#but if thats counter to whatever vision i got going at the moment i drop that hc like it's hot

[fedorah-the-explorah]

Ass...no ass... we live in a everexpanding universe. Does ut even really matter...waist snatched anywats...

(Also what happened to the anonomly confusion of Carmen's hair growth/how it fits in a number of her hairstyles. Carmen's whole thing is a conundrum)

petty squabbling always matters. always

[cynettic]

Stay with Me pt.3

Summary - You manage to escape from Scaramouche, if only for a moment before you realize there’s no escape. It only takes until you’re sitting back in your regular spot that you know what you need to do.

Pairings - Kitsune!Reader x Yan!Scaramouche

Warnings - Suggestive content, mentions of death, swearing, slight gore / blood 

A/N - Its really hard to make this depressing while I’m vibing to Rasputin. Like no joke- I have it on one of the 1 hour playlists :D

Here you’ll find -  pt.1 and pt.2

He’d left a key.

Scaramouche didnt make mistakes, not while he had you captive in the vicinity of his bedroom. He didnt have room for mistakes, not when you were watching his every movement while he was in your line of sight. 

Sure, he mightve killed a person or two in front of you, but those were necessary mistakes. There was a sign on the door, it specified not to enter. You’d understand that, right?

Thats what he thought at least, lulling himself into belief after belief that you’d be there waiting for him every time. That you’d welcome him with open arms, even if there were chains ensnaring your wrists. That you’d accept your fate at his hands and submit yourself to him.

The Balladeer was a fool.

He’d kept you there for too long, and while you searched for an easy way to escape, time sent your head spinning. Into a spiral that begged only for the wind against your face, back laying on dirt with the familiar chirping up birds waking you up in the morning.

You wanted to go outside.

And when push comes to shove, you had to risk a little more to make it happen. Lure him into bed with kisses while your hands unbuttoned his vest. But what he believed to be alluring contacts was just your way of finding the keys hidden in the back pocket of his shorts.

It wasnt hard to find the one to your cuffs while he was asleep, cuddled in your chest with both arms around your waist as if to get you to stay put. You took the key, hiding them back in his clothing and hoping he didnt notice.

He didnt say anything the next day.

You werent going to wait any longer.

“Oh for fucks sake, why won't the goddamn door open?”

The room was left in tatters behind you, a little gift for Scaramouche once he got back. Turns out a pair of chains can smash up a lot of things, and rage can be used as a great source of strength when contained for such a long time.

But you’d done more than throw the blankets around, cut up the drawers and smash open the windows. Because your fists had bled red when you punched through the glass, puncturing your skin. Your knuckles were an ugly red, bruising already.

Ah, Scaramouche deserved a much better gift.

Gruesome as it was, you rubbed your knuckles against the pale walls. Till the blood stopped coming, till there was a nice little message for the boy which you held so dearly to your heart.

‘Balladeer.’

The first time you’d found out about him being a harbinger he’d told you not to call him by that name. You weren’t someone he associated with by work, you were a treasure to him. That’s why you continued to call him as he pleased, although the temptation always arose.

You were no longer his.

Shoving the door with your hand again, palm fiddling with the handle and groaning when it hardly budged. “Stupid,” you grumbled when the knob began to loosen. Backing up, you charged with your shoulder to the door, full force as the momentum broke the hinges. The door fell down with you along with it.

It was expected, you’d been stuck in the room for a long time, and thats considering you’d sat on the ground for decades. Your body was slight numb, muscles sore and unused for so long. 

“You a-arent supposed to leave your room!”

A young man stood in the hallway along with a woman who looked relatively the same age. The two were wearing uniforms, flinching when you stood up from the debris and off the door. “Excuse me?” You asked, voice unnecessarily icy and stern. But you couldnt care less, you were going to get out of this house, damn anyone who stood in your way.

They both continued to shake when you walked towards them, staggering from side to side. The woman stepped up in front of the man, presenting a brave face. “If you leave the mansion, the harbinger will kill us all!”

“Well then I expect you should be on your way then. Actually…” you gestured to the maze of hallways. “You can lead the way.”

“What…?”

Your hand went limp to your side, an exasperated looking momentarily crossing your face before you sighed. “Im not staying trapped in that room, I’m sorry if that ruins your life, but frankly you're not the one stuck in there are you?” You took an extra step just to intimidate them, eyes wide to make the appearance of crazy. “It would be a great help if you showed me where he hid my vision too.”

“We can show you to the door…” The man began, “But the whereabouts of your vision are unknown, he wouldnt tell us something like that.”

A gift bestowed from the gods, a piece to help me thrive with my ambitions and pursue my goals.

Gone.

You really wished you’d taken to clawing out Scaramouche’s face instead, but you’d take what you got. Right now your main priority was getting out of this place, even if it meant leaving a piece of you behind.

“Door.” Your voice was raspy and there was a terrible feeling that crawled up to your throat, but you didnt have time to be emotional. “Show me where the door is… please.”

The conflict in their eyes dissipates by the time they lead you along, mumbling words between themselves. You didnt bother to try eavesdropping, you were so, so tired. You wanted to go home.

Anywhere. Anywhere but here.

It took a few minutes until you were standing in front of a grand door, almost twice the size of you and just as wide. You then began to notice the decorational plants and furniture that filled the empty space, there wasn't an inch of dust. Even though you could tell none of it was used.

“Hurry,” the man warned when you paused. “I dont know when our master is coming back, but if its soon, we’ll all be screwed.”

You couldnt feel your head as you numbly nodded, hand clenching the knob and flinging the set of doors open. “Thank you,” you merely mumbled, taking your first step out of the house in what felt like forever.

The days after that were a blur, the area around Scaramouche’s house were nothing but void. Empty and filled with forests and vast plains. You knew he didnt like people or socializing in general, but to this extent?

Your only option was to run.

Let your feet take you somewhere, anywhere. It was a constant pattern of running and taking breaks, leaning on a tree and gasping in a few breaths before you were again scurrying through the forest. 

And yet you felt better than you’d felt in past months that you’d been stuck with Scaramouche.

Food became any boar you came across, the claws you’d spent so long hiding with Scaramouche coming to unleash a wrath beyond your comprehension. Till the animal was cut to shreds and no meat was left even to eat. You’d slaughtered it, without intention to eat or benefit for it, you’d killed it just to kill.

