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nxrthmizu · 3 years

Text

Crash and Burn

fandom | miraculous ladybug

genre | salt, lila salt

pairing | n/a

w.c | 3.2k

author's note | hey remember that lila salt fic i promised? this isn't it but this is something i made today so yep. please accept this as an apology for yknow. me promising to write and. not doing it.

Enough was enough.

“Marinette, stop accusing Lila! She just wants to make friends!”

“Take the high road.”

“Be a good model student, Marinette.”

Enough. Was. Enough.

Marinette had the connections, the power, the choice to make Lila’s entire world crumble apart. The only thing that stood between the liar’s demise was the tiniest pinch of morality and self-restraint— And no, that self-restraint did not come in the form of Tikki. Even the kwami, who had to be an aggregation of all the good and nice things in the world, was fed up and ready to retaliate.

“What a joke.” Lila cackled, tossing a chunk of her sausage hair over her shoulder flamboyantly. The two girls were in the bathroom, with Lila smirking in front of the sink and Marinette a little distance away from her. “You can make my world crumble? What is this, a threat?”

“A promise.” Marinette corrected. “Stop telling lies. Come clean to every one. No more lying about knowing celebrities left and right, no more making excuses about not being able to take your own notes, no more making up ‘diseases’ just so your life gets a little more convenient. To be frank, I really don’t care what happens to you— But by making these empty promises to introduce my classmates to great ‘celebrities’, you’re ruining their futures. Stop.”

“And what are you going to do if I don’t?” Lila sneered, face twisted into an ugly grin. “You going to cry in front of the class? Try and convince them that I, the one they adore— That I am lying?”

“No.” Marinette’s eyes were clear when she met Lila’s. The clouds of self-doubt that used to hover over the bright, shining star inside her soul had now dissipated, letting the bluenette emit a confident, glowing appearance as she met the liar head on. “I’m just going to keep my promise.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Lila headed off to a modelling shoot after school, pleased at the prospect of spending more time with Adrien. There were a couple tendrils of Marinette’s words hanging behind in her mind— Did the girl mean what she said? Did she actually… Was she actually capable of causing Lila’s downfall? … Surely not. Marinette may have once been the ‘Everyday Ladybug’, but there was no way she was that competent, there was no way the girl was capable of plotting.

The Italian hummed, brushing away thoughts of the annoying bluenette from her mind. She was going on a photoshoot— One that was going cause the rise and burst of her career, the one that was going to make her name a globally-known one. Unfortunately for Lila, her plans were going to be derailed quite soon— In fact, as soon as Gabriel Agreste’s car rolled into the parking lot of the shoot location.

“Explain this, Mlle. Rossi.” Gabriel’s nostrils flared as he pointed to the tabloid article on his tablet. The Italian girl froze, the headlines seared into her eyes, big and black and bold, shooting poison right into the core of her body, paralysing her cell by cell starting from her heart. “What is the meaning of this?”

‘Adrien Agreste Reported To Be Harassed by Fellow Model’— The image under the caption was one that was clearly taken by a hidden photographer. The picture was framed with leafy foliage, which suggested that the camera was tucked up in a tree. Despite the distance, it was quite obvious in the image that Adrien was reeling away, disgusted and uncomfortable as a faceless woman in an orange blazer, back turned to the camera— Invaded his personal space.

The subtitle was the cream on the cupcake.

‘Witnesses State Gabriel Agreste Ignorant of Workplace Harassment’.

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

As if things couldn’t quite go down a worser path, Lila returned home to a fuming mother and an unexpected visitor.

“Lila! You come here right this instant!” The diplomat demanded as soon as the front door opened, her daughter shrinking slightly at the tone and pitch that her mother was using. The last time her mother had been this angry— Well, it was when she got expelled from her last school. “I can’t believe what you’ve done! If it weren’t for your kind classmate, lord knows how long you would’ve continued with this!”

The Italian meekly followed her mother into the living room, eyes widening until they were as large as saucers, mouth agape at the last person she expected to see sitting on the couch.

Marinette smiled kindly, waving at the girl, looking every bit the part of the innocent, pure, kind child that every parent wanted to have. Before Lila could release a torrent of questions about what the hell Marinette Dupain-Cheng was doing in her living room, her mother charged on, beginning to take out her anger on her daughter while a literal angel sat on the sofa, cradling a box of pastries from her family’s bakery.

“Your friend here tells me that you’ve been taking absences from school to go on trips to help humanity!” Mme. Rossi exploded, waving her arms around madly. “She says she’s here to share her notes from the classes you’ve missed! You’ve never left Paris this year! What’s this I hear about flying off to the kingdom of— What was it called again, Marinette dear?”

“Achu.” Provided the bluenette helpfully, the diplomat’s expression instantly softening when she talked to the other teen in the living room.

“Ah, yes. Thank you, dear.” The woman turned back to her daughter, instantly snapping on a mask of anger in a matter of a fraction of a second. “What’s this about flying off to this kingdom of Achu to help homeless orphans with some random prince?”

“Um…” Lila piped up, wriggling as her brain churned at 200 lies per hour, trying to whip up a cover of some sort.

“I’m not done! Your friend here is such a helpful child that she even went as far as to ask her family doctor is there’s a cure for your… Lying disease!” Mme. Rossi practically roared, breathing flames as if she were an intimidating dragon, her daughter flinching away from the heat. “I’ve never heard of anything more ridiculous! And then there’s the fact that you lied to your classmates about having tinnitus?!”

“I actually do have tinnitus!” Lila cut in forcibly, widening her eyes to make herself look more pitiful. “I was just afraid to tell you because I didn’t want you to worry!”

“Bullshit!”

“Um… Sorry to interrupt, Mme. Rossi,” Marinette piped up, the diplomat instantly cooling down as she faced the bluenette, a soft smile tracing the Italian woman’s lips. “But it’s getting rather late and my parents would love me home soon. I also have some tests to revise for tonight, so I think I should get going.”

“Oh, of course, dear.” Mme. Rossi hastily got up to help the bluenette to the door, shooting a warning glare at her daughter— ‘Sit still and don’t you dare go anywhere’, the glare read. “Feel free to come over again anytime you want, dear. I’m not home often, but you are such a sweet child. I’m sure Lila could learn a lot from you.”

“Thanks for having me as well, Mme. Rossi. I really like your home. I left the pastries on the counter— Make sure to warm the curry puffs before you eat them.” Marinette returned the smile, bowing slightly to the older woman as a sign of respect.

“Thank you for the pastries as well, Marinette. I ought to visit your parents’ bakery sometime when I’m free.” Mme. Rossi opened the door kindly for the bluenette, waving the girl off with an affectionate smile. Her parents must be so lucky to have such a sweet little thing like her, Mme. Rossi sighed internally, turning the key so she locked the door. And she seems to be a high-scoring student as well.

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Lila seethed, having been grounded by her mother. As far as Mme. Rossi was concerned, there was a boarding school not too far away from their current residence, and by the next week, the Italian girl would be transferred over. Lila had never hated Dupain-Cheng as much as she did in that moment.

Still furious, the Italian snapped her laptop open, too angry to bother with the fact she might’ve scratched the surface. Clicking into the web browser, she started to type in the words ‘Ladyblog’— That was, before a news article caught her eye.

‘Jagged Stone Interview Reveals Underage, Obsessed Fan’.

What on Earth…

As soon as Lila clicked into the link, the news footage from the interview immediately begin to play. The date stamp on it showed that it had aired last night— Which meant that she would’ve missed it, since her mother was too busy yelling at her to turn on the television to watch Nadja Chamack’s daily news.

“As soon as I heard this rumour about some underage teenage girl claiming that she had saved my cat on an airport runway, I called Penny and asked her to book a slot for me to clarify this,” Jagged Stone said grimly, dressed in more formal attire as he sat in the comfortable, cushioned chair of the news station, with Nadja nodding equally seriously beside him. “Let me clarify— I’ve never owned a cat. I’m allergic to fur. The only pet I’ve had was Fang, and he’s an al-li-ga-tor. Not a cat. Whatever the girl is claiming, she’s obsessed and making up stories.”

“It’s also kind of bewildering that she saved it on an airport runway,” Nadja continued, shaking her head in disappointment. “That kind of thing only happens in dramas— It’s too dangerous for anyone besides authorised workers to be on airport runways.”

“Right, right!” Jagged agreed instantly. “The whole rumour is just really baffling.”

“M. Jagged, may I ask what kind of effect these rumours have on a celebrities’ career?” Nadja continued, leading the conversation on like a professional.

“Well, rumours that circulate around tend to have really bad effects, and the worse ones can hang around for a long, long time. Tabloids are often spun off from rumours, baseless and with no evidence. Those tabloids will never truly disappear, so they can leave a mark on a celebrity’s reputation as some people will believe anything— Even things they read from un-cited tabloids.”

“That is simply terrible. Have you ever had any cases of rumours created by underaged teens before this?”

“I’ve had quite a number, but none of them really got as big as this one. From what Penny has found from digging around, the teen girl managed to spread the rumour through her school and onto a once-popular blog.” Jagged explained. “Penny has also found out that the same girl has claimed that I’ve written songs for her to thank her for saving my cat! I would never write songs and dedicate them to an underaged girl— Trust me. If I could do such a thing, I’d already have written a dozen in honour of my niece— She’s my favourite designer.”

Nadja smiled at that sentence. “Then—“

The news footage cut off abruptly as Lila slammed her laptop shut, too upset to continue watching.

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

On the other side of Paris, Alya was pacing around her room frantically, wondering why on earth Lila wasn’t picking up on her calls. She’d left at least four dozen messages to the Italian, who was absent from school that day. There had been a couple whispers here and there about why she was missing— Rose had suggested another impromptu trip to Achu.

Lila’s absence wasn’t the weirdest part of the day, however.

That award would go to Marinette, who walked into class with a smile, the slightest sprinkles of delight colouring her bluebell eyes when she spotted Lila’s empty seat.

Growing in frustration, Alya threw herself onto her bed, phone clattering onto the mattress with her. Within the next few minutes, however, her phone suddenly started exploding with notifications. Excited at the prospect of Lila finally texting back, Alya turned on her phone, only to be disappointed by the notifications all clamouring from the class group chat.

Kim had sent a link to the chat— Without hesitation, Alya clicked into it, frowning when she saw Nadja and Jagged appear on the screen. Throughout the interview, the colour on the Ladyblogger’s face only paled by the second until she was as white as a sheet, and if it were halloween at that time, she would’ve won the best costume award for being a ghost.

There must… There must’ve been a mistake.

A notification from Lila’s number made the blogger perk up, instantly clicking into the conversation— But her newfound hope didn’t last very long.

[Lila]

Hi, Alya. This is Lila’s mom. She’s currently grounded right now. Is there anything important you need to tell her?

[Alya]

Oh, nothing much… I just wanted to ask where she was.

[Lila]

She’s at home.

[Alya]

Okay, thanks.

Flopping onto her bed, Alya begin thinking, revising over the past few months like it was an old clip. Lila’s exciting adventures and interactions with celebrities of every kind— Lila going overseas and face timing the entire class— Lila letting her in on the secrets of being Ladybug’s friend…

… Marinette trying to tell them that Lila was lying…

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

The class was awfully silent the next day. Adrien was absent as well— A social worker was looking into his home life as a result of the tabloid that arose. Things for the blonde could either get better or worse from then on, as the matters were still foggy and things hadn’t cleared up yet. The blonde maintained contact with his friends, however, calling and texting them whenever he could.

“Class, settle down.” Mlle. Bustier stepped into the class, looking very tense and uncomfortable. “Today, we will have a guest, so please be on your best behaviours, alright?”

Just as the teacher finished speaking, a tall, regal-looking Italian woman entered the classroom, a cowering principal and a meek-looking Lila in tow. The class brightened slightly at the sight of their friend— But by the way she wasn’t looking into their eyes… Things weren’t going to be good.

“Good morning. I am Mme. Rossi, Lila’s mother.” The woman begin speaking, her firm and no-nonsense tone instantly making every student sit straight, their eyes too afraid to look anywhere else but the Italian diplomat. “It has come to my attention that my daughter has been taking absences from school to do charity work— And I have to clarify that this is a lie. Lila has been doing nothing but holing herself up in her room, lying to me and saying that there are no classes due to akumas.” The Italian diplomat glowered at Damocles. “What’s even more baffling is the fact that neither her homeroom nor the principal bothered to check up with me despite a student having extended periods of absence with no note or email written whatsoever.”

The class was so quiet that they could hear the quiver of Mlle. Bustier’s trembling lip.

“In addition, I’ve been kindly told that Lila has claimed to have a lying disease, which is the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard this week.” It was impossible to miss the way the Italian diplomat was glaring daggers at both Mlle. Bustier and Damocles. “No one bothered to look it up online to see if it’s actual disorder, nor did anyone call me to confirm and ask for a doctor’s note, which is standard procedure.” Chills burst over the room, making every one shiver as the woman hissed out her words.

“Mme. Rossi, we didn’t want to disturb your busy schedule—” Damocles begin, only to be blown backwards from the sheer intensity of Mme. Rossi’s glower.

“M. Damocles, standard procedures exist for a reason. Unless you’d like to tell me about any other things you’ve been letting my daughter get away with?”

“N— No, Mme.”

The Italian diplomat continued on her war path. “My daughter also claimed to have tinnitus, am I correct?”

“Y— Yes, Mme.” Mlle. Bustier answered when it seemed like no one was going to.

“And I heard that the class seating arrangement was shifted to accommodate for that?” The homeroom teacher didn’t dare answer this time, for it seemed like whatever she said would be the incorrect answer. “And apparently, my daughter has also been faking broken wrists and requesting for her classmates to complete her work for her.” Mme. Rossi was practically breathing flames at that point, “And I am incredibly upset at the lack of action from the homeroom teacher.”

No one could breath.

“I have many concerns about the running of this schooling facility, and I expect to discuss this with M. Damocles privately after this. However, there is still something to be done.” Mme. Rossi swept her gaze towards her daughter, who found the floor incredibly interesting at that point of time. “Lila? Something you’d like to say to your classmates?”

“… I’m sorry for lying to you.” Lila mumbled resentfully.

“Louder, Lila. No one can hear you.”

“I’m sorry for lying to you!” Lila swallowed, bursting like an explosion that had finally been triggered, tears in her eyes and fists hatefully curled. “I’m sorry for lying about my diseases and injuries. I’m sorry for making you do my work,” She spat. “Sorry for causing any inconveniences.”

Mme. Rossi raised an eyebrow at her daughter. “Is that all?”

Lila glared at her mother, who was completely unfazed. “Oh, so you want an apology from me? Fine!” She turned to the class, a maniacal glint in her eyes as she sneered at the class, a few gasps puffing from around the room as they caught their first glimpse of the liar that resided in the ‘harmless’ shell of Lila Rossi. “I’m sorry that you are all such idiots that you all fell for everything. I’m sorry that Marinette has such terrible, untrusting classmates that turned their backs on her even though she was still a goody-two shoes till the end, even though she still wanted to help you sorry peasants. I’m sorry that you were all so goddamn gullible! There! Good enough for you?”

Shock was etched into the faces of every human in the classroom— Including Mlle. Bustier, M. Damocles, and Mme. Rossi themselves. Clearly, that part of the apology had not been part of the plan.

“Did I miss something?” Said a sweet voice, followed by the presence of a bluenette, her hair tied in a half-up. A royal blue blazer decorated her lithe form, accompanied by a smart-looking white blouse and a black plaited skirt. Formal had never looked so good on anyone— And if someone didn't know better, they'd think that the bluenette was a young lawyer, emerging victorious from her first successful case.

“Marinette!” Alya exclaimed.

“I’m sorry that you’re such an annoying, little, pest.” Lila bit in the girl’s face, disdain colouring her features as she ignored her mother’s enraged gasp behind her.

The bluenette simply smiled, unaffected by the liar who had crashed and burned like the liar once wished upon her. Marinette Dupain-Cheng stood at her full height, the perfect image of grace and poise as she maintained her composure, quite unlike her nemesis, who thrashed under her mother’s restraining hands.

“And I’m sorry that you didn’t take my promise to heart.”

this can count as adrien redemption depending on you cause ehhh i dont like how passive he is but i havent caught up with the recent episodes, he might have become better. idk.

also where the hell is my miraculous taglist i cant find it so eep. no tagging ppl ig oops

#miraculous ladybug #the tales of ladybug and chat noir #marinette dupain-cheng #lila rossi #lila salt #rossi salt #ml class #ml salt #ml class salt #marinette deserves better #badass marinette #lila rossi lies #lila's lies are exposed #adrien agrete #alya cesaire #cady writesss «

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lacebird · 3 years

Photo

💜 HOW TO MAKE A GIF WITH PHOTOPEA 💜

Hey everyone! I recently got asked to do a tutorial on how I make my gifs. I know that many people (such as myself) don’t have access to Photoshop for various reasons but they’d like to get into gif making. When I started making gifs, I only had a free trial of Photoshop, but when that ran out, I had to find another way to make gifs. Enter Photopea! A free, web-based software that you can use anywhere and that works just like Photoshop!

In this tutorial, I’ll teach you how to make a basic gif like the one I did above. I use a macbook air, but it should be doable on a regular pc too!

If you found this helpful, feel free to share it with your friends! The tutorial can be found under the cut below 💜

THINGS YOU’LL NEED

A browser (I switch between Safari and Chrome, more about this later)

A screencapping software (like MPlayer OSX Extended) or, alternatively, a presentation program like Keynote or Powerpoint.

A program to screenrecord or a program that let’s you download from YouTube

Lots of patience bc gifs are annoying little shits <3

1. GETTING A VIDEO BY SCREENRECORDING

First things first, you need to have the clip you want make a gif out of. There are plenty of ways that you can get them. I’ve seen some gifmakers say that they torrent entire movies and gif from that. The way I do is I screenrecord the part I want to gif directly from where I’m watching the movie or show (like Disney+ or Netflix [or something like 123movies if you’re a pirate 🏴‍☠️)]). That way, I don’t have to download the entire movie and I have just the part that I want.

To screenrecord, I use my macbook’s built-in program called Screenshot.

Open the program by pressing ctrl + command + 5 on your keyboard and you get these funny little buttons.

Click on the button that says record entire screen. The program is now recording your screen. Play the scene and make sure you expand the video into full screen so you get a full resolution. When you’re done, click the stop button that is at the top right of your screen (next to the wifi and battery symbols.)

If you don’t have Mac, I suggest you look into how to screenrecord on your computer, as I don’t know how other operating systems work. Sorry!

1B. GETTING A VIDEO FROM YOUTUBE WITH CLIPGRAB

Another way you can get videos is from Youtube. I use a program called ClipGrab for this. Download and open the program. You’ll get this window

Simply paste the link and chose the highest quality, then click ‘grab this clip!’. Done!

2. SCREENCAPPING

After we’ve obtained the clip we wanted, we can do this two ways. The first way is to use the program MPlayer OSX Extended. Here’s a tutorial on how to set it up, make sure you do this if it’s your first time using the program. Make sure that you have a special screenshot folder!

Open MPlayer, then go to file > open and find the video of the scene you screenrecorded or downloaded. MPlayer will now play the video. Use the left and right keys (< and >) to go go backwards or forwards 1 minute, but try not to move around too much because the software crashes if you do. If that happens, just click the reopen button when the popup comes on, and reload the video again.

When you’ve gotten to the point you want in the video, press the command + shift + s buttons at the same time and the program will now take a screencap of every single frame until you stop.

If everything goes smoothly, you should find all your frames in your screenshot folder that you’ve made before when setting up the program!

2B. USING A PRESENTATION SOFTWARE TO MAKE A GIF

If you want to skip the screencapping part and you want to have a fully completed gif, you can do the second option. That’s what I used to do before I got MPlayer. In my experience, it’s a really fast way to make a gif, but the quality isn’t really good.

Here’s a tutorial on how to turn a slide into a gif in Keynote.

Here’s a similar tutorial on how to make a gif on PowerPoint.

Basically, you make sure that the size of your presentation is the same as your video, and that you make sure to export one slide into a gif. Also make sure that you export in the highest quality!

3. LOADING THE FRAMES IN PHOTOPEA

Finally, we can start giffing! As I said at the start, Photopea can be used anywhere, but I switch between Safari and Chrome. The reason why is that if I upload the frames in Chrome, the frames will be out of order. In Safari, that doesn’t happen, but the downside is that once I start editing, Safari will reload the page because it takes up too much memory.

So, first I go to photopea.com on Safari. I click New Project and put in the same dimensions as the screencaps (in my case, they are 1440x900 px). You’ll get an empty project.

Then click file > open & place and select your screenshots. Wait until Photopea has loaded all the frames, then, at the speed of light, quickly click file > save as psd before Safari reloads! You’ll find it in your folder where all your downloads are.

Next, I open Chrome (I use the incognito window because I have adblock on my usual Chrome, the program won’t work as usual if you have it enabled) and I click Open From Computer, locate your saved .psd file that you saved from Safari.

Now, you’ll see all the frames as individual layers. Select everything by clicking on the first layer, then golding the shift button and clicking on the last layer. Press command + G to group the frames into a folder. Here’s how everything should look after you’ve grouped the layers.

^^ See how Agnes approves! Agnes things you’re going a great job!

Now, it’s time to crop the gif and get rid of the black borders. Making sure that the folder is selected, click on the crop tool (or press C) and click on Fixed Size

W is Width and H is Height, write in your sizing here. Tumblr’s max width is 540, so I put the width as such. For the height, I use 405. Then you just drag the corners until you’ve selected the part that you want, like this

Press enter and the image will be sized down 540x405 px.

Now, our gif looks like this after cropping!

Open the folder so you can see all the layers. Select all your layers and right click on them, then click rasterize.

