#the opening where they pointed guns at each other and eye roll the camera panned away

[ryuusea]

sh is for sherliam now shhh kiss

ref this draw your otp like this prompt

[tiny-maus-boots]

Queen of Hearts pt 14

A/N: thank you as always to @chloes-yellow-cup for being my bestie and still doing all the things i hate to do. and a big thanks to @kimmania for your constant encouragement and supply of Legos. i love you awesome nerds. 

14.

“Hit me with your best shot…”

Aubrey’s long arm stretched out along the back of the dark leather of the modern style sofa she was settled on. For the most part she could tune out the dry croak from the desk, but…

“Why don’t you hit me with your best shot.”

This was the sixth time in an hour that she was hearing the song. She was going to have to remind Lilly to remove it from the jukebox after tonight.

“Hit me with your best shot…”

The rough warble across from her died down and she thought for a moment that the singer had finally drifted off asleep. Aubrey’s head turned to the screen that showed a live feed of the cameras around The Dirty Bird. Movement flickered though them as Stacie and the Doc walked between the tables and around the bar toward the back office. She turned her head to check on the figure standing but slumped over her desk only to find dark blue eyes watching and waiting for her attention. The small woman raised herself to her elbows from her slouch and belted out just as the door opened.

“FIRE AWAAAAYYYYY!!! Pew pew pew.”

Aubrey sighed as Detective Mitchell’s finger guns gave out on the click of her tongue and she collapsed back over the desk to cradle a half empty bottle of grappa, ass up where she stood. Stacie’s wide eyes panned slowly toward her, body bouncing lightly with barely restrained glee.

“Oh my God….” Chloe took one look at the Detective and pinned Aubrey with a glare. “How drunk is she?”

The blonde raised a shoulder as she considered. “She’s been worse.”

“Doc. Doooooocccc….I hurt. Right. Here.” Beca raised a hand and brought it back to point at her butt. Her finger wavered as she tried to locate the exact spot which caused the most pain and then pointed for emphasis with a little too much enthusiasm. “Right. OW. Here. OWIE.”

Stacie eased onto the sofa and settled in comfortably in Aubrey’s lap to watch Doc Beale work. The redhead moved behind Beca and settled her bag on the desk. She took a great steadying breath before wrestling away the grappa from the prone detective and snapping on a pair of gloves. Aubrey admired the way Doc Beale efficiently and deftly managed to get Beca’s jeans over her hips and halfway down her legs with practiced ease. Beca seemed to admire it too because she stirred enough to look blearily over her shoulder with a smile.

“If you wanted to check out my assetsssss Doc, you didn’t have to wait til I got stabbeded in it. Right. There. Ow.”

“Yes, I see. Please stop poking the wound in your ass cheek. How even….?”

“I was tailing my guy. My big fish. Fishy fishy fishy. That’s a fun word to say.” Chloe muttered something Aubrey couldn’t hear over Stacie’s soft chuckling. “I heard that! Plenty of people would be DE-FUCKING-lighted to spend their date night starin’ at a little of this action.”

Aubrey bit her lip to keep the laugh from breaking free as the detective wiggled her ass unmindful of the tight skinny jeans trapping her legs and toppled into a slide nearly off the desk before Chloe managed to grab and right her teetering form.

“Head down, ass up. Now tell me again how you managed to get stabbed in the butt cheek with glass?”

“You said that like you’re used to giving that order. I might be down for that, just be gentle with me.”

Beca gave her a leer that the doctor promptly ignored as she prepped her tools.

“Detective, remember that I have some very sharp instruments here that I am excellent with.”

Beca gave her a dubious look but obediently turned and bent over the desk again so the other woman could examine the wound. Chloe was utterly focused on the task of cleaning and debriding the punctures in a circular pattern. Aubrey had been sure it was going to require at least a few stitches from what she saw before she called for real medical help.

“I told you. I was following the big fish.”

“And you followed him into a bar I’m guessing.”

“Right, rule numero dos of detectivering. Don’t stick out like a sore thumb.”

Chloe blinked and looked up from her work to focus on Beca. “What’s numero uno?”

“That’s not a real number, Doc.”

“Solid rebuttal.”

“Did…did you just make pun of my rump? Oh my God I’m in love. I’d get down on one knee right now and propose. Except you’re feeling up my butt right now and that’s kinda nice.”

The doctor’s bright blue eyes narrowed and she jabbed the needle into the hunk of flesh she had just grabbed in preparation for the injection. She depressed the plunger quickly as her patient yelped and attempted to squirm away.

“HEATHEN! Oh God. I’m dying. Help. I’m dying, Dr. Kevorkian is killing me….my vision…I can’t see.”

“Open your eyes, idiot. That was just an antibiotic booster. Have you had a tetanus shot recently?”

“Pretend I said whatever answer will prevent you from being a literal pain in my ass.”

It was too much for Stacie and she turned her head to bury her laughter in Aubrey’s neck. The blonde tightened her grip on her fiancée and enjoyed a satisfying laugh at the detective’s expense. She hadn’t known what she’d find when she had gotten Beca’s distress call. They had all been on high alert since coming back to Los Angeles, trying to close ranks as best they could without being obvious about it. She had been waiting for an attack to come and her first thought when she had gotten the call was that it had finally begun. Each moment waiting in her office while Lilly retrieved the Detective from her hiding place in an abandoned warehouse building down at the port had been like a stone on her chest. She had needed this humor to ease the cold grip of fear on her heart.

Aubrey’s line of business didn’t lend itself to close relationships with members of law enforcement, at least not for long. What she and the Detective had was something altogether different than any of the other criminal-cop business agreements she had formed during her career. Beca was someone she trusted at her side, more…trusted at her back. The idea that someone would try to take her out was sobering and her laughter faded. Stacie sensed the change in her and cupped Aubrey’s face gently to bring their foreheads together. Words weren’t necessary for Stacie to understand what she was thinking and feeling. The blonde took a deep breath and straightened her spine. One hand came up to adjust and smooth her tie. If it had started…she wanted to know who was coming for her people.

“So, who’s the fish?”

Beca lifted her head from the desk and struggled to focus on Aubrey. It took her a few seconds to process the question. She seemed to have forgotten the conversation while Chloe worked silently to finish working on her wound.

“A security guard. He’s got bad taste in bars and also what I would loosely refer to as ladies.”

She couldn’t imagine where a security guard would fit in with Alice’s plans and frowned. Maybe this wasn’t about her. Beca had other cases she was working, maybe this was just another Tuesday night for the cop.

“A security guard? Sounds kind of small time for you.”

Denim blue eyes flashed to hers, some of the haze of alcohol burned away by intensity of her drive. The small brunette’s lips quirked into a smirk. Aubrey was suddenly very sure that nothing Beca did was small time or without a very good reason.

“It only takes a small stone in the right place to make a rockslide.”

Chloe slowed her movements as she finished her work. Something about what Beca said must have been interesting to the doctor because she kept her attention on the detective while she cleaned up the trash and peeled her gloves off to toss in the black plastic trash bag left there for that purpose. Aubrey guessed she was re-evaluating her previous estimations of the foul mouthed, perpetually smug, woman.

“You’re not wrong, Bec. So, what’s this small stone guarding?”

“Not what. Where. Dude works at the port.” She grunted and stood gingerly with a backward glance at her own butt. “Hm. Nice, think chicks will dig the scar?”

If Chloe had been considering there may be more to Beca than outrageous flirtation it was only a brief passing fantasy. She sighed and rolled her eyes then glared at Aubrey.

“18, Aubrey.” It was almost enough to make her face split into a grin and she had to turn her chuckle into a soft cough. Chloe tied up the bag and dropped it in the trashcan sure that it would be disposed of carefully. It wasn’t the first time she’d had to patch one of them up, they knew the drill by now. “You owe me so big.”

“I’m good for it. So, Detective, what about this dock rat?”

Beca stopped checking herself out long enough to pull her pants up and wink at Chloe before answering. Doc pretended not to notice but Aubrey could see her watching Beca from the corner of her eye while she played around with the tools in her bag.

“When I figure how he connects to Richie Rich, I’ll let you know.”

Stacie’s body tensed in her arms and Aubrey glanced at her curiously. Her girl chewed her lower lip in thought, a habit that Aubrey found adorable. “Something on your mind, Stace?”

“It’s probably nothing. Just something Edith said about someone I went to prom with. His dad got him a job down at the docks.” Stacie shrugged it off but Aubrey could tell she was still chewing on it. “Probably just coincidence.”

Aubrey and Beca exchanged a look. After a lifetime of double crosses and plot twists, neither of them believed in coincidences. The detective dug around in her pocket for her phone. She wasn’t quite sober yet but a hell of a lot steadier than a few moments ago. Aubrey snatched the phone easily out of the air when it was tossed her way and glanced at the screen.

It was a video and she angled it so Stacie could see too. Her fiancée pressed play and sighed. Beca could be heard in the background giving a lot of very specific direction to the two women practically fucking on a pool table in a disgusting looking rathole of a bar. Aubrey was pretty sure the women were hookers and the corner of her mouth quirked in amusement. Stacie took the phone out of her hand turned it to face back to the detective.

“Really Beca?”

“I thought it was pretty good for my directorial debut. But your gutter brain is making you miss the real show.”

Aubrey took the phone back and focused on the whole scene. Behind the women in a shadowed booth two men were clearly having an animated discussion. One was further into the shadow than the other but his gestures were strong and decisive. She watched as the other, younger seeming, man’s gestures became conciliatory and submissive the longer the conversation went on. In the foreground a flurry of noise and activity caused the camera to shake and wildly as if it were being swung around. There were glimpses of rough faces and snatches of shouts and curses. At one point there was a good stretch of scuffed flooring where she assumed Beca had been crawling away from the obvious brawl happening around her.

The camera came up again in time to catch the men leaving their booth in a hurry. Each of them caught in the neon blue glow from beer signs on the walls. Stacie snatched the phone out of her hand and hit pause. Long legs dropped down to the floor from the sofa and she stood in shock.

“Bree…this is Senator Grant. The guy he’s with is his son Kodie, we went to high school...Jesus Christ…”

“You know him?”

“Weston stole his money.”

They looked at each other then turned twin green-eyed gazes on Detective Mitchell. The small woman’s brow was furrowed in thought, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she worried it.

“The kid is on the videos.”

Mitchell didn’t have to say which videos, they all knew. Even Doc Beale. Stacie looked away from them, uncomfortable with the knowledge that she had been in some of those videos. Aubrey let out a long settling breath and stood. She gently took the phone from Stacie’s shaking hand and brought it to lips to brush a soft kiss over Stacie’s wrist. It gave her a wan smile but it was something. Stacie would be okay. Aubrey looked down at the phone and watched the video again. And again. And once more. She studied every gesture, every twitch of posture, every unconscious expression she could make out.

“I want the kid. He’s the weak link.”

Beca grunted and limped around the desk to grab her keys and helmet, ready to go back to work with a hole in her ass nearly as big as the one in her pants. It wasn’t going to happen that way and Aubrey reached out to snag both items from the sidebar and hand them to Stacie who easily placed them on a shelf far too high for Detective Mitchell to reach without finding a stand on.

“White she devil.”

“Sorry, Bec. Can’t have you half-assing anything.”

She didn’t like it and Aubrey could tell but Beca sighed and grunted. “Solid burn.”

Aubrey gave her a quick grin then turned to eye the Doctor who was watching them all curiously. Her gaze met Aubrey’s and a brow went up. Honestly, she almost felt a little bad about needing to have the Doc take Beca somewhere safe. She didn’t ask, she didn’t need to. Chloe knew what she was thinking and started to shake her head no until Beca tried to drag a chair over to the get her stuff.

“I really hate you, Aubrey Posen.”

“No, you don’t, Doc.”

“You WILL be making a very large donation to St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital.”

“Absolutely.”

“And vacation for my office girls. Two weeks!”

“I’ll buy the plane tickets myself.”

“And if she pisses me off just once I will trank her and leave her on a park bench.”

The last was a bluff but Aubrey treated the threat seriously. “Understood. Anything else?”

“….I’ll think of something!” Aubrey bit back another grin and nodded seriously. She slipped her hands into her pockets as the doctor steeled herself mentally to take on Beca. “Come one Detective, as much as this pains me to say…you’re coming home with me.”

Beca dropped the helmet she had finally just retrieved on the ground and left it like discarded trash to limp over to Chloe. “Okay.”

“God…you’re so easy.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing, Doc.”

Chloe gave her a final glare and slung the detective’s arms over her shoulder to help her limp out of the office. Stacie settled the length of her body along Aubrey’s back, hands coming up to finger the buttons of her vest.

“How well do you know this Kodie, joker?”

Stacie hmmm thoughtfully. “Not as well as I did in high school. Edith told me he got caught up in some trouble recently. I think I know how we can get to him though.”

“How?”

“He likes cocaine and paying for his um let’s call them dates. I had Happy make some calls for you.”

The smile came to her face easily and she leaned into Stacie’s embrace. This wasn’t anything like what her mom and dad had. Her mother had never been this involved in what her father did for work. She had kept as distant from it as she could, turning her nose up at the family that protected them, running from the darkness of the business. Stacie would never do that to her. She knew it all way down to the bottom of soul. Aubrey turned in her arms and brought their heads together.

“You got more cards up your sleeve than a Vegas croupier, you know that?”

“Hmm. I learned from the best.”

Aubrey closed the distance, her brushing softly over Stacie’s. There were a lot of words she could say about how she felt about the woman in her arms. She could probably write pages on it, but words didn’t matter half as much as action did. She was going to marry this woman and spend her life giving her the best of everything. They were going to be happy and she didn’t care who she had to kill to make it happen.

“Let me take you home?”

“Aubrey…in your arms? I’m already there.”

[thewritewolf]

Night to Remember

Summary: Adrien wakes up to three videos from his soon-to-be wife, one for each day she'd been gone for her bachelorette party.

Hello and welcome! It’s been a hot second since I updated this series last, but I got here eventually! This time we’ve got a one shot on our hands and like usual, this story stands on its own pretty well. I’ll link to the other stories in case this one catches your attention

Enjoy!

Part 1: Five Times (and the Lucky One)

Part 2: Just Between Us

Part 3: Eating Habits

Part 4: Adrien Agreste and the Long Delayed Proposal

Read on Ao3

The soft rays of morning landed gently on Adrien’s face, the warm glow slowly rousing him from sleep. He rolled over, putting an arm over the opposite side of the bed to pull Marinette closer to him. 

When his hand simply hit empty blankets and pillow, his face scrunched up in irritation. He propped himself up on his elbows and squinted, eyes yet to adjust to the light of dawn, at the space beside him. Just as he feared, it was empty.

Sluggishly, the gears in his head began to turn. Why wasn’t she here? Did she go to make breakfast? No, she’d never get up early by herself. 

Was there an akuma? A cold spear of panic went through his heart before he remembered that Hawkmoth - his father - was in prison. It had been years since they’d had an akuma attack, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still sometimes wake up in a cold sweat. 

Now that he was wide awake, Adrien started to remember. He and Marinette were getting married. It wouldn’t be too much longer before the big day finally came, which meant that he’d finally talked her into having her bachelorette party. Her plans were a quiet weekend out in Bordeaux. Just her, a few friends, and some wine in a rural village. He rolled out of bed and started to get dressed.

That had been a theme in most of the wedding planning - Adrien wanting to give her the world, and Marinette going instead for simple elegance. Well, she’d talked him down in most other parts of this wedding, but if there was one part before the honeymoon he intended to spoil her, then the bachelorette party was it. 

Adrien grinned as he remembered slipping Alya his credit card with only one instruction - go all out. How she would pull it off would be a mystery, but if her grin was anything to go by, then Adrien knew he had nothing to worry about.

As he brushed his teeth, he pulled out his phone to check his email. There at the very top of the inbox were three messages, two from his bride to be and one from Alya. Marinette’s were dated Saturday morning and Sunday afternoon, with Alya’s from early this morning. He’d already seen the first two, but decided to watch them again to get the whole experience.

After finishing up in the bathroom, he started the first video.

------------

The video started, although Adrien only knew this because Marinette’s voice came through clear. The screen itself was completely black. 

“Hey, sweetie! We just dropped our luggage off at the hotel and we’re heading to the winery right now!”

“Um, Marinette?” It took Adrien a moment to place Alix’s voice. He’d only seen her a couple times in the past year. “Your thumb is on the camera.”

“Wha- Oh!” The screen lit up, showing Marinette’s radiant smile and slightly flushed cheeks. Her hair had been tied back in a ponytail, with a pair of big, fashionable sunglasses resting just above her face. “Sorry about that, Adrien!” 

Some giggling drew both his and Marinette’s attention to the others in the car. The camera shakily panned over to them. 

“Say hi, girls!”

Alix, caught with one arm wrapped around the head rest, finger gunned at him. “Hi girls.”

“Hello Adrien!” Rose frantically waved and beamed at the camera. “I can’t wait to see you two walk down the aisle! Its going to be so romantic!” She wiggled in place, too full of excitement to stay still.

Finally the camera landed on Alya, who was driving.

“Hey, centerfold. Don’t worry, I’m taking care of M.” She glanced at the camera and winked. “We’ll have to talk to you later since we’re about there.”

The scene shook again as Marinette fumbled the camera. She managed to catch it and soon enough the camera was back on her face again.

“It’s been less than a day, but I’m missing you already!” The screen was engulfed by her lips when she gave it a quick kiss. “Bye!”

-------------------

Adrien smiled to himself and kissed the now black screen. 

Friday night must have gone as Marinette had planned then, but from the looks of it, Alya definitely hadn’t forgotten his request. She was more devious than the rest of them, if only because she was much more patient. First she would lull Marinette into a false sense of security… and only then would she spring the trap. 

Fully dressed and ready to meet the day, Adrien stretched out on the couch and opened the second video. This one was dated Sunday afternoon, the second day of their party. He sipped his coffee and pressed play. 

------------------

“Heyyy, sweetheart,” Marinette began, the words just barely slurred. A faint, constant blush tinted her cheek a pleasant rosy color. It was a little hard to hear her over the song playing on the radio and, more importantly, Alix and Rose loudly singing off key to it behind Marinette. 

Marinette either didn’t notice or was ignoring them, smiling into the camera all the while. “We just left the… winery. They had some great stuff there!” The view turned dark when she held something up a little too close to the camera. “I got a couple bottles to take home too!”

Someone said something, Adrien couldn’t hear what, and Marinette’s head whipped over to the side as she listened carefully. She nodded to herself before turning her attention back to the camera. 

“Alya says hi! Oh, and we’re going a little off the schedule here… We heard about a town nearby. They’ve got a few bars and one has a live band! This is basically just a girls’ night out, so it won’t be too wild… Right?”

The last question was directed more toward the other occupants of the car than Adrien himself. As far as he could tell, she didn’t get an answer. 

Marinette flashed him a sheepish smile and a slight shrug. “Well, anyway. I’ll send you another video when we get back to the hotel. Bye!”

------------------

Which just left the final video. The only one that he hadn’t watched through already. He’d been a little worried when Marinette hadn’t sent her video when she said she would, but he had bitten back that fear as best he could. After all, she always struggled with deadlines and who knew what they ended up doing that night.

Even so it was weird that Alya was the one to end it. What had kept Marinette from sending the video?

Only one way to find out - Adrien opened the message and played the recording.

---------------------

A wall of noise slammed into Adrien, which stunned him for a second before he could figure out what was going on. There was the babble of a drunk crowd that formed the undercurrent for the rock band playing on stage. 

Adrien only had a second to wonder who was recording when he heard Alya’s voice close to the microphone.

“Watch this, blondie.”

It was at that moment that he found her - even between the low light and the jostle of the crowd, he could spot her anywhere. Then again, it wouldn’t be too hard to spot anyone if they were climbing up onto the stage with the band. Adrien watching with shock as she stepped up to the empty mic stand, swayed ever so slightly, and leaned in close. 

“I’m getting MARRIED!”

The crowd went wild, applause and shouting drowning out the music for a moment. 

“To the best man, the greatest partner in the whole world!”

Another round of cheers, combined with some ‘aw’s thrown in. 

One of the band members stepped up and gently took the mic from her. Thankfully, he seemed more amused than angry - Adrien could just barely make out an amused smirk from his perspective. 

“Then this one’s for you-”

“Marinette!” Alya shouted.

“-Marinette, and to your lucky man. Hit it, boys!”

Adrien wasn’t sure what the difference was between this song and the last, especially since he couldn’t hear it too well thanks to Alya being in the middle of a wild crowd, but Marinette definitely seemed to like it since she started dancing on the stage. 

The scene went black for a second before turning back on to Alya’s grinning face. She gave him a thumbs up. 

“Mission accomplished, centerfold!” She leaned in conspiratorially. “Better be careful when M gets home, though!”

She winked and the video ended. 

-------------------------------

In the silence, the sound of the door opening immediately caught his attention. Before he could get up off the couch, Marinette stepped into the room. She glared daggers at him, but he relaxed when he saw the corners of her mouth twitch, as if she was fighting down a smile. 

“So,” he said. “How was your quiet weekend out?”

Marinette sat down on him hard enough to knock some of the wind out of him. She crossed her arms and quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Did you know that Alya was the one who hired that band, or were you just bankrolling it?”

“Whaaat? I would never-” He put his hand on his chest in mock outrage. “I mean, what about the budget?!”

“You’re an awful liar, chaton. Three margaritas in and she spilled the beans. I may have been drunk too, but I don’t forget easily.” She tapped her chin and looked up at the ceiling in thought. “Hm... where will I have to pull the money from to balance it out… Maybe the cake?”

“Hey now, our guests have to have cake!”

“You’re right.” She crossed her arms. “The flowers then.”

“You booked Francois a month ago, my love. No way you’re going to be getting the deposit back on that one.”

“Good point.” Her eyes widened and she clapped her hands together. “Oh, I know! I haven’t gone lingerie shopping for the honeymoon yet!”

“...Wait, let’s not be hasty.”

“Well, it can’t be helped.” She sighed melodramatically and pulled out her phone. “I was going to go to this really upscale shop and spend quite a bit but since we blew so much of the budget, I'll just call Alya and cancel but- hey!"

Adrien had snatched her phone and turtled up as best he could. As they wrestled for it, they devolved into a mess of giggles. Somehow, they ended up on the floor, Adrien propped up on his elbows above her.

Marinette crossed her arms, her hair a halo behind her head. She shrugged and rolled her eyes with a smirk.

“I suppose I can let you spoil me just this once.” She tapped his nose. “But don’t get used to it.”

“We’ll see about that,” he replied with a kiss on her forehead. 

[seraphsurvival]

prologue : 𝙬𝙝𝙤’𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙛𝙖𝙫𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡 ?

following weeks of anticipation and dozens of applications it’s time to finally pick our final 12 angels to compete on 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇. have you made the right decision for our top 12 ? find out on the first episode of the most interactive koc survival show 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇.

nova and yen stood beside each other in coordinated outfits as they had their final touch ups made before making their first official appearance as the hosts of the ultimate kpop project group survival show ‘seraph’. nova and yen had been anticipating this day since they were approached to be the hosts weeks ago. who would turn down an opportunity to be a part of pop culture history? the hosts were just as excited as the audience and the score of contestants that were waiting anxiously backstage for the competition to finally begin. 

the producer stood beside the cameraman with a clipboard in her hand, she silently counted them down. both girls turned to each other and silently wished each other good luck before plastering on their best smiles. 

on queue the shows intro music played along with the designed graphics before the camera focused on the hosts. 

“hello and welcome to ‘seraph’ !” the two girls announce in unison as they cheer finally being able to unleash all their wong up excitement. 

“it’s your favourite princess nova of inter-stellar ” she spoke with a typically royal wave before turning to yen beside her , “ and your devilish angel, yen of triptych!” yen gave the camera a finger gun shot before turning to her co-host.

 “and we are your hosts of ‘seraph’!” they cheered in unison, their smiles sparkling. 

“today is a special day as we will finally discover who are the nation's angels !” yen continued on , nova nodded along focusing her attention on the shorter girl as she awaited her queue. she elegantly brushed her hair behind her ear.

“for those of you who do not understand how this part of the  show works here’s a short rundown. we sent out an announcement and dozens of idols within the industry have sent in their audition tapes to prove why they believe they deserve to be your favourite angel. we then opened up voting and let you decide who the top 12 are and we will be announcing them tonight !” 

