#realizing that he was a fugitive and helped him by lying to the authorities and harboring him

[justaz]

hunith comes to camelot to visit merlin and absolutely no one can understand how this sweet, loving, caring, polite woman sired The Menace that is merlin. especially uther. he normally doesn’t care for peasants but since arthur is fond of merlin and merlin insists on…being merlin, he’s intrigued by how different hunith is. hunith keeps things civil tho she detests his policies on magic and the whole purge business, but then she sees firsthand how uther treats her son in law- i mean arthur. her anger grows quick and she sees it reflected in merlin but merlin adores arthur and doesn’t want to put his position at arthur’s right hand in jeopardy so he bites his tongue. hunith has no such reservations. she stands before uther, back straight and eyes meeting his. she speaks evenly as she rips him a new asshole for how he treats arthur before socking him in the jaw so hard he stumbles back and has to grab the table to stay on his feet. as shes glaring down at him everyone suddenly sees just how merlin is her son.

[helpinghanikan]

Public Enemy

X-men x Reader

Sum:  Powers don’t always obey their masters. Sometimes they have their own minds, making problems and causing destruction that you’re left to deal with. When that happens, you’re going to need some help finding a sanctuary. 

an: It’s not specified what Reader’s power is but I was thinking force-fields. I just think Force-field powers are neat. 

Charles Xavier:

Charles’s office, specifically the couch, has been your home for some time. Although it has only been a few days, two at most, but it felt like years. Hours spent sitting specifically in the couch’s corner where anyone entering wouldn’t notice you right away. Reading and taking your place as secretary more seriously makes time move in a slower fashion.

“Would you grab that book for me?” Charles asks, slapping you out of whatever deep thought you were currently drowning in.

At first these little tasks he asks you to do seem to come randomly. As if he just remembered you were there and felt bad. In reality he’s probably been in the outer layer of your mind for longer then you’ve been in the office.

Ignoring these facts, you focused on your work. It had spread quickly through the school that you were open and able to grade anyone’s homework or papers. Like the rest of your current life, these were taken care in Charles’s office. A place you’ve been bent over for hours until a phone call held your attention.

Charles is a pretty decent liar. Between his history with authority and with children, he speaks with enough confidence that it’s not worth thinking about. Obviously he still had his tells, even if the person he was lying wasn’t in front of him, he still looked down and go quiet for a second.

“No, I’m afraid we haven’t heard from her.” When he starts his lie, his tells are typically gone. “Yes, we will absolutely contact you if she comes here. And, in the event of that happening, I ask that consider our relationship before deciding anything.”

You don’t say anything when he hangs up. Instead deciding that to grab that book before he asks you to.

Erik Lehnsherr:

Erik was nice enough not to say or ask anything at first. Your few items in a bag, and all your savings spent on bribing a boat captain to take you here. All this was written on your face, practically screaming that you don’t want to talk about it.

“Is anyone going to be coming?” was the only thing he asked.

Instead of a verbal answer you shrugged with a shake of your head. Maybe…

Erik uses the excuse of an escort to keep a hand on your back, around your shoulders. Even gently on the back of your neck to ask his question in a whisper. Although Genosha was supposedly a sanctuary to all mutants, you were still an outsider. An outsider who had, not only, caused destruction but just might bring down the anger of the world onto them.

“You came here quickly, then.” Erik says, in leadership mode. Sitting across from you, elbows on his knees, looking almost into you.

“You guys aren’t exactly hiding,” It wasn’t a good joke but still you blow air out of your nose, trying to force a tiny laugh.

“Then why come here to hide?” He asks.

When the answer you give is another shrug (I don’t know…) he sighs. Standing and returning with a hot cup of beverage. A kettle had either been set before he stepped out to greet you, or one was constantly kept a little warm. Either way it was somewhere between tea and coffee, but definitely not both.

“What did you do?” he asks.

It took some time to tell the entire story. Skipping too many details about the fear and anger that all came at you at once. Erik has heard it all before in much worse amounts. Only admitting that you were wanted, so many were hurt or completely destroyed by a lapse of control.

He doesn’t interrupt or ask any other questions. He just listens and keeps an ear out for helicopters.

Raven/ Mystique:

At some point you were taken to the hospital with the other survivors. The journey was hard to remember; being placed on a bed and tossed around in the back of an ambulance. Pretending to be just as out of it as the others, really just avoiding eye contact with the paramedics.

It’s nice to think that you had a plan for when you got to the hospital, and you kinda did. With all the people coming in at once there was the chance you’d be left in the hallway or an open area to wait for a bed. In the event of that happening you could just roll over and walk out. Just walk with confidence and make it out the door.

That you were now restrained in a bed in your own room meant that plan was out the window. Laying back and letting the nurses check you out with shaking hands. Just enough to check you over but not enough to pretend to be doing their job.

“It’s fine,” The nurse says, practically slamming the room door shut behind him. It wasn’t a thick door; you could still hear through it. “Please don’t make me go near it again.” He says to someone in the hallway, probably a doctor or some other superior.

It isn’t until their talking has mostly stopped that you bother trying to escape. Your restraints were soft but also tight, something that you couldn’t slide out of easily. Rocking the bed, trying to tip it over, would just leave you dangling off the side. Still strapped in but with bruises and staring at the floor.

While thinking of another dashing escape plan the door opens again. A nurse steps and gently closes the door behind her. This one was a woman nurse, so far you’ve only been dealing with males. It was likely because of the threat you posed that it had only been men. Specifically, the biggest nurses and orderlies that were available.

Because of this you watch the woman as she walks over. She was a small woman with brown hair in a bob cut, the white uniform and a smile she held while pulling the curtain around. You were smart enough not to say anything until she did. Or until she shifts entirely from white uniform into blue skin, immediately pulling at your restraints.

“Hey, Hi. Babe, I’m sorry…” You have a million things to say at once.

All the words fighting to be the first to be said. All ignored by your girl, who just places a gentle hand over your mouth and whispers a shhh. Going back to the restraints and whispering:

“Don’t say anything,” She says, opening the first and reaching over to get the next. “Let’s just get out of here.”

You quickly pulled the faded green scrubs over your clothes. Raven placing a surgical hat on your head and mask over your face was the best she could do. Raven quickly becoming the bobbed hair nurse again. She nods at you, as if to say, “everything will be fine.”

Peter Maximoff:

So much energy coming out at once has to take it out form somewhere. What was a splitting headache a second ago became a massive weight. One that dragged you down from the standing position and towards the floor. Only to be caught by arms that were not there a second ago.

It wasn’t that Peter was “harboring a fugitive,” or was “obstructing justice” he was just helping out his girlfriend. Something that he has argued about with several people.

“I don’t believe this was done on purpose, Ser.” Professor Xavier says into the phone, staring at Peter as he did. “No, she still has yet to reach out to us. To any of us. The moment she does we will tell you.”

Peter makes a face and shrugs when the phone is hung up. “I don’t see why they need her. It’s was an accident, she said sorry, I don’t see what else there is.”

Professor Xavier doesn’t seem to bother asking where you are. Peter wouldn’t tell him, and he could easily find you with cerebro.

“Is she safe?” He asks, wanting whatever truth Peter was willing to give.

“I mean, I don’t know where she is, but she safe. I think, yeah, she’s safe.” He says. Smart enough to help you vanish but not enough to know better then to lie to a telepath.

Hank McCoy:

Like a little kid you’ve chosen the staircase banister to hide behind. Either hand holding onto a separate bar, looking out between them. Your spot was strategically placed far enough away from the door that they wouldn’t see your details through the banister. As far as they were concerned you were just a curious kid. A very big curious kid.

“They” were the people Hank was currently handling at the door. It had been only two days since the incident and it’s amazing it took them this long to reach your door. Three men in suits and a woman in a white coat knocked at your door just after lunch.

Sending the students from the hall Hank took control of the situation. Never outright telling you to leave the main hall but did make a similar “shoo” gesture that he gave the kids while telling them to make their exit.

Although the distance gave you an advantage it also kept you from hearing what was being said. The men on the other side weren’t giving enough body language to tell if they were upset or not. Only one seemed to be talking, the others were moving side to side on their feet. If Hank were to move too far to one side or the other they’d try and make their way inside.

“They don’t have a right to take you, not legally or in anyway.” Hank had reassured you hours earlier.

It started to get tense on the other side of the room. One of the men giving up on waiting for an opening and trying to make one himself.

Hank’s change can happen slow or it can happen so fast you don’t even realize it. The friendly approach of a regular human at the door was abandoned the moment they showed aggression. Blue arms and baring teeth made all three jump, reaching for their hips. The woman in white, the seeming bravest of the group, steps forward. A hand reached out, but the door is slammed in her face.

Jean Gray:

Life is confusing and everyone is screaming.

At first their screams were sympathetic; they were screams of fear and pain. But after hearing them non-stop for several minutes it’s hard to feel bad. It was almost like they were doing it on purpose. Like, if they just shut up for one second you could figure what was happening.

They didn’t, though, they wouldn’t shut up. Distracting you from the indestructible bubbles creating and growing in the walls, machines and skin. Expanding and tearing everything apart.

There’s two other voices among the screaming that stands out: the first is the loudest. It’s the purest form of anger and fear that could ever be made. It was also the most annoying, if that one person would just shut-the-fuck-up you could probably think. The other voice is the only one not screaming. It wasn’t sweet or kind like it was before, it was harsh and stern. Power behind the voice making it louder then a scream ever could be.  

It was pretty obvious whose voice was yours and who’s belonged to Jean.

Jean’s voice was like that. It was powerful, it was a strict father’s and a commanding mother’s combined. If she wanted to, she could make it impossible to escape her voice. She uses this power of voice now: Where your ears can’t take any information, but your mind was burst open and unprotected.

You never understood what she was saying completely. Only that it was nice, and that it made everything go black.

Logan/ Wolverine:

More than half the population of earth is smarter than Logan. He’s more than willing to admit that, but what he did know was not to poke an already agitated bear. That’s all you were in that moment. A very pissed off bear sitting in the corner of a glass square.

It honestly wouldn’t have been that bad if Peter hadn’t compared it to the cages Magneto had been in. That was when everything seemed to become real for you.

This was only way that there wouldn’t be an absolute hunt for mutants. Your containment in exchange for a lie told by the Secretary of Defense to the entire world. That, no, there was not “mutant attack”, this was an unexplained, isolated incident. One that was now being held in the basement of a government building until your fate is decided.

“Are you allowed to smoke in here?” You ask, picking at the bottom of your white scrubs.

“I didn’t see the signs.” He says, waiting for someone to dare and yell at him about the cigar.

Instead of asking for the cigar verbally you raise a hand towards one of the small breathing holes. He slides it towards you, butt first. Only giving a little direction on how to puff the thing instead of straight up inhale it.

Smoking anything while stressed was a good way to start a bad habit. Something Logan tried to keep you from. Given the situation, he allowed the nicotine high you were gonna get from working on the thing. It was another test for this place. A test to see just how long or how many little rules he could break before someone yelled at him.

Not that he would ever use this knowledge for selfish means. It was just good to know when things would start to go south. Not that the Professor gave him permission, he just didn’t tell him not to.

Kurt Wagner:

Any pictures or footage taken of you during the incident were stolen straight from hell. That was the only aspect anyone cared about; the ones where you were wild and there was nothing in your eyes except for uncontrolled power.

No one thought about the few seconds after the incident. That instead of power there was confusion and fear. Staring at your hands and into the world looking for answers.

That scene only lasted a few seconds. Long enough for the blue devil to match your hell appear and disappear with you.

Like a child you went to bed without dinner. Although it was by choice, and this wasn’t your bed. It was a hiding place in the same building that your seekers were searching. But with a protective layer of blankets, and an extra layer of your boy sitting in front of the door, you could enjoy these last few minutes before your life goes to hell.

[aperrywilliams]

A Normal Conversation Ch03 (Spencer Reid x Maxine Brenner)

Previous Chapter / Ch03 / Next Chapter

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Chapter 03: The call

Summary: Will Spencer dare to call Max?

Word Count: 2050

Rating: Soft for now… well, time will tell.

A/N: We are gonna take things slow XD

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Spencer came to his apartment and was thankful it wasn't so cold. The walk, even though it warmed his feet, made his face freeze in contact with the wind. He took off his hooding and laid it neatly folded on the table. He watched it for a few minutes and couldn't help but smile.

“If this is ‘normal’, it is not bad at all” he said to himself. Then he went to the bathroom. He was tired and wanted to lie down. Even though he not had dinner yet, he thought after the shower he would eat anything from the refrigerator.

When he got out of the shower and put on his pajamas, he began to sort his clothes, separating what would go to the laundry from what he could use again. Done that he went to the kitchen to see what to eat. He took out some slices of bread and stuffed them with only some of peanut butter. He took his sandwich and sat on the couch to eat.

As he ate he looked the living room table. Over there was his cell phone. He picked it up and unlocked it. There were no messages or missed calls. He pushed the "contacts" button and started sliding the list with one finger. He reached Max's contact and stopped. He thought if it was convenient to call her so soon. He has seconds thoughts and left the cell phone next to him on the couch while he finished eating. He left the dish on the table and he went to the bathroom for his duties before bedtime. When he was ready and on his way to his bedroom, he saw the cell phone on the sofa and picked it up again.

Once in his bedroom he left the cell phone on the nightstand. He got into the bed and began to arrange the pillows to sleep. Before closing his eyes, he looked at the cell phone on the nightstand again. He thought for a second and decided to do it. He started sending a text to Max: “Hello, I’m only writing to make sure that you gave me your number correctly and thus I shouldn't have to use other strategies to contact you. Have a good night. S.R.”. He put the phone back on the nightstand and now was ready to sleep.

Before falling into a deep sleep, the cell phone vibrated. He noticed that Max had answered his message: “I already found the GPS device in my purse, I tore it up and threw it in the trash. Good night. :). M.B.". When Spencer saw the message he couldn’t avoid to smile. Then he put the device down on the nightstand and fell asleep.

They had no contact on Sunday. Spencer spent his time reading books and shopping at the supermarket because his refrigerator was almost empty. Max, meanwhile, got up early to recover her car. She was lucky, since it was not difficult to get it back and the fine wasn’t high. With a sigh of relief she got inside the car and she went to shop at the supermarket because she knew that during the week days it would be more difficult to do it.

By late afternoon Max was at his dad's house because she was committed to dining with him and her younger sister Eloise. Her sister Michelle was also home but without Sammy, who stayed with her dad that afternoon. As they were finishing dinner, Michelle began questioning Max.

"And how was your date yesterday?” asked to her. Max almost choked with the coffee she was drinking.

"What date?" Asked Eloise. Max's father also looked her with curious eyes.

“I didn't have a date”  Max said quickly “I already told you Michelle what happened with Sammy”

“Yes, I know, but when I left with Sammy, you two kept talking so fascinated...” Michelle said it knowing that she was making uncomfortable to Max.

“Did you spying on us?” asked Max.

“Just a moment… before we left with Sammy. Come on Max! I saw how you looked at each other. Moreover, it is undeniable that the young man is handsome”

“We just talk. That's it” Max said firmly.

“It's a good start” Michelle pointed.

“It is nothing” Max insisted.

 “I bet you both exchanged phone numbers...”

“Michelle, stop it!” Max could no longer with the interrogation.

“For those of us here in the public, could one of you two explain to us what the hell are you talking about?” Eloise said. Max was silent. Michelle started to speak.

“Yesterday when I went to pick for Sammy in the park, Max was sitting on a bench next to a very handsome young man and they looked great talking”

“Is it true Max?” Eloise asked excitedly “When you met him?”

“Yesterday ...” Max said quietly.

“So did you meet someone yesterday?, but that's great!, what's his name?, what does he do?...” Eloise wanted details. Max just looked annoyed. Michelle noted this.

“Oh oh...” said Michelle “he's married, right? Divorced?” Max was about to get up when his father intervened.

“Girls, leave your sister alone. She will tell us all that when she thinks it is appropriate”

“Thanks Dad. Finally someone with judgment in this family!” Max said. Michelle and Eloise started giggled and whispered about Max's mysterious man. Just at that moment Max felt her phone vibrates. A message had come on it. When she saw the sender, she stood up and went to the kitchen.

“I knew you both had exchanged phone numbers!!” Michelle yelled for her sister to hear.

“Ah, shut up Michelle!” Max said from the kitchen.

Indeed, Spencer texted Max. "Hi, did you get your car back?". She typed back to him “Yes, I did it. All is fine. Thanks for asking”. She was going to back to the living room when she noted another message. "That's great! I'm sorry I couldn't be of help with that yesterday". "Don't worry, you tried. Thank you” she sent it. Now she was determined to go back to the living room but another message came immediately: "Are you busy now? If you have time, maybe I could call you and we talk for a while". Max wished she were in her apartment at the time to do that. "Sorry, now is not a good time, I'm at my family's house". Spencer's last message was: "Sorry, I didn't want to bother you. Can I call you another day?". "Sure you can" was Max's last message. After that she joined to her family in the living room.

It was almost 22:00 when Max returned to her apartment. Throwing the keys on the entry table she lie herself on the couch and sighed deeply. She was uncomfortable because dinner had been abundant and she though that her stomach was going to explode. She closed her eyes for a few minutes while she was searching for a comfortable position to rest. She turned on the TV for a while to watch some local news. In one of the segments, the presenter said: "In other news, today the FBI managed to capture a sneaky fugitive that since 2015 had terrified women in the state of DC". Max said to herself: "an federal agent, uh?. They are likely the rock stars of the law".

Then she remembered Spencer's messages and thought that he may wanted to speak with her because something had happened to him. She thought texting him, but she was tired and didn't want to write, so she just dialed without thinking it twice.

“Hello?” Spencer said when he answered the phone.

“Hi, I'm Max... but you should already know that because I'm in your caller ID”

“Max. Hi. Yes, you are right. I knew it, but I thought it was not very elegant just to say "Hi Max!"” Spencer said that and Max laughed. There was a light silence and then Max started speaking.

“Well, I called you because I understood from your messages that you wanted to talk”.

“Yeah, that’s right ... I wanted to talk ... with you” Max felt a strange tickle in his stomach when Spencer said that.

“We can talk now if you want. Are you busy now?” Asked Max.

“Yes!... I mean no. I'm not doing anything special. I was just reading an old book. How was the visit to your family today?” Spencer asked.

“Fine. I just came back from there. However I feel that I went too far with the food and the wine” Max lamented.

“Gluttony is a capital sin, did you know?” Spencer chuckled.

“Yes, especially when you are a woman and you are expected to maintain an attractive body and a lady's poise. Despite of that I must confess that it doesn’t go with me”.

“But... you are very attractive woman. And that shouldn't be defined by if you follow or not a canon imposed by the fashion industry more than 60 years ago” Spencer said with conviction.

“Did you just give me a compliment?” Max asked giggling.

“I would say it is a fact...” Spencer said.

“Are you sure you're talking about me? The small woman, of average features, with an unruly hair and permanent dark circles?” asked Max sniggering.

“I like your hair. It is less rare than mine I suppose” Spencer said chuckling  “Your eyes are also beautiful. With your height we could be in some troubles, but despite on that you managed to say goodbye yesterday with a kiss on my cheek. I think it's something that we can handle”. Max blushed and give thanks that Spencer was not seeing her in that moment.

“Wow, I'm really going to start believing everything are you saying to me...” she stated.

“You should...” Spencer said convinced.

While they were on the phone, Max clear up his apartment a bit, pulled out her pajamas, cleaned her teeth, and prepared for bedtime. For his part, Spencer was already in his pajamas and only had a book open on his stomach, lying on the couch. Time passed and when they saw the time, they realized they were talking for over an hour and a half. Neither Max or Spencer wanted to admit that it was late and that Monday was just around the corner. It was almost midnight, Max took the initiative.

“It's late and I should let you sleep. It's almost Monday and we both have to work”

“I know. You're right. Time passed quickly”. Spencer found it hard not to remember how many times she talked with Maeve for hours. But this was different. There was no discussion of classical authors, poetry or scientific facts.

“Okay, good night, Spencer. Have a good week” Max pointed out.

“Thanks Max, have a good night. You take care”. When he hang up the phone, Spencer had a strange feeling. He considered himself a teenager in the process of falling in love, but at the same time he was frightened.

He had the idea in his head that all the good things that came into his life don't last. Thinking about it he felt annoying a bit. Despite of that, he felt tickled in his stomach almost all the time during the phone call with Max and he liked that. Then he rose from the couch and went to his bedroom. Was bedtime. And It didn't take long for him to fall asleep, with a clear smile on his face.

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[marvels-agents100]

waltz (part 1)

pairing: bucky x fem ! reader

word count: 3546

trigger warnings: none

thank you to @invisibleanonymousmonsters​ for writing in a way that reignited my passion, here’s the first part of one of my stories :)

The way he fought was like a dance.

Every hit, kick, and lunge was perfectly placed and calculated. He could find a hole in anybody's defense, and take them down easily. He was able to make something so violent and bloody look, (dare you say it?), beautiful.

He was surrounded, completely overwhelmed with Moldovan officers. In his efforts to reach Bucharest, Romania, someone had called in a sighting, and he was intercepted in Chisinau, Moldova. He was now fighting tirelessly, praying to any God that he hadn't made national news yet. Hope was almost lost, when someone else suddenly joined him in the fight.

He turned to you, nothing but confusion written on his face, wondering why you were helping him. Were you just crazy? A civilian with authority issues? His fighting was continued, his eyes finding you every moment they could.

