.

~~~

The quinjet landed on the roof of a steel mill. Everyone armed up and headed out, leaving Tripp with the quinjet. May led the way into the mill.

“Just up ahead,” she stated.

“Something doesn’t feel right,” Y/N said, cautiously surveying the area.

“Nothing about this disgusting world feels right,” Simmons stated. “It’s hell. A digital hell.”

“Radcliffe said the back door was in a public fountain, not some creepy steel mill.”

“If only the exit beacon I brought to this world worked, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Yeah, well, if we’re gonna get out of here,” Y/N said, “this is our last chance.”

“Found the location,” Coulson called to them.

They quickly followed him. He led them to a pool of molten steel.

“This can’t be it,” Daisy said.

“Uh, the coordinates lead right there,” May replied.

“Into a pool of molten steel?” Coulson wondered. “You think Radcliffe gave us bad info?”

“Radcliffe’s a prisoner at HYDRA,” Daisy said. “He’s got no reason to lie.”

“Maybe someone else found it and took it,” May suggested, getting annoyed.

“The back door is part of the Framework’s digital infrastructure. It can’t be moved.”

“But it could be concealed,” Y/N spoke up. “What if Madame HYDRA discovered the back door and built this place as a way to prevent people from passing through?”

“Wait a minute,” Mack interrupted, confused. “What is this back door everyone keeps talking about? I thought we were here to take out Madame Hydra.”

“Let me guess,” May started, “no one told you about the other world.”

“The other world? What?”

“So what does this mean for us?” Coulson asked, ignoring Mack and May.

“It means Aida’s won,” Simmons stated.

“You seriously believe that there’s some magical back door that will transport us to another world?” May wondered.

“It’s not magic, May. It’s science.”

“Then where’s your proof?”

“We just have to trust Radcliffe,” Daisy said. “He said when a person passes through the back door—“

“That they wake up on the other side. This is what you really believe?” May asked Coulson.

“Admittedly, it doesn’t sound great when you say it like that,” Coulson admitted.

“You lied to me,” Mack said to Daisy.

“Mack—“

“No, don’t try to talk your way out of this. You’re a damn liar. My daughter looks up to you, and for what? SO you can bring me out here on some wild goose chase?”

“Daisy was only trying to help,” Simmons excused.

“How?” By taking me away from my kid? What the hell is wrong with you guys?” Mack pointed at Y/N. “And you? You’re willing to let me feel the pain you felt. That’s… that’s cruel.”

“Mack, you don’t understand,” Y/N began. “It’s different. So, diff—“

“No it isn’t.”

“Hey, guys, maybe we should start thinking about a plan b,” Coulson tried to cool everyone down.

“Glad you’ve finally come to your senses,” May said. “We need to get out of here.”

“Actually, I was thinking we might try to find another way through the back door. I still believe Daisy’s right.”

“Wake up!” Mack exclaimed. “There is no back door, just like she’s not Moses about to take you to the promised land."

“That’s it,” Y/N whispered. “Daisy, quake it.”

“What?” Daisy questioned. “What do you—“

“Quake the damn thing, Daisy!”

Daisy held out her hand and quaked the pool of molten steel. It revealing the backdoor beneath it.

“HYDRA!” May shouted, as bullets came at the group. “Take cover!”

The small team took cover. HYDRA started shooting more and Y/N caused them all to drop to the ground, unconscious. Daisy went back up to the platform and quaked the steel again, uncovering the backdoor.

“It’s real,” Coulson said.

“It could be a trap,” May suggested.

“The time for doubting’s over. We’re going back to our world.”

Coulson got up from where he was hiding, heading to the platform across from Y/N, Daisy, and Mack. Unknown to the team, HYDRA agents were below them. Shots were fired, hitting Coulson.

“Coulson!” Y/N screamed, quickly appearing at his side. She had watched him die once, she couldn’t bear to do it again. “We have to get you up.”

May and Mack began firing at the lower agents as Y/N helped hoist Coulson up.

“This feels oddly familiar,” Coulson grunted, blood covering up his chest.

“Sadly, it is,” Y/N replied.

“You were there… I think I remember that…”

“We need to get you patched up,” May said, coming from behind.

“No, it’s too late for that. Help me to the edge. It’s the only way.”

“Daisy!” Y/N shouted. “The door!”

“On it!” She replied, quaking the door open again. May and Y/N helped Coulson to the edge.

“Hey, come with me,” Coulson told May.

“How can you be sure it will work?” She asked.

“I can’t. Guess it’s gonna be a leap-of-faith type of thing.”

“It’s not that simple for me.”

“Yes, it is… Just follow my lead.”

Coulson pushed himself away from Y/N and May, falling back into the door. He disappeared, causing a wave to ripple out through the Framework, showing that it wasn’t real.

“They were right,” Mack whispered. “It’s not real.”

“Go May,” Y/N urged. “He’ll be right there when you wake. And we won’t be far behind… Go.”

Giving Y/N one last look, May took that piece of faith and jumped. Y/N sighed in relief. Two down, just 5 more of them to get through.

“Simmons, you’re up!” Daisy shouted.

As Simmons headed towards the platform, a gun cocked behind her. She looked back to see Fitz pointing a gun at her. Radcliffe was handcuffed behind him.

“Hello, Jemma Simmons,” he greeted. “Seems you finally found me.”

“Fitz—“ She tried to rush towards him.

“You don’t get to say my name! Not after everything you’ve done.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” Simmons shook her head. “Aida, she took you from me, and I cam to rescue you.”

“So you kill my father? Right after he tells me that he loves me, you murder him in cold blood as I listen.”

“I am so sorry,” Simmons cried. “I was an accident.”

“Nothing that you’ve done has been an accident! You want to destroy this world! To destroy me! You want to destroy the woman that I love!”

“That woman is lying to you! None of this is real! She’s not real! Aida’s just a robot yo and Radcliffe created.”

Outside the small room Fitz-Simmons was in, Y/N was wondering what was happening. So she slowly walked over, ready to attack.

“Her name is Ophelia,” Fitz defended.

“It’s name is Aida,” Simmons responded. “Artificially Intelligent Digital Assistant. And stop making excuses for it!”

“She’s right, Fitz,” Y/N cut in, bringing the attention to her. “Radcliffe, Simmons, and Daisy have all told you the truth.”

“Y/N?” Radcliffe quietly wondered. “Wow, they really called in the big guns.”

“Please… Fitz,” Simmons pled. “You have to wake up.”

“Get on your knees,” Fitz ordered Simmons. 

“No.” Fitz shot Simmons in the foot causing her to fall to the ground.

“You don’t get to touch her!” Y/N screamed freezing Fitz in place. “You don’t.”

“Let me go,” he growled.

“Fitz, listen to me,” Simmons begged. “I love you.”

“And you mean nothing to me.”

Suddenly there was a gun shot. Y/N turned to see that Radcliffe was out of handcuffs now and had shot the agent with them. He pointed his gun at Fitz and took Fitz’ gun away. Radcliffe looked at Y/N and she let her hold on him go. Radcliffe hit Fitz on the side of the face, pushing him towards the door and the platform.

“This was never my intention,” Radcliffe stated. Y/N quickly went to Simmons, helping her up. “The Darkhold corrupted my mind. Please, don’t blame yourself.”

“Go,” Simmons nodded at Daisy. Daisy quaked open the back door.

“It was all my fault.” Radcliffe pushed Fitz through the back door. Simmons caught Radcliffe before he fell in too. “Bringing Fitz here was the only way I could truly save him. I know I can’t make everything that happened in the Framework right, but at least— at least this way, Fitz gets to be his old self again.”

“Simmons,” Y/N called. “Go.”

Simmons nodded, limping forward and throwing herself through the doorway. That left Mack, Daisy, and Y/N.

“Now it’s your turn,” Daisy told Mack. “You said it yourself, this world is not real. And in the real world, you’re in danger right now.”

“What about Hope? Is she in danger?” He asked.

“No,” Y/N answered, appearing beside Daisy. “Things are different there.”

“Different? How?”

“Hope… she isn’t alive in our world. I’m so, so sorry. I… I don’t exactly know what happened. It’s not something you talk about.”

“No, no. That— on, the doesn’t make any sense. She’s alive here. Why would it be different there?”

“Aida,” Daisy answered. “She made changers in this world to keep us from fighting back. So fixed your biggest regret.”

“Then I’m staying.”

“Mack—“

“I don’t want to live in a world without Hope.”

“But it’s not real,” Y/N argued. “You saw it with your own eyes it’s a computer program. All of it. Even hope.”

“She laughs at my jokes. We watch movies together. And when she’s sad… when she’s sad, I hold her. So, she’s real to me.” Mack looked back in the eyes. “If you had the chance to be with AJ, would you stay?”

“I know the truth, Mack… And I know that AJ is safe where he is. Loved and protected. Here…. Here’s not that. Here’s not real.”

“I have to stay.”

“I understand,” Daisy replied. “And I know how hard this is, but you have people who really care about you,” she began crying, “who love you very much.”

“Tell them I’m sorry.”

“Mack, please… I don’t want to lose you.”

“Good luck. Both of you.”

With a deep inhale, the two women looked at each other, both shedding tears. They turned away from Mack. Not wanting to force him into anything. Daisy grabbed Y/N’s hand, quaking the door open as they jumped together.

next chapter >

I know I said that Agents of Shield would end with this chapter, but that ended up not being the case. We will see our Agents of Shield team for the last time in chapter 125 and Infinity War will start in chapter 126.

NOTES: from now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2​. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

[haztory]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬

--erwin smith x reader; fluff, domestic, not canon compliant farmer erwin, there’s a mentioning of injuries but not enough to be considered graphic! (erwin lives!)

a.n: this is my attempt at swinging back into the ways of writing after a long, long, long hiatus! i wrote this in thirty minutes as just an exercise, but felt it was cohesive enough to post. its vague, abstract, and definitely not a magnum opus, but its something. this is more of an erwin story than an x reader one, but i hope you all enjoy regardless!

this was titled after a song on the pride and prejudice ost of the same name. highly recommend you give it a listen

