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talkbycolor · 3 days

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monster x mediator headcanons . . . ↷

A/N; mghmgh lo necesito (sexual)

Pairing; "NauseAxe_404" x GN!Reader

CW; weird shit? no bro only him mutilating you / feeling unsafe (cutely) / MONSTER COCK MY FAVORITE / smooching the monster under your bed

i need him to have a long tongue, its canon in my head

before you even met, he swore you were a couple, he'll propose to you in a cringe-y way if you decide to stay in the room for more than five minutes

He will cut off your arms and legs as long as you don't escape, but don't worry, he will take good care of you and will look for other ways so you can continue writing

if you stay in the room, you can sleep in his bed, he will sleep under it (we all know he will get up while you sleep to hug you)

you can't talk to another human or monster anymore, you were supposed to be together forever, WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO GET CLOSE TO SOMEONE ELSE, IF THEY SEE YOU THEY WILL LOVE YOU AND HE DON'T WANT THAT

the walls of his room are full of drawings of you and him, photos too since his artistic skills cannot portray your beauty very well and to be honest, neither can the cameras but he loves to see you wherever he turns his gaze

no matter how scared or angry you look, in his eyes, you would never do anything wrong, it is impossible for his superstar to make a mistake in any way, all your writings are perfect, your voice, your body, your eyes, your skin, your teeth, your hair, everything

he's basically a dog, he can't help but gasp with excitement when he sees you, rubbing his crotch against you, drooling in your face even if you complain, he's not going to stop

"you bruise so beautifully", imperfections do not exist, he may be fucking you until he tears you but his look of love will not disappear, on the contrary, he will fall in love with your whimpers, with how you scream in such an adorable way

on the contrary, if you seem bored, he will ask you to hit him, take off his pants, cover him with bruises, all for love (cuarteto referencia)

you are still human, you need to eat, sleep, breathe. WELL FUCK YOU, you won't go anywhere even if it's just to look for food, you can sleep in his bed, you can breathe his air if you have to but don't go DON'T GO DON'T GO DON'T GO DON'T GO

to be honest, you wouldn't be able to stand his pace, he'll fuck you until you vomit, even if you're bleeding, he'll feed you his saliva and your limbs will give in sooner than you think. but don't worry, he will continue loving your corpse

how many opportunities would you have to dress your superstar? He would take the opportunity to get adorable clothes and dress yourself with his own hands, putting slippers on your feet, cute bows in your hair, you don't need underwear, awww, look at you! such a pretty doll

he would never let you touch his axe, i'm sorry my love, but you have to respect his limits in the relationship, if you don't, do you really love him? of course he would never doubt the love you have for him! he just want understanding from you, dear

if you are willing, i also understand you, if they do give you the option to fuck a monster, you just take it but keep in mind that you will not be able to go to the hospital, that night you will know the true meaning of monster cock, it does not fit through your mouth and i highly doubt that it will fit your ass

even though he looks so desperate and willing to do unethical things, your biggest fan is a little shy. if you show him affection or interest, the red on your lips will sync perfectly with the red in his eyes. isn't that romantic?

he's smarter than you think, he probably used his ax quite a bit before you showed up at the hotel. it is a relief that you had never covered the camera of your cell phone or computer while you masturbated, after showering, while sleeping even, and yes, he obviously hacked your electronic devices

idk man, he seems pretty acoustic to me, you and axes as special interests, unstable reactions to changes he cannot control, poor understanding of other people's body language or facial expressions, specific way to organize or have his room

"babe give me a reason not to kill those who look at you" "you can't fuck me if you're in prison"

no es un chico malo, solo quiere ser él mismo

"everyone is so mean to me"

MAN I JUST LOVE HIM MY DELULU KING UEUEUUE

you don't have to say "I can fix him", he himself will tell you "FIX ME" (spoiler: you cant)

he looks cute when he cries, doesnt he?

