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[black-white-and-red-all-over]

Serpentine (Natasha Romanoff x OC) - Chapter One

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SHIELD PERSONNEL C-019831690 RESTRICTED ACCESS: Director's Permission Required ———————————————————————— File Type: Mission Report (102) - Incident Report (67) - Witness' Statement (23) - Personal (56)

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L O A D I N G . . .

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On a dreary night in Brooklyn, Director Nicholas Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D. walks with a stiffness in his step and a grimace on his face.

His dark coat catches the light mist that has settled on the sidewalk with every footfall, spinning it in clouds around his feet that exaggerate their militaristic gait. The director's gloved hands are shoved in stiff, leather pockets to avoid the light drizzle which leaves beads of water rolling down his shoulders. The man's eyes dart from left to right, analysing every movement however slight it would seem to the usual passerby.

Overall, his silhouette emanates an aura of danger that most on the street shy away from.

However, looking closely enough, nearly imperceptible anxiety reveals itself in the stiffness of his shoulders. It is only once Fury approaches the emerald green door of a white brownstone on Carroll Street that he lets his habitual grimace fall and — after one final scan ahead and behind — makes his way to the stoop.

He raises a hand to knock.

As expected, the door swings open before he can touch it to a dimly lit and noticeably empty entryway. The only indication of anybody home is a scratchy record of Guy Lombardo's "Give Me the Moon Over Brooklyn" playing jovially beyond his line of sight.

Although the director quickly glances past the threshold, he seems to anticipate that he doesn't find anyone there to greet him. Instead, it is only the slight creak of shifting weight on wood that alerts him to the presence of his host.

"Lovely to see you, Nick. Boots off and set by the door, coat on the rack. I'll start a pot," calls a dulcet, strangely accented voice from further inside the apartment.

Fury lightly scoffs, but steps through the door and shrugs off his coat anyway. He considers the gun holstered against his hip, wondering if he should leave it at the door or-

"Additionally, you can drop that paranoia of yours. It's giving me a headache," the voice calls once again, assuring him of the decision he should make. "Rest assured that no one with less than savoury intentions walks this street without me knowing about it."

The man rolls his eyes, all the while hanging his coat — holster and gloves, as well — as per her request and making a point of closing the door with a sleeve pulled over his bare left hand.

"I see you haven't looked into the term 'welcome wagon' like I asked," Fury calls back to the disembodied voice, his own touched with a hint of annoyance.

Without any sound this time to signify her nearness, a woman suddenly passes in front of him with a coffee filter in her hand and a smirk on her lips. Her alabaster complexion blends perfectly with short hair too white to be natural, so much so that he almost doesn't notice the equally pale ball python resting at her throat.

"Can't say I have, Nick. Now, I know removing your coat must've been quite distressing, but the boots need to go too. House rules."

Fury glares at her slightly, but nonetheless pulls off his boots. A triumphant edge to her smirk appears as he does, but it vanishes the moment he stands straight and theatrically gestures to his boots, which now sit neatly on a tray by the door.

"Thank you, kindly," the woman quips before turning swiftly into the area to the right of the doorway, gesturing for her guest to follow.

As he trails behind her, Fury isn't surprised to find that the house still reflects her severe appearance. Everything is in some shade of black, white or green, barring a few small accents of a brilliant amber, and every piece of furniture is either antique or meant to look that way. His host is certainly an old soul, though much more literally than most people realise.

Fury eventually settles onto a sofa next to the record player, which has moved on to another song. In the kitchen across from him, the woman begins to scoop coffee grounds into the filter with her left hand, the snake now curled around her right. Against the deep black of her attire and the cabinetry, she and the python seem to eerily glow in comparison to their surroundings.

"Now, milk? Or are we brooding and taking coffee black today?"

Fury sends a look to his host's back, which she holds calmly after gracefully pivoting to meet it. A short staring match later, her opponent relents begrudgingly.

"Milk."

His host's eyes brighten slightly as she turns to finish her task without another word.

In the meantime, the director continues to scan his surroundings. After a moment, his eyes come to rest on the small table in front of him, and something atop it prompts him to raise a brow curiously.

"So... you knew I was coming?"