“I’m sorry,” you’d sobbed into the ground where you’d buried the harmless animal. Forehead pressed into the dirt as you pleaded for forgiveness to whatever archons would accept it. You couldn't even remember what archons you were supposed to pray to. “Forgive me- forgive me…”

But eventually you found your way around to somewhere you knew. Territory of Inazuma where you could find your way back, back home.

Where was home?

You’d been on the run from the vision hunt decree, abandoning your post for the Kitsune Saiguu for such a thing. Even now that you could return without a vision and as no threat under the decree…

You’d sacrificed everything for your vision.

Where were you to go now…?

Rain patted down, the trees providing only a slight cover as stray drops fell into your matted dirty hair. You didnt mind, it hid the tears that slid down your lifeless face, feet taking you into the far meadows of your hometown. Till you plopped down underneath a tree, knees curled to your chest and arms hugging them close. You were crying.

You were home.

____________________

“Awh,” a ginger haired murmured, elbow resting on the cool wood of the tabletop. “Is little Mouchie sad? I heard your kitty cat escaped~”

A death wish, even fatui that idly minded themselves around the bar knew it. Sipping cold drinks and swirling their cups, the soft chatter was nothing but a distraction from the main course of events. That being the smaller Harbinger who sat sulking in his seat, hunched over with a drink in hand. He’d drank far more than what was on the counter, but everytime he finished a glass, he’d smash it on the ground, watching the fragile glass shatter into pieces.

“I dont have a cat,'' was his only response, tone daring Childe to pursue further. To give him a reason to start throwing the glass in his face instead.

And Childe was an idiot when it came to challenging someone.

“No cat?” The rest of the drink in the taller harbinger’s glass was gone when he threw his head back. “Hmmm, I cant think of what else could’ve had you so enraptured in returning home then~!”

Scaramouche didnt respond, uneven bangs shadowing the bags under his eyes. “Stronger,” he said instead, elbow on the counter and hand outstretched for something. When there was no movement from the man managing the wine, the harbinger looked up. “I need something stronger to drink,” he repeated, voice seething.

“Of c-course!”

The glass was nestled in Scaramouche’s palm in no time, fingers curling around the circular form to down it in seconds. The drink merely slid down his throat in one movement, alcohol burning his senses. It didn’t matter, he was numbed by the growing rage inside of him.

Finally, he turned to the ginger haired boy, eyes hazily dancing along the counter till it reached his fingertips. Up his hand and along his arm, till Scaramouche was staring right into Childe’s eyes. “They escaped,” he admitted softly. “But it’s alright, because I sent something that’ll bring them back.”

Childe paused, raising his drink up away from his lips to pose a question. Hesitation danced along his features before he brought the glass back, he’d rather not provoke the shorter male any further. Wasn’t like he could interfere anyway.

____________________

“That… that…” 

It was preposterous, having returned to that same spot for a day or two and heading back to the hometown you’d once lived in. The one Scaramouche had lived in. There shouldn’t have been an issue, you were solely gathering supplies for the sake of it, ambition driving you to travel far far away.

Out of Inazuma.

It was your new beginning, convincing yourself that you didn't need a vision. Finding some sort of purpose before Scaramouche shattered the vision and your life along with it. You’d seen how people had reacted when it had been ingrained in the statue, neutralized and broken. They lost hope, purpose and aspirations for anything new.

It’s not like the Raiden Shogun took my vision.

But you’d taken that fact for granted, expecting some sort of new start without Scaramouche. A victory, getting away from him just for a split second and getting out of Inazuma altogether, you’d never see him again.

Until you got his message.

“How the hell…” You crushed the note until it was just crumbled paper in your hand, slowly leaning on the stone wall. “Piece of shit… what kind of person even…” 

Not only did he manage to find you, but without making his presence known, he’d tugged at your one weakness with an ease that had you down on your knees.

You threw the paper to the ground, deliberate as you stared past the alleyway. Pensive as you considered your options. Damn, what options did you even have? You’d been an idiot to underestimate Scaramouche, he wasn’t a child, you knew that… but archons he seemed like one when he was with you. Shown you a vulnerability he wanted only you to see. But maybe that had been part of his plan all along, until all you believed was his soft demeanor.

He may act like a child, but he’s a harbinger.

You stared down at the crumbled piece of paper in disgust.

Not only that, but he has no regard for human life.

Either way, you’d lived decades more than him. You could face him, you would present yourself to him just as he expected you to. Even when everything in you rejected the idea, sobbed at the thought of returning to that house, those chains. Being locked up and confined only for the purpose of coddling a small boy, a selfish boy, a cruel boy. 

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

You’d figure out a way, and this time you wouldn’t rule out the option of his death.

———————

Oh darling Y/n, how have you been?

I hope this letter reaches you rather soon, we both have much to discuss, no? About me, about you, and much more. You see, I’ve taken up quite a distaste to your little friends. Stone statues in Inazuma as small as Kitsunes truly hold no purpose, what will they do, come back to life? Haha, I should think not. I’ve already arranged to have them demolished, who knows what kind of material they might possess. Ah, and of course I’d show you the finishing product, unless you’re willing to come and have a chat with me once more? Under the Sakura tree like we used to, you’ve waited years, I believe you can wait for me?

I hope this letter reaches you in best interests. I’m always looking out for you after all.

Sincerely, your Balladeer

——————

It was raining.

Beautiful weather as you lay sitting there, feet crossed and tucked in the same you’d often do. After all, there was no need to fear the vision hunt decree or the Raiden Shogun. Let them come, let them take care of you before Scaramouche did.

You werent cold, not when the cold drops dampened your clothing, slipping down the length of your spine and drenching your face. Despite having lived in a luxury residency for such a long time, this was where you were most comfortable, enduring whatever the weather had for you, taking it with a smile. Because you were waiting…

The Kitsune Saiguu was a distant memory.

You were waiting for Scaramouche, the young boy that often bound into the field in lengthy strides, childlike wonder in his eyes. The one who’d cried when the other kids pushed him away, the one that just wanted to be praised. You’d held him in your arms, and now, even knowing the results, you wouldnt have done differently.

He was just a boy.

