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lilxberry · 3 years

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Revenge and Revelations - Sam Wilson

Synopsis;

You scare your husband with the threat of getting him back after a prank, but once you get your revenge, you happily reveal some exciting news that brings the short-lived prank war to a happy conclusion.

Warnings: I think a lil language but nothing too bad. FLUFF. Sam being a cute, paranoid, dorky husband. Shitty writing and terrible plot lmao.

Words: 1,433

Pairing: Samuel Thomas ‘Sam’ Wilson x Reader

_______________

“Honey, c’mon, it was a joke!”

“No Sam, that was NOT funny!”

“I thought it was pretty funny.” Sam pursed his lips as he muttered a reply. Although, as soon as he noticed the death glare you’re currently looking at him with, his features morph into that of fear. “Listen, baby, I just thought that maybe you could do with the distraction. Plus, I thought you would definitely find it funny.”

You crossed your arms over your wet form covered in flour whilst you scowled at your husband, popping your hip out for further emphasis of your current mood.

“Samuel Thomas Wilson, you have brought a shit storm down upon yourself like you won’t believe. This is now war. Better watch your back, baby.” You had a sinister smile plastered across your face as you repeated the nickname he used earlier in a menacing tone.

Sam’s face paled and he audibly gulped at his wife’s threating declaration of war. He watched as you spun on your heel and headed towards the bathroom, presumably to get clean up after his antics.

He’ll be sleeping with one eye open for the foreseeable future.

_______________

You nor Sam had seen each other within the tower for the remainder of the day but now that night time had arrived, he was metaphorically, and nearly on the verge on literally, shitting himself as he stalked closer to his and his wife’s room to retire for the night.

Slowly and quietly opening the door, he peered into the room, spotting you head over towards the bed, assuming you had just finished changing into your sleepwear.

He composes himself as he manoeuvres his the rest of his body through the door and closes it behind him. You heard the shutting of the door and turned your attention to your husband who looks like a deer caught in the headlights of an on coming truck.

“Hi, honey.” You quickly cross the room and peck his cheek. When you pull back you notice his jumpy and alert demeanour. You giggle slightly at his behaviour and shake your head in adoration. “I swear, I haven’t put something into your side of the bed, baby.”

He narrows his eyes into small, judgemental slits as you coo at him. You reach up and cup his cheeks in your dainty hands, bringing his face down closer to yours. “I promise you baby, I haven’t done anything.” This seems to calm Sam down a little as you see his body ease. But that didn’t last long as you quickly add on. “Yet.”

His eyes widen as you throw your head back, laughing loudly, almost a cackle. Once you calm down, you look up at your husbands handsome face and kiss his lip slow and tenderly.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Y/N Wilson.” He exhales a shaky breath and speaks in a hushed tone after you break apart.

The skin around your eyes crinkle as you send him a sweet, wide smile. “Good. Now let’s go to sleep. Y/N Wilson is tired from all this imputing fear into her husband.”

Sam chuckles and shakes his head as he watches you with love filled eyes, a warm, fuzzy feeling consuming the inside of his chest cavity. He walks over to the Chester draws and pulls out a pair of sweatpants to change into.

Once changed, he’s quick to get into bed and under the covers with his wife for some well needed rest. Plus, maybe she’ll forget about the prank by the morning.

Right?

_______________

When Sam awoke the next morning, the first thing he noted with the absence of warmth that’s usually beside him. He peered over at the empty spot to see his wife’s sleeping for missing.

It was unusual for you to be awake before him, especially when you have time off. His mind slowly pieced together the conspicuous thought that made him shoot up right from his laying position, his body now on alert.

He scanned the room, looking to find anything suspicious, even going so far as to lean over the side of the bed to peer underneath. Once fully satisfied, he threw the covers to the side and swung his legs of the edge of the bed, bare feet touching the floor.

He made his way out of their room and towards the elevator, surely finding his significant other in the kitchen.

As he reach the main floor, he noticed all but one Avenger scattered around the living space and kitchen. “Morning.” Tony was the first to speak, mug of coffee close to his lips, still dressed in yesterdays clothes.

“Uh, yeah, morning.” Sam has feels uneasy not knowing the current whereabouts of his wife. “Where’s uh-where’s Y/N?”

“She said she had to run some errands.” Natasha was next to speak, currently sat at the table flipping through a magazine, hiding her smile behind the pages. The red head didn’t often lie to her team mates but with the knowledge of what’s to come, she HAD to make an exception.

Sam gave her a small nod to show he had heard her, continuing to walk towards the coffee machine then proceeding to pour himself a drink.

He still couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling inside him. He wondered where you had gotten to. What you had gotten up to.

_______________

It was now 5pm and Sam had still yet to see you. Fortunately, you did text him that you were really busy and would be held up with your ‘errands’.

Sam was sat on the couch, surrounded by the other Avengers as they chatted with, a movie playing in the background to fill the silence.

As your husband was engaged in conversation with Bucky and Steve, Natasha looked over at Wanda, sending her a wink then pull out her phone to quickly notify you that he’s distracted and it’s go time.

As you looked down at the message that had flashed across the screen, you smiled, a glimmer of mischief in your eyes. You grab the overly large nerf gun and began your stealthy entrance into the room.

You could already hear Sam’s voice as you slowly made your way over to behind where he sat on the couch. Reaching the large item of furniture, you crouched behind it and loaded the gun. You looked down at your tummy and smiled.

Not a second later, you jumped up and started unloading nerf darts at your husband. He would denied it but you swore you heard Sam let out a girlish shriek.

You continued to shoot until the last bullet left the gun and hit Sam. As the firing of your weapon ceased, the Avengers could do nought but laugh, except for Sam. He just glared at you.

You smirked triumphantly. “Suck on that, baby!”

All the sudden, he leapt over the back of the couch and picked you up in his arms, spinning you around as you giggled. Once he put you down, you noticed the kind smile on his face directed down at you. “You got me babe. Although, I think I may have to get you back.”

“Ah. Right. You see, I don’t think the doctor would be very happy to hear you attacked your pregnant wife, Samuel.”

The entire room filled with silence. Sam’s face wasn’t the only one with shock plastered across is. You felt anxious but once you looked over at Natasha and Wanda, you felt reassured that everything was going to be okay.

“Are you sure? You’re not just playing with me, right?” Your husband all but whispered, scared of what the answer is.

You nod as you bit your lip, feeling tears fill your eyes. “Yeah. I went to the doctors today to confirm it. You know what I’m like, not one to trust my own diagnosis.” Your face broke into a smile, rivalling the one etched across Sam’s.

“I’m gonna be a dad. I’M GONNA BE A DAD!” He yelled in excitement as he once again scooped you up into his arms, spinning you around.

Happy expressions fell upon the faces around the room, ecstatic for their team mates. You and Sam stared at each other lovingly, one of his hands placed upon your stomach, the other holding the small of your back.

“I love you, Sam.”

“I love you, Y/N.” He knelt down in front of you, your belly at eye level. “And I love you, Sam Jr.” You laughed and slapped his shoulder playfully.

Everything finally felt okay again, knowing your husband would love you and your growing unborn child unconditionally.

_______________

I had NO idea where I was going with this when I started writing but hey, imma still post it, yanno

I hope you enjoy none the less

It’s honestly a mess but it’s MY mess so I’m super proud lmao

As always, constructive criticism and requests are welcomed :D

#sam wilson #falcon #sam wilson x #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x y/n #sam wilson x you #sam x reader #x reader #x wife!reader #x pregnant!reader #pregnant reader #wife reader #marvel #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction #mcu

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lampoest · 3 years

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Unfiltered thoughts watching mission impossible rouge nation inspired by @chaotically-cas

(sorry its so long my brain is all over the place)

this is also part 14 of me watching it every day :/

CURSING WARNING !! ALSO SPOILERS !!!

why is brandt first to speak

starting out with "shit" good call benji

brandt man we get the package is on the mcfucking plane

badass luther 10/10

nervous benji 10/10

that one sound effects sounds like the discord notif

why he in a fancy suit

*jumps on a plane with almost no plan on getting inside*

why did tom cruise think this was agood idea?

but like why would benji even open the ramp?

how is he not winded from that?

classic ethan

THE INTRO 1000/10

SOLOMON LANE !!

wait you can already see lane in the record shop.

how do they tell the agents these little convos?

also damn way to give it away

what if someone just looked in that room and saw the secret message?

also how did the disc get changed? because the imf definitely didnt make that

and how did lane know where he was going?

speaking of lane---

dang that man is pretty

he always sets guns down carefully

i can only see alec baldwin as trump from his snl skits so i dont take hunley seriously ;-;

damn brandt needs to step it up. man keeps letting himself be inturrupted

bruh the imf is only luck

why did no one resrict his legs?

also why is janik such an asshole?

dang she cool !!

why does it take janik so long to get that gun?

bravo-echo 1-1

this man is bleeding but decided instead of taking care of his wound he calls brandt.

i like how you actually see ethan worried and confused trying to plan his next moves. he is rarely caught off guard so it's refreshing to see his more human side

hunley spitting accusations damn bro

also a big fuck you from ethan to hunley

dang ethan is good

brandts little hidden smile

and ethan leaving trails

bitch how you sketch that good???

STAN BENJI !!

youve won, your way out of a job

benji is good

my little brandt x benji shipper in me is happy

simon pegg is such a good actor

the first time i saw this i was like: aww noooo

all dunn with that

TO THE OPERA !!!

TUX BENJI TUX BENJI

i cant tell if that was ethan

it just looks like youre talking to yourself thats more sus than using a phone

want drama? go to the opera

ok but like if you look like that im sorry you are a bad guy. thats like a stereotypical bad guy face

benji-

you can see ethan in the background of that scene

flute gun flute gun

oh no benji is in the closet. dont worry man we love you

if i were there and i just had a good vantage point i could find lane in an instant

ooh ilsa pretty

pipe gun

also pamphlet computer

those key things are cool and plausible

spiderman spiderman does whatever, ethan hunt can?

a W O M A N

what W O M A N?

reminds me of a marshmallow gun i made out if pvc pipes.

why does she not put that thing back?

also the dude loads it and then later it is unloaded

dang that guy is pretty tall.

ethan is so tiny

dis bitch is like uhh gimmie a sec to catch my breath mate

why he only dropkick people?

only 30 mins in ?!?!

the cinematography is exquisite

yes benji goin sicko mode

*gets shot* just a flesh wound

bruh i would've been so startled at that

i love how confused he is at that

ilsa saves ethan once again

they did this on the first day of filming

skdjs

ah yes random package in car = not bomb totally

if she tried to shoot benji then yes she is a bad person

but she didnt try to, she could've easily but didn't

benji being paranoid

she could just say the dude's name

benji being scared

hunley jumping to conclusions

brandt actually cares yeey

why di they approach from different sides of the street they were in the same car.

benji was far away from the sparks why he flinch?

friendship goals

oop plot dump that only mission impossible can get away with

ok...

why this mf's voice so smooth

lane is struggling with chopsticks

also lane :))))

ive chocked on my water so many times watching this scene

lanes voice :))))))

SHE RUINED HIS SUSHI WHAT THE FUCK ILSA

this man dont know what personal space is

gotta look up these peeps mbti types

casablanca references

also benji is wearing dollar store lookin glasses while ethan is wearing some fancy glasses

luther is top notch

as much as i dont like jeremy renner he delivers these lines really well

because atlee is a bitch

oh honey please, impossible is a walk in the park

benji just wants to wear a mask

id be so nervous walking through those

yes...

personal wellbeing who?

why not bring a plastic bottle full of air?

tom cruise can hold his breath for 6 minutes and he learned to do so for that scene

luther big brain

damn cctv

why did they need to break in while benji was going in?

das sus but ok

also isnt et voila french?

she just randomly tapping the ipad

benji being stressed

if he missed the exact center

i want one of those to open my locker's lock

if he just went with the current and didnt try to force his way against the water ilsa wouldn't have had to save him

imagine if he put the wrong one in-

she is breathing heavily to over saturate her body with oxygen so she can hold her breath longer

see ilsa makes it out without well and she went with the current

BENJI'S OUTFIT YESSS :))))))

no you didn't

you gave her a false sense of security

ethan's confused face for the next like 10 mins is great

liar

why does that one man look like sean ambrose?

parkour

skdjdksjdjdkfjs

the facial acting in this

STAIRS STAIRS STAIRS

the glare yesss

vrrrm vrrm

hey its you !

drivin like a grandma

shit !

benji just screaming

im convinced that ethan is indestructible

no you didn't survive that

bonk

dskfh

ethan didnt just-

also why didnt benji just tell ethan he made a copy ???

dont shoot and drive kids

high speed motorcycle chase with no helmet or leather. tom cruise, how?

i wanna learn how to drive a motorcycle

HOW THE FUCK IS HE NOT DEAD YET ?!?!

the lighting

ofc brandt would be the person why sits backwards on a chair. fkn bi vibes

benji to the rescue

fuck off atlee

i am so proud of us ...

the lines are done so well here

benji lookin like how i look when my parents argue

YES THIS SCENE

LANE LANE LANE LANE LANE

im too fucking gay for this movie-

once again no personal space

*inhales* :))))))))))))))

ive like memorized the entire script of this including the music

1 man performance of m:i5 ???

benji's outfit

also i love how youre able to see the characters in the background. props for the attention to detail

i need that haircut because his hair is lookin A+

fuck you atlee

ilsa spitting straight facts

uhh ilsa he still loves julia

NO BENJI NOOOO

EW FUCK OFF JANIK NO ONE LIKES YOU

speak of the devil-

betrayal--

WOULDNT YOU LIKE TO KNOW WEATHER BOY !??

actin sus

BENJI LANE BENJI LANE

his posture shdhskhsj (i cant be talking though)

0 personal space whatsoever

why does everyone have the same haircut in this???

simon mcburney pretending to be hunt prentending to be atlee

manipulation !?

the syndicate you say ? i know a thing or two about them 😼😼😼

damn though renner delivers these lines really well

a black tie? how informal. ..

complimenting hunt right infront of him

but he really didnt

i never realized that they were on the clock for this

huh...

the lil head nod though-

HAHA YEAH FUCK YOU ATLEE

is it bad that i hate atlee more than i hate lane?

ethan big smart wrinkle brain

janik just reading a fucking magazine

ethan has a photographic memory

oh look its benji :)))

lane :))))

ethan being tough

it must be aquward to get the low angle shots

lane is running out the clock to put pressure on ethan hmmm big brain

it isnt working though :\

damn he so cocky that hes telling the villain his plan

ill give you 1/5 of the money you wanted to get my bf back

ok but like does tom cruise just not age?

kill the woman

ugh i hate janik

the trust that is shown between those two is great

yes the score and the chase are so great

also this man really hates windows for some reason

fuck off janik

sneaky sneaky

EYY ITS LANE !!!

yeyy janik is dead

once again dodging bullets and hating glass

couldve killed him but needed him alive

the glass box

badass ethan

all the pretty men assembled

lane really let himself go aster this

dang though lane is my favorite villain ever

i like how for once the girl and the guy just are friends instead of romantically involved

eyy the callbacks to how the movie started.

welcome to the imf

#benji x brandt #mission impossible rogue nation #mission impossible #ethan hunt #benji dunn #luther stickell #ilsa faust #william brandt

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tainted-wine · 4 years

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Past Due

Reader X Giran, Dabi, and Mr. Compress (NSFW)

(OOF, This little bastard of a fic has been fighting me every step of the way. It took so long because I was second guessing every single sentence I wrote. Finally, here’s the darkest shit I’ve written so far.)

(This is pre-Overhaul arc, so the bois Giran and Compress are still whole)

Words: 7.8k

Heed These Warnings: Murder, Kidnapping, Noncon/Dubcon, Giran being a dangerous dude, Knives, Forced Oral and Anal, Voyeurism, Humiliation, and the Protagonist just being a total dumbass

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

For as long as you have lived, luck has been by your side like a bipolar twin attached to your hip. It was thanks to luck that you were born into a quirkless family in the trashiest of neighborhoods, your penniless parents separating and leaving you to fend for yourself. The streets had no use for you; no quirk, no charisma, no money, you were just another parasite desperately clinging onto the city’s rotten underbelly.

But it was also thanks to luck that you survived this long. The average person can remember each and every brush with death in their life clearly, but you—you’ve lost count of how many times this cruel world has tried to pick you off. So far, you have dodged every bullet, knife, and blast of quirk-based power aimed in your direction. How do you keep slipping past all of these dangerous criminals? Your reckless ass has no idea. Luck was simply a sadistic douchebag that enjoyed dangling you over the jaws of death, only to yank you back up and repeat the process like a sad little yo-yo.

As you drove to your place in a panic, you wonder if luck has ever fucked you this hard before.

———

Things had gotten somewhat organized, and by that you mean that you finally had some sort of plan instead of gravitating toward the nearest opportunity that didn’t look ready to tear you apart and throw your remains in an alley. You’ve even made an accomplice, a woman not quite as powerless as you, but an unfortunate soul with less experience in this…line of work. To make things even better, you managed to strike a deal with a prominent broker. Giran was a name known all throughout Japan’s black market, and to think that he’d see potential in a quirkless broad whose notable trait was simply not dying—it was your lucky day. He supplied you with weapons that will make surviving in this hellhole much easier, telling you to pay him within the next five days.

Your partner in crime asked if this was a good idea, that you didn’t seem capable of gathering that amount of money in the span of time you were given. There was no reason for her to worry; with the heat the two of you were packing now, you now had the ability to rob more than distracted civilians wandering the streets.

But before you could even enjoy your brand new firepower, luck decided to be a total asshole again. It was only the second day when you both were ambushed by a group of ruffians. Their quirks were pretty damn impressive, honestly. One of them levitated your gun right out of your hands before you could even fire, instantly leaving you helpless so that the other dudes could close in and beat the snot out of you.

The two of you woke up, bruised, bloodied, and stripped of Giran’s weapons. Damn, you don’t remember a deal ever going south this quickly. Must be a new record.

Alright, so your weapons were gone and you only have a fraction of the money so far. You can figure this out. Your partner was fuckin’ hysterical and you have to smack her before she gives herself a heart attack. The money was barely coming in, and before you knew it, the fifth day had arrived.

Yeah, you weren’t ready to face him yet.

Look, you weren’t exactly running away from him, you were just making sure to give yourself some space while you got your shit back together. That’s why you immediately moved to another part of town and now made sure to never drive down the same route twice. No, you weren’t gathering money for yourself and completely brushing off Giran, like your partner was suspecting. She has no idea what she’s talking about so she needs to shut up already and help you sell this jewelry that you worked so hard in stealing.

Okay, maybe Giran has been trying to call you for the past couple of days and you were officially ghosting him, but she didn’t need that knowledge to add to her stress. You probably weren’t even in any danger. The deal didn’t cost that much, and he didn’t seem like the type of guy to get truly pissed over some petty crook like you, right?

It’s been a week since the due date, and you both were still safe and sound. It was time to get your paranoid little buddy and discuss your next course of action.

When you reached her shoddy rented room, the door was already cracked open. Strange, and very careless; she should know better. You pushed it the remainder of the way and strutted inside. “Don’t leave your door open, dumbass. Anyway, I gotta—”

Your partner was sprawled out on the bed, open eyes still showing hints of the terror that she most definitely felt before her body became riddled with bullets. The smell of smoke and blood finally reached your nose when the shock of the scene before you wore off. The poor gal probably didn’t deserve such a gruesome fate.

“Oh…nevermind.” You close the door and briskly walk through the hall and out of that dangerous building.

------

This all led up to you speeding to your own run-down apartment.

‘Don’t jump to conclusions, now. This might have nothing to do with Giran. Maybe she pissed off some guys behind my back, or maybe I pissed them off and they found her before they found me. I keep forgetting just how many shit-lists probably have my name on them.’

Whatever it was, that instinctive twist in your gut was telling you that it was no longer safe around these parts. You had overstayed your welcome, anyway.

You glanced in every direction as you entered the building. At what time was your partner killed? If they’re after you too, do they already know where you live? There was no time to waste.

Checking to see that you weren't being followed, you entered your room and went straight to packing. You were basically a drifter, so you had few long-term possessions, so few that they could all fit into one bag. You packed your clothes, essential groceries, and your knickknacks that were ripe for selling. You’re loaded up and ready to go, and you don’t even need to go through the trouble of contacting an accomplice anymore. It’s those paper-thin silver linings that keep you going through this endless shitstorm of a life. With a silent goodbye to your short-lived home, you made your way to the door…

And a series of knocks freezes you in your tracks.

The sudden quickening of your heartbeat was dizzying. Shit. Shit shit shit. Whoever is on the other side can’t be friendly, but you had checked! You made sure no one was tailing you!

You backed away while your eyes darted around, deciding if you should defend yourself or find an alternate route to escape. Your only line of defense was a switchblade, so fighting was probably as bad of an idea as it usually was. You looked back to the single window in the room. ‘The fire escape.’

Several harder knocks spurred you into action. You unlocked and pulled at the old window, the worn frame almost breaking off as it opened. The damn ladder and stairs were one room across, but you can jump across the sills if you were careful enough.

There were more knocks, this time followed by a male voice. “Why the hell are we knocking? She’s not gonna answer.”

Another man responded. Shit, there’s more than one? “True. I just like to give the peaceful route a try.”

Something happened to the door that your fear-addled mind couldn’t comprehend. In the span of a second, the wooden door’s shape was warped and shrunken down into a small sphere. You didn’t spend any time to observe the two men at the entrance—you were already scrambling out of the window. The small ledge was difficult to balance on. If you could just get enough leverage for a jump…

“Oi!”

Fuck, you had to take the leap now, but before you could, a pair of hands took hold of you. In a blind panic, you drew your small blade and swung wildly at your attacker, doing your best not to lose your footing. One hand drew back and you heard a hiss of something like “little bitch”, and you thought this was your chance to break free and get away, but the hand still gripping the waist band of your pants got hot, so hot that it reached your skin and had you yelling in pain from the intense heat. With a powerful yank, you were falling back into the room and being pinned to the floor.

‘No no come on, Lady Luck. You’re always here to save my ass, right? I could use your help right fucking now.”

You thrashed and screamed, but then you saw the face of your captor and ew, that shit made you scream even louder. At least make the last face you see more appealing and less…burnt.

The burned man just looked annoyed while holding you down. “Just compress her already.”

Compress? What? Were they about to crush you? That sounds like a really shitty way to go. A gloved hand was pressed to your head, and everything began to distort at a rate too fast for your mind.

It was dark…you felt like you were floating…are you dead? Did it happen that fast? At least it was painless. There was a voice echoing somewhere, but all you saw was blackness. It sounded like it was coming from above. “God?” He’s real, after all?

God sounded very similar to the burnt asshole that attacked you. “That was easy. Why did he need us for this?”