anything for my sweet boy erwin ♡

(w.c: 1686)

At the initial prospect of it, retirement was somewhat akin to shooting oneself in the foot for a man like Erwin. It was condescending, debilitating, almost an insult were he any lesser than a reasonable man.

The word was floated around numerous times after the loss of his arm, spoken with a gentleness and, dare he say, a trepidation they believed must be adopted when speaking to the freshly injured man. For fear of upsetting him or for fear of making the situation real, he’s not quite sure. It was mentioned, nonetheless. In passing, directly, through implication; Everyone seemed to think that Erwin was less of a man and more of a liability because of his lost arm, and that retiring from the Scout Regiment would be the best option for everyone. 

That was something he took offense to. 

His physical abilities may be considerably limited now, yes, but he still holds inherent value to the cause he’s dedicated his life to. Still has goals, still has dreams, still has ideas that must be discussed and implemented if the fate of humanity is to even think about surviving beyond the next few days. 

Erwin still had some fight in him, and he still had things to offer. Things that retirement would take away from him.

The word settled like a thick tar on his tongue and left a bitter aftertaste, one he couldn’t bear to swallow down. So he didn’t. He spit the word back out, removing it from his mouth and sternly asking others to rid themselves of it too. They followed his order, albeit begrudgingly, but the conversation ended then and there. Not permanently, unfortunately. No amount of power, Erwin imagines, could ever snuff out the growing fear his missing appendage has instilled in his soldiers. That even the most untouchable, unshakeable of leaders could be tainted by this cruel world. 

He knows it's on everyone's mind, no matter how many times he can try to assuage the fears, for if the exchanged uneasy glances between his eccentric Section Commander and trusted Captain were anything to go by, then the fear his cadets must feel must be traumatizing. The looks they pass to one another when they think he isn’t looking.

Erwin lost an arm, not his intuition. It seems he’s the only one who knows that. 

But they let it go. They all do, for now at least. They reluctantly put a pin at his assertion that he would continue his work, regardless of injury, and quickly filed this topic as one they would return to at a later date. Appease him now to make him more receptive to the future. They let him continue to work himself dry, let him continue with physical missions like he wasn’t missing a trusted appendage, and entertained his reckless and drastic thoughts to a certain extent.

When he lands himself back in the infirmary, this time with a serious rupture to the side of his stomach from flying debris, and a number of broken bones that will surely cause permanent hindrance to his mobility, the topic is brought back up again. Only this time, it’s non-negotiable. His near death was the final straw in forcing Erwin Smith into retirement. 

                                                              ∵

He hates it.

Hates how quiet his home is, hates how unexciting his routine is, hates not being able to know.

But he finds that making coffee is still manageable with one arm. The sun still shines as brightly inside the walls as it does outside. The birds still chirp excitedly in the morning and the wind still blows gently in the afternoon. 

He hates retirement, but it’s manageable. 

It gets better after a while, the presence of a neighbor making his nights substantially more interesting with the dinner she brings over. 

                                                             ∵

The house is quiet once again, only the distant chirps of the birds filling the empty space. It's familiar, but he finds it unsettling this time around. A feeling of anticipation creeping into his stomach, waiting for the other shoe to drop at any moment.

It doesn’t happen. 

With a slight furrow in his brow and after a long analyzing gaze outside the window above the kitchen sink, Erwin makes his way towards the front door, granting him access to the front porch of the house. Settled away from the city, the land his house is built on stretches for miles; Fields of green spread out before him and littered with tall, blooming and swaying trees. The chickens squawk and run around before him and the horses huff their snorts of boredom. There’s activity in the Smith residence, but it’s not the kind he’s looking for. 

There’s something missing. 

Bringing his left arm up to his mouth, he curls his fingers below his tongue, blowing out a loud and sharp whistle that has all movement still for a brief moment on his farm. All attention piqued on him, the animals and the trees alike waited for Erwin’s response. 

They wait, and they wait, and they wait. But still, nothing.

The crease between Erwin’s brows dips further. A brief flash of worry settles in his shoulders. He pulls his fingers into his mouth again, blowing a whistle that lasts for a few seconds longer this time. His eyes stay trained on the hill before him, hoping to see something. Anything.

He waits a minute before the restlessness takes over and he takes his steps down the stairs of the porch, his boots crunching against the crisp grass still wet from the morning dew. He approaches the top of the hill, the one that lays level with the foundation of his house, before surveying the land further below. He looks left and right, then left again and then right again, eyes peeled for that familiar flash of grey.

Where in the world could that damn dog have gone?

The dog is usually fast enough to return before he even needs to whistle a second time, never straying too far from the property for her to not hear Erwin’s call. But this time is different. She’s gone and isn’t returning to him and that can only mean one thing.

Trouble.

He begins his trek down the hill, the morning still early enough to not have him sweating on this irregular stroll of his, but he can feel the temperature slowly rising through the air. The wind serves as his only semblance of comfort as it continues its mission of cooling the exposed skin of his forearm and neck. 

He must be walking for at least five minutes before he sees it. The scraggly grey hair of a dog's bottom, her top half hidden behind a large oak tree but her tail wagging ferociously. A small smile graces Erwin’s face subconsciously, the slowly building apprehension dissipating in an instant at seeing the vivacious mutt. 

Or at least at seeing her bottom half. 

He approaches the tree slowly, the noises of enjoyment and panting from the dog becoming louder as he draws nearer. But there’s another sound too that fills the air. A sound much sweeter and delicate, one that he’s heard a thousand times over the years,  and yet, Erwin swears it's one he can never get tired of. 

It’s a breath of fresh air, an instant drug in his veins, and the reason behind the swelling of his heart. His smile grows wider than he could have possibly imagined.

He gets close enough and the dog finally notices him, bounding over to him in an instant with a greeting bark and a perk in her step. He pats her head, a silent gratefulness at having found her finally and understanding why she refused to meet his calls. Why she continued to stay at the spot behind the oak tree a five minute walk away from her home.

He finally gets near the tree, peering around its large trunk to the spot the dog previously occupied and can’t help but laugh in surprise. 

Sitting in the space between the bulging roots are his two girls, one aged six and the other three, huddled close together as they coo and giggle over an object resting between the two’s feet. Their backs are turned towards their father, too preoccupied with whatever was settled between them to even notice the beloved dog’s disappearance from her original spot and its replacement with their father. 

His years of training to fight titans kicks in, his steps as quiet as can be as he gets closer to the girls to get a look at what they were currently fawning over. 

A baby bird. Brown in color and more than comfortable between the two children.

“What are you two doing?”

His voice sends a jolt of shock through them, the two girls jumping in the air at the sudden disruption and whipping their faces around to look at the intruder. The fear quickly melts off of their round faces when they realize who it is. 

“Daddy!” The two girls yell unanimously, unbridled joy filtering their features and Erwin briefly sees the beautiful face of their mother in them. The youngest in particular. 

The eldest managed to take most of his features, much to his wife’s pleasure, retaining his aquiline nose, the vibrant blue of his eyes, and his own oval face shape, but her hair is a delightful mix between his and his wife’s. And while she looks the most like him, she acts the most like her mother; Joyous and giggly and a passionate ball of rays. 

Now, his youngest, while looking almost entirely like a carbon copy of her mother, was in fact a replica of his own personality. Quiet, curious, diplomatic. A balance to her impulsive sister, a shining grey crater of peace in the sky.

His sun and moon. His reasons for orbit. The loves of his life. 

                                                             ∵

And as he walks his two girls back across the field to their home, their mother’s figure on the horizon and an excited chatter between them as they recount the tales of their morning in helping the baby bird, a single thought enters Erwin’s mind. 

Retirement isn’t so bad. 

[only-here-for-the-star-wars]

Obitine Week 2021 - 17th October - Outsider POV

Why hasn’t she said anything yet?

Obi-Wan stood dutifully behind his master, Qui-Gon Jinn, as they accompanied the young Duchess Satine Kryze on Mandalore ahead of another public event that would begin in a few days. He had seen her less and less often over the years, as Mandalore stabilised after their civil war. The presence of the Jedi at events like these was almost for show only. A token gesture of civility between the Republic and the independent sovereign state.

For now, the Jedi were following Satine into a history museum on Mandalore. She had come to speak to one of the professors from Sundari University to discuss the symbols used by their people to denote their leaders through history.

