#Mai got bored at her casino job | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pipileo · 14 days ago

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A Fictional Short Story.

I was bored late at night so instead of sleeping, I wrote this thing. Maybe reading enthusiasts will read this and go "neat." Enjoy.

CW: References to... Cannibalism? I guess

"So. You're sure you want to sign up with us? We want to make it very clear that you probably won't be able to change your mind," the lady at the reception desk warned me. She slid me a clipboard and a slightly chewed blue ink pen, all while looking at me with a serious look on her face. "Make sure you think it through. Fill this out, and sign your name at the bottom. You may have a seat until you're done filling out the form."

She pointed me to the waiting area, where several other people willing to join this program were also signing out their own documents. A diverse waiting area, I thought to myself. I sat next to this one guy, since every other space already had someone writing their info on the form sitting in it. Plus, this guy didn't totally look like he was on the verge of mental collapse. Wish I could say the same.

Anyways, I sat next to this guy. He looked about as presentable as a hobo, I'd say. Without even talking to him, I came up with the prediction that this was a man who had only been on the streets for less than a week before coming over to a place like this, to escape the consequences of his actions from a stupid decision he made. His clothes weren't all that dirty, and neither was his wool, except maybe for a few dark spots on his hands. It all hinted towards him being new to the hobo game. I guessed that he might've fallen victim to the casinos, since he didn't have that "crack addict" look to him compared to the other people here.

I looked down at the form that was fastened to the clipboard. Skimming through the pages, yeah. It was clear what they were asking. There was no ambiguity, it was all crystal clear what you were getting yourself into. They asked about drug use, blood type, amount of exercise and weight, species. All of these correlated directly to the food the carnivores would be getting from us volunteers. I sighed, before placing the tip of the pen on the paper and beginning to fill everything out.

I was about halfway through the page when I sorta felt my mind starting to wander off the paper, staring at the man's hooved foot next to me. I sorta wanted to confirm my suspicions with him, and besides, who's it hurt to make a conversation? I tapped the guy on the shoulder. Once he looked towards me, I began to talk.

"What's got a guy like you here in this place?" I started, setting my pen down on the page.

I didn't get a response for a few seconds, but then he replied back with, "I just thought I should do this because... Well, what they're offering just seems too good to pass up. Who wouldn't want a chance to live in luxury, right?"

"You'd only be there for a few months, I think. But yeah. I understand. Never had a time in my life where my fridge was full. Always tried to manage three jobs, but with this new condition I got, it's just... not worth it anymore. I tried to buy myself some more time but, I think I- heh, I think I made it worse."

"Hm. What did you get?"

I sort of paused for a moment, going over what the doctors told me that fateful night a few weeks ago.

"Something with my skin. Whatever it was called slipped my mind, I guess. By the way, name's Kobou Sezak. Nice to meet you." I replied, reaching my hand out to the man.

"Nice to meet you, Kobou. You can call me Tufft." He replied, politely accepting the handshake. "And it's a shame. I feel bad for you, with your skin condition and all."

"Oh, don't be. I'm sure things will only be getting better from here."

"Amen to that, bunny boy. Can't wait to get into the program. I'll finally be able to let myself relax. It's been a rough few weeks."

"Feel free to elaborate, man. I'm listening. Big ears i've got, after all."

I finally began to resume filling out the form again. Otherwise, I'd be here all day, stuck in a room of people with stories worse than ours. I filled out the form a bit more as Tufft began to explain his own story leading up to today. Turns out I'm damn good at guessing. At least in broad definitions. Tufft had indeed been a newly made hobo, since he had bet (technically not gambled), his life savings on a race that cost him everything. He's apparently too shameful to get someone like his sister to come house him, because he didn't want her to see what he'd done. Especially since Tufft was older, and was supposed to be a role model to her. He'd rather be fed to the wolves before he'd come face to face with his family and admit his actions at the dinner table.

Me too, honestly. It seemed easier to me. All it took was a paper form and a contract to get sent to paradise until the end of your days. Anyways, eventually, Tufft and I said our goodbyes as we walked to the desk and handed in our forms and waited to be called in, one person at a time, into the other room. Tufft was called first, and for a while, I just sat and twiddled my fingers in silence, avoiding eye contact with the more messed-up looking people in the room. It felt like everyone was judging me for judging them. The whole room felt tense, as if an argument was about to break out at any moment.

When I reached the next room after being called on next, I was sat down at a table, with a doctor on the other side. They were much taller, which wasn't surprising in the slightest. Wolves, am I right? But it still made me want to consider changing my mind. Tall people freak me out.

"Alright, so, Mr. Sezak. Judging from the form, I'd say you'll have... maybe eight months max for the program. Our medical team will try to have your skin condition treated before your time is up so that your meat will be more suitable for consumption."

I sighed. Eight months is the time I had left. Well, I signed the form, so this is what I got. I nodded my head, accepting the decision I made in its entirety.

"Eight months. Got it." I replied.

"And just to remind you of everything you have agreed to, you, Kobou Sezak, belong to us now. You will live your remaining eight months in luxury, well-maintained facilities with high surveillance to ensure your pleasure, all without requiring to pay a single penny to our facilities, and at the end of your term, you will be euthanized and sent to butcher shops to feed and appease the predator population. You must follow all instructions given to you by our staff, regardless of whatever activities you may be partaking in, or reluctance to comply."

"God damn," I reacted, hopefully with plausible reasoning. "Uhm, I understand, sir."

"Good. Now, you will be making your way into the room directly across the hall, alright, Mr. Sezak? You will be given a permanent tattoo of our company's logo, and then you will be prepped up to live in our facilities. Enjoy your stay, and have a nice day."

I was about to say something, but then the doctor dismissed me and yelled out for the next person to be called in. I sucked it up, and left the room, heading across the hall to get a tattoo that symbolized my new life of luxury, as well as being a constant reminder of my choice for the rest of my eight months. Soon, I'll just be food on someone's plate. Morbid, really. But as long as it's better than what was out there, I shouldn't complain over such an opportunity. My body felt warm as I grabbed the handle to the next room. Goodbye, responsibilities. I'm living the lavish life now.

#pipsoddcreations #i can elaborate more on the worlds details if you want me to #maybe i left some things a bit too vague. dont be afraid to ask if youre interested.#short story #furry #i guess

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waynes-multiverse · 2 years ago

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OH MY GOD! I’m positively obsessed with this story! I love it!!! If this were legit a book, it would be one of those I wouldn’t be able to put down, you know? The one you read and read and read and don’t care about food and sleep, and then suddenly it’s three days later, and your stomach rumbles and your eyes are red, reminding you that you do need to eat and sleep. But yeah, it’s that kind of story! 😍👏💚

More swooning below! 👇

Honestly, I know you said at the end that this part was sort of a filler, but I would read thirty pages of purely this. I love the manhunt and her hanging out with the boys and Annie and Kimiko. I could read way more chapters of this and not get bored, seriously. It’s that good! Gimme as much cat and mouse as possible. I thoroughly enjoyed this!

First of all, you nailed all the characters perfectly. Annie, Frenchie, Butcher, Hughie & M.M.! I laughed every time the latter mothered her or was anal about shit. Hilarious and so accurate! Five stars for a job well done! ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

No, you weren’t former SAS, like Butcher. You weren’t CIA, or any other military alphabet soup.

Loved that line! Genuinely made me laugh ��

I also pretty much laughed at every line Butcher threw out. From “granny fucker” to “not enough hugs,” it was hard to contain myself. And I love her character, her skill set, and how damn smart she is! To me, this girl is Liam Neeson in Taken. God forbid someone dares to kidnap her sweet sister. Butcher better respect her!

Everything is relevant, always. Even if it isn’t.

So true! And no matter what you think about Soldier Boy and his general attitude before he got kidnapped by the commies, forty years of torture certainly changes a person. He at least deserves a second chance to prove he might have changed, although he’s still pretty “macho.” But c’mon! The guy is over a hundred years old and missed out on tons of progress! How is he supposed to know any better if no one teaches him? Just knowing what he went through in Russia always breaks my heart. The guy needs a genuine hug and some understanding, not Novichok and a bullet, much less be turned back into a popsicle... 😔

In other news, I’m a fan of Soldier Boy’s South America tour so far. First Brazil where I’m sure he learned what a g-string and a Brazilian wax is before he moved on to goddamn Columbia (of course he did). Did he already find out about Netflix and catch up on Narcos? Either way, I bet the cartels are happy to host him, even though he might snort the whole country 😂

Her big blue eyes were vacant, her blonde hair caked with blood from a head shot.

No! Not Bette Davis Eyes! 😭 I love how caring reader was, though. She’s got a good heart in that chest of hers.

“I like it when they’re cocky,” you replied.

Me too, girlie, me too... 😆

[...] he seemed to be taking an extended vacation surrounding strip clubs, casinos, and other likely destinations for sex, drugs, and money.

As crazy as it may be, I genuinely love this guy 💚 Also love the fact that he robbed banks. Way to go, my hero!

“Whoever you’re looking for that isn’t me,” he said, injecting a fair bit of charm into his voice.

Wow. Antonio is becoming annoying quickly. And handsy. ADIOS ASSHOLE! A small part of me hoped whoever is watching her (SB?) might swoop in and save her all hero-like. *sighs* A girl can only dream... But good for her! She saved herself! Who needs men anyway? My little Liam Neeson surely doesn’t ❤️

“He had tenacity,” Frenchie remarked.

But of course, the French guy appreciates the Latino fire 😂

You didn’t want to go in, but you wouldn’t put it past Soldier Boy to get caught up in a mass orgy.

No, we really shouldn’t... 😅

Focusing on the far wall, you saw a leather chair by the window, with a still smoking cigar laid to rest in an ash tray on a small table.

Okay, seriously, this should not turn me on as much as it does. I’ve never gone for the douchey cigar smoker, but all I want is for Soldier Boy to slap my rear and order me to refill his drink. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Butcher, you’ll die first. Then the cum-guzzler.

DEAD!!! This one little note killed me. KILLED ME!!! I laughed so hard! Poor Hughie. He always gets the worst end of the stick 🤣🤣🤣 I bow to your feet and heavily applaud you for this one! 👏 (This is exactly why I could read endless chapters of this manhunt and this story. Hunt him around the globe. I’ll pay for the whole ride!)

“Maybe then you’ll—and let me not shock you here—meet someone,” Louisa said. “And finally put an end to that goddamn dry spell. What’s it been, like three years?”

I love her little sister 😏🖤

But mere feet above you, if you had only looked up to the roof, you would’ve seen a hunter lazily eyeing his prey.

DUDE! That ending!!! Glorious! Is it SB? Someone from his entourage? No, I bet it’s him. She caught his green eyes in that sexy af leather dress, didn’t she? I need help 😂🙈

I want more! MORE! If this had legit 10k words, I would’ve devoured it all the same 😍👏 Amazing, amazing job, love! Can you tell I’m obsessed yet? Sorry for that ultra long ramble. And that little sneak peek... 👀 Is it Wednesday yet? When is the next part dropping? GAH! 💚

Break Me Down - Part 1

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

**To start from the Prologue.

Word Count: 5,200 Warnings: Some male skeeviness lol.

Part 1: The Game Begins

Two months ago…

You and M.M. continued to pour over all the records that the CIA had been able to pull on Soldier Boy.

This had been your life for the past month: locked in one hotel room after the next, up to your eyeballs in research. Or pounding the pavement in the sweltering summer of Brazil, on any whisper of Soldier Boy.

Right now it was the former. You all were piled into M.M.’s room, as it was the only one with a kitchen.

You smiled at Frenchie and thanked him when he offered you a steaming mug. At least you would finally get to experience Brazilian coffee.

You hiked a foot on the table where you and M.M. were working and sipped carefully; the mug was filled to the brim. Your companion eyed your pajama-clad leg, which only encroached an inch or two into his space.

“Excuse the fuck outta me,” said M.M. “Can you not?”

You briefly looked up from the (completely fabricated) biopic you were reading on Soldier Boy. “Hmm?”

M.M. gestured to your bare foot on the table. “Hello? What, were you raised in a fucking barn?”

With an amused smile, you lowered your leg. “I’m cramping up. We’ve been at this for six hours.”

“And counting,” Hughie said with a tired sigh. He and Annie had just come from scoping the local tourist spots and dive bars in the city. But it wasn’t for pleasure. You all had arrived in Brazil last night on a rumor that Soldier Boy had been spotted at a club a couple of days ago.

Annie heaved a sigh as she dropped into the seat next to you. She stole your paper fan on the table and tried to dry the sweat on her face and neck. You smiled and passed her your bottled water as well.

You and Annie had been “work friendly” at Supe Affairs. But now you felt like she had accepted you the most readily into the group. She seemed genuinely interested in who you were as a person as well.

Though you tried not to give too many personal details about your life, she had a way of disarming you, getting you to open up with her genuine willingness to listen.

You were friendly enough with Hughie and Kimiko as well, and you could also admit, you liked M.M. He was a straightforward man (and fun to tease with his anal idiosyncrasies). You got the most done with M.M. by your side. And watching him with Frenchie was pure entertainment.

Overall, you felt respected by them, even if you knew you weren’t as close as the rest of them seemed to be. You just hadn’t been on the team long enough.

The only one who mostly ignored you was Billy Butcher.

Butcher didn’t want you on the team. He’d made that pretty clear from the beginning.

What had his words been? Oh, yeah.

She’s a fucking amateur. Won’t last thirty seconds if, heavens for-fuckin’-bid, she encounters an A-lister like Soldier Boy.

You knew he considered you dead weight. But as Grace had told him, her track record speaks for itself.

No, you weren’t former SAS, like Butcher. You weren’t CIA, or any other military alphabet soup. But if there was one thing you knew how to do, it was tracking people down.

You were currently flitting through Soldier Boy’s sham career: the shitty music videos, the starlets, the ticker tape parades, and what precious little there was about his beginnings: about “Ben.”

You did find out that his family was from Hartford, Connecticut, and stupidly rich too. You found his parents’ names to go along with that.

And then it was a hop, skip, and a jump to him being unveiled as Soldier Boy.

“That is curious,” you murmured.

“Curious about the world’s most infamous granny fucker?” Butcher remarked. You slid him a wry look.

The fact that he tried to erase his past is interesting,” you said. “The details that aren’t here are just as important as the ones that are.”

Butcher hesitated a second, an ice-cold beer poised to his lips. He tipped it toward you in acknowledgement. “On that, we actually agree.”

“What do we know about his real life? Before he became Soldier Boy,” you asked.

Butcher sat down across from you and shaded in the details he knew, mostly about a disappointed father.

“Didn’t get enough hugs as a lad,” he surmised.

You suspected he was understating the truth. If there weren’t that many recorded accounts, pictures, or footage of Soldier Boy’s parents and home life, then he didn’t want people to know.

Interesting, you thought. Eventually Butcher got up to run down another lead that came in via text from Grace. Frenchie came back from the kitchen and saw how intently you were staring at your computer screen, eyes rapidly scanning.

“Ah,” Frenchie said, gesturing between you and the departed Butcher with a hand that held three alfajores cookies. “I see the same anal tenacity that fuels Monsieur Charcutier.”

You raised a brow. “My tenacity is for the case, not Soldier Boy.”

This wasn’t a vendetta for you. This was just business.

“For money,” M.M. correctly guessed, but his eyes held no judgment. “Been there.”

You sighed, smiling a little. Yes, you were doing this for money. They didn’t need to know anything more than that.

You liked this team well enough, but this was a job. The way you protected your family, and yourself, was by not talking about them.

That night, Frenchie’s ordered “package” arrived, courtesy of Grace. It was a healthy dose of Novichok gas—perhaps one of the only substances on Earth that could put Soldier Boy into a peaceful sleep.

Well, you didn’t know if it was peaceful, exactly. But he’d be asleep. That was all any of you cared about.

“At least it’s in proper containment this time,” M.M. said, examining the large cannister. Annie peered at it over his shoulder.

“I don’t know. My shitty perfume case seemed to hold it just fine,” she quipped.

You smiled from your usual seat at your computer. Annie came over with a sandwich for both of you. It was from the café down the street, and you’d been meaning to try it. Every time you stood out on your hotel room’s balcony, you could smell fresh bread and smoked meats coming from the café.

“Oh, yeah. How’s your sister?” Annie asked around a mouthful of sandwich. “She’s in college now, right?”

She had a good memory. Annie had heard you on the phone with your sister before you all left last month. You’d said one last goodbye, knowing it wouldn’t be safe to talk once you were locked into this mission.

While you were reluctant to answer Annie’s question, the others seemed distracted in the kitchen, fighting over who ordered chorizo and who ordered steak on their sandwich.

Still, you lowered your voice, even as a proud smile graced your lips. “She got into Julliard.”

Annie grinned and set her food down to give a little clap.