The other voice that you still couldn’t attach a face to answered. “Giran does a lot for the League. It’s only fair that we do him the occasional favor, isn’t it? Her partner has already been taken care of.”

Well shit. Not only were you still alive, but you had been captured in some way to be delivered to him. You wanted to believe that you were in no serious danger, but no one sends two guys to break into your place and abduct you unless they had something sadistic in mind. Maybe your late partner was onto something this whole time.

The talking continued, but the sound was so faint. It’s like you were wearing a thick pair of earmuffs. This entire void, or whatever it is, was uncomfortable—the darkness seemed vast, yet it felt claustrophobic and heavy, like a powerful gravity preventing you from moving. What kind of quirk was this?

The mystery man was talking again. “Your arm is bleeding.”

“Oh right, she caught me with that little blade.” The burnt one said calmly. “It’s not that bad. My arms can’t feel much.”

“It’s not the pain I’m worried about; find something to wrap it up!” There was a sound that was difficult to discern, possibly a long sigh. “She made quite a scene at the window. I hope she didn’t bring any attention to us.”

You heard a grunt from the burnt one and could picture him shrugging. “If anyone asks, we’ll just say that she was a jumper and we stopped her.”

“…Who in the world tries to jump from only three stories?”

“A dumbass, and I’m pretty sure that’s what she is.”

The burnt guy can kiss your ass.

Their conversations were the only indication of time passing. Maybe you heard a few noises from whatever area they were currently in, such as a car passing by or a dog barking, but it was all too muffled to know for sure.

You hope you won’t be stuck in this prison for too long. The emptiness of it all was going to drive you insane. The abyss apparently sensed your distressed, shaping lights and colors all around and lifting the phantom weight off of you so quickly that you had to hold down a rush of bile in your throat.

It’s still fairly dark…a dimly lit room, no furniture, your knees on a hardwood floor, a figure sitting in front of you…

“Good morning.”

A greeting has never filled you with so much dread, uttered by a voice you haven’t heard in nearly two weeks.

The big-time broker himself was seated before you in a simple metal chair. When you met him in the bar to do business together, he had such a nonchalant aura around him, friendly yet detached. The smirk on his face seemed permanent, wearing it even now as he stared down at you, the little rat that has been hiding in the cracks of the city to avoid his sight. You didn’t feel threatened at all when you spoke in the bar; part of you knew that this man was in no way harmless, but he didn’t go out of his way to intimidate.

But now, even with the same relaxed posture and the same informal tone, his presence was sending strong chills down your spine with your brain screaming DANGER.

Giran leaned in, elbows resting on his thighs and a lit cigarette tucked between his fingers. The hanging bulbs illuminated only parts of his face, leaving the rest in a menacing shadow. “How have you been?”

You had no idea how to answer that. “F-fine?”

He gave a satisfied hum, as if he cared about your wellbeing. “That’s good to know. You’ve been hard to contact lately, so I had no idea.”

You swallowed, or at least you tried, but your throat was forgetting how to work properly. “I…” A cough escaped you. “I’ve been busy.”

His gruff chuckle unsettled you. “Of course. We’re all so busy these days, aren’t we? I’m not the type to stick my nose in others’ business, but may I ask what you’ve been so busy with? Hopefully something that involved gathering my money?” There it was.

Creating some more distance between your potential killer might help you think a little more clearly through the loud beating in your head, so you crawl backwards on shaky limbs like a drunk crab. “Y-yes! I’ve been doing my best, it’s just that I ran into a little problem an—” You bumped into something, turning your head to see a man looming over you. His attire was sharp, like that of a showman—even had a damn top hat. However, the mask he wore was rather ominous, the strange pattern resembling an abstract face. He didn’t budge when you had backed into his leg, only looking down at you as if you were a scared kitten.

In the corner of your vision you noticed the burnt one leaning back against the wall, watching you with disinterest. If it weren’t for the cold stare and the peril that he’s already put you through, you’d dare to admit that the greenish-blue hue of his eyes were kind of pretty.

“Don’t mind them,” Giran said with a lazy wave. “Those two are being kind enough to stick around in case I need them again. So, you were saying?”

You tried to recall where you were in your improvised excuse, and decided that you couldn’t risk having such a lie backfire. “I-I’m working on it. I have most of it so far. I just need a little more time.”

Giran’s face didn’t change. “And how much do you have?”

“Um…I…” What the hell do you say? Are you just digging yourself deeper? Is it possible to go any deeper? “Maybe I don’t have most, but I will soon so—”

“How much do you have?” It was firmer this time, making you shrink back. Dancing around his question wasn’t a good idea.

With a shaky breath, you answered quietly, “A hundred thousand yen.”

Giran placed the cigarette between his lips and took a long drag before blowing out a small cloud of toxic fumes. “A hundred thousand…of my three hundred thousand yen.”

Fuck, when he says it like that, maybe that is a lot of money to be missing out on.

You honestly wished he would show some sort of anger; his unwavering calmness was making you more anxious than any kind of rage.

“Can you tell me what you didn’t understand?” He asked.

“Huh? What…do you mean?” You couldn’t hold back the tremble in your voice.

“When we talked, I thought I made my measures clear. I give you the weapons, you pay me within the next five days. For every late day, I add more to what you already owe me. And if you take way too long, I’ll have to personally show you why you shouldn’t make deals where you can’t hold up your end.” He took another drag. You’re getting a feeling that the shrinking roll of tobacco is playing a big role in maintaining his leveled head. “Well, that all sounds clear to me, but there must be something in that explanation that didn’t get through to you, because you just ignored all of it.” Those final words were topped with a humorless laugh.

Just like that, every foolish decision you’ve made during the past week slams down on you. You were like a child that was confident they could escape whatever punishments were planned for them, now that they were finally caught, they just wanted to blubber endless apologies in hopes of being forgiven, and that’s exactly what you do. “Please, please just give me more time. I’m sorry. I just need another chance.”

Giran simply rests his head in one of his hands while pondering. “You know, this normally wouldn’t bother me. I consider myself an even-tempered guy. But you just had to go and run, avoiding my calls and hiding away for an entire week. If there’s anything that steams me up,” his brows furrowed, the first physical sign of anger that he’s shown. “It’s when an uncooperative client runs from me. Sorry about your friend, but I had to make sure I got my point across. Now it’s your turn.”

He reached into his violet jacket and pulled out a knife. Most of it was a large bulky handle, topped with a short but efficiently thin and curved blade. A wood carving knife.

As he rose from his chair and approached, you were suppressing the urge to just laugh at your own distress, a habit of yours that has caused more than one misunderstanding in the past.

“Compress, if you will.” Giran’s hand beckoned you upwards.

The man still behind you, apparently named Compress, locked both of your wrists at your back before pulling you up on your feet. “Hey-I-Wha-Wait a minute! We can talk! I can fix this!” You stuttered in pure desperation. Giran was poking at the tip of the knife and testing its sharpness, paying no attention to your pleas.

“It’s a shame, really. I happen to have one major weakness,” he admitted while inspecting his pricked finger. “Women. I��m always going easy on them—giving them more chances than they deserve. I can’t help it.” He grips your cheeks roughly, making you squeak. “And it really breaks my heart that I have to ruin such a pretty lady.”

“You don’t have to.” Your squished puckered lips sputter out, making you look and sound ridiculous. “Maybe I cou—"

The knife hovering so close to your face silences you. “Where should I start?” He wondered. You hold as still as possible while the sharp metal lingers dangerously close to your eye. “Maybe I should take out an eye? Maybe both?” His grip on your face prevents you from turning away, so you shut your eyes instead, accidentally releasing the tears that have been gathering in the corners. You feel his hand lower to hold your chin so that he can press the blade against the side of your face, so close to breaking skin. “Or maybe I’ll carve out your cheeks?” A thumb brushes against your lips and pushes past them. “You are quite a talker. Maybe I ought to go in there and remove that tongue.”

Your eyes remain closed, trying to focus on something else. The full-body tremors that you couldn’t stop, the press of Compress’s body against your back as he held onto your wrists, anything but the deadly blade trailing across your flesh. Every time the cruel man applied pressure, you braced yourself for the pain of cold steel cutting into you like fresh produce, but he would always pull back. It was pure torture and he hasn’t even harmed you yet.

“Hmm, you really are a cute one,” you heard him murmur as the knife trailed down your neck and across your collar. “Do I really want to carve such pretty skin?”

There was a loud groan, prompting your eyes to open and look to the burnt one who left his post at the wall. “For fuck’s sake, old man. How about I handle this so you don’t have to play mental tug-o-war with yourself?”

Giran didn’t seem fazed by the crude way he was addressed. “Oh? What did you have in mind, Dabi?”

Dabi gave an evil smirk of his own as he walked over. “I wonder how badly I can burn a person without killing them.” A scarred hand was placed on your shoulder and you squirmed at the rising heat. “Maybe we can find out together. How about it, girlie?”

You felt the other man behind you shake with a soft laugh. “So cruel, Dabi. I’m a gentleman myself. I could help, but taking a limb or two from such a beauty would be an unforgivable crime.” The implication of what he could do with his quirk made you fear for your arms that were still in his grasp.

“Great. Chivalry isn’t dead in the world of villains.” Dabi rolled his eyes. “You’re not wrong, though. She doesn’t look bad.”

There were too many hands on you. A rough aged hand caressed your throat and jaw, a gloved hand was tenderly running through your hair, and burned ones were shamelessly groping your chest and squishing your breasts. “Stop! What do you think you’re doing?”

“Shut it.” Dabi snapped, not letting up his assault. “Burning you might be a waste. Maybe I should just fuck you instead.”

Your stomach twisted in disgust at the very thought. The other two men pulled back and stilled at the suggestion. This nasty motherfucker wishes he’d get some. At least there were more reasonable voices in the room to keep the sicko away.

“Well now, that’s not a bad idea.” Giran declared with a nod of approval.

‘Ex-fucking-scuse me?’

Compress gave your shoulder a suggestive squeeze. “A vulgar way of putting it, but it’s an idea I can get behind.”

“Then it looks like we’ve all come to a new agreement.” The sleazebag exhaled smoke right into your face, stinging your already watery eyes and forcing several coughs out of you. “I hope you’re alright with that, darling.”

You shook your head fast enough to disorient yourself. “No! This is sick! Get your hands off me!”

“No good, huh? You think I should stick to the original plan?” Dabi dared you with a dazzling blue flame appearing in his palm. The memory of his scorching touch had you freezing up. “I’m just kidding, I don’t give a shit if you want this or not. This ain’t a friendly hookup.”

Compress leaned into your ear, voice sounding horribly close even with the mask protecting you from his lips. “I’m going to let you go now, and you’re going to cooperate with us, right? Surely you know how outmatched you are.”

Yes, you knew, yet there’s a little voice strongly urging you to fight and attempt an escape anyway. But you knew that will only end in pain and possibly death, and even though you were dreading what they had planned for you, the pitiful survivor in you is willing to sacrifice your dignity to stay alive. And so, you nodded.

“Very good,” you heard the smile in his praise. Your tender wrists were released so that he could take the hem of your shirt and slowly begin to pull it up. Your arms remained stiffly at your sides, the oppressive air around the three dangerous villains suffocating and leaving you light-headed.

“Cooperation, remember?” Compress reminded you.

With a hitched breath, you raised your arms, allowing him to peel the shirt off and throw it aside. Dabi wasted no time in exploring your newly revealed skin, while the gloved hands moved on to work at your bra and Giran undid your pants. You try to keep your breathing steady as you’re stripped, even when your pants fall down to your ankles. The second your bra is unclasped, you move to cover your freed breasts, only for the scarred bastard to slap your arms away.

“Quit it, I’m trying to feel you up,” He wasn’t very gentle in handling you, and his texture was so strange, wrinkled skin and the staples keeping him together scraping across your mounds. While he ventured lower, the other two men took their turn with your feminine assets.

Giran was fondling you slowly, but he seemed to be paying much more attention to your face, the face that you were having a very hard time keeping blank while Compress was massaging your other breast way too tenderly. It would help to shut your eyes once again, but that only enhances their touches, sparking goosebumps all over and threatening to pull a moan from your throat. You chose to look to the side and hide away from the broker’s dull gaze, but there was no avoiding Dabi’s hand palming your clothed sex, making you yelp. “AH! Don’t! You can’t just—”

He squeezed you down there, sending a foreign buzz through your abdomen. “What the hell did I just say?” He scolded. “I think I know how to shut you up.”

Giran made an amused hum. “Well Dabi, given you were the one who suggested this, I’ll grant you the honor of teaching her a lesson first.”

Your stomach dropped at the rough lips parting into a toothy grin. “You’re too kind.”

“Just don’t ruin her too quickly, alright?” Compress urged him before patting your back and stepping away. Giran also turned away and returned to his chair, leaning back with one leg crossing over the other.

The only one holding you now was the fiery villain; it had you sweating profusely even without the use of his quirk.

“Now, on your knees,” he ordered and pushed down onto your shoulders, forcing you to kneel. Your chest was tightening painfully when he unbuckled his belt to draw his half-hard cock. It wasn’t exactly any comfort, but it was wholly intact unlike the rest of him. “Start sucking.”

You kept your lips sealed and shook your head, only to have your hair grabbed and yanked back. Your pained cry was all he needed to shove his meat into your mouth. Your shout changed into a gag from the fleshy intrusion.

“Sweetheart,” the pet name was uttered with a mocking venom. “I’m trying to give you the benefit of a doubt and believe that you don’t have the memory of a dead goldfish, but in case you do, let me remind you that we brought you here to hurt you.” That dreaded heat was back, his hand threatening to call those blue flames and set your hair ablaze. “So which would you rather deal with: being carved and burned into a bloody mess, or having to please a couple of dicks? Doesn’t the latter sound more bearable?”

You couldn’t pull back to answer, his hold on your head tight and unyielding, so you nodded.

But for some reason, that didn’t satisfy him. “I need you say it. Come on, you can do it.”

‘No I can’t, you overcooked motherfucker! What do you want from me?’ Having no idea what to do but also not wanting to try his patience any further, you worked your voice around the thick rod and managed a choked and barely comprehensible “mmyeff.”

The sloshed word made Dabi laugh and you felt him twitch on your tongue. “Cute. That’s good enough. Now put that mouth to work so I won’t have to turn your head into a torch.”

Admitting defeat, you moved your head to take in more of his growing erection, wriggling your tongue in a poor attempt to get away from his salty taste, only to stimulate him in the process. You feel him respond with shaky breaths, but the fact that you’re servicing this terrible man doesn’t make you want to try any harder.

Dabi realizes your slow pace isn’t changing and his grumpiness quickly returns. “Oh come on, put a little more energy into it. A quirkless bitch living in the worst part of town, this can’t be the first time you’ve had to suck dick to save your life.” You look up and glare at him, which didn’t do much to intimidate when you were blowing him at the same time. He only smirked. “If you don’t pick up the pace, then I’ll have to take charge, and I don’t think you’d want that.”

You push yourself to put in more effort, taking in more of his now fully swollen cock and gagging pathetically. Despite what the singed shithead had guessed, you weren’t experienced with this. Your sex life boils down to a couple of hookups. This hectic existence with its cast of untrustworty characters wasn’t suitable for any kind of serious relationship, and sexual favors were something you tried to avoid as much as possible. Those rare nights with a partner were nothing like this, and you sure as hell would never ask for a fucking audience. A wisp of smoke nearby reminded you of Giran’s presence.

The sick broker was just sitting and watching with interest, his smirk still present. He seemed satisfied with just watching you in this humiliating state. Compress stood out of sight, but he was most likely doing the same. It made you just want to curl up and hide from these hungry eyes.

You heard a tired sigh over you as Dabi adjusted his grip and was now holding both sides of your face.There was no warning when he thrusted forward to jam himself into the back of your throat, the sting making your eyes well up.

“Sorry, but I think I’ve given you enough chances,” Dabi panted while reveling in the feel of your mouth all around him. His cock slid back and allowed you to breathe for just a second or two before plunging back in.

Breathing through your nose was the only option as he pumped in and out of your throat with little restraint. You gurgled helplessly and tried to push at his thighs to keep him from going so deep, but that only made him chuckle and fuck your mouth more roughly. He was in complete control now, so all you could do was take it as best as you could. Saliva gathered as your throat was violated, some of it oozing past your lips and running down your chin.

“Look at you, turning into a drooling mess for my cock. You like having your mouth fucked just like a pussy?” Demeaning words were spoken between his grunts, commenting on the depraved state of your face—you could only imagine how you looked at the moment with your extra lubricated mouth allowing him to move in and out more easily.

The erratic slams of his hips against your face signaled that this torture will be ending soon, as long as you could endure the assault on your windpipe that was making you dizzy. Any cry of distress or plea to slow down was reduced to wet gurgles and more spit bubbling from your mouth. With a teeth-clenched growl, Dabi presses your face flush against his pelvis, engulfed by his musky scent as cum shoots straight down your throat. Black spots were appearing in your vision with both your nose and throat blocked. ‘Can’t breathe…can’t…’

“Hang in there, just need to make sure you swallow every last drop.” He keeps your head locked in place so that you could feel every spasm as he feeds you his seed. Finally, he releases you and steps back, allowing oxygen to rush into your lungs as you coughed and wheezed.

“Whoops, maybe I went a little overboard,” Dabi joked at your shaking form that was hunched over hacking up a mixture of saliva and semen. That fucking bastard…

“You think?” A sarcastic remark sounded from an approaching presence behind you. Compress kneels beside you, placing a hand on your back as your coughing fit slowly died down. “That’s not my ideal way of punishing a lady. Wouldn’t you agree, Giran?”

You didn’t have the strength to look at said man and the amused expression that he was undoubtedly wearing. “I’m not picky myself. It was a good show,” you heard him say. You can physically feel your dignity leaving you.

“Well, I can give you a better one.” The phony gentleman grabbed and straightened you up. You noticed that he had removed his hat, his head concealed by what may be a ski mask. It was strangely symbolic—beneath all of that pizzazz was just another unforgiving criminal. “Dabi certainly did a number on you, didn’t he?” He observed, fingers tracing over your chest and the drying drool that had trailed down. You heard a “damn right” from Dabi who had returned to his spot at the wall. “Don’t worry, darling. I won’t leave you so roughed up.”

His words did nothing to alleviate the growing fear as his hand wandered down to your panties, fingers pressing against the damp cloth. “Oh my…and here I was thinking he was being too hard on you. Looks like you didn’t hate it as much as I thought.”

You shuddered at the small chorus of laughter from all three men. Dabi took the opportunity to taunt you again. “I had a feeling she was the type that loves being treated like a hole. The bitch probably would have gotten off if I went a little longer, not that she deserves to.”

“Ah, but I think she does. In fact,” Compress pulled the underwear to the side and touched your slick directly, making you gasp. “I’d say she deserves more than she can handle.”

“N…St…op…” Your voice was hoarse from the abuse your throat had gone through. His fingers began soft strokes against your glistening folds, a feeling that wasn’t unpleasant, but you held back your whimpers to avoid both the vocal strain and giving him any gratification.

The gloved digits moved skillfully across your sensitive lips, kindling a hot desire deep inside of you. No, you really didn’t want to be feeling that from him. Your own hands curl into fists when you feel him prod at your opening, just barely penetrating you and making you bite your lip in a painful effort to suppress a moan.

He looks right at you; you can only guess what face he was making. “Trying not to make any noise, are you?” His free hand removed the patterned mask, revealing chocolate eyes and a smile that wasn’t at all sweet. “I sure do love a challenge. Then again, I already know that I’ll win.”

Any retort you had prepared died on your lips when two fingers slipped into your heat, unable to hold back your whimper even with your mouth closed. “There it is,” he purred close to your face. “But I think we can do better.”

Your cunt throbbed with each brush against your walls. He couldn’t go too deep in your current position, but that didn’t deter him as he pistoned in and out, flexing his fingers every which way until he found that forbidden spot that made you wail. The white hot heat was threatening to smother you completely. You found yourself grasping his arm and weakly pushing at it, silently begging to make it stop before you burst.

‘Don’t look ahead…Giran is watching…don’t look ahead…’ The mantra repeated in your head, echoing loudly to distract you from the unstable knot in your core. The inner chant was to no avail—several hard presses against your nerves had you crumbling beneath the searing heat of your climax. With no restraint remaining, your broken whines rushed out of your convulsing body and echoed through the room. A thumb circles your clit and prolongs the all-powerful sensation.

“Try to bear it, darling.” Compress says to you, but his voice sounds so far away, drowned out by the vibrations starting from your pussy and spreading all over, engulfing you. Even after your orgasm passes, the assault on your sensitive womanhood doesn’t stop, the sensations becoming painful. You would have fallen over if Compress wasn’t holding you, his arm wrapped around you in an insultingly affectionate embrace as he continued to overstimulate you. The words falling from your lips were weak and incoherent, the occasional ‘no’ and ‘too much’ being heard.

Sobbing in the villain’s shoulders, you can make out the blurred violet figure in your foggy vision, still lounging and taking silent delight in your struggles. You just barely noticed the slight curve of his lips as Compress forced you to cum again, pitting your muscles against another wave of excruciating spasms. This time he did let you collapse, your body sprawled out on the floor as your walls continued to clench.

“Hmmph, not bad.” Dabi can be heard, and his voice alone makes your throat burn again.

Compress was still close, curiously squishing your juices between his fingers. “I could have gone for longer, but she still needs energy for the main act.”

You hear a dark laugh from Giran. “So generous of you Compress. What would I do without you gentlemen? Just do me one more favor and remove the rest of your clothes.”

“Of course,” the showman moved over to fully strip you. You stayed limp as he pulled your drenched panties down along with your pants that were still hanging at your feet, then moving on to remove your shoes. You were now completely bare, body shivering despite the warm still air of the room.

“Alright, miss. That’s enough rest. Time to get up and come over here.” Giran orders coolly. There was no urgency in his voice, but you knew you shouldn’t keep him waiting. If only your entire lower body wasn’t screaming. Compress sensed your plight and took hold of your waist, prepared to pull you up.

“No no,” Giran held up a hand while stomping out his cigarette. “She’s a big girl and can stand on her own.”

Compress simply shrugged and retreated, leaving you to force your aching arms and legs to move and lift you up.

Even after being violated, you still couldn’t resist covering your chest and mound as you slowly approached the man that you deeply regret ever getting involved with. You tried to ignore how gross your body felt—the salty fleshy taste lingering on your tongue, the wetness that continued to run down your legs, your bare feet shuffling across the old dusty floor. There was a prominent bulge in his pants, revealing just how much this was all exciting him.

“Sit down and have a ride on me.” It was said so casually that you needed a moment to comprehend.

Dabi barked impatiently. “Hey, don’t just stand there like a modest statue.”