Not a civilian. Your movements were trained; you knew exactly what you were doing. His heart jumped, fearing your origin. Were you HYDRA? CIA? SHIELD? FBI? Whoever you were, you were there to bring him back to Russia or back to America, and he did not like the sound of either of those places.

The fighting lulled for a moment, both you and Bucky standing stiffly while facing each other, unconscious officers strewn around your feet. You met his gaze with your own, your heart dropping, fully realizing what you had just done.

"Who do you work for?" He asked, his tone steely and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Sirens began to sound in the distance, which would usually be the sign to leave the scene, but you couldn't flee without him.

"I'm not here to hurt you." You said, trying to comfort him, "I used to be a SHIELD agent, I work with Steve Rogers."

Bucky's nostrils flared at the mention of Steve's name- the bastard couldn't understand when he was being avoided. He kept staring you down, offering no indication of whether he was believing anything you were telling him.

"Please, I can explain more, but we have to go now, before they get here. If they get you... just please, Bucky." Your hands were held slightly in front of you, showing your surrender. His eyes flashed towards the sirens in the distance, then back at you. He suddenly rushed towards you. You swung at him in self defense, but he ducked under your arm, moving behind you and putting his right arm around your neck and into a headlock. Your hands gripped at the forearm under your jaw, trying in vain to pull it off of you. His metallic, left hand pinched the side of your neck, causing you to release a small yelp. In moments, your head became dizzy, and then you completely blacked out.

The first sense to hit you again was the smell. Slightly grimy, a bit damp, but mostly dust. Your eyelids fought against you, but you were finally able to open your eyes. You were sat in a chair in a small basement-like room, your wrists and ankles zip-tied and restrained. Your eyes darted around the room, trying to piece together not only how you had gotten there, but how you would leave.

"Good morning." A gruff voice spoke behind you, your head snapping in it's direction. Bucky stepped into your line of sight, his face cold and suspicious. He wore dark wash jeans and a black, long-sleeved shirt, finished with black gloves and a baseball cap. It was odd, seeing someone like him in such a normal state.

"Who do you work for?" He repeated the question he first asked you, back in the midst of a fight. Obviously, he didn't believe your first answer.

"Captain America. Steve Rogers." You answered again. "He's been looking for you, and I just happened to find you first."

"How do I know you're not lying?" He challenged. "You could very well be working for HYDRA, or the FBI. And we both know they aren't my biggest fans." He crossed the room to stand in front of you, keeping his distance.

"You can call Steve right now. I'm sure you took my phone, call him and I'll talk to him."

"Don't you understand that I don't want to be found?" His voice raised slightly, and it almost made you flinch. He was intimidating, and your knowledge of his true capabilities were enough to make anyone scared of him, but you knew that if he wanted to hurt you, he would've by now.

"I didn't tell him where you are," you reasoned, "I picked up on the sighting report back in Moldova, and I was just following that lead. The officials found you before I did. I never even got a chance to tell anyone that I'd found you, and I won't right now if it means you'll trust me."

He looked at you skeptically, but there was no indication that you were lying. Your eyes didn't dart around, your voice was steady, and he could hear your heartbeat when the both of you were silent, and it was steady as well. His arms crossed over his chest as he pondered the thought of obliging to your offer.

You almost let out a sigh of relief when he walked back to the corner of the room he was initially in, rummaging through a backpack you hadn't noticed before. You recognized your phone immediately when he pulled it out, flipping it around in his hand as he walked back towards you.

He knelt by your left side, eyebrows furrowing as he navigated the outdated burner phone. After a few moments, he had figured it out, and it was ringing, the name 'STEVE' flashing on the screen.

"(Y/N)?" Steve answered, his voice holding the smallest bit of hope. "What did you find?"

"Nothing much," you were able to make your voice sound slightly disappointed, "the lead in Chisinau is a dead end. A false sighting." Your eyes locked on Bucky, his gaze directly at the voice coming through the phone.

"Goddammit." Steve huffed. He was getting tired of all of the bad news. "Thank you, (Y/N), please keep me updated. Stay safe."

"Roger that, Captain." You said, a small, sad smile on your face.

"Goodbye."

"Bye, Steve."

And he hung up. Bucky stayed frozen, his eyes still on the phone. Your heart almost broke for him, not realizing the effect Steve's voice could've had on him. It might've been too much all at once.

He suddenly inhaled deeply, shaking his head slightly to regain his focus. His eyes flickered up to yours, the previous hardened gaze giving way to a soft sadness. Wordlessly, he stood and walked to his backpack once more. He returned with a pocket knife in his hand, silently cutting the zip-ties around both your wrists and ankles. You stayed in the chair, slightly shocked and confused as to what was happening. Your phone and small wallet were dropped into your lap, making you jump slightly.

"I'm sorry," Bucky said softly, standing in front of you once more, "please, just leave me alone." He turned and began walking away.

"Bucky," you stood up, reaching a hand towards him and managing to grab onto his sleeve. He stopped in his tracks, keeping his eyes forward. "You don't have to be alone. I can't imagine what's happening in that mind of yours, and I'm sure the life of a fugitive isn't treating it well."

He didn't reply, but he also didn't move away.

"I don't have to tell Steve anything," you bargained, "I get that you don't want to be found, that's okay. Just, please, let me help you."

His eyes now met yours, so soft and sad.

"Don't follow me."

And with that, he was gone.

***

Of course you followed him. He was Steve's best friend, but on top of that, he was a human being in need of help. He was more than capable of taking care of himself, and you were well aware of that, but that didn't mean he had to sort through everything in his head by himself.

It was an intricate dance, following Bucky. You had to stay close enough to follow his sharp turns, but far enough to keep him from picking up on your presence. He had led you all the way to Romania. Bucharest, to be exact. It's where he had decided to begin to settle, getting an apartment and a mattress, something he hadn't owned previously. He felt an excitement in his newfound hiding spot, the small sense of normalcy bringing an unbridled joy to him. Normal was something he only held in memories, memories that were a century old, and definitely felt a century away.

You kept your distance, recognizing the small life he had begun to build for himself. This was his first attempt to integrate into a regular civilian life, to live amongst the other people without a worry of where he would sleep that night. It was a lovely thing to see- a man that deserved nothing but happiness was finally finding bits and pieces of a life he was never allowed to live. Not wanting to ruin that opportunity, you let him be, you let him live.

That is, until he finally caught onto you. It was only a matter of time, he was a highly trained assassin, after all. Of course he would realize you were following him.

He had pushed you into an alleyway, pinning you against the wall, his hands gripping your upper arms.

"Why won't you leave me alone?" He growled at you.

"I'm not trying to intrude on what you have going here, I promise," you spoke softly, but firmly, "but I did come here to find you, and even though I'm not telling anyone where you are, there's no way I'm going to lose you again."

He let go of you, a stressed sigh coming from him as he ran a hand down his face. “I just don't understand," he said, "you're not going to tell Steve, so what's your reason of staying?"

You looked at him for a moment, before slowly approaching him. Your gentle hand reached up and touched his cheek, his whole body going rigid from the contact. It was the first time he could remember someone touching him this softly, with no intention of hurting him.

"I know what it's like, questioning yourself and your worth as a person," you spoke softly, "and I know how the nights are sleepless and the nightmares are endless. But mostly, I know how painful it is to not have someone to talk to." You dropped your hand, tilting your head slightly as you gave him look of sympathy. "I can't say I know the exact pain you're going through, but I can say that I'm just offering one thing: being a friend to talk to."

He blinked at you, trying to hide the surprise he felt. His jaw tightened, a habit that formed for whenever he was deep in thought. He was almost angry with himself for even considering your offer, but the appeal of someone to simply keep him company was as tempting as the forbidden fruit. Having a person to talk to walked hand in hand with the normalcy he craved, but his trust in you was close to non-existent.

His eyes met yours, an unreadable emotion in them. He didn't speak another word, just turned and left you standing in the same spot.

***

He danced with the thought of letting you in, even if it was just a little bit. There was something absolutely intoxicating about the way you had gently touched his cheek that day in the alley, and he hadn't forgotten that feeling in the two months that had passed since.

Admittedly, he had grown to despise the loneliness he had once relished in. Loneliness always gave way to thoughts, and Bucky Barnes alone in his thoughts was never a good thing. Every time he saw a child with their mother, or a couple smiling sweetly at each other with interlocked hands, he felt a jealousy deep inside his chest. He had spent seventy years incredibly alone, being looked at as a weapon rather than a person, and all he wanted was know how it felt to care and be cared for. It was the last thing he had yet to rediscover since his escape from HYDRA.

He was incredibly aware of your usual whereabouts. You were a creature of habit, always visiting a particular outdoor market, or a specific bakery you had come to love. He had first set out on learning your routine in an attempt to actively avoid you, but the knowledge of your schedule would now be put to a very opposite use.

He almost smiled to himself when he saw you, sitting by the window of the small, hole-in-the-wall bakery. Sometimes his own skills impressed him. Taking a deep breath, he entered the shop, making a path straight towards you and taking a seat across from you at the small table. You looked at him with a quizzical stare, his sudden appearance definitely a surprise to you.

"How can I help you?" You asked with an eyebrow raised.

"I've done a lot of thinking," his hands folded together on the table in front of him, his eyes never leaving them, "and, frankly, I don't want to think about this, about everything, alone."

Your gaze softened, your voice quiet when you spoke again, "Tell me all about it, Bucky."

His eyes flickered to you, relief washing over him. He cleared his throat and sat a bit straighter, his hands fixing his cap slightly before falling into his lap.

"Well..."

***

You threw your head back as you laughed at Bucky's story, a hand flying to cover your mouth. He had burst into the bakery today with such excitement, ready to tell you about a story he had remembered from when him and Steve were just kids in Brooklyn. That was how the days worked, you meeting him at the same table everyday, and he would either tell you stories that made his eyes shine with happiness and a smile grace his lips, or he would tell you about the faces he saw in his nightmares and the screams he would hear when he slept at night. Whatever was bouncing around that brain of his, he would tell you. And boy, did you love listening.

Below the trauma and hurt, he was such a bright person. His personality came through in flashes, just small glimpses of who he was in his past life, but they shone brightly whenever they made an appearance. You knew he could never be the James Barnes he was in 1940, but that man from long ago was not completely gone, just hiding.

"God, I wish I could remember his face. That girl asking Steve to dance was probably one of the biggest moments of his teenage life. I've never seen him smile that big." Bucky smiled at the memory.

"It'll come back one day," you reassured, "have you tried listening to music from the forties at all? I'm sure it would bring up bits and pieces."

"No, I don't think I have." He said.

"Well, I have a computer and an endless supply of any music you would ever want to hear. You're always welcome over." You offered. It wasn't the first time you had told him your door was always open to him, but he had yet to take you up on that offer. His eyes looked between yours for a moment, processing the proposal, before he spoke again.

"You doing anything tonight?"

***

There was a small knock at your door at exactly 7:00pm. You chuckled and shook your head, knowing that he would never get past the perfectionism that he was taught. You opened your door to Bucky, a small smile on your face.

"Hello there, come in."

He stepped in hesitantly, his eyes immediately darting around and finding every door, window, and possible exit in sight. That was also a habit he would never break.

"Did you eat?" You asked, walking past him towards the small kitchen.

"I did, yeah." He replied quietly, looking around and taking in your living situation. Your apartment was as bare as his, surely just waiting for the day when you would have to pack up and move on. It wasn't surprising, but it left him feeling just a bit sad, knowing your stay in Bucharest was only temporary. He didn't know what he would do once you left. He had never really thought about it, but there would come the day where you had to go, whether to help the Avengers once again or to simply go home.

Home.

Was this his home? Would he leave once you were gone?

All questions for another day.

"So," your voice brought him out of his thoughts, having now joined him in the living room with your laptop, "any specific songs or singers you can think of?"

He tilted his head in thought, wracking his brain for anything.

"One of my favorites was Billy Eckstine, I think."

"Billy it is." You smiled looking to your computer screen. "'My Destiny', that sounds good."

The orchestra filled the the air, the vintage sound radiating through the room. Bucky closed his eyes, a wave of nostalgia washing over him. Just hearing the introduction to a familiar song sent relief rushing through his veins. It made him feel back at home.

My destiny is to be in love with you

You smiled at him, just simply happy for the way he was enjoying the music. His eyes opened and locked with yours.

Makes no difference what you say or do

I must stay in love with you

You giggled when he began swaying gently, a bright grin on his face. It was comfortable, him goofily dancing to an old song in your living room.

That's my destiny

It's the thing you can't control

He swayed towards you, his hand held in front of him.

"Dance with me."

I belong to you both heart and soul

With a love beyond control

You danced gently with him, a small space between the two of you. His left hand gently rested on your waist, his right hand joined with yours. Your eyes never left his, a small smile on both of your faces. In that moment, he didn't feel so broken and sad. He felt like himself, like the person that was suppressed for decades was finally taking control again. He was completely content, even more so with you in his arms.

They say nothing is sure

Even the sea runs dry

You had never been this close to him.  It almost made you blush, having him hold you close like he was. You could feel your heart beat a bit faster, confirming the one thing you had been questioning: you had feelings for Bucky Barnes. It was terrifying, now coming to this realization. There were so many reasons why he couldn't be the person fate had set you up with, there were so many things wrong with not only the timeline of both of your lives, but the state at which both of you met. So many reasons to say no, but all you wanted to say was yes.

They're wrong, one thing is sure

Love like mine can never die

He pulled you closer, his chest now pressing against yours. His cheek came to rest on your temple, his eyes closing in pure bliss. Everything felt right, it all felt okay. The world always felt shifted since he broke free from the Winter Soldier, but dancing with you filled a hole in his chest that he didn't know was there. It was almost bittersweet- you made him feel human, but losing you would hurt in a way he didn't even want to imagine. Was it worth it?

That's how it is

And that's how it has to be

He could list a million reason why you couldn't be his. There were too many obstacles, too many problems to face in that moment. He told himself right then, he couldn't pull you into that. Not completely. But one day, when his world settled and he could control himself again, he wouldn't hesitate to make you his girl. For now, he would take his dance tonight, then hold onto that feeling until he could act upon it.

You are everything in life to me

You are my destiny

You let yourself relish in the feeling of his arms around you, knowing that it was all you would have for a while. Bucky was a smart man, and you were sure that he was aware of the unfortunate timing of the two of you meeting. There was too much going on in his life, in the world, for you to complicate it all. It hurt, to know he was so close to you but you couldn't have him. But, you couldn't be selfish; you had to give him time. Time to figure everything out. And you would wait patiently for as long as he needed.

***

You were walking home from a small market you frequented, when you came across a newsstand on the street corner. It was something you usually ignored, but the daily paper hung for display made you do a double take.

WINTER SOLDIER PRINS IN BOMBARDAMENTELE ONU DE LA VIENA

"Fuck." You whispered, Bucky's face pictured right below the headline. How could this be possible? He never left Romania. Who would be trying to frame him? You hadn't seen him since the night you danced together, a little over a week ago. You gave him his space, letting him come to you first. You knew he probably need to sort out his thoughts after that night.

Whatever questions and reservations you had could wait. You needed to get to Bucky, before someone else did.

TO BE CONTINUED

[the-star-knight]

Tales of A Star

Tales of A Star

Summary: A retelling of the show through Star’s eyes

Rated: T+

Chapter 1 - Aftermath of Before Ever After (Origins)

Word Count: 2,150

Author’s Note: I’ve tried to put Star’s start in a post series timing but it didn’t feel right, so instead i just jabbed her in the original show. Nothing major changes, think of it as more layers in the story. Also it’s through Star’s perspective so I try not to repeat anything that is unnecessary.  

Next Chapter ▶︎

I often think about how it is to live a normal life. You know, without having death breathing down your neck all the time or having the responsibility of being “the chosen one”. 

Having a normal life sounds nice. Not having that stress about thinking about what crazy thing that will get you almost killed today. I envy people who don't ever have to think that.

Anyways, I awoke really early that morning. The sun barely rose above the horizon. I had to make sure I got back in time before my parents got up.

I went down toward the royal stables. There was a pretty young black mare. She has a white marking on her forehead. 

"Hey there, Luna," I patted her head. I call her Luna because of her white marking. It sort of resembles the shape of the moon. Okay, more like a wobbly moon.

I pulled out an apple from my bag and gave it to her. She quickly ate it and neighed in happiness. I pulled out another apple from my bag and ate it myself. I didn't have time to prepare anything for myself since I planned to go beyond Corona borders.

I saddled Luna up. "Are you ready?"

She neighed and kicked her hooves in the air in delight.

"I'll take that as a yes," I said. I got on her back and we rode off. 

Horseback riding is one of my favorite things in the world. The wind in your hair and the early morning air smelled crisp. We rode through the town square and the bridge, and we passed a village. The buildings slowly disappeared and more and more trees came into view. 

Eventually, we approached the Corona Wall. I looked for a way to cross over. 

I saw an archway in the wall that we could cross. Unfortunately, it was guarded.

"Hold it!" One of the guards said as we approached. "What is your business?"

"Um…" I tried looking for an excuse.

"Quickly!" Another guard soldier came in panting. "We require backup! A fugitive has been spotted!"

“What? I thought they were all captured yesterday,” the soldier grumbled.

"Look like not all of them! Come on, move it!"

"You, um...stay here!" The guard said. "We will be right back!"

And with that they ran off. 

I stood there for a couple of moments to see if they'd come back, but they didn't. Well, that was too convenient.

We continue to pass Corona borders and the wilderness spreads far and wide. It felt like the trees and hills stretched forever. 

Eventually we stopped near a bridge. However, the bridge wasn't fit for crossing. It was simply gone. You can see the remains of where the bridge used to be. There was no way getting to the other side 

 "Weird, I could've sworn the last time we were around here the bridge was still intact,” I said. “Come on, let’s find another way to cross.”

We rode downstream until we hit an easier way to cross. We crossed along a shallow river.

Now, I don't know why but I could feel something was pulling me towards a direction. You can call me crazy all you want but it felt like someone or something was calling me. 

As we approached a cliff, I realized that more of these black rocks were appearing. I've seen them sprout every once in a while but only a couple, but these rocks were everywhere. They were tall and sharp. I looked at my reflection at one of them. My braided hair was a mess, with hair strands sticking out all over the place. This is what I get for being in a rush this morning.

These rocks were taller than me, even though I'm not that tall too begin with, but we won't get to that. 

Then, I saw something I would have never imagined to see in person: the place where the Sundrop flower was found.

There was a stone lying at the edge of the cliff. It had engravings on it and a small picture of the Sundrop flower. 

I couldn't believe it. There it is! The flower that saved the queen and the princess!

Although I was filled with amazement, something else caught my eye. 

Something shined on the ground. A gemstone. It looked like a diamond but it was more shiny than any diamond I've ever seen and it seemed to be almost…glowing? I picked it up and put it away in my pocket.

Luna and I decided to rest here and admire the view. I sat and leaned back. Out there was the vast beautiful, blue sea. I closed my eyes and smelled the salt in the air. I heard the waves crash against the cliffs.

I smiled.

It was nice and peaceful. Unlike back at the castle where everything has been hectic especially for the princesses coronation yesterday. My mom is one of the queen’s handmaidens, so she heard all about the crazy thing that happened. Also, you know the news here travels fast with the handmaidens. 

Lately things have been weirder than ever. My mom told all of my family what happened yesterday at the castle over dinner. Luckily, my mom wasn’t there when Lady Caine tried to take prisoners. My dad was pretty shaken up by what would've happened if Lady Caine did get her way. Seeing my dad get worried is a face that is hard to look at.

"Oh my gosh! We have to get back!!" I quickly got myself up and got on Luna. "Sorry, girl. I know we didn't stay too long, but we have to get back before my dad finds out."

We rode back as quickly as fast we could.

When we reached the stables, I already found my dad there. But before I could hide, he already saw me.

"Star!" My dad didn't sound exactly thrilled. 

"Um...hola, papá!" I said nervously.

"Star, what did we talk about your morning rides with Luna?"

"Um...to not be late for my morning chores?" I try to put on a fake innocent smile.

My dad gave me a look and simply sighed. “You do know that I don’t mind you riding off but you have to at least be on time for your morning chores. It worries me when you are not back on time.”

“Dad, I’m fifteen! I can handle this,” I said. “Plus, the amount of royal guards have practically doubled overnight because of yesterday's incident at that castle.”

"I know," he sighed. "But, it’s still concerning."

I sighed, he was right. It wasn't right for me to get upset over my dad getting worried. "Sorry, dad."

After yesterday, I can only imagine how other Coronans might feel. Corona has been safe for the most part but after yesterday, I'm not so sure how safe Corona is anymore.

"Come on, ojitos, these stables aren't going to clean themselves," my dad said.

Ugh, I always disliked how my dad called me by my eyes. It's shortened for ojitos míos. Yes, I am his only child that has taken after his brown eyes, although having an entire nickname by my eyes is pretty weird since it's basically calling me eyes. Like who would call anyone eyes?

I simply sighed and grabbed a pitchfork and began to unload the hay into the stables.

My dad is the royal stable keeper. Everyone who works in the stables has to listen to him. There are a couple of people that work here, but they are quite a bit older than me. Aside from being the youngest at 15, I’m also pretty much the only girl working here. This makes it a lot harder for me to make friends and my anxiety doesn’t do me any favors either. I’ve always kind of felt out of place, you know?

All throughout the day I couldn’t stop thinking about what I saw and found that morning. The Sundrop flower and that weird gemstone. The gemstone was so unnaturally bright. Maybe I could make a nice piece of jewelry. Oh yes! That's a good idea.

