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famousfilmsfan · 1 year

Text

(This takes place in my Zombie Au)

TW: Mentions of trauma, death and handling of firearms

Bryan and Gregory we're in Freddy Land

Bryan: Now Gregory you’re ten years old. Now i’m gonna teach you something my surrogate father taught me when I was ten.

Gregory: What was that?

Bryan: *Pulls a pistol out of a hidden holster* how to fire a gun.

Gregory: Wow! Aren't I too young?

Bryan: You’re never too young, besides i’m a licensed trainer I can teach anybody.

Bryan set up some bottles on a railing near the hotel.

Bryan: Now, *puts a pair of headphones on gregory* Theae will protect your ears got it?

Gregory: won't you need some?

Bryan: Nah i’ve been surrounded by gunfire, my ears ring all the time i’m basically immune at this point. Now.

Bryan gives Gregory the weapon and stands behind him

Bryan: Relax your arms, and aim just slightly below where you want to hit.

Gregory: Then I pull the trigger right?

Bryan: No, no, you gently squeeze it. Now *holds his shoulders firmly* You might feel some recoil, so shift your right foot in front of you and turn it slightly to keep your balance.

Bryan: and....now!

Gregory shoots, and the bottle shatters

Gregory: *Super proud* I did it!

Bryan: Yeah you did. Now, aim for the one on the fountain, a little range this time.

They repeat the process but Gregory doesn't get the bottle he shoots the fountain.

Gregory: Oh no i’m so sorry!

Bryan: It’s fine, Gregory; it’s just a mistake, aim a little higher.

Gregory does so and makes it yet again.

Bryan: There we go, now I think that’s enough for today, how about we try something else?

Gregory: Like what?

Bryan and Gregory are both in a hotel room. There's a large amount of objects laying on the bed.

Bryan: Now i’m gonna teach you how you to pack a bugout bag. Now since your backpack is quite small you’ll have less things to fit in it. So what do you grab?

Gregory: Hmm. The...first aid kit, the can opener, swiss army knife, and the flashlight.

Bryan: Good, but then you’ll have little room for clothes, so it’s always good to carry different clothing on yourself, wrap a jacket around your waist when your hot and no matter the weather wear jeans, you’ll be a bit uncomfortable but that’s better then death.

Gregory: Uh..dad? I'm not complaining but why are you teaching me these things?

Bryan: Well, I just think you should be taught these things instead of learning the hard way if an outbreak happens again.

Gregory: An outbreak? What do you mean?

Bryan: Well, I think you’re old enough to know, but if you want me to stop just say so okay?

Gregory sits cross legged on the bed.

Bryan: When I was around your age, the city I lived in Elkridge was hit by a zombie outbreak.

Gregory: Zombies? I thought those weren't real.

Bryan: Oh they were real alright. And real scary...and I was your age, my parents went on a trip over spring break and left me with my babysitter Michael, neither of us knew what was going on at first, nobody did. We tried to escape the city but his car broke down. We had to walk but we got confronted with a horde...luckily these nice people inside a department store let us in.

Gregory: That’s good.

Bryan: Yeah, the leader of the group Doug was super mean though, he screamed at the guy who let us in, said he meant that door should stay shut no matter what.

Doug: When I say that door stays shut no matter what I fucking mean it!

Andrew: He has a kid Doug.

Doug: so do I! You can't just endanger us to save these guys!

Boy: Dad calm down please.

Doug: Jon please stay out of this.

Younger Bryan: *Tugs on Micheal's sleeve*

Micheal: What is it?

Younger Bryan: I..I need to pee. *shaking*

Micheal: In a moment, Bryan.

Doug: Stop ignoring me!

Micheal: shut up! You can't just yell at people who ignore you

Bryan: *Narrating* I really needed to go so I silently snuck off. Which I kinda regret.

Younger Bryan: Come on it’s gotta be somewhere. *Enters a room* Oh it’s a closet...um

There was a Zombified Janitor standing there with his back facing Bryan.

Younger Bryan: Uh..sir?

The zombie turns around.

Younger Bryan; *Screams and runs out of the janitors closet

Micheal: Bryan!

Doug: Jesus!

Micheal ran over to Bryan and pulled the zombie away from him, kicking him into a cabinet. They proceeded to struggle.

Bryan: Then that’s when everything began to ring.

Younger Bryan: *Holds his ears* Ahh!

Micheal pushes the dead zombie off of him.

A man with glasses in a sweater vest is standing holding a revolver.

Man: Is he okay?

Micheal: *holding his ears* What?

Man: Oh right, sorry, you might need to see a doctor after all this.

Then the barricaded door to the building begins to budge, the gunshot attracted the nearby horde they were hiding from.

Doug: *Whispers* Everyone down.

Everyone hides behind the counter.

Younger Bryan: *Shaking* Mikey i’m scared.

Micheal: *Holding him close* So am I bud.

Then the sound of a siren going by filled the room.

Man with a gun: Is that the police?

Younger Jon: Thanks for whoever it is.

The zombies at the door left well, the majority of them.

Doug: Ugh! We almost died because of this bastard and his itchy trigger finger! That was so stupid! You could have killed us! You-

Man with a gun: Shut up, Doug, for once.

Doug: *Gasps offended*

Man: I‘ve known you for over an hour and i’m super annoyed.

Doug: Ugh! Whatever! *Storms off and sulks in the corner*

Micheal: Thank you so much uh..

Sebastian; Call me Sebastian, I’m a reporter for CNN.

Micheal: Cool, didn't know that this thing was on the news.

Sebastian: It kind of was, but the crew abandoned me and took the van. Bastards.

Younger Bryan: Language.

Sebastian: Sorry kid.

Micheal: Bryan why don't you go talk to that Jon kid, and I think there's another kid in here.

Younger Bryan: Okay. *walks off*

Gregory: That was pretty cool, then what happened?

Bryan: I uh...don’t wanna talk about it right now.

Gregory: Oh..well can I ask something?

Bryan: What?

Gregory: Did you wet your pants when you saw the zombie?

Bryan: *Embarrassed* Uh...I don't know.

#fnaf 6 #thefamousfilms #fnaf gregory #craftingdead

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anotherhawk · 3 years

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Mechtober day 20 - favourite mechanism

It was a cold night in space - which was to say a normal day in space with the lights turned to night mode - and the crew was gathered in the rec room, drinking whisky around the fire pit Ashes had built.

"We should do icebreakers," Ivy exclaimed brightly, her face flushed, her bottle dry.

Brian, sitting so close to the fire that he was too hot for flesh to touch, smiled bemused. "We've known each other for millenia, Ivy, I think we're well past that."

She pointed an unsteady finger at him. "I had a job on the last planet we visited. And we did icebreakers and I learned things about my coworkers I'd never have wondered about. I need more data, Brian. I crave it."

"I Think It Sounds Like Jolly Good Fun," the Toy Soldier chimed in.

Tim, cleaning his gun on the sofa, looked up. "Do you actually know what an icebreaker is?"

"No! But I'm Very Happy To Be Involved!"

"It's a sea ship that let's you do research in polar regions, isn't it?" Raphaella asked, her wings curled around Marius who might have been asleep.

"No, it's a getting to know you exercise where you all answer a question and discuss it," Ivy explained with enthusiastic gestures that nearly hit Nastya in the face. "When I did it before we did 'what superpower would you have' and that sort of thing."

"Uh, we all have superpowers,"Ashes pointed out, poking the fire lazily. "Immortality, yeah?"

Ivy had found another bottle. "We don't need to do that question, we can come up with another one. Like…"

"How do you want to die?" Jonny was draped like a cat over the back of the sofa.

"Stop being an edgy fucker." Nastya threw a bottle at him. He caught it and drank it and his smile gleamed.

"I suppose it has to be better than another round of Knife Monopoly. Very well, Ivy. Which of our little crews secrets are you dying to uncover?"

"How about…" Ivy was leaning back, an expression of abject concentration on her face. Brian stuck an arm out to prevent her from tipping over, and she cuddled into it happily. "Oh! I know! How about - what's your favourite mechanism?"

Nasty raised an eyebrow. " I believe that most of us prefer to be referred to as a 'who' rather than a 'what'."

"I Don't!" the Toy Soldier spoke up happily.

She patted its knee. "I know. That is why I said 'most'."

"Nonono, that's not what I meant. What I meant was...if you had to have someone else's mechanism, whose would you choose? That's all."

"Hmmm, alright." Brian looked around the room. "I think…I'd go with the Toy Soldier. I'm not sure I could go back to being squishy…but wood is so much warmer than metal." In spite of the fire he shivered a little. Jonny wriggled a little to dislodge the blanket that was draped over the sofa back and draped it over Brian instead. He held it tightly and shot Jonny a grateful smile. Jonny flipped him off.

"Thank you, Old Chap! I Believe If I Was Real And Could Want Things I Would Want Wings Like Raphaella. It Must Be Jolly Good Fun To Fly."

"It is," Raphaella said smugly. "Let's see...if I couldn't have my wings I think I would want Ivy's brain. Being able to remember everything would be incredibly useful."

Ivy who had got hold of yet another bottle cackled as she looked across at Ashes. "Not as useful as being able to hold your breath for half an hour. That would really improve my social life." She elbowed first Brian then Raphaella meaningfully.

"What?" Jonny raised his head, brow creased. "What does that mean?"

Tim reached back and patted his foot. "If we tell you you'll just make that face again."

"How about you, sleepyhead?" Raphaella asked, shaking Marius' shoulder.

"Hmmmph?" he looked up at her.

"If you had someone else's mechanism, whose would you like?"

"Tim's eyes," he said, without so moment's hesitation. "It'd be good not to have to wear glasses." He rolled over, snuggling down further into Raphaella's lap and started snoring.

Bewildered, Brian looked found at the others. "But he doesn't wear glasses. He doesn't, right?"

"Perhaps he wears a monocle beneath his eyepatch," Jonny suggested, stretching. "Anyway, I think I'd choose Nastya's mechanism. I've always thought her blood is beautiful when it's spilt."

Nastya threw a cushion at him. "Stop being edgy. Anyway, you'd hate it. You'd be whining about being cold before you could say 'mass murder'."

He threw the cushion back. "Alright, what's your answer. And you can't say me."

"Believe me, I would never. No, I think perhaps...Marius. His hand is very steady. I envy that sometimes."

"Yeah," Ashes nodded. "Combine that with my lung capacity and you'd really have a good time, right Ivy?"

Ivy cackled.

Jonny, who'd suddenly caught on, made that face.

"Anyway," Ashes went on. "Reckon I'm going to say Brian." They smiled. "I envy your melting point."

"Trust me, its a bitch hammering myself back into shape."

"Worth it though, yeah? Huh. Looks like everyone has one vote except Jonny."

Jonny rolled onto his back, wobbling precariously. "Fuck you, Ashes, I'm a prototype."

They snorted. "You're a proof of concept at best. Anyway. Anyone can win, except Jonny."

"Again. Fuck. You."

Brian raised a hand. "I don't think anyone is supposed to win an icebreaker."

Unsurprisingly they ignored him. "Tim, you're the only one still to go. The deciding vote."

"Fine," Tim said, putting his gun down with a self-satisfied smirk. "I vote for me."

Most of them groaned. Marius snored. The Toy Soldier groaned too but a moment behind everyone else.

"You can't do that," Ivy said, waving her empty bottle threateningly. "That's against the rules."

Tim struck a pose. "I'm a pirate, I don't care about rules."

The silence was heavy and judgmental.

"Fine," Tim sighed. "Raphaella. TS is right, flying would be pretty good."

"Yes!" Raphaella began to crow. "I am the favourite - "

" - He's lying." Brian's voice rang with the weight of prophecy."

Tim turned bright red and he mumbled something.

"What was that?"

"Fine!" he spat. "It's Jonny, okay!"

There was a loud crash as Jonny fell off his perch.

"What?" His head popped up from behind the sofa. "Why, for fucks sake?"

Still flushed and furious, Tim glared at the ceiling. "It's the noise, okay? The ticking. I've always liked it. Makes me feel safe."

"Awwww," Jonny crooned. "You like -"

Tim shot him in the head.

"Well." Brian looked at Ivy. "Do you feel like the ice has been broken?"

She nodded happily. "I have so much data."

#mechtober #mechtober the unofficial #mechtober 2021 #my writing #the mechanisms #ivy alexandria #raphaella la cognizi #drumbot brian #jonny d'ville #nastya rasputina #the toy soldier #ashes o’reilly #gunpowder tim #marius von raum #the mechs

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wildlittlefoxsworld · 3 years

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Booker x Fem Reader Unlike your family you're not a soldier, more of the tech nerd of the group but that doesn't mean your some damsel in distress! It be good of your family to remember that so when you get kidnapped by people with a grudge, the kidnappers aren't the only one in for a surprise! Also if you could maybe add Angst 6,8 and Random 11,29,36 from the prompt list into the story if you can no pressure Thanks!❤

Badass wife | The Old Guard | Booker x Fem!Reader

Warnings: rape (but only mentioned), reader is kidnapped, torture (only mentioned), angst with happy ending

Words: 3k

Prompts:

-Angst

6. “Don’t you ever do this again.”

8. “Nobody’s seen you in days.”

-Random

11. “You’re insane.” “You love me.” “Not right now, I don’t.”

29. “How is my wife more badass than me?”

36. “That was kind of hot.”

Masterlist

***

If you were honest, you never enjoyed or loved being immortal. Of course, your immortal life had a lot of benefits. You couldn’t get ill, you were forever young and beautiful (that was what your husband said all the time to you), you spend the eternity with the love of your life. Sometimes it was very great, but sometimes you hated it. Your loved ones died a long time ago and you saw all the people in the world getting old, and you wanted that with your husband. Growing old, playing with your grandchildren, remembering a wonderful life.

But you had a family and currently you were the second youngest of your group. A few months ago Nile joined your little family and she was a former marine. Nile was a soldier, like the others in your group. You weren’t a soldier; you never learnt how to fight before you died for the first time. You were born in 1985 and during your time in school it emerged that you were a genius, primarily in mathematics and biology, but you focused your interest mainly in computers and other kind of this stuff later in high school. You made money with programming security and anti-virus software for companies to protect their data.

The first time you had died wasn’t something really special or spectacular, but you had died on smoke poisoning after a fire was breaking loose. You had woken up in the mortuary in the hospital and you couldn’t believe what happened. You had been disoriented and confused, so you just wrapped the white sheet tight around your body and searched for a way out of the hospital, because you wanted to go home. But you hadn’t come far… that was when you met Joe and Nicky for the time. Joe had explained you quickly that you had died, because of a fire in your house and they were there to help you. Nicky had wrapped you in his leather jacket and carried you in his arms, because your feet were bare.