“but before we get to the angels let’s introduce our amazing judges ! “she smiled charmingly to the camera before it panned to reveal the panel of judges.

“first up we have the outstanding performer and ex wonder girl sunmi !” sunmi stood up with a smile as she waved to the camera and the audience before sitting back in her seat. 

“next to her we have the queen of stage presence and rap herself hyuna !” the rapper stood up covering her mouth as she blushed. she bowed before taking her seat again. 

“and lastly we have the multi talented dance master : bts’ j-hope !” he struck a pose as he stood up ,  his face broke out into its iconic heart shaped smile as he bowed respectfully and sat back down.

the camera panned back to the girls as they applauded each of the insanely talented judges they had lined up.

the applause died down and the giant projector screen behind the hosts showed the collection of thumbnails of the audition tapes the show had received.

“all of the videos behind us were uploaded to the ‘seraph’ official youtube and website and you as the audience were able to vote all through the week. there was so much talent to pick from but only 12 have made it as your angels. who will spread their wings and who will have their wings cut ? “ yen nails the dramatic tone of the statement as her words builds up the tension in the studio. 

nova clears her throat before she spoke , “in no particular order these are your angels :” she paused for 3 theatric seconds before finally announcing the competition lineup.

“our first angel is ricky of @unholiied​ !” the entire room applauded as ricky’s audition tape played on the giant screen.  she walked up onto the platform from backstage in complete shock. her hands covered her face the entire time as she stood as the first angel. 

“next up we have mimi and eden of @inter-stellar-jyp​ !” nova couldn’t mask the pride in her voice as she watched two of the youngest members of her group move up onto the platform. their auditions played side by side as mimi stood eyes huge and jaw dropped. she was not expecting to be announced. eden bounced excitedly holding onto mimi’s hand as they stood beside ricky. ricky gave the two newest additions a polite bow and round of applause.

the studio’s attention was on the hosts once again as they awaited the next angel. “ our next angel’s are  dahlia of @d3adfl0wers​ and chloe kwon ( @chloekwon​ ) !” the studio applauded as both girls excitedly made their way to the platform bowing along their way . they took their spots beside the already present angels as they tried to mask their excitement and shock. 

“next we have jay of @dulcetgg !” the sixth angel’s squeal could be heard faintly off camera as she just about skipped up to the platform. her audition played behind her as she bowed taking her position. 

“we’re already half way through the angels. judges, how are you feeling looking at our beautiful angels so far?” yen asked. the camera switched to the judges panel and focused on sunmi. 

sunmi chuckled softly as she looked up at the girls. “i think the audience has picked an outstanding amount of talent tonight. all of these girls deserve to be where they are.” 

hyuna and j-hope nod from the seats beside the other judge. 

“definitely! there is so much range and talent on the stage right now and we’re just getting started! i can’t wait to see what they have to show us,” hyuna added on making all the current angels bow with bashful smiles.  

“the angels are already the strongest lineup in history! i’m so excited i want to know the next six. i’m dying at this point.” j-hope joked, making the studio laugh lightly as the camera focused back on nova and yen. 

“thank you, judges.” yen nodded in appreciation before turning her attention back to the main camera. “it’s time to reveal our final six angels.” 

“our seventh angel is ...” nova paused as she looked over at yen expectedly. “ame of @triptychexe !” yen’s face lit up as she turned to see her group mates reaction. ame shook her head in disbelief as she walked to the platform. behind her, her audition tape played. yen didn’t even bother to hide her pride as she gave ame a smile and a thumbs up. 

“our next set of angels are… summer of @se4sonz,  jade of @nct-krown and haeju of @hcney-moon!” yen announced. the 3 girls walked out one after the other, their proud smiles mirroring each other as they moved onto the platform. the other angels congratulated them as they joined the flock. just as the energy in the studio had reached it’s peak, the lights overhead dimmed, hushing the audience and the contestants into silence. a sudden tension draped over the studio as nova brought the microphone to her lips. 

“on the platform behind us we have 10 beautiful angels. there are only 2 spots left. for many of our applicants this is the end of the road.” nova said somberly. “who will be the final 2 angels?” nova’s seriousness created anticipation as she looked over at yen, who had the task of announcing the most anticipated angels. 

“and our final angels are ...” she paused with a deep breath yen looked down at her cards before looking into the camera once again with a knowing gleam in her eyes. “baebi of @whileinvenus and yuri of @cube-vivid !” 

the final 2 girls came out hand in hand. baebi waved at the judges and audience as she walked up to the platform confidently, a stark contrast to the glossy eyed yuri beside her. her shock and relief was evident as she looked up at her audition and wiped at her eyes before waving along with baebi. the 2 took the positions at the very front of the flock completing the angels of ‘seraph’. 

“yuri , what has made you so emotional this evening?” hyuna asked from her spot at the judges panel. 

yuri was handed a mic from a staff member as she thought of a coherent reply. “ um,” she laughed softly as baebi wiped at her eyes, gently  trying to save her makeup. 

“i’m just so thankful to have made it, i didn’t think i would.” she replied, her eyes already welling up again. 

hyuna nodded , “but now look !” 

“you’ve made it , you all have !” nova rhapsodized making the studio fill with praises and cheers. 

“you’ve made it girls- i mean angels ,” sunmi broke out into a wide smile as soon as she corrected herself and that smile reflected on each of their faces. 

“congratulations angels !” j-hope exclaimed into the mic. the angels yelled in excitement on the stage matching his energy. 

“ladies and gentlemen, your angels of ‘seraph’!” yen and nova chorused gesturing to the platform allowing for the cameras to fully focus on each of the contestants.  the shows official music is played as they each got their solo shots with their names and groups written beside them. 

“that’s it for this episode! stay tuned to see how the angels spread their wings and soar through weekly challenges and compete to be a part of the ultimate koc super group  !” yen announced with a bright smile as she threw an arm around nova’s shoulders, bringing the other girl in for an adorable side hug. 

“thanks to everyone who participated and we’ll see you next week !” she laughed brightly  copying yen’s movements. 

“bye !” the 2 hosts waved at the camera before it focused on the rest of the people in the studio. 

the camera cut between the judges standing  up from their chairs to applaud the girls and chatting amongst themselves and the angels on the platform as they happily hugged one another.  the excitement was so thick in the atmosphere it was palpable. the sound of congratulations and the official ‘seraph’ track played as the credits rolled. 

‘seraph’ has officially begun.

*results below ! *

[heyitssmiller]

Chop It Like It’s Hot

A Worst Cooks in America O��Knutzy AU

The Sweater Weather Discord group helped me come up with this idea like two months ago, and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since. All credit goes to @lumosinlove for her amazing characters!

Chop It Like It’s Hot Masterlist

Chapter 1: Don’t Go Bacon My Heart

The Day Before the Competition

Interviewer (off camera): Finn O’Hara and Logan Tremblay for their introductions.

Logan: * taps on microphone* Is this mic working?

Finn: How do you still not know how to work a mic? You deal with them all time.

Logan: I signed up to compete in a cooking show, not to deal with your chirps.

Finn: You love ‘em. *winks*

Interviewer: So basically all we want from you guys is a brief introduction for the viewers. I’ll ask some questions, but most of this should be you guys just talking. We can edit things out later, so don’t worry about anything like that. Why don’t you guys start with your names and careers and we’ll go from there.

Finn: Yo, I’m Finn O’Hara, and I’m a terrible cook. *finger guns* Although I guess that’s a given, seeing that I’m on this show.

Logan: *mumbles in French, head in hands*

Finn: This asshole – shit, no – fuck! Sorry, I probably shouldn’t be cussing. This is a family-friendly show.

Logan: Dear God, please stop talking. I’m Logan Tremblay, the unfortunate boyfriend.

*Finn pouts*

Interviewer: And you guys play hockey?

Logan: Yeah, we play in the NHL. Gryffindor Lions.

Finn: That’s how we met, actually. Through hockey. We played together at Harvard, then got drafted to the Lions about a year apart. We’ve known each other for eight years and have been together for three of them. Can’t seem to get rid of this one.

Interviewer: And you’re not worried about being rivals on this show?

Finn: Rivals is a strong word… I mean yes we’ll be competing against each other instead of being teammates, but we know going in that it’s not personal. Just a little healthy competition.

Interviewer: So what made the two of you sign up for this show?

Logan: We didn’t. Our teammate Dumo and his wife Celeste did. They thought it would be funny. *pause* They’re probably right.

Interviewer: Out of the two of you, who is the worst cook?

*Finn and Logan point to each other*

Logan: You can’t be serious.

Finn: You once cooked pasta so much that it turned into literal paste!

Logan: You tried to cook pizza rolls in a toaster.

Finn: That’s what it said in the instructions!

Logan: It said toaster oven, you - *more French*

Finn: English, Tremz. How many times do I have to tell you that? I guess we’ll find out once and for all who the better cook is by the end of the next eight weeks, right? *mouths “it’s me” to the camera*

Logan: Whatever, Fish.

Interviewer: I think we’ve got all we need guys, thanks. Start time for tomorrow is 10:00 am, but plan on being here forty-five minutes to an hour early to get ready. We’ll see you then.

Competition Day

“Are you nervous? I’m nervous.” Finn stated, running a hand through his hair and looking around at the studio they’d be in and out of for the foreseeable future. There were cooking stations everywhere and he could already see tools and machines that he had no clue how to use. There were twelve other contestants that he didn’t know and the crew scattered everywhere, running back and forth trying to get everything ready. “God, how am I sweaty already? Is this normal?”

Logan rolled his eyes but still reached over to grab Finn’s hand, squeezing it lightly. “Relax. It’s not so bad.” Finn smiled down at him, glad that they were at least here together. How in the hell did he get so lucky?

“Besides, you’ll be sent home soon enough. So don’t stress too much.”

Finn laughed. “Wow, I hate you so much right now.” He betrayed his words with a quick kiss. “You’re going down.”

Those green eyes flashed at the challenge, but right as he opened his mouth to respond-

“Good morning, recruits!”

All heads turned towards the voice. Three figures stood towards the front of the room: one they both recognized as the producer, who was flanked by who Finn assumed to be the chefs, seeing that they were wearing chef’s outfits. Chef’s uniforms? Did their uniforms have a technical name? Finn made a mental note to google that later.

Anyways, one was a short woman with dark ringlets tied back in a ponytail and an undiscernible expression on her face. The other was tall, blond, and had legs for days Jesus Christ-

“Welcome to your first day of boot camp! This is chef Dorcas Meadowes and chef Leo Knut; they’ll be your team leaders. We’re going to start with some footage of you all walking into the kitchen, so if you all would wait out there until you’re allowed to come back in. Cameras will be rolling, so be ready! After that, our chefs will explain the first challenge and then you’ll start cooking.” He clapped his hands together. “Alright, let’s get this show started!”

“Why did they make us come in here just to send us back out?” Logan grumbled, following the other shuffling contestants out into the hall.

“Probably easier to give directions to the main studio instead of saying ‘hey, just wait out in the hall.’”

Logan hummed noncommittally. “I guess.” He wasn’t overly excited to be here; most of this (besides the initial push by Dumo and Celeste) was Finn’s idea. And god knows he could never say no to Finn. One look at that pout and brown puppy-dog eyes and he was done for. Logan didn’t like cooking, but he did like Finn. And they’d probably remember this for years to come. It didn’t matter what he was doing, as long as he was with Finn and making memories with him he’d do just about anything.

“Wonder what the first challenge is.” Finn mused, his eyes locked on the doors.

Logan laughed. “Always so impatient.”

“I’m a New Yorker,” Finn grinned, leaning into his accent. “It’s in my blood.”

The doors opened and contestants began filing back into the kitchen. Finn made sure to wave enthusiastically at the chefs with a wide smile. Logan noticed the tall one (god, he’d already forgotten the guy’s name) give a little wave in return as the other chef commanded the attention of everyone else in the room.

“Good morning, recruits, and welcome to boot camp! I’m chef Dorcas Meadowes, and this is chef Leo Knut. He’s the rookie of our crew, but don’t worry – he’s still qualified to teach all of you. Even though that’s not saying much.”

There was a smattering of laughter and chef Leo smiled, revealing dimples Logan could see from where he stood. “Hey, y’all. I’m very excited to see what makes all of you qualified to be put on this show. Who knows? Maybe you’ll give me more gray hair.” Dorcas laughed and ran her fingers through the tuft of gray hair at his temple.

“When did you get this? I don’t remember seeing it when we were in culinary school. Is it from Iron Chef?”

“Nah, this is from having Gordon Ramsay come to my restaurant.”

“Truly a terrifying man.” She shuddered. “Anyways, you guys be nice to this giant ball of sunshine. Even if he’s new, he’s still able to eliminate you from this competition.”

“In order to pick our teams, we need to see what kind of skills you have.” Leo winced. “Or don’t have. So today, we want you to make your favorite dish. Easy enough, right?”

“Oh god,” Finn murmured into Logan’s ear. “What’s my favorite dish? Do I even have one?”

“Finn.”

“You all have an hour to complete this task.” Dorcas said, glancing down at her watch. “And your time starts… now!”

“Fuck.” Finn stated emphatically, dashing off to the pantry.

Fuck was right. God, what was Logan going to make? He was wracking his brain for something while he grabbed two aprons from the back. He tossed one to Finn and took the station beside him before hurrying to the pantry. Chicken was always a safe bet, right? Celeste made a barbeque chicken recipe that was to die for. That couldn’t be too hard. It was just chicken and barbeque sauce. And maybe green beans on the side? He could get those canned ones and they’d taste fine if he rinsed them. This was fine.

He guessed on the temperature for the oven. 350 seemed good. Then he dumped two chicken breasts into a pan, poured the barbeque sauce over them, and put them into the oven.

“What are you making?” Logan startled at the soft voice, turning to see chef Leo at his station.

Blue eyes.

Logan blinked, Leo’s question forgotten. “Quoi?”

“You speak French?”

Why was his brain refusing to work all of a sudden? Get it together, Tremblay. “Uh, yeah.”

“What are you making?” Leo asked for the second time, but now it was in French. Weirdly worded French.

“Barbeque chicken.” Logan responded in French, then switched back to English. “What in the world was that?”

Leo flashed him a grin. “New Orleans, born and raised. We speak French there, too. Now tell me how you’re making that chicken.”

“Uh.” He had never said the word ‘uh’ so much in one sitting. Merde. “I put it in a pan, spread barbeque sauce over it, and I’m cooking it at 350.”

“How do you know when it’s done?”

Was this a trick question? It felt like a trick question. “Uh.” Fuck. “It has to get to a specific internal temperature, right?”

The chef nodded. “And what’s that?”

“145?"

Something in Leo’s expression flickered, but Logan couldn’t figure out what it meant. “Well, good luck. Logan, right?”

“Yeah.”

“See you at the judging table.” He said with a dimpled smile before moving to Finn’s station, which was already a mess. “Oh my. How are you doing over here?”

Finn laughed a bit hysterically. “Not good. Not good at all.”

“Ok. What’s going on?”

“Well I’m trying to make carbo’hara, and –“

“Really, Fish?” Logan called from his station. “That’s what you’re making?”

“What’s carbo’hara?” Leo asked as he watched Finn put bacon in a pan.

“Oh,” Finn waved a hand carelessly. “It’s just carbonara, but a pun on my name, O’Hara. Get it?”

Leo laughed, crossing long arms over his chest. “That’s terrible.”

“Yeah, but it makes me happy. My parents used to make it every night before my brother or I had hockey games.”

“Oh, that’s right. You guys are hockey players.”

“Go Lions!” Finn cheered, taking a spoonful of butter and throwing it into the pan with the bacon.

“Are you putting butter on bacon?” Leo asked with a raised eyebrow.

Finn responded with full confidence, “I didn’t want it to stick to the pan.”

“Ok. Got it. I… I look forward to seeing what you make.” Finn watched as Leo bit his lip and tried his hardest not to laugh.

Cute.

Finn felt his cheeks flush and blamed it on the steam from the pasta.

The last thirty minutes of the task were absolute chaos, but both boys got it done. Finn’s looked messy, which accurately summed up his cooking style. Logan was pretty proud of how his looked; he just hoped it tasted good. He gave Finn a smile and a fist bump. “Ready to be judged?”

Finn laughed, looking down at his plate. He grimaced. “Not really.”

“We’re all bad cooks. Chances are someone else’s dish is worse than yours.”

“That… actually helped. Thanks.”

***

 Finn was chosen to be judged before Logan. He brought up his plate with a sheepish smile and placed it on the table in front of the chefs. Dorcas raised an eyebrow while Leo prodded the pasta with his fork.

“It’s carbo’hara.” Finn stated with pride.

“Well, Finn…” Dorcas met his eyes. “This looks like a mess, but let’s see how it tastes.”

Finn cringed as they both took a bite of his food. Dorcas frowned as she chewed and Leo tilted his head, a confused expression on his face.

“I don’t know how you did it, but this solidifies in my mouth like glue.”

“Oh god, please don’t eat any more.”

“You definitely put a lot of effort in and you have a lot of potential,” Leo said with a small smile. “I think you were just a little too ambitious for this first round and it got away from you.”

“That’s fair. Thanks for the input.” Finn grabbed his plate and made his way back to his station. He wasn’t too upset by those reviews – he already knew he was a bad cook. But he had potential, so at least he had that going for him.

Logan grinned at him back at his station. “I can’t believe you served the judges glue pasta.”

“At least I’m not serving them canned green beans.”

“They taste just fine, thank you very much.”

“Lo, they’re professionals. You’re not getting away with something lazy like that.”

He definitely got in trouble for using the canned green beans. Dorcas looked down at them like they were worms. Leo gave him the ‘I’m not mad, I’m disappointed’ look, which was even worse, please don’t look at me like that.

“Canned food is a no-go, huh?”

“Definitely.”

“And this chicken isn’t cooked all the way.” Leo said, showing him the pink meat. “You said earlier that you’d cook it until it reached 145 degrees, but chicken needs to reach 165 at a minimum.”

“I’m sure it tasted fine, though.” Dorcas added. “You can’t really go wrong with pre-made barbeque sauce and chicken.”

Ouch. Logan grabbed his plate. “Right. Thanks.”

Finn was predictably cackling at his station. “Tremz, they couldn’t even eat yours. Celeste is going to be so disappointed in you.”

“Shut up.”

 ***

As soon as they were back into their hotel room, Finn kicked his shoes off and faceplanted into the couch. “I can’t believe that took so long.”

“Yeah,” Logan sat down and grabbed his take-out. “Who knew cooking all day would make us so hungry?”

Finn made grabby hands at the other food container. Logan laughed and handed it to him. “I haven’t been this hungry since playoffs, fuck.”

They ate in silence and were finished in record-setting time. Finn collected their trash and stood up to throw it away. “So blue team, huh? I’m kind of surprised they put us on the same team.”

“Me too. But Leo seems like a good teacher, so I’m glad we’re on his team.”

“Yeah, he seems so young, too.” Which sounded ridiculous to say; Leo couldn’t be that much younger than them. “If he’s already winning competitions and starring in cooking shows at that age, he must be pretty good.”

“Winner of Iron Chef America, Chopped, Guy’s Grocery Games…” Logan read off his phone with a low whistle. “He graduated culinary school early and opened his own restaurant a year later.”

“Damn.”

“There’s a video of one of his competitions on here.”

“Play it!” Finn said excitedly, flopping back down on the couch and peering over his boyfriend’s shoulder. Logan gave him a strange look. “What? Maybe we’ll learn something useful.”

“I think this is going to be way too complicated for us, but ok.”

So they sat on the couch watching cooking competitions for hours, learning skills and techniques that went way over their heads. Logan wordlessly switched to Leo’s cooking show Cajun Cooking, watching episode after episode of the blue-eyed chef teaching traditional New Orleans recipes.

Little did they know that halfway across the city in his own apartment, Leo Knut was watching Youtube highlights of the Gryffindor Lions, keeping a sharp eye out for number seventeen and number ten.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

A Miraculous TikTok Account

Part 35

First

Previous

Next

Ladybug sighed as she fell back on her bed with a cup of water instead of coffee for once.

Not because she wasn’t going to stay up or anything, it was already around 3 what’s the point of sleeping at that point, but because she’d cried herself out with Chat. She did little curl-ups occasionally so she could actually swallow. (Should she just sit up and make things easier on herself? Yes. Will she? No.)

Ugh. Stupid emotions. How was she supposed to kill Chat now? When she’d thought it was just because he’d needed a distraction she’d been able to feel angry because there were plenty of ways to do that without getting her involved, but now that she knew it was also because he related and didn’t want her to suffer the same way he did…

She groaned and threw her now-empty plastic cup at the wall. It bounced off and then rolled across the ground lamely. Stupid cup. Stupid feelings.

She clicked her tongue irritably and glared at the ceiling.

Her trap door opened and she blinked, looking over to see… Chloe?

“Aren’t you usually asleep right now?”

“I was,” said Chloe, rubbing her eyes with a scowl. She pulled off her mask to actually get the desired effect, and then lazily tossed it onto a chair. She walked over and picked up the cup. “This woke me up.”

A blush spread across her face. “Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s too late, now,” said Chloe with a vague wave of her hand. She set the cup down on a rare empty surface and then took a seat on the bed beside her. “So, how’d things go with Chat?”

“... good,” said Ladybug, pulling her gaze back to the ceiling. “I feel like an asshole, now.”

“Kinda were one.”

“Fuck you.”

She winked. “I mean, if you’re offering, --.”

She pushed her off the bed and Chloe laughed as she hit the floor. Ladybug found that she was smiling despite herself and she had to school her expression back into a scowl. Chloe stood back up and stretched, then attempted to sit back down on the bed. She went starfish to prevent this.

Chloe scoffed. “Really?”

“You’ve lost bed privileges.”

“Hm,” she said, unimpressed.

Ladybug clicked her tongue once but pulled her knees up to let her sit at the end of the bed.

“Anyways, have you got everything out of your system?”

She nodded slightly, and then yawned into her hand. Her choice of water was beginning to catch up to her. Damn.

Chloe smiled. “Good. What’re you going to do about your identity, now?”

“Probably ignore the video. People will either think it was a fluke or just kinda forget about it. Hopefully.”

The smile disappeared and the blonde scrutinized her for a few moments. “You’re really dumb for a smart person, you know that?” Suddenly, her face lit up again. “Actually, that reminds me of something.”

Ladybug watched in confused silence as she pulled out her phone and pushed a few buttons.

And then her phone screen lit up. She blinked and picked it up.

TikTok?

She clicked the notification and pulled up the new video on Chloe’s account.

~

It showed Carapace, Ladybug, and Rena in the living room. None of them seemed completely there in one way or another, and the coffee machine had been dragged out to sit on the table for easy access.

Ladybug was practically vibrating on the couch, struggling to bring a cup of coffee to her lips without spilling any.

Carapace was laying across the armchair that was pretty much his at this point, eyes glazed over.

Rena was apparently giving a lecture… or, at least, that’s what she thought she was doing. She was babbling, mostly incoherent, pointing at the conspiracy board -- this must have been taken before Hawkmoth had come and destroyed the house -- and occasionally moving on to the next point.

It was unclear whether Carapace and Ladybug actually understood what she was saying somehow because their mutual sleep-deprived-ness made them all get on the same wavelength (think how babies understand each other despite speaking no real words) or were just nodding along but, either way, Rena definitely had their attention.

Rena pointed very aggressively and the camera zoomed in on the words ‘Rich Bitch’. Ladybug raised her hand and said something in the weird Simlish they had managed to create. The fox holder nodded thoughtfully and then, after procuring a marker, she changed the word ‘Bitch’ to ‘Has anyone asked Hawkmoth for their preferred pronouns?’.

Carapace said something.

Rena crossed that out and then wrote ‘Fuckface McPeopleKiller’.

The three nodded at this and they went back to the lecture.

“What the heck?” Whispered a voice. The camera panned to where Chat was standing in the doorway with a confused and slightly concerned expression.

Then it panned again to Chloe, who looked almost bored. “The smartest of Paris’s heroes, everyone.”

The video ended.

~

Ladybug glared at Chloe. “C’mon, really?”

“Chat’s right, you should at least be honest that it’s not you. Film a video about it, talk about it and address it, then continue what you’re doing. At least then you won’t have to stress out as much about messing up.”

She crossed her arms.

“Also, I said that I was going to upload a video when someone messed up and revealed the truth. Someone did that, so I did. I’m a woman of my word.”