♡

#yandere visual novel #yandere #yandere x reader #headcanons #nauseaxe 404 #404mxm #monster x mediator

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someoneinjersey · 1 day

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re: jon bernthal

I like him. I support him. Are there things about him I don't agree with? Sure. But I possess the critical thinking skills to be able to think about someone else's perspective.

He's a Jewish man. I'm sure the decision for him to support Israel (if he does, I haven't seen any definitive evidence except that he had an Israeli soldier on his podcast at some point) comes from a really complicated place. One of my closest friends from 5th grade to graduation is Jewish. Her parents even met at a kibbutz. She works for an organization to help Jewish people in America take trips to Israel. While her FB is private (and I left FB a long time ago), I wouldn't doubt for a second she supports Israel. But she was always one of the kindest and most generous people I ever knew, and I don't think she'd support anything blindly. I think Jewish people in the US are in a really rough spot right now and we need to recognize that as much as we recognize that the country of Israel is committing genocide. It's not as black and white for them as we non-Jewish folks want it to be.

Jon gave a domestic abuser a platform on his podcast. Yeah. A guy who he was friends with who was terrible and went through rehab and therapy and came out with a different perspective. I personally don't like that actor but I didn't enjoy him much after Transformers anyway. If we're close to someone and they do something bad, we usually give them a second chance, maybe more. We're supposed to support growth and change especially with those close to us. In my own life I still spoke to my abusive father for a time after my parents divorced and was at his bedside the day he passed. Another person close to me was accused of SA but I'd known them their whole life and couldn't fathom it being true so I stood by them. That's just life. Life is so fucking complicated.

Jon supports the police and the military. Of course he does, most of the country does and he's played a cop/detective/soldier like a dozen times in his career and spent a ton of time with them to learn about the jobs and the cultures within them. I'm pretty sure that's the first thing people got on his ass for -- not being all ACAB from the start and then later featuring police on his podcast etc. AGAIN, when you KNOW people, it's a lot harder to draw those black and white lines. I'm for defunding the police and reallocating the money for more productive services, I'm against police violence, I'm against the mass incarceration of minorities for minor infractions, I'm against prison slavery, all that shit, and I hate that stupid "thin blue line" nonsense. But I'm not gonna go up to every cop I know and tell them they're a piece of shit. I'm not gonna NOT call the cops when the local addicts go on a B&E spree to steal shit to pay their dealers (true story, we only didn't get robbed because someone is always home).

PLEASE fucking think critically and PLEASE realize that not everything is black and white and PLEASE let people enjoy shit that brings them happiness in this shitty fucking world.

And I'm not looking for arguments or debates on this, thanks.

#jon bernthal

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tblsomedoodles · 2 days

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If you don’t mind me asking, what traditional outfits would each turtle (family web au) like wearing?

I’m thinking like they have an outfit they specifically wear for a season (doesn’t have to be their favorite season just the season they wear it) or a social event.

Like Raph having this heavy layered with fake fur outfit for the winter. Idk I’m suppose to be sleeping right but I’m not, I’m thinking about turtles in fashionable clothing.

I'm actually really bad when it comes to fashion lol. (personally and with art. My idea of a cool outfit is when my hoodie and teeshirt match fandoms lol)

But i've got a few doodles of some types of things they would wear on like normal days.

Donnie pretty much lives in teeshirts and like those really comfy jeans that fit perfectly along. If he wears his jacket unless the weather is very much against it. He wears more protective clothing when he's working on mechines and the like. Usually overalls with at least a teeshirt, though he'll wear longer sleeves and gloves if he's doing something particularly dangerous. Winter, he has his regular jacket, a lighter winter jacket and a hat and boots. He doesn't like wearing scarfs or particularly bulky clothing, especially if he's working.

Mikey, on the other hand, loves bulky clothing. Bulky and patched and basically anything with some personality to it.

Leo will do either bulky shorts or skinny jeans, there's no inbetween. Usually some sort of tank top/sports jersey. He doesn't really like the cold, so his winter clothing is being bundled up to the point the only thing you can see is his eyes. Also a long ass scarf b/c he like how weird it is.

