#*|| .・。.・゜MISSION ACCOMPLISHED ・゜・。.ANSWERED

[j1nx-l0v3r]

Winged!User

Wings of Zaun -Pt.5

Jinx was smug the entire way back.

She skipped ahead, hands behind her back, humming to herself like this was just another fun night out.

Meanwhile, you—

You could still feel the weight of your knife in your hand. The phantom sensation of the almost-kill.

It should have been you who finished the man.

But it wasn’t.

And now, Silco would know.

Jinx didn’t seem the least bit worried about that. If anything, she looked pleased.

"You’re overthinking it, angel," she sing-songed, glancing back at you. "The guy’s dead, mission accomplished, all that good stuff. What’s the big deal?"

You exhaled. "The big deal is that Silco sent me to do this. Alone."

"Yeah, yeah, technicalities." Jinx waved a hand. "I was just helping."

You stopped walking. "Jinx."

She skidded to a halt, tilting her head. "Whaaat?"

"You weren’t supposed to be there." Your voice was quieter now, but firm. "You disobeyed Silco."

Jinx blinked. Then— She grinned. "So did you."

Your stomach twisted. "That’s not—"

"You didn’t kill him," she cut in, her voice teasing, but her eyes sharp. "You hesitated."

You clenched your jaw. "I would’ve done it."

"Mmm-hmm." Jinx rocked back on her heels. "Guess we’ll never know."

Your fingers twitched at your sides.

She wasn’t wrong. And that was the problem.

"Look," Jinx sighed, stepping closer. "Silco wanted you to get the job done. We got the job done. Who cares how?"

You swallowed. "He will."

Jinx’s grin didn’t fade. "Then let’s go find out, shall we?"

[🐋.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.]

He was seated at his desk, eyes shadowed, fingers drumming idly against the wood.

Sevika was standing off to the side, arms crossed. She glanced at you and Jinx as you entered, then looked back at Silco.

Neither of them said anything at first.

Then, after a long pause—

"I sent you alone."

His voice was quiet. Controlled.

But there was something underneath it.

You knew that tone.

It was the one he used before things turned ugly.

You squared your shoulders. "The job is done."

"Is it?" Silco exhaled a stream of smoke, his gaze shifting to Jinx. "Funny. I don’t recall sending two of you."

Jinx smirked, dropping herself into a chair with a plop. "You didn’t."

Silco’s eyes flickered back to you. "Then why is she here?"

You hesitated. But before you could answer—

"Because I saved their ass," Jinx interjected, stretching her arms above her head. "Duh."

Silence.

Then—

"Saved?" Silco’s voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to.

The weight of the word alone was enough.

Jinx grinned, completely unbothered. "Yup! Angel froze. I stepped in. Boom, headshot! You're welcome."

Sevika sighed loudly from the corner. "Shit."

You bristled. "I didn’t freeze."

"Sure felt like you did," Jinx teased. "I mean, you could’ve done it, but—"

"Enough." Silco’s voice cut through the room like a blade.

Jinx shut her mouth, but the amusement never left her face.

You, however, stiffened.

Silco leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk.

"I gave you this job to prove yourself," he said, slow and deliberate. "To show me you belonged here."

Your stomach twisted. "And I did."

"Did you?" Silco exhaled smoke, watching you. "Because from where I’m sitting, it seems Jinx did it for you."

You clenched your fists. "That’s not what happened."

"Then what happened?"

You opened your mouth—

But you didn’t know how to answer.

Because the truth was—

He was right.

You had hesitated. You had let Jinx take the kill. And now, you weren’t sure what that meant.

For your place here. For you.

Silco watched you for a long, heavy moment.

Then, finally, he leaned back. "It seems we still have work to do."

Your breath hitched. "What does that mean?"

Silco exhaled. "It means you’re not ready."

Your stomach dropped. "But—"

"You’re still useful," he continued. "But not as a killer. Not yet."