“She starts in the fall, so a few months,” you added.

“Aww, you’re glowing with pride,” Annie teased. And you laughed, but it was true. You wouldn’t hide that you were very proud of your little sister’s accomplishments.

“She’s worked hard, and she deserves it,” you said. Though your eyes dimmed. “I just wish I could help her celebrate…she’s on my case for taking this job.”

Quite simply, she worried about you. You were good at your job, but you were still human. She’d seen you come home banged up and bruised more often than you cared to admit…

Annie gave you a knowing look. “If you don’t want to be here, you don’t have to. I’m sure you can get other jobs—”

“Getting into school is just the beginning,” you said. “She’s got four years to go. Then her master’s. Hell, her doctorate if she wants.”

“There are scholarships…”

“It’s not enough,” you said with a sigh. It’s never enough.

“All right, lads,” Butcher said. He wiped his mouth with a napkin as he read off his phone. “The new Strongest Cunt in the World has been spotted. Suit up.”

“Where’re we going?” you asked, closing up your laptop.

Butcher shot you a wink. “Columbia.”

While on the private plane, you were the only one still awake as you continued to watch the archival footage with your Airpods in. Reel after motherfucking reel of Soldier Boy.

You really were starting to get sick of his smug face. He was clearly a good actor, if nothing else.

But then you came across the Russia files.

Part of you didn’t want to watch. You knew exactly what they were, and you didn’t want to see anything that would make you sympathize with him in your mind…

But your father’s training was ingrained in you—like fingerprints on your skin. Like a vice grip around your throat.

Everything is relevant, always. Even if it isn’t.

…That, and maybe your own insatiable curiosity won out.

So you steeled yourself with a breath, and you hit the play button.

Gradually, your eyes widened.

You had seen awful things—as a private investigator at your father’s firm, and at Vought.

You had filled your quota of blood and death. And you had already seen the footage of Soldier Boy blasting a tower full of people in New York with the nuclear power now housed in his chest.

You also knew what he did to M.M.’s family. But after watching several minutes of Soldier Boy's torture, hearing his struggle, his outbursts of rage, the ragged gasps for breath, the clawing, traumatized sounds...

It was like stereo between your ears, and it was...too familiar. Too much.

So you finally turned it off, closing your laptop with an unsettled breath of your own.

And you were unable to sleep that night.

When you all finally arrived in Columbia, you and the team surveyed the wreckage in the casino.

It was a fucking blood bath.

As you stepped carefully through the wreckage of bodies and gambling chips, you looked for clues. Anything that might tell you about what Soldier Boy was doing here (though you could guess), and however unlikely, where he might go next.

You were disheartened to find the body of a young woman. Her big blue eyes were vacant, her blonde hair caked with blood from a head shot. On further inspection, you found a small room key in her hand.

With a sigh and a gloved hand, you took the key. But you also closed the girl’s eyes.

You kept looking while the others had fanned out in the opposite direction. When you came across a small table that wasn’t turned over or splintered into fragments, you raised a brow. There was a napkin pinned to the top with a steak knife.

You yanked it out and examined the flimsy napkin. Noticing that you’d found something, Butcher came over to your side. He was much taller than you, fairly looming over your shoulder. You angled the note toward him.

Try harder.

S.B.

It was more than just a taunt.

It was the beginning of a game. And it made you smile.

“What the hell’re you smiling about?” Butcher asked.

“I like it when they’re cocky,” you replied. Butcher shot you a sideways glance, one that said you were maybe more deranged than even him.

“All supes are cocky bastards.”

You eyed him with a teasing grin. “On that, we actually agree.”

True to Grace’s word, she provided you all with the full extent of the CIA’s resources. While Butcher tracked down the hotel of the room key you found, you and M.M. were able to tap into any and all local street cameras and map out the likely points Soldier Boy had hit in this city—and where he could be going next.

According to the hotel manager, Soldier Boy had paid for a month’s stay, but hadn’t checked out after coming back for some of his belongings. The security cameras had caught him leaving his hotel room with a few men—armed ex-military types, and possibly his new entourage.

But the trail ended there.

Over the next two months, Soldier Boy continued to be one step ahead of you in the chase.

Though his movements were calculated (disappearing like a coil of smoke whenever you caught his scent), he seemed to be taking an extended vacation surrounding strip clubs, casinos, and other likely destinations for sex, drugs, and money.

And he’d evaded capture after hitting at least three banks on his way out of the U.S. alone.

At the current crap motel of the week, you shared the couch with Kimiko and Hughie while you surveyed traffic cameras.

“What’s the likelihood that he’s even still in Columbia? In South America, even?” Hughie asked. It was a good goddamn question.

“We have agents covering every major port and air hanger,” M.M. said. “If he wants to escape the continent, he’s gonna have to fight his way out, or rent a dingy and float his motherfuckin’ ass across the Atlantic.”

“I wouldn’t put anything past him,” you remarked. “What connections does he have?”

It wasn’t the first time you’d asked that question, but it was the first time you got a straightforward answer.

“Who knows,” said M.M. “He’s an ancient fuck.”

“Who killed all his old friends,” Hughie supplied.

“Well, his team, to be fair. I don’t think he ever had friends,” Annie said. “...Plus his old girlfriend.”

“What a spectacular bonfire that was,” Butcher dryly quipped.

Nice, you thought, heavy on the sarcasm.

You sighed. Clearly, you all would have to be prepared for anything.

When you weren’t pouring through surveillance, you took to the streets with Annie, playing the part of American tourists.

“Soldier Boy don’t know who the fuck you are,” Butcher had reasoned. He’d then pointed at Annie.

“Her fame as Starlight can get you two into whatever bar, club, or fuckhole that might’ve let him in. She’ll park it at a table, attracting attention. Meanwhile, you’ll circle around and look for him.”

It was actually a sound plan, and you could be a decent actor yourself. This wasn’t the first time you’d adopted a role to find your target, and on this mission, it probably wouldn’t be the last.

Well, a week later, the plan worked. You and Annie encountered a woman at a bar who waited tables at a nearby club, in Medellin. She’d served Soldier Boy just last night.

Medellin was considered the party city of Columbia, and for good reason.

Butcher had cleverly found your “disguise” for tonight, though you hadn’t liked the smirk on his bearded face when he gave you the shopping bag.

It turned out to be a semi-legal black leather dress, along with thigh-high boots possessing a sharp heel. Annie’s dress was just as short, and gold. With her blonde hair and shimmering makeup contrasting your black dress and smokey makeup, the two of you looked like night and day. Light and dark.

While Hughie manned surveillance in a rented van, parked outside the club, the rest of the team had found strategic points to cover in the club: M.M. was at the bar. Frenchie and Kimiko had found a table to watch the area in front of the stage, while Butcher was somewhere clinging to the shadows.

You followed Annie into the club. Once they’d recognized her as Starlight, they’d let her right in, and you by association. You didn’t envy her fame, but you could admit, it had some perks.

Inside, the club was dark and loud, and packed with people and streams of colorful light bouncing off the walls. This isn’t going to be easy.

Both of you scoped the area subtly before joining M.M. at the bar.

Well, you two found your own opening further down. Sitting next to him would be too obvious.

You subtly pressed a finger to the communicator in your ear while Annie ordered drinks.

“It’s gonna be hard to find my own ass in here,” you said to the team. You scanned the place and noticed an entire second and third floor. “This place is huge.”

“Then get crackin’, love,” Butcher’s voice reached you. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. But you did take the vodka martini Annie offered you.

“Ah, you beat me to it,” a man said, his richly accented voice hovering near your ear. You turned your head and had to lean back a bit. You were met with blue eyes, tan skin, and an attractive smile. The man tipped an imaginary hat, letting his shoulder-length dark hair dip into his eyes.

“Good evening, mi vida,” he said. “I was gonna buy you a drink, but I see you’ve got one. Mind if I finish my beer with you?”

Inwardly you wanted to sigh, but you gave a flirtatious smile to keep up appearances. “Sure.”

“Where are you from?” he asked, and with a more teasing smile. “I’m having a hard time placing your accent.”

You affected a giggle. “Oh, really? You mean I don’t have a massive, neon sign over my head that says, ‘American Tourist?’”

“Well, maybe not neon,” he joked. “I’m Antonio.”

“I’m Jess,” you lied, shaking his hand. He turned it over and pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. Annie raised a brow behind you, but she sipped her drink.

Antonio must’ve been a local. His dark blue buttoned-down shirt, jeans, and boots were more casual than the obvious tourists with their flashing finery. And by his accent, you could guess that he was at least Latino. Columbian, most likely.

You were able to subtly dodge the question of exactly where you were from. And the two of you flirted for a few minutes while you continued to survey the people passing by, scanning the gaps between bodies.

When Antonio finally asked you to dance, you agreed. It would get you further into the club with a better excuse than walking around aimlessly. You turned to Annie.

“Catch you later?” you asked. She tossed you a wink.

“Yeah, girl. Have fun!”

You smiled and let Antonio lead you to the dance floor. But you discreetly used every movement to your advantage, looking beyond your dancing partner to continue your search. If Soldier Boy was here, you would find him.

“He’s not here,” said Antonio. It actually managed to jerk you out of your focus.

“Who?” you asked, feigning confusion.

“Whoever you’re looking for that isn’t me,” he said, injecting a fair bit of charm into his voice.

You actually felt your face warming up at that. The way he was looking at you now, there was very little doubt as to what he wanted. His grip on your hips tightened.

Part of you was getting impatient with this part of the game, but at the very least, he was a good dancer. He pulled you effortlessly through the cumbia, Columbian salsa dancing, even if he was starting to sweat on you.

But now, you could almost swear someone was watching. Though it might’ve been the sweat dripping down your spine, you felt that strange prickle on the back of your neck.

Well, besides Annie. You knew she was keeping an eye on you from the bar, as were Frenchie and Kimiko as they joined a poker game in the far corner, away from the dance floor.

Your gaze continued to flit through every corner of the room between spins and the movements of your feet and your hips.

But when Antonio’s hands started get a bit too familiar with the curve of your ass, you took his hands and used them to spin yourself. He brought you back in tight. A bit too tight.

“Come on, baby…” he whispered in your ear.

And you felt his hand slide up the inside of your thigh. He even had the audacity to try and slip past the lacey front of your underwear.

That’s when your patience snapped.

You grabbed his wrist and “accidentally” drove your heel into his foot. With precision you felt it land between two vertebrae.

The girlish yelp he made brought a flicker of a smile to your lips, but you covered it with a doe-eyed look and many bumbling apologies.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

He all but shoved you as he limped away, cursing you in Spanish. You’d taken four years of it in high school, and you still only caught half of it.

Hiding your smile, you walked away and pressed a discreet finger to the comm in your ear.

“The stage front is clear. Scoping the back.”

“Wait for me,” Annie said. She was still sitting at the bar. “I think you broke that guy’s foot.”

“He had tenacity,” Frenchie remarked.

“All balls and no brains, as usual,” you muttered. “Stay there and look shiny, Annie. He’s less likely to recognize me, but he might come out to play if he spots a familiar face at the bar.”

“She’s right,” Butcher said to Annie. “Stay where you are.”

You made your way to the bathroom and scoped the hall. There in the privacy of the shadows, you adjusted the gun holster on your thigh. It was a miracle Antonio hadn’t felt it.

Not that a gun would do much against Soldier Boy, but you didn’t feel right without it.

Then you kept moving and dodged various couples making out (and more) on your way upstairs.

“Going up,” you informed the team quietly. The second floor was a series of rooms, none of which you wanted to pop in on without an invitation. But after you made it to the end of the hall, you turned a corner and noticed a door hung open a crack. Sliding it open, you found a wall of music there to greet you.

But that wasn’t all.

Inside was a room of people drinking and drugging and generally doing things to one another. You didn’t want to go in, but you wouldn’t put it past Soldier Boy to get caught up in a mass orgy.

You walked through the room, only taking in what you needed to with your eyes.

Focusing on the far wall, you saw a leather chair by the window, with a still smoking cigar laid to rest in an ash tray on a small table. Your head tilting with interest, you went over to the table and found another hand-written note.

Once again, you sighed. “He’s not here, guys. He bounced.”

Once you all regrouped with Hughie outside the club, you handed the note to Butcher with a grimace.

“You have a love letter,” you said. And Hughie too.

With a wry brow raise, Butcher looked down at the scrap of paper.

Butcher, you’ll die first. Then the cum-guzzler.

S.B.

That night at the hotel, after you'd showered and peeled off that ridiculous dress, you poured over the Soldier Boy files again.

You hadn’t touched the Russia ones since that first night, but you knew you were missing far too much. In order to anticipate his moves, you needed to understand how he thought.

You couldn’t do that if you didn’t even have the full picture of who he was. And the movies, the silly music videos, even the exploded skyscraper and Homelander’s death—none of it told the full story of Ben.

It didn’t tell you what he wanted. What he cared about. Why he was playing cat and mouse instead of just taking his stand, like his soldier persona would’ve demanded of his pride.

Or maybe that pride's just like everything else: a well-crafted costume.

A knock at your door jolted you out of your thoughts.

You got up to your feet, briefly looking down to make sure you were decently dressed (you supposed pajama shorts, a bra, and a tank top would suffice). You grabbed your gun and checked the peephole before you answered the door with a smile.

It was M.M. with a mug of tea for you. “I knew you’d still be up, killin’ those files. It’s almost morning, you know.”

You accepted the mug with a warmer smile.

“Aw, you do care,” you quipped. He rolled his eyes.

You laughed a little. “Seriously, thank you.”

He pointed at you.

“Go to sleep,” he said. You raised two fingers to your temple in salute.

“Sir. Yes, sir!” you joked. Really, you appreciated his concern. After hearing many a story about his daughter Jennine, and seeing how the rest of the team respected him, you knew that he was a good man.

And thanks to him and Annie, you were actually starting to feel like part of this team.

After you wished him goodnight (or good morning, at this rate), you closed the door to your hotel room, followed closely by your laptop.

You took out your phone, silently contemplating what time it would be in New York right now.

Well, it would still be very early in the morning. But you thought it was worth a try, since you had the time.

You dialed your sister, Luisa. While it rang, you remembered just how thin these hotel walls were. So you stepped out to the rickety balcony. Jeez, hope it holds my weight throughout this call.

When your sister eventually answered, she murmured your name sleepily in confusion.

“Hey, sorry for waking you up,” you said, feeling bad.

“It’s okay.” She yawned. “I should be up soon anyway. Got 8 am classes Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.”

“Ech. Screw that shit,” you teased.

“You’re the one sweating balls in South America.”

“I’d rather be drowning in my own sweat than listening to some old bag drone on for eight hours,” you volleyed back, and leaned against the balcony’s railing, even as it creaked suspiciously with your weight.

“You, my friend, are uninspired. You mean to tell me mosquitoes and drug cartels are better than Mozart?” your sister asked incredulously. Her sleepy voice was starting to lose some of its gravel as you two fell into familiar bickering.

“Wow, way to type cast. Not all of South America is about drug-running,” you pointed out.

“Aren’t there, like, entire shows about people shoving cocaine up their ass to get from Columbia to Miami?” Luisa asked.

“…Yes, but that’s not the point,” you said with a giggle. “And good guess. I’m actually in Medellin right now.”

“Are you supposed to tell me that?”

“Not really, no. But I don’t think you’ll sell me out to the cartels,” you joked. Or to the Russians, your mind added. That thought made your lips twist sourly.

“Anyway, are you okay? How’s school, really?”

“It’s good, sis. You know I’m good. I’m worried about you,” she countered, and you could hear the concern in her voice.

“You know me. I’m always good,” you replied with good humor. The silence on the other line told you that you hadn’t been quite convincing enough.

“When do you think you’ll come home?” she asked.

For what seemed like the hundredth time that night (or morning), you sighed. “That’s hard to say.”

The answering silence told you even more about your sister’s thoughts, and you felt guilty for it.

“I’m happy just knowing you’re doing so well. With school, starting your adult life, doing your thing,” you added.

“You need to start thinking about yourself,” she told you.

“What do you mean, Lou? I’m fine.”

It was Louisa’s turn to sigh.

“You know, I was so proud of you when you decided to leave Vought," she said. "When you finally got out from under Dad. When you started working at Supe Affairs…you seemed happy, like you were finally proud of yourself too.”

Emotion started to burn behind your eyes. Part of it was probably sleep deprivation, but you heard the sincerity in your sister’s voice.

She just knew you so well. And she wasn’t lying there—what she’d said was all true of you. But after the joke that was Victoria Neuman running Supe Affairs, you didn’t know what you could trust anymore.

Maybe not even your own judgment.

“But I really wish that you’d consider more than just your work,” Luisa said. “Like a hobby. Take a painting class. Go to karaoke, like we used to do in grade school after Choir practice. You have such a beautiful voice! Like Grandma’s was.”