That was six years ago in 2015 and you were now married with Booker for four years, these were the happiest in your life. Booker and you had become very close immediately and you couldn’t ask for a better man or husband. Booker was good with all the technical stuff, but you showed him skills that he only had dreamed off and fast you were responsible for finding persons or hacking any websites, searching for information and made sure that all the tech stuff ran smoothly. You felt sometimes like the fictional figure Ramsay from Fast and the Furious.

The time in your little cell gave you enough time to think about your life. You were here for three or four days now and your kidnappers thought you had find out information about their criminal business, and you had gave the info to the FBI, which was true, but the criminals couldn’t prove that. So they had water-boarded you already and now they were trying to starve you, so you would tell them what you did and what exactly you told the FBI.

You had a little worry that your family couldn’t find a way to rescue you or that it was very difficult to break in the building where they hold you hostage. You wore a little location transmitter under your skin, not only one, but four in different places. This was your first idea after you joined the team, because it would be easier for the team to track someone if one or more of you got kidnapped. You hoped the others already found you.

You were sitting on the floor with chains cuffed to your ankles and wrists when one of your kidnappers opened the door. It was Paul, the at least friendly one of the men, but he wasn’t very talkative. He checked the chains and brought a new bottle of water, but clearly no food. You didn’t eat something in the last seventy-six hours and you were very hungry, but you wouldn’t beg for food. You weren’t weak or easy to break, but your kidnappers didn’t know that and maybe your family members would rescue you in the next coming hours. You would definitely eat a cheeseburger and a large portion of fries.

“Do you want to tell me something, sweet girl?” Paul asked you with a gentle voice and little smile, but you only quirked an eyebrow and looked dumbfounded at him. Did he really think you would talk so fast? Andy had one rule; don’t say anything about their missions no matter what they would do to you. It was easy to follow the rule. Of course, you were afraid that they would water board you again. That wasn’t very pleasant, but they could do other things and you didn’t want to think about it.

“It’s very sad that you don’t want to talk with me and it’s impolite, too. You should show us more respect and answer a question when someone asked you.”

With two fingers he tipped your chin up, but you refused to look him in the eyes.

“No, I have nothing to tell you.”

“Well, that is bad… for you. My boss said that I have to make you talk and that I could do anything with you what I want. You have a pretty face, you know, I would really like to kiss your lips. But your body is more interesting, I ask myself what you hide under all your clothes. What do you think… can I take a look?"

That was the first time you gave him a glance and you were disgusted by the smug grin on his face.

“Fuck you,” you cursed and spit him in the face. Your spit landed on his cheek and mouth and brushed with his hand the wetness from his skin.

“Don’t you ever do this again!” he warned you with an angry voice and slapped you across the face, so that your head flew to the side. Your cheek burned where he hit you with the back of his hand, but you only turned your head slowly to him and grinned slightly. “That was your answer.”

His eyes were filled with rage now, because he had thought you were just a pretty little girl who he could threaten and you would sing like a bird. In the next moment he pressed his mouth hard on yours and his tongue tried to invade your mouth, but you bit him as hard as you can on the lip that you could taste blood in your mouth.

“You bit me, you little bitch. You will wish you were never born when I’m done with you.”

“I think it will be the opposite,” you considered and he shoot you a death glare. He came closer to you for a second time and you watched the blood dripping from his torn lip.

“You really want to be hurt, right?”

“No, but it seems you want to,” you replied and kicked your knee into his stomach. He gasped and fell backwards on his butt. You didn’t get much time to put your plan into action. The chains around your ankles were tied to the ground, but the ones around your wrists were connected with a chain. You stood up fast to your feet, ignored the dizzy feeling in your head from sitting so long and wrapped the chain around his neck. You pulled tight to cut his air supply and he tried helplessly to inhale the much needed air. You used all of your strength to strangle him, because he started trying to put his fingers between the chain and his throat. You noticed how strong he was and he scratched the floor with his feet helplessly. You couldn’t give up now, you know there would other men come, but maybe he had any keys that you could use to free yourself from the shackles.

You felt how slowly his strength faded, but it did and you collected all of your strengths to pull the chain tighter. You thought it took you minutes until he gave fighting, but it was only a few more seconds until he went limp and you counted to sixty in your head to be sure he didn’t fake it.

You searched in his pockets for any keys and you were successful. You thought why they were so stupid to give Paul the keys, but you thought that they weren’t smart enough to assume that you could have overpowered him. But you could only free yourself from the chains around your ankles, your hands were still in chains and you cursed that you couldn’t defend yourself properly. They weren’t very tight, you could have freed yourself earlier from them, but you would have to dislocate your thumb and break your hand in the process, and you weren’t brave enough to do it. Maybe you would find the keys somewhere else, you weren’t happy how the situation turned out, but at least you weren’t raped by Paul and you took Paul’s gun to your defense, then you walked on wobbly legs out of the little room. You didn’t know if there were any cameras, but you assumed they had a few, because you heart already shouting and appearing footsteps from down the long hallway where you stood now helplessly. You didn’t know where you were or how they got you here. Normally you weren’t active in any mission, you were the tech nerd and you stayed often with Nicky when he searched for the perfect position for his sniper rifle. But the last time you were with Nicky, he needed to change his position and you decided to stay in the first place he had chosen. You always had a gun with you and Andy had trained you, but you weren’t used to fight against so many men that had approached you after Nicky was gone. You were sure Nicky was crestfallen, because he left you there alone and Booker freaked out probably in the moment.

You thought about which way you should take and it would have been probably stupid if you would go into the direction from where the shouting was coming.

“She’s this way, boss,” you heard a familiar voice from behind you and your heart began to beat faster. That was your husband and the shouting was from the other criminal men, when the team had surprised them. You were glad that they finally came for your rescue and started running towards them.

“I hope they didn’t hurt her or I will them kill all over again,” Booker said maybe to Andy, because you didn’t know if all of them were in the building.

“She’s moving fast into our direction,” you heard him gasping shocked. In the next moment you ran around the corner and directly into his arms when he recognized you. Booker his arms around your body and you buried your face in the crook of his neck; you inhaled his familiar scent that helped you to calm your nerves slowly.

“Nobody’s seen you in days,” he joked chuckling in your ear and you laughed along with him. Of course, he had to make a stupid joke in the middle of a rescue mission. “I’m so happy that you are with me again.”

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Andy asked while she observed your surroundings. You looked up and she gave you short glance.

“I’m okay, but my hands are still chained.”

“How did you escape?” Booker asked and you quirked an eyebrow at him.

“The bad man wanted to touch me, so I killed him.”

“How?” – “I suffocated him with my chains.” I held my hands up in demonstration and Booker nodded in admiration.

“How is my wife more badass than me?” he said stunned.

“I trained her. Now let’s go!” Andy replied impatiently and let the direction to get out of the building.

The three of you ran down the hallway from Booker and Andy had come and you saw all the dead men on your way to the exit. You counted the corpse, twenty-four. You were still impressed, because you hadn’t often the opportunity to see the others in action. You saw a lot of flesh wounds that Andy had caused with her axe and the others had bullet holes from Booker’s guns. You hoped you would leave this building without meeting more of the men, but you didn’t come far when you heard again footsteps coming into your direction.

Andy gave a sign to slow down your tempo and you tightened your grip on the gun. You didn’t know how to describe your feelings in the moment, because you hated to be forced with the enemy. You felt tired, because you hadn’t eaten in days and you used the last bit of your strength to kill Paul. You were mostly pissed that they had you taken and they were still stupid enough to stand your in way to freedom. You were glad that you weren’t alone, because when you arrived in a great hall where they stored their stolen guns and drugs and all the other ware which they made profit with.

“I see you managed to escape. You killed one of my best man, you slut.” You knew the voice very well, it was Paul’s boss and he wasn’t happy about what you did to Paul. You saw his angry red face and the gun he pointed at you.

“I’m bulletproof… but please, don’t shoot me. I really hate the feeling of bullets in my body,” you answered him and he looked dumbfounded at you for a second.

“What are you talking about? Are you already gone mad? Well, I don’t care. You killed my man, so I’m going to kill your man, then the crazy axe lady and in the end I will torture until you beg me to stop and you will tell me your little secrets, and maybe then after every one of my men had their fun with you, I let you die.”

“You’re pathetic. You will pay for what you did to my wife!” Booker screamed and tried to push you behind, but you didn’t let him, you were too angry.

“You’re disgusting, Antonio. I make you a better offer: I will shoot your balls off and let you bleeding out like a pig, while you can watch how we kill the rest of your men and then we will blow up this whole building.”

You grinned like a mad woman when you aimed to shoot him between your legs and you didn’t hesitate a second until you heard the echo of your shooting. Antonio screamed in pain and felt down to the ground. You could shoot him again, but his men already began to fire in your direction and Booker pushed your forward, so you could get out of there finally. It took a lot of bullets and fighting until you were even near to the exit and then Joe came through the large door of the hall and shot two of them precisely in the head which left only two of them in the end.

A dark haired man fired a bullet into Booker’s leg and he winced in pain, but kept running. But you got so angry that they had the nerve to shoot your husband, when it was clearly that they were going to lose. You stopped and turned around to shoot them, but you were out of bullets.

“Fuck,” you cursed. That was definitely your favorite swear word. You used the handle of the gun to hit the dark haired man on the cheek and you heard the satisfying cracking of the bone. He tried to punch you, but you crouched down and tackled his body with yours, so you fell on the ground. The man had no time to react when you grabbed his head with both of your hands and smashed his head on the hard floor four times.

Andy killed the other one with her axe while Booker pushed off the dead of the dead man and out of the building, and that was when you inhaled fresh air for the first time in nearly eighty hours.

“Are they all dead now?” Joe asked still aiming the door, but you couldn’t answer him, because you were pulled in tight hug from Nicky.

“Thank god, Y/N. Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

“I’m perfectly fine, Nicky. Are you okay?”

Nicky watched me confused. “You’re asking me if I’m okay after you had been hold hostage for more than three days.”

“Ah yes, you seem very distressed.”

“You’re insane,” he mumbled when he kissed the top of my head.

“But you love me,” you replied laughing.

“Not right now, I don’t. You made me leave you alone there; I will never let you alone again.”

“Isn’t that my husband’s part?” You said still laughing when Booker hugged you from behind with his arms around your waist.

“He can share,” Nicky prompted snorting and both men cuddled you between them.

“Can we go home then?” Andy asked still impatient.

“Yes, boss,” all of you saluted and Andy rolled her eyes on you.

The ride home was silent. Joe and Andy switched on driving and you sat with Booker and Nicky in the backseat. Nicky was peacefully snoring beside you and you were cuddled up in Booker’s lap. When you got in the car earlier he had kissed all over of your face and then your mouth, he let you feel all his love for you.

“When Nicky had told us that they kidnapped you… I thought I would never see you again, but then I remembered how brilliant you were to get us the location transmitter last year and it was easy to find you, but to get in the building was so much harder. Please tell me, he didn’t get a chance to touch you? I can’t bear the thought that he might took you with force… I…”

“Shh, my heart. He didn’t touch me. I killed him before he got a chance. At least I was lucky enough to overpower him… don’t think about all the other possibilities how it could have ended. We are together again and that’s all what matters.”

“You’re right, sweetheart. I love you so much. Please, never leave me again.”

“How could I ever leave you, Sebastien. You are the love of my life and our life had only just begun. Wonderful five years, yes, but I hope it will be at least five hundred more.”

Booker chuckled at your words. “I will five thousand years at least, and more.”

Your lips found each other again and you know that as long as Booker was at your side, you would be never alone.

“I hope you can free me from this chains as soon as possible,” you told Joe and he only grinned at you.

“Don’t worry, we will make it when we’re at home. But are you sure you want to be free so soon? I can tell you that they’re perfectly for role games in the bedroom. Nicky and I had a lot with chains in the past.”

You looked back at Booker questionly. “Sounds like an interesting idea. You know when you hit and tackled the man down on the ground. That was kind of hot. It turned me really on.” The last words Booker whispered in your ear and you knew you wouldn’t leave the bed in the next days.

#the old guard #booker #booker le livre #sebastien le livre #booker x reader

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r3b3lgrrrrrrrl · 4 years

Text

A LunaTic and Her Gunn (Part 115 1Xs2) True Intentions

@crystalbaby12 @backoftheroomandnotbelonging @5sosfam1dlover @rosefilledhearts-blog

"What the hell was that all about?" Slim asks Colson once he's back on his feet.

"Talk to that snitchen' ass bitch over there." Colson glares at Pete who's still holding Kevin.

"Me?" Pete looks around himself and the alien with a snort. "If I was the snitch she'dve kicked me not you, BITCH." He deadpans.

"Can you two just shut the fuck up for a minute and tell me what started this shit?" Slim demands, becoming frustrated over their bickering.

"Dickhead told her I said something to him about her affair." Colson shoots a dirty look at Pete as he rubs his shin.

"Don't even try to put that on me... Cuz ya did. And obviously to other people too." Pete shoots back, cocking his chin over at Slim and his knowledge instead of shock.

"You better watch your mouth, Davidson." Colson growls.

"Ohhh nooo!! You gonna kick my ass?" He mocks by waving his free hand in fake fear. "I'm fucking outta here. See ya, Slim." They exchange nods as he turns on his heel to walk up the slanted road.

"You and your alien better stay the FUCK away from her!" Colson shouts from behind him.

"YOU SHOULD DO MORE STAND UP BECAUSE YOU'RE FUCKING HILARIOUS!!" Pete cackles the rest of the way up the slight hill with Kevin in tow.

"STOP." Slim puts his hand against Colson's chest firmly before he can react. "You know you don't wanna fucking fight Pete... Tell me what's goin' on." He advises his old friend as he drops his hand and lights up a Backwood.

"I let some shit slip to him and instead of shutting the fuck up he ran his mouth to her." Colson huffs in anger and frustration.

"Where you think she went this time?" Slim asks as he passes the blunt and notices that it's beginning to rain.

"I don't fucking know... Anywhere?" Colson shakes his head as he takes a deep pull.

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Pete calls Luna immediately once he's inside of a cab. "Yo... " He starts to lay into her once she answers. "You cheated on Justin? Who the fu... "

On the other end of the line, Luna's blood begins to boil. She's ducked under an awning out of the rain. Annoyed, she pulls the phone away from her ear and looks at it before replacing it.