Ladybug rolled her eyes. “Mhmm.”

There was a silent staredown that lasted a whole five seconds before Ladybug broke eye contact to glare at the ceiling.

She clicked her tongue. “You’re not going to let it go, are you?”

“No. And I’m sure Carapace would prefer it, too, since he won’t have to edit around your actual personality anymore.”

For whatever reason, Ladybug wasn’t as angry as she should have been. Maybe she was just tired from the lack of coffee, maybe the stuff with Chat had been enough for her to relax for the time being, or maybe it was because it was Chloe of all people. Who knows. Certainly not her.

“Fiiiiiine,” she groaned. She shooed her out and told her to go to sleep. Then she picked up her phone.

~

The video opened up relatively close to her face.

“Hello, everyone! It’s me! Different content than usual, but it’ll go back to normal tomorrow.”

She cleared her throat awkwardly. “Right, if you’re not Parisian, you probably don’t know but I… do cosplay.” She stepped back to reveal her outfit. “I made this, it’s a spin on a magical girl. Original character. Cool, right?”

“Anyways, that’s really all you’ll care about, I think. The rest of the video won’t make much sense to you. You can leave.”

She bobbed her head absently for a few moments, as if listening to a song, and then shrugged. “Are they gone now? Probably. Anyways, a few of you might have noticed that my friends have uploaded some content that… shows me acting in a way you’re not used to, and I’m here to address it.”

“Firstly, yes, I behave differently at home than I do in front of you guys. I have a persona that I lean into for work. The others do the same. Don’t be surprised if you see us acting differently in videos than we do while on the job.”

“Secondly, I actually don’t dress like this all the time.” She snapped and the video cut, and suddenly she was wearing a light pink crop top and pale jeans. She smiled and held up a peace sign to the camera. “I wear things other than red and black! Stunning, I know. Do wear the colors pretty often, though, they compliment my skin tone.”

“Thirdly… a lot of you guessed it, but I figured I’d confirm it since I’m being honest with you guys today.” She blushed a little and brought her legs up to show off her cuffed jeans. “I’m bi.”

“And, lastly, I swear. A lot. Easier to express myself that way.”

“Think that’s all you guys will really care about.”

There was about a second where she considered that, then shrugged.

“Right, you’re all probably wondering what’ll happen now. Well, nothing will change for you guys. This account won’t be changing and neither will the way I act in public. I just came here to publicly address everything because I didn’t want to be hounded by the media about it.”

She flashed finger guns at the camera. “Right. Bye!”

~

Taglist

@iidiotkid @nathleigh @sassakitty @th1s-1s-my-aesthet1c @blueslushgueen @woe-is-me0 @ladybug-182 @cas-and-their-refusal-to-write @trippingovermyfeet @melicmusicmagic @meimei3841 @roseliali @ultimatetornshipper

[unholyplumpprincess]

Long Distance Blues

Commission for someone who does not want to be tagged.

Summary: Reader/Mirage with Mirage out in the games and becoming champion and getting a nude as a ‘congrats’ and ending with video chat sex. Cause that’s long distance babey. First part to my other fic ‘Sleepyhead’.

(Older content)

Reblogs > Likes. It costs zero dollars to reblog but makes my day :D

!!!Minors and ageless blogs dni or you will be blocked!!!

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Reader/Mirage

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, PWP, Reader is gender neutral but has a vulva, mutual masturbation, sexting, video sex, long distance relationship, aaaaand toy usage!

Words: 2.3k

_______________

The Apex Games made it hard for someone like you, who was in a relationship with one of the infamous legends, to be able to really have alone time anytime soon with them. Elliott ‘Mirage’ Witt was the apple of your eye, and many others who were fans. He was beautiful in the arena and in interviews, cocky and full of smiles and dimples and all over was a nice person to watch and interact with. He had his insecurities, he had his faults, and yet still smiled every day.

Yet, on days like this, you miss him more and more.

The season had started about a month or so ago, and he wouldn’t be coming back to you for another day or two, depending on how long they keep them for a meeting to schedule the next season and new rules. You severely missed waking up to him in the morning to find him cooking breakfast, or seeing him pull the blanket higher when you gently tried to shake him awake.

You missed the little things already like pushing his curls back from his face and kissing his forehead, or him blushing and laughing at you when you called him cute.

~Rest under the cut~

You sigh on the couch, fresh out of your shower and rolled onto your side. Your TV shows the live streams of the Apex games while you tune out the announcers. That is, until they’re beginning to announce the legends coming into the battle.

Mirage’s team consists of Bangalore and Wraith, and you already know he’s going to be acting a fool with the two love birds.  

He’s as big of a show off for the cameras as ever on the drop ship, winking before snapping his goggles into place and posing dramatically as Wraith shoves him playfully and Anita rolls her eyes big and hard dramatically. They all make a killer squad, that much you know. All of them together were deadly, but with all their skills combined?

You smile at the screen when the camera pans back to him and he blows a kiss at the camera before making a heart with his fingers and jumping off the ship with Bangalore and Wraith in tow. You sigh a bit like a newly in love teen, snuggling deeper into your pillows and hugging the hoodie around you. It was one of his, warm and soft with the Apex logo on the back.

The games aren’t really your thing. You just don’t get excited about the blood and warfare they commit against each other. You’re much more into it for the banter when the cameras can pick up the audio or tap into the comms that they all have. Of course, you watch it to support your partner as well, but honestly it’s quite funny to hear them all during the beginning portions of the matches. Or towards the middle where they’re all trying to find each other.

Down to ten squads and it changes camera focus a few times to how the teams are so split off in different areas. With the ring approaching, it makes for a smaller field, smushing them closer together. The camera pans to your partner’s squad, the squad kill count being ‘five’ on the screen as voices are picked up. “Yeah but can you really blame me?” Comes your partner’s voice, zooming in closer to him leaning back against a wall as Bangalore leans around the corner to check for any movement.

“When it comes to jokes,” Comes Wraith’s voice on the other end, the camera watching her lying prone on the rooftop and eye focused on her scope. “You really are terrible with them. Get better material.” Her lips quirking up as she finishes her playful statement.

The camera flicks back to Elliott, who holds a hand dramatically over his heart and points up at the ceiling with his gun approximately where she’s at. “Hey! Take that back! I’m funny- Bangalore?”

Only for him to get a look from the woman and a one shouldered shrug. “On a stage full of clowns you’d look right at home.”

“Yeah!” Elliott chimes in as they begin to move, only to pause, a funny look on his face as he processes her insult. ���Hey!!!”

You smile big at the screen as it flips to the next set of legends. Leave it to your Elliott to be the crowd favorite in tense times like this.

--

They end up winning as champions. Anita takes the kill count to the highest of six people in grand total, Elliott comes close with five, but Wraith takes last with three kills under her belt but more hits and accuracy. All three of them look proud, with Elliott’s arms around his favorite ladies and beaming brightly before the broadcast is cut out and the next channel pulls up. You immediately turn off the TV, grabbing your phone to text him.

You debate on just letting him know he did a good job and what you found were highlights, but your texts from this morning catch your eye. Elliott mentioning how horny he was and how he missed you. You bite your bottom lip as you consider your options.

Tell him he did a good job and you’re going to bed, ooooor reward him with a job well done?

A sly smile catches your lips as you immediately begin to pose, lying out on the couch and catching the bottom of the hoodie between your teeth as you bring it up. Showing off your chest as you grab one of your breasts and pose the camera so it can view your body from lips down to about your knees. Showing off soft curves and the softness around your middle, your little short pajama shorts hiding everything else.

You send it with the caption ‘Good job out there, baby! Want a sneak peek before you come home? <3’

He must still be out at the ceremony because when he does check his phone, the message pops up as ‘read!’ but then nothing else. You laugh as you try to picture his face, startled and open as he scrambles to shut the message.

You take the time to take a few more with varying poses and angles, always making sure to make it blatantly obvious you were in his hoodie. Ending up migrating to the bedroom so you could get comfier on your shared bed- and take pictures using the mirrors spanning the closet doors.

You take one you’re really proud of. Stripping out of your shorts and underwear, dragging the hoodie’s bottom down to between your thighs as you sit on your knees and splay out your bare legs. You bite your bottom lip, peeking up and at the mirror as you take the picture.

As you hit send is when the rest start reading as read. He replies back to you, saying that he just made it to his room, lots of him going ‘holy shit’ and then soon enough, you got a picture back.

It’s of him, lying on his bed with a hand pulling his sweatpants down to show the dark curls between his thighs and a tent in his pants. He captions it ‘Look how hard you’ve gotten me’ with a crying emoji and you can’t help laughing a bit but eyeing him up.

He looked so good with the warm light of the lamp illuminating his warm flesh. His shirt is pulled up just enough to show off his mid-riff and you can see the bit of a wet spot on the front of his pants juuuuust enough. He was always so sensitive, seemed to be even now without your touch he was already so willing and wanting.

After a few more heated exchanges is when you finally turn on your computer and pull up the video chat. Calling him and watching him immediately pick up on his own laptop. Elliott’s curls are a mess, his sweatpants are tugged down to mid-thigh and his hand is around his cock as he strokes languidly. Watching your eyes follow his hand as he laughs softly, “Hey there yourself.”

You, who was lying on your side, lower half off camera but one arm disappeared below the screen to show you were obviously touching yourself. You hum instead at him, smiling idly and bringing your hand up to make a show of licking your fingers off just to hear him hiss.

“Fuck- babe. Look at you. Come on, spread your legs, let me see.” He all but whines at you and you almost raise a brow. Taking control? That wasn’t normally his way of things. But, Elliott was also riding the high of being champion. You’ll indulge him.

For now.

You push back the laptop to show off your whole body, watching as his eyes greedily drink you in and his hand squeezes a bit harder at the base of his cock. Elliott was putting on quite a show as you slide up onto your knees. Letting your body chest down be seen as you spread your thighs open slowly, letting him get a good look at how wet you were. Glistening and flushed as you use two fingers to spread open your cunt to show him even more of you.

“Shit,” He hisses out, eyes hungrier than ever as you watch his tongue flick out over his lips. You just know he wants to taste you, you know damn well what that mouth can do. Your clit jerks at the motion and he all but whines at you. “I can’t wait to be home.”

You make a show of sliding two of your fingers down, catching your clit in the crook of them and rubbing until you’re perked and ready. Soon lowering and curling two fingers in yourself, your other hand grabbing at your breast and toying with your nipple just to watch his eyes flutter. But, before he can come up with another cocky thing, tell you what to do, you coo at him, “What a good boy. Do you like watching me?”

Just those few words ‘good boy’, that makes his entire facial features change. Elliott goes from hungry predator to flustered immediately, cheeks and ears red as his head falls back briefly to stroke himself a little faster. With the upper hand now on your side, you coo again to him.

“Don’t you want to watch me, baby boy?” You murmur softly, worried it doesn’t catch on the mic at first until his head near immediately zips back up to watch you. His hand is stuttering on his cock, as if he doesn’t want to cum too early as he squeezes at the base. His cock is shiny from lube, you assume, or saliva. Flushed and hard and bobbing back against his abdomen when he lets go to adjust his laptop a bit.

“Fuck yourself? Please?” Elliott all but sobs for you as you tease your own cunt with your fingers. You eye the toy you’d set on the bed beside you anyway, a rabbit vibrator you dearly loved. You think about putting on a strap on too, stroking it like he is his cock and telling him how you’d fuck him raw if he was here.

You’ll let him have this much.

When you go off screen briefly, you can hear him whine your name. But, you’re back quick enough, crawling back onto your knees and leaning back to give him a better angle. You use your own slick to lube up the head of the pink vibrator, carefully easing it into you with a bit of a huff from yourself at the tight fit. But, once snugly inside, you crank it up halfway and press the rabbit’s ears just right to frame your clit.

From there, it’s watching each other. With his hand moving in sync to how you thrust the toy inside of you. It didn’t matter if you sped up or slowed down, he was right in beat with you. No matter how hard he shook when you slowed down just to grind on your toy and moan lowly for him.

Eventually you can’t watch him, having to lie down on your back as you thrust the toy into you. Covering your mouth and tossing your head back to muffle noises. You hear him beside you, moaning and whining for you like the good boy he is. You hear him murmur about how beautiful you are, how he couldn’t wait to taste you again.  

You cry out as you cum, shaking and the hand covering your mouth now grabbing at your own hair. You must look a mess, despite thrusting the toy still readily into your throbbing, twitching cunt. You can hear his breath quickening, hear him whine, “I want to fuck you s-so bad- badly- want to cum all over your fu- fucki- fucking face-”

He’s a stuttering, shaky mess when you peek over. Just to see his head thrown back and biting into his fist as his cock beautifully jerks and twitches in his grasp. Streaking white ribbons across his abdomen and the bottom of his shirt that reaches up too high. Elliott’s flushed, red in the cheeks and his hand stopping its stroking, loosening his fist as his eyes, glassy and wet turn to look at you.

You smile at him, lying on your side with your cheeks equally flushed. “Just a few more days, baby.” You promise him.

Tiredly, he nods back, laughing softly before groaning. “Ugh, I need a shower- you headed to bed?”

Sleepily, you offer a ‘mmhm’ as your eyes get heavy. Just in time to hear him say that he loves you as the world goes dark.

You’ll deal with your cum soaked toy in the morning.

[f00pyf00p]

Art Crossed Lovers

Fandom: Sanders Sides  Characters: Logan, Virgil, Janus, Roman, Patton  Rating: Teen and Up  Relationships: Romantic Analogical Warnings: Swearing, Robbery, Police, Guns, Gunshots, Injury, Major Character Death Word count: 4553 Summary: The sirens came at precisely 7:24 pm. They were a minute and 12 seconds late; exactly as Logan had predicted. Indeed, when Virgil glanced at him, he found his lover’s normally sharp expression tinted with smugness, especially as the flashing lights drove right past their hiding place. Other Notes: Analogical Week Day 2: Song/Stars @analogicalweek

Read on AO3

Song: Partners in Crime (Set It Off)

The sirens came at precisely 7:24 pm. They were a minute and 12 seconds late; exactly as Logan had predicted. Indeed, when Virgil glanced at him, he found his lover’s normally sharp expression tinted with smugness, especially as the flashing lights drove right past their hiding place.

Virgil still felt tight. So far they had been successful- the evidence of that lay behind him- but all it would take was one misstep. One dropped eyelash, one unexpected flash of a camera.

“We need to go,” he said urgently. He glanced down at the car’s ignition. At the moment, the key lay in it, unturned and silent. “They’ll double back.”

Logan’s face was impassive. “We move too early, we’ll be found.”

“It’s the same thing if we move too late,” Virgil countered.

He could tell Logan was weighing his words, but they didn’t have time to think: they had to move. Now.

“Trust me, L,” Virgil urged.

That seemed to do the trick. Logan’s hand fell to the ignition. His eyes narrowed and Virgil could practically see the gears in his head turning as he figured out how to get on the highway quickest, which roads he needed to take to blend in, and where they could ditch this car in turn for another one.

The key turned and the car roared to life.

It was loud. Loud enough that Virgil almost told Logan to turn the blasted thing off, but Logan’s foot had already hit the gas.

There was no turning back now.

Logan drove calmly. He stopped at the stop signs, slowed as the lights turned yellow, and stayed exactly five miles above the speed limit at all times. There was no sign that the car did anything but belong there. Nobody who looked at this average, law-obeying car would connect it with the million-dollar paintings stowed carefully in the back.

The highway ramp was in view. Something within him unfoiled as they made it onto that bridge and he relaxed further when it was confirmed that the highway had enough cars on it that they wouldn’t be inconspicuous.

Logan merged quite quickly. He pulled into the fast lane, behind a medium gray car that looked almost identical to the one they were in, and sat back.

“Good call,” Logan told Virgil gently.

“I always make good calls.”

Logan glanced off the road for a brief second, solely to raise his eyebrows before bringing his focus back to the cars around him.

“Ass.”

A quirk of Logan’s mouth was the only answer he gave.

Okay, so maybe over the years Virgil’s decisions hadn’t always been perfect. His anxiety was a double-edged sword; sometimes it made exactly the kind of cut Virgil needed to figure out all possible ways out of a dangerous situation. Other times it sliced his hands and Logan and Virgil were left to clean up the blood.

But right now, his fear had pushed them out of their hiding spot. If they had stayed a moment longer the red and blue lights they had so carefully avoided for years might’ve finally shone on them.

Logan drifted into the middle lane, leaving the twin of their car to pull ahead of them. Virgil watched it go silently and reminded himself that everything was going to plan.

They were ready for this.

“Logan!”

But Logan had already spotted it. Sitting in wait, just in view, was a police vehicle. Its lights were off but Virgil could easily imagine the white plump man behind the wheel, holding a speed gun and waiting for a car to make his life slightly more interesting.

Like the rest of the cars around him, Logan hit the breaks. His speed fell- 85, 76, 70- and Virgil gripped the sides of his seat until his hands turned white.

“If we get pulled over-”

“They won’t take us alive,” Logan said. The words, which should not have been comforting in any shape or form, helped Virgil to take a breath and remember the plan.

Because they had planned for this too. Being pulled over, being talked to, what to say and how to say it. And if things went so south the cops figured out just who they were….

Virgil’s hand fell to the gun straddled in his hip.

They wouldn’t separate them. When it came down to it, the only thing that would split up Virgil and Logan was death.

The police car was behind them now. His light remained off and the extremity of Virgil’s extra tension eased away as Logan and the car's speed around them re-picked up.

“Next exit,” Virgil reminded him.

Logan’s lips curved up in his not-a-smile but totally adorable way. “I’m plenty aware, Virgil, I assure you.”

His blinker flicked on and he slowly moved over to the merging lane. Their speed dropped slightly but the roar of the highway was just as deafening and centering as before.

Logan clicked his blinker on again and moved to get off. It was a fairly busy turning point; he wasn’t the only car getting off and they had to come to a stuttering halt before being allowed back on town roads again.

The stillness was awful, but it would’ve been worse to be alone. There was safety in numbers, Virgil reminded himself, even if numbers forced the damn car to stop when all he wanted to do was get to the stupid dropping point.

Logan turned them left, down roads wooded dark roads until they finally landed at a dark empty parking lot, picked solely for its lack of cameras. Plus, not five minutes away was a car dump- a very easy place to dump one car and pick up a brand new one.

7:58.

“We’re early,” Virgil whispered.

“We expected that.”

“I hate being early.”

“You hate being on time and late as well.”

Virgil glared at Logan. A heavy sigh made its way from his boyfriend and Logan let his hand fall on Virgil’s knee and stroke it in calming little circles with his thumb.

“My apologies, Love. I’m tense.” Logan looked over at the car’s digital clock, where the stubborn “58” remained. “I’d also prefer to not be early.”

Virgil’s heart melted a little at the admission. “Forgiven,” he promised, before leaning forward and planting a kiss on Logan’s left cheek.

Logan looked so adoringly at him, Virgil nearly shoved him away.

7:59. The moment the number turned, a tiny white car pulled into the parking lot. It parked right beside them, leaving just enough space for the man they had been contacted by to jump out and walk up to Virgil’s window.

Virgil rolled it down.

“How’d it go?” Janus asked curtly.

“Exactly as planned.” Virgil’s voice had fallen back into its harder “don’t-mess-with-me” tone he always got when dealing with clients. Behind him, Logan's eyes shone like a wildcat in the dark. “Can I assume you weren’t followed?”

Janus snorted. “Please.”

Logan and Virgil glanced at each other. After a brief moment, Virgil nodded and Logan hopped out of the car, leaving the engine roaring, and opened the back door.

There were five different paintings back there. All five had been stolen from the Samburu tribe of Northern Kenya. All five had traveled around the world for a bit, earned themselves a reputation and a large net worth, before finding their way to a famous art gallery.

A famous art gallery that now found itself five paintings short.

“We’ll check in with both you and the Samburu in about a week to ensure these ended up in the right spot.” Logan’s client voice wasn’t as rough or as nasty as Virgil’s; it was pure ice and it nipped whomever he turned it on.

The noise that came from Janus was practically a snarl. “You think I would steal from my own people?”

“I think we will be checking in with you and the Samburu in about a week.” The frost from earlier had turned into a blizzard. Logan turned his back on Janus and silently helped the man move everything from car to car. Once things were situated, he slipped back into the front seat and waited.

Janus dropped a bag through Virgil’s open window and into his lap. Virgil didn’t bother hiding how he opened it and slowly rifled through the bills.

It was all there. At an obscenely low rate considering the amount of effort they had gone through to get those paintings, but plenty for the two of them.

“Make sure you change license plates,” Virgil advised.

Janus had the wisdom to nod as Virgil rolled his window up. The two of them left first, as quietly and quickly as they could without being suspicious.

“Well, Logan,” Virgil said as he stowed their money into his black hoodie, “Shall we go?”

Logan pulled into the car dump, another one of his half-smiles dancing over his face. “Indeed.”

It took them no time at all to find the car they had stashed here, hidden beautifully amongst the rubble and broken vehicles. Virgil replaced the license plates with ones they had gotten earlier while Logan made it his business to completely destroy the ones they had driven the stolen paintings around in.

Then he set the car on fire.

By the time it was done burning out, Virgil had finished with the old one. They hopped into it, this time with Virgil at the wheel, and took off into the night.

It was time to lie low for a bit.

__

“In other news Art Museum The Centre of the Mind has recently been visited by the Art Crossed Lovers. They stole five paintings: “The Sunrise” worth 34 million, “Lifting Up” worth 65 million, “Gardens of Forever” worth 22 million, “Father of Life” worth 12 million, and finally, “Wretched Dream” worth 47 million. Unlike the previous heist, nobody was harmed in the taking of these paintings however-”

Virgil glanced over at Logan, who was gripping the frying pan a little harder than normal. Slowly, Virgil pushed from their kitchen table, leaving the radio to amuse itself, and slunk around Logan’s back. “Smells good, baby,” he breathed.

“Thank you.” Logan relaxed back into his hold. “The eggs should be done in a few minutes.”

“The Centre of the Mind was considered one of the hardest places to get into, with top-of-the-line cameras, motion detection, passive infrared sensors, as well as RFID tags put into the paintings to track them. However, while no technology seems to have been turned off or broken in any way, there is no evidence of anyone other than the guards being in the building at any point in time.”

Logan had taken on the more smug look of his.

“All RFID tags were found stuck to the wall where the painting had previously been. With no way to track the paintings, officials can’t be sure where they’re headed.”

“You can guess,” Virgil muttered.

Logan’s huff of a laugh was like music to Virgil’s ears, and he rewarded the noise with a gentle kiss to the neck.

“Previous experiences with The Art Crossed Lovers suggest that all five artworks will arrive with the Samburu people of Northern Kenya, where the artwork originated. Officials ask that museums be on their guard-

“Eggs are done.” Logan turned his head sideways to look at Virgil the best he could. “Would you like to let go of me now, Love, so we can eat?”

Virgil responded with a whine and buried his face into Logan’s neck.

“The eggs will get cold.”

“Fuck the stupid eggs.”

“Hmmm.” Logan’s voice was light, slightly teasing. “How about we make a deal?”

Virgil stayed silent.

“We’ll eat breakfast, as nutrients are important, and if I remember correctly-” he jerked his head towards the radio, still spreading what they had done last night. “We burned quite a number recently.”

“Don’t care.”

“In return, you may have cuddles.”

Virgil’s eyes narrowed. “I’m a thief.”

“Accurate.”

“I can just steal cuddles.”

“Virgil-”

“And eggs.”

“...What?”

“Put the food on a plate.”

Looking more amused than anything else, Logan reached up into one of their cupboards and removed a large white plate. He piled the scrambled eggs on it and then, with Virgil still locked around his waist, added to the buttered pieces of toast he had finished a moment before.

Virgil took over. He led Logan over to the couch, sat him down, and then instantly wrapped Logan’s arm around him.

“Cuddles and nutrients.”

Logan kissed the side of his head. “Indeed.”

__

They normally waited at least four months before even planning to resurface again. This time, however, Logan got a call from a group of indigenous people in Mexico only three months into their rest period claiming that seven paintings were stolen from them and currently residing in the art museum the Gallery of Dreams. They checked up on it and of course, the group was telling the truth.

“We should wait a little longer,” Virgil muttered. “This is too soon. The museums are still on high alert.”

“The museums have been on high alert since our first three,” Logan responded. “The paintings are culturally significant. They need them in a month.”

