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the-kr8tor · 2 months

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In Deep Water

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 8.7k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, CW vomit mention, CW Inaccurate medical procedures, CW injury, TW blood, CW violence, TW death, CW guns.

Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

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CHAPTER 7 >>> CHAPTER 8

The laughter gets louder as the source of it shows itself aboard the black hellion, the fog makes way like a curtain opening to start a performance.

Hobie's grip is tight, fingers weaved around your arm, bruisingly strong. Your nails dig into his flesh as the uniformed man tilts his head to look at you, his toothy yellowing grin thrown in your direction. His powdered white wig flutters in the breeze, medals glinting off the single lamp on the bow, hands resting on the pommel of his pristine sword. The angelic figure head is a stark contrast to the devil sneering down.

The blackened wood of his ship groans as it continues to break a part of the revenge. The sails unfurled behind him, blue wings fluttering in the wind.

The angel of death has come.

“Look at what we have here.” He clicks his tongue, eyes boring a hole through your skulls, he narrows them into slits, and like a snake, he slithers as close as he can, tethering close to the edge. There's a flash of emotion in his eyes, snarling, the navy man chuckles, the mere sound makes you want to cower. “Hello little birdy, now how far did you fly to get where you are now?”

Hobie clenches his jaw, stepping over to hide you from his view. His hand never leaves yours, the dull ache from his hold says that this isn't just a nightmare.

You want to wake up even if it means losing his hold on you.

“Oh where are my manners? Mummy would whip me if she ever knew I didn't introduce myself to a lady.”

Hobie shifts his weight, ready to pounce if need be. You grab his shirt, making sure he doesn't do anything drastic. Subtly flicking your eyes to the side, you see the crew do the same. They look at you with fear in their eyes, the hunter’s gazes illuminating their contorted faces.

You can't help but let out a shuddering breath, the sound echoing around the open waters, hoping to get your cry for help to somebody who can do something, anything to get you and everyone out to safety.

“My name's Captain Mathias Bradshaw.” He drawls, thin lips curling into a smirk. “This here is my little merry band of sailors who has a bone to pick with—” pointing at Hobie with his thick finger, white cosmetic smeared on his palms. “Him. The red hydra. I forgot to greet you yet, long time no see you rapscallion.”

You hear Hobie's shallow breathing. Grey eyes thundering, a storm brewing, lightning flowing through his veins. The only reason why he doesn't let himself loose on Mathias is your touch.

“You see here, sweetheart,” The man addresses you and you only. “For the past three years your so-called captain and I have had a bit of a tiff.” He chuckles coldly. “A rivalry of sorts.” He pauses, looking over his shoulder. “Is it still a rivalry if you're leagues above your rival?”

“No, sir.” A gruff voice says, hidden behind the mist.

Mathias turns back around. “Well, we got our answer then.”

Hobie sneakily murmurs to you. “Hide—”

“I'm not done talking!” The sudden outburst makes you jump in your skin.

“You should've been done with your senseless dialogue a long time ago.” Hobie straightens his posture, head held high, a picture of a pirate captain. “Come down here and fight like a fuckin' man, show me your flames and I'll show mine.”

The man scoffs, amusement in his green eyes. “Flames? Yours is barely a spark.”

Hobie scoffs. “Let's be done with it then. Get the closure we both want, fight me in single combat.” Mathias knits his brows, Hobie smirks. “No? Thought you were a gentleman, where's your fuckin' honour?”

A booming laugh replaces Mathias’ scowl. “I guess it died with your little red hair—”

Hobie lets go of you, drawing his gun, pointing it directly at the monster's head. The crew takes this as their cue, doing the same, pointing their weapons towards the men surrounding them.

There's hunger in his eyes, beneath the swirling grey there's a hunger waiting to be fed.

The enemy ships don't even aim their cannons at the revenge, instead they float still in the water, unmoving, the men aboard their ships smirk in your direction like you're being served to them on a silver platter. It's then you notice the sons of the sea’s ship is no more. They took the brunt of the hellion’s collision.

No longer their sails fly, their crow's nest and pieces of wood lay floating in dark waters.

Left behind, slowly drowning in the depths.

You feel droplets sliding on your cheeks, for a second you thought it's your tears. And then more and more of it comes pouring down, splashing on the wooden floorboards.

Thunder booms from a distance, lightning flashes in the sky, lighting everyone's scornful faces.

A few of Karl's men stand with Hobie, clutching their injuries. You don't see Robbie, his lack of presence makes you glare at the sneering men.

“Say her fuckin’ name.” Hobie says through gritted teeth. “After what you did— Say her name.”

“Eh.” Mathias shrugs, “I forgot.” the laughter of his men echoes in the mist.

“You fucker—!” Hobie's hand shakes despite this, he draws the golden gun, aiming it at the navy man whose smirk gets wider.

“I recognize that little blunderbuss.” He chuckles, wiggling his pointing finger, “She pointed that at my head too, you'll be unsuccessful just like she was.”

It takes every fiber inside Hobie to not just shoot and face the consequences later. But he's surrounded, his crew is surrounded, they have no chance of escaping death if he shoots. The only option he has is through single combat and to appeal to the man's ego. He's hoping the idea works.

One look over his shoulder, one glance at your trembling face and he's back to that day, the day MJ was lost. He prays that this day doesn't end the same way three years ago.

“Little dove,” Mathias’ devilish eyes roam over your trembling body. “Look at you,” he chuckles lowly, “I'd say dear ol' Hobie here got an upgrade just because this one's got her head still glued on her neck!”

Hobie almost shoots him until someone from his crew screams, their voice full of malice, venom dripping with every utterance.

“Fuck you!” Gwen exclaims, “Don't you have any honour? She's dead and you're still spitting on her watery grave! After everything you've put her through!”

“Ah! Gwen Stacy, the ballerina turned pirate. How you doin', miss Stacy? I heard your father's still down in the stables, trying to repay his debt to the crown.” he rags her on, scoffing.

“You're still defending her? She's a traitor, a navy spy. The greatest one we've ever had in fact. Her only downfall is loving a bunch of…” he sucks in his teeth, trying to find the word. “Thieves like you. Love got her head cut off and love will be your ruin too.” Flicking his eyes to you, he observes everyone's faces after his tirade.

Hobie steps between Gwen and Mathias, his guns still raised, eyes brimming with the anger of a forsaken God. Yet he remains calm, clearing his throat, standing tall.

“Mathias Bradshaw, I challenge you to single combat, a duel. I win, you let us go. You win and you get to take us all back to the capital.” Hobie's voice booms louder than the thunder above. Lightning strikes near, the water sizzles at the contact. “I know a man of your stature can't say no.”

The man in the uniform guffaws loudly, broad shoulders shaking. “Oh that's hilarious, you think you'd win against me, little pirate? Hmm?”

“Yes.” Hobie doesn't miss a beat.

Mathias smiles, “I guess this one's less messy than what I was planning. Name your terms.”

“Guns only, five bullets. You get shot three times you lose.”

“I'll add a tiny thing to your wager.” The navy man looks over to your direction, pointing his crooked finger at you. “Same terms but I get to keep your little bird.”

Hobie turns to you, wide eyes staring back at you. “No—” He's already shaking his head before you speak up.

“Deal!” You roar above the thunder storm, deciding your own fate. The rain is getting heavier, drenching your terrified self. “The captain will take your terms as long as you honour it.” Nodding to Hobie, he holsters his weapon away from you.

Mathias cackles in the background.

Gently holding on to your arm, you already know what he'll say.

“Don't. Do you know what you just agreed to?”

“I do,” you stare at his raging eyes but they're tender when he looks at you. “I know you can take him, I trust you.” Taking his hand away from your arm, you squeeze him once before pulling him towards you. “Don't play fair, because he won't.” you whisper. “Fucking obliterate him, for MJ.”

Hobie takes you in like it's the last thing he'll ever do. He imprints your touch in his mind, wanting to remember the softness of it when the bullets get too much for him to bear.

He nods slowly, still unsure of your decision. If you trust him enough to sell your soul then he'll fight to the death so you don't have to.

With one last look at you, he turns around, facing up to the man he loathes the most, wanting to just strangle him with his bare hands. Maybe he'll do just that.

For the crew.

Mathias takes his blue coat off, grinning the entire time.

For MJ.

He grabs on to a rope, rappelling off the black hellion, landing in a thunderous impact on the deck.

For you.

Now that he's leveled with your gaze, he's a lot smaller down on the deck, stout with a round belly, face painted with white lead that's currently melting in the downpour. Hobie's taller and slimmer but he makes up for it in his agility and speed. You've seen him fight but Mathias' form could be compared to Finn's build, all muscle and strength hidden behind his uniform.

You're glad this was a duel of pistols if it was any other fight Hobie could be in trouble.

A few of his men do the same, jumping off the hellion while the ones on the smaller ships stay on board but keeping their eyes peeled.

Surrounding the bloodsail pirates, the hands of Mathias' men never leave the pommels of their rapiers. Hobie clenches his jaw, now standing before the king's flame, he can't help but gaze behind the man, back to you and his crew.

Gwen goes to your side, lacing her trembling fingers through yours, Pav sidles behind you, clutching the back of your vest. Miles stands next to Gwen, holding her other hand. You see them look at eachother with a knowing glance and glimmering eyes.

Your eyes meet Hobie's, you give him a nod, eyes full of fury, and trembling lips. You mouth a ‘Bleed him dry’.

The simple act of Hobie smiling at you, makes you tear up. It's the same one he gives you after you patch him up, it's the same one when he handed you the hot chocolate. It's the same smile that makes your heart flutter in your chest.

You're afraid as you part with the crowd to the side of the duelists, lest you get caught in the crossfire. As the one in front, you get a good look at the enemy on the other side, all lined up perfectly like the obedient soldier men that they are. You roam your eyes to their faces, wondering how they could obey a man like Mathias.

You assume the uniformed man walking towards the duelists is Mathias' right hand man. Left eye covered in an eye patch, his hazel eyes observe you. He's carrying a large wooden box, pristine and smooth at the edges with golden locks and embellishments. He opens it with a creak, rain water landing on the wood and soaking the velvet inside.

“You're the challenger, you get the first pick.” Mathias gestures towards Hobie, all smiles like he's not about to meet the end of a bullet.

You stand on your tippy toes to take a peek inside. There are two dueling pistols, flintlocks. One white as fresh snow, one is black like the hellion.

Hobie takes his pick, pocketing what you assume is the five bullets. The black gun in his hand shines when a lightning strikes the mast of the hellion. You hear splintering wood in the distance.

He steps back in place, measuring the metal’s weight in his hand.

“Good choice.” Mathias eyes down the gun. “Death has touched that one.”

Hobie glares, baring his teeth. If only that was enough to kill the man before him.

Mathias takes the remaining gun, wiggling it in his hand. “You ready, little pirate?”

Hobie doesn't show an ounce of fear. “You're going to die today.”

“How confident, confidence alone won't help you aim straight.”

Your entire body shakes whilst they stand back to back, guns raised on their sides. They walk slowly, counting their steps.

The pouring rain doesn't help, raindrops obscuring your vision, the cold mixing in with the ice in your veins.

With every step Hobie takes,

Five

with every hit of his boots on the floorboards,

Four

your heart tries to escape,

Three

pulse hammering,

Two

threatening to give out. Afraid of what's to come. No one else dares to make a sound.

One

Standing end to end on the dock, they turn around swiftly.

After a beat, the man with the box yells. “Fire!”

Bang!

The sound echoes out in the dark, above all the rain and thunder.

Hobie hits his mark, Mathias groans, clutching his dominant shoulder. Smoke bellows out of their guns, dissolving into the rain.

Your words are repeating in Hobie's head ‘Don't play fair’ you say, then he won't play fair.

He notices his bleeding arm, looking down he sees the bullet nicked his skin, leaving an angry gash in its wake. The wood behind him gets the brunt of the bullet, the metal embedding inside, splintering a gaping hole.

You jump when Mathias laughs along the thunder. More and more lightning pierces the sky. You can taste iron in your mouth, not realizing the pain from biting the inside of your cheeks.

They reload, Mathias’ man observing with his watchful eye, making sure they both adhere to the rules; but you highly doubt he's doing it for fairness sake.

Metallic clanking, gunpowder clinking against steel, Mathias' voice enters the fray to your dismay.

“You know, you were too easy to fool.” He starts, finishing up his reload. “You never asked why I left my lieutenant in your hands and why was it so damn easy for you to get my travel documents.” Smiling, the lead on his face melts further, dripping on the floorboards, the white paint mixing in with his blood. “Just like I said, love will be your downfall.”

Hobie doesn't have enough time to squabble, instead he would let his aim talk for him.

“Twenty paces!” The eye patch man yells again.

Hobie and Mathias move forwards, getting closer and closer to each other. You want to put a stop to the duel, but you have to trust Hobie that he'll make it, that he'll win. He has to.

You dare not blink.

“Fire!”

Bang!

Hobie almost keels over, his shoulder heavily bleeds, trembling hand holding his flesh together. You see him smile underneath the pain, following his gaze, Mathias clutches his shooting hand, groaning and hissing. It looks like Hobie shot a hole right in the man's hand. The white gun lays on the bloodied floor, discarded.

Gwen's hold on you tightens, you can hear Pavitr sob quietly.

You catch Hobie's eyes. There's hope in the swirling grey, nodding, you encourage him, mouthing an ‘end it’. He seems to understand, straightening his stance, he reloads the gun as best as he can with an injured shoulder.

Mathias wheezes out a strained laugh. “I gotta hand it to you, your aim is pretty good.” He stands, grabbing his gun on the way up with his uninjured hand. “No matter how amazing your aim is, you're still bloody blind!” He screams, spit flying out of his mouth.

“My two bullets that's in you say otherwise.” Hobie tilts his head mockingly.

“No, no, no.” Mathias clicks his tongue, waving the gun wildly. “You still don't get it do you? You're not asking questions, letting everything fall into your lap, thinking God's on your side on your little revenge quest. But he's not,” he chuckles. “Sacrificing my lieutenant was the best decision I've ever made, especially knowing the fucker can absolutely sing. Loose lips sink ships, little pirate. Do remember that. Especially since you didn't seem to learn from it last time.”

Hobie's face falls, dread filling his chest.

“Bribing the governor to plant my travel documents and telling him to go unwind in a brothel for a couple of days was well worth my coin.” Mathias stretches his shoulder, reloading his pistol with bloodied hands.

He continues. “The two idiots at the gates were…well idiots, I barely had to do anything to them. The lock was a false security to make you sweat a little bit.” The king's flame proves himself. “You're blind. You've focused so much on taking me down that you didn't notice the little details. It's either that or you're also deaf, preferring not to hear your crew's concerns.”

“Not a very good attribute for a supposed captain.” he shrugs, he says his words mockingly.

“Fuck you!” Hobie aims directly at his rival's head.

It's all his fault, everything that led up to this point is his fault.

The gun trembles in his hold. Mathias looks pleased, smiling at Hobie.

“You know the rules.” Mathias sucks in his teeth. “Don't fire until lieutenant Dubois says so or I win and I get your little bird.” he looks over at you. “Oh we're gonna have so much fun together, every night, every day.” His laughter makes you want to grab the nearest knife and shove it down his throat.

You don't back down from his disgusting gaze. “If he doesn't kill you, I will.” Pavitr tries to hold you back. “And it won't be quick.” your voice shakes from sheer anger.

“I look forward to it, duchess.” Mathias spares you one last glance.

You don't notice how Hobie looks angrier than he did, he's clearly holding back. His glare alone could burn a hole through Mathias' skull. Yet he stands tall, getting a second wind; he's gonna shoot a hole in his skull instead.

His head goes a hundred knots per hour, thinking of all the what ifs. What if he just listened, what if he didn't let her stay, what if, what if, what if, the words are tattooed in his mind, clawing and biting at his psyche.

“Ten paces!”

They walk in sync, closer to each other more than ever. Pausing in place, they stare each other down, Mathias' smile never leaving his lips. Hobie's scowl gets deeper with every second that passes.

“Fire—!”

“Fuck this.” Mathias lunges in surprise, grappling Hobie.

Hobie doesn't get a chance to dodge, his gun clattering on the floor as the heavier man tackles him to the ground. The wet floors make it hard for Hobie to find leverage against Mathias who's currently choking him with his large arm.

Chaos ensues, everyone breaks the line, unsheathing their weapons, fighting, steel and skin clashing. Pistols going off left and right, but your main focus is on the two men writhing on the floor.

You hear Hobie choke so you run faster, taking a fallen dagger from a corpse, you quickly dodge people, determined to save Hobie.

“This is what happens when you let your feelings decide for you!” Mathias yells above the mayhem.

Finally making it close to them, in one swift movement, you stab Mathias on his back, crimson ebbs on his white shirt like spiderwebs. He screams, letting go of Hobie.

You don't spare him a glance as you take Hobie by his arm, dragging him below deck. Shutting the doors closed, Mathias bids you farewell with one last cackling.

Guiding him through the corridors, you hope the winding hallways help make it harder for the enemies to find you.

“Y/N.” He wheezes out.

“Don't fucking talk.” Your feet brings you to the galley. Sitting him down, he plops like a fish on the chair, head lolling to the side.

Slapping his cheek, he wakes back up with a groan. “Actually, keep talking. Stay awake, please.”

Hobie nods, “I need to go back up, I can't leave them there.” He tries to stand but your hands stop him, making him sit back down.

“You can't help in this state. Let me treat you then you can go and help.” You look in his pained eyes. “Please, at least let me help with your shoulder.” your other hand fumbles to his back, searching for an exit wound. You already know the answer when you feel the hot crimson weeping out from the puncture left behind.

You plead with your eyes.

“Alright, do what you have to do. Make it quick.” he nods, you leave his side to light a fire in the hearth, laying a metal poker on top of the hot coals. “Can I tell you a story?”

“Whatever keeps you awake.” Taking out the first aid kit from your bag, you notice your hands tremble. They never shake when you're treating someone, with your back turned away from him, you swallow down a sob.

“There was this girl, she had red hair like one of those…” he sighs, injuries aching, throat throbbing. “Apples.”

You reach his side once again, trembling fingers dipping into the wound ointment. “You have a way with words.”

He grabs your shaking hands in his, “Are you alright?”

You pause in your frantic movements, blinking rapidly. “Y-you’re the one who's bleeding right now.”

“You're shaking.”

You twist your wrists away from his touch. “I'm alright, worry about yourself and your crew.”

“You're a part of my crew”

“Shut– just…” you exhale. “Continue your story.”

Hobie nods, eyes drooping. “She just one day showed up on the docks, asking for a place.” He inhales sharply. “I needed to fill the second ship so I agreed, I let her in. I shouldn't have done it.” His eyes well up but no tears fall. “I should've turned her away but she was determined, she had the skills to stay— can you give me somethin’ for the pain? A fuckin' rum or wine, anythin’”

“No alcohol, if you want to bleed out be my guest.” You hold a cloth above his wound, pressing down to stop the bleeding as much as you can.

“Fucker!” He stomps his foot, “you can be such a little shit sometimes you know?”

You can hear the struggle upstairs. Weirdly enough, there's no sound of cannons firing.

“I know—” the ship tilts suddenly, flinging you and Hobie brutally to the side. You do your best to shield his injured self, taking the brunt of the impact, back stinging from the wall.

He lands on top of you, arms on your side, face hidden on the crook of your neck. You can feel his staggered breathing on your skin.

Bottles and pans fly towards you two. Pushing him away, you guide each other to the corner of the room, huddled together, protected by the hearth.

“Shit!” Hobie protects your head with his hand when a pot flies towards you. The ship keeps turning and tossing the both of you until it finally straightens out, you can feel how fast its going by how wild the utensils are swinging.

“Someone got hold of the helm.” He whispers, his cool hand on your tender shoulder. “We're running.” Hobie doesn't say it with pride or dejection, he utters it with embarrassment.

“That's good,” you stand up, giving him a helping hand. “We can get out—”

The unmistakable sound of a cannonball whizzes past and the ship lunges harshly on the side again. You can hear frantic yells from above.

Hobie takes your hand, “I need to get up there.”

Helping him up, you nod. “And you will, let me close that wound off and give you something for the pain and we'll go back up there.”

“Y/N, you can't—”

“We will go up there.” the fire in your eyes makes him obey. “Sit down, I'll make this quick but not painless.”

He flops down, masking the pain with a grimace. Inhaling, he continues. “I let MJ in.”

You pause for a second before taking the metal poker. “Even after seeing all the bloody signs.” He sighs. “Maybe I am blind.”

You hold his face tenderly. “You were, but you still have a chance to change that. You can still help your crew. Make it right for their sake.”