Then I couldn’t stop envisioning how the necklace would look like. It's like an image that was already engraved in my head.

Later that day, I went home and drew the image of the jewelry I had stuck in my head. I pulled out a piece of paper and a pencil. I try to derail from that image to see if I could find a better design I liked. However, whatever ideas I had I seem to go back to that image. It kind of resembles some sort of symbol.

I began to think about what jewelry I should make the gem out of.

Maybe earrings? Nah, there's only one gem. Hm...maybe a bracelet? I like it but not sure if that's what I want. What about…oh! A necklace!

When I was finally done with drawing what the necklace would look like, I went to the one person who could help me out.

"Hey, Xavier!" I greeted him as I entered his workshop. Xavier is Corona's blacksmith. He also knows a bunch of cool magic stuff.

"Ah, hello Star. How may I help you?" Xavier said.

"Um, hi Xavier! I was wondering if you could help me," I pulled out my paper with the necklace design on it, "with making this necklace,"

It was pretty embarrassing showing him my design. I’ve seen Rapunzel’s amazing intricate designs for dresses and pretty much anything you can imagine. My design was pretty simple, nothing too elaborate.

I handed the paper to Xavier. 

“Oh, this is very nice, Star,” Xavier said. “Over here.”

Xavier walked over to a table and Star followed.

“Here,” I pulled out the weird gem from my bag and handed the gem to Xavier. 

“Ah, what an interesting gem,” Xavier observed the gem. “Never seen anything like it.” 

Neither have I, I thought.

“Silver metal would be an excellent choice.”

I let Xavier do all the metal work, since I didn't know a single thing about metalworking.

Xavier put the gem on the charm. "Ah, there we go. It is all yours, Star."

He handed the necklace to me. 

“Thanks, Xavier. Look great!”

“Anytime.”

I put the necklace on and I headed back home.

At the dinner table my mother was still talking about the crazy thing that happened during the princess’s coronation. Apparently she wasn't done talking about it yesterday.

“So, Ethel told me how Lady Caine took prisoners, including the king,” my mom told us as she laid the plates on the table. “Lo puedes creer, Santiago?”

My dad sat down, “Well, it’s definitely hard to believe, Julianna.”

“And then, princess Rapunzel takes off her wig only to see that her long hair is back."

"De verdad?"

"Yes, it's like her hair practically grew overnight!"

"Oh, i wanna see Rapunzel’s long hair!" one of my sisters jumped up in excitement.

"I hear that her hair is like seventy feet long!" My other sister said. "I wonder how long it takes her to brush it."

"Too long probably," I added. I took a bite of my dinner. I wondered how Rapunzel handled the whole magic hair thing coming back. 

"Rapunzel then," my mom continued, "starts fighting Lady Caine and the rest of the criminals. Eugene and Cassandra stepped in to help. Fortunately, everything turned out okay. The criminals were captured and the people that were taken were set free."

Later, I crawled into bed and my mother came in. She kissed my sisters on their forehead. My mom approached me and kissed me on the forehead as well. 

I took off my new and put on the nightstand next to my bed.

"Oh, what is that?" she pointed to my necklace.

"A necklace. I found a gem and I wanted to make a necklace. With the help of Xavier, we made this."

"It looks very pretty."

My mom got up and walked towards the door.

"Buenas noches, mis amores." she closed  the door slowly behind her.

I dreamt. 

I stood in an empty void. There were memories floating in front of me. They were close enough to tell that they weren't mine, but they were far enough where I couldn't quite grasp it. Vague shapes and blurred out faces, I couldn't really make out any of them. Whatever these memories were, they seemed important.

I awoke in confusion.

That hasn't happened to me before, or to anyone, as a matter of fact. I couldn’t help but to feel that those memories were only pieces of something bigger. Something way bigger.

[kanene-yaaay]

The end [Or ‘Unsual Tool’- 12º Day TickleTober]

Author’s notes: Heyiooo, my lollipops! A little late? Yeah. But here we go. xDD. I’m translating my fanfics to english to improve my vocabulary, grammar and stuff, aaaaand now I (finallyyyyy!) have a little free-time! So, hopefully I’ll post a little more! Yaaaay! \(^w^)/.

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff: 

* The 12º of October, in Brazil, is Children’s Day, so I got a bit of inspiration by that and in this oneshot The Sides (and Thomas) have 8 years old! 

* Hmmm... This is a Tickle-Fanfic! If you don’t like this kind of stuff, please look for another blog, there are plenty of amazing art in this site!! ‘u’).

* Something around 1500 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any advice is very very welcome!

* Here the fanfic in Portuguese (Brazilian’s one)! Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Have a awesome Thanksgiving (or, if you don’t celebrate: An awesome day! ). Byeioo!~

                                         [~*~]

- And then they died! The end!! – Roman laughed and threw away all the toys up, letting himself fall down so they would collapsed on him. Heard the applauses and quickly put himself up, bowing to the audience, which consisted of a very happy and euphoric Patton lying on his feet, and a Logan and a Virgil with equally outraged (funny) faces.

 - ‘They died’? Is this how it ends? But it doesn’t make sense!! – Logan protested, his cheeks puffing, a frown forming in his forehead, an expression he always had when face a illogic problem, something that, living with Roman, happened almost every day.

 - Sure it does!

 - No, does not!

 - Does!

 - I liked the part where they died. It was funny. – Patton commented, smiling and trying to stop the fight that probably would wake up Thomas, who was sleeping peacefully on the sofa.

 - No, they dying is cool, but Lo is right! They can’t do it out of nowhere! It gets boooooooring! – Virgil longed the ‘ooo’, facing Roman with the best dull expression that his eight-years-old face could reached.

 - You could have a new villain. – Logan pointed out.

 - Yes!! Yes!! Virgil could be the new villain! He has a black jacket! – Patton jumped excitedly in the same spot, holding the shoulders of the group’ shortest and shaking him euphorically, making Logan’s eyes bright for having his idea accepted.

 - I want be a dragon. – Virgil showed a little grin, doesn’t seem too bothered with the shaking.

 - No! No one will change the ending! – Roman stamped his foot, tears starting to been seem at the corners of his eyes.

 - Why?!

 - Because Thomas today was my day to make the grand finale!!

 - But your ending is boring! – Virgil countered.

 - Is not! – His voice began to cracking; he began to feel the tears stinging his eyes.

 - He also said we were supposed to play together. – Logan said calmly, as if he was trying to remember everyone of this fact.

 - No fighting, no fighting! – Patton got up; putting himself between the two sides in discussion, calling everyone’s attention before goes at Roman and clumsily wipe his tears. – Don’t cry, Ro-ro! – And squeezed his cheeks, because that was a techinque, which always make the aspect of creativity giggle, but only when it was Patton.

 This time it was not different. The responsible for the end of the story sniffed and clean the remains’ tear with his sleeve, murmuring a ‘Princes don’t cry’.

 - Don’t be mean with him. – Patton, turned around to face the others two, now being his time to puff the cheeks and frowning his forehead. Virgil and Logan slowed down theirs heads, the one with glasses more for the shock due the royal side’s tears.

 - Sorry. – whispered guardian’s ‘Flight or Fight’ instinct.

 - Par-par… - Logan tried to recall in his memories the word read some previous days in a book, it was almost possible to see his neurons working. – Pardon.

 The representation of the heart stared incisively Roman.

 - I’m sorry. – He said, taking the opportunity to catch some toys as an excuse for escape from the eye contact. – What is pandon?

-  It’s ‘pardon’. – The most logic of the four corrected. – It’s ‘sorry’, but more correct.

 - So, is ‘sorry’ wrong?

 - No, it is just that ‘pardon’ is more right. It is like ‘hero’ and ‘superhero’. – The one who wear dark blue adjusted his glasses, a proud smile opening in his face for knowing the difference.

 - Ah.

 - Princes do cry. – Virgil has a thoughtful expression as he played with his shirt’s tip.

 - No, they do not! – Complained Roman.

 - But, then they weren’t babies? Babies cry. – Patton asked, genuine curiosity in his glare.

 - They were… - Roman thought a little. – But they didn’t knew that they were princes, so it doesn’t count!

 - So are you only a prince if you know you’re a prince? – One more question.

 -  I think so… - Virgil answered, this time staring ate the others as he spoke. – I mean… Is not how the movies work? You don’t know you’re a prince, and then you find out and BUM! Everything changes.

 - Yeah! – Roman agrees enthusiastically, the little past fight already forgotten.

 - However, Thomas is a prince. – They all turned to look at the mentioned child, who was resting happy on the couch. – And he knows that, and yesterday he cried. – Logan contested.

 - But he is Thomas. – The royal side shrugged as this sentence already explained everything.

 - And you are Roman. – Patton refuted.

 - … ‘Kay.

 Everyone was silent for a moment.

 - The dragon could have a brother!! – Patton almost shouted excited, glad for have had that idea. – You can be the brother, Ro!

- However, why would there be another dragon?

 - I can be the good dragon! Fugitive because our family is a family of villains, but I didn’t wanted to be a villain, because I am a hero, so I came after you! – Roman turned to Virgil, the eyes sparkling with the rain of ideas that now roamed through his mind. – To stop you hunting the hunters!

 - It would be weird have you as my brother… - Virgil scowled. – And I don’t want to be a evil villain. – He crossed his arms.

 - But he could come to bring you to the good side! – Patton gesticulate with his hands, trying to emphasize his words. – Right, Ro?

 - Yes, yes!!

 - They could be twins… - Logan dreamed aloud. – What would be their difference?

 - Hmmmm… a mark on the neck!

 - I don’t have no mark on my neck.

 - We could paint!! – Patton clapped his hands, getting more and more excited with the forwarding of the idea.

 - Thomas will be mad with us if we make a mess, and we always make a mess painting. – Logan remembered, receiving instant solution from the side guardian of the creativity.

 - We could paint with colored pencils! – And pulled one from his pocket.

 - Is it purple? – Virgil questioned, a little afraid. However, when receiving a positive answer resolved to put some of his fear aside and took off his hoodie, feeling a little shivering for the suddenly cold that lightly hit him. – Ok, then. – And turned his head, showing his neck.

 - I don’t think colored pencil will work.

 - See and lea-

 The rest of his phrase was cut off by a squeal from the purple’s lover, who pulled himself over, a wobbly smile in his face and hands in a defensively in front of his body.

 - No tickles!

- You’re ticklish?? – Patton twinkled, almost literally. In a blink of an eye, he takes the pencil from the royal side and scribbled on Virgil’s neck, who shrank even futher, falling on the floor and being quickly followed by emotions’ guardian aspect.

 - Nahahahahahahahahahahahaha!! NohohohOHOHOHoho tihihihihCKEHEHEHEHEHEHES! – His nose wrinkled and the laughs flowed happy, high and strident through all the room. Roman couldn’t help but laugh along, summoning two more pencils from his pocket, throwing one at Logan’s direction as he began to draw pictures which only him could see on Virgil’s tummy with his own, getting snorts and shrieks as a reward and increasing the squirms.

 - ROHOHOHOHO! STOHOHOHohohohohohop!!!

  He squirmed from a side to side, but that doesn’t seem to work. Nothing stopped his high pinch laugh bubbling from his mouth or the unbearably persistent tickles that painted a smile across his burning blushed face.

 Something held his feet.

 - I think he should have more marks, to best difference. – And then Logan put himself to scribble random patterns on the sole of Virgil’s feet, a shy smile in his face, a little crazy shining in his glare.

 LOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOGAN! – Now yelps, laugh, snorts and squeals were the only things that his lips could proper say, his free feet kicked, but in vain. His head going back and forth, part trying to run away and part trying to hide the big and rare smile in his face. Tears started to fall down his cheeks. - NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaHAHAHA.

 The tickling stopped, and Virgil curled in a ball, attempting to rub the skin to remove the remain sensations; however find to be a impossible task in trying to get that bright smile off his face, as much as the blush.

 Only after his breathing had been controlled and his mind started to think on to threaten the other three with ‘I’ll tell Thomas!’, he realized that the laughter in the room haven’t stopped yet.

 He sat, noticing that the attention had now been directed to the royal side, who apparently also needed to ‘differentiate from his brother’. Virgil felt his smile change with the new chance of revenge. He didn’t even picked up the red pencil abandoned on the floor, quickly attacking Roman’s armpits with just his fingers.

 - And his brother seeks for his revenge!! Raaaaaw! – The high, happy and care-free laughs from every side danced through the entire place.

 And we can say that in the end any end was really decided.

[the-writing-otter]

Malédiction ⇴ Chapter VI

⇴ Author: the-writing-otter

⇴ Genre: Fantasy, Alternate Universe, Action/Adventure, Romance, Angst

⇴ Main Characters: Kim Namjoon, Kim Taehyung, Min Yoongi, Kim Seokjin, Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin, Jung Hoseok

⇴ Summary:

Crown, Jungkook; Cursed, Jimin; Cast-off, Jin; Seer, Namjoon; Seeker, Yoongi; Sought, Taehyung; Catalyst, Hoseok

⇴ malédiction masterlist

⇴ previous

Chapter VI

The wind whipped through the town, rattling the tin roofs on the southern, sea-facing side, and blustering against the stronger wooden doors of the richer, northeastern side. Namjoon's flimsy door slammed shut behind him as he drug his bleeding charge into his tiny kitchen. 

"What the-"

"Shut up and help me get him on the bed."

Taehyung jumped up and slung Jin's other arm over his shoulder. They set him on the bed as gently as they could, but he groaned and his head lolled to the side. 

" He's lost quite a bit of blood." Taehyung's voice was calm and sure, and it was as if the calm had passed from Namjoon to him. As soon as Jin was settled on the bed and Taehyung was tending to him, Namjoon started pacing his tiny house, which was mostly kitchen, anxiously scanning old books and grabbing a different one each time he passed his messy wooden table. Taehyung inspected Jin's wound and grimaced. "Someone already stitched it. It got ripped up and I can't do anything but apply pressure. Have you got anything for the pain?"

Namjoon stopped pacing just long enough to grab a bottle off the table and toss it to Taehyung, who almost face planted trying to catch it. When he righted himself, he shot a glare at Namjoon, who was back to pacing again. "You can't just throw stuff like this. Why do you have it lying around, anyways?" "It's fine." He paused, realizing what he just asked. "Tae, I knew he would come."

Taehyung looked up from his ministrations. 

"What?"

Namjoon face was careful, guarded. Taehyung stood slowly, his gaze open, but Namjoon could see his mistrust, plain as day. It was unnerving to see his friend look at him like that. He had known him for so long, had trusted him like a brother. And now he could see a crack, a chink in their relationship, growing bigger and bigger with every minute that passed.

“You never told me you could interpret your dreams. Do you realize that could have-”

“I know-”

“No you don’t!” 

The tense atmosphere broke at Taehyung’s yell, and Jin jerked awake. The two men stood facing each other in the small room, one stiff and on edge, one meek and still. Jin recognized the one furthest from his as the shadow who helped him. After the alleyway he didn't remember much. His head hurt from sitting up and now everything else hurt too. The pain in his shoulder and on his chest had dulled to an ache now though, and he traced his hands over his bandaged wounds.

"What's going on?" His voice was hoarse and quiet but the two men turned at his query. He glanced between them as they stayed silent, until the shadow sighed and rubbed his hands over his face.

"Sorry, you don't need to worry about it. I'm Namjoon, I'm a ...seer." He glanced at the other man for a moment. He seemed sheepish. 

The other man brushed past Namjoon and took a seat at the table. He was frowning deeply, but he positively glared when Namjoon cleared his throat and gestured to Jin. He glanced up, "Taehyung," he said, and resumed his perusal of a random book from the messy tabletop.

"I'm sorry to wake you up, that wound isn't gonna heal itself and you need rest." Namjoon drug a wooden chair to the side of the bed almost knocking the table over as he did. Taehyung flailed as bottles and books were jostled; Namjoon obliviously kept talking. 

"But perhaps it's for the best," he said sighing and taking a seat. Taehyung glared at the back of his head and Jin tried not to laugh. "I probably frightened you in that alley, sorry."

Jin seems to realize what was being said. "Sorry? You saved my life!"

"Well, yeah, but…"

"But nothing. I owe you. Both of you." Taehyung glanced up as Jin looked to him as well as Namjoon. 

"Please. Don't mention it. It's what any decent person would do," Namjoon said, rubbing his neck, abashedly. 

Tae wanted to expose Namjoon, now that he knew he could not only see into the future and the past, but could roughly interpret their meanings as well, but he held back. The stranger didn't need to know everything. He would heal here, just enough so that Namjoon would be assured he would be fine, and then they would never see him again. There was no reason why he should know exactly how Namjoon knew where to be and when to save his life. 

Thought watching the two interact, Taehyung suddenly wasn't so sure of himself. In the time he had known Namjoon, he had always been too eager to help any poor individual that crossed his path. Even when, during their travels with the gypsy caravans, there was hardly any food to spare between them, Namjoon would give his half to a beggar on the road and go without, making Taehyung feel like absolute dirt. He never begrudged him for it, till now. Till the stranger might be a threat. He had heard of an infamous highwayman who matched the strangers description and the thought of harbouring a possible criminal made him uneasy. 

"Namjoon." Taehyung gently tugged Namjoon's sleeved as he finally left Jin's side, having finished checking his bandages. 

"Can we talk?"

Jin was dozing, but his presence still made Tae uncomfortable, a fact that somehow escaped Namjoon's notice. 

"Sure. What is it?"

"Namjoon. Can we talk outside?" He gestured to the door. His gaze was insistent and worried. 

Namjoon shifted on his feet, unwilling to leave his patient. 

"Please?" pressed Taehyung.

"Fine." 

They slipped outside the door, and stood just under the stoop, the storm died down now with only a chill and wet cobblestones to show for it.

Concern was evident on Namjoon's face as he closed the door behind them, but Tae couldn't bring himself to pity him for it. He couldn't afford to. 

"Namjoon, how long is the man going to stay here?"

"His name's Jin."

Tae sighed. "How long is Jin," he emphasized, "the possible criminal, obvious fugitive, who you just found bleeding in an alleyway, going to stay in this house." With every word he gestured angrily, losing his patience at Namjoon's obliviousness. "You expect me to stop by, say 'Hello, how are you? Oh, you can suddenly interpret your creepy dreams? And you're using that to save random strangers instead of the people who took you in?!' Of all the people who should benefit from anything you could have to offer it would be the gypsies. Or have you forgotten everything that was done for you? You love playing the hero until you actually have to face your past." 

As Taehyung had been ranting, Namjoon's face had become more and more hard, settling into a grim visage as Tae finally stopped.

"You have no idea what you're talking about."

His voice was soft, it did not match his face, and for the first time in a long time, Taehyung was scared of him. "Every dream is a nightmare, every prophecy that I can understand is living hell. If I see a whole town burning, vividly, horribly, I can't magically go to wherever they are and warn them. It could've happened years ago or it could happen tomorrow. You don't know what I've seen." He stepped away, and went back inside, leaving Tae stunned on the doorstep.

⇴ next

[snicketstrange]

A little chronology in my theory

This is Part 3 of Strange Interpretation by Jean Lúcio From Brazil.

To understand this text, it is necessary to read my first and my second texts in the links below.

Now that you know the subject Lemony would never lie, you can understand what Lemony would certainly be able to lie about. In my theory, Lemony would lie about Beatrice's death in order to protect her. Of course you know about the strong feelings Lemony has for Beatrice. In TBL, we find a letter where Lemony promised that he would continue to love Beatrice, even if she married another person (From LS to BB # 5). Finally, that's exactly what happened.

Listing the evidence that Beatrice survived the fire at her home and kept herself alive for many years after the major ASOUE events is a very difficult job. Daniel Handler made a real Gordian knot about it. In addition, this theory affects the fans' feelings on a very deep level. In my conversation with D., I realized that every piece of evidence that could point to Beatrice's possible survival was completely silenced by various theories. Some people spent much of their precious time explaining each of these theories, and now I am aware of each one of them. And as I have explained, my desire is not to criticize the difficult work of these fans in trying to explain ASOUE by accepting Lemony Snicket as a reliable storyteller. My wish is to explain an alternative theory, created solely by me, in which I take as a premise that Lemony Snicket is not a reliable narrator. Using this premise, I believe I unleashed the Gordian knot without using a sword to cut its rope.

But of course, I'm not God, I'm not Daniel Handler, and I know I can be wrong in many ways. I would like you, reader, to help me improve my theory USING THIS PREMISE. If you identify inconsistencies in my theories, based on my own premises, please leave a comment on the subject. (And if I make mistakes in English, you can talk to me in a private message).

To start, I need to answer a simple question: why do I believe in Kit's death but I do not believe in Beatrice's death? After all, Lemony Sincket reported both deaths, and if he is an unreliable narrator, he could be lying about both deaths, or he might be lying about Kit's death and not about Beatrice's death. In fact, if Lemony is an unreliable narrator, he could be lying about how many siblings he has, or about their names. Yes, he could be lying about all this. But he is not lying. We can be sure about who the siblings of Lemony are through the UA books. There is even a Genealogical tree in UA. In the books ATWQ, UA and TBL, the brothers of Lemony have their names confirmed. In TBL, in the letter from LS to BB # 5, Lemony confirms that it is one of three siblings. And the most important: the "13 Shocking Secrets You'll Wish You Never Knew about Lemony Snicket" pamphlet explains: "Secret 2: LEMONY SNICKET IS ONE OF THREE SIBLINGS"; "Secret 3: LEMONY SNICKET'S NIECE IS AN ORPHAN."