Then, go to layer > animation > make frames. You’ll now see that each layer begins with _a_ - this is crucial because this is how Photopea knows that the layers are part of a gif. If your layers don’t begin with _a_, then it will not play as a gif

If you instead already have a gif done, all you have to do instead is simply click open from computer when you first open Photopea and load your already finished gif and it’ll have the _a_ at the start of every layer. You won’t have to go through the steps of loading your frames into a new project to make your gif as it’s already done and in a folder :) Just start cropping once you load it

You can preview your work by going to file > export as > gif. Make sure to change the speed in the preview window until your gif plays the way you want it! I put my speed at 500%

4. SHARPENING

Hooray, we now have our gif! But to make it look a little nicer, it’s good to sharpen it. I always use Smart Sharpen when I sharpen my gifs, and many other gifmakers use that too. It’s really good :D

To sharpen your gif, again, make sure that all your layers are selected. Go to filter > sharpen > smart sharpen. I use two different settings for my gifs, it really depends on the gif.

Setting 1 (which is the default setting)

Setting 2

Again, it depends on the gif, play around until it looks good to you!

Here’s our gif after sharpening it

I ended up deleting the last few layers as the gif got bigger than 10mb (that’s Tumblr’s file limit, it your file is bigger than 10mb, it won’t upload). I also added a gradient map and it made the file size smaller, more about that in the next segment!

5. COLORING

Here’s the fun part! Now we get to play around with the gif, making it brighter and look Extra Nice™! Since this is a black and white scene, I make sure that the blacks and the whites really pop.

Notice how in the original scene it’s not actually b&w, it has a slight sepia tint to it. I want to remove this, so I add a gradient map by clicking on the white square with a black circle (I want to point out that we’ll be clicking on this button a lot in this step)

and I change the blending mode to Saturation

Then I add a curves layer using these settings

Then a second curves layer

Brightness/contrast

Then my favourite! Selective color! First layer, I deepen up the blacks

Then another selective color layer, this time the whites

Lastly the neutrals

Here we have the final results!

Wasn’t this a gas! I hope this helped you out, let me know if you want to know anything else about gifmaking, I’m happy to help! Also, sorry if I wasn’t very clear, I’m bad at explaining 🙈

MORE RESOURCES:

Here are some other tutorials that are really helpful in making gifs. These users use Photoshop, but you can still use their tips most of the time in Photopea too, you just need to play around and see what works for you!

Gifmaking for beginners by @chloezhao (this one saved my life)

Pale coloring tutorial by @itsphotoshop

Two-Toned Gif Background by @clubgif

Text with white outline tutorial by @anya-chalotra

#resources #tutorial #gif tutorial #photopea #photoshop tutorial #photopea tutorial #tuserfran #userlaur #userlaura #usermirna #(tagging mutuals if you wanna share :P)#my tutorials

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plsimsuchasimp · 3 years

Text

gone (cheating ft. kenma)

an anon asked me to write another version of this post, so here it is. i’m sorry about this, it’s definitely not my best work.

request: “Can you do another cheating fic but with kenma since he is my favorite character”

genre: angst

ft: kenma kozume x gn reader, a little bit of kuroo tetsuro

wc: 1.8k

warnings: fainting, angst, implied cheating

Flopping down on your bed, you picked up your phone and shot off a quick text message to your boyfriend, Kenma.

“hey babe, can we call? it’s been a really long week and I haven’t seen you in forever,” you wrote, pressing the send button with only a moment’s hesitation.

Sighing, you scrolled upwards a bit, reading through the message history. Recently, his texts had been getting shorter and more abrupt, often making excuses when you asked to see him or talk to him.

1 new message. Distracted, you scrolled down to see Kenma’s text.

“sorry can’t i was just about to sleep”

Frowning, you glanced at the top of the screen. 10:53 pm. He never went to bed this early, let alone slept. Your throat constricted, but you tried to brush it off, the thoughts whispering at the back of your head like malicious pixies, insecurities and harsh words. You stared at the simple string of words, wondering what to say. Are you okay? you’ve seemed off recently. No, you were probably just overthinking it.

“okay, have a good night! ily” Read 10:57 pm. No response.

Putting the phone down, you tried to push it to the back of your thoughts, but it nagged at you. Turning on your PC, you logged onto discord and noticed Kenma’s status. He was playing a multiplayer game, in a VC with one other person. Right-clicking, you ignored the feeling of distrust and clicked on the other player’s profile.

You knew her- she was a friend of Kenma’s from school. Kenma had promised you they were just friends, that you had nothing to worry about, but the insecurities crept in again as you realized he’d been spending a lot more time with her instead of you. Biting your lip, you looked back at your phone, the accusing text glaring at you. It seemed innocuous, seemed like you were overreacting. Kenma didn’t really get why you were insecure- he always told you he only had eyes for you, but lately, it didn’t really feel like it.

The last time you two had hung out, he’d laughed at something on his phone, then turned away when you asked to see what it was, muttering something vague about a funny tiktok. You didn’t think much of it at the time, but with thoughts crowding your head, you wondered if it really had been just a video. Kozume had always been distant- you understood that when you started dating him, but was it too much to ask for a scrap of his attention?

You were torn. On one hand, you wanted to trust Kenma, believe that everything he told you was true and he still loved you like he used to. On the other, your gut was telling you there was something off. Praying that he wasn’t hiding anything, you entered a different browser and logged into his Discord account. You’d given each other the passwords to your socials a while ago, your way of showing that you had nothing to hide.

Incorrect login information. The words appeared in red on the screen, the password field outlined in red. You tried again, ensuring that there were no typos, and it still registered as wrong. Your stomach sank, staring at the message on the screen. He changed his password and didn’t tell you. At this point, you knew something was wrong, but you didn’t want to ask him in fear of seeming insecure or clingy, both traits Kenma disliked. Before you could lose yourself further in the swirling tornado of your thoughts, your phone dinged with a new message. It was from Kuroo.

“hey y/n, are you up? we need to talk.”

Brow furrowing, you responded with “yeah, is everything okay?” He read the text, and then the call icon rang at the top of the screen, red and green buttons buzzing gently. You accepted the call, answering with “Hi Kuroo.”

“Hey y/n,” he said, his voice quieter than normal.

“Are you okay?” He sounded off, sad somehow.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. There’s something I need to tell you, though.” You paused for a second, hoping it wasn’t what you thought it was, before he continued. “Kenma- Kenma cheated on you.”

“W-what?” Time seemed to stop. you couldn’t, didn’t want to believe your ears. Your breath caught in your throat, shock freezing your body in place.

“Shit, y/n, I’m so sorry. I just found out.” Kuroo was still talking, but you weren’t hearing him. It seemed impossible, even though you’d seen it coming. “Y/n? Are you okay?”

Startled, you choked out, “Yeah, I’m okay, just a little shocked.” a little was an understatement. “H-how did you find out?”

“Well,” he sighed, “I saw him kiss her behind the cafe yesterday. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I was still figuring out what to do.” Guilt laced his words, and you got the feeling there was still something he hadn’t said.

“What else?” From his slight intake of breath, you could tell you’d caught him off guard. He was silent for a moment.

“He’s been texting her on Discord for the past month or so. I think you know her, (f/n)?” You felt your heart crash into your stomach, and your worst fears were confirmed. Switching back onto your computer, you saw that Kenma was still playing the game with the girl, and your stomach clenched.

“Yeah, I know her.” He noticed that your voice was quiet, subdued, and he swallowed.

“Y/n, I’m- I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.” He was silent then, waiting for you to speak.

“No, no, it’s fine,” You said, your voice oddly calm. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Of course. Hey, are you going to be okay?” He asked, unsure what was really happening inside your head.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.” Before he had a chance to say anything else, you hung up, mind spinning.

Oddly enough, you didn’t feel anything. You knew in the back of your head that this was your way of coping, that the hurt and anger and sadness would come later, but for now you didn’t care. Methodically, you went to all of your socials and blocked Kenma, hesitating only slightly to block his number in your phone.

You shut off your computer and turned your phone to silent, sitting in silence on your bed. Slowly, your eyes filled with tears that spilled down your cheeks, expressionless besides the gleaming tear streaks staining your face. Your shoulders shook, and everything seemed to crash down at once.

Your body couldn’t keep up, the sobs overtaking you until you were lightheaded. The room was spinning and the shining moonlight was glinting through the blinds at odd angles, seeming to distort your vision. You couldn’t breathe, and then everything faded to black.

You woke up a few seconds later with your head on the pillow, dazed and hearing the blood pound through your head. You groaned and lay there for a couple of minutes, letting your breathing slow.

You got up and brushed your teeth, staring at your puffy eyes in the mirror. It hurt, to know the man you loved didn’t feel the same anymore. What did you do wrong? Were you too clingy, not good enough, not there for him enough? Why would he cheat on you?

Guilt vibrated around you, and it brought back the memories of every other time. It must have been your fault- it always was.

Sleep took you uneasily that night, creeping in around your obsessive, painful thoughts and lulling you to distraction.

The next morning at school, you wiped the pain from your face and moved through the day in a haze. You saw Kenma in the hallway, leaning against the lockers on his phone, and avoided eye contact. When you saw her, (f/n), anger and hurt swelled up in your stomach, and you tried to swallow it and avoid lashing out.

Later, Kenma stared at his phone as an error message popped up when he tried to text you. We’re sorry, the number you’re trying to reach is unavailable. A pit formed in his stomach, and he went to his other socials, reaching the same conclusions in other places.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, amber eyes scanning the hallway. You were already gone, though, and he moved through the swarm of people, eyes focused on the exit. Where would you have gone?

When he showed up at your house that afternoon, you were surprised. He doesn’t waste time, showing you his phone and bluntly asking “Why did you block me?” Your eyes widened to see him slouching there, clearly uncomfortable with going out of his way to do this. “Are you angry at me?”

“Kozume, I don’t really want to talk to you right now.” His face twisted at your use of his last name.

“Why not?”

At this point, you sighed, tired of everything. “You cheated on me. That’s why.” Your voice cracks in the last sentence, and the world stops.

His stomach drops as you turn away, the weight of the world on your shoulders. “N-no. Y/n. Please don’t go!”

Kenma’s not good with words, and you understand that. Sometimes, though, it feels like he’s not trying. As he shook his head frantically, chin-length hair swaying around his beautiful face, you could tell he wanted to say something, but he can’t.

“What is there to say, Kozume?” Your eyes were brimming with tears, your heart squeezing at the sight of him.

“I didn’t- I didn’t mean to.” Even he knows how weak this sounds, how pathetic of him, and when he looks back up at you, his eyes are shiny. “I love you.”

His words ring hollow, and you scoff. “Where was that love when you kissed her behind the cafe? Where was it when you were constantly texting her on discord? Where was it when I needed you and you weren’t there?” You shake your head, heartbreak written all over your features. It’s then that he remembers the declined calls, the unanswered texts, the neglect he subjected you to as he pushed you away.

“I hope you’re happy with her, because we’re done.”

He didn’t even have a good reason this time. All he knew was that he wanted you to stay, but he knew he didn’t deserve a second chance. Against his will, a tear slid down his cheek and dropped to the floor, making him sniffle.

There was nothing you wanted more than to pull him into your arms, cry into his shoulder, but you couldn’t. It hurt too much. You stepped back and slammed the door on him for the final time.

Leaning your head against the door, all of your emotions spilled out. You were silently crying, the ache in your chest almost too much to bear. You thought you heard your name outside the door, whispered just loud enough for you to hear, but you just sank down to the floor and let the tears fall.

On the other side of the door, Kenma’s phone buzzed. It was a text from her, and the disgust and anger that filled his stomach at the sight was enough for him to know he’d never forgive himself for hurting you like this.

“I love you.”

a/n: srry for the anticlimatic ending i was just feeling super bad and not in the mood to write but i wanted to get this out here, hope you like it.

#kenma kuzome #kenma x y/n #kenma x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #kozume kenma #kenma angst #angst #kozume angst #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo #kozume

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mostlysignssomeportents · 3 years

Text

20 years a blogger

It's been twenty years, to the day, since I published my first blog-post.

I'm a blogger.

Blogging - publicly breaking down the things that seem significant, then synthesizing them in longer pieces - is the defining activity of my days.

https://boingboing.net/2001/01/13/hey-mark-made-me-a.html

Over the years, I've been lauded, threatened, sued (more than once). I've met many people who read my work and have made connections with many more whose work I wrote about. Combing through my old posts every morning is a journey through my intellectual development.

It's been almost exactly a year I left Boing Boing, after 19 years. It wasn't planned, and it wasn't fun, but it was definitely time. I still own a chunk of the business and wish them well. But after 19 years, it was time for a change.

A few weeks after I quit Boing Boing, I started a solo project. It's called Pluralistic: it's a blog that is published simultaneously on Twitter, Mastodon, Tumblr, a newsletter and the web. It's got no tracking or ads. Here's the very first edition:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/02/19/pluralist-19-feb-2020/

I don't often do "process posts" but this merits it. Here's how I built Pluralistic and here's how it works today, after nearly a year.

I get up at 5AM and make coffee. Then I sit down on the sofa and open a huge tab-group, and scroll through my RSS feeds using Newsblur.

I spend the next 1-2 hours winnowing through all the stuff that seems important. I have a chronic pain problem and I really shouldn't sit on the sofa for more than 10 minutes, so I use a timer and get up every 10 minutes and do one minute of physio.

After a couple hours, I'm left with 3-4 tabs that I want to write articles about that day. When I started writing Pluralistic, I had a text file on my desktop with some blank HTML I'd tinkered with to generate a layout; now I have an XML file (more on that later).

First I go through these tabs and think up metadata tags I want to use for each; I type these into the template using my text-editor (gedit), like this:

<xtags>

process, blogging, pluralistic, recursion, navel-gazing

</xtags>

Each post has its own little template. It needs an anchor tag (for this post, that's "hfbd"), a title ("20 years a blogger") and a slug ("Reflections on a lifetime of reflecting"). I fill these in for each post.

Then I come up with a graphic for each post: I've got a giant folder of public domain clip-art, and I'm good at using all the search tools for open-licensed art: the Library of Congress, Wikimedia, Creative Commons, Flickr Commons, and, ofc, Google Image Search.

I am neither an artist nor a shooper, but I've been editing clip art since I created pixel-art versions of the Frankie Goes to Hollywood glyphs using Bannermaker for the Apple //c in 1985 and printed them out on enough fan-fold paper to form a border around my bedroom.

As I create the graphics, I pre-compose Creative Commons attribution strings to go in the post; there's two versions, one for the blog/newsletter and one for Mastodon/Twitter/Tumblr. I compose these manually.

Here's a recent one:

Blog/Newsletter:

(<i>Image: <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:QAnon_in_red_shirt_(48555421111).jpg">Marc Nozell</a>, <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en">CC BY</a>, modified</i>)

Twitter/Masto/Tumblr:

Image: Marc Nozell (modified)

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:QAnon_in_red_shirt_(48555421111).jpg

CC BY

https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

This is purely manual work, but I've been composing these CC attribution strings since CC launched in 2003, and they're just muscle-memory now. Reflex.

These attribution strings, as well as anything else I'll need to go from Twitter to the web (for example, the names of people whose Twitter handles I use in posts, or images I drop in, go into the text file). Here's how the post looks at this point in the composition.

<hr>

<h1>20 years a blogger</h1><xtagline>Reflections on a lifetime of reflecting.</xtagline>

See that <img> tag in there for frnklogo.jpg? I snuck that in while I was composing this in Twitter. When I locate an image on the web I want to use in a post, I save it to a dir on my desktop that syncs every 60 seconds to the /images/ dir on my webserver.

As I save it, I copy the filename to my clipboard, flip over to gedit, and type in the <img> tag, pasting the filename. I've typed <img src="https://craphound.com/images/ CTRL-V"> tens of thousands of times - muscle memory.

Once the thread is complete, I copy each tweet back into gedit, tabbing back and forth, replacing Twitter handles and hashtags with non-Twitter versions, changing the ALL CAPS EMPHASIS to the extra-character-consuming *asterisk-bracketed emphasis*.

My composition is greatly aided both 20 years' worth of mnemonic slurry of semi-remembered posts and the ability to search memex.craphound.com (the site where I've mirrored all my Boing Boing posts) easily.

A huge, searchable database of decades of thoughts really simplifies the process of synthesis.

Next I port the posts to other media. I copy the headline and paste it into a new Tumblr compose tab, then import the image and tag the post "pluralistic."

Then I paste the text of the post into Tumblr and manually select, cut, and re-paste every URL in the post (because Tumblr's automatic URL-to-clickable-link tool's been broken for 10+ months).

Next I past the whole post into a Mastodon compose field. Working by trial and error, I cut it down to <500 characters, breaking at a para-break and putting the rest on my clipboard. I post, reply, and add the next item in the thread until it's all done.

*Then* I hit publish on my Twitter thread. Composing in Twitter is the most unforgiving medium I've ever worked in. You have to keep each stanza below 280 chars. You can't save a thread as a draft, so as you edit it, you have to pray your browser doesn't crash.

And once you hit publish, you can't edit it. Forever. So you want to publish Twitter threads LAST, because the process of mirroring them to Tumblr and Mastodon reveals typos and mistakes (but there's no way to save the thread while you work!).

Now I create a draft Wordpress post on pluralistic.net, and create a custom slug for the page (today's is "two-decades"). Saving the draft generates the URL for the page, which I add to the XML file.

Once all the day's posts are done, I make sure to credit all my sources in another part of that master XML file, and then I flip to the command line and run a bunch of python scripts that do MAGIC: formatting the master file as a newsletter, a blog post, and a master thread.

Those python scripts saved my ASS. For the first two months of Pluralistic, i did all the reformatting by hand. It was a lot of search-replace (I used a checklist) and I ALWAYS screwed it up and had to debug, sometimes taking hours.

Then, out of the blue, a reader - Loren Kohnfelder - wrote to me to point out bugs in the site's RSS. He offered to help with text automation and we embarked on a month of intensive back-and-forth as he wrote a custom suite for me.

Those programs take my XML file and spit out all the files I need to publish my site, newsletter and master thread (which I pin to my profile). They've saved me more time than I can say. I probably couldn't kept this up without Loren's generous help (thank you, Loren!).

I open up the output from the scripts in gedit. I paste the blog post into the Wordpress draft and copy-paste the metadata tags into WP's "tags" field. I preview the post, tweak as necessary, and publish.

(And now I write this, I realize I forgot to mention that while I'm doing the graphics, I also create a square header image that makes a grid-collage out of the day's post images, using the Gimp's "alignment" tool)

(because I'm composing this in Twitter, it would be a LOT of work to insert that information further up in the post, where it would make sense to have it - see what I mean about an unforgiving medium?)

(While I'm on the subject: putting the "add tweet to thread" and "publish the whole thread" buttons next to each other is a cruel joke that has caused me to repeatedly publish before I was done, and deleting a thread after you publish it is a nightmare)

Now I paste the newsletter file into a new mail message, address it to my Mailman server, and create a custom subject for the day, send it, open the Mailman admin interface in a browser, and approve the message.

Now it's time to create that anthology post you can see pinned to my Mastodon and Twitter accounts. Loren's script uses a template to produce all the tweets for the day, but it's not easy to get that pre-written thread into Twitter and Mastodon.

Part of the problem is that each day's Twitter master thread has a tweet with a link to the day's Mastodon master thread ("Are you trying to wean yourself off Big Tech? Follow these threads on the #fediverse at @[email protected]. Here's today's edition: LINK").

So the first order of business is to create the Mastodon thread, pin it, copy the link to it, and paste it into the template for the Twitter thread, then create and pin the Twitter thread.

Now it's time to get ready for tomorrow. I open up the master XML template file and overwrite my daily working file with its contents. I edit the file's header with tomorrow's date, trim away any "Upcoming appearances" that have gone by, etc.

Then I compose tomorrow's retrospective links. I open tabs for this day a year ago, 5 years ago, 10 years ago, 15 years ago, and (now) 20 years ago:

http://memex.craphound.com/2020/01/14

http://memex.craphound.com/2016/01/14

http://memex.craphound.com/2011/01/14

http://memex.craphound.com/2006/01/14

http://memex.craphound.com/2001/01/14

I go through each day, and open anything I want to republish in its own tab, then open the OP link in the next tab (finding it in the @internetarchive if necessary). Then I copy my original headline and the link to the article into tomorrow's XML file, like so:

#10yrsago Disney World’s awful Tiki Room catches fire <a href="https://thedisneyblog.com/2011/01/12/fire-reported-at-magic-kingdom-tiki-room/">https://thedisneyblog.com/2011/01/12/fire-reported-at-magic-kingdom-tiki-room/</a>

And NOW my day is done.

So, why do I do all this?

First and foremost, I do it for ME. The memex I've created by thinking about and then describing every interesting thing I've encountered is hugely important for how I understand the world. It's the raw material of every novel, article, story and speech I write.

And I do it for the causes I believe in. There's stuff in this world I want to change for the better. Explaining what I think is wrong, and how it can be improved, is the best way I know for nudging it in a direction I want to see it move.

The more people I reach, the more it moves.

When I left Boing Boing, I lost access to a freestanding way of communicating. Though I had popular Twitter and Tumblr accounts, they are at the mercy of giant companies with itchy banhammers and arbitrary moderation policies.

I'd long been a fan of the POSSE - Post Own Site, Share Everywhere - ethic, the idea that your work lives on platforms you control, but that it travels to meet your readers wherever they are.

Pluralistic posts start out as Twitter threads because that's the most constrained medium I work in, but their permalinks (each with multiple hidden messages in their slugs) are anchored to a server I control.

When my threads get popular, I make a point of appending the pluralistic.net permalink to them.

When I started blogging, 20 years ago, blogger.com had few amenities. None of the familiar utilities of today's media came with the package.

Back then, I'd manually create my headlines with <h2> tags. I'd manually create discussion links for each post on Quicktopic. I'd manually paste each post into a Yahoo Groups email. All the guff I do today to publish Pluralistic is, in some way, nothing new.

20 years in, blogging is still a curious mix of both technical, literary and graphic bodgery, with each day's work demanding the kind of technical minutuae we were told would disappear with WYSIWYG desktop publishing.

I grew up in the back-rooms of print shops where my dad and his friends published radical newspapers, laying out editions with a razor-blade and rubber cement on a light table. Today, I spend hours slicing up ASCII with a cursor.