“I’ll leave the performing to you, Lou,” you said with a chuckle. She was serious, however.

“Work isn’t everything,” she reminded you. Now her voice was firm. “You should go out with your friends. Go out with Annie! Rub shoulders with her celebrity friends.”

“Right.” You huffed a laugh. You’d been around plenty of famous supes while at Vought. You’d ran down the leads and tracked down the criminals, just for the supes to swoop in and “save the day.” You did the grunt work, and they claimed the credit.

You’d had enough of “celebrities” to last you a lifetime.

“Maybe then you’ll—and let me not shock you here—meet someone,” Louisa said. “And finally put an end to that goddamn dry spell. What's it been, like three years?”

“All right, all right.” You held up a hand of surrender, even if she couldn’t see it. You were grateful she couldn’t catch you blushing. “That’s enough about my non-life, thanks.”

You shook your head. Embarrassment actually clawed inside your belly.

Yes, it had been a while since you’d actually been with anyone, relationship or otherwise. You just didn’t have time to have a life, you’d reasoned. Working at Vought had been grueling, and your hours at the S.A., while better, were still demanding.

…Still, you could appreciate that your work-life balance left much to be desired. And that was on you.

Case in point, you were on this job.

You tipped your face heavenward, letting the sunrise spill some warmth on your face.

“But…I hear you, okay?” you replied with your eyes closed.

“You do?” she asked suspiciously.

“Yeah. When I get back, I…I’ll work on it, okay?” you said. “But I love you.”

“Love you too, sis. I should probably get going, but…please be safe.”

“Always,” you promised.

After you hung up, you finally opened your eyes.

That prickly feeling was back, almost like you were being watched.

You scanned around, but your human eyes didn’t find anything out of the ordinary in the sunshine pouring in between the rows of buildings.

In fact, you didn’t see a damn thing that wasn’t supposed to be there.

So you clutched your phone to your chest, letting out a deep breath. Then you headed back inside.

But mere feet above you, if you had only looked up to the roof, you would’ve seen a hunter lazily eyeing his prey.

AN: Ok! So a little bit slow in this chapter, but it’s all important setup.

In the next chapter, the reader meets Soldier Boy:

You laid a hand on his chest, fingers spreading between the open buttons, and felt his warm skin.

He glanced up at you with another challenging tilt to his head. What are you gonna do now?

You met that challenge, boldly leaning down to press a kiss against his lips.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List:

Comment below or send me an ask if you'd like to be tagged in this series! And follow me for more Boys fics (and other fandoms). I'm also on Ao3!

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @pallographsunspot @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @syrma-sensei @muhahaha303 @123passwort @xoxovienna @magnificentnightmarehadi @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @yvonneeeee @fckinel

#fic rec #wayne reads #soldier boy x reader

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cksmart-world · 1 year ago

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SMART BOMB

The Completely Unnecessary News Analysis

By Christopher Smart

October 17, 2023

IN HEAVEN THERE IS NO SMOG

Latter-day Saints, aka Mormons, aren't concerned about man-made climate change. Why worry if the Celestial Kingdom awaits — in heaven there is no smog. According to a survey by the Public Religion Research Institute (PRRI), only 10 percent of Mormons say they're concerned about global warming and extreme weather. Some 44 percent believe it's all due to that wishy-washy Mother Nature — not cows burping and fossil fuels burning. Utah is among the reddest of red states. Get this, 54 percent of Mormons surveyed said they had watched Fox News within the last 24 hours. You're right, Wilson, that explains a lot. No wonder they think Nancy Pelosi is Beelzebub and Donald Trump is a direct descendant of Jesus of Nazareth. In the U.S. less than one-third of Republicans believe humans cause climate change, compared to 83percent of Democrats and 64 percent of independents. As president, Donald Trump erased or loosened some 100 rules and regulations on air, water and atmospheric pollution. No surprise, in 2020, 58.5 percent of Utah Mormons voted for Trump compared to 37.9 percent for Biden, according to Y2 Analytics. “This very expensive global warming bullshit has got to stop,” Trump said. Good thing that in heaven you don't need air conditioning.

HAPPY VALLEY NOT ALWAYS SO HAPPY

A news reporter's job ain't easy. They go around digging into all kinds of stinky stuff and people don't always take kindly to it. Take Genelle Pugmire who works for the Daily Herald in Utah County. She had the audacity to write that Orem Mayor David Young was sued for $1 million in Alabama in a case surrounding fraudulent business loans. Who does she think she is. The mayor spent 20 minutes in a recent city council meeting deriding the paper and its reporter. Why was she reporting bad news, anyway, when there was so much good news right under her nose. "It's just mind-blowing the disconnect,” he said. “What's going on in this newspaper versus what's going on in reality." The Alabama court did order him to pay $1 million, but that apparently is beside the point. And anyway the mayor says he's innocent. For reporters blowback comes with the territory. If you dish it up you'd better be ready to take it. But Pugmire's 31-year-old daughter wasn't taking it. Linnea Pugmire confronted the mayor and allegedly spit on him and slapped his face. She was arrested and charged with threatening an elected official and causing injury, spitting in a person's face and assault by propelling a bodily substance. Holy moly. Utah County is often called Happy Valley — another case of bad reporting.

THE AROMA OF NAKED AMBITION

Sean Reyes, don't look back something may be gaining on you. Hey Wilson, do you remember when Utah Attorney General Sean Reyes went to Nevada after the 2020 election to “investigate” voting issues. No, we don't know if he went to casinos for lap dances. But he did join a lawsuit seeking to invalidate presidential election tallies in four battleground states won by Joe Biden. Apparently his real job is just too boring. Recall when Reyes went on a “dangerous” mission undercover to Colombia with his good buddy Tim Ballard in a sting to nab sex-traffickers. It was more dangerous than the Jungle Cruise Safari ride at Disneyland. Later he put on a black T-shirt and went to the Sundance Film Festival looking for prostitutes. Alas, the sex was free. Last year he went to the soccer World Cup in Qatar to help the emir catch sex-traffickers. It would have been impolite not to watch all the matches. Reyes also bragged he was a producer of the movie “Sound of Freedom” about Ballard's sex-trafficking gig. Then Ballard was sued for alleged sexual assault. Oops. Tim Ballard who, Reyes asked. Some have started to smell something funny coming from the attorney general's office. No Wilson, they aren't smelling sex, but it could be that of naked ambition — and man is it putrid.

Post script — That's a wrap for another fun-filled week here at Smart Bomb where we keep track of the House of Representatives so you don't have to. Well Wilson, the chaos caucus is having a grand old time, fiddling while Rome burns. The ship is sinking and Republicans are arguing over who should take the helm. At this writing it's impossible to predict how this internecine mud wrestling will shake out. But here's one part that will go down in history: A leading candidate for the job of Speaker of the House is Ohio firebrand Jim Jordan, who was in the White House loop for the planning of the Jan. 6 fiasco and failed coup. Imagine having the Speaker of the House, in line to become president right behind the vice president, who tried to overturn the government. It's no surprise he is an election denier and has made the case for a Trump victory many times on Fox Faux News and NewsMax. Jordan does have friends in high places. Fox's conspiracy guru Sean Hannity lobbied moderate Republican holdouts to get behind the Ohio schemer for Speaker. Many in Congress, including some Republicans, can't abide Jordan because he's patently dishonest. Enumerating Jordan's misrepresentations and outright lies would take forever. But you can tell when he's prevaricating 'cause his lips are moving.

Alright Wilson, we gotta get a theme song for Jim Jordan. He's appointed himself Grand Inquisitor calling people before his Judiciary Committee and like something from a George Orwell tale skewers them with innuendo and indicts them with half truths and fabrication. So get the guys in the band and take us out with something apropos:

On the day I was born The nurses all gathered 'round And they gazed in wide wonder At the joy they had found The head nurse spoke up Said "leave this one alone" She could tell right away That I was bad to the bone Bad to the bone Bad to the bone I broke a thousand hearts Before I met you I'll break a thousand more, baby Before I am through I wanna be yours pretty baby Yours and yours alone I'm here to tell ya honey That I'm bad to the bone Bad to the bone

I make a rich woman beg I'll make a good woman steal I'll make an old woman blush And make a young girl squeal I wanna be yours pretty baby Yours and yours alone I'm here to tell ya honey That I'm bad to the bone B-B-B-B-Bad to the bone (Bad to the Bone — George Thorogood)

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fallout-friends-react · 3 years ago

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May I ask you to write New Vegas companions reactions to that the Courier slept with Benny and returned to them without a platinum chip? Thank you!

Arcade: The Courier told Arcade to wait on the first floor of The Tops while they “took care,” of Benny. He wasn’t entirely sure what that meant but it probably involved a lot of violence, which he was happy to not be a part of. He waited for what felt like entirely too long for this kind of thing. Soon enough the Courier sauntered back up to Arcade. “So did you get what you came for?” Arcade asked with his arms crossed. The courier looked at him a little vacantly, “I certainly got something.” Arcade finally noticed the state the Courier was in, almost completely untouched, save for their very messy hair. Arcade gasped quietly, “you didn’t...” The Courier nodded slowly. Arcade slapped his face with his palm and slowly lowered his hand with a loud sigh. He chewed them out for what seemed like an hour. How irresponsible!

Boone: When the Courier and Boone had finally confronted Benny in the Tops, it was a lot more talking than Boone expected. Eventually Benny invited the Courier to his room to, “talk things out.” The Courier begged Boone to accompany them but he shook his head. “No. This is a personal thing, you should deal with it on your own. I’ll wait here.” The Courier reluctantly went with Benny, and Boone waited patiently. Not ever engaging with anyone else in the casino. The Courier returned a mess. Their hair in disarray, and their armor lay slung over their arm. Boone didn’t even say anything, he just shook his head and looked at the ground.

Ed-E: beep boop good job(?)

Lily: The Courier and Benny’s big confrontation was a little more boring that Lily had hoped for, especially after the way the Courier talked about him. Eventually he had invited them to his room for whatever reason. Lily considered going with, but figured her large stature wasn’t suited for the small hotel room doors. The Courier told her to wait outside while they took care of business. Lily waited, careful to not scare other strip visitors. The Courier finally returned, and seemed a little out of it. “How’d it go with the bad guy?” Lily asked. The Courier just shrugged in response. Lily never questioned what went down.

Raul: The entire time the Courier was talking to Benny, Raul was silent. Sizing him up. The Courier suggest they take their talk to Benny’s room. Raul grabbed the Courier’s arm and whispered to them, “You sure about that boss? He’s got a lot of body guards.” The Courier was sure of their decision, and instructed Raul to stay on the ground floor. Raul shrugged, “your funeral.” During his wait for the Courier, he got a couple drinks, under the Courier’s name of course. Suddenly from behind, the Courier joined Raul at the bar. Before Raul could say anything, the Courier uttered, “I slept with him.” Raul blinked at them. “Did you at least get the-” “No.” Raul let out a husky laugh, and looked to the bartender, “get the one too.”

Rex: I don’t think he rly cares how they get the deed done.

Cass: Cass didn’t engage with Benny during his and the Courier’s conversation. She just stood next the Courier with her arms crossed, glaring at him straight in the eye. Benny, clearly uncomfortable, invited the Courier to his room. The Courier looked to Cass, she gestured with her head, “go on.” She was unexpectedly quiet about this. The Courier left with Benny, and Cass decided to throw down at some tables. She was in a casino after all. When the Courier joined her, she didn’t even look at them. “You fucked ‘em didn’t you.” The Courier had no idea how she knew, and she wouldn’t tell them how either. “Listen, that’s your business. Did you at least get the chip?” She leaned on the table with one elbow and looked at them. They shook their head slowly. Cass sighed loudly and hung her head. “Okay what’s his room number.” She started walking to the elevators.

Veronica: Veronica didn’t make a peep while the Courier and Benny talked, but her face did all the talking for her. Her face twisted in disgust almost every time he opened his mouth. It doesn’t take a scientist to know this guy’s bad news. Benny coolly invited the Courier to his room, to which they agreed to. Veronica’s voice cracked, “wait REAlly?” She cleared her throat. The Courier assured her they knew what they were doing. Veronica had no chance in changing their mind. They started walking away, “I’ll stay here... I guess..” she trailed off. Veronica spent the entire time waiting, leaning against the wall in the corner of the room. Watching casino patrons was fascinating in a way. Totally different breed of people. The Courier returned looking a mess. Veronica jumped up at their presence, “how’d it go!” she asked optimistically. The Courier explained they ended up sleeping with him, and didn’t even get the chip. Veronica was so stunned, she stood with her fingers on her temples. Her mind was absolutely blown. “Hhhhhhhhow????? and with... THAT GUY?!” she shouted accidentally.

Vulpes: Vulpes stood behind the Courier, his hands behind his back, as they chatted with Benny. Vulpes’s presence was enough to off put Benny, and he quickly invited the Courier to his room for a more private chat. The Courier looked at Vulpes, “I’ll be outside.” He couldn’t stand the smell of the casino. It took longer than he expected, but the Courier rejoined Vulpes and remained silent. “So? What happened?” He expected a full report. The Courier knew they couldn’t hide anything from him, so they laid the whole thing out. They were visibly embarrassed. Vulpes remained silent until the end of their spiel. He put the tips of his fingers together. “Can you say that again?” The Courier had literally never seen Vulpes shocked before.

#fallout #fallout new vegas #new vegas #arcade gannon #craig boone #raul tejada #rex #Rose Of Sharon Cassidy #veronica santangelo #vulpes #fallout companions react

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lunastars21 · 2 years ago

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PaintGun Headcanons (aka Fang X Corsen, because I'm bored lol)

-Their ship name is PaintGun because Corsen is an artist that can use paint to her advantage, not bring things to life but use the paint itself as projectiles and barriers. and Fang uses a gun so it speaks for itself lol.

-Both are Big scaredy cats, Corsen would be shaking behind fang if they went to a haunted house, Fang would act all calm at first but once they get jump scared they'll both scream and run out the nearest door or jump out the closest window.

-When she first joined Team Hooligan, Corsen wasn't really on the wanted list, so if the team got cornered by officers, Fang would make Corsen act like a hostage, giving bean and bark a chance to sneak away and get the marvelous queen. Once they do, Corsen would attack the enemy and the duo quickly high tail to the bike.

-Fang and Corsen had a mission at twinkle park once, when completed Corsen wanted to go on the rides since she's never been to one before(There's a list of things she doesn't know but we'll talk about that another time) Fang says no...and then it cuts to them Going on multiple rides and playing a ton of games, Fang looked serious the whole time but in all honesty he had fun, just doesn't want to admit it.

-On their first date, Fang was almost late because everything was practically going wrong, getting chased by cops for being recognized for example. But he arrived at the restaurant they were gonna meet up just in time...by bursting through the walls on the marvelous queen and stopping right next to the table where Corsen is, he's practically very calm about his injuries because he has high pain tolerance, Corsen was still worried though. And they both had to drive off immediately before the guards got there because fang did crash through a fancy restaurant, he made up for it though by having dinner with her on the same restaurants rooftop, there was a full moon too!

-Fang refuses to admit he panicked about being late but he really was, Corsen knows this and teases him about it any chance she gets

-Fang states he takes showers but no one believes him because he always smells, Corsen says she takes showers with him though... Everyone SOMEHOW believes that, Fang is going to strangle someone lol.

-Corsen Gets love advice from bean, Fang gets love advice from bark...yeah it's obvious that Corsen's attempts backfire, while Fang's is properly planned

-After being together for a while, Corsen can tell exactly when Fang is stressed out. He usually hides it but she then notices the signs and tries to convince him to relax for the day and not take any jobs. he listens 70% of the time, the other 30% she forces him to his room lol.

-Fan kids are canon now because I say so

- Fang met Corsen in A casino like zone, She was a live prize that could be won for loads of Rings. But Fang Broke her out, not actually for her but for the Golden Broach she had on her neck, Corsen freely gives him the broach as a thank you for saving her. Which hits fang with a side of guilt that he didn't save her for her sake, plus she states she lost her memory and didn't know where to go, so Fang dragged her with him until they got away from any guards for noticing the prize was taken..what thought would be a temporary alliance instead they became partners for life.

- Corsen doesn't mind being affectionate in public, fang does and gets embarrassed easily.

Hmm I believe that's all for now, may make more later, and it'll be longer next time lol! Thanks for reading! <3

#Sonic #sonic the hedgehog #fang the sniper #nack the weasel #Sonic OC #team hooligan #oc x canon #im cringe but im free #Headcanon #PaintGun #Corsen The Mouse

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out-of-jams · 4 years ago

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Across the Board || i || kth

(banner done by the great @kimtaehyunq )

↠ Across the Board ↞ You’d hit a low point in life. With bills piling up and your bank account empty, you were starting to get desperate. So when you got the invite to your oldest friend’s birthday party being hosted at the most popular underground casino in town, what did you possibly have to lose? You took what little you had left in your savings, put your card skills to use, and entered a private blackjack game.

