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ishoulddefbedoingotherthings · 8 months

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No I can’t hold it in anymore. People who complain that Emma and Killian got boring after they got together (mainly season 5 and 6 and mainly Emma) are my biggest pet peeve.

Emma’s rough exterior was because she experienced a lifetime of trauma. She was constantly abandoned/cast aside by people she cared about. For 28 years she believed her parents gave her up, and for her entire childhood she was living in the foster system or on the streets. When she was still a literal child she was betrayed by a person she loved and was sent to prison pregnant where she sat in that trauma for eleven months without a semblance of justice. She was hardened at such a young age and as seen in the show, it manifested itself into impenetrable walls that made her closed off and snippy. Yes, she was a badass when she chopped down Regina’s apple tree and slammed that guy’s head into a steering wheel (he really deserved it). But many of her badass interactions were because of her walls that made her so closed off. She only had herself to rely on, so obviously all of the stunts she pulled looked so awesome because she only had herself and her strength that was created through years and years of trauma.

What’s cooler? A person scaling a cliff all by themself without help of any kind, or a person using ropes and a partner or many partners to achieve the same result? Many people would choose the first one. But what’s safer? The second. It may not look cooler, but there’s no doubt in my mind that the second person would feel completely safe with people to rely on. And then if you put yourself in that situation, you would choose help. Right? Well when Emma realized that she had that help (mainly in season 4/5), she damn well took that help.

“The only one who saves me is me.” That quote has Emma coolness written all over it, but her tone of voice when she says “Hook” right before just shows how surprised she was that people- that HE actually came back to save her. AGAIN, no less. In New York, she looked genuinely surprised when he said “I came back to save you” because nobody had come back for her before. Absolutely nobody.

Emma is a badass and will always be a badass, but her hesitance to trust anyone and everyone makes her appear MORE badass because she only had herself. Then, she suddenly didn’t have to rely on herself anymore when she got closer to Killian (yes, she did have her parents before, but even then the only thing on her mind was to run far away and take Henry with her because it was safer. And because it was safer, she would have less fear about being put in a situation where she had to trust other people to do something that she previously only did for herself. ‘You want something done right, you have to do it yourself’)

AND THATS NOT EVEN COUNTING THE EMOTIONAL ASPECT.

Scenes where Emma opened up in season 1-most of 3 is like finding an emotional needle in a trauma infused haystack. She only opened up because she had to, and ‘had to’ most commonly meant ‘to get her son back’. She opened up about feeling like an orphan because she needed a magical map to find her son. She told Neal she wished he was dead because she had to unlock a cage, or else her son wouldn’t have a father, not because she wanted to. She didn’t want to face all the trauma he caused her, but she had to. She opened up to Henry in season 1 about a foster family giving her up because she couldn’t deal with how he was complaining about a family that she desperately wanted. It was a necessity for her to make Henry understand that his life was not unfair. (Though that was before Regina acted like a total bitch to her).

But then when she and Killian got together, or even just got closer to each other, she was opening up to him so much and it made her both more vulnerable, but also stronger emotionally, and being able to be emotionally vulnerable IS badass and such a big step for Emma. Compared to her in season 1, season 4 Emma wouldn’t even recognize herself because look at all the people she trusts and relies on. And not just her family, this random eyeliner-wearing-hook-for-a-hand dude who thinks she’s enough purely because she’s HER. The random dude who’s first priority is HER. Emma has never had that in her entire life. She has never been put first like that, and it must’ve been so amazing for her to be put first by a person who doesn’t need to do so because they’re family, but because she’s HER and he loves HER.

Flash forward to the end of season four, she sacrificed herself to the darkness and trusts the people who love and care about her to save her. THAT IS SO BIG FOR EMMA. THAT IS SO BADASS.

And I feel like the same people who believe that Emma and Killian got boring during and after these seasons neglect to realize that it was fricking traumatic. I always imagined the darkness as something that latches on to a person’s suffering and abuses it to their own agenda: to snuff out the light. (Which is exactly what it did to Killian). Emma had that darkness inside of her for the first half of season five and we all saw the tole it took on her. I know some people don’t like how Emma’s voice changed a bit, but that’s how a person who is empty sounds. She was tired and terrified and had to rely on Killian and her family to help her, and Killian was there for her at every step of the way and he helped get rid of the voice inside of her head.

Yes, Henry has always been a rock in her life, but in that season Killian was a fortress that she could lock herself away in and feel safe and loved during a time where she was constantly reliving her suffering.

And then she loses that fortress. One minute he was standing there with the utmost support and the next he was on the floor dying and she was so terrified of losing him that she turned him into the one thing he was desperate to destroy. And then she has to live with this internal conflict of lying to him to preserve the man she loves because she knows he would hate her for doing that to him. But of course she doesn’t want to lie to him, but she doesn’t want to lose him either because she won’t know how to go on.

