#anyway jesus is just a cop who puts all the bad people in the bad person hole - just like real cops.

[giantkillerjack]

Posting this here for receipts in case someone decides to steal this killer line of poetry I wrote for a spotify playlist description of all things (and which, together with the title, sounds like the heading of an essay that I would immediately want to read very badly):

[talesfrommedinastation]

My redneck neighbor Doug watches 'The Bad Batch': The Outpost

As per many people's requests, I've collected a series of texts and Facebook messages from Doug when he watched certain episodes of everyone's favorite Copy Paste Boi show.

Some he was quite pithy on ('Ryan-from-Accounting goes fast but not fast enough to get away from the Bitch Wife Laura'), and others...well, he got excitable, to put it mildly.

Here's one of the more deranged ones, Season 2, Episode 12, 'The Outpost'. Or as Doug calls it: "The Daddy Warcrimes Christmas Special."

CW for Language like you wouldn't believe. Doug says "you'll need a permission slip from your momma to read this, I guess."

-----

Daddy Warcrimes is waiting by the Empire's equivalent of a windowless van, because comfort is just not his thing and he really wants the experience of smuggling cocaine across the border one of these days.

Some bitch who looks like she works at a bank is telling these clones that their extended warranty is up. I wanna bring her a bag of pennies and make her count it before I deposit it because I'm sick like that.

So here comes in SOME BLOND JACKASS. Mother of Hell do I hate this guy. Can I just tell you how much I hate him? I hate him like I hate the Crimson Tide, like I hate February, like I hate my mother-in-law. Hate hate hate. 

So Daddy Warcrimes, SOME BLOND JACKASS, and some homies get into Floating Probable Cause to lay waste to an unsuspecting Third World country or whatever.

Well, I was wrong! Looks like Elsa and her frozen fingers took over this dump. Disney owns both, so why not. The cold never bothered them anyway. Nope, they’re at somebody’s nasty old storage shed. Why does this remind me of visiting my sister in Wyoming?

Oh, who is this no-frills, salt-of-the-earth, son-of-a-bitch? Is that tanned Kurt Russell? No? It’s Sassy Park Ranger! I like him already. If he was my boss I’d actually show up to work on time and sober, or late and hung over, either way, it’d be a good time with the man. He just seems cool and chill and a nice dude. I bet he’s got homemade beef jerky in his locker and his beard always smells like cigar smoke. 

OH SHUT UP STUPID BLOND JACKASS, Jesus Christ I’ve never wanted to hit someone with a folding chair so hard in my life. CALL HIM COMMANDER.

Aw, Sassy Park Ranger’s being nice to Daddy Warcrimes, maybe Daddy Warcrimes will share the Columbian nose candy in the back of the van with Sassy Park Ranger, and Sassy Park Ranger won’t ask about the sobbing family Daddy Warcrimes is probably holding for ransom in the back. It’s all about understanding each other. 

This is truly the Daddy Warcrimes Christmas special, snow and friendship and stuff. I hope this doesn’t end up with Daddy Warcrimes 86’ing Rudolph and the rest of the reindeer from the sky, that would traumatize the children. But this is the same studio that produced Bambi so who knows. Didn't he try killing a kid the first episode?

Oh man, Sassy Park Ranger’s lost a lot of his men, that’s real sad. Only two left, Jesus. SHUT UP BLOND JACKASS SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP.

(I won’t repeat it, but the amount of times that SHUT UP was texted was….something else- Dr. MM)

Sassy Park Ranger’s taking Daddy Warcrimes on a hike around the place in the middle of a blizzard, probably going to say hi to the yeti hooker they all frequent and show him how to write his name in the snow with pee. He’s such a good guy. If they go sledding I’d be so happy.

Oh, shit! Daddy Warcrimes remembers that he has a job and proceeds to cop some poor bastard in the leg so he can follow the trail of blood in the snow. What in the Fargo am I watching here, does Steve Buschemi show up at one point now. No sledding in this one, I guess.

Well there goes Sassy Park Ranger and Daddy Warcrimes on a heartwarming romp following a crippled burglar in the snow as he bleeds to death. Kevin McCallister would be so proud. Well, now, they found a dead body already. You know, at this point, if Daddy Warcrimes capped Santa in the head this show wouldn’t be less wholesome. 

Aw shit Daddy Warcrimes stepped on a landmine, but Sassy Park Ranger watched his training videos that HR made them sit through and disarms it. They’re having a nice convo, I really, really like Sassy Park Ranger. If he dies I’ll be so freaking mad. 

(I said nothing, FYI - Dr. MM)

Aw shit, they found the bunker of crazy white people with guns in the snow. It’s confirmed: the Daddy Warcrimes Christmas Special takes place in Wyoming. Are Daddy Warcrimes and Sassy Park Ranger facing off my brother-in-law and his branch of the VFW near Laramie? Those guys need hobbies besides doomsday prepping and getting drunk in the snow. It ain’t right. 

“After all we sacrificed”…man. I feel right here. Is this the child friendly version of Enemy at the Gate? Shit. Please these two bastards need to survive. I need a beer and I wanna hug my wife.  

Dr. Meat Muffin, please don't tell me you're letting your babies watch this show. They need that dog from Australia who has fun with her daddy, not this.

Oh shit, avalanche! 

Oh no, Sassy Park Ranger. Oh no, oh no. Oh, Daddy Warcrimes.

Thank Christ they made it! They’re gonna save him! They’re gonna save him.

Wait. What. 

WHAT THE FUCK, BLOND ASSHOLE. 

I HATE THIS JACKASS SO GODDAMNED MUCH, SOLDIER OF THE EMPIRE, I WANNER SHOVE MY SOLDIER UP YOUR EMPIRE YOU STUPID DICK. 

FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU

Yay! Daddy Warcrimes finally took out his gun and 86’d that FUCK. CHRISTMAS CAME EARLY!! YAAAAAAY!!!!!

Man...I hope this ends okay for Daddy Warcrimes. I hope his brothers aren't just dicking around somewhere warm while he and the other bros are out dying.

Guess that'll be next episode?"

....Doug snapped SO HARD watching 'Pabu'. Brace yourselves.

[unlicensedmortician]

welcome to bad movies with j&j, the segment where @ghostcasket and i watch bad movies while alex is gone. this time it’s divergent.

- i’ve never read any of the books or watched any of the movies before. btw

- oh this is gonna be terrible

- OH THIS IS GONNA BE TERRIBLE. THE EXPOSITION.

- they’re color coded,,,,,

- “there’s everyone else and then there’s dauntless who are cool hot sexy cops” jesus

- wow she doesn’t fit in,,, who could have seen this coming

- that is the most Blonde White Girl i’ve ever seen

- THIS IS SO STUPID. THIS IS SOOOO STUPID.

- they can’t look at mirrors for too long,,,,

- and they’re fucking color coded

- there are literally five personality traits and that is a real explicit part of this media

- better lock into one of those personality traits miss white girl protagonist. wonder what it will possibly be

- i can’t believe their social organization system is literally just “so we’re gonna put every teenager on an acid trip and see what happens”

- white girl discovers she has multiple personality traits, is incredibly distressed

- what’s up with how this movie treats homeless people.

- i want to claw my eyeballs out

- wow this dialogue isn’t even stilted at all

- she picked 12yo boys in gym class. obviously

- hey is run boy run by wood kid ruined forever now

- yes girl climb that piece of infrastructure. is this a big moment for you or

- why pick the doing stupid shit option if you don’t wanna do stupid shit i guess

- i shrieked out loud when i saw the love interest. why he fugly

- it’s the pit 👍

- THIS IS SO FUCKING STUPID

- this is fucking crazy

- plot point: she’s too frail and delicate and skinny 🙁

- that tattoo is so stupid and also ugly

- she’s a threat to society because she is so so special and good at everything. i fucking guess

- ok. sure. training montage. i guess.

- he just looks so much older than her that this is unsettling

- so ur saying that u have to be fucking stupid to be a part of the cool hot people class. great.

- i cannot believe it’s real and a key plot point that the biggest threat to their society is people with multiple personality traits

- of course she’s getting on the train anyway. whatever.

- people actually thought this was good??

- imagine if christina and tris had been the main couple. it wouldn’t have solved anything but it would have been cool for me personally

- girl you are about to get so hazed. oh nvm it’s a zip line

- this romance plot makes me want to start killing and im being serious

-OH MY FUCKING GOD. SHES NEURODIVERGENT. AND THEY JUST TOOK THE NEURO OFF OF THAT AND WENT YEAH THATS THE TITLE. IM LOSING IT

- o shit her mother defected. lmao

- that’s not even a little bit how any of this works at all. fear serum? kill me

- this is so fucking stupiddddd

- this is just. crazy insane contrived.

- like what do you MEAN one personality type is leading the whole government. that’s crazy. i’m gonna start hitting people with cars. i’m gonna take up smoking.

- yeah of course this mf shows up to save her. as opposed to literally any cooler option. more points to the incredibly contrived romance plot.

- jesus fucking christ????

- hey i know u just showed me all of your worst fears. can u strip

- oh okay they’re. making out now?

- smart people evil. i guess.

- she’s just tooooo special.

- the only good thing about this movie is the soundtrack thank you hans zimmer

- oh my god one of her worst fears is boning

- hello what the shit is happening. oh my god they fucking shot him. damn this is crazy.

- gasp he’s divergent too who could’ve seen this coming except for literally anyone ever.

- of course they killed her fucking mom

- oh And her dad? equal opportunity parent killing!

- ok well. that movie happened. and made so much money. thank god it’s over. i’d like to be financially compensated

[dreadfulsanity]

Sinnerman

"I had a weird fucking day. Wakako threw something my way. Guy wanted someone to kill someone. So I asked who the target was. She didn't know. Now, I have no problem putting bullets into skulls of scum. Like Jataro Shobo. Seriously. The more I learn about the guy the more I wish I could kill him again. Utter piece of filth. But I digress. So I asked her what if the target is some nice, loving father of three. 'Then you will make the right decision, V.' Ugh. So I decided to hear the guy out at least. "

"Turns out, he was after the killer of his wife. Joshua Stephenson. Yes, the one who's all over the screamsheets lately. Passion of Christ nonsense. Looks like he got off death row by making a deal with corpos. Bill couldn't let that slide. Before you ask, yes, I agreed to help. Though I was hoping I'd still find an angle I could play. Anyways, we waited in his car until the target came in sight. No one said anything about NCPD though. We followed the van. I spare you the details. We caught up to them. Some badge with a stick up his ass threatened to shoot. Bill couldn't care less. Stormed with drawn weapon towards him. Tried to get in-between them, but... well, Bill is dead. And now Joshua wanted to... hire me to spend the day with him. Isn't that nice? There was also some corpo rat from the studio among the trio. I agreed, because... I was curious. Plain and simple. Btw... I apparently have a reputation among the NCPD. Dangerous to be around were the words Vasquez used. I'm no danger to badges, am I?"

River chuckled. "Well, I'm not a badge anymore, so I couldn't possibly say." He kissed her neck.

"Oh, we're getting to that. Apparently your old buddies like to gossip like school girls. We arrived at some house in SD where Joshua wanted to visit someone. Asked me to come with. Vasquez was giving me the stink-eye. You know me. I took that as a challenge. Maybe got a bit cocky. Called him cute, but that I have sadly only space for one cop in my bed. 'Ex-cop.' he snapped back at me."

"What?" Another chuckle.

"Told you. Apparently we're the talk at the NCPD."

"What did you say to that?"

"That you have bigger cojones than all the other badges at your precinct combined. And definitely bigger balls than Vasquez. With a very snotty look around his crotch region. He just grunted. I chuckled and went in after Joshua. Apparently that was the house where the mother of one of his victims lived. And he was besties with that victim's sister. She... forgave him. It was through her that he found god. Made me nauseous. Mum came home, didn't find it in her heart to forgive him and threw us out. Next stop was a diner. The corpo bitch wanted to get rid of me. I did not oblige. Made her mad. Worth it. We talked a bit more, Vasquez and Joshua wolfed down some chow. Then they left for the studio and I came here."

Val poured herself another whiskey.

"You know, this whole thing is insane. I mean, he's obviously bad people, and got sentenced to death for it. But the corp making bank on his suffering... they want to crucify him and record a braindance of that. What the hell is wrong with people? And then, as I was making my way home, the corpo bitch called. Begged for my help. Apparently Joshua has second thoughts. She wants me to set him straight. She'll be in for a rude awakening. He belongs back on death row. Not in a BD studio."

"Jesus, V. Your days are never boring, aren't they? Maybe I should come with you someday."

"I'd like that. Could do some NCPD scanners. Gigs that won't ruffle your conscience. Actually... I get a lot of mini gigs from my fixers, looking for missing persons. But for today, I'm done. Think about it. I'd like to have you around some more."

She drank the whisky in one go before grabbing his hand and pulling him off the counter.

"But for now..." She smirked seductively and guided him up the stairs to her bed.

[harrison-abbott]

67 Answers

No I wasn’t out on the 3rd of June.

I was at home reading a book.

Well … I don’t think I remember which book it was because it was such a long time ago. But it might have been ‘Girlfriend in a Coma’ by Douglas Coupland because that was one of the books I read in June.

Yeah, I read a lot.

What does that have to do with anything? Yeah, I read fiction a lot.

I’m not being rude. I just don’t see what that has to do with anything. I don’t even know why I am here.

Okay …

Okay, sorry sir. I’m just worried as all.

Because I do not really understand why I’m in this room and I have problems with claustrophobia and I’m getting nervous.

Right.

Right, I understand. I’ll just answer the questions then.

Yes. I work at the Portobello Bar.

I’m part time there.

Not full time because, umm. I don’t know. I don’t need the money that bad.

I just don’t.

No, I wasn’t working on the 3rd of June.

Yeah, the 4th.

I first heard about it on that shift. That she was in hospital.

Nobody spoke to me directly about it. I heard it from the other colleagues.

Nah, I’m not particularly friendly with them.

No reason, I just don’t know them that well.

It’s not that there’s any beef. I haven’t worked there that long. Only, well, three months or so.

Yeah. Well, no. I didn’t know her that well either.

Yes. I thought she was pretty.

That’s a weird question …

Well how can I know if I had feelings for her when I didn’t really know her.

Everybody thought she was pretty. It’s just what good looking people do, they get … umm, looked at.

Who told you that?

Well. Yes, I did do that.

Yes. I asked her out.

That would’ve been. Oh, three weeks into the job. Or so.

She just responded to the message that she already had a boyfriend so I didn’t try anything further.

I didn’t mean ‘try anything’, I mean I was a bit embarrassed. I’m not the only boy who has done that with a nice looking girl. Jesus. I thought that she liked me as well.

Well because she spoke back to me a bit.

Honestly. I sent her a message asking her if she wanted to come see a movie with me and she said that was a lovely idea but that she had a boyfriend so she couldn’t really do it.

No, I never sent her any other messages.

I can just show you the messages right now on my phone if you like? I have my phone right here.

I’m perfectly willing to show you them.

Okay.