He tapped his fingers against the desk. "Until you prove otherwise…"

He met your gaze. "You can stay with Jinx."

You froze. Jinx perked up. "Ooooh, so I get to keep them?"

Silco didn’t look at her. "For now."

Jinx beamed. "Best decision ever."

Your heart was pounding. "And if I refuse?" you asked.

Silco arched a brow. "Then you leave. And you are no longer my concern."

Jinx’s grin immediately vanished. "Wait, what?"

Silco ignored her. "Choose."

You inhaled sharply.

Leave. Or stay.

It wasn’t supposed to be a hard decision.

But as Jinx turned to you, gripping your sleeve with silent panic—

You knew it wasn’t just about you anymore.

The silence stretched.

Jinx’s fingers clenched your sleeve, her grip tight, desperate.

You could feel her pulse racing—whether from anger or panic, you weren’t sure.

You looked at Silco. His expression was unreadable, but his patience was not infinite.

This was a test. Another one. And you knew the answer he wanted.

Your body knew nothing but orders. Nothing but following.

You swallowed hard.

"I’ll stay."

Jinx lit up. "Ha! Knew it!"

Silco only nodded. "Then prove you deserve to."

His gaze was sharp, assessing.

"Because right now?" he exhaled smoke, his words a blade against your skin, "you’re just a pet."

The words hit hard.

Jinx snapped. "They are not—!"

"Enough," Silco cut in, dismissing her anger like it was nothing. His eyes stayed on you. "You want to be more? Show me."

You clenched your fists.

Jinx was still fuming, but you could tell—this was already over.

You had made your choice. And now?

You were stuck.

Because Silco wasn’t going to ask again. He was going to make you.

And whether you liked it or not—

You were his now.

Jinx tugged at your arm, grinning again. "C’mon, angel, let’s go! We got so much celebrating to do!"

You exhaled.

And followed her out.

𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎, 𝙼𝚈𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙲𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚊𝚗...

It's been so long...😔

[chaoticrebels]

✩༺♥༻✩ ━ ❝ Pleased with yourself, are you? ❞

✪ 。゜ ⠀ ☆ 。゜ ⠀ ★ Answered » { Loki }

✦ —   * ⠀ / ⠀ 𝙁𝙄𝙇𝙀𝘿 𝙐𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍 ⠀﹕⠀ ❪ @hopestanding ❫

It was just another mission, just this time it was more risker. Given his current target was the god of mischief, which many would probably rather not attempt such a foolish thing. But the elf was a risk taker in his own right, reckless to the core so of course he wasn't going to back down from the challenge. Yet the fact that Kimo had managed to sneak up on Loki of all people, well that only made him smirk. Even more so when the prince managed to capture the other prince, and bring him somewhere more private. The thing was he didn't know who hired him. the mission came from someone anonymous. All he knew that he'd find out soon enough when they came to collect the male, although realistically he knew that there was a chance that it was the god of mischief was the one who hired him for whatever reason he may have. And given how easy it was to capture him, he almost wanted to assume he was.

And the more the male waited, the more positive about that assumption. Yet since he hated making assumptions, he carefully made his way over to the other. Although when the elven noticed that the Asgardian was already awake, he couldn't help but to smirk. Even more so when Kimo heard the words Loki had spoken.

❝More than pleased, hard not to be when I managed to capture the god of mischief.❞ He voiced in a language that he knew the other would understand. ❝Which I must say, I thought you'd put up more of a fight. And that leads me to wonder, should I be pleased with myself for pulling of such a risky accomplishment or was this your doing in the first place?❞

[daedalcs]

do you have any writing tips that you swear by?

rando asks || always accepting

-- So something I learned in a writing workshop at summer camp when I was like 12 is this: If you’re feeling that you want your writing to be more impactful don’t feel like you need to use more words. Use at least three of your five senses. How does it sound? What does it feel like? Can you smell it? Does it taste like something? What does it look like? That in it’s self gives your writing a more impactful presence because it immerses your audience more.