I go through my old posts every day. I know that much - most? - of them are not for the ages. But some of them are good. Some, I think, are great. They define who I am. They're my outboard brain.

#pluralistic

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bubblyani · 4 years

Text

Bail Out: 05

(Bruce Wayne x Reader)

A Bruce Wayne Multi Chapter Series

Chapter 05: “No Fun”

Summary: One fateful, drunken night gets you arrested for assault. However, once you get bailed out by Billionaire Socialite Bruce Wayne, surprising obstacles get in the way, forcing you to question all your choices in life, career, and in love.

Word Count: 8500+

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Swearing and Slight Violence

Author’s Note: So glad I could finish this on time. Now I’m impatiently working on the next part. When you read it, you will know why. Thanks again for the wonderful response. Enjoy!

Chapter LIST

The rapid sound of gunfire, infused with blood curdling screams, certainly forced your heart to beat right out of your chest. The beating, increased without any prior announcement shocked you, as if the live, blood pumping organ might literally fall out of your flesh vessel. The scene you witnessed, was never expected but only imagined in modes of fiction. Be it novels or films. However, when you truly got to taste it in the rusty reality, only then did you realize the gravity of its horror. And only then at that fateful moment, did you genuinely fear for your precious life.

Just when it seemed trouble had finally set you free.

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

(A Few Days Earlier)

Allison Hughs was your quintessential fun-loving, living in the moment party girl with complete control over the pace of her existence. Apart from all that, she was also a loyal friend, blindly following you to the ends of the earth in ranting.

“SHE DID WHAT?”

Her inquiry was loud and dramatic, to which you nodded. “Yep” you replied, “She straight up went there…”

Safe to say, the ‘She’ that was being mentioned here was none other than Clara Bennett, the Consultant who slithered her way into Wayne Enterprises, solely to make exaggerated inspections on HR Operations, and to make your cooperate life a living hell, drenched with self-doubt and insecurity. It certainly traveled up a notch when she proactively invited you to take part in a Basic HR Crash Course, that was mainly designed to New Recruits. Simply because she assumed that you would find the Course ‘helpful’ to your own line of work. The fact she indirectly implied a trace of incompetence in you caused so much embarrassment.

“The hell is that bitch’s problem though?”

Allison kept inquiring, as she wiped off the milk from her lips, “Seriously…” she muttered, standing by the opened refrigerator in her pajamas.

“Yeah” you continued to nod, as you stuffed a spoonful of cereal into your mouth, “..and Lillian…being my senior since day 1, didn’t even treat me this way” you added, with a full mouth.

Already dressed for work, little did you expect to see Allison awake and engaged while you had your breakfast, “I look like a fucking joke…”you muttered, after finally gulping the food down.

“Hey!”

Allison cried, pointing her index finger at you, “Don’t you dare give up” she said with seriousness, standing before you, “You need to stand your ground and carry on with dignity…” she continued, her tone quite similar to a heroic speech, “Make Lillian proud she left you in charge…” she added, putting both hands on the table. Leaning forward, she took a closer look, “This will be good for you…” finally as her voice grew soft, she flashed a soft smile. You could not help but look at her affectionately, as you exhaled deeply.

“Talking to you makes me feel so much better…” you admitted. Pleased, Allison stood up straight.

“That’s why I’m your hype man, Sweetie!” she said, turning towards the window, “Watch out Gotham! The Bruiser is here to SLAY-”

“HEYYY!!-” your shushes exited along with your embarrassment. Your friend covered her mouth quickly.

“Sorry, Sweetie….” Allison whispered, taking the hands away, “But it just sounds so badass…” as her tone grew normal once more. You shot her a deranged look.

“Do I look like someone who deserves the name?” you inquired. “Well…” she said, folding her arms, “…the fact you punched that guy is a good enough reason…”

Shaking one’s head with a chuckle, you watched her head to the bedroom with a maniacal laughter. The sudden vibration of the table forced you to look down at your phone. The chuckling stopped, permitting your pulse to quicken with liberty. Rubbing your neck nervously, you proceeded to read the text from the only sender who was capable to send you through an emotional wild ride: Bruce Wayne.

Sorry, long night. Good Morning!

Pausing for a few seconds, you exhaled loudly as began to type:

No worries. Hope your day goes well, Mr. Wayne.

Being an appropriate response, you sent without hesitation. Long night?, could it possibly truly mean a hectic night of crime fighting and city saving in disguise? A strong urge suddenly arose to pull up the search browser on your phone, and type in the words: Batman. And what appeared first in the results certainly made your eyebrows rise with curiousity.

“Ali….” You yelled loud enough for her to hear, “You’ve heard of a website called… ‘Where’s the Bat’?

“EH?”

Her response was equally loud and echoing, “Oh yeah…” she added, whilst you opened the web page, “…Matty was talking about it sometime back…” she continued, “Some nerdy site about The Batman…”

“Damn!”

The word abruptly left your lips as your eyes widened. For you were treated to such a sight, “Ali…get this…” you said, proceeding to read the description of the page, “Welcome to ‘Where’s the Bat?’ Your Online Resource for all things Batman: Gotham’s Caped Crusader…” you squealed excitedly, “Ha! It’s a freakin’ fan site! Oh! Oh!” you exclaimed as you continued to read out loud:

“… reliable sources from our very own admins and enthusiasts all over Gotham City…” with a whistle, you nodded, “These folks are not kidding around, huh?” you muttered, letting your finger slowly scroll down, “And they have posts on almost every appearance he made in the city…” you said out loud, yet it seemed that Allison was never interested.

The Website backdrop was in black, but encompassing a very beautiful design concept. The immaculate detail was beyond believable. Detailed posts on possible weapons owned, vehicles, fighting styles and costume, Photos ranging from Low Quality to High, even blurry videos by camera phones, it was certainly a network of information. Your eyes widened when you saw the recent post title:

Batman and The Bruiser?

“What the-?” Muttering to yourself, you clicked on the article.

“…also known as The Bruiser (Click Here for the Viral Clip) was spotted nearby when a group of muggers had reportedly attacked her. According to the anonymous source, Batman had arrived right on time. A clip of the incident may not be available, yet we did manage to find a small clip as he escaped the scene. And according to Gotham PD, the Caped Crusader had appeared once again to The Bruiser’s aid the night after. As much as we feel sorry for the bad luck The Bruiser attracts, we could only be nothing but envious of her opportunity to meet the Dark Knight twice. And some of us could not help but wonder: Could romance possibly be in bloom between the two?”

“What?” Nervous chuckles were all you let out as you whispered, “Hah! In your dreams, fanboys…” you uttered, closing the browser, “Batman would never go for a woman like me” you said, almost dropping the phone by its sudden vibration. For a reply was received.

You too. Stay out of trouble :)

“And you stay out of my head” you said to yourself, putting the phone back on the table. Covering your face, you could only groan with frustration. Ever since that evening at the hospital a mere week before, casual texts from Bruce Wayne began to appear on your phone, starting off on the very next day:

Couldn’t thank you for running that errand for Fox.

The errand, meaning the black box that Mr.Fox entrusted you with. A small yet long box which was quite light. The very box that granted you access to his penthouse and to the friendship with Alfred Pennyworth.

Just doing my job, Mr.Wayne.

You remember replying that day at office. It was not exactly necessary for him to thank you this way, yet his action was commendable. He did not hesitate to quickly respond:

Much appreciated.

Just when you thought it was the end, he greeted once again two days later. During an important meeting, for example:

Hi there! Is Ms.Foster enjoying the gift?

Once the meeting wrapped up, you made sure to respond :

Very much, from what I know. You’re making motherhood very easy for her.

You would be lying if you did not look forward to write him back. The manner your fingers tingled was quite evident.

That’s a relief.

Clearly with his corresponding reply, he displayed quite an interest in conversing with you, by finding meager excuses to obtain your response. Yet, a part of you wondered what his actual intentions were. Be professional, a phrase that lingered in your head always. A warning, more like. As much as the desire to carry on the message thread was strong within, you did not reply back.

Two days passed, and surprisingly you were dying with curiousity. Could it be that his intention to communicate had finally gone? Or could it be that you were finally missing him? Forming a clever excuse to obtain his signature, you liaised with Jessica, only to find out Bruce Wayne was currently on a business trip in Singapore.

Intoxicated with impulsiveness, your thumbs grew stubborn as they formed a message on your phone:

Heard you’re in Singapore. How is it?

“Shit! Roaming Charges!”

You sighed, your palm slapped over your forehead. Putting the phone away to enjoy the view of the bus ride, you sincerely hoped he would never notice. But to your surprise, the phone vibrated instantly:

Loving the Food here.

Despite roaming charges, he was kind enough to reply. And that touched you very deeply. Then again, money was never an issue for a man of his stature. him. However, you were not Bruce Wayne. Still, a few extra dollars seemed nothing compared to the inner secretive joy you indulged in as you replied:

Not surprised. The Bakkwa over there is to die for.

He did not reply. He did not do so for a day and two. You grew worried, if he was really knee deep in business, or literally knee deep in trouble. But the next morning, you were finally assured of his safe arrival back to Gotham, especially when you found a gift at the door. A Gift which came in the form of a beautiful red box full of Bakkwa, the Chinese sweet dried meat, one of your favorite treats. You did not miss the handwritten note inside:

You’re right. It IS to die for. - B.Wayne

Chuckling with happiness, you were only compelled to quickly text him a grateful reply:

The Bakkawa enthusiast sends her Thanks.

To which you finally received a reply this morning as you indulged on your cereal:

Sorry, long night. Good Morning!

Groaning in frustration seemed rightfully reasonable for you. Stressing out seemed rightfully reasonable as well. Who would not, when there was a storm that brewed inside of you. A storm of emotions that contained the sticky quality. The adhesiveness that was stubborn to the core. For if you look at the situation in it’s entirety, this was not your average instance of a man and woman forming a textual habit in order to know one another. You were an acting Head, informally socializing with the owner of Wayne Enterprises. Being in HR, you could already feel the weight of unprofessionalism heat on you. That guilt which already seemed to haunt you subtly. Thus, not responding further seemed logical, yet it certainly was a hard pill for you to swallow.

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

“You sure you don’t want anything? Coffee or Tea?”

You asked Officer John Blake, ushering him to his seat as you sat down. He shook his head.

“I’m good, Ma’am” he said with a smile. Smiling back, you were drenched with guilt. A week earlier, the police officer had requested to meet, yet with your unexpected work load, you reluctantly had to send him back the previous time. Forcing him to wait so long for a week was something you knew you would go to hell for. But John Blake did not judge, or as it seemed from his expression.

“Didn’t know you were running a tight ship here .” He said, looking back to witness the bustle in the main hall outside.

“Well, the Head’s on Maternity leave so…I’m stuck here, hehe…” You answered nervously, “Once again I’m so sorry Officer. You said it was something urgent?”

“It’s about the two attacks…” Blake said, capturing your attention. “Now I’m sure you’re probably wondering if those are simply coincidental or something more…”

“I honestly have been afraid to go down that rabbit hole, but yes I did wonder…” you replied. Looking sideways, he finally turned your way as his lowered his voice:

“I have reason to believe Erik Henderson may be connected to this…”

The image of the mocking man, and his bloody nose flashed before your very eyes. Given his anger, it could be a high possibility. Yet, you were in disbelief.

“What gave you the idea?” You inquired with curiousity. Blake kept his police his hat on his lap securely:

“The men who attacked you, the ones we arrested…” He said, to which you nodded in acknowledgment, “They were bailed out the very next day by-”

“-Henderson’s Legal Team?” You asked blankly, for you were still in disbelief. Blake nodded.

“I may be wrong” he said, “Bailing the people who attacked you, it could also just be a power move, maybe to scare you off…” he added, leaning forward, “So far we cannot be sure…” He continued, “But I think it’s best for you to keep an eye out-”

Your eyes suddenly darted towards the phone screen. For an email just appeared in your personal inbox with a title:

“Job Offer for General Manager”

Eyes widening, you were certainly not expecting that. Quiet for a few minutes, you found yourself staring at your own table, for you were confused beyond all measure with everything you just heard and saw.

“I’m sorry...” Blake began, shaking you from your thoughts, “ if I’m causing you any discomfort-”

“No…it’s alright” flipping the phone downward, you shook your head with a soft smile, “I just…all this was just so unexpected. Didn’t think there would be any possibility for anything like this, that’s all” you said, smiling even more, “I appreciate the information, Officer”

Truthfully, you were nothing but grateful to the man. Perhaps it was because he was the arresting officer who was in charge of that fateful night. Nevertheless, he was nothing but kind to you. Blake grinned widely.

“The Precinct still thanks The Bruiser for Common’s Coffee” He said, to which you were genuinely surprised.

“Oh! I’m glad-”

“BOSS!”

Greg’s cries forced both of you to look to the door. Distress never looked good on Greg. Giving a heavy sigh, he began:

“ I’m sorry to keep doing this but…” he said, “Clara’s gone off the rails!”

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

As he made his way down the Lobby through the crowds, John Blake made his careful observations, fascinated by all that he glanced upon in the Wayne Tower. “Officer Blake!” Stopping in his tracks, John turned upon hearing a familiar voice. He smiled.

“Mr.Wayne…” He addressed, “Didn’t expect to see you here” Smartly dressed in a pinstriped three piece suit, Bruce Wayne stood before the much younger man with a reciprocative smile.

“Well,” he began “You can’t just play hard….so…” Nodding in acknowledgment, Blake held on to his hat. With the silence between them growing longer, John began to speak:

“I’m actually just coming down after meeting one of your Senior Managers” He said, which caught Wayne’s attention.

“Who is…?”

When Blake provided him with the name, Bruce nodded nonchalantly. “Is this anything to do with the Henderson case?” He asked, suddenly growing serious. Surprised by his knowledge, the officer nodded.

“Yes….” Blake added. But then again, there was nothing to be surprised of. Given Wayne was in the hotel when it all happened.

“How did she take it?” “Surprisingly pretty well” Blake said, as he began to walk alongside Wayne ,“But she seems to have her hands full today, doesn’t look too good” he sighed, involuntarily empathizing with her. And given Wayne’s subtle yet concerned expression, Blake realized he was not alone there. Finally reaching the exit, the officer was compelled to do the unexpected:

“Since you were a witness to the incident,..” he began, making Wayne look at him, “ I think it’s probably best that you also know…”

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

You have always put your trust in Lillian Foster. That trust had lasted throughout your time in Wayne Enterprises without forsaking you for a mere second. Thus, you were certain she did the needful in approving the Revised Policies and Regulations before taking her leave. For you had personally witnessed it.

However, when a company email from Clara Bennett to Lucius Fox claimed HR was seemingly incapable of carrying out their operations under the current leadership, you were not surprised to find your anger making an appearance.

And the embarrassment you had to face when she even went so far as to copy you and your managers in to that said email. Professional was nowhere near this behavior. For this was simply child’s play. The panic all your department staff went through was understandable. Especially when they worked only to their very best.

“You wanted to me see me?”

Clara asked, as she entered your office. Raising your head up, you threw a cold expression her way: “Close the door please” Your tone was stern. Looking around, Clara furrowed her eyebrows. “But aren’t you supposed to-” “I’ll take my chances, Ms. Bennett” You interrupted her, lips forming a tight smile. With an uncertain nod, she closed the door shut, before taking a few steps towards you. Slowly getting up from your desk, you quickly walked over to her. It was now or never. “We saw that little email that you sent to Mr. Fox.” You stated, to which she did not flinch. Scoffing, your hands rested on your hips, “I know how things work: When people mess up, even after many warnings, they get complained about to the superiors…” you said in a matter-of-fact tone, “But…” you paused, as you were on a dire attempt not to explode, “how can you expect us...” Surprisingly you felt emotion trickling in, “...to take this lying down when you DIDN'T PERFORM EITHER OF THOSE ACTIONS?” With your voice surprisingly getting louder than expected, Clara found herself folding her arms in defense: “Look, I get it...” She said, her smile suddenly faded, “You don’t like me snooping around” You scoffed in disbelief, “Ms.Bennett, this is not you snooping around. This is you desperately finding excuses to make US LOOK BAD” you stated loudly, “I mean…What exactly on the policies and regulations are you complaining about?” You inquired. And to your surprise, Clara grew quiet before she finally answered:

“I just...” she paused, as if she was seeking excuses, “...don’t understand why the Policies couldn’t be circulated if they were revised” Your jaw dropped in disbelief, “What are you talking about??They were already revised and circulated” you answered with certainty, appalled by the childish games that were being played. “Well…” pausing again, “I don’t see them in the Public Folder”she said stubbornly, to which you sighed, rubbing your temples, “ And according to my sources, It’s Paula Yang’s responsibility, am I right?” Though authority was rife in her tone, you could sense the menace that lingered invisibly.

“Ms. Bennett...” you gritted through your teeth, taking your hand away, “Paula is on bed rest after breaking HER LEG...from a biking accident last weekend” you burst out, “...if you looked up on our employees with the SAME ENTHUSIASM you did on our work, then you would probably know that” you spat, fuming with anger, “But If you expect me to deprive her of her paid leave, JUST SO she could just limp over here to UPLOAD SOME POLICIES to a server? then you’re sorely mistaken! ” You cried out, panting.

Subtly shocked at your response, Clara stood silently. Given her reaction, it was quite evident something disastrous would soon follow. Your threw your hands up in defense.

“Fine” you said, “If you prefer to pin this error on me, please do. But… not the department” you said, as your voice grew soft , “...please” you breathed. Closing her eyes for a few seconds, Clara opened them once again, shooting you a stern glance.

“Do you know…what I was told about you before I came here?” She posed a rhetorical question, to which you rightfully did not answer to, “An unprofessional thug, with anger issues.” She said.

In all your years of working at Wayne Enterprises, this was the far from what you had ever heard from anyone. The silence ruled over the atmosphere for a few more seconds.

“So I came in with a mission...” Clara went on, “...to tame you. Or to rile you up enough to expose who you really were” she said harshly. Folding your own arms in defense, you took a deep breath:

“Well,” you began, “I believe I was angry For the right reasons. So no regrets here” you answered with confidence. Whatever consequence that may follow, you were not aware of, for your justified rage may possibly have outdone yourself this time. You only wished Lillian would forgive you.

“But…” Clara paused, “...from the way you stood up for your employees and your department…,” she said, as her expression softened, “ I guess… I was badly misinformed.” Confusion took over you for the next few seconds, as she looked straight into your eyes before taking in a deep breath:

“I’m sorry!” Your eyes widened, “P-Pardon?” Sighing, Clara reluctantly rubbed the sides of her thighs: “I’m sorry…If I insulted you in any way” she said shyly in a low tone, “Honestly speaking, no matter how much I tried to deny it, everything seems to be running smoothly” She added.

Relief quickly washed over you. Leaving you questioning reality all the sudden. “ I would gladly leave you all alone but..,” Clara smiled, “I’ve been contracted here for a while. So, I hope we can all cooperate together till I leave. Maybe a fresh start?”

Extending her hand to you, she presented a genuine smile. A smile possibly carrying hope to gain your trust. Sincerely impressed by her bravery, you smiled back: “Sure, Apology accepted” You said, shaking her hand, “I really appreciate it, Ms.Bennett”

“Clara, Please.” She insisted, “Ms.Bennett just pisses me off even more”

Chuckling together, you nodded, “Okay, Gotcha”

The phone rang loud to your surprise. Giving her a friendly wave, you quickly moved to your desk in a cheerful manner, growing even more cheerful upon seeing the extension on the phone screen.

“Mr. Fox!” You answered, as you sat down, “How can I help you?”

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

Since the fateful day she first laid eyes on him in his glorious return to Wayne Enterprises until now, Jessica would certainly never not blush whenever Bruce Wayne politely greeted her. Upon seeing her red face, he stepped into Lucius Fox’s office, walking over to find the CEO on the phone wearing a smile on his face.

“Don’t worry about it.” Fox said over the phone, “So you’ll come? Perfect…” He smiled, nodding at Wayne as he finally appeared in his eye line, “Hope to see you then” He added, hanging up the phone.

“I have to admit…” Fox began, ushering Bruce to sit, “… seeing you here every day at Wayne Tower is a happy surprise” He said. Bruce smiled.

“Everything alright?” He asked the CEO, “The Audits aren’t happening till another month or so..”

“No…” Fox shook his head, surprisingly impressed, “ I was actually wondering if you would…like to join me in the Company Dinner, this Thursday night. It’s a little gathering I normally do with the Heads of Departments...” he continued, glancing upon Wayne’s confused expression, “...to form a closer bond and… give them morale” He said, tilting his head. As much as the sentiment was kind, Wayne sighed with exhaustion.

“Mr.Fox, you know very well how I rather be stuck in the basement than go to that…” he said, slowly getting up, “I’m afraid I’ll have to pass”. Offering a polite smile, he turned around to make his leave. When opportunities to make a choice were given, he would certainly rather choose to not wear that mask in public. It tired him.

“She’s coming too”

Bruce froze, the moment Fox’s words reached his ears. Turning to him, he raised his eyebrows.

“She?” He began, “You mean…she?” He asked, highly emphasizing on the said pronoun, for both of them knew the person being discussed.

“Yes” Fox said, “Just got off the phone with her as you came in” he added, “I just thought you would like to know” with nonchalance, he casually put on his glasses.

Silently nodding, Bruce turned back to resume walking. Only except he halted once again, just to spin back around smoothly.

“Thursday…what time?” He inquired with genuine curiousity.

Being a man of his age, Lucius Fox could not help but smile at his response.

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

Being the workaholic, Lunch Breaks was nothing short of special for you. The moment the last bite of your delicious meal reached your lips, it was off to work once again, giving you ample time to finish your tasks. But this Wednesday, you cast that usual habit away, taking the luxury you rarely took during this entire decade.

Just to decide on a dress.

With your lunch on the desk and Allison on speakerphone, your eyes moved back and forth from two beautiful dresses on the website. With Mr. Fox casually inviting you to the Company Dinner, all you longed to provide was a good impression. Most women in your position would feel greatly pressured and stick to a salad just to fit into the dress. However, you were far too greedy to ignore the great Spaghetti Bolognese that was on the table before you.