So that's why I'm sure Kit is dead. Moreover, as I explained in my previous text, Lemony stated in a personal note found in chapter 1 of the UA that the accounts of Baudelaire siblings would be true. Lemony describes in the narration that the Baudelaire siblings saw Kit dying, and buried her body. Lemony would not lie about Kit's death, because he would not be lying about something the Baudelaire siblings had experienced.

For me, the evidence that Beatrice survived and continued to live for many years is based on the chronology of events. The Strange Interpretation of Jean Lúcio From Brazil has its own chronology.

I will write the chronology of my theory in a simple and brief way here, and then I will explain in more detail the evidence that makes me believe in this chronology in future texts.

1 - Lemony is born. He is captured by VFD while he is a baby.

2 - Shortly thereafter, the great VFD Schism takes place. Shortly after, Lemony was captured again by the 'noble' side of VFD and begins his training.

3 - Lemony completes 11 years, and communicates with Beatrice.

4 - Lemony goes to Stain'd-by-the-Sea at age 12.

5- Lemony returns from Stain'd-by-the-Sea to the City when he is 13 years old.

6 - Upon completing approximately 18 years, Lemony forms, and begins his courtship with Beatrice.

7 - Still about 18 years old, Lemony starts working on The Daily Punctilio.

8 - A short time later, Beatrice presents the play "My Silence Knot".

9 - A few years later, Beatrice presents the play "The Worlds is quiet Here". At that time it happened to Schism of Olaf. Then Beatrice sends a letter canceling marriage. Then Lemony is fired from The Daily Punctilio. Then Lemony flees to the outside on the Prospero ship for the first time, disguised as a sailor. Beatrice then marries Bertrand. Many people believe that Lemony is dead, probably because the Daily Punctilio announced Lemony's death for the first time.

10 - Some time later Beatrice and Bertrand suffer shipwreck on the Island. A few months later they leave the Island. Upon arriving in town, Beatrice receives a telegram from Lemony. Beatrice discovers that Lemony was alive.

11 - Shortly after Violet is born. Almost two years later, Klaus is born. About 10 years later, Sunny is born.

12 - About 2 years later, the death of Count Olaf's father or parents occurs.

13 - About a year later, the fire takes place in Beatrice's house. Bertrand dies. It starts the main story of ASOUE.

14 - About a year later Kit and Olaf die.

15 - About a year later, the Baudelaire siblings leave the Island.

16 - A few years later Lemony publishes books 1, 2 and 3 of ASOUE.

17 - A Miss K visited Prufrock Prep, and presented to the students one of the ASOUE books that had already been published. Some time later, Lemony's enemies began to search for the survivors of Uncle Monty's collection. One of these enemies finds information about the reptiles and amphibians lost in a copy of the TRR book, which had already been published in Lemony's universe. This enemy of Lemony finds this copy in the Prufrock Prep library, which is still in full operation. Lemony goes to the Prufrock Prep library and receives information about the enemy looking for Uncle Monty's collection. Lemony writes a Sebald Code letter to R, warning that his enemies were searching for the reptiles, and that he will go to the Masked Ball, even though it is dangerous.

18- Shortly thereafter, the Masked Ball takes place. This party happened 15 years after Olaf's death. Lemony was disguised as a bullfighter. Lemony met Beatrice, who had been alive all this time. Lemony passes the following information to Beatrice: "Count Olaf is dead!" Lemony caught by police while he was dressed as a bullfighter.

19 - Lemony then escapes the police and becomes a fugitive. Again The Daily Punctilio states that Lemony is dead. This time Daily Punctilio claims that Lemony was the author of ASOUE and that the books of ASOUE would stop being published because of the author's death. Lemony had not died, but Lemony again fled abroad on the Prospero ship. The Great Publishing Hiatus began in Lemony's universe. This Great Hiatus lasted for many years and occurred between TWW and TMM publications. In that interval of years, many people believed again that Lemony had died.

20 - After that Prufrock Prep was closed.

21 - Lemony returned from abroad many years later and continued his work at ASOUE. When sending the TMM manuscript to its editor, Lemony sent a message to R on a piece of bubble wrap.

22 - Then Lemony continued writing ASOUE. In TAA Lemony wrote about the Masked Ball as having happened in the past, because from his point of view when writing TAA it really was in the past many years before. Just as Lemony said Prufrock Prep was closed many years ago, because from his point of view when writing TAA, the school was closed for years. After that, Lemony sent messages to Beatrice in TCC and TSS.

23 - While Lemony was writing TPP, or shortly before writing this book, Lemony found the Sugar Bowl which contained the evidence to acquit him of the charge of fire.

24 - There was another hiatus of a few years between the publications of TPP TE in Lemony's universe.

Thanks again for reading ... And I would be very grateful for comments.

Until the next text.

[writingbarnes]

How Big Could It Be? [ Bucky Barnes x OC - Reader Insert ]

Prompt : ( Post CACW ) Bucky was just trying to take a little afternoon stroll. It didn’t go as peaceful as he expected. Pairing : Bucky Barnes x OC Genre : Fluff, romance, good ol’ crack   |   Warning : None? cute stuff? Author’s Note : I’ve missed you all! I’ve been wanting to write again for a while and finally wrote this yesterday! :D Let me know what you think! I’ll try to write some more one shots again or maybe continue my WIPs. Special thanks to @pleasecallmecaptain for hyping me up and helping me proofread this oneshot <3

He thought she was a dead body somebody had left in the middle of the jungle located right around the outskirt of the Royal Palace. She was wearing a traditional Wakandan dress, a dark red kaftan with intricate gold pattern around the neck and sleeves. It was definitely not a cheap dress, judging by the smooth flowy fabric, and Bucky suspected the gold patterns were sewed on using real gold thread. She donned a familiar kimoyo bracelet on her right wrist, a similar beaded bracelet he had seen T’challa wore. She was lying against a huge old tree, unmoving even when he took a few steps closer to take a better look at her. Aside from the beautiful clothes and the bracelet and the weapon peeking out of the slit of her dress, she looked really dead.

His instinct told him to turn around and forget about the weird crime scene. Bucky could even hear Steve’s voice telling him to stop and Sam’s snickers as he crouched down near her, eyes fixed on her face. There was no trace of blood nor any injuries on her. Poison could be the most likely cause of her death, he noted. Her hair seemed to have been cut short in a hurry, judging by the jagged end of her hair, and he couldn’t blame her. The weather in Wakanda was hotter than he was used to and it took everything in him not to shave all his hair off.

Back to the main problem. Dead body.

Bucky shook his head, hand reaching towards his pocket to fish out his new phone. He should probably call Steve or T’challa or Sam about this, right? He remembered T’challa telling him that it was okay to call him if he was in an emergency. Did finding a dead body near the royal palace constitute as an emergency? He fiddled with his phone, his new metal arm whirred slightly at the movement.

He probably should. He was trying to be a better person now. This is what a good person would do, right? Report deaths and whatnot?

.

“I think I saw a dead person.”

T’challa took a double look at this phone screen before he put the phone back to his ear. James Buchanan Barnes, the new tenant of the guest-wing, a U.S fugitive, was calling him about a dead body in the middle of the day. Shuri, his younger sister, had an amused look on her face as she helped Sam with his new wings.

“What do you mean you saw a dead person, Barnes?”

“What the hell is he even doing?” Sam commented off-handedly to Shuri as they turned their attention to the random phone call.

“Dead body. She’s dead… Well, I think she is. I don’t think she’s breathing.”

“She?” T’challa raised his eyebrows.

“Is she wearing a pretty red and gold dress?” Shuri interrupted T’challa with a small smile on her face. “If she is, it’s probably [Y/N]. She does that a lot.”

“Being dead?” Sam asked.

“She likes to prank one of the black panthers that roams the jungle.” T’challa answered. “It’s alright, Barnes. She’ll wake up and go back to the palace on her own when she’s done pranking the panthers.”

.

He thought she was really dead the second time he saw her. She was lying on her back, dried blood staining the sleeve of her white dress, and he was 1000% sure she just killed the person who was undoubtedly lying dead 10 feet away from him.

He might or might have not let out a strangled yelp of shock and almost punched her when she suddenly reached out her arm and grabbed his leg.

“What the fuck?” Bucky breathed out, eyes widely staring at the woman.

“Oh, hey. Help me out, please?” She reached out her hands towards him with a little smile. “I think I hurt my leg.”

“I can see that.” Bucky dryly replied, helping her to lean on one of the trees.

“Someone tried to kill my little bean.” She explained. Bucky sat cross-legged next to her as he examined the slight tore on her calf.

                                                           “Little bean?” his lips tilted slightly as he silently asked for her permission to bandage her bloodied leg with his handkerchief.

“Yeah. My cat. She’s out there somewhere, pissed as hell. We were supposed to have a nice evening stroll and this asshole came out of nowhere and tried to shoot her.” She pointed at the dead guy and his discarded gun next to him.

“Well, you protected your cat pretty well.” Bucky commented as he finished tying the scarf around her leg. “He looked really dead and probably regretting his stupid act in hell.”

She let out a small laugh at his reply.

“I’m [Y/N].” She said after a while.

“I’m Bucky.”

“I know.” She grinned. “Shuri and T’challa told me a lot about you. I heard you thought I was dead, huh?”

Bucky didn’t even know he could still blush until today.

.

The third time he saw her, she was trying to carry a huge basket of Christmas decorations in the middle of a market. Some of the Wakandans greeted her and chuckled good-naturedly at her ridiculous state. Sam was the first one to noticed his blatant staring and Bucky had to cover his mouth from screaming her name on top of his lungs and ruining the whole thing before it even started. The moment he felt himself relax a little, Steve decided to call her name out loud, eyes feigning innocence when Bucky sent him a glare.

“Hey, guys.” [Y/N] beamed. “Do you want to go on a Christmas shopping spree with me?”

“We’re a little busy but Bucky is completely free for the day!” Steve beamed. “I can bring the basket back to your quarter for you!”

“Oh that’d be nice.” [Y/N] turned her attention to Bucky with a small smile. “Do you want to look around, Bucky? They’re having a sale on cat toys and I want to buy some for Bean.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Bucky Barnes definitely did not blush nor stutter. And his heart most definitely didn’t flutter like a teenager with their first crush.

.

Wakanda did not celebrate christmas but T’challa let his American friends decorate their quarters with trinkets and string lights. There was even a small potted tree decorated with tiny baubles on Steve’s dining table. It was an interesting sight to see, even for him. No one said anything but he could see the slight twinkle in Steve’s eyes whenever he talked about the last Christmas in the 40s and the way Sam’s voice rose an octave in excitement when he talked about the joy of Christmas. His mother even mentioned a little dinner she planned for his new friends on Christmas Eve. It was quite a sight to see his family talked about the whole plan with Steve and Sam.

As interesting as it was to see Shuri struggling with Christmas decoration, nothing beats the sight of Bucky meticulously wrapping a gift in the middle of the living room.

“A cat collar?” T’challa spoke out as he sat on the couch. “I don’t think it’ll fit, though.”

“What do you mean?” Bucky frowned.

“It’s too small for Bean.” T’challa replied.

“It’s a cat. How big could it be?”

.

Very big.

Bucky gawked at the sight of a black panther lounging on the palace garden, purring loudly as it lay on its stomach, soaking in the warmth of the sun. She rested her head on [Y/N]’s lap, nudging her hand with her head to pet her.

“It’s a black panther.”

“Yes.”

“Little Bean is a black panther.”

“Yes.” [Y/N] nodded. “I thought you knew, Bucky.”

That made him turned his head to face her, eyes wide with shock and disbelief. “You kept addressing her as your little black cat, [Y/N].”

“I mean, she’s pretty small for her kind. She’s still growing.”

“Jesus Christ.” Bucky breathed out. “You’re really lucky I like you a lot, you weird kid.” The words flowed out of his lips so smoothly before he even realized it.

“What?”

“What?” Bucky replied, hand slowly reaching out to pat Bean’s head.

“You just said you like me a lot.”

“No, I did not.”

“Ha!” [Y/N] beamed. “YOU DID! Are you blushing, Bucky?”

“NO.”

“Well, I think you look cute blushing. And I kinda like you a lot too.”

“… thanks.”

Tagging : @pleasecallmecaptain @wakandasoldier @currentlyavengerstrash @fvckingavengers @reniescarlett@alfyiskingly @b-orderline @gl1tter-bubbles @barnes-and-noble-rogers @justareader @nev4rland @sexy-marvel@greekstudies @so-get-this-i-need-pie @imtryingtostudyseb @i-am-an-outcast @sebstan-theman @just-call-me-mrs-captain @tabi-toast @always-a-marvel-addict @writing-soldiers

(i’m just tagging a bunch of people lmao)

Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged! :)

[itsagoodluckkiss]

Bridge Back To Your Heart

Okay, so this is my post for Jake’s Appreciation Week, Day Seven: Fanart/Fanfic and I hope you will all enjoy it. I’m gonna tag the week’s hosts, @jakeymckenzie and @jakemcspooky, thank you for an awesome week.

Words: 4,792

Warnings: Mentions of sadness, depression, PTSD, death. Sex is implied but not mentioned anywhere.

Pairing: Jake x MC

Author’s Note: (This idea came to me before the final two chapters of ES Book 2 so sorry if it is a bit all over the place. Also I’m sorry for any grammar mistakes, English is not my first language.) This is based on a song called ‘’Bridge Back To Your Heart’’ by The Beach. This is an AU where you manage to save your friends and the world so you can return to a normal, mortal life. Jake had to kill Mike because he was too far gone. Ludgren and the Arachnids survive and return so Jake is still a fugitive. Rourke is dead. Aleister is forgiven by the group and takes control of his father’s company. Jake chose to leave MC because he was afraid of her getting hurt because of him. But after a year the group found evidence of his innocence and MC goes to Costa Rica to tell him.

It had been a year since they escaped La Huerta and returned home. The group still hanged out, going to Michelle’s favorite brunch spot every Friday, supporting Sean and Craig in their games, chilling and cooking at Raj’s place. Most of them had almost returned to their normal lives. But she hadn’t. It wasn’t only the PTSD from the island or the nightmares that still haunted her. It was his absence.

He decided to cut ties with her. When they got on the plane, she thought he was going to be there, beside her. Instead, he let her go without a word. When realization hit her, they were already a hundred feet off the ground. It had been a year since he left her and still she found herself all torn up on the inside because of him. She refused to speak about him, or join the group chats the others made with him from time to time, she wouldn’t even say his name.

It was a typical Friday and the eleven of them were heading to their now usual booth in the bistro. They usually happily chatted together while drinking their mimosas and waiting for their food to come. But that day was different. There wasn’t much talking, an awkward silence filling the air, glances of nervousness between one another and glances of anxiousness toward her. She started to get sick of it.

‘’Okay guys, what is it, why are you like that today?’’

‘’MC… we gotta talk for something… but we don’t know if you’ll be okay with it.’’ , Diego said, a worried expression on his face.

She looked carefully all her friends who tried to somehow avoid her gaze. She knew they wanted to talk about him.

‘’It is about… Jake. Isn’t it?’’

His name sounded weird coming from her lips. She hadn’t said it in so long. It was weird for the group too. Most of the times they avoided mentioning him when she was around. Diego cleared his voice and continued.

‘’Yes, yes it is. Look, MC… you know we still talk with him sometimes.’’

‘’Yes, I know. I don’t mind.’’

‘’That’s not the point… we don’t just talk with him… we’re trying to bring him home.’’

She was taken aback by his reply. Why didn’t she knew that? Why did they keep it a secret from her? Yes, Jake hurt her but she still cared about him, she still loved him and wanted him to be happy. Did they actually think she wouldn’t be happy about that? Did Jake knew? Did he knew and still didn’t try to contact her?

‘’He doesn’t know that, if that’s what you’re thinking.’’, Diego said to her, knowing she would think that.

‘’We didn’t know if we could actually find anything. It took us a lot of time. But we did. Aleister and I managed to find some top secret documents of the military. And they make good evidence.’’, Grace spoke in a soft voice, pulling out two folders from her bag.

‘’Also, I hacked the Arachnids and some military systems. Took me some months but I did it. I have every conversation the bastard made. Some payments. Accounts. Everything.’’ , Zahra said with a cocky smile, ‘’The bastard is going down finally.’’

‘’We will actually visit him in Costa Rica in a few days, as a surprise. He might appreciate it, we going there to tell him the news in person.’’ , Quinn interfered, with a nervous smile on her face

‘’Okay, okay guys, wait a sec… why do I learn about this now? What did you thought? That I would be pissed that you are trying to help him? And you’re all going to Costa Rica and you just announce it now?’’

‘’We didn’t want to get your hopes up. Neither your hopes, nor his. But now, with the proof we have and the support we can give, it is actually possible.’’ Aleister fixed his gaze on her.

‘’We also didn’t know how you would take it. You are feeling blue all these months and we were worried it would just make you feel worse.’’, Michelle answered her, a worried look on her face.

They were right. She would always get upset even in the slightest mention of him. How could they have told her about this before they were sure? She took a long breath and calmed down, trying to get her head around the idea of him being back to the States. She was happy for him. She really was. But it still hurt her. She didn’t want to speak about it more.

‘’Okay guys. I’m happy for that. I’m happy you have made progress. Is that all?’’, she said, trying to sound somewhat indifferent, even if she was dying to learn more about everything.

‘’Nope. We’re not done. Look MC, we all know you still care about him, okay? Don’t hide it from us. He does the same thing all the time but you two can’t even convince yourselves you don’t love each other anymore. He isn’t looking good either, he always sounds apathetic and he’s gloomy all the time. So do yourselves a favor and go find him earlier than us. Go and make things clear with him. It will be good for both of you.’’, Diego answered her, sounding a little exasperated.

She looked into Diego’s eyes, stunned. She knew he was right. She had to stop running away from this, from him.

‘’Okay… okay I will go.’’

The plane finally landed. The flight seemed to last forever. It was afternoon, the sun almost setting. She was growing impatient. The only thing she wanted at this point was to find him. Diego had said Jake wasn’t exactly in high spirits all this time as well. She wondered how he was. If he was healthy enough. She was worried about him. That was the reason she agreed to come earlier. She wanted to check out if her pilot was okay. She didn’t know what she would say to him when she saw him again. Would she scream at him for letting her go like that? Would she be able to resist kissing him right away? How would he react? Would he want to see her? He was the one who pushed her away after all.

She started wandering the streets of Costa Rica, her traveling bag in hand. She didn’t need a lot of things anyway, she wasn’t going to stay long. Jake had told her once when they were in La Huerta where his house was, next to that one beach, a small bungalow. She asked a bit here and there as well and managed to arrive at the beach he had told her about. She saw the small house and froze for a second. Was she ready for this? So many what ifs went through her mind as she slowly walked toward, her feet burying in the soft sand. Her stomach was tied in a knot, her hands were sweating. She was going to see him after a whole year. A whole year of not even saying his name, let alone see his face. She actually missed him even if she never told that to anyone, she was too stubborn to admit to anyone else she still cared for him. Her breath caught in her throat as she knocked on the door and heard a sharp “Coming”.

Ever since returning to Costa Rica, he just gave up. It was all too much. He had to kill Mike on that damned island. He had to kill his best friend because of what he had become. And so, when their adventure ended with his old commander still alive and going, he had to leave her. He was afraid to be with her. She would always be in danger next to him. She would never accept it of course. So he had to push her away. He preferred to be in pain than see her getting hurt. But his thoughts were killing him, his sadness was slowly taking him over. He didn’t want to do things anymore, even getting out of bed was hard. He actually spent most of his days in bed. Even drinking wasn’t making him feel better. He still talked with the group from time to time but it had been a year since he had heard her voice. He learned about her through Diego but it wasn’t enough. He knew she didn’t want to speak with him, he knew he had hurt her.

If there was one thing he never expected to see that day, it was her. He heard a knock on the door and thought it would be someone randomly asking for directions. It happened quite commonly there. He got out of the couch he was lying all day and walked to the door. He didn’t expect to open and see her, his princess, standing on his porch. He looked straight into her eyes, shocked. Words didn’t seem to fall from his mouth. What could he actually say to her after what he did? After letting her believe he would go back with her and fight and then leaving her alone without a word, breaking her heart? He thought she would hate him, would never want to see him again, and he wanted that because he wanted her to have a better life. Yet there she was, standing in front of him, beautiful as always. Her hair were longer now, falling around her back, her eyes as magnetizing as ever.

His light brown hair was still a bit higher from his shoulders but he was fresh shaved. He looked like he had lost some weight and most of his tan. More faired skin than she was used to. There were dark circles under his eyes. He looked like he didn’t get out of his house a lot, he looked unhealthy and she held back a sob. He looked depressed. It was killing her to see him like this. His blue orbs moved from confusion to relief to fear when their gaze met. She missed his beautiful stupid face even if he hurt her in ways she couldn’t imagine before him. The silence between them started to get awkward and she decided to break it. She managed a few words out.

‘’Hello Jake… how are you?’’

‘’MC… what… what are you doing here?’’

‘’Wow Top Gun, forgot your manners?’’

She slightly chuckled. Seeing her smile made him relax just a bit.

‘’I’m sorry, I… Come in.’’

She walked into his house. Much to her surprise, it was tidy. But of course it would be. Carryover from the Navy. She looked at the sea, out of the big glass window from his living room. She understood why he had chose to stay beside the beach.

‘’You have a nice view here. It seems calming’’

Jake rubbed the back of his neck as he was trying to think what to say to her. It was so hard for him not to just hug her and kiss her but he knew he had lost that right some time ago.