The woman is confused by his meaning at first, but realises as she approaches the coffee maker that a fresh pot already sits inside of it. She looks perplexed for a moment, but nonetheless exchanges the filter in her hand for a mug. After pouring the still steaming drink, she makes her way to Fury only to notice that milk and sugar have already been laid out as well.

She sets down his coffee soundlessly and takes the seat adjacent from him with nothing more than a shrug.

"It would seem that someone did," she says lowly, a small smile masking the annoyance that lingers in her eyes.

Fury nods slightly. He seems to understand the meaning behind her cryptic statement, but nonetheless continues to eye her carefully.

"And yet, even with a warning, that blasted snake is still here."

The woman's amber eyes snap to his, issuing a challenge that she knows neither of them would like to lose.

"Oh, hush. Trygve is a perfectly respectable snake, and better company than you could ever be."

As if to prove a point, the python -- Trygve -- flicks her tongue and 'kisses' her owner's cheek.

Fury chuckles, crossing one leg over the other and draping an arm over the back of the couch. He's relaxed slightly, a feat not many people could hope to achieve while hosting the notoriously paranoid man. It's a strange look on him, for sure, but a welcome one all the same.

"If that thing is better company than I am, I want to hear it tell a joke. I suppose I could concede to slam poetry if it was really good," he jokes lightheartedly.

In response, the woman teasingly lets the snake glide between her hands and watches Nick's eyes follow it nervously. After a moment, she lets Trygve settle around her neck once again and her guest into his seat.

"Don't worry, Nick, I'm only teasing. Tryg could never compete with your sunny disposition, and while her slam poetry is quite good, I'm not sure her jokes are up to par." Fury's eyebrows raise the smallest bit, sensing something tricky in her compliment. Even so, he knows better than to interrupt. "However, you should still call her by her name. It's rude not to."

"I'm sure the snake is incredibly offended," Fury deadpans.

"Oh, she'll be inconsolable for days. Perhaps you should give her a fuzzy as a recompense?"

The man immediately cringes, but expertly hides it by leaning forward in his seat.

"I am not touching her, nor will I be touching anything that goes in her mouth."

"Too squeamish?" Fury looks mildly insulted, so she happily continues. "You've no problem with shooting a person, but deceased infant mice are too much for you to handle?"

The director puffs out his chest and sends her a challenging glare.

"I don't have to touch people to shoot them. That's how guns work." The woman across from him looks unconvinced and on the verge of laughter, which only gets him more worked up. "I also don't feed those people to snakes once they've kicked the bucket!"

"So it's the fact that it's dead?" she says with a marginally darker smirk than before. Her hand moves toward the hollow of her throat. "It doesn't have to be."

The director instantly points a warning finger at her.

"You are not-" he starts, but stops as he sees her smile widen mischievously. "What exactly are you trying to accomplish here?"

The trickster proudly raises her chin a touch.

"Absolutely nothing. Just wanted to see how long I could get you to talk about your fear of snakes — and rodents, apparently — before you noticed," she says arrogantly, relishing the look of disbelief that appears on Nick's features before he ultimately slips away from his usually calm and collected demeanour.

"Why are you so determined to mock me every time I come into your house? First it was my badge-"

"You weren't looking at the camera."

"-then it was the eyepatch-"

"Now, you can't blame me for that."

"-and now it's my thing about mice. Why I continue to-"

Neither says anything as the blonde proudly leans back in her seat. A pregnant silence ensues, neither party willing to concede, until Fury slowly leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. His tormentor does the same, narrowing her eyes and fashioning her expression into one of mock seriousness.

"Alex, if you say anything about this, to anyone, and I will personally throw your ass out of the Helicarrier."

"Not to worry, director. My lips are sealed," she says cheekily.

Fury tries to decide if she's being truthful or not as she bounces back into her previous position, but his companion — Alex — pulls herself out of her seat before he can decide. She moves to a large terrarium against the wall and carefully sets Trygve inside of it before turning back to see Nick finishing off the last of his coffee. She holds out an expectant — albeit hesitant — hand, but he waves her off and gets up. Instead of letting his host handle the dishes, Fury moves toward the nearest sink and washes out the mug, purposefully using his sleeves to touch the faucet, and carefully sets it on a drying rack.

Alex approaches and rests a hip against the counter, her serious expression noticeably more genuine than before.

"Not that I don't enjoy your visits, but why are you here, Nick?" She asks, her mixed accent warping the words slightly.