And you’d won. And went back for more, and more, and more.

Until you lost.

And now you’re indebted to the city’s most dangerous mob boss, forced to pay your dues in blood one way or another. With a gun pushed into your hands and your life at stake; once you’re in, you’re in. You’ll never get out.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings/Genre: Set in the Roaring 20s! Gambling. Mature themes. Mafia!au. Mafia Don!Taehyung. Violence. Law breaking. Alcohol use. Death of minor characters. Explicit language. Enemies to lovers. Short series. 18+

|| Next | Masterlist | |

Danger.

It was a word right up there alongside the definition for the term “stupidity.” While not next to each other in the dictionary, they were close enough that your brain was unable to pick out the subtle differences. Perhaps you’d just always had a habit for screwing your life up, or maybe it was just genetics. Who knew?

You should have listened to the warnings, should have stopped yourself before you got in too deep. Hell, you should have done a lot of things. But you had no one to blame for your current situation except for yourself. However, if you’d learned anything throughout your twenty-two short years of life, it was that life lessons didn’t mean jack if you didn’t get yourself into messes into the first place.

Though staring down the barrel of a revolver sure was a funny way of going about it.

The air in the dimly lit back corner room was tense enough to hear the sound of a casino chip fall to the ground somewhere beyond the shut door. None of the six men sitting around the round, green felted table spoke a word. Their attention — and yours, consequently — was fixed on the single man in the room who barely even batted an eye at the clear panic evident on your face.

He sat on the opposite side of you; the scowl pulling down his bow shaped lips and the narrowing of his fierce gaze had fear chilling your veins. That man was much like an exotic animal; beautiful beyond belief, but dangerous right beneath the surface. A carnivore staring down his prey. The single light above the table threw his shadow against the wall as he casually aimed his pistol right between your eyes.

“You were saying, dollface?”

His neatly parted, straight black hair fell across his face when he leaned forward as if the next words out of your mouth would seal your fate. Not that the thought of having to have your blood cleaned from the expensive carpet beneath his expensive shoes seemed to bother him in the slightest. In fact, he’d look almost bored if it weren’t for the dangerous gleam behind his espresso irises.

“I—” You cut yourself off, swallowing roughly and glancing back down at the table. A depleted deck of cards sat in the center, two hands laid out on the surface. One was yours — a ten of diamonds and a ten of clubs — and the other his. A red ace of spades and a black jack of hearts.

You were out of money.

Having bet more than you possessed, you were also out of chances.

“It’s simple. You owe me money as promised,” his deep, baritone voice spoke up casually over the noise of your heart beating through your chest. “Either hand it over, or you won’t be leaving this room alive. Your choice.”

You closed your eyes for a moment too long to be called a blink, and cursed yourself for ever getting into this situation.

One Month Ago

Final Notice of Payment

Ms. L/n,

This is a reminder that you have a balance of $20.54 that is past due. Please make a one time payment no later than—

“Oh, please.” The bill enclosed envelope hit the top of the small, circular dining room table. Or was it the kitchen table? It was hard to tell, seeing as how they were one and the same.

A sigh escaped your lips as you leaned back against the creaky wooden chair, fingers massaging your temples. That was the third bill you’d come across that morning and every single one of them was the final notice of payment. The last warning they’d give before sending someone to collect what was owed.

It hadn’t always been like that. You hadn’t always been in such an insurmountable amount of debt, not until recently. Two months ago your mother, the last bit of family you had left, died. Passed away clinging to the sheets of the hospital bed she’d been laid up in for the past half a year. Cancer, the doctors had said. From all of the cigarettes she’d burned through in the past decade or so.

Irrecoverable, they’d said.

No amount of “sorry’s” or meaningless condolences could fix the massive amount of money that the hospital billed you. Or the debt that your mother left behind, along with her slim-boned corpse that you’d had to bury in the corner of the city cemetery. Perhaps if you’d known who your father was, you could’ve laid her to rest in the space next to his own, but you didn’t. Weren’t fortunate enough to.

Bills had piled up. Rent for the tiny studio apartment the two of you had shared was demanded by the pigeon-toed old woman who owned the rundown, overpriced building. Her husband had passed away two years ago and ever since then, she’d been relentless. She pounded on your door at approximately eight in the morning everyday, shouting through the thin wood that you had until the week was up to pay what was owed. Otherwise you’d be tossed out onto the street with only the clothes on your back.

Combined with the utility bill and the fact that you still had to come up with the dough to feed yourself, you were trapped. The meagre pennies you got from your waitressing job at the diner three blocks away weren’t nearly enough. Nothing would be enough. Not unless you wanted to sell your body on the street corners in the late of night.

Which you didn’t. And you wouldn’t. You’d be more likely to end up dead in a ditch somewhere with your throat cut than out of debt. The city wasn’t safe for women, less so by those men who saw prostitutes as no more than an object to relieve stress onto. And you refused to become another headline in the paper.

Tossing the opened envelope across the table, you paused when familiar handwriting caught your eye on top of the rest of the mail pile. Addressed to you in a curling script that only ever came from someone who could afford a private tutor. You sighed, carefully sliding a knife along the top to slice it open. A waft of sweet, cherry scented perfume filled your tiny kitchen and you almost rolled your eyes at the unnecessary addition.

Jennie, your oldest friend since high school, always had an inclination for the unnecessary. Born with a silver spoon in her mouth and a gold digger for a mother, she’d had nothing else to waste her time on. How you’d even gotten on as friends with such a gap between tax brackets was still a mystery to you. Maybe it was because she’d always used her wealth and status to get the two of you out of trouble. Whether it was from breaking into the school late at night to get wasted in the halls with the rest of her friends, or to get away with slipping things from the corner store into your dress pockets.

She’d always been a rule breaker.

Which was exactly why when you read the contents of the letter, a laugh tumbled from your mouth. It was an invitation to celebrate her upcoming twenty-third birthday in three day’s time. That wouldn’t have been anything out of the ordinary, however, if it weren’t for the location. There wasn’t an exact address, there never was. Just a thin piece of cardboard the size of your hand that fell from the envelope. A playing card — a red ace. One that looked normal except for the center that had the name of a restaurant in the heart of the most rich part of downtown printed on it.

It was a ticket to the most popular underground casino in the whole city. No one knew how to get one, how to get your name onto the list that only catered to the rich and powerful. Located beneath a restaurant, it had grown to be infamous almost overnight since gambling and alcohol was outlawed. Even the coppers knew well enough to leave the establishment alone.

The only way to gain entrance was by flashing a ticket to one of the restaurant staff. That was what you’d heard, at least. You had no idea how May had managed to secure one, let alone enough to cover what you knew would be a large party of her closest friends.

Flicking the corner of the card, you couldn’t believe your luck.

Your mother hadn’t taught you very many things, had been too busy gossiping with her friends over a carton of cigarettes to bother. What she had passed down, however, was her ability to draw cards. To play blackjack with the best of them. That’d been the only thing she’d ever bothered to teach you; when she’d had too many sips of wine and her eyes had glazed over with memories of the life she used to live.

She’d sit you down and make you memorize the names and faces of the cards until you could count them forward and backwards. Could predict what card would be drawn and when. Where she’d learned it, she’d never told you. But that didn’t matter now. Couldn’t, seeing as she was dead and all.

Grinning, you flopped back into your chair.

Maybe you’d be able to pay off your debts after all.

And you had. Paid off your debt, that is.

After clearing out your savings account of the last fifteen dollars you had left to your name, you’d dolled yourself up and gone with Jennie and her friends. Had left the group of flappers tittering and groaning drunk at the line of slot machines at the back of the casino. Calls of bets being placed, dough exchanging for chips, and illegal cocktails pouring into glasses played as a soundtrack.

None of the card tables scattered across the underground establishment held what you’d been looking for. Neither roulette, nor craps, nor slots. The bartender had been the one to tell you where the real games were, where the cash was. A door down a tiny back hallway led to a room where private games were held. If you managed to win at one, he’d told you, then you’d win not only the pot, but an invitation to come back and play again.

Which had been an opportunity that you just couldn’t pass up. No matter the risk.

You’d won.

And now you were addicted.

To the money, the lifestyle, the adrenaline that shot through your veins like a particularly harsh sip of gin. Which was exactly why you’d gone back. Again, and again, and again, every single week for the past month. It wasn’t your fault that it was so easy. So simple to swindle your way into getting your name permanently written down on the entry list.

Oh, and the men.

It was a different group every week, but they weren’t all that dissimilar from one another. They’d sit there and smoke their cigars and drink their whiskey, all while silently mocking you with their eyes. Like they thought they were better than you just because they had a dick between their legs.

You were addicted to that too.

To watching the way their faces would fall in disbelief every single time you cleared the pot and took their money. And how their voices would raise in pitch with their countless complaints about how some lowly broad conned them out of their pocket change. Because that’s all that money was to people like them.

Change.

They were rich. You could tell by the custom suits they wore, the cologne they bathed in, the way they carried themselves. The money they gambled with always had a cap, a max amount that they were willing to bet. And the games never got too crazy, didn’t escalate once they lost to you. Which was a shame really, because you wanted more. Craved more. More of what, you weren’t too sure, but the high that playing brought only lasted so long until you came crashing back down.

Which was exactly when fate decided to change the routine.

“Here to play again, miss?” Felix, the same teenage boy who always manned the door to the gambling room, asked with a slight tilt of his head. His light brunette hair was tucked beneath a bowler hat, different from the usual fedora. Back to the door, he was standing up straight instead of his normal slouch. And the way his mouth was taught around the edges was out of the ordinary as well.

The boy didn’t have a cigarette clenched between his teeth, which should have been enough to set off the bells in your head. But it didn’t. Because you were too bullheaded, had gotten too cocky in the terms of things.

“You know me too well, Felix.” You reached out a hand to pat the lanky boy on his suit clad arm lightly, a smile pulling up at your red painted lips. “Is the usual table ready?”

The volume in the casino wasn’t as loud either, nor were there quite as many patrons. But you’d just chalked that up to the heavy rain pounding a path into the concrete outside. Though the lack of customers did nothing to eliminate the permanent smell of cigarette smoke that lingered, hidden in the walls beneath the fancy looking wallpaper.

“I don’t know if you want to play today, miss.” Felix glanced away from you with his bottom lip caught between his teeth. You blamed the flickering light in the corner of the hall for the way his freckles stood out amongst his slowly paling cheeks.

You raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

He didn’t answer. Not at first. Silence lingered in the hall, drowning in the soft jazz music coming from the band on the stage near the back of the joint. It took the raising of your other brow for the underaged boy to finally answer.

“It’s just not a good day for gambling.”

Now that had you leaning forward until you could finally catch his flighty gaze, voice hushed in a playful whisper. “Oh really, how so? Is there a stool-pigeon running about somewhere? Should we be expecting the coppers to come kicking down the door any minute?”

“No. I—”

“Then why can’t I play, Felix?” You were starting to get irritated. The week had been long and you were ready to forget about it all for the next few hours. Buried beneath the weight of a handful of cards and glass full of gin.

Either Felix could see your growing impatience, or there really was something he was hiding, because he stepped even further in front of the door. “You don’t want to play with this group, miss. They aren’t as welcoming as the others are. It’d be best if you just went home.”

“You ca—”

“And what’s going on back here?” That wasn’t Felix’s voice and neither was it yours. You whipped around, surprised at the new addition.

The man behind you had honey brown hair parted and styled carefully until it was brushed back away from his heart-shaped face. Though some of it still hung in front of a single, dark eye. His other was uncovered, a scar running through his eyebrow and cutting it in half. Everything about him was angular, sharp. From his jawline to the slope of his nose and the corners of his full lips.

One look and you already pegged him for a cake-eater, a ladies man, if you’d ever seen one. Hell, he even dressed like he came right off the front cover of one of those Time magazines that littered the newspaper stands on every street corner. With a navy blue suit and perfect, unscuffed shoes.

“No, sir,” Felix attempted to pull the man’s attention from you unsuccessfully. “The missus here was just leaving.”

The Stranger hummed, tilting his head to study you with those sharp eyes of his. “Were you, bunny? Just leaving?”

You couldn’t help the twitch of your nose at the unfavorable nickname, squaring your shoulders and crossing your arms with a scoff. “No, I wasn’t. I want to play a few rounds, you see, but he won’t let me.”

Perhaps you should have felt bad for ratting out the kid, but you didn’t. Especially not when the Stranger huffed a laugh, a distinct ha-ha-ha! in amusement. Though there was something else in his eyes that you couldn’t name. Didn’t want to acknowledge. “You want to play a hand of blackjack, is that right?”

“Ab-so-lute-ly.” You raised an eyebrow at the man and waved a hand through the air. “I can play.”

“Oh,” He asked, taking a step closer until you had to crane your neck back to meet his imploring gaze. “Playing isn’t cheap.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “I can pay too.”

He must have been waiting for that answer if the smirk that pulled at his lips was any indication. And he finally, finally broke eye contact to wave aside the boy behind you. “Well, did the dame make herself clear or not? She wants to play.”

You happened to turn just in time to catch the alarm that flickered across Felix’s face as he stepped to the side to reveal the door behind him. Felix reached out with a ringed hand to twist the brass knob of the door. It swung open without a sound and he gave you a quick, wide-eyed stare filled with a warning you couldn’t interpret, before looking away.

“Well?” The Stranger questioned from over your shoulder. You could smell his cologne now; husky with a hint of sweet orange.

His words were an invitation if you’d ever heard one. And you didn’t want to look like a bluenose, a prude, so you stepped inside without hesitation. Though perhaps you should have taken Felix’s unspoken warning, for you had no idea just what it was that you were walking into.

Inside the cramped room was filled with a haze of cigar smoke, which wasn’t unusual at all. What was, however, was the group of six men sitting at the circular table as you rounded the corner with the Stranger at your back. They were beautiful, all of them. A huge contrast to the usual rabble that came to play. Hell, even underneath the dim light you couldn't spot a single flaw on them.

No one noticed your entrance at first.

Well, at least not until the Stranger cleared his throat. “Gentleman.”

His greeting sounded like it toed somewhere on the line between amusement and respect.

All movement in the room came to a halt as six men looked up from where they’d been bent over the blackjack table. If you’d been a little less prideful and a lot more careful, then perhaps the overbearing confidence that bled from their pores would have given you pause. But as it was, you stood standing, back straight and head held high. Even while their eyes roamed your figure like tigers behind a cage at the zoo right before feeding time.

A pause hovered in the air, lingering with a tension that crawled onto your skin. What seemed like hours passed merely in seconds before it was broken.

“And who’s this?” The question came from the fella who sat in the chair closest to where you stood. He was turned around with his arm propped up on the back of it, head tilted to the side in curiosity. His hair was styled similar to the Stranger’s, though his was darker and the gel pushed through the strands made it gleam silver beneath the dim lamp that hung above the table.

High cheekbones and skin the same color as molten honey, his jaw worked around a piece of gum stuck between his teeth. A smirk pulled up at the corner of his mouth, dark eyes glittering with a touch of interest. With a black and white suit that complimented the shade of his hair, the man was nothing if not a billboard: flashy. Handsome.

“I found bunny here outside arguing with Felix. Something about wanting to play a few rounds of blackjack. Isn’t that right?” The Stranger placed a heavy palm between your shoulder blades. What might have been intended to come off as comforting, only succeeded in making you feel the opposite. Like you were being put on display.

You didn’t let it show on your face. “That’s right.”

“Oh?” Gum Chewer’s smirk grew broader at that, but he said nothing else. Just leaned back in his chair.

“What do you say, should we let her play?” Blond hair, pink kissable lips and dangerous, dangerous eyes. The slim man sitting next to Gum Chewer was attractive in a pretty way that made you envious of his easy-on-the-eyes looks.

While the question may have been asked to the whole room, none of them answered it. Instead they looked towards one of the men sitting in the middle who had yet to speak. If you’d thought the rest of them were a sight for sore eyes, well, they had nothing on him. How your attention hadn’t been drawn to him the moment you walked through the door, you didn’t know.

He wasn’t even looking at you and you already felt tongue-tied. Busying himself with shuffling the cards in his hands against the green felt table, the expensive looking rings adorning his slender fingers caught your eye. He was what your mother would’ve called a timeless beauty. The type of handsome that meant he could walk the streets of the city in nothing but a sack and he’d have women throwing themselves at his feet.

Hair the same shade as a moonless sky made him look intimidating, like he belonged to the shadows themselves. A straight nose, cupid bow lips and long eyelashes that would make any broad jealous; he gave off the type of power that could make even the bravest of men cower at his feet. The longer he took to respond, the more the room grew still. As if your fate was in the hands of a man who’s name you didn’t even know.