An example because y’know I like to show that it works!

The front tire of her bike hit the pot hole and she flew over the handlebars landing in the gravel with a crunch. Laurie already starting to cry for her mother watches her bike skid to a stop.

So cool, gets the point across right, but you don’t really feel the fall you get me? Like we’ve all fallen and scraped something or fallen off a bike before so put that in there, make your audience feel like they just got thrown off their bikes.

Front tire catching the pothole Laurie’s heart jumps into her throat as her inertia is pushed forward over the handlebars. Sharp pieces of gravel bite into her palms and forearms as the girl tries to break her fall, tasting pennies as her teeth clack over her tongue. Hot tears are already welling in her eyes as the girl hears her new bike clatter to a stop next to her on the path.

Y’eouch right? Like you can feel this little girl really just took a slap to the face by this path. But you see how that in and of its self made the whole excerpt longer, so if you’re struggling to match length or whatever in a reply and what not think about the scene a little more and what’s really going on and how that bodily effects your character.

and remember it doesn’t have to be flouncy words either. Hot, sharp, and clatter are all good words but if you want some other options @grandzealot showed me this website that is honestly the best ever. 

[daedalcs]

[ for fallout ] hc + home

pieces in a bigger puzzle || accepting

“Mommy!” Carson’s quick little footsteps tear through the sun-dappled grass as Jean glances up from the pieces of the robot that were organized across her worn wooden workbench. Bandaged fingers brush together to rid themselves of imagined dust and debris before she turns and uses her son’s momentum to lift him high. A gleeful giggle comes from the straw-haired boy as he tosses his thin arms around his mother’s neck. 

“Hey, buddy, what’d you and Logan go out and find?” Smiling and waving to the ghoul as he gives them a vague gesture of his hand, the smile looking a little painful on his ridged face. They only had gone to the next settlement over to barter and if Jean didn’t have these turrets fixed for the next raider attack…

She didn’t want to think about that.

Instead Jean felt an overwhelming wave of love for her son, who looked so much like a father that now made his bed underneath warm earth and a swaying birch. Jean’s eyes felt wet as they observed the prize that her 6-year-old presents her. It’s a little toy alien. Mostly unharmed and just a bit dusty. 

Logan had to have planted it for Carson to find because Jean knew for a fact that there were no other children in the next settlement. She’d have to thank him later, maybe find a few of those damn lemon drops he’s always crooning over that were his favorite candy before the war. 

Propping her son on a hip while taking and inspecting the toy alien Jean ooh’s and aah’s an appropriate amount before handing it back to Carson who looked rather pleased with his find. 

“Have you named him? I think he looks like a Grognak to me.” 

“No! Grognak was the barbarian mom! I think he should be called-” little brows furrowing with intensity as he scrutinizes the dead glassy eyes of the toy as if it would come to life to speak and tell them its name. 

“Tommy.” Carson nods resolutely at the name and Jean finds herself smiling. Just as the woman opens her mouth to admire the name her son had bestowed there’s the sharp staccato of gunfire and shouting. Instinctively ducking and clutching Carson tight to her chest, the muffled sound of his alarm pressed against her shoulder Jean looks around quickly.

“Baby, Carson sweetie I need you to crawl under Mommy’s work table okay? Stay there and don’t come out.” Words whispered quickly against the boy’s ear as she squeezes him Jean releases him and watches him scuttle quickly under the surface of the bench tears already streaking his small face. God he looked so tiny crouched there. 

Jean didn’t move far from him, staying there with her back to the table a gauss humming like a wasps nest in her hands. The firefight maybe lasted all of ten minutes and when the all-clear gets shouted into the sunset the woman allows some of the tension to bleed from her body. Turning to retrieve her son from beneath the heavy wooden workbench Jean turns to find.

Emptiness. 

Emptiness?