He holds the back of your neck, kneading the skin with his bloodied fingers. “I don't regret letting you stay.”

You look at him apologetically. “You will after this.” Shoving the leather pot holder in his mouth, moving aside his clothes. “Inhale” you place the hot poker directly on his bullet wound, cauterizing the gaping hole.

It sizzles, Hobie holds on to your sides tightly, bunching up the fabric in his hands. Muffled screams eaten up by the leather in his mouth.

You move the rod away once it's done. Hobie's eyes roll in the back of his head. Slapping him lightly, he wakes back up.

“Stay awake, hey. Look at me.” He stares at you through half-lidded eyes. “There you are, captain.” You smile to reassure him. He gives you a tired nod. “Now for the exit wound.”

Hobie inhales, more than ready this time around. His skin is clammy, eyes red from the brimming tears. He clenches his entire body, determined to get it over with. Twisting around in his seat, he hopes the ship doesn't rock as you push the searing metal poker on the back of his shoulder.

With a muffled yell from him, you take the tool away, letting it cool down. Moving his head with your hand, you look at him apologetically.

“I'm sorry, if I warned you first you would've flinched.”

Hobie spits the leather out of his mouth, patting your cheek with his sweaty hand, he leaves it there, stroking your skin.

“I wouldn't have flinched.” He chuckles through the searing pain.

“Of course you wouldn't.” You hold his hand that's on top of your cheek. “You did good.”

He laughs, hand leaving your skin to hold your hand instead. “Not the first time I've felt fire.”

You smile, without thinking, you lay your forehead on his as more cannonballs fly around the revenge.

“You did good too.” He whispers. Eyes closed, he leans away. “Now get me something for the pain and let's get the bastard.”

You smile, nodding to him. Taking a bottle from your bag, you rub mint oil on his upper lip, igniting his nerves, keeping him awake.

“That's the only thing I have that could help. I can't give you alcohol.”

Hobie tentatively stands up, “Maybe after this then.” He groans, slightly limping. “‘m gonna need an entire crate of ‘em.” he thinks adrenaline is enough to keep him on his feet.

He faces you, a ghost of a smile on his pained face. Hobie bends at the waist, you scramble to help him but he refuses with his hand raising to stop you. Taking something from inside his boot, he grabs a shiny and slender thing.

“Here.” Hobie hands a silver dagger to you, intricate carvings of a turtle and a sea snake looping around the glimmering handle. “Somethin’ to defend yourself.”

“Are you sure? It looks—”

“I don't mind givin’ it to you.” He closes your hand around the hilt. “Make sure this one hits his neck this time.”

“I will.” Your eyes fill with determination, adrenaline still coursing through you.

He wobbles towards the door, sparing you a smile on the way.

“Hobie,” you call after him. “Continue your story after this?”

“Only if you tell me yours.” He looks over his shoulder, giving you the same smile he always has.

You scoff with a small smile, “Maybe I will.”

“Let's fuckin’ go and be pirates then.”

—

Getting up the deck was tedious work with all the rocking and shifting from the ship and the wild waves, add that with all the cannon balls whizzing past, it was like riding an angry bull. Meeting halfway with Karl on the way there made it easier, filling your chest with hope.

“Where's Robbie?!” He frantically yells, forehead bleeding, hands gripping Hobie's vest.

“I-I don't know.” Karl's face falls. “But we'll find him, I know he got out.”

“Got out from what?” His voice trembles, “what happened, Hobie?”

Hobie holds his friend’s wrist, “I'm sorry.” Karl weeps. “Go find Robbie and your crew.” He shakes his head. “And get the hell out of here, he's after me not you.”

Karl's eyes fill with tears, flicking towards you who look on with sad eyes. “What about you and the others?”

“We'll find a way out. We always do, remember?” Hobie reassures him with a smile. “Take one of my dinghies, and row the hell out of here.” he takes Karl's hands away from his vest. “We'll see you back at the old place, yeah?”

“You fucking better, Hobart or I'll drown you myself.” Karl takes your hand briefly, nodding. “I hope I see you again, doc.”

“Me too, captain. Find Robbie.”

You part ways with Karl, praying that he finds Robbie and what remains of his men.

“Ready, trouble?” Hobie gets your attention by brushing his pinky against the back of your hand.

“I'm right behind you.”

—

It's war.

The moment Hobie opened the door to the deck you smell petrichor and blood in the air.

You get a glimpse of the battle before he could shut the doors. Bodies, both pirates and navy alike lay motionless on the floor. The sound of thunder mixes in with the pained yells, flashes of lightning illuminates the night sky and you see the faces of the dead clearly.

Two-fingers lay face first on the deck, arms bent at an angle, blood pooling from his head. Through the smoke and splintered wood, Foul screams when a sword plunges through his heart, silencing him immediately. Danny takes a bullet for Finn who promptly avenges him with his cutlass, swiftly separating the man's head from his body.

One face you were hoping was among the dead was missing. Mathias isn't on board.

Something flashes in his eyes when he looks at you. Grabbing your arm, he leans in, your heart stops.

Hobie moves past your head to press his forehead on your shoulder. Bathing in your presence, hand squeezing your skin

“Hobie?”

He smiles, moving his hand up to cup your jaw. Chuckling, he cleans his dried blood off your cheek with his thumb. “Do me a favour, Scuttlebutt?”

“What is it? We need to get up there!”

Hobie ignores you, leaning away. “Survive for me would you? Live, find your family. Promise me.” He sniffs, eyes glinting.

“What?”

“Just promise me, trouble.” He shakes you.

“Alright I promise. Can we—”

“I'm sorry.”

“What—?” Hobie pushes you hard, you fall off the steps, landing on your behind, he exits without looking back, shutting the doors closed. “What the fuck?!”

You rattle the doorknob but it's no use, he locked it on the outside. Frustrated, you try to kick in the door, hurting yourself from the hard wood.

“Fuck! Hobie!” You bang the door, peeking through the keyhole you see carnage as Hobie makes quick work of the remaining men. “Let me help!”

The sound of cannon balls going off almost deafens your eardrums. If only you had your lockpick you could open it.

Your lockpick.

It's a stretch but you still run towards your cabin, feet thudding loudly, echoing around the hallways that you've memorized.

You feel relieved after seeing your door. Shouldering it open, you frantically search for the metal on the shelves. The tip of it scratches your hand but you don't care, already bolting off towards the exit. Running off with your bag tied around you, hoping the medical kit inside is enough to treat the wounded, you hold the lockpick in your hand while you run.

Your hope dwindles with every cannon hitting the ship.

Doors whizz past, ankle stinging, the sounds of screams and gunfire makes you sprint faster.

You don't notice the blood soaked hulking man leaving Hobie's cabin.

Running into him, you stagger, tumbling down, heart falling into your stomach as he looks down at you through his nose.

“Hello there.”

Scrambling to get to your feet, you slide under his legs, stabbing his achilles heel with your lockpick. The man screams in agony, you take the opportunity to sprint like you've never ran before. You'd take running away from O’hara any day.

Your lungs scream for you to stop, but you go on as you hear thundering stomping behind you.

There's no exit and you can't run forever.

The metallic click rings behind you, rounding the corner, you barely dodge the bullet aimed at you, nicking your hip.

“Shit!” You almost fall yet you continue on, entering the library, you shut the doors behind you, locking it swiftly.

Lifting your hand away, the sight of your own blood turns your fear into fury. With your trembling hands, you unsheathe the dagger from your belt.

You have a promise to keep, and you never break a promise.

Hiding behind the armchair you always sat on, you crouch down, gripping the dagger, ready to strike like a viper in the sand.

You look back on what she taught you, “Strike fast and hit hard. Don't give them a chance to get back up.” her voice whispers it to you and you intend to follow it.

The door bursts open, splintering the wood to a thousand pieces.

“The captain wants you alive, little birdy. This doesn't have to hurt if you just come with me, eh?” You hear him chuckle lowly, blatantly lying to you.

His heavy footsteps thud closer.

You use the shadows as your guide, the oil lamp left open on the corner table does the work. For once you thank Gwen for forgetting to close the light.

“I can help with your wound. Glue your wings back together again” he whistles. “The red hydra can't help you with that but I can. I'm a surgeon you see.” Getting closer and closer, you time your strike right.

You come out of your hiding place with a battle cry. Still crouches down, “I highly doubt that!” Slicing his tendons in one quick movement. The second he falls to his knees, you stab him in the neck.

Stepping back, he chokes in his own blood. With wide eyes you flinch when he stands, seemingly unaffected but his shaking pupils say otherwise. With a garbled noise from your assailant, he reaches for you.

“What the fuck?!”

With a split second decision, you dodge his hands, moving backwards, throwing books from the shelves which bounce almost harmlessly on his head and body.

There's a loud thrumming sound outside, its warbling is almost mechanical but definitely something an animal could've made.

He heard it too, pausing in his movement for a second before he lunged towards you. With a scream, your back against the corner, he jumps you.

Your head hits the wall in an ugly crunch, seeing stars, sliding down the wall, landing on the floor, he chokes you with his bare hands. Indistinct noises escape from his mouth, your dagger nowhere to be found in his throat. His entire body hides anything in front of you, drowning your vision, filling it with your murderer. His blood drips down on your face, almost drowning you in it.

You know he's running on fumes but based on your vision fading, lungs gasping for air, you think you'd go out first before him.

Hands grazing something metallic on the floor next to you, you inch your fingers towards it. Finally finding your grip, you smack it on his head.

You've got a promise to keep after all.

He yells, the oil from the lamp spreading on his skin and clothes, engulfing him in flames.

You frantically roll away, killing the fire clinging to your clothes until there's nothing left but burned cloth.

The flames light up the entire room in orange and reds, the paper around him helps feed the fire as he tries to desperately put it out.

There's that thrumming again.

You watch on, holding your tender neck. Your face is flat, eyes reflecting the fire that's quickly eating at the man. Fabric burns on his flesh, flesh turns into charred muscle, the fire eats at that too until he falls, silence hanging in the room except for the fire cackling, ashes and flames surrounding his corpse.

You stand up, ratty shoes stepping over fire to grab the fallen dagger with a thick cloth from your bag.

For a second you stand amidst the fire.

The thrumming outside and the warmth wakes you up, flames licking at your clothes, it's heat scorching your skin, nose filling with smoke. Even with all the pain you still escape with your life, determined to keep your promise.

Running outside the former library, the cracking of splintering wood fills your ears, you instinctively dodge, backing away before the mast of the revenge falls on your head.

Shielding your face, you cower. The mast stills, sharp wood lay next to your feet. Tentatively opening your eyes, the sounds from above are clearer in your ears, all the screams and guns going off, you hear it loud and clear that you can decipher whose screams belong to whom.

The fog enters below deck through the gaping hole left by the broken mast. All the while, the smoke from the library rises up, replacing the mist.

Your exit.

You don't hesitate to climb up. Jagged edges of sharp wood rip amd snag your clothes, stabbing your skin. Finding leverage, you manage to prop yourself up on the deck, meeting face to face with a lifeless Ned.

The light in his eyes is gone, unsung music escaping from his open lips. Skin dirtied by flowing ichor.

You don't hear anything else other than skin meeting skin in a brutal dance.

“No.” You quickly jump up, leaving the fire behind you to consume, to devour what's left of the revenge. “Ned?”

Desperately feeling for a pulse, your heart wretches in your throat, saliva filling your mouth, bile rising up from your gut.

There's no pulse.

With a choked sob, you close his eyes for him. The sound of wet punching makes you turn to your side. Hobie's eyes are wild, vicious and desperate, bloodied knuckles pummeling the man under him. Skin broken, nose cracked, skull open for the world to see. Yet, Hobie doesn't stop even with the obvious signs of death. Fueled by rage, he paints the wooden floorboards with the man's brain.

It all feels sickenly real, your heart is still beating in sync with his punches but there's so much death around you that you feel like you're a part of the dead. Blood and smoke filling your senses, adrenaline slowly washed away like the tides.

You're sitting in a graveyard and nobody else has noticed.

“Hobie.”

His fists pound harshly through the man's head, splintered wood now embedded in his skin.

You apprehensively crawl towards him, your various injuries aching, blood seeping out from your hip. The chaos around you still continues on while he still doesn't stop.

“Hobie—” your fingers brush his arm, he flinches back, fist raised to knock you out. But he halts, knuckles kissing the tip of your nose, painting it with crimson.

With wide eyes, he heaves, muscles tensed, grief all over his expression. You shove your fear down, holding his raised knuckles, moving it away gently. You hold his face in your other hand, smearing the fresh ichor on his cheeks, staining your own skin.

“It's done, he's dead.” You nod, caressing his face, turning it away from the carnage below him. “Hobie,” you unclench his fist carefully, shattered bone and hair sticking to him. With a shallow breath, you let the tears flow on your cheeks. “He's dead.”

His face flashes with fury only to be triumphed over by misery. With a heavy heart, he nods.

Behind Hobie, a uniformed man raises his pistol, without a second thought, you take the golden blunderbuss from his waist, hastily aiming it directly at the man's head.

Your ears ring, the smoke from the gun blinds you for a second before you see your target fall dead with a bullet right between his eyes, blood splattering like fireworks from his head.

Hobie looks at you in surprise, taking his gun away from you carefully. Hands soft on your raised skin. He pats your cheek and you could only shake your head.

“We need to—” the ship collides with something, Hobie holds you close, covering you away from debris. With his embrace, he protects you. Scarred hand on the back of your head, face hiding in the crook of your neck. Leather, sea salt and blood invades your senses.

The hellion is once again looming over the revenge, its golden façade cracking under the damage made by Hobie's ship.

Mathias shows himself, looking worse for wear, he wobbles on two feet, clutching his injuries.

You hear footsteps around you, raising your head, eyes widening at what's left of the crew, they stand behind you and Hobie. Wiping blood off their faces, reloading their guns, sharpening their swords. The red sails of the people's revenge still fly above, more than ready to take what they're owed, no matter what it takes.

Gwen's blond hair is dipped in ruby red, hands tight around her blunderbuss. Miles wipes his face clean, stepping next to Gwen with clenched jaw. Pavitr stands directly behind you, face covered in what you hoped to be someone else's blood. He nods, reassuring you.

Yuri and James take one look at Ned, their expression alone could make you weep again. Finn, crouches down next to you, nodding wordlessly, blue eyes glossy.

Hobie exhales, with shaky legs he stands up, helping you back to your feet. Gripping your knife, you scowl at the man above.

“How cute. The power of friendship isn't enough to save you.” Mathias says through gritted teeth.

The rest of his crew arrives, there's less ships than before, proving how the bloodsail pirates is a force to be reckoned with. They have what Mathias doesn't have, giving them something worth fighting for.

Mathias nods, signaling his ship to turn their cannons towards you and your family.

You step in front of Hobie. “I have a proposition!” Yelling above the rain and metallic clanking, you push away Hobie's hand from your shoulder.

“What is it?” The man rolls his eyes, looking incredibly bored. “We can't be here all night.”

“Me,” the crew voices their concerns, Hobie takes your hand, face terrified.

You smile, “it's alright.” Whispering to him and the crew only. With tearful eyes, you turn back to the devil above. “You seem like you really want me, so fucking take me instead. Let them go.”

You feel the heat beneath your feet. The fire devours everything just a few feet below you.

They all yell your name behind you. Protests fill your ears but you choose to ignore them. You feel his calloused fingers squeeze your hand.

The man guffaws, “Holy shit! You like them that much?” He observes Hobie's contorted face.

“You like her that much?” He chuckles. “You know what? I don't even want you that much, sure, get on up here, birdy!”

There's that thrumming and warbling again. It's much clearer now that you're above, it seems like it's coming from beneath the ship.

“Come here and take me then!” The rain mixes in with your salty tears. Raising your arms, shoving everyone away, you taunt him. “But let them go or I'll plunge this dagger through your eye!”

“Christ, you're as insane as him. Perfect for eachother eh?” he sighs, gesturing for his cannons to cease. “I'm already satisfied even though a few of your men escaped from a dinghy but eh, I'm sure I'll get them soon enough. Just like how I'll get you one day, little pirate. I'm a very patient man, I'll wait three more years if I have to.”

Hobie's face is full of anguish when he swivels you around to look at him. “Don't fuckin' do this. He won't keep his word,” he flicks his eyes to Mathias, then back to you, grey eyes darker than before. “the moment you step foot on that ship he'll kill you.” his mind comes back to that fateful day.

He can't let that happen again, not to you.

You look at him softly. “I know, but I'll make it hard for him, that'll give you enough time to escape. Hobie, I have nothing else, just this.” swallowing the lump in your throat, there's heat under your eyes. Taking his hand, you squeeze it once. “Let me do this, for you and for them. You still have to get your revenge so let me do this. Don't let him win.”

“You promised.” His voice cracks.

“I don't think I can keep it now.” You flick your eyes behind him, the crew looks on with grief marring their eyes. “They're too young for this, Gwen, Pav and Miles, they deserve to live too.”

You hear the rope fall from the hellion's deck. “I'm glad I got stuck in that net even though you made me walk the plank.” chuckling through the tears, you give them your best smile to remember you by.

“Don't leave.” he pleads.

Sliding your hand away, you take one last look at them, making a sketch of their faces in your mind to remember when the inevitable happens.

“I have to go now or this won't work.”

The captain has no plan on how to fix it, how to fix everything, and he beats himself bloody for it.

Turning around, with every step you take feels heavier than the last. You make amends to her in your mind, praying that it reaches back home. You also thank her, but you don't regret running away that day.

You'll never know what lies for you up north or if there's someone there waiting for you. If there is someone, you apologize to them too.

You leave traces of yourself to the people behind you with the hope you live on through those pieces. That at least they won't forget your name.

The howling wind and rain whips at your drenched form, committing the feel of it to memory.

Grabbing the rope, you fight the urge to look behind.

“Hurry up, birdy!” Mathias cackles. “Come on then—!”

The thrumming is deafening, everything seems to freeze mid motion.

Giant mounds of flesh rise up from the water. Snake-like features curl above, rising to the heavens, cutting through the grey clouds.

You can't help but be mesmerized by the beauty of it. Iridescent scales glimmer against the lightning, cracked scales teeming in gold. the lightning bolts ricochet off their scaly skin, unharmed.

More serpents appear from the depths, towers of scaled flesh. They rain sea water from above, dripping from their massive bodies.

One curls just above the hellion, opening its eyes, revealing an entire ocean in its orbs.

You can't stop looking at it, petrified.

“Dragons.” You say in awe.

“Y/N!” Hobie races towards you. His hand brushes against your shirt, so close yet so far.

You get yanked up with the hellion, grip still frozen on the ropes. Holding on for life, the beast has curled around the ship, in your peripheral you see men jumping off, splashing down into the depths, taking their chances in the cold.

Facing the creature, they trill and thrum, crushing the hellion and the navy ships in their massive jaws and swirling flesh.

You wake up from the trance they had you in, almost losing your grip off the rope.

“No!” You screech, saving yourself, arm socket straining against your weight. Twirling the rope around your hand, you tie it just like how they taught you.

Palms burning on the hemp, looking down, you're hanging high above the revenge. You watch as the crew frantically unties a dinghy while Hobie and Finn stay behind, they're too far for you to make out what they're doing.

Your only chance is to jump in the water but you know that'll be the end of you.

Water parts for something swimming fast under the water, it moves towards the Revenge. You scream their names in an attempt to warn them.

“Gwen!” Your throat struggles from the screaming. “Brace yourselves!”

The serpent crashes on the starboard side, away from where the small boat hangs. Hobie clings to the remaining mast, knife in his hand. Heart pounding, you watch as Gwen runs towards Hobie, he yells, she shakes her head but in the end she bolts for the dinghy. You nod, hoping she saw that you forgave her.

The beast constricts around the helion, crashing the oak and its gilded carvings in its wrapped body.

You sway in the wind with the serpent’s movements, praying that the rope hangs on to the figure head. The figure head of an angel looks down at you, lifeless eyes observing your slow demise.

This is the end for you, you've never thought you'd be killed by a mythical being turned into reality but here you are, hanging on by a thread, waiting for death to come.

With one last glimpse at the revenge, you see the fire finally reaching above deck. Gwen and the others lower down on the dinghy while Hobie grabs onto a rope, cutting the knot off the steel rings, remembering James' teachings, if he keeps doing that he’ll get yanked up, and with the wild wind, it will surely be a disaster.

You yell his name in a futile attempt to stop his effort at saving you.

Finn raises something in his hands, heaving it over his shoulder.

You sharply turn your head when a snapping sound fills your ears. The hemp untangles, with the rope breaking in the middle, you close your eyes.

The sea serpent lets out a guttural scream, the sound alone sends shivers down your spine. It uncurls around the hellion and you get a glimpse of a sharp harpoon sticking out from its eye.