"Are you my boyfriend?" She quickly cuts Pete off. "Have you ever been my boyfriend? No, I don't fucking think so. Therefore, don't call me up questioning me about some shit that has nothing to do with you. I don't owe you or anyone else an explanation so fuck off." Luna hurls out before hanging her phone up and turning it OFF.

"Why Colson?" Luna sighs heavily as she leans against the brick wall. "Why do you have to be so fucking petty sometimes." She begins to rummage aimlessly through her bag. Lighting a joint, she takes a break from the rain while staying lost inside of her own head.

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"Where the fuck could she be?" Colson wonders to himself after searching The Brownstone for Luna. He's called her a dozen times but it's going straight to voicemail. "FUCK." He sighs, rubbing the back of his head.

It's 330A. They have a call time of 6A. Standing on their front stoop, Colson Snaps Luna. Walking back inside, he doesn't know what else to do.

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Luna spends the night skating through The City with a bottle of Jack. Contemplating on to do with her feelings for Colson. There's a certain trust barrier that's been broken between them and Luna's unsure of how to handle it. EVERYTHING inside of her is screaming that he'll be the cause of her downfall as tears sporadically drop like the rain around her.

"It's not like you'll leave him." Luna angrily pushes off of the ground as she continues to glide through the streets. "This shit is way more intense than before." She acknowledges to herself what she's been avoiding. That she's bound to Colson in a deeper way than she ever felt to Justin. She's known it since that first night at The Gramercy. "He's gonna hem you up." She continues to argue with herself and the bottle of Jack as she floats around the familiar scenery of Brooklyn.

It's almost 5A when Luna finally shows back up at The Brownstone. Colson had dozed off while sitting up on their bed. She stares at him when she comes in as new tears form. Quietly gathering her things, she heads into the bathroom to shower. Locking the door behind her. Finally turning her phone back ON there's a ton of missed calls. She opens the single Snap from Colson.

Huge tears fall as she stares at his face. "MOTHERFUCKER." Is all she can think. Knowing in that moment; regardless of what the logic in her brain keeps trying to say, that Colson has her heart. Stepping into the running shower Luna's shoulders heave under the weight of the water and her tears. "I can't breathe without my heart." She shudders at the thought of losing him more than her own freedom.

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"You're back." Colson opens his eyes to the sound of Luna chopping up pills in the bathroom.

"Yeah." She calls out simply as she snorts two thick rails of powder; a line of three 30mg Percocets and one of two 30XR Adderall.

"Where've you been?" Colson asks cautiously as he climbs off of the bed.

"Out." Is her only word as she comes into the bedroom to continue getting dressed. Throwing on a pair of his joggers and a tight, black tank. "We've gotta go soon." She tells him flatly when he reaches for her.

"Loon... Please." Colson lightly begs as their eyes meet, causing her heart to ache.

"You need to shower. There's 30s for you on the sink." She answers quietly before walking out of their bedroom.

Colson throws himself back on the bed in frustration, laying there for a couple more minutes before getting up and going into the bathroom. His head is pounding and he got barely any sleep. Turning on the water, he steps into the shower and let's last night's funk rinse off of him. With his back leaned against the wall, his hand automatically goes for his morning wood. Lightly playing with himself he grows harder as his mind drifts to the last time him and Luna were in their bathroom together. Pulling firmly on his thick cock, he starts to breathe heavier as he puts one hand out on the wall to brace himself. The memories of Luna's warm mouth making him burst.

"FUCK... How am I going to fucking fix this..." He worries as he does his daily slew of morning drugs and finishes up in the bathroom.

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"Who is THAT?" Rook pants when he sees Jackie strolling down the street towards them.

Dressed to kill as always, her short wavy hair flows as she glides along in a pair of black leather pants and a simple, black Givenchy T shirt. Large, thin metal earrings and an oversized leather bag top off her fierce look.

"Morning Loons!" She leans in for a bright kiss to the cheek.

"Hi Jack." Luna kisses her back before she greets Sam and is introduced to The Guys.

They're standing behind ABC Studios while Rook continues to salivate over Jackie. His sweet little mouth can't form a word to speak to her as everyone bullshits and makes pleasantries. Colson tries to lace his fingers inside of Luna's to which she pulls back. Catching her eye, he feels a soul shattering disconnect.

"We gotta go." Luna announces as she heads towards the front door.

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"There is no backing track." Luna argues. "That's the whole fucking point of a live performance."

"You have no pre-recordings of it at all?" The GMA staff member continues to question her.

"No. It's a brand new song that we're giving YOUR show the EXCLUSIVE to." Luna reiterates the significance. "You know what? I don't really give a FU... "

"Okay... Let's all just calm down." Jackie's sweet voice comes in from behind Luna. "The ONLY song specified in the contract is Bad Things, meaning my client and YOUR guests have the choice of the second song with no stipulations. If you'd like to get your lawyers, I'll happily contact Miss. Smith's and Mr. Baker's also." Jackie squeezes Luna's shoulders as she stares at the staff member firmly.

"Lemme check with production." Is all he can say with a shaking head before walking away.

"Where did that come from?" Luna turns around amazed.

"I told you and Monica, I got this." Jackie smiles slyly.

"I knew I made a good choice. Thank you!" Luna gushes with a smirk as she squeezes Jackie into a tight hug.

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"And now, Machine Gun Kelly featuring THAT Brooklyn Bitch!!" Robin Roberts introduces them to the cheering crowd. "Performing their hit single Bad Things!"

Luna, Colson and his band are set up on the outdoor SummerStage placed on the corner of Broadway and 44th St. It's 8A in the morning, they're both tired, wired and fighting. They've fought before but neither has ever been this miserable during a performance together. Both are dressed down, easily showing off their mood to anyone who knows them. Him in a white Hotel Diablo T and ripped jeans while she's wearing a simple, goldish slip dress with her Docs. The only jewelery she has on is his padlock and engagement rings; bringing him slight relief.

The show must go on though... And it does. As always. Luna opens up on the keys easily. Wrapping her voice around the opening chorus as the masses below her sing along. The Boys are electric. Rook roaring away as Baze keeps the rhythm while AJ and Colson slide over their guitar riffs before Colson kicks in for his first verse.

One Look.

With the slight catch of The Eye, that's it. Well, at least OnStage. They fall into step with each other too easily, toning it down for morning television slightly; the chemistry and pure fire between Luna and Colson is still undeniable in their performance. Taunting and teasing each other as they roam the stage and command America's living rooms. As always, they end with Colson scooping Luna up for a kiss.

"I love you." He says lightly as he leans in.

"Mmm... I fucking hate you." She lowly coos with a sweet smile while kissing him back on the cheek for the crowd and then disappearing SideStage for not only a commercial break but to get her shit together around Colson.

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"Bad Things is doing extremely well for the two of you." Robin compliments them.

"Yeah, we're really proud of it." Colson smiles, using this as an opportunity to slide his arm around Luna's shoulders.

"It's off his album Hotel Diablo that just dropped July 5th. You should check it out, it's such a deep story that you can't help but be engulfed by it's journey." Luna plugs as she wraps her arm around his waist and rests her hand on Colson's chest out of instinct.

"Is there gonna be a tour?" She asks Colson.

"Hotel Diablo, baby! We did one earlier in the summer and we're headed across seas next month. Hopefully we'll hit another one stateside when we get back." Colson answers as he pulls Luna closer.

"FUCK... I hate him so FUCKING much." Luna screams mentally as her whole body throbs for Colson. His arm around her bare skin is like ice cream on a hot summer day. Melting and sticking to her soul. She wants to hate him but she can't. On all levels. Physically, mentally and emotionally. He fucking has her.

"So do you guys go on tour together?" Comes another question.

"Yeah, for the most part." Colson looks down at her for support.

"Bad Things is one of the regulars on his set lists so if I'm not working on another project, I'm usually with him." Luna admits.

"Aww... That's gotta be a lot of fun for you guys." The unknowing host assumes. "And today you're gonna debut a new song for us?" Robin grins at the roaring crowd. "Is this off Hotel Diablo also?"

"No." Luna speaks again. "This will probably be off my upcoming double album." She informs the public for the first time.

"A double album? Wow!! When can we expect that?" The host asks with a shocked response as Luna ignores her, moving away from Colson and grabbing her electric. "Well, don't let me hold you up." Robin nervously laughs. "Gracing us again... THAT Brooklyn Bitch and Machine Gun Kelly!!" She introduces them to the LIVE audience's wild applause.

Luna looks over to Sam first. Then Baze. Tuning her guitar she tosses an Eye to Colson. It's unamused and asks if he's ready as she adjusts the mic. His eyes say more than Yes and kills her soul.

Luna makes her guitar whine before Baze evens her out and Sam kicks in with the her steady, quick paced drums. Sliding into the main rhythm, Colson's guitar punches in to match hers. The beat is raw and powerful while Luna's deep voice brings it back to it's inner melodic tune.

🎼They say //He likes a good time//Well so do I//He comes alive//At midnight//That's when we thrive//My friends //No they don't trust him//Ask me why //They say he's into//Bad Things//But so am I🎶

Luna rips a mini solo while swirling her hips with the beat as Sam pounds away. Colson and Baze continuing to balance them both out. Luna stepping back up to the mic to lay the first official verse.

🎶A little bit older//Hates my//Black leather JACKET//Both got bad reputations//With insatiable HABITS//He was on to me//One Look//And I had to leave//Cuz//As soon//As he kissed me//We popped off//And were CRACKEN'🎶

Luna grabs the mic as Colson changes his chords to back her. Glancing over at him again he catches her eye before she unleashes her furry. This performance has such a different feel from when it first originated.

🎶THEY TALK//ALL THIS SHIT//'BOUT HOW//I'M A BAD GIRL//TONIGHT//IMMA SHOW YOU//WHAT IT'S LIKE//TO MEET HER🎶

Sam drops her beat to a low rumble. Baze kicking in with the same electronic ripping sound from Floor 13. His bass jarring through the air as Colson continues to play through the chords and move across the stage towards Luna.

🎶They say //He likes a good time//Well so do I//He comes alive//At midnight//That's when we thrive//My friends //No they don't trust him//Ask me why //They say he's into//Bad Things//But so am I🎶

Luna can't help but drop her head against Colson's shoulder blade as they lean back to back against each other. Both ripping their guitars and thriving off of each other before he takes over her mic. Hearts pounding as he lays his piece.

🎶Look... //She the type//To break//Your ass bad//Have you runnen' //Quicker//Than one of //Mr. White's bags//I be rockin' wit//THAT Bitch//You know she//Be rockin' wit me//You a special//Type of dumb //To think//You can stop her//From doin'//What she please//The kind //To whoop your ass//Then have you//On your knees//Looking up//Still begging//Like come on//Kiss me please //Don't say it too loud//Cuz that's MY girl //So trust and believe//That I won't wait//Or hesitate to//Jack you up too//Like a mini //Slim Shady🎶

Luna steps up face to face with Colson to the mic as his words make her pussy drip. There's that ALWAYS present electricity between them as they both continue to rip through the song together. Luna staring at him with THAT One Look. Giving her a sly smile he kisses her cheek before she kicks in and he backs away to let her focus.

🎶THEY TALK//ALL THIS SHIT//BOUT HOW//I'M A BAD GIRL//TONIGHT//IMMA SHOW YOU//WHAT IT'S LIKE//TO MEET HER

HE'S ROCKING//THAT BOX//AS HE'S MAKING//ME PURR//WE'RE SO OBSCENE//HE'S GOT ME//SAYING YES SIR🎶

Luna grins at Colson as he steps closer to her. Their guitars playing off one another's as their bodies pulsate from being so close to each other. Her pussy swells, wanting him just as badly as he does her. She can't help herself; it's like a fucking deficiency.

The four of them unleash their instruments. Sam slamming into the kit as Baze leans into his chords. Colson head banging while he slashes on his guitar as Luna continues to play while belting out the lyrics.

🎶MY OH MY//OH MY OH MY//They're calling you//The Devil, Baby//MY OH MY//OH MY OH MY//That makes me//Your Persephone//Without the maybe//MY OH MY//OH MY OH MY🎶

Luna's up at the mic as Colson teases her with his guitar. As much as she wants to be mad at him she can't help but smile again as she sings about him. Cocking her lip, her voice snakes around the lyrics as she glares at him and her body dies for his touch.

Their instruments taking over again before rounding out to a grand applause. Sam rumbles in the background as Colson throws his guitar over his shoulder and grabs Luna around the waist through hers. She can't help but grin as he plants a solid kiss on her lips.

"THAT Brooklyn Bitch and Machine Gun Kelly!!" Rings lowly in her ears amongst the screaming behind them.

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"Just shut the fuck up." Luna kisses Colson through their words as she pulls him into their dressing room.

Turning around, she bends over the closest object. It's the arm of a couch. Hiking her tight dress up, she pulls down her black panties as Colson presents his rock solid dick.

"Kitten... " Colson tries to speak as Luna works him into her with her hand.

"Unh Unh." She mumbles, tossing up the other arm to indicate his silence.

Slightly offended, Colson grabs Luna's hips and pushes himself into her deeper. Making her moan and slightly shake. Showcasing his authority, he wraps his fist inside her long blonde hair. Controlling everything about her as she bucks against him. Luna's walls tighten as they both draw closer; reaching around from behind her, she grabs his ass. Clutching it in her nails, she keeps him in place as she slams herself into his hips until they both equally explode.

"Fuck Loons... " Colson sighs as he kisses the back of her neck.

"Mmm... We've gotta go." She tells him again for the third time today to his dismay.

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"I need you to call Lee Foster. Let 'em know I'm coming and that I wanna use Studio A... If it's booked I'll comp the artist's next two sessions." Luna tells Jackie once they're all back on the NYC streets.

"I don't know who that is... " She hesitates.

"The manager of Electric Lady Land Studios... Just mention my name along with what I said and we should be good." Luna quietly explains. "Meet me at the storage unit later?" She then asks before throwing her hand up for a cab to Jackie's nod. Luna turns to Sam. "Hey... Change of plans. We're gonna record here. Jack's trying to book us now. See that Mike's cool, please?" She asks of her.

"Yeah. No problem." Sam responds easily to Luna's Thanks as her and Colson climb into a cab.

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"Electric Lady Land Studios, hunh?" Colson tries to make small talk with Luna for the first time in their lives. "How you gonna get in there?" He asks.