No no no that’s not right. Her mind stalling like a needle skipping over a cracked groove in a record. The same word suddenly echoing around in Jean’s head. 

Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone-

“Carson?” Jean’s voice trembles as she clambers under the worktable herself as if there was a secret passage he just slipped through. He had to be there. He had to be! She’d had her back to him the whole time! Heard the little whimpers when the gunfire got too close! 

“Carson!!” Jean shrieks standing up feeling the tears hot against her face as panic takes hold like a barbed fist around her chest. Breath coming out in gasps as wild eyes search everywhere.

“You let him get stolen. You did this Jean.” Turning so fast that it makes her light-headed Jean comes face to face with her husband. Rot had melted his once handsome features and that straw blonde hair is clumped with dark mud. A pale maggot crawls from the hollow socket of his cheek –

                      __________________________________________

Eyes snapping open as a loud grief soaked scream tears from Jean’s throat the woman jolts up in the bed, hands batting off an imaginary attacker. Yet when the hot prickles of fear and panic ebb in the cold chill of the cabin Jean is left with the raw gaping black abyss of her sadness.

Gasps of breath turn into body-wracking sobs as the tears soak her cheeks falling to wet the ratty woolen blanket that had been wrapped around her. Hugging knees to her chest to attempt at keeping her body from ripping apart at the seams with her sobs Jean stays like this for what feels like hours until it’s all gone. Reduced to a hiccuping empty husk. All that emotion bled out of her leaving her cold and alone in this dusty cabin so far away from that workbench.

So far away from the sun, the warmth of a home that she’d made for what was left of her family. 

Shakily standing from the bed and barely hearing the dull creak of protest it makes Jean has to hold onto the wall as she hobbles to where her pack sits, her thick canvas coat draped over it. Falling to her knees beside it numb fingers root through the pockets of her coat before pulling open an interior pocket. Inside a toy alien is nestled and so reverently taken from its warm home.

Cradling it in her lap in dead hands that barely felt the cool plastic Jean watches as her own tears drip to its surface and roll off like it was crying with her. Crying for her. 

[daedalcs]

youre in the military? disgusting unfollowed

-- there’s always one. lmao bye, block me too while you’re at it homes.

[daedalcs]

[cardiomnis @ harv] Send me “❧” for a memory that brings them anger

memories || not accepting

“I was a kid.” A snort of bitter laughter that puffs grey smoke as the cigarette is taken from between her lips and ash is flicked off the end. For a moment a distance gaze falls on her fingers that held the smoldering menthol.

“I wasn’t a kid really, maybe... twenty, nineteen? A little older. I’d stopped being a kid when my mom died. Dad made sure of that one.” A hand draws over her face after the filter is flicked away onto the wet pavement. The last drops of rain from a storm that had lashed Gotham still keeping most people indoors. 

“Being so young work didn’t come easy, and I figured that there would be at least one time that I would be stiffed out of a payment. It was the first one though. I was desperate, I was out on the streets and that paycheck had meant everything to me.” droplets of mist were beginning to collect on Jean’s hair catching the yellow dusk-to-dawns overhead and making them glow. The thumb of her metal hand comes to lightly trace along a set of swooping scars that still decorated her knuckles.

“I beat him to death.” Voice tight as her fingers curl into a fist, the scars stretching and showing more prominently. The woman remembers clearly the red she’d seen when that low life thug had just waved her off like she was a piece of garbage. God, she’d never been that angry before. Blood boiling she hadn’t stopped until there was nothing but the bloody pulpy cup of his skull that she had mercilessly beaten in with those brass knuckles that had lived in her pocket when she’d been living on the streets. 

It’d felt good to do it. Some part of her that Jean had been struggling within the two years since the death of her father. A demon that she’d been shoving in every possible dark corner so she didn’t have to look at it. Yet in that moment of desperation is scraped its way out of her. Jean remembers how empty she felt afterward like she’d given into the awful thing that Maxamillion had wanted her to be. 