Falling with the hellion, the serpent's eyes turn from blue to a bloody red, bathing everything in its gaze in crimson. it's the last thing you see before you shut your eyes.

You feel a familiar arm around your middle, looking over your shoulder, you think you've already died.

“I've got you!” Hobie yells, with him carrying you and his hand grasping on the rising rope, he struggles to hold on.

So you help him, wrapping your arm behind him, you hold the rope in the other, face close to his as you two fly above the revenge, swinging and whipping uncontrollably in the storm.

The beast trills, jaw unhinging, its rows of shark like teeth in full display.

“Shit!” Hobie manipulates the rope to swing you two away from its sharp teeth.

It fails to catch you, instead it turns its attention to Finn on the deck.

“Finn! Run!” Your blood curdling scream gets his attention, yet he pays no heed.

But everyone already knows it's too late, with one last fight in him, he raises his harpoon, yelling, meeting the serpent's opened mouth halfway.

It swallows him whole.

You just stare at where Finn once stood, he leaves patches of his ichor on the floor.

The revenge sinks, fire and water engulfing Hobie's home, your home.

“Love!” The name rots in his mouth, it gets you out of your frozen state. “I—”

The last standing mast cracks and breaks apart. You lose your grip on Hobie.

And you fall once again. For a second you fly, eyes peering towards the clearing sky, with white clouds in your vision, you brace for impact.

“MJ!”

That's the last thing you hear as you fall in the depths in a harsh splash.

A/N: so sorry for the late update!! Hope you like it 🫶 (if i forgot to put any warnings on the tags please tell me)

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gingiesworld · 8 months

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/gingiesworld/725743151113994240/a-sense-of-betrayel?source=share

hey can you part two y/n a change person, he together with new partner who been through his up and down? he and wanda maybe came across eachother at restaurant after years not meeting eachother and have conversations when wanda ask why he finally stop doing drug y/n reply with “because somebody trust me and understand it's not easy for leaving it behind” (there's some regret in wanda mind but she can't do anything now)

Sense Of Betrayal

Part Two

Wanda Maximoff x Male Reader

Warnings: Angst

18+ MINORS DNI

After Wanda had left, Nat had made sure that Y/N went to rehab. Over the course of six months he hadn't had any contact with anyone. Other than the people in therapy. Although today is the first time he can have a visitor.

"Wanda, he needs you." Nat tried to reason with her as she shook her head no.

"I can't Nat. He broke my trust by breaking a promise." Wanda told her. "He did this to us. Not me."

"What did you tell the boys?" Natasha questioned coldly as Wanda sighed.

"He had been moved across stateline for his latest project." Wanda told her.

"So you lied to them." Nat scoffed.

"I am not going to tell the twins their father is a junkie!" Wanda yelled as Vision brought the boys inside.

"Figures." Nat nodded as she looked between both Vision and Wanda.

"No." Wanda chased after her. "Vision and I are just friends Nat, that's all we will ever be."

"Well, it's not me you have to tell that to because it seems he is getting pretty comfortable with playing daddy to Y/N's kids." Nat told her before she got in her car and drove off. Wanda sighed as she glanced at her left ring finger, still were she wore her rings. Y/N's rings.

Y/N sighed as he watched the door, hoping to see Wanda or the boys. His heart breaking as an hour passed and no one came. Only to smile sadly when he saw Natasha.

"Hey." He smiled as she greeted him. "I tried to get Wanda or the boys but."

"She doesn't want to see me." He confirmed as Nat gave him a nod.

"I'm sorry Y/N." She whispered as he nodded.

"I signed the papers for her." He told her. "She's free from me so she can live her life."

"Y/N." Nat tried as Y/N shook his head no.

"Honestly it is fine. I am ok with it." He sighed. "I just miss Billy and Tommy so much."

"They're doing great." Nat told him. "Tommy has let his hair grow like yours." Y/N smiled as she told him about the twins and Yelena. Telling him how she is doing with college.

As the rest of the year went on, he was released from rehab and moved in with Nat. Visiting the boys whenever Pietro had them.

"You should just turn up Y/N." Pietro told him. "It was your home as much as it was hers. Besides, I don't like how Vision is sniffing around her."

"I can't just do that P." He told him. "I broke a promise. One that promised to never break."

"Bucky told me what happened before you relapsed." Pietro confessed. "He explained everything and I understand everything. Did you ever tell Wanda?"

"No." He shook his head as he watched the twins the park. "I tried to tell her but she wouldn't listen. Vision somehow needed her in some way."

"You should fight for her." Pietro told him.

"No. She doesn't want me." Y/N told him. "She made that abundantly clear when she wanted the divorce." With that Y/N bid his goodbye to the twins and Pietro. Walking through the park to his new home. He told Nat about what Pietro had said and Nat agreed with him.

"You still love her." Nat stated as Y/N took a deep breath.

"I will always love her Nat but she will never love me the same. Not anymore." He told her as he got himself ready for his job. He was allowed a sebatical as he was ill of health as HR had put it. Not wanting it to get around that Oscorp hire addicts, but Y/N was too valuable to lose.

After a few weeks of thinking and working, with sneaking visits with the twins. He decided to finally head to the house he used to call home. Trudging up the porch steps, knowing that the spare key is stored under the ugly knome beside the door but instead knocked. Not feeling right in letting himself in.

"Y/N?" Wanda questioned as he gave a smile. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you and the boys." He told her with his best smile. "I have been clean for over a year."

"I know you have been seeing the boys." She stated as Y/N's eyes widened. "Pietro and the twins are shitty liars, I guess they get that from me."

"I'm sorry." He told her as he stood nervously on the porch. "I uh." He soon shook his head. "Never mind. This is a stupid idea." He went to turn around as Wanda held his wrist.

"Do you want some tea? I still have your favourite kind." She told him.

"Biscuit tea?" He questioned as she nodded.

"The twins love it." She told him as he closed the door behind him. The house looked the same as it did before he left. Maybe the photos of just himself and Wanda were took down but the family ones remained.

"Pietro told me that Vision still helps you with the boys." He stated calmly as Wanda scoffed.

"Is that why you've came here?" She spat as she turned to face him.

"No." He told her. "I just want to know one thing."

"What?" Wanda asked him.

"Do you like Vision the way he likes you?" He asked her. "It's a valid question."

"Why do you want to know?" Wanda questioned.

"Because I want to know if this." He pointed between the two of them. "Is worth fighting for because I never stopped Wanda. I never stopped loving you. I was stupid to even think I could have the drugs and you, I just didn't fathom losing you."

"Just stop." Wanda sighed as she shook her head. "I don't see Vis the way you're implying but there is nothing between us to fight for."

"Wanda." He tried as she shook her head.

"I still love you Y/N but I can't trust you. Not anymore." She told him.

"I am back at my job Wanda. I am living with Nat." He told her. "I am getting my life back on track and I wanted to get us back on track."

"There is no us." Wanda sighed. "There will never be an us again." Y/N felt his heart shatter in his chest, hearing those words made the divorce all the more real and he hated it.

"Ok." He nodded as he moved away, not touching his cup of tea. "I'll come back and arrange childcare for the twins."

"Y/N." She tried as he shook his head.

"You can't take the only good thing I have left in my life. You can't take my boys away from me." He whispered as his eyes glossed over. "I won't survive if you did that."

"Ok." Wanda finally answered him. "We can sort something out."

"Ok." He nodded before he turned away. "Have a nice life Wanda." He told her, hearing those last words felt like a knife to Wanda. She hated them but she knew they would never be again. Not in this universe.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #marvel #elizabeth olsen #wanda x you #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x you #natasha romanoff

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antisocialblowfish · 1 year

Text

When the Snow Melts - Part 1

I had never intended to alert the pair of my presence in the tree canopy above, but the man had stupidly dozed off, leaving the young girl to stand watch through the early morning hours. I think she could have handled her own, but when I saw the infected hobbling in her direction, I didn’t hesitate to send a bullet whirring through the air and blowing its brains out. I knew she had seen some awful things. I had been watching over her for the greater part of the night. She couldn’t have been older than fourteen, and I could see the loss and grief in her eyes. She was strong, and resilient. But still, if I could have saved her from having to pull the trigger of the rifle in her hands that night, then I wouldn’t hesitate. So, I didn’t. With nothing but a sharp whistle from my rifle, the body went tumbling into the snow and landed at the base of a large rock formation, sprawled out like a mosquito on a hot summer's day.

The girl turned. Her cheeks were red, bitten from the chilly winter air. She frantically turned in a circle, searching for the source of the bullet. Clutching the rifle closer to her body, she called out, “Who’s there? Show yourself.” Her voice was calm and commanding, but I could tell she was afraid. She was inching backwards, towards the man who still lay motionless on the ground, backpack tucked under his head. He was seasoned, I could tell. His hands were rough and calloused, and his frown lines were set deep into his tanned skin. The girl may not have known to look towards the higher ground, but he would.

“Wait,” I said, before she could make a break towards him. “Up here.” I peered over the thick, sturdy branch that I had nestled myself onto at dusk. I knew there was a chance I would get my head blown off either way, so all I could think to do in the moment was to try and get her to trust me. I had just saved her, after all. I raised my hands and pointed my weapon towards the sky.

“Drop your weapon,” she commanded, when she finally located my position in the tree above her.

“Why would I do that?” I challenged. “You might just shoot me or take it and run.” I knew she wouldn’t. I could see the hesitation on her face.

“If I wanted to shoot you, I could just do it right now.”

I chuckled. “I just saved your life kid.”

She didn’t respond.

“I’m gonna drop my weapon, and come down now, okay? I’m trusting you.” I didn’t really trust her, but I knew I could subdue her and make a getaway if it came to it. I dropped my rifle into the snow, and deftly scaled the trunk of the tree to the ground below. She kept her weapon aimed towards my person the entire time. I raised my hands in the air again, to show her I had no intention of pulling any sort of fast ones on her. “What’s your name?”

“Why should I tell you that?” Tough cookie.

“You shouldn’t. Can’t trust anyone out here.” I offered her a smile.

Her aim faltered. “Why did you shoot that infected? Why did you save me?”

I wanted to tell her. I wanted to tell her how she reminded me of myself. That she was too young to be out here. Too young to shoot anybody. I was her age, once. I was too young to shoot somebody then, and I still felt too young to shoot somebody now. The truth was, I was all alone, and I was utterly afraid every single day. I wanted to tell that little girl that she deserved a safe and sure future. She deserved an education and a warm bed at night, and most of all she deserved to have someone laugh at her silly little jokes that she had been reading aloud all night.

I didn’t say any of that, though. Instead, I told her, “If I didn’t shoot that infected, then there would have just ended up being two more infected roaming about.” Except there wouldn’t have been, and I knew that for a fact. I had seen her roll up her sleeves and examine her scars in the silver moonlight only hours earlier. “I promise you; I mean no harm. I’m just trying to get by out here, just like you.” She lowered her gun. “What’s your name?” I repeated.

A foggy breath escaped her lips. “Ellie. What’s yours?”

I grinned. “I don’t have a name.” I slowly bent over and lifted my rifle out of the snow, careful to keep my fingers far from the trigger, so as not to startle the girl. I slung it onto my back as she asked me how it was even possible that no one had ever given me a name before. “Oh, I’m sure they did. They just died before I was old enough to memorize it. What are you doing out here, Ellie?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Is that your dad?”

“No!” Sore spot? Maybe.

“Can I hear some more jokes out of your book, Ellie? It’s been months since I’ve spoken to anyone.” I hoped that this would break down her walls a little bit. That maybe she could trust me enough to at least sit with me for a while.

She tensed at the question and raised her gun again. “You were watching us?”

“Yes, but not in the way you’re thinking, I swear. I was just out hunting when I heard you two coming. I didn’t know where to go, so I went up. I thought you guys would just pass through, so when you set up camp, I decided to just wait you out. Your dad is scary.”

“He’s not my dad,” she repeated.

We looked at each other for a moment, and then she let out a breath and lowered her weapon once again. Geez, she sure was uncertain. She rummaged through her backpack and pulled out a tattered paperback. I grinned ear to ear, and I knew it was contagious, because soon she was grinning widely and scanning the pages for a good one to tell. For the next hour, we sat and talked, sharing jokes and stories. I was careful not to share too much, but so was she.

The sun was shining through the branches, and for the first time in years, I felt warm. Happy, almost. I didn’t know her, and we couldn’t truly trust each other, but I was content to be at her side, laughing with her and talking to her. It had been almost a year since I had felt any sort of companionship. She told me about the QZ, about FEDRA, about being an orphan. She shared stories of an old friend that she had to leave behind. I could hear the pain in her voice, but I also knew that if she was telling me about it, then she needed to talk about it. And I let her. I listened to everything she had to say.

Until there was click of metal behind me, and Ellie went still. “Joel, don’t,” she said, panic in her eyes. I sat rigid.

“Who the fuck are you?” A man’s low, gruff voice sounded behind me. Ah, Ellie’s not-dad.

“Just an honest person trying to get by,” I responded, calmly lifting my hands into the air to show that they were empty.

“She saved our lives, Joel,” Ellie stated firmly.

“I don’t give a damn if she saved the Pope. Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to talk to strangers?” He pressed the barrel against the back of my head. I was scared, but I didn’t want to show it.

“Sure didn’t,” I responded in a joking tone.

“Joel,” Ellie said again, “she really doesn’t mean any harm. Just let her go on her way.”

I drew in a sharp breath and squeezed my eyes shut. I knew there was a chance he wouldn’t. Lots of people out here didn’t hesitate to kill strangers. It was worth it. I was utterly alone, and having a friend to talk to for just an hour was worth the consequence of never seeing the light of day again.

Joel didn’t shoot me. He lowered his gun. I let the air escape my lungs in a sigh of relief. “You wake me next time. Let’s go,” he ordered the girl. “And you, don’t even think about following us.”

Ellie scrambled to her feet. “Thanks for saving me.”

I stared at the ground. “You’re welcome, Ellie. Take care, okay?”

She nodded. I heard the crunching of snow as the man began to retreat. Ellie started after him, and then stopped, reached into her pocket and retrieved the paperback book of silly puns. She opened it to the middle and paused, just before tearing it evenly down the spine. She handed the beginning half of the book to me. “Here. I’ve already read all those pages.”

I smiled shyly and took it from her. “Thank you, Ellie. You’re kind. I won’t forget you, not ever.”

“I wish you had a name,” she said.

I paused for a moment. “Would you like to give me one?”

“Really?” Her face when alight.

“Sure. No one else ever will.”

She thought about it for moment. The man began calling to her, ordering her to hurry along. I knew he was watching intently to make sure I didn’t pull anything. “Lucy.”

“Lucy,” I repeated. “How did you come up with that?”

“From some old show that I saw on the TV at school.”

“Thanks for naming me, El. Take care, okay? Really.”

She looked sad. She never seemed like the trusting type, and I wasn’t either. But something drew us together, and I know she felt it too. “Bye, Lucy. I hope I see you again one day.”

“Me too, kid. Me too.”

#the last of us #joel and ellie #ellie x platonic! reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #tlou #ellie tlou #joel tlou

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cookie-nameless · 10 months

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So today I feel like talking about my favorite family in and cookie around the family that I wrote multiple fanfictions for that I love so much that I've been renting to my friends in the DMs but haven't really gotten a chance to talk about them that much the starter family plus Rye

I think more people should see them as family like they are literally the main characters and they only have each other triplets born alone a thief who had no choice and a royal who was abandoned coming together to build a place where every cookie can liver everyone can be happy and also adding another parent to their family a cookie who chose to be there that's a family that loves each other that they should love each other even if they have their own flaws and they're not the perfect family they're going to try their damn hardest and that's what makes this family so perfect

Now I'm going to talk about the individual head canons of the family their role and how they connect to others because these have been in my brain for so long and I need to tell somebody that that I haven't told and I haven't made new friends on here so let's go

Rye the one who feels kind of disconnected from the family because she joined in later when they had already become a full family unit she's more of a stepmother and she still has complicated relationship with her feelings towards chili even though now she knows why chili did it but she likes the kids and she's going to try her damn best

Chili basically the mother of the family although you expect her to change after assuming the role and she did she's still the same cookie just now she has cookies that she has cookies that she cares about again and now she has slightly become more responsible and a better person overall she's not perfect but she's trying her damn best

Custard the youngest of children of course he's the one who deals least with the kingdom affairs although he tries to help a lot everybody loves and wants to protect him for him to not to see the darkness of the world but he knows at least a little bit but he is still a kid and he's going to stay as a kid until he can't

Wizard the one that feels the most disconnected from the family everybody still loves him and he loves them but he's still rude to them and acts like he's the greatest wizard ever deep down inside he knows that he isn't that he's just a teenager but he's going to try his best to be an adult because he's already seen a lot of adults can't handle

Strawberry the quiet older sister who knows everybody struggles because she listens unintentionally of course but still she has known all of these cookies for the majority of her life she knows when something is different she knows that something is different than her too and she will find a source and fix it for her family

And brave the oldest child at least in the way that they act they tried to be reliable Brave help everyone save everyone and push away they're negative feelings because she is the most Brave cookie the one who's saving everyone the one who escaped the heaven even if they barely can sleep because of the nightmares they cannot let their family worry because everything is going to be fine they're going to defeat dark enchantress and everything is going to be okay

I love this little traumatized f***** up family I love all of them so much they deserve so much more than what they are getting please comment your own thoughts about them also read the fanfictions I think they're pretty cool

https://archiveofourown.org/series/3020472

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #crk #gingerbrave cookie #gingerbrave #strawberry cookie #strawberry crepe cookie run #wizard cookie #custard cookie iii #custard cookie the third #chili pepper cookie #rye cookie #cookie run headcanons #cookie run fanfic #personal rant

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tenebraevesper · 5 months

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Five Nights at Freddy's: Salvaged, Night 21: I Can't Fix You

''This is what happens when you leave it to somebody else. If you want it done right, you should just do it yourself. You oversaturate your world with nothing but machines. You might make everyone happy, but you're dead inside just like me.''

– I Can't Fix You by The Living Tombstone & Crusher-P (Five Nights at Freddy's: Sister Location)

xXxXxXx

Springtrap placed Sam on the couch, feeling desperate. Sam looked quite pale, with him guessing that the remnant that was injected into her spread through her body. However, he had no idea what would happen to her. Realizing that the situation was getting out of control and that this was something he couldn't fix, he picked Sam's phone and scrolled through her contact list, finding Emma's number in it. He had no other choice but to tell Emma what happened.

''Hello?''

''Emma, you need to get home right now. Sam has collapsed,'' Springtrap said frantically.

''What? How? What happened?! What did you do?''

''I… Just, please hurry up.''

The call was suddenly disconnected, with Springtrap still holding the phone. He knew that, once Emma finds out what happened, she'd put the blame on him. He didn't care, as he feared that Sam's life was in danger.

Why did this have to happen?

Sure, Sam told him that she was at fault for actually touching the scooper, but Springtrap knew that, in the end, it was his fault. He was the one who made that damn machine and he hadn't properly checked whether it would still get activated even after he had dismantled it.

He had no idea how much time had passed, but suddenly he heard a car door outside slamming, guessing that Emma borrowed her friend's car to return home as quick as possible. Emma ran into the house, seeing Sam passed out on the couch. She turned to Springtrap, giving him a furious look that caused him to back away.

''What happened?!'' she yelled at him.

''I'm sorry...'' he muttered. ''It was an accident… Emma, I…''

''Why did you let it happen?! You said you would watch over her!'' Emma was livid, but suddenly stopped when she saw the distraught look on his expression. She looked at Sam, with her expression changing to despair as she saw how pale Sam looked. She crouched next to Sam, taking her hand, which was cold. She put her palm on Sam's forehead, realizing that she was suffering from a high fever. She realized that keeping her at home like this won't do any good.

''We'll talk about this later,'' she said, noticing Springtrap's stunned look. ''Get her in the car. She needs to go to the hospital. Where are the car keys?''

Springtrap nodded, pointing at the table. He then quickly lifted Sam up and went outside, placing her in the back of Emma's car. Emma emerged shortly after, getting into the car and turning it on. As she pulled out of the driveway, she saw Springtrap watching them from the porch. There was a look of regret and dismay on his expression. It was clear to her that he didn't want this to happen and that he was just as worried about Sam as she was.

She took a deep breath, knowing that this confrontation would have to wait.

xXx

Once Emma had left, with Springtrap went back inside the house. He was frantically pacing through the hallway, trying to tell himself that things would be fine. Sam would get the necessary help and things would eventually return to normal.

Who am I kidding? This is a disaster!

''Of course it is!''

Springtrap frowned, looking around for the source.

''You have hurt another person. How many are you going to hurt until you're finally satisfied?''