Luna turns to him with standoffish eyes. "I own part of it." She states flatly.

"Seriously?" He asks in disbelief.

"Yeah. I've been a silent owner since I was 18yrs old... There's A LOT you don't fucking know about me." She sighs loudly as she pulls up her black hoodie and looks out the window.

"She has so many fucking secrets... " Colson sighs to himself as he looks out his own window. Inching his fingers across the seat for Luna's, there's less than a half inch between them and he can feel the heat. Before he can touch her, she lifts her hand and lays it in her lap.

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Arriving at Monica's office in Lower Manhattan, Colson and Luna meet up with his personal lawyer Cyrus. Placed in a private room they exchange introductions and pleasantries while waiting for Monica. Luna and Colson both still feeling off kilter.

"Hey!" Monica greets them with a rushed smile. "Sorry I'm late... How is everyone?" She asks as she scans the tense room.

The signing is quick. Holding nothing of Colson's or Luna's in the contract; only Robert Maplethorpe's personal catalog, it's exactly what they spoke about. Before they know it, Colson and Luna are back out on the pavement. Neither questioning their choice surprisingly even though this felt more like a business transaction rather than anything remotely personal.

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"Come're... " Colson reaches for Luna's waist after they walk out of a stupid ass Starbucks; refusing to buy a coffee she has a strawberry smoothie.

"No." She declines as she shakes him off of her hips.

"What the FUCK, Luna?" Colson demands, growing tired of her coldness.

"REALLY?" Luna bites back.

"Yeah REALLY. We just fucked and signed our God Damn PreNump... So yeah, WHAT THE FUCK?" He throws his hand up in the air in frustration and shakes his head.

"YOU FUCKED UP!" Luna snaps while grabbing the tip of her hoodie.

"THEN WHY'D YOU FUCK ME!?!" Colson shouts at her in annoyance. "OR FUCKING SIGN ANYTHING!?!"

"BECAUSE I FUCKING LOVE YOU!!" Luna screams before throwing her smoothie to the right of him. It hits the wall and splatters everywhere just like she had intended; her aim is rarely off.

"WHAT THE FUUUUUCK!!" He yells as little spots of pink goo land on him.

"Go tell Pete and ask him how to clean it out." She snarks before jogging off across the street.

"YOU'RE SUCH A FUCKING BITCH!!" Colson screams after her as she gets into a cab.

"She's fucking insane. She's fucking flat out fucking insane." Colson stews as he looks at his tainted shirt. "Where the fuck is she going though? I swear to God I'm gonna fucking kill her one of these days." Colson sighs with a frustrated mind as he pulls his phone out to call Mod and find The Boys before buying a new shirt.

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Part 1 of 2

To be continued...

17 notes · View notes

metamorphicrocky · 5 years

Note

it doesn't have to be long or super elaborate but maybe a drabble with Little Cato seeing how stressful and tiring the idea of fatherhood is to Gary, how scared he is to screw up and comforting him? Bonus points for Gary opening about his childhood to Cato a bit.

minnie I think we both knew that I was never just gonna write a drabble for this. honestly I think I’m incapable of writing anything less than 1500 words. but this prompt? killed me. I love it!!!

Little Cato and Gary rush behind a group of barrels, gun fire following closely after. Little Cato pants, his fingers tightening around his gun as Gary takes his larger gun off of the strap on his back.

"This isn't good, at all," Gary says frantically.

Little Cato nods in agreement, peeking a look around the barrel behind him to see the enemy growing closer and closer. He glances at the man next to him who's focus is flitting around the warehouse room, probably looking for any close exits.

They really need a good plan.

The Ventrexian notices a clear and hidden path that would lead him right behind the men advancing on them. Okay, so he has a plan now.

"I'm gonna sneak behind and distract them, cover me," Little Cato says, immediately running off to enact his plan.

He barely even registers Gary's panicked, "Little Cato, don't you dare," as he launches himself over a crate and lands without a sound behind the men.

"Hey!" the kid yells, instantly drawing attention to himself. He takes this opportunity to shoot at two of the guys, and he's about to get another when he suddenly sees a dark shadow fall over him, then—

Snap!

Little Cato screams in agony, tears bursting from his eyes as searing hot and sharp pain courses through his arm. A large and strong hand squeezes his broken arm, and he cries out again as he's lifted off of the ground. He hears and feels something crunch, so he can barely register Gary's distant yelling from the white noise filling his ears.

He forces his eyes open, his vision blurry from his tears, to see Gary standing tall, his blaster at the ready in front of him. Words are being said, but Little Cato can't tell by who because of the pure agony he's in from so much pressure being put on his very broken arm.

Little Cato tries to take in deep breaths, but all he can do is pant. And then all of a sudden someone shouts, shots are fired, and the grip holding him up disappears, sending him hard onto the cement ground. He curls around his arm, more tears slipping down his face.

"Little Cato! Hey, buddy, what hurts?" Gary demands, frantic yet gentle all in one.

"Arm," he whimpers.

Gary curses under his breath and cards a hand through Little Cato's hair. "It's gonna be okay, bud. Just hold on. Nightfall, we need...."

Little Cato feels Gary wipe away a few of his tears as everything fades away, and then he passes out.

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Gary's angry. Little Cato notices it within seconds of getting out of the medpod. Actually, cross out mad; pissed is more like it. He's just standing there, his arms crossed as Nightfall puts his arm into a splint so that it can continue to heal properly.

She can sense the tension between them, but once she finishes with his injuries, she leaves the room. So he won't get any help from her in stopping Gary from yelling at him. Great.

His dad isn't wearing his leather jacket, his hair is even more disheveled than usual, and he just looks tired. But more importantly pissed, which is not going to go well for Little Cato.

"How are you feeling?" Gary asks, stepping away from the counter he had been leaning on.

"Better," the kid responds. "The advanced healing and painkillers probably help, too."

Gary nods, and the silence that follows is very awkward, for the both of them. Little Cato decides to break it.

"I know what you're gonna say."

The blond raises an eyebrow. "And it is...?"

"That I shouldn't have done that."

"Yeah, you're right," Gary huffs. "But you don't believe that, do you?"

"It was a good plan," he mumbles.

"No, it wasn't! Why would you do something so stupid and reckless? You could have gotten killed!" Gary yells, throwing his arms out in exasperation.

"I had it under control!" Little Cato defends, his tail bristling.

Gary rubs his hands down his face. "Oh, so you meant to break your arm? They would've killed you if you couldn't be used as leverage against me."

Little Cato doesn't have a response to that, so he just holds his splinted arm against his stomach and stays quiet. His dad is obviously waiting for him to say something, but after a few moments of silence, he sighs.

"You're grounded. Go get some rest," Gary says, some anger still left in his voice.

Little Cato splutters, "But I–!"

Gary sends him a stern look. "I'm not arguing about this, bud. Go get rest so your arm can heal."

Little Cato hops down from the exam table with a huff and stalks past Gary, straight to his room. He slams his door shut, sliding down it until he's seated in an angry ball in the floor. Okay, yeah he got injured, but it's okay! He's still alive and kicking, just like he should be. And it was a good plan, even if it backfired.

The kid sits there angrily for at least a few hours, wondering why grounding was really necessary, until someone knocks on his door. He stands and opens it, thankfully seeing Nightfall instead of Gary.

"Um, hey," Little Cato says.

"He's upset, you know." Damn, Nightfall did not waste any time in getting to the point.

The boy shrugs. "Well, he's the one who grounded me and got mad," he mutters.

"You think he's mad? He's worried about you, Little Cato. He's been pacing the bridge this whole time. He won't let anyone in there," Nightfall says.

"He's worried? But my arm is healing." Little Cato is so confused right now.

Nightfall sighs deeply. "He thinks that he isn't raising you right. He blames himself for you getting hurt."

"Oh."

She hums. "Yeah. Oh."

Now that Little Cato is looking back on it, what he thought was anger was just very intense worry. And Gary looked so tired and worn out.... Oh shit, he messed up.

"Oh noooo," Little Cato moans, covering his face with his unbroken arm. "I'm an idiot."

Nightfall pats him on the back. "You're not an idiot, you both are just new to this."

"I'm gonna go apologize," he says.

Little Cato immediately runs towards the bridge as fast as he can without jostling his arm too much, slipping around corners in his haste to make things right. He can see the doorway just ahead, so he sprints faster and then abruptly stops in the middle of the entryway.

His dad is sitting in the pilot's chair, hunched over, his head in his hands. Little Cato can't see his face, but he knows that Gary is absolutely miserable right now. Oh, he really messed up this time.

The kid quietly approaches Gary, but stops next to him. Cautiously, he places his good hand on the man's shoulder, which causes his dad to lift his head and panic when he sees who it is.

"Spidercat, hey," Gary says nervously. "What are you doing?"

Little Cato frowns when he sees how Gary's eyes are red, the dark circles under them just making it even worse.

"Scoot over," he demands.

Gary gives him a confused look but moves over anyways. The kid squeezes himself into the small spot, and it's more than a tight fit. But he doesn't care because that's not important right now, but it does make wrapping his one good arm around his dad in a hug much easier.

The man stiffens at the contact, but Little Cato came here with a plan and will not stray from it. "I'm sorry about earlier, Gary."

"It's, uh, it's okay."

"No, I was being a butt. You were just worried about me," he urges.

Gary sighs. "Nightfall talked to you, didn't she?"

The kid nods.

"I'm fine, don't worry about what she said," Gary says enthusiastically, but now that Little Cato knows him better, he can tell it's a lie from how his smile doesn't reach his eyes. Also, even more telling than that, is how he still hasn't hugged Little Cato back.

"I don't know what's banging around in your head, but you're doing a good job. Like, dad-wise. Well, at least I think so, and I think I've got some authority to give my opinion on that," Little Cato encourages nervously.

He smiles up at Gary, who has an unreadable expression on his face. Little Cato wonders what it is until Gary just lets out a stuttering sigh and rubs at his face, his hands shaking slightly.

Oh, he's concerned now. "Are you okay?

"Oh, geez," Gary says as he pinches his eyes. "I'm just overwhelmed lately, kiddo. God, you are the last person I should be talking to about this."

Gary laughs sardonically as he tries to recollect himself. Little Cato just sits and waits for him to speak because if Gary is gonna be there for him, he has to do the same.

"After my dad died, I had no one. It was just us my entire life, and I didn't even meet my mom until the funeral. I was too young to be looking out for parenting tips, so I have no idea what I'm doing. And today? You really could've gotten hurt worse than you did, and that would have all been on me. I don't want my mistakes to hurt you.

"I've messed up everything in my life so far, and I can't let you be the next thing."

Gary makes eye contact with Little Cato, and the kid can see every single worry he has bottled up on the verge of bursting out.

"I don't care if you've messed up before, I think all you can do is try your best," Little Cato reasons.

The blond sighs. "That's the thing. I have to be better than my best for this, and I'm doing a horrible job."

"I mean, I think you're pretty great, Dad," he says, passionately quiet. He feels Gary shudder from where he's holding him, and two arms wrap him up in a tight hug. Gary buries his face into the top of his head, allowing Little Cato to feel some tears fall. So he hugs harder.

"If you're gonna be too busy taking care of everyone else to take care of yourself, I'm just gonna have to do it for you," the kid promises.

His dad laughs wetly, smiling at Little Cato's smug expression. "Oh yeah? Thank you, my dear old dad," Gary jokes.

Little Cato nods seriously. "You're welcome, my son."

They both laugh, and Gary takes this opportunity to wipe away his tears. Gary nestles his hand on top of his boy's head as they both turn their attention towards the endless space before them. They don't know what's going to happen in the future, but Little Cato knows that Gary will realize how great of a dad he is soon.

"You're still grounded, by the way."

"Yeah. That's fair."

#I'll always go elaborate for you #anyways lil cato comforting gary??? you really know how to give me the good stuff #final space #final space season 2 #fs spoilers #gary goodspeed #little cato #nightfall #dadspeed #john goodspeed #fs fics

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lewishamil10n · 4 years

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Hello! Saw you were taking prompts and I was thinking Season 5!Sam feels hopeless and guilty and is trying to make amends with his brother but Season 5!Dean doesn't trust Sam, feeling betrayed and angry says some harsh words and leaves to the bar. Sam calls him, broken and basically says goodbye and when Dean gets back to the motel Sam has a gun to his head (maybe he pulls the trigger?...)

hello, thank you for the prompt! this is set directly after “my bloody valentine” but before “swap meat.”

warning: suicidal sam, depression, hopelessness. please do not read this if any of this may be triggering. i’m putting most of it under a readmore, but stay safe!

oh, and PS: it’s a happy ending.

–

After the mess with Famine, Sam stays in the panic room for two days.

The first day, he spends in withdrawal. Dean spends this time outside his door, listening to him scream until he can’t take it anymore. Then he drinks, and pretends he can’t feel Bobby’s heavy gaze on his skin.

The second day is much quieter. Bobby wheels himself in to check on Sam when it becomes clear that Dean is too hungover to do it. Dean pretends he didn’t hear Bobby’s muttered curse as he passes by.

“How’s he doin’?” Dean asks when Bobby returns, an hour later.

“Go an’ see for yerself,” is Bobby’s grumbled reply.

“Bobby. Come on.”

The old man sighs, glaring at Dean. “He’s better’n before,” he says in the end. “Which ain’t sayin’ much, but he’s resilient. He’ll be fine. Sleeping right now.”

“Okay,” says Dean, and gets off the sofa.

“Gonna go see him?” Bobby asks, barely managing to disguise the hope in his voice.

Instead of answering, Dean heads towards the kitchen and retrieves a half-empty bottle of whiskey. He sits down at the kitchen table, pulls the nearest glass to himself, and pours himself a couple fingers.

“Idjit,” sighs Bobby. He sounds tired.

–

Dean lets Sam have a day to regain his bearings, and then finds them a ghost around 300 miles away. He ignores Bobby’s warnings about this being a bad idea, about Sam needing more rest, and bundles his too-pale brother in the car at daybreak. “We’ll be fine,” he reassures Bobby. “We always are.”

Bobby casts a glance towards Sam, hunched in the passenger seat, but doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to.

“Fine,” he says in the end. “Call if you need anything.”

“Yeah,” says Dean shortly.