Is she trying to protect me? Because she doesn’t want to ask me to choose between them and the Jedi? Or does she not even know? Or is she embarrassed to have moved on to someone else so soon and- No. Darling Satine wouldn’t have done such a thing. This child could only be mine. Although he had the appearance of being at attention, his focus was on the two Force signatures he could sense sharing the position in front of him of Satine and his unborn child. Can Master Jinn sense it as well?

“… the mask itself served our people for many thousands of years dating back to Te Maan Mand’alor – Mandalore the First – who crafted out of the sternum of the mythosaur he and his clan defeated. Unlike the Darksaber where the victor of the duel could choose to spare the loser’s life even if they only rarely did so, in all instances the mask was passed from one Mandalore to the next at the death of the previous one, either at the hands of the new Mandalore following a death match, or due to them having fallen in combat.”

“We are a far more peaceful society now, I think that I would be fine, Professor.”

“It’s a moot point unless someone actually finds it first, your highness. This one here is a replica. Although I don’t doubt the sturdiness of the mask to have survived all these years. Te Taylir Mand’alor – Mandalore the Preserver – had integrated it into his helmet when he assumed leadership of the clans circa four thousand years ago. The rest of his helmet was full beskar, and despite dying of a head injury in battle, the mask remained sufficiently intact for it to be extricated and passed on to the next Mandalore.”

“Mandalore… the Preserver?”

“Yes, I thought you’d like that name. And he was succeeded by one of his lieutenants who went on to become Te Cabur Mand’alor – Mandalore the Protector. What we know of the story of Canderous Ordo is quite fascinating, really. The previous Mandalore – Te Darasuum Mand’alor – Mandalore the Ultimate – was killed by a Jetii Knight named Revan during a war our people had with the Republic, and they hid the mask so that our people couldn’t regroup to attack again while the Republic was rebuilding. Apparently, Ordo went and sought out Jetiise to become friends with them so he could convince the Jetiise to bestow the mask to him. And ultimately this non-traditional approach to the problem worked out for him.”

“Do we know anything else about this Mandalore?”

“Off the top of my head, nothing that would be of interest or useful to you. Just the salacious details that intrigue the public, you understand. His wife was a former Republic soldier, and they were both rumoured to be friends with a Master Jetii with whom he was also having an affair, a ‘Battlemaster’ Nacinta Qiort, who attended his funeral and participated in in some of the duels in his honour.”

“That’s quite a lot based on rumour, Professor.” Obi-Wan didn’t fail to notice how Satine didn’t even glance in his direction at the mention of an ancient couple who had done exactly what they were doing – the leader of the Mandalorians having an illicit affair with a Jedi.

“Well, it was almost four thousand years ago, and you know how the Jetiise are about their secrets- Ah! Sorry Master Jetii.”

“None taken.” Qui-Gon’s bored shrug mollified the historian.

“I can look to see if we have any records of what sort of policies he implemented in order to live up to his title, if you wish.”

“That would be appreciated, thank you.”

*

By the time Obi-Wan was following Qui-Gon up the boarding ramp to their ship to return to Coruscant, Satine still hadn’t voluntarily told him about their child. It had to be his child because Obi-Wan hadn’t seen, or indeed heard rumours, of anyone else who could possibly be the child’s father.

He felt surprisingly calm about the whole ordeal. Yes, Satine was keeping the biggest secret of his life from him, but he was no longer alone. After all, if this ‘Nacinta Qiort’ that the professor mentioned was truly a Battlemaster of the Order in her time, surely she would have a holocron stored in the archives? Sure, he might have to find a librarian who spoke Old Galactic Basic Standard and then… well there was a limit to what he could ask in front of another Jedi, but perhaps just confirming that she knew Mandalore the Preserver would be enough.

*

“I’m pretty sure it’s only those of us trying to maintain our knowledge of this old language who have been to this section since the Rusaan Reformation…” Obi-Wan had selected Zeltron librarian Waller Demaris for the task of taking him to the holocron as the youngest librarian with any capacity for speaking Old Basic. “…This is the one.” Waller reached out with his hand an using the Force, floated a holocron down from a high shelf. It was of a simple cuboidal design, with a pale blue light escaping from the edges of the device now that it was being held in a Force-adept sentient’s hands.

A Human female was projected above the cube, turning to take in the sentients in her immediate vicinity. The expression on her face was neutral, but she spread her arms in a welcoming gesture. “Librarian Demaris, Brother Kenobi, what a surprise this is. Tell me, is it already 7958 C.R.C.?”

“Uhhh…, no it’s only 7944 C.R.C. Does something specific happen in that year?” Obi-Wan looked to an equally confused Waller, but the other sentient also had no explanation.

“I think, Kenobi, you’ve missed the part where the Battlemaster happens to speak perfect modern Galactic Basic Standard, despite having died four thousand years ago.”

“Ah, my dear librarian, it’s because I have seen the future.”

“That is not a sufficient explanation for your ability to speak modern Basic.”

“Secrets Demaris, secrets. Sentients would come to me with their secrets all the time. In part, it was because Master Atris Focela’s accusation was right, for the standards of the previous Council I was ‘too permissive’, if only because I firmly believe that you should meet sentients as they truly are, not how you wish they were, because it is only from that position that you can guide them to where they ought to be. But also, because I was willing to provide practical support where requested, and I had some quite influential friends outside of the Order, a Republic Senator, the Admiral in charge of the Republic Navy, even Mandalore himself, to achieve such things if required. I suspect this is the reason you have come to see me.”

“And you know why we’ve come to see you, because you’ve seen the future?” Waller cocked an eyebrow at the projected woman, before turning to Obi-Wan.

“Indeed. I would also suggest Kenobi borrows the holocron of Grandmaster Jolee Bindo, but I know you’ll have some reason for denying that request.”

Waller turned to his data pad to bring up the details of the other mentioned holocron, frowning when he realised what those restrictions were and when they were placed – after the recorded date of this woman’s death. “That holocron has restrictions placed on it – only Masters on the Council may access it. I’m a Knight and Kenobi here is still only a Padawan so he can’t even take your holocron out of the archives.”

“I would offer to borrow it myself, because I am a Master on the Council, but I know you’ll deny that request too.”

“Uhhh, yeah. It’s because you’re not actually a sentient. You know that, right? You’re an artificial intelligence steeped in the Force that has copied as much as possible of the Force signature and mind of a millennia-dead Human.”

“I know. I will just have to remind Kenobi of it years from now so that he can come and check out the Grandmaster’s holocron for himself.”

Obi-Wan turned to the Zeltron “Waller, please. She obviously has something she wants to tell me.”

“She’s not a sentient, Obi-Wan. But fine. I’ll tell you what, how about I check this holocron out of the Archives under my name for now, and you return it directly to me when you’re done so she can help me with other translations, on the condition that I don’t get dragged into whatever your problem is that apparently requires a restricted holocron.”

“Deal.”

*

“Vod, I don’t think this is going to be a long conversation” the projected Human female’s facial expression still hadn’t moved from its neutral mask.

“What did you just call me?”

“Gar jorhaa'ir luubid Mando'a, gar kar'taylir meg ni ru'sirbur.”

“Okay, I don’t know that much Mando’a.”

“Clearly. You are here because you have some notion of my friendship with Te Taylir Mand’alor.”

Obi-Wan looked downcast for a second. They were merely friends? It was four thousand years ago, of course it was possible for history to have recorded these things incorrectly.

“You look disappointed.”

“No, it’s just that-” perhaps there is no one who can empathise after all. “I was recently on Mandalore, and I’d heard from an historian that you were friends with Mandalore the Preserver and his wife, and according to their history you were also rumoured to be having an affair with Mandalore. But you’re a Master Jedi, I should have known better than to wonder if such a thing were true.”

“You’re asking me if the Mandalorians have recorded history incorrectly? Then yes, it is not as they have described it to you.”

“You’re not going to ask me about why I’d come to seek you out?”

“No, because I have seen the future, some thirteen-or-fourteen-odd years from now. Ni kar’taylir, ner vod. Ni kar’taylir tion’ad gar kar’taylir darasuum.”

“And you’re not… going to rebuke me for it? For being in love?”

“Of course not. To my knowledge you are Human.”

“What if I said that Duchess Satine Kryze was pregnant with my child?” Obi-Wan carefully studied the projected face of the simulation of the Master before him – they didn’t flinch at his question or appear to be disgusted by what they’d just heard. He didn’t know if it was merely that the holocron itself had no programming to simulate the reaction, but he suspected that more likely the Master Jedi in question would have been disciplined enough not externally show any internal surprise.

“She will call her son Korkie, and place him in the care of a cousin. He will grow up strong and kind, with a fervour for justice that you can feel proud of.”

“So she is planning on keeping him from me?”

“Gar cuyir Jetii, ner vod. It seems to me that she won’t tell you not because she doesn’t love you, but because she does. It will be a decision she agonises over until she prioritises her respect for not just for the young man you are now, but for the Master Jedi you are to become. Thatis what I have seen. So I put this to you – will you in turn extend that same respect to her and her decision?”

Obi-Wan sat staring at the holocron of the conveniently prescient Master Jedi. The issue is resolved. If this is what has been seen, then it’s not as if I have a choice.