''It wasn't my intention to let her get hurt!'' Springtrap snapped back.

''But, you did. In fact, you got her almost killed.''

''I don't need another reminder,'' Springtrap replied. He sighed, sitting down on the couch. ''I don't want to lose her.''

''Too late, buddy. It's time to say goodbye.''

''Forget it,'' Springtrap replied. ''I had an agreement with Sam.''

''You also had one with Emma. Your stay here won't last.''

''It doesn't matter whether I'll stay or not. The only thing that matters is that Sam will be fine,'' Springtrap replied.

''If she will be fine. So far, you have no idea what might happen to her. She might end up just like your other victims, like your own family.''

''Don't you think I am not aware of that,'' Springtrap replied. ''I think about it the whole time, constantly second-guessing my choices. It is agonizing and it is annoying, probably the kind of suffering you wanted me to experience.''

''True, but it isn't enough.''

Springtrap's eyes glowed in a faint purple, with him feeling unnerved. He had to wonder what this entity considered a fitting punishment for him.

xXx

Sam opened her eyes, realizing that she was lying on the bed in her bedroom. It was dark outside, with her wondering whether it was already night. She tried to get up, although it took her a lot of willpower to even move her limbs, which felt as if they were made out of lead.

''Springtrap? Mum?'' she said, looking around her empty room. The last thing she remembered was falling down in the living room and all of her surroundings going black. ''Hello?''

She was quite sure that someone would be with her after she had fainted, so the situation felt quite strange to her. However, as she opened the door, she got almost blinded by a bright light. As the light subsided and she entered the room, her vision went blurry. Or rather, it felt as if the room didn't take its shape.

''Am I dreaming?'' Sam muttered, when the room finally took the shape of a dark corridor. She suddenly heard giggling at the end of the corridor, and followed the sound. There was another giggle, sounding like it belonged to a child. ''Is anybody there?''

Suddenly, she saw something moving in the shadows and quickly followed it. The corridor led to another, which led to a fork. Sam stopped in front of the fork, wondering which path to take. There was another giggle, which she followed. However, no matter how fast she ran, the giggle she heard would remain at the same distance. She stopped, realizing that blindly following random sounds wouldn't help her much. Instead, she focused on her current surroundings.

There should be something that could explain me where I am.

She believed that this was probably a dream, but her experience with the supernatural showed her that things weren't always the way they seemed. She looked down at her arm, which was still bandaged, but it didn't hurt anymore, even after she pressed hard against her injury.

I don't think that this is a good sign.

She focused on the corridor, deciding to move forward, but at a slower pace. She ignored the giggling, figured that she shouldn't be paying it any attention. However, even after she moved away from the sound, she could still hear it. She wasn't moving closer to it, but she wasn't moving further away from it either.

Is there anything I can do about this situation?

It seemed that the dark corridor became somewhat lighter and less blurry. Sam could see that there were posters on the walls and strange shapes on the floor. As she entered the next corridor, she found some kind of figure which was about her height. As she approached, she saw that the figure had a broken light bulb flickering in it's head, briefly illuminating it.

''Freddy?'' As it turned out, the figure was actually an empty Freddy suit that had been put on a stand. Sam approached it cautiously, then took another look at her surroundings. ''Am I at Fazbear's Fright?''

Suddenly, the lights started flickering above her, illuminating the corridor, and showing her that she seemed to be indeed inside some kind of replica of Fazbear's Fright. She heard the giggling again, but she felt that it was too real to be some kind of recording.

''Hello? Anybody here?'' she called out. There was another giggle, but this one was higher-pitched than the first one. She wondered whether there were more people inside the building. ''Hello?''

There was more giggling, with another voice joining the first two. Sam continued walking through the corridor, this time focusing on whether those voices would say something. Something told her that she couldn't follow them, at least not for now. She heard giggling again, with a fourth voice joining them, followed by steps. There seemed to be people running through the building. Sam tilted her head.

''What game are you playing?'' she asked, hoping they they would hear her. The giggling suddenly stopped, with Sam realizing that she finally had their attention.

''You shouldn't be here.''

While the voice was clear, as if someone stood right next to her, Sam was still alone in the corridor.

''I know,'' Sam replied. ''Don't worry, I will leave.''

''You don't have to. You can play a game with us if you want. You could be 'it'.''

''We have a lot of fun here and nobody gets hurt.'' Sam's vision became blurry as the corridor was once again replaced by that blinding light, changing into a new room.

''You can be friends with us instead of that bunny. You're nice.''

''I'm sorry, but I have to refuse,'' Sam replied. While she couldn't see them, she was quite sure that they were glaring at her. ''Why are you even here? Why don't you leave?''

''You are the one who interrupted our game!''

''Besides, we can leave whenever we want.''

''Maybe you could leave with us.''

Sam felt a little tense as she heard that. She was quite certain that she didn't want to leave with them. She needed to find a way out of this place.

''Well, I guess I should go now,'' she said, slowly withdrawing as the room took a more recognizable shape. It looked similar to Henry's fake Freddy's location. Sam gasped as she felt someone grabbing her hand and looked down, only to see a little boy looking back at her, smiling.

''Even if you go back, you will return anyways. Why don't you stay and play with us?''

''No,'' Sam replied. ''I'm sorry that you're in this situation, but I'm not planning on staying here.''

''He isn't your friend,'' the boy said, frowning. ''He wasn't our friend either.''

''I know,'' Sam muttered, sighing. She then gave him a determined look. ''That's why I want to return, so nobody gets hurt anymore.''

The boy rose an eyebrow, not quite believing her. Sam frowned, looking up and noticing a door, figuring that that was the exit. She walked over to it, briefly glancing back, only to see four children – three boys and one girl – staring back at her.

''You should leave too,'' she told them, then exited the place as everything around her turned black.

xXx

As she woke up, the first thing she felt was a strong headache, followed by throbbing in her arm. She was lying on a bed, connected to an IV drip. Her injured arm was covered in fresh bandages. As she glanced to her side, she saw her mother giving her a look of relief.

''Sam, how do you feel?'' Emma asked her.

''I feel like a truck hit me,'' Sam replied, squinting. Everything went blurry. ''This isn't my room.''

''You collapsed, so I had to bring you to a hospital,'' Emma explained, noticing the look of guilt on Sam's expression. ''What happened?''

''I accidentally got myself stabbed by the remnant injector,'' Sam said, blinking as her vision slowly cleared. She took a deep breath, trying to move, but her limbs felt like lead. She just looked at her mother, who was confused. ''I guess you didn't have time to ask Will for an explanation. Seriously, this isn't his fault. He actually dismantled that damn thing, but I just had to pick up a part that was still functional.''

''I see,'' Emma said, crossing her arms and frowning. ''Rest assured, we'll have a conversation about it once we go back home.'' Sam felt anxious, with Emma caressing her hair gently. ''Don't worry. You should focus on getting better.'' She then stood up. ''I'll be back soon, I just need to make a call.''

''Okay,'' Sam replied, sighing. She figured that it would be better to not tell her mother about what she just experienced. I know I should be freaked out by this, but I just don't care.

xXx

Hours had passed while Springtrap was sitting on the couch in silence, hoping that Sam would be fine. She simply had to be.

Even when I try to fix everything, it goes horribly wrong; and Sam had to suffer because of my mistakes. Not only her, but Elizabeth, Sammy, Michael as well. Even Henry…

He felt horrible, wishing he had never brought her there. Suddenly, he heard music playing, only to realize that it was Sam's phone ringing. He quickly picked it up, seeing that it was Emma who was calling.

''Hello? Emma-''

''Before you start explaining yourself, Sam is fine. Her fever has been reduced, her injured arm had been patched up and she would be released this evening. As a matter of fact, she had just woken up and the first thing she told me was to not get mad at you,'' Emma said, with Springtrap feeling flustered. ''Nevertheless, the doctor was curious about why she ended up collapsing, assuming it was some kind of infection. He did a few tests, but didn't find anything and, honestly, I don't think he will. However, I know that you know exactly what caused it and I want a detailed explanation once we're back.''

''Okay,'' Springtrap muttered. However, he still felt anxious. ''Emma, I'm sorry. I should've-''

''Afton,'' Emma interrupted him. ''You can either continue stressing out about what happened, or you can learn from your experience and prevent this from happening again. Make your choice.''

She then canceled the call, leaving Springtrap in stunned silence. To be honest, he thought she'd be freaking out more and scream at him. However, the fact that she was so calm was quite unnerving.

''You're in trouble!''

''Shut up.''

xXx

''I'm sorry for what happened,'' Sam told Emma as they were driving home, looking at her bandaged arm. While she wasn't sure whether her past injuries would leave her with a scar, she was quite sure that this one would.

''What happened, happened,'' Emma replied in a stern tone. She then sighed. ''You and Afton gave me the scare of my life. The way he acted, you'd think it was more than just a fever… although, I guess that I am right with my assumption.''

Sam kept quiet, just staring through the window as they entered the driveway. It was late evening and Cassie's car, the one Emma used to get home, was gone, with Emma assuming that Cassie picked it up after work. The front door opened as she parked the car, with Springtrap standing on the porch. He was relieved to see that Sam was, while still a little pale and unsafe on her feet, was otherwise fine. He approached them, noticing that Emma was glaring at him, while Sam was happy to see him.

''Do you need help?'' Springtrap asked her, with Sam nodding.

He tried to avoid eye-contact with Emma as he held Sam's arm and helped her get inside the house and sit down on the couch. Sam took a deep breath, leaning back. She felt a little dizzy. Springtrap then glanced at Emma, who pointed at the couch, with him quietly sitting down next to Sam. Emma then crossed her arms, glaring at both of them and tapping with her foot on the floor.

''Honestly, when I left you two this morning, I didn't expect this to happen. However, considering what you're usually up to, I probably should've,'' she said, then looked at her daughter. ''Sam, you're grounded.''

''What?!'' Sam stared at her mother in stunned silence. As far as she remember, her mother had never grounded her before in her life. Emma then turned to Springtrap, was just as stunned as Sam was.

''Afton, you are going to make sure that she stays in her room. Understood?'' she said. Springtrap gave her a confused look, but before he could say anything, Sam interrupted her mother.

''Mum, why-''

''You want to know why I'm grounding you?'' Emma turned to Sam, tilting her head. ''You are allowed to continue with whatever you had planned, but only after I'm convinced that you won't collapse again.''

''Okay, I guess…'' Sam muttered, still baffled by Emma's decision.

''I thought you'd protest more about your punishment,'' she said, then shrugged. ''On the other hand, keeping you at home so you would get some rest isn't exactly a punishment. I mean, usually, I would try to make sure that you aren't constantly being locked up in your room. I guess I'm really not the type of parent who punishes her child.''

''True. You're much better at making people feel bad by talking to them,'' Springtrap said.

''Thanks,'' Emma said, turning to him and noticing how anxious he was. She rolled her eyes. ''Don't worry, I'm not going to kick you out. While I am still angry that you let this happen, I know that you didn't want to let Sam get hurt. Sometimes, you cannot prevent accidents from happening and, yeah, it's frustrating. What I'd like to know is what exactly caused Sam to collapse.''

''It's called remnant,'' Springtrap said. ''It is a substance that ties the soul of the dead or dying to their new body.''

''So, remnant is the reason why you're tied to this animatronic suit?'' Emma said curiously.

''Yes, but remnant isn't exactly reliable. It breaks at high temperatures, which is why the best way to destroy a haunted animatronic is to incinerate it,'' Springtrap explained. He glanced at Emma, who was now glaring at him.

''I assume you don't want to tell me how you discovered the existence of remnant,'' Emma said in a chilly tone, with Springtrap lowering his head. He felt like Emma was reading his mind. ''I am right, aren't I?'' She sighed. ''In any case, do you have any idea whether the remnant would have an effect on Sam?''

''Honestly, I wish I knew. As I said, everyone who came into contact with it was already dead or dying,'' Springtrap replied, only to notice that Emma was still glaring at him. If looks could kill, he'd be dead again. Emma then rubbed her temple.

''Hopefully, Sam won't experience anything beyond collapsing and suffering from a fever,'' she said, still glaring at Springtrap. She then turned to Sam, giving her a sympathetic look. Despite the fact that her mother was on her side, Sam still felt that it was her fault. ''Are you okay, sweetie?''

''I just want to go to sleep,'' Sam replied, with Emma and Springtrap exchanging concerned looks.

xXx

''Sam?''

Springtrap opened the door to Sam's room, but she seemed to be already asleep. He felt a little disheartened, as usually Sam and he would always have a talk before she went to sleep. He closed the door, about to return back to his room, when he suddenly stopped due to Emma standing right in front of him. He was stunned to see her, feeling anxious due to the annoyed look she gave him.

''Is something wrong?'' he asked, with Emma frowning. ''I shouldn't have asked, right?''

''Isn't it obvious?'' Emma asked sarcastically. Springtrap sighed, lowering his head and stepping away from her.

''Go on, yell at me. I deserved it,'' he said bitterly. Emma shook her head.

''Is that going to make you feel better?'' she asked, with Springtrap giving her a confused look. ''It makes sense, since you're used to being punished for every little mistake you make. Or am I wrong?''

''What do you want?'' Springtrap asked, his tone a mix of annoyance and resignation.

''I want to know what you're so afraid of,'' Emma said. ''I mean, I know that you have a good reason to be afraid of me, but so far, I haven't done anything that would warrant such fear. As I said, I'm not going to keep you away from Sam. So, what is it that you fear so much?''

Springtrap was at first silent, looking away from her and closing his eyes. He really didn't want to talk about it, or anything for that matter, but would keeping everything to himself make the situation better? Not to mention, he wasn't really keen on talking to Emma about his issues. He sighed, opening his eyes, which were now glowing purple.

''I'm afraid that Sam would hate me,'' he admitted. ''It is obvious that sooner or later I would make some kind of mistake that would get her-'' He cut himself off, not wanting to finish the thought. ''I could lose her forever.''

''You certainly looked like your life was falling apart,'' Emma said, noticing the anxious look on Springtrap's expression. He was completely torn in this situation, unable to make any kind of decision. Emma couldn't help it, but feel pity for him. He deserved to suffer, but she had to wonder whether there was even a point to it. He went through one Hell, was another one really necessary? ''You know that you cannot fix your mistakes, so you should focus on not making any new ones.''

''It's not that easy,'' Springtrap replied.

''True, but from what Sam told me, you actually put some effort into preventing this from happening, even if you lacked the foresight to realize that Sam would get once again too curious for her own good,'' Emma said, then smiled warmly. ''You should talk to her about it. I'm sure you two will be able to figure something out.''

''So, you're not going to do anything about me?'' Springtrap asked, with Emma tilting her head.

''No, mostly because I figured that you got tortured enough for today,'' Emma replied, turning and walking to her room. ''Good night, Afton.''

''Good night, Emma,'' Springtrap muttered, still standing in the hallway, a bit stunned. He then sighed, going to his room and closing the door, then leaning against it with a pained look on his expression. The sense of emptiness spread through his chest.

Why do I feel so dead inside?

xXx

''Springtrap? Spring?'' Sam observed the bunny animatronic, who seemed to be lost in his thoughts, staring ahead blankly. ''William!''

Springtrap snapped out of his thoughts, looking at her as if he just had noticed her, despite the fact that they were in Sam's room since this morning. He was sitting on Sam's bed, with Sam sitting on the other end of her bed, leaned against the pillow.

''Is there anything you need?'' he asked.

''Yeah,'' Sam replied, with a look of concern on her expression. ''I don't want to see you being so depressed. What's the matter?''

''I've just been thinking about yesterday,'' Springtrap replied, sighing. ''I shouldn't have brought you there. You're lucky you managed to escape with only a fever, as things could've ended up much worse.''

''Yeah, about that…'' Sam fidgeted with her fingers, noticing Springtrap's shocked expression as he realized that there was a lot more to it than he initially thought. She then gave him a curious look. ''Honestly, I am surprised that you haven't questioned me about my experience with the remnant. After all, you did say that you don't know what happens when someone who is still alive gets injected with it.''

''Why should I ask you that?'' Springtrap asked her. ''Sam, the most important thing to me currently is your wellbeing.'' He gave Sam a sheepish look when she raised an eyebrow, apparently not buying it. ''Although, I admit that if this was before we became friends, I would probably try to find out as much as possible about the effects the remnant had on you.'' He shook his head. ''But, now, that would be just wrong.''

''Well, I don't have a problem with it,'' Sam replied, with Springtrap looking stunned. She then bit her lip, grinning. ''I actually wanted to tell you about it, but you need to promise me you won't tell Mum anything. She will freak out if she finds out what I had experienced.''

''I promise I won't tell her,'' Springtrap said. ''So, what happened?''

''I don't really know what to call it, but it was either a dream or an actual out-of-body experience,'' Sam said, noticing the look of horror on the animatronic's expression. ''All I know is that I woke up in some kind of location that at first looked like my room, then turned into Fazbear's Fright, then turned into the location Henry burned down. There was also a lot of light and it was really blurry before it took an actual form. Also, there were four kids playing there and they told me that I didn't belong there, but they did ask me whether I would want to leave with them. I refused.''

''Did they tell you something else?'' Springtrap asked.

''Yeah. They said that you aren't my friend and that I would go back there again because of you,'' Sam added, then tilted her head. ''Maybe that place was some kind of limbo...''

''Sam, are you even listening to yourself?'' Springtrap interrupted her, his eyes flaring purple. ''From what you had just told me, you probably died! You're lucky that you're alive! How can you even be so calm about it?!''

''Honestly, I don't know,'' Sam replied. ''I've been thinking about it the whole night, but I realized that there was no point in stressing myself out because of what happened. I could either continue freaking out about it, or move on.''

''That doesn't matter!'' Springtrap jumped on his feet, now yelling at her. ''You were dead, even for a moment! Were you even thinking about how Emma would feel if she found out that, while she thought that you were just unconscious, your soul had detached itself from your body?! Are you even aware what I went through, constantly fearing that I would lose you because of a stupid experiment I made?!'' He stopped as he realized what he just said, clutching his head and falling his knees. Anger, anxiety, fear, regret... He simply couldn't bear it anymore. ''God dammit, I didn't want this to happen! I didn't want you to get hurt! I just-'' He felt chills as he saw a shadow looming over him. Everything vanished, with only him left in the darkness. He slammed his hands against the floor, unaware of the blood forming around his eyes. Despair overwhelmed him. He didn't want to live a life like this anymore. ''I just… I just wanted to do what's right, for once, and even then, I messed up. The only thing I do is just destroy other people's lives, whether I want it or not.''

''You didn't destroy mine.''

Sam's voice was like an echo, with the darkness around him fading. Springtrap lifted his head, only to see Sam crouching right in front of him. She had a compassionate look on her expression, feeling sorry for him. Springtrap was just disgusted with himself, feeling he didn't deserve her sympathy.

''Sam, I will…''

''No, you won't!'' Springtrap winced when Sam yelled back. ''William, I am not going to let you give up on everything so easily. I understand that you're overwhelmed by everything and that you're past your breaking point. I know that you're worried about me, that fear what might happen to me if I stay in your company. However, don't you think I don't feel the same? I'm constantly on the brink of losing my only friend because of my own stupidity! All of this happened simply because I just wanted to see that stupid remnant injector.''

''You wanted to see 'that stupid remnant injector' that I invented,'' Springtrap replied. ''In the end, what happened is my fault, no matter how curious you were. If that thing didn't exist, you wouldn't have been hurt in the first place.''

''If that thing didn't exist, you wouldn't even be here,'' Sam said. Springtrap kept quiet, simply staring at her. He didn't know anymore how to feel about everything, or even what to do.

''I'm sorry I yelled at you,'' he muttered. ''I'm a complete mess.''

''It's okay. You were upset after all, and I was being a stubborn idiot,'' Sam said. ''You know, I think that the only thing that matters is that we're both still here. Sure, we've both been hurt, but I do believe that there's a point in continuing with everything. This is something you just cannot forget and ignore.''

''I guess that means that you're still willing to continue with the investigation,'' Springtrap said.

''Yeah, but only if you stay with me,'' Sam replied. ''After all, you're the only person I can rely on.''

Springtrap thought back to his conversation with Emma. Even if she didn't say it or even wanted to admit it, she trusted him enough to let him accompany Sam, probably because she knew that he was the only one who would be able to something in case something happened to her daughter. He felt like an idiot for realizing that just now.

''I am not leaving,'' he said, only to be surprised when Sam suddenly hugged him. However, unlike last time, this time, he hugged her back. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he did indeed come this far and it would be a stupid choice to just give up. Besides, didn't he always pull himself together and continued after every failure? He always came back, no matter how nonsensical his methods or reasons were. However, there was a difference between his past choices and this one.