“Sweetie, You know I love you, So why won’t you fucking listen to me?”

Allison’s echoed out loud, as you stared at the screen with concern. “Cause it’s a crazy idea, that’s why ” you said, stuffing pasta into your mouth, “Better go with the black one…” you said with a full mouth, pointing at the long sleeved black dress, “It’s tame, and I can just blend in with crowd” squinting, you attempted at imagining yourself in the outfit.

“Boo! BORING”

Allison’s response was quite obvious.

“Hey!” Clara’s whisper reached your ears, urging you to find her standing by the door with a smile. Ever since the intervention, the atmosphere underwent a surprising change, and all was well with the both of you. It was quite unbelievable how cooperative she had become. “I’m sorry but...could I borrow a twenty?” She asked politely in a whisper, all in order not to intrude your call. “Sure…” You whispered back, reaching into your bag to grab your purse, “Hah! Lucky you, that’s all I have” You grinned, fishing out the only dollar note as she headed over to take it from your hand.

“Hey! Hey! Sweetie, Did I lose you?”

Allison’s voice brought you back to the phone call. “No! No! You didn’t…Sorry! Argh!” Groaning in frustration, you looked back at the computer screen, “I don’t know what to do, Ali…” You muttered.

“What is it?” With her still standing there, Clara finally asked out loud. She genuinely looked concerned. Embarrassed, you pointed at the screen.

“No it’s just…” you paused, “I have to go to this Cooperate Dinner thingy tomorrow, and I don’t know what to get…” you added, “…the Black or the White”.

Silent for a few seconds, you stared at Clara as she rubbed her chin with seriousness, while making a careful observation at the screen. Finally, her fingers snapped loudly.

“The White One…” Confidence oozed out of her voice as she replied. Looking back at the dress, you took a deep breath. V neck on the front along with a low cut in the back, the pure white silk evening gown certainly possessed the potential to be a show stopper.

“I mean…Why be afraid to stand out?”

Clara’s words, they rang in your ears so loudly. Pointing at the dress, she continued:

“Wear this, and No one will be able to take their eyes off you” The manner in which she uttered, you were suddenly filled with enough power to head out to the battlefield. Her words, they were simply invisible embellishments to the dress, making it the armor and the secret weapon. It simply became powerful. And finally, you were convinced on which dress to finally purchase. Lips forming into a warm smile, you thanked her inaudibly.

“YAY!” Allison cried out on the line, “Whoever just said that, I agree with you” Chucking, Clara cleared her throat and looked at your mobile phone.

“Hey there…It’s Clara by the way…” she said to Allison. You suppressed a huge grin as you imagined Allison’s surprise upon hearing that.

“Oh…YOU’RE Clara?…” she said, pausing, “Well I like how you think, Clara” she said happily afterwards. Relieved by the sight of both your best friend and your new friend being acquainted, your eyes moved back to the beautiful dress.

“Wear this, and No one will be able to take their eyes off you”

Clara may be right. But you were a simple woman, and your wishes were just as simple. Little did anyone know how your heart simply longed for just one person to indulge your presence for the entire evening. But the possibility of that, was just your wishful thinking. You could only hope for the evening be as successful as imagined. As long as it had the perfect touch of jazz piano playing in the background.

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

With notes played with the fluidity of a free flowing stream, the jazz piano music was certainly better tonight than it was that Friday evening weeks ago. With tonight, you only hoped to replace the horrid memory of violence that linked the genre of music with an evening more refined. For tonight, you were no violator, nor a drunkard. You were merely a lady in a beautiful, silk dress.

Walking through the Lobby in your silver open toe heels, you came into the realization of how the dress simply became you. Contrary to your fears, it embraced your curves effortlessly, while the material was kind to you, caressing and cooling your skin.The dress itself contained a sense of assurance you would most likely receive from a trusted friend, some good Samaritan, kindly whispering positive affirmations. Fashioning the outfit with your Mikimoto pearls, you felt you were prepared enough.

You were punctual, fortunately. Lillian would have been proud. When you arrived at the reserved table, the other Heads were just about to take their seats. Cold, curt nods were passed on to you the moment they caught sight of you. Lucius Fox, however was humble enough to smile widely upon seeing you.

“I appreciate you coming in tonight…” He stated, as he politely ushered you to your seat, which granted you access between him and Head of Legal, Ted’s Boss, “This is usually Lillian’s gig” he said.

“Yes I heard,” you agreed while sitting down together, “And she does it flawlessly”

“I think you’ll be able to hold off your own” Fox assured, quite impressed by your appearance tonight. You smiled.

“Thank you, Mr. Fox” you nodded, looking at him, until he suddenly rose from his own chair.

“Ah! The man of the hour”

He said as he looked ahead, “…so glad you could come, Mr.Wayne”

The mere mention of that man’s name made you turn forward in a flash. Bruce Wayne was simply Suave incarnate. He certainly brought forth great depth to his presence everywhere he set foot on. You swore the airways inside began to dry out as your breath was taken away in secret. However, that breath was quickly stomped and discarded recklessly when you realized he was no alone. With a beautiful woman on his arm, he arrived at the table.

When that strong, sour feeling came over you, you were mature enough to admit it was simple jealousy. Yet then again, the playboy lifestyle certainly was demanding. The flashing smile Bruce wore slightly disappeared , when his eyes met yours from the corner of the table. With your sour jealousy stewing you, it was a sheer relief that he took his seat on the other far corner.

“Really Mr .Wayne, This is such a pleasant surprise” Mr. Kline, Head of Accounting mentioned with joy.

“Well, Mr. Fox is getting better with power of persuasion, I suppose ” Wayne said, looking at Lucius, “So...” rubbing his hands together, he smiled, “What are we all having? My treat...”

To everyone’s delight, the night certainly started off on a positive note. According to the trusted word of Lucius Fox, Sushi was the prime choice of food on every single dinner . It was the shared interest with all the Heads by coincidence. Thus, becoming a tradition.

Fortunately for you, you knew your way with Japanese cuisine enough to save your face. Wine and Sake were in abundance in the table, leaving most of the Heads and Wayne’s date quite excited with intoxication. It was certainly a surprise for you, to see the Heads break out into wide smiles and childish attitudes once the alcohol entered their systems. They did not speak much with you, which you were fine with. You were the new one there , after all. But with Fox next to you, you felt a fatherly figure watched over you. You listened to him with earnest, which was not so difficult with his charismatic voice.

You also longed for a distraction. A strong distraction from Bruce Wayne’s eyes secretly claiming ownership over you the entire time. Could he be watching Fox? Or you? You honestly did not know. As much as your inner heart jumped for Joy by the thought of him watching you, confusion ruled supreme.

The turn of the conversation topic from Work to Sailing suddenly tempted the Heads call Mr Fox over to the other side, forcing him and Bruce to change seats instead. His date did not even notice, as she was busy engrossed in her phone. Though you were at your element, calmly eating your maki rolls in silence, your heart beat increased in an instant when his presence nearby was confirmed. His aura gently murmured a greeting of affection, urging you to look up from your plate. Covering your mouth, you politely swallowed the food. With the others engaged in their own little world, it seemed that you and Bruce were suddenly left to yourselves.

“Thank you again for the Bakkwa”

You began, clearing your throat “…it was heavenly” you said, smiling whilst flashing your full red lips. Smiling back warmly, he leaned forward to the table.

“I don’t wanna brag but...” he paused, “I found that store all by myself” He said softly, as it was a dramatic secret. Eyes widened, you played along: “Oh! I find that hard to believe” You said, chuckling.

“Ask me the address, I dare you” He said blankly, making you chuckle harder. Nodding, you generously accepted his kindness. Be it text or face to face, talking to Bruce Wayne symbolized pure joy to you.

“Well, well, well…”

An eerie voice, a voice that haunted your intoxicated memories, and a voice that caused the hairs of the back of your neck to stand. It was a voice you knew well. So bloody well.

“Isn’t this a surprise?”

The entire table looked over to find Erik Henderson. With a gracefully beautiful and age appropriate woman standing beside him, Henderson was as smug as he could be. “Mr. Henderson...” Fox said. Henderson looked right at him. “Lucius...” He uttered, without casting a single glance at Bruce Wayne. The sight of him brought a sense of fear to you. According to Officer Blake, he could very much be responsible for all the attacks you were victim to during the past few weeks. The possibility was high. Thus, the intimidation was justified. Funny how the intoxicated group of Heads managed to maintain their frozen states for a few seconds. As if their buzz was killed right off.

“Well,..” Henderson began, maintain his unimpressed expression, “I wish you all have a pleasant evening” He stressed , slowly turning to leave. “And You!” A gasp left you the moment he spun back to point his index finger at you with such ferocity and anger. With bated breath, you wondered if time froze. Until he suddenly smiled at you. “You behave now...” He said mockingly, chuckling with power as he finally left the table. With the awkward silence taking control, embarrassment injected itself into you. The way he spoke to you was certainly disrespectful. So much so, your right hand quickly clenched into a tight fist , forcing you to revisit the trauma even now by his cruel words. All your anger, centralized into this fist.

But that anger suddenly vanished into thin air, the moment you felt Bruce’s palm rest over your fist. A literal warmth spread across every cell on your being, as his palm comforted you, and empathized with you more than ever. A few seconds of that sent you to a level of peace you never visited. The fact that a man such as he was with his inner conflicts could still heal you unexpectedly, it was magic to you. Finally looking at him, you nodded with gratefulness, leading him to take his away politely.

With silence still in charge, you were guilty of your past actions ruining tonight’s occasion as well. “Maybe it’s the alcohol but...” Kline slowly began, “...that Henderson’s face always reminds me of an…animal…” he remarked, breaking the ice, “l can’t place which one exactly...” He struggled, snapping his fingers away to remember. “A Bat?” Another Head inquired. “YES!” Kline yelled out loud, causing others to finally laugh and feel the comfort take center stage once more. Letting out a sigh, you were relieved to let them converse and make merry. You were occupied enough, recovering from Bruce’s sudden touch. “...and speaking of Bats...” Kline slurred out, “That Batman fella...” “-He comes up every time…” Fox yelled towards your direction with a sigh, while the others clapped in glee. Being so popular, it was no surprise that many consider Batman to be a celebrity of his own right. “-wonder if he ever has any off days?” Kline sniggered, red in the face with sake. “Ha! Like paid leave, you mean?” “And don’t forget insurance! Boy! that man needs a big one” “Hahaha!” “Mr.Wayne! Mr. Wayne!” Kline yelled at Bruce, “Any idea about him from the grapevine ?” He inquired. “What?” Bruce asked, “…that Looney!?!” He added with an amused smile, “Eh! Not interested” he replied with an unimpressed tone. “Why?” It seemed that everyone was curious. Even you were. “Because...” Bruce paused, “Well…he’s a Looney! That’s all….” he laughed, shaking his hand in the air with dismissal. His carefree laughter infected the others, except you. As you were too occupied observing him, you could not even focus. He may have not worn the cowl, but he was certainly wearing his mask. Noticing your stare, Bruce turned to find your face filled with a soft smile.

“You really don’t mean that about the guy, right?” You murmured softly. And all the sudden, that carefree expression of his slowly melted away to reveal his true form, unmasked. “No” Calm and collected, he shook his head with a gentle smile. A sudden urge to embrace him was birthed in you for some reason, it was certainly out of your control. “Hey! Lillian’s Backup!” You jumped upon hearing Kline call you out loudly. With all eyes on landing towards your direction, you quickly sat up straight, “What’s your take on him? The Batman?” Kline inquired informally. “Oh!” Pleasantly surprised, you were speechless for a few seconds. What were you to say really? “I -I rather not say...” you admitted, as you found yourself chuckling shyly. “Eh!” Kline muttered, seemingly unamused, “She’s no fun”he claimed, “…not like Lillian now, is she?” The others hummed together in agreement. They may have gotten lost in their own world of conversation once again. Yet, the words Kline blurted affected you deeply. “Well….” You sighed, “Nothing I haven’t heard before” “What is…?” Bruce’s inquiry made you look at him. Placing both your elbows on the table, you took a deep breath as you kept a brave, fixed gaze at him:

“You’re.. no… fun”

You said, in a low yet strong tone as you emphasized on every word with pain, “…that one”

“I find that hard to believe” Bruce said. He did not flinch. Instead, he accepted your stare and held on to it firmly. Even with the golden lights you were still able to make out the beautiful hazel green eyes of his up close. His gaze, it was as powerful as anything physical. As if his eyes could caress the back of your neck, brushing the loose hair from it, leaving nothing but shivers on you.

Finally breaking free from it, you sat back with a chuckle.

“Well” you began, “…you obviously haven’t met my ex”

You watched his eyebrows furrow the moment those words exited you. Taking a huge sip of wine, you pressed your lips together.

“He said I fall too fast....” you began, “or care too much...or something”

Revisiting that dark period in your life was akin to walking a thousand miles backwards, just to get your heart pricked by sharp, rusted nails. The mere image of it forced you to gulp more wine.

“Well, Where is he now?”

Bruce asked softly. Taking a third sip, you looked back at him:

“You mean after he cheated on me?” You asked, chuckling sadly, “…He flew off somewhere…with his new girlfriend” you said, sighing “Apparently I was too predictable and doesn’t play hard to get”

“Then…” Bruce began, “…what about you throwing punches at Henderson?”

“That?” You widened your eyes, “Oh that’s just the whiskey”

Laughter ensued, breaking the tension between the two once again. Truthfully, you felt much at ease right then.

“I bet you don’t have that problem, playing the field and all” You said, holding on to your wine glass. Bruce smiled.

“Ah! Getting too attached doesn’t help anyone, I guess” he answered. And for some reason, you could empathize. Now more than ever.

“True...” you agreed, looking at him. However, that warmth you carried for him was also enlarged, and suddenly emotion overpowered logic.

“I know this is the corniest you’ve heard always….” you paused, “…but when the right person comes along...it’s so worth it” you continued, taking a deep, shaky breath, “…even if your heart gets broken into millions...billions of pieces”

Your eyes locked onto his with every word you uttered, and to your surprise, he did not look away. For a moment, his gaze on you translated into deep belief. For a Moment, his gaze dismissed every other occupant in the restaurant, except you. For a moment his silence proved that anything was possible.

Until you realized, never was life that easy.

“But like I said…” You added, blinking away the heavy stare, “... it’s not your problem” You said, fiddling with your clutch purse mindlessly. “Actually I-” “Whoops!” You sniggered when the clutch purse dropped out of your hand. Laughing together, you both found yourselves bending down to search for it.

“Let Me get that-” Bruce volunteered, as he spotted the purse, grabbing it for you.

“Thank you” You murmured shyly, reaching out your hand to take it.

The mere act of a clutch purse being transferred from one hand to another never felt this intense. A circus act commenced inside your stomach all the sudden. The manner you found yourself blushing, certainly proved his effect as a whole. The warmth of his palm earlier, it brought protection and comfort in the time of danger. However, the slightest brush of his fingers just now, it birthed confetti of butterflies, causing the internal circus to go berserk.

As he looked you up and down, you prayed he did not notice the red on your cheeks. For this man had such power over you, it was sheer chaos. But a beautifully, addictive one.

“Your Dress...” he breathed, making your own breath shake, “You look very-” “Bruce!” A seductive voice emerged out of the blue, as you realized it was his date walking over to his side. Being one of Gotham’s most well known supermodels, she exuded beauty with her tall and thin frame and brunette locks flowing down her shoulders. Wrapping her goddess-like arms around his neck, she whispered a few words to him before heading over to the restroom area. Compared to her, you felt like a little cinder block. “She’s beautiful...” you muttered hoarsely, looking down at your wine. You heard him sigh uncomfortably. “Listen...” Bruce began, causing your heart to long for hope, “I-” “Would you like anything else, Sirs?” The emotional roller coaster unexpectedly finished its ride when an over enthusiastic waiter’s loud voice caused everyone in the table to look up. “No, Thank you...” Fox said, slowly getting up, “Actually, I think might head home now” “And I will join you” You said, standing up in a flash, “Ladies, Gentleman...” you nodded to the Heads, “...Mr. Wayne” Giving him a slight nod, you turned to follow Lucius Fox. You dared not turn back to see his face. That would just show weakness. Just walk away, it was the right thing to do. The longer you will linger, the stronger your attachment will be. The stronger your need to love him will be. And what would be the use of strengthening that existing love, when the odds were always in the way?

Seduced by the women with the highest standards of beauty and power, you obviously must seem like nothing for a man such as he. You were simply charity, the employee in need. Perhaps your ex was right, You really were no fun.

Besides, being jealous was never your right, not especially when you did not even pour your heart out. And when you would not even consider doing so, being tied to morals, ethics and rules?

And if he even had not shown you his own heart, what gave you the right to be angry with anyone, except yourself?

You asked yourself, why were you wasting your time?

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

Allison’s eyes grew wide with excitement the moment you arrived home.

Clutching onto her bowl of popcorn, she watched you close the door and lean against it to look back at her. Though her hair was in a messy bun, she still managed to pull off ‘homely cool’.

“So...” she began softly, “How did it go?” Silent, You took a deep breath, not knowing where to begin. “Well-” “-Did you make Wayne cream his pants?” Allison cut you off with glee, seemingly over excited. Jaw dropped, your face contorted with disgust. “Ali! …ewww” You exclaimed, seeing her perverted expression and suggestive eyebrows. Truthfully the thought of it brought some laughter soon after. You felt calmer. “Well, did he?” Allison was persistent. Pushing yourself from the door, you began to take off your shoes, “Well…” You paused, “I think he liked what he saw” you said smiling shyly. “Yeah?” Her excitement still intact, as you sat next to her.

“I think so…” you said, reminiscing those precious moments his blessed eyes watched only you, “…but…” you paused, “it doesn’t matter…”, Sighing, you shook your head frantically, “…cause he was with a Supermodel tonight so...” “Supermodel? Sweetie, I’m sorry” laying her head on your shoulder, Allison sighed in response. Patting her on the lap, you got up. Just like that, the little giddy excitement between two women suddenly crashed and burned upon knowing they were hopeless going against a supermodel.

“Hey! by the way…” Allison began, “…did you give money for Mrs. Hernandez’s going away party?”

You froze.

“Shit!” You cried out, “ I forgot!”

Mrs. Hernandez was one of the lovely tenants in the apartment building who will be moving out this week to go live with her son. All tenants were supposed to pool in for the going away party, today being the deadline. Opening your purse with haste, you groaned. “Damn it! I don’t have any change...” Of course you did not. Not when you gave away your last note to Clara yesterday. With the current use of cards and e-payment, you rarely used cash these days.

“Me neither, Sweetie” Allison replied, mindlessly staring at the television. You sighed. Transferring the money will not do as it wont be convenient for the others. And being a bad tenant was the last thing on your mind.

“Screw it!” You said, “I’ll just go get some now” Running to your room, you proceeded to change.

“Cool…” Allison uttered quietly, until she remembered, “By the way, can you also get milk?”Allison yelled to your room, “WE’RE OUT ALREADY!!”

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

If wearing an elegant dress brought out the glamorous woman in you, then leggings and an oversized black hoodie brought out the homebody. With the hood over your head, you dug your hands in the deep pockets whilst standing at the line for the ATM. What was taking so long?

Almost 11pm, yet the neighborhood was bustling more than usual. In fact, it fascinated you. Younger folk in higher numbers lingered hanging about by the Bodega. You wondered if a party was taking place somewhere nearby, as most of them wore clothes with a similar vibe. Some danced to the loud music that played, some drank sitting on the pavement, while some lined up in front of you in the ATM line. Was it a party? Or a flashmob? Or were you suddenly intruding the filming of a music video? It simply seemed so unrealistic. Could it be the sake and wine were forcing you to imagine all this?

Then moment your phone started to ring, you knew you were not imagining. Not when the phone vibrated in your hand, not when the name of the caller caused you to breath deeply.

“Mr.Wayne?”

His breath over the phone sent shivers down your spine so subtly. Attraction was indeed a strange phenomenon.

“Hey! Did you go home okay?”

He asked. Nodding, you looked around.

“Of course.” You replied, “Mr. Fox was kind enough to drop me straight home”

“Good. Good,” As he muttered in a rush, you heard him exhale, “ Listen, can we talk? ”

Nervousness took you over with a sudden burn in your face. What must he wish to say? Was he attempting to confirm what you already dread about? Was he fully acknowledging your desires to be futile and hopeless? You kept quiet as he continued:

“About tonight…I really-” he paused, “Where are you?” The loud cheers of some of the younger folk interrupted the conversation. Amongst the crowd, a lone figure walked over to the middle of the street.

“I’m at the Bodega nearby my place” you replied, trying to be nonchalant with him. However, somehow that lone figure standing managed to capture your attention, "Huh! Strange...”

“What is it?”

Your eyebrows furrowed the moment the figure turned to face your direction. Familiarity was quite strong in him. “There’s this guy here…” you said, “… who looks just like-”

You froze, “Oh no!” You breathed.

The moment the figure effortlessly pulled out a portable machine gun from his oversized long coat, it clearly dawned on you on who he really was:

“Mr. Slender?” You muttered to yourself.

Pointing the weapon upwards, loud and rapid shots were fired, causing panic amongst the public. The shock forced your hands to lose control, almost dropping your phone to the ground.

“Hello? Hello?”

You heard Bruce loud and clear, yet you were not in the right state of mind to respond. The chaos, certainly forced your heart to beat right out of your chest. The beating, increased without any prior announcement shocked you, as if the live, blood pumping organ might literally fall out of your flesh vessel.

“EVERYBODY ON THE GROUND, NOW!”

Mr.Slender bellowed, finally revealing his masculine and controlled voice. The public, including those inside the Bodega made their way to the ground. With Mr. Slender’s reinforcements inside the building, it was made sure no one were to reach out for law enforcement any time soon. Just when it seemed all had complied to his command, one obstinate young man rose up quickly.