Raph actually dresses fairly nicely once Mama got him clothes tailored to him. (he was excited to finally be able to wear stuff that wouldn't rip the second he put it on). But for a while he wears button up shirts with vests and nice pants b/c he liked the way it looked and he hadn't worn anything like that before without destroying it. FOr winter he wears a lighter jacket than the rest, a scarf, and some earmuffs : )

for fancy parties, i'm not entirely sure. I think Mikey would wear as bright of colors as he could. Raph would wear something nice but not particularly standout-ish. Donnie something very basic without a tie or bowtie (b/c i don't think he likes fabric wrapped around his neck.) Leo is a bit of a gamble. He's either wearing the most eyecatching thing he could get his hands on, or he somehow got away with wearing sweatpants in protest. Depends on how agreeable he's feeling about said party lol.

Anyways, Thank you!!

#asks #tmnt #rottmnt #family web au #my doodles

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blitzor0de0 · 2 days

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The jealous St Peter prompt caught my eye. Especially the idea of him wrapping his wings around redeemed!reader, so I have a suggestion, instead of jealous St Peter, how about protective St Peter?

Maybe Lute confronts redeemed!reader and it gets ugly? The confrontation possible brings up redeemed!reader's pstd, maybe even making them think they were going to be killed again, only for St Peter to appear with Sera/Emily, and he just wraps his wings around them, blocking out the chaos around them, comforting them with soft words and kisses.

I have no excuse for not putting this out sooner I've just been refixating on obey me </3 but this was rlly fun to write despite writers block eating my ass

listened to way too much blur and gorillaz doing this

cw: ptsd, fluffy, I forgot how to write mid way through, reader is always going through it aren't they, biblical Peter, reader confesses finally, kiss!!! Emily cucking lowkey

word count: 1.5k

part 1 part 2 part 3

Safe & Sound (Saint Peter x Redeemed!Reader)

You were just minding your business, you swear you were! Delivering a parcel to Emily. But it wasn't supposed to go like this??

Backed into a wall in the Plaza, the package clutched to your chest. Your mind was swirling with emotions as your heartbeat rapidly increased, finding it harder to breathe.

Former lieutenant of the exorcists, highly feared amongst sinners, yet highly respected amongst the blind sighted angels. You had already known Heaven was a lie at that first meeting, seeing how all the higher ups hadn't a clue about the exorcisms down in Hell. If angels could fall regardless of their ‘sin’ why wouldn't a sinner be able to redeem themselves?

The logic of Adam and Lute was incredibly flawed, and since yours and Pentious’ arrival in Heaven, you had felt a murderous gaze upon you each time you left your home.

It wasn't difficult to tell it was Lute, but since Adam's death you could tell she was a little lonely despite trying to avoid her gaze at every chance you got. She was always quite outspoken in the few times you met her, but the quietness of the Plaza, and Heaven in general after Adam's death.. The silence was borderline deafening.

But today, Lute must've decided enough was enough, if she couldn't kill you, she would gladly find a way to send you back to Hell.

“You filthy scum.” She scowled, venom lacing her words. She wasn't secretive about this confrontation either, causing a small crowd to quickly appear around the two of you, mimicking a petty school fight.

But this wasn't a fight, it was a one sided dispute.

You couldn't bear to face Lute, her mask being too much of a trigger to stare at for too long, especially in a situation such as this. You opted for clenching your eyes shut, but this only infuriated the angel more.

“I have lost EVERYTHING because of you sinners… Adam. My job. My subordinates. My fucking arm. How did you do it, huh? You and that snake you both made it up here. What sort of magic did Lucifer pull, huh?”

You felt your mind spin, knees going weak as you fought to keep yourself upright, lip quivering as tears threatened to spill as you gained the courage to speak.

“..He didn't do anything. It was just as Charlie told you all… It's just rehabilitation, Sir Pentious sacrificed himself for us all, I just wanted to better my soul..” God you were about to cry, your voice was barely above a whisper.