~~~

Mando'a All the translations for the titles of the various Mandalores are in the text itself. Vod - sibling Jetii / Jetiise - Jedi / Jedi (plural) Gar jorhaa'ir luubid Mando'a, gar kar'taylir meg ni ru'sirbur. - You speak enough Mando'a, you know what I said. Ni kar’taylir, ner vod. Ni kar’taylir tion’ad gar kar’taylir darasuum – I know you, my brother. I know who you love.

[heraldofzaun]

what are your thoughts on viktor and being neurodivergent? though like, obligatory disclaimer that if riot ever did come out and say that "hey! viktor is canonically [something]" that would be catastrophic but i think it is a little bit of fun for consideration

Oh! Well I like to think he's autistic, which is partially because I am too. (Of course in canon it would be catastrophic because haha, oh man, look at how they've treated Blitzcrank's biographies ever since they gave him an updated one. There's some coding in there, alright, and I am... not a fan...)

I’ve posted a lot of long posts recently (this is no exception) and this is also on a kind of tricky subject, so I’m readmore’ing it.

So anyways, while I have to admit that some of the reason why (my) Viktor is autistic is because I am - I think that you can make a general semi-convincing argument. Or I'm so wrapped up in my own interpretations that I can, at the least. Anyways, from here on out when I say Viktor I mean my personal take. Your mileage may vary on applying this to other interpretations.