“Hey man!” The man cried out, walking over to him, “Be cool…Be-”

“I SAID ON THE GROUND!”

Blood curdling screams erupted from the crowd when Mr.Slender brutally fired at the man, sending him flying back, falling on to the ground like a bloody piece of meat. Given the continuous reactions from the people nearby, he was certainly dead. Emptiness and fear swallowed you whole upon witnessing this.

“DON’T EVEN THINK OF BEING STUBBORN!! ”

Mr.Slender yelled out, brandishing his gun around, “MY DEMANDS ARE SIMPLE...”

He continued, “I’M LOOKING FOR ONE PARTICULAR PERSON…” he said, “AND I WILL NOT LEAVE…UNTIL THAT PERSON STEPS FORWARD!!”

Scenes such as these, they were never expected but only imagined in modes of fiction. Be it novels or films. However, when you truly got to taste it in the rusty reality, only then did you realize the gravity of its horror. And only then at that fateful moment, did you genuinely fear for your precious life.

Especially when the person he was looking for, was you.

——————————————————

Chapter 6 HERE

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rattlung · 5 years

Text

sorry this took so long! it kinda got away from me after a bit (it’s like 6k words so i’m rlly hoping this read more works on mobile lmao) and turned into a lot of introspection, as my stuff often does when it comes to mirage for some reason. hope you enjoy :^) and ty for sending smth in

(yeah ik mystik keeping in contact through fuckin fan mail is a bit of a stretch especially since crypto mentions burning letters, implying communication through paper, but it was the only thing i could come up with and i didn’t want this to take longer than necessary. just kinda shrug it off because at this point - eh yknow??? the letter mirage comes across is based off the one crypto sends to mystik in the loading screen with him and gibby

also, i looked up a ton of different sites and even checked the wiki but i’m still nervous about crypto’s name and how to write it properly. if i’m still doing it wrong, please please PLEASE let me know. i will literally rewrite this entire thing lmao)

established relationship kinda idk and also set in a kinda canon divergent au where the games hold seasons that last a few months with set teams

----=----

Despite popular belief, Elliott was a smart guy. He lived and studied under his mother, an amazing engineer in her own right, and even had a huge part in the development of some of the tech he used in the arena. It’s just that, sometimes, even he forgot about his own intelligence. Standing next to his fellow legends, it was like any confidence he had left in one fell swoop. He would stutter under their gazes and second guess himself on anything he said the second he said it. It’s something he’d always berate himself on later when he’s alone in his dorm where no one could see him.

Because he was smart. He’d tell himself that when he looked at his own smiling face, as surrounded as he was by it. Apex merch, some fanart, some cutouts they had stood up in stores he’d been sent. Elliott would stare at it all and remind himself that Mirage in the media was who he was. He’d gotten to legend status on his own, and that wasn’t something to write off. He was as intelligent as the rest of them, he just needed to remember that.

Though, admittedly, it did take Elliott a good minute to realize that the message he’d been sent wasn’t for him.

But, in his defense, this wasn’t an issue that had ever come up before. After their breach that forced them to move planets, the Apex Team had taken extra precautions when it came to legends getting fan mail. Elliott hadn’t blamed them, but he still couldn’t help but raise a brow at the extent they went to. In his opinion, it was just, like, two steps above sending it in on paper the old fashioned way. Honestly, that would go faster, since that didn’t need to be scoured by security software. Sometimes the dates lagged by so much that Elliott would get things months after a someone sent it.

So, yes, it did require a few read through’s for him to parse what was going on in the small paragraph. To be fair, it had his name in it. Don’t act so pretentious, TJ, everyone knows who Mirage is. The rest of the message was written in the same way: to someone who wasn’t actually Elliott and from someone who’s seemingly exchanged letters with this “TJ” before.

Maybe the program was on the fritz, picked out Elliott’s alias and sent it over to his inbox. It was something worth mentioning to the higher ups, because that absolutely had to be a liability in their new safety protocols. But more importantly - and definitely the thing he was going to address first - who was this letter for? Who was TJ?

There were only a few options, as most of the legends had opted to come forth with their real names when signing up for the Games. Elliott knew Bloodhound still operated under a veil of mystery, but he doubted they could be TJ. From what he remembered when he walked passed their dorm - which was usually something he tried to do quickly, since the bird Hound kept in there with them seemed to like Elliott only a little more than it liked Pathfinder - they didn’t even have a computer set up. No contact to the outside world unless it was through interviews.

Wraith just recently came across her name, Elliott remembered. She’d mentioned it in passing before disappearing for a few weeks in an abrupt request for time off. Wraith never really talked to anyone, so it kind of made sense. Everyone needed someone to vent to, even if it was about Elliott. What could TJ stand for? Taylor Jenkins? Tanya Jones?

Tilly Junior.

But then again, it really could have been any of them. Elliott wouldn’t put it passed Caustic to be using a fake name. Any of them could be using a fake name, and he doubted going around and asking would get him anywhere.

Elliott let the holopad slip onto the cushion of the couch he’d been lounging on, his head falling back to thump against the wall. Crypto would be able to help with the new mystery, that was at least something he was sure of. The amount of badgering and begging needed to actually get the hacker to relent and do any helping? Now that was unknown as well.

In the months that the season encompassed, he and Crypto ended up getting closer than probably either of them would have liked - at least in the beginning. Elliott couldn’t imagine what he would have thought then if he was told that most of his nights out of the arena would be spent at the other’s side, in his dorm, Crypto fiddling with some of the tech Elliott had lying around as Elliott himself talked his ear off.

Crypto was a good listener, he found. It was something in the quiet he maintained around him, a whole lot different than, say, Bloodhound’s. Not that Bloodhound was cold and off-putting; it was more so like what Elliott imagined stepping into an ancient library would be like. Something about Bloodhound made anything above a whisper seem too loud, and out of respect for said library, Elliott left them alone.

And then there was that time Crypto had caught Elliott staring at him when he blasted Caustic with a Charge Rifle from about 300 meters away. The only thing he’d done was give Elliott that knowing smirk then followed it up with an honest to god wink. Elliott was gone after that.

Things had changed in a steady progression. Instead of Elliott being the one to find him, Crypto would seek him out rather than hide away in his own dorm. When Elliott would invite him to his dorm, mostly joking, Crypto would surprise him by accepting. There wasn’t any verbal confirmation in the shift, though, and sometimes Elliott would worry about it, wonder if he was reading too much into things. Not that it was a big deal. He never cared much about labels, except when he really, really did.

But then Crypto would sometimes push Elliott against a wall in the downtime during the games while they were looting, or even when they were just hanging out. He’d silence ramblings by covering Elliott’s mouth with his own, and who was Elliott to tell him no?

They were close, now, yes, but for as good as Crypto listened, he didn’t talk much. It was something Elliott attempted to change. He tried to get him to open up in various ways, but the longest he’s ever gotten Crypto to talk was when he asked about the Holo Gear Mirage used on the field. Even then, Elliott did most of the talking. He’d gushed about his mom, how she did a lot of the work and he handled more of the fine tuning, reminisced about their workshop, the long days they used to spent together. Elliott remembered picking up something different from Crypto, then, something almost sad. Like maybe he’d been missing something, too.

Elliott never got to ask about it. Crypto had retreated to his own quarters pretty fast after that. He was too confused to wonder what he’d done wrong, and the worry was put to rest before he ever actually got to worry about it at all when Crpyto sidled up next to him the next day right before the drop. The situation just reaffirmed that there was a lot that Elliott didn’t know, like what kept Crypto so quiet, who he thought about when Elliott talked about working with his mother, what he always seemed to be working on when he was alone.

Or his name, Elliott realized.

After a pause, he scrambled back into a sitting position and grabbed the holopad again. There was public information on every legend that signed up for the Games, but the last he’d checked there had been something wrong with the page dedicated to Crypto. It showed multiple different error codes that were random upon opening the page and sometimes it would even crash a browser entirely. Forums still existed, though, and Elliott would use that to his advantage.

Quietly, in the back of his mind, he felt guilty, felt like he was doing something he shouldn’t.

A lot of the threads were just talking about the recent games and Crypto’s happenings in them. They talked about his marksmanship, which was pretty impressive, Elliott had to say. It wasn’t until a few minutes of scrolling - spent looking through GIFs and videos of highlights, that he won’t admit to - brought him to a specific thread. The person who posted was wondering about the drone Crypto had in his possession, asking about its name, speculating on the model. The top comment on it claimed to have spent time behind the scenes on the Apex Games Production team and declared that the drone Crypto used had a lot of similarities to the ones they use to film the Games.

The next comment didn’t exactly discredit the correlation, but they did say it was likely that the drone’s blueprint was leaked and got sold to another company, not Crypto having the clearance to use Apex equipment.

I doubt they’d let him have one of the official ones, with all the controversy surrounding them, the commenter said.

Elliott bit the inside of his cheek and narrowed his eyes in thought. It was a stretch, but it didn’t stop him from backing out of the forum and searching “apex filming drones”.

The first result wasn’t a link to the Apex Game’s website. It was another website with comment threads, its title “look what i found???”.

So, Elliott did.

i was doing some VERY LEGAL digging around, because i was wondering where the new guy came from and all that, but there’s literally NOTHING that isn’t hidden behind encrypted messes that would take like ten years to get through but when i tried, i got something on some dude named hyeon kim but when i went around looking for more i found this

??????

Below the post was a screenshot of an article from a news site called Outlands’ Journal. Elliott read it over, but the only thing he processed was “Disgraced computer technician, Tae Joon Park” and “Mystik, Joon’s former caretaker”.

And then, a little more down, was the comment, “Isn’t that the dude who’s wanted for murdering his sister or something?”

----=----

Despite popular belief, Elliott was a smart guy. In that moment, though, it really didn’t seem like a good thing.

----=----

The decision was one he made almost subconsciously: Elliott was not going to tell anyone what he’d found.

How would anyone even believe it? Elliott was hardly sure he even believed it. Spoken out loud, it would seem like such a tin-foil-hat conspiracy, and it’s not like he could use the thread he’d found the information in to back the claim up. He’d checked it again when he woke the next day, wanting to make sure he hadn’t had some fever dream, but the entire thread had disappeared. Even the account it was posted from was wiped from the site. On a whim, he checked his history and went to the link directly, but that only got him an error page.

The code was something he remembered from Crypto’s buggy Legend profile.

Elliott had almost been late getting ready for the games, he sat there for so long and stared at it. Luckily, the turbulence that signified they were getting close to the closed off arena literally jolted him as a physical reminder. Elliott shook his head and stood, making his way over to the collapsible, garage-like door in order to pull it down.

Isn’t that the dude who’s wanted for murdering his sister?

He was almost regretful that he wanted to go looking for more information. What if Crypto was somehow able to track the searches that were relevant to the article? That could be how the thread was taken down so fast, how the account disappeared. Was that what he was doing all the time, bent over his computer? Working to hide what he’d done?

Why even join the Apex Games, a program that was widely broadcasted across planets? Wouldn’t he want to keep a low profile? How did he even get the clearance to sign up? The producers had run background check after background check when Elliott had been brought in for an interview. So his public intoxication got put under the microscope, but the murderer they let in for free?

And yet, that didn’t sound right, even when he thought it. Sure, yeah, they all technically participated in a blood sport - but the technically was heavily implied. No one actually ever died; sometimes bones were broken and people had to retire after a serious injury, but that was just about it. Everyone who signed up was capable of killing.

But capability of killing was different than cold blooded murder. At least in Elliott’s opinion.

He was just pulling on the last of his Holo Gear when the door rattled in its frame. “Pull y’self outta bed, we got a game to win!”

“Door is closed for privacy,” Mirage berated.

Lifeline only cackled shortly before replying with, “I ain’t lookin’ at you, am I?”

Mirage pulled the door up so she could see his put-off pouting, which didn’t do much of anything besides getting her to laugh again. He followed her into the loading bay, passing Bloodhound and Wraith. They each gave him a respectful nod, always frighteningly eager to board their dropping platform. Still, Mirage responded with a courteous wink and two solid finger guns.

As the automated commentator announced the approaching drop zone, Mirage was suddenly very aware of the empty space beside him being taken up by another person. At first, neither of them said anything, but that was weird for him, so he had to say something, didn’t he?

“Fashionably late, as always,” he greeted, going for something half-joking, half-flirty. Honestly, he would proudly say he hit the mark, but Crypto didn’t say anything back. “Long night?”

Then, a too long second of silence fell between them as the dropping platforms began to hiss. Freezing air blasted, chilling his face, blowing his hair around, but it wasn’t the reason why his blood went cold in his veins. A voice went off in his head almost like an alarm. He knows, it said. He knows you found out. He knows.

“Always,” Mirage heard, just barely above the wind whipping between them.

And it was stuff like that that made him felt immediately guilty for the fear he held just moments before. There was that haunted, pained tone that took hold of Crypto’s voice that Mirage always seemed to catch when he knew he wasn’t supposed to. Just like how he caught something like longing when Mirage had spoken of his mother. How Crypto’s empathy felt different than others when Mirage mentioned his brothers.

He didn’t talk often, sure, but Crypto couldn’t stop himself from expressing in some ways. Not around Mirage, not anymore.

Obviously, there was the possibility that Crypto had done something - that very specific something - but Mirage just couldn’t see it. He had that gut feeling, and following those types of feelings got him to where he was right then. Standing among Legends.

Legends, and Tae Joon Park.

----=----

It’s about a month of doing his best of forgetting what he’d uncovered when he realized a problem he’d overlooked. Elliott had already come to the conclusion that Tae Joon and Mystik were close, close enough to risk each other’s safety by maintaining their pen pal status. They kept in contact that way, so the fluke Elliott had gotten in his inbox was not the first letter that had ever been sent between them.

Which meant that Crypto was going to be expecting a letter from his former caretaker that Elliott didn’t know how to give him without starting a shit show.

Just another thing to add to the reasons he wasn’t getting sleep at night, because “doing his best to forget” was awfully hard. Tae Joon’s silences were just periods of dreadful anticipation to him now. Every time they were together and the tapping on Crypto’s keyboard would pause, Elliott would expect to look up to see Crypto already staring at him, glaring, asking him how long Elliott had known -

But Tae Joon’s eyes would be on the monitor when Elliott would brave looking up, watching text wrap around the screen at all kinds of speeds. Sometimes it would freeze all at once, certain words blinking, and a corner of Tae Joon’s mouth would pull in an annoyed grimace - meaning he’d done something wrong, and the typing would start back up with a new kind of spiteful energy to it. Elliott would go back to what he was doing, wishing he could let out the breath he felt he’d been constantly holding, because sooner or later the typing would stop again.

Elliott was stressed out of his mind and it was starting to affect his performance on the field, but a horrible, evil little part of himself relished in knowing something others didn’t. That stupid, childish thrill of secret keeping. He wanted to hold it close to where no one else could see it, because he really, really wanted to. If not telling anyone meant protecting Tae Joon, then he wouldn’t tell a soul - even if that included Tae Joon himself.

But that was kind of backwards, wasn’t it? He was literally harboring a criminal, wasn’t he? Regardless of what Elliott’s stupid gut told him. Crypto was wanted for murder - but what was he supposed to do? Tell the authorities and get a potentially innocent man potentially killed? Or tell Tae Joon himself and be proven wrong, find out the very dead way that people Elliott found attractive really are out to get him.

Knowing what he did and not doing anything about it was dangerous either way. Hence the trouble sleeping.

People were starting to notice, too. Tae Joon noticed - and it was stuff like that that was going to get Elliot into trouble. He found himself switching the names around in his head. Tae Joon Park and Crypto were now interchangeable; the only way he avoided not messing up out loud and inadvertently revealing himself and what he knew was just by... not talking.

Which was hard to do.

It was easier than trying to condition himself to stop using the name, though. Because Elliott liked knowing it. There was a certain level of intimacy to it; it felt different now whenever Crypto would corner him or when he’d let Elliott turn him away from his computer. It felt like he was holding someone more, in a way. Not a mystery, but a person. He was holding someone. He was holding Tae Joon, kissing Tae Joon in secret, making a mess of Tae Joon’s bed. It was so much, and in those moments the secret was something he almost couldn’t bear. He’d just barely hold himself back from breathing the name, he’d bite his tongue to stop it.

And then the guilt would flood into his head, because he was lying. It felt so wrong to know this when Tae Joon wasn’t the one to tell him. So, Elliott withdrew. He was polite in the games, communicated as much as necessary, still bantered with Lifeline. Slowly he weaned himself off of flirting with their other teammate and reverted back to the beginning of the season. Except, not quite, really. Even in the beginning Elliott couldn’t help himself when it came to Crypto, but back then it was petty arguments that he didn’t know he craved. Now, it wasn’t much of anything besides civility.

The worst part of it might have been that Tae Joon never asked why. He allowed the regression to happen nonchalantly, but that was on purpose. Every so often, Elliott would still get pushed against a wall, when no one else was around. Tae Joon wouldn’t ask why Elliott didn’t talk to him, didn’t visit him, didn’t invite him to his dorm anymore. He would just kiss him, hard, desperate. It was almost like it wasn’t surprising to him. Like maybe Tae Joon had been waiting for it to end the entire time.

Shame would tear Elliott up after he’d pull away without a word. It would tear him up even worse when the next time Elliott saw him, Tae Joon would act as if nothing happened. Business as usual.

----=----

It had to end in some way, so Elliott really shouldn’t have been shocked when it actually happened - or that it was his fault that it went down the way it did.

----=----

He never had liked fighting Wraith. Mirage had been on her squad a few seasons ago and they’d spent a lot of their time in the arena watching the other work. So Mirage knew her tricks, but worst of all, Wraith knew his. Besides his good looks, charm, and being a crack shot with the Wingman, tricks were just about all Mirage had.

She had followed the sounds of his footsteps when he’d cloaked earlier in the gunfight to heal, weaving through the decoys he’d dropped without skipping a beat. It was a mess of bursts from SMGs, Wraith phasing away to duck behind cover. Another few bursts and MIrage would get sprayed down, only to disintegrate into lights and have him reappear around another corner.

Mirage strained to hear over the firing outside for her footsteps, placing her somewhere downstairs. He continued up, for once being grateful for the Skyhook buildings and the buffer they provided with their multiple levels. It gave him time to repair the damage done to his shields as Wraith presumably did the same before she began her chase again. They were bound to run out of supplies and floors at some point, but all Mirage needed to do was buy time for his teammates to secure their kills so they could come and take her off his hands.

It was a good plan up until it stopped working. Thing was, Wraith was fast, and Mirage was learning that if you’re not in her squad as often as you used to be, you forget just how fast she could be.

He heard the cocking of a Peacekeeper after he was a few paces onto the roof, which is also when he remembered seeing a fucking zipline in the building on his way toward the stairs. He hadn’t thought about it, immediately stored it under the dumb idea section; zipping straight up to the top floor just for Wraith to light him up and have him fall straight back down like a ton of bricks? No thank you, he’d take the stairs.

“Fuck,” Mirage said quickly, just as a shotgun blast exploded in front of him. Most of the spread was dodged by running around one of the pallets stacked with construction materials, but it still cracked through what was left of his shields.

He was dead, Mirage was absolutely dead. There was no way his Wingman was going to win against a Peacekeeper, not unless he hit every shot and Wraith missed all of hers - which she didn’t, she never missed.

A kick was placed neatly between his shoulders and Mirage flailed wildly, gripped at the metal framing of an empty wall and used the momentum to swing around -

- directly into another shotgun blast, one of which he took right into the stomach. That sent him sprawling. He landed hard on his back and the air was knocked out of him, leaving him gasping for it as he skidded a few paces forward.

Calmly, Wraith sauntered over to stand above him, reloading the few shots she’d used in her Peacekeeper. Mirage wanted to say something to maybe lessen the blow his pride and his body just took, but the only thing he could get out was a wet cough.

She grinned at him and knelt, shotgun going to one side so she could show Mirage the blade she held before pressing it to his throat. “Don’t worry,” she whispered, leaning in close. “I would have gotten you either way. Zigged or zagged.”

Mirage would’ve rolled his eyes had it not been for the kunai at his jugular, so all he did was swallow and wait for the push. But it never came. In the very next moment, Wraith was sent flying to the ground next to Mirage, her side smoking from a fresh Mastiff shot, the sudden sound of it nearly deafening him.

She pushed up unsteadily in an attempt to get to her feet, but Crypto beat her by grabbing at the scarf at her neck. “It seems like you zigged,” he started, mocking her previous low tone with his own smug lilt. Mirage watched as he raised his hand and his drone seemingly appeared in his grip while he finished with, “When you should have just quit and gone home.”

The drone came down against Wraith’s head hard, and in the time it took Mirage to blink, she was replaced with a golden case.

Crypto turned to face him, then, showing off the small smirk he’d been wearing. “Fashionably late,” he announced with a shrug.

Mirage couldn’t help the relieved grin that spread across his own face. “As always. Love that about you, kid.”

Crypto knelt at his side, taking the place Wraith had left behind, and fished around in the pack around his waist for the syringes he kept there. Once it was plunged into his chest, all of Elliott’s muscles seemed to twitch, but he felt his heart rate lower down to something manageable. He lost a lot of blood, though. He was going to have to huddle in a corner and lick his wounds for at least another five minutes before he’d be anywhere close to mobile.

“Thank you,” Mirage said in between a few deep breaths. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“Match isn’t done yet,” Crypto chided lowly. He stood up straight and held out his hand for Mirage to take.

Which he did, but he only got halfway up before he hit the ground again. The cracking snap of a Kraber shot echoed in the empty air above the buildings and Mirage stared up at the blue sky, wondering why he wasn’t feeling any pain. Then, he heard the sound of himself hitting the floor for a third time and thought, that’s weird, I thought I already did that.

After that, he thought, I lost a lot of blood.

Tae Joon, is the next thing that came to his mind in the form of a horrible realization, one that he ended up voicing out loud in fear, in panic. He sat up from the adrenaline that panic gave him, hysterically hoping that maybe that the other hadn’t heard him, but mostly to satisfy the need of having to see if Tae Joon was okay.