“Bullshit.” Before Lute could threaten you further, some gasps and whispers emerged from the audience. You dared open your eyes, peering behind the Executioner to see the commotion, only to be faced with the two Serafim parting the crowd.

You gasped, causing Lute to finally turn around. With Adam gone, Lute didn't really get a ‘get out of jail free’ card, so the growing look of fear upon her features was evident.

Sera was quick to whisk Lute away as Emily held your arms gently as all you could do was crumble to the ground, tears finally being free to fall.

You couldn't exactly understand all what Emily was saying, everything seemed like ringing in your ears, but you appreciated Emily's attempt to ground you.

“Oh, Peter there you are!” Emily gasped, turning to face the angel who had a worried expression upon his face.

The ever so smiley angel for once held a look of disgust towards the crowd still whispering and murmuring about your fragile state.

“I got here as soon as I could.. Are they okay??” He seemed panicked, he'd never been in a situation like this, especially with someone he cared so much for. He couldn't think straight.

“I'm not sure..” The Serafim replied, “They haven't responded to me once, I'm not even sure if they can hear me at all.. You two are..” She hesitated, “close, you should deal with them, I'll see what I can do about the crowd..” She frowned, rubbing Peter’s shoulder comfortingly before grabbing the parcel and approaching the crowd.

Peter on the other hand unveiled his wings without a second thought, shielding you from the looks and whispers. Giving you a little bit of privacy was the least he could do right now.

“Hey.” He spoke softly, almost in a cooing manner, caressing your face as if you were made of porcelain.

In a room of a thousand people, you would be able to recognise every aspect of Peter’s being. His voice, his scent, his touch.. Everything. With the delicate caress upon your cheek, you'd be foolish to not know who it was, even in such a fragile state.

Still, you couldn't bear to look up at him. Though he had seen you in such a state before, your consciousness of the situation as opposed to your exhaustion from the previous time weighed on your shoulders.

To acknowledge his presence, you simply leaned into his touch. Your ears were still ringing, probably for the better since the whispers and chatter amongst the slowly dispersing crowd weren't doing you any favours.

Peter gently lifted your head up to face him, a soft, yet pained smile upon his face. You wanted to look away so desperately, but the way he looked at you so tenderly, you couldn't stand to pull your gaze away. A shaky “I'm sorry..” left your lips before you could realise it.

Peter gained a small sense of déjà vu from that, you always did seem to apologise for things that weren't even remotely your fault.

“Don't be silly. It's not your fault. You're safe now..Okay?” You nodded slowly, taking his words in. “Lute’s being dealt with by Sera and,” He glanced behind him “everyone else is more or less gone. You wanna stay here or move somewhere else?” Just at the thought of moving, an ache spread through your legs, the weakness growing once again.

“Here please.” You replied, reaching up to turn Peter's face towards yours, you needed his attention, his gaze, his essence. He smiled, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your nose.

“I thought she was going to kill me..” You murmured, finally regaining some stability. “I.. I couldn't do it all over again.. I didn't exactly think there was an afterlife in the first place.. let alone the possibility of dying twice.. I don't think God would approve of me dying a third time.. right?”

Peter grew silent, what could he possibly say to that. To be frank, when he was alive, he had a tumultuous relationship with his belief. Of course he believed in Jesus’ word, but he was also one of the first to betray him. Being disowned from Heaven before he had even passed. How he managed to get up there and still be held in such high regards by the Lord still surprised him centuries later.

Noticing his prolonged silence your eyes widened slightly, “That was a joke, I swear.. Peter..?”

Shaking his head he snapped out of his thoughts, “Oh! Of course it was, right!.. Either way, I think I'd be able to convince God to keep you around, I am an esteemed patron saint after all!” He winked.

After such a traumatic experience, you had cracked your first smile of the day which only caused Peter to mirror a smile right back at you.

“I feel like I'm always thanking you for looking out for me. You're so pure of heart, it's no wonder I fell for you-” You paused, realising what you said.