I wasn’t anything around her after that. I felt stupid, was all.

Yeah. I looked for another job after that. I was already scouting for other jobs anyway.

Because it was a crummy job. You must’ve had shit jobs before you became cops, right? You remember what it was like. Haha.

I was just the kitchen porter.

Yeah a few of the lads in the kitchen said that they liked her physically as well.

Well they mentioned that she was ‘hot’ and so on so forth.

But they didn’t say anything leery. They’re all right people.

I wasn’t friends with them but only because I didn’t know them, as I said, but they seemed like okay people is all.

I don’t want to snitch them out.

I’m not ‘using a phrase’. Only I don’t want to put the blame on anybody at the workplace.

Okay, well, Connor said he thought she was cute. And David did as well. But what does it matter anyway? I shouldn’t have brought it up. Okay! The girl is nice on the eyes. You chaps are both male as well and probably think the same thing.

I’m not trying to be cheeky.

After the 4th of June I just went home.

Probably did a bit of reading and went to sleep.

Yeah, I drink now and then.

Just as much as anybody does.

I don’t remember if I drank on the 3rd or 4th. Maybe.

Yeah, my parents can vouch for me that I was there.

Yes I live with the parents. That must make me a loser, right? I had nothing to do with that Jessica girl beyond what I’ve already told you. And, here, I may as well just show you the messages, like I mentioned. Here, on my phone. Just read them. … They’re pretty cringeworthy, right? I didn’t know who she hung out with or what she was like. I just asked her a handful of times if she liked books and then we got talking about literature a bit. She was smart and I thought maybe she thought I was handsome as well and so I asked her out on a date. That’s it. There’s no story other than that.

I can show you the dates I worked as well, yeah, because I have the rota on my phone.

That confirms everything I’ve said.

I just felt shocked when I found out she was in the hospital.

Emm. I think I mentioned it to one of my mates but that was about it.

Have you got any idea who could have done it?

It’s not my intention to be pushy whatsoever. You called me in here to answer questions. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked one myself, sorry.

Okay.

Nope, no intentions to leave town. And yep I’ll probably be still working at the Portobello Bar if you need me further.

Right, Gents. Officers. Thanks for your time. Good bye for now.

[huanted-dennys]

It is so incredibly frustrating to try and be calm and give your time to someone that just doesn’t want to listen fbfnfnfnfnd

Context i’m white, my parents are white, and my grandparents are white most people in my family are white

I love my grandparents, to the point where i will avoid certain conversations i know will upset them, and when i do have conversations with them like that i try to do it in a welcoming(? comforting? idk) environment

but certain things it’s like jesus christ

again my family, very white

and i’m a military brat so my parents and SO MUCH of my older family have been in the military and/or a cop

my grandmother has family that are currently cops and her son (my step father) was a cop

so i understand that she has so much fucking bias when it comes to cops and i try to be calm when i explain acab with her, and that “ofc i do think people can change and not everyone who is or was a cop is inherently bad, i’m just saying that the current system of police forces put down good people and cast them out so there are very very little ‘good cops’ in that system”

but all she hears is a person with no experience in life (i’m 21 and she’s like fucking 60ish) shitting on their own family and her family for having a job.

and it is so so SO hard to not just be like “YEAH THEY’RE PIGS! LOOK AT THEM! THEY KILL PEOPLE DAILY! Even in instances where they don’t kill people they are still often violent and unlawful and often people outside the states would see that and be like “whoa wtf! that’s not right!” Like jesus christ i barley see my own parents as family ofc i don’t have sympathy for your cop family that i’m not even related to!”

but i just trying to be as understand and empathetic as possible while still pushing back but so frustrating to try and listen and be empathetic when someone is screaming at you

anyway that was my rant you may ignore me UwU

[jaythelay]

"nor do I want to become the victim of a genocide"

wow you really typed that. You really unironically typed that and thought it was okay.

Nobody deserves Genocide. Sure wish you'd understand your existence doesn't rely on another dying, and to claim that to be moral, is repugnant.

In fact I wish you'd drop the gun ya got to Palestinian's heads and stop chanting "It's me or them"

Didn't we send 45bil to Israel and the day after they committed more warcrimes? Aren't our cops trained in Israel/by Israeli? Do we not pay for their free healthcare?

To act like Palestine is irrelevant would be rather daft given the Billions with a B we've sent the genocider country to further genocide them.

I guess tax dollars aren't political tho. Definitely shouldn't demand better, because then dems might give up! Dear Leader has no necessity to listen to the citizens, just to send money for genocide and put rainbows on the bombs.

You can demand better and vote for Kamala.

Only people saying otherwise are blue fanboys that're splitting the community by claiming genocide isn't an important discussion piece, but your problems definitely are at the fore-front and all else needs to take a backseat.

Ya'll got a whole decade of visibility and cushioned discussions to the point when someone does have it worse than you, all you can see when people discuss them is that your special label is peeling away to show you're just another person with nothing special about them.

Anyways if ya'll feel like dem voters are going to sabotage ceasefire talks as much as my gay trans ass thinks, then feel free to vote third party! I won't be mad, I'm too busy being used as a prop to obscure discussions of a Genocide to care who you vote for.

Imagine saying: Guys they're just being BOMBED, RAPED, KIDNAPPED, and MURDERED, but I don't want that for myself!

Clearly my problem is the only problem worth focusing on and any focus on palestine is anti-lgbt!

Imagine feeling that self-important. We're never gonna get shit solved by pretending one sufferer supersedes all other's suffering. This ain't a damn ladder to climb it's a door for us all to escape through, and ya'll are purposefully standing in the doorway, pushing Palestinians away, claiming there's not enough space for all of us.

And then getting mad at your own party for calling you out on it.

This is disgusting behavior by people who grew up in better times than their ancestors, and they didn't reach now by claiming their issues supersede all others and we shouldn't discuss what's happening to people of color because that takes the spotlight from us gays, amirite.

No they called out the bullshit and protested. Demanded better. Cooperated. They didn't tell EVERYONE to put their lives on hold until they're equal. They demanded. Better. As you should for anything, from the free market to government.

Incredible how much easier it is to work with anti-genociders than it will ever be to morally compromise my morals to work with pro-genociders.

Ya just demand better and vote for the person most likely to resolve it. Now that Kamala is here, that's a possibility. The real fear, is are ya'll going to tank possible ceasefires by claiming it to be anti-semetic...

Because that's why people are going third party.

The disgusting meatshielding of minorities against minorities is beffuddlingly disgusting. It speaks volumes when voting dem and being anti-genocide are NOT seen as universally the same anymore by dems.

I'd LOVE for dem voters to agree Genocide Bad No Matter Who, vote for Kamala, and demand better, but ya'll want your special treatment and label. Sorry, but nobody is sending billions to bomb you and Dump already lost as is. We can demand better without acting like your life is on the fucking line in doing so.

Let's demand better, instead of pretending we can only work on one minority at a time, like jesus christ how depraved have we become.

This is why, despite once being staunchly solely democrat, I simply cannot trust dems to do the right thing. Just the most selfish, depraved things they can be but with an angle of morality I find disgusting.

Do Better. Be Better.

Y’all, what’s happening in Gaza is awful. But guess what, this election isn’t about Gaza. This isn’t a referendum on how we’ve handled the Palestinian genocide. This election is about our democracy, and about if there will be a genocide HERE in THIS country. I personally don’t want my right to vote taken away, nor do I want to be the victim of a genocide. So for all the people who are smart enough to see what’s at stake here, and smart enough to understand that protesting this election will only end with more deaths, vote blue no matter who, up and down the ballot. 💙🌊🇺🇸

[the-firebird69]

BAD BOYS FOR LIFE - Official Trailer

mr dodos porche he is mac daddy and to say use my Father and Mother from Germany areaas and mama and papa Porche too and as a vehicle somehow and these ride in it use it too and the empire has them do elicit stuff in mr d car a friend from a supposed spy ring vs gte and ok

Zues Hera

and we see vehicles. and modus operendi  and it is important and cutsto the bone and way way out there putting it in the upblic eye i agree. the motif arms and to fight each ohter.  modus.  is us as cops and he tied to us and garth who brings it in.  tied to dan and they hang as does ken.  and a closed circle there and we in court always threats galore. and he says we use it but we cn cinch it.  and they pressure us to they do. and i it is them.  and we wont the psuedo empire may.  they know he does not import arms at all.  has no real ties only old cars. but really  they insert stuff and more.  and we are in wonder no. say this y ou are just saying stuff. and there are no real ties. 

will smith and marcus

no real ties. he sits says hit and stuf no. not on the psudo empire no.  not really.  and we say he does so what. and with a lot of stuff.  and angers his and others.  it is similar to what tehse say.  and has little affect.  but the threats are real and w e use them ornot and he says so what. you get hit as you did when i was in the mental hosptial and true too.  sowe look see we gained and he says prob not.  

and he says your calling em a criminal will try to charge me for fake crimes may imprison me but for crimes i did not commit and for stuff youcant prove at all.  it is a vegatable play he says  true too. so we look. ned him wound in but this stinkss

macs

and you see. it is abhorant over the top now we wiil nuke us. and then what.  and tommy f snickers you hit each other i fly now.  and then this they cant take the ship ar rigged andnyc is rigged gets taken daily, and buncker similar and ok he says ok so. we fight and stuff. but jesus ok i shot at him. pushed  by who. dont know

tommy f

we do know who.  and he is smiling and is a moron so next ok you diiot ken you didnt. and he smiles oh yeh could have died for real.  bouncing off him lol.  and it is like this he wants us to nail it home sees why. gets it an says it. nothing for me at all between  you three idiots. and they say it.  we drain him dry of any stuff for us.  and none. no hope and more and he says you sit and wither me. and true too.  so they see it not are blinded by tons of stuff all his idea heythink thiers fully. so i say this a bvaluable excersize shows his situation. they threaten using the same thing and for diferent tuff and can each trigger it.  and dont get it.  no good guys.  onlly the president and vp who  pay if he is caought but dont believe it anymore.  and our son says it nails it.  the empire is fried.  dont care anymore and the morlock got to them. good.they were suppsoed to. and they act. but really they wont do a thing for our son.   you see they rub the porche in his face as they the morlock do too.  and it tuns into this odd stuff

““you are exxtorging our son to win and he wont do it and you dont then, and forcing nthing and he hates you here. and wont team up for nothing have lame reasons and excuses. and he said it ad yo u are mean.  so he says this.  we use you up and take over. to stop the empire. as he is between a rock and a hard place.  and wont budge cant or he will be harmed anyways.  now none want to help him here and macs too. stop the cards and mail.  tons hate them and should know they are on lists and to fight.  and call thiers to send and fight.

we do so now and involve ours our people are subject to this and that is the code they sand.  take thier cars use them implicate and suspected to be us and we do it force sales and repo and moreThor Freya

we are were on it see this. nwo they all wont stop and today ridiculous. and yes tons will die.  forgieners inflluence it and are part of the issue.  and we are at them too. and soon you shall fall morlock. and a bit better then pusudo empire and better. and  macs will us code forg counter and they will see and fight and we can work with it. you are slugs and sloth and mean and lack intelligence to see your errors that cause tbi.  

and he is on tv if he ha s an outburst is fired. same here but they mss it.

Thor Freya

really i saw it. called it.  and most  macs of any kind are doa

Zues

and your right my husband they are so weak lame and the empire full of shit loves it we need action and tons of it up soon.  them out.  knock each other out.  and it is very very annoying. sitting off venus and you all get picked off easily and to the last shihp is just outrageously aweful loser stuff. and here the same i wither and suffocate and as does mac and ken bill will nd others.   they will fight now are. and psuedo empire will hit tons. and vica verca and will be out both.  but really they need to leave now

Zues again andme up top Hera

they will be out shortly we assure youa nd the psuedo empire.  and they are small in teh southern hemisphere the south part is at 5%.  lose now.  and  from there to the jungles both about 17% and drops fast but this is important. they go in circles and harass one person and Hera too but he takes the brunt.  and she apreciates it.  and they are aweful ad really really dumb.  faggots too we hit he says it ok tht is them there. we fire on them pull them out now

Thor Freya

Olympus

[hintsofhoney]

alright, *cracks fingers*. so. I’ve written up a transcript just to lay it all out for myself and get the most important parts. listen, everyone. for all intents and purposes and legal reasons, THIS WAS A DREAM. alright? I dreamt this. and he is literally the nicest human being ever so I don’t want to just like... put our whole convo out there like that, but I think he said some stuff that was important for people to hear so... here we go

my *dreamt* zoom call with thee crowley below the cut

The first five minutes (of my dream) was just a bunch of introduction stuff and talking about my favorite Supernatural seasons which eventually led to him telling me how they filmed the Season 8 finale (which they did over the span of three days, and in between takes the crew members were like dead silent, as to keep the moment going, which Mark thought was really cool. Said it was one of his favorite things they did on Supernatural.) Anyways, he eventually asked me if I had any questions, so, I’ll start there.

MARK: So, do you have any questions you want to ask me about aaaaaannyyyythingggg? 