Just a boy when he joined the fatui, looking for praise that he was given. He created chaos and bellowed orders with a cruelty that was highly looked upon. Told that he was doing well, so he continued to do so.

He’s just a boy.

You wished you’d held him in your arms, if not only for a tad longer. Shield him away from the wrongness of the world, if only for one last time.

Banishing away your hatred for him was hard.

But you found it under the tree, rain soon dimming down to a clouded cold breeze that swept through the meadow. You’d hated him while stuck in the mansion, but you could now see it from a larger point of view. What he did was wrong of course, but you could remember him so vividly now. His small form giggling, tiny arms around your neck. 

“Play with me!”

Was it your fault?

For not holding him tighter? For trying to rectify his bad doings and teach him what was wrong and right? Maybe if your grip was firmer, if you’d spoken to him about the warmth he’d given you that day when playing cards...

“Lazy ass.”

Burying down that pile of worry and insecurities, you took a deep breath in to relax. The edge of your lip perked up, only slightly. “Still terrible with your social skills arent you?”

Slowly securing a dry space under the three with you, Scaramouche sat down. His features were the same ones you’d grown accustomed to at his mansion. Rich clothes, sharp eyes, and the baby face that refused to go away. His movements were soft as he pulled out a deck of cards. The two of you didnt speak as he distributed them between you both. It was tense… no, it felt too much like the warmth form long ago to be tense. You only wished the situation to be different.

“I love you.”

But you could only offer a bitter smile to his words. “I love my vision,” you replied. “I love the Kitsune Saiguu, and I love my friends.”

His touch was gentle when his fingers came to gently cradle your cheek. Holding your face dearly as he peered into your eyes, his were soft. Different from the cruelty he held within, the hatred that burned and destruction that seeked to explode.

You saw a little boy.

Your hand came to press his hand further against your cheek, till you slid his palm to your lips. He appeared so calm when you pressed the first kiss, lips tracing the lines along his palm with all the care in the world.

But you needed to change your view, see him as the man he now was. As the man he had become.

“I love you,” he repeated, and you let go of his hand. It fell limp by his side, cards all but forgotten. There was a much more pressing matter at hand, because you truly needed to see him as he was.

It was necessary if you planned to kill him.

[hoffkk]

The Best is Yet to Come

A Brightwell Fanfic

Story By: @hoffkk

Prompt: Gimme a starting question, and I’ll give you a brightwell fic that ends with a kiss!

Question: What do you think I’m doing here? from @officerparker

Summary:  When Malcolm and Dani become engaged, his mother gets a little overzealous with the wedding planning. The couple is grateful but also annoyed and at a loss. How does one stop Hurricane Jessica?

**********

"Mother, what are you doing here?" Malcolm asked curiously. He wasn't expecting her arrival this morning, yet here she was just letting herself right into his apartment as classy and sassy as ever.

"What do you think I'm doing here?" Jessica retorted exasperatedly. Not waiting for a response, she quickly added, "I'm here to plan the wedding of course."

Sitting at the counter next to Dani drinking coffee, he shared a confused look with his new fiancée then flicked his gaze back to his mother and replied, "We literally just got engaged two days ago."

"Exactly. We're all ready a full day behind," She noted, moving forward with her designer handbag in one hand and a large paper shopping bag in the other. "and if this is going to be the event of the season, we must begin preparations as soon as possible. Speaking of... what season were you two thinking of getting married in?"

"We haven't really gotten that far." Dani told her.

"Oh, no matter, we should really pick the location first and then see what they have open over the next year," Jessica said with a wave of the hand. "which reminds me, I took the liberty of making a few calls yesterday to the trendiest wedding venues in the city and..." She continued to rant as she walked off toward the living room to put down her bags and get out her phone. Malcolm rolled his eyes then mouthed "Sorry" to Dani who just smirked and gestured with her head to follow. Heading down the hall with their coffee, they all sat down on the couch as Jessica looked at the notes on her cell and listed off the venues she had called and the dates available. After much discussion, they settled on the Tribeca Rooftop. It had the wow factor that Jessica wanted, and Dani liked the idea of an outdoor wedding, especially after looking at the pictures of the location in a wedding magazine that Jessica had brought with her. As for Malcolm, he was happy as long as both of the women were happy. With this decision made, his mother made a call to book the location. Next, Jessica grabbed the shopping bag she had brought and pulled out a fancy white board with white ribbons stretched across it, creating an elegant diamond pattern.

"This is the wedding vision board." She smiled as she handed it over to Dani.

"Vision board?" Dani queried with a quirk of the brow as she passed the magazine to Malcolm and took the board.

"Every time we make a decision, we add it to the board under one of the ribbons to create the perfect vision of the perfect wedding." Pausing a moment, Jessica grabbed the wedding magazine from Malcolm and her scissors from her purse. Then, after some tearing and cutting, she slid a small picture of the rooftop between two ribbons in the center of the board. "There. Brilliant." She went on, admiring her handiwork. "Now, let's talk about color scheme." The discussion went on for a couple hours as they talked colors, flowers, and food. The latter brought up the question of the head count for the wedding. When his mom was talking about inviting over 300 people, Malcolm knew he had to put an end to her madness but didn't know how. Then, like a miracle from heaven, his phone rang. Hastily pulling it from his pocket, he answered after the first ring, "Hey, Gil. Good to hear from you, buddy. What's up? A case? Uh huh, of course. We'll be right there. Bye."

"Malcolm, you can't leave now." His mother grumbled unhappily.

"If there's a case, we don't have a choice." Dani told her. "Don't worry, we will finish this conversation later."

"We better. The wedding is in 8 months, and we've got a lot of work to do." Jessica told them.

"Right. Why don't you head home and work on the guest list then? You make your own, and we will make our own, then we can cross reference them later this week." Malcolm suggested.

"Fine." Jessica huffed. "I suppose that will work. Oh, and I want to make an appointment at Kleinfeld 's Bridal, so you need to decide on the wedding party ASAP, okay?"

"Will do." Malcolm nodded.

"All right, go do whatever it is you guys do to get ready for work. I'll show myself out." Then, grabbing her purse, she gave a wave and an air kiss then called out, "Ta-ta for now, my darlings."