You and Peter had shared many intimate moments together, kissed on many occasions and even slept in the same bed together but you two had never established any actual feelings or relationship, until now it seems.

You panicked “Wait Pe-”

“I love you too.” He cut you off, stars in his eyes. It felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders as he finally confessed.

Oh.

Your shoulders relaxed as you breathed a sigh of relief. “Cool.. Wait! No! Erm I love you, oh I'm such a mess just kiss me.”

With a laugh, Peter gladly obliged, pressing a small teasing kiss to your lips before indulging in all his sins with an intimate kiss.

You wanted to savour this moment forever, Peter's hands cupped your cheeks as he pulled you impossibly close, the scent of his lightly floral cologne infiltrating your senses, quickly changing from intimacy to desperation — fearing as if this kiss may be your last.

Neither of you wanted to part, continuously pulling away for a split second before either one of you pulled the other in for ‘just one more’.

Though, the unfortunate parting would come from an awkward throat clear from the younger serafim.

“Um..Guys.. Super! Happy for you two but.. You're still in public..” Emily smiled down at the two of you.

Flushed and breathless, the two of you blinked up towards her before her words finally dawned on you.

“Oh.. Oh my, Emily I'm so sorry. Um!! Peter let's go!” You rushed to stand, pulling Peter up with you who’s uniform looked a little dishevelled, bowtie lopsided as well as some hair stuck to his forehead. He was both literally and figuratively on Cloud 9.

Emily could only giggle at the sight of Peter, “I'm glad you're feeling better, have fun you two lovebirds.” She called out as you and your now boyfriendddddd departed.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #saint peter x reader #hazbin hotel saint peter #hazbin hotel saint peter x reader #saint Peter x you #saint peter x yn #hazbin saint peter #hazbin hotel saint peter x you #blitzor0de0

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starpirateee · 3 days

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could you write a fic where curt gets captured and owen goes absolutely feral trying to get him back? i need angst :D

I will absolutely write that, I think both of us need Owen to go a little apeshit for a while 👀 remember the movie Taken? "I will hunt you down. And I will kill you." ?? Yeah...

Oh yeah, and I 100% used the same case that was referenced in the panic attack prompt because I fell short of ideas, so essentially I'm creating one large cinematic universe worth of ficlets (/j) and this is set about five months before that panic attack

Cynthia Houston called. Cynthia Houston— head supervisor of the American Secret Service— had personally called Owen Carvour— very much not American operative of the British Military Intelligence— with three words on her mind that changed the state of his mental state immediately.

Curt's been compromised.

That was all she'd said before Owen's heart started pounding in his ears.

"What do you mean, he's compromised?" Owen had asked, but he knew. There were a limited number of ways that this could go. One of them compromised him too, and forced his hand. He wasn't so afraid of that option anymore. He'd spent that long preparing for it that he knew the exact reaction to it, and exactly what he was supposed to do.

The other one was dangerous, and meant that Curt's life was in jeopardy. That wouldn't be a matter of concern for another agency under any other circumstance, but Cynthia was able to pull strings, to get him involved in matters that he had no right to even know about. If she wanted him for a particular mission, then there was a very good chance that he was going to be on that mission.

He braced himself subtly, waiting for Cynthia to tell him to start making preparations to run for a long time, or for her to tell him where she needed him in the next few hours.

"Captured. For once, he didn't expose himself, but all the same, he got caught… I think you might be familiar with the case load?"

Owen's jaw clenched tight. Part of him was relieved, but this was the dangerous option, and that meant he didn't have the space to be relieved. "Tell me."

"There's a group of arms dealers led by a man they call Jenner, you know him?"

"Yes. Yes, I know of him and his little organisation. Do you have anything on where he's based?" He knew that Cynthia had more sense than to tell him information like that over a telephone line, but he also knew that he didn't care when he got the information, so long as he got it. It was more than clear that she wanted him on the ground to help them find him, or bring him back, so he knew he was going to get what he needed at some point. She'd likely pass him off to someone else with the intel, and he'd have to fill in the gaps from whichever debrief he was given.