This time, he didn't come back because of himself, but because of his only friend.

''You know, Emma told me that I shouldn't focus on fixing past mistakes, but try to prevent making new ones,'' he added.

''Isn't that obvious?'' Sam replied, with a mischievous grin on her expression. Springtrap just ruffled her hair playfully, with Sam glaring back at him for messing it up. She got back at him by booping his nose, with him looking a little annoyed. However, he actually felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

''Still, I sincerely doubt that I won't suffer from any more breakdowns like this,'' Springtrap admitted.

''If you do, I'm here to help you out,'' Sam replied, standing up and taking a handkerchief from her backpack. ''Also, you might wipe your eyes.''

''What?'' Springtrap took the handkerchief and wiped his eyes, only to see blood on the cloth. He frowned. ''I still don't understand how this is possible.''

''Beats me, but maybe it is a good thing,'' Sam said. ''You know, it might be a sign that there's still some humanity left in you.''

Springtrap chuckled softly, only to freeze when he heard another person speaking.

''Oh, please, he doesn't have any humanity left in him.''

Springtrap frowned, ready to argue with that entity again, only to notice Sam staring at him, looking surprised.

''Who was that?''

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monstersfear · 2 years

Text

never quite free // patricia & emilio

TIMING: current PARTIES: @yourlocalbrawler & @monstersfear SUMMARY: while on a case, emilio tracks down patricia for some help. CONTENT: head trauma, alcohol

A glass of whiskey held Patricia’s attention as she stared down at it, gently swirling the liquid while watching it closely. Eventually, she stopped, letting the liquid fall still, before slamming it back and loudly setting the glass down on the wooden countertop. Just as the bartender could open their mouth to cut her off of drinks for the night, Patricia simply put a hand up to stop them. “I know, I know. Shush and take the tip, pal.” She pulled her wallet out, rifling through the cash before setting several 20 dollar bills on the bar, not specifying whether it was all for the bartender or if she wanted part of it to go towards paying her tab.

As Patricia slowly stood from her seat, she wobbled a bit but quickly found her footing, starting towards the bar exit. She tended to spend nights here when she had nothing better to do, which meant she was spending a few more nights here every week after her episode in The Ring. She didn’t have much trouble finding the door, taking a deep breath of refreshing night air after exiting the establishment. She caught the scent of something, or rather, somebody, on the wind.

Somebody was nearby, waiting for her, and Patricia noticed. She did her best to steel herself, not wanting to risk getting into a fight tonight if she could help it. After a few more moments of sniffing the air like a lunatic, she locked onto the source of the scent, locking eyes with him.

It wasn’t the kid’s parents who hired him. That wasn’t a rare thing, in cases like this one, but it always stirred something in Emilio’s gut, anyway. Blake Sullivan was barely out of his teenage years, and he’d been missing for at least three days now, but it wasn’t his parents who’d shifted their weight nervously in front of Emilio’s desk at Axis and set an envelope full of cash down in front of him with a hopeful smile. Instead, it was three other kids who were also barely out of their teenage years. His friends, they told him, who’d been looking everywhere for him with little results.

The cash they gave him wasn’t technically enough to cover his fees, but he’d pretended not to notice when he’d tucked it into his desk drawer because they were kids and they were scared and Emilio was a goddamn idiot when it came to scared kids. He listened as they talked about Blake’s habits, paying close attention when they brought up the Ring, which he knew about only in the vaguest terms. Emilio did try to stay away from trouble where he could, and the Ring was the kind of thing he’d steered clear of for the most part.

At least, until a bunch of scared fucking kids showed up in his office with a missing friend and a connection to the place.

His investigation turned over a few stones right off the bat; Patricia Moore was one of them. Her habits weren’t hard to track, and they were a little too familiar for comfort. A bar, a few nights a week. The same stool in the back, the same pattern of drinking until they wouldn’t serve her anymore and then heading home. Tonight, Emilio waited outside, smoking a cigarette as he leaned against the wall. When she stepped out, he could see the way she tensed. He figured she knew he was here. And that was fine. He wasn’t looking to sneak up on her, anyway. He didn’t think she had anything to do with Blake Sullivan’s disappearance. But that didn’t mean she didn’t know anything about it.

Putting his cigarette out and dropping the butt to the sidewalk, he pushed himself off the wall and stepped forward, hands up and palms out. “I just want to talk,” he said, low and cautious. “I’m not looking for a fight here. I’m Emilio. You’re Patricia, right?”

Watching as the man finished his smoke and tossed it aside, Patricia remained silent as he approached. This person didn’t seem prepared for a hunt or a fight of any kind, nor did he seem the type to start anything in such a public place. She was very obviously scanning Emilio open for any hidden weapons or signs of attack, but found nothing more than the usual. Maybe this interaction wouldn’t be as bad as she’d assumed.

Patricia sighed as he spoke, mentally preparing herself as best she could. Worse than just a hunter, it was a journalist. Probably. She didn’t really know, but the assumption was already made. “They always just want to talk.” She watched him closely, though she was a bit out of it. If he did try to start something, she’d certainly fail to react fast enough. She figured it’d be better to just talk for now. “Depends on who’s asking… nah, I’m just fucking with you, I’m Patricia.”

“So, what do you want to know? You writing a puff piece or exposing somebody or what? Because I don’t talk to my clients much at all, if that’s what this is about.”

Leaning her back against the wall, Patricia pulled a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, rifling through her other pocket for a lighter and realizing it had fallen through a hole in her pocket. “Shit. You got a light?” Patricia hadn’t realized that Emilio probably had a lighter if he was just smoking moments ago, but that required too much brain power to think about. She held her cigarette out towards Emilio for him to light it.

She seemed a little put at ease by his stance of surrender, though it by no means made Emilio any less dangerous. There was a knife in his sleeve that could find its way to his hand in a heartbeat if he needed it, but he had no intention of using it here unless he had to. Paranoia meant he wasn’t unarmed, even when he slept. But this really was just a conversation.

He tilted his head thoughtfully as she went on. It was clear that she thought he was something he wasn’t — a journalist, from the sounds of it. Emilio decided to roll with the assumption. People were wary of private detectives, sometimes; some kind of strange assumption that they were on the same level as police, he thought, with some kind of duty to uphold the law. It wasn’t true, of course, but people heard detective and they got squirrely. It made things harder than they needed to be, sometimes. Maybe pretending to be a journalist would loosen Patricia’s lips a little easier.

“Something like that,” he replied with a shrug. “I’m writing an investigative piece on missing persons in White Crest. A whole spread on why so many of them disappear the way they do, you know. I’m looking into a kid who disappeared a few days back, and a source told me you might know him. I was hoping you could provide some insight. Your name wouldn’t show up anywhere in the piece if you didn’t want it to.” He wasn’t sure it was an entirely believable lie, but he didn’t know enough about journalism to come up with a better one.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his lighter and flicked it on, holding the flame against her cigarette until it was lit. “Kid’s name is Blake Sullivan,” he said, tucking the lighter back into his pocket. “He’s twenty. Hangs out around Amity Road.”

“You’re looking into missing people in White Crest? Good fucking luck with that, buddy. I’m sure you know better than most why so many people here go missing.” Patricia pulled her cigarette to her mouth and took a deep drag from it, exhaling the smoke out of the side of her mouth, so as to not blow it into Emilio’s face. She was rather pessimistic when it came to people dying or going missing in this town. Normally, they never got found, and sometimes it was better to just not look for them.

Hearing that it was a kid, something deep down pulled at her heartstrings, just as she was about to tell this guy to leave. “I’ll help however I can, but keep my damn name out of it. That kind of attention isn’t great for business.” A sober Patricia would probably be skeptical of the story being told to her, but right now she didn’t think twice about this stranger’s cover story.

Patricia thought for a moment on the name, it sounded oddly familiar, but she’d definitely never met the person. Then, it clicked, her eyes widening in recognition as she gave a prompt nod of understanding. “I’ve heard of him before, from the announcer down at The Ring. He was a newbie, don’t know if he was participating voluntarily or not though.”

After a short pause, Patricia took another puff from her cigarette, focusing on the burning paper at the end while she released the smoke from her lungs. “Chances are, they took the kid because he looks ripe, and they’re putting him to work, or he’s dead. Luckily for you, I can get you in there if you really want to find him, but once you’re in you don’t mention me ever again. I make… made good money there.”

“Hey, I don’t call the shots. My boss wants the story done, assigned me to write it. I go where they tell me to.” She seemed to buy the lie, at least for now. Emilio might have figured he’d been lucky to catch her in an inebriated state if that hadn’t been an intentional move on his part. People were always a little more honest when they were drunk. Even him.

He saw something in her expression soften ever so slightly as he continued his story. He wasn’t the only one with a soft spot for kids, evidently. With a nod, he agreed to the condition. “You’ll be an anonymous source,” he promised. And it was true; her name would certainly never feature in any kind of public article, and he’d have no reason to share it with Blake Sullivan’s friends when he told them what he’d found. They wouldn’t care how he’d gotten the information. They’d only care what the information was. Emilio just wished there was more of a shot at it being good news.

Because it was probably going to end up another White Crest tragedy. He knew that. Kids in this town didn’t go missing only to show up a few days later hungover and embarrassed. Kids in this town went missing and turned up piece by piece if they turned up at all. Odds were, Blake Sullivan would not be an exception to this rule, especially not if he was tied up with the Ring.

“Yeah,” he sighed at the confirmation, rubbing at the back of his head with a tired expression, “that’s what I’m worried about.” Either the kid was stuck doing fight after fight with no say in the matter or they’d already gotten rid of his body. Either way, it was probably going to get messy. His brows shot up as Patricia offered to get him into the Ring. “Like I said, nobody ever finds out your name. You have my word on that one.” He hadn’t been expecting this level of involvement from her. At most, he figured she’d confirm that the kid was in the Ring, maybe have some information on whether or not he was dead. But this… This was a lot better than Emilio had hoped for. “You should know, if I find him in there, I’m pulling him out. Might not fall under the typical journalism perimeters, but I won’t leave him there.”

“Good, because if I find out you snitched, I’ll break you.” Patricia didn’t seem like she could fulfill that threat right now, but if she found out about it later she’d certainly act on it. She looked around, hoping Emilio drove here instead of walking, so she wouldn’t have to walk all the way over to where The Ring was. “So, where’s your ride? The deal is off if I have to walk.” She grumbled, taking one last drag from her cigarette before tossing it onto the sidewalk and stomping it out with the heel of her shoe.

Deciding to trust him for now, Patricia let her doubtful thoughts fade for the time being. It wasn’t like she had much of a choice, anyways. Keeping thoughts in focus was a chore in her current state. “Honestly, I expected that from you. You’ve got the fuckin’ ‘knight in shining armor’ vibe, ya know?” Shrugging, she decided that it would probably be best to warn Emilio rather than letting him rush in blind. “You’ll probably die if you just run in there, or worse, you’ll end up stuck as a fighter. On nights like these, the place is filled with the best of the best and the worst of the worst. Be real quiet about it, so I don’t have to hear that you went missing too on the morning news. You’d get in the way of the segments where they show off new stray dogs.”

“You’ll try,” Emilio retorted, but there was a good-natured grin on his face as he said it. He was sure that, sober, she was a formidable threat. She wouldn’t have been involved with the Ring if she weren’t, after all. At her question, he sucked his teeth. Technically speaking, Emilio didn’t have a car. Despite the obvious downsides involved with walking, it was how he tended to get around. But, luckily… He was pretty damn good at knowing which cars were safe to ‘borrow.’ With a quick glance around the street, he settled on an older model that likely didn’t have an alarm and looked to have been parked on the curb for a while. “Here,” he said, indicating to it. Navigating around to the driver’s side, he subtly yanked the handle with enough strength to break the lock and slid in, leaning over to unlock the passengers’ door as well. It’d be parked back in the same spot before whoever left it there would know it was missing.

Fiddling with the wiring under the ignition in a way he hoped wasn’t too obvious as Patricia settled into her seat, he snorted. “Really? Don’t get that one very often.” The engine roared to life, and he shrugged a shoulder as he put the car into gear. “Worse things than dying. And I can handle myself pretty well in a fight.” Not that he’d ever let himself get nabbed. He would have figured out an in without Patricia’s help, he was sure, but… it was nice to have a better option available. “You don’t gotta worry about me. I’ll be in and out before they know I was there.”

Climbing into the passengers’ seat, Patricia slumped into the chair and pulled the belt over herself, trying for a bit longer than she should have had to before she was able to successfully buckle up. She soon turned on the radio, switching through the channels to find something good, eventually ending up on some indie music radio station. Sober Patricia probably would’ve asked to mess with the radio, but at the moment she couldn’t care less as long as she got to listen to some good tunes. She failed to notice Emilio’s hotwiring, but she wouldn’t complain even if she had noticed. “I hope you know the way, because there is no way in hell I’m giving directions right now.”

As he started driving, Patricia leaned the side of her head against the window, watching the passing streetlights. A part of her wanted to roll down the window to feel the breeze on her face, but another part of her felt like she’d get nauseous from doing so. “I don’t think there are worse things than dying. Dying’s pretty bad, and if you want to get in a fight with a bunch of bloodthirsty lunatics, don’t let me stop you.” She joked, chuckling quietly to herself. “Alright, good. When we get out, you can give me a ride home since I’m helping you. Ooh, and we can get some food, I’d murder somebody for a burger right now.” Forgetting that there would be a formerly missing passenger in the car, the intoxicated werewolf in the passenger seat let her appetite plan for the rest of the night.

“Yeah, yeah, I know the way.” Emilio made it a point to know where things like the Ring were in White Crest, if only so he could better avoid them. It was important, he knew, to maintain awareness of anything that might prove to be a danger. It might not stop it from killing you, but at least it would ensure you died on your feet. He wondered, absently, what made someone like Patricia get involved with the Ring in the first place, but… he didn’t have to wonder for long. In all honesty, he understood it. It was the kind of thing he might have found himself tangled up with under different circumstances, with all his rage and all his grief. Sometimes, you just needed something to hold onto. Even if it was violence.

He glanced over as she fiddled with the radio but made no move to stop her, focusing the bulk of his attention on the road ahead as he drove. It wasn’t entirely necessary — at this time of night, there were few other cars on the road — but it gave him something to do. “Nah,” he said quietly, tapping his finger against the wheel. “I can think of plenty worse.” He thought he’d probably rather be dead than be in the tangled web of fae bonds and demonic obsession that he was stuck in now. Half amused, he glanced over at Patricia as she went on a drunken tangent, nodding his head. “We can go through a drive thru,” he offered. The kid would probably be hungry, too. “But we need to focus on getting this done first.” It wasn’t long before he was pulling up in front of the building that housed the Ring, putting the car into park. “Focus up, all right? Gonna need you for this part.”

“Well, I can’t. Death is the most permanent thing ever, well, unless you become undead. I never really thought about that.” Patricia lightly shrugged and looked to the building, unbuckling her seat belt and stepping out of the car. She tried to compose herself, not wanting to look like she’d just come from the bar, even though she had. She made her way around the side of the building, approaching a heavy metal door next to the large metal garbage containers. Knocking a few times with no discernible rhythm or pattern prompted the slot on the door to slide open with a loud mechanical clank, a pair of eyes looking from Patricia to Emilio. “Let me in, dickhead. I brought a guest.” After another mechanical clank rang out from the metal slot closing, before the door was unlocked and opened in front of them.

“Nice one, you never bring guests, Trish.” The scrawny person at the door teased Patricia, just like most people did now that she’d stopped fighting.

But Patricia was not going to let it pass this time. Walking past them with Emilio in tow, a swift stomp onto the stranger’s foot and a passing glare was enough to let them know that she still demanded respect. Returning her attention to what lay ahead, Patricia followed the maze of hallways to The Ring itself, finding a seat for them to sit in near the back row. “The basements are where you’ll find what you’re looking for. Here.” She offered Emilio her business card, which, among other information, had her phone number on it. “I’m going to rest my eyes, so call me when you’re done and I’ll meet ya outside.”

“It’s the end of something,” Emilio replied with a shrug, as if that was all that needed saying. Maybe it was. After all, the reason why death… tempted him the way it did was because of that definitive end, because of the way nothing would continue past it. When your life seemed to be an endless parade of tragedy, any end was a good one. Even if the thing that was ending was you. He stepped out of the car, walking around to the passenger’s side so he could continue to the building in step with Patricia. He waited as she knocked, raised a brow at the eyes that peered at him from the slot on the door. He could feel them sizing him up.

The door opened without much fanfare, and Emilio let Patricia lead him over to a seat. When she settled down, he raised a brow. “You don’t want to tag along for this part?” He could hardly blame her. She clearly had a connection to this place, and if she came with him… There were few things that could sever that connection more completely than being caught in the act of something like this. Emilio knew that. Pulling a scrap of paper from his pocket, he scribbled his cell phone number onto it. “Do me a favor and text me if you get wind of anyone heading down to the basement to kill me or whatever. I’ll let you know when I’m done.”

Patricia almost seemed offended that Emilio offered her the chance to come with, quickly shaking her head in response, before pulling her sunglasses from her pocket and slipping them on. “Hell no, you go in yourself, lone ranger. You’re the one with a death wish.” Taking the piece of paper, she let out a small sigh as she pulled her phone out, struggling a bit to open it and add the correct number, almost like her finger wasn’t tapping exactly where she wanted it to. “You got it, I’ll come out there when you’re, try not to die because I don’t want to walk home… and because of the kid or whatever. Good luck.”

Eventually, Patricia managed to get the number on her phone, allowing her to return her attention to the brawl that was currently underway. It was one of the more ‘normal’ matches, what looked to be two humans boxing with established rules in place, but there was still knowledge to be gained from watching. As she watched them fight each other, trading blows back and forth, she couldn’t help but feel envious. She’d give anything to be down there in the spotlight, beating some poor soul senseless to numb whatever emotion was bothering her in the moment. When the match eventually ended after several minutes, Patricia was almost disappointed, but the realization set in that some guards would probably be heading down to the basement cages soon to fetch some new fighters, so she quickly pulled her phone out and sent a message. It was clearly written by a drunk, panicked person, but it still got the point of ‘get the hell out of there’ across.

Her response, of course, wasn’t entirely unexpected. It had been pretty clear in their earlier conversation that Patricia had no desire to face down death, and this task certainly carried a risk of it. Emilio huffed at her words all the same, ducking his head to hide an amused expression. “All right. Well, if I die, feel free to snag the wallet off my corpse and call yourself a cab.” It was probably the least he could do.

Turning on his heel, he slid through the crowd carefully and made his way towards the doors to the basement. They weren’t unguarded, of course, but the guards were pretty damn distracted. One of them was chatting up a girl who looked far too young to be holding the beer in her hand, and Emilio felt a surge of irritation that he quickly stomped down. It made the guard easy to slip passed, though he made a note to fucking clock the guy if getting out quietly didn’t end up being an option. Once through the door, Patricia’s earlier instructions acted as an easy enough guide despite how drunk she’d been when she’d given them. He pulled out his cell phone, glancing down at the photo Blake Sullivan’s friends had provided him with. In it, the kid was sandwiched between two of the kids who’d hired Emilio, grinning like a madman. Something told the hunter his expression would be different when he found him here.

The cages were depressing to look at. Emilio glanced in each one only long enough to verify that the kid he was looking for wasn’t the one occupying it. Most of the occupants barely acknowledged him. After a few minutes of searching, he spotted a sandy blonde head of hair inside one of the cages. Carefully, he glanced down at his phone again to confirm the identity, then tapped a finger against the bars. “Hey, Blake.”

The kid looked up at the sound of his name. “Who are you?” His voice was tight and angry and terrified. Emilio turned his phone around to show the picture.

“Relax. Your buddies told me you got into some hot water, sent me to throw you a life raft. My name’s Emilio. I’m gonna get you out of here.” His phone buzzed, and he turned it around to see Patricia’s message and cursed. “I’m gonna get you out of here fast,” he said, quickly removing his lockpick tool from his belt and getting started on the door. “You good to walk? Because I might need you to run.”

“Walking and running aren’t the same thing,” Blake pointed out, curiously wandering over to the door of his cage to watch Emilio work the lock.

“All right, smart ass. You’re lucky I’m getting paid not to leave you here.” He kept his tone light enough to make sure the kid would know it was a joke, and the lock popped open to punctuate it. Emilio let out a relieved sigh. “C’mon. We need to go now.”

Patricia slowly stood from her seat, making her way towards the exit, though she grumbled upon spotting the door-guard in her way. She didn’t know how Emilio would get out without there being a distraction of some kind, but she also knew that starting a fight could possibly force a shift in her body that would send her reeling in pain, so she had to think creatively. Luckily, she was in the perfect mind to think creatively. “Hey, dickhead.” She made sure to sound as drunk as possible in her speech, which wasn’t exactly difficult at the moment. “You’re bad at your job.”