Virgil pursed his lips. “So much could go wrong.”

Logan’s hand covered his but when Virgil glanced over at him he found that his boyfriend wasn’t looking at him but at his laptop, filled to the brim with different notes about the museum, the people, the paintings, and who would be picking them up.

“The escape route is easy.” Logan clicked onto his tab with a map. “It's practically right next to a popular highway and from there we can head to Marieville-” his finger jabbed a town- “pick up a car, wash down the other one, and head through Bardsbury-” his finger pointed again- “where Remus can pick them up.”

“What about cameras?”

Logan paused. His fingers clicked across the keyboard rapidly. Virgil let his head fall on Logan’s shoulder as he worked, quietly taking in the websites before-

“Okay, not Marieville then. It looks like Hamtree has fewer cameras and if we switch and clean cars out in this dead spot, we’d be fine.”

“Logan?”

“Hmm?”

“How close is the police station to that dead spot?”

A string of curses came out of Logan’s mouth, and Virgil smiled rather faintly as Logan had to rework their exit again.

A smaller, louder part of him reminded him that planning the escape was usually easiest, and if they were having this much trouble with just that it didn’t bode well.

“Got it. We’re heading to Lumbire.”

Virgil glanced over his route. Cameras were accounted for. They’d drop off a clean car before the heist so they could switch out and head for Bardsbury. Police stations were all over 15 minutes away from all of their spots, except for the Museum. They’d blend in, get out, find a new vehicle, and get out again.

It was simple. Perfect. Something they had done 1000 times.

“Alright,” Virgil surrendered. “What do we go about that.” He jabbed the museum with a single finger before settling back into Logan’s side.

“We gather information,” Logan replied. An arm swung itself around Virgil. “I’m certain we can figure something out.”

__

They’d been hanging out next to the Museum for the past few weeks. It had been a quick move- neither Logan nor Virgil had much stuff- and since then, it had been nothing but work, work, play, and then some more work.

Especially since it was two days to the heist.

Virgil lounged across the couch, a cup of very bitter coffee in one hand, quietly going over the plan.

He had managed to grab them some police uniforms. Nothing that would fool an actual cop, but realistic-looking enough that when they buzz the security desk and tell him they were coming about a disturbance, nothing would be questioned.

There would be two security guards. It would be pretty easy to trick them out of the security room; people were pretty compliant once they saw the cop uniform, and then further compliant when they saw the gun. Both would be handcuffed and blindfolded.

Virgil took a sip of the coffee to try and calm his nerves.

Logan would enter the security room and hack into their technology. He had estimated it would take him under five minutes to make sure everything would come up blank for the time they were there. If the button to call the police had an easy-to-find wire, it would be cut.

Neither of them believed such a wire would exist.

From then on, it was just a race. Get to the paintings, load them into the car, and then get out of there. If things went really really well, the police wouldn’t even be alerted till morning.

Virgil pursed his lips and glanced over at the male sitting a couple of feet away from him. Logan was frowning- never a good sign- and looking rather blankly down at their notes.

“You good?”

Logan didn’t respond.

“L?”

His boyfriend blinked and turned to him. “Yes, Love?”

Virgil rolled his eyes and maneuvered around, placing his coffee on the table in front of the couch and dropping his head upon Logan’s lap. “You good?” he repeated.

Logan’s hand fell into his hair. “I was thinking about our escape route.”

“Yeah?”

“It might be smarter to avoid the highway since we’ll be moving in the early morning.”

Virgil paused. He went back over their plan silently, trying to piece what Logan said into it.

It wouldn’t be a big change. They’d still be going to the same towns, still have the same stopping points.

“We’d be on the road longer.”

“Indeed.” Logan gnawed on his bottom lip. “That’s why I haven’t brought it up with you yet. I’m not wholly convinced it's necessary, especially since the cops won’t be notified.”

They fell silent again. Virgil mulled it over.

“I’m for side roads.”

Logan’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? You hate last-minute changes.”

Yeah, and the butterflies in Virgil’s stomach were not thanking him for deciding this. He swallowed and curled closer into the warmth of Logan’s lap and gently stroking of his hair.

“I know. But I think this is a good one.”

Logan licked his lips. “Alright then,” he decided. “We’ll go side roads.”

__

They parked as close to the Museum as they could get without it being straight in the front. Logan turned the key, turning the car off, but left the key in the ignition in case they had to go at a moment's notice. Both of them pulled hats down to cover their hair and Logan pushed his glasses up his nose.

“Ready, Love?”

“Ready, Baby.”

The two of them opened their respective car doors at the same time. Logan straightened the fake police badge on his shoulder and strode right up to a door off to the side and hit the buzzer.

A voice came over the intercom. “Hello?” It came out a little nervous, slightly shaky. “Can I help you?”

Virgil watched with some amusement as Logan took a breath and practically sunk into the person he was supposed to be embodying until it wasn’t his boyfriend the art thief that stood across from him.

It was just a cop.

“Yes, we’re here about a disturbance call,” Logan's voice was curt. “Do you mind if we just come up and poke around? It won’t take long.”

“I’m not supposed to allow-”

“We’ll be quite quick,” Virgil jumped in. He made his tone warmer than Logan’s, softer. He’d learned enough about this person to know they would appreciate it. “I’m sure it's nothing, but protocol, you know.”

Logan’s mouth quirked up.

“Al-Alright then, Yeah, I’ll buzz you in.”

Almost as he said it, there was a loud buzzing noise, and Logan opened the door. The two of them strode into the building and just before the door could close, Virgil stuck an old keycard in between the lock.

There was no need to worry about getting stuck indoors.

They padded their way up to the security guard. Both Logan and Virgil’s hands had come to rest on the small handguns on their waist. They had each only fired from it during a heist once- but during practice earlier, neither had missed a mark.

“Hi.” There was a 20-something-year-old sitting behind glass. They wore large oval glasses and stared out at the two of them with big brown innocent eyes.

They probably shouldn’t have taken a job as a guard.

“Do they… ” Logan looked the guard up and down and then over at Virgil. “Do they look like…?”

Virgil had to keep from smiling. God, his boyfriend was good.

“Are you Patton Lennon?” he asked. He tried to keep the warmth from earlier while adding a bit more roughness and suspicion.

The guard reacted exactly as Virgil wanted them to. They pulled back, away from the glass, away from the system- and away from the button that called the police.

“I- Yes, but why-”

“Come out.” Logan left no room for negotiation. “We have some questions for you, Mx. Lennon.”

It was almost too easy. Patton instantly left the security guard area. As the door opened, Logan caught it on one hand and pulled it the rest of the way open, as if he were holding it for them. Patton didn’t seem to find this strange, though Virgil watched their eyebrows knit together as Logan stepped into the room.

It was too late for them anyway. Virgil pulled the gun off of the guard's waistband and handcuffed him before Logan had even made it to the control panel.

“What are you…” Patton’s eyes widened. “You’re not cops! Are you…”

“Don’t fight and you won’t get hurt.” Any warmth had died in the chasm of terror eating Virgil from the inside out.

Logan's eyes flickered over the system. “This is garbage. You don’t even have RFID tags.”

Patton shrugged helplessly.

“Well, better news for us.” Logan's fingers flew across random buttons. “Alright Love, we have an hour before anything starts showing us in here. Shall we get started?”

Virgil nodded quietly.

Logan strode out of the security room and let the door fall closed. His lips pursed as he looked at it; apparently, there hadn’t been any wire to cut off the police button.

They would just have to be extra careful.

“Where’s the second guard?” Logan’s question was directed towards Patton, who gave the same helpless shrug from earlier. However, something in his eyes flickered and it made Virgil nervous. He looked around them.

“Baby-”

Bang!

Bang!

The first thing Virgil felt wasn’t the pain but the pushback. The bullet had shot clean through his shoulder, whirling him against the wall behind him. It wasn’t until he had fully sunk to the floor did the pain hit and he remembered to pull out his own gun.

Logan was much more reactive than he was. Before Virgil had even registered the pushback, his boyfriend had whirled around and fired straight through the second security guard's forehead.

Patton screamed. “ROMAN!”

“You move, you die.” Logan’s voice was like nothing Virgil had ever heard before. It wasn’t ice; this was pure fire, pure fury, and the slightest amount of desperation. “Got it?”

Patton just sobbed out that guard's name. Roman, Roman, Roman.

Logan ripped off the police shirt and pressed it against the wound. Virgil whimpered as it hit him and despite his best efforts, tears pooled in his eyes. He closed them tightly, trying to breathe, even as each breath sent shockwaves through his body.

“I’ve got you, Love.” Both of Logan’s hands worked Virgil’s wound, using his blue tie to wrap around the police shirt and hold it there. “This is going to hurt.”

“Baby, I'm a little scared.” He was not at all happy with how pathetic his voice sounded, and how no matter what he tried he couldn’t pull the sobs back in.

“Now don't you quit on me.” Logan’s voice was soft, but not meek. “I’m going to tighten the tie. Okay?”

Virgil nodded. Sweat beaded down his forehead and he let his head drop back.

“3. 2. 1.”

Logan pulled and the tie forced the shirt tight around the bullet hole. Virgil let out a scream and he felt Logan shudder with it. When he opened his eyes, he found tears glistening on his boyfriend’s face- tears that Logan was quick to swipe away.

“I’m alright,” Virgil whispered. “Where’s…” His eyes widened. “Baby, Patton-”

It was far too late. The guard had already smacked that police button, having snuck into the security guard’s room while Logan tended to Virgil. Patton’s eyes went wide as they looked over at the pair of them, and they whimpered as Logan turned to them, face unreadable.

“Come here.”

Patton decided not to argue. The moment they were within distance, Logan’s arm came up, slamming the butt of his gun into Patton’s temple with more ferocity than Virgil had ever seen his boyfriend exhibit. The guard collapsed to the floor, unconscious, and Logan put handcuffs around his ankles before leaning over to Virgil.

“Come on Love. We’re going.”

Virgil wasn’t about to argue. He tried his best not to whimper as Logan lifted him up, but from the pained look on Logan’s face, he had failed miserably. Slowly, they made their way over to the door, the door that would lead to their car, and that would lead them out of here.

They could still make it.

Weee-ooowww Weee-ooowww…

Virgil’s heart fell. He glanced over at Logan, who pressed a firm kiss to his temple.

“They don’t take us alive,” Virgil told him.

A flicker of a smile appeared on Logan’s face. “Do you wish to go down in a blaze of glory, Love, or here?”

“Is that even a question baby?” Virgil faced the door, and the lights he knew lay beyond them. “Let’s make sure we’re remembered.”

It would be difficult for Virgil to fire a gun. His right arm wasn’t able to move, and the left was strung up and around Logan’s shoulder, to help his boyfriend to keep from dropping him. But Logan unclipped Virgil’s gun from around his waist and passed it to Virgil’s left hand, so the tip faced forward.

There wouldn’t be any aim, but Virgil was ready to cause a little chaos.

Logan swung the door open and stepped both of them through the frame. They looked out, over the sea of flashing police cars, and the policemen and women huddled behind them with their guns up in the air.

“This is the sheriff's police department! Come out with your hands up! We have the place surrounded!”

Virgil grinned. He could barely hear the calls of the police officer; it was blocked by the harsh pulse thumping in his ears, pounding in his wound.

“Put your weapons down!”

Logan cocked his gun.

“Put your weapons down!”

Logan and Virgil looked at each other. Eyes locked, Logan leaned forward and slammed their lips together. Just as they met, both Virgil and Logan pulled the triggers on their guns.

The Art Crossed Lovers were still kissing when the answering shots blew their brains out.

[knives-out20]

Magnetic Push - Erik Lehnsherr x Male!OC - Part 9

Fandom: X-Men: Days Of Future Past (2014)

Pairing: Karmel Rosenstein (OC) x Erik Lehnsherr

Warnings: Swearing, Gay, Spoilers for X-Men: Days Of Future Past,

Notes: Welcome to the 9th part! Only one more to go.

Erik and Karmel, donning the same costumes they wore the day they broke Emma out of her confinement cell all those years ago, made it to the Robert F. Kennedy Memorial Stadium. Erik simply floated his way down, but Karmel shot his vines out of his hands and torso, planting them into the middle of the stadium.

Karmel grunted, catapulting himself into the arena, his vines pulling back into him once he landed by Erik's side. He noted one other person in the stadium; some janitor. Karmel scoffed, walking in the opposite direction with Erik. He glanced down at his costume; it's been a while, but he was thankful it still fit.

This costume, per se, had a green colour scheme like Erik's was red. Karmel's cape hung off of one shoulder as opposed to both of them, and was shorter than Erik's; this way it wouldn't get in the way of his vines. Thorn-like spikes spun around the ankles of his boots, vines crossing over his torso in an 'X' shape. Not because of X-Men, Karmel just thought it looked cool. 

At least, that’s what he’d tell if anyone asked. The real reason was because the ‘X’ resembled Erik’s and his arms around one another when they hugged for the very first time; completely enveloping each other in their upper limbs.

His whole outfit resembled leather armor, all the way up to the dark green shoulder plates, down to the screw-like studs of silver metal on his boots.

It was Erik's idea for metal to be scattered over Karmel's costume, because if Karmel ever fell into danger, Erik could pull him out easily using his own mutation.

The janitor saw them. "Can I help you?" He called.

Karmel rolled his eyes, turning to Erik. "Can he help us?" He joked.

Erik stopped walking. "No, you can't" he answered, messing with the janitor's radio so that only static came out. Erik outstretched his arms, eyes falling closed as he focused on the stadium.

Karmel watched as huge marketing signs fell from their posts, the concrete level of the stadium cracking along.

The bars of lights broke off, crashing into the dozens of coloured seats that surrounded the stadium. It all came tumbling down, thanks to Erik's amazing powers.

“God, you’re ethereal.”

Erik cracked a slight smile as he slowly floated upwards, Karmel growing vines out of his body to follow Erik up into the air. He gestured his hand towards the White House, Karmel using his vines as long, long legs to walk alongside him.

"See the robots?"

"Uh-huh" Erik nodded, fingers curling inwards. Doing so, he activated the Sentinels, each one blasting into the air.

Karmel grinned in delight. "Get 'em, babe" he ordered, shooting vines out from his sides to wrap around the floating stadium, in order to help Erik with the weight of carrying it. Karmel didn't stop pieces of the stadium from falling like debris, crushing the road and cars in its way.

"Don't have to tell me twice, dear" Erik grumbled, balling his hand into a fist. 

Over at the White House, the robots rapid-fired bullets into the police cars, sending all the humans every which way. 

Erik gestured for the Sentinels, which came flying over to Karmel and him, forming a line in front of them. "Ever wanted a robot army?" He asked, raising his eyebrows at Karmel. Erik flashed him a smile.

"Only in my dreams" Karmel giggled. He pulled his vines that carried the stadium back into his body, watching as the stadium came crashing down, perfectly entrapping the White House in a circled barricade. He slowly retracted his other vines back into his body, feet touching the ground at the same time as Erik's.

Erik looked up at the Sentinels he sent over to different points of the stadium, making one stop behind Karmel and him.

Karmel heard a roar, and turned his head in the direction it came from. "You gotta be fucking kidding me- Erik, Hank" he warned.

Erik panned his head over, groaning under his breath. He turned further around, to the robot behind them. "Do what you were made for."

The Sentinel started up again, aiming an arm over at Hank and Logan and immediately firing in their direction. 

Erik closed his eyes, outstretching an arm and slowly scanning the arena. "Where are you?" He whispered, stopping when he picked up something metal from inside the White House. Erik opened his eyes, both hands reaching for the White House. 

"Logan, nine o’clock" Karmel nudged Erik, who looked over.

Erik nodded his head, a block of metal being thrown over at Logan- he dodged it. He repeated this action, Logan's claw tossing it out of the way. A few more times before Karmel rolled his eyes and stepped in.

Logan finally got knocked to the ground from behind, Karmel gesturing his hand up; vines grew from out the ground and looped over Logan's body, restraining him like a straight jacket.

Erik copied Karmel's motions, metal rebars shooting out from the block he had used, and twisting into Logan's body.

Karmel cringed, "nice."

"I know, right?" Erik agreed, turning his hand so that his palm was facing downward. "Now, let's see if the puppy can swim, eh?"

As Logan screamed in pain, Erik lifted him off of the ground.

"So much for being a survivor" Karmel hissed, Erik taking the advantage and unfurling his fist.

This sent Logan flying far, far away, landing in the Potomac River.

Now that Logan had been taken care of, Erik reached his hands out for the White House, once more. He focused on the metal he detected earlier, pulling it out of the ground and busting it out of the front of the House. "A bunker."

"Must've been fuckin’ underground, then" Karmel tilted his head.

The black bunker hit the ground, sliding to a stop in front of Erik and Karmel. Erik inhaled slowly, pulling the door of the bunker clean off. He made a pulling motion, which ripped the front wall of the bunker off, throwing it aside.

Karmel's vines sprouted out from his hand, using them along with Erik's powers to grab the men's guns and pull them away. Together, they made the guns float above their heads, and aimed them all down at the men in the bunker.

Erik slowly turned around, twirling his hands gracefully to make all the cameras face Karmel and him. He looked back at the government officials, who Karmel hadn't taken his eyes off of. "You built these weapons to destroy us. Why? Because you are afraid of our gifts."

"Because we are different" Karmel spat, steely gaze lying on the President. "Humanity has always feared that which is fucking different."

"Well, we are here to tell you, to tell the world-" Erik spun Karmel and himself around to face the multiple cameras, "you are right, to fear us. We are the future! We are the ones who will inherit this earth!"

"And anyone who stands in our way, will suffer the same fate as these men you see before you" Karmel shook his head, vaguely gesturing a hand back at the men in the bunker.

"Today was meant to be a display of your power. Instead, I give you a glimpse of the devastation our race can unleash upon yours" Erik explained.

"Let this be a warning to the world," Karmel started back up. "And to our mutants family out there...we say this" he said, placing a fist over his heart. Karmel locked eyes with Erik, nodding.

Erik nodded back at him, the two speaking in perfect unison.

"No more hiding. No more suffering. You have lived in the shadows in shame, and fear, for too long" They both urged.

"Come out!" Karmel called by himself, cupping his mouth with his hands. "Join us. Fight together, in a team of our kind."

"A new tomorrow, that starts today" Erik spoke. Hearing the President's voice, him and Karmel turned back around.

"You want to make a statement?" The President asked, pointing two fingers over at them. "Kill me, fine. But spare everyone else."

Karmel furrowed his eyebrows, hesitant. "I don't trust this" he mumbled.

Erik shrugged, approaching Nixon. "Very heroic, Mr. President" he started. "But you had no intention of sparing any of us. The future of our species begins now" Erik growled, all the floating guns locked and loaded on Nixon.

Karmel gulped, aiming the guns his vines held down, pointed at the President. He looked over, "Erik, robot-"

Erik shot his head to the side, holding up a hand at the approaching robot. Piece by piece, he broke it down until it was nothing but a torso with an arm.

Distracted, he didn't notice the 'President' pull a gun out and aim at it at Erik- but Karmel did.

"Erik!" He yelled, latching onto Erik and pushing him down.

"Karmel-!" Erik called, watching as a bullet entered then exited the side of Karmel's neck, practically grazing it. 

Karmel gasped, falling to one knee, then both of them, holding himself up by one hand as the other held the side of his neck. All of his vines reeled back into his body, dropping the guns.

Erik focused on Karmel’s unconscious body, dropping the guns he previously influenced. "Karmel-? Karmel! Karmel-" he called repeatedly, the other robots under his control shutting off, as well. Erik glared up at Raven (who had shapeshifted into Nixon), kneeling at Karmel's side. "You used to be a better shot- I'm glad it's used to, you-"

"Trust me, I still am" Raven cut him off, running over and knocking Erik out.

Erik fell back, knocked out at Karmel's side.

After Charles' intervention, Raven took Erik's helmet off of him. "They're all yours, Charles" she called, walking away and dropping the helmet.

Erik and Karmel's eyes snapped open, the two of them getting up while under Charles' control. Erik and Karmel outstretched their arms, using their mutations to pull the bars off of Charles, pushing them aside. 

Hank helped Charles up, taking Karmel and Erik out of Charles' influence.

Erik softly furrowed his brow, turning to Karmel. "You-"

"I'm alright" Karmel nodded, gesturing to the vines he quickly used to stitch his wound closed. "It's safe, don't worry."

Erik nodded, pulling Karmel in for a quick hug- one Karmel wasted no time in returning. He pulled away, glad that Karmel was okay. Erik turned to see the government's eyes on them. "If they weren't watching, I'd kiss you right now" he whispered, cupping Karmel’s face.

"Do it later" Karmel purred, smirking slightly.

Erik shakily exhaled, nodding. "I treasure you, Karmel" he mouthed.

"I treasure you too" Karmel mouthed back.

Erik and Karmel turned, watching Hank carry Charles over to them. "If you let them have Karmel and I, we're as good as dead." he noted, dropping his arms at his sides. "You know that."

"I know" Charles replied.

Erik frowned. "Goodbye, old friend."

"Goodbye, Erik" Charles replied, defeated. His head snapped over to Karmel, who was still at Erik's side, for some godforsaken reason.

Karmel stared right back.

"So that's it, then? You're still going with him?" Charles asked, dumbfounded.

Karmel's eyebrows knitted together. He squinted, "what-?"

Erik stepped closer to Karmel.

Charles scoffed, tilting his head. "After all this time, all this destruction- you're still siding with Erik? Endorsing his- his violence, his faulty views? What happened to the Karmel that worked at the peaceful library, huh? Helping anxious teens, reading to little kids? Don't tell me you're going to put your feelings above doing the right thing."

Karmel crossed his arms defensively, blinking his gaze down at the ground in thought. He side-eyed Erik (not in a nasty way, of course; more in a “are you hearing this?” Sort of way), before locking eyes with Charles again. "I'm with Erik because it's what I believe in. I'd still be standing right here even if I didn't feel for him, the way I fuckin' do."

"You should know more than anyone what Erik's capable of, Kar. Look at this, look at JFK, look at him-" Charles pointed right at Erik. "Old friend or not, it's very clear to me what corruption he could cause. Don't...Don't do this, Karmel. Come with Hank, and me. Stay with us" he begged, eyes pleading. "We can help you, just like we always wanted."

Karmel's tongue traced his teeth, turning his head to look at Erik.

Erik stared back at him, jaw clenched.

Karmel took Erik's hand in his own, bringing it up to his lips and softly kissing the knuckles of Erik's glove. He dropped Erik's hand, and made his way over to Charles and Hank.

"Karmel-"

Karmel held up a hand, silencing Erik. He walked towards Charles and Hank, looks of relief washing over their faces.

"Oh, Karmel" Charles praised, smiling happily. "I knew you'd come to your senses."

"Karmel!" Erik repeated, outstretching a hand. This couldn’t really be happening, could it?

Karmel stopped in front of Charles, his expression a blank slate. He turned his palm up to face the sky, and grew a vine out of it. This vine grew out a lush, purple flower. 

Hank arched an eyebrow, looking at it.

Karmel gulped, using his other hand to pluck the flower. He winced softly; the pain of plucking leaves or flowers from his vines was the equivalent of plucking eyebrow hairs. Karmel took Charles' hand, opening it up and placing the flower on it. He looked between Charles and Hank, swiftly turning around and walking back over to Erik.

As he did, Charles' face broke. "Really?! You're going to abandon your second chance at a real family, turn your back on doing the right thing-"

"I am doing the right goddamn thing" Karmel barked, hands tightening into fists.

"No, no you're not! You're doing this because of what, mate? Erik gives you pleasure? Huh? He makes you feel good? Millions of people may die in any bloody plan he mixes up, and you don't care because your brain is too full of what your pants is telling you, to comprehend the crisis we face?" Charles called.

Hank looked damn near betrayed.

Karmel groaned, rolling his eyes. "What the fuck did I just say? I'm doing this because it's what I believe in, Charles" he outstretched his arms. "It's what I've always mostly believed in, from the day my parents died, to the beach in Cuba- where YOU let me go with Erik- and up to where we are, right now. Whatever crisis we fucking face is because of the humans, Charles! After all these years, you're still blind to it?" Karmel scoffed. "Deep devotion to Erik or not, I'm doing what I need to do. I hope you can fucking see that, one day."