‘’Thanks, uh… come, sit.’’

He didn’t wait for her as he sat on the couch and he rubbed his face with one hand. She took the place beside him and he looked at her.

‘’How… how are you, MC?’’

‘’I’m okay Jake… I… can’t say the same for you though, you… you look a little off…’’

‘’I look like shit, don’t I?’’, he chuckled, a hint of a smile on his face as he took her in. She was a sight for sore eyes.

She looked at him, being at a loss of words. Seeing the man she loved being like a shadow of himself caused her even more pain.

‘’Jake, why do you look like this? Do… do you even eat?!’’

He wanted to be distant, she shouldn’t see he still cared. He looked at the other side of the room. He had chosen to push her away and he had to keep it up for as long as he could. His voice came out cold, devoid of emotion.

‘’I don’t think you’re here to discuss my eating habits, princess. So why are you here?’’

“I’m here for you, Jake.”

“Why?”

“Because I need to talk to you.”

“Okay princess, you want to talk, let’s talk. Tell me why you’re here for me after everything that happened? Why do you still want to talk to me? You don’t even know if I want to talk to you.”

She felt her frustration toward him grow. How could he just speak to her so coldly? Why did he have to act so much, putting walls between them? He couldn’t hide from her, he knew that, but kept trying it anyway and she was tired of it.

“Are you seriously gonna do this, Jake? Even now?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, you do. Stop acting.”

He looked at her with an angry expression in his face.

“Stop acting?! Yeah, tell me about it, really! You coming here and pretend to suddenly care really does the job for it.”

She started to disagree with Diego. Her coming here may have been a bad idea. She had started to lose her temper and he made it too hard for her to keep calm.

“Pretend to suddenly care?! I am here because I still fucking care about you even after all this time we do not talk, even after you decided to ruin everything for us and run away not only from me but from yourself, so stop this bullshit act and let me talk because you’re not fooling anyone!”

He stared blankly at her. Of course she wanted to talk to him. She had the right to confront him for leaving her in a sudden, she had the right to scream at him for never loving her and he would take any accuse she would shoot at him even if it wasn’t true because she had the right to do it.

“I would have never believed you’d just get up and leave me like that! You had agreed to come back with all of us, with me, and fight for your innocence! You left me believe and then you left me alone! You didn’t even call! And I couldn’t bring myself to contact you! If you believe there would be a better future for me without you, I am sorry you think so lowly of yourself because I don’t! I still think about you, I still care and I know you care too! But you still owe me a reason, don’t you think?!”

Angry tears run down her face as she let out the bitterness that consumed her all this time. Seeing Jake in his current situation made it really hard for her to let out all that anger but she couldn’t help it. He was on the verge of tears as well. He knew she was right but he couldn’t find the right words to explain.

“There is no reason MC… I’m a coward, I can’t fight anyone anymore. He’s still alive and going. He has already won. There was no hope for me. For us There still isn’t. Putting you and the others in danger because of me again was not an option.”

“For what it matters, there is hope for you.”  

She opened her bag and slammed the papers on the coffee table. He looked at them confused. He slowly picked them up as if he was afraid they were going to bite him and started reading a bit. He turned his gaze to her as the shock of realization hit him.

“You think we forgot about you all this time? Aleister and Grace hasn’t stopped looking for proof since Aleister took charge of Rourke International. Zahra has been trying to hack military systems for months to find evidence. All the guys are rooting for you, waiting to have you back, love and care about you! They will actually come here in a couple of days, I just came here earlier because I needed to talk and make some things clear with you. Now there’s only one thing; are you willing to fight this now with us by your side?”

He buried his face in his hands to keep himself from crying. How could he be so stupid? How could he ever think these guys would leave him alone in a fight or that they wouldn’t be much of a help anyway? He knew these kids. He should have realized after all the things they had survived together that they would all stick with each other. He let out a long exhale and looked out the window. Night had fallen, the moon shining in the sky. She noticed too. For him, everything was too overwhelming that moment and she thought she had to give him some space. She stood up.

“I should go, I… I think you have to think about a lot of-”

“Stay.”

She stared at him in confusion. He looked back at her, his blue eyes gazing into her own.

“It is late. It is dangerous to walk out there now, you… you don’t have to leave. You can sleep in my bed, I’m sleeping in the couch the past few weeks anyway.”

She was surprised by her own answer.

“Okay… I will.”

They didn’t talk much after that. He asked her a couple of times if she was hungry or if she needed anything but she declined. She was confused, he tried so hard to push her away, yet he told her to spend the night. She changed into something comfortable and lied on his bed. She lied there with her eyes closed, trying to process what had happened. Even if he didn’t sleep in the bed, his smell still lingered. Oh, how much she missed that smell.

He lied in a hammock in his porch, staring at the starry night, the waves hitting the seashore, tears falling down his face. She just suddenly came into his life again, even if he did everything to push her away, even if he tried not to be a part of her own. How much of an asshole could he actually be to underestimate her feelings for him? His feelings for her? And now there was actually a chance for him. To be a free man. To be part of his loved ones’ lives. To see his family again. All of these because of the gang of little rascals. Because of her. He went inside glanced at his bedroom to see if she was asleep. She seemed so. He took his guitar from the living room, went outside and sat on the sand. He hadn’t touched his guitar in months. It reminded him how much she loved it when he sang to her. A song came to his mind and he started playing.

//People like you make people like me so fucking nervous,

But I’m calm on the surface.

What’s wrong with the world and how’d we get so cold,

Oh we don’t deserve this, we need something to worship.//

He remembered all the times they had spent on the island. All the flirting, the teasing, her tousled from the wind hair and her big smile when they went rock climbing, how she held onto him for dear life when they first kissed underwater and thought they were gonna die, her beautiful face when he first made love to her. The laughing, the jokes, the bonding with everyone else in their group.

//If our time came back around tell me, would you hear me out?

If we knew what we know now?

Like the waves roll with the moon, did we rise and fall too soon?

It’s been so long I can’t remember.

If I could walk between the stars or be given one more chance,

I know which I’d surrender just to build a bridge back to your heart.//

He knew he had no right to ask for her forgiveness. He certainly didn’t deserve her unconditional love. She was too kind, too perfect for him, still he managed to fuck up, to damage something so pure, to mess with her feelings. Even if she would ever forgive him, he would never forgive himself for giving up on her.

//Oh, drifted apart, how did we get so far?

Forgot where we came from.

You know I never meant to let you down.

Sometimes, these moments, they come and they go, the only thing that you can do

Is hope that they come back around//

She was thinking about all the time she was away from him. How much she missed him. How much she longed for his eyes, his touch, his smile. Lying there, in his bed, she felt a kind of comfort she missed all this time. His smile seemed to have been wiped off of his face. He suffered all this time as well and she knew it. She wished he was lying there beside her, wished she could kiss him so hard that all of his broken pieces would come back together. While thinking all of these, she heard guitar playing from the beach. She knew it was him. She got out of bed and went outside.

//If our time came back around I would never let you down.

‘Til my lungs can scream it out.

Like the waves roll with the moon, did we rise and fall too soon?

It’s been so long I can’t remember.

If I could walk between the stars or be given one more chance,

I know which I’d surrender just to build a bridge back to your heart.//

She listened to him from the moment he started playing. He was sitting in the sand, eyes closed, with a pained expression on his face as he poured his heart out to the song. The moonlight fell onto him, making him even more beautiful, if that was even possible. She quietly sobbed while hearing him sing, understanding his pain and wanting to hold onto him and never let him go again. She missed his voice.

//Don’t fade on me.

I’m holding on to these memories.

Wait for me

As I lay my heart out across the sea.//

He knew she was there, listening to him sing for her. Maybe that was what he wanted. He was never good with words, could never bring his mind to say the right thing. But in that moment, that song and her presence made him feel hope. Hope that he could fix it. Fix everything.

//Like the waves roll with the moon, did we rise and fall too soon?

It’s been so long I can’t remember.

If I could walk between the stars or be given one more chance,

I know which I’d surrender just to build a bridge back to your heart.

People like you make people like me so fucking nervous.

But I’m calm on the surface.//

She walked shakily, with tears in her eyes, to his direction as he finished the song and laid his guitar on the sand. She kneeled behind him and slowly wrapped her arms around him, pressing a soft kiss on the side of his neck, making him shiver slightly. He missed that feeling for so long. Tears run down his face and fell on the sand.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry I left you alone… I’m so sorry…”

He turned to her and wrapped his arms around her. She sat on his lap, hugging him tightly. They just sobbed in each others’ company for a while, taking out all their sadness caused by the time they were apart. He wiped away some tears off her cheeks.

“I love you so much, MC. I’m sorry, I’m sorry I pushed you away and left you alone. I’m sorry you had to go through all of this. I never meant to cause you trouble, I only ever wanted the best for you but ended up destroying what we had. The thoughts of all the awful things I’ve done are killing me. The past year was a living hell for me as well. There wasn’t a single day I wouldn’t think of you or of what I did, what I had to do.”

She knew he was reffering to Mike. She knew Jake carried so much guilt and sorrow inside him. He cupped her face with both his hands, gazing into her watery eyes, their noses almost touching, a vulnerable expression on his face.

“I know you carry a heavy burden but I’m here for you and I want to help you with it. I love you so much Jake. More than you think I do. Life without you is a miserable life.”

She closed the gap between them, bringing their lips together for the first time in so long, tears still running down their faces. The kiss was soft and tender, their lips moving in perfect tandem. Her lips were velvety against his own. She parted them slightly, allowing his tongue to slip inside her mouth. She could feel the soft tickle of his breath beneath her nose, her fingers entwined with his sandy hair as they breathed each other in.

After a long moment, they broke the kiss and stared at each other in the moonlight.

“I missed you Princess.”

“I missed you too Top Gun.”

She laid her head on his shoulder and looked at the stars she had wished so many times to bring him back to her. She forgave him the moment she saw him again. She knew how much he still loved her. How hurt he was. How much he loathed himself. Loving someone who hates himself is a special kind of violence but she would make it better for him. She had to.

After a while in each others arms, she started shivering slightly because of the cold breeze.

“Should we go inside princess?”, he whispered into her ear, then kissed the spot behind it.

They went inside. Neither of them slept much that night.

Bonus: A thin beam of sunlight fell on her face from the half-closed window as she was slowly waking up. Her back touched his naked chest, his arms around her waist, holding her close to him. She felt small kisses on the side of her neck and couldn’t help but smile to herself. She turned around, with her eyes still closed, and wrapped her arms around his chest, placing a kiss on the crook of his neck.

“Good morning to you too, Jake”

He chuckled slightly, taking in her sleepy figure and then speaking in a quiet, husky voice.

“You’re up early, why?”

“Could ask you the same thing.”

“I… I just couldn’t sleep more and…”

He blushed a little and she looked at him with a playful smile on her face.

“How long have you been staring at me?”

“I don’t know.”

She giggled and kissed him softly.

“It has been a long time since I woke up this happy… Or actually got a peaceful sleep… so thank you for coming here even if I don’t deserve it.”

“I should have come here sooner. I should have tried to reach you, I knew-” “Hey, none of that now, you’re not to blame, I’m just… grateful and happy that you’re here. ”

He smiled warmly at her. He already felt better than yesterday, better than he had been the last year. They lied on the bed for a while, cuddling, nuzzling, kissing. Then a dark thought crossed his mind.

“Do you think I can actually pull this through? Win? And then… I have to tell people what I’ve done… I don’t know if I can make it. I’m afraid MC.” , he said, holding back a sob.

“Jake… do you remember what I had told you in our tend, the night before we would break into the MASADA?”

“There is nothing in this world or the next we can’t face together.”

“And I meant it. I’m here for you Jake and you will pull this throught, we will. You know I love you right?”

“ I do. I love you too.”

“Then everything will turn out okay. You will come back home with us.”

“You’re right, you’re always right.”, he nodded and smiled, “By the way, when will our friends come here?”

“Tomorrow.”

“So what do you want to do today? We could go out, I can show you around if you-”

“We have time for those.”

She climbed on top of him, straddling him, and leaned down, close to his face.

“Can I just stay inside with you all day?”

She placed a sensuous kiss on his lips, then started kissing his neck softly.

“I can’t say no to that princess, can I?”

[buckysbeauty-capsbooty]

2X05 of Frontier was great but 2X06 could to be FORMIDABLE. but answer to this. I´ve seen so many post about it, that what I thought was bizarre is now number one on my list of curiosities. Declan Harp is really in love with Grace Emberly?

Ooh, I don’t know if I am the authority on this. I could be completely wrong, but I have a pretty decided opinion regarding this. If this is a day late, just know I put a lot of thought into this because I never want to give anyone a half-assed answer if they take the courage to ask my opinion. This might be long but I answered your question to the best of my ability and I hope it is to your satisfaction. Much love.Grace Emberly is in love with Declan. This is obvious, this we all know. It shows through her devotion, loyalty and the lengths she is willing to go through to defend, protect and aid him. She would do anything for him. From the earliest episodes, her attachment to him is clear. He has an affect on her that softens her despite her attempts to hide it.

“I respect a man whose actions are decisive.” (01x02, Little Brother War)This she once said to Chesterfield. We can all agree that this is a trait that Declan has in spades.Declan, on the other hand, is not in love with her. Not quite. Not yet.

However, I think it’s very complex. His relationship with Grace stands out from his relationship with everyone else. It is not the kindred spirit he finds in Michael nor the familial, brother-like love he feels for Sokanon.

He places his trust in her like no one else. He entrusts matters of business and vengeance to Sokanon or Michael. In matters of the heart, he turns to her. When he’s weak, he can lean on her. He is completely himself with no fronts, no brave faces. He is who he is and feels what he feels because Grace is not his family or his subordinate.

She is his friend.

Where everyone else views him as either family, compatriot, leader, rogue or savage, Grace looks at him as a man; a man who is strong and brilliant and broken.

I would not dare say that Declan is unaware of this. He is an intelligent man. His survival living as a fugitive on the edge of the law depends on his wits and vigilance. Harp is also extraordinarily good at reading people.

For example: When Michael Smyth comes face to face with Declan Harp, he immediately knows he is lying (despite Michael’s believable fibs).

It is my opinion that he is very aware of Grace’s feelings towards him but he can’t return them. Not while he is still obsessed with vengeance for the murder of his wife and children. It is clear that he loved his wife with all his heart. Although, he has accepted that she is gone and never coming back, his heart is still gripped by rage and anguish. To him, vengeance is all that has kept him alive, his sole purpose of existing without his family. A man blinded by vengeance sees little else but retribution. The wound is still too fresh for him.

That being said, Declan changes when he’s with Grace. His voice softens, he is quiet and thoughtful. He watches her closely, gauging her reactions. In a way, he knows Grace’s feelings for him offer an advantage. She will never refuse his help, never betray him. He can rely on her to help him reach his goals. She is useful to him. Where we see Grace’s selflessness and sacrifice again and again, Declan rather blindly trudges this way and that, unaware of the pain he might inflict.

That isn’t to say that I think he completely disregards her feelings with a cold indifference but he does carefully avoid them.

So, he speaks softly to her, careful not to cause her any pain. Similar to the whole “friend-zone” spiel where one wishes to keep the friendship in tact despite a rejection. Although here, it is on a much greater scale and it is never spoken aloud.He places his trust in her, cares for her and loves her to a degree of carefully monitored platonic relations. I feel like he wants to say he loves her like a sister, the same way he loves Sokanon, but I think even he would feel that was oversimplifying.

He knows he cannot return her affections although, I think a part of him really wants to.

From the first season up and until now, despite having limited screen time together, there has been a shift. I would argue that recent events have gotten the ball rolling and there could be a future where their relationship becomes a greater and ever-changing focus in the show.

It should be obvious, but I would say that the moment to really look out for the first step in this aforementioned change is in 01x06 (The Gallows) where Declan, after having been rescued from Benton by Micael and Sokanon, finds his way back to Grace.

This alone is probably the most important point I could make in this argument.

Declan finds his way back to the Ale, back to Grace. Despite all the danger, despite the trauma, despite being half dead, he needs to talk to Grace. Needs to see her. Needs her help, needs to pour out all the heartache in his tortured soul because he knows that Grace with accept it. There is no obligation to be strong, no need to put on a tough front. She sees through him and all his gruffness (because God knows, she is just the same).

It’s a cry for help, he goes to her because he needs comfort. He needs to feel comfort and warmth and a type of unconditional love waiting for him in her arms. He needs her love and tenderness. He wants it.

I think the people that we turn to first in our greatest time of need is telling. Of anyone he could have talked to, he risked his life to go see Grace because he chose her.

And as she tends to his wounds and he is overcome with emotion for all that he has lost, there is a moment while he holds him and comforts him, a certain look passes in his life. As I interpret it, it’s the moment he realizes “Yes, I could love her”.

In a moment where we as an audience are closest to seeing what lies in Grace Emberly’s heart, is the moment she begs Declan to stay. Grace knows that if he leaves, it is almost certain that he will die. She can’t bare to lose him.

“You promised me you’d change your plan. I’ve waited so long for you. You cannot leave me now. Not like this.”He looks at her calmly, resolutely but his eyes apologize for so much more than his actions and all he is about to do.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs sadly, “I have to do this.” With that, he leaves. His heart is steadied and his focus on retribution is restored. Crestfallen, Grace watches him go. Looking after the man she loves while purposefully strides towards what seems to be his impending doom.

“In another life, I could love her”–it is my firmest belief that this is the unspoken truth that lies Declan Harp’s heart and mind.

I think that Harp has accepted that one way or another, he will die on his quest for vengeance. Whether he is victorious, whether he fails or dies trying, he doesn’t believe that there is anything more for him in this life. With his family gone and purpose fulfilled, he might be content to die.

Like most men, Declan can be a stubborn fool.

However, I don’t think hope is completely lost. He clearly cares for Grace, loves Grace in a tragic and faltering sort of way. Much like Edmond Dantes in the classic novel The Count of Monte Cristo, he is too blinded by vengeance to see that there is hope for a new life with the woman who loves him dearly. He doesn’t always realize that he is acting selfishly, doesn’t always care.

However, when Declan learns that Grace married Chesterfield for him, he kind of loses his shit just a little bit. His reaction is immediate. He is angry–at her or himself, is the real question. He knows Grace. He knows that there is nothing more that she values more than her independence. That is, except for him. If her love for him wasn’t apparent enough before, it is now.He can’t truly ask her why she did it. He knows the reason. And what can he do? He knows he can’t return her affections and he knows she is suffering for it. The knowledge alone, gnaws at him.

In summary, I believe that Jason Momoa said it best: “He’s basically a deadman–he doesn’t care about himself at all.”Although he is still very much consumed by vengeance, his character is evolving episode by episode. With only 11 (soon to be 12) episodes so far, we have learned a lot about Declan. At the very beginning of season 2, when Declan is saved by an Inuit man and his child, we see a change however small.

A longing for peace that is unspoken. A reprieve from bloodshed and anger. The man also tells his young daughter a cautionary tale of vengeance and it’s destruction. The only way to free one’s self from the death grip of grudges and vendettas is to let go and forgive. If left burning, like a wildfire, it will consume all in its path and leave nothing but destruction in its wake.If he ever manages to let go, I think he will very easily find that Grace can offer him the peace his tortured soul desires.I wouldn’t get my hopes up to high just yet. 

Although I have a feeling we’ll see something groundbreaking in regards to Declan and Grace next week in the season finale so fingers crossed! 

After all, if he gave up so quick, where would the fun in that be? Let’s just pray that he can somehow manage to achieve retribution through vengeance without completely destroying himself or paying the ultimate price.

So, is Declan Harp in love with Grace Emberly?Presently, Declan is still too consumed by bloodlust and rage to ever fully commit to loving Grace, let alone to ever find peace. If he ever managed to let the past go, there might be a chance for him. It’s a tragic story, but not one without hope.Thank you for the ask, anon.

[wo-the-wolf]

A Bluff, A Lie, What's the Difference? Part II (FINALE)

Inspired by user The-Grape-Gatsby. The prompt was, human bluffing. What if humans were the only ones with a strong poker face? The short story follows three detectives aboard the Citadel (No not mass effect). Enjoy!

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 They moved as veterans on a battlefield that had long since gone cold. Quinn took point as Vec hunched low to follow close behind. They crossed the near dead silent road, avoiding the eyes of local gang members a few buildings down. Upon reaching the apartment, they made their first move. 

“I got the lock,” Vec whispered as he knelt by the door. 

“Make it quick,” Quinn grunted as she aimed her blaster up high, watching the windows like a hawk, swearing even the small ripple from the drapes made her nearly squeeze the trigger on instinct. 

Vec jammed one of his real claws into the holo-lock, and began tinkering with the mechanism. “Almost….. Got it…. Aaaand…..” A small click echoed near them, “We’re in.” Vec was proud of his work. 

“You’re mechanical arm is quicker.” Quinn smiled softly, muttering this to him as she moved past to enter. 

“Thought human ladies liked the longer experiences,” he obviously teased. 

“Don’t think I qualify as a ‘lady’ Mecha-Croc.” Quinn whispered as they made their way onto the stairs. 

 "Don’t know about that,“ Vec’s voice trailed off as his eyes wandered. 

"Eyes on the stairs, not my ass.” Quinn gestured up top. “Or you’ll be in two pieces again." 

Vec followed were she pointed as saw it, a crude but effective trap. A trip wire that blended in the dark despite the night vision from his cybernetic eye. "Oh,” he cleared his throat, looking to follow the wire as it lead to a primitive human weapon tied to the ceiling, a machete as they called it. 