That changes a person, and I think because OUAT is a magical show, there’s a tendency to downplay the trauma characters go through because it’s magical and it couldn’t happen in real life. It’s difficult to put yourself in the character’s shoes because it requires a lot of imagination to do so. Emma has spent months creating a relationship with Killian. She’s opened herself up in ways that she has never done before and suddenly he’s ripped away from her emotionally because the darkness took control over him, but she was so terrified of losing him that she settled for his physical presence.

That is so fucking traumatic. And because Emma is starting to completely open up, it hurts so much more because she doesn’t have walls to protect her.

And then she has to kill him, and he dies in her arms. The person she’s grown to love and care about dies in her arms and the amount of guilt and sorrow she felt clearly crushed her as seen in the scene of her lying on the couch, holding the ring he gave her, in what was supposed to be the place where she and Killian would live together- the life she wanted so much that she turned him into a dark one to keep him with her. And dark one Killian said a lot of messed up stuff to her (let’s be honest he was self-projecting) that definitely affected her.

Then she finds out that Killian’s entire death was for nothing so she goes back to save him. And she sees the torture and pain he endured because she made him a dark one and that guilt is probably so crushing, and amplified by the fact that she dragged her entire family down here including her son to save him because she was so desperate to see him again.

But when she finally has him back, it’s realized that he can’t go back to the living. She will never get to have that life with him that she wanted and it crushed her.

Yes, at the end of it all, she gets him back in the graveyard, but all of that trauma doesn’t go away.

In no way shape or form should Emma be the same exact person she was after living through that. In no way shape or form should she be EXPECTED to be the same snappy-comeback-armor wearing-badass she used to be because of that emotional and physical trauma she went through.

She is not boring because she relies on other people, and she’s not boring because she’s showing exhaustion or being less ‘badass’ than she used to be. The girl needs a break. She needs a break from the constant bombardment of villains and curses and trauma and in those little moments when she’s alone with Killian, she gets that break and it’s seen every time she smiled and her eyes soften at him. That’s her being happy, not boring. I would so much rather have Captainswan be happy and ‘boring’ than ‘badass’ and severely traumatized because haven’t those guys been through enough?

I didn’t even get to Killian who could fill the ocean with his trauma , but honestly most of the boring comments I’ve seen are directed towards Emma and it makes me so mad because she needs to REST. So what if Killian isn’t as flirty as he was in early seasons. it’s a mask, it’s clearly been a mask since the beginning and he finally has a person who loves him because he’s him (Emma) and a family and basically a brother (David). I for one think that pirate deserves to rest after living in darkness for hundreds of years. And I think he’s been plenty flirting. Uh, pancakes???????? Let the man have a break.

But does this make anyone else mad? Is it just me? I hope it’s not me.

THEYRE LIKE MY BABIES LET THEM BE HAPPY WITHOUT COMMENTING ON THEIR LACK OF BADASSERY PLEASE

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

#once upon a time #captain swan #killian jones #emma swan #pet peeve #rant post #ouat #i love them so muuuuuch #they deserve a break #Emma swan is a badass all the time #Killian jones is a traumatized dude he needs a break #let them heal

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levmada · 6 months

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Levi in the trailer for the final special

#he’s so elegant and pretty and cute and badass and amazing #levi ackerman #levi aot #snk levi #levi ackerman aot #aot levi ackerman #captain levi #captain levi ackerman #levi.pic

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jtl-fics · 11 months

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Fluent Freshman - Part 23

There were a few reasons that Andrew and Neil could not get past reception to go see FF or get updates on his current condition.

The first reason was that visiting hours were long over by the time they had arrived a little after midnight.

The second reason was that hospitals, in general, don’t just give out information on their patients to any random person that walks in and asks for an update on their condition. They are ESPECIALLY hesitant to give out updates on patients when the people who are asking can’t give you anything other than a first name, general description, and the reason that the patient is in the hospital.

Somehow “Completely average looking guy with the last name Smith who was stabbed in the stomach” is not enough for the receptionist to go off of.

“There are multiple people here that fit that description. I would need at least a first and last name before I could even begin to start seeing if you were someone who we even could give updates to. No, I will not continue to play your fun little game of guess the first name.” She says when Andrew opens his mouth to start listing off names alphabetically again.

So now Andrew and Neil found themselves under the watchful eye of a security guard as they sat in the back corner of the front reception area.

“I can’t believe we still don’t know what Smith’s first name is.” Neil says his face is buried in his hands as he and Andrew sit in the uncomfortable chairs trying to figure out where to go from here.

“I think she knows exactly who we want to see.” Andrew scowls towards the receptionist who, long used to the ire of the public, pays him no mind. Andrew just refused to believe that there were that many brown haired, brown eyed, average height and weight guys who had suffered a stab wound to the stomach that would have been admitted in the last two hours.

“I just hope they actually are looking after him and that no one went and forgot about him in an hallway somewhere.” Neil says hands sliding up into his hair to grip.

“That wouldn’t happen.” Andrew dismisses despite knowing that Wymack had ABSOLUTELY forgotten FF at a stadium once during the period where FF had been low presence to keep his family from bothering him.