The man sighs and crosses his arms heavily.

"Coulson called about a situation at PEGASUS — said that Selvig is having some issues with the Cube. I don't have much more than that, but I figured you'd want to be there when we take a look at it."

She nods, unsurprised by the news.

"I would. I trust Selvig with it, but... my being there would at least provide a safety net if something goes awry."

"My thoughts exactly," Fury affirms, but watches curiously as the woman whom he'd come to know as a friend goes the slightest bit rigid. He takes note of where his hands are and realises that he'd absentmindedly rested one on the counter.

When he removes it and wipes the spot with his sleeve, Alex relaxes a bit and begins moving toward the front door. Fury follows and begins to gather his things.

"Well then, consider my time off interrupted. Just know you'll have to answer to Natasha when she gets back," she remarks stiffly, although some humour slightly slips back into her voice.

Fury, having not considered those particular repercussions of pulling Alex from their little hideout, stops halfway into tying his boots.

"Will she be in a good mood?" he asks.

Alex chuckles in response.

"She's doing a reverse interrogation this time around, so you might get away with your life."

"Good to know." Fury pivots once they reach the foyer, once again stoically staring down into his hosts unnaturally amber eyes. "I'll give you 10 minutes. Car's outside when you're ready."

"I'll be there in 5."

With that, Nick quickly throws a mock salute her way. She returns it with a practised grin and watches him get into a black van. Only when he disappears behind the tinted windows does she shut the door and get to work.

The ghostly girl wastes no time taking several wipes from a container by the door and meticulously disinfecting the doorknob and coat rack, then retreating back into the sitting room to wipe down any and all of the things that her guest had touched. After giving the same ritualistic treatment to the kitchen in turn, she goes to Trygve's terrarium and checks the humidity gauge along with a chart which ensures she's been fed recently.

Once satisfied with the state of the two more pressing rooms, Alex takes a box of tea from the counter and ascends a staircase that hugs the wall of the entryway. Once on the landing, she glides into the bathroom to retrieve a small pouch, inside of which are more wipes, various disinfectants, and gloves. In addition to the pouch, she retrieves a bottle of pills and another case from the medicine cabinet.

With too many things balancing in her arms, Alex next enters her bedroom. After dropping her collection of items and some extra clothing into a leather suitcase, she slides a pair of black gloves onto her hands and makes her way back to the bottom floor. Once there, the woman pulls a small glass rectangle from her pocket which lights up and reveals itself as a high-tech cell phone.

Alex scrolls through her contacts until clicking on one labelled 'Itsy Bitsy', which is settled quite near to the top.

Today 9:54 PM

"Time off interrupted yet again. Heading out to PEGASUS. See you at base."

"O.K. I'll give the boss a pummeling for you when I get back :)"

"Try not to kill him, will you?"

"I make no promises. Be careful <3"

"You too, love. See you soon."

Read at 9:57 PM

A content smile appears on Alex's lips as she grabs a coat from the rack and shrugs it on. Just as she's next slipped on a pair of flats and reached for the doorknob, her eyes are drawn back to her record player. Regardless of the fact that it will stop on its own, Alex walks over to halt the track and slide the record into its case. Once more she almost moves toward the door, but stops abruptly with a conflicted look on her features — after a few moments of pondering, she turns back to her record collection.

It takes a few moments of shifting things around, but she finally pulls out a worn record of Nick DeFrancis' "Fly Me to the Moon" and carefully turns it over to reveal a small note on one edge of the casing.

Still waiting! Love, Howie.

Regardless of the cute nature of the note, not even a flicker of a smile appears on her face. Instead, Alex simply places the gift at the base of her briefcase before turning off the lights and exiting her apartment with haste.

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When Alex eventually spots his car, she looks inside to see a freshly wiped seat and an impatient Nicholas Fury. She slips in and sets the briefcase at her feet while Fury puts the car into gear.

"Thank you, Nick," she says quietly. 

He seems to notice the shift in her mood, but doesn't say anything about it.

"Well I've gotta keep you happy somehow, or you might make the Tesseract blow up on purpose."

"It'd take a bit more than not wiping down a seat."

"You gonna let me know where the line is?" he inquires while blatantly running a red light.

The woman looks over at him with a raised brow.

"Somewhere between running a red and kicking a puppy," she scolds.