Though perhaps it was.

A muffled thud echoed throughout the room as he tapped the deck of cards against the table once, twice, before sliding them over to the fella to his left. Plucking up the glass of scotch in front of him, he finally looked up. And graced you with the prettiest chocolate brown eyes you’d ever seen.

“What’s your name, dollface?”

tagged: @bewitch-me @jxngkooksthxghs @kaitswrld @clarissalance @namurkive @ifntelyinspirit @kotaevln @red--aren @ggukkieland @moonlitmyg @i-like-puppy-mg @aianloveseven @drumsofheaven @figurativehoe00 @wonhoandonly @wacdon @hear-me-growl @milaridez7 @1088x1088 @alana-ba @vlntaeg

#bangtanarmynet #networkbangtan #magicshopnet #btsbookclub #ficswithluv #bts #kim taehyung #taehyung smut #jungkook #jimin #namjoon #hoseok #seokjin #yoongi

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ultrahpfan5blog · 3 years ago

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Retrospective Review: Casino Royale (2006)

So after thinking about it, I figured that with No Time to Die coming out soon, the Craig Bond era Bond movies deserve a post per film. Casino Royale is the film that got me into Bond. I had seen some of the Brosnan films by then, but they didn't really stick to me much. Perhaps also because I was reasonably young when the Brosnan films came out. But Casino Royale came out during my teen years, where I was starting to get into more dark and gritty movies. To me, this movie and Batman Begins, are cut from the same cloth. Both rebooting characters that had gotten too campy in previous iterations, both brilliant origin stories, and both grounded in reality and gritty. Its no wonder that both version of these characters ended up being my favorite versions. Casino Royale is still easily my favorite Bond film to date.

Truthfully, to me this film is near perfection as an action-thriller. For classic Bond fans who have grown up with the franchise and want specific things like Moneypenny and Q and various gadgets, this film may not be as endearing because it very specifically goes away from being gadget heavy and doesn't give Bond a support staff other than Mathis. I think the most high tech thing in the movie was a portable defibrillator. But this film had me from the very beginning in the black and white sequence and how it showed Bond's two kills to become 007 and how it reimagined the classic opening shot of Bond shooting and the blood red soaking over the screen. I just new we were in for something special from the very beginning. What's amazing is the pacing of this film. This was the longest Bond film since OHMSS at the time. I have watched all prior Bond films and I have felt restless at times while watching them, but not when watching Casino Royale. There is constantly something happening and it keeps you engaged. Not once was I bored in the movie.

The action in the film is absolutely high class. I think its the best Bond action that I have seen. The most classic scene of course is the incredible Parkour chase. Its incredibly exhilarating and major kudos to the guy who did the stunts for the bomb maker. You also get a real understanding of what a brute force this Bond is. While the Bomb maker chooses to jump through the window, Bond will burst through the wall. The Bomb maker will climb construction rods, Bond will just drive a bulldozer and destroy the construction and climb up. When the bomb maker throws the gun at him, Bond just catches it and throws it right back. Little things like that give Bond a personality that is different. But this is only the first great action sequence. There is the Miami airport truck sequence that is also brilliant. You have to love the smug smile on Bond's face when the bomber accidentally blows himself up. There is the staircase fight which is brutal and visceral. Then there is final fight scene in Venice which is emotional and tragic and is the true making of Bond. In between it all, there is the Poker game which is surprisingly entertaining given it takes up quite a chunk of time. There are also some incredibly tense sequences which are laced with humor, like the Bond poisoning scene where Bond almost gets killed and then returns with a classic one liner to leave Le Chiffre dumbfounded. There is the torture scene which is hilarious because of how Bond reacts to the torture and eggs him on in a way. The film never lets up in the action and the thrills.

An enormous part of the success of the film is the casting of Mads Mikkelson as Le Chiffre. I had not known Mads from anywhere before this, but he is immediately compelling and enigmatic. More importantly, rather than just being an all powerful villain to foil, he feels like a human. The tearing blood is a great, sinister gimmick, but you feel like he is on the edge when he loses money in the stock market due to Bond. You feel his desperation in some of the Poker scenes, as well as when the african fighters find him at the hotel, and then when he is torturing Bond to find the location of the money. I am not sure whether I like him more than Bardem's Silva or not, but its telling that the best Bond movies of Craig's era have the best villains. This film put him on the map for me and I loved him as Hannibal, saw him Dr. Strange, and I want see how he does as Grindelwald in the next Fantastic Beasts movie.

However, what elevates this film beyond any prior Bond movie is the casting of Eva Green as Vesper Lynd. She is the best Bond girl ever put to film and the romance between her and Bond is one of the most heartfelt and tragic romances that I have seen. The chemistry between the two actors/characters is electric from their very first scene in the train. The film gives them everything. There are deeply intimate scenes between the two which are not remotely sexual such as the tender shower scene where Bond comforts Vesper after the stairwell fight, many instances of witty repartee, scenes of romance, and then the bitter tragedy of her betrayal and her death. Even her death scene is picturized in a way where you really feel the connection as you can tell that Vesper can't bear to live with what she's done. The film doesn't flinch when showing her drown so it engulfs the audience in the same horror and sadness that Bond is feeling. In general, you experience the same emotions as Bond does as you can't help but fall in love with Vesper and just at the point of happily ever after, it all turns to ash. Its a phenomenal character arc and it also does a great job of establishing how Bond became so cold. Its a fantastic performance from Eva Green, and yet another instance of an actor who put herself on the map in my eyes.

And then there is the man himself. Yet another actor who I knew very little about. At that point everyone thought Craig wasn't good looking enough, not tall enough, not charismatic enough etc... to play Bond. But boy did he just blow expectations away. He is my Bond for sure because his performance is just exceptional in every way. He is built like a tank and is a force of nature, but Craig brings a tender vulnerability, perfectly suited for a young Bond. He looks dapper, is charismatic, is great in the fight scenes, and you genuinely feel he could beat the crap out of people. As I have already mentioned, there are so many touches to his performance that is unique to him. The brutality he brings in the fight scenes, the smirk at the end of the Miami scene, the heartfelt tenderness in the shower scene, the twinkly eyes humor, the rage when he is betrayed, the devastation at Vesper's death, and then the coldness that comes after that. He gets to show a full range, and he delivers every aspect with perfection.

One of the major carryovers from Brosnan era, was Jud Dench as M. And she gets a lot more to do during the Craig era. She is phenomenal as she always is. The dynamic between her and Bond is slightly more stern maternal in the Craig era compared to Brosnan and their interactions are great. Jeffrey Wright brings Felix Leiter back into the fold for the first time since License to Kill and he's a welcome presence as always. Giancarlo Giannini is also pretty great as Mathis and I'm glad he came back in QoS. Jesper Christensen has a quiet presence as Mr. White, who makes recurring appearances in the future.

I feel not enough people give Martin Cambell credit for what he has done. Twice he has launched Bonds successfully. GoldenEye was really good and Casino Royale is just outstanding. I have never paid much attention to the Bond song but the song for Casino Royale is pretty great. Again its telling that the two songs that I remember from Bond movies are from Casino Royale and Skyfall. Anyways, Casino Royale is a near perfect movie, especially for someone who is new to Bond. It really launched Bond into the modern world and got him away from the cold war era type plots. If I had to quibble about something, I would say some of the scenes in the Bahamas are a little slower and maybe 5-10 minutes can be edited down but even those scenes are great character scenes and we get a new origin of the DB5. A 9.5/10 for me.

#casino royale #martin campbell #daniel craig #eva green #mads mikkelsen #jeffrey wright #judi dench #giancarlo giannini #007 #james bond #le chiffre #vesper lynd #felix leiter #mr white #jesper christensen

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demonboyhalo · 4 years ago

Note

I may have made character stuff...

-So Ranboo's just this dude, owns a casino somehow, and he's generally regarded as pretty nice, it's the place you go if you want to gamble and not have to deal with asshole owners. If you can avoid Tommy, he's not the friendliest. And yeah, the owner wears a mask around all the time, but sometimes people are just like that. -In other circles, though, he's generally regarded as someone you don't want to mess with, he's intuitive as hell and has a lot of resources. And his stare is oddly menacing if you think about it for too long. Everyone he's ever been in a business meeting with will vow on their life that the man doesn't blink. -The casino has regulars, and some of them are normal, just fairly friendly and they like the place. Others, however, are more... quiet. They stick out. There's the guy with long pink braided hair and a pig tattoo, who everyone swears they've never heard talk. They're also pretty sure he carries a gun under that jacket of his, someone saw the handle once when he was pushing past them. (Techno's fairly close with Ranboo and the others, he just doesn't know how to deal with customers.) -Another one, often seen with him, is the man in green, usually a trench coat but someone's girlfriend's cousin's father's dogsitter's brother's pretty sure they saw him in cosplay once. He has a matching green earring with the man with pink hair (actual gold and emeralds, high quality too.), and is rarely seen without him. He's occasionally affable with the customers, but mostly he seems a bit too tired of them. Whenever he's around, there seem to be more crows than usual gathering around the building, some even pecking on the windows. -There's a third, he doesn't come around as much, but he's simple, a yellow turtleneck and a scarf of blue wool. When asked, he'll tell you his girlfriend made it. (No one knows anything about the girlfriend, and they're pretty sure he's making her up. He is. He found the scarf on someone's dead body. He panicked the first time someone asked.) He seems a little zoned out sometimes, but then he'll give you a too-sharp smile or you'll see a glint of steel at his hip and you remember to fear him. -All of the regulars know Tommy, and if you asked them they'd say they hated him, but they'd be lying for saying they weren't at least a little fond of the guy. Sure, he was a bit insufferable sometimes, but he had some sort of magical ability to worm his way into your mind until you were sighing of tired affection instead of tired anger. -No one really knows Tubbo, most only know of his existence from the golden band Ranboo wears, and the ones that do don't really see much substance to him. Sure he's nice, but lots of people are nice. They've clearly never seen the stacks of C4 in his stock room, or seen the flamethrower he made once when he was bored. (Ranboo made sure all his clothes were flame-retardant after its creation, because his husband was great at what he did, but his aim wasn't always precise.) -Schlatt was the local police commissioner, and taught Tubbo everything he knew. Maybe he wasn't the most straight-laced policeman, but who was? Look, he usually didn't let people die, that's probably how he got his job, right? Well, that and the copious bribes and threats. No one ever said he was a good person. He was currently after some mysterious group that kept stealing shit and blowing things up (and probably doing other things, but he hadn't figured them out yet), because honestly they were bad for business and it would look good to have taken down a whole crime ring. Maybe he'd even get a commendation. Maybe he should ask Tubbo what he thought, maybe he'd have some advice, he was kind of stuck at the moment.

Feel free to add stuff on my brain just decided to hyperfixate

YO THIS IS DOPE??? (honestly this deserves a post of its own so i won't add on anything) you've fleshed out such an interesting concept Anon, i love your take on this AU!!!

#i'd love to see everyone's different tales honestly #no one way to do a casino au! that's what me Ma always said #mcyt #ranboo #tommyinnit #tubbo #schlatt #tommy innit #jschlatt #long post #dream smp #casino au #caps tw

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ahecktonoffandomsinoneblog · 4 years ago

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The Crows

Modern au i wrote that i may or may not add more to later

Inej works at a cafe (she didn't always but she did now)

Jesper used to work in a casino but now he only gambles there

Kaz works for himself

And who knows how much trouble they still manage to get themselves into?

Snippet:

“Inej?” said Jesper, leaning against the elevator doors. “You good up there?”

The doors squeaked open, and Jesper tipped over onto the floor.

“I’m fine, Jesper. Thank you,” she shot Kaz a look, “for asking.”

“This,” said Inej, “is a bad idea. What sort of-”

“Idiot,” said Jesper into the pause. "Idiot works great here."

“Thank you, Jesper.” she turned back to Kaz. “What sort of idiot makes a plan so profoundly stupid that we all end up stuck in an elevator at two in the morning?”

“Only one made on the-

Inej cut him off. “-on the streets. Yes, Kaz, we know. We grew up on the streets too, and you don’t see us-”

Kaz’s lips twitched. “Stuck in an elevator? Funny, I could swear you said you were stuck in one only a moment ago.”

“You’re stuck,” said Inej. She pulled herself up the wall of the elevator and pushed one of the ceiling panels away. “I’m not.”

Jesper sighed. “She works in a cafe, where did she learn to climb like that?”

“It’s a temporary job,” Inej called down the shaft. “It’s not my favorite line of work, and it's not the only one I've done.”

Jesper raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, I wouldn’t want to work in a place where all you do is walk around and give people things either. Sounds boring.”

“First of all, Jesper, that is not my reason. Second of all, I think if you ever actually tried being a waiter, you’d find it a lot harder-”

“Quiet. Someone’s coming.” Kaz turned to the door, holding his cane.

“How can he hear that? We’re stuck in an elevator, and he can-”

“Quiet, Jesper,” said Inej and Kaz at the same time.

“Fine. But only for a bit.”

No one spoke for five minutes, and Inej was too good at silence for either Kaz or Jesper to tell if she was still climbing the elevator shaft.

“Inej?” said Jesper, leaning against the elevator doors. “You good up there?”

The doors squeaked open, and Jesper tipped over onto the floor.

“I’m fine, Jesper. Thank you,” she shot Kaz a look, “for asking.”

“Come on, Jesper. We don’t have all night.”

“Of course not.” Jesper pushed himself to his feet. “And a special thank you for everyone who asked about my well-being. I only fell a few feet onto the floor. Not to worry.”

“Don’t worry yourself, Jesper,” called Inej, turning to face him from the other end of the hallway. “If you had been hurt, we would have been worried. You’re just being dramatic.”

Kaz sighed through his nose. “Hurry.”

Jesper ignored him. “I quite like being dramatic, thank you.”

“So does Kaz, but at least he’s not slowing us down.”

Jesper gasped in horror. “He just got us stuck in an elevator, and I’m the one slowing you down?”

“At the moment, Jesper, the answer is yes. If you walk any faster, that might change.”

“Shut up, Kaz. You’re the reason we got stuck in an elevator in the first place.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Both of you, quiet. There’s someone around the corner. Silent feet don’t do me any good when you two are making such a racket.”

Jesper opened his mouth to respond, but Kaz cut him off with a look before he could.

A moment later, Kaz and Jesper turned the corner to find Inej sliding an unconscious guard’s body against the wall. She didn’t glance back at them as she spoke. “We’ll have to hurry. There’s no place to put him, and out in the open, someone will find him soon.”

Kaz shook his head. “What did I tell you? Both of you,” he added once he saw Jesper jokingly imitating his head-shaking. “Walk faster.”

Something clattered to the floor behind them, the trio turning as the object echoed. It was the guard’s spare set of keys; they had fallen from his pocket to the floor.

Kaz turned to Jesper and Inej. “Hurry faster.”

They hurried faster.

----

Twenty minutes later, Inej was carefully lifting a large section of window away from the rest. Jesper was out standing guard, and Kaz was in the main office, flipping through files and ledgers.

Another moment and the glass was on the floor underneath the window, hidden from the view of anyone getting inside.

The sound of Kaz’s cane as he walked, and Kaz himself appeared around the corner. “Positions, everyone. They’re on their way.”

Inej, using the cracked brick of the walls as footholds, pulled herself up to the ceiling and held herself there while Jesper - who had been right behind Kaz - hid in the next room. He was followed by Kaz, who gave her a single, solemn nod before shutting the door and using a magnet to slide the lock shut from inside. It wasn’t a complicated lock - or a complicated trick - but it would be enough to fool anyone else.

A moment of quiet breathing, and the sounds of a small group of people climbing the rooftops feet away grew in volume.

“Hey, look,” one of them said. “They were really so stupid as to leave their way in open.”

Another one laughed. “Makes it easier for us, so I’m not complaining.”

Inej smiled as they climbed in. So far, so good. But she still needed them further inside.

“What’s this?” said a third, staring at the floor. He looked up as his companion stepped through the window after him. “Wait, hold on-”

But it was too late. The glass shattered on the floor, scattering in all directions like they had kicked it in.

She glanced at the window itself, eyes passing over the jagged edges that would complete the illusion of them shattering the glass. She had to admire Kaz’s plan, even if it had gotten them stuck in an elevator earlier. Tricking their rival crew into walking into a trap like it was their salvation made for an interesting night.

The crew muttered and complained quietly, but they moved on. They had all worn sturdy boots and thick gloves - one for the climb, one for the cold - so they hadn’t cut themselves. That was fine. She didn’t need them to.

They walked past her, trying the door to the room Kaz and Jesper were in once before they discovered it locked. “They could be hiding in there,” said one.

The others laughed. One said, “Of course, of course. Dirtyhands locked himself in a room to hide? He’s smart, not an idiot.”