Charles grit his teeth. “Your experience of Erik’s attention is so profoundly harmful, yet so irresistible, it undermines you ability to think rationally” he spat, basically saying that Karmel likes Erik so much, it actually makes him stupid.

"Goodbye, Charles" Karmel waved, his face stone-cold. "Beware- it goeth before the fall."

Charles weakly inhaled. "Goodbye, Karmel" he huffed, not saying anything else. From this moment on, he truly knew how much Karmel cares about Erik. He just didn't want to believe that Erik was right, with what he said on the plane; Karmel's morals always fell closer to Erik's, even before he met the man. And Charles couldn't change that. But, in the future, that wouldn’t stop him from continuing to try.

Erik turned to Raven, as did Karmel. He outstretched his arms, slowly floating back up into the sky.

Karmel gave Charles a final glance, slowly growing his vines out from his back and using them as long legs. Now at Erik's level, he walked alongside his lover, glad that they were both free. But for how long? Karmel didn't care, as long as he was with Erik. He doesn't know what he'd be without Erik with him.

Erik floated by Karmel's side silently.

Karmel turned his head to face him now. "Where to, Erik?"

"Away, Karmel" Erik answered blankly. "From each other."

[kyndaris]

“De Sardet, Legate of the Merchant Congregation”

Diplomacy is an art. It is a delicate balancing act, likened to a dance where two or more opposing sides seek something from another. But in the end, diplomacy is all about compromise. This was something I learned as I played through Greedfall as De Sardet, Legate of the Congregation of Merchants, charming my way through the various factions in order to maintain a semblance of order in the new world of Teer Fradee. 

Releasing in September 2019, it was not a title that had been on my immediate radar. In fact, had I not spied a trailer on YouTube and heard Jane from Outside Xbox mention it on one of the weekly videos, I might have let it fall to the wayside. Fate had other plans and I managed to purchase the game. Intrigued by the setting and the premise behind it, I was eager to see where Spiders would take the game. Thus, it sat on my shelf until the year of COVID-19 rolled around before I finally booted it up to play.

Thrust into the role of De Sardet, cousin of Constantin D’Orsay, the new Governor of New Serene located on the island of Teer Fradee, players are tasked with maintaining relations between the Merchant Congregation and its allies as they set their eyes on a new land. As soon as the game started, I was enamoured by the fashion of the setting. I mean, who doesn’t love a good tricorne hat (previously referred to as ‘cocked hats’)? 

The only issue I had with the game was the jankiness involved with movement and combat. De Sardet seemed to startle forwards and, when I released the analog stick, jerked to a stop. Consequently, it felt jarring. Particularly during the early segments as I was trying to adjust to the controls. Then there were the occasions when De Sardet seemed to get stuck on basic geometry, such as a stairs or a small rock in the environment. Over time, however, I managed to see past these initial problems and began to thoroughly enjoy shooting my foes and stabbing at them with my rapier. Perfection, it might not have been, but it was certainly serviceable during my battles with the nadaig guardians.

Not being a triple-A studio game, however, meant there was a dip in the lip-syncing and textures that were used in the game. It was nothing that disrupted my enjoyment of the game, but during one of the later cutscenes, I found it somewhat annoying when the camera was out of focus as it bounced from De Sardet and Mev. Then there was the matter of my cloak/ body armour threatening to glitch itself out of existence. Thankfully, this was easily remedied.

Still, despite all my gripes with the technical nature of the game, I thoroughly enjoyed the plot and the characters. While the ending felt a little bit rushed, I liked seeing the different sides of each faction and trying to resolve what I thought were the bad elements with the good. This was particularly evident during my interactions with Theleme - the believers of Saint Matheus. Just like Christianity, many of its followers fell into two camps: the missionaries (seeking to convert the wayward natives) and the Ordo Luminis (a callback to the Spanish Inquisition). What I thoroughly liked about Greedfall was that despite my first impression of Theleme being quite poor as someone who considers themselves an atheist, the Mother Cardinal Cornelia won me over.

On the other hand, the Bridge Alliance enticed me with its focus on science. However, their unethical behaviour and betrayals quickly had me disillusioned. I was thoroughly delighted that at game’s end, they finally saw the wisdom to install an ethics board. Also, Aphra essentially becoming one of the first people in the world to embrace social science was a nice change.

The underlying message in Greedfall also seemed to ring true to someone living in 2020. Through the lens of colonialism, though most of it was dressed up as finding a cure for the malichor (and no sudden declaration of terra nullius), there was still a sense that the Merchant Congregation, Theleme and the Bridge Alliance were superior to the natives of Teer Fradee. Often, they were decried as savages and uncultured. Of course, given the setting of the game, it should come as no surprise.

What was refreshing was how I, the player, could choose to interact with such individuals. And very often, I found myself siding with the natives when it came to disputes.

Greedfall was also very good at highlighting the fact that abuse of the land (and in general climate change) can also be a leading factor in its deterioration. By game’s end, the God of Teer Fradee, En on mil Frichtiman was quick to point out that the malichor came from the people’s abuse of the land’s resources. Only by healing the land could the people be free of the blood plague that dogged their very footsteps. A singular message that rings very true in our current pandemic.

The ending, however, felt a little rushed. But after trying so hard to stop my dear beloved cousin, perhaps it was better that the camera panned upwards after I had stabbed him. After all, what was De Sardet to do after killing the one person she has protected for most of her life. They were basically siblings.

And if anyone knows any good Constantin D’Orsay and De Sardet fanfiction, send me a link!

As for my allies - I found each and one of them unique and useful. Their stories also tied into the greater narrative. In fact, leave Kurt’s personal missions alone and it is possible that he betrays your party during a coup of the Coin Guard. And while Aphra intrigued me, sadly, she was less than useful in my party as I, being the technical genius, already had access to bombs, traps and a slew of guns. Siora, on the other hand, was a main staple in my party. Her ability to provide vigor and her healing prowess was greatly appreciated as I traversed the many maps of Teer Fradee (and for that, I was grateful. The change to big open world maps has made certain games tedious. Although, I did find the loading screens annoying when I had to go from one place to another). Petrus and Vasco were also indispensable, depending on the situation.

But, I would be remiss in forgetting one of the most memorable things about the game. “Things are about to get dicey!” Kurt’s combat line is as memorable as Ignis and his: “I’ve come up with a new recipe.” Or, when playing Kingdom Hearts 3: “This might be a good spot to find some ingredients.”

Let’s not forget how often De Sardet often introduces themselves. It’s on par with: “Sora, Donald and Goofy.” At least, the game only lasted only forty or so hours. If it had been any longer, I might have skipped through most of the conversations.

Greedfall turned out to be a surprising game that I wasn’t sure if I would have liked. In fact, I knew little about the general plot when I bought it except that the setting was in an interesting era when compared to most fantasy role playing titles. And while the combat took a little getting used to, I became thoroughly engrossed in what the game had to offer. With my natural paragon virtues, it was second nature for me to help everyone and elevate myself to the role of highly skilled diplomat of the new world. And if a conversation did not go my way, I was always able to reload my previous save and try again.

[heyhihellowhatsup0]

Dark Webs (Dark! Peter Parker x Reader) - Chapter Three

Warnings:  Topics of death, PTSD and depression,  substance abuse, angst, violence (this chapter does get a little graphic for those sensitive to gore and violence) ignoring some of the MCU timeline/AU

Word Count: 5562 (A bit longer - but I promise, it’s worth it!)

Summary: Still not giving up on Peter, you continue to try and find a way to get him back. Only to find out that Peter has other plans for you...

A/N: Thank you all so much for giving me your feedback on this series! Please continue to send me your thoughts and if you want to be added to the taglist, please Inbox me or reply to the post! Love you all!!

Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two

“Look at what we got here! Peter’s lightsaber collection,” you teased him, panning his camera towards his shelves, “Jeez, Parker. I thought you were dorky, but didn’t think this much. You even have them alphabetized,” you let out a giggle, panning over each and every one slowly before Peter grabbed the camera away from you.

He pointed it towards you, extending his favorite lightsaber at you, “If you mock the Jedi, you must fight the Jedi!” Peter exclaims as he lights it up to show off for you.

“Yup, you just got dorkier,” you tell him with a laugh. You grabbed the the red one with a maniacal look, “The First Order will seize you now…” you told him as you lit your saber up to match his.

“No!” Peter shouts for dramatic effect, slamming his lightsaber up against yours. He let out a roar of laughter, his camera falling to the bed as he begins to get into his reenactment, “You’re dead, Y/N!”

You rolled your eyes as you fall on your back on his mattress, your lightsaber pressed up against his as he hovered over you, “Not today, Parker!” you shout back. But before he’s able to finish you off, you slide his plastic lightsaber into his own chest.

“Ugh!” Peter shouted out, pretending to die. He collapsed on top of you, making you laugh as he gurgled,  “You killed me, you killed me!” He groaned as his hands went to his chest.

Peter turned his lightsaber off, sliding it into his belt loop with a confident look, “The force is strong with me. Don’t you ever forget it, Y/N,” Peter told you as he stuck his tongue out at you playfully.

You finally open your eyes, coming back to life as you sit up on your elbows, “You could never kill anyone, even if you wanted to,” you said to him, turning your lightsaber off and tossing it over to him.

“That’s a good thing, right?” Peter asked, giving you a look as he placed the lightsabers back in the organized order he had them in originally.

“I would say so. You don’t have a murderous bone in that spider-infected body of yours,” you joke, grabbing his camera and pointing it directly at him, “Am I wrong?” you tested him, zooming in on his face.

Peter inhaled, thinking about his response before he leaned forward closer to you. His face close to yours as he looked directly in your eyes instead of looking into the camera.

“Y/N, I’d never hurt anyone unless I really had to,” Peter said with seriousness in his eyes. You knew he was telling the truth right then and there and that he was certainly one of the good guys.

“Well the best part about having Spider-

“-Hey, you’ve been here a while, you okay?” Harry asked, poking his head into his office where you were sitting at his desk, trying to work on your next piece.

Startled at the sudden interruption, you slammed your laptop shut, wiping a tear away from your cheek as you tried to pretend that that video you watched wasn’t real.

“Uh, yeah. Just got a little side tracked, I think,” you told him, still feeling uneasy from the events that occurred last night, “I think I need to just finish this in the morning,” you finally decided.

Harry shuffled over, leaning his chin on your shoulder as he kissed below your ear, “Maybe you should call out from work tomorrow,” he suggested.

“I can’t, I have a deadline,” you let out a sigh, thinking about the article that needed to get done.

Late the other night when you were with Peter, some of the tech that Peter had stolen and given to Kingpin a few weeks ago was used in a local robbery from a hospital, stealing high tech medical supplies. Now you were convinced whoever was buying the tech from Kingpin was using it for further gain. This went far beyond Stark Technology and Peter.

“I may stop by the hospital and see if I can get behind the police tape too. You used to work for that hospital right?” You asked Harry, remembering he worked in the science labs there while working under his father before his passing, “Do you think maybe you could get me in there?”

“Y/N, stop!” Harry told you. He swiveled your chair around to look at you. Putting your face in between his palms, his crisp green eyes stared back at you with worry and fear, “You just came back with bruises up and down your arm and I didn’t ask what that was about. But now you want to go back out there? For what? For Spider-Man? To prove that none of this is your beloved Spider-Man? You’re going to get yourself killed, Y/N!” Harry said, trying to knock some sense into you.

“What has Spider-Man done for you in the last few months, Y/N? Come on,” Harry said a bit more aggressively.

You were silent. You wanted to be angry with him, but how could you be? Spider-Man had been missing since Tony Stark died. The remaining Avengers were doing their parts in all areas of the world, and New York was in utter chaos. In a time when the city needed Spider-Man the most, he ran away from his responsibility. And nothing that you were doing was helping.

Harry may not have been the biggest fan of Spider-Man, but many people weren’t. Especially now. And sadly, you were beginning to become one of those people.

“I know you’re trying, you want to bring Spider-Man back but,” Harry stopped, licking his lips in frustration, trying to form the words, “I don’t think he is coming back, Y/N. He’s...the one doing all of this, don’t you see?” He finally spoke the words that made you cringe.

“It’s not Spider-Man, it’s…” You trail off as tears form in your eyes as Harry continued to hold you still, swallowing the large pill stuck in your throat, “It’s just not him. I know for a fact that this isn’t Spider-Man. You have to trust me, Harry,” you told him as you felt your voice grow weaker.

Harry nodded, swiping a tear with his thumb, “I do trust you. But you have to trust me. You need a break from this,” He told you. The edges of his mouth curving to form a smile.

You knew Harry was just trying to protect you, but you couldn’t help but be annoyed at how nonchalant he was about all of this. This was your job, your career that you had chosen. Working for The Daily Bugle wasn’t exactly your dream publication, but it was a start. And you were getting really good at your job. Why couldn’t he see that?

But arguing with Harry wasn’t going to get you anywhere. If anything, it would just make him think your agitation just meant you needed even more time off. Which you didn’t, you were just agitated because Peter was making your job a living hell.

“I think I’m going to work from here tomorrow, and get this done,” You finally told him, trying your best to hide your irritation as he pulled his hands away from your face, “I’ll call the hospital in the morning to get some quotes, and then stop by my place and pick up some of my things?” You tell him, trying to ease his mind a bit, even though you were still annoyed.

You wanted to stop by your place anyway. You were running out of fresh clothes at Harry’s, and in addition, you knew you needed to get some of your notes about Peter’s plans in a safe place before Harry came snooping around. It was only a matter of time.

“How about I take you to dinner tomorrow night at that new lounge in the village?” Harry asks, pressing a gently kiss to your lips as he stands up and grabs one of his folders of paperwork from his desk.

You blink slowly, unable to process right away. You had so much going on right now, a date night was on the lowest portion of your to-do list, “Yeah. Sounds..uh, great,” You told him with a forced smile. He didn't seem to notice though.

Harry shut the door behind you, to leave you with your work again. You opened up the laptop, forgetting to X out of the video you were watching earlier. It started replaying again, and your thoughts went back to exactly how you were feeling earlier.

------

Peter tossed the bag of goods on the table. Pulling out the contents of the bag, one by one. The blasters, an older Chitauri gun, and last but certainly not least, Iron Spider. He was absolutely ready to part ways with that thing.

“This is the most powerful batch I’ve brought you so far,” Peter told Kingpin, putting a blaster on his hand and shooting it across the room, burning a hole into the wall in the blink of an eye.

Kingpin looked at the suit with a smirk, noticing it still in perfect condition, “That couldn’t have been easy to get,” He remarked, holding the suit in his hand to examine it.

“Nope. And the next heist I’m doing is going to be worse, so I’m gonna need an advance,” Peter answered back, folding his arms in front of his chest. He looked around the room, it was just him and Kingpin, surprisingly.

“Do you have any idea what this suit can do?” Kingpin asked, but it was more of him telling Peter. He looked down at it in awe, looking at the iron mask that came with it.

Of course Peter knew, he thought to himself. He wore it. He was in that thing when he died, and came back to life. He defeated Thanos in that stupid suit. He even witnessed Tony Stark, the man who made the suit for him, die while he was wearing it.

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Peter answered bluntly. He looked unamused when Kingpin shot him a menancing glare, “Anyway, I’ll take my money when you’re done fucking that stupid suit with your eyes,” He told him flatly.

Kingpin glared furiously at him, shocked that he was talking to him in such a manor, “I’ll give you 150k for the suit, 25k for the rest of it. I’ll give you 5k in advance if you can get the product here in three days,” He told him, staring down at the suit.

“Whatever, not the first time you fucked me over,” Peter scoffed at him. Money was money and he just wanted to get rid of the suit, “Whose buying this trash anyway?” He finally asked.

“New guy,” Kingpin answered, handing the suit over to his subordinate to put it in storage until it was sold, “Never met him, he just wires the money and we drop it off at his shipping station on the loading docks,” He answers Peter flatly, without even looking him in the eye.

Peter wrinkled his nose as his other peers walk over with his money waiting for him. He wasn’t in the mood to talk, he just wanted his money, maybe a drink, and to go home. Typically, he’d ask what this new guy was doing with it, but honestly, who cares. It’s not like Peter was doing any better when he was Spider-Man.

He grabbed the briefcase, tucking it under his arm. He didn’t thank Kingpin because, why would he? All Peter wanted was his money and to get the hell out of this shithole.

“That damn reporter!” Someone shouted, barging into the basement. It startled Peter, making him jump as he and Kingpin saw the guy running towards them holding a copy of The Daily Bugle, “She’s saying the hospital and Stark are connected,” He screamed, slamming a copy of the paper onto the table.

Peter looked and saw your name on the byline. Tensing his jaw, he folded his arms as he took a step back, “Well, they are,” He answered wisely.

“Shut up,” Kingpin lashed out at him, staring down at the paper as he read the first few paragraphs of the article on the cover of the paper.

New York Medical Center has fallen as the most recent victim in the recent burglaries that have been taking place across the city. The hospital’s laboratory was targeted, having over $3 million in supplies stolen. Supplies including radiation injections, several DNA kits, and other drugs such as oxycodone were taken from the lab.

Police have yet to comment on whether or not this robbery is linked with the recent ones that had taken place over at Stark Tower, but a recent matchbook from “The Devil’s Pin” bar was discovered at the hospital. Possibly making these two in fact, a connection to a possible mob heist.

“Who’s the fucking moron who dropped the matchbook in the hospital, huh?” Kingpin shouted, flinging the newspaper across the room with fury. He looked over at the two men who participated in the heist, staring at each other with terror.

He walked around as more people filled the room. Peter inhaled sharply, just wanting to get the hell out of here, “Can I go the fuck home? I wasn’t even a part of this hospital shit,” he told the group.

“Weren’t you the one we asked to take care of her to begin with?” Kingpin asked, walking closer to Peter with his cane in hand, “You call this taking care of her?” He asked.

Kingpin raised his cane over his head and brought it down hard onto Peter’s back, causing Peter to hit the floor instantly. He cussed as the pain stung throughout his body, trying to get back up slowly.

“I ought to kill you right now for getting us into this mess,” Kingpin said, pointing his cane directly underneath Peter’s chin.

Peter sat up a little more, his healing powers coming in stronger than he had thought as he felt himself get some of his strength back.

He wasn’t afraid of Kingpin. He wasn’t even afraid of dying at this point. He could take Kingpin and all of these guys out right now in a matter of seconds if he wanted to.

He just didn’t want to.

“If you want to kill me, then do it,” Peter groaned out, standing back up on his feet, “But you need me. I’m the only one who can get in Stark Tower without setting off alarms and get you your product. So if you want to kill me, kill me. But let’s be honest Fisk, I’m the best you got,” he spat at him.

Kingpin looked at Peter with thoughts running through his head. He looked back down at his cane, and then back again at Peter.

“Yes, I suppose you are a good resource. And it would be a shame to waste you,” Kingpin answered, his back towards Peter as he walked towards the group, “So let’s call this next task a punishment to clean up this mess you started,” He said, pointing towards two of the other guys that Peter knew were involved in the hospital robbery.

Kingpin handed the blasters Peter had stolen for him over to the two guys, pivoting back towards Peter, “Since you three screwed up, you three fix it,” he answered, taking Peter’s briefcase off of the floor, “Get rid of her, for good this time,” he said as he walked away, slamming the basement door shut on the three of them.

------

You look at the time on your phone and realize it’s already 6 PM. You promised Harry you’d meet him at the lounge for dinner by 7, which only gave you about an hour to head back to your apartment to grab some of your things.

Barging through your front door, you almost let out a sigh of relief. You hadn’t been home in about two weeks, and sometimes with Harry, it felt a bit suffocating. You missed having your apartment to yourself. It was much smaller in comparison to Harry’s penthouse, but, it was yours.

You grabbed some fresh clothes, stuffing them into your bag as you selected your favorite cocktail dress to change into before you went to meet up with Harry for your date along with a matching pair of heels. Maybe Harry was right, and a night out would be a decent enough distraction. At least for one night.

Taking your notebook with all of Peter’s blueprints and secrets in it, you figured you had enough notes at this point where you didn’t need it right now. You went in between your floorboards where you kept a bunch of things that confirmed your connection with Peter. Evidence, if you will.

Lifting the floorboards up, you stuck the notebook beside your favorite framed photograph of you and Peter. It was one of you both when you went to Coney Island on a school trip. You remembered you and Peter laughing as Ned got sick on Cyclone and MJ refused to go on any of the rides. But she took that photo of you and Peter. You brushed your thumb against the frame, letting all of the memories flood back to you. You turned your head away from it as you slid the floorboard back into place.

After changing into your cocktail dress, you heard your phone ring from the other room. It was probably Harry wondering if you caught the subway you told him you were going to take to meet him. He was already assuming you’d be late, you figured.

Glancing down at your phone, you didn't recognize the number. But Source had told you that he wouldn’t be contacting you for a while. No way this was him?

“Hello?” You answered the phone, continuing to pack your belongings in your bag. Your heels were beginning to make it a little more difficult to walk around, so you moved slowly around the apartment, making sure you had everything you wanted before you went back to Harry’s.

“Get out of there. Now,” The deep, dark voice said on the other line, “We got an alert that they are on their way to you, and they aren’t happy,” They said.

And then they hung up. That’s all you had was a short warning before there was a banging at the door. It was already too late. You run towards your drawer where you kept your stronger taser gun, and grabbed it.

You heard the door beginning to rattle, and there was no time left to leave. The only thing you could do was hide. But these guys were professionals, and just hiding in a closet was going to be the first place they would check.

Your apartment was a tiny one bedroom, and the hiding options were very limited. In the pinch you were in, you opted towards the fire escape. Crawling as close to the edge, and away from the window as possible.Your taser clutched in your hand as tightly as humanly possibly.

Placing your hand over your mouth, you turned your taser on when you heard the voices enter your apartment. They shined a flashlight into the living room and you could see the light being cast against the fire escape.

“Not in here,” one man with a deep voice said. You heard them stomping around with their boots as they made their way from room to room, “Do we even know if she lives here right now?”

“I don’t think she’s here,” someone said, a voice that you recognized.

Peter’s voice.

Your eyes grew as you heard his voice. Sounding so matter-of-fact as the flashlights scurried throughout your apartment. He came to kill you, that’s why Source was warning you to run.

Peter walked around your apartment, looking at the things that you had left around your place. No photographs, which seemed so unlike you. He remembered your old room, how you had Polaroid pictures of him, MJ, Ned, even Flash covering your wall. He remembered all the decals of quotes about friendship you had under each and every picture. He even remembered the particular quote you had underneath a photo of the two of you.

You were the one who got him into photography in the first place so it didn’t feel like you without photographs of you and your friends and your family. But Peter changed a lot, so he wouldn’t be surprised at all if you did as well.

“What makes you think that, Delaney?” the other one asked Peter, stepping into the bedroom. He pointed at the closet, noticing the clothes have been rummaged through.

“I think he’s trying to get out of this again, what’s up with you and this reporter?” the opposing one said, pointing at Peter. He gave him a shove against his chest, “Do you know her?!”

Peter wasn’t going to take anything from these two morons and shoved him right back, forgetting how strong he actually was and pushed him into the kitchen table, “No, I don’t fucking know her. I just don’t think she’s here,” he answered back.

The blonde guy didn’t like Peter’s aggression and wrapped Peter in a chokehold, pulling him backward to knock him off balance, “You know something we don’t there, Tony?” He asked him in a calm voice.

You grabbed your taser and unlocked it. Staying as quiet as you possibly could, you saw a good shot of the bigger guy who Peter knocked over still trying to get himself back up. While Peter and the blonde guy were squabbling you took a deep breath before pulling the trigger.

Aiming directly at him, you hoped that you were in a good enough range that it would attach to him. You squeezed the trigger gently, setting it off as the electric  current ran a wire, clipping onto his neck.

You let out a sigh of relief as you unclipped the wire, watching him jolt and yell as he fell back onto the floor. The blonde guy threw Peter down, his eyes now on you as you stood still on the fire escape.

“And you said she wasn’t home,” he said as he smiled in your direction. He pulled the blaster out of his belt, and slid it onto his wrist, never taking his eyes off of you.

Recharging your taser, you tried to shoot at him, but he wasn’t close enough. Instead, it landed on the ground, right in front of Peter’s feet. You swallowed thickly, feeling a large lump forming in your throat.

I will not die today, you said to yourself as he took a step towards you with the blaster in his hand.

You looked over at Peter, dead in the eyes as he looked at the blonde guy walking towards you. He saw the look in your eyes, begging for him to help you. Begging for some sort of assistance. To become Spider-Man again and help you.