Realizing that Giran isn’t going to take out his erection himself, you lean in to open up his pants, fighting every urge to pull your hands away as they work at the buttons and zipper, pulling down his underwear to watch his cock spring out. He didn’t seem to react, only watching your face like he has been since you’ve been tossed into this damned place. You stare at his waiting dick until you accept that you have to get closer, standing over his legs before lowering yourself down onto his lap. You have to grab the soft yet firm organ to keep it in place as it touches your opening.

He was so close, smoke-scented breath hitting your skin. There was no way to avoid his gaze at this proximity. He was free to see all of the shameful details on your tear-stained face.

It pains you to admit that Compress’s fingers made the stretch more bearable as Giran’s head pushes into your cavern that was still sensitive from the previous man’s onslaught. You had to place your hands on his shoulders to balance yourself as your hips sunk down on him, breaths shallow throughout your poor attempt to stay relaxed and not tighten up. Several inches later, you had him fully sheathed inside you.

“Good. Very good.” His voice was low and rugged, eyes closing briefly so that he can take in your surrounding heat. “Now start moving. I didn’t bring you over just to keep me warm.”

You didn’t have enough pride left to protest, so you did as instructed, slowly lifting your hips before bringing them back down, ignoring the strain put on your thighs. Giran placed a hand on your ass, the contact making your pace falter for just a second. He looked so at ease as you bounced on him that you wondered, if it was just the two of you, perhaps you could have taken this as an opportunity to attack. But in the current situation, it would only lead to certain death. The thought leaves your mind as quickly as it came.

“Three days.” The two words cut through your weary breaths and the squelch of your pussy. You give Giran a look of confusion before he specifies. “I’m giving you three more days to collect the money.”

The news surprises you enough to halt your hips, an action he doesn’t approve of.

“I didn’t say stop.” The warning in his tone had you instantly moving again. He lightened at your compliance; he sure knew how to flip his friendly mode on and off like a damn light switch. “Very good. I’m trying to show you some more mercy here. Don’t ruin it for yourself. Anyway, you need to hurry and do whatever you can to get that money. Steal, call some old friends, maybe sell your body? I don’t think you’d be half-bad at that.” He gave your rear a light smack, making your walls squeeze him in shock. “If you don’t have enough by the time we meet again, your lovely body won’t stop me from peeling your skin off a second time. Are we clear, sweetheart?”

The fear from his threat grips your chest as you keep trying to please him, moving in a way that keeps his dick away from your g-spot. “Yes,” you whimper through your pants.

Giran caught on to what you were doing. “I’m not convinced.” Both of his hands take hold of your hips and push you down, forcing stimulation on your hypersensitive bundle of nerves. A scream rips through your burning throat. “I’ll say it again: Are we clear?”

“Yes!” Your voice cracks and tears are flowing down your face once again.

“You won’t run from me again?”

“No! I swear I won’t!”

“Good girl.” He was the one setting the pace at this point, forcing you up and down in pursuit of his release. There was another agonizing orgasm growing in your abdomen, but the hands controlling your movements weren’t giving you a chance to escape the inevitable storm.

The final slam collides his throbbing cock with your cervix, and the pained pleasure has you quivering in his hold, crinkling his shirt with your white-knuckled grip as you cried out from every foul spurt into your womb. His soft groans were heated against your neck.

His pats of approval on your back are enough to push your worn figure into his chest. He chuckles and rubs you like a lover that didn’t just force you into the most disgraceful moment of your life. “I’m glad we could come to an agreement.”

Despite your limbs feeling like pure lead, you wanted to get off this man as soon as possible. “Please just let me go.”

His smile filled you with a fresh wave of dread. “Soon, darling. But I need to make sure I’ve made my point. I think the other two gentlemen would appreciate a turn.”

You heard the quick footsteps before he even finished, scarred hands grabbing and pulling you off of Giran’s softening cock. Fuck, the two had been so quiet for the past moment that you forgot about their presence.

You jolt at the feel of Dabi’s revived hard-on pressing against your back while Compress stops right in front of you, his own length bobbing freely. You flinched at the damp gloves caressing your chin and lips. “Are you ready to return the favor? Don’t worry, I won’t treat your mouth as badly as Dabi did.”

“Sadly,” The crueler man behind you added before pressing down and bending you forward, your head now leveled with Compress’s waiting dick.

“Open up for me,” he orders with a hand resting in your hair. Your jaw still ached from the last cock in your mouth; you hoped that he truly was going to at least be more gentle as you parted your lips and took him in.

Dabi rubbed up and down your spine as he watched. “Well look at you, such an obedient little bitch now.” He began to knead your ass cheeks before spreading them, your body tensing in fear as a finger toyed with your back entrance.

“I’m not a fan of sloppy seconds, guess I’ll have to take another hole.” It was the only warning he gave before his thickness was pushing forcefully into your unprepared ass. The searing pain was as intense as his quirk, your muffled shrieks vibrating against Compress and making him moan. Dabi smiled at your suffering. “Can’t complain, ‘cause this sounds a lot better. Hope I don’t do too much damage in there.”

He fucked you as hard and fast as your tight passage would allow, pushing the other villain’s dick further into your throat with each thrust.

Soon, they will switch places. And then they will take you separately. And Giran will stay seated, taking pleasure in watching you break.

Your mind eventually wanders to what will happen afterwards, if there is any possible way to right the biggest wrong you’ve ever committed…or if you simply had three days left to live.

It feels like luck is done saving you.

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

tagging @mothwithteeth because their thirst for Giran inspired me. Go check them and their awesome work out!

#bnha #smut #dabi #giran #mr. compress #dabi x reader #giran x reader #mr. compress x reader #tw noncon #tw death

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carewyncromwell · 4 years

Photo

Next installation of the POTC AU, at long last! Sorry for the delay...RL has been a bit of a hindrance, and I also had to kind of restructure some things in the storyline to help with flow and such, and that resulted in me having to draw another drawing, and yeah, blah blah, Tory lost her sense of rhythm and pretty much daily update schedule in the process. XD; Mea culpa!

In this part, we’ll have focus on both sides of the “divide,” with both Carewyn and her new ally Davy Jones/Finn McGarry @theguythatdraws and Charlie Weasley (pictured above in an even more pirate-y coat and hat than we saw last) and his sloop’s passenger Chiara Dalma. Will our pirate friends be able to reach Shipwreck Cove before they’re cut off by our non-pirate ones?

Interestingly enough, there was a pirate called Moody in the 1700s, though this one was Christopher Moody, not Alastor. Not much is known about him aside from his brutality (refusing to take prisoners), his unique Jolly Roger flag (which was red and gold rather than black), and his death by hanging in 1722. Pirate!Mad-Eye is going to be much more like his book/movie/game counterpart, but I just thought it was a fun coincidence. (Particularly his red/gold color scheme for his flag, which of course are Gryffindor colors!!)

Jules Farrier-Weasley belongs to @cursebreakerfarrier, last part is here, and whole tag is here! Hope you enjoy!

x~x~x~x

Carewyn knew there was no way she would be able to get Jones’s heart as long as her men were guarding the Chest -- yet, at the same time, she couldn’t just order them to abandon it without cause...and she’d need that time, if she wanted to unlock it without stealing the key from Rakepick. And so she’d need a proper diversion.

Davy Jones himself came up with a solution. If the Flying Dutchman was engaged in battle, then the soldiers might have to jump in to help defend it. All they’d have to make sure of was that the enemy they engaged in battle was one Cutler Beckett would approve of -- namely, one of the more wanted pirates in the Caribbean, and someone who could end up being one of the Pirate Lords.

“I do not know any of the pirates’ current list of so-called ‘Lords,’” said Jones, “but if I were to guess, I would say your brother’s a viable candidate.”

Carewyn shook her head. “Rakepick blew up the Tower Raven. Jacob managed to escape, but he only has one other person with him and he won’t have a ship.”

“Not his flagship, perhaps, but the rest of his fleet would have still survived,” pointed out Jones. “And the more ships there are, the most justification there would be for your Navy reinforcements. Once I have my heart returned, I can always call off the attack -- there’s no need for me to capture or kill them, aside from following Beckett’s direction.”

And so it was very reluctantly that Carewyn agreed to let Jones covertly seek out the remainder of the Tower Raven’s fleet while supposedly looking for Shipwreck Cove. Little did Carewyn know that the Tower Raven’s fleet was likewise headed for Shipwreck Cove, and that they were on a collision course with a tiny red sloop steered by Charlie Weasley.

When Charlie came upon the fleet of pirate ships, he initially wasn’t too worried. Yeah, naturally, they dwarfed his vessel easily, but he presumed that they were heading for Shipwreck Cove as well, and they didn’t have much reason to attack a small sloop like his. What Charlie hadn’t factored in was that the captain of one of those ships -- Alastor “Mad-Eye” Moody -- had gone through his fair share of trauma when he used to be in the Navy and was something of a paranoid sort...and so within minutes, the little sloop Charlie and Chia Dalma were on was soon pursued by Moody’s much larger galleon, called the Phoenix.

Fortunately Charlie was more than talented enough of a sailor to keep his head. Using the advantage of his boat’s size, he weaved expertly through the remainder of the Tower Raven’s ships to evade the Phoenix’s cannon fire.

“Oi!” Charlie bellowed up at one of the ships he was hiding behind. “Tell your mate to bugger off! I’m not with the bloody Navy!”

Chia made no move to help Charlie: instead she stood on the other side of the sloop, watching the seas with a wary eye. There was something troubling on the wind -- something in the air...

A pirate from the Phoenix came up to the railing to look down at Charlie and Chia on their sloop as Charlie sailed it around his galleon. He was a broad-shouldered man about Charlie’s age with dark red hair under a black bandana and small emerald green eyes, and he was dressed in a burgundy-colored coat.

“Hey -- you!” the pirate bellowed down at him. “Down there! Shout up your name!”

Charlie hesitated at first. He knew it was unlikely that most pirates would recognize his name as being that of a pirate -- if anything, the name “Weasley” was associated more with the Navy, even if he, Jules, and Bill had recently been branded criminals.

‘Even so,’ he thought, ‘I’m never going to be able to build a reputation as anything other than a Navy veteran if I don’t use my name. And well, these guys answer to Carey’s brother -- it should be safe...’

“I’m Charlie Weasley!” he shouted back. “Quartermaster of the Revolution under Captain Jules Farrier-We -- ack!”

Before Charlie could even finish, both he and Chia had gotten a net thrown over them and they were hauled aboard the Phoenix.

As Charlie had feared, the name “Weasley” made everyone on the Phoenix tense up with suspicion. Charlie’s “twin,” it turned out, had been swept up by Cutler Beckett, who was now flaunting the fact that the famous, brilliant young Commodore Carey Weasley was answering to him and helping him with his new anti-piracy campaign. Charlie knew full well the only reason Carewyn could be associating with Beckett was to try to sabotage him, but the Phoenix’s Captain Moody seemed doubtful of that explanation. His First Mate, Barnaby Lee -- the young man who had first demanded Charlie’s name -- seemed noticeably less suspicious, but wasn’t half as assertive or articulate as Moody, so the Captain’s conclusion won out among the crew.

Charlie and Chia were soon hauled down to the brig with the thought that once the fleet arrived in Shipwreck Cove, Moody’s superior, Black Jack Roberts -- were he still alive -- would be able to discern how best to deal with them. Charlie hadn’t been too surprised that Jacob hadn’t told everyone in his fleet that “Carey Weasley” was really his sister, but he couldn’t help but curse the fact that Jacob had merely ordered that his men not “damage anyone with the name ‘Weasley’ and immediately bring them to him to deal with.” Even if he had to keep up a “tough guy” image, it would’ve been nice if Jacob had factored in the possibility that he wouldn’t be leading his fleet.

Unfortunately Moody’s suspicion had a real cost. Because of his focus on Charlie and Chia Dalma, he wasn’t focusing on the turbulence of the seas and skies that Chia picked up on -- and so had no warning whatsoever when the Flying Dutchman attacked. Soon the entire fleet of ships that once sailed under the Tower Raven was hotly engaged in battle with the infamous ship of the damned, pirates facing off against both cursed sailors and Navy officers.

While Davy Jones, his crew, and the Navy’s officers were fighting on the upper deck, Carewyn had stowed away below deck to where the Dead Man’s Chest had been left. After sending the remainder of the patrol above deck to help with the sea battle, Carewyn immediately got to work picking the lock on the Chest. Although it was a bit trickier to do it on her own than it had been with Percy, that hindrance was counteracted somewhat by her having unlocked the Chest once before. Within fifteen minutes, Carewyn had unlocked the two-sided lock and opened the Chest.

But when she opened it, she found it completely empty.

“It seems we truly are as alike as I thought.”

Carewyn whirled around.

Rakepick was leaning her shoulder against the door frame. She’d discarded her tricorn hat just as Carewyn had since they were no longer on deck, and her dark blue eyes were locked on the Commodore’s face as though it were a target.

Carewyn immediately pulled out her pistol, pointing it right at Rakepick.

“Where is the heart?” she said very coldly.

“I confiscated it,” said Rakepick simply, “back when I checked to make sure Jones’s key works.”

“On Beckett’s orders?” asked Carewyn.

Had she truly not fooled Beckett, after all? Had Rakepick been sent to watch her as well as Jones? Her face blanched at this thought.

“For my own benefit,” said Rakepick. “Just as I daresay your attempt to steal the heart also was.”

Carewyn’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not stealing anything.”

”I don’t know what else you’d call picking the lock on a Chest that’s in the custody of the British Navy,” said Rakepick with a rather cool smile.

Carewyn clicked her pistol and pointed it right at Rakepick’s head.

“Hand over the heart,” she murmured, “now.”

Rather than looking the least bit intimidated, however, Rakepick almost looked more pleased. She eased herself off the door frame and took a few steps closer to Carewyn.

“You intend to kill me, Commodore?” she said.

“I would prefer not to,” Carewyn answered icily. “But I suggest you don’t push me -- I can still shoot you in plenty of places that would be extremely painful or deadly, if left untreated. And no one would come to help you with your wounds -- there’s more than enough noise above deck to muffle any gun shots that might come from down here.”

Rakepick’s lips spread into an even fuller, satisfied smile as she came to a halt just a foot from Carewyn. “I see. If I’m dead, you won’t learn where the heart is. Very astute, Miss Weasley.”

Carewyn stiffened sharply.

“I knew it as soon as I saw you,” said Rakepick softly. “I daresay because your family is poor, you didn’t have enough prospects to just marry into money. Probably were too independent and self-sufficient to settle for that, as well....so you joined your brothers in the Navy by dressing as another son. I suppose ‘Carey’ is just a play on your real name -- is it Cara? Or Carina?”

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

She tried to obscure her fear with anger, but it was proving difficult -- her face was as white as a sheet.

Rakepick couldn’t fight back a scoff. “Now, really, Commodore -- do you truly think you’re the only woman who realized how few opportunities there are, for us to get ahead in this world run by men? I dressed as a man and joined the Navy myself during the War, fighting the French off the coast of Africa as a privateer for his Majesty’s Navy.”

She started striding in a leisurely circle around Carewyn, even as the Commodore kept a beady eye on her.

“‘Patrick Rakepick,’ I was called then. I probably would’ve continued that way too, had privateering not been outlawed with the end of the War. Suddenly all of the skills I had learned -- just as with all privateers -- became illegal and therefore useless. I was at the bottom once again, even worse off than before, thanks to the time lost and the injuries suffered. So I did what many other privateers did -- I became a pirate, so I could continue using those skills the Crown had taught me to support myself -- ”

“By pillaging merchant ships and attacking innocent people,” Carewyn spat. She wished she’d been able to keep her temper, but the mental image of this woman shooting Jacob in the back and pushing him overboard had rippled through her mind and it was a knife to her heart she couldn’t bear.

“We all have to do things we’re not proud of in order to survive, Miss Weasley,” said Rakepick very quietly. “That’s the reason you’ve stayed in line with Beckett yourself, is it not?”

Carewyn’s eyes narrowed. Rakepick took her silence as an excuse to press further.

“I saw the way you treated the prisoners from Tortuga. You did not treat them as Jones would, or even as any other officer would. You insisted they be fed and watered consistently, despite their large numbers and their shortened lifespans. You gave one a Bible, on request. You even moved a woman into a different cell so she could be with her husband for the rest of the voyage back to Port Royal, without even being asked.”

Rakepick’s dark blue eyes surveyed Carewyn with something interested, almost admiring, as she came to a halt just behind the shorter young woman.

“You have the heart of a guardian, Miss Weasley. Something not frequently seen in any line of work I’ve ever been part of -- privateering, piracy, or pirate hunting...and something never found among men like Cutler Beckett. It makes you want to protect others as well as yourself. It makes you a natural leader -- one that anyone would be foolish to deny their proper place.”

“I don’t need your flattery, Rakepick,” Carewyn said coldly, turning on her heel to face the older woman once again.

“This is not flattery,” Rakepick answered just as coldly. “It’s advice from someone who has been in your shoes. It’s not easy for anyone without money and status to get ahead in this world, but it’s even harder for a woman. Even when she’s able to acquire those things, there’ll always be a man attempting to clip her wings, so as to make him feel more powerful -- more in control. Even the tale of the goddess Calypso herself proves this. She ruled the seas, until the Pirate King and his Brethren Court ‘bound her’ into human form and stole control for themselves. They were powerless in the face of the Crowns of Europe...and so they exerted power over someone they could hurt.”

“Yet Cutler Beckett hired you, regardless of your sex,” said Carewyn, raising her eyebrows.

Rakepick crossed her arms over his chest. “Cutler Beckett will clip anyone’s wings, female or otherwise, if it benefits himself. Hence why I need this leverage over him.”

“Seems like the leverage is much more over Jones, considering you hold his life in your hands,” Carewyn cut her off harshly. “Now enough stalling -- give me Jones’s heart.”

Rakepick gave a half-frustrated, half-exhausted sigh. “Miss Weasley, do you truly think I wouldn’t have handed the heart over to you already, if I could? I’ve already made it more than clear I trust Beckett as little as you do. I’m not in this fight for him. I have no more love for either the Navy or the pirates than you do. I assure you -- we’re on the same side in this.”

‘Doubtful,’ Carewyn thought spitefully.

Nonetheless she could tell that she’d been outmaneuvered. Rakepick wasn’t going to hand over Jones’s heart, whether because it wasn’t on the ship or Rakepick was just too brave to give in to any threats she might make. She’d lost the element of surprise completely...and if force wasn’t going to work, then a new strategy was clearly needed. She needed to find out the heart’s new location. So, very reluctantly, she tucked her pistol back into its holster.

“If you’re so out for yourself,” said Carewyn coldly, “and you believe me to be just as out for myself...then we can’t be on the same side, Rakepick.”

Rakepick’s eyebrows rose over her narrowing dark blue eyes.

“I never said you were out for yourself, Miss Weasley -- merely that we are alike.”

She swept past Carewyn and headed for the door. When she reached the door frame, however, she paused. Turning her head back toward Carewyn, she spoke a bit more seriously.

“The battle between the Navy and the Pirate Brethren Court is going to be a fierce one. It would truly be in your best interest to get and stay off the Dutchman, before that fight begins.”

Carewyn shot a suspicious look over her shoulder without turning around.

“What battle?” she asked lowly.

“The place where all pirates will have to make their final stand.”

“You’re so assured of that? We haven’t even found Shipwreck Cove,” Carewyn pointed out. “Come to think of it...shouldn’t you know where Shipwreck Cove is, since you were a pirate yourself?”

Rakepick’s eyes flashed.

“I’m afraid not,” she said, her voice noticeably icier than it had been previously.

The question seemed to have gotten under Rakepick’s skin, and Carewyn suspected she knew exactly why. Only pirate captains were generally told the the location of Shipwreck Cove -- since she hadn’t assumed captainship through “Code-sanctioned” means, Rakepick couldn’t have been told by anyone else on the crew of Howell Davis’s ship where Shipwreck Cove was.

‘Serves you right, for what you did to Jacob,’ Carewyn thought, and she couldn’t completely fight back a small smirk.

“Regardless,” said Rakepick, “it won’t take long to find it. You saw the map Beckett designed, in your office -- it’s been finished, since you last saw it. The world’s edges have been drawn and charted, and so too have all of the places pirates could’ve once hidden. Now that they’ve been fenced in and the British Crown has allocated its Navy to the East India Trading Company’s war on piracy...it’s only a matter of time before all pirates face extinction. Those in power will not surrender it peacefully...least of all to those they’ve decided to treat as inferiors...so they’ll use every bit of that power they’ve accrued to try to quash any resistance. Those remaining pirates will have to either adapt to this terrifying new world their rebellion has molded...or perish.”

Rakepick turned away.

“And you, Miss Weasley...should not remain on the Dutchman. You don’t belong on a ship like this.”

Even as Rakepick left, Carewyn remained where she was, standing straight-backed in the center of the room with her fists clenched. Then, after a long moment, she brought a hand up to the lid of the empty Dead Man’s Chest and shut it with a harsh SNAP.

The sea battle up above raged. Captain Moody, it seemed, was truly a force to be reckoned with, despite his age and wooden limbs. When Navy officers and Dutchman pirates found their way onto the Phoenix, he fought four of them off single-handed, even going so far as to yank a blunderbuss out of his pants and shoot one of them right in the head before smacking two of the others with it as if it were a club. It was just fortunate that Charlie -- newly escaped from the brig thanks to a charm of Chia Dalma’s -- was able to block the sword belonging to the last of them with his own dragon-hilted blade.

Despite this, the Phoenix and the rest of the Tower Raven’s old fleet was severely outmatched, since Jones’s crew couldn’t die. Many ships had already started to flee, only for the Flying Dutchman to cut them down with cannon fire. Even though the Dutchman was no larger than the pirate galleons, it seemed to have the supernatural ability to heal any damage dealt to it within the span of a few minutes -- an ability not shared by Captain Moody, when he swung over to the Dutchman and pursued Jones with singular, irrational focus, only to finally be overpowered and killed by Jones himself.

“NO!” bellowed Barnaby.

Charlie straightened up sharply, his eyes widening in horror, at the sight of Moody falling to his knees, Jones’s blade stuck right through his chest.

Jones regarded the old man with a grim expression.

“Alastor Moody,” he murmured, “do you fear death?”

Moody glared up at Jones with his one good eye, but was clearly too badly injured to speak. So instead he spat at his feet.

Jones looked almost jaded by the reaction -- the way any embodiment of Death would likely be, whenever anyone got mad at them for doing their job.

“Clearly not.”

With this, he rather callously tossed Moody back over onto the deck of the Phoenix and whirled back to his crew.

“Ready the cannons!”

Barnaby immediately rushed to his captain’s side to help him up.

“Captain -- Captain, are you -- ?”

Alas, Moody was still too injured to speak clearly. When he opened his mouth, all he could do was cough up blood. Charlie rushed over too.