"Always so efficient… you know I'm not gonna tell you that. Not here."

"I thought as much."

"But, make it to Manhattan, Agent, and there will be someone dockside to meet you… Say, tomorrow morning?"

Owen wrote that down on the notepad next to the phone. Tomorrow morning. January 7th. He was expected at the Manhattan harbour, presumably by someone who was supposed to blend in with the crowd. "Tomorrow morning. I'll be there."

Cynthia sighed, then. Owen had a one track mind, it was notoriously hard to pull from focus. Knowing him, he wouldn't stop until Curt was on safe ground once again, no matter how long he worked or what it took out of him. That likely included whatever journey was going to happen that night. He knew about the stakes now, there was truly going to be no stopping him. "Oh, and Owen?"

Owen stopped, briefly taken off guard by hearing Cynthia call him by anything other than a formal title. Of course, she knew his name, she just never used it. What was with the sudden drop in formality? Was this her way of going off the record? If it was, what the hell else should he be expecting out of this mission?

"… Yes?"

"We need you at your best. And I know you have a tendency to… Overthink. Take it as easy as you can tonight… We need you prepared for tomorrow… Curt has a habit of being fine. You know that as well as I do."

"Michael Jenner is a dangerous man, Miss Houston. There's no telling what he could do in an hour, let alone overnight!"

"I'm not telling you not to think about it, I'm just saying, we're gathering intel as we speak, so… Try not to do anything stupid before you get here."

"I understand…" He resigned, drawing in a breath. "Tomorrow, then."

Needless to say, with the stress of everything currently piled in his mind, and the long journey to New York, he didn't sleep all that well. Cynthia had said she wanted to see him at his best, but all things considered, she wasn't exactly going to get him at his worst... By the time he reached New York, he was tired, and he'd managed to think about the scenario enough to really piss himself off, so Cynthia's informant found him in a state so far beyond riled that he was almost serene, and wired on the first cup of coffee he could get his hands on.

"So, you're Agent Owen Carvour... I've heard a lot about you."

"Is that so?" Owen raised an eyebrow, finishing off his coffee. That was strong enough to get him by, he supposed he'd be a little more in control of himself now that he felt less like his mind was trying to betray him for being too slow. If Curt turns up dead, this is on you. The Americans made sure the blood was on your hands, no getting out of it now.

"Mhm. Word is that you're quite the operative... If what they're saying is right, then I dare say I should be impressed."

Owen just hummed in response, having only caught about half of what had just been said on the grounds that he simply could not focus on anything that wasn't the outcome of this mission, or the the crushing weight on the inside of his chest that demanded he get on with it. He was both eager to get to the point, and eager not to find out what the Americans were saying about him. Thanks to Curt, most of it was probably complimentary, but either way, he didn't want to take his chances. "You know why I'm here, don't you?"

"Sure, you're here to help us with Mega... Cynthia tells me you already know the guy at fault?" The informant watched Owen nod, then produce a well broken in notebook from his pocket and lean back against the harbour wall. They'd told him to expect a man who was spectacularly prepared for any eventuality, and judging by the notes written on the page he could see, Owen fit that description down to the letter.

"Jenner, yes. I've been on a case of his before. I didn't fully intend on making him my business again, but what can you do?" To tell the truth, Owen was nervous, but desperate not to let it show. The longer he stayed here, the less time he had before things reached a critical point with Curt. But, the last thing he was going to admit was that he was afraid of the outcome of the mission. He was a professional, and professionals didn't so much as think of the word fear, least of all not on the job.

"He's gotten himself a full team, by the sounds of things. Mega reported at least half a dozen bruisers. Real heavyweights, not to mention the number of specialists he's likely got under his belt."

"Specialists as in..?"

"Arms, explosives... You name it, really."