ME: Um, I guess the number one thing I wanna know… um, so, I know you can’t speak for Dean and I don’t want to talk about Dean because you’re not Jensen, but, there’s like a lot of questions I guess or subtext or whatever concerning Dean’s sexuality and what not, but I want to know about demon Dean and Crowley’s relationship and if there was, I don’t know, anything like, any implied –

MARK: Well I think – I think you’re talking about… there’s a massive difference between sex and love. There’s a massive difference between, um, well, they can intertwine perfectly, that’s not the issue, but I mean you would believe with all the things that Crowley did for the Winchesters, that he was – that he very much loved Sam and Dean or loved who they are or what they are. To reduce it to, you know, a crush, or to something that – I mean, I don’t know, I think Crowley is very probably pansexual more than anything else; I don’t think anything phased him. I think, that’s why the whole stuff with Lucifer and licking the floor was kind of really stupidly boring for me because Crowley did weirder and crazier things on his own. I mean, it became this joke of trying to humiliate somebody who can’t be humiliated. There’s nothing you can humiliate Crowley with. So, that never sort of made sense, that was just a sort of writer’s glitch of thinking, “oooh, this would be funny to knock him down into subservience” and that’s what he does on a Wednesday, I mean it’s like the most un-inspiring thing. I think so much is projected onto the relationship between, certainly the four main characters, um, and, you know, look, getting comfortable with one’s sexuality and one’s identity is a massively complicated things, and if you want to live vicariously through what you believe people’s identity is and you can relate to that, great!  Who cares? I mean, can I be absolutely honest? Apart from – what I do care about, you know, don’t ever take this and piece me or misquote it, because it’s very, very specific – um, somebody stopping somebody being able to express their own identity or whatever is an issue for me. That will always be an issue for me. Um, we should all be treated equally, and we all have the rights to believe and follow those things that we wish to follow, but to project relationships onto characters is an odd thing to do. I mean, it’s wishful thinking in a lot of ways, I mean, actually it’s quite… it’s quite reasonable because in the past if you think about it, if you ask your parents or anyone else, the only way sexuality was used was to, uh, literally demonize somebody. It was only ever used to say somebody was bad because this who they’re in love with. You know, that’s, that’s the thing. And it’s a massive change in the world that we’re moving towards, I should say, uh – a lack of consequence for who one loves, apart from the obvious consequences of human nature. You know, political consequences for who one loves – I’ve just watched Pete Butteigieg being, you know, sitting in congress with his husband there with him; that’s the first time that’s ever happened in United States congress and I’m so proud of that. Not just because the man is gay and happily married – that’s not even the issue for me, it’s because he’s the best man for the job and one of the smartest people on the planet. You know, it’s like using sexual templates, as they were, or gender templates as they are, or orientation templates as they are, we always use to disclude people from things. They were always used to discriminate. You know, labeling somebody was a way of discrimination. And where as labels are very important, to ones self, and they’re very important politically and they’re very important socio-economically and they’re very important in all those aspects, I yearn for a time when nobody gives a damn. I really do. But I mean, we have to go through so much to get there. I mean, let’s be honest, you can’t, you know, right the wrongs of hundreds of years of oppression in 20 minutes by saying, “let’s all move forward”. It just doesn’t work that way, it never has. But there’s a responsibility there, that if you’re going to represent, that you represent all. That you don’t just represent you. So, one has to be careful with a television program or, or, you know, Misha or myself, or, not speaking for the boys, but just generally, um, you have to be careful that what you advocate is inclusive, not disinclusive. Not excluding people... and it’s so hard to frame these conversations, that they’re equitable, it’s so hard to do that. And so, you know, we spend years pointing out the inequity and the injustice and the unfairness of the whole situation, and… I don’t know if the trick is to rise above, or, uh, maybe it’s as simple as love and coming together as a human race and make it very difficult for people to discriminate and exclude based on gender, race, color, religion, any of the subsets of humanity that we’ve decided we have. So, I think personal responsibility is the most important thing, but if one is in a position of power on a TV show, you got to remember what you’re representing, that you have a, you know, you have to cover all or cover none. So, you know, but if you stick to a story and you have a story about a person or two people and their journey, that’s shining light on things. If you try to advocate for all, I think it becomes a little more complicated. Does that make sense?

so, i just feel like he said some important things there, but like I also don’t really understand what he’s getting at really, y’know? oh! also, he didn’t watch the finale lmao 

also! there’s this:

MARK: Because if you come down on one side or another, you’re admitting the sides, and that has its own political ramifications. If you push the ball up in the air and say, “you decide”, I don’t think that’s copping out. I think that’s, maybe not fulfilling everybody’s expectations, or not fulfilling everybody’s hopes, but at least you’re getting the question asked. You know, at least you’re getting the question asked. At least people are relating to it and going, “well, what if?”. Because it’s all “what if”, I mean, it’s a TV show, so it’s “what if”, you know? It’s not Misha being in love with Jensen, I mean as much as he loves Jensen, I don’t think that’s his thing – I mean you never know – but I’m saying yet again, I don’t exclude anything from anybody (I LITERALLY CAN’T BELIEVE HE SAID THIS LMAO). But to force my opinion or my identity belief upon a situation has a cost. It may be right, it may be absolutely right, and it may be necessary in many, many cases. But, in that circumstance, I think… there are a lot of people in the world that say that Jesus, for example, was anti-homosexual and that he was – and none of that is true, and none of that is provable in the New Testament, and I’m not talking about Leviticus and I’m not talking about early Bible and I’m not talking about the fact that more than 25,000 words have been changed in the King James edition and all of this stuff, but these things that people hold so sacred, the confusion that arises from that is being told that a man loving a man or a woman loving a woman or a man loving a man and a woman or whatever combination being there is either right or wrong because you’re being told by a pastor or the leaders of your church, is a very difficult thing to break down. I think what you have to do is at least put it out there so it’s visible, and so it becomes less and less deniable. And you know, people change over years, that’s the trouble with youth, is shit doesn’t move fast enough. “I need a decision now!”, and unfortunately, when you’re dealing with centuries of prejudice and centuries of un-enlightenment, I think that sometimes the best thing to do is reach as many people as possible and pose the question. And sometimes it’s essential to make a statement, absolutely, no question. It is essential to make a stand, in some circumstances. But to polarize a TV show, can be very disingenuous to those who need to go ask their own questions, who need to go say, “well, where does Jesus say this is wrong?” you know, if that’s your beliefs.

he also said, when we went off on a tangent about doom patrol:

MARK: There are issues that are being addressed here [on Doom Patrol] that are not being addressed on other shows, and yet again, we have the format, and I don’t know that Supernatural ever had the format because it was on the CW.

anywho, in conclusion, fuck the cw.

also, again, for all intents and purposes this was a dream I had :)))))))

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Gotham 5x04

okay not everyone's dead. but that kid definitely is 😬

at this point I sincerely think that if Jim actually cared about literally anyone he would just let Barbara shoot Oswald in the head put that bitch out of everyone else's misery

genuinely so funny that Barbara and Oswald are both INDEPENDENTLY appalled by the bombing... they may be remorseless murderers, one of whom was keeping slaves literally yesterday, but they draw the line at terrorism!

anyway I regret to inform that the Riddler is not only still alive but is also still wearing this wig

Cory Michael Smith is never going to see justice for this may god help his soul

how is Zsasz still missing literally every shot he takes he truly is the WORST hitman in the world. I want to kiss his bald head.

hang on something LGBT is happening with Lucius and Riddleboy. also congrats on the new haircut Chris Chalk it looks nice!!

he called Lucius the second-smartest man in Gotham... that's a flirtation...

for those of you just joining us maybe the only Riddler-centric episodes I've ever liked was one that pitted him directly against either Oswald or Lucius. this man just fundamentally needs a homoerotic rival to focus on or he's unbearable. obviously his usual fixation is like 17 in this universe so someone else has to step up to fill the h-

this season wouldn't even be happening if Lee and Barbara and Selina were just allowed to kill but god forbid women do anything

something insane about me is that despite the fact that I've spoiled almost every aspect of season 5 for myself I have genuinely no fucking idea who's responsible for the bombing. hope it's Man-Bat.

even the Riddler is shocked and appalled by this bombing this is literally so funny. how do you make sure the audience knows that the deaths of hundreds of innocent people are bad? you make all the regular bad guys shake their head and talk about how fucked up that is. screenwriting 101.

really thought Lucius was going in for a kiss there. jesus christ.

I don't think gay sex inherently improves every plot or character dynamic but god it would add so much to gotham. at least there would be a whole other dimension of bugfuck crazy hookups.

MME GUILLOTINE????

WHO. BUILT THAT.

WHEN

WHY

HOW DID IT NOT GET USED ON OSWALD. WHEN HE WAS RUNNING A FACTORY ON SLAVE LABOR.

anyway thinking a lot about how I once saw a Gotham pride flag gifset where Zsasz's quote to prove he was pansexual was him saying he'd let one of the male recurring background cops give him a cavity search

WhyWeBuildTheWall.mp3

this wouldn't!!! be happening!!! if they'd just let Lee kill Ed in the last season finale!!!

Barbara what the fuck happened to wanting Jim dead. why are we boning him. girlie keep your head in the game you have the attention span of a gnat and the backbone of a chocolate ecclair

bad news, friends

after nearly three blissful months away it is time to descend back into the depths of the final season of Gotham

Gotham 5x03

don't remember what the fuck is going on? great news! I don't either!

I said I'm pretty done with Oswald and I still stand by that but if anything happens to his silly little bulldog I'm going to kill everyone in this room and then myself

I've already questioned why the entire GCPD is still bothering to put on suits and ties every day but man WHERE is Selina finding the time or the products to do her eye makeup like this

Penguin binder spotted beneath his terrible weird one-piece old man pajamas... I love you awful gay trans man rep...

BABY'S FIRST GRAPPLING HOOK!!!!

I can't even hate this off-brand Harley she's just absolutely nothing to me. go away. turning in a performance that would make her a fan favorite at the average haunted house tho.

I'm gonna be so real you guys this is really looking like another episode in which absolutely nothing happens in 43 minutes

boy I sure hope nothing happens to this precious broken-armed child who's bonding with Jim

oh my god it took less than two minutes

you guys I'm fucking. I'm losing my mind someone just blew up that child and EVERY OTHER REFUGEE IN GOTHAM

god that's bleak

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

Serial killer au?

Funnily enough, I already had an AU like this where c!Dream was a serial killer and c!Tommy his first victim haunting him eternally and annoying him in revenge that I genuinely love and wanted to write more of… so thank you haha.

“You're really bad at hiding bodies, y’know?”

Dream clenched his fist tight enough to draw blood as the ghost continued his inane commentary from behind the sofa. “If you please,” he said as calm as he could, eyes still glued on the television reporting the body of that one beanie kid with the dumb glasses. “I'm trying to not get arrested.”

“Oh, boo fuckin' hoo. You might get locked in a small room. Well guess what.” Tommy floated in front of him now, obscuring his view. “You locked me in a small room for a month and then you fuckin' killed me, but you don’t see me complaining, do you, Big D?”

“You're complaining right now,” Dream pointed out, “and don’t call me Big D.”

“Too shay, Small D.”

“I wish I could kill you again.”

Tommy shrugged. “I mean, you could technically do that all you liked if you were dead, but I don’t think Sam’d be very happy with that. He’s already got you booked down for a couple millennia of torment for all the people you killed, and he adds on an extra century every time you insult me.” He snorted. “How does it feel having nepotism used against you, for once?”

“I genuinely do not care.”

“You will.”

“Well, that’s for in the future, when I’m not figuring out whether there’s going to be cops at my door.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “I mean, you’d just pay them off anyway.”

“I don’t think you know how money works.”

“Nope!” Tommy cheerfully trilled. “And do you know why? It’s because you shot me.”

Dream sighed. He hated how Tommy acted like he wanted him dead. That was never what he wanted. He just wanted a friend, and apparently to him ten years ago the easiest way to do that was to commit a kidnapping. Which, to be fair, worked, up until it didn’t.

Dream sighed. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t want to kill you, I just couldn’t let you escape. If you'd just stayed put, you’d be happy and alive right now!” He threw his hands up in exasperation, as the ghost looked at him in disbelief.

“… Jesus, sometimes I forget you have like, zero fuckin' grasp on how people think. You kidnapped me. I wanted to see my friends and… yeah, I didn’t really have a family, so just my friends. And, y’know, I’d rather not get beaten? I’d ask if you wouldn’t try and escape from that, but you’re so pathetically lonely you probably wouldn’t.”

Ugh, Dream hated how Tommy acted like he'd mistreated him. It wasn’t like those people later on, who were just boring and he shouldn’t have even put in the effort of trying to befriend. Tommy was like a little brother to him! He wouldn’t have so much as laid a hand on him if he stopped trying to pull silly stunts like escaping. “Look, what more did you want me to do? I gave you a home, I gave you food. I got you a DS with Pokemon Pearl so you’d stop complaining about being bored all the time!”

“Well, you should have got me Pokemon Platinum, then, prick.”

[maxwell-grant]

Thoughts on the first half of Better Call Saul's last season ?

(SPOILERS FOR BETTER CALL SAUL)

Oh, I would quite like to express my thoughts on this show in a long-form coherent fashion, but I'm afraid the last episode dropped my jaw to the floor so hard that the contents of my skull slipped through it. Fortunately, I've regained enough coherence to do bullet points of assorted thoughts, after I've been able to, unlike Nacho and Howard, pick up my cranial matter off the floor. So, let's do what Jimmy and Kim are probably gonna have to do the next episode, and go by pieces:

JESUS CHRIST AAAAAAAAAAAAH

........The way this is heading, it looks like Nacho may have actually gotten off lucky, in that he got to die first, on his own terms, making the right choices at last and more importantly, getting to make choices at all and wrestle back just enough agency at the last minute. Which is, not at all something that the other characters we know are on the chopping block are gonna get to do, nor for that matter, was something Howard got to do either.

God, so much keeps happening each episode, I completely forgot until a second ago that, oh yeah, Nacho died like three episodes ago, it almost feels like something that happened last season.

No, I am not over Howard's death. I'm not even gonna say I actively liked Howard as a character (I only really started liking him a bit after Chuck died) and I don't think most people did for most of the show anyway and that was kind of, I imagine what they were setting him up for, the tragedy of being "just there". A character we're not actively rooting for most of the time, but who we must understand legitimately didn't do anything wrong to deserve the sheer lenghts that Jimmy and Kim are going through to mess with him. The guy who just happened to be at the wrongest place, at the wrongest time, who got put down like a dog for nothing.

I knew that they were going to start killing off characters this season and that they had to start throwing out the big meaty punches, it's what the last season of Breaking Bad did and they're obviously not gonna start falling behind now. I expected them to have a sort of "Hank in Ozymandias" climactic tragic death scene, not the way Nacho's was. But this was, worse, so much fucking worse than Hank's.

Even putting the fact aside that Hank was a cop who'd already been shot and thrust into action (and was kind of a dirtbag, honestly, I don't think Hank has aged particularly well as a character) where as Howard was just some lawyer who'd never been involved in any more criminal affairs than just hire a detective to follow a guy he (completely justifiably) fears poses a danger to him, Hank got to be the hero of the show for quite a while, got to have his moment in the sun in that episode, even got to die with dignity and a cool one-liner and facing the bullet. This? This was just taking a man to the lowest point of his life, giving him the illusion that he's gonna make out of it okay, and then just ending him, not even letting him finish his actual last words. He even brings his two tormentors and cause of death a bottle, for them to celebrate burning him to the ground.

He died staring at them. He died for literally nothing. He was never supposed to die, we spent the last episodes following their attempts to hurt him, to learn that it was literally never intended to be more than just a grift they did for the thrill of it, just another game, just another fun little caper with him as the punchline and them making out on top of the death bed they made for him. He died confused and clueless and terrified and only vaguely aware he was "in the middle of something", and they know none of this would have happened if it wasn't for them.

I was actually spoiled on the fact that Lalo would kill Howard at the McWexler residence, had to quarantine myself off Tumblr for a day to not get spoiled further. I knew it was gonna happen, I imagined early in the season that something terrible was being set up to happen to Howard, but not this. I was genuinely breathless as it happened in a way I haven't been in a very, very long time as the result of fiction. I honestly can't remember the last time something took my breath away like that since I watched Texas Chainsaw Massacre years ago, the funny conman lawyer show having now fully tipped it's hand as the horror story it was always building up to be, and they've been prepping us for it for God knows how long ("If we move too fast, they'll see us coming").

This is a horror story where you get to watch piece by piece as the show sets up everything that's gonna happen, takes you painstakingly through it, and it still catches you off-guard. It's a horror that comes from sheer helplessness, knowing the paths that so many of these characters will face, or worse, not knowing them at all and having to find out.