The couple stood and returned Jessica's goodbye as they watched her head back to the front of the apartment and out the front door. Once the door shut behind his mother, Malcolm sank back down to the sofa and breathed a sigh of relief, "Oh, thank god."

"What are you doing? We have to get going." Dani said crossing her arms and staring down at her fiancé as he ran his hands through his hair and leaned back.

Resting his feet on the coffee table, he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, willing away a small headache that was beginning to form. After second, he replied casually, "No, we don't. That was just Ainsley."

"What?" Dani questioned, feeling puzzled.

"I lied to get my mom to leave." He explained.

"Wow. Thats..." She trailed off, coming to sit beside him before finishing. "one of the sweetest things you've ever done. Thank you."

Malcolm felt her warm lips against his cheek and suddenly felt much better. Opening his eyes and dropping his hand, he inquired, "So, you're not mad."

"No." Dani assured. "Don't get me wrong, your mom was being very helpful, but she was also a little..."

"Intense? Neurotic?" He suggested.

With a smirk, she shook her head at him then amended, "I was gonna say overwhelming."

"Yeah, well, Jessica Whitly is nothing if not a planner, all the way down to the very last detail." Malcolm assured. "And when she sinks her perfectly manicured claws into a project, she really gets into it, especially if it involves me."

"Clearly." Dani retorted, staring at the nearby upholstered chair that currently displayed their vision board which was exploding with magazine clippings now. "I mean, knew wedding's were a lot, but Whitly weddings are A LOT a lot."

"Don't worry, I'll talk to her." He told her as he moved his feet back to the floor and threaded their fingers together."I'll tell her to back off and let us make the decisions. In fact, just say the word, and I can tell her we changed our minds about everything we decided today."

"No. Don't do that." She tossed back. "I like our plans."

"Really?" Malcolm challenged skeptically. "Because I know you, Dani Powell, and grand events aren't exactly your style. You can't really want a fancy rooftop wedding with over 300 people."

"The concept isn't terrible." Dani replied vaguely, not wanting to admit that he was right. "Besides, it made your mom so happy when I agreed with her suggestions."

"But this wedding isn't about her." He argued. "It's about us."

"I know." She nodded, pulling his hand into her lap and sandwiching it between her own. "But I also know your mom has been through hell ever since your dad's arrest twenty years ago and deserves to finally have something good to celebrate. You all do. So, let her plan her heart out and create an amazing celebration as big as she wants. She'll be happy, and it'll make everything much easier for us in the long run."

Malcolm looked into her warm brown eyes and smiled at how incredible she was. He never thought about the wedding that way, but Dani, as usual, was right. Happy occasions were in much shorter supply for the Whitly family than most. They had been since he was ten. So, now that these joyful moments were coming around more often, they owed it to themselves to make the most of them. Needing to be certain about her stance on this though, he asked in confirmation, "Are you sure?"

"Positive." Dani smiled back. "Honestly, this may not be the wedding I always pictured, but there is only one detail that really matters to me."

"What's that?" Malcolm questioned with a tilt of the head, trying to read her expression.

"You, waiting for me at the end of the aisle." She smiled affectionately, meaning every word. It was true. Jessica could do whatever she wanted... release 1,000 doves, dress her like a cupcake, invite all of New York City... it didn't matter. As long as the end game was marrying Malcolm, she'd be happy, truly, blissfully happy.

"Done." He beamed with pleasure before closing the gap between them and kissing her slowly and deeply to seal the promise.

Dani responded in kind, cupping the side of his face with her free hand. After a long moment, she pulled back and stared into his sapphire gaze as she stroked his cheek tenderly with her thumb. Not wanting the moment to end, Dani bit her lip then said, "You know, we should probably do that again... as practice for the big day."

With a cheeky grin Malcolm countered, "Or we could practice for the big night."

Her smile widened and amusement lit her eyes as she replied, "We could do that."

Without hesitation, Malcolm moved in one quick fluid motion, lifting Dani from the couch bridal style. She squealed in surprise and giggled in delight as he headed down the hall and across the threshold of the bedroom. If being engaged was this wonderful, Dani couldn't wait to be married. Starting a life with Malcolm was definitely going to be the best thing that ever happened to her. Yes, the best was definitely yet to come.

[blahblahwritings]

When It Rains, It Pours.

A/N: Heres to pumping out bad writing to try and resuccitate the writer inside. This didn’t turn out how I wanted it to because the evidence points aren't really explained but whatever its getting late and I'm too tired to care. 

Words: 2103.

Warnings: Well its a criminal minds fic so murder mentions, drownings, abuse mentions, kidnapping the usual.

The past few weeks had been exhausting for the BAU team, with back to back cases they rarely had time away. Their current case involved an unsub who was drowning women in their 30s one a day for the past three days. With Spencer by your side, you made your way to the medical examiner to look at the bodies for further analysis.

The abrasions around the victims wrists and ankles showed they had been restrained with rope and struggled against the binds. There were scrapes and scratches on the heels that had pieces of concrete embedded into the skin meaning that they were kept somewhere possibly underground in an old abandoned building or factory or even in someone’s basement. Reid, your husband, continued examining the body of the third, most recent, victim as you read over the reports.

“It says here they were drowned and that their lungs contained traces of common fertilisers and pesticides. So we’re looking at a rogue farmer?” Your eyebrows furrowed slightly in question. You glanced out the window, the rain streaming down the panes of glass just as heavy as it had been the past few days.

“Most likely. Given the geographical profile of where the women were last seen and where their bodies were found there are three hundred and twelve point six square meters of farmland but the problem is pinpointing which area the unsub is working in because the fertilisers are so commonly used.” He replied without breaking focus from the body in front of him. A small smile found its way to your face, his knowledge always impressing you.

“Okay, Sherlock, so what are you thinking?” You asked, putting down the report and moving towards the table. He stood to his full height, turning to you with tired eyes. “That we should call Garcia, I’ll tell her what to search for and hopefully she can give us a lead.” He almost managed to finish his sentence without a yawn. Almost. “Well you can do that in the car, you look drained, I’ll drive.” You kissed his cheek as you took the keys from him, intertwining your fingers and guiding him through the office until you reached the exit.