The U-turn he had pulled had definitely been illegal when FF called and asked where the bus was when they had been on the road for five minutes. Wymack had felt terrible about it but FF had just seemed relieved that the bus had come back for him.

Wymack.

Andrew pulls out his phone and dials a familiar number. Wymack, reliable as always, picks up on the fourth ring with the sound of cursing as he got the phone up to his ear. “What.” He asks and Andrew can hear the sounds of driving and Kevin’s infamously train-like snoring in the background.

“What’s Smith first name. You know it.” Andrew demands.

“Classified.” Wymack clips back immediately.

“I need to know it so that we can get updates.” Andrew hisses.

“He isn’t interested in people knowing it and you wouldn’t be able to get updates anyways.” Wymack dismisses.

“We want to be able to head back to see him.” Neil tries.

“Visiting hours are long over Josten. You know that I’m not settling that bet that you little fuckers have floating around about this.” Wymack responds back.

Andrew grits his teeth and then forces himself to relax his jaw, “It’s not about the bet.” Andrew shuts his eyes in irritation.

That stupid bet.

The betting culture within the Palmetto State Foxes Exy team that Reynold’s had cultivated held strong even after her graduation with the remaining Foxes. The Bet had started when one of the other freshmen had mentioned that it was funny that FF went around like Cher or Madonna. The realization that none of them knew FF’s first name was one that had them placing bets on a multitude of things. Things like: “Do you wanna bet it’s a super normal boring name?”, “Do you wanna bet that it’s a weird foreign name?”, and “Is FF intentionally not giving it out to people or since he goes by his last name normally he has no idea that anything is amiss?” Had lower pools since you were betting on a spectrum. The bet with the highest pool is: “What is FF’s first name”.

Wymack had categorically refused to answer it and all other attempts to discover FF’s first name had been met with frustration. There was a solemn agreement that no one could just go and outright ask him since that would ruin all of the fun. Andrew had agreed to not ask when the team had collectively filled his freezer with ice cream cake and he was a man of his word.

The general belief (after the revelation of his major and the number of languages FF spoke) was that FF’s name was just not easy to pronounce for English speakers.

Andrew hadn’t participated but he know that the Foxes do have a running list of names they know it’s not. (Greg, Will, Smith (again), Matt, Kevin, Neil, Andrew, Aaron, Nathaniel, Jack, Beyonce (Sheena’s drunken guess), Nicholas, John, Fred, Garfield, Frank, Alfred, Augustus, Adam, etc. (Andrew had been trying to guess with the receptionist for a while))

“You’re coming here aren’t you? We can get updates when you get them.” Neil says.

“He’s in emergency surgery right now and will remain there for the next few hours most likely. There’s not going to be any updates hopefully.” Wymack says with a sigh loud enough that they can hear it over Kevin’s snoring.

“Surgery? He needs surgery?” Neil asks sounding surprised s if FF hadn’t been stabbed to the hilt into his stomach with one of Andrew’s knives. He’s about to give Neil some shit for the question before remembering that if there was any person who would think that a stab wound to the stomach wouldn’t necessitate surgery it would be Neil “I’m Fine” Josten.

“Yes Josten, he needs surgery. They have to stitch up his stomach and the surgeons are also going to be dealing with some of the ulcers that were ruptured by the knife.” Wymack explains likely coming to the same conclusion that Andrew had on Neil’s stupid question. “They were a bit worried about him bleeding out but he stabilized before the surgery.” Wymack sighs.

“I’m going the hospital since I’m Smith’s medical proxy. If anything goes wrong with the surgery I want to be there so I can make an informed decision on his care.” Wymack says and… Andrew figured there’d be surgery but to hear it and the possibility that something could go wrong, that the last thing FF had said to him had been something non-sensical about “Gracie Hart wouldn’t have gotten stabbed. I’m Cheryl at best.”as he’d started succumbing to all the blood loss. “If you could stick around long enough for me to drop Kevin off with you I would appreciate it.” Wymack says.

“What if he needs a blood transfusion?” Andrew says.

“Smith is AB-, it’s the second easiest blood type to transfuse into. Go home Andrew.” Wymack repeats.

Andrew works his jaw irritated that there didn’t seem to be a path to getting his way.

“We’ll stay here until you get here.” Andrew agrees, “But you’ll get an update before we leave.” He adds.

Wymack sighs, “Fair enough.” He says before hanging up.

It’s 45 minutes of waiting and tossing a few more name possibilities at the receptionist who seems more amused than anything at their continued attempts to guess their friend’s first name (Neil goes through the entire list of names that he’s gone by and none of them get the thumbs up).

Wymack comes through the doors with a half awake Kevin Day following his steps. “I have another favor to ask you.” Wymack says instead of any form of greeting.

“I’m not going to leave Kevin in the car overnight again. It was just that one time.” Andrew says with a roll of his eyes and honestly he’d been punished enough listening to Kevin bitch, moan, and sneeze for the following week while talking about all the supplements he was taking.