[daedalcs]

💋

kisses!!! || accepting

Flicking pieces of popcorn at Dante from the other side of the couch as he tried to find the monster flick he’d been raving about for the last few days Jean tried to aim at least a little bit to get them into his mouth. “You said it was on the front page of Amazon D, what gives.” Jean gripes as she rummages in the little draw in the table next to the couch. Coming out of the drawer with a half-full bag of Hershey kisses from Easter the woman makes a triumphant little noise. “You want a kiss?” the red-head snorts with a laugh batting her eyelashes and holding out the candy by its little paper stem. 

[daedalcs]

kiss meme : grand zealot richter or elder maxson

which kiss? || accepting

Jean hisses through her teeth “Wow really making me choose on this?” she props a hand on her hip and thinks for a moment. 

“Richter, though I do like kissing them both.”

[daedalcs]

☠️

A look in the play book || accepting

Standing like a massive muscled statue the bald man looks down at Richter with a frown slashed into an overall unimpressive face. Ice cold blue eyes glint as the man folds his tree trunk thick arms over a barrel chest. His hands are heavily scarred across the knuckles from years of fighting and holding a gun has worn grooves into his fingers. 

“I assume you are here for me yes?” An unmistakeable Russian accent slows his English to a crawl, though those words are chosen carefully as he raises one eyebrow in question. Misha usually was not a man of many words, choosing pensive silence and facial expressions over anything that would be said with words. Not to mention his accent made others think that he could not understand them, or his English was poor. Such isn’t the case.

Misha was a learned man, though not in the college sense. But he knew more than enough to get him through his life, and Yana could teach him everything else about everything else. No, what Misha is concerned with falls within the scope of the Reliable Excavation Demolition, his family, then whatever after that could be dealt with as it came. Yet the job he took as a Heavy Weapons expert to protect and support his family took value above most other things.

Yet the man standing before him would be a problem if he was here to say, kill Misha. That may serve a small problem.

[daedalcs]

                ━━━━━━━━━━ 'cause tragedy thrills me ━━━━━━━━━━

[daedalcs]

i want the k

a kees || accepting

1. hot, steamy kiss.

Body caged beneath Richter’s solid form Jean’s hands grip his shoulder while the other roughly works open the button of her pants. It isn’t until his larger hand closes over her own that Jean’s pants are practically ripped off and cast aside to join the growing pile of clothing strewn about the room. Bed creaking with protest to their movements the scarlet-haired woman loops her arms back around Richter’s neck once more.

Leg hooking the back of Richter’s thigh to bring them flush together Jean can’t help the needy little moan that voices between kisses, lips moving against one another and stealing her breath away. Nails leave little pink lines in their wake as the woman’s hand rakes up his back to earn one of those soft noises from the zealot. Warmth already pooling around the base of her spine Jean can’t help the slow roll of her hips seeking out just a little bit of that friction to stoke that fire even more. 

[daedalcs]

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ 👀👀👀👀

send a star get a headcanon || accepting

Jean’s time in Far Harbor and the surrounding area usually is a place of relaxation for her. Not burdened by raiders or gunners that are vying for her weapons or supplies its a nice place to get away. Her involvement with the Children of Atom is a wonderful by-product of her sticking around. 

While she isn’t exactly a firm believer in Atom she still shows them the utmost respect and will go out of her way to retrieve things that had been swiped from the shrines. More often than not they end up on her trading table and she knows where they belong. 

Figuring out he’s not exactly one for gifts or over lavish things Jean is more one to take better care of the children with things she brings back from the mainland. Taking note of things that they’re running short on or niceties they may not have on the island and bring back a few nice things to give to them. For the most part, they’re more welcoming than Far Harbor.

Honestly Jean does enjoy Richter’s company. They don’t even need to talk to each other, she could just sit there with him and enjoy his warmth and company and it would be perfect enough. 

[daedalcs]

would you have grand zealot richter and elder maxson together?