“So are you, Patty the choker.” The watch-person retorted, wearing a shit eating grin as they teased the former champion standing before them. It was then they suddenly saw a body hurtling at them like a blur, a look of horror crossing their face for only a few short moments before impact.

Throwing her body sideways at the poor guard, their head soon met the metal door with a loud thud, before they collapsed over loudly onto the cold, hard floor. She didn’t intend to do more than cause a distraction, but managing her own strength was out of the picture. She quickly fiddled with the door, sliding aside the metal bars and latches that held it closed normally, before heading out. Patricia safely made it to the car with the large metal door cracked, before sending another hastily written text to Emilio.

“Back doors unlockd, hurry beefore shitbreath wakes up.”

Resting her eyes, all Patricia could think about was how good some chicken nuggets sounded right now, a satisfied and tired grin on her lips.

As soon as the cage was open, Emilio reached in and grabbed Blake by the shoulder, hauling him out. The kid needed to lean against him a little, but he was mobile. And that was good. They didn’t have enough time for anything else. Emilio half dragged the kid back the way he’d come, ignoring the cries of protest from all the still-locked cages they were leaving behind. There was nothing he could do for the people and creatures inside them; he knew that.

His phone buzzed again as he made it to the stairs, and a quick glance down at it showed another largely misspelled text from Patricia. Luckily, he was pretty decent at understanding drunkspeak. A side effect, he figured, of having to decipher his own sent messages when he sobered up enough to read them.

“All right,” he said, pulling Blake through the door, “we’re going out the back. Come on.”

“Hey!” A voice called out behind them. Emilio propped Blake up on the wall and whirled around. It was the pisspoor guard he’d slipped passed earlier, the one who’d been a little too busy hitting on some kid to recognize that someone was doing the exact thing he was being paid to keep people from doing.

Emilio smiled viciously, patting Blake on the shoulder. “Back door,” he told the kid. “Go as far as you can. I’ll meet you in a second.” Hesitantly, Blake nodded and moved forward, pace slow but steady.

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are,” the guard growled, taking a step forward, “but I’m going to make you sorry you —”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence. Emilio closed the space between them with two determined strides and swung his fist hard, feeling the man’s nose break against his knuckles. Blood spurted from the man’s nose as he fell, hands already going up to cup his face with a cry. “Go fuck yourself,” Emilio told him, then turned back towards the exit. Blake was already at the door, hesitating and looking back. Emilio made a note to berate the kid for not just leaving him once they were in the clear. For now, though, he only grabbed him by the arm, leading him to the stolen car where Patricia was already waiting.

Depositing Blake in the back seat, Emilio climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine with the wires under the steering wheel, putting the car into gear and quickly pulling out into the street. “Blake, Patricia. Patricia, Blake. We’re going to hit a drive thru. You want anything?”

“Sup, Blake.” Slowly, Patricia leaned over to look back at the kid, narrowing her eyes as she racked her mind, trying to pinpoint where she remembered his face from. “Oh shit, you’re the dude who got decked the day before yesterday and folded like an omelet.” She laughed, finding it a bit funny, before she remembered that he was kidnapped and held captive for a few days. She then abruptly stopped, turning to look back ahead.

She felt a bit guilty, much less than she would feel if she were sober, but the feeling was still there. “I’m.. sorry, kid. That place sucks, but they won’t come back for you if it’s any consolation. Just try not to hang around that building anymore.” It slowly hit her that she fought there willingly, but there were some that didn’t have the choice. Some of the people she fought were unable to back out, or even make it home.

Are you okay with that?

The thought was gone as soon as it had arrived, but it certainly left a mark, like a bruise. It was another of the thoughts that could not be silenced, because it made far too much sense to be devalued. A part of Patricia did truly want to help people, but she didn’t know how to do so without causing more pain, because at the end of the day, causing pain was the only productive thing she knew how to do. She was visibly lost in thought during the drive, her head leaned against the car window, watching the passing buildings.

Blake offered Patricia a nervous smile in greeting, though the expression faded when she laughed. “I didn’t exactly ask to get into that fight,” he muttered, clearly irritated. When she apologized, he only shrugged sullenly. Emilio sighed. The kid couldn’t have been much more than a fucking teenager, and he certainly looked like one now with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes fixed on something out the window. He wondered how many of the people he’d left in those cages had been like this; kids who hadn’t asked for the shit they’d been pulled into. A stab of guilt twisted in his gut like a knife.

“All right,” he said, trying to pull himself from the thought. “Enough of that shit. Blake’s not going back to that damn building, so it’s not gonna be a problem. And if anybody hassles him, he’ll have my number.” Even though he wouldn’t be able to hide behind the guise of a paycheck by that point. He watched Blake in the rearview mirror until the kid nodded, then turned his attention back to the road.

After a moment, he saw the bright lights of a restaurant and pulled off into the drive thru, glancing in the mirror again. “I want fries,” Blake said in response to Emilio’s raised brows. With a nod, the slayer turned to the passenger’s seat, where Patricia rested her head against the window.

“Hey,” he said, trying to get her attention. “What do you want? I’m not paying for a four course meal here, so don’t go trying to order the whole damn menu. And this is a one-time thing. As payment for helping us out back there.”

Patricia’s brows furrowed in thought as she tried with all she could to decide on exactly what she wanted. “I want a chicken nugget meal with one of those orange drinks, and don’t skimp on the sauce, I want barbeque.” A content, somewhat excited smile rested on the werewolf’s face as she sat in the passenger seat, looking away from the window to look over at Emilio and the kid in the back seat, looking back and forth between them for a moment. Eventually, her gaze settled on Blake.

“Hey, kid, you got a name or something? Not yours, though, the name of somebody you want me to beat up in The Ring.” Combing a hand through her hair, she only ended up messing it up a bit rather than straightening it out. “I’m pretty big shit, and when I get back in there to reclaim my crown, I’ll go extra hard on whoever you want, because I’m nice.”

With an exaggerated toothy grin that showed off her rather sharp canine teeth, Patricia tried to reassure the stranger that had been kidnapped that she was truly nice, in her own special way. She then quickly snapped her attention to Emilio, staring at him while he ordered, and only opening her mouth to speak once he was done. “And you… thanks, I’ve been meanin’ to head in there and crack some heads to free some more of the ‘fresh hires’ at that place, just haven’t gotten around to it since the loss. If you ever need to investigate the place again, I’ll give you a hand, in exchange for food or drinks, of course.” She could definitely afford her own food, but something about free food made it taste so much better.

Nodding at Patricia’s request, Emilio recited the order into the speaker and pulled around to the window. For a moment, as he collected the food and paid the tired fast food employee, he sat in silence. He listened to Patricia offer to beat up whoever Blake wanted her to in the Ring, smiled faintly when the kid immediately responded with a name, like he’d had it ready. He sounded a little less timid now that he was snacking on the fries Emilio had passed back to him; a sign, the slayer figured, that he’d be all right in the end.

“Any time you wanna go back, I’m there,” he replied, pulling out of the restaurant’s parking lot and into the street. “Any time. People like that…” He trailed off, thinking of the guard and the too-young girl and the cages full of people like Blake who probably hadn’t done much of anything wrong. “There’s some things I don’t mind doing for free.” After a few more minutes of driving, he pulled the car back into the spot where he’d found it, near the bar where he’d met Patricia. Tapping his fingers on the wheel, he turned to face her with a nod. “You’ve got my number. You can use it if you need me.”

“You seem like you normally use being paid to hide that you like being a good person.” Patricia shrugged nonchalantly, as she stepped out of the car, holding her bag of food like a badge of honor. Before leaving, she leaned down to look into the car window at Emilio. “I’ll try to remember to text you, make sure you get that kid home safe or I’ll kill you.” With a farewell tap on the side of his car, she turned around, starting to walk home quickly, excited to eat the free meal she’d earned.

#yourlocalbrawler #patricia: never quite free #head trauma tw #alcohol tw

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the-firebird69 · 1 year

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Watch "Hulk (2003) - Hulk Breaks Out Scene (7/10) | Movieclips" on YouTube

youtube

This is a different house than me and he says that there's actually the other different kinds that are that powerful or have the same attributes except for actual mutants that are non-human or people like himself and I don't think it's either one cuz it looks like one of us it says it could be that he has a symbian and somebody else's does that the last for an hour or two if that's it so the symbian appears to be still on board and his blood sharing it makes you massively powerful if you're in shape and I thought they were some kind of deep sea creature it says it's a very dangerous thing because they're not because those are abused but they haven't mutated from millions of years and a suddenly figured out something we have a problem and this is not going to help us it's almost a few things that he can do well I can do everything except the tank and maybe that's the exaggeration it's true he can pass around and jump around like that have to be massively juiced and I have to have a source somewhere nearby and he says his places and stashes and yeah that's about stuff like that true I may have juice the crap out of here is a bunker you're not looking forward to being treated like this it's by you idiots and I do see what you're saying we have value we have lives and parallels and come along with us we get in trouble and start ruinng our situation I'm going to help you because you're bothering the s*** on us they need me to say it's having trouble coming up with words cuz you goofballs that's what you do you go around ruining lives. They said that thing with the bomb caused some plenty little to me the accident they don't mean that little accident they mean what that you had it made you're wrong and my friend here says that his people probably did and for obvious reasons and Tommy f pushed everybody to do it and for obvious reasons so we know about it it's wrong and the guilty parties are starting to get pulled out and brought to court and you were pretended to be talking back you were pretending to be Dr mac Trump, who the hell knows why I'm a specimen I've been around for a long time it's not with the information is a piece of dog s***

Mark ruffalo

I can't go for one day without having this f****** idiot saying dumb s*** bring up topics to get rid of him. Thinking something will save I'm not reviewing what it's doing at all and like bothering the s*** out of me like sitting on the other side of me harassing me it's going to get them something who the hell knows what everybody wants to kill you two idiots three now

Zues Hera

The invasion film miserably you lost a ton of people and a lot of it's because of these idiots here in the neighborhood and it all guilty and they're all stupid USF their AI boy and AI girl and wow they dumb they're yelling it now who said your computer program doesn't work it's the other program in infancy. And the screaming again and they don't care cuz we care a lot less and we can counter quite easily that you don't have an army. It was down to around 0.8% last night and they started their idiotic attacks and now it's down some more like 0.09%, less than 1%. And really it's like 9 out of 10,000 or something that's what it means and you guys will never get it the math too hard. But we can attest it's real.

Thor Freya the other things that are happening here now

-the government is shrinking and Hera is fine, she's okay. The government was reduced and in Shawn county it made it down to 2800 in the night and 2400 this morning and it's constantly shrinking now. And the government's agencies as well Florida law enforcement as reduced by 50%

And Bruce banner in an image came out and said you wouldn't like me when I'm angry and his son says I don't like you when you're not angry it's just hardly ever.

Florida law enforcement was at 1000 morlock officers and now they're down to 500. Florida highway patrol was that about $2,500 and now they're at about 1100. There's another things that are happening mac daddy says there are huge numbers of idiots roaming around town and I need to order them out I'm sitting it out now mack Daddy says

Forget it out for that last line

Thor Freya

#Youtube

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sepublic · 1 year

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🎫

Azayle’s group of Escapees isn’t as sociable with one another as they could be, but they do get into conversations. Nykon being Nykon, she generally tries to avoid it, but sometimes she’s stuck in the background when somebody strikes up a conversation. That causes someone like Magmint to direct attention to her, and for Nykon to spit out an aggressive retort, but over time her fellow Escapees have gotten more of an answer out of her.

So one day she idly wonders aloud, not even thinking about it, “I wonder what they’re up to” in regards to her fellow dragon peers, from before she was imprisoned in the Tower of Tears. Magmint is surprised, but then gets over it just as quickly, because duh! Nykon’s peers are dragons, who are long-lived! He knows that, he’s from the Monster Realm too…

Naturally he suggests to Nykon, why not go visit her peers, check up on them since she’s one of the few Escapees who have people left over from her life that are still alive? Hang around like old times, see how much has changed but also be comforted by how much has stayed the same. Nykon snaps that there’s no reason to, but we all know there’s plenty of reason. What’s keeping her is the reason NOT to, and it’s her shame, humiliation, and embarrassment at what’s happened.

Nykon has failed. She was sent on a mission nobody wanted to do, a loser rounding in other losers. And she failed. She kept trying to get stronger, sacrificed her body and now no longer qualifies as a dragon, even if she’s still in the shape of one. Nykon has changed and lost so much, and for what? Another failure, and centuries in the Tower of Tears, subjected to nightmares.

She’s become even more of a freak than the traitors she was originally sent to round up. So as far as she’s concerned, there is plenty of reason NOT to go, which Nykon may as well dress up under the apparently confident, blasé framework of “There is no reason to go at all.” At which point…

I can totally see Azayle deciding to fuck with Nykon and suggest a group trip to the Monster Realm, to the dragon vaults and whatnot. Nykon is livid and actually does try to protest, but it’s Azayle so ultimately, Nykon has to bow her head and follow. Magmint is excited, Monarch Man has never been to such a fantastical place he’d have only ever read about in his comics, and there are reactions from other members of the group I have yet to introduce.

It’s painfully awkward, but Azayle does give Nykon some space to catch up with her peers on her own, while she and the others get caught up in the touristy side of things. I like to imagine Nykon had a colleague named Linde, a cave-dwelling dragon with an apprehension towards light that she used as a resource on information, possibly a librarian.

Linde is bothered by the bright light Nykon exudes, since normally the only source is a humble lantern. They’re surprised to recognize Nykon and see how much she’s changed, especially since everyone assumed she was either dead or in self-exile. Being a dragon, Linde does not react as much as one may expect, because to be fair they live in the Monster Realm, a very strange and outlandish place in and of itself.

A closed-off Nykon grumbles a thing or two as an answer. Linde complains that Nykon is too bright and should dim herself, leading Nykon to complain over how she can do that, she IS the light! She’s made of lightning itself! Unimpressed, Linde suggests throwing a tarp over herself. Nykon does note to herself that she can compress herself into one of her smaller forms, but Linde is pissing her off so she won’t. She contemplates saying something offensive, like if Linde hates light so much why don’t they just gouge their eyes out?! What a touching reunion.

Anyhow, this trip back home all culminates with Nykon visiting one of her old superiors; She doesn't know why, maybe deep down she just wants to get it over with and satisfy the burning curiosity. The superior responds appropriately by arranging a lunch meeting, more or less rubbing it in Nykon's face that she can't eat anymore, as a result of her failures. If he's feeling particularly ceremonious, the superior offers some scrap metal.

Some passive-aggressive conversation later, and Nykon actually, finally, snaps at her superiors, promising that when Azayle's plan comes through, they'll be listening to her! At which point her superiors are pissed off, and Nykon has to leave early under less than peaceful circumstances. Azayle and the others ask what's the rush and how'd it go when she shows up, and Nykon looks Azayle dead in the eye and insists, "We need to grab that Wayvren brat. NOW." Azayle is pleased by Nykon's takeaway from her nostalgia trip, and the Escapees flee the scene. There may or may not be a bounty on Nykon's head after this...

#Nykon #the escapees #oc #ocs #my ocs #GEverse #ask #reply

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nyomkitten · 2 years

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yesterday/today's scattered rabbit hole

deeply deeply disappointed about how the first draft of this ended up lost because i was drafting it on tumblr's editor. redoing it in a fragile attempt to get some kind of inner peace.

(i say rabbit hole. it's mostly a collection of articles and quotes i really liked.)

people can be really dismissive of recreation as you hit middle age. After 25, you start to seem a little weird or unserious if you’re still really into, say, roller-skating, Dungeons & Dragons, or seeing Phish live. Real grownups have more pressing demands on their time. … But what is friendship but time spent together? And what are hobbies but love? Is the connection any less deep or real because you found each other through surfing or Fortnite instead of through an app or mutual friends?

Adrienne So reviewing Gabrielle Zevin’s novel Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, WIRED

When you live your life in the closet, there’s a part of you that’s never really human. You’re always worried about getting caught. You’re never transparent about all the parts of who you are. … What was really hard for me to hear was how so many Dalits were afraid to come out.

Thenmozhi Soundararajan interviewed by Lizzie O’Leary, Slate she's an icon. these lines are so powerful and well done. i keep dilly-dallying on whether i have a "right" to claim my caste and queer positions, because of the material privilege of my parents' hard work, but these lines hit hard, so i have more courage to.

Eric Ravenscraft, "What is the Metaverse, Exactly?", WIRED No specific paragraphs to quote, but this is a wonderful explainer for how the term is mostly used in hype marketing and pitching copywriting. Which is fine for tech companies doing their visionary thing and getting R&D money. Not so fine when they use said hype to sell overpriced phones and other gadgets to consumers, claiming the (tangible) advancements are so much more than they actually are. Also not fine for the very tenuous blockchain-based currency and art markets, which people easily mistake for 'investments' rather than 'gambling'. (I stole this analogy from Johnny Showbiz's Last Week Tonight, which particular segment he disclaims might age badly, but i think will age rather well.)

Neal Stephenson coined the term 'metaverse', because of course he did. Here's an essay by him (self-admittedly outdated) that I want to read that compares proprietary and open-source OSes (among other things), and a later interview where he is very funny and also name-drops lots of books i want to read.

Cryptographer and computer scientist Matt Blaze's blog.

Marmur has been working in the film industry since the ’90s, but over time grew weary of studios only wanting “the lowest-hanging fruit” and balking at the notion of making anything original. … Name-brand actors and high-concept plots have driven Hollywood success for generations, so why shouldn’t that work for Netflix?

David Sims, "'Netflix Thinks Exactly Like an Old Movie Studio'", The Atlantic (lol, fuck you, milkable IP.)

In all the various interviews that I've given, the one element that I stress above all is a lesson that people don't seem to learn — you cannot use time travel as a plot device. You can't use it as a way to get yourself out of a plot. Somebody gets killed, "Oh, we'll just go back in time and stop the bullet from reaching his heart." That's lazy writing. It's too convenient that you happen to have the technology to solve a dramatic problem like that.

You see so many movies that go into the future, and it looks like they tore everything down and started all over again. I love the original Blade Runner, I really do, but there isn't a damn thing in Blade Runner that looks like Los Angeles. But if you were to take somebody from New York in 1955 and bring him to New York today, they would know where all the streets were, they would know how to go to Central Park, and the subways are still going to the same places. Lots of stuff has been torn down and rebuilt, but the grid of the city is exactly the way it's been for over 150 years.

Bob Gale interviewed by Marah Eakin, INVERSE this is a lovely interview and i want to read the rest of the articles in this series at some point. maybe as i watch the things they cover. aside from writing approaches, and an actually constructive critique of the Marvel supermegaultraverse style of writing, it also name-drops movies i want to watch.

a nice, short, wholesome article (Ryan Britt for Fatherly) explaining the uniqueness of Tron (the old original one), in terms of its visual approach, VFX, and (perhaps most significantly) its storytelling devices. i have a soft spot for aged sci-fi that looks bad now but was groundbreaking at the time, and this article explains it really well.

one of Elora Dodd's reels (can't find the exact one; she might have taken it down) which explains how (heavily paraphrased, with my own thoughts)

cutting your own hair is the most about having control over your appearance. it is also about extending a middle finger to the expectation that you have to look made up, and how you're judged if you're not pretty. it does not matter if the haircut is bad. it matters that you get to have that control over how you present.

things i would like to get back to:

alt lit (1, 1.5 , 2)

metafiction and autofiction

aphorism vs epigram

(all rabbit holes here.)