I mentioned that this show irrevocably alters so much of Breaking Bad but this season is further doing that for this show, as well. We can't go back. We can't go back to watching Nacho's initial bravado followed by his desperate attempts to stay alive and navigate the cartel world, without knowing where it ends. So much of this show is devoted to those extremely enjoyable and funny and entertaining capers Jimmy pulls off along with Kim, and now, we know where it was all heading. We've known where it was heading all along. They all take on such a horrifying twist, knowing that this is what it was all coming to (”HERE IT IS, VIOLENCE! IT ALWAYS COMES TO THIS”).

Knowing that the two worlds of the show, the lawyer side and the cartel side, were never going to stay separate forever, and that Jimmy's been damning himself and everyone around him ever since he was a man at the wrong place and the wrong time, knocking on Tuco's door, and he had to choose between dying or being made a friend of the cartel which, as the Salamancas and Fring and Mike and Eladio and Bolsa and Nacho and Walter have shown us, is just dying with extra steps.

I am absolutely a sucker for works of fiction that take these big, clever, terrifying villains who impose such terror on the heroes of the story, and then write them as the protagonists of their own journey without softening their edges or doing away with what makes them so horrific and effective villains, and considering I already completely adored Lalo in the previous seasons you can imagine how happy I’ve been every time he’s been on screen, even if every scene he’s in brings in a truckload of anxiety because you never know when he’s gonna do something completely horrible.

The audacity of these bastards to spend all this time having Lalo, this beautifully wretched villain, an all-timer character conceived out of nothing but a dumb throwaway, just doing his thing completely far away from Jimmy and Kim, playing the role of a lone wolf seeking righteous vengeance against the crimeboss who attacked his house and family, not killing anyone on screen, doing things like sparing Werner's wife and playing with a dog and giving the money back to those people in the van, getting taken down by the German guy and not even killing him on screen, dicking around in sewers taking naps and vlogging himself, charming us all over again even when we know he’s fucking evil and we know what he’s capable of, even seeming like he's finally making a fatal mistake and finally going off to meet his doom against Gus, and we all know he's going to die, ALL so that we'd drop our guards around him and be shocked when he did, exactly what he was always going to do and has never stopped doing. 

We spent so much time with Lalo off on his own plotlines or with Lalo as the unseen enemy of his equal Gus Fring, that his sudden return to Jimmy and Kim’s plotline only reaffirms that, to them and everyone else he comes across, Lalo is an invincible and untouchable monster who will just crawl out of death and crash back into your life and casually destroy everything and everyone around you with nothing you could have ever done to stop or sway him, the best you can hope for being a superhuman effort of willpower and negotiation at the right time (Kim) or divine intervention (Mike), and both of those options are gone for now. 

And speaking of Mike as an agent of divine intervention, I’m thinking now about this scene, where Kim and Mike meet for the first time and Kim learns that Lalo is still alive, with the famed “You’re made of sterner stuff” line.

(In hindsight, another moment of Mike damning people by attempting to damage control and taking a half-measure: He reached out to Kim knowing she’s “made of sterner stuff” to try and shield Jimmy, but that ended up leading to Kim, not knowing what Lalo's capable of or that Mike's protection could be taken away, not telling Jimmy anything to protect him from reliving his traumatic experience , and that ended up getting both of their guards completely down for when Lalo did arrive, something that could have been avoided had he just ripped the band-aid and reached out to Jimmy first. Mike plays the hardass assassin part so well but it’s his heart, his most redeeming quality, that keeps damning him again and again.)

This scene absolutely reads to me like it’s equivalent to Kim having a conversation with The Grim Reaper and getting a tiny grasp of just how vast their world is and what a small, fragile part they play in it. Learning that her schemes with Jimmy and their criminal takings are not the reason she was being tailed, that the boogeyman is still alive, that this major player in the criminal underworld sitting at a diner with her was the mysterious savior in the desert with Jimmy as well as the parking booth attendant at the courthouse who worked there for years under their noses, learning the easy way that this world is so much bigger and more dangerous than anything she and Jimmy could have possibly been prepared for, a couple of episodes before that lesson gets drilled in the hard way. 

I’m just, endlessly fascinated by Kim’s development in this show and this season, and particularly how NOBODY in the fan circles has any clue as to where she’s going, how Kim’s complete absence in Breaking Bad and the Gene scenes is this giant hole whose depths we can’t begin to grasp even after dozens and dozens of hours we spent with this character and the world she lives in. Way back at the start of the show, most people just thought Kim’s trajectory was that she was either gonna break up with Jimmy, or die tragically, but now? Nobody knows what to think. 

People are throwing out theories that she’s gonna play a role in BrBa, that she’s gonna become a criminal kingpin in her own right, that she’s gonna wind up immeasurably worse than Jimmy would ever become, or that she’s gonna have an epiphany that saves her, that she’s still out there, or that she’s dead and haunting the BrBa narrative like Nacho does, or that she’s the only character who’s gonna walk out of this alive. It’s fascinating and deeply interesting and, God, did anyone at all think that this is where this character was heading? Or that this is where the show was heading?

I’m not ready for this show to end but it’s building up to such a spectacular finale, and still so many questions.

They started this entire season with a big fat Citizen Kane reference and just casually dropping us on this massive sequence of Saul Goodman’s Xanadu being hollowed out, with so many items referencing the entire show and Jimmy’s history left to pick on, complete with a tiny Rosebud being all that was left.

It’s set the tone for the rest of the season, that we’re gonna witness the final steps of the metamorphosis of the sad clown man and learn what happened to everyone still left standing from his life, but it’s a masterful way to begin the end of the show: By quite literally trashing the set beyond recovery even as it’s taking us through all of it that we know and love, and tormenting us with the seed of doubt: 

Not of what’s gonna happen or what Jimmy/Saul/Gene is gonna do, but, what is even going to be left standing at the end of it all?

[wh6res]

dreams come true | yuta

"soulmate or not. i don't shoot blanks." — ny

[ part of the my bloody valentine collection ]

tw. gore, blood, murder, death, killings, mentions of illegal organ trafficking, violence, mentions of stalking, minor character deaths, weapons (a knife and a gun), almost (??) suggestive content but nothing happened

disc. this is rlly fucked up and yuta is unredeemable. i dont condone such acts. this is all a work of fiction and meant to entertain.

wc. 5k

every time you sleep, the void is sickening. it was all you could see, lightyears and lightyears away of pitch black that made your head dizzy and your stomach dry heave. you've always wondered when you'll start dreaming about your soulmate's memories. they were like little secrets, another way for two people to be intimate without even being together. their days were flashing before their soulmate's eyes in the form of a dream. it's as if you spent the day with them!

you loved it, the whole concept of it. it sounded so wholesome and sweet and jesus fucking christ, you've always been such a hopeless romantic.

it was sweet until it turned sour. you loved it until you hated it. it was romantic until it turned downright terrifying.

you wake up covered in cold sweat, panting and gasping as if you've run a whole marathon.

moonlight seeps through your glass window, slightly left ajar for the midnight breeze to pass through – you walk up to it, pull it shut, and draw your thick curtains together. you exhaled, breath shaking as you tried to anchor yourself back to the ground.

with the only source of your light disappearing, darkness envelops you whole. for once, you craved the void. you want that void back if it meant never seeing something like that again – something straight out of your worst nightmare.

"119, what's your emergency?"

"uhm, i think… i think i just witnessed a massacre."

you reiterate everything you saw in the dream – the mahogany door, paint chipping off the drywalls. the doorknob was rusty, so were the hinges, and it made an ominous creak when pushed open. the light switches on, the first you see was a bunch of dirty ice coolers in what should've been the living room, it wasn't even the slightest bit organized. they were everywhere, and the floor looked grimy and disgusting, like there's a stain they can't seem to scrub off. only when your soulmate has stalked closer did you see the labels haphazardly taped on top of the ice coolers.

kidneys. livers. lungs. pancreas. intestines – you nearly vomited on the floor, trying to relay everything you saw to the operator on the other end of the call.

then came the gruesome parts.

their deaths.

they were five people in total. men clad in cheap t-shirts and pants, wearing all these similar leather jackets. some were well-built, ripped in the arms and thighs, but some were skinny, the jackets hanging on their small frames.

they never stood a chance against him.

your soulmate is agile, quick on his feet with outstanding eye-hand coordination. only equipped with a butcher's knife, but it was all he needed to take them down and send them knocking on inferno's gates. he was skilled, knowing when to pounce and where to slash his knife to maim but never to kill. by the time your soulmate was through with them, everything is bloody red. all the victims' eyes widened as they sputtered and choked on their blood – not dead, but dying...

because your soulmate wasn't done yet.

a killer should have a modus operandi, should they not? so he took out a desert eagle, stood before the bleeding bodies, and shot two bullets straight into their eyes. the finishing touch? carving a frown on their faces with his butcher's knife.

the operator only told you one thing after she's made you describe the place for them to track the crime scene down.

"double-check all your windows and doors."

because you couldn't be too sure, not when you have been granted a front seat to the sad face slayer's most recent endeavors.

the detective eyes you with a certain pity. maybe that's why you don't bother meeting his eyes. you sit still on a chair, camera blinking red behind him, the interrogation room is freezing even with the thick jacket you're wearing.

seven billion people in the world and you're soulmate's a ruthless serial killer who took it upon himself to purge the world of evildoers – he was playing god, no wonder the detective is looking at you like that.

"uhh…" he's awkward, fidgeting in his seat. "and you saw this all in a dream?"

"yes."

you've known him only minutes ago. mark lee was his name and he seems to be a subordinate of a higher, more experienced detective named kim doyoung. you don't know whether to feel offended or not for having a doe-eyed newbie taking care of the case, but you pushed it at the back of your mind, knowing his superior is watching on the other side of the two-way mirror.

"did you have, like, other past instances where you dreamt of him? of what he…" mark looked like he was going to throw up. "what he does to his other victims?"

you shook your head. no. "i've mostly just heard of him on the news. i don't think i have the stomach to find out in-depth what the killer does."

mark takes out a folder, features walking the fine white line between looking apologetic or wanting to say me too. "i'm, uhh, really sorry to hear that."

there's a sudden pregnant silence encapsulating the interrogation room. it felt like you were mourning for something, the chains of dread dragging your heart to the ground as it pounded against your ribcage. mark looked like he wanted to say something, but you swore his eyes darted towards the camera in the corner and decided otherwise.

"anyway…" he trails. flipping the folder open in one swift motion. "past sightings have given us the sad face slayer's name."

he slaps down a picture of a man, his hair raven and a permanent scowl etched on his face. the quality was shitty. it looked like it was a screenshot taken from zoomed-in cctv footage.

"nakamoto yuta, twenty-five, japanese, and has slipped one too many times past authorities that at this point, it's practically a talent."

and just like that, it made sense why you're here.

your lips pursed in contemplation, palms quaking as your fingers reach forward to inspect your soulmate's picture. "and… you want to use my soulmate connection –" you glowered. never had a sentence sounded so fucking cursed and utterly wrong. "– to catch him?"

mark can't look you in the eye. "yes. he's very elusive. his killings have been happening cross-country and, as you can see, have garnered national media attention. the police are hanging by a thread here. a month in his case and all we got is his MO, name, and that he has this weird god complex on him. if we can't catch him by the end of next month…" he shrugs. "the feds are going to interfere, sooner or later."

"so…" you trail, urging him to continue.

"so, we need as much information about him as we can get and your dreams about him will be able to provide that."

fucking great.

the much newer revelations of precisely who it was on the other end of the soulmate connection put a significant damper on your mood. you'd like to think your new little cop buddy who follows you around gives you the least bit sense of security, but alas, it doesn't. not when you've seen first hand how yuta took down five men all at once without breaking a fucking sweat – you absolutely refuse to call him your soulmate, you'd never accept a person with his nature as a soulmate.

you try to hide the bracelet mark handed you last two weeks ago, during your time spent in the precinct's interrogation room.

"please have this on you at all times until we catch him, okay? this is for extra measures, just in case something happens to the cop assigned to guard you. just press the little button here and we'll be there before you can even finish shouting 'help!' – hey, i was just kidding! what's with the face?"

considering you're now probably being hunted alive for snitching on a serial killer? mark lee, that was not funny at all.

"do you have to get inside the lecture with me?" you whine, shielding your face with your hair when you notice people shooting glances at the rather handsome cop they assigned to you. "it's not like he'll attack in broad daylight! and in a fucking classroom, for that matter."

jaehyun looks just about ready to hurl you out the window. "lower down your voice," he scolds. "serial killers don't pick a time and place, sweetheart. he kills when necessary and if it's fucking necessary to murder everyone in that classroom to get to you? he'll do it in a fucking heartbeat."

you sigh when the chair next to you screeches against the floor, the aforementioned male taking his seat right next to you. jaehyun felt more like a babysitter than a cop, who seems to have a habit of constantly inputting his not-even-needed opinions on the most superficial things.

are witness protection protocols like this?

it was a good thing that overgrown bat doesn't come hanging around in your apartment, but he does have the police car parked right across the building's entrance. judging by how meticulous and thorough he seems to be, he won't miss any face that comes in and out of the building.

you didn't forget exactly why you're under witness protection. for the cops to waste one good officer to follow you around, you needed to be valuable and being valuable meant sleeping through nightmare-induced dreams of what your soulmate does for a living. the scenes are so gruesome, so graphic and utterly gory, that you dart towards the bathroom first thing after waking up in cold sweat, draining all of dinner down the toilet bowl.

after dreaming of him in action a few times, you've now completely understood what detective lee had said regarding yuta's god complex. it was unsightly, yet there was a twisted sense of heroism to it. if there's one thing, he only gutted the bad guys – but that didn't make nakamoto yuta any less of a bad guy, himself.

i need to ask you a favor [sent 2:05am]

JJH: what? [received 2:10am]

often the nightmares were too much. too much that you thought of escaping its horrors by never getting a wink of sleep ever again – until you realized you're a witness and is probably the only chance for the seoul police department to catch that bastard.

buy me sleeping pills? [read 2:08am]

when you peep out of the window, you find an empty spot across the road where jaehyun usually parks the police car. twenty minutes later, you answer the knocking on your door. he used that little "code" he did for you to know it was him. jaehyun was glowering and muttering about how he wasn't some errand boy when he shoved the plastic bottle in your hand yet, you still thanked him nonetheless.

the pills worked like a charm. you managed to stay asleep throughout the whole night, ceasing those episodes of yours where you jolt awake in the middle of dreaming about the sad face slayer's memories.

life continued for you. it became a little bearable, but that didn't mean the horrific murders you see in your dreams are something you can get used to – you don't think you'll ever get used to the sight of him slashing his victims, the blood trickling like a goddamned waterfall.

today the dreams were different. anticlimactic, per se, if you compare it to the violence so utterly present in his memories.

the first you see were black gates, then it shifted to him ordering coffee in a café (amazing what a simple black mask can hide). it switched to him walking on a sidewalk, then he arrives at his destination, an apartment building – it wasn't too rundown, nor was it extravagant.

the serial killer takes the elevator and walks up to a mahogany door –

your room number is a blaring sight.

you couldn't be wrong, not when the 506 with the missing zero in the middle was a sight you saw every day, going and coming home from university.

that was your front door.

he was at your front door.

you jolt awake, ignoring the icky feel of sweat making your clothes cling onto your skin. ice creeps up your spine and freezes you over when you notice with a sinking realization.

those black gates are from the university you attended. that café is your favorite study nook. and that sidewalk is a route you take every day.

you clamp your hands on your mouth as tears roll down your cheeks in rivulets. you pull the comforters up above your head, fear gripping onto you with a vice-like grip as you sob.

it was in the dead of night, moonlight grazing the confines of your room and hours away from dusk. you finally utter those three words in a frightened whisper.