She actually considers this for a moment with a hum “I don’t think they would do too well in the same room together, but yes. Both of them together would probably be an experience. Though there’s no way in any hell that it would ever happen.” Jean chuckles shaking her head.

[daedalcs]

"I don't like this place."

A slow sweep of the red-hued light that poured from the singular eye of the protectron did little more than throw odd shadows across the abandoned factory walls. Shards of broken glass glitter in the light before being crushed by bootheels as Jean and the Scribe continue into the belly of the slumbering beast. 

Damp concrete walls that stink of mildew and mold hum with the distant sound of the engine that they were here to piece apart and salvage. Fingers adjusting themselves on the stock of her rifle and realizing how hard she’d been gripping the weapon. Their collective breaths puffed out in the chilly air like cartoon speech balloons, though not much is said between the two. And the protectron’s audio processors had been ripped out long ago by looters.

“Yeah, let’s just get what we came here for and get out,” Jean mutters looking around as they come to the yawning maw of a stairwell leading down into the humming darkness. For a moment she thought the shadows a few steps down shifted uneasily with their approach, thick moats of dust swirl in the red light given off by their robotic companion.

Swallowing thickly and feeling the grit at the back of her throat Jean cuts a glance to the Scribe almost motioning for him to go first. However, she wasn’t the one who lost their squad. Jean was here to help and at least make sure he got back alright, maybe get in good graces and score a rather powerful trading partner while they loomed like a shadow over the Commonwealth.

A wave of cold pins and needles crawl up the sides of Jean’s neck and settle around the base of her skull as her eyes made an attempt at making shapes out of the darkness. Nothing good came from those shapes. Testing the first cracked concrete step with the rubber toe of her boot the woman puts her weight on it and feels a crunch of gravel debris then… nothing… 

Though as the two focus on the first few steps they fail to notice the glint of eyes staring back at them from the shadows. And the protectron’s audio processors had been ripped out long ago by looters.

[daedalcs]

❤

big bad ship meme || accepting!

BOLD YOUR CHOICES

Affectionate; Holding hands | Cheek kisses | Hugs from behind | Cuddling | Hand kiss | PDA | Spooning | Shared baths | Whispers | Affectionate texts | Caressing | Stroke hair | No displays of affection

Sex; Shower sex | Wall sex | Neck bites | Oral | Morning sex | Drunk sex | Public sex | Backseat of car | BDSM | No sex

Dates;Picnic | Cinema | Restaurant | Sports game | Hike | Coffee | Museum | Club | Bar | Beach | No dates

Would my character…

Marry them? Yes | No Have sex on the first date? Yes | NoConfess their attraction first? Yes | No Have children/adopt? Yes | No Die for your character? Yes | No Cheat on your character? Yes | No Lie to them? Yes | No | MaybeCuddle after sex? Yes | No

[daedalcs]

> >

“One more.” her words are half lost as a grip on his vest pulls them back together, plush kissed pink lips finding his slightly chapped ones with a hum. They’d stolen away for just a few moments in each other’s company to keep them thinking about one another until they’re able to have more time. 

Most of their momentary meetings are like this, a few quick hungry kisses that don’t quite want to part. Hands either clutched tight into fabric to hold the other close, or too busy roaming and trying to feel the shape and warmth of the body concealed beneath all the armor and canvas. Rough fabric obscuring the soft skin beneath that fingers remember like a fond memory. 

Calloused fingers brush against Jean’s neck then wander across her jawline as the hand that isn’t constantly attached to Richter’s rifle holds her. Absently in a corner of her mind, the trader wonders if he can feel the hummingbird thrum of her pulse in her neck. Soft intakes of breath filling the spaces when their lips part just enough to allow it. 

With her request of one more kiss before she goes indulged Jean gently nips Richter’s lower lip before loosening the hold that she’d had on his vest. Still, they’re close enough to feel the heat of each other’s breath across their faces eyes half open and still in that momentary haze.