-

The team were taking shifts, Reid, Rossi and Kate were asleep in the hotel around the corner from the precinct while Hotch, Morgan, JJ and yourself worked on the case. You had dropped Reid off before driving through the storm to get a round of coffee to bring back to the rest of the team, your own tiredness starting to set deep into your bones. It was 11:30pm and the white noise of rain wasn’t doing anything for your sleepy state but the promise off coffee kept you from turning around and going straight back to the hotel for some much needed Zs.

You parked up outside the first 24hour coffee place you saw, ordering four of the strongest drinks they had. The lights were blinding in comparison to the streetlights outside but you stood, patiently waiting for your order. The only other customers were what looked to be two construction workers in hi-vis jackets, probably form the road works a little while back. They sat at a table in the corner, almost asleep until the guy at the counter shouted their order, causing them to startle awake. A few minutes passed and your order was called. Collecting the cup holder you jogged back to your car, opening the passenger-side door and setting them down on the seat.

As you started to walk to the drivers side, you shot a text to JJ telling her you’d be about five minutes, getting soaked in the process. Rounding the back of the car you bumped into a man, dropping your phone. Alarms sounded in your head, every muscle kicking into action as you took several steps back, a guarded look on your features. He was in his forties, well-built and had at least a foot on you with a face like clay, pushed and pulled and contorted. His boots were covered in mud and his jeans had dirt on the knees. Your phone was behind him. Your gun in the car.

Three strides and he was on you. As you opened your mouth to scream, he covered your mouth with a cloth, the sound muffling and the pungent smell of chloroform filling your nose. You held your breath and tried to fight, flinging elbows and feet behind you in a futile attempt to break free. Your last thought as you started to go limp was Spencer. Then it was dark.

-

It had been over an hour since JJ received the text from you. After her calls kept going to answer phone, Morgan had left with Hotch to try and find your car, tracking the GPS location of the vehicle to the parking lot you’d been taken in. JJ rang Reid once they had confirmed you were missing with your phone found smashed near your unlocked car. By the time he and the others arrived at the station, Morgan and Hotch had sent the security camera footage to the precinct. Spencer stood staring at the screen, fear manifesting in every fibre of his being as the only image was of your struggle against a man clearly much larger than you then your body drooping as you passed out. His vision blurred, his mind somehow coming to a standstill, unable to move or breathe.

“Spence.. Reid” JJ shook him gently. He didn’t flinch, instead turned slowly to his friend with tears in his eyes, hair messy from his hands running through it over and over. “We’re gonna find her, I promise.” But the words didn’t seem to process in the genius’ mind. Right now, all he could think about was the slim chance that you’d get out of this alive. His jaw clenched, a look of anger took over his usually soft features before he started working on the case again. He wouldn’t let you die like this, he refused. He needed you by his side and he would stop at nothing to ensure your safe return.

-

The first thing you felt was the sting of your feet being scraped against the floor, then the ache in your arms and shoulders as you realised you were being dragged by the rope binding your wrists down dark, cold hallway. You were still groggy from being drugged and couldn’t bring yourself to fight against the unsub but you tried your best, pulling at the binds. Your kidnapper grunted in response, the attempts not concerning him in the slightest. He picked you up, lying you in something cold and smooth then tying you down so you couldn’t escape. You shook yourself further awake.

“Who are you and why are you doing this.” You mumbled, the words tumbling carelessly from your lips. No response. A calloused hand found its way to your face, his thumb rubbed against your cheekbone and a whimper was heard from beside you. “What’s wrong?” You tried showing sympathy but still got nothing in return. The room was pitch black and you could only make out his silhouette. He stood, walking somewhere out of sight before you heard a door shut and lock. Your head lay back against the hard material behind you, arms hanging above and your legs folded over some kind of edge. You felt anything you could get your hands on and found you were tied to a thin pipe of some sort but nothing really became any clearer.  

A loud metallic clang sounded above you and freezing water rained down on you, soaking your already damp clothes. The light from the opening revealed you were lying in a bathtub, hands by the taps and your legs bound so you couldn’t move. You jumped at the sudden drop in temperature. Panic rose in you and you started thrashing around but to no avail. You were trapped. The only spark of hope was that the team would find you. That Spence would find you.

-

“Okay so I analysed the footage and ran it through different software and it looks as though our unsub is about 6’4” and built like a bull but thats all I can find.” Garcia’s voice rang out through the tinny speakers of the phone.

“Alright babygirl, I’m gonna need you to look for men in their mid thirties to forties who possibly works on a farm or lived on one as a kid.” Morgan began. “Yeah that’s only the entire population of the town you’re in, c’mon I need more than that.” She quipped.

“Crosscheck that with a history of violence against women or a history of abuse during childhood, the victims are a surrogate for a woman in his past possibly a parental figure as they all share similar physical attributes.” Spencer added, his brain spitting out words quicker than Garcia could really process. Rapid typing could be heard on the other end of the phone a moment after.

“Oh good doctor you are brilliant, there are two men who fit the criteria and live in the comfort zone, one being Mr. James Bailor, a 38 year old farmer who has been arrested on three accounts of domestic violence against his wife. He lives on the farm, recently ordered a batch of the same fertiliser found in the victims’ lungs and lived on a farm with his aunt at the age of eight due to abuse from his parents.” She explained before continuing. “The other is Mr. Grant O’Connor, a 43 year old farmer with a long list of felonies consisting almost entirely of beating on women and drug use. His mother died a week ago but he was taken into care at a young age because… oh my god… she tried to drown him in a tub when he was just six years old claiming his birth defects were ‘against god’ and he should be ‘cleansed and sent straight back to hell’.” She finished breathless, their backgrounds clearly upsetting her.

“Thats him. Thats our unsub.” Reid declared, grabbing his gun from the table as he stood. “Whats his address?” He asked, shaking with too many emotions to count. There were two, one being his current home and the other being the farm his mother used to live in. The team leapt into action, speeding off to the latter address.

-

The water had reached your chin, the shivering long subsided as hypothermia took over your body. You couldn’t remember when you had begun to sob, the hot tears a sharp contrast against the coldness of your skin. “PLEASE.” You wept, hopeless. “Just let me out.” Your voice broke. Exhaustion had washed over your body a long time ago, the lack of sleep, the drugs and the cold all beating you down and preventing you from fighting with any real strength.