And he wasn’t, not really. He was on his back, too, propped up on one elbow, one hand clutching at his shoulder that was spilling red between his fingers. But worst of all, he was staring at Mirage like the pain was second to the shock.

Mirage didn’t like the look he was getting, and it was especially devastating that it was Tae Joon who was the one giving it to him. Underneath the cloud from the medicine coursing through his system, he knew he had to explain, had to make it so Tae Joon could understand that Mirage knowing his secret wasn’t a big deal, that’d he’d known for a long time and nothing bad had happened.

So, he began with “Tae - “ and then, for some reason, finished with, “Tae - tuh - tuh - uh - totally thought you were going to die from that.”

Finally, he thought, Nice save, and collapsed.

----=----

They didn’t win, but that was the least of their worries. Well, maybe not Lifeline’s, but that was beside the point.

Elliott left the medbay as soon as he could, which still took a good amount of time. The nurse had mentioned something about the side effects of the Revival Syringe along with blood loss and not using anymore meds to stabilize after he was injected. They spent extra time checking his vitals and Elliott didn’t have to be a doctor to tell them that those were going to be skewed.

His heart was still racing when he made his way back into the dorms. It was a little relieving to find that it was empty; after the games, everyone typically accumulated in the mess hall to celebrate the winners. But the at the same time, it was disappointing. He almost wanted to see Tae Joon standing around every corner Elliott rounded waiting to confront him, because getting this over with meant getting back to normal, and Elliott couldn’t wait for that.

So, he risked a glance over at the other’s dorm across the sitting area as if getting a look at it would help him decide on whether or not he should knock, initiate it himself. The door was pulled up, though, left open. Elliott blinked at it once before wandering closer.

The room had always seemed bare, but the emptiness was emphasized now. He noticed that the blanket that was supposed to be folded and draped across the back of the couch to show off the South Korean flag was missing. The box Tae Joon had shoved under there and filled with parts and drives was pulled out, tipped over and empty. Even more, the drone’s docking station was gone.

Elliott rushed over to the desk and tapped the first key he could reach. Only one of the monitors flashed on, glowing blue and asking to proceed with setup.

“Oh, no,” Elliott muttered. He hurried back out to the seating area and looked up to the screens displaying that day’s match stats. Scrolling across the top was the ETA for the ship’s landing. Ten minutes. “Oh no, no, no you fucking don’t,” he continued to say, practically running to the hall for Boarding.

It Tae Joon got into the city before Elliott could catch him on the ship, it was likely that he’d never see the man again. He couldn’t let that happen.

But Boarding was empty, too, bar the few bots that managed the floor. Elliott practically skidded to a stop in front of one of them, startling the unit’s arms up and out.

“Hey, buddy, you wouldn’t have happened to see a guy, this tall - “ He holds up his hand, palm down, level with the top of his own head. “ - might have looked pissed off, which would be my fault, so I’m trying to find him. Have you seen him?”

The bot’s screen on it’s chest flashed red in the negative, then blue in an apologetic sad face.

Elliott grunted in disappointment. “Nah, don’t sweat it,” he assured the bot, even thought he was absolutely going to.

He was biting his lip when he exited, nervous. The ship held at least sixty people on it at once. It was a decent size and if someone like Crypto was hiding on it, someone like Elliott wasn’t going to find him.

Elliott swore, once in frustration, twice in shock when he was thrown roughly against the hard, metal wall of an empty hallway. Someone held him there with a fist against his shoulder and the threat of a pistol pressing into his abdomen. He was blinded before he could gather his bearings by a sudden flash of green light, leaving him blinking rapidly to clear his vision.

“Where did you get a gun?” Elliott chose to ask, deliriously, for some reason. “They don’t let weapons on the ship - “

“Who are you?” Tae Joon questioned. The aggression in his voice was something Elliott hadn’t heard since the first few weeks, around the same time Tae Joon was just as likely to twist his arm as he was to snap at him.

“What? Babe, you know who I am - “

“Elliott Witt is too clean, everything on him was too easy to find - they wouldn’t send an Elliott Witt to hunt me down.” His expression was neutral, but there was so much going on in his eyes that Elliot couldn’t look away, even when the gun reminded him of its presence with little jabs. “So who are you?”

And maybe there were a few things Elliott should have been offended by. Like how he wasn’t prestigious enough to warrant a protected record, or Tae Joon’s implication that he wasn’t capable of something he had already done - mostly on accident.

But what he ended up asking was, “You think I made everything up? You think I lied about my entire life for, what? Getting into bed with you?”

Tae Joon didn’t seem taken aback by the hurt that was evident in Elliott’s voice, but it did leave enough room for one second of hesitation. “Then they got to you,” he whispered, somehow sounding equal parts flat and devastated.

Elliott shook his head in confusion. Who was they? “No one fucking got to me, I actually don’t know who or what you’re talking about,” he tried to explain.

“Then how?” Tae Joon asked - angry. Elliott was finally able to identify one of the things burning in Tae Joon’s glare. Anger, and maybe confusion as well. Fear.

How did this happen, they both seemed to be thinking. How did I let it get to this?

“How did you find out?” Tae Joon snapped when Elliott spent too long watching him. “Who told you?”

“Mystik,” Elliott blurted, shocking the other enough to pull back just a little bit. “Kind of,” he went on in a hurry. “She sent you something, and I - I think the new software they implemented for security read my name enough times in it so it got forwarded to me - I don’t know exactly! I didn’t do it on purpose, it must be mald- malfuk - bugging out! So, I went to check, and I’d show you the forum post I found, but it’s gone already, I swear.”

Tae Joon took a step back, then another. “What did you find?”

Elliott let out a breath, wet his lips in a nervous tic. He shrugged. “Just - just an article.”

Disgraced computer technician -

Wanted for murdering his sister -

Tae Joon looked away suddenly and down the hall, like he was planning on running again. His frown was so intense a crease began to form between his brow.

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Elliott said firmly. “I promise. But - what happened?”

“I can’t tell you that,” Tae Joon told him quickly. “If you don’t know, I can’t tell you.”

“Okay,” Elliott replied, despite how much he wanted to push.

Tae Joon seemed to sense that, gave him a troubled look. “I didn’t do it.”

“I know,” Elliott told him. “I believe you.”

It it was so easy to say, but they both knew it was more than the words spoken out loud. The admission meant Tae Joon’s shoulders could drop from their high strung, protected hunch. It meant they could both breathe. It meant Elliott could push off from the wall, get close - slowly - and gently retrieve the gun Tae Joon held to find that the safety was on. Because if he didn’t have to, Tae Joon wasn’t going to hurt him. He‘d never wanted to hurt anyone.

He put his fingers on the cool metal lining Tae Joon’s jaw to get him to look at Elliott.

“I believe you,” Elliott repeated, and Tae Joon kissed him for it. He put an open hand on the back of Elliott’s head and threaded his fingers through the curls that were there, pulling him in roughly. Elliott made a surprised noise but recovered fast enough. He pushed an arm underneath Tae Joon’s open coat to wind it around man’s waist and pressed his front to the other’s, hoping that somehow he’d get Tae Joon to feel the honesty in his words through an embrace. Thinking that he could show off the part of Elliott that was dedicated purely to him by just holding him against his chest.

Anything to get Tae Joon to stop kissing him in that same, desperate way as before, like he was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Elliott said when they broke apart. He didn’t let the other go, though, and rested his forehead against his. “So you can’t either.”

Tae Joon’s features darken in a very particular way. “Don’t say that.” When Elliott lifted his head a little to show him a confused expression, he goes on to explain. “They take everything.”

Who’s they? I’ll kick they’s ass.

“They can’t take Mirage,” he said, smiling. “According to you, he’s too hard to carry.”

Instead of laughing, or giving that smarmy little smirk, or even rolling his eyes, Tae Joon raised a brow and asked, “What about Elliott?”

“Elliott’s yours,” he told him without thinking. “No one’s taking that.”

Tae Joon Park moved back in to kiss Elliott again.

=====

thanks for the prompt :^)

#apex legends #crypto #mirage #elliott witt #cryptage #cryage #those are the tags i know i'm sorry #kon's a writer #tae joon park

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ofbeastsandwizards · 5 years

Text

This Is My Mess - Part 3 [Avengers x Teen!Reader]

Series Master.

I had written out a whole second part with bonding, but my STUPID BROWSER ERASED IT like whAT- so this chapter may feel a bit rushed. Sorry about that :c

Summary: The reader, a teen marvel addict who is *kind of* badass, gets transferred from the real world dimension to the Avengers’ dimension, ends up helping to defeat Loki’s army of Chitauri.

Warnings: Swearing, Violence.

I’m writing the rest of this mini-series in 1st person.

————

A day later, in Germany

“Are you sure about this Tony?” I asked lowly.

I was clinging to Tony’s back as he hovered above a building. “Nope. But if we want a chance, you need to try.”

I gulped back my fears, and closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. I nodded. “Okay.”

Then, I released my arms from around Tony’s neck, and landed semi-gracefully on the building’s roof, tripping towards the edge. I gave a thumbs up to Tony, who flew up to the Quinjet. I peered over the roof and watched as Captain America fought Loki below me.

My heart pounded. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” I mumbled to myself.

“You know what to do.” I heard Tony say through my earpiece, which he had stocked me with.

I nodded, and watched as he helped Captain America. “Make your move Reindeer Games...” I said quietly.

I grinned, and stepped back, getting a running start, before leaping off the roof, and actually sticking the landing, right in front of Loki, next to Tony. On the trip down, I had pulled out my handgun. I pointed it right at Loki, as he used his magic to remove his armor and helmet, putting up his hands in defense. I smirked, and tilted my head lowering my gun.

“Good move.” I stated, finishing off Tony’s line. He moved his head to me for a moment, before looking back at Loki.

“Yeah, what she said.” Tony said.

I grinned in triumph as the Quinjet made a shaky landing. “Mr. Stark.”

“Captain.”

Steve glanced at me. I pointed to myself quickly. “Uh, I’m [Y/n].” He looked at me skeptically. Steve and Tony then seized Loki by the arms, and dragged him towards the Quinjet. I stood by their side, walking towards it with them, smiling.

“Hi.” I said, mostly aimed towards Loki. He glanced at me emotionlessly.

Tony looked at me. “Kid, don’t associate with the murderer.”

I crossed my arms. “Yeah, yeah. I know things remember?”

“That doesn’t make you invincible.”

We reached the Quinjet and climbed inside. Natasha glanced to me. “You got a kid involved in this?”

“Yeah, a lethal kid.”

I pulled out my knife and spun it in the air, giving Natasha an innocent smile. She raised an eyebrow whilst looking over her shoulder at me. “Yeah, okay.”

I stood up and went over to introduce myself, slightly still giddy. “I’m [Y/n] [L/n].”

Natasha looked me up and down quickly, before offering her hand and smiling. “Natasha Romanoff.” I took her hand and gave it a single shake. She quickly went back to flying the jet, as I moved back and sat next to Loki. He kept eyeing me suspiciously, and I just gave him a glare. He really was terrible in this movie. I could hear the Avengers talking, but I wasn’t really paying attention. I was waiting for the lightning and thunder.

Then, I saw the flash of light. I smiled, and smirked towards Loki who looked to me then back outside.

“What’s the matter, scared of a little lightning?” Steve asked.

Loki looked back outside. “I’m not overly fond of what follows...”

I stood up. “Guess that’s my cue! Thor will be here soon, so watch out for the bang that will happen right about-” Then, Thor landed on the top of the Quinjet. I sent my finger to point to the ramp as Tony opened the door, now adorned in his helmet again, Thor landing majestically on the open ramp and grabbing Loki by the neck. In a flash, Tony, Thor and Loki are outside.

Steve is looking at me with wide eyes. I shrugged. “I told Tony already. I know things. And I can’t tell you how till we get back to the Helicarrier. Now, let’s go get that God.” And with that, I grabbed a parachute and ran out of the back of the jet, letting out a loud scream of joy as I fell.

I fixed the Parachute onto my back and right as I was about to hit the trees, I pulled the rip-cord and was flung into the air. I slowly descended into the forest, and once I landed, I threw my backpack off, and leaned against a tree as Tony blasted through the trees with Thor. I stood unfazed.

I watched their exchange, slightly bored of the situation. “Don’t insult him, he’ll throw his-” I sighed as Tony got thrown into a tree by Mjolnir. “Hammer.”

I watched as they continued to fight, letting out a yawn. Finally, Captain America showed up. “That’s enough!” He yelled. “Now, I don’t know what you plan on doing here.”

I glanced between the trio, worriedly. “I’ve come here to put an end to Loki’s schemes!” Thor exclaimed. I sighed.

“Then prove it! Put down the hammer.”

“Uhm! Yeah, no! Bad call! He loves his hammer.” Tony warned.

“I’d listen to him if I were-” And then Thor knocks Tony back. I winced before quickly ducking as Thor slammed his hammer down onto Steve’s sheild, creating a loud boom that sent shockwaves crashing through the forest. I pressed against the tree I was leaning against, which was now lying on the ground. I quickly stood up. I surprisingly didn’t have many scratches on my body.

I wheezed as I walked to the trio. “Guys- I tried to tell you- Thor’s a God for a reason-” I mumbled.

Steve glanced at me. “Are we done here?”

I nodded. “Yup. I’ll go get Loki.”

“Ah, ah.” I glared at Tony.

“Uh, yeah, yeah. I know him better than any of you do right now, even Thor.” I said.

“No, you don’t.” Tony argued. I rolled my eyes.

“We’ll see about that.”

I ran up the hill to Loki. “Loki!” I yelled, rushing to him and grabbing his arm. He jolted away from me.

I narrowed my eyes. “Dude, don’t.” He pulled out of my grasp. I groaned. “Don’t make this hard.”

I pulled him up. He towered over me, and it took all my strength to not fangirl out. But this wasn’t Tom Hiddleston, this was Loki, who was pretty damn evil right now.

I dragged him towards the group, and shoved him harshly to Tony. “How did yo-”

“Ah, ah, ah! Don’t question my abilities.” I smirked.

Tony frowned.

Pretty soon we were back on the Quinjet and headed right to the Helicarrier.

“So, how exactly did you know all of this was going to happen?” Steve asked. I smiled. “I guess you’ll just have to find out when we get to the Helicarrier. I can’t tell you unless all of us are there.”

“All of us?”

I shrugged. “Tony Stark, otherwise known as Iron Man. Check, we have him. Steve Rogers, also known as Captain America, you’re right there. Natasha Romanoff, or Black Widow. She’s right there. Thor Odinson, the God of Thunder, yep, he’s there,” I pointed to Thor. “All we need is Clint Barton or Hawkeye, and Dr.Bruce Banner, alias, the Hulk.”

Everyone looked at me shocked. Maybe I shouldn’t have spilt all that information. “How do you know us all?” Tony asked.

“Again, I’ll explain it after we get everyone back. Well, not Clint, cause he’s brainwashed but...” I whispered the last part, whilst glaring at Loki. He obviously heard me, because he smirked. It honestly freaked me out so freaking much.

I looked back out the window, ignoring the creeped-out glances I received from almost everyone onboard.

Soon enough, we had landed on the Helicarrier and I was walking into the large room with all the computers and shit. I looked around awkwardly, as Loki’s voice boomed through the speakers before turning around. I looked at the people working the computers as Loki’s voice stops. I hopped in a chair and looked around.

“He really grows on you doesn’t he?” Bruce asks. I winced.

“Loki’s gonna drag this out.” Steve paused, and looked to Thor. “Thor. What’s his play?” I stopped paying attention and ended up yawning by the time Bruce started talking.

I looked over my shoulder, waiting for Tony to come through the door. I grumbled, leaning back in the chair.

I tuned out, and stood up, wandering aimlessly around the room and disturbing the workers. I leaned over a few shoulders, and then skipped around the room.

When I came back, the Avengers were still preoccupied. I leaned against the wall again. Then, Nick Fury walked in and I stiffened. Ever since Captain Marvel, I couldn’t get over his eyepatch. I looked away as he glanced to me.

“Why’s there a kid in here?” He asked.

“She’s a friend.”

Fury glared at Tony. “She’s a teenager.”

Tony shrugged. “So?”

Nick quickly dismissed it, and I followed Bruce and Tony to “help”.

On the way there, I squeezed between them. “Isn’t this fun?” I asked. Tony shook his head.

“The earth is in danger. So, no.”

I frowned. “You’re no fun.” I looked up to Bruce. “Hi! I’m [Y/n].”

Bruce tensed. “Uh, hi.” He looked away. “Why are you here again?”

I looked towards Stark. “Tony’s my supervisor.” I smirked.

“No, I’m not.”

I shrugged. “Pepper found me, but she’s not here, so it’s you!”

Tony sighed in annoyance. “Ugh, you have no limits.”

“Nope!”

I laughed as we entered the lab-like room that the blueberry scene took place. I stood around for a while, until my favorite scene came.

“Blueberry?” I raced over plucking one from the bag and stuffing it in my mouth. I hadn't eaten at all in the past day...

I ignored the rest, even the fight. It was almost like they didn’t care I was standing there. I was completely okay with everything, up until my sudden impulse interrupted Tony and Bruce.

“Do you guys know anything about inter-dimensional travel?” I blurted out.

The pair eyed each other, before looking back at me. “Well...I guess I’m telling you now...dammit!”

I growled to myself.

“I’ll tell the others later...it just would have been better to tell everyone at once...I’ll make sure to.”

Tony looked at me, confused.

“Do you wanna know how I know all about you guys?” I asked. I took a deep breath. “Well...I think I travelled dimensions.”

Bruce stared at me wide eyed. “What do you mean?”

“The me from this dimension lured me onto a roof, and I thought she was trying to kill me, because she pushed me off...I should have died. But, instead, I woke up on the side of the street in front of Stark Tower, a fictional building.” I looked down.

Bruce looked to Tony, worried. “Where I come from, the Avengers were created by an awesome dude named Stan Lee. He created comics...and they turned into movies. And everything that has happened so far, aside from me, has happened in the first Avengers movie. I know everything there is to know about the Avengers. In my world, you aren’t real, and the year is 2019...4 Avengers movies came out. Aside from the individual movies for the superheroes.”

Both scientists were staring, wide eyed. I gasped. “Oh no, did I break you?!” I asked.

“You can’t seriously expect us to-”

I frowned. I pulled out my phone from my back pocket. “This is an iPhone XR. It came out in 2019.” I opened the phone and searched Marvel. I showed everything that came up, including the movies. The pair looked completely astonished.

“But-how?” Bruce asked. I sighed.

“I was hoping you guys could help. That’s why I came...plus, I figured I could help you.” I shrugged.

Tony looked to Bruce, then back at me. “We’ll help you.”

————

Just ask, and I’ll tag you in the next update! :D

Sorry if this update was a bit rushed. I was irking on low battery and under a time-limit. The next one will be more detailed!

Tags:

@amillionworlds

@ewitsceleste

@ximaginx

#tony stark #iron man #bruce banner #hulk #loki #thor #steve rogers #captain america #natasha romanoff #black widow #avengers #avengers x reader #nick fury #avengers x teen! reader #dimensions #dimensional travel

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fandom-smut-shots · 4 years

Note

Hello! Is it possible that I could have an NSFW alphabet with Finn from Adventure Time? Thank you and I hope you are staying safe during this pandemic!

Thank you for your concern! I hope you’re staying safe as well!

So Adventure Time requests, for future reference, will be written with a sort of modern twist in mind, so they’ll have like cell phones and sex toys and things.

Oh! And the reader will default to female unless you specify otherwise, because body parts are kind of a crucial detail for sexual encounters.

Also, third time is evidently the charm! I tried to write this twice, with minimal inspiration, but my browser kept crashing and deleting it. I sat down this time and wrote out everything, with longer answers than I had previously! Woo!

A - Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

It takes him a little bit to to get a rhythm down, but he’ll soon figure out the gentlest way to clean you up and hold you so that you’re not too sore. If you want, he’ll draw you a bath with bubbles and a bath bomb and climb in behind you to massage your head and back while you relax.

B - Body Part (their favorite body part of yours)

Your fingers. He completely loses his mind to feel your fingers dancing across his chest or feel them tangling in his hair.

C - Cum (Anything to do with it)

He’s not usually easily embarrassed, but his inexperience causes him to shy away at times, so he tries to make as little mess as possible. He’s very clean after sex, disposing of condoms and towels and anything else that was used as soon as his legs allow him to stand again.

D - Dirty Secret

He saves every single thirsty text and naughty photo you send to his phone, for private use later on.

E - Experience

You’re his first awww.

F - Favorite Position

Sitting up or laying back while you ride him. Holding your hips so he can thrust in time with you, pressing kisses along your neck while your hands tangle in his hair, gazing into your eyes and watching your face contort when you climax.

G - Goofy (how serious are they in the moment)

Boy’s a goofball, come ON. He’s giggly and uncoordinated and it takes a few tries to align himself with your entrances, but once he’s inside you he’s a whole new Finn and you better hold on.

H - Hair (how groomed are they)

He never really cared about that until you came along, so now he tries to keep himself shaved (or at least trimmed) because nobody wants a noseful of pubes when they’re trying to go down on you. speaking from personal experience

I - Intimacy (how romantic are they)

He tries his hardest to be a romantic. He lights candles and throws petals on the floor and sets a playlist of “mood music” to make you comfortable and content. Sometimes the petals are wilted and the candles burn out and the playlist acquires a stray rap song that disturbs the ambiance but you usually don’t mind.

J - Jack Off (masturbation headcanon)

When he’s alone for too long, that’s when his collection of photos and texts come in handy. He prefers to actively text you while he strokes himself, but if you’re busy, he’ll make do with the naked pictures he saves to a locked photo album on his phone.

K - Kink

Bondage. Surprised the hell out of him, too. Tying you down. Being tied down. He loves it either way. Relinquishing control to you was a bigger turn on than he ever anticipated.

L - Location (favorite place to have sex)

Your place. Jake has interrupted one dozen too many times for him to even want to get down and dirty at his house. If he’s gonna love you like you deserve, you’re gonna be secluded the entire time.