"he's stalking me."

as if having the overgrown bat jaehyun following and annoying you around wasn't enough, you now have another person keeping watch over you. mark lee, unlike jaehyun, may not be as ripped with muscle, but you heard from your cop buddy that the young detective has a few black belts under him. people at the precinct said that if they have to choose one person who can ever come close to the sad face slayer's agility, mark lee's your guy.

"you gotta be shitting me," you mutter, leaning close to jaehyun to whisper like high school girls talking about gossip. "he doesn't look the type!"

jaehyun, in turn, plays along and copies you. "yeah, true. he gets that a lot, i think,"

"guys, i'm literally in the back seat. i can hear everything."

the change hadn't been too drastic. at least mark was there when jaehyun proved to be difficult, pulling him towards the other way when the older male tried waltzing into your class again. "you don't need to sit next to her in her class! are you serious? there's one exit and entrance and we're on the fifth floor. breaking into that classroom will be the end of nakamoto's serial killer career!"

you shoot mark an appreciative smile, one he quickly returned before hauling jaehyun around the hallway. "we'll just be at the canteen, okay? press the 'lil button on your bracelet and we'll be right there!"

shaking your head with a slight smile on your face, you entered the classroom, sat in your usual spot, and did some of your readings from our other class to kill time. you hardly hear the screech of the chair next to you as it was pulled back. not like you cared much for whoever sat down next to you, but you can't deny there's that feeling of missing jaehyun when he used to force his way into the lecture.

"settle down! settle down, people!"

the professor enters and the class begins.

you were meticulous with your note-taking system. it's thorough, leaving no room for information to slip you. having already printed hard copies of the powerpoint presentation and simply jotting down some extra key points mentioned by your professor.

you were just about to raise your hand for a question when you feel something warm graze past your arm. you absentmindedly look down.

the breath is sucked right out of your lungs.

hi, soulmate

there, scribbled with an ominous red crayon on a small piece of paper. it was almost laughable how innocent it looked but when you follow the ring-clad hand, up the black hoodie he's wearing, and finally to his face—

"hi! i'm yuta."

his cheshire smile spikes up your heartbeat. it makes you want to throw up, makes you want to slam your head against the desk. the fight or flight hormone you have is making you restless, eyes pinned on the serial killer sitting next to you, scared that if you avert your gaze, he's going to take out that desert eagle and shoot you until your skull caves in and the bullets in his magazine empties.

"but judging by your reaction, i don't think introductions are needed, hm?" his tone is easy, conversational even and it shoots a freezing jolt of fear right up your spine. it makes you sweat profusely because you don't fucking know what to do, your thoughts in complete and utter disarray.

"just press the little button here and we'll be there before you can even finish shouting 'help!' – hey, i was just kidding! what's with the face?" you swallow, sneakily pressing the button without breaking eye contact with the serial killer sitting in front of you.

"look upfront. now." yuta orders and you nearly snap your neck as you turn your head with lightning speed.

"i thought i was above the soulmate rules, but here we are. my soul is either too tainted or too great to be tied to such trivial things, but oh well, we learn to work with what we have. surprisingly, i learned to like dreaming about how your day went."

you feel something sharp poking at your thigh and when you look down, he has a silver butterfly knife pointed against you. the precision of the angle he held it with doesn't slip your notice. one slice of that knife, no matter how small, and he'll be spilling your guts in this classroom.

a fat tear rolls down your face.

"can you imagine how much my heart broke when i learned you were spying on me? leaking information to that snobby detective? to those incompetent cops? bad baby, that was very bad of you."

"yuta—"

"you think the cops can save you from me?"

his other hand comes in contact with the nape of your neck, holding your head in place as he leaned down to invade your space. he scoffs, and you can picture that terrifying cheshire grin you've seen one too many times in your dreams.

the knife digs through your coat, the tip hardly poking your skin only because he doesn't want to drive it into you yet. how did he even manage to get inside the university? not to mention the weapons he possessed? shouldn't anyone be suspicious when they see a man dressed in all black, clad in jeans and a hoodie, into a university—

he even dressed the part. with that hood drawn up and carrying that one notebook, he looked fairly normal. someone who can easily blend in with the crowd.

you eye your professor, willing him to look at you but your soulmate is having none of that. you squirm when he drives the knife further, at the base of your stomach. with his other hand, he twirls a lock of hair around his finger. "now, now, soulmate. you don't want half the people here to get hurt, do you? unless... that can easily be arranged—"

"no!" you whisper, head jerking to the side to look at him humming in satisfaction. damn. out of all the faces he's seen contorted with fear, yours is his absolute favorite. with those pleading, glassy eyes and parted lips, yuta is tenting in his sweats.

"thought so," he chuckles. "let's get up. we're leaving. that old crook doesn't care if students just up and went in the middle of his lecture."

you don't want to think about how he even knew that because it implied attending the lectures a good amount of times. it's with sinking realization that jaehyun was right. if it weren't for him insisting to sit next to you, nakamoto yuta would've long gotten you in his claws.

you tried gathering your things until he purred into your ear.

"ah, ah, ah. you wouldn't be needing those with where we're going."

the hallways were empty, not that you had much time to scream for help when he had a knife pointed up your back, shoving you into the fire escape stairs. within the tranquil confines of the staircases, the sad face slayer couldn't fucking care less for your personal space.

he disgusts you greatly, he needn't do anything but stand there in front of you but you can already smell the long blood trail from his path. it reeks of rotting flesh and that infuriating god complex he had left a sour aftertaste.

"you know, i genuinely wanted to get to know you," yuta pouts, shaking the hoodie off his head. his hair raven, it's ends kissing the nape of his neck. he looked like he came right out of a shounen manga but the bloodlust in his eyes is something that can never be masked. "i detested the soulmate connection at first, i thought i should just kill you off because you could be my loose end."

his humorless smile is enough to give you nightmares.

"but seeing how sweetly normal and untainted you are made me hold back," the butterfly knife appears before your line of sight, yuta teasingly dragging the tip right down your cheek to trace your tears. "so, why did you snitch, baby?"

you shiver when he noses the side of your neck, inhaling your scent as his other hand hooks underneath your top, freezing fingers making you jolt. when you don't reply, his patience starts to dwindle. then again, he was never a patient man.

"answer me, you bitch. why did you rat me out?" gone is the playful lilt in his voice. the vibrations surge through you as his deep, demanding voice scares you shitless.

you feel, hear, and smell him everywhere. this wasn't like any nightmare. this is real, and you won't magically wake up on your bed, sighing in relief, knowing he isn't there, that it was all just in your head. no, this was very much real and there's absolutely no escape.

"i didn't," your voice cracks. "i didn't mean to—"

"bullshit!" he yells. you wail in pain when he slams you against the wall, head aching as it came in contact with concrete. "because of you betraying me, i nearly fucking got caught, and i never get caught!"

you were full out sobbing at this point, noisy and unsightly as the snot mixes with your tears. your only hope now is he gives you a quick, painless death and that he doesn't carve and mutilate your face like what he always does to his other poor victims. "i'm sorry! please... i'm so sorry. i was scared—"

he coos mockingly, tilting his head to the side as he inched his face closer. "aw, scared? my sweet little soulmate was scared?" he places the blade flat against your neck. as humiliating and degrading as it was, you almost peed on your clothes. "how about now? i'm sure as hell that you're fucking terrified for your useless life right now."

you cringe when his hand abandons the expanse of your stomach, no longer inching higher, finding its purchase on the hair sitting at the crown of your head. he holds you in place like that, forcing your head parallel against the wall, with his whole body pressing up to you that it's nearly suffocating.

"just one quick little slice," he taunts. you hiccuped when you feel the feathery light scrape of the blade moving against your skin. "you won't even have time to scream… but i'm sure we don't want that, do we?"

you forgot how to speak. forgot how to breathe. whenever your mind wanders, you've always thought about how you'll give this killer a piece of your mind, with the amount of fear and sorrow he inflicts upon other people. but you guess realities were a lot more different than expectations. the yuta you dreamed of meeting is in handcuffs, but fate is a fickle little thing.

"do we?" he repeats, slicing ever so slightly at your skin. enough to draw blood in droplets, never a waterfall.

"n – no."

he smiles. "you can make it up to me. do you want to make it up to me?"

the butterfly knife digs even further. a warning. and if you value your useless life, you should be smart enough to know what to answer. drawing a shaky breath, you tried forcing the ends of your lips up to a smile. "of course, yuta."

your voice breaks as your sobbing grips your body whole. the fear consuming your entire being like a parasite consuming the host. you would've shut down altogether if it weren't for the calloused hands gently gripping your face. "i know, i know. i see how regretful you are, baby. don't worry, i won't hurt you. you'll make it up to me."

anyone would be fucking stupid if you believe those words coming from a serial killer.

in your wrecked state, you barely register that he's pushing you down to your knees. skin coming in contact with the freezing linoleum floor as you refuse to look at what his hands are doing. yuta has pocketed his knife. the sound of a belt unbuckling in itself added insult to injury.

you stare blankly at his shoes as he shoves his bottoms down enough for his cock to show. if you squint hard enough, you'll see tiny splatters of blood in the shoelaces. whether or not he feels you're unresponsive, he doesn't show. maybe he doesn't care entirely. he takes one of your hands and used it to wrap around himself. he gasps, sharp, followed by a hiss.

you feel it throbbing and it strengthens the disgust you feel. no way you're going to give him the satisfaction of eye contact when you're already forced to blow this psycho.

"eyes up."

you sniffled, vulnerability present in the tone you speak. "i don't want to. please, don't make me."

if words alone aren't enough for you to follow orders, maybe you'll feel more motivated if held at gunpoint. it's unmistakable, the infamous desert eagle you've only seen in your nightmares. the last thing you ever expected is to be on the side where the bullet comes out.

the barrel is freezing as he digs it into the crown of your head. "soulmate or not. i don't shoot blanks."

your eyes looked up then. glaring as the tears rolled down your face. "you're a monster," you mutter under your breath. where you got the confidence to fight back is unknown.

"i've heard that before, be more creative next time," he holds your hair tight in one grip, shoving you forward, eye-level to his throbbing dick. "now… suck, baby."

"freeze!"

you knew that voice, you've been hearing it for the last two weeks. "jaehyun–!"

yuta cuts you off, shoving the gun into your mouth. the safety clicking off resonating in the tranquil room. it's deafening, and it makes you immobile.

"hands up. step away from the civilian." whether or not mark is nervous as he points the gun at the serial killer, he's doing a damn good job of hiding it.

yuta sighs, exasperated as he throws his head back. his raised arms came down to tuck himself back in his jeans, and the action made jaehyun's calm exterior crack. "i said, hands up, asshole!"

"chill out, motherfucker. i'm just trying to wear my pants." the serial killer hisses, glaring at jaehyun over his shoulder.

"mark, call back up already. what are you doing?" jaehyun mutters, side-eyeing the young detective whose gun shakes as he holds it up. the taller cop takes a step forward, eyes never leaving the notorious killer as he addresses you curtly. "(name), come here."

just as you plant your palms to the ground to push yourself up, one of yuta's hands shoves you down quick as lightning. "no. she stays here, with me."

jaehyun scowls, takes another step forward. "and what makes you think i'm going to let that happen?"

"i don't think. i know."

there's a constant ring in your ear as the gunshot temporarily renders you deaf. you've shut your eyes in utter fright, hands shooting up to cover your ears but it was too late. you refuse to open your eyes, you didn't want to see a dead body lying before you, even if it belonged to a heartless serial killer.

but when your eyes fluttered open, it's not yuta bleeding out on the ground.

"no, this can't be – jaehyun!"

it was a bullet straight to the head, no one could've survived a shot like that. his eyes are empty as he stares at you, unblinking, stoic. the color is yet to drown away from his milky complexion. but you can't even manipulate yourself into thinking that jaehyun's still alive. not when his eyes are empty, not when he just looks so lifeless.

it couldn't have been yuta who pulled the trigger.

his weapons were on the ground and the shot rang too fast. the sad face slayer couldn't have crouched down for his gun to shoot the cop, it would've taken too much time. and among the three men, there's only another person holding a weapon, and that was –

"great shot, mark."

the detective smiles, but with the blood splattered on his face, it looked cold. "told ya i've been practicing."

yuta hauls you up by the arms, addicted to how frail your body feels as it collapses against him. he's finally got his little soulmate in his arms. and he will never, ever let you go.

the cops lost – you've lost.

yuta, with a sense of victory coursing through his veins, took the liberty of trailing little pecks down your neck as he mutters, "mine, mine, mine!" but you couldn't care less about his display of mocked affection. not when the other person meant to protect you, turned out to be everything you think he wasn't.

mark must've felt the gravity of your stare as he crouches before jaehyun's bleeding body. grabbing the fallen cop's gun, he took it upon himself to empty the magazine. the lopsided grin he sends you broke your resolve more than yuta ever could.

"i'm sorry. it's nothing personal."

jenoluck (c) all rights reserved

[oitommothetease]

Invisible String (4/?)

Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)

Description: James Buchanan Barnes, the owner of the most expensive-looking club in town and your new apartment. He was a dick and you hated him. What could possibly go wrong when you, the new girl in town, start bartending at his club to pursue your dreams?

Word Count: 2.6k words

Warning: 18+ (discussion of assault, nervous breakdown, anxiety attack, just don’t read this whole series if you are a kid)

You woke up to a night of dreamless sleep like you always did, but then the events of the previous night hit you. You wished it was a dream, but one look in the mirror and a bruise running along your cheek was enough to confirm. Not only that, but you remembered asking your boss to stay over, but you didn't expect him to. The blanket on your living room’s couch and the bowl of fruits and a glass of juice situated out for you on the kitchen counter proved that he did stay.

And then the reality sunk in, you have a decision to make. You can either go to the cops or let that guy get away. The latter sounded not so great, but you knew going to the cops isn't going to be great either. You've seen enough detective shows to know that. You've had enough, and you just wanted to forget it. 

What did Mr. Barnes mean when he said you were going to talk about this? Are you supposed to visit him before work? Is he going to come to your place?

You decided to work on your book but ended up not being able to concentrate, so you started watching a show and fell asleep while watching it. Maybe some Chinese take-out could make you feel better. It didn't. Nothing made you feel better. You wished you had some friends in this new town because you didn't want to burden your work friends. 

After a horrible day of trying to cope, when you finally made your way to the club, you noticed the security was increased. Usually, security guards weren't present inside the club, but today it was different. Everyone was so vigilant and you felt a little safer. If you didn't know any better, you'd think Mr. Barnes did it for you, but again he would have done the same thing for any other employee. 