Sam is quiet the entire way over, and Dean doesn’t speak either. Instead he lets Zeppelin fill the silence, and ignores every half-glance Sam sends his way, especially when he breaks out the hip flask. Sam doesn’t comment, though, instead choosing to continue staring out of the window, and for that Dean is grateful. While he knows that at some point they’ll have to address what happened with Famine, he really wants to put it off as long as possible. His brain is just not up to it right now. Probably won’t be for a long time.

Well, he’ll hold out as long as Sam will.

–

The hunt is over in a day. Every muscle in Dean’s body aches from having to dig up the grave, and Sam’s probably not much better either considering he’s the one the ghost decided to toss around while Dean did the salting and burning. Then again, it’s just another day on the job, and Dean can honestly say he’s had far worse.

He’s looking forward to a hot shower and a good night’s sleep, preferably in the silence he’s gotten accustomed to, unbroken except for when it’s necessary to talk. But Sam, it seems, has a different plan – the moment they’re in the car on the way to the motel, he says, voice so quiet that Dean at first thinks he’s hallucinating, “I’m sorry.”

“What?” Dean asks. His voice sounds too loud in the silence inside the Impala.

“I’m sorry,” Sam repeats.

Dean takes a moment to rack his brains, going through the hunt in his mind and trying to recall if Sam made a mistake somewhere. He comes up blank; the hunt had been textbook-perfect, a milk run. “For what?” he asks eventually.

Sam looks away, head bowed. “For, um… the demon blood.”

“Wasn’t your fault,” Dean says shortly, hoping Sam catches the hint that he doesn’t want to talk about it right now. Maybe ever, if he can help it.

“I should have resisted,” Sam whispers. He’s still not looking at Dean, and that for some reason is irritating Dean further.

“Yeah, well,” he says, and then stops. It’s best for the both of them that this conversation does not continue, or else he’s going to end up saying something he’ll regret.

Sam catches his meaning loud and clear, and curls in on himself a little, face turned away from Dean. He stays like this all the way back to the motel, and doesn’t speak until Dean’s sitting on the foot of his bed, unlacing his boots.

“If - if you want me to go again, I will,” he says tentatively, sitting down on the foot of his own bed. He’s looking at Dean, his gaze careful, and the fact that he’s walking on eggshells pisses Dean off a little for reasons he can’t quite pinpoint.

“I didn’t say that,” he tells Sam, not looking up from his shoes.

“You don’t need to,” Sam murmurs.

“What does that mean?” Dean asks harshly, looking up. Sam ducks his head the moment he sees Dean’s eyes on him.

“I meant that you don’t need to say it,” Sam repeats, voice low. “If you want me to go, I’ll–”

“You’ll what?” Dean interrupts. “Where would you even go, Sam? You can’t just keep running off to Bobby every time you fuck up, okay?”

Even in the low light of the room he doesn’t miss how Sam flinches. Undeterred, he goes on, “And besides, last time you ran off on your own, you find out you’re Lucifer’s meatsuit, okay. Hell, now I’m thinkin’ maybe if I let you go this time you might actually say yes.”

Sam looks like Dean’s slapped him. “That’s not fair,” he says at once. “Dean, you know that’s not–”

“No?” Dean cuts in. “You’re not gonna say yes? Can you guarantee that, Sam? Look me in the eye and tell me you’re not gonna end the world all the way this time?”

“Dean,” Sam begins, pleading, but Dean’s just not in the fucking mood right now.

“I’m going out,” he interrupts, lacing his boots again and getting to his feet. “Don’t wait up.” He grabs his jacket and the car keys, ignores Sam calling his name, and slams the door after himself.

–

The thing is, though, he realizes about five beers in, it’s not entirely Sam’s fault. Not even the Apocalypse was. Hell, he’d broken the first seal himself. He’s still not sure how exactly Sam got out of the panic room, but it wouldn’t even have come to that if Dean had held out in Hell.

And this whole thing with the demon blood, that’s not all on Sam either. He’s had it in his veins since he was a baby, and then that entire cluster with Ruby manipulating him into it… and using Dean as an excuse, no less. Yeah, Dean’s made his feelings on the matter plenty clear, in ways that are not exactly pleasant, but end of the day, it’s not totally Sam’s fault. Cass is an angel and he still couldn’t resist Famine. Dean only managed to because he’s apparently already dead inside, which, yeah, fuckin’ great.

So it’s not really Sam’s fault. And he apologized. And maybe Dean needs to stop being hard on him, because he’s damn sure otherwise Sam is going to leave him. Again. And he doesn’t think he can handle that. Not after what Zachariah had shown him.

And even if it hadn’t been for that… he’s not going to admit it out loud, probably ever, but Sam’s what keeps him going these days. When everything feels so fucking hopeless he could drown in it, Sam’s the reason he gets out of bed. The kid is trying so hard to right his wrongs, to make amends, and maybe Dean should lay off him.

“I should apologize, right?” he asks the bartender.

She gives him a sideways glance. “If you want to, hon.”

“I mean, he’s my brother,” he tells her. “And he’s tryin’ so damn hard. Should probably not be so hard on him.”

“Yeah, probably,” she echoes. “You should take my advice with a grain of salt, though, love, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talkin’ ‘bout Sammy,” Dean informs her.

“Right, that’s all the information I needed to fill in the blanks,” she says dryly.

Dean rolls his eyes. “You’re not good at advice. You know what, I’m gonna go. And apologize.” He gets to his feet and puts down a few bills on the counter. “Bye, now.”

“Bye, honey,” she answers absently, already back to work.

–

Dean spends the ten minute drive back to the motel practicing his apology in his head. He should probably open with I’m sorry. That seems safest. And then he can go on in my defense… but no. Best not to make it about himself. This is about Sam.

He’s quite proud of the mini-speech he’s come up with by the time he reaches the motel. All of it evaporates from his head the moment he pushes the door open and finds Sam sitting with his Taurus in his hands, barrel pointing towards himself.

“What the hell?” he barks.

Sam jumps, the action jolting the gun in his hands, and that causes it to go off. The bullet whizzes barely an inch past Sam’s ear and lodges itself into the ceiling, letting loose a shower of plaster. Sam drops the gun like it’s on fire, breathing heavily, and Dean falls on his knees just inside the doorway, legs suddenly feeling like jelly.

“What the hell?” he repeats again.

Instead of replying, Sam gets to his feet, picks up the gun, and shoulders his way past Dean, exiting the room before Dean’s even registered what’s happening.

“Sam – no, wait!” Struggling to his feet, Dean rushes outside, heart pounding in his throat, already bracing himself for what he might find. There is nothing but white noise in his brain right now, static and screaming, and he cannot shake himself of the nauseating what if. The bullet had been so damn close to Sam’s ear. A couple more inches to the right, and no more Sam, nothing but blood and brains all over a motel room bed in Bumfuck, Shitsville.

And the last words Dean had said to him had been a fight.

It’s only a few steps from the motel room door to the Impala, but to Dean it feels like a marathon. He feels out of breath, unsteady on his feet, and seeing Sam sitting on the parking lot asphalt by the Impala’s front right wheel helps only a little. Dean’s still reeling, ears ringing from the gunshot, when he falls on his knees next to Sam.

“Where’s the gun?” he asks, not surprised to hear how hoarse he sounds. “Sam, where’s the gun?” he asks again when Sam doesn’t answer immediately, desperation heightening with every heartbeat.

Instead of a verbal answer, Sam shoves the Taurus into Dean’s hands, not looking at him. Dean looks down at it, relieved to find the safety is on. Tossing it aside – he suddenly cannot bear to look at it – Dean looks back up at his brother, taking in the sight of him.

“Are you hurt?” he asks Sam.

Sam shakes his head. He’s sitting with his legs drawn up to his chest, arms folded on his knees, and he’s trembling all over, his breathing harsh and labored. He still looks pale, like hell warmed over, and Dean’s guilt solidifies in his gut as he remembers Bobby asking them to stay so Sam can rest.

“Sam,” he says, struggling to keep his voice quiet even though it feels like he’ll go insane if he doesn’t scream. “Sam, what were you thinking?”

Sam turns his head away instead of answering.

“Sam, come on,” Dean tries again, moving closer.

“You left me there,” Sam finally whispers.

“What?”

“You left me there,” Sam repeats, voice brittle. “In the panic room. I thought - I thought you didn’t want to see me. Thought you didn’t want me anymore.”

Dean’s heart sinks. “Sammy, it wasn’t like that,” he says, voice low to match Sam’s. He can hear movement a few yards away, and he knows someone must have called the gunshot in, and so no matter how badly he wants to talk to Sam (and isn’t that ironic), they can’t do it right here. “Sammy, look, get in the car,” he tells him, fishing the keys from his pocket and handing them to his brother. Sam accepts them with shaking fingers. “We gotta leave, okay. But I swear I’ll explain in the car,” he adds.

Wordlessly Sam gets to his feet, moving around to the other side of the car. Satisfied, Dean runs back into the motel room, gathers up their – thankfully mostly packed – things, and dumps them in the back of the Impala. He leaves the Taurus lying on the ground. He never wants to see it again in his life.

Thirty miles out of town, once he’s sure no one will catch up to them, Dean pulls over. Sam has spent the entire ride silent again, utterly still in his seat as if he’s afraid to move and draw attention to himself, like he thinks Dean will kick him out if he remembers he’s there. It pulls at Dean’s heart, makes him want to put his arms around Sam and never let go, but he doesn’t think he’s allowed to do that, not just yet.

“It’s not that I didn’t want to see you,” Dean tells him, picking up where they’d left off earlier. “I just… couldn’t. I couldn’t see you like that, Sammy.”

“I was so scared,” Sam whispers, knotting his fingers in his lap, head bowed so that Dean can’t see his face. “And - and every night I have these - these nightmares, and Lucifer’s always there, and I just… I just need it to end.”

“Sammy, you can’t do that to me, man,” Dean tells him, not caring that he’s pleading.

Sam lets out a harsh little laugh. “Yeah, I know. He’d just bring me back.”

“Who, Lucifer?”

Sam nods.

“That’s not what I meant,” Dean says. “Sammy… I’m sorry, man.”

Sam looks up at that, clearly surprised. His eyes are red-rimmed, still wet from unshed tears, and his face is splotchy, nose red. The raw hope on his face is breaking Dean’s heart, and he hadn’t thought that was possible considering it’s already in pieces.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, for good measure. “I know I’ve been a dickhead the past few days, man. I just… I don’t know how to deal. With anything. Everything is spiraling so fucking fast, and then Famine was just the cherry on top of this craptastic pie, and I just… couldn’t deal.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam says again. “I tried to resist, I really did, and - and it didn’t matter. I’m never gonna stop being a bloodsucking freak–”

“Stop,” Dean says at once. “Sam, stop that right now. That’s not what you are, man. That’s the last thing you could ever be–”

“But I am,” Sam cuts in, and a tear falls. “You don’t have to coddle me, okay, I know what I am, and I won’t fall apart just ‘cause you admit it–”

“You were about to kill yourself not an hour ago!” Dean retorts.

“I wasn’t going to!” Sam replies, and then sniffles in a vain attempt to keep the tears at bay. “I thought about it, but I wasn’t gonna – and there’s no point anyway, is there, ‘cause it never fucking works–”

“Whoa whoa whoa, hold up, what do you mean it never works?” Dean’s got a bad feeling about this.

“Just that,” Sam says, wiping at his face with the heels of his hands. “He always brings me back.”

“You–” Dean’s reeling again, unanchored as he tries to process what this means. “You tried to kill yourself?”

“I succeeded,” Sam corrects with another hollow laugh. He looks away. “It didn’t take.”

“Wh–” Dean’s entire body is cold, throat closed up, chest weighed down with grief he doesn’t know how to express. “When?”

“When we were apart,” Sam admits after a heavy silence. “He’d just told me I was his vessel. I said I’d rather kill myself, and he said he’d bring me back. Figured it was worth a try anyway. If I succeeded, he doesn’t get his vessel. And if I didn’t…” Sam scoffs. “No harm, no foul, right?”

“No harm– Sam, are you serious?” Dean’s own eyes are wet now, though he doesn’t cry, not yet. “Sam, God, what if it had worked? How the hell was I supposed to know? What, you’d just let me find out through someone else? God, Bobby, what would he have done–”

“You’d all have been better off,” Sam interrupts, tone rough but firm.

“No!” Dean all but yells. “Dammit, Sam, you’re the one keeping me alive, what the fuck would I have done–”

“I keep fucking up!” Sam cuts in, voice shaking again. “I keep fucking up, and you have to keep cleaning the mess, and I don’t get why you still keep me around! I’m not worth it, Dean, I just keep dragging you down, I’m the reason the world is going to shit, and I can’t even do something as simple as die–”

Dean can’t take it anymore. If he has to hear one more word he thinks he might literally scream. Instead, he reaches out with both arms and drags Sam in, pressing him to his chest and holding on tighter the more Sam resists.

“What are you doing–”

“It’s okay, Sammy. It’s all right–”

“Nothing is all right!” Sam slumps, the fight draining out of him. He’s crying openly now, shaking in Dean’s arms, face pushed into Dean’s shoulder. “Nothing is okay, Dean, and - and I’m not okay, and I don’t - I don’t know what to do! I don’t know where to go, and I don’t know how to just fix things–”

“Oh, Sammy.” Dean tightens his embrace, putting one hand on the back of Sam’s head. “Man, you ain’t gotta carry it all alone, kid. You got me. I know I’ve been a real piece o’crap lately, but you’re still my little brother. That ain’t gonna change. And don’t you dare say I’d be better off without you,” he adds. “I meant it when I said you keep me going, man. You’re what makes me get outta bed in the mornings, Sammy. I keep tellin’ myself that if you go on and try to make things right after everything that’s happened, then I got no right to piss and moan. I said some crap, I know, but I’m sorry, Sammy, I really am. I didn’t mean it. I was tired, and pissed off, and I just… I couldn’t deal.”

“I’m so scared,” Sam hiccups into his shoulder, after almost a minute. “God, Dean, I’m so scared, ‘cause what if he’s right? What if I say yes, and ruin everything again–”

“You won’t,” Dean says firmly, running a hand gently through the tangle of Sam’s hair. “You won’t. You know why? ‘Cause you’re the strongest person I know, Sammy. Swear to God, you are. Stronger’n I am, that’s for damn sure. You’re gonna make the right choice in the end. I know you are.”

“How can you have so much faith in me?” Sam asks, voice breaking. He’s not sobbing anymore, but he’s still shaking.