M - Motivation (turn ons)

Seeing you in lingerie is an immediate mood changer. Lace especially - cupping your breasts, lining your lower lips, and if you found some crotchless panties, heaven help you.

N - No (What will they absolutely not do)

Any sort of pain play. No knives, blood, whipping. He doesn’t want to risk hurting you.

O - Oral (skills, prefer giving or receiving)

He gets shy about receiving, but he’ll cave if you really want to. And honey he’s a master at giving. Boy’s a people pleaser, so he’ll listen to every single thing you tell him to do to make sure he’s flicking his tongue or sucking your clit just the way you like it.

P - Pace (slow and sensual, fast and rough, etc)

Slow and sensual, usually. He likes to take his time warming you up, stretching you out, making love to you rather than just fucking you.

Q - Quickie (how they stack up against proper sex)

This is where just fucking you comes into play. If you’re busy and don’t have time for the full endeavor, he can work quickly. He’s good with any kind of sex, really, if he gets to be with you. He’ll rip off your panties and fuck you against the wall before you have to go somewhere.

R - Risk (do they like to experiment)

He’s willing to try anything you want to do, but he’s hesitant as everything is new to him and he doesn’t entirely understand ball gags or unconventional positions.

S - Stamina (how long can they last)

Long rounds, but not many of them. He makes your orgasm last for hours, but he can only fuck you a couple of times a day.

T - Toys (do they like/use toys?)

If you want them, you’ve got them. He likes getting you off with his own tongue, fingers, and cock, but if a vibrator or something else will make your orgasm stronger, he’ll give it a shot.

U - Unfair (how much they like to tease)

If he’s feeling playful, get ready for edging. He learned that he loves hearing you beg and whimper, and the tighter you’re both wound, the more powerful your climaxes are.

V - Volume (how loud they are)

He was quiet at first, but the second you told him you wanted to hear him, the whole ass land of Ooo could hear his moans. Boy is loud. And high-pitched. And a little whiny.

W - Wild Card (random dirty headcanon)

Sports hickeys with pride. He won’t point them out, but if someone happens to notice, he preens like a peacock. “Oh, this? Yeah, my girlfriend did that. Isn’t that great? She’s really hot.”

X - X-ray (what’s in their pants)

Size doesn’t matter, baby - it’s how you use what you’ve got. He’s not partciualrly large or thick, but he can rock his hips like no other.

Y -Yearning (how high is their sex drive)

All day every day. He can distract himself with missions and adventures and whatnot, but if he’s left to his own devices, he’s thinking about you, thinking about fucking you, thinking about sneaking out to your place.

Z - ZZZ (how quickly they fall asleep)

At night, he falls asleep pretty fast. Pleasing you is a workout, okay, and he’s a tired boy. If it’s during the day, it pumps him up, and he usually needs a fuck or at least a handjob to go to sleep.

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scroll-the-adventurer · 4 years

Text

Hmm, good changes.

So now I can’t disable endless scrolling (which always crashes my browser), I can’t open reblog in a new tab, and I can’t open permalinks in a new tab. Any reason Tumblr thought removing more usability was a good thing?

Because making new tabs of things to reblog is super helpful when you don’t want to stop to write a post that second, but you want to remember to comment on that thing when you have time. And opening permalinks in a new tab is really helpful when you need to do stuff like reference different posts, or if I need to put something on my other monitor to look at while I write something. At least I can copy the link, manually open a new tab, drag it to my other monitor, paste the link and I’m there, but why not just let me center click things like I’ve been doing for years?

The more I use this, the more I realize I hate endless scrolling. When I had pages I could just switch tabs and do something else, then come back and continue browsing my dash. Now I have to close the tab because everything lags like hell if I don’t close it. And if I have to close my browser or shutdown my pc, I lose my place and have to scroll through hundreds of posts to find where I was. Great. I guess I’m just not going to use Tumblr for consuming content as much as I used to and it’s all going to be about making posts to my sideblogs from here on out. I haven’t even checked to see if this update messed up anything with making content...

@staff

#tumblr #update #staff

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callsignbaphomet · 4 years

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10 Qs!

Tagged by @lordfenric (tysm!)

1. Do you have an OC that’s basically a version of yourself?

I....do actually. I've said it a couple of times and then I get embarrassed and then delete the post. Anyway, he's a version of myself AND a version of myself I wish I was. Ya know, my ideal self. He also filled another role which I haven't had the need to put to use as hard in a very long time which is a good thing I think. He's grown, evolved, matured as I have. Any changes to him are pretty much things I've changed about myself. Basically he'll always be a WIP because I'm one too.

2. What is your favorite type of scene to write?

Ooh! Many scenes! Fight scenes are super fun! Love me a good gun fight. I think I like more dramatic and emotionally charged scenes. I think I'm pretty good at those and suspense filled scenes. Not to be mistaken for horror though.

I know it wasn't part of the question but my least favorite are sex scenes only because I am HORRIBLY TERRIBLE at them. For real. I've tried my hand at it numerous times but it sounds disingenuous and like I'm trying way too hard. I really suck at them. Got a bunch of half finished files of n///sfw stuff that I never finished because I just think I did a terrible job at it. Maybe I'll upload 'em for a laugh one of these days.

3. Do you write cliffhangers?

No. I don't like them. I think they're like jump scares in horror movies. Just cheap ways to get the reader's attention.

If I ever leave a chapter on a cliffhanger it was not intentional. Much less would I leave a story on a cliffhanger.

4. One word or phrase that you think you overuse (but probably don’t):

I overuse the word however way too much. Probably another one but can't recall at the moment.

5. Least favorite thing about writing?

Editing. Gods above I haaaaaaaate editing. Mainly for two reasons: I always think the sentence/paragraph/chapter coulda been better executed. Second reason is I waste a shit ton of time second guessing my choices in words. Listen, you don't need to tell me my vocabulary is at kindergarten level. I KNOW it is. Most times I feel like shit about it and waste even more time with the browser on dictionary.com looking for synonyms for words to replace them with so it doesn't look like a 5-year-old just tried to write a weird espionage (idk C called what I'm writing that and it's stuck ever since).

6. How much prepwork do you do before writing if any? (outline, scene breakdown etc)

Far

Too

Much

I overthink it to death.

I have my plot, characters, locations and everything that goes into it. To the point of what weapons everyone will be using and why. I take a crash course on the locations, the culture, languages, take an unnerving amount of screenshots on Google Earth. Check stores and hours of business. Traffic, population, day to day activity. Check the history of the location and a refresher on what happened in the years where the story takes place. Find ways to translate the local language. Weapons! I check their history, when they were made, if they're still in service, what ammo, they're strengths and flaws, manufacturers. Same goes for the gear they wear. Why are the antagonists there. What do they want and how do they get it and how can they succeed. Should they succeed? Should they fail? Why? What motives they have. What the history and origin of the mythological creature(s) are involved is.

Take all I just said and triple the amount of work if I make up a town or city for the sake of storytelling.

Tl;dr a lot.

7. Do you use any visuals to help you with writing? If so, what?

Nowadays I have to. I don't know, I think my brain is broken or something and I can't concentrate like I used to. I can see and hear the scene in my head like a movie and I can repeat it as many times as needed but as soon as my fingers touch the keyboard I draw a blank and lose direction. I've actually resorted to doing storyboards of scenes and rough sketches of buildings so I know where to go, why and what for. I've turned all my sketchbooks into storyboards.

If there's hand to hand fighting or with bladed weapons I watch some videos on YouTube or wherever I find them and write down what I see and later edit it well.

If I was any good at it Legion would be a comic instead but I'm no good at it. So I gotta resort to writing and even then I heavily question my ability to do so. I know I'll get something written and finished someday but boy is it frustrating.

8. Is there magic or new technology in your WIP? How did you come up with it?

Yes. Both but mostly magic. I'm kinda working on implementing more technology. I do also combine both magic and technology. One example is a small sphere made of plastic that can easily break. Place it in your mouth and bite into it. Inside is a light pink mist that feels like a warm liquid (also minty sensation) that travels through your body. It's a combination of adrenaline, pain killer and healing aid. Won't magically mend broken bones, remove bullets or revive the dead but it'll help in ugly situations. There's also laser weapons that run on crystals. So long as the crystal has energy you got ammo then just recharge the crystal and you're good to go. There's some more tech but that's for another time.

The only magic I've made up for this is Astral magic and its counterpart and it's been a bitch trying to balance it out but I've gotten there.

Portals are also a thing I added in.

Honestly I really wanted to add magic. There's supernatural stuff in it anyway so might as well go all the way. I just come up with these out of wanting it there or to fill a role.

9. What are you currently reading?

Nothing. With my attention span I'm lucky to get to the third page. Last book I bought is still in a drawer gathering dust. Was a Tom Clancy I believe.

10. What would you like to see more of in Fantasy novels?

Wouldn't be fair to make demands for a thing I don't partake in now would it. Don't read anymore honestly.

Tagging: no one but if ya wanna give this a go then go right ahead.

#tag game

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tessatechaitea · 5 years

Text

Text Adventure Review: “Border Zone”

The main reason I'll probably need to pause the game is to masturbate when I meet the sexy double agent and type, "Fuck sexy double agent then fall asleep".

In the picture above, try not to read the three chapter titles because there's a spoiler in the third one that says "The Assassination." I'm going to forget that's a plot point and start playing "Chapter 1: The Train" because Marc Blank suggested that's what I do. CHAPTER ONE The protagonist (that's you! The person you play in the game! Or it's me! I'll probably go back and forth using first and second person pronouns so please don't be confused by my amateurish writing style) is just a regular non-spy person who does a little importing and exporting across the Iron Curtain. This game is from 1987 so nobody remembers what the Iron Curtain is anymore. It really wasn't that important anyway, at least not to those of us living on the Western side of it and never had to really think about its implications on the people trapped on the Eastern side of it. Am I supposed to have enough time and compassion to worry about the state of other peoples' worlds when I can barely keep my world from disintegrating?! If you want Levi's, people dumb enough to be born in countries annexed by the USSR after World War II, maybe you should have thought about that up in heaven when God was asking you what uterus you wanted your soul implanted in! Idiots. The train story begins, as all good espionage train stories do, with a probably dying secret agent breaking into your compartment to hand you the documents that will stop the assassination if only you can get them to another secret agent by responding to a coded phrase with a coded phrase of your own. I think I've practically got this part of the game won! Except I've forgotten both of the phrases already. I should probably restart and make a note of them, right? Okay, I've figured out what the secret agent will say to me and what I have to respond and I've even translated the sayings into Frobnian because I understand how Infocom games use their non-digital printed material as copy protection! Somebody without the phrase book that comes with the game wouldn't realize that the American agent is telling you the English codes but his contact is Frobnian! I'm so far ahead of Marc Blank right now he would say something like, "Whoa! That guy is super far ahead of me! And totally not a virgin." As an experienced business man who has dealt with border control for my entire business life (the fictional me in the game! What, you think I actually work for a living?!), I know that I can't just keister the document. The searches at the border are brutal. And I don't have a fake mustache so I'm flummoxed already. Plus the wounded agent left a big blood spatter on the floor of my cabin. So to even make it out off the train so I can meet my contact, I've got to clean up the blood and figure out what to do with the document. The blood was easy but to keep the document, I had to get caught a few times to figure out where the evil trench coat wearing man's interrogation weaknesses lay! Or lie (I knew I should have phrased that differently. Stupid lie/lay is worse than who/whom). Because apparently even if you flush the document down the toilet underneath a huge nervous stomach shit, the border patrol will dig it out and bust you. So I cleaned up the blood by doing all of the boring and inane steps like turning on the faucet and wetting the towel and turning off the faucet and scrubbing the floor and returning to the bathroom and flushing the towel. In Infocom games, it isn't enough to just tell the protagonist to clean up the blood and then, like a normal adult human being, the protagonist would think, "Oh yeah! I know how to do that! Let me get right to it!" I guess Infocom games are less about ordering some jerk around and more trying to pretend that you are that jerk and that that jerk is kind of stupid. After cleaning the blood, I had to figure out what to do with the document. No matter where I tried to hide it, border control sniffed it out and traced it back to me. So the only thing to do was to tear it up and shove it up my ass! I mean throw it out the window. But that meant I couldn't complete my mission which really wasn't my mission anyway and why did I care if some ambassador was assassinated?! I didn't ask for this responsibility! It's not my fault if somebody dies today. It's the fault of the clumsy American agent who got himself shot, stumbled upon a useless dolt to complete his mission, and then fell off the roof of the train! I should just throw the document out the window and get on with my life! And maybe I will! But before I did that — you know, just in case my conscience berates me continuously for the rest of my life — I figured I should probably keep some photographic evidence of the document. After doing so, I couldn't help worrying about how there was another picture left on the roll of film and I was probably going to have to completely restart this stupid game when I realized I needed to take one more picture before removing the film and hiding it up my ass from the border patrol. Stupid Infocom games always have me worried that I'm in a walking dead with a roll of film up my ass scenario! Being the super chill American businessman turned spy kind of Lothario I am, I totally and easily complete my new mission and probably fuck a hot double agent too! But not the young girl I handed the roll of film to! The double agent was probably older than that!

I know this screenshot is different from the previous screenshot! But the Apple IIe copy I found crashed when you examined your clothes or photographed the document. And the Commodore 64 version seems to think people who play Infocom games are already wasting their lives so why not make every move take an interminable amount of time. So I wound up playing the browser MS-DOS version on Archive.org.

For an Infocom game, that first chapter was simple! All you had to do was act like a boring idiot who totally wasn't involved in political espionage at all and you succeeded! I bet every nerd who tried their hand at this game beat Chapter One. But the next chapter will be different because the player takes on the part of the American spy! What greasy nerd knows how to act suave and sophisticated and super sexy? I mean aside from me! I was born to play this role! CHAPTER TWO You begin the story of the American Spy after he falls from the roof of the train. He claims he jumped for it but when I was the businessman, I know what I saw! I'm a clumsy oaf! I mean he's a clumsy oaf! No, wait. I guess I am the clumsy oaf! And I'm not clumsy at all! I totally jumped for it and looked hot doing it. Now I just have to survive the freezing weather and try to get past the border patrol or else I'll die out here in the ... BORDER ZONE! Hopefully I'll also get another chance to fight my rival Viper to the death! Ew, I'll show him! Or her! Or not! After playing this chapter for about ten minutes, I realize it does every single thing I don't like in text adventures: time limit, characters that go about their business while you're off in other areas, and a puzzle that relies on knowing so much about the timeline that you have to play the scenario dozens of times to work it all out. I feel like I've got the gist of what you have to do (although I'm probably wrong on one key point because I haven't played more than a handful of times) but I'm not sure I'm willing to keep at it. After you bail from the train, the border guards begin searching for you. So you've got some guys in a vehicle driving around and a pack of dogs (not to mention the searchlights and fences at the border) hunting you down. Early on, you have to get to a small house because it has a parka in it to keep you from freezing to death. You have to time this with when the guards arrive to talk to the owner so he's distracted while you sneak in the back. There might be more to do inside the shack other than gather up all the crap in the storage room but, as I mentioned, I haven't really explored the scenario yet in multiple ways. As a spy, you have an explosive pen on you. It has a timer which means I have to figure out how long to set the timer for and where to stick the pen to get something further in the story to happen. I feel like I have to stick it on the guard's automobile so that it explodes near the border, distracting the guards at the spotlights so I can make a run for the other side. Realizing that that might be the solution is what has really made me dread continuing with this game. Another puzzle is to get the dogs to stop following you. I'm fairly certain you do that just by putting on the work boots and trudging through the swamp a ways before leaving the swamp in a new location and leaving the boots behind. If there are any other puzzles (aside from staunching your bleeding gun shot wound), I haven't found them. I suppose the biggest one is sneaking about to get the pen on the guard's car and figuring out how long to set the timer for. Do I want to bother with that? I feel like that's the big puzzle that allowed Infocom to tack on hours and hours of gameplay to Border Zone. Because now I have to follow the car around to see where it goes and how long I'll need to set the timer for and where I'll need to be when the pen blows up. I have other things to do with my life, Marc Blank! I mean, they're not very important things. But they're things I'd rather be doing than messing around with the timer on my imaginary explosive pen! I'm not cut out to be a spy, especially when that spy has to know things he couldn't possibly know on the first playthrough of this game. Does Marc Blank know how real life works?! Oh, your argument is that this is a game and not real life and that maybe I should chill out about it?! Well if this game is a game and not real life, why the fuck does everything keep moving along even when I'm not entering any commands?! Who wants to play a text adventure like that?! Even Bioshock doesn't demand that kind of effort out of the player. Bioshock is the only other game I could come up with. It isn't even a fair comparison. If Border Zone were a first person shooter, I'd absolutely finish this chapter! I could see the guards moving and physically hide from them. I could observe how everything moves in the game by following them around. But in a text adventure, it's fucking impossible. Sure, the game tells me if the dogs are to the north or the west. But when I'm hiding behind the shack, it sure would be a lot easier to figure out what I'm doing if I could see the guards interacting with the owner of the shack and milling about searching the premises! I don't think my imagination is good enough to handle this bullshit tension. I'm so fucking stressed out right now!

Apparently you can get close to the border without doing any of the stuff I previously mentioned except stealing everything from the storage room.

It doesn't seem like I've done enough before getting to the border but I guess I should explore this area a little more before writing Marc Blank a letter about how terrible some of his decisions were early in his career. I suppose I need to use my explosive pen here to blow a hole through the fence which I won't be able to climb through because the guards will hear it. Unless I time the explosion to blow when both guards are at the same spot, killing them? Then can I rush through in the chaos?! Figuring out the answer to that means doing math, I bet! That's because you get a timer and a little ASCII display of the guards' motion as you watch them. This is way too hard! I miss the Infocom days when you could just type "kill thief with sword" and hope the random number generator gave you a good result. Once you get through the fence, you can climb up a guard tower where there's a bolted ladder leading up to a locked door with a guard inside. But even if you can hide on the metal bit bracing the ladder, knock on the door, and shove the stupid guard off of the tower, you still can't jump across the border from the top of the tower. You just wind up dead. Which is when I thought, "Hey! I need the exploding pen for this part! I bet I can just climb over the fence and save the explosives for this scene!" And I was almost completely and absolutely right except for a few small details which would have frustrated the fuck out of me if I hadn't gotten completely lucky on restarting Chapter Two to try out my new solutions. You see, there's a small shed in the forest near the shack. A small shed that is almost impossible to find due to my apathetic attitude toward mapping Border Zone and the way every location is described as "You move 100 yards north and find you're still in the snowy forest. What did you expect, jerk?!" Sure, the shed has been drawn on the map that came with the game so that people who actually purchased Border Zone would have explored long enough to find it. And I have access to that map because everything is free on the Internet. Right? Am I making a terrible assumption there? Um, anyway, when I restarted, due to not having mapped, I couldn't remember exactly how to get to the shack before the guards got there. While stumbling around lost, I found the shed with the rubber gloves and bolt-cutters inside. And like in most text adventure games that aren't Infocom, the main puzzle was simply finding the right items where they were hidden. Because as soon as I found the bolt-cutters, I knew I had this chapter beat. What I didn't know was that the border fence I'd previously blown up to get through was electrified! Luckily, I had found the rubber work gloves right there with the bolt-cutters. Marc Blank practically gave that puzzle's solution away for free! Idiot. He should have hid the gloves somewhere in the forest where you weren't ever clued in to dig in the snow. That's more like a proper 80s text adventure! Of course, that's not Infocom's way! Infocom wants you to succeed! They want you to realize you wasted the pen explosive and needed a new solution where you use the pen to blow up the tower so that it falls over the border fence with you inside of it! But at least in the actual solution, you still get to push that stupid Frobnian Nazi off of the tower. Eat snow, grumblebutt!

I'll accept my Champeen of Infocom crown now.

Chapter Three The first two chapters were way too easy for Infocom games so I'm really nervous about this third chapter. Have I just gotten more brilliant as I've grown older or did Marc Blank save all of his dreadful Infocom ingenuity for this final chapter?! Hopefully this chapter doesn't have dozens of NPCs whom I've got to track across multiple playthroughs just to figure out where I should be every minute of the scenario. I really do prefer text adventure games with static environments that simply react to the things I do. I'm already stressed out thinking about my race against the clock to save the ambassador! Remember when I didn't even care if the ambassador died during the first chapter?! Why am I suddenly invested in saving that asshole?!

In this chapter, I'm the sexy double agent!

The sexy double agent is also — and this is a huge spoiler for all you Infocom fanatics who just haven't, for some reason, gotten around to playing all of the Infocom games — Viper, the man in the trench coat trying to get the documents back from the importer/exporter in the first chapter! If that's the case, you'd think I could just go to a coffee shop and hang out for the rest of the game. If I'm trying to stop the people trying to stop the assassination, then can't I just stop trying to stop those people so they can stop the assassination?! Maybe if I just hit "z" and "enter" until this chapter ends, everything will work out for the best! Seventeen in-game minutes later, the ambassador has been shot and killed. What the fuck?! How incompetent are the American spies? I guess that's why I'm a double agent. Because I'm double the agent all of these other jerks are. I guess I need to get to work saving the day all by myself! If only that stupid American businessman had given me the documents, I could have saved the day myself. Except when I did get the documents in Chapter One, the game still ended with the ambassador getting assassinated. I should just get on with saving the day already. I bet when I'm done, I'll run into Topaz (that was my secret agent name in Chapter Two, apparently) and we'll share a deep, passionate kiss. I do run into Topaz chilling at a coffee shop exactly like I was planning to do!

I guess Topaz doesn't feel the same way that I feel about him.