Nick simply looks over at her with an innocent smile.

"I'll be sure to stay away from puppies, then. Can't let myself get tempted."

"That's awful."

"I wasn't the one who brought it up!"

Finally, a short laugh escapes Alex's lips as she shakes her head.

"I suppose we can call it a tie, then."

Fury seems to accept that answer, so he turns his attention back to driving. A comfortable silence blankets the air between them. Alex turns her head to look out the window and spots Stark Tower rising above the Manhattan skyline. She wonders for a moment whether the gaudiness of the building truly reflects the character of the man who inhabits it. From what she'w heard from Natasha, it certainly did.

Then again, she has more than enough reason to doubt that.

"So, how was time off treating you before I showed up?" Fury asks, breaking the silence and pulling Alex out of her wonderment.

She sighs somewhat defeatedly.

"It was alright. Very quiet, but I suppose that was the point. Anyhow, it's not getting any less irritable."

Fury grimaces a bit, but doesn't let his disappointment show too much.

"Have you found anything that calms it down?"

Alex thinks for a moment, but Nick can immediately tell that she isn't coming up with much.

"As of right now, very few things. Natasha's started teaching me ballet, and it seems to enjoy her company, so that's a step in the right direction. Other than that, though..." Nick gives her a look, which she returns. "Look, I'm managing it. Not particularly well, but I am. It's proving to be a bit difficult, as per usual."

Alex's eyes flare a brighter yellow for a moment and her attention goes elsewhere. Her eyes roll at nothing in particular.

Nick carefully averts his gaze and sighs heavily.

"What are the chances of you just... talking to it?"

"I do talk to it — I am talking to it — but I won't be giving it free rein until I know it isn't going to react like that every time it thinks I'm being threatened."

"From what you've told me, that's next to impossible," Nick responds carefully.

Alex lets her shoulders drop, discouraged.

"It's going to have to adjust. As much as I know it's only acting on its nature, it can't be lashing out at people that don't deserve it."

She looks guilty — afraid, even — as she says it, and Nick can't help but notice. He grips the steering wheel a bit tighter.

"Alex, I'm gonna be straight with you. I'd like you back in action as soon as possible, and being alone isn't going to make this situation any better."

The girl's eyes widen and her head cocks to one side, imagining all of the ways that the arrangement he's imagining could go wrong.

"As long as it's being this protective, I'm not sure I trust it around people," she says hesitantly.

Nick chuckles a bit.

"The people you spend time with aren't necessarily breakable. I'm sure they could handle a few days of readjusting."

Alex looks out the window once again, contemplating his words. She knows he's been right about most things of this nature in the past. However, there is an ever-worsening sensation in her gut that tells her this might be one of the rare occasions that he's wrong.

She takes a deep breath in and out before settling on a decision.

Don't think this means I'm not still mad at you.

"Fine. But if someone else gets hurt, it'll be on you."

"I trust you won't let that happen."

Unfortunately, Alex knows that his trust means very little to the voice in the back of her head, and it's not at all worried about breaking it.

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A/N: Hello everyone! Please remember to vote and comment if you are enjoying the story, as updates will heavily depend on interest. Welcome to Serpentine! (Note: This is reposted from my Wattpad account. Please do not repost without giving credit or replicate in any way.)

[black-white-and-red-all-over]

Serpentine (Natasha Romanoff x OC) - Prologue

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SHIELD PERSONNEL C-019831690 RESTRICTED ACCESS: Director's Permission Required ———————————————————————— File Type: Mission Report (102) - Incident Report (67) - Witness' Statement (23) - Personal (56)

Load Personal.1a? Yes or No Transcript Available. Display? Yes or No

L O A D I N G . . .

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"Why do you weep?"

She doesn't know how to respond at first.

In some ways, she feels as if gracing him with her voice will give him the impression that she still holds some degree of loyalty to him. In others, an answer feels like the only way she can begin to forgive herself for what is about to happen.

In the end, she keeps her gaze on the green expanse below her and allows her lips to part.

"Earth feels different now than it did."

He gives no reply — only an expectant stare that stains her peripheral vision. Her hands involuntarily begin to stroke her arms, warming a cold that exists only in her mind.