"Boss wants to see you," Pietro told you. You were about to head for Clint's office when the blond twin spoke again and pointed his finger towards the stairs." The boss."

Okay, well maybe playing naïve couldn't avoid this meeting, so you slowly walked upstairs. How bad could this go, it's not like he saw you in your most vulnerable state? Oh, wait, he did. 

You knocked on his office door, wanting to rip the band-aid and get over with it. 

"Hey," you said, faking a smile. "Thanks for getting me home last night and for breakfast today. I didn't even know I had fruits and juice at home because let's be honest, I'm a toast and coffee kinda gal."

Mr. Barnes didn't say anything, he just looked at you as if you were a confusing puzzle that he couldn't solve. He raised a hand towards the seat in front of him and you took it, nervously fiddling with your fingers under the table.

“You do that a lot, you know?” he asked, it wasn't a question, it was merely an observation.

“What?”

“Deflecting a serious issue by using a joke.” Mr. Barnes observed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“What are you? My therapist?”

He arched an eyebrow, indicating that you were literally doing the thing he pointed out. 

"Yeah, well, it's called having a healthy coping mechanism. You should try getting one, brooding is only gonna help you this far."

 "It's not healthy if you're not dealing with it," Mr. Barnes pointed out. 

You scoffed in incredulity and you felt very, very attacked. 

What is it? Attacking y/n day?, you thought. 

"Anyway, I think I want to press charges," You changed the subject to a more serious conversation to avoid him calling you out on your bullshit. 

"Okay, I understand.” 

“You do?” You asked, bewilderment clearly written all over your face. “I mean, letting an employee go to the cops is not gonna be great for your club's reputation and yours too. And, you know, considering the shady business, you do-” 

"What exactly do you think we do?" He asked.

And that's when it hit you, you didn't know what he did or mob bosses do in general. All your knowledge about it came from movies and Wattpad, both of them are not a great place to gain knowledge.

“What exactly do you do?” you pondered.

 He obviously wasn't expecting you to directly ask him, nobody has directly asked him or even made it known that they are aware of his work. It was kind of like a silent pact that everybody signed for, everybody except you, apparently. 

“Um, you know, I've been working for almost 2 weeks here now, and I haven't seen any drugs around here, so it's obviously not drugs. You don't look like the sex trafficking types-”

 "Jesus, woman!" He exclaimed, offended by your assumptions. 

"Then just tell me what you do."

You expected him to tell you something, but he just kept looking at you with a face void of emotions.

 "Fine, don't tell me," you mumbled, raising your hands dramatically in defeat. 

“So you don't mind me ruining your reputation by going to the cops?” 

“I told you I don't care. Your safety is my utmost priority,” your face might have given away the surprise you felt because he quickly backpedaled. ”I mean, the safety of my employees.”

“The safety of my employees is my utmost priority,” he told you, providing an extra emphasis on the word employees. “Anyway, one of my people would take you to the police station near-"

You cut him off immediately. 

"No, you can't tell anyone else. I don't want everyone hopping on the pity train. I'm already ashamed that you know about it," you pleaded but your voice was firm, telling him that this was not up for a discussion.

At this, his eyes and features softened. Bucky didn't want you to feel guilty or ashamed for somebody else's actions, but clearly, you did. 

"Okay, then I can take you. You just had to explain to the officer last night’s events, and they'll ask you to recognize Rumlow and then we can-"

Mr. Barnes’s voice faded into the background when it finally hit you.

"You know what, I changed my mind. It's too much. I don't want to press charges anymore. I didn't think this through," you backtracked. You did think this through, but now all the factors were adding up in your brain. You'd have to explain the details to a cop who is probably going to be another man and a stranger, and then they'd ask you to identify the guy. You didn't think you had it in you to face him. At least not now. 

He interpreted your thought process and promptly changed the topic. "Okay, we can work with whatever you want, and at least let Peter escort you home after work."

"What? No!” You quickly declined.

“It's for your own safety,” Bucky tried to reason. He wasn't letting you get off this easily.

 “I'm a strong, independent woman and I'm not scared of anything.” 

That was a lie. You were scared of many things like heights, dark, spiders, confrontation and the list goes on and on. 

You remembered all the lectures your mom gave you telling you that women should be scared because men are monsters, and you'd lose your honor if you are reckless and some other patriarchal crap that you didn't pay attention to. But you weren't scared, you were just always careful. You'd always put the keys between your knuckles when you went home alone. In your previous job, you used to laugh it off whenever your coworkers made a sexist joke. You'd ignore the subtle shoulder touch that your previous boss did. You told yourself that this is what it takes to make it. If you were to run away every time someone eyed you in a wrong way, then you'd spend your whole life running. 

Women usually shrug this behavior off as it is what is, but the truth is it shouldn't be like this.

“Please, I insist.” 

“I'm very capable of taking care of myself. Just because one bad incident happened doesn't mean I'll fucking break!” You stated, your voice louder than your regular voice to get across your point.

That was also a lie. You were walking on a thin line and you were ignoring your emotions. You were one outburst away from a breakdown, and you just couldn't bring yourself to feel anything. 

Mr. Barnes tried to call your name, but you were already bolting out of his office. 

You needed a drink. No, fuck that. You needed multiple drinks. It wasn't exactly wise to get drunk during work, but it couldn't get any shittier than this, right?, you thought.

Right?

 Wrong. It could get way shittier than this. Now it was almost midnight, you were kind of tipsy, and you could see two Mr. Stark, your regular customer, in front of you. 

Did he have a twin? Is he and his twin brother one of those identical twins that dress up the same? Because that's what it looked like.

 “Earth to y/n," Mr. Stark said, or was it his twin? It was getting hard to keep track anymore.

 And that's when you noticed. 

“Holy, Shit. You're triplets, Mr. Stark," you announced. 

"Okay, kid, close my tab.”

“Hey, y/n. Are you okay?” Peter asked, noticing the concerned look Mr. Stark gave him before leaving.

“Yes, I'm fine. Absolutely fine.”

***

Turns out you were not fine. You've been pretty much hammered for the past week, and you could barely get a sentence out without giggling or slurring. Your colleagues took notice of your state and whenever someone pointed it out, you'd just shrug it off as a bad day or a bad week. There was no concept of time in your drunk state.

You couldn't concentrate on your book, you could barely look at someone without squinting, and you've been eating takeout and leftovers for the past few days. 

James would have fired if someone working under him was this irresponsible, but he knew your reasons. He knew you clearly weren't coping with the trauma well. Your work ethics were shoved down the trash that even Clint asked why you weren't fired yet.

Bucky didn't want to talk to you, he thought that maybe giving you some space would do you good, but clearly it wasn't working. Usually, the mob boss didn't interfere in the affairs of his employees, it was Clint's job, but when you smashed a bottle on the head of a customer, he had to interject.

“I TOLD THIS FUCKER NO!” you yelled, Peter’s hand around your middle from behind. Another empty beer bottle was in your hand, ready to be smashed across the face of the drunk dude in front of you.

Pietro and Wanda were enjoying the show. Peter, being the peace lover he is, held you back when you smashed a bottle across a drunk customer's face. Even though Peter was younger than you, he was stronger, and he was not only holding you back but also himself. He didn't want to cause a scene and that is why he was mulling comforting words in your ear like, he's not worth it, you're gonna kill this guy.

Damn right I am, you thought.

It was ironic because everyone in that club had killed someone except you.

When Bucky walked into the room, the drunk guy turned towards him and pointed at you. ”You are hiring crazy bitches now? Just called her baby girl and she went psycho!!!”

Bucky didn't understand what was happening. He told the security guards to take that man outside his club and he walked towards you. He firmly yet gently took a hold of your left arm, signaling Peter to let go of you. Without a word, he started walking in the direction of his office, dragging you along with him.

Once near his office, he lightly yanked your hand and shoved you inside, making you stand in front of him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he inquired, having had enough of your incompetence.

You were seething with rage. "Wrong with me? I told him no, but he didn't listen."

Bucky stepped forward, his anger dissipating into sympathy. " I know, he mumbled, "and I'm so-"

 "No, you don't know!" you yelled, body trembling and tears welling up in your eyes. "I told him no multiple times, I even tried to push him off me, but he just kept coming back."

Bucky's eyes furrowed in confusion. He didn't understand your words, the drunk customer didn't touch you. And that's when he realized, you weren't talking about the drunk customer. He cognized that the drunk guy purely triggered something that you've been suppressing for days now. Bucky was aware that you needed to get it out of your system to cope healthily.

“I told him no, you know? But he just wouldn't listen,” you stated, trying to convince yourself that you didn't lead him on. ”And he was so…. so strong and… and then he hit me and everything just went blur, I couldn't see but... but I could still feel him with me.”

Not realizing that you were not in that place anymore, you wrapped your hand around yourself to seek some sort of protection and comfort, bottom lip quivering, the welled up traitorous tears were streaming down your face and all you could think about was that night. 

“I… I can't get his touch out,” you stammered. ” I shower, multiple times a day, but I still can't get his touch out.”

With that, you broke down completely and shattered on the floor, sobbing ferociously. Your knees ached because of the position you were situated in, but the emotional pain was enough to overshadow the physical one.

For once in his lifetime, Bucky did not know what to do. Cautiously, he made his way towards you and knelt down in front of you. He did not know what to say or do to make you feel better.

You launched your body towards him, snaking your arms around his shoulder to settle on his neck as if he was the only thing grounding you. You lurched onto him like he was your anchor, and maybe he was. It took a minute for Bucky to register your actions, and when he did, he wrapped his arms around your middle and closed the minuscule distance separating you.

He surprised himself with the way one of his hands automatically reached for your hair and whispered words of comfort in your ear. He caught you as you crumpled physically and emotionally. 

”You're going to be okay, doll,” he whispered and kissed your temple with sincerity. ”I will make sure of that.”

The second part was barely audible, it wasn't meant for you, it was a promise he made to himself.

Bucky held you tightly yet gently while you sobbed on his shoulder.

 He didn't know how long he held you, it felt like an eternity to him with the way he could feel the guilt and rage inside him. When you passed out in his arms, he gently placed you on one of the comfortable couches in his office and draped a blanket around you that he had for when he would work late at night.

An office chair might not be the most ideal place to spend the night in, but it didn't matter to Bucky. All that mattered was you.

TAGS: @bananapipedreams​ @akkinda10​  @rivers-rambles21​  @emmabarnes​@goodcleanfunsis​ @valsworldofcreativity​

[thestarrynightslover]

It’s a Good Day to Have a Bad Date

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Word count: 2,383

Warnings: Slight mentions of an OC with criminal priors, violent tendencies, and a juvenile record. A teeny-tiny bit of angst.

Summary: The reader meets Jay as she's trying to find out stuff about the guy she's about to go out with and ends up switching dates.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the One Chicago shows, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way or know anyone involved with it.

A/N: Just to make one thing clear: I did some research on Illinois's laws  (not sure I got it right tho) and, apparently, this fic is very inaccurate. But I really wanted to pursue the idea, so just humor me, please 🙏🏻. Anyways, I had a lot of fun while writing this and thought about making a part two... But I'm not sure. Tell me what you think! 💗

| masterlist |

You inhaled deeply one more time before you walked into the police district. There wasn’t even a real reason for you to be so nervous about it. You weren’t a victim and you weren’t a criminal. So, what’s the worst that could happen? 

The worst that could happen was, of course, you getting a bunch of cops mad at you because you went to waste their time with some pathetic whining. It was decided, you were gonna turn back around right now, while you still had time, and just go home.

On second thought, though, it was a matter of public safety. Your safety. Which was just as valid because you were just as much of a U.S. citizen as anyone else. So you went in. 

Shit. The place was almost empty, which meant everyone would notice if you left. And they’d ask questions, so you figured you’d, at least, get ahead of them, as you walked shyly towards the front desk. There, you were met by an older woman who looked bored, and still, terrifying.

“Can I help you with something?” She asked you, while cautiously checking you out. Oh my God, she thought you could be a victim! You were such an idiot.

“Um, it’s, um, it’s actually nothing, really. I shouldn’t even have come here in the first place.” You told her while smiling a little. What you didn’t know was that what you said had only raised more flags in the sergeant’s mind, even catching the attention of a tall man writing some things down on a paper at the corner of the counter. The young detective stayed back because he knew that Platt would know how to manage the situation, but continued listening to every word of the conversation.

The sergeant, then, took her glasses off, setting them on the counter. “Listen, miss, my name is Trudy Platt and the reason why I became a cop was that I wanted to help people, in every way that I possibly could. So, if you need my help with anything, just tell me what it is. And, I promise, I’ll do everything in my power to give it to you.” She assured you and, as much as you felt this huge sympathy for the woman, you also felt even worse about making her waste her time. So you tried to fix things.

“Oh, my God! I’m so, so, so sorry! I’m not a victim in any way, thank God. I said that I shouldn’t have come here because I’m not even sure if what I wanted to ask is legal…” You told her with a nervous laugh. Hearing that, the Sergeant’s eyes sparked with curiosity.

“Well, then I probably won’t be able to help you.” She told you, stressing the ‘probably’ and making the man at the end of the counter shamelessly turn his face in your direction in order to better hear your conversation. “But… Since you’re already here, and it’s been such a slow day for the District, maybe you should just ask me whatever you want to and I’ll be the judge of whether that’s legal or not. After all, unless you’re some sort of lawyer, I should know more about the law than the average civilian.” The Sergeant skilfully baited you.

“Um, no, I’m not a lawyer.” You confirmed with a small laugh while tugging some of your hair behind your ear. “Actually, since I’ve just recently moved here to Chicago ⎼ to Illinois, really ⎼, I’m probably a lot below your average civilian.” You stated with a giggle. At that, the guy that had lost his discretion about eavesdropping started chuckling a little himself, to which the older woman responded with a look you’d absolutely hate having directed to you.

“So, Chuckles, you have nothing better to do than to stay here listening to other people’s conversations?”

“First of all, it’s detective,” he started in a mocked smug tone, “and, second: no, uh, I actually don’t. I came to fill this paperwork down here exactly because we were about to kill each other upstairs, just to get out of the boredom.” He added, raising some paper files he had in-hand. “Besides, you know how much I, too, love to help people.” He said while shooting you a charming smile. Okay, that guy was pretty handsome. “Jay Halstead, nice to meet you.” The detective informed you, holding out his hand.

“Right, um, nice to meet you too, sir.” You replied, shaking his hand. “I didn’t even say my name, what a clums!” You joked while patting yourself on the forehead. “I’m (y/n) (y/l/n).”

“Okay, just, please, lose the ‘sir’ with that one, otherwise, he’ll never let it go.” Trudy chipped back in the conversation.

“So, what was it that you wanted to ask the sarge? I can assure you that we’ll let you know if it’s illegal. After all, two judges are better than one.” He suggested, all smiles.

“Since when?” The sergeant practically barked at the younger man, just to add: “You know what? You wanna be here at my front desk, Halstead? Then be here, but be quiet and let the lady talk.” She bluntly ordered him, who decided to do as he was told.