The water continued to rise and as it reached your nose you flailed about in the water, managing to get very little air. Then the unsub came in, wrapping his hands around your throat and pushing you down into the water as you fought. A loud siren pierced the noise of the room, startling the unsub but he kept you under. You held your breath for as long as possible but you could only do so much. The door to the room burst open, slamming against the wall, muted voices shouted but your world started to fade, your hearing going too.

A shot rang out and the water turned red. You kicked your legs and felt someone cut the ropes at your wrists free, pulling your top half out of the water. Coughing up the water you’d taken in, you gasped and clawed at the body lifting you out of the water, horrified cries the only thing left to leave your mouth. Two arms wrapped around your torso which you quickly identified as Spencer’s.

“Sh sh shhh. You’re alright, I’ve got you, love, you’re safe.” He cooed, trying to calm you down as well as himself. You curled into him, sobs wracking your body as you gripped onto his shirt. You thought that you’d die here, never to see him again, never to see your friends or family. The horror and anxiety snapped your chest in two, breathing becoming even more difficult as you broke down in his arms.

“I’m never letting you out of my sight again, I love you so much, I’m so sorry. It’s okay now. It’s okay.. It’s okay…” His voice broke as he too cried, repeating those two words as you rocked back and forth.

[toomuchponytail]

Continuation of 14:

So, I know no one asked for this, (If you want to feel free to request! I know I’m a trash-prompter but I can only improve)but I was feeling inspired, so here is a continuation of the antagonist and the government agents. Also I’m using he/him pronouns because thats what it felt like to me, but substitute whatever it’s your prompt, I am merely the trash-goblin shouting things from the gutters. 

The antagonist laughed when the leader walked away grumbling despite the pain it caused them.

Two minutes left. They hoped that the hero stayed away. 

The agents were getting antsy, the antagonist could admit that he was feeling the same. He’d long since given up on trying to loosen his binds, he’d only succeeded in making his wrists bleed. 

Even as the clock attached to the explosives counted down, beeping loudly too close to his ears, he still found himself hoping that his nemesis would stay away. The trap that the government agents had set was pretty foolproof, a heat seeking biochemical restraint goo-like substance that would render the hero immobile before he even knew that some other antagonist wasn’t behind this, and the pure hearted golden-boy idiot would never even see it coming, he’d be far too focused on trying to diffuse the explosives. They’d rigged the game, and even the antagonist knew that not only was that not fair, it also was impossible for anyone to win a rigged game, least of all the ones who rigged it. 

The antagonist found himself growing more desperate as the clock entered the final minute, he kept glancing over at the screen the agents were watching, as it scanned the sky for some hint of hero, but so far, there wasn’t one. The adrenaline keeping him going was wearing thin, he was shaking, the shaking jostled his battered body reminding him how bad of shape he was in. The restraints were putting pressure on his broken wrist, the tightness in the ropes made every panting breath agony. 

It didn’t matter. 

It was the last time he’d be hurt, and, in some ways he was grateful for that, it was so easy to get tired of the constant rushing, trying to think or fight someway out of a desperate situation, the antagonist let their head droop, it was nice to not have to fight anymore. He let his eyes slip closed, he had to admit to himself that the best way to be blown to smithereens was to be already unconscious, and despite the beeping he thought he could get there. 

The agents retreated behind heavily reinforced glass, still watching, still monitoring, but safe,  four agents in full body protection armed with heavy duty stun rods came out to stand closer to the antagonist, they were readying for a last minute snatch-and-grab.  

At about forty seconds he realized that the leader was approaching him again, smoking, but the keen eyed antagonist noticed a tremble in his hands, good,he thought smugly let him be afraid. The antagonist raised his head, defiance, always defiance in his dark and tired eyes. 

“Give up?” 

“R-ready to lose?” The antagonist spat, “I told you he’ll never come here,” he wanted to say more, but he didn’t trust his voice to not fade in his weakness, and he wouldn’t give the leader the satisfaction of witnessing that. 

“Eh,” the leader made a point of looking at his watch, “I think I’ll decide if we lost,” he crushed the cigarette under his shoe, “Last words?” 

“Y-you’ll ne-never ffind pe-peace,” the antagonist rasped, as his last moments trickled through his fingers like water flowing through a stream he realized the edges of his world were going soft, his vision refused to focus, “A-ah-always, running,” his body suddenly jolted with white-hot blinding pain as one of the stun canes met his damaged side, he let out a strangled cry and went limp. 

“What do you know about peace!?” The leader screamed at the unresponsive antagonist, he threw the cane down and turned to go back to the blast shielding, only to realize that of the four heavy guards who were standing with him outside the blast shield, only one was still standing, stun cane, poised in hand. 

The leader looked up at the other agents in confusion, to find them frantically rushing around, banging on and screaming at him through the thick glass, he couldn’t hear a thing. He glanced down at his walkie the cord was neatly clipped rendering it useless. This entire journey of confusion took less than a second, he realized what exactly he’d done when the stun cane met his mid-section, throwing his body into spasms, as he shouted and then collapsed. The guard removed their helmet revealing a face that the antagonist would recognize, it was the hero. 

“Now,” the hero whispered softly to themselves, a slight tremor in their voice, “I just have to diffuse this explosive, easy-peasy, no problemo, right?” 

Fifteen seconds left. 

“oh shit,” the hero pried off the security panel, revealing the wires and gizmos that was going to set this thing off, he realized with growing alarm that this wasn’t the plan that the agents normally used, this was totally new and he had no idea how to diffuse it. Normally in these cases the hero would call on the one person they knew would come through for them in a pinch all differing opinions aside, the person who always knew how to pick a certain lock, solve an impossible puzzle, or, even, diffuse a new explosive. However, both fortunately and unfortunately that person was already here, strapped to the explosive and unresponsive. The antagonist. 

Ten seconds. 

The hero went over to the antagonist and lifted their head, “h-hey buddy, wake up! I need you!” the hero gently slapped the antagonist across his bruised cheek, “Please, I-I can’t diffuse the explosive!” He hit him again, harder this time, panic growing hot in the pit of his stomach, it had taken him too long to get here! Now the antagonist was going to die either way. 