Topaz is probably still important to the story, so I decide to leave him alone for now as I got about my double agent business of stopping the assassination that I put into place. It's actually not too hard to do if I don't mind sacrificing the rest of my double agent career. I meet my contact, learn the sniper's password, figure out what window he's sniping out of (by checking the apartment directory, you just have to find which eastern facing apartment is empty on the fifth floor (maybe other floors at time but it always seemed to be the fifth floor on my multiple restarts), and go shoot him in the back. But that puts a lot of suspicion on you and you wind up pushing papers in Siberia. Better to trick Topaz into stopping the assassination! I guess that's why you have to save his life in Chapter Two. To do that, you have to get him to chase you back to the sniper's nest without getting caught by him or the local police. At one point, you get to push over a hot dog vendor's cart so it really feels like you're in an action movie and also that you're a fucking prick. Once you lead Topaz back to the sniper, the difficult part was not also being killed by Topaz. After making him a huge hero, he kept shooting me in the face because he's a huge bastard whom I wish I never helped cross the border now! At first I thought, "Well, this is an Infocom game. It was bound to get difficult at some point! And I guess one or two moves away from completing the game is as good a time as any to get stuck." But then I thought, "Well, even though the sniper doesn't let me move or do anything, and the sniper's apartment is completely bare, maybe I can try to hide so Topaz doesn't fucking murder me when he kicks in the door?"

Oh fuck. Easy as that, was it?!

And with that final move to hide in plain sight, I fucking defeat Marc Blank! You stupid son of a bitch! You thought you were so clever, didn't you? "Oh, look at me! I'm an Infocom imp! I write the hardest text adventure games in the world and I only mattered for like four years in the mid to late eighties because I hitched my star to the most boring entertainment ever! Only stupid virgin assholes would keep playing the games I wrote, the dumb bastards!" Hey! Fuck you, Marc Blank! How did that Marc Blank imaginary soliloquy get away from me so badly?! Anyway, suck on this, Marc:

Seriously though. I can't believe I beat this game without any hints. I'm fucking chuffed.

SCORES Game Title: Not great since it basically drove me away from this game for years. I suppose if you're into espionage stories, it's a great title because it's so evocative of crossing a border! That's like the hardest challenge in the espionage genre! I think. I'm not a fan so what the fuck do I know? My favorite espionage movie is Run, Lola, Run. Does that count as espionage? I guess that's more heist fucks time travel while fingering romance's anus. Puzzles: As far as modern day Interactive Fiction "rules" go, the puzzles in Border Zone are terrible. Nearly all of them rely on playing through and losing dozens of times to see how the NPCs react to different situations. It's the only way to learn how they behave so you can act accordingly. But compared to a non-Infocom game, the puzzles were generally satisfying. Because of the way the game works, I'm not even sure some of the things I did were solutions to puzzles or just wasting my time. Did I have to go through the swamp to lose the dogs or could I have just done everything quicker? Were there alternate ways to solve puzzles or were things like the binoculars and the wood saw in Chapter Two just red herrings? Generally, once I saw the way the other characters reacted, it was long before I figured out how to thwart them. I believe Marc Blank was relying on some puzzles to be difficult due to the player losing track of the story. Like in Chapter One, you can get all the way to the end and still get caught when you try to pass the documents to your contact because you were wearing the stupid white carnation the entire time. But once you realize you seem to have done everything correctly and some guy on the platform is still following you, it's not hard to realize you need to not stand out and to keister that stupid flower until you actually need it. Gameplay: Fucking annoying. I hate adventure games where the story continues no matter what you do. I hate timed adventure games. Border Zone decided not only to use those two aspects I hate but to invent a third one that — Hey! Guess what?! — I hated even more: time passes even when you're not typing! Is there a word that means both "innovative" and "Goddamned fucking annoying as fuck"? Whatever it is, Marc Blank should copyright it. Graphics: Normally for a text adventure, I'd say none and be done with it. But this one did have graphics! It had a little ASCII bit to show two guards marching around the base of three towers! And it absolutely did nothing for me because the dumb guards barely even notice you when you cut through the fence silently instead of blowing a huge hole in it. Hell, even after blowing a hole in the fence, the idiots keep to their regular patrol only slightly more alert due to hearing an explosion. Concept: I think I more than adequately covered my apathy toward the concept. I will compliment Marc Blank for his work in making a game about a really stressful experience into a really stressful experience. Good job, jerk! Fun Time: I keep forgetting to track the amount of time it takes me to play these games. Maybe I'll get better at it eventually. But I think I spent maybe six hours (at most. I might even drop that to four or five) playing this game over the last week and a half? I did think about it more than that though. But not a lot more. And the third chapter which I thought would be dreadfully hard took the least amount of time of all. Probably not even an hour. The good news is that the amount of "fun time" I had with this game is equal to the amount of time I played it. That doesn't often happen. Usually the "fun time" gets expended quickly and I force myself to trudge through the rest of the game, adding the experience to the long list of things I'll regret when a doctor finally says to me, "You have three months to live due to your malignant finger cancer caused by typing."

#Border Zone #Text Adventure #Infocom #Marc Blank

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the-astro-ace · 5 years

Text

Merlin Writer Month - Week 4: All Time Faves

Alright, y’all, the moment you’ve been waiting for: My favorite fics for week four of @madaboutmerlin’s Merlin Writer Month.

Now I know over this last month, I have been notorious for posting ridiculously long rec lists apparently even crashing some browsers- SORRY- BUT this time, I shall limit myself to my top eight (because I tried to do top five but HNNNG THERE ARE TOO MANY GOOD ONES) that I have not previously mentioned on any list (because many of my fave fics I also recced for Rare Gems week)- so I HIGHLY recommend you go scour those lists as well- if you want anyway lol

So, without further ado-

MY TOP EIGHT MERLIN FICS

NUMBER EIGHT

A Fistful of Infinity and Starlight by junkshopdisco

Pairing: Gwaine/Merlin, (Semi-Unrequited) Gwen/Arthur Pendragon, Gwen/Lancelot

Rating: Explicit

Words: 63191

Summary: Uther’s insane, Morgana’s plotting a new assault on Camelot, and Arthur and his knights are clueless but supposedly in charge. In the midst of it, Gwaine finds himself harbouring feelings for a man who apparently has a destiny, and learns something new about magic: it doesn’t play fair, and serving it shakes everything you hold dear – whether you’re a sorcerer or not.

My Comments: It’s a musical. I’m not kidding. Sadly there is no actual music written for it, but I feel that the characters have a very realistic reaction to walking through the hallways and suddenly finding your friends singing at you lmao

NUMBER SEVEN

Five Slices of Life by Wildcard

Pairing: Gwaine/Merlin

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Words: 1541

Summary: Or 5 chocolates from a chocolate box sampler! All set within the same reincarnated modern AU as my other fic for enviropony - basically 5 drabbles that belong within that verse and fill prompts that were listed in the letter.

My Comments: Literally just five short little pieces about Merlin and a reincarnated!Gwaine. Short and sweet, and makes me smile every time I read it

NUMBER SIX

Have You Ever Seen The Rain by AkakoDukes

Pairing: Gwaine/Merlin, (Mentioned) Guinevere/Arthur

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Words: 1052

Summary: "Of course he would have been here, hidden amongst the grass..." Merlin goes looking for Gwaine. Shameless fluff.

My Comments: The description is right: “shamless fluff.” Cute, sweet, and just leaves me happy lmao

NUMBER FIVE

Real Men Don’t Wear Girdles by HalfFizzbin

Pairing: Gwaine/ Merlin, Guinevere/Lancelot du Lac/Arthur Pendragon

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Words: 12730

Summary: If Gawain and the Green Knight took place in the Merlin universe, it might have been a tiny bit different—because there's no way Merlin would let Gwaine traipse off on his own to get his head chopped off. Includes attempted alliterative verse, bawdy songs, evil deer, made-up spells, clichés, and a truly insane amount of fluffiness.

My Comments: OKAY, THIS FIC- I LOVE IT. THE WRITING STYLE IS GREAT AND SARCASTIC AND THE SEQUEL LEAVES YOU HOPEFUL FOR WHAT IS TO COME FOR THE FUTURE OF THE CHARACTERS. I have laughed aloud every time I’ve read this because it is also QUITE FUNNY if you ask me. A wonderful take on Gawain and the Green Knight that I feel fits very well into the universe of Merlin.

NUMBER FOUR

Author: tymedfire

Usual Pairings: Gen

Usual Rating: General Audiences

My Comments: Alright, something different for number four. Now this author is great. I have loved every single one of their fics- so much so that when I was compiling this list I was unable to choose just one to rec lol. A gen author who explores Merlin’s friendships with each of the characters in turn. I HIGHLY recommend their stuff!

NUMBER THREE

The Water Witch and the Black Dogs by Tipper

Pairing: Gen

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Words: 65320

Summary: A little tale of evil hags, black dogs, missing princes and estranged siblings, not necessarily in that order. When Gwaine accompanies Arthur, Merlin and the knights on a diplomatic mission to Mercia, he becomes an unwitting participant in a power struggle for Bayard's throne.

My Comments: Now, I actually found this fic just last week and I sincerely wish I had found it sooner; I always adore Gwaine centric fics, and this one takes the cake. With wonderful exploration of family (of both the blood kind and the found kind), BAMF!Merlin, BAMF!Gwaine, and giant puppies (...okay, they only appear once BUT THEY’RE STILL THERE), this fic was one that I couldn’t stop reading and has a very satisfying conclusion after everything that happened, both in the characters’ pasts and for the events of the fic itself.

NUMBER TWO

Along a Wandering Wind by Hope

Pairing: Merlin/Gwaine, Lancelot/Gwen/Arthur

Rating: Explicit

Words: 63401

Summary: Just when Gwaine finds a reason to end his roaming, he must leave Camelot again, this time on royal orders. Whether and how he returns may depend on the secrets Merlin—and others—are keeping from him. (A romance of letters, intrigue and knightly apprenticeship, set post-S3.)

My Comments: Epistolary form is a weakness of mine, and this fic does it beautifully. Another Gwaine centric fic in which he and Lancelot are sent to Essetir to claim the land for Camelot following Cenred’s death. Wonderful exploration of Merlin and Gwaine’s relationship and how a long-distance relationship might have worked in their universe. It also beautifully handles many LGBT themes (including a canonical trans character) and I found myself emotionally connecting with the characters in a way that no other fic really had before. This one is great and I adore it as well <3

Alright...the moment you’ve been waiting for...

NUMBER ONE: MY FAVORITE MERLIN FIC

Hello, Sweetheart by ViridianJane

Pairing: Merlin/Gwaine

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Words: 44182

Summary: Gwaine and Merlin have been dancing around their feelings for years; Merlin too focused on trying to thwart destiny, and Gwaine holding back in fear of losing what they already have. But the battle at Camlann comes too close to taking everything from them. It’s a second chance for all of them, and Gwaine confronts Merlin about magic, love, loyalty, and (surprisingly) dragons. But the fight for peace is not over yet: Arthur has yet to change the laws on magic, and his ignorance and hypocrisy provokes a group of rogue druids into taking action. They’ve placed a curse on the land, and Merlin is the one suffering the consequences. Thus ensues a quest: Arthur, Gwaine, Merlin and Aithusa travel to four locations with close ties to magic in order to break the curse, and on the way, Arthur begins to right his wrongs and finally takes the time to listen to what Merlin has to say.

My Comments: This. This right here is a beautiful fanfiction. I have reread it at least ten times (twice in one day, actually!) and have cried nearly every time (I was in class the one time I didn’t. So.) I have it downloaded on both my laptop and my tablet, and I even tried to get it on my phone because I LOVE IT THAT MUCH- AAAAAND I’VE PRINTED IT OUT (after spending hours fixing up the file in Word because the PDF download is a liiiiiiittle skewonkous). Merlin and Gwaine’s relationship is beautiful, and I positively adore them and Aithusa together (Gabby, you’ve ruined me for Gwaine & Aithusa stuff- I need more and there’s barely any lmao). Gwen is beautifully characterized as well, and I feel that this fic is a wonderful conclusion to the show. It may also be what I have accepted as canon instead of the finale but that’s just me. If there is one fic on this list that I say you should read, it’s this one, because Merlin and Gwaine finally get the happy ending they deserve.

And with that I am finished! A thank you to the mods who ran this fest, and a general wish that I’ve helped you all find some great reads ^u^

#merlinwritermonth2018 #Merwaine #Merlin BBC

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drizzitwrites · 6 years

Text

Football RPF Challenge: Day 4 - Arguing

Today's prompt is arguing, which is good because in this fic I've been trying to get done since July I have to write a lot of scenes where there's an undercurrent of tension between Christian and Vincent which eventually culminates into a pretty serious argument. I've never really written them so much as disagreeing let alone actually angry at one another, so this fic has been a challenge for me to complete because I think I'm worried it will either not come off strong enough OR it will come to a head too early OR it will be over-the-top and completely overblown, so I've been creeping along in fear that I'll somehow not execute it the way I want to.

That's ridiculous, of course, because as long as I write it out it can be as overblown (or underwhelming, I suppose) as it wants to be and I can edit it when I'm done to give it the right resonance. It's a pretty important argument and this fic is sort of a turning-point/lynch pin in their relationship and how things will be in the future, so I'm putting a lot of pressure on myself to get it exactly right on the first try, which is honestly just a recipe for never actually finishing anything.

So...I'm going to write the scene out here and let it progress how it progresses and do my best to not worry about how it's coming off and trust that I can fix it later. We'll see how that goes. Wish me luck, I suppose.

Also...SPOILER ALERT! There is no way I can write this scene without giving away A LOT of what happens in this fic I'm writing (which will hopefully be out sometime this year still) so if you don't want to spoil that fic and read what will essentially be the turning point and climax of that entire work (and everything that I've set up so far) then probably don't read this since I'm not planning on holding anything back.

Also...I’ve been working on this for three hours now and the end of it keeps not going where I want it to go, so I’m admitting surrender for now and I’ll leave it where it is and fix it sometime later. So...I didn’t get to the MAJOR blowout part of the argument and probably this still needs context even within the scene, but it’s what I’ve got for today.

Laaten we gaan...

"I'm off to bed," Christian said, sticking his head around the corner into his spare room where Vincent was still curled on his sofa, laptop open and resting on his thighs.

Vincent shifted, angling the screen away from the door so Christian wouldn't accidentally catch a glimpse of what he was doing.

"I'll...sleep in here again if you don't mind," he responded, not lifting his gaze from the screen.

Christian said nothing, still lingering in the doorway, and it was all Vincent could do to not look up and meet his eyes.

Maybe he should give in. Ask Christian if they could somehow rewind the past two days and start over. Vincent still had no idea what he'd done to prompt Christian into keeping his distance and pushing Vincent away, but if Christian wasn't ready to give him more than short answers and vague gestures on top of his pointed looks and intentionally hurtful words, then why should Vincent try?

He'd been trying for two days, and all he seemed to be doing was making things worse somehow.

Christian stayed there for long moments, and Vincent swore he could feel his eyes boring holes into the top of his head, but he held his ground. If Christian could be stubborn and hurtful then Vincent could too. It was childish, he knew, and, honestly, he was a grown adult, but he had no idea what to do any more and the most Christian had given him to go on was a heavily implied "I wish I hadn't come back to London." Sadly, at this point Vincent couldn't say he didn't feel the same.

If Christian wanted a holiday, a break from London and Vincent--wanted to hide himself away somewhere else while Vincent bounced around Christian's too big house waiting for someone else to decide where his life would go from here--well, Vincent couldn't say he understood, but...

Without warning, Christian shifted around the doorway in a soft rustle of fabric and the swish of socks against the bare floorboards, then dropped down onto the sofa. He still kept a careful distance, lingering closer to the side nearest the door than the side Vincent was curled into, but it was the closest he'd voluntarily gotten to Vincent for at least a day, which was something, Vincent supposed.

Still, he said nothing.

And if he was waiting for Vincent to speak, well...what was there to say, really.

Silence. Threatening to fill up the space and crush them beneath its weight and Vincent couldn't stand it any longer.

"Maybe you're right," he said.

Christian spoke at the same time, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry for earlier."

Vincent jerked his head up from the screen.

Christian was tucked in tightly to the opposite corner of the sofa, his shoulders narrow, his entire body curled into itself. He wasn't looking at Vincent, instead focusing on the sofa cushion's worth of space between them.

"You're...oh," Vincent said. "That's...oh."

He could have let everything go with that--nodded and accepted Christian's apology just like that. Maybe that was all it would take for them to move forward and forget whatever had been driving a rift between them ever since Christian had arrived back in London. Then again, maybe it would just be more days or weeks or even months if the club dragged their feet in the transfer window and for whatever reason Christian would just keep pulling farther and farther away until Vincent decided to look for somewhere else to stay until he could be on his way across the world once more.

Or, maybe, if he opened up the distance between them on his own terms he and Christian would at least go back to the way they were before all of this started. It wasn't what Vincent wanted, of course, but he'd rather be able to call Christian a friend rather than...whatever this was. A former teammate who he'd fallen out of touch with once he left the club. Someone he used to know way back in a different lifetime.

"I've been thinking," he said, shifting around on the sofa to angle his screen towards Christian, although still careful to keep his distance. Christian was still drawn and tight like a nervous cat ready to flee at the slightest movement, and Vincent didn't want to scare him away before he could pitch his idea.

Christian didn't speak, but he did at least raise his eyes to look towards Vincent and slide the tiniest bit closer to his side of the sofa.

Vincent slid his computer off his lap, thankful immediately for the loss of heat and the feel of seemingly cooler air rushing over his skin. He set it on the sofa and nudged it towards Christian, motioning for him to take it.

He flicked a questioning look at Vincent, but pulled the laptop towards him and moved another few centimetres towards Vincent.

"What is...?" Christian asked, staring down at the screen and clicking through the multitude of open browser tabs before once again turning questioning eyes to Vincent.

"You wanted a holiday," Vincent said. "So...I don't know. I thought of some places you might like to go and I thought I'd look into them for you. I didn't know if you'd do it on your own and I thought..."

Questioning eyes now narrowed, Christian slid back away from Vincent, shoving at the laptop and nearly sending it toppling off the edge of the sofa. Vincent only just managed to hook his hand under it in time to save it from crashing to the floor.

"What?" Vincent asked, and the word came out harsher than he'd intended, filled with forty-eight hours of tiptoeing around and holding himself in check and wondering exactly what the hell he'd done that made Christian resent his very presence from the moment he'd stepped through the door.

Christian had invited Vincent into his home. He'd given him a space in his life physically as well as emotionally and the second Vincent turned up to claim that space, Christian had begun shoving him out of it.

"What do you want from me, Christian? Honestly? Tell me what you want and I'll do it, I just...I don't know what to do. I've spent days now trying to make you happy and nothing I've tried has done that and I don't know what else there is so please just tell me and I will do it because right now I just do not know."

He dropped his forehead and rested it against his closed fist, his elbow propped up on the arm of the sofa. His face burned hot and the corners of his eyes stung. Blood pounded in his temples and he could feel a headache threatening to linger at the corners. He forced himself to close his eyes and relax his jaw and at least try to breathe.

Christian, of course, said nothing.

Vincent didn't know why he'd expected anything different.

He concentrated on his breath, doing his best to ignore the fact that Christian sat a metre away staring over at him after he'd finally let out a fraction of the thoughts that had been spiraling around in his mind all weekend and had nothing to say in response.

Breathing under control, heartbeat slowed to a dull thud instead of a roaring in his ears, he shifted around to wipe discreetly at the corners of his eyes and sat up.

Deep breath in, hold it, and let it out slowly.

Once more.

Then again.

On the final out breath, he turned back towards Christian.

"I don't...know what to say. I was thinking about what you said earlier. To Ben. About taking a trip. And I thought maybe that might be good. If you went away somewhere and you could relax and regroup before the season."

"Why would you think that?" Christian asked, his voice measured and flat, that carefully controlled tone he used when he didn't want anyone to know he actually had emotions.

Vincent shook his head. "Maybe because you've clearly been unhappy ever since you arrived home. I don't know why. I thought it was just that I sort of sprung a surprise party on you and you were tired but then today at Ben's...it just seemed like you wanted to be anywhere but here."

Christian huffed out a sharp breath of laughter. "So you thought the solution was, what...to plan me a surprise holiday? Sure, Vincent, that's clearly the solution here."

"Well...you're not exactly being clear on what the solution is, so..."

"There's no solution, Vincent. I told you, it's fine." Christian shrugged before looking away from Vincent once more, eyes now focused on the floorboards at his feet, a telltale sign that he was pulling back and closing up once more--stuffing his emotions back down into the box of repression he stored them in.

Other people might fall for that act, and on another day Vincent might have let it go--shaken it off and let things go and taken whatever Christian was willing to give. If Christian was willing to pretend everything was fine, then Vincent would pretend right along side him and they could go on forever and ever never talking about anything important.

"Sure, Christian," Vincent said. "Clearly everything is fine and no one is having any feelings."

"Flikker op," Christian said, shaking his head and shoving off the sofa. "You sound like Toby. And I don't mean that in a good way."

"Is there a good way to mean that?" Vincent said under his breath. He must not have been as quiet about it as he'd thought he was because Christian spun around to face him.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Oh. I see. Who's keeping things from people now?" Christian asked.

"I was trying to help," Vincent said, holding both hands up in front of his face in a gesture of resigned surrender. "You won't actually speak with me about things so I have to go off of what I can hear from other people. You told Ben you'd think about a holiday, so I thought--"

"You thought you'd just plan me a trip to Amsterdam so I can reunite with my ex? We can shop for a flat together and pick out furnishings and do all those things we never got to do the first time around in our relationship. Hey Daley, now that I don't utterly loathe you anymore, why don't we give this another try?"

"No. I just...you said you wanted to go, so...if that's what you want."

"Is it what you want?"

"Since when does anyone care about what I want?"

They both went silent at that, neither of them daring to move, Vincent's words hanging heavy in the air between them. They stared at one another, each waiting for the other to make the first move.

Christian spoke first, his voice back to measured, controlled calm. "What do you want, Vincent?"

And there it was. Serves you right, Vinny. You set yourself up to get asked an impossible question that you don't have an answer for.

What did he want?

#football rpf #football rpf challenge #30-day challenge #30-day writing challenge #christian eriksen x vincent janssen #writing #november writing #drizzit writes #thoughts on writing and life

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