“Alright, um, it’s just that this guy who I don’t really know anything about asked me out and I said yes, even though I got a bad vibe from him?” They just stared at you with their jaws dropped, so you added: “Pathetic, I know. But I didn’t really wanna judge him without any proof, or anything like that, so I figured that, maybe, I could try and check if he has any criminal priors or something.” You finished with a tiny embarrassed smile.

“And why on Earth would you think that we could give you this type of information?” The sergeant asked you, her expression being one of pure shock.

“I, uh…” You didn’t really want to embarrass yourself even more but felt the urge to explain anyways. “It’s just that I’m a small-town girl, okay? And, over there, everybody knew my family, so, whenever I wanted to go out with someone, my dad would just ask his buddies at the Sheriff’s office to look the guy over. And he always told me that that was really important, so, when I moved to the state’s capital, I just wouldn’t go out with anyone unless a close friend vouched for him. Because I was terrified of what I’d see and hear on the news. But here… I don’t really know anyone yet.” You blurted it all out, to two strangers! To two cops who probably had something, or somethings, better to do than to listen to your whining. “Anyhow, I’m really sorry that I wasted your time, guys. Won’t happen again.” At that, they exchanged a look, and the sergeant said:

“You know what? You’re right, kid. The world is a dangerous place. And, unfortunately, it is even more dangerous for us women. So I’m gonna look the guy up. But I’m not gonna tell you exactly what it says if something comes up.” She told you, much for your surprise, and, then, turned to the detective, saying: “If you say a single word about this to anyone, and I mean anyone, Chuckles, I swear to God that I’ll cut your tongue out myself.”

“Geez, sarge. How can you swear such an ugly thing like that to God?” He asked her, in a mockery tone, while making a hilarious expression.

“Ha! Keep that up and your tongue won’t be the only thing I’m gonna cut.” She threatened him again and you couldn’t help but burst into laughter when he made a shocked expression and put his hands protectively over his crotch.

“For your information, I wanna help the girl just as much as you, so I wouldn’t say anything. You didn’t have to threaten me.” He tried to recover, as you handed her a small piece of paper with your possible date’s name.

“Oh, I know. But I wasn’t about to miss out on the opportunity.” She shot back at him while typing the name on the District’s computer. “Okay, here it is... Wow."

"What? What is it?" You asked her, as you watched the detective perk himself over the counter to look at the screen.

"Jesus. This guy's got himself quite a rap sheet." He commented, making you shiver, thinking of what could happen to you, if you went on with the date.

"What exactly do you mean by that, detective?" You asked the man who probably noticed your discomfort, because he spoke again, in a tranquilizing tone:

"No, relax. It's nothing too bad, like violent or anything. But there's some pretty nasty stuff here." He told you, not really making you relax.

"There's something here, though." That caught the detective's eye again. "His juvenile record is sealed, the only thing I can see without a warrant is an observation from his caseworker. She says something about him having violent tendencies." She told you with a sigh, taking her glasses off again. "Look, I know that I can't tell what to do and what to not do, (y/n), but, as a suggestion? Stay the hell away from this piece of work. You seem like a nice enough girl, I'd hate to see you come in here as a victim someday."

“Oh, God, no! I heard you loud and clear, sergeant! Don’t worry about it, I’m canceling that date ASAP!” You exclaimed, agreeing with her.

“That’s great!” The detective spoke this time, sounding a little too happy about the fact that you were about to cancel a date with a man who had criminal priors and violent tendencies. So both you and the other woman stared at him. “Err, I mean because you’re not gonna go out with him.” You just giggled a little at the way he was digging an even deeper hole for himself. “Because he’s a bad guy.” He added, once again getting a glare from Trudy. “You know what I mean.” He finished, defeated, not looking in your eyes.

“Well, uh,” you started, trying to keep yourself from laughing too hard, “anyways, I can only thank you both. You guys got me out of something that could be really unpleasant, to say the least.” You told them, a bit more serious this time.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. Just glad we could help.” Detective Halstead said, smiling kindly at you.

“Yeah. This time, I actually agree with you, Halstead.” The sergeant half-joked.

“Aw, that’s very kind, but, really, thank you!” You restated your gratitude, then asking: “I should probably get going now, right? Stop wasting your time?”

“It’s not like we were doing much before you got here-” Trudy began saying, but was interrupted by the detective, who quickly told you:

“Yeah, you should go. You know, cause a police District…” You knew he was right, but those two seemed like really nice people, especially after having helped you dodge a bullet, so to speak, and you’d hoped that you were finally making some friends in the Windy-City. “Anyways, um, lemme walk you out.” He offered you while motioning to the door. At that, you and the sergeant shared a look that told you she also found it weird that the detective would wanna walk with you through such a minimal distance.

“Uh, um, o- okay.” As you and Halstead walked towards the exit, you couldn’t help but notice what nice features he had. Like, your mind just kept going back to what a good-looking man he was.

“So…” He trailed off.

“So…” You answered, not really sure about what to say.

“You know, um, it’s gotta be a hell of a bummer for you. Being here in Chicago without knowing many people. This city… It’s all about finding your community.” He told you in a sympathetic tone.

“Hum…” You breathed out as you thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, well, I guess that I can only hope I’ll have better luck at making acquaintances the next time I go out to explore it.”

“Right.” The detective agreed. “Uh, listen, I know that this may sound a little too forward, but, maybe, I could show you some of my favorite places, someday? I mean, only if you’re interested! Because I don’t want you to feel like-”

“Actually, I’d very much like that! If it isn’t going to be any trouble for you…” You cut him off excitedly.

“No! No trouble at all!” He quickly assured you. “Um, thi- this is my card.” He said, lifting up a small business card for you to see. “I’m gonna write my personal number on the back of it. Call, or text me when you have some time to go out. Or if you just want someone to talk…” The handsome man added with a smile. God, what a smile.

“Okay, um, thanks, dete-”

“No, please! Call me Jay.”

“Alright,” you acknowledged, a little nervous this time, “then, thank you, Jay. Just, be advised, I can be very talkative sometimes, which means you might regret giving me this.” You warned him with a sly smile while waving the card in front of his face.

“Huh.” Jay pretended to consider it for a moment. “Is it too weird if I say I have a feeling that I won’t regret it?” He then asked you with a cute shy smile.

“Well, it sure isn’t weirder than me saying that I really hope you don’t regret it.” You confessed to him with a wink.

“Hey, are you two gonna take that flirting elsewhere on your own, or do you need me to get you a room?” You heard Sergeant Platt call out, blushing immediately.

“I’m so sorry about that!” Jay told you, looking a little flushed himself. “You should probably go now.” He added with an apologetic smile.

“Yeah, I think you’re right..” You agreed, but, as you were turning around to leave, he grabbed your wrist lightly, saying:

“Just… Don’t forget to call.” Hearing that, you snickered a little.

“I have a feeling that I won’t.” You told him, almost repeating his previous words, which got some chuckles out of him.

Now you understood the nickname.

[eliemo]

Something Long and Stupid

Summary: Remus knew he wasn't a good person. He was Deadpool, a killer for hire, "the merc with a mouth." He'd come to terms with what he was a long time ago. He didn't need Spiderman to remind him of what he was.

He didn't need Virgil to come into his life and make him question it for the first time

TWs: Violence, threats, strong language, blood

Notes: Superhero au, Spiderman Virgil, Deadpool Remus, enemies to lovers Dukexiety

New project that nobody asked for. I know I should finish my ongoing wips before starting a new one but I do not control the hyperfixation.

(Part 1) (Part 2)

When Virgil kicked Remus in the chest and sent him hurtling off the building into an active construction site, Remus found himself thinking about how they’d met.

Honestly, it hadn’t started off much better. Spiderman was a piece of shit who thought he was so much better than Remus just because Deadpool killed some people every now and then.

Well, that had been the first impression anyway. They hadn’t exactly started off on the right foot.

Remus had been doing his job, thank you very much, he was a mercenary for hire, it wasn’t like he’d been going after a gang of strangers for fun. And he certainly hadn’t needed help.

There were three of them and one of him, just some standard thugs that had been causing a bit too much trouble for people with more money to spend, their names already set to pay for Remus’s rent this month.

He’d unsheathed his swords, (guns would make it over too quickly, and what was the fun in that?) letting the assholes get their hopes up by grabbing for their own weapons and then—

Then all his targets were all suddenly covered in webs, firmly plastered to the nearest wall with threats and screaming that Remus ignored in favor of whirling around, slicing the air with his blades.

“Hey, what the fuck?”

Spiderman was half hanging off the wall, stepping back down onto the ground when he saw Remus staring. “You’re welcome,” he called, like Remus had asked for him to come in ruin is fun.

Remus scoffed, because rude. You don’t just steal someone’s kill like that. But at least they were immobilized now, which meant shooting them and getting the day over with would be a piece of cake. The webs weren’t budging no matter how frantically they kicked.

He yanked his gun from his belt to do exactly that, only to have another web (seriously, fucking spider webs had no business being this strong) wrapped around his wrist, another pulling the pistol right out of his hand.

“Uh, motherfucker?” Remus took a step back, furiously grabbing at the lingering webs with his bare hands, grimacing at the way it clung to his leather. “Jeez, you want me to decapitate them instead?”

“They’re already down,” the asshole said, like Remus hadn’t noticed. “Back off, Deadpool.”

Remus didn’t have time to be surprised that Spiderman knew who he was, far too busy wanting to run over and punch him right in his stupid masked face. “Ok, clearly you don’t know my deal. Move it, Webs.”

“Then you don’t know mine,” he said, masked eye staring blankly from underneath the hood over his suit. “I’m not letting you murder defenseless people.”

“They’re not fucking defenseless.”

“They’re not breaking free,” the spider said. “The cops will take whoever I capture for them. Call them and leave.”

Remus scoffed and tightened his hold on his sword, wondering if he really wanted to get into a fight with Spiderman in the middle of the afternoon. It was only fucking Tuesday, he was too tired to deal with this shit. “And they can take them in body bags. Give me my gun back.”

Remus was a good foot taller than him, and loaded with about three times as many weapons, but the masked asshole didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. God, he was probably smirking under his suit.

“I finished the fight, I get to decide.” He turned around, his back to Remus like he didn’t even care. “Maybe try to be faster next time.”

“Oh, fuck right off with that,” Remus snarled. “Fuck off. Fuck off and suck a fat dick, you fucking—”

“Either you walk away, or I leave you tied to the wall.”

“Kinky,” Remus smirked, even if Spiderman couldn’t see it under his own mask. “But fat fucking luck. No way in hell am I letting some bitch in black and purple spanx steal my kill.”

Spiderman actually had the audacity to sigh, like he was dealing with a petulant child. “Nobody’s getting killed.”

“You know, I’ve got more than one gun,” Remus said, mentally calculating how fast he’d have to move to shoot every single person in this alleyway. “I’m playing nice. Get out of my way.”

“You’re not shooting someone who can’t fight back.”

“Oh, are you the moral police?” Jesus, Remus wanted to punch this guy. “Man, fuck off. It’s none of your business.”

He grabbed for his other gun, only to immediately feel something wrap around his waist and legs, yanking hard and lifting him into the air. He shouted something he really hoped no pedestrians were close by enough to overhear, doing his absolute best to give Spiderman his coldest glare as he was slammed against the brick wall, upside down, held firmly down by fucking spider webs.

“Oh, you bitch.”

Remus twisted and thrashed, and while he could feel the webs giving way already it would be a good few minutes until he was free. That fucking asshole.

“Next time I see you I’m cutting off your spider ass and hanging it on my fucking wall!”

Spiderman ignored him, and Remus watched as he grabbed the thugs Remus was supposed to kill and one by one swung them out of the alleyway before disappearing completely.

That whore.

It hadn’t been long, unfortunately, until they’d met again, and Remus had of course tried to punch the asshole right in the head.

They’d ended up on the same rooftop, which was even worse because Remus came up here to relax. Spiderman had just been sitting there, legs dangling over the edge as he watched over the city, looking almost peaceful with his hood down and the sun beating against his mask.

So Remus had immediately vaulted over and swung at him as hard as he possibly could.

And then he’d missed, because of course Spidey had to have fucking inhuman reflexes, which was bullshit. He’d ducked away and managed to jump to Remus’s side before Remus even registered that his fist had met nothing but air.

“Can you leave?” Spiderman asked, so unbothered it only made Remus angrier. “I’m busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Making sure people don’t get killed,” he said, moving back towards the ledge. “You should try it sometime.”

Remus crossed his arms, watching the vigilante in disbelief. “You get that I’m a mercenary, right? You’re surprised by the killing thing?”

“I’m not,” he said, and he still wouldn’t even look at Remus. “But I’m stopping it when I can.”

“Oh? So you’re ruining a small business?” Remus threw his arms out and turned towards the ledge overlooking the bustling city. “Spiderman doesn’t support small businesses, you heard it here first, folks!”

Spidey was staring at him now, and Remus had a sneaking suspicion he would not appreciate the look he was being given if the mask was taken off. Asshole.

“I don’t support killing people, Deadpool.”

“Sucks,” Remus said. “You should’ve stayed out of the way. If I wasn’t so kind and generous I would have shot you.”

“You mean if you hadn’t been tied up and defenseless,” Spiderman corrected, and Remus was right back to wanting to punch him. “You’re lucky I didn’t get you arrested.”

Remus dramatically put a hand to his chest and gasped, walking along the roof’s edge. “Oh no. What ever would I have done? I’d be defeated! My one weakness. C ops.”

Spidey didn’t respond, but he did get up and move away when Remus got a bit too close to where he was perched on the ledge. Ha .

“Maybe I should have called the cops on you, Spidey,” Remus added. “They’d finally catch the masked menace. Some jail time might humble you.”

“I’d be fine,” Spiderman said. “I wasn’t the one tied to a wall.”

Remus hopped back onto the roof with a growl, grimacing at the reminder of how long it had taken to get those webs off his suit. “Yeah, don’t do that shit again. Seriously, I can and will end you.”

“Get in line behind half the city, Deadpool.”

Remus scoffed, something he apparently did a lot of whenever talking to Spiderman, and followed him across the rooftop. “Man, your ratings are shit. At least I don't act like a hero.”

It was hard to see, barely noticeable, but Remus saw Spidey’s shoulders tense, just a bit. Apparently he’d struck a nerve. Good.

“I don’t act like anything,” he said, and it was just a little less cocky than before. “I’m just trying to help people.”

“Oh, so you’re playing hero.” Remus grinned, moving until he was crouched right in front of the vigilante. “Ooh ooh, let me guess...you’re in college. You’re ...22. Maybe 23, or 24. You got these big bad powers one day and figured you were the only one in the whole wide world who could protect the people who couldn’t protect themselves.”

Spidey didn’t answer, just looked at him with that blank, unamused stare, so Remus continued. “Or were you born with them? Doesn’t seem like it, you’ve only popped up in the last two or three years—”

“It’s none of your business,” Spiderman cut in, and Remus smirked. “And you’re wrong, for the record.”