“Hey idiot!” The hero shouted as loudly as they could, tears of desperation in their eyes as they cupped the antagonist’s head in their hands, “What do I do!?” 

The antagonist mumbled something unintelligible. 

“What!?” 

“G-green w-wire, th-then bl-blue,” the antagonist rasped weakly.

The hero didn’t even know if the antagonist knew what was going on, let alone if the information was correct, but they didn’t have time to lose in careful contemplation. They got to the panel and ripped the green wire out of the mechanism followed closely by the blue wire, and then reflexively, and uselessly, covered their ears. 

For a moment nothing happened, the hero didn’t dare breathe, but then, when they risked a glance at the counter, it was frozen on the three second mark. The hero let out an enormous sigh of relief. 

“Woo-hoo,” they whispered to themselves, cutting it way too close for comfort here yet again.

The antagonist whimpered, breaking the hero out of their happy-to-be-alive thoughts, they returned to where their nemesis was restrained, now that the panic of saving them was fading they realized how bad off they were. Their face was mottled with ugly black bruises, they were bleeding from their mouth and nose, the hero would have to get a look at the rest of them too, but judging by the blood half-dried onto their wrinkled suit it didn’t look like the rest of them would be much better. 

“Okay buddy,” the hero said gently, “Lets get you out of here,” the hero risked a glance at the other trapped government agents who were mostly still scrambling behind the blast shield as they reached up to cut the antagonist’s binds. They hoped that the antagonist was too far out of it to feel the jostling as the hero could see that it must be agony for them, if they’d had the time the hero would like to put the agents in a jail cell, even if they’d get out again. They lifted the antagonist as gently as possible, apologizing as the antagonist groaned at the movement. They had only managed to get a few steps when something hit them, with enough force to almost knock them over. The hero started to pick up speed, glancing behind them, one of the agents with the stun guns had gotten to their feet and was holding a remote. Something hit the hero again, they found that their limbs started feeling heavier, they tried to push through it, stumbling, nearly dropping the antagonist, feeling their brain begin to slow and go almost numb. They were almost there! They could see the get-away car, but they were dizzy, they were hit again with whatever it was. They fell to their knees, breathing heavily, the antagonist rolled from their arms as they collapsed. 

“Sorry,” they mumbled to the antagonist as the darkness enveloped them, I’m so...so...so-sorry....” 

[fallout4reactsblog]

companions react to ss being in the red room before the war, and thats why their so good at fighting, killing, seducing people, etc

Companions are just realizing their crush for sole in this one! Warnings: depictions of violence, drug use

Cait: Cait watched sole disable the last of the collars keeping civilians as raider slaves. She allowed herself the briefest smile as families tearfully reunited and sole humbly waved off praise, only letting the barest hint of a smile show through on their face. As soon as they could get away, they picked their way over to her side, leaning up against the building with their arms folded.

“Thanks for doin’ this,” Cait said, giving them a gentle punch to the shoulder. “I know it was a hassle, but I do appreciate you doin’ this stuff for me.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it. Slavers are dicks. Anytime I can get a chance to hurt them, I will.” Their eyes trailed over the civilians making their way out of the camp and toward wherever home was. “Besides, it’s a little bit for me, too.”

“Oh?” Cait raised an eyebrow, waiting for them to continue, and to her surprise, they did.

“I guess it was a long time ago, but I was in cryo for most of that, so I don’t remember. So it feels like a couple months. But I remember what it was like to be at someone’s beck and call. No freedom, no will of your own, just doing what you were told.”

“Were there slaves before the war?”

They laughed a little. “Not legal ones, no. But there were people that would take civilians and train them in a place called the red room, teach them to become something other than human. Fighters, spies, torturers. They’d beat you until you learned, then either kill you or beat you some more. Then, once you graduated, you were always under your handlers command.”

Cait was smart enough to put two and two together. “And that was you.”

They nodded. “That was me, and I fucking hated it. The skills are great to have now, but constantly having to do everything my handler told me to, well, that was pretty damn miserable.”

“I always knew you’d seen some shite,” she said, leaning her head back against the wall. “Guess I was right.”

“Guess you were. Makes us two peas in a pod, huh?”

“Sure,” she snorted. “Two peas in a pod, whatever that means.”

“Come on.” They shoved off the wall and stepped into the sun. “Let’s get out of here. No sense in dredging up nasty memories for no reason.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

They headed into the sun.

Curie: “You have a lot of scars, cheri(e),” Curie noted as she patched up the latest of sole’s wounds. Her fingers trailed one without meaning to, and she quickly snatched her hand away in embarrassment.

Thankfully, sole didn’t seem to notice, as they just nodded. “The wasteland’s a pretty dangerous place. You get hurt a lot.”

Curie hummed a little, trying to focus in on the bandages that she was supposedly applying, but getting a little too distracted by their naked back to pay as much attention as she should. “Oui, this is true. But some of these are very old, non? They are from before the war, I think.”

They nodded again, letting out a long breath. “I suppose that’s also true. Life wasn’t much safer for me before the war, I guess.”

“Oh, why not?” She reached for a bit of tape to hold the bandages in place. “I did not think things were very dangerous before the war, but then again, I was just a small robot in a lab. My view of things was probably not the best.”

“Yeah?” They laughed a little. “I guess not. You were probably pretty protected, huh?”

“Oh, yes. The only news that I knew was whatever my fellow scientists were talking about. Otherwise, I would not have even known there was a war. “

“Yeah, things were a little different for me, I guess.” Their fingers drummed against the counter they were perched on. “In all the news you ever got, did you ever hear of something called a red room?”

“Oui, I did. There was a lot of talk about the police finding one not far from where I worked. We followed the story of them arresting everyone and the trials for months. I was very happy. All that talk about the violence and horrible things happening made me very unhappy. It was hard to work.”

They chuckled again, shoulders shaking. “That’s funny. I think that one was the one that I went through.”

Curie’s hands stilled, falling flat against sole’s skin. “You experienced one of these awful places? Cheri(e), tell me it isn’t so.”

“But I did,” they said with a shrug. “Believe me, I was as excited as you to see that hellhole get shut down. Watching them try my handler was the best thing I’ve ever seen, especially the look on that asshole’s face when they sent him away for life.”