“I guess you’re not here looking for me to autograph your newspaper,” you told the blonde in a snarky tone, leaning up against the fire escape railing. You were trying your best to keep your composure, but on the inside, you were terrified.

He pointed the blaster right at you, “We gave you a warning, and you didn’t listen,” he reminded you, taking another step.

“Yeah, because I love listening to mobsters telling me how to do my job,” you leaned against the railing, with nowhere else to go but down. You took a glance at the height you were at and were beginning to regret taking the apartment on the twelfth floor.

The blonde guy had enough of you, and fired the blaster towards your foot. Your head hit the railing as you fell to the floor, your eyes still on Peter who wasn’t far behind him.

“I swear, I should’ve killed you instantly,” he told you as he stared down at you, groaning on the metal of the fire escape.

Peter froze, feeling his chest tighten…

“Karen, activate instant kill!”

All different types of armed creatures, coming after Peter. His iron arms and legs helping him out as he clawed his way through. Peter continued to web them up and fight, his abilities amplified in a way he never felt before. He observed limbs being torn off, and what he suspected was blood hit his face. He was killing, wasn’t he?

They weren’t human. But they were living, breathing things, weren’t they? They were beings and Peter was..killing them. Even if it was with the help of his suit, he still initiated it. He made the call to kill. He was the one responsible for ending their lives, regardless of whether or not they were attacking him.

He was the one who ended all of their lives. He pulled the trigger. Something he never done before...

“Ugh, I don’t got this! Help!”

Peter lunged after the blonde guy. He grabbed him by his scalp and brought his forehead down onto the railing of the fire escape. Blood sprayed out from the top of his head as Peter repeated his actions. You laid there motionless and in pain, trying to call for Peter to stop, but you could barely get your words out.

You watched as Peter took the blonde and pummeled him over and onto the ground. You tried screaming out for Peter, but still nothing. You were able to pick yourself back up as Peter pinned him down. He removed his blaster from his hand, and tossed it to the side.

“I knew it. I fucking knew it, you lying shit!” the blonde shouted at Peter. You looked over and saw someone you didn’t recognize anymore. Whoever that was, was no longer Peter, any hint of him that remained was gone now in this moment.

Peter screamed in his face before punching him right in his jaw. You could see the blood spurting out from his mouth as he kept punching. You stood there frozen, completely terrified as you watched Peter refusing to get off him.

You heard him gurgling over Peter’s wails between punches. There was already so much blood, and he was choking on it. Peter wasn’t even aware of his own strength, you thought. The sounds coming out of the both of them were some of the most unsettling sounds you’ve ever heard. Especially coming from Peter.

Finally feeling yourself coming back from the blast, you moved as quickly as you could over towards them. You pulled on Peter’s shoulders, trying to move him off of him, but he was too strong.

“Peter! Stop it! Stop, Peter!” you shout at him, realizing you called him by his full name in front of these guys.

But Peter took a sharp breath before giving him one last hit, right in his face, where you finally got a good look at him. A knot tied around your stomach when you realize exactly what Peter had done.

You managed to pull Peter off of him finally. His breathing was ragged and you could have sworn he was crying, he’d never tell you but, you could definitely hear it in his voice as he tried catching his breath. There was blood all over his knuckles, all over the metal, and his hair was drenched in his own sweat.

Both you and Peter stared down silently at the lifeless body, your hand on his shoulder as he managed to stand back up, “Fuck,” you breathed out, not sure of what you should or shouldn’t say right now. Maybe silence was the best way to go.

Peter leaned over the railing, beginning to empty his gut over the edge and onto the ground floor. You just stood there, completely helpless until you realized the two of you weren’t alone. You pivoted your head to turn back towards your apartment only to see the body was missing.

Just great, you thought.

“We need to call somebody,” You finally suggest, looking down at the body. You felt your stomach turning like Peter’s, wincing at the body that couldn’t stare back at you because it’s face was entirely deformed.

“Get out of here,” Peter finally spoke, wiping his face as he stared down at the body, “Don’t ever look for me again. Just get out of here,” he said, reaching down to pick him up.

You felt tears beginning to prick your eyes, noticing every hair was sticking up on Peter’s arms and neck, “No. Let me help you, I can figure this out,” you told him, hearing your voice quivering with fear.

“Don’t you fucking get it, Y/N?! I don’t want your help, I never asked! And because of you, look!” He practically screamed as he pointed towards the dead body lying beneath them, “So stay the fuck out of my life. I am not. Him. Anymore.  Do you understand? I came here to kill you, Y/N!” He shouted.

You shook your head, swallowing what he told you harshly, “But you wouldn’t have done it,” You tried to say, but you weren’t even sure if that was the truth anymore.

“Yes it is. I am not your fucking Spider-Man anymore! I killed him just like I killed him, okay? Just like I killed Tony, so knock if off.” he screamed, now getting in your face.

The only thing you could do was nod your head. With Peter inches away from your face, venom in his eyes, and now, with a taste of blood; you weren’t sure how to answer other than to just agree with him. You were afraid. And Peter was no match for your taser gun. You hoped deep down, he wouldn’t actually hurt you. But you also believed at one point Peter wouldn’t hurt anybody. Maybe this meant you really needed to let go of Peter once and for all.

“Good,” Peter answered as he lifted the body over his head. He stood on the railing, and you finally saw his web shooter attached to his wrist, “Because I will not hesitate to kill you if you don’t,” he said before springing up to the next high-rise.

------

Peter stood on the loading dock with the human-sized garbage bag sitting by his feet. He stared down at the bag, gritting his teeth together with anger. Not even angry that he killed him, he knew it was only a matter of time before he had to since beginning to work for Kingpin.

No, he was angry that you made him do it. If it weren’t for you, he’d be able to get away with most of the stuff he did. Was he proud of stealing Stark’s technology for who knows what? No, but he wasn’t exactly proud of killing Tony either.

If it weren’t for you, he wouldn’t have been forced to go to your place and try and kill you to begin with. But you were still alive, because of Peter. And now, that was another thing Peter had to deal with now. He killed one of his own, and you were left alive. There was no way Kingpin was going to let Peter go scot free now.

Why the fuck did he even save you? It was as if something had come over him, and he had to kill this guy to make sure you could live another day. Even if that meant risking Peter’s now. No, he didn’t want you dead, but he also didn’t want you around him either. He needed you out of his life, and was willing to do anything to push you out. But you continued to make his life worse.

The police were already on the scene due to one of your neighbors calling about a noise issue. There weren’t any bodies for them to look at. There wasn’t even blood on the scene. Peter assumed you went back and cleaned up after him before the cops showed up, but he wasn’t sure how you snuck around them so quickly.

It was only a matter of time before Peter would see a report in The Daily Bugle that you had written, calling it another break-in, poking your nose where it didn’t belong, no matter how many countless times Peter had asked you to stop. You would never quit, and he hated it.

He was done saving you. He was done saving himself. Whatever happened, happened. If Kingpin found him and killed him, so be it. Maybe he was finally ready to die.

Shoving a few more rocks into the back to make sure it would go all the way down, Peter tied a knot on the end of the bag. He really was dead, Peter noted. His skin was cold and hard, and his eyes stared at Peter with total emptiness.

Peter swallowed, picking the body up in one swift motion. He inhaled sharply as he heaved the body into the river, the excess water splashing up and hitting Peter at his ankles as soon as it hit the water.

He stayed until the bag sank down, until he couldn’t see it anymore. It was almost as if the Peter you once knew was in the bag with him, sinking down to the very bottom of the river, and the new Peter could no longer do anything to try and save them, they were cold, hard, and dead.

Chapter Four

Taglist: @osterfield-holland-andcompany​ | @giuls-394​ | @rororo06​ | @betterthanrevengemp3​ | @thewinchesterchronicles​ | @aussie-holland​ | @minetticatinwonderland​ | @povlters​ | @jacksnoodlez99​ | @clipopex-writing​​ |  @spideyyypeter​ |  @oswald-1998 |  @danicarosaline | @webbedwonders | @wonders-of-the-multiverse |  @xapham | @imslightlyconfused |  @cxxl-gall | @lowkey-holland @thewinchesterchronicles

[doom-dreaming]

“Dear Digital Diary”

I finally finished it! So this is my fic for @shanblackwood - as part of a trade (that beautiful bloody monstery boy from a while back). It got much longer than I was expecting, so most of it is under the cut. There’s a lot of pining, a little bit of smut, and copious amounts of fluff. (I hope it’s everything you wanted!!)

(Read it on Ao3 here!)

- - - - - - - - - -

“Oh fuck, we’re gonna have to retake that—” He grins briefly at the camera, all sharp white teeth and sparkling eyes, before ducking his head, laughing.

Your heart skips a beat. You rewind. Pause. It feels like that smile is for you. Like those pale blue eyes are looking directly into yours. You take a screenshot. It joins the other thousands in the folder labeled ‘outtakes.’ You think it sounded innocuous enough.

Not that either of them ever go through your files—you’re one of the few people they trust. They have no reason not to. You’re just the video editor, after all. They’re the faces on the screen. They’re the voices on the radio. You’re not much more than a useful tool to them.

You press play. “—have to retake that—” A few keystrokes, a few clicks, remove the clip from the rest of the recording. ‘>DELETE or SAVE?’ the screen prompts.

Keystroke. >SAVE  Click.

- - - - - - - - - -

“How do you always manage to fuck these up?” Tyreen sounds incredulous, but not angry. She punches Troy’s arm and he jumps away with an exaggerated yelp, then smiles. It’s equal parts dazzling and dangerous.

Your heart does a little flip as you play it back in slow motion. >SAVE

The next one is Tyreen’s. She mispronounces a word. “What’s that about me fucking up?” Troy teases, repeating her slip-up in a mocking tone. “Shut it, asshole.” Again, not angry. Playful. He sticks out his tongue at her. Laughs through a grin.

You cut the footage. ‘>DELETE or SAVE?’ Your hand hovers over the keys. >DELETE Click. You attempt to distract yourself with the rest of the video. Anything to keep from thinking about that slick pink tongue on your neck, between your lips...between your thighs.

Three hours later, you pause with your cursor over the power menu. Instead, you nudge it toward the little trash icon. Click. Click. ‘RESTORE TO “outtakes”? >YES   NO’ Click.

- - - - - - - - - -

It’s late. Your work had been easy, for the most part. Just fixing pacing, sound and color correction, little things. The twins had stayed professional—well, as professional as they could be, which wasn’t saying much. But they’d gotten their point across with minimal mistakes.

All except for the few minutes before the cameras started rolling when Troy had decided to sing. You’d never heard it before—the song—but you rewound and replayed it so many times that you knew the words by the time you finally forced yourself to move on. After cutting and saving the clip, of course.

He hadn’t been trying to put on a show. He hadn’t even been particularly loud—you had to adjust the volume and bump down the ambient noise to even make out most of it—he was just...singing for the sake of it. Fixing his hair, his eyeliner… ...singing. The usual frantic beat of your heart had settled into a gentle flutter—not the typical reaction when you saw him.

And now you’re leaned back in your chair, watching it again. His eyes are unfocused, distant, but not troubled. He seems calm. Content. That cloying warmth is wrapping itself around your heart again. You find yourself wishing you could touch him. You want to reach through the screen and run your hand through his hair. Trace his jawline. Kiss him. You want to feel him murmuring those lyrics against your lips, humming into your mouth—

You shove your chair away from your desk. Run your hands through your hair. Sigh and close your eyes and shake your head. You can’t do this. You absolutely can’t let yourself feel this. Sooner or later, it’ll start affecting your work, and if you give anything less than what the twins expect—if you’re not useful anymore—

You stand. Close the video. Turn off your monitor. Go to bed. But not even sleep lets you escape from visions of his hands on your body, his mouth on your neck, his whispered words in your ear.

- - - - - - - - - -

You wake the next morning to the insistent ‘ping’ of your ECHOcomm. More work. Well, that’s a good sign.

Your breath stops—no, it feels more like it’s punched out of you—when you see the name of the sender. That single, simple, four-letter name. Troy. Troy Calypso. You hate the way your fingers shake as you open the message. It’s semi-formal, all business, a simple request for more editing. He’s attached several files. More work, you reassure yourself. Just more work.

Still, it takes you the better part of an hour to finally sit down at your computer. But you do, armed with shitty coffee and a very fragile grasp on your willpower. Six videos. DOWNLOAD ALL? >YES   NO Click. You try not to watch the progress bar.

Why in the hell do you feel like this? Sure, you’d always had a tiny crush on Troy—but so did a lot of people. They’d be stupid not to, you think. He’s tall and toned and dangerous and confident...and those eyes... You sip at your coffee, grimacing against the half-burnt aftertaste. This crush is getting out of hand, that’s your problem. And it’d come completely out of left field, too. Day one was, ‘oh, he’s cute,’ and now… Well, now you were here. Working yourself into a frenzy over the sight of his goddamn name.

A chime sounds, announcing the download’s completion. You gulp down the rest of the coffee, crush the flimsy cup in your hand, and start clicking. You recognize the setup from the thumbnails alone. New gun reveals. Some of the tension drains from your body. These are something you can handle. Granted, they’re more candid than the usual broadcasts, but they’re still not as personal as you’d been expecting. You fight back the wave of disappointment, rationalizing it away. Telling yourself it’s for the best.

“Hey, ECHOnet, it’s your favorite twin, with another shipment of kickass guns! Tyreen had something “super important” to do—” You smile as he claws the quotation marks into the air. “—so you get me all to yourselves…” He winks. Your heart flips. “Okay! So let’s jump right in—” He makes a face. Cocks an eyebrow. “Jump? Dive? Feels like I need something better than “let’s get started”—” More air quotes. “That just sounds lame.” He sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Your voice makes anything sound good,” you murmur to the screen. He sits in silence for a minute, chewing on his bottom lip, looking lost. The urge to reach out and touch him comes back, even stronger than before. And then the vulnerability is gone, replaced by the cocky, carefully-crafted mask of charisma and confidence that everyone else assumes is normal. “Okay! So let’s break down these new guns! First up, we have…”

Pause. Rewind. Click, click, click. >SAVE Play.

The rest of the video goes more smoothly, as do the next three. Not much to cut, even less to keep for yourself. You continue to fight back the disappointment. Two left. Just two more and you can distract yourself for (hopefully) the rest of the day—

The fifth video catches you off guard. It’s...not a gun haul. It’s not set up in a studio. It’s dark, but there’s enough ambient light to make out shapes. It looks like it’s been filmed from a personal recorder and…

Troy’s face slides into the frame and he’s grinning, looking happier—and more devious—than you’ve ever seen. “Ty’s asleep…” It pans away, toward a vague shape across the dark room, before flipping back to Troy. You realize he’s the one filming it. “...and, uh...the new skag puppies are harmless right now, so…thought I’d play a little prank on her…” He creeps closer, quieter than you would’ve assumed, keeping the camera trained on the bed where Tyreen’s sleeping, clinging to a pillow and… You adjust the volume. ...yeah, she’s definitely snoring.

An odd feeling washes over you. For the first time, you feel as though you’re intruding into something you shouldn’t be seeing. The twins, your gods, are so...human. Granted, you’re smarter and saner than the majority of your peers—you know about sirens and relics and everything that could feasibly give them the illusion of divinity, but this still feels nigh-sacrilegious. He couldn’t have meant to send this…could he? You watch it anyway.

He holds up some sort of treat, then makes a show of placing it on the bed. After a few minutes, both the bed and Tyreen are practically covered and he’s retreating to the doorway, stifling involuntary laughter behind his free hand. You find yourself smiling along with him. “...gonna go release the hounds,” he announces as soon as he’s a safe distance down the hall, although the giggle that follows completely negates any sense of drama. Your stomach curls around itself in a funny twist.

The camera shakes horribly as he jogs across the compound, but you’re glad you don’t speed through it. “Goin’ to see the babies,” he sing-songs to himself once the skag pens start to come into focus. You swear your heart almost explodes. How the fuck is he...like this? Does anyone else see this, aside from Tyreen? Do they know their god is so...sweet?

He whistles as he approaches. The reaction is immediate. A litter of skag pups bowls out of the nearest den, tripping over each other and their own legs, yipping and growling. The camera dips—you assume Troy's kneeling. “Hey, killers...heh, yeah, hey…” He's laughing, scratching at their heads, letting them snap at his fingers. “Oh! You’re gettin’ big, Pepper. Yeah, not really the baby anymore, huh? Wanna go play with Ty? Yeah?” There’s a lower growl, somewhere offscreen. “Easy, big girl… I promise I’ll bring ‘em back.” With that reassurance, he opens the gate.

The remaining three minutes of footage go exactly as expected, in a flurry of hungry skag pups, laughter, cursing, and a few death threats from Tyreen. You watch, awestruck. They’re so playful, so normal. Again, so human. Innocent, almost. The video ends with a mad scramble for the recorder, from which Tyreen emerges victorious. The screen zaps to black, cutting her stream of half-sincere verbal abuse off mid-sentence.

You stare at the replay symbol, vaguely aware of your reflection in the monitor. They wouldn’t know if you kept a copy...would they? Click. Click. Click-click. You name the duplicate something inconspicuous. Not that they’ll go looking for it. ...but just in case.

Steeling yourself, though you’re not sure exactly what for, you click on the last video. The name doesn’t give anything away, none of them do—they’re all titled by filming date—and you can’t make anything out from the thumbnail, but you’re expecting another haul. Surely the personal recording was included by mistake— ...it’s some sort of reaction video. Troy’s own computer screen is the focus. His webcam feed is in the upper right corner.

“Probably gonna regret this…” he mutters. “But what the hell. Okay! The “horny for Troy” chat is officially open!” You pause. Rewind. No...you'd definitely heard him right the first time. “I want you to know you're all sluts.” He shoots a saccharine grin at his webcam. You feel the faintest twinge of guilt. “First question, here we go. ‘Starting with the obvious’—ooh, watch that confidence, fucker—’dom or sub?’ Okay, listen—” The smirk on his lips betrays his dramatic sigh. “These collars?” He yanks on the metal loop with one finger. “Not just for the aesthetic. But truthfully, I can do both. Next question.”

You fidget, acutely aware of how hot everything feels. Your head. Your hands. Your thighs. It's as if half the blood in your body rushed north and the other half rushed south. It's fluid, fiery, desperate. You toss your headphones onto the desk. Push your chair back. Rake your fingers through your hair.

You imagine they're his. Gripping your head as he kisses you, forcing his tongue between your lips, claiming you, marking you. You're mine, he'd growl. The words would rattle through your ribs, filling you up, making you believe them. And in that moment, they’d be true. Just you. Just him—

NO. You have to control yourself. It's not professional, it's not right. Whether or not he meant to send this doesn't matter. It doesn’t justify…

You glance back at the screen. You wish you hadn’t, because your fleeting fit of common sense dissipates as soon as you see the blush on Troy’s face. It’s deep red, beautiful against his skin, splashed across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. He’s laughing about something, reaching back to rub at his neck, looking down, long eyelashes fluttering almost shyly—

CLICK. That’s all it takes. A single, swift, definitive motion. The window closes. Your flustered reflection stares back at you. Your heavy pulse taunts you. Your arousal mocks you.

You ignore all of it. With more self-control than you've been able to manage recently, you load the edited videos onto a new drive. You'll deliver them yourself. Maybe that will keep the fantasies at bay for a while. Maybe.

- - - - - - - - - -

You find him in the antechamber of the throne room. Not the most private place, but maybe that's for the best. It was always funny to you, how your reactions mellowed when you were actually, physically close to him. It was a blessing, you supposed. You doubted you'd have a job if you turned into an incoherent, fumbling mess whenever you looked at him.

“You could have just sent them back,” he mutters, plucking the microdrives from your hands. “But whatever. Thanks.”

You nod, though he probably misses it as he turns to look back through the door to the throne room. Tyreen is readying for a hearing. You chew your lip, unsure how to broach the subject really on your mind. To hell with it. “Did you mean to send—?”

“Shit.” His focus returns to you. “You got more than the gun hauls, huh?”

“...yeah. I didn't do anything to them.” It isn't a lie. The original videos are still intact.

“But...you watched them?” One eyebrow quirks. He doesn't seem angry.

You nod. And take a risk. “They were kind of endearing.” You keep your completely unprofessional reactions to yourself.

He huffs a soft laugh. “Don’t hear that a lot.”

“Troy!” Tyreen’s voice barks from the throne room. It cuts into the air between the two of you. “C’mon!”

He rolls his eyes and pockets the microdrives. “Thanks again. Wish I could stick around to hear more of your compliments, but…” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “Godhood calls.”

His bootsteps fade, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts and deceptively-calm heartbeat.

- - - - - - - - - -

The rest of the day is uneventful, you busy yourself with software updates and routine server maintenance. It’s easy, menial work, but it’s enough to keep your thoughts from wandering too far in any direction. Maybe you’d been right, maybe seeing Troy in person had been enough to take the edge off—

Your ECHO pings again and you nearly jump out of your skin. Meet me in Studio B. Troy. You read it again. And again. And once more to be sure. And then you obey.

Your heartbeat isn’t so calm this time. What does he want? Had you made a mistake? Said something wrong?

The studio is dim when you arrive, just a few low lights flicked on behind the booth. Troy’s waiting, his feet kicked up on the mixing desk, fiddling with his ECHO. The door creaks as you enter. You cringe.

“That was fast.”

“An order’s an order.”

He watches you for a long moment, then hums. “I’m not blind, you know.”

“I—” What? You know that, what is he—?

“Or stupid.” He stands, faster and more fluidly than you’re anticipating. In a second, he’s right in front of you. “I know exactly how you feel when you’re around me.” His voice has dropped to a whisper and your stubborn, stupid, misbehaving heart— “I hear the way your pulse skyrockets when you think about what you want me to do to you.”

You blink. Swallow. Is this actually happening? Warm, human fingers press under your chin, tilting your head, forcing you to look at him. There’s mischief dancing behind his pale eyes.

“Stop trying to hide it.”

“I—is that an order?”

His razor-sharp grin is enough of an answer. And then it happens. Those coy lips are pressed to yours. That hot, pink tongue that had invaded so many of your wet dreams is now invading your mouth. He’s gripping the back of your neck. Tugging at your hair. Moaning and growling and laughing—and the sounds are bouncing around your ribcage.

The surrealism of it all flips an interesting switch in your mind. In all your daydreams, every fantasy, you’d assumed you’d be paralyzed with shock in a situation like this. Frozen in awe and disbelief. Pliable and soft in his hands. Instead? You go wild.

All your actions blur into a haze of sensations. His teeth on your neck, biting deep, drawing blood. Your hands running over the sleek lines of muscle that define his body. The jagged tearing of cloth as something is ripped off. His knee between your legs. The world spinning as you’re lifted and pushed onto your back. You hardly notice the jabs of the knobs and switches on the instrument panel beneath you—your legs are wrapped around his hips and you’re clinging to him with all the strength you can muster.

Frantic, desperate fingers tug at your belt, slide inside you, curl forward. Stars bloom behind your eyes. You moan. He growls. Panted, breathless exclamations ricochet between you. Names are chanted, recited like prayers.

You’re wide open and ready for him by the time he thrusts up into you. Quick, needy. You move with him effortlessly, rocking up to meet his hips, digging your fingers into his back. All you can do is feel. Feel his body, feel his lips, feel his breath whispering over your neck as he leans down, pushing deeper. And finally—

It breaks. Tension releases. Heavy breaths mingle with sighs and feather-soft kisses. Bliss.

- - - - - - - - - -

You wake up groggy. Sore. Not naked, but you may as well have been because you know this feeling. You’d definitely had a good, thorough fucking. There isn’t enough fog in your brain to make you forget who’d done it, either. He knew how you felt and he’d… God damn, had he done something about it. You swear you can still feel the echoes of your orgasm throbbing between your legs and you wonder how long ago—

A brisk knock at the door nearly kills the mood. You scramble from your bed, praying that none of the...evidence...of your rendezvous would be apparent to whoever— It’s Troy. Heat blossoms in your face.

There’s a lazy, satisfied smirk on his lips. “Sleep okay?”

Fuck it. “Would’ve been better with you.” You don’t even attempt to maintain a normal pulse rate anymore.

His eyebrows arch. His smirk grows wider, showing teeth. The faintest hint of crimson colors his cheekbones. “Is that an invitation?”