“He’s hurt bad,” he muttered. He turned to Chia. “Is there anything you -- ?”

Chia shook her head, her gray eyes very solemn. “I’m sorry, Charles Weasley. There’s no more time I can give him.”

Charlie was startled by the sensation of someone grabbing the collar of his shirt. Moody pulled him down closer to him, trying to whisper into his ear.

"You -- ” he choked through the blood in his mouth, “ -- have the Pacific Ocean’s Piece of Eight -- ?”

Charlie blinked in surprise. He glanced down at the anchor-trimmed “S” button Chia gave him, which he’d pinned to his vest for safe keeping until he could properly sew it somewhere more secure.

“...Yeah,” said Charlie. “Chia Dalma gave it to me.”

Moody squinted up at Charlie.

“...Shipwreck Cove -- is due west, of here. Fifty miles -- through the D-Devil’s -- Throat. Take -- the crew there.”

Charlie was completely blind-sided. “What?”

“Lead them. Take them to -- Shipwreck Cove. To the rest of the Court. To -- Black Jack.”

Charlie’s brown eyes rippled with sadness, seeing how much difficulty Moody was having talking. He was out of time, as Chia had said -- and yet, here he was, putting his crew first.

‘For all of his faults,’ thought Charlie, ‘Mad-Eye Moody is a good captain.’

The second-eldest Weasley took Moody’s wizened hand in both of his and gave it a squeeze.

“I will,” he said firmly. “I promise.”

Blood streamed from Moody’s lips as they curled up in a pained smile. “That’s a good lad...”

He coughed, trying hard to take another breath. This time, however, the blood blocked his throat enough that no oxygen could reach him. And so Moody, in the last shreds of his life, bravely raised his eyes to the sky with a smile.

Barnaby had brought his two large fists up to obscure his face as he started to cry. Charlie hung his head respectfully over the fallen captain of the Phoenix. After a moment, he brought up a hand to close Moody’s eyes and then rose to his feet, his eyes blazing with determination.

“ALL HANDS, PREPARE THE CANNONS!” he bellowed. “We need all the explosives and smoke bombs we have -- we’re getting the Hell out of here!”

Charlie’s strategy was to assault the Flying Dutchman with two waves of attack. The first would be to damage the ship enough that it would need a few minutes to repair itself -- the second would be a smokescreen, so as to hopefully put enough distance between the Phoenix and the Flying Dutchman that the second couldn’t actively take down the first with its cannon fire. When Charlie ran to the edge of the Phoenix beside Chia Dalma to make the order to fire, he was startled momentarily by who he saw coming up onto the deck of the Dutchman.

It was Carewyn.

Jones confronted her immediately, his eyes narrowed sharply as he barked something to her -- Carewyn looked rather frustrated herself, but Charlie couldn’t make out what they were saying. Within seconds, however, both Jones and Carewyn turned their focus to the battle -- and they both caught sight of the two people at the railing.

Jones’s eyes flickered with shock, disbelief, and something oddly more vulnerable. He’d never seen the human woman on that ship’s railing in his life...but he knew those gray eyes...

“Ca...lypso...?”

Chia Dalma’s hands clutched the railing as her eyes filled with tears and a weak smile prickled at her features.

“Finn,” she breathed.

Carewyn, meanwhile, had met Charlie’s gaze straight on. Her eyes were very wide at the sight of him, just as much as Charlie’s was at the sight of her.

“Carey!” cried Charlie.

His heart felt like it was fit to burst, seeing his surrogate twin again. Part of him just wanted to throw himself over his ship’s railing over to her and pull her into the biggest hug, and yet --

She was on the Dutchman -- the Flying Dutchman, the ship of the damned --

Carewyn’s eyes flooded with fear as she shot her head around, taking in her soldiers fighting off pirates from the rest of the Tower Raven’s fleet on the deck of her ship and the Phoenix’s cannons being turned into the proper position.

Her gaze then shot back to Charlie’s face with urgency.

“BECKETT IS COMING!” she mouthed to him desperately. “BECKETT IS COMING! GO!”

She then yanked her pistol out of her belt and purposefully shot right over Charlie’s head, to make her point. Clenching his jaw, Charlie nonetheless nodded firmly, blinking back some traces of tears as he whirled on his crew.

“FIRST WAVE, FIRE ALL!” he roared.

With the Dutchman effectively hampered by both waves of attack, the Phoenix was able to successfully put a respectable distance between it and the Flying Dutchman. Carewyn tried to keep their focus on the rest of the fleet and on capturing prisoners from those vessels, but Rakepick contradicted her, ordering the Dutchman to shadow the Phoenix in case it was heading to Shipwreck Cove. What Carewyn did not expect was Jones agreeing with Rakepick.

“I want everyone on board the Phoenix locked in my brig,” said the captain of the damned icily, his gaze flaring with raw emotion as he glared at Carewyn. “I will not let them escape me.”

Carewyn knew she’d been outmaneuvered again. There was nothing more she could do, to protect everyone now. It was all up to Charlie now, to warn Bill, Jules, and Jacob...to warn Orion...

The memory of the pirate captain’s calm, dark eyes made Carewyn’s heart clench with longing and pain. He’d always made her feel so much stronger, whenever she felt most useless and hopeless...but right now, more than anything, she longed to have him at her side -- to feel his shoulder resting against hers and see his soft smile once more...

Rakepick was right -- the final battle was coming, sooner than anyone could’ve ever predicted. It was all up to Charlie to warn the Brethren Court now.

#potc au #au #pirates of the caribbean #my art #my writing #charlie weasley #carewyn cromwell #chiara lobosca #Mad-Eye Moody #barnaby lee #finn mcgarry #jules farrier #bill weasley #patricia rakepick #damn it rakepick!#sadly we couldn't afford to set finn free just yet though #gotta get closer to shipwreck cove and reunite him with chia :3 #but yay captain charlie weasley of the phoenix!#he may or may not change the name to something more dragon-like later XD #but yeah technically you gotta be a captain to be a pirate lord #one reason moody gave charlie captainship #and also because as great as barnaby is I think he makes a better First Mate than a Captain #just like bill does XDD #I love putting rakepick and carey in a room together #wonder if you guys can guess who the brethren court members are...#hint: two of them are mc's who have done content for the au #(another mc is the keeper of the code >:3)#four are hphm canon characters #(one of those is charlie of course)#and the last is one of my kiddos >:3

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jinmukangwrites · 4 years

Text

Whumptober Day 3

Forced to their knees | Held at Gunpoint

Warnings: Canon typical violence

Ao3

-o-o-o-o-

Jason wakes up to a hand pressing down on his shoulder. Immediately, he's awake. His eyes fly open and his hand snatches the gun he keeps under his pillow like the cliche paranoid lone-wolf characters always do in the movies. Except Jason does it unironically. There’s been many times he’s woken up to an unfamiliar and leering face. A gun normally forced them to back off.

And this time is no different. Well, except the face that backs up this time, hands raising in the air in surrender, isn’t one of ill intentions. It’s of familiarity. Of goofy, lopsided, apologetic smiles and familiar eyes.

"Dick," Jason grumbles, letting the tension fall in his frame as he lowers the gun ever so slightly. Not all the way. Dick should know better than to wake Jason up so suddenly, especially if Jason's crashing in one of his safe houses in the bad parts of town like he’s doing now. Jason won't shoot him, and the idiot knows that there were only rubber bullets filling the chamber of his pistol, but it’s the thought that counts. right?

Within moments, his sleepy, adrenalin filled find catches up to him.

Dick is in his room. Dick.

Holy crap.

"Where the heck have you been?" Jason hisses, throwing off the layers of his blankets to stand up. The chilled morning air hits his bare chest, but thankfully he previously decided to hit the hay in sweats. "It's been three weeks since anyone's heard from you."

Dick shrugs, lowering his arms and keeping his stupid bright, wide smile consistent as he leans nonchalantly against the wall. "Here and there. Secret stuff, ya know?"

Jason scoffs. Yeah. He knows. Stupid Grayson and his stupid undercover missions he doesn't bother to tell anybody about. And the worst part is, Jason was actually worried about him. Everyone was. Even Bruce, seemingly, even though now Jason suspects the old man is in on it.

Fuck. Jason thought they were fine with this undercover crap years ago, after the Spyral escapade and all that shiz.

Well. Apparently, not. A swell of anger enters his throat. He lifts his weapon.

"Are you gonna elaborate on that? Or are ya just gonna stand there and watch me shirtless like a creep?"

"That's actually why I'm here, Jay," Dick says with a sigh. "To elaborate. Something… came up. I need your help."

Jason now decides to lower his gun, dropping it onto the rumpled sheets above his now depressingly-empty-of-his-sleeping-body bed.

He would love to tell Dick to go screw himself and then go back to bed. The entire family has been busting their butts with worry, trying to figure out where he's gone off to, and of course it just ends up being a super secret undercover mission. If Jason had half a mind, he'd punch Dick then drive to the manor and lock Bruce into the manor’s barn with Tim's dirty laundry for the rest of the day.

Tim might disagree, but everyone besides him has come to the conclusion that Tim's body odor is the worst . Yes they rank each other's body odor. They're boys and Cass , what do you expect? Jason holds the record of best smelling body odor and Duke can shoot his urine off the roof of the manor the furthest. It's known facts of the family.

Anyway, he gives Dick an unimpressed glare, his blood beginning to boil at the sheepish look on his face. How can he stand there knowing that everyone's been frantically looking for him and look sheepish about it?

"Go tell Daddio then, I'm not interested to deal with your bullcrap," he grumbles. "You're in this together, dig yourself out of whatever hole you've fallen in together."

"Bruce can't know," Dick says quickly. Too quickly. Sharply like he's... worried. That grabs Jason's attention. The golden boy… doesn't want to tell Bruce something?

Jason lifts an eyebrow and Dick sighs, his smile finally dropping just a bit as he reaches an arm up to rub the back of his neck. "There's a new smuggling group in town and I was put in charge of going in undercover to get information. The thing is, they found out that there was a mole. They don't know who it is, but they also don't think it's me. They trust me. But there's a woman who works with them who they do suspect. I haven't seen her in three days."

"And that means you can't go to Bruce… why?"

Dick gives him a look like Jason's not understanding something. He scowls, sighs again, then sticks his hands into his jean pockets. "They're cracking down on the signals we're putting out now. Checking our phones and such. I can't call Bruce otherwise they'll figure me out. And I can't drive to the manor because there's a higher chance of me being tracked."

"Payphone, then."

Now Dick doesn't bother to hide an annoyed expression. "Look. You're the closest and the easiest to contact. And… and this is my mission. Mine alone. I can't…"

He can't fail it.

Jason gets it.

He hates that he does.

Jason exhales sharply, already deciding he's going to regret this. "What's the plan?"

Dick's bright, plastered smile returns along with a glint in his stupid blue eyes. "I overheard some higher-ups talking about an abandoned lot by Gotham Bay, and I saw a boat covered in a tarp in one of the warehouses they use. I think they're going to drop her in the bay. We just need to get there and take them out in a way that won't lead to suspicion. Just Nightwing and Red Hood saving a girl about to be drowned out of the goodness of their hearts."

"Bold of you to assume I have a heart," Jason grunts, "but sounds solid enough. Anything about these guys I need to know about? Names? Titles? You're being awfully vague."

"Sorry, Jay-lad," Dick says smoothly, and the nickname rings in Jason's ears. "Can't have the bats catching on."

-o-o-o-o-

Jay-lad.

Jason launches himself over a two story roof down towards the empty roads lining the bay. Sometimes, during the summer, there'll be parties and picnics in the parks circumferencing the ocean, but they're few and far between. Never that much fun. Especially when it starts to rain for the twenty-billionth time that day and a dead body washes in on the shore.

Jay-lad ?

Nightwing lands besides Jason. All smiles and perfect teeth like always. The brightness of his smile shines even in the dim, harsh light of Gotham's half-assed lampposts. Ahead of them is what definitely could be described as an abandoned lot. In Jason's opinion, it looks more like someone tried to build a department store on the shore and forgot the tide exists. It's half submerged, walls rotting and the roof caved in. Graffiti of all kinds litter the walls, no attempt by anyone to ever clear it up.

Did Dick really call him Jay-lad ?

To the side of the building is a boat, floating softly right where it's just deep enough to do so. It's tied to the building though, not going anywhere for a little while longer.

Dick's never called him Jay-lad before. That's… that's Bruce's thing. Jason's always been Little Wing, or Jay bird . Names he's always hated, but might have been secretly proud of a few times in his life. Names he’s always hated, but they were Dick’s nicknames for him.

"They might be in the building trying to get last minute information out of her," Dick says, his voice still way too happy. All smiles. Perfect teeth. Jason didn't think it was odd a few hours earlier, but now it's grating on his nerves in such a specific way that he can't help but search for all the little things that's bothering him about Dick right now.

For one, the nickname.

For two, the happy go lucky attitude. The guy is optimistic, sure, but he knows when business is business . Business includes saving a woman wrongfully accused of being a spy in a group of criminals he was spying on. He should be full of guilt and anger right about now. Dick's a martyr, and he hates it when people are being hurt for something he's done.

For numero three, the way he flips over the roofs. Or well, the lack of flips. Jason didn't see him flip once . Just jump, land, jump, land, keeping up pace with Jason and not making any useless chatter along the way.

Dick's been gone for three weeks, and he comes back with a vague excuse with holes and acts… wrong.

It must be in Jason's head. It has to be.

"So we go in through the windows and get her out before we have to swim to get her," Jason says and Dick nods his head.

"Let's go," Dick says, rushing forward just like that. No jokes, no verbal announcements of why they're doing this, no keep safes .

Let's go. Just that.

Something is wrong.

Something is wrong and Jason can't figure out what.

So he goes along. Follows Dick towards the building and watches the dim windows for any movement. There's none. Which is strange. Normally, when a Gotham villain wants to get rid of a mole, they do it rather dramatically and over the top. Gotham criminals are rather proud of that status, and when someone enters their ranks pretending to be one of them they take it as a personal offence.

Regardless of that, when Dick chooses a window closest to the shore and begins wading through the water, Jason trails after, his hands twitching for the guns on his hips.

By the time they make it to the window, they're mid-thigh deep in chillingly freezing water. Dick makes a signal for Jason to stay put for a second, looks in the window, then opens it to climb through. Jason waits in the ice-cold water for Dick's signal, trying not to think about what the salt water is going to do to his pants but also definitely thinking about what he's going to do to Dick if his pants are ruined.

"Clear," comes Dick's voice after a solid minute of waiting. Jason releases an uneasy breath, ready to get out of the ocean but also still feeling like something is very, very off about this entire situation.

Jason shoves the doubts to the back of his mind, grabs onto the ledge of the window, then hefts himself up.

The first thing he notices when he enters the room is that it's dark. Empty. Dust lingering in the air. The next thing he notices is that Dick is nowhere to be seen.

The third thing is that Dick is, in fact, here, but he makes himself known by jamming a fist into Jason's throat and grabbing the collar of his leather jacket. Before Jason can recover from the attack on his neck and catch his breath, he's shoved against the far wall, away from the window.

Away from escape.

Anger puddles in Jason's gut.

"What the hell ," he snarls, his voice scratching, as he ducks under another swing. Dick's fist rams into the wall, resulting in the wall gaining some shining new cracks. The force of the punch was definitely enough to break fingers, even if properly thrown, but Dick doesn't even flinch. Just reals around with a frown on his lips and a downward, furious tilt to his brow. Jason grabs his guns, aiming them at the man he's just begun to consider family again. Dick stops in his tracks at the sight of the weapons being aimed at him and glares.

"This isn't anything personal, Jay-lad," Dick says slowly, but he doesn't make any moves to back off or surrender. He just stands there. Heartless milky eyes staring through his mask.

"There ya go again, calling me that," Jason hisses, keeping his aims steady towards Dick's chest.

"I always call you that," Dick says, and Jason almost sees green.

"No you don't," he growls. "You've never called me that. And you've been acting weird all night. Off. And now you're attacking me? What the fuck is going on?!"

And for the first time in a very long ass time, Jason watches the one expression that doesn't look pretty on Dick pass on his face. Frustration. Annoyance. Rage.

It's an expression Jason hasn't seen in years . Not since Jason was still in his early teens and still believed Robin gave him magic. Not since Dick and Bruce were at each other's throats whenever they were anywhere near each other for whatever reason. The downturn to his lips, the crinkling under his eyes, the scrunching of his nose, the sneer. It's not a good expression on Dick.

It's a terrifying one.

"You'll have to find out, wontcha, hoodie?"

And Dick charges. Teeth bared, fists clenched. Jason just manages to block the next punch with the back of his arm. He lashes out with his free hand, the one holding the gun, and attempts to toss a pistol whip. He succeeds, smacking his cheekbone with a crack . Dick's cries out, stumbling back a step before charging again, fire in his normally cool eyes.

Jason tries to hit him again, but Dick anticipates the move, hitting Jason on the inside of his arm with enough force for Jason to accidentally let go of the weapon. The gun goes sliding across the weathered floor, clanking against the far wall. He doesn't go for it, just shifts to a more hands on approach to take care of this. He throws his fist, hitting Dick along the jaw, but Dick retaliates by throwing a leg up and kicking Jason right in the gut. Jason gasps, pissed now that his breath has been knocked out of him two times now, and immediately kicks back.

The fight continues. Hits here, kicks there. There's no quips. No banter. Just the sound of panting breaths and the dull thuds of blows being exchanged.

Jason goes to smack Dick's ears and disorientate him, however he doesn't get to finish his blow. Dick ducks under his arm and slams his entire body weight into Jason's stomach. Arms wrap around Jason's middle, sending them both to the floor. He shouts when his back lands roughly on the ground and his head thunks in the inside of his helmet, but he immediately begins to shove Dick off from him.

He succeeds in that regard. But Dick almost rolls off of Jason himself, getting to his feet in a blink of an eye and sprinting for the other side of the room.

Jason realizes why the moment Dick bends down and snatches up Jason's lost weapon.

The gun.

For a second, Jason almost believes that Dick will smile, drop the weapon, and say this was all some huge test or spar. But then, Dick lifts the gun, aims with accuracy, and squeezes his finger on the trigger.

Jason has a blink of an eye to roll out of the way of the first bullet, but the second one hits him right in the thigh.

And he knows he has rubber bullets. They're not meant to be deadly.

But they sure as hell are painful.

Immediately, it feels like someone took a baseball bat to his leg. He tries to stand up, but his leg persistently wants to buckle. He manages to scramble to his feet, using the wall as support, but then there's another blast from his stupid fucking gun and he stumbles. Next thing he knows, a hand grabs his shoulder and pulls him down, slamming his stomach against a bony knee heartlessly. He falls to his knees, gasping for air, hardly aware of the hand that goes to the hidden latch at the back of his helmet until there's a hiss and air hits his skin.

The barrel of his own gun presses against his head as the hand still on his shoulder squeezes. Jason sucks in air, then glares up at Dick who's wearing a triumphant smirk.

"Not so tough now, are ya?" Dick says, and Jason snarls. He goes to stand up, but the gun presses harder against his skull. A rubber bullet is still a bullet when at point blank. He stills.

"What the hell is going on?!" He growls, and Dick smirks.

"You've been raised by the world's greatest detective, right?" Dick asks, his voice singsong. "Figure it out."

And Jason hates that. Everything Dick is saying. Doing. Acting. It all feels fake. Practiced. Like he's playing a part but not playing it completely. Like the backup actor for when the lead one calls out right before a performance.

Acting. Fake. Practiced. Wrong. Different.

Holy shit.

"You're not Dick," Jason acuses, the realization slamming into him like a truck. This isn't Dick. It's so clear now. He's so dumb for not realizing earlier. It's all been some sort of set up. And maybe it was easy to look past the strange actions because he was, dare he say it, relieved that Dick was okay and alive and standing in his bedroom after three weeks of being missing. Three weeks and counting now. "Who are you?!"

The fake laughs, twisting the barrel of the gun against Jason's head. Jason has no doubt he'll shoot it. "My name isn't important. What is important is that I'm wearing the face of the most trusted guy in the superhero world. You were the field test, Hood. Looks like besides a few hiccups here and there, I'm ready for the big league."

Jason stills. Hiccups ? This guy, whoever he is, knows things that he shouldn't. Secret identities. Nicknames. Personalities. He's had to get his information from somewhere. And three weeks seems like a pretty realistic timeframe to get that kind of information.

"Where's Dick. The real one. He in a room like this too?"

Because he can't be dead. He can't be.

"Course he is," the fake replies, "have him stuffed away somewhere you'll see soon. Seems like there's information he got wrong and left out, enough to get you suspicious of me. That's fine though, he was pretty tight lipped at first. He loosened up after a few days. We'll just keep trying on the both of you. I think I'll be able to fool Batman himself soon enough."

And shit. If that isn't a scary thought. Because it seems… true. Believable. Like Bruce can actually be fooled by this man that looks exactly like Dick.

"This isn't going to work," Jason says, instead of voicing his real thoughts.

The fake's grin widens.

"It already is."

Then, he brings the gun back, smacking it against Jason's forehead with a snap.

Jason goes down hard, and he wonders as consciousness begins to fleet, how long it will take the rest of the family to realize something is wrong.

With the chirping of laughter that sounds so familiar to Dick's that it makes Jason's stomach churn, his eyes shut against his will, and darkness embraces him warmly.

-o-o-o-o-

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

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western-writer · 3 years

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New Beginnings

Fandom: Far Cry 5

Warnings: mentions of killing one's self, slight language, slight descriptions of death, and mentions of death itself

Summary: When the Resistance accidentally almost gets the Deputy killed, members take a step back to evaluate their actions. When Dep finally wakes, she's troubled about her health and is unsure how to move on with life.

A/n: this isn't edited but I've been working on this one for a really long time and I honestly love how it turned out so enjoy!

The stillness and lack of gun power in the air made some residents of Hope County question if yesterday's events actually happened.

Mary May stands behind the bar, leaned on the counter and being supported by a single arm. The other arm is occupied with the task of bringing her drink to her lips so she can nurse the strong beverage. Her eyes are glossy. Her mind is off in a distant place. She wishes nothing more than to leave.

The rising sun's light leaks into the bar as the door opens and disappears as the door shuts. Pastor Jerome Jefferies enters, sharing a forlorn look with Mary May. He strides toward her and takes a seat on a barstool.

"Penny for your thoughts," Jerome murmurs, pouring himself a glass of the dark liquid.

Mary May inhales sharply before breaking her gaze on a barstool scratch on the wooden floor.

"Was yesterday actually real or did I just have an incredibly vivid, terrible dream?" She pushes herself up on the counter, now leaning on the heel of her hand.

"Unfortunately, all too real," Jerome responds regretfully.

Mary May sighs. Blood on her hand catches her eye and she jumps, pained by the sight. Pastor Jerome catches this and follows her eyes.