"Among all others in the universe, it might be the planet I learned to love most. At first it was entirely isolated, yearning for a connection to something it couldn't quite reach, and yet... it possessed such a beautiful little spark. It was almost sad to watch, really — their search for life beyond them — but eventually I came to adore their persistence. Humanity is certainly naïve, selfish, violent. If nothing else, though, there is certainly an advantage to their determination."

She smiles softly, almost forgetting the heartless executioner that stands beside her.

"Back then, Earth was innocent of the terrors that lay beyond it. Its people didn't know what others might've given to be that oblivious. I suppose innocence never lasts long enough in the eyes of those who have already lost it, but I really did hope Earth could hold onto its own a little longer. So much of what I loved about it stemmed from that ignorance.

Its introduction to the greater universe began simply — small encounters that turned into stories, stories that turned into legends, legends that inspired gods and religions that they could cling to for comfort in their mortality. It wasn't until less than a century ago that the people of Earth began to truly believe in life beyond them. As expected, they were a bit scared, but so excited and hopeful as well. They almost could've convinced me to be happy for them."

Her smile falls. Phantom breaths catch in her throat as one of many tears carves its way down her cheek.

"These wars have come too suddenly. They have yet to understand where they fall in such a bloody history."

"They need to be shown the truths of their universe. They need to be saved from themselves."

She finally turns to face the man that she hates most in the universe.

"Perhaps, but those truths should not have to come today."

"You can't expect to shield them forever. Not when they have so much to gain from realising the extent of their ignorance."

Her ichor eyes burn into his with a piercing fury that rivals a thousand spears. It almost strikes her as funny that he thinks she could understand — that he truly believes what he is doing can be justified.

A mocking smirk spreads across her otherwise humourless features.

"No. I don't expect to protect them forever, but I've made a promise to do it as long as it takes."

"As long as it takes to do what?"

Her gaze drifts back to the approaching fields below her, and to those she's grown to love so much. What she does next, she does for them. Always for them. Never for herself, she realises, but there isn't time to dwell on that.

She turns her back to the tyrant, squares her shoulders, and prepares to fight for ownership of her soul. Her words are the first of many daggers thrown.

For what, he asks? What had she been waiting for all these years?

"To watch you fail, and turn to nothing but dust in the breeze."

The annihilator's expression contorts into one of solemn betrayal. The woman before him listens with stinging breaths as he clenches his fists, beckoning forth a power that he doesn't deserve to wield.

She closes her eyes.

"I'd hoped I wouldn't have to do this."

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A/N: Hello everyone! Please remember to vote and comment if you are enjoying the story, as updates will heavily depend on interest. Welcome to Serpentine! (Note: This is reposted from my Wattpad account. Please do not repost without giving credit or replicating in any way.)

[black-white-and-red-all-over]

Spun in Spider's Silk (DLD I)

Coriander: an annual herb of the Apiaceae family, colored a bright green and fractally symmetrical, representing hidden worth.

Tansy: an herbaceous perennial plant in the Aster family, colored a bright yellow and blooming in bunches, representing declarations of war and/or hostile thoughts.

---

Though you may not have wondered on it, you should know now that the art of aerial silks is, in actuality, not often performed with true silk ribbons- rather, most are inclined to utilize varying weaves of nylon or polyester for their craft. After all, silk is quite the costly material, and most can only dream of possessing such a quantity as the sport requires.

However, when seen in the hands of a marionette so exemplary of grace and luxury as their Coriander, the pin-striped keeper of Scarlet Fever- upscale establishment for the sinners of their city, as it were- could see clearly that the investment was a worthy one. 

Against the coppery glow of their bare arms and sleek, cabernet jumpsuit, the golden cocoon of wealth which kept Coriander's weight from crashing to the floor sent a message clear as night and day.

Compared to me, you are nothing. You are weak, and poor, and small. I could crush you just as easily with a text as with a gun, for only one so confident in their power could flaunt his prizes so openly.

That was what Coriander was, in the end- a pretty little prize, if only a fraction more indispensable due to the bloody strings attached. Even so, they too could have been thrown aside if they’d not proven to be a useful bit of decoration. Thankfully, Coriander had given their tormentor- Tansy- reason enough to hold them close.

Each night- just as they did on this one- they would pull themself higher and higher into the air, swirling and spinning their way to a deadly peak that onlookers would fear with bated breaths. They would tease them with smaller falls from their carefully woven web before erasing any trace of doubt in their ability with a steady, practiced recovery. The audience would feel relieved- giddy, even- to be reassured of their safety, even though their bodies were not the ones dangling so precariously in the air.