You shrug. Keep cool! “If you want.”

He nods. Bites his lip. “I’ll, uh...keep that in mind. But, here, in the meantime…” He pulls a microdrive from his pocket and holds it out to you. “It’s not work, it’s…you’ll see.”

You take it, letting your fingers brush his palm. You don’t miss the way his blush spreads. Still so goddamn cute.

“I’ve gotta go, but...watch that tonight. Tell me what you think.”

“An order?”

He winks.

- - - - - - - - - -

You settle into your chair and load the microdrive. One file. Click-click.

You recognize the setup immediately. It’s Studio B. And there’s Troy. You’re fully expecting what comes next, but you still groan when you hear the door creak open and you step into view of the camera. Of course he’d filmed it. You’re not surprised in the least.

It’s...comforting, though, how you can allow yourself to watch this without trying to school your emotions. He’d made this for you. He’d given you what you wanted. He knew. You don’t stop—you don’t have to stop—yourself from curling up in your chair, biting your knuckles, blushing, and… ...yes, you’ll admit it—touching yourself while you watch.

The two of you look good from this angle. You don’t remember pushing his coat off, but there it goes, crumpling to the floor, revealing his bare back as he lifts you onto the table. From here, you can see his cybernetic spinal support, glowing with dim red light when he dips down to grind against you. You want to touch it. You’re surprised you didn’t. Maybe next time...

For once, the fantasy of there even being a “next time” fills you with warm hope. Unless you’ve been reading him wrong, he seems...interested. It makes you giddy. It makes you feel as though all of your initial reactions are justified. Now that you know he’s reciprocating.

You feel like you’re dreaming, watching all of this play out on the screen. Those are your hands scratching red lines down his shoulder blades. Your limbs tangled with his, wrapped around him. Your body moving perfectly, fluidly, rhythmically beneath his. Your voice panting out his name like an absolution.

And his voice doing the same with yours.

You stay there, curled in your chair, one hand trailing idly over your thighs, long after the last of your cries have faded. After he cradled you to his chest and helped you back to your feet. After the video ended.

It’s all real, you know that, but it feels like it shouldn’t be. He hadn’t even really known who you were until yesterday. Had he? You guess it doesn’t really matter. You’re both getting what you want, but… ...deep down, you’re hoping it’s not that shallow.

- - - - - - - - - -

He finds you in the morning. You’re back in the server room, allowing your thoughts to sort themselves out. At least… ...that was the plan. Until you hear his voice.

“So...what’d ya think?”

You don’t look at him at first. Your hands work with swift, practiced motions, tying a bundle of wires together. You’re not ashamed of the way your heart skips anymore, but what are you supposed to say to something like that? “Kinky,” you manage to joke.

He sighs, but there’s a hint of a laugh at the end of it. “And here I was expecting some quality constructive criticism.”

“I thought you said it wasn’t work.”

“You know what I mean.”

You watch him out of the corner of your eye. There’s nothing to lean on; his hands are fiddling awkwardly. He’s shifting his weight from one leg to the other. He seems expectant.

You finally look up, meeting his eyes. Your heart is racing, as usual. Not with anxiety or anticipation. With newfound hope. With affection. A smirk tugs at your lips. “Maybe a better angle next time? Not that the one you chose was bad…”

And then he does it. He ducks his head, laughing, exactly the same way he’d done in countless videos, in hundreds of cut and saved clips. That same scarlet blush adorns his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. And you fall in love all over again.

- - - - - - - - - - @corpseyb0nes @afterthedreamer @mischiefsilvertongue @marigold-magpie @tricerathotss @vanderlinde-exe @ayilachan @zipp0flare @luxury-of-insanity @nikyri-reaper @argentineanweaboo @vanillabuttercreamm @anni000001 @imchaoticnerd 

[slippinmickeys]

Release Valve (9/10): Warehouse 11

<<<Vincent, Marcie Lynn#>>> <<<Scully, Dana Katherine#>>> <<<MUFON>>> <<<Hagopian, Elizabeth Marie#>>> <<<Spender, Cassandra O’Neal#>>> <<<Spender, (?)(***)#>>> <<<Northern, Penny#>>> <<<Kevin Scanlon, MD>>>

Isaacs leaned back from Stone’s computer. She didn’t know what to say. “And these are just the keywords I used,” he said, “I picked a random sampling of names and terms from the X-Files. And then only a handful.” Stone bit his lip and looked at Isaacs levelly. “There could be a lot more in there,” he said. “Could the DOD have copies of our files? Maybe that’s why it pinged on so many?” Stone shook his head. “The DOD and DOJ are on completely different operating systems. And in any event, I don’t see any reason for the DOD to retain DOJ files. It makes no sense.” “We need to call Mulder,” Isaacs said, reaching for her phone. “Are you kidding?” Stone said, eyebrows raised. He tapped on Scully’s name on the screen. “You know how he is with her. If he sees her name on this, he’s going to flip.” Isaacs dropped her hand. He wasn’t wrong. “I think we need to check it out ourselves,” Stone said. “See what we can find and substantiate. Once we get more, we take it to Mulder. To Skinner.” “What, you think they’re just going to let us march up to the front door of the Pentagon? ‘Hi, we need to take a look at the computer that hacked us!’” “That’s the thing,” Stone said, turning back to his computer and typing a few more things. He leaned back. “It’s a DOD computer, using a DOD system and server, but it’s not located at the Pentagon. It’s an off-site location.” “What location?” Isaacs asked. Stone typed a few more things, then rolled his chair over to the graphing table and pulled out a map. “Would you believe a warehouse by the Springfield Mixing Bowl?” “You’re kidding,” Isaacs said. “I would never.”

Stone and Isaacs pulled up to the warehouse complex and parked a half block down. They’d cruised around it once, getting a feel for what they were dealing with. The building was three stories, and only the third floor had windows. It had one front door and a boarded up loading dock in the back. It was run-down and derelict looking. There was not a soul in sight. “If this is a DOD building, I want to know where my tax dollars are going,” Stone said, putting the car in park and cutting the engine. “Your paycheck for one,” Isaacs said, assessing the building through the windshield. “Complaint withdrawn,” Stone said. After a moment, Isaacs reached into the back seat and pulled out a dark hooded sweatshirt. She pulled it over her head and raised the hood, pulling it down so it almost covered her eyes. “I’m going to go take a closer look,” she said, and was out the door before Stone could argue. Stone was almost ready to panic when she opened the passenger door and dropped inside, coming from the opposite direction. “Went around the whole thing,” she said, “it’s closed up pretty tight.” Stone could smell the outside air hanging on her sweatshirt. He scraped a hand through the stubble on his chin. He’d forgotten to shave this morning. “Could you tell what kind of security they’ve got?” He asked. “Front door has a fancy key pad,” she said, “and other than the loading dock, which is plugged up pretty tight, the only other way in is through the windows up there.” She pointed to the third story windows. “No guards and I didn’t see any other cars. I don’t think there’s anyone actually here.” “This key pad,” he said, “is it a numerical pad or a magnetic strip swipe, or both?” “You mean the thingie where you swipe your thingie?” Isaacs asked, miming swiping a credit card. “Yeah,” said Stone, speaking fluent Isaacs. “Both,” she said. “All right,” said Stone, turning the ignition on the car. “We’re going to take a field trip.” XxXxXxXxX The speakeasy panel slid open, revealing a beady pair of bespectacled eyes. “Who are you?” The voice was muffled. “You know who we are,” Stone said, impatiently. Isaacs was hanging back, not entirely sold on this plan. Mulder had mentioned the Gunmen to them, but had never made an introduction.

A more muffled voice came from further inside. “Jesus Christ, Frohike, just let them in!” The panel slid closed, and after the noise of a lot of locks being thrown, the metal door creaked open. “Come on, make it quick.” Stone hustled in, but Isaacs took a more measured pace. A bearded man wearing a suit came up to Stone when the door had been slammed shut. “Byers,” he said by way of introduction, and held out his hand for a shake. “Are Mulder and Scully okay?” Stone shook it. “They’re fine,” he said, “but we need your help.” Another man with long blond hair, also wearing glasses stood leaning against a wall with his arms crossed. “We might be able to help you,” he said in a nasally voice, “depending.” Stone turned to him. “Langly, right?” Stone said, “I’ve seen some of your work. Impressive.” Langly shrugged. “I’ve seen some of yours too, I can’t believe you went federal. The Rainbow Line hack was inspired.” It was Stone’s turn to shrug. “I was a kid,” he said. Isaacs finally spoke up. “I’m sure it’s great and all, everybody meeting their heroes, but we’ve got a bit of a time sensitive situation, here.”

All four men in the room turned to her. “She’s got legs to her neck,” Frohike said appreciatively. “You must be Frohike,” said Stone, “don’t be gross.” “No,” said Isaacs, grinning, “he can go on.” XxXxXxXxX Stone laid it all out to the Gunmen. They were equally intrigued and appalled and agreed to help get them the equipment they’d need to get into the DOD warehouse. Byers handed Stone the small parcel. It was a jumble of wires coming out of a hard plastic case. A credit card sized key card was hanging off of it by a wire.

“You may have to reset it every time you come to a different key pad,” Byers said seriously, “it could take a minute.” Stone nodded. “We appreciate your help,” he said. “If you get anything good,” Langly said, stepping forward, “we want the exclusive.” Frohike grabbed Isaacs’ hand and kissed the back of it. “My lady,” he said, bowing. “Kind sir,” she said, returning the gesture.

She and Stone made for the door. Once they were out into the night, Stone cut his eyes to her. “You didn’t have to do that, you know,” he said. “Do what?” “Humor that dirty old bird.” “Hey,” said Isaacs defensively, “it’s not everyday a girl gets a compliment.” XxXxXxXxX Isaacs had insisted they both go home to change into dark, loose clothing. Stone jumped into her car when she came by to pick him up and she shot him a look. “What?” He said, “it’s all I had.” He was wearing dark jeans and a baggy black hoodie with “311” across the front in big white numbers. “I said ‘subtle,’” Isaacs said. “You said ‘dark,’” he said, defensively. Isaacs shook her head and drove on. She exited near the Mixing Bowl and parked where they had earlier in the day. At night, it looked no different. There were no lights on anywhere in the building, which was a relief. “Let’s walk around the building once,” Isaacs said, slipping off her seat belt and opening the door, “make sure there aren’t any surprises.” They made one lap and found it exactly as they had earlier in the day. “I still don’t see any cameras,” Isaacs said. “You ready to do this?” Stone nodded, adjusted the small backpack he’d brought and pulled out the device the Gunmen had given them. “Is that thing gonna work?” Isaacs said softly as they approached the door. “Guess we’ll find out,” said Stone. He ran the card through the reader and waited for a moment. Three beeps and the lights on the key pad turned green – the door buzzed open and then they were inside. Isaacs took a minute when they were in the door. She took out her flashlight and weapon and slowly panned them across the room. It looked like a standard reception area. One tall desk with a phone and sign-in sheet and five or six uncomfortable looking chairs lined up against one wall. There was no signage or paperwork on the desk. Stone pulled out his own flashlight, the door decoding device in his other hand. “You have your weapon, right?” Isaacs asked quietly, even so her voice sounded loud in the room. “In my holster,” Stone whispered, moving to the next door. It also had a key pad entry. “Byers said we might have to reset it?” Isaacs asked. “Let’s see,” said Stone, and he swiped. Once again, after a moment three beeps and the key pad light turned green. “Look for motion detectors and trip wires, would you?” Stone said, with a hand on the door handle. Isaacs nodded. They went through. The next room was large, something you’d expect to find in a warehouse, with large glass tanks scattered throughout. The tanks were empty, each lined with a dusty black film. The room smelled like a dental office. Isaacs shone her light through one of the tanks. “Nasty,” she said, crinkling her nose in distaste. At the far end of the room, there was another door. Stone’s scanning device got them through that one too without issue. It led to a long hallway, with 4 sets of doors along each wall. Each one had a key pad outside of it, and a window in the door. Isaacs scanned the corners of the hallway for motion sensors, and seeing none, moved to the first door, shining her flashlight through the window. The room was narrow but deep, neatly lined with metal gurneys, a small IV stand and medical portal next to each one. Isaacs turned to Stone with a look. “What the fuck kind of place is this?” She asked. “Look for computers,” Stone said, shining his light in the room across hers. “Bigger units and work stations or a server room.” The quickly scanned the other doors in the hallway. “The third floor maybe?” Isaacs said, holstering her gun. Stone nodded. “We need to find some stairs.” A few doorways later they found the staircase, simple and industrial, and climbed their way up. The door to the third floor had another key pad unit. Stone tried it. This time, the pad gave one long beep and the numbers flashed red. “Shit,” Stone said, “Going to have to reset it.” He tinkered with the unit in his hands. A small light on its side blinked blue and Stone tried the key pad again. Three beeps, the numbers turned green, and they were in. Isaacs pulled her weapon back out and they took a step inside. This is what Isaacs had expected of a Department of Defense building. There were four large work stations with sophisticated looking computers and equipment at each one. Off in the corner looked to be a smaller PC connected to a large bank of servers that took up one wall. Unlike the other parts of the warehouse, there were dim lights on here, though not overhead, each desktop had a small desktop lamp that gave the room a low green glow. “Gotcha,” Stone said, pocketing his flashlight and heading for the PC at the bank of servers. He dropped his small pack next to the desk chair and sat, working the keyboard quickly. “I’m going to look around,” Isaacs told him, and at his nod, she did a sweep around the room. There were no file cabinets of any kind, and nothing left out on the desktops to snoop, though they were clean, clear of dust, and had been in use recently. At the far end of the room were two more doors. One had no window, but there appeared to have been an old Exit sign above it, removed. The room with the window was tiny, but looked like a small lab. It had one table in the center with a small black cube on top, with one cord leading to what looked to Isaacs like a small, sleek next-gen laptop. Both doors had key pads. Isaacs was just turning back towards Stone, when he made a noise, low in his throat. “What is it?” Isaacs said, trotting over. Stone was rapidly reading the computer monitor in front of him. “JeeeeeSUS,” he said, then turned to Isaacs. His face looked ashen even in the dim green light of the room. “Did you see any kind of lab in here?” He asked her. She hooked a thumb toward the two doors. “Over there,” she said. “What’s in it?” “A little computer. That’s about it.” Stone nodded and his throat bobbed. “Here,” he said, handing her the key pad decoding device. “Take this over there, and when I tell you, try it on the door.” Isaacs held it a little uncertainly. “What if it needs to be reset?” She asked. Stone quickly pointed to three black buttons along the side. “Just press here, here, then here. When the blue light flashes, it should be good to go.” Isaacs walked warily over to the small lab. “You’ll tell me when?” she called over to him. “Yes,” he said, bending over his pack and pulling out a small device. He plugged it into the PC and pushed a button on the keyboard. “Come on, come on, come on,” he said quietly, rocking back and forth on his feet. Something popped up on the screen in front of him and he bent down quickly to look at it. “We’re going to have to move fast, Isaacs!” He called over to her, “they know we’re here!” Isaacs thought she heard movement below them. She ran to the door where they’d entered and put her ear to it – there was clanging on the metal staircase, there were people coming up. “Stone, help me with this!” She called, and knocked everything off of the desk closest to the door, shoving it with all her might. Stone saw what she was trying to do and ran over – they pushed the desk in front of the door. Stone nodded to the key pad decoder. “Go try that other door, see where it goes!” Isaacs ran over. The key pad beeped once and turned red. She tried to remember what order to push the buttons to reset it. It took an agonizingly long time for the light to turn blue. She tried it again. Three beeps and the door opened. It had a staircase that went up – it led to the roof. “We got an exit!” She called over to Stone who was still staring the PC monitor, waiting. “One more minute!” He called over. The men were at the door, shoving at it, the desk blocking their way scraping loudly on the floor as it budged inch by inch. “We don’t have a minute!” Isaacs yelled back. “I got it!” Stone said then, and pulled the device out of the PC, throwing it in his pack and racing over to where Isaacs stood by their exit. “Try the lab door!” He shouted to her as he ran. She tried the key pad. One long beep, red buttons. The desk blocking the door shoved back another inch with a metal-on-metal groan. “We’ve got to go, Stone!” Isaacs said, “it’s not worth it!” Stone made it to her and grabbed the decoder from her, resetting it. “Yes,” he said to her, looking her right in the eye, “it is.” The desk blocking the door finally gave and three men in black tactical gear pushed through, weapons in hand. “Cover me!” Stone shouted while he tried the lab door with his device. Isaacs flipped over the desk nearest them and took cover, training her weapon on the men, hoping they’d shoot first. She’d never fired her service weapon before in the field. The first man through turned toward her and fired, she shot back. She vaguely heard the three beeps of the lab door, she looked back for a second and Stone was in the lab — moments later he dove beside her, shoving something into his pack.

“The exit,” she said, nodding toward the rooftop stairway door, “go!!” Stone dove for the doorway and she stood, spraying the room with fire. The men fired back. She was right behind Stone on the second step when Stone grunted and sagged against the wall. He’d been hit. She shoved a shoulder under his arm and let adrenaline help him up the last few steps to the rooftop. They got on the roof and she slammed the door closed behind them. She scanned the roof quickly and spotted a rickety, rusty fire escape. Stone was holding his side, a grimace on his face, but he was still on his feet. “Can you make it to the fire escape?” She asked him. He nodded. She heard movement on the stairway behind them, and the sound of a helicopter approaching. “Give me your weapon,” she said, “go!” Stone handed her his weapon, moving toward the fire escape and she turned, looking for some place with cover. She saw a ventilation shaft twenty feet away when the door opened right next to her. Reflex taking over, she’d shot the man point-blank in the face before she realized what was happening. The man fell backwards into whoever was behind him and she made all-out for the ventilation shaft, flinging herself behind it as bullets strafed where she’d just been. She cut her eyes to Stone, who was straddling the side of the building, slowly making his way onto the top of the fire escape. The two other men had pushed their comrade out onto the roof and were both firing, one at Isaacs, the other at Stone. Isaacs dove out from her cover and came up firing. She emptied her clip into the man firing at her and raised Stone’s weapon, taking careful aim. The man fell just as Stone dropped onto the top of the fire escape.

[rowdywarrior85]

STRANGER THINGS PRESENTS: 8/11, PART 1

[DISCLAIMER: This story in purely fan-fiction, meaning I own no rights to the show STRANGER THINGS, its episodes or characters. Basically, this story is my interpretation of the show, its episodes or characters. Forewarning, there will be descriptions of violence (sometimes graphic), adult content and language; if you have kids under 17 reading this story, VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. Either way, hope you enjoy it.]

(We open to black.)

KALI (voice-over): Your mother sent you here for a reason, remember? We belong together. There’s nothing for you back there. They cannot save you, Jane.

EL (voice-over): No. But I can save them.

KALI (voice-over): Jane. JANE!!

(Smash open to a sunset looking over the city of Milwaukee, Wisconsin. The theme song to LAVERNE & SHIRLEY starts up in the background. Snaps of beer breweries, cheese products and of course Packers fans. Camera then pans over an abandoned brewery, in one room Funshine tortures Axel over a game of chess with an episode of LAVERNE & SHIRLEY playing on the TV.)

FUNSHINE: Something on yo mind, brutha? Check.

(Funshine moves a bishop 2 steps forward.)

AXEL: Oh, I got alot on my mind, Funny. Mickie and Dottie are out getting grub, you’re kicking my ass in a child’s game, and our fearless leader is currently moping in her “penthouse” since “Shirley” fucking bailed on us.

FUNSHINE: Aight, A) Chess is a strategic game for all minds and all ages. And B) Jane obviously had her reasons, despite Kali’s feelings about it.

AXEL: Yeah, well, this strategic game is whuppin’ my goddamn aging brain.

(Funshine chuckles at Axel’s predicament, then looks up to the supervisor’s office up top. Inside, Kali is seen moping over a Polaroid picture she’s holding in her hand. The Polaroid consists of her and El/Jane smiling in the van, El/Jane with a warm smile and her arm draped around Kali and her lustful lip-lick. She turns to the radio with CALL ME by Blondie, then turns the dial to static. She then proceeds to close her eyes, holding the polaroid in her hand, concentrating on El/Jane. Camera cuts to a black space, the Void, she walks around until she hears gunshots and commotion coming from her right. As she closes in, she discovers it to be El/Jane watching an episode of MIAMI VICE with Mike. She then proceeds to observe them holding hands, kneeling close to El/Jane, looking to her with envy.)

KALI: (deep sigh) Lucky.

(Outside, the gang van pulls in. Funshine and Axel hear it outside.)

FUNSHINE: Soup’s on.

(Axel gets up to address the van.)

AXEL: You’re late, girls! Fuckin’ starving here!

(Inside the van, Mickie gives a vacant expression on her face.)

HELL-O!!!

FUNSHINE: Bad news, brutha. CHECKMATE, MUTHAFUCKA!!!

(Suddenly, a gunshot goes off, going through Mickie’s head, splattering her brain matter and blood across the inside of the windshield. A scream from Dottie is heard inside the van.)

FUNSHINE: Oh my God!

AXEL: HOLY SHIT!!

(Kali snaps out of her Void visit, puts the polaroid in her inner jacket pocket and bolts to the window. A thick, aged Russian voice barks from inside the van.)

RUSSIAN VOICE: My sincere apologies for intruding on your dinner plans, cossacks!

(A 60 year old, silver-haired and bearded, stocky Russian agent in a black suit strolls around from the back of the van. He has Dottie in tow as a human shield, with a standard issue Marakov handgun in his right hand pointed to her right temple, and his left hand tight on her left shoulder. Axel pulls out his .45 and points it at the uninvited guest, but Funshine motions him to be cool.)

I am simply here one reason. Your leader, a Hindu girl.

(Axel and Funshine look to each other. Suddenly, the intercom is activated from Kali’s suite.)

KALI: (over intercom) Who’s asking? And for the record, I’m British.

RUSSIAN AGENT: Oh, my apologies, devushka, I am Special Agent Ivan Perdovski, enforcer of Science Division of KGB. We’ve been looking for you for some time now. Rumors of people seeing things that are not there...

(As Ivan talks, a platoon of Russian soldiers along with Spetnaz commandos around the brewery.)

…a tunnel caving in at Pittsburgh,…

(Kali recalls doing that.)

…a former hospital orderly seeing old ghosts,…

(Kali recalls that, too.)

…and of course, a steel wall appearing in front of cops at abandoned factory in Chicago. Coincidence? I think not.

IVAN: Listen to me, comrades. We just want girl, give her to us, and we consider you all loose ends. But if I see something out of ordinary, you all die today.

AXEL: (laughing) “We”? I think you might be up in your age, “comrade”. Cuz the way I see it, it’s all of us and ONE… OF… YOU!!

(Ivan laughs at the gang.)

IVAN: (Russian) TAKE NO PRISONERS, I WANT THE GIRLS ALIVE AND UNHARMED!!!

(Soldiers and Spetnaz burst through the doors and windows. Axel and Funshine are shocked by the intrusion, as a hidden blade jets out of his left jacket sleeve and slits Dottie’s throat. Funshine is shocked even further, whilst Axel screams in agony.)

AXEL: DOTTIE, NO!!!!

(Blood pours from Dottie’s opened neck wound as she falls to the floor with hand to her neck, and ceases to move.)

YOU COMMIE FUCKERS!!!

(Axel fires his gun wildly, Ivan draws fire as he goes for cover.)

Get Kali and get the fuck outta here!!

(Funshine signals to Kali that need to roll out. A Spetnaz commando heads up to the upper level after Kali with Funshine following behind. The commando heads up to the Kali’s room, when he unexpectedly runs into a wall, the commando is perplexed and proceeds to turn around, only to be met by another wall. The walls begins to close in on the commando, he screams in Russian with floods of panic, only to be met by the force of Funshine’s right cross. The commando falls like a sack of potatoes, the walls simply disappear; Kali peers around the corner, wiping the blood off from her nose, smiling to Funshine as he squats next to the unconscious commando.)

KALI: Grab his weapons, Funshine. We’re clearly not safe here.

FUNSHINE: You don’t gotta ask me twice, K.

(Funshine grabs the commando’s AK/Grenade Launcher combo, a claymore mine and ammo. The two make their way to the exit, but are stopped by Ivan’s voice.)

IVAN: YOU WOULDN’T LEAVE YOUR REMAINING COMRADES BEHIND, WOULD YOU, DEVUSHKA!?!