"You should wash that off," he advises.

Nodding slowly, Mary May takes a wet wash rag from the counter and wipes her hands off and then tosses the rag into the trash. For that one, she thinks, it's best to just throw away.

She runs both hands over her face, muttering a question to Pastor Jerome. "Why'd we do it? Why the HELL did we do it?"

"People do some stupid things when they're scared," he answers. "That doesn't make it right, but it makes us human."

"I wish humans weren't so stupid," Mary May says angrily.

Laying in a bed in a coma is Rook. Beside her is a very, very angry Kim Rye. She told the Resistance it was a bad idea. She told them to trust the Deputy. They didn't listen and it almost cost Rook her life. It still might.

Her husband, Nick, enters the room and stands in the doorway meekly. He knows he's part of the reason Rook is where she is, and he doesn't know if Kim will ever forgive him for his part.

"How's she doin'?" he questions.

Kim responds without looking at him. "Still pretty fucking lifeless, Nick. She's being kept alive by machines."

He stares at Rook, at where he knows the bullets pierced her body. He wants to say something else. He should say something else, but he can't bring himself to. His chest aches, ridden with guilt.

"If she doesn't wake up..." Kim starts to say before taking a breath to calm herself. "If she doesn't wake up, Nick... I will NEVER forgive you. Do you understand that?"

Nick sighs. "I understand. I won't forgive myself either."

Sharky hadn't slept all night. The image of Rook's unmoving body in a pool of her own blood is burned into his brain. Everytime he shut his eyes he saw it, almost like it was tattooed on the inside of his eye lids. He was stupid and he knew it. Rook always made the right call when it came down to it. What made him think this time would be any different? He couldn't bring himself to trust the cult to keep their word, and in turn, that meant he didn't trust Rook.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," he mutters to himself, pacing his trailer. The words rolled out of his mouth over and over until he couldn't bare to talk anymore.

"Goddammit, Shark," he cusses himself. "You really fucked it this time."

He couldn't pull himself out of his dread long enough to go see her. He isn't sure if he even wants to see her in the first place. Seeing her like that... he's not sure he'll be able to bounce back from it, especially if Rook doesn't make it.

An ear piercing scream rips through the air, giving the echoing sound of the gun shot that just fired a run for it's money. A collective gasp and stunned scream comes from bystanders as the unarmed follower drops to her knees, blood spurting from the bullet hole in her neck. Nick's plane flies over them, dropping bombs uncomfortably close to them, which sends everyone into a panic.

Rook dives into cover as the cult begins to return fire. She's weaponless which makes her helpless. Frantically, Rook looks around, hoping to find a discarded weapon. Her eyes land on one not far from her, dropped on the ground presumably by the now dead body next to it. She waits until an opening and makes a break for the weapon, but she falls short when a large boot comes into contact with her face. The force of the kick knocks her onto her back and she peers up at the culprit.

"Was this a set up!?" the Chosen member in front of Rook screams at her. This particular Chosen happened to have a gun, and was now pointing it right at Rook.

"No! No! Of course not!" Rook shouts back, trying desperately to be heard over the gunfire. She looks around, hoping to see Joseph somewhere, but, of course, Joseph is no where to be found. She cusses to herself, knowing he would believe her when she said this was not her idea.

"Awfully convenient," he remarks, rounding on her like a predator stalks it's prey. Her heart is pounding in her chest as she watches the barrel of the gun circle her.

Gunfire around them seemed to cease as the only thing Rook could hear was the sound of his boots hitting the ground. Then, three gun shots fire off and the world goes silent. Two bullet land themselves in Rook's chest and the third in the head of the cultist that just shot Rook.

The fight lasted no more than a few minutes before the cultist got his hands on Rook, yet claimed many lives, starting with the unarmed cultist and potentially ending with Rook.

Rook had laid in her own blood for almost thirty seconds before someone came to her aid. Mary May was quick to put press on the wounds. Eventually, under Joseph's order, his doctor's rushed her away for emergency surgery. The rest of them were left at the battle site, wondering if Rook would pull through.

"I knew it was a bad idea," Eli mumbled, unsure if anyone was listening. "You all were so angry when I said not to participate and look what happened!"

The Whitetails in front of Eli cringe at his loud voice. They're now thankful they didn't participate in the bloodbath that might take the Deputy away.

"You were right, Eli," Wheaty responds. "I'm sorry for ever doubting you."

"Eli, come on. You have to admit that we had absolutely no reason to believe that the cult would really back down if we did."

"You're right, Tammy. We had no reason to trust the cult, but we had every reason to trust Dep. Look at all she's done for us, at everything she's been through because of the cult. She just wanted peace and the rest of them couldn't let her have that."

Silence falls over the small crowd and Eli sighs, setting his bow down on the table.

"I'm going to see her. I advise that you all just stay here."

Standing outside the room, Eli hears multiple voices and comes to the conclusion that one of them belongs to Kim Rye. She hasn't left Rook's side since she came here.

"Thank you... for, you know, taking care of her."

"Of course," another female voice responds. It sounds familiar to Eli but he can't quite place it. After a pause and a heavy sigh, Eli enters the room. He finds Kim sitting in a chair beside the bed, Faith Seed administering medicine. Kim turns and sees Eli. She stands up and walks over to hug him quickly.

"Thank you for coming," Kim says to him. Eli nods to her and then Faith.

"Faith," he says, nodding his head as if he's tipping a hat. "How's she doin'?"

"She's making progress," Faith responds. "She was lucky that both bullets didn't kill her on impact. These bullets could've easily hit her heart. It would've been over before it started."

Eli sighs and pulls up a chair, sitting beside Kim.

"All we can do is keep her comfortable and keep infection from setting in. The machines will do the rest until her body can take over."

"When do you think that will be?"

"We can't be sure, if I'm being honest. Maybe she'll just wake up."

Kim smiles sadly. "I'll never forget her rolling up to the airstrip in Nick's plane like she owned the place. That's how I knew she was different than the rest. That's the moment I was sure she was our hope." Kim glances at Eli, then back at Rook. "Have you talked to any of the Resistance?"

"Not besides my Whitetails. Have you?"

"Just Nick."

"I wonder how the others are coping..."

"I imagine not well," Faith pipes up. "Everyone I talk to talks so highly of her, even some followers. She's a force to be reckoned with, I know that first hand." Faith smiles a bit before it falls. "Can I ask you both something?"

"Sure," Eli and Kim respond.

"Would both have been satisfied with a peace treaty? Like, actually satisfied or would you have rathered to eradicate us but settled for peace?"

It takes the two of them a minute to respond. Eventually Kim speaks up.

"If I'm being honest, I wasn't pleased with it at first. It was only after talking to Dep about a lot did I come around to being at peace with the idea."

"Same here. It definitely took a lot of contemplating, but at the end of the day, I came around thanks to Dep."

"Why? You both spoke so openly about wishing death on my family. What changed?"

Kim and Eli share a look before Kim answers for the both of them. "I think both Eli and I can agree that it was seeing what this fight was doing to Dep. She was constantly anxious and paranoid. She didn't sleep and when she did the nightmares made it pointless. The weight of the county was on her shoulders and it wasn't fair. If living peacefully with you all meant Dep would finally have peace, it was worth it."

A small smile makes it way onto Faith's lips. "I think in a different life her and I could've been friends..."

Footsteps behind them pull the three of them out of their conversation to look behind them. Walking up the hallway is Deputy Pratt followed closely by Jacob Seed. Pratt's eyes go wide when he sees her.

"W-w-what happened to her?" he questions, moving to stand beside her bed.

"Shot," Jacob answers gruffly.

"How?" Pratt responds.

"While trying to discuss a peace treaty with Eden's Gate," Faith answers before Jacob can, effectively silencing whatever insensitive answer Jacob had.

Jacob rolls his eyes at her, leaning against the doorframe.

"What happened to the person that did this?" Staci asks, looking around at everyone.

"I dealt with him personally," Jacob answers coldly.

Staci looks away from Jacob and back to Rook. He hoped she'd never have to be in this position.

Days went by and the worry through out the county intensified. Rook wasn't showing any signs of waking up anytime soon. Finally, after ten days and being in a coma she opened her eyes at 2:37 AM. Beside her still in a restless sleep was Kim Rye. Kim's eyes shot open the moment she sensed Rook being awake.

"Oh, my God, Deputy!" Kim exclaimed, jumping up and running to her. "I'm gonna take this tube out of your mouth, okay?" Rook nods back slightly and very carefully Kim pulls the tube out of her throat.

Rook groans, looking at her bandaged body and fighting the rasp in her throat to say something. She can't find the words but Kim knows exactly what she's trying to say.

"You-you were shot, Deputy. Point blank in the chest twice. While you were trying to negotiate peace." Kim chokes up a little bit, overwhelmed by happiness.

Rook's eyes dart around the ceiling as so many questions bounce in her head.

"I'll explain more later, but right now we need to get you checked out. We have to make sure you haven't sustained any serious damage besides the obvious." Kim puts her hand on Rook's shoulder before turning to walk out of the room. She stops before exiting and turns back to Rook. "It's good to see you awake, Deputy. We were -I was - starting to wonder if you'd ever wake up."

Two weeks after waking up Rook was ready to sit up. After two months she was standing, something they feared she may never do again, and only a month after that she was walking again with help.

Many people around the county came to her aid, offering to help her with whatever she needed. They did a great job at keeping her occupied and entertained. When she was well enough, many would take her for short car rides around the county, and Nick even took her up in his plane once.

Dep had almost no memory of that day. She remembers laying on the ground with a gun in her face and then waking up in the hospital bed. Kim, though, took the liberty of filling her in, explaining what the Resistance did. At first Rook was angry. She was so angry that they doubted her so much that they took such drastic measures. But she saw the guilt the carried when they'd visit her. She could hear it in their words and see it in their actions. They were trying so hard to make it up to her.

Eventually, Rook was able to let go of her anger towards them and be able to understand why they did it. While it doesn't excuse their actions, it certainly helped Rook understand. Her understanding was what led her to forgiving.

Talk of a peace agreement began to circle the county when Rook made an off hand comment about intending to follow through with that once she was fully recovered. Though true, Rook was worried about her health. While the bullets missed her heart, she sustained damage to her lungs and spinal cord. Rook doesn't vocalize these fears until a night where Jacob was tasked with watching her overnight.

She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the floor when Jacob entered with dinner for them both. He sets the bag down next to her and takes a seat beside the bed. She reaches for it, opening it.

"Chicken tenders, fuck yeah," she says, pulling the food out of the bag.

Jacob props his feet up on the chair beside him and takes a bit of his burger. Rook slowly eats her food.

"So, you still wanna go through with a peace agreement, huh?"

Rook looks up at him cautiously, surprised that he's making conversation.

"I would like to, yes," Rook answers.

Jacob grunts a reply. He was never a fan of the idea of surrender. But Joseph said it's what God wants, and what Joseph says, goes.

"I wouldn't expect you to like the idea, Jacob. But the amount of relief I felt when Joseph agreed was astronomical. Like a huge weight off my shoulders."

Jacob looks up at her. She's staring at the floor again.

"I guess my relief wasn't long lived." She takes a long, ragged breath and takes another bite.

"You know," he starts. "When I first saw you in that church, my expectations for you were so low, but you proved me wrong."

"I don't think that counts of a compliment, Jake."

Jacob rolls his eyes. "It's not supposed to be one. I was just sayin'."

Rook sighs and carefully slides back, moving to lay on the bed. She tries to move her leg without using her hands. Jacob watches her for a second before she gives up and uses her hands to lift each leg onto the bed. She leans back, staring right at the ceiling. She glances at him and he can tell that something is on her mind. He recognizes the look.

"Spill it," he demands. "Something's bothering you. Spill it."

"Like you care," Rook responds.

"I don't," Jacob snaps back. "But if I have to deal with that fuckin' look on your face all night, I'll kill myself."

Rook sighs, looking down at her legs. "I'm worried about my health, Jacob. The bullets damaged a lung and my spinal cord."

Jacob stares at her.

"The fact that I have any feeling in my legs is a miracle... but I may never be able to walk without assistance ever again. And even if I can, my bad lung will make it nearly impossible to do anything ever again. I probably won't be able to work at all, let alone go back to being a cop."

"Why'd you wanna go back to your job after everything?"

Rook smiles a bit. "I've never felt like I belong more than when I'm in that uniform. And now I'm not even 30 and my career is over. I felt so... content being able to help people and now that chance is gone. Early retirement here I come."

"You're afraid that you'll never have a purpose again, right?"

Rook stops before slowly nodding.

Jacob sits there calmly and Rook continues to ramble on and he actually listens. He surprised at all the information she reveals to him. He never would've guessed that all that had been going on inside her head. Finally, she pauses and Jacob decides to interject.

"You've got something goin' for you, Deputy. More than I ever did when I was discharged from the army."

Rook stops, looking at him and wondering where this is going. "And what would that be, Jacob?"

Jacob sighs, leaning back in his chair. "You've got a whole county dedicated to you, Dep. That's more than I can say for myself. I was a mess before Joseph found me. But these people... they won't let that happen to you. I know they won't. They feel too guilty and care about you too much. You'll find your purpose, Dep. It'll just take a little time."

Rook is stunned by Jacob's words, and so is Jacob himself. But the words are burned into her brain whether she wants them to be or not.

Rook heals more and begins to become more mobile. As she promised, she follows through with the peace agreement and the whole county shows up to witness history. Only when she's standing there in front of all the people she had fought for and fought against does she finally understand the meaning of Jacob's words. She doesn't need to be a cop to help people. She's helping them right now. She's bringing peace to their home.

It takes some time after peace settled in the county for things to go back to normal. Rook, being tired of staying at home doing nothing began to search for jobs she could do with her limited mobility and damaged lung. It was difficult and after a while she began to lose hope. Then, out of no where she received a letter from Jacob explaining to her to per the peace agreement, he was converting the Vet's Center back to an actual sanctuary for lost and broken veterans that need help getting back on their feet. In the letter, Jacob offers her a management position, claiming her to be the best person for the job that he knows. He understands that the job might a little bit demanding for her given her health, but he's willing to work with her on it if she agrees.

Rook is floored by this surprisingly kind gesture and she takes the job on the spot.

Working along side Jacob like this, she learns so much more about him and his family that she never would've learned otherwise.

One day, while they're working, Jacob admits to her that he was the one that killed the person that shot her.

"I didn't even think about it. We arrived to the chaos and when I saw him shoot you I just... acted."

"You saved my life that day, Jacob. Who knows how many more times he would've shot me."

Jacob nods, almost dismissively, but now she just knows that's how he is. Somehow, in a round a bought sort of way, they became friends. They all did. Resistance members were now actively helping members of Eden's Gate with random projects and visa versa. None of the ever thought that this would come from a truce, but they all agree that it feels good to have a new beginning. It feels good to feel safe again. And that's all thanks to Rook.

#jacob seed #far cry 5 writing #far cry 5 #deputy rook #Eden's Gate #the resistance

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chroniclackofselfpreservation · 3 years

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Creatures of the Night

Chapter 18 - to get burnt by an imitation

Back to the Beginning < Previous chapter / Next chapter >

AO3

Masterlist

(TW: pain, verbal abuse, mild violence)

(The title of the chapter comes from "A Promise" by Ernestine Northover)

So many variables, Logan thought, knocking the back of his head against the wall. He’d been sitting on the floor outside the cellar door for who knows how long now, mulling over the plan Virgil had proposed.

“She’ll be back any day now,” he’d explained. “After doing strong magic like that again, I’d be surprised if she wasn’t curious. We’ll have to ambush her. As far as she knows, the curse is still active. She doesn’t have any reason to suspect that Dorian will be on our side.”

“That’s assuming he’s willing to help out,” Roman had pointed out. “The whole reason he accepted the deal was so he wouldn’t have to battle Ursula. I would.”

“We all would,” Patton corrected.

Logan had remained all but silent throughout the process. The others let him be, under the pretense of “intense brainstorming,” but in reality, he was drawing a blank.

He knew nothing about Ursula or her powers, though from what Virgil had described, she sounded pretty invincible. Roman had supposed powers, but knew next to nothing about how they worked, Patton’s ability was more of a passive talent than a weapon, and Virgil was too high on the excitement of having his talisman back to think up a proper, coherent plan. Logan had stepped away, claiming he needed time to think things through—which wasn’t a total lie—and had ended up sitting in the hallway, thinking of nothing.

His eyes flitted over the symbol scorched into the door, its faint purple light pulsing every few seconds.

Is no one in this house normal aside from Logan?

He snorted at the memory of Roman’s words. Normal might be an objective term, but useless wasn’t. He knew any sort of plan that had even a chance of success didn’t involve him. He didn’t have magic. He didn’t have a year’s worth of experience fighting a demon. He had no supernatural ability to tell the future.

Logan was an elementary school teacher. He was that loser from the next class over who thought that looking at bugs during lunch hour was more interesting than talking to real people. He wasn’t a brave knight ready to defend his friend’s honor to an immortal witch.

The only thing he was good at was logic. Being ruthlessly objective. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that he shouldn’t attend the mission. Really, he shouldn’t be involved at all.

Right. So stop being a baby about it and go tell them, he thought harshly.

Stuffing down the dread mounting inside of him, Logan forced himself to his feet and back into the living room.

Things had quieted down after the fiasco that was trapping a goblin in their cellar. Virgil had only given them the barest of details: he was Ursula’s henchman, powerful when he wanted to be, and a total jerk. Now that Virgil’s secret was out, however, he seemed content to roam the house in his feline form. Patton followed him around, making casual conversation despite the fact that Virgil was incapable of replying. The four thin gashes Remus had clawed into his cheek stood out against Patton’s otherwise blemish-free face. He looked like a walking oxymoron. Such a sweet, harmless person looking like he’d tangled with a raccoon over scraps of garbage. Patton had several small scars on his hands, but he’d explained that they were from accidents with hot glue guns and X-Acto knives while crafting with Dot.

“I’m too clumsy for my own good,” he’d say with a shrug and a laugh. Logan would fail to mention the fact that Patton almost never wore short sleeves, and the sneaking suspicion he had that his friend was hiding something. Or maybe he just likes cardigans. Stop being so paranoid.

Roman sat on one of the kitchen stools, a mug of tea Patton had prepared held close to his chest. His knee bounced restlessly as he stared at the ruby-red amulet on the counter in front of him, like he was waiting for it to jump out and bite him. His sun-tanned skin from the summer was starting to fade, which also meant the disappearance of Roman’s annual freckles. He always seemed to develop them in a swath across his nose, making him and Patton look almost related.

Logan blinked, realizing he’d been staring, and walked over. He pulled out the other stool and took a seat. Roman’s head twitched in his direction, like he’d recognized that Logan was there, but couldn’t quite pull himself out of whatever deep thoughts he’d been wading through. His shoulders were tense again.

Logan leaned over. “What tea is that?”

“Lavender.”

“Have you had any of it?”

“No.”

Logan reached out and grabbed the amulet.

Roman’s knuckles went white.

Logan held the jewel up to the light, examining it. “I think we should throw this thing away.”

“But I… need it,” he said, tripping on the words coming out of his mouth.

Logan cocked an eyebrow. “Really? I would think you’d want nothing more to do with it.”

Roman tapped a nail against the mug. “Well, yeah, I hate it. But that doesn’t mean we’re not going to need it when we go up against Ursula.”

“Speaking of which, I’ve come to a conclusion,” Logan said, setting the amulet down. Roman relaxed a bit.

“What’s that?”

“You all will be much better off without me on this mission.”

Patton looked up from the corner of the living room, Virgil trotting easily across the back of the couch. He put his hands on his hips. “What is this wacky talk? Lo, weren’t you the one who wanted us all to stick together from now on?”

“Well, yes,” Logan admitted, “but I’m merely being objective. I don’t have any special skills to contribute, have no unique knowledge about the enemy, and will only be a hindrance to you three.”

Virgil leaped to the ground and resumed his human form, something Logan was still trying to get used to. “You aren’t useless, Logan. You contribute plenty.”

“Well…” Roman said. Virgil shot him an incredulous look. “No! Of course Logan isn’t useless. That’s not what I mean at all,” he amended, holding out a hand. “All I’m saying is that Logan might have a point. Virgil’s the most powerful one here, and I’m what this whole thing is about, not to mention I have a lot more experience with… this kind of stuff.”

“What about me? You can’t possibly think I’m more helpful than Logan, can you?” Patton demanded. “Unless you want me sleeping through the battle, there’s really not much I can offer either.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Virgil said. “You have inherent magic in you, so you can see the truth of things no matter what.”

“The truth of things?”

“That’s how you were able to see Remus and talk to him,” he explained, looking slightly uncomfortable at the amount of attention on him. “Magical creatures like him, or even some spells can be hidden from mortal eyes—like the spell on the cellar door. If… If I wanted to, I could make it so Logan couldn’t see any of it,” he finished haltingly as Logan’s expression wilted.

“It’s settled, then,” Logan said, though it pained him. This was Roman’s curse all over again, except now, he would be sitting at home, alone in the dark, waiting for three of his best friends to return hopefully in one piece.

“No!” Patton cried, looking desperate. “Virgil, if Ursula’s really so powerful, who’s to say she doesn’t come and attack the house while we’re out looking for her? If she’s seen through your eyes like you say she has, then she knows all of our faces. Logan would be alone. We’re safer if we all stay together.”

Logan sighed. “Patton—”

“No, he has a point,” Virgil cut in. “That does seem like something she’d do. I agree with Patton. We can keep each other safer if we’re all together.”

Roman bit his lip. “Okay... I still don’t like it, but you know her best, Virge. So, if you think we’ll be better off together, I’ll go with it.”

“I won’t be dead weight for you guys to carry around,” Logan implored.

Roman put a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll definitely be more dead than weight if you stay here alone, Lo. Trust us on this. Besides,” he said, his face ticking up into that perfect smile that hid his fear, “I wouldn’t want you anywhere else. You know that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do, Roman.” There. We’ll lie to each other and call it even.

Virgil suddenly swayed. He squeezed his eyes shut and grabbed Roman’s shoulder, steadying himself.

Patton’s smile vanished. “Virgil? What’s wrong?”

He shook his head, grimacing. “It’s Ursula. She’s—gah!” Virgil cried out, clutching his head.

“Here. Sit down,” Logan said, carefully guiding him to the dining table. Virgil collapsed into the seat and pressed his forehead against the tabletop, hands tangled in his hair. Logan watched helplessly as his friend whimpered through gritted teeth, trying to control his breathing. At least this feeling of uselessness wasn’t new. Though they now knew the source of Virgil’s sudden headaches, they’d seen him deal with them for years. Each time, the most all three of them could do was sit and keep him company through the worst of it.