#nk:txt #nk:rabbit #articles #sci fi #science fiction #anti caste #caste discrimination #movies #film #metaverse #marketing #tech #nk

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phoebehalliwell · 3 years

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with all of Phoebe's baby crazy, I wish they'd revisited her first baby. in "womb raider" at the beginning, she genuinely cared for her baby, was excited to see him in her dream/vision, defended him to her sisters, etc. but at the end suddenly it's "the baby was never mine, it was always the Source" which is a major tone shift. I would have liked to see Phoebe exploring her feelings about her previous pregnancy, or even finding a way to see an alternate version of the baby she lost.

it’s like. ik the original plan was to have queen of hell phoebe extend into like s5 which like. tg it didn’t i’m not a big fan of s5 as it stands but like at least the charmed ones were still the charmed ones y’know. but yeah. phoebe’s kid. like. i mean okay let’s start with the beginning of season four phoebe isn’t even sure if she’s ready to get married. she has the vision of herself as this wild free spirit, to get married is together herself to the earth and become a more grounded woman, someone less like herself. and she is genuinely unsure if she can make that commitment, she doesn’t know if she can become that person. if she even wants to become that person. and for all the mess phoebe went through in s4 i think we do see a lot of character development from her i mean this is the season where she gets a steady job and starts to build the career she will have through the rest of the show she had been in a committed relationship for like a season and a half she is far from the flighty ditzy spirited phoebe we met in season one. like s1 phoebe was not ready to be a mother. hell s4 phoebe wasn’t even sure if she was ready to be a wife. but we was her grow we saw her finally start to plant roots and grow and she was ready to have a child she was excited to have a child and this really was like a marker that pushes her to like her s6 manic state like you can’t jump from s1 phoebe to s6 phoebe you need a bridge s4 was that bridge the only issue was that bridge is a bit of a dicey subject so like we pretend it just doesn’t exist. but like. phoebe was going to be a mom. and yes the whole thing was a really traumatic experience yes she was being fed a concentrated dose of pure evil to keep her source baby insane but it being traumatic doesn’t mean it didn’t happen in fact as it goes it usually means it was more of an impact. i mean even with piper’s pregnancy as baby wyatt started to do wild tricks from the womb we got nothing from phoebe nothing like idc if the seer masterminded u getting knocked up you were going to be a mom!! u were looking forward to it!!!! and to see a baby of good magic kinda pulling the same stunts your “abomination” quote unquote did like does that not get the gears turning? does that not get you caught in the what-ifs?? and it wouldn’t be the first time we see phoebe turn to magic to get the answers to her own personal problems hell she does it all the time but i think the source’s heir will always be one of her biggest what ifs. even after she’s found coop and settled down and had three beautiful daughters of her own what if. what if cole never became the source. what if i had stayed the queen of hell. what if i got to keep my baby. what if i got to see him, to hold him in my arms, to raise him. what if pj parker and peyton had an older half brother. what if it doesn’t matter what your born from but rather who you grow to become. like it doesn’t matter where you are now is where you always wanted to end up. scars don’t heal. they’re there forever. and i think this really could have given phoebe a great new depth and introspectiveness away from the more impulsive behavior she seems to indulge in

#anyway i think it would be funnie if phoebe did cast a spell to go see how her could would have ended up #between you and me i think she would actually be hoping for a world of destruction #just so she can feel okay about never having that kid #seeing that the kid was just evil #and it wasn't on her #of course that's more surface #deep down she wants to see somebody who is the source but who is still charmed #even if she couldn't save cole she could save her son #and i think this would be best done if she was like #like imma do this real quick but i don't wanna anyone to know or come along bc this is embarrassing also this is a me problem #so she waits til everyone's left the house but unbeknownst to her paige has just orbed into the kitchen to grab her lunch real quick #and she and paige both get knocked into a world where the source's heir lives and paige is like hi phoebe where are we & what did u do #and phoebe's like oh hhahha lmao nothing major i just wanted to um. see my son.#and paige is like when u say son you mean the sources heir who tried to throw me out a window right or is there another kid ur talking abou #and phoebes like no yeah that's the one #but i think paige esp being like a Social Worker whitelighter blah blah blah she gets it she's not gonna give phoebe too much shit #she'll go along on this adventure #and u know they're looking around paige is like well this isn't a post apocalyptic hellscape so like dub #blah blah blah they bump into dency in some unknown circumstances where they dont recognize each other they chat yadda yadda yadda #& phoebe's so focused on finding Her Son that she misses the obvious right in front of her and paige is just looking at dency like wait #and dency leaves and phoebe was like that was nice but lets go find my kid #and paige is like did u ever get a sonogram or r u projecting gender roles onto ur unborn baby #and phoebe's like what. wait. and they run after dency just in time 2 see her flame out #charmed #phoebe halliwell #💌

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noridoorman · 2 years

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Would you be able to write something about Frank Morrison receiving a love letter from his crush, please?

I'm a fan of the way you write him so I would love to see it. Of course I understand when it isn't possible.

I wish you a wonderful day.

I've decided to split it into two parts because I kind of ran out of ideas, whoops-

Anyways, hope you'll enjoy!

Tempted [1] - Frank Morrison x Reader

Everybody knows this feeling. The familiar feeling in which all the words in your mind align beautifully, creating a poem filled with your sincerest desires and honest emotions. All the words make no sense when spoken out. It's as if they're the manifestation of one's emotions. The rhymes only work because the corresponding emotions align, sharing the equal source of happiness or pain. And when it's time to write it on paper, to express extremes that you feel, all you can do is sit and watch the empty sheet. Too bad it can't write itself, or some fancy machine can translate your thoughts over to the text. This is the future. But the future just isn't prepared for your lacking communication skills.

You've been staring at the fancy written I, not knowing what should come after it. No eyes are peaking from your shoulder. The students were busy talking to each other as their words scrambled even more with the words you're trying to make sense of. It was the shrill bell of the school that took you out of your trance, making you realize you're a hopeless mess of a lover.

Taking your notebook with all the other faulty love letters in it, you slightly pushed yourself through the crowd that emerged in the hallway. Your hands became clammy as you covered your face using your heavy books. No matter where you go, you always believed that somebody is stalking you down and silently judging you. You never got to prove your theory. Everyone was too invested in their own lives to care about yours. But insecurities always mess with your judgment.

Opening your locker, you shove everything inside in haste, hoping Frank wouldn't have enough time to go to his locker. His locker was next to yours, making everything even more awkward. Your unreasonable anxieties make you think he'll suddenly gain some superhuman abilities that will make him read the failed love letters through your notebook cover. The rustling of the papers always made you nervous. But what made you even more anxious was the oh-so-familiar footsteps of the oh-so-familiar guy that stole your heart. And at that moment, he also stole your courage. Quickly, you took all your books for the next lesson and stuffed your notebook in the locker, resulting in some papers flying off. Frank Morrison eyes you weirdly as you run as far away as possible from him. He shrugs his shoulders and looks at the letters beneath him, accidentally stepping on one. Ripping his locker open, he takes his books out and leans them lazily on his hips.

"Frank!" Susie's voice echoes in the somewhat now empty hallways catching Frank's attention. The students rushed to their classrooms to not be late to class while he leans against the locker, contemplating if he would want to skip maths or not.

"Heya, why the hurry?" Once Susie reached Frank, she hunched down and put her hands on her knees, taking deep breaths. Frank tilts his head to the side.

"Cause!" Susie fixes her posture, but the redness in her face hasn't faded. "You're about to be late for class!"

"What about you? Isn't your lesson starting soon too?" Frank dodged the question and looked down to Susie, who was significantly shorter than him. The letters you dropped caught his gaze again. A newfound curiosity made him bend down and pick the abandoned papers up.

"No! I still got time! But you, on the other hand, have to go to class! Your father promised to buy you a car if your grades improved"

"Mhm..." His eyes skimmed lazily over the letter. Making out the words in the letter became even more of a challenge until he came across his name. From all the slovenly words and the messy handwriting, his name stuck out the most. The one word he could read perfectly. He narrowed his eyes and read through the words carefully, drowning out everything Susie said.

"I don't know how to say it. Whenever I think of you, my heart starts to race, and I lose all words to say. I know this sounds all cheesy, and you hate cheesy things, but I wanted to let it go a long time ago but never had the courage. Frank, I love you, and the reason why I always leave is that I'm really scared of talking with you. Everyone kinda really likes yo-"

Crossed-out words and scribbles filled the rest of the letter. Frank could barely make out the words on it. His mind pieces together the events that had happened a few minutes ago. You who rushes away from your locker, not even noticing the papers flying around on his feet. You who wrote him several love letters, despite knowing who he is. Frank Morrison, the high school student everyone hates and fears at the same time. He gets terrible grades and occasionally skips classes to cause problems in the small town. And you like, no, LOVE him? To say he felt charmed would underestimate the thousand butterflies which are swirling in his stomach. An unusual feeling he has never felt that way for anybody before. Maybe it's your mysterious aura that has drawn him in, like a moth to a flame.

"Do you know who the locker belongs to?" Frank points to your locker, interrupting the not-so-impressed Susie.

"Yeah, it belongs to one of my classmates. Why are you asking?" Susie, taken aback by his question, tilts her head to the side.

"What's their name? Do you know them?"

"Wha-? Why are you even asking!? Their name is (Y/N), I think." She starts walking towards her class with Frank following close behind her.

"Oh, just wanna know. Maybe recruit us 'nother member." Frank leans against the wall next to the door of Susie's classroom. She opens the door and walks into the chaos inside. Frank takes a slight peek inside, scanning all faces until his heart stops for a second. His eyes landed on yours. A smirk etched across his face, he shows his face more and leans against the doorframe. Your face reddens, and your shoulders raise slightly, taking your eyes off his had never been such a difficult task before.

The shrill school bell interrupted your awkward moment together, making Frank roll his eyes. He turns to walk away before shooting you a wink, numbing your mind for a second.

"Oh..." Susie follows Frank's sight and catches the wink. She giggles to herself until the teacher catches everyone's attention.

#dbd #dead by daylight #dbd x reader #dead by daylight x reader #frank legio x reader #frank morrison x reader #the legion frank x reader

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ilici · 3 years

Text

bfb.

Summary: You grew up with Dream and Drista your whole life, but as you got older you soon realized your feelings towards Dream. (You are 19 in this and the reader is female for the plot)

MINORS DNI

Warnings: oral fixation, dumbification, choking

Word Count: 2234

Sighing, Y/N looked at Drista then towards her tv, “Hey Drista?” Y/N asked, gaining Drista’s attention.”Yeah Y/N?” She asked, looking over at her best friend, “Does it bother you that your best friend is like 6 years older than you?” They asked, and Drista frowned once she heard the words. “No I like it a lot, I grew up with you and saw you as an older sister to me. You are always there for me, and you can even pick me up early from school so that’s a bonus.” Drista laughed as the last part left her mouth, which caused Y/N to softly punch her arm. “Can I ask you something and you not laugh at me?” Y/N asked, and Drista made a noise, shifting around so that they could face one another.

Y/N took in a deep breath, and looked at the younger girl, “I've known you and Dream all my life, but around the age of 17 I started to realize my feelings for Dream were a bit different.” She explained, stumbling over her words a bit scared of how Drista would react. “I know, I can tell by the way you look at him.” Drista explained, which made Y/N relax a bit, “Is it that obvious?” She asked worriedly, and Drista shrugged, “Maybe to me, but boys tend to be oblivious.” Once the words left her mouth, Drista gasped, “This is like that episode of Victorious!” She said excitedly, and Y/N furrowed her eyebrows throwing her a confused look. “You know the song BFB?”

Y/N slowly nodded her head, and Drista groaned, “You’re about as dumb as a pig.” She complained, “BFB means best friends brother.” She said, making exaggerated hand movements. “Oh yeah.” Y/N laughed, and softly pushed Drista, “I swear you are a nerd.” She said, causing the younger to giggle. Shaking her head, she got up, “You have school tomorrow, so you need to sleep. It’s two hours past your bedtime. Your mom would kill me for letting you stay awake this late.” Y/N said, and Drista pouted, “Fine.” She said giving up, “I’m going to go take a shower, and I’ll be back. I will try not to wake you if you are asleep by the time I get back.”

Nodding her head, Drista switched the movie over to Princess and the Frog, turning her lamp off on her bedside table. Y/N walked over and grabbed a pair of clothes from her closet as she practically lived there. Walking out, she mumbled a ‘goodnight’ to Drista as she turned around she slowly made her way to the bathroom. Putting her clothes in the bathroom, she walked downstairs into the kitchen to get a glass of water. “Thirsty?” A voice spoke up making Y/N yelp and jump. “Holy shit Dream. You scared me you dick head.” She mumbled shoving him, as he was leaning against the counter. “Why were you even standing in the dark you weirdo.” Y/N said, getting a glass cup, getting some water.

Dream watched her movements, and he shrugged to himself, “I have this kitchen memorized like the back of my hand. There’s no need to turn on the light.” He explained, and Y/N was now facing the sink, finishing up her glass of water. “I suppose that’s true.” She said nodding her head, pouring the rest of the remaining water out and put the glass in the sink. As she was about to turn around, she felt his body against her backside. Gulping she kept her eyes glued to the window where she could somewhat see their reflection. “Don’t you want somebody to love?” He whispered, moving Y/N hair over her shoulder as he wrapped his fingers around her throat.

Freezing, Y/N felt herself melt at the gesture, her eyes locked with Dream’s reflection on the window, the only light source being the light above the sink. “What makes you think that?” She asked, trying to keep her voice at a confident tone. Dream chuckled, leaving one hand around her throat, while his free hand reached up grabbing a handful of her hair pulling it back roughly so her head was leaning back. Wincing slightly, she bit her bottom lip not allowing herself to make a sound. “So you’re telling me..” He whispered, leaning down so his lips were right next to her ear.

“You don't want me to just fuck you senseless right here, right now?” He asked, and Y/N felt her entire face flush. “What are you saying right now?” She asked embarrassed, and Dream chuckled darkly, tightening his grip around her neck before he let go, and released the grip on her hair. “You’ll see with time princess.” He whispered ghosting his lips over her exposed neck, which caused a shiver to go down her spine. She finally let a whimper escape, “Dream..” She whispered and turned around to see he had left already. Soon it hit her like a brick, she blushed madly and her heart raced.

“What the fuck just happened..” She mumbled, steadying herself on the counter. Letting out a frustrated sigh, she moved her hand up to touch her neck, where his hand once was. Groaning, she shook her head, “Fuck you for messing with me.” She said, frustrated by confusion and touch deprivation. Walking up and into the bathroom, she started the shower and slowly stripped of her clothes. Getting inside the shower, her body relaxed as the heat consumed her. Letting out a content sigh, her eyes shot open when she heard someone enter the bathroom.

“Dri?” She asked, not daring to look out in case she would lock eyes with the green eyed boy she once saw in the kitchen. “Yeah?” The voice of Drista spoke up, letting out a sigh of relief she relaxed instantly, “What are you doing?” She asked and Drista cleared her throat, “I overheard Dream talking to who I assume was George and Sapnap. But he said that you and him had an interaction in the kitchen.” Drista said, and Y/N instantly tensed up at the reasoning. “What did you hear?” She asked, and Drista shrugged even though Y/N could not see her, “Something about you and him bumping into one another.” She said, and Y/N was thankful Dream didn’t go into detail with his friends.

“Well I am going to bed now.” Drista said, walking out, “Oh hey Dream.” Y/N heard as the door was being shut, Y/N couldn’t help but feel on edge. Her body was craving for Dream to touch her like that again, but she refused to believe it. Hearing the bathroom door open again, this time the culprit tried to make it as quiet as possible. “Having a nice shower princess?” His voice ricocheted off the walls of the shower, and into her ears. Shivering even though her body was under scalding hot water, she looked over his outline visible through the shower curtain. “What are you doing in here?” She asked, her voice wavering a bit from both excitement and fear.

“I also needed a shower, and I figured why not save water?” He said, alarmingly calm. As soon as the words registered through her brain, the shower curtain opened. This wasn’t the first time Dream and Y/N were close to having sex it almost happened when he was 20 and Y/N was 18. They had gotten into an argument which led to a heated makeout session, which they both agreed to forget. “Dream!” Y/N shrieked when she saw his body come into view. Her entire body froze, as her eyes just took in his bare body. “Like the view? It’s not the first time you’ve seen it. Or the second, or third.” He said, grabbing her hips pulling her towards him.

Yeah they’ve made out and saw each other naked multiple times, some accidental. But never did she think this would be happening, “I will not touch you, or anything without your permission princess.” He whispered into her ear, and Y/N felt her insides melt at his words. She wanted this, she has for quite a while. Dream has too. But he had patience, but he was no longer patient once he overheard their conversation about him earlier when he was on his way to the kitchen. “Please Dream.” Y/N spoke up, knocking Dream out of his trance, and a smirk found its way onto his features. “As you wish.”

Turning her around he shoved her onto the shower wall, and she leaned against it for support. “Your safe word is Dove.” He said slowly, as his hands trailed over her wet body. He moved over a bit, so the water could hit him as well. “I will then ask for your color. Green means keep going after a short break, and red means stop completely, okay?” He explained, and Y/N nodded her head. He slowly and teasingly trailed a hand up, and wrapped his hand back around her throat, “Will you be a good girl and keep quiet?” He said in her ear, and Y/N nodded her head, “Yes sir.” She said, and Dream growled at the name. “Good girl.” He said, and slowly he used his free hand to finger her so she could be prepared.

Moving the hand up, he tapped her lips as he inserted two fingers into her mouth, “Suck.” He ordered, and Y/N happily obliged since she loved to have things in her mouth she could chew or suck on. Sucking on his fingers, he slowly removed them from her mouth. Moving his hand back down, the other hand still wrapped around her throat. Slowly he inserted one finger, and she let out a quiet moan as she bit her lip. Slowly he started moving his finger in and out, loving the way her body reacted to it. She wasn’t a virgin, she had lost it when she was 17 with some random guy at a party. Picking up the pace, he slowly inserted another finger, and she bit her bottom lip to hold back the moan.

Picking up the pace of his fingers, he started to curl his fingers searching for the certain spot. Y/N accidentally let out a loud moan when he hit a spot that sent pleasure everywhere throughout her body. Dream smirked once he knew he had found it, “Quieter princess.” He warned, and she nodded her head leaning it against the wall. Thrusting his fingers quickly, making sure he repeatedly hit that spot, she found herself growing close to her climax. Dream noticed this by the way her legs started to shake, and he slowly pulled his fingers out. He licked them clean, and she whined at the loss of pleasure. Smirking, he grabbed his dick aligning it to her entrance.

Slowly he inserted the tip, and kept going until he bottomed out. Y/N winced from how big he was, “Fuck..” She whispered, in both pain and pleasure, “Please move.” She begged, and Dream knew she wouldn't be able to keep quiet by how she reacted when he entered her. Moving his free hand up, he forced his fingers into her mouth, instantly letting them go to the back of her throat. She gagged around his fingers, as he started pounding into her. Letting out choked moans on his fingers, she felt tears rolling down her face. It was mixed with the water from the shower head, on her left side and her tears. Dream picked up the pace, pulling her body back against him so he could see her fucked out face. Groaning once he saw the tears, and her crossed eyes, he moved his hand from her throat down to play with her clit.

Getting overwhelmed with the sensation she felt herself grow close again, Dream on the other hand didn’t care if she made noises now. He wanted to hear her, he quickly pulled his fingers out of her mouth and held her steady by her hip with his other hand. Y/N felt herself cum on his dick, and Dream felt her clench around him making him hiss at the feeling. He kept pounding into her, making her grow overstimulated. Screaming out, she grabbed his wrist that led to the hand that was toying with her clit. Digging her nails into his wrist, her eyes rolled back and she started babbling out incoherent words, “Is my princess fucked dumb? Is my dick so good that she can’t talk?” He cooed, feeling himself growing closer. Y/N nodded her head, moans and blabbering was the only thing she could let out. Pulling out quickly, he felt himself cum on her ass and some on her lower back. Groaning he leaned his head back and bit his bottom lip. The water was now getting cold, so he quickly cleaned her up and washed her hair, and body before he got out drying her off as she was clearly out of it.

Dressing her, he himself quickly got dressed carrying her to his room. Laying her down, he laid beside of her and wrapped an arm around her waist, kissing her neck softly. “Goodnight princess.” He whispered, and Y/N tiredly mumbled it back.

#mcyt #mcyt imagine #mcyt smut #mcyt fanfiction #dreamwastaken #dream x reader #dreamsmp #dreamwastaken smut

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from-a-reckless-writer · 3 years

Note

Supercorp - 49 please

Jess has been with her ever since the beginning of time. It might sound like an exaggeration but it really isn't.

Jess was already assigned with her ever since she was the Junior VP of LuthorCorp's Research division back when Lionel was still alive.

And when Lex inevitably drove the whole company into ruin and forced Lena into the limelight as CEO, Jess remained by her side.

So, really, Lena couldn't refuse Jess's resignation letter when it came, finally telling Lena that she wants to expand her horizons. Lena was beyond happy to hear that Jess was interested in going to grad school and finishing her Master's that's been put on hold. At the same time though, she also doesn't know how to let her go. It might sound a little selfish to keep Jess all to herself, but Lena's sure she's going to die the moment, Jess leaves her office.

But of course, Lena let her go, with a hefty final pay and a promise that Jess always has a place with L-Corp.

So truthfully, she doesn't have a problem with Jess leaving, what she does have a problem with, though, is Jess's replacement.

Jess made sure to choose the best of the best from L-Corp's array of eager interns.

Which means Lena has to work with the smartest, kindest, most fucking beautiful intern to ever grace her office.