Her smile, which had faded, returned grimly. Kaz Brekker was no idiot; he just knew when other people were.

She dropped down behind them. None of them turned as she did. Silently - quickly - she slipped into a corridor they had passed a moment before and raced through it. She needed to get to the office before they did to make sure the trap was set properly. While she monitored them, Kaz and Jesper would be slipping into the auxiliary office - also known as the records department - and stealing the goods they were here for before climbing out the window to meet her at the rendezvous point.

But first, she needed to spring the trap.

The walls blurred around her as she sprinted past them. She reached an intersection and pushed off the floor, foot landing on the wall and pushing again to keep her momentum going. The office wasn’t far, but she needed to get there enough in advance to climb to the ceiling.

The office door loomed in front of her and she sped in, slowing enough to turn and climb the wall above the door. The office had been designed extravagantly, with tall ceilings accenting the lavish furniture. She thought it looked lovely, but in the end it was a waste. That wealth could be going to better places than to double-cushion one man’s chair.

She reached the ceiling just as the rival crew walked in. She could tell they were trying to mask their footsteps, but they were doing a poor job of it. A poorer job at it than her, anyway.

Don’t get full of yourself, Inej. Arrogance is as good as a death sentence.

If she wanted to make it out of here in one piece, she’d need to listen to that voice. For weeks they had been pitted against this same crew. Job after job they’d ended up chasing after them, watching as they grew to be known the “Better of the Crows.” It didn’t win them fame, necessarily. But it won them respect, and cost her, Jesper, and Kaz, some as well.

So Kaz had hatched this plan. He’d designed a trap within a job they’d been offered hours before, intending to teach their rival crew a lesson. So here they were - here she was - waiting from the shadows.

The crew reached the far side of the room, coming close to where the desk was located. She held her breath, praying the - literal - trap would work as planned.

It did. The crew huddled around the desk, watching as one of them - their leader - pulled open the largest drawer. As he did, a loud snap echoed throughout the room as the pulley system built on the ceiling activated, throwing a weighted net over them.

While they struggled with that, Inej took a deep breath and held it, dropping a small canister onto the floor below here. The room filled with smoke, and her arms shook as she dropped to the floor. She grabbed the robe at her waist and used one of her knives to cut it into pieces large enough to tie them up with.

Still holding her breath, she bound their hands and feet together tightly, tying one rope around the lot of them to make it harder for them to move.

The smoke finished dissipating just as she finished, and she ducked out the door - setting a small piece of paper on the desk as she did - while they were still coughing the smoke from their lungs. She hoped they had been too busy for them to have gotten a good look at her.

She ran through the halls once again, using the walls to keep her momentum going around corners. Kaz and Jesper should be done by now. They were supposed to have finished grabbing what they needed ten minutes earlier, but that meant they would still be on their way to the rendezvous point.

She slid on the floor at the sharp sound of gunfire, turned her nose at the scent of smoke in the air. She glanced behind her, then up, but no one was there. No bullet hole, either.

That meant Kaz and Jesper had gotten themselves into trouble of their own.

Saints, she thought. What would it take for one plan to go right?

She turned the next corner slowly, drawing two knives as she did. Standing in back to her at the far end of the corridor was an unfamiliar form - dressed in black - holding a gun. On the other side of them was Jesper and Kaz, with their weapons drawn too.

Kaz was frowning; she knew it was because of the gunshot. She was sure he had been expecting something to go wrong, but the idea was to be as discreet as possible. That, and no witnesses. They’d already failed at achieving two of those goals tonight.

She stepped forward to deal with the person, but a voice from behind said, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, girl. Not unless you feel like getting rid of your head.”

She turned slowly and found another unfamiliar face staring back at her, a gun pointed at her head. She looked to Kaz, finding him already staring at her. He nodded, just once, and she moved at the same time Jesper did.

She ducked and reached up with her arm, aiming the gun at the ceiling before hitting the person hard enough to knock them out. She turned to find the other unfamiliar face unconscious as well, Jesper standing over him and grinning like a fool.

He caught her watching him, gave her a wink, and turned back to Kaz. “I like them much better when they’re unconscious.”

Kaz stared at them for a moment. “I share the sentiment, but you know what we have to do.”

Jesper nodded grimly. “No witnesses, else the entire plan fails.”

Inej pressed her lips into a line, but she nodded. She had her reasons for being here, but that didn’t mean she had to enjoy everything about the jobs.

They dragged the bodies over to the window, doing their best to make it look like they had encountered the other crew when they had “broken in.” When Kaz - who had been standing off to the side while Jesper and Inej dragged the bodies - was satisfied with the arrangement, he raised his eyebrows and gestured at the window.

“Why can’t he speak like a normal person? There’s no need for it, so why does he do it?”

“He says he does everything only as he needs to,” muttered Inej, loud enough for Kaz to hear. “But really he loves the dramatic flare as much as you, Jesper.”

“I do not,” said Kaz.

Jesper grinned. “There goes Dirtyhands, lying again.”

They reached the edge of the rooftop terrace outside the window, and they looked at each other in farewell before heading their own ways.

"No mourners," said Inej.

"No Funerals."

----

The next morning, notorious gambler Jesper Fahey and mysterious businessman Kaz Brekker met for coffee at a quiet cafe on the outskirts of the city. They paid a little extra to let Inej Ghafa’s boss allow her to have a cup with them while they read the paper.

“Failed break-in,” read Kaz. “Two dead, thieves responsible were caught but claim innocence.”

“Did they wonder why two random people were on the scene?” asked Inej.

Kaz looked at her. “Random people?”

“The two- Kaz Brekker, I will steal Jesper’s guns and shoot you in the face. They were guards?”

“Off-duty, but yes. There was a plausible reason for them to have been on the scene.”

Jesper grinned. “Brilliant. Now read the next one. The second one is always the best.”

“Criminal pests finally caught. Torment of city over.”

They looked at each other, and even Kaz couldn’t help a quick grin.

“What do you think,” said Jesper. “Is this city’s torment over yet?”

Inej thought of her family, desperate to escape a war that had taken over their home across the sea. Thought of the cost of the travel, of the wealth held by so few who used it for nothing but their own gain.

No. This city’s torment wasn’t over just yet.

#six of crows #shadow and bone netflix #soc #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #kaz brekker #inej #jesper #kaz #the crows #some of them anyway #soc fanfic #crooked kingdom #grishaverse #mine

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years ago

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “Karen.”

Sorry guys. I have to post this really quick, sorry for spelling errors. Don’t worry about the Drev translations, they arent important

The civilian transport was very lucky.

In fact it was very lucky for a couple of reasons, the first being that it was only their secondary engine which had malfunctioned, not the warp core, second because at least their life support still worked, and three that they were close enough to an outpost , that their S.O.S was received in under a day by a very bored Tesraki, and an overly-talkative Rundi.

Their last stroke of luck might have been that there just so happened to be a UNSC ship passing by, on their way to the same original destination.

In fact, the civilian transport, piloted by some kind of space cruise company, offering interstellar tours, was attached to the harbinger in under an hour opening the doors and flooding the civilians with fresh cool air.

Krill was waiting with doctor Katie on the loading ramp just in case the civilians were in need of some sort of medical attention. He didn’t exactly have much experience with civilians. The harbinger was crewed, in large part, by military personnel and the occasional government contractor, so most of them were relatively professional, and most, if not all of them , were required to go through extensive training and physical testing before leaving their planet.

As the civilian humans disembarked, Krill got a sudden taste of human tourism.

Some very, very large humans, wearing widely unmatching clothing and strangely patterned shirts toddling through the doors with so much excess weight, he wondered how the human skeleton was capable of supporting such an egregious amount without simply imploding and turning to dust. The health implications were absolutely horrendous, and made him cringe to think about.

And if they weren’t big and colorfully dressed, they were rail thin, with plastic faces and puffy lips, the mark of cosmetic surgery done poorly. And with them they brought a hoard of screaming children, and moody teenagers their heads down glowering at their implanted communication devices, though Krill could hardly blame them from their moodiness.

A few more normal humans were there of course, averaging between the two extremes, and dressed conservatively for travel looking absolutely done with the entire thing and relieved when they stepped onto the cargo deck.

“Well it is about time!”

Krill and Dr. Katie turned their heads just in time to see the last human disembark shoving past the other guests and onto the floor, dragging with her two teenagers, one young child and her apologetic looking husband “It sure did take you long enough. And I swear once I have time I am going to be complaining to customer service. I will be complaining to the travel agency, and to the transport agency and.” She turned to glower at Dr. Katie and Dr. Krill,” And I will be complaining to you, whoever you people are for taking so long to show up.”

Krill glanced up at the woman who was only growing closer and closer, ominously looming over them. From this distance Krill got a better look of her badly maintained A line haircut, and her patchy blonde dye job with layers. She had a look on her face that were to suggest she perpetually had something sour in her mouth

Dr. Katie sighed, “Sorry ma’am. I can’t help you, I am a civilian medical contractor, not a member of the UNSC. I am just here to deal with any medical issues that you may have experienced during the malfunction.”

“Of course you’re UNSC, you work on the ship don’t you?”

Katie tried to remain patient, “Yes, I work on the ship, but like I said before I am a civilian contractor and have no ability to help you with your complaints. Is there any medical issue that I can help you with.”

“I demand a refund at once.”

Dr. katie Sighed, “I am a Dr. and I do not work for your touring company either. I am a private civilian medical contractor.”

“And that was not a medical issue.” Krill added already annoyed.

By this time, the woman hadn’t even semed to notice him, but as soon as he spoke, she turned her eyes down towards him and screamed. She made a big show of falling backwards hand over her heart as if she had been shocked, “What is that!” Dr. Katie frowned, “This is Dr. krill, our OTHER civilian medical contractor.”

“Get it out of here, Immediately! I demand it be removed.” She backed away towards her family, “How dare you do something like this, my daughter has arachnophobia. I demand he be removed immediately”

Dr. Katie was frowning openly now, “I am not going to remove him from the deck. He is our chief medical officer, and not an arachnid. That is very rude, you may not know but it is considered a very offensive slur to call Vrul by those terms.”

“I don’t care, can’t you see what it is doing to my daughter!”

Dr. Katie and Dr. Krill turned to look at the teenage daughter, who, at that very moment looked like she wished to melt through the floor. It seemed that having all blood boiled out her ears in the vacuum of space would be way more preferable to this. Her husband was hiding his face, though no one said anything.

Behind her, the other tourists were looking wildly uncomfortable.

One of the large, colorful gentlemen stepped forward, “Why don’t we all just calm down, they are only trying to do their jobs.”

“Yeah, didn’t you hear them. They are civilian contractors.”

“You mind your own business.” She snapped turning back to the two of them. Behind her, her youngest son had gotten bored of the conversation and had wandered off. As they watched he busied himself with terrorizing the cargo crew darting in front of cargo carriers and screaming at the top of his lungs once he realized he could make his voice echo back to him.

“Ma’am, could you please get your son.” Dr Katie began, but was cut off.

“He can do what he wants. Don’t your bring my baby into this.”

“Mom-” The teenager began.

“Quiet Terrance.”

The boy shut his mouth joining his sister in wanting to melt through the floor.

She jabbed a finger at Krill, “Get that bug out of here NOW before I am forced to call someone.”

Krill watched in detached awe as Dr. katie grew very still. Her lips were drawn into a thing line, and the eyes behind her glasses narrowed sharply brows plunging, “I will not.” He was worried for a moment that Katie was going to flat out deck this woman, but she kept her cool, though her hands were balled into fists.

“I demand to speak with the manager!” The woman began screaming stomping her foot like a toddler.”

“Fine.” Doctor katie growled through clenched teeth, turning to look down at her implant before sending a text.

The woman looked very smug sitting back with her arms crossed as Dr. katie and Krill were finally allowed to begin their work, going around to the other civilians and asking if they were feeling alright. The big colorful man, with the surprisingly pleasant voice whispered an apology to them, “She's been a nightmare the whole trip. My wife and I were just coming out to gamble in some of those Tesraki casinos, you know try the exotic food, but she insisted that her son can’t eat any of that and that it shouldn’t be served on the ship or else he'd have some horrible allergic reaction. Honestly it's probably a load of bullshit.”

His wife placed a hand on his arm, “Herold.” She scolded quietly

“Sorry, dear. Anyway, you two are doing a great job.” Before looking down at Krill, “Watch out, there are some real xenophobes around these parts, and she might just be one of them.”

In the background her kid was still making a mess bringing everything in the hold to a complete standstill.

Krill was appalled and almost impressed at how horrible this all was

There was a clattering towards the end of the room, and the group of them turned to see commander Vir, Sunny and a group of other drev walk into the space..

“Zha dah nee to chatahach nehkasi.”

“Zha janaik.”

“Tsa dee.”

“Geesee zha dee.”

“Nin tsa kasish, Chalan.”

“Zha nehrekazi. Zha lad nee gengi kasat.”

The group of them stopped in their tracks cutting their conversation mid go as the kid ran past them screaming, nearly knocking a pallet of crates off balance as he went.

Commander Vir frowned, “Hey! Knock it off!” The kid paused in his tracks a defiant expression in his eyes, and looked about ready to do something stupid. However a group of three Hulking Drev, and one eyeless human was enough to send him scurrying to his mother, who was not happy.

She marched forward, “how dare you speak to my son like that. Who exactly do you think you are.”

“And who are you?” The commander asked.

“A paying customer.”

The commander looked confused, “Paying for what?”

“Don’t play coy with me. You now what.”

“I can honestly tell you that I don’t know.” He turned his head back to the Drev “Nijeesh”, and motioned them off knowing this was going to take a while

She screeched, “Stop speaking to them in that language, this is a human ship! Speak human!” Krill an the other Drev looked on in confusion, considering that there were a couple of human languages to choose form, making her argument extra stupid.

“I paid for this tour, and now I demand to speak with your manager.”

The commander folded his arms, “We aren’t part of the tour company, we are part of the UNSC.”

“I don’t care.”

“Ma’am I cannot help you with the tour company. THe UNSC has nothing to do with civilian tours.”

She held up a hand in front of his face, “No, I won’t be talking to you anymore, not until is see a manager.” She snapped her fingers.

A small spark of fire lit in the man’s eyes, “I AM the manager.”

She laughed, barking like a condescending seal, “Don’t lie to me boy, you are too young. Now let me talk to an adult. The REAL manager.”

Commander Vir stared at her mouth open completely nonplussed, “I’m 25.”

“Exactly, clearly not old enough.”

He just held out his hands lost for words for a long moment before, a subtle change appeared in his expression. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, “My apologies, ma’am, we don’t technically have a manager aboard the ship, but this just so happens to be the UNSC Harbinger, so maybe I can get Commander Vir to speak with you.”

Her eyes lit up hungrily at that. And Krill stared on in wonder and fascination.

“yes , I will speak with the commander.”

Her two teenagers looked up from their shame, and Krill could tell by the wide eyed expressions on their faces, they knew exactly who their mother was talking to. Both of their faces went beat red.

Commander Vir turned walked a few steps turned around and walked back standing up straighter, ‘Hello ma’am I am Fleet Commander Vir of the UNSC Harbinger, how may I be of assistance.”

The woman looked livid, “This isn’t funny! Now get me the real commander now!”

“mom/” One of her kids hissed.

She held out a finger.

“Mom!”

She turned to glare angrily at her child, “Not while the adults are speaking terrance.”

“But mom! He IS the commander!”

She turned to glower at her son, who was brandishing his implant with a picture of Adam in uniform, one of the images used for the movie.

It was time for her husband to speak up, “Dear…. He’s the one from that movie…” he trailed off.

She whirled around to face him face red with embarrassment as he stood there with a shit eating grin, but then, in her embarrassment, doubled down even harder, “Well no wonder this place is so poorly run. You’re too young to have the position you do. Is there someone ELSE more experienced I can speak with.”

Commander Vir just stared at her, “Ma’am I am the highest power you are ever going to talk to. Even if I was god's secretary, you wouldn't get past the door. Now shut up get your crotch goblin, under contorl and keep your xenophobic agest ass quiet. I am not going to bother being polite to someone who has openly thrown speciesest slurs at my crew.” He motioned to the other passengers, “The rest of you are welcome onto the crew deck for the time being.” The rest of her family members visibly wilted, “Your two kids and your husband are allowed as well, but until you can learn a little respect, and treat my crew the way they deserve, you and your youngest can stay on the civilian transport alone.”

From where she stood next to Krill, Dr. Katie giggled, “I love it when he gets all righteous indignation.” Krill had to agree with her.

Watching him turn and leave the woman speechless with fury behind him was extremely satisfying.

#humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are spaceoddities #earth is a deathworld #Earth is space Ausralia

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malikmata · 3 years ago

Text

Notes from a Brown Boy - Kansas Diaries

*Author’s Note: Some people’s names have been changed to protect their identities

The rain was the first thing to greet me when I landed in Wichita. Overhead the gray clouds loomed, shadowing the farmland that yawned in the distance. Distance. At first glance, the city seemed like one long stretch of prairies and cracked parking lots, occasionally punctuated by billboards of grinning injury lawyers and lit up restaurant road signs.

If you spend enough time here amid the crumbling old buildings, watching the weeds sway in the vacant lots, you’ll feel the slow, inevitable creep of dread or something like it.

It’s easy to feel lonely here.

But, if you’re receptive enough, you’ll run into many friendly folks. Sometimes too friendly.

For example: During my first week, I went to Freddy’s, a local fast food chain, and ordered a crispy chicken sandwich with fries. The cashier, a young woman with glasses and short blonde hair, suddenly started confessing her fear that her 8-year old chihuahua wouldn’t live a long life.

“I still think of him as a teenager,” she said.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “He’s a chihuahua. They live long lives.”

Out here, in the most middle-of-the-road cities, you sometimes get a chance to show an act of passing kindness. While waiting in line at one of the hip, new cafes downtown, a place called Milkfloat, a tall elderly gentleman recommended which coffee and pastry to get.

“My wife says this place has the best cold brew in town.” Afterwards, grabbing his pastry and coffee, he wished me a good day. Most folks here always do and you better hope it comes true. Because here, like elsewhere, a day is filled with ordinary heartbreaks.

I will simply call her “Tita.” She works as a tailor at a department store, the only tailor working there, hemming and tapering racks full of suit pants under fluorescent lights. The nature of the job requires exact measurements and a keen eye for detail. She works hard, often skips lunch, and comes home dead tired. Her husband is recovering from 4 broken ribs after a car repair job went awry. Nothing can be done but wait until he gets better.

They live in a languid suburb on Wichita’s east side, a street with few sidewalks but plenty of lawn.

And noise. Plenty of noise. The neighborhood sits next to a car dealership. The skies overhead rumble continuously with airplanes and thunderstorms. Dogs bark at anyone who gets too close. A pickup truck blasts a corny country song as the cicadas and frogs belt out their lonely mating calls. Occasionally, a child’s laughter rises above it all.

Gossip is one of the great pastimes in towns like these. Even if you shut yourself up in your home, stories trickle in.

The neighbor across the street shot himself in the head.

The elderly couple that used to live next door got committed to a nursing home.

A fellow around the corner is on his third attempt to grow weed.

A college student starves himself morning to night so that he can save money for college.

Down the street, a kid lifts weights and punches the heavy bag hanging on his front porch.

Here, dumb luck seems, more so than in the big cities, the providence of God.

A man told me he got a job installing new carpets at a friend’s house. He was in desperate need of money, having sent most of it to his mother back home, who proceeded to gamble it away. When he ripped out the old carpet, he found a bundle of $10,000 dollars just lying there. His co-worker said, “We should split it.”

“No, no, we can’t take it.” the man said. He gave the money to his friend.

Sometime later, he went to the casino and couldn’t stop winning jackpot after jackpot. He brought home close to $16,000 in one night.

“So, if you do something good,” he told me, “God will remember that.”

Many people have come to live and die here, all of them wrapped up in the melancholic churning of faded ambitions and familial obligations.

Some people here have found something that returns them to the placidity they once felt in their youth. Sometimes that’s enough to keep them going.

For example:

I met Phil Uhlik, the namesake of the music store on E Douglas. He heard me playing an old Martin acoustic in one of the rooms. He shuffled in slightly hunched over, wearing a blue paisley shirt and brown shorts. He looked at the sunburst guitar in my hands and said, “It’s got a little beauty mark there.” He pointed to a small nick just above the sound hole. “All girls have beauty marks.” He pointed to his cheeks and smiled.

Uhlik started this music store 51 years ago and enjoys every moment of it.

“When you go to work for Boeing, that’s work,” he said. “But this, it doesn’t feel like work.” He motioned to the instruments all around him.

“How’d you get started?” I asked.

“I started off playing one of these,” he said, taking one of the accordions off a nearby shelf. As he strapped it on, all the years seemed to disappear. With a big crooked-teeth grin, he breathed life into the old accordion, his hands dancing up and down the keys. The smile never left his face as we bid farewell to each other.

I wish everyone in this world were as lucky as Phil.

I’m always seeking indie bookstores when I travel. Eighth Day Books provides much needed shelter from the summer heat. The shop was built 33 years ago and used to be located about half a mile east, in Clifton Square Village. About 17 years ago they moved to their current location, a 1920 Dutch-style colonial house on the corner of E Douglas and N Erie. Its blue trimmed windows peek through the foliage of neighboring trees.

When you walk in, you’ll see shelves of books on Christianity and Theological studies, most notably in the Eastern Orthodox tradition. I’ve never seen a bookshop with a section dedicated to Iconography.

Wichita, despite its size, feels like a small place. And with that cramped spaciousness, you’re likely to run into someone you may remember or who may remember you. Here I ran into my girlfriend’s 8th grade English teacher. A bald, bespectacled man with a gentle demeanor. After a bit of catching up, he said to us with a smile, “I hope all your dreams come true.”

The short story writer, Raymond Carver, once wrote: “Dreams… are what you wake up from.”

Wichita is a land that hypnotizes you; it makes you dream, dream of something beyond the miles of strip malls and airplane factories, beyond the shocks of wheat and windswept plains, beyond the doldrums and ennui. But it also shakes you awake, reminds you that you’re in it, that you better stop dreaming.

I’m not the religious sort anymore, having survived the regime laid down by my Catholic parents. But there is something enthralling, maybe even inspirational, when I look at the rows of beautifully painted portraits of saints and martyrs. Such solemn faces surrounded by golden halos. According to the Eastern Orthodox tradition, such paintings transcend art; they’re supposed to be windows through which you can glimpse the divine. They remind me of my grandparents with their judging eyes and moral seriousness.

My book haul for the day:

Snow Country by Yasunari Kawabata

The Diary of Anne Frank

Earthly Signs: Moscow Diaries by Marina Tsvetaeva

Near to the Wild Heart by Clarice Lispector

In that last book, I found this lovely little passage:

…”in the Revolution, as always, the weight of everyday life falls on women: previously--in sheaves, now in sacks. Everyday life is a sack with holes. And you carry it anyway.”

From Earthly Signs, P. 40

According to the 2019 United States census bureau, 15.9% of Wichita's population lives below the poverty line. That’s higher than the state average, which hovers around 11.4%. That’s not the lowest nor is it the highest in the country. As befitting its location, Kansas is right in the middle.

The minimum wage in Kansas is still $7.25 despite efforts to increase it to $15. When Covid-19 hit, city and service workers bore the brunt of the impact. You can keep all your empty slogans like “We Love Our Frontline Workers.” Congratulate me all you want for my hard work but where’s my pay?

When you see that business here has returned to normal--people freely walking around without masks, no longer socially distancing--it still feels all too strange; we spent an entire year under lockdown. There’s still a pandemic by the way.

Loved ones fell ill, died alone, hooked up to ventilators in closed off hospital rooms. I believe every interaction now carries the weight of all those deaths. My family, like so many others, didn’t escape unscathed from the pandemic. My grandpa, Amang, caught Covid. Since he was an elderly citizen (and suffering from emphysema to boot), he was among those considered most at risk. We all feared the worst. Somehow he survived. The doctors called him a “trailblazer.”

Now, with businesses back to 100% capacity, I’m afraid that, just like the 1918 Flu epidemic, the past will fade like a nightmare upon waking. But it was so much more than that; it was an avoidable tragedy.

If you want to know what this pandemic has done to people and their livelihoods, is still doing to them, take a ride through downtown.

Things were already going bad before Covid hit. Back in 2004, the writer Thomas Frank wrote,

“There were so many closed shops in Wichita… that you could drive for blocks without ever leaving their empty parking lots, running parallel to the city streets past the shut-down sporting goods stores and toy stores and farm implement stores.”

What’s the Matter with Kansas: How Conservatives Won the Heart of America, P. 75

What led to all this blight? Frank attributes the decline to:

“the conservatives’ beloved free market capitalism, a system that, at its most unrestrained, has little use for smalltown merchants or the agricultural system that supported the small towns in the first place.”

-P. 79

The same story happens in a lot of places. A megacorporation keeps eating everything around it and leaves nothing else at the table.

The people are left hurting, a pit in their stomachs, and some asshole somewhere profits off of it.

While at the DMV, I overheard this:

“You have a good day now,” the security guard said.

“I’ll try my best,” a woman said.

My girlfriend heard them too and laughed.

“You really do have to try your best in order to have a good day here.”

At some point, we hit the town with a couple friends: Monica, and her boyfriend Will. Both are musicians trying to carve out their niche in a place that, on the surface, seems apathetic to creative pursuits.

It’s impossible to not be captured by their energy. As soon as we walk into their house, Monica, with her dark blonde hair draped over her shoulders, reached in for a hug. Will, a tall and bearded fellow with a bear-like presence, also went in for the hug.

“Ready to experience some Wichita nightlife?” Monica asked.

What is the nightlife here like? A group of high school punks wanted to fight us over a couple movie theater seats. Bored kids play rounds of “Chinese Fire Drill” at stop lights. I heard a nazi biker gang rolled into town at some point during my stay. Regular things like that.

At a low-key bar downtown called Luckys, I met a guy named Cory. He told me how he met a 15 year old kid loitering here, looking lost and forlorn.

“I don’t know what kind of advice I can give you but I’ll do the best I can,” Cory said.

This is the spirit I’ve often come across during my stay: A sort of slightly intrusive compassion. For a cynical Californian like me, the behavior seems a little strange, maybe even a little annoying. But I’ve come to appreciate the candor of it.

“Guaranteed we’ll know half the people here,” Will said.

Right away, he shook hands with the bartender—a high school friend of his—and asked him how his band was doing. Afterwards, we sat down and talked. Talking, after a year of pandemic lockdown, has become a lost art to me. But a little alcohol loosened the lips and suddenly I talked as though I’d known these people my whole life.

Will sipped his whisky on the rocks and told me:

“If everything in this world is meant to break down eventually, then any act of creation becomes an act of defiance.”

It may sound naive but to me, it’s true. I think about the words of the writer, John Berger:

Compassion defies the laws of necessity. To forget yourself and identify with a stranger has a power that defies the supposed natural order of things.

--The Shape of a Pocket, P. 179

Making art has to be, in some way, a compassion act, because it involves letting the environment and the people you meet speak for themselves, allowing a collaboration.

“When a painting is lifeless it is the result of the painter not having the nerve to get close enough for a collaboration to start… Every authentic painting demonstrates a collaboration.”

--The Shape of a Pocket, P. 16

You need to open yourself up, feel what someone is saying behind their words, and hopefully, feel what they feel.

Art, like Compassion, is defiant.

Among the 4 or so Asian markets here, you can find all the ingredients you need to cook up something good. During my first week, I stopped at a place called Grace Market. Like a lot of small Asian markets, it’s family run. A father from Taiwan. A mother from Korea. The son usually helps out when he can. Today (June 23), On this warm Wednesday morning, the son is manning the cash register.

“You’re from California? I’m from there too,” he said.

“Where at?” I asked.

“Sacramento. How about you? So Cal?”

“Nah, Bay Area.”

“Funny. That’s where my parents met.”

“Small world.”

On a different day, we met the father, a jovial man who never fails to say hi when you walk in. He came here over a couple decades ago from California, doing work for the US Army in Garden City. Once his service was over, he decided to stay in Kansas.

“I think you know why,” he said.

More and more young folks these days are leaving California. The high cost of living is presumably what’s driving this exodus. I told him I was also thinking of leaving the Golden State, as much as I love the place.

“Well, a town like this has a lot of potential if you want to save money,” he said. “If I tried to start this business in California, I don’t think I could’ve done it.”

The summer heat can, with the suddenness of a lightning flash, give way to thunderous storms. Speaking as someone from California, whose home has gone through excruciating periods of drought and wildfire, these nightly downpours are a startling yet relaxing sight.

The distant boom of thunder in the distance reminds you of how much of our lives depend on the weather, how small we are in comparison, how we are never separate from the goings-on of nature. The rain doesn’t come down lightly here. At night, it smacks and drums against the window pane with all the force of an animal trying to get inside.

But I don’t find myself frightened by it so much as awed by the combined power of wind and rain colliding against our rickety old house.

Kansas lies in the Great Plains, where layers of cool and warm air often combine into a low-level jet stream. Unimpeded by any natural obstacles on the wide flat plains, the wind roars across the expanse. Thunder growls over the prairie. And lightning flashes on the horizon in a fearsome red tinge.

The storm rages throughout the night, the only source of light in an ocean-sized plain.

“In general, the gods of the Wichita are spoken of as "dreams," and they are divided into four groups: Dreams-that-are-Above (Itskasanakatadiwaha), or, as the Skidi would say, the heavenly gods; and (2) Dreams-down-Here (Howwitsnetskasade), which, according to the Skidi terminology, are the earthly gods. The latter "dreams" in turn are divided into two groups: Dreams-living-in-Water (Itska-sanidwaha), and the Dreams-closest-to-Man (Tedetskasade)”

From The Mythology of the Wichita, P. 33

If you go downtown, you’ll see a sculpture called “The Keeper of the Plains.”

It’s almost 9 o’ clock when I get there, so large crowds have gathered to watch the ring of fire lit around its perimeter.

The statue was designed by indigenous artist and craftsman, Blackbear Bosin. Born in Cyril, Oklahoma, but living much of his adult life in Wichita, Kansas, Bosin was of Comanche and Kiowa descent and almost entirely self-taught as an artist.

When you come upon the Keeper of the Plains, standing tall on the fork of the Arkansas and Little Arkansas Rivers, you can’t help but feel a mix of admiration and sadness. It’s a striking statue, especially when set against the beautiful orange and lavender hues of the setting sun. But monuments like these end up reminding you of the Wichita peoples who were killed, displaced, driven from their land, and left to die in reservations, forgotten. The tribes that once lived here along the southern plains still show traces of their culture but now, you’ll see it mostly as a memory in a museum or as art hanging on the walls of a library.

I learned from a video by the Wichita Eagle that the last speaker of the Wichita language, Doris Jean Lamar, died back in 2016. It must be indescribably lonely to be the last speaker of a language. There is no one to have a conversation with, no one to whom you can confess your hopes or your regrets. But in the video, Lamar, even knowing that she is the last speaker, expresses hope that future generations will know what the language sounded like.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ScPkN_xGRI

Is forgiveness even possible when injustices are still committed today against native peoples everywhere?

Not enough can be said about the skies here, which seem at times so brilliantly marbled with peach and lavender colors that you begin to walk with your head perpetually craned upwards.

It’s this aspect, the overwhelming sense of the sublime, that will probably stay with me long after I’ve left Kansas.

I think again about the nature of dreams. It isn’t such a sin to dream about things, about things that haven’t happened yet, and about things that have happened. To quit dreaming seems too cynical, like admitting from the outset that everything is screwed, that you should stop trying.

During my stay here, I’ve met many people who aren’t so irony poisoned yet, people who are achingly sincere and kind. They haven’t stopped trying. There isn’t much room for cynicism here. I appreciate that a lot.

Farewell to you, Kansas, you and your clumps of cumulus and vast fields of cows and grass. I��ll see you again.

Check out Will’s music! It’s gloomy, melancholy, and LOUD!: https://teamtremolo.bandcamp.com/album/intruder

#diary #photoblog #photo diary #midwest #kansas #travel diaries

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mermaidsirennikita · 4 years ago

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Hello, I hope I'm not bothering you, but do you have any good "enemies to lovers" recs, may they be books or movies?

I neeeever am bothered by people asking for recommendations. Those are my favorite asks because I am nothing if not in love with my own opinions, lol

Books

Obviously, The Viscount Who Loved Me by Julia Quinn, the best Bridgerton book, because I’ve been blogging about it lol. If you haven’t read it, it’s basically “rake tries to seduce the beauty of the ton, beauty’s older sister cockblocks him, he realizes that He Is Into It”

The Hating Game by Sally Thorne is a classic. Very light and fluffy contemporary, two people who’ve always hated each other begin competing for the same job and fall in love.

Kate Quinn’s Mistress of Rome series is a saga and the initial big ship of the first book (which you do have to read lol) is not enemies to lovers. However, the NEXT ship which dominates the last two books of the series (which is four books long, and tbh... I recommend the second book but it’s a prequel and can be skipped technically) is SOOOOOOO GOOD. It’s really “childhood friends to young lovers to SEVERE ENEMIES still secretly in love” and it’s literally epic lol. Essentially, the series is set in Ancient Rome and Sabina (very bitchy Roman noblewoman) and Vix (child of a former gladiator, soldier) are friends who I think lose their virginities to each other? And are in love as kids. But then she fucks him over and marries the emperor. Who he actually begins to loyally serve! But he haaaates Sabina because she.... constantly backstabs him lol. But he also looooves Sabina and gets off on everything she does. And she wants him so badly. And it is delicious. And I live for it.