Patton placed a comforting hand on Virgil’s back, and Roman watched him suffer with a barely restrained rage burning behind his eyes. Virgil’s shoulder bunched, climbing toward his ears, his shoulder blades cutting sharp angles on his back. His breathing was short and shallow, punctuated by occasional groans or whimpers.

It was strange, seeing Virgil like this after having just seen him so energetic and excited after using the full potential of his powers again.

“Stop it!” Virgil growled, bristling. Patton jerked his hand away, and Logan shot him a comforting look. Patton nodded, though he looked extremely conflicted. They all knew he wasn’t talking to them. Virgil began to tremble, and a strangled sob escaped his lips. Logan’s chest caught. This was getting bad. Worse than most other episodes he’d had.

Patton made a soft, miserable sound.

Roman began pacing, shoulders starting to climb nearly as high as Virgil’s. His hand worked the air, like he was trying to grasp a weapon that wasn’t there.

Something clicked in Logan’s head. Something about seeing his friends like this shoved whatever feelings of uselessness he’d had out of his mind. He may not be able to do much himself in the way of fighting Ursula, but he could support those who could.

“Virgil, listen to me,” Logan said, lips inches from Virgil’s ear. “You can do this. I know you can. We have a plan, and we’re going to beat her.”

Virgil stilled, his trembling fading away. His shoulders relaxed, and he lifted his head. He turned and looked at Logan, a mirthy laugh bubbling out of him. Logan’s blood ran cold.

“You think so, do you?” he said, his lips quirking into a confident smirk.

“What…?” Logan managed through his fumbling mind. The dots were there, he just couldn't connect them. Or maybe he simply didn’t want to. Roman’s head snapped around at Virgil’s words and he stormed forward.

“You leave Virgil alone,” he growled, his voice taking on that tone that made Logan’s skin crawl. Like nails on a chalkboard, but ten times worse.

Virgil stood, the chair squeaking against the tile. His head cocked to the side. “My, my, little prince. You’ve grown, haven’t you! And it’s only been a year. How’s the curse holding up? Oh,” he chuckled, his voice lilting and patronizing, “you must be exhausted. Why don’t you sit down?” Virgil pressed his palm against Roman’s chest. Violet light pulsed outward and Roman flew back into the cabinets.

“Roman!” Patton cried rushing over. Virgil’s neck and arm spasmed, and he looked down at it, as if surprised.

“You’ve gotten more powerful, kitty,” he muttered. “What did you do to poor Remus?”

“We killed him,” Logan said, hoping to hide the tremor in his voice. They couldn’t fight Ursula like this. Not when it was Virgil they’d really be hurting.

Virgil’s attention snapped to him, a smile playing at his lips. “Really? You?”

“We all did,” Logan replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Patton has the scars to prove it.”

Virgil glanced at Patton, who touched his wounds a little self-consciously. He shrugged. “Alright, maybe you did. Makes no difference. You, on the other hand,” he said, his hand shooting out and clamping around Logan’s throat. “Tell me this so-called plan of yours.”

Logan grabbed Virgil’s wrist, but couldn’t pull away. His grip was like iron, though he hadn’t cut off Logan’s airway… yet.

Remain calm. “That would defeat the purpose.”

His nose wrinkled in a snarl. “I could snap your neck like a toothpick.” Virgil’s hand trembled, and he glanced at it angrily. Hope blossomed in Logan’s chest.

“I know you’re in there Virgil.”

“Shut up, you useless mortal. What chance do any of you have against me?” he snapped, his hold tightening. Logan wheezed. “Roman’s the most powerful one here, and he can’t even access his own powers. You’re all weak.”

“Let him go!” Roman bellowed standing.

Virgil threw back his head in a fit of laughter. “Or what? You’ll attack your friend? You can’t touch me, little prince.”

Roman paled.

“You underestimate them,” Logan choked out, the pressure in his head building.

Virgil pulled him closer, their faces inches apart. “Please, you’re the least interesting one here,” he sneered. “I’d kill you out of sheer boredom before you were anywhere close to an actual threat.”

“I know that,” Logan rasped. “But as long as they’re here, you don’t have a chance. Roman is the strongest person I know. Patton is incredible, even if he won’t show it. And Virgil is stronger than you.”

“Really? Well, I think it’s time you took a little nap,” Virgil growled, his lip curling. Instead of constricting, his fingers flew apart, releasing Logan—who collapsed to the ground, gasping and coughing. Virgil stumbled back, his whole frame shaking.

“You insolent little whelp!” he screeched, his voice high and stringy. “Stop it! I am your witch! Worthless, undeserving SCUM YOU CAN’T—” Virgil’s voice cut out and his whole body sagged, like the strings holding him up had been cut.

“Virgil?” Patton asked carefully.

Virgil lifted his head, panting. He gave a shaky thumbs up, then his eyes promptly rolled up into his skull. Roman shot forward, catching him before he could collapse completely.

Logan let out a sigh of relief, flopping onto his back and staring up that the ceiling.

Yes, he might be useless, but he’d definitely be there to make sure his friends weren’t.

#tw pain #pain tw #pain #tw verbal abuse #verbal abuse tw #verbal abuse #tw violence #violence tw #violence #mild violence

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ijustwant2write · 5 years

Text

Mr and Mrs Barnes?-Bucky Barnes x Reader

(GIF credit to @veronikaphoenix)

Masterlist

Requested by anonymous: ‘May I ask for an arranged marriage fic where at first Bucky really doesn't wanna be with you as he likes Natasha but eventually falls for you’

Summary: Bucky and (Y/N) were both super soldiers under HYDRA. As part of a huge undercover mission, they were forced into an arranged marriage, both still bound to it to this day. However, as they enter the modern world, Bucky finds himself falling for a different agent, and (Y/N) can’t help but catch feelings for her husband.

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Reader (Platonic), Steve Rogers x Reader (Platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Arranged marriage, arguing, sadness but some fluff

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He didn’t remember.

He didn’t remember what we were to each other.

Sure, it wasn’t for love, but even as robotic, hypnotised super soldiers, it was good to have someone beside you. It somehow made the killings easier; the guilt was shared.

Of course there wasn't any romance, we were forced into this. One mission somehow required it, HYDRA making us sign the papers, surrounding us with guns as a threat if we didn't agree. Bucky and I had never even had a full conversation, only brief sentences during missions to communicate with each other. When he went rogue I had been sent to hunt him down, coming across his friends along the way. It hadn't been a good introduction.

"(Y/N), what are you doing here?" Bucky asked, his eyes wide in shock as I cornered him in the park where I found him jogging. He looked well, in normal clothes, his hair was clean...just good in general.

It wasn’t hard to find him. He had been on the news a lot recently, especially since he had, as the media had said, ‘turned good’. I hadn’t known where the Avengers base was, but found out where they regularly went for jogs; outside of the compound to probably escape the feeling of being restricted to one area. I stuck my hands in my jacket pockets, dark sunglasses covering my eyes as I looked at him.

"I'm taking you in." I simply stated.

"Really? How do you plan to do that?"

"Don't make this difficult, we can't run forever."

"HYDRA fell last year, who's ordering you?"

"You can come meet them." I reach in my jacket, revealing a gun.

"Bucky?" another voice shouted as they approached. Looking over his shoulder, I saw that it was Steve Rogers.

"It's fine Steve."

"Yes, it is." I grabbed Bucky's upper arm."We were just leaving."

"No, I'm not going back there." he snatched his arm back.

Steve stood between us."Alright what exactly is going on here? How do you know each other?"

"She's my wife."

You didn't have to be an idiot to see that I was jealous of Bucky's new life. He was free, safe and had friends. So when he suggested, well begged for me to leave whatever was left of HYDRA, I practically jumped at the chance. At first friends weren't overally thrilled, assuming that I was undercover still; but I had multiple chances to prove myself, something they took on board. However, it was me that took time getting used to this 'normal' life. Luxuries like a comfy bed, bathrooms, coffee even had made me emotional, though I found it hard to express these feelings, having been trained to hide my feelings.

Years had passed, and although it was strange, Bucky and I were still married. Most days I forgot, but today was different. Today marked the anniversary of our marriage, and I had to keep convincing myself that it was a stupid idea to keep it in mind. We wouldn't be celebrating, it was a forced marriage. After Bucky's help to rehabilitate me (even as he was going through it himself) I got to know his true self. He was unintentionally charming, kind, helpful with any obstacles I had to face, and understanding. Who wouldn't want to be married to this guy?

"Morning Bucky." I greeted him in the docking station, making sure I had my weapons for the mission.

When he didn't say anything back, I looked up at him, finding him staring at Natasha. She was getting ready herself, and although it seemed she didn't notice, she was too good a spy not to. I nudged him, repeating what I had said. He managed a smile back.

"You got everything?" I asked, trying to keep up conversation.

"Yeah, I checked." he replied.

"So, what was so interesting about Natasha?" I hadn't meant to be bitchy, but I wanted to get straight to the point.

"What? Nothing, I was day dreaming."

"OK, if you're sure."

“What’s that tone for?”

“What tone?”

“Alright guys, let’s go!” Steve called out, everyone immediately moving to the quinjet.

Was I being stupid? Perhaps paranoid? Bucky and I never had any type of romantic involvement, so him gawking at Natasha shouldn’t have bothered me. But it did, and it annoyed me to no end. I was a highly trained agent, I should be able to block out emotions such as these. I knew Bucky wouldn't act on his feelings, it wasn't in his nature. However the looks he gave her didn't go unnoticed.

"Buck, hate to break it to you but you're a married man." Steve joked. It was a running joke with everybody actually.

"Not by choice." he said back, though there was no joking tone in his voice.

Steve sensed how that had annoyed me."Still, you and Widow? That's an odd pairing, I must say."

"It's not like that."

I butted in."It's pretty obvious. You're losing your touch. Might want to keep the staring at a minimum."

"Look, nothing is going on."

"Yeah, we know."

I hadn't let that get to me during the mission. It was pathetic. What had happened to me? Why was I turning soft? Why was I suddenly having all these feelings?

Because of Bucky, that's why.

We had been through too much together to not even have a sturdy friendship. We had even gone to therapy together, trained our minds back to normal, built a new life. So why was he acting like I was just someone to go on missions with? We lived in the same building, we saw each other everyday! I had to stop attaching myself to him, pretending that he actually cared for me.

After the successful mission, I was the first off the jet, wanting to get far away from Bucky, focus my mind on something else. However, Steve had other ideas, following me as I scurried away from everyone.

"(Y/N), I want to talk to you." Steve said.

"Sorry Steve, can it wait? I'm really tired after that mission."

"No. It has to happen now."

I groaned, stopping in my tracks to turn around. He nodded his head towards an empty conference room, and I followed him inside. Neither of us sat down, standing opposite each other.

"What's going on with you and Bucky? It seems...tense."

"I mean nothing, as usual."

"I'm not an idiot (Y/N), I know you have feelings for him."

"Yeah but I shouldn't."

"Why not?"

"Because he doesn't feel the same. Plus I've come to the conclusion that I only feel that way because I only have things in common with him out of everyone."

"That's not true."

I sighed."I know, but that's how I'm justifying it."

"He's still recovering-"

"So am I! Do you know how much they tortured me when Bucky escaped? They thought I had something to do with it!"

"OK, OK, calm down."

"I've attached myself to these ideas of our marriage when it's not even real, like as a comfort blanket."

"It's understandable, you were there for each other when you first came here."

"But he treats me like a work colleague! We don't even chat in passing, sometimes I'm lucky enough to get a polite nod."

"He's just...he's just reclusive."

"Bullshit. We used to open up to each other about everything. But as soon as we were cleared from therapy and were allowed on the team he changed. He fawns over Natasha all the time, and I shouldn't be jealous but I am."

"Have you talked to him about this?"

"Didn't I just say that we never talk?"

"Well make him. Tell him how you feel."

"I'm not good at that stuff Steve."

"No one else can tell him what you're feeling. Get it done soon otherwise it'll stay bottled up forever."

I hated to admit that Steve was right. I also hated that it was obvious to the others. How embarrassing for everyone to see that you're falling for someone who doesn't feel the same even though you're married. God, was I in a telenovela?

I went on the hunt for Bucky, going to his room first. When he wasn't there, I searched the corridors as I headed to the living room. Nope, not here. As I neared the kitchen, I could hear his voice, along with Natasha's. Why did it have to be her? Not only could I compete with her, but I actually liked Nat. The jealousy towards her felt even worse. I listened in, hoping that they wouldn't catch me.

"You were great out there today." he complimented her.

"Thanks. You and (Y/N) are a great asset to the team."

He hesitated with his next sentence.“Yeah well, we were forced to train together.”

“You make it sound like it’s a bad thing. You two are practically impossible to beat. And (Y/N)’s a great partner.”

When he didn’t answer, she spoke again.

“So, I know you two aren’t married on your own accords, but how come you’ve never filed for a divorce?”

Divorce? Why was that so hard for me to hear? I had considered it before. When I finally thought I was stable, thoughts like this came into mind. Perhaps I could find someone who actually wanted me, someone who saw me for who I was, who didn’t treat me differently to everyone else. However, when I thought more and more into it, the more off putting the idea was.

“Uh...I guess we just never got round to it.”

“Really?”

“Actually, I’ve never put much thought into it.”

“I think there’s a reason for that. Might want to mull it over instead of making advances at me. Mind you, I am flattered.”

Natasha was making her way towards me, and I quietly took a few steps back to make it look like I was only just arriving. We smiled at each other as we passed, mine vanishing as soon as she was gone. Good, she didn’t reciprocate the feelings. Walking into the kitchen, my confidence was at a maximum level, soon dropping when my eyes met Bucky’s. No, I couldn’t do it. I made my way to fridge, pulling out two bottles of water before leaving. Nothing was said, nothing was done.

And that’s how it stayed for the next month.

We literally didn’t have any conversations, not even a ‘hello’. Steve’s words were playing on my mind, and Natasha’s words were playing on his. Neither of us acted upon them. We were both scared, unsure and didn’t know how to deal with the situation; something us super soldiers weren’t used to. But as I was bottling it up inside, not explaining it to anyone, these stressful thoughts made their way into my dreams, and the sleepless nights returned.

My body had been tossing and turning, the bed sheets tangled up around my body that was covered in sweat. I could feel everything I used to feel, the pain, the suffering, the imprisonment. I shot upright as I screamed out, fighting off whoever had a hold of me. They knew how to defend themselves, holding down my arms to stop the punches. As I realised that I was in my bed and not back with HYDRA, I stopped the yelling and fighting.

“(Y/N), (Y/N), it’s me. It’s Bucky, you’re safe, you’re at the Avengers base.” he said soothingly, holding my face in his hands so that I looked him in the eye.

“I’m....I-I’m safe, I’m safe.” I breathed out as I sobbed.

“Yes, you’re safe, you’re with me.”

“Did I wake you?”

“You know I don’t sleep much.”

“Was I screaming?”

“Yeah. I rushed down here the second I heard it.”

I sighed, crying out.“Oh god, what if they all come back?”

Bucky pulled me into his chest, hugging me tight.“It might just be a one off. Something has just triggered it. Do you know what it could be?”

“I...a month ago I heard you and Nat talking, and she asked why you hadn’t divorced me. And for some reason, it really upset me, even though we never even dated.”

“That’s what set this off?”

“I guess so. I think it’s cause this is the only connection I’ve had with someone, even if it is fake. And I’ve gotten so used to it, but I know it’s stupid.”

“You know, I felt the same when she mentioned it.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. It’s like you said, I got used to the label.”

The conversation wasn’t going anywhere, neither of us expressing what we really wanted to stay. Though maybe neither of us were sure yet. I certainly wasn’t, not definitely.

“You want me to stay tonight?” he offered, causing butterflies to erupt in my stomach.

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to. We know what these sleepless nights get like.”

I smiled and nodded, moving aside for him to lie down next to me. He casually slipped under the covers, still holding onto one of my hands. I tried to remain calm, hoping that I wouldn’t look like an idiot in front of him. We were facing each other, his eyes already closed as he mumbled out goodnight. I repeated it back, unable to force myself to sleep. He was acting so normal about this, we were laying here together...like a married couple.

“(Y/N)?” Bucky whispered, slowly opening his eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Do you wanna start training together again? Go for those jogs round that nice park?”

“Don’t you want to train with Nat and Steve?”

“No, their regime is too easy.”

I giggled.“I hope you can keep up with me. It could take some time for you to get used to it.”

“I’m not thinking about going anywhere else.”

“Alright, we’ll start in the morning. Goodnight Bucky.”

“Goodnight (Y/N).”

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mst3kproject · 5 years

Photo

510: The Painted Hills

You don’t see a lot of movies where the top-billed star is a dog. I’m going to venture that it’s probably a bad sign. When the dog actually deserves it, for being the best actor in the film… well, that’s even worse.

A grizzled old prospector (who has a name but I’m gonna call him Stinky Pete, both for the Toy Story reference and because he looks like he never bathes) has just struck gold. He hurries into town to file a claim, and then he, his business partner Len, a boy named Tommy, and Shep the dog get to work mining. There’s plenty of gold to be had, but you know how it goes – mo’ money, mo’ problems, and the problem here is Len. The more gold they dig up, the more Len is paranoid somebody’s going to come and rob them. Eventually, he doesn’t even trust Stinky Pete anymore, and pushes him over a cliff. Too bad for him, Shep the dog discovers the crime, and now she’s out for revenge!

Okay, first of all, this movie is set in the mountains of California (the Native Americans in it are, for the most part, local Miwok people speaking their own language!), but the Painted Hills are in Wheeler County, Oregon. Apparently Desert Hot Springs, California, is sometimes called Painted Hill, but that’s in freaking Coachella Valley, an area that looks nothing like anywhere in this movie! What gives?

Second of all… have you gotten the idea that I’ve saved the boring movies for last? Because that’s exactly what I’ve done. There were movies like Radar Secret Service and The Starfighters that were so gut-wringingly awful I just really wanted to get them over with, but then there were movies like Time Chasers and The Painted Hills that I just kept putting off and putting off because they were too dull for me to even write about the pain they put me through. It wasn’t a sharp, torturous, kidney-stone type pain like some of those worse films… it was just a low, dull, ache that refuses to go away.

Time Chasers is actually a pretty good comparison with The Painted Hills, in that both take an intrinsically compelling idea and make it as boring as they can. In Time Chasers it was time travel and paradox – in The Painted Hills it’s a good man’s descent into madness. I’m pretty sure Len is supposed to start out as a nice guy, a friend to Stinky Pete and with a fatherly affection for Tommy. Then greed overtakes him, until he is driven to murder one and contemplate killing the other. If this was the movie’s intention, though, it fails. Len is surrounded by red flags from the beginning, and where we should see his growing paranoia, we’re instead watching a cheerful mining montage.

Stinky Pete originally heads into town to share his find with a friend named Frank, who was Tommy’s father. He arrives to find that Frank has died, and part of his share in the mining claim has been bought up by Len. This makes Len an interloper from the beginning, and when he first shows up dressed all in black, we immediately know he’s going to be the bad guy. The arc would honestly be far more powerful if he were somebody Stinky Pete knew and trusted, rather than a relative stranger. What little we see of them working together is not nearly enough to establish that they have become close, and the red flags around Len make his betrayal an inevitability rather than a tragedy.

We see Stinky Pete, Len, and Tommy agree to start building a sluice with Len still a nice guy, and then there’s a montage, and the next time we see Len he’s got a beard and is plotting murder. How much time we skipped I have no idea, but with it went all of Len’s development. The Painted Hills is a short movie, but other than this one thing it’s very careful to establish things. It sets up the fact that Bald Eagle is a skilled herbalist and that Tommy knows his grandchildren. It sets up the pastor and how he knows to recognize Tommy’s horse. Yet it can’t bother to give us even bits of the most significant character arc in the movie?

The other major disappointment in the story is that Tommy, who ought to be the human hero, is never vindicated. He tells his story to the pastor, who doesn’t believe him. When they find Shep later, Len is already dead and they still have no proof that he killed Stinky Pete or tried to poison Shep. The fact that Len tried to shoot the dog may be a clue, but it’s not the same as discovering the hidden gold or the bottle of poison, or some other bit of material evidence. For all we know, Tommy tried to tell the story to his mother only for the pastor to assure her that he made the whole thing up.

While I’m here… why does Len re-hide the gold? Is he hiding it from Shep? Yes, re-hiding it does cast doubt on Tommy’s story, but he had no way of knowing the pastor was coming. Why is he so determined to kill the dog? Does he think she’s going to tell on him? His behaviour here, including running out into what we’re evidently supposed to believe is freezing cold without a coat on, is entirely irrational, and completely at odds with what he was doing a moment earlier, when he calmly told the pastor that Tommy was making up stories.

The most believable character moment Len has is when he thinks Tommy has died in his fall from the horse. The shock of this brings him to his senses and he is visibly relieved to find Tommy still alive. Thoughts of killing the boy vanish, and he takes him inside to come up with another plan. This is also the most captivating moment of the movie, both because it is so well-played and because Tommy is not nearly as annoying as a lot of little kids in old movies. It also lends credibility and tension to the sequence that follows, in which Len tries to convince Tommy he’s jumped to conclusions.

Unfortunately, this bit stands out so sharply because the rest of the acting is dreadful. Everybody is flat and stagey, just standing around with their thumbs in their belts reciting their lines and trying not to look at the camera. Bruce Cowling as Len tries to give a physical performance in a couple of spots, inching his way along a narrow ledge or trying to knock the gun out of his frozen hand, but it never works. It’s always too pantomimey, and the sets are never convincing. There’s no way we believe he’s in danger of falling and he’s obviously not actually cold.

The only good actor in the movie is, as I already mentioned, the dog. She’s clearly very well-trained and it’s actually rather hard to watch when she’s supposed to be writhing in agony from the poison. A big contributing factor is obviously that a dog has to show-not-tell, whereas the human characters do an awful lot of telling. Kudos to her and to her trainers and handlers.

Besides Time Chasers, the other thing The Painted Hills rather strongly reminds me of is old made-for-tv Disney movies and nature documentaries… things like Lefty the Dingaling Lynx (which for some reason I was obsessed with at the age of six) and White Wilderness (the one with the lemmings – the lemming scene was actually staged in the city where I live). Something about the technicolour, the lighting, the pretty but unconvincing matte paintings, and the recited line reads all adds up to warm fuzzy childhood memories.

As an adult I realize that these films contained appalling animal cruelty and a fair amount of dark content of their own, but it’s still weird to see the same aesthetic in a dark tale of murder and revenge. Then again, The Lion King is also a dark tale of murder and revenge, so maybe I’ll get back on topic now.