“Oh I am, am I?” Remus asked, amused despite himself. “If nobody wants you, why are you even trying?”

Spidey was tense now, and doing a real bad job of hiding it. “Maybe I don’t give a shit what people think.”

“Right.” Remus didn’t need to see the guy’s face to know that wasn’t it. “You do realize how much money you could make with those powers, right?”

“I don’t care,” he said. “I’m fine doing what I’m doing.”

Remus looked him over, he’d seen spidey all over newspapers and on TV before, but this was the first time actually talking to him in person, besides the other day when the asshole had ruined his afternoon. Honestly, it was kinda underwhelming. He expected the suit to be higher tech, at least.

“Are you broke?” he asked. “You seem broke. I could make you a way better mask, by the way. It looks like shit.”

“I’m sure,” Spidey said, completely ignoring his generous offer. Rude. “And how much do you get paid for killing people?”

“A lot.”

Spiderman hummed nonchalantly, no longer looking at Remus. “Well, I’m glad it’s worth it.”

“It is! I sleep like a baby in my king sized bed.” And yeah, that was a little bit of a lie. Barely.. He wasn’t living that luxuriously, New York was expensive as shit, but based on his tech he was way better off than Webs.

“That’s wonderful,” Spiderman said and damn, apparently the masked menace was capable of being a sarcastic bastard as well as a cocky asshole. “You done pretending now? Can I go?”

“I’m not pretending anything.”

“Yeah, ok.” Spiderman was back to sounding arrogant, and Remus couldn’t remember why they were talking instead of fighting to the death. “I know you sleep like shit.”

Remus actually laughed, humorless and cold, because what the fuck?

“Oh yeah?”

“Nobody kills for a living if their life is going great,” Spidey said. “What horrible trauma pushed you to that decision?”

Oh, this motherfucker. This piece of shit. He was so dead when Remus could catch him off guard.

“Nobody puts on a costume and fights crime when half the city wants him dead if his life is going great, either.” Remus smirked, moving to try to get Spidey to look at him again. “At least I get money for it. No student loan debt at 26 is pretty nice.”

He probably shouldn’t have given the vigilante that was quickly turning into his sworn enemy his age but eh. What was he gonna do, kill him? Remus didn’t stay dead.

“That’s great,” Spiderman said. “And all it cost was people’s lives.”

“Yep!” Remus hoped it came out cheery enough to piss him off a little more. “Think of it this way, Spidey. They’re gonna die anyway.”

Spiderman immediately straightened up and stalked to the other end of the rooftop, clearly wanting the conversation to end. Mission accomplished. “Jesus Christ.”

“It’s true!” he called, just to drive home the fuck off a bit more. “Someone would have gotten to them eventually.”

“They’re still people, Deadpool.”

Remus shrugged. “Good people don't get hits put on them.”

“Maybe not,” the vigilante agreed. “But good people don’t murder in exchange for money, either.”

Remus barked another laugh at that, more genuine this time because... yeah? Duh. “No shit. I never fucking said I was a good person.”

“You’re lucky you haven't killed anyone innocent yet.” And goddammit there was that ‘hero’ shit again that made Remus want to throw up. He’d just been starting to have fun, too.

“It’s still not your business.”

“It will be,” Spidey said, perched on the ledge in a way that would make Remus dizzy if he cared. “Stick to killing criminals and we'll be fine.”

“Oh?” Remus followed, smirking in a way that would probably get him punched if he took off his mask. “Are you gonna come get me if I’m not good?”

“That’s my job.”

“Aw, don’t worry,” Remus teased. “I’ll wear something sexy for you.”

“Gross.”

“Love you too, Spider Babe!”

Spidey scoffed, responding with a gloved middle finger when Remus winked. Remus watched a web shoot from his wrist, and suddenly Spiderman was gone, swinging across New York rooftops, leaving Remus to try to figure out how he was getting down.

Remus honestly hadn’t expected to see him again. He was fucked in the head, but he didn’t have any plans to lose control and start killing everyone in sight. He was an asshole, but he wasn’t a villain Spiderman needed to spend time tracking down. New York was busy enough for both of them already.

He did plan on chucking the nearest heavy object at him if he ever saw Spidey swinging past. That never ended up happening. Not that he cared. He didn’t miss him.

He expected to catch a glimpse of him eventually, maybe close enough to yell a few lighthearted threats or call him names, but nothing as entertaining as the argument on the roof.

What he hadn’t expected, was to run right into the masked menace while walking home in the middle of the night.

Remus had just finished a job, something standard and quick, and after wiping the blood from his blades he’d decided to take the long way home. The sun had set, the night air was crisp and relaxing, and it helped Remus forget about the blood stains he needed to wash away.

He’d been cutting through sidestreets, mentally mapping out how to get back to his place. He turned a corner into an alleyway, and—

And there was Spiderman, hunched over himself and leaned against the wall like he’d been using it for support, shaking, gasping, and completely drenched in deep red blood.

Remus froze, and Spidey did too as soon as he registered Deadpool standing just a few paces away, the two of them staring silently for what felt like an eternity.

“Dude,” Remus said when he found his voice. “What the fuck happened to you?”

Spiderman was clutching at his chest, black and purple suit barely able to hide the red stains, leaned heavily against the brick wall as he watched Remus warily. “Nothing.”

“Don’t be stupid. Whose blood is that?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he snapped, and his voice was wavering. “Keep walking.”

Remus took a step forward, frowning at the way the vigilante went tense against the wall. He ignored it. “Whose blood is it?” It came out more of a command than a question this time.

“Mostly mine,” Spiderman said, and Remus could see it pooling around his gloves now that he was closer. “It’s fine.”

“Why’re you bleeding?”

“None of your business. Go home.”

Remus tried to get a better look from where he stood, well aware that approaching might not be the best idea right now. “Was it a gun or a knife?”

“It was none of your business and you need to go away.”

Remus watched him, incredulous, because the idiot was barely standing and losing way too much blood way too quickly, and he was pretty sure Spiderman didn’t have Remus’s whole immortality deal.

“You really want to bleed out on the street like some street thug?”

The vigilante hesitated, and Remus listened to the way his breathing was turning into awful sounding wheezes. “I’m...not going to bleed out. I’m fine.”

“Oh, yeah?” Remus challenged, probably a bit more aggressively than was needed for someone who looked like they were about to keel over. “Walk over to me then.”

He’d expected the lack of response, but even though the eyes built into the suit were practically lifeless (he really should get him some more advanced goggles. He’d be a lot more approachable if his eyes weren’t so blank) Remus could still see his whole body tense in fear.

“No,” he said, low and trembling. “Fuck off.”

“Spidey, this isn’t a joke.” Jesus, that was a lot of blood. “You’re gonna bleed out.”

“And you can throw a party—”

“Fucking come here.” He hadn’t meant to snap, but he wasn’t going to just stand here bickering with the city’s hero until he dropped dead. But Spidey still shook his head, pressed even further against the wall now, and Remus sighed. “Fine.”

Remus took a few steps forward, initially planning on prying his arms away to get a better look at the wound, but Spiderman flinched back, trying to scramble away like Remus was coming at him with a weapon.

Well, Remus supposed that made sense. He had threatened to kill him a couple times last time they spoke.

“Chill it, Spidey.” Remus crouched a bit, suddenly painfully aware of how much taller he was, carefully holding his hands out. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I don’t believe you,” he shot back. Which...yeah, fair. “I know you want to.”

“Does it look like I have a knife in my hand?” Remus asked. “No. Chill out and let me see.”

Spidey didn’t pull away when Remus took his shoulders, but he did flinch as soon as Deadpool touched him, probably involuntarily. Remus ignored it, focusing instead on figuring out where the blood was coming from. It was almost impossible in the dark lighting, especially up against the black suit.

“It’s...not that bad,” Spiderman rasped. “Seriously.”

Remus wasn’t buying that for a second. “What happened?”

“I was stupid, that’s what happened,” Spidey said, arms still wrapped firmly around himself. “It...there were five of them and one of them got lucky with a knife.”

“Jesus, fuck.” Remus pulled back, trying to figure out what to do. “You are stupid. Where?”

He only hesitated a moment. “Uh, my chest. I heal fast.”

“Jesus. How fast?”

Spiderman shrugged, then obviously regretted it when it pulled at the stab wound. “Hopefully fast enough,” he said. “I’ll be fine tomorrow or I’ll be dead.”

“Jesus,” Remus said again, because what the fuck else was he supposed to say? “Sit down. Jesus Christ.”

Spidey thankfully did as he said, though Remus suspected it had more to do with the fact that he couldn’t keep himself standing anymore rather than actually following instructions.

He wasn’t fighting anymore, almost limp as Remus took his wrists and moved them to his sides, but he did look like he was ready to bolt the second Deadpool made one wrong move.

Like he wouldn’t fall right on his face and hurt himself worse if he tried.

Remus could see the source of the blood now, a deep gash across his upper chest that had apparently sliced the black and purple suit like butter, still gushing crimson with each passing second.

Shit.

“Alright, uh.” This wasn’t his expertise in the slightest. Other than digging out some bullets, Remus didn't have to tend to his wounds. “I don’t think I have any fabric or...oh, your hoodie. Hand it over.”

Spiderman stared, and if he didn’t hurry up and get with the program Remus was going to knock him out and handle this himself. “Why?”

“Because you’re bleeding out. Give it.”

Spidey at least had the sense to listen and carefully peel the hoodie away from his suit, sliding it down his arms even as his gloved hands shook violently. Remus couldn’t help but wince at the noise Spiderman tried to choke back, because that had to hurt like a bitch.

“Maybe, like...lay down?” Remus suggested. “Yeah, do that. It’ll help.”

Spidey still hesitated, even as the blood continued to flow and he started to slide down against his will. “I...need to see what you’re doing.”

Remus sighed, bunching up the hoodie and pressing it firmly against the wound, ignoring the strangled gasp that came from the vigilante. Blood was quickly soaking through the cloth, and Remus just pressed harder.

“I’m just putting pressure on it to stop the bleeding,” Remus said. “If I wanted to kill you I’d leave you here. If it stops bleeding you’ll heal, right?”

The only answer he got was another wet, trembling gasp when Remus pushed harder, Spiderman’s blood soaking into his gloves. It took a second for him to realize he was grasping at Remus’s wrists, his hold weak.

“H-hopefully,” Spidey managed, and he really didn’t sound great. His eyes were drooping, and Remus figured the biggest danger right now was letting him fall asleep. “Or, you know. I’ll die.”

“You’re not gonna die,” Remus said without thinking. “I’m gonna stop the bleeding, you’re gonna heal with whatever weird powers you have, and then you’ll be less of a careless idiot next time.”

A few moments passed without an answer, and for once Remus wasn’t entirely sure how to fill the silence. The only sound between them was Spiderman’s labored, ragged breathing, which at least sounded a bit less shaky and faint as Remus continued to press down.

“What are you doing?” Spidey asked eventually, catching Remus completely off guard with the stupid question. “Why are you...trying to help?”

Remus wasn’t trying to do anything. He was helping. The city’s beloved hero would have been dead five minutes ago if he hadn’t managed to interrupt Remus’s perfectly nice, peaceful walk.

He hadn’t even really thought about it. Remus was an asshole, a murderer for a living, but he wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t the guy who was going to leave New York’s savior to bleed out in an alleyway.

Besides, he’d been the first person Remus had been able to have a somewhat entertaining conversation with in months.

“Somebody’s gotta save everyone,” he eventually settled on, still pressing hard against the wound. “And I refuse to be the city’s only mouthy vigilante.”

Another beat of silence, and for a moment Remus thought he might have fallen asleep. “I don’t...save anyone. And I’m not mouthy.”

“You do,” Remus argued. “And you are.”

“I don’t,” he snapped, and at least he didn’t seem inclined to argue about the mouthy thing. “You do your job better than I do.”

Remus took a moment to look over the bleeding hero. He was weak and trembling, and probably dangerously pale and clammy under that suit. The blood flow had definitely slowed, but it hadn't stopped. There was a good chance he wouldn’t remember a damn thing Remus said to him tonight.

And if he did, it’s not like he really gave a shit, anyway.

“I’m a mercenary,” Remus said. “Anyone can kill someone. It takes something a lot stronger to save them. So shut up and stop being self deprecating.”

Spiderman shuddered when Remus carefully peeled back the bloody hoodie, leaning in to get a better look at where they were at. Either he was just that good at fixing stab wounds, or Spidey’s healing powers were gradually starting to kick in.

Remus decided to go with the former. He deserved it.

“I got someone killed tonight,” Spidey said, quiet and unbearably sad. “She...she died because I wasn’t fast enough, and I didn’t—”

“You can’t save everyone.”

The vigilante pulled his hands away from Remus’s wrists, like he’d just realized he was holding them. “I should have tried harder.”

Remus sighed. “You tried hard enough. You did fine.”

That was apparently the end of the conversation, Spiderman falling back into silence as Remus went back to making sure he didn’t start bleeding all over the place again. He didn’t have anything on him to properly clean it up, he wasn’t sure he even owned a first-aid kit, but Spidey’s breathing was starting to even out, and after about ten minutes or so the blood stopped flowing completely.

“You, uh...you good?”

“I’ll be fine,” Spiderman said, and it didn’t sound like a desperate lie this time. He still looked like shit, but he was able to slowly sit up on his own. “Not dying this time. Just...still hurts.”

They were plunged back into silence, slightly less tense than before but no less uncomfortable. Remus eventually relinquished his hold on the hoodie when Spidey was able to carefully take it from him.

Right, he was fine now. Remus didn’t need to stay, it wasn’t his business anymore. It hadn’t been his business to begin with.

“I...owe you,” Spiderman said, almost like it was strange for him to admit. “So, thank y—”

“Don’t thank me, Spidey.” God, this had been a mistake, hadn’t it? “Seriously. Just buy me a pizza sometime and we’ll call it square.”

Spiderman stared for second, unsteady hands holding his own hood to his chest, but the small laugh that escaped at least sounded genuine, and no longer quite so pained.

“Ok,” he said. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Remus hesitated before standing, not really sure if it would be more rude to leave or stay at this point. Spiderman probably didn’t want a mercenary for hire standing over him while he was wounded, whether Remus had saved his life or not.

Remus was still just as far from a hero as the villains Spiderman fought, and both of them had a reputation to keep.

“You sure you’re ok?” Remus asked. “I can like...stay. Or call you an ambulance or...something.”

“I’m good,” Spidey said, sitting up with a small hiss of pain until he was propped up against the wall, breathing still heavy. “You stopped the bleeding, I’ll live. You can go home, Deadpool.”

“Right.” He carefully stepped around the vigilante, still keeping a close eye on his chest to make sure the bleeding didn’t start again. “Just don’t die after all my hard work. My gloves are fucking soaked.”

Spiderman scoffed, but it was more good natured and light than it had been the last time they talked. “You got it.”

Remus kept walking down the alley, only turning around once more before turning the corner at the end. “And don’t forget my pizza, Spidey!”