“‘Cause you’re my little brother,” Dean tells him softly, unwrapping his arms from around Sam. He nudges Sam away and then takes his face in his hands, smiling when their eyes meet. “You’re all I’ve got, Sammy. You’re the one thing I believe in.”

Sam sniffles, looking away. “I don’t–”

“It’s okay,” Dean says hurriedly. “I know you’re tired, man. I know you’re not feeling up to anything right now. And that’s on me, I shouldn’t’ve pushed you before you were ready. I shouldn’t’ve done and said a lot of things that I did. Think you can forgive me for it?”

Sam attempts a small smile. “Yeah,” he whispers, tangling his fingers in the hem of Dean’s shirt. It’s a little uncomfortable sitting like this in the Impala, but neither of them care.

“Gotta promise me something, though,” Dean says, letting go of his face and pulling him back into the embrace.

“What?” Sam asks, resting his head on Dean’s shoulder.

“Swear you won’t try to kill yourself again,” Dean says quietly. “‘Cause if you do, I’ll be right behind. I mean it,” he adds.

“I swear,” Sam says after a moment of silence. Dean’s shirt is wet where Sam’s been crying into it. “I promise, Dean.”

“Good,” Dean says softly. On a whim he presses his lips to Sam’s hair, something he hasn’t done since they were both children. But Sam needs the comfort now, and even Dean’s manliness can’t contest that. “‘M not gonna live without you, man. I mean it.”

Sam exhales, long and slow, his breath warm against Dean’s skin. “Okay,” he says in the end, voice low. “I’m not gonna argue that right now, so… okay.”

“You’re not gonna argue that ever,” Dean corrects.

“We’ll see.” His head is growing heavy on Dean’s shoulder, and that makes Dean chuckle.

“Okay, sleepyhead, you know what,” he says, gently nudging Sam to sit up straight. “Let’s get you to bed. Sleep in as long as you want, man. Hell, I’ll even read you a bedtime story if you want me to.”

Sam lets out a wet laugh at that, wiping at his eyes as he settles back into his side of the bench seat. “I’ll hold you to that,” he says.

Dean grins, wiping at his own eyes. “Yeah, okay. This time you get a pass.” He puts the car back into drive and merges onto the highway, keeping an eye on Sam out of the corner of his vision.

“And Dean?” Sam says softly, when they’re rumbling along a few minutes later.

“Mm?”

“Thank you,” Sam says.

“Don’t thank me, man,” Dean tells him, and gives him a smile when he catches him looking. “We got this, okay? You and me. We’re gonna figure it out. It’s not gonna be easy, and we’re gonna have our asses handed to us, but hey. At least we’re always gonna have each other.”

“Yeah,” Sam says, and smiles back at Dean.

#sam winchester #dean winchester #supernatural #my blood valentine #samdean #my writing #mental illness cw #suicide mention cw #Anonymous

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vampirequeenoffan · 6 years

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yes hello im feeling your trollhunters opinion!! do u also feel like Merlin is super shady? I don't think he did a single thing since he showed up that can be considered 'good', he doesn't seem to care about anyone but himself, and after what he did to get Jim to turn into a troll (cutting him off from his entire support network, playing on his insecurities) I thought he'd turn out to be the Ultimate Villain of the show right up until the end, when he wasn't.

HOOOBOY do I ever have FEELINGS about this (which will once again be under the cut because SCREAMING)

First off, holy fuck, THANK you. Your message means a lot to me (as do the other nice messages and comments I got on my post! It feels great to know I’m not the only one who felt like there was something wrong with this ending).

Second.

Yeah, what in the fuck is up with Merlin? I liked him for a good thirty seconds after he was introduced– I’m a bit of a sucker for the ‘ancient and powerful being of legend is actually Not At All What Anyone Thought trope’ tbh. But the novelty quickly wore off and you’re absolutely right– I totally thought he was going to be the show’s Ultimate Villain. I usually love asshole characters, so the fact that Merlin is so much of an asshole that I hated him is… impressive, in a weird way. And the list of characters I’m crazy about contains several serial killers, so the bar is real low.

Let’s break this down.

Merlin, upon reentering the picture, does the following:

–Gets passive-aggressively mad at the Trollhunters for not getting him his staff

Which, y’know, could’ve been avoided if he’d just asked to have the staff in the same room with him when he’d been buried. He also had no reason to be mad, considering his plan was to release Morgana all along, and had the Trollhunters actually taken back the staff they then would’ve had to fight their way into Trollmarket in order to free Morgana, which… would have been difficult. That, or they’d have had to turn the staff over to Gunmar anyway, so again, no reason for Merlin to be mad.

Personally I totally agree that they should’ve left Morgana in there, or at least had some semi-automatic weapons ready when they did release her (because if the USA is going to have shitty gun control laws we might as well use them to destroy evil witches, amiright?), but this is about Merlin’s reaction, not mine.

Also, if this was his plan all along, he could’ve left instructions about that. So that, y’know, Drall didn’t die trying to stop Gunmar from taking the staff. You know. That little detail.

–Repairs Jim’s amulet

On the surface this is good, except that, again, he wouldn’t have had to do this if he’d written the directions to his tomb on anything else. He could’ve even had the instructions in like, the spirit room that the dead trollhunters live in, if he was really that determined to make sure it was trollhunter-specific.

–Threatens to eat Toby

????????¿¿¿¿¿¿¿???????

What even happened here. What. Don’t get me wrong, I love it, it really added to the ‘what the fuck even is going on with him’ vibe that Merlin has, but why? Did he just… hang out with trolls too much? But only the evil trolls did that. What even was happening here. And why Toby? Was it process of elimination because he though Claire was hot (which, uh, creepy) and he needed Jim, or was this a… fat joke? I honestly have no idea.

–Gives them a laundry list of complicated as fuck items to collect

Merlin is an asshole who should’ve gotten his groceries himself. Nuff said. Oh wait, not enough said, because one of those things was literally lightning in a goddamn bottle, which they needed the help of actual goddamn aliens to get, so Merlin, with no knowledge of modern technology, really should have known he needed to at least get that one by himself.

What a guy.

–Destroys Jim’s vespa

Okay, this probably seems petty. ‘Merlin literally kickstarted the apocalypse, why do you care about the vespa?’ Well, because it wasn’t just any piece of machinery. Jim had been wanting a vespa for a very, very long time– for him, it was a dream, then a symbol of normalcy, and then it became even more than that when he finally got one– by building it with Blinky. It was a project he undertook alongside his father figure, likely took weeks of work, and was a physical reminder of how much Blinky cared about him.

Merlin destroys it and uses it to make armor.

Now, there’s some symbolism here. Merlin is destroying the vespa– symbol of Jim’s old life– and using it to forge armor– transforming his old life into something that protects his friends. It’s not unlike what his amulet has done to him, or what Merlin later tries to do by making Jim into a troll. Which, yeah, I’ve covered being a shitty tactical decision and I’m going to go over even more reasons why it’s terrible in a minute.

Point is, dick move. He could’ve used literally any other kind of metal, so the only upside here is symbolism and, let’s be real, it’s a metaphor is not a good reason to do dumb shit.

–Champions releasing Morgana

I was really happy that everyone yelled at him about this one. I was less happy that that was all that happened. Merlin did, clearly, just want his magic back. If he didn’t, he would have just left Morgana in her goddamn crystal like a sensible person, or at the very least agreed to help take out Gunmar before handling Morgana. It’s just common sense to divide and conquer– yes writing a paper is very hard, but it’s a lot easier to do that when your house isn’t on fire. Dealing with problems separately makes them all a lot less taxing, or in this case, a lot less deadly! There are so many people that would still be alive if Merlin, after being asleep for hundreds of years, had just been able to wait a few more goddamn weeks to have his fingersparkles back.

–Emotionally manipulates Jim into becoming a troll

This fucker. This assclown. You’re absolutely right– he cuts him off from everyone he knows and refuses to let him go rescue his mom, does that shitty parent thing where you guilt someone by saying “It’s your choice whether or not to do the right thing…” and spews some shit about destiny and just generally uses his title of Old Guy Who Knows Stuff to tell Jim that he Has To Do This, but it’s Totally Your Choice.

I thought, when Jim’s mom rescued herself (go Barb go!!!) and came running up to the bathroom door, that he would stop. Because that was the whole reason Jim was going to go through with the transformation– it was the only way Merlin would let him go save his mom. The fact that he just kinda… ignored the fact that they were out there yelling for him? Yeah, that was dumb. Even if he wanted to go through with it, he should have talked to his friends and family first. That was, uh, the whole lesson he learned from going into the Darklands alone. We’ve been down this road, Jim, it’s depressing.

And then Merlin’s just… useless. He can’t beat Morgana, his tactics suck ass, and the only thing he does from that point on is try to get other people to die for him– looking at you, Aargh. I’m so glad you’re still alive.

So, to reiterate, Merlin shows up, fucks shit up, and then doesn’t fix any of the fucked up shit. On top of that, he’s an asshole the entire time– the “real battle of Killahead” line was just the tip of the douchebag iceberg (though ‘all you folks who died during this battle didn’t matter’ was a hell of a way to kick that off, I agree). But… why?

You’re right, we don’t know why he and Morgana started this pissing contest. We don’t even know why he took her on as an apprentice in the first place, or what connection the two of them had to trolls at all– presumably a strong one, considering how much they both tried to fuck with the future of the species. Before we met Merlin, none of these things had to be defined– Morgana and Merlin were vague enough as figures that we could imagine any number of things that had led to the current state of being. I, personally, imagined Merlin as being more invested in humans than trolls, which made sense to me because he was on the side of the trolls that didn’t hurt humans and his amulet placed a huge amount of value on Jim’s humanity. But then it’s revealed that Merlin actually doesn’t give a shit about humans at all, as he apparently eats them, doesn’t mind putting the entire town of Arcadia in danger, and tells Jim that his humanity doesn’t matter and he’s better off being a troll.

Same for Morgana. I thought her whole deal was that she wanted trolls to be the dominant species, but then she says Gunmar is disposable and doesn’t seem to give a shit about his conquest of the surface? If she didn’t actually care about trolls conquering humans, why in the hell did she want to bring about the eternal night?

So, again, what was happening and why were they so invested in the future of trollkind? If it wasn’t, like I thought, about whether humanity or trolls should be dominant, what possible reason could they have for interfering? Presumably at one point they got along, because Morgana was Merlin’s apprentice, but the only reason we get for her hating him is that he took her hand to make the amulet. . . except, wait, he did that after she started trying to bring about the eternal night. Forget why she cared about that, if he didn’t care about humans then why did he?

TLDR, Merlin’s an asshole, his decisions make no sense, and when you poke at things he creates plotholes in the entire series that weren’t there prior to his introduction. Also he’s the worst.

#Trollhunters #Trollhunters spoilers #anonymous #I really love this show okay! I wouldn't be this upset if I didn't #It's like how I fucking love Danny Phantom but Phantom Planet can suck my dick #a bad ending can be worse than no ending at all

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fapangel · 6 years

Note

Hi, that's a mighty wall of text, and very informative, thank you. A couple of issues which seem to me to undermine the point that you're trying to make. One, that sarin gas is difficult to manufacture doesn't seem to be a strong argument against a hypothetical 'deep state' false flag - one would assume such an entity would have the resources necessary to produce it. (1/3)

Two, while chemical weapons may produce an immediate tactical benefit, the fact that using them is a massive strategic mistake on Assad’s part is quite obvious - there is no more effective way to ensure the active, continuous presence of America and her allies in Syria than the use of CW. Unless one thinks Assad wants America to stick around longterm for some reason, or he is stupid enough to trade dead children for airstrikes 1/1, the thought that it wasn’t him is quite natural. (2/3)

Three, your tone of outrage seems inappropriate considering that the American government has conducted false flag operations in the past - Gulf of Tonkin and Project Ajax are two of the better known examples. It’s not ‘America would never!’, it’s ‘It wasn’t America this time, and here’s why.’ Thanks again for taking the time to put this together. (3/3)

I can answer these in order.

1.) At the moment most people - like Sargon, specifically - are suggesting that either no attack occurred at all, or any attack was launched by rebels gassing themselves, and the media and “deep state” are lying about it extensively to form a casus belli to war. People who suggest that we created Sarin just to drop it on civilians in Damascus to create a causus belli are so far around the fucking bend that Alex Fucking Jones would be worried in their company, as Alex Jones doesn’t actually believe any of the shit he says. It’s not hard to find a casus belli to take out Assad; the civil war has driven a massive immigration wave of refugees into Europe, further destabilizing Western societies (a situation Putin has deliberately and gleefully exacerbated) and Assad’s heinous war crimes against his own people are beyond the pale. To suggest that the United States needs to engage in elaborate conspiracy to justify intervention is a fantasy. We’ve outright killed people for much less.

2.) Like hell it is. To date, Assad’s use of chemical weapons has cost him some older warplanes (by no means his entire fleet, or his most effective aircraft) and most recently… his CW capability itself. In over SEVEN YEARS of more or less regularly conducted chemical weapon attacks, he has suffered very little damage to his conventional warfighting capabilities. Also, he knows damn well that the United States does not want to stay in the country, and moreover, they don’t want to depose him, either, as the power vacuum will simply be filled by Iran and Russia might take extreme measures to keep their strategic gains (a military port in the Med.) In my own pre-strike analysis I predicted the US would target non-military governmental targets and important infrastructure or resources to punish Assad for using chemical weapons, to discourage others from doing the same, but that they’d have to carefully calibrate it not to weaken Assad too much.

Instead, the US focused purely on taking out the chemical weapons themselves; which was a rather weaker statement but a much safer option from the power-balance perspective; making it clear that the US doesn’t give a shit about Assad killing his civilians with shells or machine guns, but only about keeping the WMD genie in the bottle so it doesn’t impact US interests in the future in other parts of the world.

And you are telling me - after TWO military strikes by the US that actively focused on deterring or preventing chemical weapon attacks by Assad, without changing the strategic balance on the ground - that Assad would never have used CW? Losing chemical weapons capacity itself equals a wash, and if you weigh 20% of the SAAF’s oldest, least-capable airframes against the repeated battlefield gains he’s made by using CW, Assad has gained FAR more than he’s lost by using Chemical Weapons.

Assad knows damn well that US and allied presence isn’t going to change one way or another no matter what he does, because even if “America” leaves; the Kurds certainly aren’t. Assad knows this because Trump stated his strategy bluntly during the Presidential debates and again the day after he was sworn in as President:

“If we kept the oil, you probably wouldn’t have ISIS because that’s where they made their money in the first place, so we should have kept the oil, but, OK, maybe we’ll have another chance,” he said.