And then, when the simple nod from Tansy registered and an invisible tear had snuck from Coriander's eye, an intentional fall would snap their neck against the cherry hardwood below.

No one would move.

No one would dare. 

The crowd would go quiet, and simply stare at the mangled treasure before them with the same sort of fear that came with a gunshot- the fear of not knowing where it came from, nor who the bullet struck, nor whether it’s target would be blessedly inanimate or just as living as the heartbeat drumming in their own chest.

Coriander's corpse would stare them in the eye one by one, so intensely that those closest to them would be inclined to tilt their heads at a similar angle if only to feel more comfortable with it.

It would only be when their cruelly splintered spine began to hammer itself straight and screams began to burst from behind their displaced jaw would the onlookers sink back into their seats, having finally been relieved of the waiting. 

It was true.

They could not die- not in the physical sense, at least.

And so, all was well.

The crowd would walk away happily once they’d risen from the floor. After all, it was all in good fun, right? Coriander couldn't feel it. They’d all been told that they couldn’t in their invitations. The screams didn’t mean anything.

Really, what was pain after it had been corrected?

In the end, Tansy would smile contentedly as their guests rushed out of the door to avoid the discomfort of seeing their prize stiffly bow, all the while haphazardly praising the show they’d put on for them as they passed. The villain would come away with a brand new ring of puppets whose fear would keep them from questioning, and whose whispered terror would wrangle yet another morbidly curious bunch for them to scare into submission.

Even their Coriander’s sobs, which erupted every night once the last of the crowd had vanished behind the doors, would not keep Tansy from feeling proud of their little puppet show.

It was a simple thing, healing, but oh so beautiful when used for sport.

A/N: This first little ditty is starting us off strong with a fun little horror scene, heavily inspired by the darker snippets that @the-modern-typewriter and @save-the-villainous-cat seem to enjoy so much. Just a note, also, that this was originally posted on my last account which I am moving the contents of to this one.

[black-white-and-red-all-over]

Introductions & Masterlist(s)

Hello, my darlings! Tis I, Elizabeth, purveyor of curious concepts, smashing snippets, and preposterous prompts alike.

While most things I will be popping into this collection of writing bits-and-bobs will be of my own whims, your wish is also my command - so long as it includes angsty sapphic fluff with a dash of dark fantasy, magic or horror, of course. Feel free to message me any concepts you would like to see fleshed out, and I will be sure to meet the challenge! 

However, if you are a simple wanderer of this here Tumblr and do not wish to partake in such shenanigans, please peruse the masterlist below - any existing posts will be hyperlinked, and those that aren’t are yet to come. Have fun, and welcome to the blog, honey-bun. 

Love as always, Elizabeth

(MISC) Curious Concepts: I / II / III / IV / V / VI / VII / VIII / IX / X

(MISC) Smashing Snippets: I / II / III / IV / V / VI / VII / VIII / IX / X

(MISC) Preposterous Prompts: I / II / III / IV / V / VI / VII / VIII / IX / X

(CONT.) Serpentine (Natasha Romanoff x OC) I / II / III / IV / V / VI / VII / VIII / IX / X

(CONT.) Impulse (Wanda Maximoff x OC) I / II / III / IV / V / VI / VII / VIII / IX / X

(CONT.) Dark Little Ditties: Spun in Spider's Silk - Where, Oh Where, Has My Little Love Gone - Pull Out The Pin - Beggars, Choosers, Cheaters, Losers - Mark Your Words - Muteness is Malice is Madness

(CONT.) Grim Faery Tales: Blushing Red as Blood on Snow (SW) - What's in a Name (B&tB) - That Which We Call A Rose (SB) - By Any Other Name Would Smell As Sweet (C) - Pearly Whites (LM) - Faith & Frostbite (SQ) - Sweet Nothings (H&G) - Cardinal Directions (Ra.) - Straw to Gold (Ru.)

P.S. All characters in these snippets will be referred to as they/them, or otherwise as types of flowers/herbs/plants. While in my mind all pairings will be sapphic (as per my self-indulgent mind), you are free and welcome to imagine whatever you wish. Happy hunting!