That seemed to ring some bells. Owen could recall Jenner being the mastermind behind some millions of dollars in transactions involving something of that caliber. And since then, he had grown something of a small empire, which seemed to only be growing by the second. "Where are the likes of him based without anyone noticing the massive transactions passing from hand to hand?"

"That's the thing, isn't it, Agent? Not to be based in one place..."

"In an arms race of this size, it's only logical..." Owen answered automatically, tapping his pen against the notebook spirals. This state of serenity beyond the rage was starting to beome dangerous in itself. He felt like a badly fused explosive, programmed to explode at an entirely random interval between now and the foreseeable.

"Alright then, I'll specify. Where was Curt? And where is he now?"

"Mega's assignment was in Stamford, Conneticut. We don't have any reason to believe he's anywhere different now..."

Owen nodded, making a note of that, and reminding himself that Manhattan was suddenly a very convenient place because Conneticut wasn't actually that far away. He hadn't been told of anyone who was going to be joining him, and that led him to the all too fair assumption that Cynthia had sent him and him alone. Part of him wondered why; his business wasn't in American affairs. He was a British operative, and he'd turned down the offer of working for the American Secret Service before, on the grounds that it may well border on treasonous. He was still sure of that fact, knowing that he betrayed his country for the sake of taking up what may have frankly been a better and more convenient offer was not worth his life, that much he was sure of.

But, the other part of him realised that Cynthia probably had him on such a direct line of contact for a good reason, and it may not have had so much to do with the fact that he was talented enough to catch her eye. At the end of the day, she could near enough do whatever she wanted, and that may have included protecting the secrets of one of her best agents for the sake of not letting him go on a technicallity like that.

Did she know? He had to wonder… Did it make sense for her to know and to still trust the pair of them as much as she did? What they were doing could cost them way more than just their jobs if they were found out by the right people, and yet she seemed to be aware of their closeness. If she wasn't, he was convinced that he would've never known that Curt got captured, not unless he saw him in person and had to work through the mess inside his mind to get to what really happened.

No matter whether Cynthia knew and was actively protecting his secret by proxy of Curt, she had called him in for a job, and it was a job that he was going to do.

Just as he suspected, the journey to Conneticut didn't take him long. Manhattan was the most convenient location because apparently, there was a substation in the harbour that few people actually knew about, where a small team of field scientists were waiting to kit him with a communications wire and walk him through a map of the block they'd managed to narrow it down to. When Curt's signal was corrupted, they had no way of telling which way he went, but they were confident that, should he have stayed in the facility, that block would be within the margin of error.

One of the scientists had promised to keep him updated through the wire, to let him know when he was in range, and he in turn had promised to make this as swift a job as he could manage.

It was the least he could do. Especially since his nerves wouldn't leave him alone, and especially since he was practically being dragged towards saving Curt as fast as possible, on the grounds that he didn't know how his fragile, ticking bomb state of mind would react if he saw him even vaguely injured.

"I've reached the block, I believe. Just off Third, at the intersection." He looked around. There wasn't an awful lot going on that wasn't perfectly within the norm. for a while, he was going to be going about some kind of life too, looking like he didn't have the full intention to flip the kill switch.

"The crossroads?"

"I'm at a crossroads, yes."

"Which way are you facing?"

"I'm on the corner of Mayberry and Third, that's what's in front of me, at least…"

He could feel the fuse on the locked box of his half-suppressed rage fizzling to a dangerous point. He was getting closer, and that meant that he was getting closer to being able to take this storm of righteous anger out on whoever dared to get in the way. It wasn't called a license to kill for no reason, and it came equipped with all of the repercussions already taken care of. All that meant for him was that he could get away with giving Curt a little bit of justice. It would look like they got in the way of his mission, or that he was pursued… Depending on how well organised it was, and how he executed his arrival.

As the scientist started giving him directions, he took a breath. Not yet. Not yet… Prevalent justice would have to wait for a few minutes, until he was no longer public facing. There was a pistol in the inner pocket of his jacket, he could feel it against his side, with the spare clips sitting on the other side, the exact same reach away from his seemingly eager grasp.