“Not that,” Wymack pauses, “I have two favors to ask you. First don’t do that. Second, would you be able to pick up Smith’s grandma from the airport tomorrow?” He asks.

Andrew blinks.

“She’s coming here?” He asks.

“I updated her on my way here. She booked a flight and will be arriving around noon tomorrow.” Wymack says and Andrew doesn’t know why he’s confused by this. FF’s grandma got him two still warm pies to cheer him up on Thanksgiving.

He’d stabbed that woman’s grandson.

“I’ll pick her up.” He agrees.

Shorter one today

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

Per your requests:

@i-have-three-feelings @blep-23 @dreamerking27 @andreilsmyreligion @belodensetdust @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world @obscureshipsandchips @booklover242 @whataboutmyfries @sahturnos @pluto-pepsi @dreamerthinker @passinhosdetartaruga @leftunknownheart @aro-manita-muscaria @hologramsaredead @Chaoticgremlinswishtheycouldbeme @tntwme @tayspots @nick-scar @crazy-fangirl2524 @blue-jos10 @stabbyfoxandrew @splishsplashyouropinionistrash @sammichly @the-broken-pen @bitchesdoweknowu @very-small-flower @ghostlyboiii @its-a-paxycab @bisexual-genderfluid-fan @cheesecookie @theoneandonlylostsock @foxsoulcourt @blueleys @adverbialstarlight @elia-nna @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner @nikodiangel @foxandcrow-inatrenchcoat @hallucinatedjosten @satanic-foxhole-court @vexingcosmos @chalilodimun @insectsgetcooked @angry-kid-with-no-money @queer-crows @lillyndra @themundanemudperson @readertodeath @apileofpillows @mortalsbowbeforeme @hellomynameismoo @next-level-mess @youreonlylow @interstellarfig @notprocrastinatingatalltoday @percyjacksonfan3 @queenofcrazy27 @bsmr261 @ghostlyscares @spencellio @adinthedarkroom @harpymoth @sufferingjustalilbit @anxietymoss @oddgreyhound @ohno-myhyperfixation-itsbroken @ken22789 @atiredvampire @isoldescorner @not--a--pipedream @azure-wing @bushbees @roonilwazlib-main @crumplelush @foldedaces-paperbirds @thesenseinnonsense @let-tyrants-fear @ketchupandfries @legowerewolf @deadlydodos @but-we-respect-his-craft @cariniqe @zanypersonapricotbiscuit @lesbian-blackbeard @lesbiansupernatural @silvermasquerade @thepeachfuzz @minniemariex @kazoo-the-demjin @gaypomegranate @ji-nk-ies @neilimfinejosten @omgrubelangel @itsyouitsmeorpheuseurydice

The requests to be added to the tag list keep being spread out across a few different areas. If I missed you please just ask again in the replies I promise I just missed you.

As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it right but you didn’t get a notification there might be something switched around in your settings that won’t let me tag you properly?

#Fluent Freshman AU #Might be taking a bit of a break after this post #I wanna figure out the overarching joke of the next part #So FF is under the knife getting stitched up so he doesn't make an in person appearance this chapter #Kevin is coming along with Wymack because he wants to figure out the recovery time and PT FF will need #They were planning on having him be the starting Dealer next season #Honestly he can't BELIEVE that Romero would fuck up his line-up like this #Yes Kevin is aware that he is not the Captain #FF never lets anyone forget who the Captain is #It's Captain Neil #Neil and Andrew try to become close to the receptionist so she will release FF's first name #But god they are both super bad at small talk #Andrew and Neil: So...busy day?#Receptionist: Actually considering the fact its Black Friday it wasn't that bad #Neil: Is it...is it that dangerous? (Thinking about FF this morning)#Receptionist: I've seen body builders get their thigh bones snapped in half by exhausted stay at home moms for a blender you tell me #Neil: Anyone from the (location) Target?#Receptionist: Oh that was a bloodbath didn't you see the news?#The misconception that FF is a cool badass guy continues to grow throughout the Foxes #AFTG #AFTG AU #AFTG OC #AFTG Fic #FF - Pt 23

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hyperfixiation-station · 28 days

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Guilt-Tripped Pt.2

TW: Canon-typical violence Part 1 part 3 Pairing: Ghostxreader(ish) Summary: The mission does not go according to plan

Wc: 1758 A/N: The fights scenes are fast-paced/rushed intentionally, I was trying to give off the feel of combat, if it did not work please let me know and I'll fix it :)

You were off your game, that much was clear. Not only was this mission located in your mother country, but the base you were clearing was one you had been “trained” in. You were anxious, and you knew Ghost could tell. But, true to form, he did not pry. That was one of the reasons you liked him. Everyone else would have asked questions but Ghost didn’t. He respected your privacy, understood that not everything is meant to be shared.

“Ghost, how copy?”