(Also, thoughts on new lore Jayce's being kind of coded to be like, a stereotypical autistic dude? (If you have any I mean.) I don't like that Riot is doing it, of course, but I've seen a few good rehabilitative takes on it in fandom. @hamartio's Jayce springs to mind, because their Jayce has been developed over the years and also written by someone who like. Cares. Anyways, I have my own personal Jayce ideas that rely on his old lore so he's not really an asshole there, at least in those regards, so I don't really have many thoughts on new Jayce. I think new Viktor is... pretty coded as well, but it’s also insanely stereotypical. The whole “always working, always wants certainty, gets into automation not because he (primarily) wants to help those injured by catastrophes in Zaun but because the catastrophes interrupt his work” thing makes me uncomfortable. Maybe I’ll write sometime on why the rewrite of his lore fails, in my opinion, to hit upon the same themes of his first - would that be of interest to folks? Anyways, this parenthetical is too long.)

I think that autistic Viktor is cool and makes sense, somewhat because of the fact that the ways he goes about solving his problems are, er, unorthodox. (Of course I am not saying that the GE is because he’s autistic, because that’s stupid. This is why I’m kind of squirrely about talking so openly about what I think Viktor’s got going on, and why I don’t really trust if a non-autistic person headcanons him as autistic. There’s a lot of room for that headcanon to just reinforce the “autistic people are supergeniuses with no emotions that work based off of Facts and Logic” trope, and I hate that.) Since a lot of autism is about feeling adrift from/at odds with neurotypical society, I think that Viktor’s general solutions and also his idealistic leanings in the face of everything Zaun is tracks for that. Roboticization makes sense as a way to stop suffering and death, because it’s more achievable than individual feats of immortality through magic or whatever. Viktor doesn’t really get why people would be so opposed to it - he’s made it clear that while he dislikes his own emotions and wants them gone, he doesn’t expect others to cast off theirs. (Maybe he expected that when he was in the thick of his emotional pain, mostly because he couldn’t imagine others choosing differently than he at the time, but not in the current day.)

Of course, externally, when the scary cyborg man who admits to cutting off his own limbs says “no, being a robot is cool, you can keep your emotions even”, any Zaunite (or any person) is going to interpret that as “he is definitely lying”. Viktor doesn’t quite make that leap. (I have thoughts on the whole Theory of Mind concept and I don’t mean to say that Viktor can’t empathize - he does, and does too much - with others, but I think that in this instance he just can’t quite understand sometimes why people don’t believe him.) He also doesn’t quite get why people would be so attached to the bodies that they’re currently in, especially if he can make a mechanical replica. Or why people might want to die and pass into non-existence after a life well lived. (To him, personally, there’s always more to do. Also he’s terrified of death but that’s another topic.)

I also think that Viktor’s empathy is of the hyper- rather than hypo- kind, partially because I feel like outside of self-advocacy groups the mere concept of autistic hyperempathy is seen as like... impossible? It’s also because he generally seems to be kind of an emotional guy in canon before Stanwick, what with the lore saying that “almost no trace of the original man remained” in reference to Viktor reemerging as someone without emotions. That, combined with the fact that he was described as having a “hope to better society” before everything went down, kind of makes me believe that he was a naive idealist type. (Again, not that autism makes you naive, but...) But yes, hyperempathy. Hence "no pain, no wars, no suffering, no death” being part of his ideology for the Glorious Evolution. He gets pretty ripped up about people being hurt, and it’s really only gotten worse over the years as he’s grasped the full scope of pain in the world.

Personally, I write pre-Stanwick-incident Viktor as someone who is still somewhat awkward with expressing emotion, but it’s not due to him not having them. It’s due to the fact that the ways in which he naturally expressed them and in which he interacted with the world were just... seen as odd/different/etc. (I don’t think Runeterra has an autism diagnosis or particularly excellent psychology, even in Piltover and Zaun, so he just gets the “you’re a weird dude” treatment for his entire life.) Stimming or smiling a certain way or talking a lot about his interests or, you know, the general autistic existence is weird to most people around him, as it unfortunately is in real life. So he’s more reserved until you actually know him, because he’s just masking all the time. (Fun fact about my Viktor: he’s pretty expressive under that actual mask of his. It helps to not have to micromanage expressions all the time when he isn’t experiencing a bout of flat affect due to [gestures vaguely at everything else going on with his mental state], although he sometimes feels poorly about not being able to manage himself. But that’s his issues, and I think it’s good for him to show emotion.)

Side note - Stanwick was able to do such a number on Viktor due to: a) Stanwick being very charismatic and manipulative, on top of being an actually smart man and scientist - he’s really a great example of a “good Zaunite”, in the sense of being good at being what the culture rewards, b) Viktor actively dealing with the death of his parents and Stanwick being an older adult who’d treated him kindly and had never seemed put-off by Viktor’s oddities, and c) Viktor not realizing that he’d get backstabbed, because yes he knows that that happens in academia but Stanwick’s nice. Whether or not the outcomes would have been the same if Viktor were more competent at being “a good Zaunite”... well, probably not. Viktor ended up where he did because of who he is.

(Secondary side note: Viktor has a very strong and very black-and-white sense of what’s right and wrong, as well as general black-and-white thinking. You can see how that would have... not helped in the situations he was put through.)

This is getting kind of rambling, but I guess the point of this is that Viktor’s wanting to remove his emotions may be cloaked in the language of them being “inefficient” or “unhelpful”, which would feed into autistic stereotypes, but it’s really more of a matter of them being too painful and raw for him to process. He feels too much and hurts too much, and no amount of positive emotions in the world will (in his mind) make up for the pain he’s felt and will feel. So it’s better to not feel anything at all, isn’t it? At least then you aren’t overwhelmed by it all.

Viktor just hasn’t fit in with Zaun for all his life, really. Not as an odd child who can tell you all about science-fiction and techmaturgy, not as an odd and reserved teenager/young adult, not as a bright young doctoral student still dealing with grief but trying to make the best of it, and... not as the Machine Herald. But now he’s given up on trying to fit in, for better or for worse.

(Other miscellaneous and less serious autistic thoughts on him: generally a pretty fixed diet, partially due to being autistic but also due to what’s easily available in Zaun + what agrees with his stomach. A fan of weight and pressure - I like to think that the reason his outfit is like that is that he finds it comforting, and also that he has a weighted blanket or two around. Special interests of general techmaturgy, robotics, and science-fiction. He can talk for hours about any of those, and has. Both his parents were mildly spectrum-y, his mother a little bit moreso, so they just kinda assumed that him being him was out-of-the-ordinary and a bit strange but not something “horribly wrong”. Oh! And his third arm, which is under a little less conscious control than the rest of him, still stims sometimes when he’s working or otherwise not paying attention to it.)

This was very long and jumped around a lot, because I find it hard to give a convincing paragraph-by-paragraph argument about exactly why I think that Viktor is autistic, or rather why I headcanon him as such. But hopefully it was interesting! I just have a lot of thoughts on him, as well as the general state of autistic-coded or perceived-as-autistic-by-individuals (both allistic and autistic) characters in media and so it’s very hard to do anything concise without branching out into discussing other topics.

[athenasbloodyspear]

The Viper: Chapter Two

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Find this fic on Ao3.

This fic is 18+ for violence and eventual sexual content. Please read at your own risk.

Master list

“I know where to find her.” Nat pipes up from her spot at the table. 

No one had moved since the Viper had shot out the security camera. 