 "Let’s move, third floor isn’t far,“ she exhumed confidence from her authoritative words, though within there was another war brewing. The anxiety was deathly, as every job took its toll. Working the beat as a detective on the Citadel led to some interesting encounters, as well as some less than desirable experiences. Serial killers, homicides, twisted and demented things some people could make of the underworld. Where no normal citizen would ever have to worry about seeing such things, they weighed heavy on Quinn’s mind. Though still, she would never let it show.  They ascended higher and higher until they they reached a battered door labeled as the number they had seen earlier on the report to label as a potential hideout. “On me,” Quinn ordered as she gestured to herself. She held up three fingers … Then two… Then one, then nodded. They burst through the door and gazed at the hideout of their fugitives. Decorated in a series of graffiti of anarchy like symbols and a gangly mass of wires and technology littering the area. Two plain beds, a barely used kitchen, and a living room tricked out to looked like some sort of planning area. Yet only a single humanoid hooded figure stood staring out of the window. “Hands in the air!” Quinn ordered, blaster raised and primed to kill if needed. She fired a warning shot near the culprit, but he barely moved.

“Listen to her pal, you don’t want this to go badly,” Vec added with similar authority.

“Detectives, I was wondering when you’d arrive.” The figure turned. That dreaded mask sent chills rippling through Quinn’s spine. A demon’s mouth smiling wide, painted to look like digital designs out of some old sci-fi movie. A visor made to look cobalt black, and the voice warped to sound like it did on all those threatening holo vids it sent. “Welcome to my home, I wish you would have called in advance, I would have tidied up.” 

“Get on your knees, Viceroy,” Quinn ordered, taking a step forward. “We will not hesitate to call in the sniper team if needed.” 

‘We have snipers?’ Vec thought to himself. Confusion washed over him for but a moment, but he ensured he kept his eyes firmly placed on the target. 

“Snipers?” The masked man perked up, taking a slightly defensive stance. He sounded unnerved.

“We know about your mole, they’ve been dealt with accordingly,” she primed the blaster. “Now don’t try me.” She threatened, though her expression was calm and collected. 

Viceroy looked up in what could be called shock, if anyone could see him. “Really? My mole failed?” He sighed, “Ah well, can’t find good help anywhere. Guess that’s strike one.” He shrugged. 

“Enough with the games, you have till the count of five to get on the floor before we call in the kill shot.” Quinn stated coldly.

“You’re bluffing.” Viceroy folded his arms, unimpressed. 

“I love a gambling man,” she scoffed with a dismissive gaze. “One,” she started. 

“Two,” Viceroy chuckled as he added the next number, “Strike two, that is.” He leaned against the window. “I’ll give them a good shot.” His voice sounded nervous.

“Three, you’re pushing your luck, you really want to die here?” She raised her brow, barely moving as the sound of more sirens came rumbling through. ‘Rookie must’ve called in the guys… I can use this,’ she thought as she seldom took her eyes off of Viceroy. “You hear that? That’s the sound of number 4 happening. Now get on your knees.” 

“And do you hear that extra sound?” He raised his hand to where his ear would be, and turned to look out the window.

“On your knees, Viceroy, now!” She moved up and, without hesitating, sucker punched the man before putting him in a choke hold. “You’re wanted for counts of murder, assault, grand theft, Robbery, terrorist threats, Money laundering, corruption, digital crimes against the Alliance, and weapons trafficking. You have the right to remain silent, you have the right to-”

“Yes, yes, do please continue, I’m well aware of my rights. Though I prefer they be read in person.” The figure continued, sounding very much capable of speaking despite being choked. “Oh and that extra sound, Detective? Is the sound of strike three. A human can tell when we’re lying to each other.”

“What the,” Quinn raised her brow in confusion. 

Vec moved in slowly, ripped the hood and mask off. “Fuck,” He grumbled as Quinn let go. “It’s a Decoy,” he scratched at his scales and growled as the metallic face of a droid looked up at them. 

“Quite right. Banshee and I are very much gone from this place. You can add my species as definitely human now. You’ve all earned the right to narrow your suspects.” The droid gave a chuckle, at least it’s speaker did as the body moved in unison. “I’ll give you props, on your Rookie that might’ve worked, hell maybe on your precious partner… But I’ve dealt with my own kind and our tricks, Quinn,” the droid stated. It rose to its feet and looked out the window. “Which by the way … Strike three usually means you’re out. In this case, someone else loses tonight,” the droid looked back at them as an explosion suddenly rumbled outside. 

“What in the hell?!” Vec shouted as he gripped a nearby table for support. After the initial shock died down, Vec looked up, “Um … You miscalculate there buddy? Got a few bolts loose?” Vec gave a slightly raspy laugh. 

“I didn’t miss, Detective,” he stated coldly. The air grew colder around them all. Realization hit Quinn rather quickly as she rushed towards the window, then a few moments later it hit Vec like a wave. “Rookie!” He screamed. Vec followed and moved to the window with haste, panic rising over him.

Quinn remained silent, horrified but resolute as she watched burning car. “Don’t try again, Detective… I grow tired of our games, after all.” Viceroy spoke up through the droid. 

Quinn merely shot the droid, bearing no other response reasonable. “Let’s go,” she finally said after agonizing minutes of silence. They gave their report to the reinforcements, and stood in solitude as they watched the medics pull the charred remains of their Rookie from the car. 

“He’ll recover,” The Medic stated to them, “But it will take quite the amount of time.” The molluscan based life form informed them as it put away its data pad. 

“See to it he gets well, Doc,” Quinn nodded. Once she and Vec were alone, they lit cigarettes and watched the regular cops handle the scene clean up. Far enough away to where they wouldn’t be questioned any more. 

“Nice job staying cool, Quinn,” Vec nodded as he took an extra long sigh to truly try and relax. “The worst part is… He could of done it at any time… But he waited to show us… Fuck,” Vec scratched his head, showing his nervous tick. “Wish I could stay level headed all the time like you Qu-” He stopped as he looked at her. A stream of tears slowly falling down her stone cold face. “Quinn,” Vec slowly realized there was more to humans than he realized . Even she felt the pressure, but unlike his species, they hid their emotions. 

“I’m fine,” Quinn muttered as she bit down on her cigarette. “Just… Fine,” She swallowed the lump building up in her throat. 

Vec put a hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her in a way he thought would help. She accepted, as the years of stress and memories came hitting for a strike, but she did not break yet again. “I’m not done yet… We’re going to capture these bastards… And I’m going to break every bone in their body.”  ———————————————————————————————————–

HEY! YOU! YEAH! YEAH YOU! This was such a pleasure working on, and as we speak I’m already hard at work thinking through the next short story. Just a little piece of info, all my stories take place in the same universe, so expect cameos and paths crossing in the future. If you have a prompt you want me to work on, feel free to message me or tag me in it! I try to update nightly or every other night. As a Uni student it depends XD. Either way, hope you enjoyed! 

[alfonzobraman51-blog]

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[marymosley]

Casting The First Stone: How Many Ignore History To Condemn The Stone Commutation As Unprecedented

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Below is my column in the Hill newspaper on the commutation of the sentence of Roger Stone and the objections from various commentators and politicians that it was an unprecedented abuse of this constitutional power.  The political outcry was predictable but it was also accompanied by an ahistorical treatment in Congress and the press. Many leaders lined up to cast the first Stone comment on how it was an unprecedented act despite their own relative silence during past abuses of presidential clemency. Speaker Nancy Pelosi declared that the commutation was “an act of staggering corruption” for someone who “could directly implicate him in criminal misconduct.” House Intelligence Committee Chairman Adam Schiff declared that the commutation left him “nauseous.” Of course, Pelosi, Schiff, and other Democrats seemed to have greater stability and intestinal fortitude after Bill Clinton’s pardoning of his own brother (Roger Clinton), a fugitive Democratic donor (Marc Rich), or his longtime friend (Susan McDougal) who was convicted in an investigation that implicated both Bill and Hillary Clinton. Likewise, Mitt Romney seemed to echo Toobin’s view (below) in declaring this an “unprecedented, historic corruption” when “an American president commutes the sentence of a person convicted by a jury of lying to shield that very president.” However, Romney long heralded his respect and support of President George H.W. Bush despite Bush’s executive clemency actions for six former senior government officials implicated in the Iran-Contra scandal, including former Secretary of Defense Caspar Weinberger. Bush himself was implicated in that scandal and some alleged was protected by their silence. Nevertheless, this Society of Historical Revisionism appears to be expanding with members expressing utter shock at the notion of a president abusing the pardon power.  There were no calls for investigations or new legislation from these politicians at the time.  So, to paraphrase John 8:7, let he or she “without sin among you,”  cast the first Stone criticism.

Here is the column:

Washington was sent into vapors of shock and disgust with news of the commutation of Roger Stone. Legal analyst Jeffrey Toobin declared it to be “the most corrupt and cronyistic act in all of recent history.” Despite my disagreement with the commutation, that claim is almost quaint. The sordid history of pardons makes it look positively chaste in comparison. Many presidents have found the power of pardons to be an irresistible temptation when it involves family, friends, and political allies.

I have maintained that Stone deserved another trial but not a pardon. As Attorney General William Barr has said, this was a “righteous prosecution” and Stone was correctly convicted and correctly sentenced to 40 months in prison. President Trump did not give his confidant a pardon but rather a commutation, so Stone is still a convicted felon. However, Trump should have left this decision to his attorney general. In addition to Stone being a friend and political ally, Trump was implicated in those allegations against Stone. While there was never any evidence linking Trump to the leaking of hacked emails, he has an obvious conflict of interest in the case.

The White House issued a statement that Stone is “a victim of the Russia hoax.” The fact is that Stone is a victim of himself. Years of what he called his “performance art” finally caught up with him when he realized federal prosecutors who were not amused by his antics. Stone defines himself as an “agent provocateur.” He crossed the line when he called witnesses to influence their testimony and gave false answers to investigators.

But criticism of this commutation immediately seemed to be decoupled from any foundation in history or in the Constitution. Indeed, Toobin also declared, “This is simply not done by American presidents. They do not pardon or commute sentences of people who are close to them or about to go to prison. It just does not happen until this president.” In reality, the commutation of Stone barely stands out in the old gallery of White House pardons, which are the most consistently and openly abused power in the Constitution. This authority under Article Two is stated in absolute terms, and some presidents have wielded it with absolute abandon.

Thomas Jefferson pardoned Erick Bollman for violations of the Alien and Sedition Act in the hope that he would testify against rival Aaron Burr for treason. After the intervention of powerful friends, Andrew Jackson stopped the execution of George Wilson in favor of a prison sentence despite Wilson’s guilt in a serious violent crimes (for which his co-defendant was executed). Wilson surprised everyone by opting to be hanged anyway. However, Wilson could not hold a candle to Ignazio Lupo, one of the most lethal mob hitmen who was needed back in New York during a mafia war. Warren Harding, who along with his attorney general, Harry Daugherty, was repeatedly accused of selling pardons. With the bootlegging business hanging in the balance, they decided to pardon “Lupo the Wolf” on the condition that he be a “law abiding” free citizen.

Franklin Roosevelt also pardoned political allies, including Conrad Mann, who was a close associate of Kansas City political boss Tom Pendergast. Pendergast made a fortune off illegal alcohol, gambling, and graft, and helped send Harry Truman into office. Truman also misused this power, including pardoning the extremely corrupt George Caldwell, who was a state official who skimmed massive amounts of money off government projects (including the building fund for Louisiana State University).

Richard Nixon was both giver and receiver of controversial pardons. He pardoned Jimmy Hoffa after the Teamsters Union leader had pledged to support his reelection bid. Nixon himself was later pardoned by Gerald Ford, an act many of us view as a mistake. To his credit, Ronald Reagan declined to pardon the Iran Contra affair figures, but his vice president, George Bush, did so after becoming president. Despite his own alleged involvement in that scandal, Bush still pardoned those other Iran Contra figures, such as Defense Secretary Caspar Weinberger.

Bill Clinton committed some of the worst abuses of this power, including pardons for his brother Roger Clinton and his friend and business partner Susan McDougal. He also pardoned the fugitive financier Marc Rich, who evaded justice by fleeing abroad. Entirely unrepentant, Rich was a major Democratic donor, and Clinton had wiped away his convictions for fraud, tax evasion, racketeering, and illegal dealings with Iran.

Unlike many of these cases, there were legitimate questions raised about the Stone case. The biggest issue was that the foreperson of the trial jury proved to be a Democratic activist and an outspoken critic of Trump and his associates. It was later discovered that she even wrote publicly about the Stone case. Despite multiple opportunities to do so, she never disclosed her prior statements and actions that would have shown disqualifying bias. Judge Amy Berman Jackson shrugged off all that, however, and refused to grant Stone a new trial, denying him the most basic protection in our system.

Moreover, I think both the court and the Justice Department were wrong to push for Stone going to prison at this time, because he meets all of the criteria for an inmate at high risk for exposure to the coronavirus. None of that, however, justifies Trump becoming involved in a commutation, when many of the issues could have been addressed in a legal appeal.

There is lots to criticize in this move without pretending it was a pristine power besmirched by a rogue president. Indeed, Trump should have left the decision to a successor or, at a minimum, to the attorney general. But compared to the other presidents, this commutation is not even a distant contender for “the most corrupt and cronyistic act” of clemency.

Jonathan Turley is the Shapiro Professor of Public Interest Law at George Washington University. You can find his updates online @JonathanTurley.

Casting The First Stone: How Many Ignore History To Condemn The Stone Commutation As Unprecedented published first on https://immigrationlawyerto.tumblr.com/

[ralphmorgan-blog1]

The Young and the Reckless

I. The Bumper

The trip to Delaware was only supposed to last a day. David Pokora, a bespectacled University of Toronto senior with scraggly blond hair down to his shoulders, needed to travel south to fetch a bumper that he’d bought for his souped-up Volks­wagen Golf R.

The American seller had balked at shipping to Canada, so Pokora arranged to have the part sent to a buddy, Justin May, who lived in Wilmington. The young men, both ardent gamers, shared a fascination with the inner workings of the Xbox; though they’d been chatting and collaborating for years, they’d never met in person. Pokora planned to make the eight-hour drive on a Friday, grab a leisurely dinner with May, then haul the metallic-blue bumper back home to Mississauga, Ontario, that night or early the next morning. His father offered to tag along so they could take turns behind the wheel of the family’s Jetta.

An hour into their journey on March 28, 2014, the Pokoras crossed the Lewiston–Queenston Bridge and hit the border checkpoint on the eastern side of the Niagara Gorge. An American customs agent gently quizzed them about their itinerary as he scanned their passports in his booth. He seemed ready to wave the Jetta through when something on his monitor caught his eye.

“What’s … Xenon?” the agent asked, stumbling over the pronunciation of the word.

David, who was in the passenger seat, was startled by the question. Xenon was one of his online aliases, a pseudonym he often used—along with Xenomega and DeToX—when playing Halo or discussing his Xbox hacking projects with fellow programmers. Why would that nickname, familiar to only a handful of gaming fanatics, pop up when his passport was checked?

Pokora’s puzzlement lasted a few moments before he remembered that he’d named his one-man corporation Xenon Development Studios; the business processed payments for the Xbox service he operated that gave monthly subscribers the ability to unlock achievements or skip levels in more than 100 different games. He mentioned the company to the customs agent, making sure to emphasize that it was legally registered. The agent instructed the Pokoras to sit tight for just a minute longer.

May 2018. Subscribe to WIRED.

Zohar Lazar

As he and his father waited for permission to enter western New York, David detected a flutter of motion behind the idling Jetta. He glanced back and saw two men in dark uniforms approaching the car, one on either side. “Something’s wrong,” his father said, an instant before a figure appeared outside the passenger-­side window. As a voice barked at him to step out of the vehicle, Pokora realized he’d walked into a trap.

In the detention area of the adjoining US Customs and Border Protection building, an antiseptic room with a lone metal bench, Pokora pondered all the foolish risks he’d taken while in thrall to his Xbox obsession. When he’d started picking apart the console’s software a decade earlier, it had seemed like harmless fun—a way for him and his friends to match wits with the corporate engineers whose ranks they yearned to join. But the Xbox hacking scene had turned sordid over time, its ethical norms corroded by the allure of money, thrills, and status. And Pokora had gradually become enmeshed in a series of schemes that would have alarmed his younger self: infiltrating game developers’ networks, counterfeiting an Xbox prototype, even abetting a burglary on Microsoft’s main campus.

Pokora had long been aware that his misdeeds had angered some powerful interests, and not just within the gaming industry; in the course of seeking out all things Xbox, he and his associates had wormed into American military networks too. But in those early hours after his arrest, Pokora had no clue just how much legal wrath he’d brought upon his head: For eight months he’d been under sealed indictment for conspiring to steal as much as $1 billion worth of intellectual property, and federal prosecutors were intent on making him the first foreign hacker to be convicted for the theft of American trade secrets. Several of his friends and colleagues would end up being pulled into the vortex of trouble he’d helped create; one would become an informant, one would become a fugitive, and one would end up dead.

Pokora could see his father sitting in a room outside the holding cell, on the other side of a thick glass partition. He watched as a federal agent leaned down to inform the elder Pokora, a Polish-born construction worker, that his only son wouldn’t be returning to Canada for a very long time; his father responded by burying his head in his calloused hands.

Gutted to have caused the usually stoic man such anguish, David wished he could offer some words of comfort. “It’s going to be OK, dad,” he said in a soft voice, gesturing to get his attention. “It’s going to be OK.” But his father couldn’t hear him through the glass.

II. Kindergarten Security Mistakes

Well before he could read or write, David Pokora mastered the intricacies of first-person shooters. There is a grainy video of him playing Blake Stone: Aliens of Gold in 1995, his 3-year-old fingers nimbly dancing around the keyboard of his parents’ off-brand PC. What captivated him about the game was not its violence but rather the seeming magic of its controls; he wondered how a boxy beige machine could convert his physical actions into onscreen motion. The kid was a born programmer.

Pokora dabbled in coding throughout elementary school, building tools like basic web browsers. But he became wholly enamored with the craft as a preteen on a family trip to Poland. He had lugged his bulky laptop to the sleepy town where his parents’ relatives lived. There was little else to do, so as chickens roamed the yards he passed the time by teaching himself the Visual Basic .NET programming language. The house where he stayed had no internet access, so Pokora couldn’t Google for help when his programs spit out errors. But he kept chipping away at his code until it was immaculate, a labor-intensive process that filled him with unexpected joy. By the time he got back home, he was hooked on the psychological rewards of bending machines to his will.

As Pokora began to immerse himself in programming, his family bought its first Xbox. With its ability to connect to multiplayer sessions on the Xbox Live service and its familiar ­Windows-derived architecture, the machine made Pokora’s Super Nintendo seem like a relic. Whenever he wasn’t splattering aliens in Halo, Pokora scoured the internet for technical information about his new favorite plaything. His wanderings brought him into contact with a community of hackers who were redefining what the Xbox could do.

To divine its secrets, these hackers had cracked open the console’s case and eavesdropped on the data that zipped between the motherboard’s various components—the CPU, the RAM, the Flash chip. This led to the discovery of what the cryptography expert Bruce Schneier termed “lots of kindergarten security mistakes.” For example, Microsoft had left the decryption key for the machine’s boot code lying around in an accessible area of the machine’s memory. When an MIT graduate student named Bunnie Huang located that key in 2002, he gave his hacker compatriots the power to trick the Xbox into booting up homebrew programs that could stream music, run Linux, or emulate Segas and Nintendos. All they had to do first was tweak their consoles’ firmware, either by soldering a so-called modchip onto the motherboard or loading a hacked game-save file from a USB drive.

Once Pokora hacked his family’s Xbox, he got heavy into tinkering with his cherished Halo. He haunted IRC channels and web forums where the best Halo programmers hung out, poring over tutorials on how to alter the physics of the game. He was soon making a name for himself by writing Halo 2 utilities that allowed players to fill any of the game’s landscapes with digitized water or change blue skies into rain.

The hacking free-for-all ended with the release of the second-generation Xbox, the Xbox 360, in November 2005. The 360 had none of the glaring security flaws of its predecessor, to the chagrin of programmers like the 13-year-old Pokora who could no longer run code that hadn’t been approved by Microsoft. There was one potential workaround for frustrated hackers, but it required a rare piece of hardware: an Xbox 360 development kit.

Dev kits are the machines that Microsoft-approved developers use to write Xbox content. To the untrained eye they look like ordinary consoles, but the units contain most of the software integral to the game development process, including tools for line-by-line debugging. A hacker with a dev kit can manipulate Xbox software just like an authorized programmer.

Microsoft sends dev kits only to rigorously screened game-development companies. In the mid-2000s a few kits would occasionally become available when a bankrupt developer dumped its assets in haste, but for the most part the hardware was seldom spotted in the wild. There was one hacker, however, who lucked into a mother lode of 360 dev kits and whose eagerness to profit off his good fortune would help Pokora ascend to the top of the Xbox scene.

Meet the cast of characters behind the Xbox Underground.

Gifted Canadian hacker and the brains of the Xbox Underground.

Programmer who made millions by tricking FIFA Soccer into minting virtual coins.

Australian teenage hacker who turned reckless as the FBI closed in.

Pokora's friend in Delaware, arrested in 2010 for trying to steal a game's source code.

Abruptly vanished from the Xbox hacking scene, causing widespread paranoia.

Owner of a hacked modem that he used to help the Xbox Underground steal software.