“Solid. Moving in.”

“Copy.” You unsling your gun from your shoulder, following Ghost into the abandoned building. You cover his six as you clear the building, finger hovering over the trigger of your gun. The ghosts contained in the walls were dogging your footsteps, begging for you to turn and listen to them.

“Again”

“You’ll break them.”

“Only the weak.”

“No, please!”

“Do it again!”

“Do not defy me.”

“Again.”

“Y/N.” You snap back to attention, “Buildn’s clear.”

“Ay. Let’s look for the intel then.”

“It’ll go fas’er if we split up.”

“Ah…I guess.”

“Stay frosty.” With that Ghost heads up the stairs, leaving you to pray he doesn't find anything he’s not supposed to. You take a deep breath and turn away, searching the rooms more intently this time, on the lookout for files and a USB drive instead of hostiles.

The first room has nothing, just some rotting pieces of wood that used to be furniture. Still, something about it leaves you feeling deeply unsettled. You step out and head to the room across the hall, your hairs standing on end. The second room is basically the same, as are the third and fourth. And fifth. And sixth. After the final room reveals nothing, you head upstairs to help Ghost.

The stairs creak under the weight of you and your gear, the sound adding to the already eerie atmosphere. You grit your teeth, forcing yourself to walk through the hallways that haunt your nightmares.

Ghost is in the first room you come to, his face lit up by a computer that somehow is still working. Alarm bells ring in the back of your brain, but you ignore them, instead focusing on the video that is playing.

“Again.”

The video is grainy, but you know the scene well. 3 girls stand side by side, guns in hand.

“Again.”

They drop to the ground, legs swinging around before standing.

“Again.”

They fire simultaneously, one loud gunshot echoing through the room.

“Again.”

“Aga-

The video cuts out, but you still see what happened next.

“-in.” You are faster this time, the girls next to you running out of stamina. You had been at this for hours, a constant stream of crouch, stand, fire, reload. You drop into a crouch, sweep your legs around, and come up, you and the girl to your left firing at the same time. You don’t even flinch as the girl to your right is dragged away.

“Again.”

Crouch, stand, fire, reload.

“Again”

Crouch, stand, fire, reload.

“Again.”

Crouch, stand, fire, reload.

“Again.”

Crouch, stand, fire, reload. And once again, you are faster. The girl to your left is dragged away, leaving only you. Your palms are blistered and your knees are torn open, but you won.

“Y/n.” You stare at the target in front of you, breathing hard.

“Y/n!” You raise your head, searching for the woman in charge of your training. Except the voice calling for you is male, and…British?

“Y/n!” A hand touches your shoulder and you don’t think, just react. Your gun is buried between the persons ribs before your vision even clears.

“Fuck. Ghost I…fuck. I’m s-fuck.” You stagger back, blinking hard as you holster the weapon. Ghost has his own weapon trained on you, though his finger is not on the trigger.

“What in th’ bloody hell was that?” He hisses. You inhale, exhale, and shove your emotion down where they won’t bother you.

“I am sorry.” You say softly, “I zoned out and you…scared me.” He doesn’t say anything in response, just grunts and shakes his head, holstering his gun. You hold your breath as he stares at you with an indiscernible look in his eyes.

“We'll talk when we get t’ base.” He says finally. You nod, fingers trembling as you follow him into the next room. You hadn’t noticed when you were clearing it before but the rooms up here are much more preserved. This room is empty, save for a barre attached to the wall, the one way mirror above it shattered into a million pieces.

The girls dance in unison, repeating the moves over and over and over again. Your tutu makes your skin itch, and your toes are bleeding from the hours of non-stop practice. Still, you don’t complain. Even at seven years old, you know better than to voice your sorrows.

“Good y/n. Again.” Legs burning, feet aching, skin itching, you begin the routine again. You bring your leg up but your ankle rolls, your form wobbling.

“Oh y/n. I had such high hopes for you.” Your body is thrown across the room, stars dancing across your vision as the acrid smell of smoke fills your senses. Wait…smoke?

“Y/n!” You inhale sharply, looking up at Ghost. But he’s not there. In his place is an aging man with a road face and short beard.

“Dreykov.” He’s older, much older, but you would recognize him anywhere. You look around the room, trying to find any sign of Ghost. The simple movement sends waves of pain through your skull, makes your vision blurry. But you've operated in much worse condition before.

“Where’s Ghost?” Your voice sounds oh so far away.

“Hello to you too darling.” You shiver almost imperceptibly at his voice, “Why don’t you use that pretty little head of yours and tell me?” You can barely hear him over the high-pitched whine bouncing around your skull. Oh, right, your ears are ringing. Ringing, why are your ears ringing? You blink hard, taking in your surroundings. The room is filled with smoke, the remnants of the outer wall scattered across the room, the result of an explosion. Something sticky trickles down your face, dripping into your eyes as you put two-and-two together.