That fuse blew when he was alone, when he was wandering the corridors of the facility, looking for anything that might class as a sign or some kind of pointer towards Curt. Instinct told him to get lower, to find sub-floors and basements that facilities like this wouldn't want exposing to the public eye. Upon descending the sirst flight of stairs, he heard a scream that was clearly a long time in the making. The way it echoed through the corridor made him stop in his tracks, and it was in that exact moment that the box blew open and everything exploded onto the outside.

Red tinged rage flooded his senses. He knew that tone well, though it wasn't so often that he heard him so distressed. Curt was good at keeping face under pressure or interrogation, it was one of the things he definitely gave himself credit for, and one of the things that he definitely deserved to do so for. Owen knew that he was more than capable of giving his adversaries as much shit as they gave to him, and also being so cosmically annoying that they have no choice but to make things harder for him…. It was really one of those situations that could go either way…

Curt— if he was right in trusting his instincts and believing that he'd found him— had broken. That meant that he was injured beyond comprehension, and part of that thought was what tipped him over to the side of unfiltered rage. After that, it was a flash of knowing what needed to be done, and knowing how to do it. His pace quickened, his breath sturdy, his mind focused… Owen was unshakable, and definitely no cause for competition. Those who were unfortunate enough to get in his way found themselves gravely injured at the hands of his aim, even those who thought themselves lucky enough to have escaped him by running down the corridor.

He stopped at nothing and nobody; there was not one obstacle that could get in the way of a man like him, on a mission like this.

It took an apparent maze of corridors before he managed to break open a door that led him directly to the one thing that made this whole thing worth it. Heaving a breath as he scanned the room, he finally— finally— laid eyes on the man who had been inadvertently guiding him towards his location the longer he was in pain.

Curt.

And he was a mess. Blood poured from his temple down the side of his face, and there was a sizeable gash running his shoulder and tearing the fabric of his shirt. He looked up when the door was thrown open, and his eyes went wide. He tried to fight showing how relieved he was, but it was hard to do that when his face was such an open book, when he was so relieved to see his partner.

Owen made a signal— a sign that all of this would be over in a matter of minutes— and levelled his pistol. One breath, and the man closest to Curt had fallen, a crimson river pouring from his forehead. Another, and the man advancing on him had fallen victim to a couple of sizeable holes to the chest in quick succession. A third, and Owen had stolen a knife from one of the fallen, and he was looking for the best angle to break Curt's ties so they could leave as fast as possible.

The knife didn't make easy work of the thick cord keeping Curt in place, but Owen found a good angle as he crouched closer to the ground, and managed to get Curt free before anyone else found out he was there.

His breath came out shallow, he was clawing at the last scraps of the rage, fighting not to let it subside into concern too early. But, on the other hand, the concern was justified too, because every time his gaze darted over Curt, he saw something else worth noting. Now was not the time to think about that, not until there was a solid guarantee that they could both get out of there safe, and there was a clear window for curt to get back to his agency.

"Can you stand?" He asked, as softly as he could manage it.

Curt nodded initially, but then realised how much he had been overestimating his own abilities, when he actually tried to stand and Owen had to rush to his side to stop him collapsing. Tear tracks stained his cheeks, Owen could see them from this close. It gave just enough of a spark to that slight of fury that he had left, just enough to seep in a deep desire to see this place— and by extension, Michael Jenner— crumble until there was nothing left of it.

"How'd you… How'd you know?" Curt asked, looking up at him as they trailed the corridor Owen had come in through backwards.

"You wouldn't believe this, but Cynthia called me."

"Wait, seriously?"

Owen nodded. "Apparently I can be useful when I want to be."

#spies are forever #saf #curtwen #agent curt mega #owen carvour #tw blood #tw injury #void offering #star mail #nova's tags →#injured ass curt and feral ass owen #a combination made for the gods #i cannot wait for you guys to see owen lose his absolute shit #you ever get tired of being polite 👀 don't you wanna go apeshit 👀

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