How inconvenient.

"I'm her boss," she snipes at Sam, for the nth time that night. It's been 6 months of this. Of Kara coming into her office and making Lena's shitty day, less shitty. Of Kara being the most caring person in Lena's life. Of Kara somehow making Lena eat three full meals a day and getting her to sleep on time. Of Kara making her fall and fall, deeper and deeper.

Of Lena trying hard to suppress every little feeling she has when it comes to Kara by whining about it to her friends.

It's been 6 months of this and now it's Christmas and Kara is looking more and more tempting as the evening passes.

"Right, because that hasn't happened before." Sam rolls her eyes. "I haven't seen you look at another woman this way ever, Lena."

"Again," Lena stresses. "I'm her boss. As in, she works for me. She answers calls for me and she arranged this goddamn Christmas party."

"Then fire her," Andrea deadpans, taking a sip from her champagne flute, arm casually wrapped around Sam.

"Mm. I second that idea." Of course, they're ganging up on her. That's their favorite past time--making Lena's love life a source of entertainment.

"Remind me why I'm even talking to the both of you?"

"Because, you've fallen in love for the first time in your life and you don't know what to do because you're emotionally constipated due to family issues and it's Christmas and Kara's standing right there and I'm pretty sure you want to pull her under the mistletoe and we're the only ones who can help," Sam impressively lets out all in one breath.

"I hate you."

"We love you too, Lena," Andrea automatically responds. "Now, go tell Kara she's now unemployed because you want to rail her for the rest of the night."

"You can do it, sweetie. We believe in you." Sam raises her glass in solidarity.

"The both of you should be ashamed of yourselves." Lena glares at the both of them. "Christ, railing..." she murmurs under her breath at the same time she looks up from her drink and into Kara's eyes across the ballroom floor. Kara gives her a small wave, picks up her champagne float as if to toast, Lena raises her drink in turn.

Kara smiles. Lena flushes.

She's going to blame it on the alcohol when Andrea starts to ask.

Kara is on the other side of the ballroom floor, chatting up one of Lena's tech and bioinformatics staff, Wilfred? Winslow?

Whatever his name is, but Kara doesn't seem to be paying any attention, Lena keeps catching her looking at where she is every 5 seconds.

"Lena, for the love of God, stop with the eye-fucking already. If you aren't going to woman up, I'm gonna get Kara over here myself."

Lena knows Sam isn't kidding with her threat. Sam raises her brow in that 'Well, what are you going to do about it?' way that she always does.

"Fire her and get it over with. I heard Cat Grant is hiring."

"Oh my god, you two! Stop it already, I am not going to fire her, and I am not going to break moral code and for the love of God, I DON'T WANT TO RAIL KARA DANVERS, OKAY?!"

She breathes in deep, her heart pounding from her little outburst. Sam's eyes is twice in size and Andrea's lips bitten in an attempt to hold everything in, her left brow twitching.

"What?" Lena grits. "Why are you looking at me like-"

"Ms. Luthor." Somebody taps her on the shoulder and Lena is confronted with the reason why her friends are completely silent all of a sudden.

"Kara," she whispers in horror.

"Uhm." Kara fidgets with the her dress. "I was wondering if I could take a moment of your time? I want to talk with you about something."

Lena clenches and unclenches her fist and tries to rein it in. Fuck, did Kara hear?

"Is it urgent?"

"Uhm yes, sort of," Kara mumbles. And then more nervously, "I promise, it'll be quick!"

"Alright," Lena acquiesces, heart running a mile a minute. She follows Kara and doesn't dare glance back at Sam and Andrea. She doesn't really want to hear what they have to say about the whole turn of events.

Kara leads them out into the empty balcony, National City gleaming brighter than ever before them.

The jazz notes of the holiday serenade from the ballroom fades out and becomes replaced with the soft quiet of the falling snow instead.

"What did you want to talk about, Kara?" Lena dares to ask, goosebumps running along her arm at the cold.

"I, uhm promise me you won't be angry after I tell you?" Kara says, almost a whisper, a plea.

What could be so bad that Kara looks so afraid at the moment?

"I promise, Kara." The words waiting on the tip of her tongue. Eager to give Kara whatever she needs.

"Okay, okay here it goes, okay," Kara mutters under her breath, hands wringing nervously, clearly itching to fiddle with her glasses.

"I want to leave L-Corp."

Lena's heart plummets.

"What?"

Kara steps forward, looks down at the ground and then back to her.

"I- I want to resign. I want to leave L-Corp. I've been thinking about it for a few months now, and I've finally made up my mind. I wanted you to know in advance. I'll be passing a formal letter to HR in January."

Kara's eyes are so blue under the moonlight and her words are chasing each other around in Lena's head. Kara wants to leave. Kara has been thinking about leaving for months.

And here Lena was, expecting her to stick around for forever.

"Why? I thought you were happy at L-Corp? What could possibly be the reason for you to want to leave?"

I thought you were happy with me?

Lena can't help it, the question comes out of her lips without her permission and she can't take it back.

She thought Kara was happy spending time with her, working with her.

But what Kara says next turns Lena's entire world upside down in a heartbeat.

"You," Kara answers.

Everything slows. Time stops and all Lena can see is Kara and only Kara.

"I want to leave. I need to leave. Because of you, Lena. I'm in love with you, Lena."

Lena's first thought is, Fucking hell Andrea and Sam are gonna insufferable after this. Her second being, KARA'S IN LOVE WITH ME, KARA'S IN LOVE WITH ME, KARA'S IN LOVE WI-

"I'm in love with you. And I think you feel something for me too," Kara utters softly.

"And, I also know how much you value L-Corp and how everybody perceives you and I don't want to start something between us, if it would cost you more than it would cost me," Kara tells her reverently, finally closing the gap and taking Lena's shaking hands into hers.

"Oh, God, Kara, I love you too. God, this is crazy, I love you too. I'm so in love with you."

Lena doesn't even feel the cold, all she feels is this crazy, dizzying rush of happiness at finally being able to say what she's been feeling. And to hear it said back to her.

God, is this what it feels like?

Kara is smiling so wide and it takes a moment for Lena to realize that she is, too. She's smiling so hard her cheeks are hurting.

"I really want to kiss you now."

"I really want you to kiss me now, too, Ka-"

She doesn't even get to finish.

Kara presses their lips together and Lena tastes the cinnamon of Kara's lip gloss, because of course, she's the kind of girl who would wear cinnamon chapstick for Christmas.

They're both smiling too hard to kiss properly for the first time.

Lena breaks away for a moment, only to kiss her again for the second time. This time, deeper, more passionate. 6 months of pent-up emotions and want and love.

"To be clear, you love me, you're not going to fire me and you don't want to rail me??"

"I am never going to let Andrea and Sam near you ever again."

prompts list here

#hey hey hey look a christmas themed prompt fill in the middle of summer #look i just miss sam #and i really like the idea of rojarias #and also theyre the lena luthor protection squad so i have to write about them #and also im gonna write the other prompts later im gonna go eat dinner first #the reckless writer writes #prompt fills #supercorp #rcklss writes

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astudyinfreewill · 3 years

Text

alright so. 14x10 ‘nihilism’. written by yockey and directed by amanda tapping so i already knew i was in for a treat but holy shit.

it’s 2am and i am processing so this is neither exhaustive nor polished but uh. so michael traps dean inside his head and we get to see the fantasy he’s stuck in. hold that thought.

let me just jump ahead to sam and cas getting inside dean’s head for a second. let me feel some type of way about cas noting - in a somewhat aghast way - the sheer amount of trauma in dean’s brain. like!!! you’d think cas knew, having pulled dean out of hell and everything, BUT. cas was very much just castiel then. an angel, more empathetic than most, with too much heart definitely, enough heart to start feeling for dean - but he didn’t know dean. he wasn’t in love with dean yet, or at least he didn’t feel that love in a human way. imagine cas now, with all the feelings and trappings of humanity, having to come to grips with the fact that dean’s mind holds that much horror and pain inside it. that’s a whole other level of heart-wrenching. like-- he knew dean had suffered but now he knows dean has suffered. it hits different. I have to wade through all of Dean's most terrible memories, he says, filled with dread.

(and then, of course, we get sam’s tragicomic statement that - well duh, of course michael wouldn’t keep dean HERE, dean thrives on trauma!!! because it’s all he’s ever known!!! like. the delivery is funny but the statement is deeply deeply heartbreaking).

so. they have to head towards contentment. and what does dean’s contentment look like?

a bar. not a bar to get wasted in but a bar that he owns. not a fancy bar, either, it’s kind of empty and dingy, because this is definitely not dean at his happiest; either the amount of stress and self-loathing he carries makes it impossible for him to envision true happiness even in his mind, or michael simply didn’t want him to be too content bc he’s a bitch like that. but still, the bar is his and he refuses to sell it. (I've never had anything this nice, he says, breaking my damn heart in the process). nice or not, the bar, ultimately, most importantly, is a place of his own, where he can be safe and provide shelter and hospitality to other people. a place where he’s not hunting (though he will still fight monsters if he has to).

i repeat: HUNTING IS NOT PART OF DEAN’S CONTENTMENT. he will stay at the bar, and he will fight if necessary, and fight damn well, because he’s good at it. but mostly he will wait for his family to come home, and he will feed them and pour them drinks and shelter them from the pouring rain. do you get that??? do you understand how insane it makes me??? dean’s source of contentment being the obtaining of a home that he’s been yearning for since he was four and had it ripped from under him??? dean AS THE HOME, as the nurturer and carer and protector of the people he loves??? and like!!! a part of that contentment is specifically waiting FOR the people he loves to come back to him - to come home to him, because he wants to be somebody’s home!!!! (that he can’t really envision it happening until sam and cas crash into his mind is its own different brand of tragedy but i digress).

and of course, there’s pamela. pamela who’s been a fantasy before, but never an attainable one - pamela of the ‘jesse forever’ tattoo, pamela who teases threesomes and immediately negates them by being intentionally too outrageous and including sam in the suggestion. pamela is a safe and reassuring fantasy because dean can’t get her: because she’s taken or because she’s too much for him or because she’s dead or because she’s... plainly put, not what dean really wants. which, deep down? he KNOWS.

DEAN How come you always have a boyfriend?

PAMELA How come you only want what you can't have?

DEAN Whoa.

PAMELA Besides, you don't want me. You just like to flirt. I'm a psychic, so I kinda know.

DEAN All right.

isn’t that just. unhinged???? dean acknowledges that he wants what he can’t have. and he’s not talking about pamela, of course he’s not talking about pamela, a minor character who died all the way back in season 5. what he wants is the person he’s waiting for at the bar -- and who yet never seems to arrive (the person who’s always leaving, always leaving, and not nearly coming back enough). what he wants is the person that he thinks he can never have, because surely angels just don’t feel that way, right? when they try to care it breaks them apart. it can’t be. it can’t ever be, but he can wait for cas, in case he ever decides to come back, and he can pour him a drink when he does.

(this is even confirmed in a roundabout way by michael, because we know this michael blatantly lies: e.g. he tells sam dean was at his happiest when sam left him alone with their (neglectful, abusive) dad, when we know that dean was miserable. and he also tells cas dean only tolerates him out of obligation/gratefulness, so... pretty safe to say dean feels the opposite, and that in fact he very much wants cas for himself.)

my two main takeaways here are: one, that dean’s contentment - not even his perfect dream, not even his happy ending, but the baseline for dean’s contentment - depends on having a home of his own, quitting hunting, caring for his friends and the people he loves. so, you know, well fucking done on delivering that with the finale.

and two, that even in his own head, even when trapped in a fantasy that is literally trying to keep him from yearning for the outside world, dean is still just hoping for the bare minimum for himself, still always waiting for the people he loves to come back to him and stay, and he can’t even conceive of having what he truly wants -- what he’s waiting for, always endlessly and inevitably waiting for -- because the one thing he wants, it’s something (he thinks) he can’t have. sound familiar?

#spn #dean winchester #dean studies #destiel #deancas #supernatural #spn watch #spn meta #14x10 #YOCKEYNATURAL YALL!!! YOCKEY FUCKING NATURAL #anyway i need to sleep like an hour ago hopefully this will make sense in the morning #ambra.txt #long post #ish #mp

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giorno-plays-piano · 3 years

Text

Vicious

Part VII

Pairing: Steve x reader, Bucky x reader, Thor x reader, Loki x reader, Peter x reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, stalking, possessiveness, theft, mention of blackmail, all characters are adults.

Words: 1864.

Summary: Transferring to Stark Academy that has only allowed to take in female students last semester, you realize you are just one of three young women among hundreds of students. Your things are constantly being stolen, and soon you begin fearing for your safety.

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

________

You wanted to slap yourself. What the hell was wrong with you today? Why did you tell Peter that?!

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...” Completely baffled with you behavior, you were deeply ashamed, unable to look the guy in the eyes and wanting nothing but fall into the earth.

“Ah, I got it. It’s Steve, isn’t it?” All of a sudden, Peter let out an irritated sigh, rolling his eyes skywards and rubbing his neck. “Of course, who else would say such nonsense. Blackmail, really? Funny he didn’t call me a stalker or anything.”

“Listen, I didn’t mean it, I’m really-”

“It’s ok.” He closed the locker, slamming its door loudly and making you jump. “It’s not your fault. If I heard that from somebody, I’d be scared too.”

He spent a couple of seconds staring into the wall until he rubbed his neck again tiredly and huffed. It took him less than a minute to regain his composure, and you heard him murmuring, “What a freak.”

He didn't return to the corridor, heading to the sports hall for his PE class, instead moving to the bench in the locker room and motioning you to sit. Feeling terribly awkward, you hoped he wasn't going to do anything out of anger, even though he had every right to be upset at your stupid behavior.

"About what he said," Peter took a deep breath, "it's nothing like that. I don't dig up some nasty stuff in the web to blackmail people. I've never done it. The reason why Mr. I-am-better-than-you said that is because I've made him take me into his little bodyguard group when I heard him talking to Loki. You're nice, and I wanted to help. Of course, Steve started acting like I was some creep, so he refused, and I had to remind him that, technically, he had to report your issue to the administration, not play a hero. I said that if I go and tell the whole story to the dean, Steve's gonna be in trouble because he knew who thieves were and didn't report them."

It was a loud off your mind. Goodness. Rogers called this a blackmail? Really? Just because Peter pushed Steve into taking him into their group?

You were less and less sure Rogers was sane. You definitely had to be careful around him.

"I can't believe he called it a blackmail." You admitted quietly, and the guy sent you a tired smile. "Peter, I'm so, so sorry. It was so stupid of me."

"Nah, don't worry. I'd freak out too if I didn't know the whole story."

You knew your apologies weren't enough, but you hoped Peter didn't take it to heart - if you can take such an accusation easily, that is. Shit, shit, shit, why did you believe everything these guys were saying? You didn't even know them in the first place! Why on Earth did you go asking them their opinions on others if all of them were biased, and every guy could twist the truth the way he liked? You shouldn't have let their words affect you that much.

"Whatever. At least now you know what Rogers is like." Peter sent you a grim smile and got up, picking his bright yellow sackpack from the floor. "Shit, I gotta go if I don't wanna be late. Let's meet in a library later, alright?"

"O-of course." You hurriedly stood up and left the lockers room after him, turning to the library: your Lit class was cancelled, so you decided to go study right away. At this time, the library was usually full, and you felt safe there.

Your thoughts were all about the guys again even when you were staring at your laptop, trying to focus on Excel numbers. Why did you feel like the atmosphere between them was so dense? If they were at such terms with each other, why did they group together to help you? What, because all of them loved you so much? It was ridiculous. There was something else to it, and you didn't know. You had a feeling no one was going to tell you the truth until you figured it all out by yourself.

Weird. It was all so weird. Steve's plan, their behavior, the relationships between them, and your nagging feeling they all were hiding something. Was it them who were actually following you?

The thought scared you to the point you started shivering. Oh shit.

"Hi there," the guy appeared behind your back so suddenly you almost jumped, looking at him wide-eyed, "sorry, did I startle you?"

"H-hi Jake! No, it's ok, I was just... studying." Both of you were talking in hushed voices, knowing the librarian would kick you out immediately if she heard some noise. "How are you?"

"I'm great, how're you?" You could hear concern in his voice: he was one of Thor's friends you met yesterday, and although you spoke briefly, Thor definitely told him more about you. "You look a bit worried."

"Oh, it's Math, I didn't really understand the topic, and we're having an exam on Monday... guess I'll be studying the whole weekend." You gave him your best smile to reassure you were totally ok, and the guy relaxed a little, smiling at you, too.

"I'm sure you'll pass. Thor said you're very smart."

What, he said that to all of them? Was he simply boasting about his girlfriend to his friends or was there something more to it?

"You're too kind. Thank you."

His smile grew wider, and he landed on the next seat to yours, resting his hands on the table. Apparently, there was something he wanted to talk to you about, and you grew uneasy.

"Listen, about these incidents... Thor told us all about it, so if you see any freaks following you around, you can message any of us, and we'll come right away." Looking at his serious expression, his bushy brows furrowed, you hoped he eas being sincere with you: you had enough with people you could no longer trust. "And also... that kid, if he's giving you troubles or anything, just let me know, and I'll tell him to keep his hands to himself"

Oh, he was talking about Peter, wasn't he? He had probably seen that silly photo. Wow, you though, Peter was totally right about Instagram: it was the best news source in the academy.

Thanking him for his concern, you laughed a little, convincing him there was nothing serious except for the theft and promising to tell him if anything weird would be going on. While it should have made you feel safer, in fact, you only grew more frustrated with this situation. You wanted to forget about these freaks and just spend you day like any normal student would, but everywhere you went people were staring at you as if you had a horn; one boyfriend or the other was always close to protect you from some unknown danger, and although you believed they tried to help, you hated the feeling they were hiding something from you. Why did you have to be going through all this? Wasn't it really better to drop off school, spend a year working and then apply to a better place?

Thinking of the faces your parents would make once you returned home, you realized it wasn't. This school with all those creeps wasn't worse than home that never felt like a safe place you wanted to come back to. Besides, all money you saved up until now were only good for buying food and things like that: you'd never afford to rent a decent place unless you found a well-paid job. It meant staying with your parents, and it wouldn't be much better than here, just different. If you wanted to drop off, you had to find a good place to stay.

Well, you could at least try, right?

When Peter met you in the library, the two of you no longer talked about anything important, simply studying together to prepare for the exams next week. It didn't feel off: from time to time you met his gaze, and the both of you smiled. You were thankful he didn’t talk about Steve or other guys or that weirdo in the lockers room.

Once you returned home, you went straight to bed, completely exhausted. Luckily, you did much more than yesterday, so you could rest now, but then you thought of Thor kissing you and bit down the pillow, angry at yourself. Why did you keep thinking of him right now?

______________

When you woke up the next morning, you felt like something was off: your body ached, your throat hurt, and your headache was only making it worse. Dammit, you caught a cold, probably. And that’s when it was finally the day to meet Steve, the guy you thought was a mastermind behind all these manipulations that were making you sick to the core.

Anyway, it’s not like a mere cold would prevent you from doing everything you had planned. You left your bed and went to the bathroom, moving the dresser before again.

Honestly, it felt terrible. It was definitely because of that flimsy dress you wore to school yesterday when the weather was becoming chilly. Argh. Watching your puffy eyes and swollen nose, you sneezed. Today you had to apply way more makeup to look decently.

Steve showed up earlier than either Thor or Peter: you had to skip your breakfast, hoping to buy something cheap in the cafeteria.

“Good morning.” He said with his everyday polite expression that soon shifted into a concerned one. “Are you alright?”

What, was it that bad? You did your absolute best to apply enough makeup and do your hair. Did you still look so sick?

“Good morning. Yes, I’m ok, just feeling a little sleepy.” You yawned on purpose, covering your mouth with your hand, and Steve’s face softened.

“Did you study all night?”

“Yep, exams are driving me a little crazy.”

“I understand. I also stayed late last night.”

Of course, the student council president studying all days long to be number one student in the academy. If you didn’t know of his twisted nature, you’d think he was the most typical nerd.

You spent most of the time either in silence or talking about studies, the academy, and everything related to it. Steve acted like a gentleman and a scholar, albeit a little too demonstratively. Walking with you as if he were a king of the place, he constantly replied to greetings of others, waved to his acquaintances and smiled. You felt so off you wanted to find Loki and walk with him: unlike Steve, he was considered unpleasant by the prevailing majority of students.

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright?” America golden boy asked you for the last time, and you forced yourself to smile.

“Of course. Thanks for coming, see you later, Steve.”

As he finally left you in peace, you almost fell down into your chair, your fever only getting worse despite the fact you took some painkillers. It was going to be a long day.

_________

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