You and Ghost had walked into the room, you’d been violently thrown into a flashback, and while you were off in la-la land, Dreykov must have blown through the wall. But that still didn’t explain where Ghost was. You inhale slowly, trying to focus your vision. And-there! You spot a hole in the floor, and the only thing you can think is that Ghost fell through.

Later you’ll blame it your disoriented state for forgetting he was there, but really you just didn’t want to face Dreykov alone. You leave him in the room, leave him to escape with the intel you'd come to collect, and sprint down to the first level to find Ghost. You jump over fallen bits of ceiling, dodging debris as the building slowly falls apart around you.

Ghost is prone on the ground, a Widow prowling around his body. They always did like to play with their food.

Without thinking you launch into the fray, tackling the Widow over his back. It is a short but intense fight, serving as a distraction as Ghost forces himself up. It ends when she throws a sloppy punch towards your face. You grab her wrists, yanking her forward and sweeping her legs out from underneath her. She hits the ground at the same moment you unload your weapon into her chest.

“You always did think you were better than us.” You spin around as you reload, swaying slightly as your vision blurs again. Another widow, one you failed to notice, stands behind Ghost, a gun pressed at his head.

“I did not.” Your voice is calm and even, not betraying your inner distress as your eyes dart around the room as you try to find a way to get her away from him.

“Yes you did.” The widow snarls. She draws another weapon, slamming the butt of it into Ghost's skull with startling force, leaving him to collapse like a ragdoll.

“We were always second best, always the ones punished, always the ones in trouble. Nothing compared to you.” You begin to circle each other, your eyes trained on the gun she has aimed at you. The motion makes you sick, and you can’t hear anything over your focus on staying awake.

You blink, and suddenly the widow is in front of you. Just as she wraps her finger around the trigger Ghost, who'd be faking his apparent unconsciousness, tackles her. You can see how the scene will play out, and it doesn't end pretty.

You throw yourself at the Widow Just as she plants her gun in Ghosts chest, sending both of you flying across the room. She ends up on top you so you buck your hips, sending her flying forward. You're moving on pure instinct at this point, to dizzy to think.

You wrap you arm around hers and swing your leg over her side, using the momentum to flip positions so that you're on top. You draw your firearm, but are a millisecond too slow.

She flings you off, your skull bouncing of the pavement as you fall to the side. You manage to keep a grip on your weapon but God's does your head hurt.

You blink yourself back into awareness, coming too just in time to watch Ghost grapples with the Widow for he gun. Ghost may be good, but the Widow is great.

You are too dizzy too see straight, but that's no problem. The Institute had made sure you could shoot a target blindfolded, so you close your had around your 9 mil, raise it front of you, and fire.

You are awarded with a female cry of pain, a thud, and silence.

"You...solid?" You wheeze, gun still held tight in your hand.

"Aye. Y'...y' no' lookin' t' gud there." You can barely hear him, swaying slightly where you stand. Gods your head hurts.

You step forward, practically collapsing into Ghost. You can feel his heart beating rapidly, and you think he's talking to you, but you can’t hear him. Though blurry, your eyes are drawn to the Widow laying in a pool of blood, her brown hair pillowing her head.

It makes you sad, almost, to see someone who didn't get saved. Survivors guilt is what your court-therapist had called it. You thinks it was a load of bullshit but it's not like...is she moving?

You flip around Ghost without thinking, unloading your weapon on the Widow just as her bullet pierces your flesh.

tbc

Tell me what you think!!

@greatkittencloud

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creativesplat · 8 months

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Agent Three and Eight

#agent 24 #captain 3 #agent 3 #agent 8 #splatoon #splatoon 2 #they're in love you're honour #agent 3 and 8's first meeting with the words of the first meme-cake #adorkable badasses in love #they're both so cute together #I love these little guys #male agent 8 x female agent 8 #female agent 3 #male agent 8

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loudblonde · 9 months

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"A Pretty Bird in a Gilded Cage" John Price x Male Reader

summary: (Y/N) Price, aka Birdie, an ex-MI6 intelligence officer turned spy on British soil gets kidnapped by Makarov's men, all his life falls apart as Makarov has him tortured simply to get revenge on his husband.

warnings: torture, violence, allusion to rape(throw away line it doesn't actually happen,) angst with a happy ending

word count: 2,2K

December 10th, the room was freezing cold and damp, water dripped down the walls as mildew and mould alike grew in the corners, being in this abandoned hellhole was sure to make anyone sick. (Y/N) tested the bonds on the wooden plank he was tied to, they were not giving away enough leeway for them to have underestimated him though he didn’t have a guard on him so they obviously only knew the official story. Retired and injured intelligence officer.

Many people meeting (Y/N) for the first time formed 3 opinions, that he was handsome, that he was capable and that he had Captain John Price fully wrapped around his finger. It was no secret that the not-very-hidden, retired intelligence officer for MI6, was the proud and semi-supportive husband of Captain John Price.