The Kurds are currently sitting along the Euphrates river, where they control a good portion of Syria’s oil fields. By Trump’s own long-standing statements it is squarely in America’s strategic interests that the Kurds stay there - especially after the Iranian-puppeted Iraqi government drove the Kurds out of oil-rich Kirkuk. It is far preferable for that oil money to stabilize a de-facto Kurdistan than to be up for grabs by jihadists or Iranian jihadist proxies (which at this point, includes Syria.) The United States was never going to pack up and make the Kurds give that all back to Syria before Assad’s latest gas attack. It is clearly and demonstrably Trump’s long-standing policy.

So, in short, if Assad would “never use gas” because of all the horrible consequences, where are the FUCKING consequences? Because he has suffered very, very little. And there’s no shortage of people making that observation.

3.) “False flag” operations in the past were justified by the need to prevail in an existential conflict with a nuclear-armed Soviet Union, and current “commentators” see the Syrian situation through the same lens - witness Sargon of Akkad specifically mentioning Syria’s status as a “Russian ally.” However, the Russians are nowhere near as powerful as the Soviet Union was, militarily, diplomatically or economically, as Putin’s penchant for “hybrid warfare” and opportunistic shit-stirring demonstrates.

We’ve returned to an era of “great powers conflict” but Russia is not the Soviet Union and the old Cold War era strategies are both ineffective and demonstrably not US policy. The Gulf of Tonkin incident is laughably overblown, as involvement in Vietnam was essentially an extension of our involvement in Korea - a policy of keeping Communism from spreading to new countries. The US had the demonstrated interest, the incident was just the PR excuse. Much the same could be said of the Iraq war - WMD was simply the casus belli; the Bush Administration was pursuing a much grander strategy involving nation-building in the Middle East.

In Trump’s case, interventionism and foreign entanglement is anathema to the man and everything he’s ever advocated (witness his insistence on “keeping the oil” and even that mostly with Kurdish allies and not US troops) and the only evidence for his administration wanting “regime change” anyone can point to is by invoking ~the Deep State~ and left-wing outlets crowing about the statements of people who’ve since been fired out of a cannon by the Administration. Paying lip service to the idea of ousting Assad does not equal a fucking policy of regime change, especially as Assad and Assad’s regime are not the same thing. Assad’s Alawite sect is Assad’s regime, not Assad. (Americans, being members of the first nation really founded on a secular government, tend to forget that in most of the world for most of its history, politics and religion have been one and the same thing.) That Assad himself will have to step down from power to satisfy any lasting political settlement to divide Syria is not a great surprise; he’s presided over horrific amounts of bloodshed, slaughter, and brutality against his own civilians. But that simply means he’ll be replaced by another high-ranking member of his own government, another general, another strongman.

In conclusion; these pro-Syrian conspiracy theories stem from an almost complete ignorance of the situation in Syria. In fact, they are calibrated to appeal specifically to those ignorant; ordinary folk with no in-depth knowledge of the military or politics, who simply fear a repeat of Iraq. The narratives are short, sweet, easy to remember and repeat, play on existing fears and fit what very limited information the average guy on the street is likely to know about a confusing conflict in a far-off land. In short it is classic propaganda, and you needn’t look further than RT.com and Sputnuk to see who fucking packaged it.

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matthillica · 4 years

Text

Pandemic - Day 7 (Weds 3/18/20)

Not even sure where to begin this, suffice to say I've had a nagging feeling over the last few days that I need to document this as we all hurtle toward the unknown.

I haven't touched this blog in almost exactly 10 years, which is crazy to think about. Crazy that something I used to spend so much time agonizing over and pouring thought into has become antiquated and obsolete... only to become the one outlet that makes sense during this crazy time.

Yesterday I set up the Kinect on my Xbox, another obsolete piece of technology. Because I'm a nerd and always have to have the newest, hottest, flamingest shit, I got one of the first Xbox Ones to come out, which came with the second generation of Kinect sensor... you know, the one Microsoft tried to shove down all our throats relentlessly. Anyway, we basically used it as a voice operated remote to browse Netflix. "Xbox, pause" "Xbox, play" "Xbox, rewind"... you know, shit Americans are known for. Anyway, Microsoft eventually gave up the ghost and phased the Kinect out. Mine's been sitting on a shelf gathering dust for at least 2 years.

Now, it's a way (if I can get the damn thing working again) for us to use an outdated Skype app so that we can talk to Grandma on a daily basis. My daughter, Caroline is almost 2 (yes! I have a daughter now and have been married to my wife since September 2015). Grandma is in Kansas, set to move to be with us in Atlanta as soon as her house sells. She was supposed to come visit us 3/27, but it's looking like that won't happen now. I told her if she was able to get in the car TODAY and make the 14 hour drive, stopping only for gas and to sleep in her car, that she's welcome to come stay with us and ride this thing out. Tearfully, she told me she needed to stay in case someone wants to come look at the house.

Honestly, it's going to be safer for her there anyway. McPherson has around 15,000 people. Meanwhile Atlanta is set to blow with this virus and cases have started to double overnight. It's hard to know how many there really are simply because there's a shortage of testing. Personally, I think by this weekend, our healthcare system is going to be in the grips of the worst crisis it's ever seen.

I should also mention that my wife has some autoimmune health issues that are pretty unique. She suffers from Schmidt's Syndrome which is a combination of Addison's Disease and Hypothyroidism. It's something that can be managed with a daily regimen of drugs, but is a serious condition that can be exacerbated by illness. The story of her diagnosis and the things we went through to get to it could fill a book at this point. I have taken more trips to the ER in the last 5 years than I care to mention and many of them have been triggered by illness, whether that's a common flu or something given to my wife by Caroline from her daycare or mastitis... even the slightest thing can send her into adrenal crisis, which immediately requires a trip to the ER.

So... as you can probably guess... I'm pretty fuckin nervous about all this. Luckily, I have been quietly prepping and watching this story develop, so we have plenty of food, water, and meds to get us through the next 60-90 days. My concern is that if my wife catches this, which she probably will, we may need a trip to the ER... and that's the last place on earth I want to be right now or for the forseeable future.

I should ALSO also mention... my wife is 13 weeks pregnant with our second child. This means that now, not only do we get to navigate our way through a pandemic AND Schmidt's... but we also have to deal with morning sickness and fatigue, all the while playing the game of "Is this symptom just pregnancy OR is it your Schmidt's OR is it Covid?"

Anyway, the last few days have been rough and we're only at the beginning of this thing. My wife can barely stand due to fatigue. She basically moves from one flat position to the next... shuffling quickly from our bed to a sofa or from the sofa to the kitchen and back as quickly as she can. It's slightly horrifying. I've been trying to cram fluids and food down as much as possible, but it's hard when someone doesn't feel well. I got her a bottle that lights up every 30 min to remind her to drink, but that's not really helped much at all. I grabbed protein shakes from the store in an effort to find something high calorie with vitamins, etc. that she can drink easily. I basically had to hold a gun to her head to make her drink it this morning. I'm equal parts husband and taskmaster. It sucks.

Last night she said she felt the fatigue was getting worse and that it wasn't due to pregnancy. I can connect with her doctors via an app that allows me to send them messages... Laura was too tired last night to do this herself, so I fired off an email to both her endocrinologist and OBGYN. No response.

In preparation for a doctor visit today, which we assumed we'd be able to schedule, we drove to Laura's folks' house so they can watch Caroline while we go to the doc. We tried calling the docs on the way over, but it seems they're already trying to stem the flow of patients. It's worrisome when you're living with someone who has a life-threatening illness to see the system strained already when the worse is yet to come.

Anyway, not long after we got to my in-laws' house, Dr. Patel (endocrinologist) called me directly. After discussing Laura's symptoms with him for about 10 minutes, he said we need to go to the ER so that she can be given fluids via IV. I said, yeah... no I don't want to go there AT ALL. But he said really, we need to go as this is the only way to deliver IV fluids. I thanked him for calling us and he said he'd call back tomorrow to check in.

So... what to do? Do we drive into what we KNOW is a situation that will expose us both to Covid so that she can be given IV fluids and told she needs to eat more, which I can almost guarantee you is what will happen since we've been through this a dozen times before? OR do we do what we can at home, try to see if we can force fluids and food to make her feel better, then reevaluate tomorrow when, in all likelihood, the situation will be even worse at the ERs? Neither is a fantastic choice.

For now, we've decided to stick it out here at her parents and see if we can force the fluids and food for today. At the very least, tomorrow when we wake up if she is still not feeling better, we'll be able to say that we know she's not dehydrated and we know she's had enough food. I know it will be worse at the ER tomorrow, but if going there is a Covid sentence either way, seems like it would be smarter to delay that option as long as possible.

So that's the situation right now. We're all "working from home" at this point. I have a desk set up at home and have grabbed my monitors, so with the exception of the folding table set up in Caroline's playroom, it's just like my normal office setting, basically. It's interesting attending meetings and trying to handle the business-as-usual functions of our jobs while the world around us starts to crack and crumble. I can't help but wonder how long this routine will go on before each one of us is just in 100% survival mode, unable to track or even care about projects that have lost their meaning in the context of this incredible, unbelievable, worldwide crisis.

It's crazy to think that everyone... EVERYONE on EARTH... is living out their own versions of this story, complete with difficult situations to navigate and impossible choices to make. My own drama is consuming all of my mental real estate right now, so my heart is with everyone who is dealing with their own all-consuming drama as well.

Be good to each other over the coming days and weeks. Stay strong and as positive as possible. Take care and stay safe.

-Matt

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momentary-ecstasy · 7 years

Note

*whispers* wayhaught pirates with the rest of the earp crew. also, nicole doesn't have to be pirate. she could be a naval officer who ends up falling for waverly. Happy ending though.

Nicolewalked into the tavern growing more uneasy with every step. Shehad barely made it to shore before her body gave out. When she wokeup, the sun was shining on her and she was on her back, warm, but inhostile territory. She took off her officer uniform and filled itwith rocks, throwing it was deeply into the sea as she could.

Thenshe knocked out a drunken sailor that she figured she could shareclothes with. She stripped him to his underwear and left him with hishalf empty bottle of rum in front of fire. Then she rinsed off hisstink in the ocean and dressed in the wet clothes.

Hisgun was heavy strapped to her hip, but the sword felt right, aboutthe same weight at her old one. Shecould see the bustle of a pirate town from her hiding spot near thesmall fire the naked pirate had built for himself. When she put herhand in his pocket she found a few reales she could use to get someinformation and maybe a drink or two.

Soas most sailors did, Nicole headed to the tavern. Most taverns werehome to the most information to be found anywhere. She settled on asmall table near a window so she could keep a look outside. Her shiphad gone down in a storm and she knew the chances of anyone survivingit were almost nothing. She may had used up all the ship’s luckmaking it to shore.

“Goodmorning,” an angelic voice pulled her attention back into thetavern.

“’Morning,”Nicole turned her head to see the barmaid standing at her table. Shewanted to start asking questions, but she found her mouth wasn’tworking anymore.

“CanI get you a drink?” the barmaid smiled at her. “You look like youneed one.” She touched Nicole’s shoulder, then took her handaway. “You’re soaked.”

“Myship sank,” Nicole found her words. “I’m just her to find a wayback home.”

“Oh,”Waverly put the mug she had been carrying down on an adjacent table.She sat down across from Nicole. “You poor thing.” She tookNicole’s hand and for a moment Nicole felt like she might faint.

Sheneeded to eat. “Is there anywhere to get something to eat aroundhere? I only have a few reales.”

Thebarmaid smiled again and Nicole felt her heart flutter. “I’ll getyou something. You keep your gold.” She stood from the table andstarted to walk off.

“What’syour name?” Nicole asked.

Thebarmaid turned around with a quizzical look on her face. “Mostpeople don’t ask that.”

Nicolesmirked, finding herself again. “I’m not most people.”

Waverlysmiled widely. She looked away from Nicole bashfully, then lookedback. “Waverly.”

Nicolenodded to her. “Beautiful name.”

“Thankyou,” Waverly tapped Nicole’s table. “Your turn.”

“Nicole,”she answered succinctly.

“Beautifulname,” Waverly echoed and took a step back, trying to rip herselfaway from their shared smile. Finally, when someone called ‘Barmaid!”she stepped away to tend to her job.

Nicoledrummed her fingers on the table, nervous and starving. She lookedaround the tavern. Most of the pirate inside were already drunk, buta table near the back looked like they were plotting something. Twomen and a woman hunched over a map.

Itwasn’t her duty to tryto figure out what they were up to anymore. She just wanted to gohome.

Waverlystopped by their table todrop off a few drinks and touched one of the men’s shoulders. Hesaid something and she laughed, moving away from the table.

Waverlymade her way back to Nicole with a tray of food. “Now some of thesepastries are a few days old, but they’re still good. I promise.”

“Itrust you,” Nicole smiled up at Waverly.

“Ialso brought you some fruit because scurvy is no joke around here,”she set an orange down on the table. “And some water.” She setdown a jug of water.

Nicolewent for the water first, bringing the jug to her lips and gulpingdown water to quench a thirst she didn’t know she had.

“Slowdown there,” Waverly put her hand on the jug to keep Nicole fromtipping more into her mouth. “You’re gonna make yourself sick.”

Nicoleslowed down and set the jug on the table. “Sorry. I didn’t knowhow much I needed that.”

“Mysister is like that too,” Waverly gestured to the table with thethree planners. “Drinks rum all day and forgets water.” Waverlyshook her head.

“She’syour sister?” Nicole asked.

Waverlylooked toward the table. “Yeah. Wynonna. She’s the captain of thePurgatory.” Waverly took the rag from her shoulder and swung itaround. She used it to gesture out the window. “That ship out therebelongs to her. The one with the pirate flag”

“Whatabout the larger one?” Nicole asked. The flag wasn’t one sherecognized, pirate or national.

“That’sDoll’s ship,” Waverly pointed across the bar again to a man atthe table. “He’s a privateer, but sometimes he works withWynonna.” Waverly chuckled. “His ship is called the Black Badge.You know like he’s the law or something.” Waverly shook her head.“Well there’s no law around here.”

Nicolenodded, agreeing because she had no choice.

“Where’sthe port you call home?” Waverly asked, sitting down at the chairacross from Nicole.

Nicoleanswered honestly because pirate came from everywhere. “Wales.”