Both of the Evie Dunmore books I’ve read, Bringing Down the Duke and especially A Rogue of One’s Own are very enemies to lovers. In Bringing Down the Duke it’s a bluestocking versus a duke who for political reasons is her enemy. In A Rogue of One’s Own it’s another bluestocking versus a rake who has known her basically all their lives. They have to begin working together and fall in looove.

Sarah MacLean LIVES for this trope lol. Her first true enemies to lovers was Twelve Scandals to Start to Win An Earl’s Heart, in which the heroine is a scandalous young woman and the hero is a duke determined to avoid scandal--and he rebuffed her before the book began, so they hate each other. But he also has a massive boner around her, of course.

My favorite MacLean book, A Rogue By Another Name is another “childhood friends turn enemies to lovers”. The leads, Penelope and Bourne (last name lol) were best friends as kid and he basically fell off after life set in. Her family now has hold of his ancestral lands, and Bourne essentially blackmails Penelope into marrying him so that he can get those lands, after which she DESPISES him even though they had..... extremely great sex lol. It’s SUPER GOOD, and it involves borderline voyeurism, which is great.

Then No Good Duke Goes Unpunished is very enemies to lovers. The heroine was set to become the hero’s stepmother--then he woke up covered in blood with her missing. He then finds out, after years of being despised by society as a presumed murderer, that she is very much alive with a fake identity lol. It’s WILD.

The Rogue Not Taken is an enemies to lovers roadtrip romance. The heroine thinks the hero is a horrid rake who purposefully ruins marriages. He thinks she’s a stuck up brat. They end up journeying together and he eats her out in a moving carriage.

Theeen there’s Daring and the Duke. The hero literally thought the heroine was dead (MacLean loves this) and is OBSESSED with her, but she hates him because the man who raised them both basically pitted them against each other after their days of being childhood sweethearts. It’s very dark and delicious, and there are blow jobs! Blow jobs don’t happen enough in romances, especially historical romances. More BJs! They are fun!

If you’re interested in a dark and BONKERS romance, Desperate Measures by Katee Robert is a retelling of Disney’s Aladdin about a modern Jafar and Jasmine getting together after he takes over her father’s criminal empire. It’s definitely extremely explicit and a bit fucked up. The book comes with content warnings; the first sex scene is dubcon. (Like you’re reading from her perspective and she WANTS IT but she says no.)

Beach Read by Emily Henry is a cute contemporary in which the hero is a literary author and the heroine is a romance novelist. They find themselves in neighboring beach houses and basically challenge each other to write in the other person’s genre. Very light enemies to lovers.

A Heart of Blood and Ashes is a fantasy romance by Milla Vane! Essentially, the hero’s parents were killed by the heroine’s father and he’s out to kill her father and overtake his throne. Luckily, she’s on board. But he needs to marry her in order to accomplish his goals. They do not trust each other whatsoever and torment one another a lot. For context, within the first fifty pages she gives him a handjob while her hand is covered in her own brother’s blood (and yes, he did kill her brother). It’s great.

The Worst Best Man is about a wedding planner who suddenly finds herself needing to work with her ex-fiance’s brother... who she holds responsible for her fiance leaving her at the altar. Very fun and sexy contemporary.

The entire Four Horsemen series by Laura Thalassa. In each book, the heroine falls in love with a literal embodiment of one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse, who is here to bring the end of the world. VERY heavy enemies to lovers. Kinda dark at times? Kinda fucked up at times? I love it a lot? It begins with Pestilence; War and Famine have already been released, but Death has not.

From Lukov with Love by Marina Zapata. It’s a figure skating romance; a down on her luck skater pairs up with a male skater who is extremely successful, and who she’s known for years and hated. Verrrrry slow burn, but fun.

Movies

The Proposal, of course, starring Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds. You’ve probably seen this, but the setup is that she’s his evil boss, he’s her assistant, and she’s about to lose her visa so she bribes him into marrying her so that she can get citizenship. But ruh-roh, they have to go to Alaska for his family reunion and he’s also got a great body and is like, an Alaskan Rockefeller?

Obviously, Clueless which is enemies to lovers by way of former stepsiblings, and also by way of the only valid retelling of Emma. Emma itself is not enemies to lovers, really, but Clueless amps that aspect up a bit.

If you want a super tragic version, warning lol--House of Flying Daggers. It’s a wuxia movie, so melodramatic to the max. She’s a blind daughter of the leader of a vigilante group, he’s a soldier who’s gone undercover to follow her to their stronghold. Many reveals and one of my favorite dramatic love stories ensues.

Princess Diaries 2, duh. Baby Chris Pine? Anne Hathaway? PLEASE BITCH.

365 DNI. If you haven’t watched yet, watch it and thank me later. The greatest cinematic contribution of the last decade.

Down with Love. It’s a delightful take on like, 50s/60s sex comedies in which the heroine writes a book that convinces women to ignore love and men, which makes the hero look bad and makes it difficult for him to get laid. So he sets out to basically..... wear a different persona? And seduce her? It is one of the funniest movies I’ve ever seen, and I adore it. Renee Zellweger and Ewan Macgregor have great chemistry in it too.

The Thomas Crown Affair, starring extremely hot Pierce Brosnan and Renee Russo. She’s an insurance investigator, he’s a billionaire who basically is suspected of stealing priceless works of art because he’s bored. She investigates him and immediately begins fucking him. Has a scene where she dances with him while wearing a completely transparent dress. Then they fuck everywhere in his house. I have never wanted to be between two people more.

The Painted Veil. A socialite marries a dorky scientist for convenience, then cheats on him. He finds out and basically forces her to go to China with him, where he is fighting the cholera epidemic, as an extremely long and petty murder suicide attempt. But they get to know each other! And the ice begins to melt! Warning: tragic but lovely.

Casino Royale YES I SAID THAT. The James Bond reboot movie that explains why he’s such a whore!!! HE WAS BROKEN!!! Basically James Bond is not like... a learned man... in this movie. So he’s a cocky bastard and the Bond girl is impossibly sexy Eva Green as Vesper, who’s the “money man” on his mission. They begin as bickering assholes and then fall in love. But also! Tragedy!

The animated Anastasia movie is one of the finest enemies to lovers movies of any time, I will defend this forever

Anyway.... Hope this gives you some ideas! Lol

#Anonymous

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dangerouscommiesubversive · 4 years ago

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Commie, can you do a fic of the BN thieves + any other thieves from Super Sentai/Kamen Rider?

Absolutely I can! And since you haven’t given me a specific prompt, let’s say that

U is for unknown

Balance isn’t, like, a suspicious guy. In fact, he’d generally describe himself as friendly. He likes people! They like him, too! Good feelings all around. But when he spots a flicker of a red tailcoat that definitely shouldn’t be in one of the back corridors of this weird little vault satellite, he maybe gets a little worried.

So he says, “Hey, love cobra.”

“Please don’t call me that in public, Balance.”

“Who’s in public? Just you, me, and twenty dead security cameras, baby. Anyway, you love it.”

Naaga stares fixedly into space for a moment, which is pretty nice, since that blue blush of his is so cute. “Notwithstanding my enjoyment of your pet names, they are not appropriate in public.”

Balance sighs theatrically. “Whatever you say, baby. Did you also see a LupinRanger just now or do I need to re-calibrate?”

“I have not seen the LupinRangers recently.”

“Well, that’s worrying, not gonna lie.”

“But my eyesight is not as acute as yours.” Naaga’s tongue flickers out for a moment. “I can smell them, though.”

“Oh. Good, no re-calibrating on the menu for the evening. Still worried, though! You think this thing Lucky needs is one of their whatsits?”

“I strongly doubt it, given that they are not from this universe.” Naaga scents the air again. “They are this way.”

They catch up with the Lupins after two corridors, and the first thing that happens is that Umika sees them, makes a happy noise, and bounds over to kiss Naaga on the cheek. Then she does the same to Balance, interrupting him in the middle of, “Hey, hey, don’t go kissing on a guy’s--oh. Hey, fancy meeting you guys here! Wait, isn’t he a cop?”

Umika frowns. “Isn’t who a--wait, you mean Noël? No. I mean. Kind of? He’s with us, it’s fine.”

“You’d better not be here after a Lupin Collection piece, though.” Kairi’s hanging back, although he doesn’t look unhappy to see them. “We’ve got dibs.”

Naaga’s nictitating membranes flicker shut for a moment over his eyes. “I am certain that we’re looking for different things, the Lupin Collection is not native to this universe.” He flashes them a brief, awkward smile. “Also, hello.”

Tooma nods. Noël Not-A-Cop waves, smiling, and says, “Bonjour, mes amis, I was sort of hoping we’d get to see you again. How have you been? How’s your handsome friend?” He’s also the one who starts walking again, and since it’s also in the direction that Balance and Naaga are going in, it seems reasonable to walk along with him.

Naaga nods in his direction. “We’ve been well. You will have to be more specific.”

“Yeah, all of our friends are pretty cute.” Balance skips out in front of the group and walks backwards facing them, relying on his sensors to keep him from tripping. “You gotta say which one you mean.”

Noël looks amused. “Fair enough. The very tall one, with the red coat and the dramatic attitude.”

“Tsurugi! He’s doing ok, I’ll tell him you asked about him.”

“Please do.” Noël looks past Balance’s shoulder. “Ah, good, I think this is the storeroom we were looking for, we’ll bid you adieu here.”

Balance glances at the door, but Naaga beats him to saying, “This is also the storeroom we’re looking for.”

“Ah,” Tooma mutters. “That’s reassuring.”

“Isn’t it?” Balance flashes him a thumbs-up, which will either make him feel extra reassured or weirded out, and either option works under the circumstances. “Let’s go in together! Like a team! Good times.”

They open the door and crowd through it all together.

The storeroom is entirely bare of anything interesting to steal, let alone Lucky’s whatsit or the Lupin things. Not that it’s a boring room, though, because there are already people in it, and it only takes a second for Balance to take in two of them and say, “Hey, baby, isn’t that Stinger’s pirate buddy and his girlfriend? The scary girlfriend, not the princess one.”

Naaga nods, as on Balance’s other said Kairi visibly brightens up and says, “Hey, Marvelous, what are you doing he--you again.”

Because Stinger’s pirate buddy and his scary girlfriend are having sort of a staring contest with a third human, who’s got bleached hair and a white jacket and a big blue gun. He glances at Kairi and says, “Oh good, it’s the brat. I hope you brought--there you are, Nicky, nice to see you.”

And Noël says, pleasantly, “Bonjour, Dion, fancy meeting you here.”

“This has gotten overly complicated,” Naaga and Tooma say simultaneously, to Balance’s delighted cry of, “Jinx! So who’s this guy?”

“Daiki! Hi!” Umika bumps Naaga with her shoulder. “Naaga, Balance, this is Kaitou Daiki, he’s also a thief, he’s sort of Noël’s ex? And he’s a, a something, a Kamen Rider! That’s it!”

“No shit?” Balance flickers his eyes, just for dramatic effect. “We met a couple of those once. Nice guys. One of them had a suit with hair on it, fun look.”

Daiki nods to them, still watching Captain Marvelous out of the corner of his eye. “There are a few of us around. Anyway, evening, Nicky, Nicky’s friends, I’m assuming these two are also Sentai?”

Naaga nods shortly. “We are Kyuurangers.”

“Yeah, I thought so, you guys have that look.” Daiki glances around. “So, anyone happen to know why we’re all here? I’m supposed to be able to find an interesting treasure here, a Dark Mirror, I was going to give it to Tsukasa as a present, but I’m really not seeing anything. Starting to think I might have been misled.”

Tooma huffs. “We may have all been misled, I don’t see a Lupin Collection piece here.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Balance scans the room. “Definitely nothing in here like the whatsit Lucky wanted us to get, the, uh, baby, help me out here.”

Naaga pats him on the shoulder. “The Heracles Cape.”

“That’s the one, yeah.”

“So we’ve all been tricked.” Daiki eyes Marvelous and Luka. “Marvelous, I hope you know that if you’re the reason I’m here, I’m going to punch you.”

Captain Marvelous shrugs. “I’m not exactly happy to see you either, Kaitou. No, I’m not why you’re here, I’m just along for the ride with Luka so she doesn’t get kidnapped by evil armor again.”

Luka huffs. “Shut up, Marvelous, that was one time. I was promised a ruby the size of my fist.”

Balance bounces on the ends of his feet, just to make his earrings swing a little and get everyone’s attention. “So who got us all here, then? That’s the big fun question of the moment.”

And a quiet voice says, “I’d be happy to answer that for you.”

Everyone jumps and turns towards the back corner of the room, where there’s yet another person waiting. She’s wearing a black dress and boots with lots of pink details and pink gloves, and her hair is bright pink too. Balance is pretty sure it’s a wig, but he’s not positive, he’s not great on hominid hair.

Luka squints at her and then turns to Marvelous. “The Go-Busters didn’t have a Pink.”

“I didn’t think they did--” Marvelous pulls out his cell phone changer thing, taps a button, and says, “Gai, did the Go-Busters have a Pink?”

There’s a faint crackle from the phone, and then a voice Balance vaguely recognizes says, “Not really? There was someone who called herself Pink Buster, but she was a civilian criminal. Basically a cosplayer." A pause. "Why? Who's dressing as Pink Buster?”

“We’ll get back to you on that. Thanks, Gai.” Marvelous hangs up the call, but doesn’t put the phone away. “Who the hell are you, and why are you dressing up as a fake Sentai?”

Naaga says, slowly, “We don’t appreciate being tricked.”

Kairi and Daiki say, much more succinctly, “What the fuck?” and then glare at each other.

Not-Actually-Pink-Buster nods. “That’s understandable. I’m sure you’re wondering why I called you all here. I require your assistance in a matter of some...” a dramatic pause, which Balance appreciates, before, “delicacy.”

And--it clicks. Balance nearly shoots off the ground in delight, and then throws up his hands in a wide enough gesture that it gets everyone looking at him. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. You called a bunch of thieves together--”

“I’m not a thief,” Marvelous says, sounding irritated. “Luka’s a thief. I’m a pirate.”

Tooma looks unimpressed. “The difference being?”

“Thieves sneak and snatch. Pirates smash and grab. Totally different approach.”

Daiki rolls his eyes.

Balance senses that he’s rapidly losing control of the moment, so as soon as he can he barrels on ahead. “You called a bunch of thieves and pirates together under mysterious circumstances in a weird place and you’re showing up wearing a disguise. And saying things like, ‘I’m sure you’re wondering why I called you all here.’“

“She said exactly that.”

“I know, baby, I’m being dramatic.”

“Ah. Carry on, please, I enjoy your dramatics.”

“Thanks, love you too, anyway! Did you pull us all here for a job? Is it a heist? Are you trying to get us to team up to do a heist?”

Pink Lady opens her mouth--

--but Balance is now fizzing with so much energy that his earrings are jangling. “Because I am here for it, pink lady, I’ve always wanted to do a heist! Are we robbing a bank? Wait, no, not sexy enough, please tell me it’s a casino.”

Everyone’s staring at him. It feels fantastic. Pink Lady gapes at him and then says, slowly, “It’s. Ah. A museum, actually.”

He punches the air. “Hot damn! Lady, I could kiss you. I mean, I’m not gonna, I don’t have lips and I’m pretty big on monogamy, but if it wasn’t for that then I could. A heist!"

Naaga nods and says, "I am also enthusiastic to participate."

He even sounds enthusiastic. Balance isn't sure he's ever felt so loved. "The BN Thieves are gonna do a heist!”

He and Naaga do the pose. Umika, Noël, and Daiki all clap politely. It’s amazing. It’s the best day of his life.

Kairi also looks pretty thrilled, but then he gestures to Daiki and says, “A heist sounds great, but I’m not working with that guy.”

Daiki sighs. “I’m not thrilled about the idea of working with you either, brat. Flattered to be asked, though,” to Pink Lady.`

“Oh, come on, guys, a heist! A museum heist! It doesn’t get any cooler than this!”

Tooma’s raising his eyebrows high enough that they’re actually visible over his mask. “You’re very excited about this.”

“Balance has wanted to participate in a heist since he was fifty years old.” Naaga looks pleased.

He’s so cute. Balance is going to die of joy. “I’m gonna marry that reptile,” he says to Umika, who pats him on the shoulder as Naaga turns bright blue. “Anyway, come on, you guys can put aside your weird human differences for the crime of the millennium, can’t you?”

#naaga rei #kyuuranger balance #yano kairi #hayami umika #yoimachi tooma #takao noel #kaitou daiki #captain marvelous #luka millfy #fanfiction #anonamouse

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