The theme of this movie, as stated by the narrator over the opening credits, is a dog’s bond with her loving master, so strong that she even avenges his death. Dogs are known to do stuff like this, but the way it’s presented in The Painted Hills makes it look like Shep is less ‘loyal and loving’ and more ‘actually psychic’. First there’s the way she starves herself while Stinky Pete has a fever and is unable to eat. I could believe her refusing to eat because she’s pining for her human, but the idea of some nonphysical link that specific seems a bit silly. Same with Stinky Pete’s death – Shep isn’t actually there to see it, she just somehow knows that Len’s responsible. When she refuses to eat the poisoned food until Len tosses it to her from the table, I was honestly surprised this was not portrayed as her somehow knowing it was poisoned!

The narrator’s speech also left me a bit surprised that Shep actually survives the movie and goes off to live happily ever after with Tommy, especially after the rather shocking shot where we actually see her blood staining the snow from a bullet wound! The movie had seemed to be leading up to her being able to die at peace having avenged her master’s death and ready to join him in the hereafter. I’m honestly not sure how I feel about them not going that route. I mean, nobody likes it when a dog dies in a movie, but having her be fine at the end feels like they chickened out. I dunno.

‘I dunno’ is really my whole response to this movie. There’s not enough substance here to be worth the level of thought I have to put into a review. The fact that it manages to make a revenge movie so colourless would be fairly impressive if I weren’t so bored.

Although I gotta admit… it’s not every day you get to see Lassie just straight-up kill a dude.

#mst3k #reviews #the painted hills #50s

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darnellbebop · 4 years

Text

Decided I’d write up the story of my experience with that catfish. Don’t know if anyone cares but it’s under the cut if you do:

So back in November a friend mentioned meeting someone on Facebook Dating. My first thought was “That’s kind of dumb” but then I figured since your profile for that is linked directly to your Facebook, I wouldn’t see as many spam profiles and I may have also took the possibility of catfish into mind. Not sure. But if I did, talk about ironic. Within the first couple days I matched a pretty girl and messaged her about Hogwarts houses since Harry Potter was on her profile.We hit it off pretty well and exchanged numbers and things seemed to be going well. She worked two jobs (Lush and PF Chang’s at a couple different malls in the area). She even mentioned that she’d seen me before at my job a couple months prior. A lot of very realistic shit. Nothing to be suspicious of.

Since she worked two jobs, she worked pretty much 7 days a week. We planned dates a couple times and she always ended up backing out for one reason or another. There were also a couple times we got into disagreements where she would refuse to talk to me for a day and basically have me beg for forgiveness when she decided to “give me another chance”. (That’s a toxic trait even in a real relationship; especially since she expected me to always talk to her even though she could decide “I’m not talking to you because I’m mad”).

Anyway, about a month or so in, we still hadn’t met up and she asked about sexting so we gave that a go around Thanksgiving. This is when I first got suspicious. We had sexted one night and then the following morning and in the morning I was alarmed to notice that the video taken in the morning was in a different room than the stuff she had sent the previous night. They were both bedrooms. And they both neck down only so I immediately thought “These are not the same person” and said I wasn’t comfortable sexting anymore. This got her mad and she wouldn’t talk to me. During this time I tried digging up proof that the girl was real. Googled her name, her phone number, checked her Facebook and IG. Honestly I came across so much proof that I should have cut her out at this point but I didn’t:

All of her Instagram pics only have comments from guys. No comments from other girls. Kind of weird that none of her friends ever decided to go “Yes girl!!!” on any of her selfies. And on the couple where she was with a friend, she didn’t have them tagged. Additionally, the only photos she was tagged in were from an account belonging to her “brother”. Her Facebook was similar. I forget what brought this up, but I came across a guy’s name who lived in the same town she gave me at some point during all my research and thought “Maybe he’s the catfish” (He definitely is).

Now there were things that felt like “Well why is this a thing if she’s not real?” too. The biggest one was that on Facebook I came across a guy, a real person (he actually interacts with numerous people in his posts and seemed as real as possible) who claimed he had been dating her at one point. An ex boyfriend felt like proof to me. And then the amount of effort that went into this fake girl also felt insane (Facebook and Instagram accounts that were a few years old and a PSN account).

When she answered me again she chewed me out for not trusting her. Completely flipped the script on the fact that I found her out and instead made me out to be the bad guy and had me thinking I was just being paranoid for nothing. This is what really makes me mad about the whole situation. Instead of ghosting or apologizing and letting me move on with my life, this dude doubled down on his lie and sunk his claws in deeper.

Since the holidays were coming up, both of our jobs were getting busier so it was understandable that we weren’t able to meet up. I think part of me was still suspicious at this point. When I got her Christmas presents, I got her things that I would still enjoy for myself that I didn’t own just in case she wasn’t real (thank you subconscious me). I get suspicious occasionally when I notice something not quite right but don’t want to be accused of “not trusting her” if I bring it up and do question if I’m maybe being paranoid. Maybe there’s a reasonable explanation.

Fastforward a bit to late February and she sends me a video compilation of some plays she made in Overwatch. After I watch it, I decide to check out the rest of her channel because that’s just something I naturally do after I watch a friend’s video. In the “About” section, a guy’s Instagram is linked. What guy? The one I came across months ago. That was the smoking gun so to be speak. Now maybe it’s possible she’s friends with this guy and just has him upload them to her channel or they share a channel. No reason to jump to conclusions like a paranoid crazy person (See how manipulative this asshole was?).

By this point, the combination of us having never met up or even FaceTimed had me thinking even if she is real, this is taking forever to get started and I decided I would pursue other girls in the mean time and if nothing happened by the end of the month with her, I’d cut her loose. Then COVID happened and quarantine bought her time since there was an actual excuse for her to not meet up. Thankfully though, she also slowly drifted away from me during quarantine. She texted less and less. One day she finally addressed it and was like “Sorry, for being distant” and I said it was okay and that the boring quarantine routine was probably to blame. Though at the same time I was a bit relieved cuz her disappearing would be fine since I know she’s not real.

One thing that also stood out to me that I feel like I should have caught on to as a sign was that a lot of her reaction images and pics she’d send me were Black Twitter memes. This was a white girl with an uncomfortable level of Black reaction images. The guy however, is Black. So it makes sense. Then a bit into me watching her play Overwatch one day, she asks me to add her “brother’s account” cuz she’s gonna play on that one instead of her own. Interesting, right? Looking back at it, the “brother” profile on PSN looks very similar to the guy’s IG profile.

I haven’t attempted to talk to her in over a week. Sent a meme. Didn’t get a reply. Didn’t try again. I’m fine with that. Plus when I checked the dude’s Twitter, I found one of his Youtube video links and watched it and the person playing is whoever’s on the PSN account belonging to “her brother”. AKA it’s his and he was just some manipulative asshole piece of shit who can go fuck himself. He’s probably moved on to someone else. Or multiple someone elses. Who knows. I did notice that both profiles have been using “Share Play” for Overwatch without me so I take it, those are sessions with my replacement.

So yeah. That sucked. I wasted way too long on a piece of shit catfish. I know I did but I also sort of felt like I didn’t have other options at the time. It wasn’t until I actively started looking that I realized, I have other options and don’t need to put up with a catfish or a girl that plays so many games. Also gonna trust my gut unless I’m given solid proof that it’s wrong cuz my gut was right.

#personal #long #catfished

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altankatt · 4 years

Text

Kimberly Rice and Neal as ransom

At least Agent Rice did not mind Neal spending money on clothes. He had used the opportunity to buy some shirts from Pink, the English brand. He simply loved them but was way out of his official budget based on his income from the FBI. But he did not mind sending Rice a bill for a suit and three shirts when he had the chance. He had even added a tie and a pair of cuff-links to make the set complete. He had explained to her about his not entirely true wardrobe situation and that he needed something appropriate for going clubbing, told her he just owned a few second-hand unfashionable clothes.

Neal adjusted his tie under the supervision of Mozzie.

"You're letting the pantsuit use you as bait to catch Wilkes?" he asked from his position on the sofa. "Doesn't that strike you as insane?"

"I'm going to a club," Neal reminded him. "The feds will be right outside."

"This is the same Wilkes that wants you dismembered, right?"

"Dismembered is slightly overstating it. You're being paranoid."

Neal picked up his jacket. He liked his rat-pack suits, but he simply adored the lovely light-gray material in this new suit from Pink.

"Paranoia is a skill, the secret to longevity," Mozzie assured him. "Did you not join Wilkes' crew, gather intel from his targets, and then totally screw him over?"

True. Wilkes had valid reasons to dislike him.

"They were planning to hurt people with guns. I don't like guns." He had done the right thing. "For all we know, Wilkes is on his way to Tahiti right now."

"For all we know, he's sharpening his talons to tear into your spleen."

Mozzie despised violence. That was one of the things he loved about his friend. But it also made him believe that everyone capable of violence wanted to use it in exuberance.

"Thanks for your concern, Moz," he replied, not without annoyance. "But this little field trip is my best chance to get the anklet removed. Alex won't talk about the music box while it's on."

"Oh, you professional thieves, so high-maintenance," Mozzie rolled his eyes. "I'm washing my hands of this."

Neal's phone pinged. Again. He checked the message.

"Rice is here. Duty calls."

"I get the apartment," Mozzie said as he passed through the door. Well, the wine storage would not refill itself he would soon realize.

Neal got inside Rice's car and they flew across Manhattan. Then they parked near where the underground club was and waited.

"You know, you kept me waiting outside that rich lady's house for half an hour," she said, breaking the silence. It was true. And he had not been ready to leave when she first texted.

"You can't rush style, Agent Rice."

"Took me less time to get ready for my wedding," she snorted. Neal glanced at her and she saw it. She raised her left hand showing the lack of a wedding band on her finger. "It didn't take."

"I'm not surprised," Neal said and saw at once that he should have kept his mouth shut. "Statistically speaking," he added.

"Okay, it's time for you to go fishing, Caffrey."

Neal was not eager to leave the car. She had not brought up the anklet, so he had to.

"This is a hush-hush kind of place," he told her. "There's a good chance they'll be patting me down. Be a shame if my tracking anklet blew your case."

She brought up a pair of scissors.

"Cut it."

"Really?"

He took the scissors.

"I'm not an idiot. I'm not sending you undercover with that. Go on. Lose it."

Neal bent down, cut the band with its metal threads and handed it all to Rice.

"There you go."

It was hard not to smile. Now he could meet with Alex. He left the car and walked across the street. The gate leading to one of the club entrances was right ahead. A car blinked with its lights. So there was his backup. He stopped by the gate, hesitated. Then he turned to Rice and gestured that he would go around and try the other side, pretending it was locked where he was.

He was loyal to Peter. Kimberly Rice had given him no reason to be loyal to her. He would not give them a reason to put him back but he around the corner was dark and a lot of shadows. Where he could give Alex a call and meet her without anybody knowing. Neither Rice nor her agents would know who Alex was if they saw her coming and leaving.

Neal passed the gate into the churchyard going along the building with the church on the other side. His phone rang. It was from Peter.

"Peter, I'm in the middle of something right now, okay?"

"You need to get out of there now."

"What?" Peter could not possibly have figured out his plans, could he?

"Neal, you're the ransom."

Then he felt a stunning pain in his neck and everything went black.

Peter heard a sound from his phone that he was not sure he actually heard. He picked it up from his desk. It was an alarm alright and the particular alarm he had hoped never to hear again.

"Jones," he called through the open door.

The young agent was nearby.

"Yeah?"

"Caffrey just removed his anklet."

It was not the kind of trouble he had expected from the kid. Still, his mind was already figuring out what he needed to get the chase started.

"Yeah," Jones nodded. "Rice cleared it."

Peter stared and felt his pulse return to normal.

"Rice?"

He stared at Jones and realized he was disappointed. Neal was one of few who he had really enjoyed chasing. Probably because he left little damage in his tracks. Then his mind returned to reality. Rice? Why would she need Neal to cut the anklet?

His eyes fell on the father of the kidnapped child, hovering in their little kitchenette. He remembered Jones had said that he was here and just wanted to be here while they worked on the case. At the time Peter had been far too annoyed with the whole situation with Rice to case but now… Something was not right.

He walked down to the man, whose worries could be seen without being a behavioral expert. He smiled at the man and helped him to arrange for some coffee in his cup.

"Mr. Gless, right?" He got a nod in return. "I'm Agent Peter Burke. How you holding up?"

"Oh, had to get out of the house. Agent Rice said I could wait here."

Wait for what, Peter wondered as Gless sat down by the table.

"Of course."

He poured himself a cup of coffee as well.

"I didn't expect Caffrey to be so charming," Gless said and Peter smiled. "This would be so much easier if he acted more like a criminal."

"Yeah, of course," Peter replied with a nagging feeling.

"I just hope this goes right."

Peter smiled and tried to turn on his Caffrey-charm to make the man at ease.

"If it helps, I can walk you through it." He sat down opposite the worried father. "What are you worried about most?"

"The meeting."

"The meeting," Peter repeated. "What troubles you about that?"

"The kidnapper calls, then asks for a meeting with Caffrey in exchange for Lindsay. That seems too easy."

Peter fought to keep a straight face. He knew he had heard that right but could not believe it still.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Excuse me."

He rose and brought out his phone. He speed-dialed Neal.

"Peter, I'm in the middle of something right now, okay?" the kid answered.

"You need to get out of there now," Peter ordered.

"What?"

"Neal, you're the ransom."

Then there was an electrical sound and Peter thought he heard a body fall to the ground.

"Neal? Neal!"

The line was dead.

"Jones!"

"Yeah, what is it, Peter?"

"Call Rice and tell her to find Caffrey! Right now!"

He marched into Hughes's office, too angry for his own good, he knew it.

"Rice sold Neal," he burst.

The senior agent watched Peter from the other side of his desk without moving a muscle in his face.

"Calm down, Peter. I'm not the enemy here."

Peter nodded and took a few breaths.

"Now, tell me what you know," his boss encouraged and Peter told about the cut anklet and his conversation with Gless.

"And Caffrey is gone?"

"I hope her team gets there in time to stop… But…"

"Get Rice in here, with or without Caffrey."

Peter knew his boss well enough to know he was upset but professional enough to do his job and not jump to conclusions without the facts.

Like this? Read more at: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13445460/1/White-Collar-An-unofficial-novel-part-5

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chubbyooo · 4 years

Text

Blurred Lines: Cursed Past Chapter 71: Risha

hey all we made it all the way here it took 71 chapters but we’re here :D

Gacen and Ash follow the ranger hoping to find someone long missed

Gacen felt tremors through his hand as he piloted the ship into the nebulous space, Ash was confident this was it this was where Risha was all the searching leading here to this moment. Did he even know if he wanted to see her? what if she didn’t want to see him? he felt a tightness in his throat as he gripped the controls tight he thought he’d put these worries to bed. He thought he’d come to a good conclusion that it was better to find out than worry like this but now that it was happening he wasn’t so sure. Had he made a mistake? Should they just have stayed doing small time jobs what if he messed this all up again he couldn’t let her down twice not again what would he do, this was a mistake it had to be it was just a…

He heard a voice shouting at him and he snapped back to reality “hey hey Gacen snap out of it it’s gonna be fine” he exhaled coming out of the panic to see Ash staring at him

He turned to Ash “sorry I uh I got inside my own head, what were you saying?” Ash looked at him concerned but didn’t press him

Ash pointed to the console “look the tracker has stopped that’s where we need to go” Gacen nodded adjusting his course to head towards the planet “I’m turning shields to the front just in case” Gacen nodded it was a given Risha would be paranoid it’s just how paranoid

Gacen plotted a course “alright here we come Gabredor prime” he smiled deciding to just ignore and push through the nervousness until it was done

Ash narrowed her eyes “prime is so pretentious it’s just Gabredor I” Gacen chuckled pretentiousness was best

Gacen snickered “well when your wife discovers a secret planet you can call it what you want” Ash’s eyebrows raised “potentially”

Ash folded her arms “I mean your wife would certainly go for the pretentious option” Gacen did a comically over the top gasp

Gacen joked “how dare you we may be upper class pompous criminals but we’re anything but pretentious we were like the fashionable criminals” Ash just scoffed at him hiding a smile

Soon the gas of the nebula began to dissipate and a green jungle planet came into view, Ash used the console to do a quick scan “wow that’s fascinating it’s atmosphere has a layer of chemicals that convert all this noxious gas into harmless oxygen” Gacen had no idea what she was talking about

Gacen nodded “oh yes of course that old thing” Ash turned to him his lie clearly not convincing

Ash sighed dumbing down her explanation “the planet makes the gas breathable like a shield deflecting bolts of energy” Gacen’s eyes widened as he thought about it “you got it now?”

Gacen held his chin “totally lost” Ash just sighed and turned the scanner off, Gacen tried his best to stealthily land the ship. As they entered the atmosphere they saw the thick canopy covering most of the planet and Gacen landed in the first clearing he could find, Ash scanned for life signs.

“Ok so there is a ton of life on this planet but only two sentient life signs” Ash smiled as she spoke clearly pleased their detective work had paid off

Gacen swallowed hard “so you think they’re?” he trailed off

Ash frowned “of course I think it’s them Gacen it doesn’t take a genius to work that out dummy” Gacen nodded grabbing the sides of his chair hard

Gacen took a deep breath “it’s gonna be fine it’s gonna…” Ash got up and waited for him to follow

Ash raised her eyebrow “buddy it’s too late to go back now either you follow me or I’m carrying you over there and you know I can” Gacen let out a slight chuckle conceding and getting up

He gritted his teeth and exhaled “alright we can do this I’m ready” Ash nodded and made her way to out the ship, they got to the bottom of the ramp and Gacen felt a sharp nervous feeling and leaned up against the landing ramp “I can’t do this” he gripped his stomach tight and slid down to the floor as his breathing became heavier and his thoughts became overwhelming.

Ash turned around and sighed sitting down next to him “so uh what now we wait here?” Gacen felt tears well up in his eyes but he kept them at bay

Gacen gritted his teeth “I’m sorry I know I just need a minute just a… just…” he tried to finish the sentence but his breathing was too rapid

Ash took his hand “well I’ll be right here I promise” Gacen nodded trying his best to find his composure

He took a deep breath “alright I’m as good as I’m going to be you need to push me to do this” Ash nodded lifting him up by his hand

She led him away from the ship and into the jungle and after about 5 minutes he was walking on his own again “I’m uh sorry about that it’s just…” Ash interrupted before he could finish

Ash smiled “it’s fine you don’t need to explain to me” Gacen smiled before he pulled Ash into a surprise hug “woah woah what the heck is this, why?” she struggled awkwardly clearly not a hugger

Gacen took a deep breath “just a thanks, thanks for being here whenever I was having trouble you never left you always were here for me you’re the best friend a person could ask for” he couldn’t see Ash’s face but he could tell she was smiling

She stopped struggling “well uh I just wanted to help you know” Gacen nodded releasing her from the hug

Gacen smiled “now let’s stop being so sappy by the force I feel like a fucking jedi” Ash smiled as they continued to walk

“Yeah I mean jeez what dweebs” they laughed and continued forward.

They followed the life signatures for about an hour before they came upon a reservoir with a rather well constructed wooden bridge on it. Gacen frowned “well that is certainly is the first man made thing we’ve seen” he paused “or maybe droid made” Ash nodded gesturing to proceed with caution

They made their way forward up to the start of the bridge but as they did something jumped out of the trees, suddenly they saw the familiar form of the ranger roll in front of them. Now in view Gacne could see what seemed to be a modified protocol droid with rather advanced modifications at that, they spoke in a robotic but still gruff voice “Identify yerself now” they held an impressive blaster pistol, Gacen thought better of starting a fight and put his hands up

Gacen responded “hello um we mean no harm this is Ash’shen’tor an…” the ranger interrupted them

They shook their head “not to me idiot to him” he gestured to a hooded figure who walked out of the bushes, Gacen frowned, the head was rather large that didn’t seem normal.

The figure began to speak “leave this place traveler ther…” Gacen interrupted him come on that wasn’t even subtle

Gacen chuckled “Guss? Is that you” the figure stammered confused before removing the hood to reveal the mon cal Guss Tuno

Guss blinked quickly “Gacen? Gacen is that you? I uh I couldn’t see you under the hood” he quickly ran to him and pulled him into a tight hug “oh Gacen I’ve missed you so much have you missed me???”

Gacen chuckled always the cheerful one “uh yeah sure” the ranger looked between them confused

The rangers tone changed completely to a more common protocol droid voice “master Tuno I’m confused should I stop the facade

Guss looked to him “oh yes Mask you can stop this is my old captain Gacen Zandar” Gacen did his best to wave while still tightly in Guss’ grip

Mask nodded “ah I see the one married to Mistress Drayen? My name is M4-SK I was an actor until Mistress Drayen recruited me for the ultimate role” Gacen nodded an actor droid what next

Gacen focussed turning to Guss “wait Drayen? Is Risha here?” Guss seemed to come out a daze

He let Gacen go finally “oh yes of course she’ll be thrilled to see you surely, she’s just over the bridge in our base” Gacen couldn’t help but smile but that smile was accompanied by a nervous pit in his stomach

Ash pushed him forward “let’s so see her then” Gacen appreciated the push he would just have stopped without the push

Guss folded his arms “I’m Guss, Gacen’s Best Friend, who may you be?” he shook Ash’s hand very vigorously

Ash looked at him confused “Ash, we’ve actually met before I’m the former leader of havoc squad” Guss’ eyes widened as he realised

He nodded “my apologies it’s been a long time since I’ve seen others, anyway why were you traveling with my Best Friend Gacen” Ash didn’t seem to appreciate the third degree Gacen should save her from Guss’ best friend jealousy

Gacen spoke up “well Guss you should probably notify Risha of our arrival right???” Guss gasped and then immediately fumbled for a comlink

Guss held it to his ear? Gacen assumed that’s what it was “hello boss? Yes I know sorry I got a little caught up we have some guests” paranoia was definitely present on that call “Yes I know you said no guests but you’ll like these guests. No I promise you will, I know I know what you said but I followed all your protocols it’s no one bad I promise, ok ok fine” Guss looked to each of them a little flustered “there’s like a 70% chance she may have a gun when you arrive” Gacen couldn’t help but laugh

Gacen joked “well it wouldn’t be the first time she’d shot me” Guss laughed awkwardly clearly remembering the occasion

They began walking towards whatever base they had setup, Guss was his chatty self as always “so how did you get here we were so careful” Gacen smiled he’d missed Guss’ constant questions

Gacen explained “well those Dubrillion thugs were like ‘help us we’re a bunch of jags’ and we were like ‘you can shove it dickweed’ but they did give us a lead on a bounty hunter who knew your last location. From there it was actually because of you due to a few little clues around the far more memorable mon cal former jedi than human woman and that led me to more and more clues and eventually we ended up here” Guss nodded listening intently

Guss looked away “can you uh leave the part out about me being the clues to Risha” Gacen chuckled Guss always wanted to please people

Gacen nodded “sure thing bud but the big question is what the heck is all this about” Guss held his chin clearly trying to put it all together

Guss took a deep breath “well I know some of it, uh after we gave up looking for you, sorry but we really looked everywhere I promise” Gacen nodded that was fine they were pretty well hidden “well Risha wanted to take a crack at Dubrillion and they just kept sending assassins and trying to impede our progress, that Actavarus would destroy cities just to stop us.” Gacen hated that bald cockmuncher “so Risha said we needed to be more subtle and work from the shadows, so uh we found this place near Dubrillion and built a base using droids and Mask for supplies” Guss looked around “that’s the really short version Risha knows all the details” Gacen smiled he knew Risha would never give up on Dubrillion

Ash cut in “well I mean you certainly were well hidden we’ve been searching for a long time” Guss smiled clearly proud he hadn’t given too much away

Gacen nodded “well Rish was always thorough” they reached the end of the bridge now and the base began to come into view, a large red base came into view looking more like a holiday home than a base of operations, Gacen chuckled even when Risha was hiding out she was doing it in style. He noticed the colours kinda matched his style, he smiled maybe Risha was more sentimental than he thought.