Tony whipped his head to look at her and scoffed. “Oh? Are you an omnipresent God who knows all? Because if Friday can’t find her, I think we’re fucked.” 

“I know a place in the city where someone like her could disappear. Where I would disappear if I were her. It’s a hunch, but I have a feeling it’s where she is.” 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Care to enlighten us?” 

“The Mist.” Nat said simply. 

“Okay that just sounds fake.” Sam scoffed. 

“It’s not.” Nat snapped, “It’s an underground nightclub in Brooklyn. Famously has no cameras anywhere. The name is a nod to the fact that it’s a blind spot in the city. It’s filled with people in similarly seedy professions and rich and powerful people looking for illegal fun.” 

“Alrighty then. Sounds like my kinda place.” Tony rubbed his palms together. Steve just groaned. 

“You’re telling me this woman would hide out in a nightclub full of people who potentially know there’s a bounty on her head?” Bruce chimed in. 

“Yes. It’s highly frowned upon for outside business to interfere with the fun inside, so if anyone is hoping to make the hit they would have to wait for her to leave. Hence why I bet she waits there a long time.” 

“How do you know about this place Nat?” Steve countered. 

“How do you think I know about this place, Rogers?” She spat back. 

“Whatever, you two. Suit up for an evening at the club and meet us all back here in an hour.” Tony interrupted before Steve could stick his foot in his mouth. “Banner, you’re excused.” 

“Thank god.” Bruce sighed. 

“The rest of you are going. I’m staying here to monitor cameras with Friday and see if I can scrounge up any more interesting tidbits on our new friend.” 

“Great.” Bucky muttered to himself. A club. His favorite thing in the world. 

Not.

--

After a particularly complicated series of sneaking into various clothing stores in Manhattan you’d finally stolen something acceptable to wear for your evening of fun. 

You could feel the adrenaline pumping through you still. This whole thing was a massive gamble and you knew that. 

At any moment it could all come crashing down. In a lot of ways. 

You hadn’t been this out of control in a very long time. It was terrifying. 

But you would gamble with your life if you had to. It didn’t matter to you anymore. There was only one thing that did and you would give everything for it. 

So you’d continue to spiral out of control. To rely on others' choices. 

You didn’t have any other options. 

--

Bucky was relieved to discover that while this underground club was a club it at least wasn’t deafeningly loud. At least not in every section of the club. 

He was horrified to discover that the “underground” descriptor wasn’t only figurative. The club space was in the basement of a non descript warehouse that screamed Hydra wannabe. Everything in the club was a shade of black.  There was an upper floor, where the team was currently spread out, with many lush couches and smaller tables. It was more reminiscent of jazz bar’s he’d been to in the 40’s. The upper level had a metal railing that looked over into what could only be described as a pit. There was a large black marble bar along one wall of the lower floor and the rest was a dance floor. Or at least that’s what Nat had said, all he could see was a sea of bodies smashed together writhing. Apparently that was dancing. 

Even more horrifying was the fact that there were no windows. Not a single one. And the only exit that anyone knew of was the single door they came in. It was eating his skin alive. He felt so suffocated. Trapped in a way he hadn’t felt in years. 

He knew if he voiced this to Steve, he would immediately tell him to go home and the rest of them would probably be fine on their own. However, there was something keeping him here. He felt a pull towards this enigma of a woman and he needed to see her with his own eyes. Something in his gut told him she needed his help. He didn’t really know how or why, but his instincts were rarely wrong and he was tired of ignoring them. 

Even if his instincts were fighting within him at the moment. 

“Anything?” Nat questioned through the coms from where she sat on a sofa, pretending to chat with some diplomat from a country Bucky couldn’t think of right now. 

“No one who looks like what I think I’m looking for.” Steve replied. He’d been the only one who had offered to venture downstairs surprisingly. Bucky didn’t know how he could do it. 

“Sam?” Nat prompted. Sam had taken to exploring some of the strange and windy back hallways of the upper floor that lead to restrooms and stock rooms and who-knew-what-else rooms. Again, Bucky didn’t know how he willingly ventured into this creepy hell hole. 

“Nada.” Sam mumbled, “Have seen lots of faces I recognize from front pages of magazines. Most in compromising positions. Gonna be hard to forget.” 

“Gross.” Bucky muttered. He heard Nat’s soft laugh filter through the com. “I haven’t…” Bucky started. His thought cut off abruptly. 

He was standing at a railing, looking down on the pit from an aerial view, when he saw her. 

She was stunning, even though he knew she was trying to keep a low profile. It wasn’t anything in the way she looked necessarily, even though she looked amazing in her slim black velvet suit. When she shifted he noted that she wasn’t wearing a shirt underneath the blazer and he hoped that there was some sort of tape involved to keep the lapels in place on her chest. The smooth expanse of skin he could see between the jacket was nearly too much to handle already. 

No, it wasn’t the outfit that made her stunning. She simply was so commanding and present that her energy was intoxicating, even from his perch a floor above. He didn’t understand how everyone around her wasn’t staring at her. He couldn’t really remember what he was supposed to do now that he was faced with her. 

She was the new him, he realized. Her hair fell to her shoulders, almost a direct replica of the mop of tousled locks on his head, only darker. He noticed she didn’t look nearly as robotic in this space compared to the videos he’d seen of her. 

I knew it. He thought. This is the real her. 

“Care to finish that thought big guy?” Sam chuckled through the coms, snapping Bucky out of whatever trance he’d fallen into. 

“I uh…” Bucky started again. “I’m lookin at her.” 

He heard voices come through the coms, asking where the hell he was and where she was but he couldn’t speak.

He watched her, you, toss back a shot of some dark liquid. 

As he stared, your eyes shifted up and locked with his. 

Every sound in the world disappeared for him. Bucky couldn’t hear a thing but the pounding of his own heart. There was a string between the two of you that went taught as you stared at each other. 

Some part of his brain registered his increasingly frustrated friends trying to get his attention through the coms but he didn’t even dare blink, let alone speak. He was convinced that if he even twitched you would disappear into the smoky haze of the room. 

“I see her.” He heard suddenly through the com. Steve must have spotted you across the room from him downstairs. “I’m closing in.” 

Bucky watched the corners of your mouth peel into a tiny little smirk. His dry eyes forced him to blink and when his lids opened again, you were gone. 

Fuck. He thought. 

“What the hell was that, Buck?” Steve snapped through the coms. “I lost her. Anyone else still see her?” 

“The only way out is the front door.” Nat breathed. Everyone shifted instantly to beeline for the front. Even if you snuck out before them, Bucky knew you couldn’t have gone very far. 

--

You careened out the front, gasping in fresh breaths of air as you peeled to the left and down the sidewalk at a quick pace. You felt grateful you’d forgone the heels for high top sneakers tonight as you needed to haul ass. Fast. You didn’t really know why you suddenly felt the need to flee. Your intention had been to attempt to speak to them inside, where you had the upper hand.  

But every well laid plan had flown out the window when you’d locked eyes with the Winter Soldier. Or Bucky as he was now called. 

He looked the same. 

He looked different in every way possible. 

It ripped a hole in your chest. 

So you ran. 

You paused briefly to stuff your fingers to the back of your throat, forcing the liquor you’d nervously pounded out of your stomach. You were gonna need every bit of your cunning. They were all there, and you were vulnerable out on the street now. 