Many people around base knew him as “The Only Man Capable of Making the Captain Relax” or rather, househusband, though what many people, including John Price himself, didn’t know, is that (Y/N) is not retired, he is still very much so active, just not in MI6, instead he works close to the ground as a priced horse, waiting to get kidnapped which had happened two times while Price was away, after all, he had many enemies.

Footsteps could be heard coming down the stairway, and the light bulb hanging a meter from his face turned on, blinding him. By the sound of it, 4 people entered the room, 3 heavy sets with boots on, probably soldiers the size of Simon, if not a little smaller, and one person wearing business shoes. (Y/N) turned his head and looked at them through squinted eyes. “Whatever you want, I won’t give it to you,” He said.

(Y/N) sighed in his restraints, clearly, he was going to be here for a while. There was no window that hadn’t been painted over, letting no light in, it was hard to tell what was day and night but he hadn’t been here for long, he had counted 9 hours so far.

Laswell had either yet to notice the tracker being activated or she was in the middle of an operation that required her focus. (Y/N) didn’t doubt that last one, he knew John was on a mission away, he probably wouldn’t be home for another month or so, maybe more.

“Oh, we aren’t the ones with questions, Birdie.” The man’s heavy Russian accent spilt through, causing (Y/N) to roll his eyes. “But we are here to pretty you up for the pictures we are about to take, your husband will want to know what you look like.” (Y/N) felt a fist hit his stomach, and all the air was knocked out of his lungs, he gasped for breath at the same time a wet cloth was thrown over his face followed by water. “We were told to be… creative with the prettying.”

December 11th, everything was sore, bruised and bloodied. His whole body hurt and he was pretty certain he didn’t have any internal bleeding. He was left alone, his stomach growled for food but he held on.

December 15th, he finally got food, but they were on a jet someplace, they didn’t speak to him the entire time. Everything still hurt but he managed to keep calm. Laswell crackled to life in his ear. “Are you alive?”

(Y/N) grunted out once, meaning yes.

“Good, when you land, gather information, we are already decrypting everything the linefeed is sending over.” She said, her voice was a comforting niceness in the last few horrific days of torture. The com crackled again, signalling she had left.

December 18th, a cold and barren winter morning in the middle of the Siberian taiga forest, in one shitty run-down cold shack, (Y/N) was sitting tied to a chair just waiting for his captors to return, he needed to get information out of them, it would ultimately help his husbands team, these were their enemies.

An icy wind was tearing through the shack, threatening frost burnt appendages and pneumonia. The silence of the forest was torn apart by the sound of a helicopter above them. It landed, whipping wind against the shack, like the big bad wolf blowing down the house of the pigs, (Y/N) wasn’t sure how much longer he could stay without risking his husband finding out.

Makarov was a true scumbag. (Y/N) knew in his heart that he wouldn’t hesitate to dispose of (Y/N) as soon as he was bored off him or he had had his fun. (Y/N) didn’t like either of those options. (Y/N) spit down at Makarov’s shoes though it seemed to only further the man's twisted amusement.

The door opened with a creak, it shuttered against the wall, the wood groaned and the metal creaked further. (Y/N) shivered at the frost-ridden air that entered, each set of feet crunching the snow that had blown into the shack through the cracks of the wood. His hood was ripped off, alongside some hair and (Y/N) stood face to face with Vladimir Makarov.

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow, unimpressed with the dramatic entrance of the man. “Doing your dirty work all by yourself?” He knew that he should be scared but he didn’t want a man such as Makarov to see his fear.

“For one such as you, yes.” Makarov grabbed (Y/N)’s face and tilted it painfully up, the bones in his neck groaned and the muscles were pulled dangerously taunt, one quick knife and (Y/N) would be dead. “A pretty songbird in a gilded cage. You have such potential and yet… you fail to use it in any way. You were a world-class intelligence officer and now you are but an ant beneath my boot. Your husband has already noticed that you are here when he and his team rush here…” Makarov smirked.

“You plan on killing them in a trap? Use me as bait, that is cruel even for you.” (Y/N) growled out, he let fake hot anger rise up just enough to heat his skin. “You bastard!” (Y/N) hadn’t been sent undercover as many times as he had, without picking up a thing or two. Tears of disbelief and anger welled in his eyes and froze against his skin as they spilt. Shards of ice fell into his lap.

(Y/N) frowned, he needed to get out, these people were dangerous enough as is, they shouldn’t have a hostage for any more than needed. (Y/N) already had gained as much information from simply being close to them, all agents like him had a device embedded under the skin for long-distance download, it wasn’t the safest of experimental devices but (Y/N) was more than ready to do what he needed to do in order to keep the world safe, much like his husband he was no stranger to war crimes.

Makarov chuckled darkly and shook his head. “No, I plan on breaking your mind after they are dead, there is nothing better than having a pretty bird by my side. It would be the biggest disappointment to the Price legacy.”

He let go of his face, leaving behind red marks that would undoubtedly create bruises, it would be hard but not impossible to hide from Price. Makarov took one last look at him and walked outside the shack, a sickening smirk on his face the entire time. He slammed the door with enough brute force to make it hard to open it, the door locked in place.