Guss was fidgeting with excitement “Oh this is going to be great I love reunions I’ve missed us three so much, Gacen I just I can’t it’s bee…” Ash grabbed the mon cal covering his mouth and moved him back.

Gacen appreciated that he was beyond nervous, he took a long deep breath and walked up to the door, there was no knocker so he went to knock on the metal but as he did the door sprung open and he saw the familiar form of Risha in the doorway holding a blaster carbine ready. She hadn’t aged a day, her eyes still dark and beautiful wearing the exact same pale jacket she always did, but her hair was much longer going down to her shoulders and curled at the end Gacen really liked it.

Gacen smiled trying to keep his composure as she met his gaze she dropped the carbine to the ground “hey Rish long time” her mouth was agape overwhelmed in surprise

Risha smiled “Gacen? Is that?” she walked up to him putting her hand on his face, it was weird suddenly all his worries were gone now he was here.

Still Gacen was so overwhelmed he didn’t know what to say “I uh I like your hair” Risha smiled averting her gaze

She played with the end of her hair “thanks I uh wanted to be as conspicuous as possible so hair change is less identifiable” she mumbled, Gacen nodded putting his hand on hers

Gacen chuckled “it looks good it builds character” Risha frowned at him he probably hadn’t used that correctly oh well.

Risha’s face softened “I like yours too” she chuckled “it’s exactly the same” Gacen raised his eyebrows at her with a grin

He smiled “of course you can’t mess with the hawk” Risha chuckled grinning like he’d never seen, she pulled him into a tender embrace kissing him for a long second but what at first seemed to be just a kiss quickly turned more and more passionate as they began making out stumbling back into the house, the door closing behind them leaving Guss and Ash outside

Guss looked around “we may wanna give them an hour” he paused “or five”...

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illumynare · 5 years

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Red vs Blue Fic: Gift of the Magi (10/12)

Summary: Wash has already gone through too much, been broken too often. So when they get captured by Hargrove together, Tucker figures he has one job: until the cavalry shows up, keep Wash alive and (relatively) sane. No matter the cost.

Unfortunately, Wash is just as determined to protect him.

Parings: None. Warnings: Rated M. Canon-typical language, aftermath of canonical character death, psychological torture, hallucinations, hallucinated child harm, mentions of torture and suicide, fake-out character death.

Notes: Also available on AO3!

GUESS WHO'S BACK, BITCHES.

I am so so so sorry it took me this long to update. 2018 was........a difficult year for me, creatively. But I am writing again and determined to finish this story. Huge thanks to @a-taller-tale for being a sweetheart beta, @saltsanford for screaming supportively, and everyone who let kudos/comments during the interim.

###

It’s day twenty-three of the worst camping trip ever, and Tucker has had it up to here with Agent Washington and his paranoid hard-on for drills.

(Not to mention his obsession with how they should all stay in their armor 24/7. So what if Tucker needs fresh air to sleep? Wash wouldn’t have to see him naked if he didn’t come storming into his room at the ass-crack of dawn to haul him out of bed.)

“This is bullshit,” Tucker grumbles, dropping into another squat.

“Keep counting,” Wash drones.

“Twenty—urgghh—three.” Tucker hauls himself back to his feet, glaring at Wash. “I can’t feel my toes anymore.”

“Come on, private. Freelancer’s rejects could do better than this.”

“No, duh. They were rejected super-soldiers. We were Freelancer’s target practice!”

“Huh,” Wash says dryly. “Well, that’s an idea.” He unholsters his rifle.

Tucker rolls his eyes. “Ooh, scary.”

The next moment he jumps as a bullet hits the dirt next to his foot. “What the fuck, man? Didn’t you give us a lecture about gun safety last night?”

“Rule two.” Wash’s voice is ice cold now, his rifle leveled at Tucker’s face. “Never point a firearm at anything you aren’t willing to destroy.”

His armor is gray again. How the hell didn’t Tucker notice before? And despite the bright sunlight there’s snow falling all around them in dizzying swirls, just like on Sidewinder.

Oh shit. Tucker can’t move.

“Time to run, private,” Wash says, but Tucker can’t move. “Three. Two. One—”

His voice suddenly cuts off with a loud record-scratch, at the same moment the snowflakes freeze in the air.

Yep, it’s me. Church flickers into existence, glowing blue and tiny, floating just a couple feet in front of Tucker’s face. I bet you’re wondering how we got here.

Tucker stares at him. “. . . the fuck?”

You’re dreaming, dumbass. Lucky for you, I can actually control your dreams when it’s your subconscious running them and not that fucking machine.

The only word in that speech that makes sense is machine, and even that Tucker’s not sure about. “But Freckles isn’t here yet,” he says.

Oh yeah, also? WAKE UP.

—and Tucker comes awake, thrashing and fighting the restraints for the second it takes his brain to boot up, for him to remember what’s happening and where he is.

It’s night. The room is empty, and dark except for the faint glow of the healing units over his and Wash’s beds.

“Church?” he says aloud.

This better work, Sheila, Church calls, and then appears beside Tucker’s head. In the darkness, he glows like a nightlight. “Okay, Tucker. Do you trust me?”

“The fuck?” Tucker says again, echoing his dream, because Church never says shit like this.

“Yeah, bad question. Actually, there is no question. Do what I say if you want to live.”

“I’m chained to a fucking hospital bed, I’m not doing anything!”

“I know. Just—STAY on the bed.”

Tucker rolls his eyes, automatically tugging at the restraints. “Wow, kinky. Do you want me to call you ‘daddy’ too?”

Before Church can reply, the door slides open. The lights come on, blinding bright, and Tucker has to blink for a few seconds before he can see that it’s the lemon-faced scientist who kept putting him in the machine, three Charon soldiers behind her.

“Come with me,” she says, and Tucker’s brain hysterically finishes, if you want to live.

Which is technically true; he’s pretty sure that the scientist wants him alive for testing purposes, and he’s positive that she’ll kill him if he doesn’t obey. But going with her means being put into that machine means getting killed by Wash again, and Tucker would have every reason to refuse her command even if Church hadn’t told him to stay put.

Not that he’s gonna get a choice. As Tucker thinks this, two of the soldiers step forward and start undoing the restraints, one working at his ankles and the other at his wrists.

The moment that the last strap unlatches, Church yells, “Now, FILSS!”

The doors slam shut.

It takes Tucker a moment to realize that something strange is happening. Automatic doors close all the time. But then Sheila says aloud, “Deploying defensive measures,” and there’s a hiss as a pale cloud billows in through the air ducts.

“Uh, sir?” says one of the soldiers, but the scientist is already at the door, fumbling at the keypad. When it doesn’t respond, she starts pounding against the door. “Open, damn you!” she yells, then staggers. And falls to the ground, as the rest of the soldiers do.

Tucker’s gasping for breath, a weird cocktail of terror and triumph pounding through his veins. He nearly jumps out of the hospital bed, because fuck yeah, they’re down for the count, and he doesn’t even care how it could have happened.

But Church is hovering in front of him, waving glowing arms. “Wait. WAIT.”

At the same time, Tucker hears the tinny, nearly-subsonic hum from overhead, notices the bright green glow, and suddenly it all comes together. Sheila piped in some kind of knockout gas, and the only reason Tucker’s still conscious is that the alien healing unit is scrubbing the stuff from his bloodstream as fast as he can inhale it.

That’s why Church told him to stay on the bed. Except Church is just a hallucination, so he couldn’t have possibly known because Tucker, didn’t know—unless—

“Church?” Tucker says, and he hates how his voice has gone small and wavering, but crazy as it is, he can’t help suddenly, desperately hoping that he isn’t alone, that—

“Okay, atmosphere back to normal, you can get off the bed,” says Church, as if he hadn’t heard him.

Tucker doesn’t move. He’s dizzy and numb and reeling with the sudden thought of maybe maybe maybe, and also at this point he’s so used to everything being a killer hallucination that it’s hard to care about what he actually does.

“Seriously, Tucker, get the fuck off that bed and unstrap Wash, we don’t have all day.”

It isn’t Church that gets Tucker moving, it’s the memory of the Freelancer video footage he watched, where Wash was strapped down to a bed and screaming. He slides off his bed and staggers over to Wash's bed. There’s still a weird, numb tingling in his fingers, and he fumbles with the straps for several minutes before he manages to get them undone.

In all the weird, fucked-up simulations that Tucker has experienced, Wash was never like this: still and unconscious and silent, limp as Tucker hauls him up into the rescue carry that once upon a time Wash made Tucker and Caboose practice back in the canyon.

In all the simulations, Tucker had never been able to help Wash.

“What now?” Tucker asks Church, because why not trust the hallucination? (Why not believe that Church is really still alive somehow?)

“Go out into the hallway,” says Church. “There’s a storage closet five hundred feet to your left.”

Tucker does. He finds the door, and it swings open at a touch—Sheila? Church? A fucking miracle? He doesn’t care, just pulls it shut behind him and eases Wash to the ground.

He hears the lock snick shut behind him. “Now what?” he asks.

Church doesn’t appear again. But he whispers into Tucker’s mind, Now we just gotta have faith.

Faith is fucking boring.

That’s Tucker’s conclusion, twenty minutes or maybe fifty hours into waiting, he has no way to keep track and he really doesn’t care. However long it’s been, it sucks to sit here in the dark, waiting for rescue because a hallucination told him to.

Wash woke up once. He snorted, and clawed at Tucker’s face a little. When Tucker shook him and said, The others are coming to get us, he launched into a series of weird, slurred apologies before he passed out again.

Which left Tucker alone.

And bored.

Church isn’t talking to him anymore. Tucker’s tried talking to him, again and again, but he never responds.

Of course he doesn’t, because Church doesn’t really exist. Except how did Tucker’s hallucination know what Sheila was planning to do? How did he know where Tucker and Wash could hide? What the fuck is going on?

Sirens go off, muffled through the door. Then they stop. Tucker hears a clatter of footsteps and gunfire, and then that stops.

Then the door slams open.

It takes a moment for Tucker’s eyes to adjust to the sudden rush of light. A moment before he sees who wrenched the door open.

It’s Carolina. She stands over him with a plasma rifle in each hand, an AI glowing over each shoulder. As much as Tucker's tried to avoid knowing anything about Church's fragments, he recognizes these two: the green one is Delta, Caboose's special buddy, and the red-gold one is Sigma, who Wash and Carolina thought might go crazy and evil for some reason.

Apparently Carolina isn't worried about that anymore.

“Can you walk?” she asks.

Tucker finds his voice, scrambling to his feet. “Duh,” he says. “How do you think we got here?”

He reaches for Wash at the same time Carolina does. Neither of them draws back, and for a moment he wonders wildly if they’re going to get into a tug-of-war.

Then Delta says, “I calculate an increased 57.8% chance of success if we allow Tucker to carry Agent Washington.”

Sigma flares brighter. “Agent Carolina, you excel at maneuvers that require maneuverability and speed.”

Carolina hesitates another second, but then she draws back, nodding in agreement.

“Don’t fall behind,” she tells Tucker, and turns away.

“That’s what she said!” Tucker says automatically, hauling Wash up into the rescue carry again. He staggers back out into the hallway after her, and then he doesn’t really have time to think of anything except how heavy Wash is, and how terrifying Carolina is.

He’d known that she’d had two AI fragments back in Project Freelancer, but he hadn’t realized what a difference it made—not until now, when she charges a squad of Charon soldiers, grabs one by the leg, and swings him so precisely that the soldier's shots at her take out all his teammates instead, what the fuck.

It’s honestly really hot.

Then they run into Red Team plus a bunch of New Republic soldiers; Tucker has never been so happy to see Simmons or Palomo in his life. Apparently there’s a larger operation against Hargrove going on, now that Sheila has told them where his ship is hiding, but this team is tasked with just getting him and Wash back to safety. They immediately hustle them into a Pelican, and it’s great, Tucker is so relieved—

Except once he’s strapped in and the acceleration has slammed him into his seat, the memories are suddenly back with a vengeance. It’s too much like the time they were rescued and Wash killed him, the time that Tucker absolutely deserved to be killed because he had—he had—

“Where’s Junior?” Tucker blurts out, before he can get even more afraid.

"Junior? " Grif says blankly. Tucker's heart stops.

It's not real, he tells himself, but his brain is working too well and his memories are too whole for him to believe this is a simulation now. And Church is silent in his skull. Whatever Grif says next, Tucker will have to live with, and if—if—

"Isn't he still at that dumb prep school you won't shut up about?" Grif says.

And shit, Tucker thinks he might be crying, but it doesn't matter. Junior's okay. His kid is okay.

He doesn’t even mind the silence where Church once was. Tucker can stand anything, as long as Junior’s okay.

#agent washington #lavernius tucker #rvb #rvb fic #red vs blue #my fic #my fic: gift of the magi

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str4y-k1ds · 5 years

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Thoughts on Spiderman Far From Home

So, this is a spoiler filled review/word vomit about the film, if you haven’t seen it yet, there will be spoilers for the movie underneath the “Keep reading” and you have been warned.

I’m going to try and summarize my thoughts in semi-chronological order, because the whole movie went by so quick for me that I really can’t remember the order of everything. Also, no emojis because I had to type this on my computer, so expect a lot of XD’s.

- The “in memoriam” video the school’s news broadcast thingy plays at the beginning was simultaneously hilarious and sad to me. The comic sans made it 10 times better, I bet all of the teachers silently died inside when they saw it. XD

- I was glad to see Natasha in the video, because I was worried that the rest of the world would kinda gloss over her death because of how famous Steve and Tony were compared to the rest of the Avengers.

- Peter’s plan with MJ on the plane going so incredibly wrong was really funny. That one teacher, Mr. Harrington I think, was an absolutely hilarious mess, and I loved it. XD

- I was waiting for that police scene to show up in the movie, but it never came. I wonder why they cut it from the final product?

- Peter’s face when Happy and May were backstage with him? Me too, their “fling” (poor Happy) came out of nowhere, but I loved it. XD

- The reporter scene messed me up dude, I could feel his panic and desire to get the hell out of there, I would have those feelings too if I were in his shoes.

- PETER TINGLE. I freakin burst out laughing every time those words came out of someone’s mouth. XD

- That one airport security lady? She a real one for not exposing our boy like that. XD

- The necklace that Peter bought for MJ? So pretty.

- Peter hitting his head on that bell twice was amazing. XD

- That one song that plays while Peter and his class are in the bus in the mountains? If anyone knows the name of that song, please let me know because I REALLY liked it.

- Oof, Brad kinda pissed me off a little with that whole photo stunt, ngl.

- NIGHT MONKEY. XD

- Ned and Betty for OTP of the year.

- “Even Dead I’m the Hero.” Wow. Classic Tony. XD

- Also, can we talk about how OP EDITH is? Because she has hologram tech now, not to mention like a gazillion drones, and whatever else she can do weapons-wise, that’s not even considering her having “back doors” to basically every single electronic and digital system in the world? Dude, Peter/Mysterio can basically control the world now if you really think about it. Just the concept of EDITH is scary, I’m gonna touch on that later.

- Fury lowkey pissed me off in some parts of the movie, like don’t get me wrong, a lot of what he did was “in the name of protecting the world” and all that, but when he asked if Tony had made a mistake in choosing Peter, I fumed. I wasn’t a fan of the emotional manipulation he was using there, ngl.

- I’ve avoided talking about Mysterio so far to save it for the end, but I can’t not mention that bar scene. When Peter gave him the glasses, the guy sitting next to me muttered a quiet “Oh fuck,” and I completely agreed.

- Everything that happened after the holograms faded away was expertly crafted. The stills in black and white made the audience laugh a little, but everything Mysterio said during his toast and the way he said it, just slightly unhinged but still dangerously cunning, shocked everyone in my theater into a tense silence. So good.

- “BARF, he took my life’s work and named it BARF.” Wow.

- When Peter asked MJ if the only reason she was keeping tabs on him was because she suspected he was Spiderman, and her saying yes? Damn, his face looked so sad and hurt, it made me want to hug him.

- Alright, it’s time we talk about the illusion scene. I can barely put into words all of the emotions and thoughts I was feeling. I was concerned, I was scared, I was mad, I was tripping out, I was shocked, the dread and tension was palpable in my theater. I have never been in a movie theater that quiet before. No one was eating, no one was drinking, no one moved. Literally. I can barely remember what Mysterio said while he was torturing Peter, that’s how drawn in I was by this scene. And when that tombstone appeared, and the Iron Man zombie came out of the ground? I have no words.

- When that train hit him, I jumped right out of my seat and lowkey yelped. Mysterio is an evil son of a bitch, I really hated him.

- I really thought Nick Fury had shot him at first, I really did. That’s how realistic his illusions were, and after the reveal that he hadn’t been shot, that’s when the paranoia set in.

- I was so shell shocked after all of the illusions, that I literally don’t remember anything until Happy shows up with his jet. And while we’re on the topic, Peter brokenly asking Happy if he was real literally caused me to tear up.

- Everything that happened on that plane broke me. Peter’s red eyes and hysterical word vomit during that scene and being stitched up. I was just really sad. Peter is going to have PTSD at this point, if he doesn’t have it already. So many traumatic things have happened to him, if I were in his shoes I would have given up already, not even going to deny it.

- I LOVE LED ZEPPELIN!!! Oh Peter. XD

- Happy’s fond look when Peter’s making his suit had me uwuing.

- The final battle was so amazing and tense and rewarding. MJ with that mace? Hell yes. And Happy throwing the shield and asking how Cap does it had me dying. XD

- Let’s talk about that final showdown with Peter and the drones and Mysterio. Peter radiated confident BAMF energy in that scene. And when he grabs the gun? I smiled so widely, I was so proud and impressed and happy.

- Now, here is where things get confusing for me. Did Mysterio actually die? Because Peter transferred ownership of EDITH to Quentin, at least as far as I remember. Does that not mean that Mysterio could still have been projecting a minor illusion of his own death, and have gotten away because the word transfer means giving up ownership, and therefore Peter shouldn’t have any permissions within EDITH’s systems anymore? But at the same time, Peter put on the glasses, so they couldn’t have been fake glasses then right, because Quentin didn’t have small glasses sized drones, did he? I think the rules of who controls EDITH gets a little confusing for me in this scene. Does Peter always have access? Is there some kind of fail safe? Tony surely planned for this, right? I just have a lot of questions, but for the sake of the conclusion, I’m just going to assume Mysterio is actually dead and Peter does indeed have control of EDITH again.

- Fuck, Peter lost another mentor figure, even if Quentin was a little insane, it doesn’t negate the fact that for a brief sliver of time Peter really trusted and looked up to him.

- PETER AND MJ WERE SO AWKWARD AND KISSED AND AND WERE SO SWEET AND I DIED A LITTLE INSIDE WHEN THEY REUNITED AND HUGGED, AJKSASJAKLSKLALS.

- And when MJ said she liked the necklace broken, I melted because she basically said she doesn’t mind Peter being a bit broken because she really likes him and will support him and ugh, they’re just so cute and sweet and I’m in love with their relationship.

- Peter and MJ swinging around New York at the end made me so happy.

- Those post credits scenes were amazing and forever change the landscape of the MCU going forward. How is Peter going to navigate basically being a criminal/villain in the eyes of a lot of the public? Will the government go after him? I’m sure Ross would love to get his power-hungry hands on another Accords like situation, but I don’t really know if Marvel will go there or not. All I know is Peter literally can’t catch a break, poor kid just got his normal life back, and now it’s being ruined all over again. I have so many questions/theories about how the MCU will go forward now, it’s so exciting! And Talos and his wife disguising themselves as Fury and Hill? Did not see that coming, but it made sense and my initial confusion was quickly overturned with the question of who else we know is secretly a Skrull? I like the Secret Invasion-esque route they might be going with here, but since the Skrull aren’t really evil, does it really matter who’s real or not so long as Nick Fury and Talos are monitoring everything happening on Earth and around it? Ugh, so many questions, that seems to be the general consensus.

- Now for my thoughts on Mysterio. I think he’s a close second to Thanos for best villain in the MCU so far, in my opinion. Feel free to disagree, but think about this for a second: Mysterio basically created a reality stone; if he hadn’t had his plan foiled and continued to play his cards right, he could essentially make reality whatever he wanted, and no one would be able to tell the difference. That is a scary thought. (Imagine what he could do if he combined his illusion technology with something that resembles the microbots in Big Hero 6, yikes, then he really would be able to make his illusions feel real too.) Mysterio was cunning, his intelligence and complete lack of concern for human life is terrifying in combination with his flair for the dramatics, and Jake Gyllenhaal plays him so well that you can’t help but like him even though you hate his guts. Overall, I’m very impressed, I really hope we get to see him again, because I liked his character that much.

- EDITH is genuinely scary, because essentially whoever has access to her can do anything they want, and in today’s technology dependent world, a person with that much power (not just electronically, but militarily as well) needs to be the purest and most good and responsible person in the world or else the world could literally just have unchallengable dictator rise up in a whole 24 hours. I’m just glad it’s Peter who has access to her, Tony might have gone too far with this one, but hey, maybe I’m just paranoid.

- I don’t know it was just me, but after getting out of this movie, I couldn’t shake the thought that this movie was attempting to make us rightfully fear the progression of technology and how hard it is to determine what absolute truth is in today’s world. I think Mysterio even mentions how easily people want to believe things nowadays. Hit the nail on the head with that message if it was intended, if not, then I’m just reading too much into it. XD

Wow, this was long. Sorry guys, I hope I didn’t bore you, this is coming out a whole two hours later than I said it would, I just had so many thoughts and words to vomit. XD

Thanks for reading, let me know what you thought of the movie if you want to, no pressure!

#spiderman far from home #spiderman spoilers #spiderman far from home spoliers #please don't read if you haven't watched the movie yet #spiderman

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