You were so fucking stupid. 

Why had you run? Why did you run from him? 

You heard the door crash open a half a block behind you. 

--

Bucky was the first one out the door. Sam had to wind out from the back of the building, Nat had to disentangle herself from conversation and Steve had to make his way up from the bottom floor. He was at an advantage. 

His instincts were telling him that he needed to be the first one to intercept you. He felt territorial about it. He didn’t know why, but something shifted while you had stared at each other. It was a glimmer, nearly lost in the recesses of his mind, but he knew you. Somehow. 

When he looked to his left, he captured the image of you, curled over your knees, emptying your stomach onto the curb. 

What the fuck? 

“Please don’t run.” Bucky yelled. “Please I swear we don’t want to kill you.”  

He watched you straighten yourself up, wiping the back of your hand across your mouth. 

“That sounds exactly like something someone who wanted to kill me would say.” You chuckle. 

Your voice. It’s… exactly like he imagined it. 

It’s nothing like he imagined it. 

Before he can process the whirlwind of emotions in his head, you’ve taken off. He bolts after you. After a few strides he hears the door blow open behind him as the rest of the team flies out of the establishment. 

He has to get to you first. 

--

You sprint as hard as you ever have. It hurts more, now that you’re fully in control. You hate it. 

You love it. 

It makes you furious.

You careen around corners and slip between crowds of people, trying your damnedest to throw them off their trail. Eventually you skid to a halt next to an older BMW parallel parked on a busy street, slamming your elbow into the corner of the back window, shattering the glass. You reach through the now open hole and manually unlock the drivers door, not caring that the remaining glass catches and opens your skin. 

“Wait!” A voice calls across the street. It’s him. You fight the urge to cover your ears. That voice. 

You scramble into the front seat, reaching under the dash to rip the wires of the starter out of the plastic covering. As you fumble with your hands you glance up, watching the Winter Soldier fling himself expertly through moving traffic towards you. 

“Shit shit shit.” You mutter to yourself. You finally free the wires,  ripping the ends open and tapping them together until they spark and the engine roars to life. 

Thank god. 

You shift into drive, rip up the E-brake and prepare to step on the gas. You glance once behind you to monitor the traffic roaring down the one way street. There’s an opening. 

When you shift your body back forward to grab the wheel, he’s almost to you. His eyes are wild. 

Pleading. 

What are you doing? 

I’m holding your hand. 

Why? 

I don’t know. 

The pain in your chest is nearly unbearable now. You force your facial features to shift into a wide smirk and flip him off before slamming on the gas as hard as you can. 

The e-brake holds the front wheels in place as the back wheels squeal on the ground, spinning the vehicle around in place until you’re facing the wrong way down the one-way. 

Finally. 

You punch it. 

--

Bucky watches you tear off in the stolen car, panting for breath. 

There was a moment. Just a moment where he’d seen something in your face and then a mask had locked down over your features. 

He couldn’t make sense of it. The agony in your eyes when you saw him just now. 

He must know you. 

How? 

“I lost her.” Bucky pants into the coms. “I… lost her.” 

Nat and Steve came sprinting up behind Bucky, placing her hands on her knees to suck in hair. 

“I’ll tail her.” Sam called. Swooping up in the skies and taking off in the direction where Bucky’s eyes were trained. 

“I don’t understand.” Nat pants. “She would never have been found if she didn’t want to be.” 

“Why did she run?” Steve questioned. 

“I don’t know.” Bucky murmured. He couldn’t keep his eyes away from the last place he’d seen your car. 

“What happened in there Bucky?” Steve turned to look at him. 

“I… don’t know.” He murmured again. 

“I’m gonna need more than that pal.” Steve prompted, placing his hands on his hips. 

“She… She looked at me.” He choked out. Steve guffawed, dropping his head back to look at the sky. Beside him, Nat eyed him curiously. “I can’t explain it, but it felt… like I knew her. Like we were connected somehow.” 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean Bucky?” Steve clipped. “You just stood there while she ran.”  

“Shut the fuck up Steve.” Nat snapped. 

“What?” Steve turned to her then. “Don’t you think it’s a little weird that he was basically paralyzed in there?” 

“No.” She snapped. “I think that there’s some deeper story here we don’t understand and I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s a part of it.” 

Steve looked to Bucky then, a little more sobered now, and murmured. “You know her?” 

“No.” Bucky said immediately. “At least, not really. But there’s something. She looked at me like…” 

Like you did when I was falling from that train. 

Just then Sam dropped out of the sky and landed next to them. 

“She must have noticed me and ditched the car a few blocks over. Went into a subway station.” Sam sighed. “Needless to say, I lost her.” 

The whole group stands together, panting staring down the street where they’d last seen you. 

Bucky finally breaks his silence.

“I need to find her.”

--

His damned voice.

TAGLIST:

@maxsaturdayhatesnarwhals

[withoneheadlight]

| a house (is a home) | (i). the keys | (ii). memories&herons | (iii). old dogs&inheritances | tinyplaylist |

~

They have a business now, Robin and Steve.

He’d been back in Hawkins for less than two months, crashing on Robin’s apartment, when she shook his freaking-out ass around into semi-conscientiousness at four in the goddamn morning.

“Could you please stop screaming? I’ve just had the greatest, most― life-changing. Idea”

“Let your best friend live a long, non-terrified life instead of giving him a stroke while he's sleeping?”

“Dingus. This is serious”

“As so it’s not-dying”

She rolled her eyes and then jumped into rambling, right then and there, about how they were going to ball-n’-chain their sorry, broke souls to a mortgage and open a family restaurant.

And well, yeah, not worth dying over but. Yeah.

Pretty life-changing, turns out.

So now the old, forgettable family dinner on Randolph Lane where Steve used to go for a milkshake with “Every single one of my High School girlfriends. Seriously Robin. Nobody wants to come back here, it’s like a museum” is “Oh, and that’s exactly how we’re gonna keep it” an ode to the eighties (And, in Robin’s own words “And a very tasteful one”), with its painted flaming tracks on the floor, its handmade replica of the Inferno (courtesy of Hopper and Joyce and Will’s and ―slightly reluctantly― El’s newfound family-bounding passion for miniaturism). With its fake weapons and horror masks and thrifted posters and a hundred other pieces of memorabilia. Cher’s voice rasping around the notes of “If I could turn back time” on the jukebox at least twice on any given day. The not-so-kids-anymore relaxing on one of the booths at the front, laughing and joking and reassuring Steve about how this was—yeah. Yeah. (even if he won’t ever, ever recognize to Robin) the greatest fucking idea.

It’s been five years (And one-hundred miles out. One-hundred miles back) when Billy steps inside the dinner fifteen minutes before closing hours one late September afternoon. Sun so low on the horizon half-hidden behind the line of sparse buildings that it’s almost grazing the night. And it’s not the first time they’ve seen each other since Steve came back. They’ve already said their awkward ‘Hello’s, their (heartbreaking) ‘I'll see you around’ s.

But today, that weary sun’s slicing reality into pieces with its golden light, and Billy's wearing a soft-blue, worn denim jacket, pendant sitting on his chest, curls long, long, long and ringed by fire. And Steve feels as if, when it comes to Billy Hargrove, he’s no different than one of those stones they'd tried to kill time with, at the beginning of that summer, bouncing them across the quarry’s water. No matter how long it takes, every time, or how far the stone will make it. It’ll eventually fall, seeking the kiss of the surface, as if it knows It’ll sink back, at the end. Will return. As if it’s been aware, right from the very beginning. Of the inevitability. Of its belonging.