(Kali motions to Funshine to stay by the exit while she peers over the door to the main loading dock. To her horror, she sees Axel on his knees with Ivan’s pistol pointed to his head, with the Red Army pointing their guns at her perspective door.)

IVAN: Drop your weapons and surrender the girl to me, calmly.

AXEL: (looks sharply to the door) FORGET ABOUT ME, KALI. YOU JUST GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE! SAVE YOURSELF!!

IVAN: You have ten seconds to make up your mind, surrender yourself, and your friends will be spared.

(As Ivan counts down from 10, Kali looks to Funshine, who nods at her not to do it. By 7,Kali motions to Funshine to shut up while she uses her powers on the Red Army. By 5, she looks over, raises her hand up in her signature gesture.)

…4 …3 …2

AXEL: WE’LL ALWAYS LOVE YOU, KALI!!!

(With that, Ivan puts one between Axel’s eyes, Axel falls to his side lifeless, the Red Army opens fire as Kali pulls back and ducks.)

IVAN: (Russian) HOLD YOUR FIRE!!!

(Soldiers cease fire.)

I WANT THE GIRL ALIVE!!

(Kali sits by the door in disbelief, all but Funshine are killed as she holds back her sadness. Funshine grabs ahold of her.)

FUNSHINE: (whispering) There’s another exit out there, we can make it.

(They both look at each other in affirmation. As Ivan and his troops wait, a cloud of smoke jets out of the door. The soldiers ready their weapons.)

IVAN: (Russian) Wait!!

(The cloud envelops from the door to the exit left of the door. As Ivan looks in fascination, we see Kali using her abilities to generate an illusion of said cloud to cover herself and Funshine. Camera pans over to Ivan and his troops who see nothing but the cloud. As the cloud inches toward the exit, a timid soldier shoots at the exit causing her to stop yet she keeps the illusion. Ivan shoots and kills that soldier in frustration, Kali and Funshine continue to the exit, at the same time she looks on to her comrades. When they make it to the exit, Ivan looks her cloud with a light smile.)

IVAN: (chuckles, English) You can’t win, devushka. There’s nowhere you can’t go where we won’t find you.

(Kali then motions to Funshine to see a nearby forklift. Funshine takes note and shoots the propane tank on that forklift, detonating it to provide a distraction long enough for the two misfits to escape. While the soldiers recover from the disorientation of the explosion, Kali and Funshine make for a black Ford cruiser sandwiched between two army supply trucks. They both get in, Funshine hotwires the car to start, and both get the Hell outta Dodge. Ivan and the troops run outside to their vehicles.)

IVAN: (Russian) They made off with my car, we can track it! Kill the assailant, but I WANT THE GIRL ALIVE!!!

(Ivan gets into the passenger side of an army truck while the other one goes ahead. Kali and Funshine race through the city with the Russians in pursuit. A Milwaukee cops notices the Ford speeding by.)

COP: (grabbing the radio communicator) All units, all units. We got a black Ford cruiser blasting through downtown. Request backup, over.

COP #2: (over radio) 10-4. Backup arriving imminently, over.

(Five more squad cars join the pursuit.)

IVAN: (Russian) Local police. Let them pass. Trust me.

KALI: There’s a junction up ahead.

FUNSHINE: Gotcha.

(The Ford blasts through the junction with Russians and sirens in hot pursuit. Kali closes her eyes and raises her hand. The cops approach the junction, when suddenly, …)

KALI: Boom.

(…the middle of the junction starts caving in. Cops hit their brakes in a panic.)

IVAN: (Russian) All stop now!!

(The cops braking in the middle of the junction results in a horrific car accident from all directions. Ivan looks on in astonishment.)

She’s good, real good.

KALI: There’s a bus station three blocks from here, park one block before there.

(Funshine looks down and sees a node with a blinking red light, indicating a tracking beacon. He looks up modestly to the road with concern, then looks to Kali.)

FUNSHINE: Gotcha.

SPETNAZ DRIVER: (Russian) Tracker is still working. Target is making for the local bus station.

IVAN: (Russian) Good.

(Funshine parks the car one block away from the bus station.)

KALI: Right, let’s roll.

(Kali steps out of the car, then looks back at Funshine, who sits solemnly in the driver’s seat.)

Fun, what’s wrong?

FUNSHINE: Houston, we got a problem.

(Funshine points to the tracking beacon to Kali.)

KALI: Shit.

FUNSHINE: Yup.

KALI: Then, we need to go now. Ditch the car.

FUNSHINE: No, Kali. YOU need to go.

KALI: No. (sniffles) You’re not doing this to me.

FUNSHINE: They’ll find us wherever we go.

KALI: (voice breaking, tearfully) If you stay, they’ll kill you too. Then I’ll have nobody.

FUNSHINE: Bull. Shit.

(Points to her jacket, specifically where the polaroid of her and El/Jane)

KALI: Fun, I can’t face her after she…

FUNSHINE: She’s the only family you got. You don’t have to face her now, but when the time comes, you’ll have to. You two are gonna need each other, sooner or later. But for now, you need to get on out now. Take this,…

(He hands her a $100.)

…get on the first available bus. Go, and don’t ever look back. We’ll be with you always,…

(He then points to her heart.)

…right here.

(Kali shares a final tearful hug with his gentle, giant, muscle bound friend.)

Now, go on kid. Go, now!!

(As Kali makes a break for the bus station, Funshine takes the claymore, ties the tripwire around the handle on the door, and faces the claymore toward the door. Funshine then sees the Russian convoy surrounding him. Ivan motions one of his Spetnaz commandos to the car. Commando knocks on the window, Funshine acknowledges him. Commando then motions him to open his window, Funshine smiles and decides acknowledges him.)

FUNSHINE: Evening, officer. Is, uh, there a problem?

COMMANDO: Where is girl?

FUNSHINE: You’re gonna have to be more specific than that, sir. What girl?

COMMANDO: No bullshit. Where is special girl?

FUNSHINE: You know what, I’m afraid you just missed her. She showed me quite a time, if you boys got here sooner, she could spread some love for y’all red-necks. Know what I’m sayin?

(Commando growls at Funshine, then turns to Ivan. Ivan nods up to the commando, commando turns back to Funshine.)

COMMANDO: Step out of car, comrade.

FUNSHINE: Tell you what. Why don’t you be a pal and, uh… open the door for me. Think you can do that, “comrade”?

(Funshine then chuckles and takes his middle finger shows it to Ivan. Ivan looks at him sternly, but as the commando opens the door, he eyes widen.)

IVAN: NYET!!!

(But it was already too late, the commando swung open the door, triggering the claymore. The commando looks down in disbelief.)

COMMANDO: (Russian) Fuck me.

(BOOM!! The claymore takes Funshine, the commando and most of the troops. Ivan is blown back, but survived with a slight burn on the left side of his face, most of his hair gone. Camera cuts to the road floor, where an plastic orange bear mask is seen half burnt. The explosion was heard clear across to the city limits where a bus is leaving Milwaukee. All the patrons saw the explosion, including Kali who sits in the very back, she sits back down in tears, knowing the last of her crew is gone. Camera cuts to the front to front of the bus, then pans upwards to show the destination of the bus, “California”.)

BUS DRIVER: (over intercom) Alright, everybody. We’re all safe and sound now. Next stop, Sunny California.

TO BE CONTINUED…

[imagine-loki]

Wedded Bliss

TITLE: Wedded Bliss CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 31 AUTHOR: MaliceManaged ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Odin determined to find Loki a wife in a misguided, though somewhat well-intentioned attempt to ‘mellow him’. … RATING: T NOTES/WARNINGS: For those of you who missed the fixed link from the last chapter about Edith’s new uniform, try this one instead. Also, kiss my ass, photobucket. You had one job.

________________________

Loki was, they discovered, something of a natural at the game once he got the hang of the gun. Moving in the shadows was something he had centuries of practice in and between him and Natasha, they had a highly adaptive battle strategy in no time. Which is not to say that Tony’s team didn’t put up a fight – with Hawkeye on their side, they were bound to get plenty of hits in regardless of it not being his favoured weapon – but ultimately they were simply outmatched.

Edith ducked behind an empty cubicle just in time to dodge a splat of bright red fired from Tony’s gun. She leaned against it while she reloaded, catching her breath, only to notice movement to her side; with a hissed curse, she scrambled to round to the other side of the cubicle in order to avoid the onslaught of white as Steve bore down on her position.

“Nowhere to run, Edie!” Tony called as he moved to join Steve, only to let out a startled curse as he found himself pelted by green and black paint as Loki and Natasha revealed themselves, making him realise it had been a trap.

As soon as Steve saw what happened he turned and fled the room right the way he came in, as that had been Tony’s last ‘life’, meaning it was now three against one until he regrouped with Clint. Tony grumbled something along the lines of firing Steve, causing the rest to laugh, then he walked off to join Bruce in the control room.

“Well, that’s one down, two to go,” Edith said, “Of course, one of those two happens to be Clint.”

“Who’s down to four lives,” Natasha reminded.

“Good point,” she glanced up at one of the cameras, “How we doing?”

“You have five lives remaining,” JARVIS counted, “Agent Romanoff has eight, Mr. Odinson has nine, and Captain Rogers has six.”

“Thanks, J,” she turned back to her teammates, “So, what’s the plan?”

****

The orange pellet only narrowly missed Steve’s head, and Edith let out a slight gasp as he turned towards her and dove back down behind the overturned table. When she was sure he wasn’t going to return fire, being a tad preoccupied with Natasha, she dashed from the table and towards the door nearest her, only to stop short as Clint popped out from inside the room beyond and left a purple splotch on her helmet’s faceplate from his head shot.

“Dammit! How did you even get in there??” she cried, removing her helmet so she could see.

“Trade secret,” was all Clint said as he rushed past her to go help Steve.

Edith walked into the room, setting her helmet and gun down on the desk inside, and took out a packet off wet wipes from her pocket to clean her helmet with. That done, she replaced the helmet, grabbed her gun and went to brace herself at the door; she peeked outside in time to see Clint score a kill shot on Loki while he was focused on Steve ducking for cover and groaned. Moving quickly she ducked out, took aim and fired, managing a hit on Clint’s lower back right at his spine, causing him to swear rather viciously as he had momentarily forgotten she was behind him.

“Well, that wasn’t very wholesome of you,” Tony voice came through the tower’s PA system, causing them all to laugh.

Edith’s laughed turned into a shriek as Clint fired at her in retaliation, ducking back into the room and narrowly dodging another head shot. Loki nodded to Natasha and then ran out ahead of her, sacrificing another of his lives to shield her while she took out Steve with a head shot and Clint with a shot to his chest then ducked through a door to the side.

“Come on, guys; you’re making us look bad!” Tony complained.

“You were the first taken out, Stark!” Clint retorted.

“They had it out for me!”

“Can’t imagine why,” Clint muttered, causing Steve to snort.

****

It came down to Loki and Steve in the end. Clint had picked off Edith, then he and Natasha ended up taking each other out, leaving Loki with three lives and Steve with his last to face off. The captain put up a valiant effort, but ultimately Loki gained the upper hand with a well placed shot to the heart. Afterwards they went up to the common floor for some much needed lunch of their favourite Chinese take out, which resulted in another somewhat-friendly argument over the last eggroll; by the time it was over, they noticed it was already gone, though JARVIS claimed not to know who took it.

Natasha dragged Clint and Steve off when the food was gone, reminding them they had SHEILD business (aka: paperwork) they couldn’t keep putting off, and as Tony poked fun at them JARVIS helpfully reminded him he had a meeting he’d promised Pepper he’d attend with her, which in turn resulted in Edith pointing and laughing at him.

Once they’d all left, Edith turned to Loki accusingly. “Alright, confess; you took it.”

“I did no such thing; I still had half of mine left at the time,” Loki replied, causing her narrow her eyes at him.

“Come on; I didn’t take it and JARVIS claimed he didn’t see who did.”

“Actually,” Bruce spoke up, “It really wasn’t him.”

Edith stared at him for a moment then let out a laugh. “So you won JARVIS over, too, huh? Oh, Tony’s going to love that when he figures it out.”

“He should have thought about that before letting me spend so much time alone in the labs.”

“Speaking of the labs, Dr. Banner; I have the results of your latest tests,” JARVIS announced.

“Great!” Bruce replied excitedly, getting to his feet and making it halfway to the elevator before turning back to Edith and Loki apologetically, “Sorry, I, uh…”

Edith snorted. “It’s fine, go ahead, Tony 2.0.” They laughed at that and Bruce went on his way, eager to continue his work. Edith moved to sit closer to Loki and leaned against him, resting her chin on his shoulder, earning an amused look. “So, how’s this day panned out so far?”

“It has been… entertaining,” he replied, not quite sure how much he wanted to reveal of his feelings on the subject yet. “Although, I would like to know what happened in this ‘summer of ’04’?”

“Nothing,” she replied entirely too fast, causing him to raise an eyebrow, “Look, I was an overeager thirteen-year-old; shit happens. Nobody was hurt. Everything was replaced. End of story.”

He chuckled, mentally making note to ask Pepper, doubting Tony would say anything, at least to him. “I would be interested in playing the game again, though; it was quite fun.”

“That it is,” she poked his ribs gently, “Just know they’ll never let you and Nat team up again.”

“No, I daresay they will not,” he concurred lightly then gently pushed her off himself and stood. “I should reply to father about the feast.”

“Wouldn’t he know your answer by now?”

“Well, yes, but I should still write them. It is only polite.”

She hummed. “What am I going to do, then? Everybody’s busy.”

“How should I know, Edith? You are your own person,” he replied with a roll of his eyes.

“True, but annoying you is fun.” At his unamused look she giggled and stood on the couch to kiss him without having to stand on her toes, then hopped off and walked to the elevator, turning back to him halfway through the open doors, “Coming?”

He huffed amusedly despite himself and went over to join her. They rode up in silence, Edith taking out her phone to check her accounts until they reached his floor, where they parted after a quick hug so she could continue up to hers.

[theshapeshifter100]

Guess What? I’m Not a Robot Ch39

Yeah, I’m late. So you’re getting a chapter today and tomorrow! Hopefully!

Summary: The gang sees Connor ton tv and the sees the Detroit evacuation first hand.

Chapter warnings: casual swearing

Word Count: 1,784

11.58PM Thursday 11th November 2038

A few minutes later, painkillers had been successfully taken and Megan was back on the couch.

“Are you sure you’re okay over there?” she asked Oscar, who had returned to sitting against the wall. “I can budge up if you want.”

“Sick and the injured get priority,” Oscar waved off. “Besides I wouldn’t fit on the couch.”

Megan grumbled a little but lay on the couch. The tv was still on, although the sound had been turned down. It was still showing the feed from the protest as androids were released from the Recycling Centre. They looked a little creepy with just the bare white exterior Megan had to admit.

“Holy shit,” Megan suddenly noticed something odd. The androids were on the move, and the camera panned over to show a massive group of identical androids, with one distinct android at the head of the column.

“What the...?” Paul stared while Oscar got up to get a better look.

Markus and the android at the head of the column met in the middle, and Paul squinted.

“What the fuck?” he could not believe what he was seeing.

“What?” Megan and Oscar asked. The resolution wasn’t great, so clearly Paul had spotted something that they had not.

“That’s the RK800-Connor!”

Megan blinked at the screen, squinting. It was difficult for her to tell, so she took Paul’s word for it.

“So, this could go really well, or destroy the entire revolution,” she summarised.

“Nah, Connor’s good.”

Everyone except Paul jumped and turned to see Lieutenant Anderson dressed in a loose shirt and boxers. Not a sight many would really want to see. The police detective had his arms folded as he nodded at the screen.

“He woke a bunch of ‘em up in CyberLife Tower. He’s not huntin’ deviants anymore.”

Everyone noticed Paul slump in relief, but no one mentioned it.

“So, is he a deviant now as well?” Paul asked uncertainly.

“Yup,” Anderson responded, popping the ‘p’.

This was when Paul’s radio flared into life.

“This is Rainbow3. Anyone watching the news? Over.”

Anderson raised an eyebrow as Paul answered.

“Beep Boop here. We just saw it. Over.”

“Did you see who was at the front though?” Lucas asked.

“No, what the hell’s going on?!” Ivy asked.

“The RK800-Connor, yes. We have confirmation that he’s a deviant now. Over,” Paul bristled as Anderson snorted with laughter at that.

“From who?” responded Lucas. “And I’m guessing you two haven’t made it there yet? Over.”

“...No,” Ivy admitted. “Seems like there’s no point. Heading back. Who’s your informant? Over.”

Anderson outright laughed. “Whatever, you can tell yer little Scooby Doo gang.”

Paul did just that. “Lieutenant Hank Anderson. Over.”

“Wait, what?!” Julia had clearly taken the radio off of Maggie. “How? Over.”

“We, may have, broken into his house,” Paul admitted, and Megan interjected while the talk button was still down.

“We didn’t break anything! The window was broken when we got here!”

There was a pause from the radio.

“Great way to avoid suspicion there Nervousness Incarnate,” you could almost hear Lucas rolling his eyes. “Fuck we’ll deal with this in the morning. If he’s still there ask him about him AAA Battery, provided there isn’t a gun to your head.”

“You think Nervousness Incarnate would put up with that after earlier?” Paul responded wryly.

“Five feet of fury,” Ivy snickered.

“She can bite his kneecaps,” Maggie joined in, and Megan leaned to snatch the radio from Paul.

“I hate you guys.”

“Guys enough,” Julia came back on. “It’s midnight, let’s call it a day already. We all got somewhere to sleep? Over.”

“Yep. Over.” Megan responded, and was greeted by another affirmative from Lucas’s group.

“Let’s see if we can meet soon. Over and out,” Julia ended the conversation and Megan handed the radio back to Paul.

“So, what are you guys, exactly?” Anderson asked. “Some kind of android rights group?”

“That is exactly what we are,” Oscar rumbled.

“Huh. Well good for you,” Anderson huffed. “And who the fuck is AAA Battery?”

“Alex, our, I suppose leader,” Paul thought. “They and Allison could be joint leaders I suppose, along with Julia.”

“Right, and I assume this Alex got arrested?”

“Yes,” Paul confirmed. “Short green hair, bright clothing, general androgynous appearance.”

“I haven’t seen ‘em,” Anderson shrugged. “Now fer the love of God, go to sleep!”

The detective stormed off and Oscar switched off the tv. Megan got settled on the couch, making sure to stay on her back or right side. Oscar slumped against the wall and drew his knees up to rest his head on them. Paul stood in place for a second before switching off the lights.

He stood in the dark, watching them fall asleep. He could go into stasis he supposed, although he wanted to stay alert. They weren’t out of the woods yet.

Paul stood vigil all night, watching the snow fall outside the window.

07.30AM Friday 12th November 2038

As dawn began to break he shook Megan and Oscar awake. Oscar was awake almost instantly, although Megan groaned and mumbled something about ‘five more minutes’.

Without wasting another second he picked her up, and she was clearly tired as she only half heartedly objected.

Oscar opened the door and they stepped out in the fresh morning. Oscar swore and rubbed his hands together before stuffing them into his pockets. Megan burrowed deeper into the blanket, taking full advantage of her position to avoid the cold at all costs. Paul noticed the cold, but overall it didn’t bother him.

“So, where to?” Oscar asked.

Paul paused, sifting through the options. They didn’t know where Lucas and Nathan were. Allison was either still wandering towards the android camp or had given up and headed back. Alex of course was at the police station. That left Julia’s group, who were at her house.

“Do you know where Julia lives?” he asked Oscar, who shook his head. “Megan?”

“No idea,” she mumbled. “I don’t think it’s that far from Alex’s.”

“That doesn’t help,” Paul sighed.

“We couldn’t have discussed this in the warm?” Oscar asked, stamping his feet to make sure that they didn’t get too cold.

“I’d rather not test the Lieutenant’s patience.”

“So, we have no idea where to go?” Oscar asked, Paul reluctantly nodded. “What about going to the androids?”

“We don’t know receptive they are to humans right now,” Paul shot down.

“How about we go to a mall or something?” Oscar suggested. “We’re freezing out here!”

“It will give us a temporary goal if nothing else.” Paul nodded, recalling where the nearest mall would be. It was a bit of a hike, given that this was a residential district, but it was doable.

As the sun rose higher Paul made sure Megan started walking.

“It’s cold!” she protested.

“You have a blanket!” Oscar snapped in a rare show of temper. “What have you got to complain about?”

“Lack of functionality in my left arm!”

“Both of you, enough!” Paul barked, restoring order. “Nothing about this is great. Let’s just get somewhere warm and plan from there.”

Megan and Oscar glared at each other for second before following the android. Given that dawn was pretty much half seven, they expected businesses to be opening. Instead, the streets of Detroit were full of people getting into cars with large suitcases and driving off.

“What the hell is going on?” Megan asked, and Paul flagged down a nearby couple trying to shove a suitcase into the back of their car.

“Hello, sorry to bother you,” he started, and the one shoving the suitcase in grunted to acknowledge that he was there. Their partner on the other hand, was a bit more amicable.

“What’s up?” they asked.

“Er, we’ve been out of the loop. Where is everyone going?”

“Detroit is being officially evacuated,” the gentlemen helpfully informed. “Given the androids taking the city the military have retreated and are basically letting them have Detroit.”

“I see. Thank you very much,” Paul dipped his head in thanks.

“No problem, if you and your guys need a ride out of Detroit then I’m sure there’s room for you.”

Paul looked at their small Sedan and Oscar’s bulk. No contest.

“Thank you for the offer, but we’ll be fine. Thank you.”

Paul went back to the other two and relayed the news.

“The whole city?” Megan asked, incredulous.

“Sounds like it. I’ll call the others,” Paul reached for the radio and walked as he talked. Most people were worrying more about themselves than some guy with a radio.

“This is Beep Boop. Anybody else know about the evacuation order? Over.”

“Reading you Beep Boop,” Julia was online. “It was on the news this morning and all over the paper. My parents are packing up, but I’m going to stay here. Over.”

“I thought these orders were mandatory. Over.”

“We all know that the androids pose no threat. Besides, half of Detroit ignored a tornado evacuation once, this is nothing in comparison. Over.”

“Is everyone staying? Over,” Paul posed the question.

“Ringo’s in student accommodation, and they’re doing checks to make sure students are gone,” informed Lucas. “We’re going to move to my apartment.”

“Poison Oak and Rainbow3 will stay with me,” Julia informed.

“Any sign of Biker Chick?” Paul asked, and a bleary voice answered.

“Yes, I made it back an hour ago,” Allison responded, voice thick with exhaustion. “I didn’t make it to the protest in the end. It would have been all over anyway.”

“Alright. Get some sleep and my group will work some things out. Over and out,” Paul clipped the radio back to his belt. Oscar and Megan had both overheard.

“I’m in student accommodation,” Oscar admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Well then,” Megan took a deep breath. “Looks like we’ll go to mine then.”

“Megan, your apartment is tiny,” Paul reminded.

“It’s better than nothing,” Megan declared, and Paul could just detect a nervous habit under the blanket. Even with a sling, she was finding a way to pick at her sleeve.

“It’ll be a long walk,” Paul added. “It took us several hours on the way to Alex’s.”

“Well, we won’t be dodging the military this time,” Megan responded with some optimism, and Paul had to agree.

They made it to Megan’s apartment building without any issue. All military personnel had been withdrawn and most people were leaving the city like it was a sinking ship.

People were still exiting the building when they made it there, but few people were taking the stairs. So they didn’t have to push through a crowd of people to get to Megan’s floor.

So, we're done with Hank Anderson for the time being, his appearance short but sweet, although we haven't seen the last of him yet. Honestly he probably would have let them stay a bit longer but Paul didn't want to risk anything. Since none of them have any idea of the stuff that happened in Connor's story they have little reason to actually trust Hank.

Also, imagine being in Hank's position, having a pair of college students and an android hiding your house and using cumbersome code names and being all serious about it, that would be pretty funny in his position.

Other Options Flowchart

(Paul) Ask Hank how he knows Connor is okay.

(Megan) Don't interject.

(Paul) Suggest going to Megans. Suggest Alex's. Suggest hiding.

(Paul) Agree with Oscar about going to the androids.

(Paul) Chastise Megan. Tell on Oscar.

(Paul) Ask the people dragging a suitcase from their house. Pick up abandoned news tablet to read.

Tags! @nightmarejim @septicart-appreciation