“Oh,”Waverly grinned. “That’s cool. I have actually never been there,or been anywhere really. But I hear Wales is beautiful.”

“Yoursister owns a ship and you don’t go anywhere?” Nicole asked.

“Shesays it’s too dangerous,” Waverly sighed. “She doesn’t wantme flying under a pirate flag.”

“Butworking and living in a known pirate haven is safe?” Nicole asked,shoving the food Waverly had brought her into her mouth as quickly asshe could.

Waverlysmiled. “I knew I liked you. I’m going to use that argument.”She looked around the tavern, checking on the patrons. “How do youplan to get home?”

“Findwork on a ship I guess,” Nicole answered with a mouthful.

“Purgatoryis shipping out in the morning,” Waverly pointed toward her sister.“Do you want me to see if Wynonna needs help?”

Nicolenodded vigorously. “That’d be great.”

Waverlystarted to move like she was going to stand up, but stopped justbefore she did. “You know, I’m going to be sad to see you leave.You’re different. I can tell. I have a sense for it.” She stoodfrom the table and crossed the tavern ready to put a good word in forher new friend.

“Heeey!”one of the pirates called across the bar. “Barmaid. I need more of…this stuff.” He threw the mug on the ground, the wood and metalmaking an awful sound.

“C’mon,Champ,” Waverly walked across the tavern toward him. “Don’t belike that.”

“You’resupposed to be like the wench right?” he asked, stumbling into atable. He lunged forward and grabbed Waverly’s face, squeezing itin his hand. “Bring. Me. More.”

Wynonnajumped up from the tableshe was at, but she was too slow. Champwas already on the ground. Nicole had risen from the table andknocked Champ away with the hilt of her sword. He tumbled to theground, bleeding from a gash on his head.

“Ithink you should pick up the mug you threw down,” Nicole told him,sword at her side.

Champcrawled toward the mug and picked it up. Instead of handing it toWaverly, he hurled it at Nicole and jumped to his feet. She deflectedthe mug with her sword and pointed it at Champ’s neck. “You getone more chance to leave before you leave in pieces.”

Champlooked defiantly back and hit the sword away, stalking toward thedoor. “I was gonna leave anyway.”

Nicoleput her sword back in the sheath and picked up the mug. She took astep toward Waverly, gently asking, “You okay?”

Waverlynodded. She touched her own face and looked at Nicole. “I am.”

Nicolecarried the mug back to the bar and placed it with the rest of theones that looked dirty.

“Youdon’t have to do that,” Waverly walked toward the bar. “Youalready-”

“Igot it,” Nicole turned back around. “It’s the least I coulddo.”

“Youokay, baby sis?” Wynonna asked, looping her arm around Waverly.

Waverlyput her arm around Wynonna’s waist. “Yeah. Thanks to Nicole.”

“Yeah,”Wynonna nodded to the undercover officer. “Thanks for that.” Shelooked Nicole over. “You sail much?”

“Mywhole life,” Nicole answered.

Wynonnalooked at her little sister. “Alright, you have until morning tofind someone to run the tavern while we’re gone.”

“Whatdo you mean?” Waverly asked. She looked up at Wynonna, then a smilespread across her face. “I get to some with you?”

“You’recoming with me or I’m killing Champ,” Wynonna stated, letting goof her sister. “Which I still might do anyway.” She took a steptoward Nicole and offered her hand in a shake. Nicole took it asWynonna said. “Welcome to Purgatory. We leave in the morning. Notlike dawn because I’ll be hungover, but like mid-morning’s good.”

“I’llbe there,” Nicole grinned. She found a way home.

#wayhaught #wynonna earp #there's probably going to be more #i say that because I've already written more #skillzyo

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r3b3lgrrrrrrrl · 5 years

Text

A LunaTic and her Gunn (Part 29)

"Hades&Persephone"

@lovemythsworld

@creatureofthen1ght-v3

"Kitten.... Kitten" Colson gently wakes Luna.

"Nooooo...." She whines "I just wanna sleep." She starts to pout.

"I know, Kitten" he coaxes her gently. "Here." He puts her sunglasses in her hand.

"You're a wise man..." She continues to whine.

"Thank you. Here, sit up, I have water for you too." He puts the bottle in her hands.

She does what he says, begrudgingly. "Why am I uppppp" she whines again, after sipping the water, throwing herself back onto the bed. "AHHHHH!!" She yells out. Grabbing her shoulder.

"That's why. I got The Doc downstairs, he needs to check you out." He's trying to get her out of bed.

"Steph checked meeeee..." She argues.

"Did Steph give you antibiotics?" He asks firmly.

"No." She says quietly.

"C'mon then, Kitten." He's afraid to man-handle her because of her shoulder so he just scoops her up. Carrying her down the stairs in a white T and black panties. Luna doesn't even give a fuck.

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

Ashley's in the kitchen with The Dr as Colson carries Luna in, sunglasses and all. Ashley laughs loudly. "THIS Bitch." She says to Colson.

He sets Luna down. "I know." He says shaking his head and laughing. "It's the only way I could get her out of bed."

"Drink this." Ashley sets a large glass of seltzer and lemon beside her friend.

The Dr is setting things up moving around Luna.

"You're AMAZING..." Luna moans taking a large drink.

"I know..." Says Ashley with sass.

The Dr finally speaks "Ok, Miss Smith. Let's take a look, you mind taking your shirt off for me?"

She looks at Ashley. "I don't have a bra." She says flatly. Ashley snaps her fingers, pulling an unwilling Luna off the table into the hall. Where she magically produces a black sports bra. "You are amazing."

"I told you, I KNOW." Both girls laugh.

Luna changes and gets back on the table. As The Dr looks at her wound, Colson stares at her barely clothed body, feeling his dick grow. He doesn't want to look at her shoulder. It makes him think of Jackson and all that does is piss him off.

The Dr confirms it was a through and through but continues to tell Luna that she's lucky it didn't hit the brachial artery or plexus. Trying not to roll her eyes, she's pissed about all the probable damage to her tattoos. He writes her a script for 2 antibiotics and 30s. She thanks him for his time and discretion. As Colson walks him to the door, Luna whispers "What the fuck??" To Ashley as she lays back on kitchen table. Wincing when the wound hits it.

"Seeee..." Laughs Ashley. "Stop acting like an Asshole." She sits at the table over top of Luna. "YOU'RE really fucking lucky Jax was there." She says looking down at her.

"I was really fucking lucky he gave me a gun." She snaps back. Instantly sorry.

"I don't give a fuck HOW you were lucky. YOU WERE FUCKING LUCKY. I know you're gonna do what you do, Loons, but you gotta be more careful. I get this whole deportation thing and that the kid lost a dad but I'm sure the mom would agree, that you dying to save some stuffed animal, would fuck the kid up more than losing it."

"I know....." Luna sighs. "I'll be more careful, MOM." She says with a smile.

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

"FUCKING GET HER, ASH!" Colson thinks hearing the girls after he lets The Dr out.

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

Colson strolls back into the kitchen. Leans over Luna and kisses her. "Wanna do something fun tonight?" He asks.

"Not really, but you know." She shrugs one shoulder, still laying on the table.

"Pete's playing a show in Burbank. I lost a bet to him and I have to do a minute set."

"On stage?" Ashley asks.

"Yeah, Dude." Colson grins.

"Dom and I are THERE, Kells!" She exclaims.

"Greeeeat..." Colson looks at her and they both laugh.

Luna's still laying on the table. "What bet did you lose?" She asks Colson.

"That I couldn't keep my shirt on at his birthday party last year." He laughs.

"Waaait.... You were at his 29th? I was there too. I wonder why we didn't meet then." She says sitting up. She and Colson look at each other inquisitivly.

Ashley breaks their thoughts "Because you were only there for like a minute, Loons. You literally popped in to give him his gift and birthday love. Remember?

"Oh, yeeahhh..." Luna drifts off, thinking back to that night.

"So, wanna go, Kitten?" Colson asks her.

"Uh, yeah, Bunny. Of course. Ash, you're coming?" She asks.

"Mhm." She nods her head.

"What time's the show?" She asks Colson.

"I gotta be there by 930P."

"You guys wanna do dinner? I've been wanting to hit Toca Madera..." Luna asks.

"Yaaaaas Girl!!! Mexican all day!" Ashley hoots. Luna looks up at Colson who nods in agreeance.

"Alright, I'll pack a bag and shower at your house?" She asks Colson pulling the white T back on.

"Yup." Colson agrees, sad to watch her body disappear.

"Ashhhh...? Do me a favor, please?"

"What, Buddy?"

"If I run a load, will you throw my clothes in the dryer after?"

"No prob." Ashley agrees as Luna heads towards the stairs.

Colson leans into Luna's ear, following her up them "Mexican, hunh? I guess that means no butt sex tonight?" Poking her in the ass with his finger.

"Get the fuck away from me, You Weirdo!" She shrieks, laughing while running up the steps. "We don't do butt stuff!!" She shouts over her shoulder, making him laugh.

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Back in her room Luna dumps her leather travel bag all over the floor as Colson lights a joint. She makes a pile of clothes she wants to wash. He passes her the joint. Finding new to restock her bag, she comes across her leather. There's a solid hole through the left side. Luna passes back the joint and digs through a make-up bag, pulling out a bunch of safety pins. A few minutes later she displays it. "Fixed." She laughs as she continues to pack. Colson smiles lightly, hating the jacket now and how that hole almost took Luna from him.

"She loves that fucking jacket. She's never gonna give it up." He thinks sighing to himself.

Once back from starting a load of laundry, Luna slips on a pair of cutoffs. "You ready?" She asks Colson. He nods grabbing her bag. As they head out the door Colson shouts to Ashley " WE OUT!!"

"See yous for dinner!" She calls back from somewhere in the house.

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Heading back to Colson's Luna asks about the goldfish. "Oh fuck!! I forgot all about them!!" He exclaims.

"Can we stop and grab a bowl and shit in case they are alive? She asks him.

"Anything you want, Kitten." He takes her hand and kisses it. Before stopping off at a Target.

They are Assholes in Target. He carries her around piggy back style through out the store, tries to buy all the Betas for fighting. She says No so he attacks her with bouncy balls at her legs. As Luna's paying, she loses him for a second before he comes running passed her, screaming with his tongue out. They are not allowed in that Target anymore.

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Still laughing about Target when they walk in they're greeted by a surprisingly quiet house and only 1 dead fish. "That's us." Colson nods at the fish. "Hades and Persephone. Can't kill The Devil and His Bride." He scoops up a laughing Luna, kissing her deeply.

"You do know how fucked up that myth is, don't you?" She asks, still laughing.

"Nope. I don't know and I don't care." He states.

"Hades and Persephone it is..." She laughs throwing her hands up. She sets the fish bowl up in the middle of the kitchen island.

"We have pets." He says kissing her on the head.

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Upstairs Colson throws himself on the bed after dropping Luna's bag. Coming in after him, she can't help but jump on him. "Come're Haaaaadesssss..." She teases from above him, littering his face and neck with kisses. He sits up, she pulls his shirt off as he carefully goes for hers, terrified of hurting her. She sees his worry, taking off her shirt and sports bra herself to his relief. She stands up on the bed letting him unbutton and pull off her shorts and panties. He stares up at her naked body before pulling her down onto his face. Licking and lapping her every fold making her twitch and giggle.

"FUCKING PEACHES." He loves the way she tastes.

He hits her spots making her buck. "Bunnnnyyy!!!" She calls out, cumming all over his face as he holds her steady by the waist. Lifting her up off of him, he moves behind her, grabs her hips, setting her on all fours.

As he slides into her, he groans "GOD, YOU FEEL SO FUCKING GOOD, KITTEN."

"Mmmm you like that, Bunny?" She coos. "You like fucking me from behind?"

He's fucking her harder and faster with her words

"I do." He pants out. She's close and can tell he's right with her. She starts slamming against him hard making him moan. Pushing harder and harder she begs "Who's pussy is it, Hm? Who owns this fucking pussy, Bunny?" She moans as she cums.

"I DOOOOOO!!!" He shouts bursting inside of her.

"Yeah, you do." She giggles easing herself down on the bed. He makes sure his face isn't on her shoulder as he kisses her back. Taking their time and laying inside of her, he loves that they have little rituals like this.

She looks at her watch, it's 530P. They have dinner reservations at 7p. She tells him they should shower and he agrees.

They do it again in the shower because how can they be naked together and NOT?

Luna throws on a black long sleeve cotton shirt, black leather pants and her black Red Bottoms. She's has a fire engine red lip to match, jewelry piled on.

They leave a still empty house to head to dinner.

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Luna rest her feet in Colson's lap as they smoke a joint on the way to grab Ashley and Dom. They figured they'd all ride together to Toca Madera, then Flappers. Both couples hold hands walking in, easily being sat. "Try not to beat anyone up in here." Colson whispers into her ear heading to their table.

"No promises." She smirks back before sitting down.

Dinners delicious. Their margaritas and fish tacos are to die for. Conversation is fun and engaging as always with the 4 of them. Colson and Dom are talking about their video. They're thinking about doing an open call in the next couple days. Ashley and Luna encourage them, both agreeing it's a gnarly idea. Luna and Ashley have enjoyed watching the guys collaborate. That's when it hits Ashley "We should fucking collab!!" She exclaims excitedly. "I don't know why we never thought of it before!!"

"RIGHT!!!" Shouts Luna in disbelief. "FUCKING RIOT GRL ANTHEM!!!" She's still shouting.

"YEEEEESSSSS!!!!" Oozes Ashley as they high five each other. The guys watch them in amusement as the girls chatter excitedly. Luna already pulling her notebook out.

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Leaving Toca Madera is pure hell. Someone must have called the paparazzi alerting them to Ashley. Seeing the 4 of them together is just extra cash on their film.

"Halsey!! Halsey!!" One shouts.

"Yungblud! Over here!!" Shouts another. They push through the cameras with their heads down.

"MGK!!! MGK!!" They shout for Colson. Luna's tucked under Colson's arm, wound side in, head down as Colson pushes them through. As he opens the door for her, she looks up. That does it. She hears it as he shuts her door.

"IS THAT, THAT BROOKLYN BITCH!??? MGK!! MGK!! ARE YOU GUYS TOGETHER??" Luna leans over to push open his door for him, Colson slides into the driver's seat of his Benz. Sticking his tongue out and giving The Paps the middle finger as they pull off.

"Holy fucking shit balls!" Luna sighs, lighting a joint.

"I know." The other 3 say in unison.

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To be continued.....

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