A small voice in his ear crackled to light. “Need rescue?” It was Laswell’s voice. (Y/N) whispered a no close to his chest and leaned back in his restraints, the sound of a helicopter flying away signalled that Makarov went away again. (Y/N) counted every second until an hour went by, being sure to prepare himself enough. “Don’t attract attention when you leave, we don’t want them chasing you. We are trying to find an extraction point.”

(Y/N) undid the handcuffs with ease, getting out wasn’t as hard as one would think and untied himself. He glanced around outside the windows before snaking his way under the wood in the back. He escaped into the forest safely and didn’t stop running for an hour.

His lungs were on fire, and everything was bruised, beaten and hurt, he was expecting to at least come out of this with hypothermia and that was if he was lucky.

“Laswell, do I have an extraction point?”

“Yes.” A voice cackled in his ear, a much deeper voice that didn’t belong to a woman he considered his sister. It was Price. (Y/N) sighed with a groan. “Two more miles and we are ready to pick you up.” Price sounded pissed though also worried.

“Hello dear.” (Y/N) said, his voice wavering a bit. “I didn’t realise you were in the country.”

“I didn’t realise you have a habit of getting kidnapped in the middle of me being away on a mission.” Price said, considerably less angry.

(Y/N) held his ribs as he chuckled, it sent jabs of pain coursing through him, though he had had worse. “I try not to make it a habit but it’s hard when your husband has enemies. May as well take advantage of the fact I am capable of getting myself unkidnapped.” (Y/N) said as he made his way through the snow-filled area.

“Do you need a medic?” Price asked.

“Not immediately, I may have broken my ribs but other than that I hadn’t been tortured badly enough for me to be in any danger.” (Y/N) replied, his voice somewhat strained. “I can run without killing myself.”

“Yes, I saw that. When were you going to tell me that you hadn’t retired?” Price sounded hurt, clearly at the lack of trust.

(Y/N) sighed, his feet dragging in the snow. “Honey, you and I both know my security clearance will always be higher than yours, I was told to never tell anyone, not even you, ordered. Laswell is barely allowed to know and that is on the basis of her knowing you intimately.”

“Does this happen often?” He asked.

(Y/N) shook his head before realising his husband couldn’t see it. “No, not often. I think this is my third time. Though the hazard pay bump is to die for.” (Y/N) chuckled at his own joke, his husband didn’t.

“How much further?” Price asked, ignoring the dark joke, he was more worried about his husband surviving than laughing at a joke.

“A mile. I will contact you when I get near.” (Y/N) said and they both went silent.

A very brief reunion happened before John almost had an aneurysm. “We need a medic as soon as we land!” He said into a long-distance communicator. “Not hurt my ass!” He hauled (Y/N) into the yet and it took off. (Y/N) sighed in relief as he sank into comfortable seats.

“How long?” John asked as he brought over something to clean the cuts and blood away from him.

“Hm? What date is it?” (Y/N) asked, he was tired, starving and thirsty.

John sighed and started cleaning the wounds. “18th, but I meant, how long have you been doing this?”

“Ahhh, hmm, maybe 8 years now, since I recovered from my injury, mostly I just fuck around in Britain, spying on people there, making certain we aren’t going to succumb to infighting, fucking Tories are making my life a living hell though, all of them are so blatantly willing to become traitors if it meant keeping their wealth.” (Y/N) said. “But I was taken for 8 days this time. I don’t remember how much I have eaten.”

“We will get you checked over and then get you back on food… how have you been able to hide all of this from me?” John asked.

“Honestly, most of the time I am only there for 3 days, minimal torture and bruising, but without the support and with Laswell not present, I couldn’t risk escaping early on, they had no reason to kill me, Makarov wanted you dead and me as a glorified whore.”

John growled out in barely contained anger, his body tensed up at the thought of it. “I will kill him myself.”

(Y/N) placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t you worry your head about it, I am back, safe and your mission is already to kill him.”

“My mission doesn’t matter when he attacks my husband-“ John started, “-who is a very accomplished field agent who despite his career-ending injury still managed to end up being a total badass and escape one of the most dangerous groups of international terrorists right now.” (Y/N) ended, making John smile softly.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, old man.”

It took a total of 5 days before (Y/N) was allowed to leave the medical ward and another 3 for his husband to stop fussing but (Y/N) fully knew that only happened because he had been called out on a mission and when John returned near dead, (Y/N) was now the one fussing over him and making sure he was healed up nicely after the whole Makarov situation.

While John stayed employed for several years after this, the two eventually both retired, including (Y/N) properly this time, to a small homestead in the Scottish countryside, close to where McTavish and Riley retired too but far enough away to have peace and quiet.

And in the end, their last remaining family members buried them side by side where they would forever rest.

The End.

#cod x male reader #john price x male reader #captain john price x male reader #male reader #lgbt #gay #badass reader

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