III. The Only Education That Mattered

In 2006, while working as a Wells Fargo technology manager in Walnut Creek, California, 38-year-old Rowdy Van Cleave learned that a nearby recycling facility was selling Xbox DVD drives cheap. When he went to inspect the merchandise, the facility’s owners mentioned they received regular deliveries of surplus Microsoft hardware. Van Cleave, who’d been part of a revered Xbox-hacking crew called Team Avalaunch, volunteered to poke around the recyclers’ warehouse and point out any Xbox junk that might have resale value.

After sifting through mountains of Xbox flotsam and jetsam, Van Cleave talked the recyclers into letting him take home five motherboards. When he jacked one of them into his Xbox 360 and booted it up, the screen gave him the option to activate debugging mode. “Holy shit,” Van Cleave thought, “this is a frickin’ dev motherboard!”

Aware that he had stumbled on the Xbox scene’s equivalent of King Tut’s tomb, Van Cleave cut a deal with the recyclers that let him buy whatever discarded Xbox hardware came their way. Some of these treasures he kept for his own sizable collection or handed out to friends; he once gave another Team Avalaunch member a dev kit as a wedding present. But Van Cleave was always on the lookout for paying customers he could trust to be discreet.

The 16-year-old Pokora became one of those customers in 2008, shortly after meeting Van Cleave through an online friend and impressing him with his technical prowess. In addition to buying kits for himself, Pokora acted as a salesman for Van Cleave, peddling hardware at significant markup to other Halo hackers; he charged around $1,000 per kit, though desperate souls sometimes ponied up as much as $3,000. (Van Cleave denies that Pokora sold kits on his behalf.) He befriended several of his customers, including a guy named Justin May who lived in Wilmington, Delaware.

Now flush with dev kits, Pokora was able to start modifying the recently released Halo 3. He kept vampire hours as he hacked, coding in a trancelike state that he termed “hyperfocus” until he dropped from exhaustion at around 3 or 4 am. He was often late for school, but he shrugged off his slumping grades; he considered programming on his dev kit to be the only education that mattered.

Pokora posted snippets of his Halo 3 work on forums like Halomods.com, which is how he came to the attention of a hacker in Whittier, California, named Anthony Clark. The 18-year-old Clark had experience disassembling Xbox games—reverse-engineering their code from machine language into a programming language. He reached out to Pokora and proposed that they join forces on some projects.

Clark and Pokora grew close, talking nearly every day about programming as well as music, cars, and other adolescent fixations. Pokora sold Clark a dev kit so they could hack Halo 3 in tandem; Clark, in turn, gave Pokora tips on the art of the disassembly. They ­cowrote a Halo 3 tool that let them endow the protagonist, Master Chief, with special skills—like the ability to jump into the clouds or fire weird projectiles. And they logged countless hours playing their hacked creations on PartnerNet, a sandbox version of Xbox Live available only to dev kit owners.

As they released bits and pieces of their software online, Pokora and Clark began to hear from engineers at Microsoft and Bungie, the developer behind the Halo series. The professional programmers offered nothing but praise, despite knowing that Pokora and Clark were using ill-gotten dev kits. Cool, you did a good job of reverse-engineering this, they’d tell Pokora. The encouraging feedback convinced him that he was on an unorthodox path to a career in game development—perhaps the only path available to a construction worker’s son from Mississauga who was no classroom star.

But Pokora and Clark occasionally flirted with darker hijinks. By 2009 the pair was using PartnerNet not only to play their modded versions of Halo 3 but also to swipe unreleased software that was still being tested. There was one Halo 3 map that Pokora snapped a picture of and then shared too liberally with friends; the screenshot wound up getting passed around among Halo fans. When Pokora and Clark next returned to PartnerNet to play Halo 3, they encountered a message on the game’s main screen that Bungie engineers had expressly left for them: “Winners Don’t Break Into PartnerNet.”

The two hackers laughed off the warning. They considered their mischief all in good fun—they’d steal a beta here and there, but only because they loved the Xbox so much, not to enrich themselves. They saw no reason to stop playing cat and mouse with the Xbox pros, whom they hoped to call coworkers some day.

IV. I Mean, It's Just Videogames

The Xbox 360 remained largely invulnerable until late 2009, when security researchers finally identified a weakness: By affixing a modchip to an arcane set of motherboard pins used for quality-assurance testing, they managed to nullify the 360’s defenses. The hack came to be known as the JTAG, after the Joint Test Action Group, the industry body that had recommended adding the pins to all printed circuit boards in the mid-1980s.

When news of the vulnerability broke, Xbox 360 owners rushed to get their consoles JTAGed by services that materialized overnight. With 23 million subscribers now on Xbox Live, multi­player gaming had become vastly more competitive, and a throng of gamers whom Pokora dubbed “spoiled kids with their parents’ credit cards” were willing to go to extraordinary lengths to humiliate their rivals.

For Pokora and Clark, it was an opportunity to cash in. They hacked the Call of Duty series of military-themed shooters to create so-called modded lobbies—places on Xbox Live where Call of Duty players could join games governed by reality-bending rules. For fees that ranged up to $100 per half-hour, players with JTAGed consoles could participate in death matches while wielding superpowers: They could fly, walk through walls, sprint with Flash-like speed, or shoot bullets that never missed their targets.

For an extra $50 to $150, Pokora and Clark also offered “infections”—powers that players’ characters would retain when they joined nonhacked games. Pokora was initially reluctant to sell infections: He knew his turbocharged clients would slaughter their hapless opponents, a situation that struck him as contrary to the spirit of gaming. But then the money started rolling in—as much as $8,000 on busy days. There were so many customers that he and Clark had to hire employees to deal with the madness. Swept up in the excitement of becoming an entrepreneur, Pokora forgot all about his commitment to fairness. It was one more step down a ladder he barely noticed he was descending.

Microsoft tried to squelch breaches like the Call of Duty cheats by launching an automated system that could detect JTAGed consoles and ban them. But Pokora reverse-engineered the system and devised a way to beat it: He wrote a program that hijacked Xbox Live’s security queries to an area of the console where they could be filled with false data, and thus be duped into certifying a hacked console.

Pokora reveled in the perks of his success. He still lived with his parents, but he paid his tuition as he entered the University of Toronto in the fall of 2010. He and his girlfriend dined at upscale restaurants every night and stayed at $400-a-night hotels as they traveled around Canada for metal shows. But he wasn’t really in it for the money or even the adulation of his peers; what he most coveted was the sense of glee and power he derived from making $60 million games behave however he wished.

Pokora knew there was a whiff of the illegal about his Call of Duty business, which violated numerous copyrights. But he interpreted the lack of meaningful pushback from either Microsoft or Activision, Call of Duty’s developer, as a sign that the companies would tolerate his enterprise, much as Bungie had put up with his Halo 3 shenanigans. Activision did send a series of cease-and-desist letters, but the company never followed through on its threats.

“I mean, it’s just videogames,” Pokora told himself whenever another Activision letter arrived. “It’s not like we’re hacking into a server or stealing anyone’s information.” That would come soon enough.

V. Tunnels

Dylan Wheeler, a hacker in Perth, Australia, whose alias was SuperDaE, knew that something juicy had fallen into his lap. An American friend of his who went by the name Gamerfreak had slipped him a password list for the public forums operated by Epic Games, a Cary, North Carolina, game developer known for its Unreal and Gears of War series. In 2010 Wheeler started poking around the forums’ accounts to see if any of them belonged to Epic employees. He eventually identified a member of the company’s IT department whose employee email address and password appeared on Gamerfreak’s list; rummaging through the man’s personal emails, Wheeler found a password for an internal EpicGames.com account.

Once he had a toehold at Epic, Wheeler wanted a talented partner to help him sally deeper into the network. “Who is big enough to be interested in something like this?” he wondered. Xenomega—David Pokora—whom he’d long admired from afar and was eager to befriend, was the first name that popped to mind. Wheeler cold-messaged the Canadian and offered him the chance to get inside one of the world’s preeminent game developers; he didn’t mention that he was only 14, fearing that his age would be a deal breaker.

What Wheeler was proposing was substantially shadier than anything Pokora had attempted before: It was one thing to download Halo maps from the semipublic PartnerNet and quite another to break into a fortified private network where a company stores its most sensitive data. But Pokora was overwhelmed by curiosity about what software he might unearth on Epic’s servers and titillated by the prospect of reverse-engineering a trove of top-secret games. And so he rationalized what he was about to do by setting ground rules—he wouldn’t take any credit card numbers, for example, nor peek at personal information about Epic’s customers.

Pokora and Wheeler combed through Epic’s network by masquerading as the IT worker whose login credentials Wheeler had compromised. They located a plugged-in USB drive that held all of the company’s passwords, including one that gave them root access to the entire network. Then they pried into the computers of Epic bigwigs such as design director Cliff “CliffyB” Bleszinski; the pair chortled when they opened a music folder that Bleszinski had made for his Lamborghini and saw that it contained lots of Katy Perry and Miley Cyrus tunes. (Bleszinski, who left Epic in 2012, confirms the hackers’ account, adding that he’s “always been public and forthright about my taste for bubblegum pop.”)

To exfiltrate Epic’s data, Wheeler enlisted the help of Sanadodeh “Sonic” Nesheiwat, a New Jersey gamer who possessed a hacked cable modem that could obfuscate its location. In June 2011 Nesheiwat downloaded a prerelease copy of Gears of War 3 from Epic, along with hundreds of gigabytes of other software. He burned Epic’s source code onto eight Blu-ray discs that he shipped to Pokora in a package marked wedding videos. Pokora shared the game with several friends, including his dev kit customer Justin May; within days a copy showed up on the Pirate Bay, a notorious BitTorrent site.

The Gears of War 3 leak triggered a federal investigation, and Epic began working with the FBI to determine how its security had been breached. Pokora and Wheeler found out about the nascent probe while reading Epic’s emails; they freaked out when one of those emails described a meeting between the company’s brain trust and FBI agents. “I need your help—I’m going to get arrested,” a panicked Pokora wrote to May that July. “I need to encrypt some hard drives.”

But the email chatter between Epic and the FBI quickly died down, and the company made no apparent effort to block the hackers’ root access to the network—a sign that it couldn’t pinpoint their means of entry. Having survived their first brush with the law, the hackers felt emboldened—the brazen Wheeler most of all. He kept trespassing on sensitive areas of Epic’s network, making few efforts to conceal his IP address as he spied on high-level corporate meetings through webcams he’d commandeered. “He knowingly logs into Epic knowing that the feds chill there,” Nesheiwat told Pokora about their Australian partner. “They were emailing FBI people, but he still manages to not care.”

Owning Epic’s network gave the hackers entrée to a slew of other organizations. Pokora and Wheeler came across login credentials for Scaleform, a so-called middleware company that provided technology for the engine at the heart of Epic’s games. Once they’d broken into Scaleform, they discovered that the company’s network was full of credentials for Silicon Valley titans, Hollywood entertainment conglomerates, and Zombie Studios, the developer of the Spec Ops series of games. On Zombie’s network they uncovered remote-access “tunnels” to its clients, including branches of the American military. Wriggling through those poorly secured tunnels was no great challenge, though Pokora was wary of leaving behind too many digital tracks. “If they notice any of this,” he told the group, “they’re going to come looking for me.”

As the scale of their enterprise increased, the hackers discussed what they should do if the FBI came knocking. High off the feeling of omni­potence that came from burrowing into supposedly impregnable networks, Pokora proposed releasing all of Epic’s proprietary data as an act of revenge: “If we ever go disappearing, just, you know, upload it to the internet and say fuck you Epic.”

The group also cracked jokes about what they should call their prison gang. Everyone dug Wheeler’s tongue-in-cheek suggestion that they could strike fear into other inmates’ hearts by dubbing themselves the Xbox Underground.

VI. How Do We End It?

Pokora was becoming ever more infatuated with his forays into corporate networks, and his old friends from the Xbox scene feared for his future. Kevin Skitzo, a Team Avalaunch hacker, urged him to pull back from the abyss. “Dude, just stop this shit,” he implored Pokora. “Focus on school, because this shit? I mean, I get it—it’s a high. But as technology progresses and law enforcement gets more aware, you can only dodge that bullet for so long.”

But Pokora was too caught up in the thrill of stockpiling forbidden software to heed this advice. In September 2011 he stole a prerelease copy of Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3. “Let’s get arrested,” he quipped to his friends as he started the download.

Though he was turning cocky as he swung from network to network without consequence, Pokora still took pride in how little he cared about money. After seizing a database that contained “a fuckton of PayPals,” Pokora sang his own praises to his associates for resisting the temptation to profit off the accounts. “We could already have sold them for Bitcoins which would have been untraceable if we did it right. It could have already been easily an easy fifty grand.”

But with each passing week, Pokora became a little bit more mercenary. In November 2011, for example, he asked his friend May to broker a deal with a gamer who went by Xboxdevguy, who’d expressed an interest in buying prerelease games. Pokora was willing to deliver any titles Xboxdevguy desired for a few hundred dollars each.

Pokora’s close relationship with May made his hacker cohorts uneasy. They knew that May had been arrested at a Boston gaming convention in March 2010 for trying to download the source code for the first-person shooter Breach. A spokesperson for the game’s developer told the tech blog Engadget that, upon being caught after a brief foot chase, May had said he “could give us bigger and more important people and he could ‘name names.’” But Pokora trusted May because he’d watched him participate in many crooked endeavors; he couldn’t imagine that anyone in cahoots with law enforcement would be allowed to do so much dirt.

By the spring of 2012, Pokora and Wheeler were focused on pillaging the network of Zombie Studios. Their crew now included two new faces from the scene: Austin “AAmonkey” Alcala, an Indiana high school kid, and Nathan “animefre4k” Leroux, the home­schooled son of a diesel mechanic from Bowie, Maryland. Leroux, in particular, was an exceptional talent: He’d cowritten a program that could trick Electronic Arts’ soccer game FIFA 2012 into minting the virtual coins that players get for completing matches, and which are used to buy character upgrades.

While navigating through Zombie’s network, the group stumbled on a tunnel to a US Army server; it contained a simulator for the AH-64D Apache helicopter that Zombie was developing on a Pentagon contract. Ever the wild man, Wheeler downloaded the software and told his colleagues they should “sell the simulators to the Arabs.”

The hackers were also busy tormenting Microsoft, stealing documents that contained specs for an early version of the Durango, the codename for the next-generation Xbox—a machine that would come to be known as the Xbox One. Rather than sell the documents to a Microsoft competitor, the hackers opted for a more byzantine scheme: They would counterfeit and sell a Durango themselves, using off-the-shelf components. Leroux volunteered to do the assembly in exchange for a cut of the proceeds; he needed money to pay for online computer science classes at the University of Maryland.

The hackers put out feelers around the scene and found a buyer in the Seychelles who was willing to pay $5,000 for the counterfeit console. May picked up the completed machine from Leroux’s house and promised to ship it to the archipelago in the Indian Ocean.

But the Durango never arrived at its destination. When the buyer complained, paranoia set in: Had the FBI intercepted the shipment? Were they now all under surveillance?

Wheeler was especially unsettled: He’d thought the crew was untouchable after the Epic investigation appeared to stall, but now he felt certain that everyone was about to get hammered by a racketeering case. “How do we end this game?” he asked himself. The answer he came up with was to go down in a blaze of glory, to do things that would ensure his place in Xbox lore.

Wheeler launched his campaign for notoriety by posting a Durango for sale on eBay, using photographs of the one that Leroux had built. The bidding for the nonexistent machine reached $20,100 before eBay canceled the auction, declaring it fraudulent. Infuriated by the media attention the saga generated, Pokora cut off contact with Wheeler.

A few weeks later, Leroux vanished from the scene; rumors swirled that he’d been raided by the FBI. Americans close to Pokora began to tell him they were being tailed by black cars with tinted windows. The hackers suspected there might be an informant in their midst.

VII. Person A

The relationship between Pokora and Clark soured as Pokora got deeper into hacking developers. The two finally fell out over staffing issues at their Call of Duty business—for example, they hired some workers whom Pokora considered greedy, but Clark refused to call them out. Sick of dealing with such friction, both men drifted into other ventures. Pokora focused on Horizon, an Xbox cheating service that he built on the side with some friends; he liked that Horizon’s cheats couldn’t be used on Xbox Live, which meant fewer potential technical and legal headaches. Clark, meanwhile, refined Leroux’s FIFA coin-minting technology and started selling the virtual currency on the black market. Austin Alcala, who’d participated in the hack of Zombie Studios and the Xbox One counterfeiting caper, worked for Clark’s new venture.

As the now 20-year-old Pokora split his energies between helping to run Horizon and attending university, Wheeler continued his kamikaze quest for attention. In the wake of his eBay stunt, Microsoft sent a private investigator named Miles Hawkes to Perth to confront him. Wheeler posted on Twitter about meeting “Mr. Microsoft Man,” who pressed him for information about his collaborators over lunch at the Hyatt. According to Wheeler, Hawkes told him not to worry about any legal repercussions, as Microsoft was only interested in going after “real assholes.” (Micro­soft denies that Hawkes said this.)

In December 2012 the FBI raided Sanadodeh Nesheiwat’s home in New Jersey. Nesheiwat posted an unredacted version of the search warrant online. Wheeler reacted by doxing the agents in a public forum and encouraging people to harass them; he also spoke openly about hiring a hitman to murder the federal judge who’d signed the warrant.

Wheeler’s bizarre compulsion to escalate every situation alarmed federal prosecutors, who’d been carefully building a case against the hackers since the Gears of War leak in June 2011. Edward McAndrew, the assistant US attorney who was leading the investigation, felt he needed to accelerate the pace of his team’s work before Wheeler sparked real violence.

On the morning of February 19, 2013, Wheeler was working in his family’s home in Perth when he noticed a commotion in the yard below his window. A phalanx of men in light tactical gear was approaching the house, Glocks holstered by their sides. Wheeler scrambled to shut down all of his computers, so that whoever would be dissecting his hardware would at least have to crack his passwords.

Over the next few hours, Australian police carted away what Wheeler estimated to be more than $20,000 worth of computer equipment; Wheeler was miffed that no one bothered to place his precious hard drives in antistatic bags. He wasn’t jailed that day, but his hard drives yielded a bounty of incriminating evidence: Wheeler had taken frequent screenshots of his hacking exploits, such as a chat in which he proposed running “some crazy program to fuck the fans up” on Zombie Studios’ servers.

That July, Pokora told Justin May he was about to attend Defcon, the annual hacker gathering in Las Vegas—his first trip across the border in years. On July 23, ­McAndrew and his colleagues filed a sealed 16-count indictment against Pokora, Nesheiwat, and ­Leroux, charging them with crimes including wire fraud, identify theft, and conspiracy to steal trade secrets; Wheeler and Gamerfreak, the original source of the Epic password list, were named as unindicted coconspirators. (Alcala would be added as a defendant four months later.) The document revealed that much of the government’s case was built on evidence supplied by an informant referred to as Person A. He was described as a Delaware resident who had picked up the counterfeit Durango from Leroux’s house, then handed it over to the FBI.

Prosecutors also characterized the defendants as members of the “Xbox Underground.” Wheeler’s prison-gang joke was a joke no longer.

The hackers cracked jokes about what they should call their prison gang. Everyone dug Wheeler's tongue-in-cheek suggestion that they could strike fear into the hearts of other inmates by dubbing themselves the Xbox Underground.

Though he knew nothing about the secret indictment, Pokora was too busy to go to Defcon and pulled out at the last minute. The FBI worried that arresting his American coconspirators would spur him to go on the lam, so the agency decided to wait for him to journey south before rolling up the crew.

Two months later, Pokora went to the Toronto Opera House for a show by the Swedish metal band Katatonia. His phone buzzed as a warm-up act was tearing through a song—it was Alcala, now a high school senior in Fishers, Indiana. He was tittering with excitement: He said he knew a guy who could get them both the latest Durango prototypes—real ones, not counterfeits like the machine they’d made the summer before. His connection was willing to break into a building on Microsoft’s Redmond campus to steal them. In exchange, the burglar was demanding login credentials for Microsoft’s game developer network plus a few thousand dollars.
Pokora was baffled by the aspiring burglar’s audacity. “This guy’s stupid,” he thought. But after years of pushing his luck, Pokora was no longer in the habit of listening to his own common sense. He told Alcala to put them in touch.

The burglar was a recent high school graduate named Arman, known on the scene as ArmanTheCyber. (He agreed to share his story on the condition that his last name not be used.) A year earlier he’d cloned a Microsoft employee badge that belonged to his mother’s boyfriend; he’d been using the RFID card to explore the Redmond campus ever since, passing as an employee by dressing head to toe in Microsoft swag. (Microsoft claims he didn’t copy the badge but rather stole it.) The 18-year-old had already stolen one Durango for personal use; he was nervous about going back for more but also brimming with the recklessness of youth.

Around 9 pm on a late September night, Arman swiped himself into the building that housed the Durangos. A few engineers were still roaming the hallways; Arman dove into a cubicle and hid whenever he heard footsteps. He eventually climbed the stairs to the fifth floor, where he’d heard there was a cache of Durangos. As he started to make his way into the darkened floor, motion detectors sensed his presence and light flooded the room. Spooked, Arman bolted back downstairs.

He finally found what he was looking for in two third-floor cubicles. One of the Durangos had a pair of stiletto heels atop the case; Arman put the two consoles in his oversize backpack and left the fancy shoes on the carpet.