Because Billy looks like that almost-night of their first kiss, in the middle of that summer. That almost-night when he said "I want you, Steve Harrington. No matter where you go, I’ll always want you" so close to the end. That almost-night when Steve got in his car, leaves already falling. Stuffed it a whole ton heavier (Bright red vinyl suitcase. Green plastic bags squashed at its sides. The weight of what he was about to do trying to catch his eye through the rearview mirror). Drove it to the end of the woods. To the other side of the welcoming sign. Headed out of Hawkins. Out of Indiana. Out. Out. Just to find the Camaro parked on the side. Billy waiting for him. Fists buried into the pockets of that denim jacket. Cigarette consuming itself into a fresh burn between those lips Steve wouldn’t be kissing into healing in the morning.

He parked the BMW right behind. Must have felt like a sing. But back then, it didn’t.

“Billy? What are you―?”

(It wasn’t until after. Hundreds of miles away. Hundreds of miles following the yellow highway lines in the wrong direction. That he realized―)

“What, King of Hawkins? You really thought I was gonna let you leave without one last kiss goodbye?”

(―I should’ve run to you. Run to you.

But instead I ran away from everything else, and I lost you.)

Billy heaved off the Camaro. Walked up to Steve until he could feel the warmth coming off his skin as rebellion against the cold nightfall “I don’t want you to forget about me” Warmer. Warmer than any sun “About us”

Steve huffed out a laugh. A ragged, pained laugh. Sometimes the body doesn’t know, they say. What to do. How to react. So he laughed. And it hurt. Not just a feeling but a ton worth of them, in that laugh. I don’t want to go. But I have to. I want you to come with me. But I know I can’t ask.

Even If we hadn’t ever kissed, I wouldn’t have been able to forget you, Billy Hargrove.

(Even when I got away, I kept on chasing you. Got lost running around in circles trying to find you)

When the laugh faded, Billy was smiling, and Steve knew it was a reflection. Crooked and painful: he didn’t know, back then, Steve was afraid one last kiss would make him sink. Rolling stones getting him stranded.

(Steve didn’t know, back then, how stranded he already was)

“Didn’t want to make it harder”

Billy― took him by the waist. Tugged him in and. Steve’s breath caught.

“Don’t know about you, pretty boy but. For me, there’s no way for this to make harder” Billy’s nose bumped against his, their lips brushing, a permanent burn splitting Steve’s life in two, all the kisses he was leaving behind, the last day of summer fading behind the dark treeline “And I’m gonna kiss you now, so it is worth it”

And then Billy smiled at him. No with hurt, but for real. Bright eyes and cold-red lips and he was right. One last kiss. Was worth it. Couldn’t ever make it harder than already was.

Billy was already an open wound. And Steve could never close it.

(‘Cause. It happened there, in the middle of the road. In the middle of running away or staying. Steve knew. Bleed it out as they kissed. I’ve fallen and fallen and fallen. I’ve fallen in love with you.

But he was leaving. Leaving it all on the other side of that sign)

“I’m gonna be a good friend, and remind you to play it cool, Steven” Robin tiptoes to his ear. Whispers “So, play it cool. You’re staring”

“Wh― What?”

“You’re drooling, Dingus. Stop. Looking at him”

Billy nods him a hello. Goes. To him. Tina and Caleb barely spare him a glance. The few late-afternoon regulars too absorbed into stretching the last few sips of their pre-night-shift coffees or finishing their Outtatime specials to pay any attention to them. And spoons click and stools drag and nobody seems to realize Steve’s both here and five years back, Billy’s presence eating up all the space of the Dinner. And his curls smelled of sunscreen, the overheated leather seats of the Camaro, the fallen leaves of eucalyptus, as they laid together on the shore of the quarry at night. The water as sleepless as they were. Turbulent. Restless with life.

“Steve?”

“Hey. Hey. Hi!― I”

It’s not easy but, Steve moves. Rushes into the back room. Breathes in shallow. Broken gulps. Lungs full. Won’t let him get any air. Crammed with goodbye kisses before welcoming signs.

It’s the sun, he thinks, it’s the fucking sun. Carrying him back. Overlaying the past upon the here and now but that’s a lie. That’s a lie: a long time ago, Steve Harrington made a home for Billy Hargrove on the inside of his heart. And it's still there. Vacant. Unoccupied. Billy Hargrove-shaped. Waiting. Longing. Hoping for him to come back.

(I wanna run to you. Run to you)

(Wanna run back)

“Steve. Are you alright?”

Robin's hand caresses his back. Steve feels it stiff under a touch so tender. He’s so close to breaking in half.

“Steve?”

“Fuck. Robin. Fuck”

His voice’s shaking. His whole body’s shaking from the inside out.

“Maybe–” she starts, pauses. She’s so careful. Steve closes his eyes “Why don’t you go back and talk to him. This– acting like you don’t want to is. Is not gonna go right”

Is not. Is not even the worst he’s felt. Five years. He’s had time to regret but.

It's a risk, and he doesn’t want to. Play with Billy’s heart. Break it again. Or know, maybe. That it wouldn’t. That’s Steve’s no longer there. It's shaped like home for himself anymore. Close and sold and forgotten. That Billy’s moved. On and Away. Steve’s so afraid. Of never getting him back. Of being this selfish. He needs. Needs―

He says it out loud.

“I can’t do that to him” needs Robing to tell him it’s ok. Or not ok or “Again. Can’t do it again” just that’s― ok. If he can’t help it. Want it. Been the egoistic asshole who took and took and took, even though he already knew he was leaving, knew it was bound to end right from the start.

Needs to know because―

The light’s the same. The color of Billy’s eyes the exact shade of clear-blue the sky wore throughout all that summer’s days. Lashes falling dark and heavy as those nights. And Steve wants to take the hand their story’s offering. Step with him into this late-afternoon light. Better sorry than safe. He’s got a home in his chest nobody else fits into, anyway. Spent a whole summer trying to carve himself inside of Billy with lips and greedy hands. Would do it again.

Needs Robin to tell him what’s right.

“Maybe he wants you to”

Needs Billy to know he wouldn't run away, this time.

“How would he want that?”

Needs and needs and needs and―

Robing shrugs. Her cherry-red lips crinkle out, corners round, they hold a smile. There’s love in there and Steve clings to it as in the midst of the tempest. And. He’s such a fucking asshole. Already got so many things back, but,

“I just. Got the feeling he does. You know, Dingus, you might’ve not been around but, I have and I” she brings her hand up. Cards it through his hair “Don’t think there’s any version of this story where he wouldn’t” and her voice is firm and her touch is soft and Steve’s been seeking for absolution since the day he came back “Ok, there. Magic’s on. I’ll close this. Now run”

And it’s selfish. And wrong. A he shouldn't but. Steve’s mortally wounded. He’s got a Billy Hargrove-shaped hole instead of a heart. Has been going around in circles for so long, trying to find his way back. And Robin’s looking at him like she knows. Like she understands.

Like she believes he’s gonna stay, this time. So.

He runs.

He runs.

~

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