A week after he sent the stolen Durangos to Pokora and Alcala, Arman received some surprising news: A Microsoft vendor had finally reviewed an employment application he’d submitted that summer and hired him as a quality-­assurance tester. He lasted only a couple weeks on the job before investigators identified him as the Durango thief; a stairwell camera had caught him leaving the building. To minimize the legal fallout, he begged Pokora and Alcala to send back the stolen consoles. He also returned the Durango he’d taken for himself, and not a moment too soon: Jealous hackers had been scoping out his house online, as a prelude to executing a robbery.

Pokora spent all winter hacking the Xbox 360’s games for Horizon. But as Toronto was beginning to thaw out in March 2014, he figured he could spare a weekend to drive down to Delaware and pick up the bumper he’d ordered for his Volkswagen Golf.

“Y’know, there’s a chance I could get arrested,” he told his dad as they prepared to leave. His father had no idea what he was talking about and cracked a thin smile at what was surely a bad joke.

VIII. "This Life Ain't For You"

After an initial appearance at the federal courthouse in Buffalo and a few days in a nearby county jail, Pokora was loaded into a van alongside another federal inmate, a gang member with a powerlifter’s arms and no discernible neck. They were being transported to a private prison in Ohio, where Pokora would be held until the court in Delaware was ready to start its proceedings against him. For kicks, he says, the guards tossed the prisoners’ sandwiches onto the floor of the van, knowing that the tightly shackled men couldn’t reach them.

During the three-hour journey, the gang member, who was serving time for beating a man with a hammer, counseled Pokora to do whatever was necessary to minimize his time behind bars. “This life ain’t for you,” he said. “This life ain’t for nobody, really.”

Pokora took those words to heart when he was finally brought to Delaware in early April 2014. He quickly accepted the plea deal that was offered, and he helped the victimized companies identify the vulnerabilities he’d exploited—for example, the lightly protected tunnels that let him hopscotch among networks. As he sat in rooms and listened to Pokora explain his hacks with professorial flair, McAndrew, the lead prosecutor, took a shine to the now 22-year-old Canadian. “He’s a very talented kid who started down a bad path,” he says. “A lot of times when you’re investigating these things, you have to have a certain level of admiration for the brilliance and creativity of the work. But then you kind of step back and say, ‘Here’s where it went wrong.’”

One day, on the way from jail to court, Pokora was placed in a marshal’s vehicle with someone who looked familiar—a pale 20-year-old guy with a wispy build and teeth marred by a Skittles habit. It was Nathan Leroux, whom Pokora had never met in person but recognized from a photo. He had been arrested on March 31 in Madison, Wisconsin, where he’d moved after the FBI raid that had scared him into dropping out of the Xbox scene. He’d been flourishing in his new life as a programmer at Human Head Studios, a small game developer, when the feds showed up to take him into custody.

As he and Leroux rode to court in shackles, Pokora tried to pass along the gang member’s advice. “Look, a lot of this was escalated because of DaE—DaE’s an asshole,” he said, using the shorthand of Wheeler’s nickname, SuperDaE. “You can rat on me or do whatever, because you don’t deserve this shit. Let’s just do what we got to do and get out of here.”

Unlike Pokora, Leroux was granted bail and was allowed to live with his parents as his case progressed. But as he lingered at his Maryland home, he grew convinced that, given his diminutive stature and shy nature, he was doomed to be raped or murdered if he went to prison. His fear became so overpowering that, on June 16, he clipped off his ankle monitor and fled.

He paid a friend to try to smuggle him into Canada, nearly 400 miles to the north. But their long drive ended in futility: The Canadians flagged the car at the border. Rather than accept that his escape had failed, Leroux pulled out a knife and tried to sprint across the bridge onto Canadian soil. When officers surrounded him, he decided he had just one option left: He stabbed himself multiple times. Doctors at an Ontario hospital managed to save his life. Once he was released from intensive care and transported back to Buffalo, his bail was revoked.

When it came time for Pokora’s sentencing, his attorney argued for leniency by contending that his client had lost the ability to differentiate play from crime. “David in the real world was something else entirely from David online,” he wrote in his sentencing memorandum. “But it was in this tenebrous world of anonymity, frontier rules, and private communication set at a remove from everyday life that David was incrementally desensitized to an online culture in which the line between playing a videogame and hacking into a computer network narrowed to the vanishing point.”

After pleading guilty, Pokora, Leroux, and Nesheiwat ultimately received similar punishments: 18 months in prison for Pokora and Nesheiwat, 24 months for Leroux. Pokora did the majority of his time at the Federal Detention Center in Philadelphia, where he made use of the computer room to send emails or listen to MP3s. Once, while waiting for a terminal to open up, a mentally unstable inmate got in his face, and Pokora defended himself so he wouldn’t appear weak; the brawl ended when a guard blasted him with pepper spray. After finishing his prison sentence, Pokora spent several more months awaiting deportation to Canada in an immigration detention facility in Newark, New Jersey. That jail had PCs in the law library, and Pokora got to use his hacker skills to find and play a hidden version of Microsoft Solitaire.

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When he finally returned to Mississauga in October 2015, Pokora texted his old friend Anthony Clark, who was now facing a legal predicament of his own. Alcala had told the government all about Clark’s FIFA coin-minting operation. The enterprise had already been on the IRS’s radar: One of Clark’s workers had come under suspicion for withdrawing as much as $30,000 a day from a Dallas bank account. Alcala connected the dots for the feds, explaining to them that the business could fool Electronic Arts’ servers into spitting out thousands of coins per second: The group’s code automated and accelerated FIFA’s gameplay, so that more than 11,500 matches could be completed in the time it took a human to finish just one. The information he provided led to the indictment of Clark and three others for wire fraud; they had allegedly grossed $16 million by selling the FIFA coins, primarily to a Chinese businessman they knew only as Tao.

Though Clark’s three codefendants had all pleaded guilty, he was intent on going to trial. He felt that he had done nothing wrong, especially since Electronic Arts’ terms of service state that its FIFA coins have no real value. Besides, if Electronic Arts executives were really upset about his operation, why didn’t they reach out to discuss the matter like adults? Perhaps Electronic Arts was just jealous that he—not they—had figured out how to generate revenue from in-game currencies.

“Yeah, I’m facing 8+ years,” Clark wrote in a text to Pokora. “And if I take the plea 3½. Either way fuck them. They keep trying to get me to plea.”

“They roof you if you fail at trial,” Pokora warned. “My only concern is to educate you a bit about what it will be like. Because it’s a shitty thing to go through.” But Clark wouldn’t be swayed—he was a man of principle.

That Fourth of July, Pokora wrote to Clark again. He jokingly asked why Clark hadn’t yet sent him a custom video that he’d requested: Clark and his Mexican-American relatives dancing to salsa music beneath a Donald Trump piñata. “Where’s the salsa?” Pokora asked.

The reply came back: “On my chips,” followed by the smiling-face-with-sunglasses emoji. It was the last time Pokora ever heard from his Halo 3 comrade.

Clark’s trial in federal district court in Fort Worth that November did not go as he had hoped: He was convicted on one count of conspiracy to commit wire fraud. His attorneys thought he had excellent grounds for appeal, since they believed that the prosecution had failed to prove the FIFA coin business had caused Electronic Arts any actual harm.

But Clark’s legal team never got the chance to make that case. On February 26, 2017, about a month before he was scheduled to be sentenced, Clark died in his Whittier home. People close to his family insist that the death was accidental, the result of a lethal interaction between alcohol and medication. Clark had just turned 27 and left behind an estate valued at more than $4 million.

IX. "I Wanted to See How Far It Could Go"

The members of the Xbox Underground have readjusted to civilian life with varying degrees of success. In exchange for his coopera­tion, Alcala received no prison time; he enrolled at Ball State University and made the dean’s list. The 20-year-old brought his girlfriend to his April 2016 sentencing hearing—“my first real girlfriend”—and spoke about a talk he’d given at an FBI conference on infrastructure protection. “The world is your oyster,” the judge told him.

Leroux’s coworkers at Human Head Studios sent letters to the court on his behalf, commending his intelligence and kindness. “He has a very promising game development career ahead of him, and I wouldn’t think he’d ever again risk throwing that away,” one supporter wrote. On his release from prison, Leroux returned to Madison to rejoin the company.

Nesheiwat, who was 28 at the time of his arrest, did not fare as well as his younger colleagues. He struggled with addiction and was ­rearrested last December for violating his probation by using cocaine and opiates; his probation officer said he’d “admitted to doing up to 50 bags of heroin per day” before his most recent stint in rehab.

Because Wheeler had been a juvenile when most of the hacking occurred, the US decided to leave his prosecution to the Australian authorities. After being given 48 hours to turn in his passport, Wheeler drove straight to the airport and absconded to the Czech Republic, his mother’s native land. The Australians imprisoned his mother for aiding his escape, presumably to pressure him into returning home to face justice. (She has since been released.) But Wheeler elected to remain a fugitive, drifting through Europe on an EU passport before eventually settling in the UK. During his travels he tried to crowdfund the purchase of a $500,000 Ferrari, explaining that his doctor said he needed the car to cope with the anxiety caused by his legal travails. (The campaign did not succeed.)

"I never meant for it to get as bad as it did," Pokora says.

Pokora, who is now 26, was disoriented during his first months back in Canada. He feared that his brain had permanently rotted in prison, a place where intellectual stimulation is in short supply. But he reunited with his girlfriend, whom he’d begged to leave him while he was behind bars, and he reenrolled at the University of Toronto. He scraped together the tuition by taking on freelance projects programming user-interface automation tools; his financial struggles made him nostalgic for the days when he was rolling in Call of Duty cash.

When he learned of Clark’s death, Pokora briefly felt renewed bitterness toward Alcala, who’d been instrumental to the government’s case against his friend. But he let the anger pass. There was nothing to be gained by holding a grudge against his onetime fellow travelers. He couldn’t even work up much resentment against Justin May, whom he and many others are certain was the Delaware-based FBI informant identified as Person A in the Xbox Underground indictment. (“Can’t comment on that, sorry,” May responded when asked whether he was Person A. He is currently being prosecuted in the federal district of eastern Pennsylvania for defrauding Cisco and Microsoft out of millions of dollars’ worth of hardware.)

Pokora still struggles to understand how his love for programming warped into an obsession that knocked his moral compass so far askew. “As much as I consciously made the decisions I did, I never meant for it to get as bad as it did,” he says. “I mean, I wanted access to companies to read some source code, I wanted to learn, I wanted to see how far it could go—that was it. It was really just intellectual curiosity. I didn’t want money—if I wanted money, I would’ve taken all the money that was there. But, I mean, I get it—what it turned into, it’s regrettable.”

Pokora knows he’ll forever be persona non grata in the gaming industry, so he’s been looking elsewhere for full-time employment since finishing the classwork for his computer science degree last June. But he’s had a tough time putting together a portfolio of his best work: At the behest of the FBI, Canadian authorities seized all of the computers he’d owned prior to his arrest, and most of the software he’d created during his Xbox heyday was lost forever. They did let him keep his 2013 Volkswagen Golf, however, the car he adores so much that he was willing to drive to Delaware for a bumper. He keeps it parked at his parents’ house in Mississauga, the place where he played his first game at the age of 2, and where he’s lived ever since leaving prison.

Contributing editor Brendan I. Koerner (@brendan­koerner) wrote about silicon theft in issue 25.10.

This article appears in the May issue. Subscribe now.

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[krystisyaandwine]

I’m so thrilled to be hosting C.J. Redwine today on the blog tour for her newest novel in the Ravenspire series, The Wish Granter! I don’t know about you guys, but I’ve been counting the days until this book comes out. Luckily, I’ve got a sneak peak that I get to share with all of you today! Enjoy!

About  The Wish Granter

Title: THE WISH GRANTER

Author: C.J. Readwine

Pub. Date: February 14, 2017

Publisher: Balzer + Bray

Pages: 432

Formats: Hardcover, eBook, audiobook

Find it: Amazon, Barnes & Noble, iBooks, Audible, Goodreads

An epic fantasy inspired by the Rumpelstiltskin fairy tale, about a bastard princess who must take on an evil fae to save her brother’s soul, from the New York Times bestselling author of The Shadow Queen.

The world has turned upside down for Thad and Ari Glavan, the bastard twins of Súndraille’s king. Their mother was murdered. The royal family died mysteriously. And now Thad sits on the throne of a kingdom whose streets are suddenly overrun with violence that he can’t stop.

Growing up ignored by the nobility, Ari never wanted to be a proper princess. And when Thad suddenly starts training Ari to take his place, she realizes that her brother’s ascension to the throne wasn’t fate. It was the work of a Wish Granter named Alistair Teague, who tricked Thad into wishing away both the safety of his people and his soul in exchange for the crown.

So Ari recruits the help of Thad’s enigmatic new weapons master, Sebastian Vaughn, to teach her how to fight Teague. With secret ties to Teague’s criminal empire, Sebastian might just hold the key to discovering Alistair’s weaknesses, saving Ari’s brother—and herself.

But Teague is ruthless and more than ready to destroy anyone who dares stand in his way—and now he has his sights set on the princess. And if Ari can’t outwit him, she’ll lose Sebastian, her brother…and her soul.

 Exclusive The Wish Granter Excerpt!

“Your Highness!” A man rushed from his spice shop to bow deeply as the girls came abreast of his doorway.

“Edwin, how nice to see you.” Ari beamed at the merchant.

His gaze darted along the street before returning to her. “What are you doing in the market today? Where is Mama Eleni?”

“It’s just us, but we—”

“Come in! No lingering in the streets today.” Edwin all but pulled the girls in the shop. The guards took up their post outside the entrance as Edwin flipped the wooden sign that hung above his display window to Closed and faced the princess.

“What’s wrong?” Ari asked as Cleo made a show of rubbing her wrist as if Edwin’s grasp had hurt her.

“Forgive me, Your Highness.” He glanced at the street again. “But it’s Thursday.”

“That’s what generally happens after you have a Wednesday,” Cleo muttered.

“We’ll only be a minute,” Ari said, despite the chill that was spreading over her skin at the strange way Edwin was acting. She’d gotten away with lying to Mama Eleni and sneaking out to the market once. The chances of that happening again any time in the next decade were slim to none. And she needed the bloodflower poison. She especially needed it without having to explain why to Cleo’s mother who would undoubtedly try to take on Teague herself for daring to upset her prince and princess.

The inside of the spice shop was cozy and warm. The dark red floor and pale yellow walls glowed in the light of small candelabras spaced throughout, and racks of jars were filled with colorful ground spices and herbs.

“We should do this quickly. What would you like, Your Highness?” Edwin asked, his tone urgent.

Ari frowned. “Why is everyone in such a rush today?”

Edwin shook his head sharply. “Now is not the time to discuss it. Please, Your Highness, tell me what you need.”

Ari met his gaze. “Bloodflower poison.”

He frowned. “If you have rats in your stable, may I suggest monkshood or elderberry?”

“We don’t have rats.”

“But then why . . . whatever animal you need poisoned can be killed with monkshood or—”

“I need bloodflower.” She looked him in the eye. “Nothing else will do.”

He glanced at the window behind her and then motioned sharply for her to come farther into the shop. Cleo and Ari followed as Edwin led them to a small, dusty cabinet in the back. Fishing a key out of his pocket, he fit it into the lock with hands that shook.

“What’s wrong?” Ari asked quietly as the cabinet door swung open with a creak.

“We aren’t supposed to carry bloodflower,” Edwin whispered as he reached into the cabin and pulled out a small red jar sealed with wax . “If anyone finds out I gave this to you . . . Please don’t tell anyone, Your Highness.”

Ari took the jar and slid it into the little satchel hanging from her wrist before pressing a generous amount of coin into Edwin’s hands. “I don’t know who told you that, but bloodflower isn’t against the law. You won’t get in any trouble.”

His smile was a wretched parody of itself. “It isn’t the law I’m worried about.”

The handle on the shop’s front door rattled, and a man called out, “Time to pay your fee, Edwin. Open up.”

“What fee?” Ari looked from the door to Edwin’s stricken face.

The merchant sprang into action. Wrapping a hand around each girl’s arm, he pulled them toward the back exit.

“Your Highness, it isn’t safe on the streets today. You must take your guards and get back to the dock quickly.” He reached for the door. “And, please, don’t tell anyone you were here.”

A dull thud hit the back door, and it flew open with a bang. Edwin stumbled backward, dragging the girls with him, as two of the young men Ari had noticed earlier strode into the shop.

“Why don’t you want anyone to know these pretty little coin purses were here, Edwin?” the taller one asked, his dark eyes boring into the shopkeeper’s face.

The shorter one grinned at Ari, putting what was left of his yellowed teeth on full display. “Looks like nobility to me. Bet someone would pay handsomely to rescue you from where you’re going.”

“No!” Edwin lunged forward as the man reached for Ari, and suddenly there was a wicked-looking knife in the tall one’s hands.

“Step outside, ladies, or I’ll gut Edwin where he stands.” His voice was hard.

The fear that had been slithering over Ari’s skin became a wild rush of panic that shook her knees and turned her fingers cold.

“Please.” Edwin raised his hands in supplication. “Just take my weekly fee. I have it ready for you. Take it and go. These girls mean nothing to you.”

The shorter one sidled up to Cleo and ran his hand up her arm. She flinched and pulled away. Faster than a blink, he whipped his hand into the air and slapped her.

Anger blazed through Ari’s fear, leaving her with nothing but a terrible need to hurt the one who’d laid his hands on her friend. Without a second thought, she balled up her fist and plowed it straight into the middle of his face.

Blood spurted from his nose, and he reached for her, but she’d already grabbed Cleo’s hand and started moving. Together they ran out of the shop and straight into the chest of a thick barrel of a man with graying black hair and close-set eyes.

He grunted and shoved them back into the hands of the two men who’d exited the shop on their heels. “They look like someone would pay their ransom. Teague will be pleased with this catch. Tie them up, put them in the wagon, and then finish collecting the protection fees. We don’t have all day, boys.”

“Teague?” The name left the bitter residue of fear on Ari’s tongue as the young man who held her dragged her away from the spice shop.

“You’re in it now, miss.” The shorter one spat blood on the ground and dug his nails into her arms.

No, she wasn’t. She was the princess and somewhere at the front of the shop, she had a pair of trained guards waiting for her. She just had to make them hear her.

Dragging in a deep breath, she screamed, “Guards!”

Cleo joined her efforts, but the men laughed. The shorter one leaned close enough that Ari choked on the fetid stench of his breath and said, “Haven’t you heard? The city guard has to stand down where Teague’s business is concerned. King’s orders. No one is coming to rescue you, miss.”

She hadn’t been screaming for the city guard, but it didn’t matter. Her guards were too far away to hear her. She’d been a fool to make them stand outside the shop so that they wouldn’t overhear her conversation.

Ari met Cleo’s wild gaze and tried to come up with a plan, but panic clawed at her.

No one was coming to save them.

They were on their own.

About The Shadow Queen

In case you haven’t read the first book in the Ravenspire series, The Shadow Queen, here’s the description and some information, so you can add it to your TBR lists and preorder now!

Title: THE SHADOW QUEEN

Author: C.J. Redwine

Pub. Date: February 16, 2016

Publisher: Balzer + Bray

Format: Hardcover, eBook

Find it: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Goodreads

Lorelai Diederich, crown princess and fugitive at large, has one mission: kill the wicked queen who took both the Ravenspire throne and the life of her father. To do that, Lorelai needs to use the one weapon she and Queen Irina have in common—magic. She’ll have to be stronger, faster, and more powerful than Irina, the most dangerous sorceress Ravenspire has ever seen. In the neighboring kingdom of Eldr, when Prince Kol’s father and older brother are killed by an invading army of magic-wielding ogres, the second-born prince is suddenly given the responsibility of saving his kingdom. To do that, Kol needs magic—and the only way to get it is to make a deal with the queen of Ravenspire, promise to become her personal huntsman…and bring her Lorelai’s heart. But Lorelai is nothing like Kol expected—beautiful, fierce, and unstoppable—and despite dark magic, Lorelai is drawn in by the passionate and troubled king. Fighting to stay one step ahead of the dragon huntsman—who she likes far more than she should—Lorelai does everything in her power to ruin the wicked queen. But Irina isn’t going down without a fight, and her final move may cost the princess the one thing she still has left to lose.

About C.J. Redwine

  C.J. Redwine loves fairy tales, Harry Potter, and Sherlock. She is the author of the Defiance trilogy, a post-apocalyptic fantasy from Balzer + Bray. C.J. lives in Nashville with her husband and children. If the novel writing gig ever falls through, she’ll join the Avengers and wear a cape to work every day. To learn more about C.J., visit her website at www.cjredwine.com Where you can find C.J.:

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Tumblr | Pinterest |Goodreads

Giveaway Details

1 winner will receive a signed paperback of THE SHADOW QUEEN and a signed Hardback of THE WISH GRANTER, US Only.

Click this link to enter a Rafflecopter giveaway for an opportunity to win!

Follow the Blog Tour:

Tour Schedule:

Week One:

2/6/2017- Zach’s YA Reviews– Guest Post

2/7/2017- Fiktshun– Review

2/8/2017- Novel Novice– Guest Post

2/9/2017- BookCrushin– Review

2/10/2017- Ya and Wine– Guest Post

  Week Two:

2/13/2017- A Backwards Story– Review

2/14/2017- YA Books Central– Guest Post

2/15/2017- Mundie Moms– Review

2/16/2017- Two Chicks on Books- Guest Post

2/17/2017- The Best Books Ever – Review

Excerpt from #TheWishGranter by @cjredwine and #giveaway I'm so thrilled to be hosting C.J. Redwine today on the blog tour for her newest novel in the