“Mon dieu.” Curie moved around the counter to stand in front of them and take their hands. “I am so sorry. You must have seen such awful things.”

“Of course. But going through all those things is what makes it possible to stay alive out here. So, I guess, in a way, I owe them.”

“Absolutely not. You do not owe those horrible people anything.” She cupped their face in her hands. “You would have made it just fine on your own. You are very strong and very smart.”

“Thanks, Curie.” They were a little muffled, due to the squished nature of their face, but their smile was genuine.

“Of course. Now, let me finish patching you up.”

She slid back around the counter as sole whined, “How long does it take?”

“A while, if you want it done well.” She reached for another roll of bandages. “If you would take care of yourself, and not try to fight so many Deathclaws, this would not happen.”

“I know, I know.” But they were laughing, and so was she, and everything was good.

Danse: He supposed that one of the things that made him and sole such good partners was their tendency to have nightmares. 

They shot up in bed across the room, panting heavily, eyes unfocused as they looked around. Slowly, he waved from his position keeping watch at the window, and when their face snapped to him, he saw fear clouding their vision.

“You with me, soldier?”

Their head shook, fingers curling around their wrist, nails digging into their skin. “I’m- I’m not-”

“It’s alright. You’re safe here.” He slid off the stool. “I’m going to walk toward you. Try to count the steps I’m taking. I’ll take it slow.”

His foot hit the floor, and they softly whispered, “One,” eyes locked on his shoes. They counted the steps as he eased toward them.

“Is it alright to touch you?” He knew from experience that contact wasn’t always the way. Rhys had punched him more times than he could count, just from the surprise, but sole slowly nodded. His fingers found theirs, and he pulled their hand away from their wrist. Gently, he pushed their holotags into their palm, and the other hand rubbed away the angry red crescents in their skin.

“Wherever you were, it’s alright. You aren’t there anymore. Can you tell me where we are?”

They nodded, and their voice shook a little as they spoke. “We set up camp in an abandoned drugstore. You offered to take first watch, said you couldn’t sleep anyway. I didn’t argue; I was tired. It was a long day.”

“It was.”

He stayed there, sitting across from them for a minute, watching them come back to the present. Their hand dropped from their holotags, and they slowly relaxed.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked once they seemed to be with him again.

They sighed heavily and nodded, fingers curling into the bedroll. “Do you know what a red room is?”

“I’m familiar with the concept. A room of training through torture. They’re highly frowned upon here.”

“Well, that’s nice to hear, at least.” Their eyes darted around the room, eventually settling on tracing the pattern in the floorboards. “I went through one, back before the war. It’s where I learned to fight. I guess it kinda messed me up.”

“Anyone would be emotionally scarred by that experience. It wasn’t your fault.”

They sighed again, then nodded hesitantly. “Yeah, I suppose.”

Silence stretched between them. He gently rubbed the redness away from their skin, trying to soothe the marks they’d made. He wasn’t quite sure when to stop, but they told him by pulling away and standing up.

“Here, you should try to sleep. I’ll take watch.”

“Are you certain?” He watched them settle on the stool he’d pulled up by the window. “I can stay up a while longer.”

“No, I mean it. Try to sleep.” They smiled, a little weakly. “It’s gonna be another big day tomorrow.”

“If you’re sure you’re alright.”

“I promise.”

He nodded and settled into the still-warm bedroll, mind spinning with this new information. He couldn’t imagine the things they must have seen, or even the things they must have done.

“Go to sleep, sir.” They seemed to read his mind. “I’ll wake you if I need you.”

He took their advice.

Deacon: Deacon liked the way the new agent worked, he decided as he sat back in his chair. He watched their leg gently press against a mark in the Dugout Inn, listened to them laugh at some joke the target had made. Their seduction techniques were beyond any he’d ever seen. They made it look so easy, even he found himself believing the attraction was genuine for a moment.

Their eyes left their target only for a moment, and they spared him a wink and a smile before returning to the Brotherhood Knight on their left, whose words were just beginning to slur together. They motioned to Vadim for another drink, and a certain change in their demeanor let Deacon know that they were about to get down to business.

Ten minutes later, when the information had been retrieved and the Knight was tucked into a bed, courtesy of sole, Deacon found them side-by-side as they stepped out into the rainy Diamond City air.

“How do you do that?” He asked, not trying to hide his grin as he gently nudged their shoulder.

“Do what?” They playfully nudged him back, just hard enough for him to stumble a bit.

“Handle those missions like you do.” He darted back to their side, shoulder hitting theirs hard enough to nearly make them stumble into a building. “You make it look so easy.”

“Secrets I learned before the war. You get to be an old-timer like me, you pick up a few things.” They practically ran at him to shove him, smile shimmering under the lights, and he was the first to hit the wall. “I didn’t go through the red room and come out with nothing to show for it.”

That was enough to make him pause their bout of roughhousing. “Sole, you went through a red room?”

They blinked twice, seemingly caught off guard by what they’d just said, then plastered a too-tight grin on. “Sure did. Terrible vacation, that was. Food was bad, hotel was bad, customer service sucked as well. One star because at least it was educational.”

Deacon was a liar. He knew that, and he also knew that it was his coping mechanism to deal with everything that had happened. In this moment, sole was not being a very good liar, but they sure were trying to deal with what they’d been through. So he wrapped an arm around their shoulder and laughed at their joke, and after a moment, they did, too, though a little uncertainly at first.

“Come on,” he finally said, pulling them back toward the exit to Diamond City. “Let’s get out of here and give Des the information you just expertly pulled out of that girl.”

They chuckled again, leaning into his side a little more to wrap an arm around his waist. “She’ll be happy we were so efficient.”

“She’ll be happy you were so efficient.” His other hand reached up to gently tap their nose. “All I did was watch.”

“You were…” they struggled for the words. “Moral support.”

“Sure, moral support.”

Gently, he squeezed their shoulders, and the two of them headed for home.

Gage: Gage liked a lot of things about his new boss. He liked the way they fought, he liked the way their ass looked in their jeans, and he liked that they certainly weren’t Colter. Mostly, though, he liked the way they got shit done.

A sickening crunch echoed through the streets as a traitor’s face met the pavement. They yanked the attached head up by the hair, snarling into terrified eyes.

“Where the fuck are the supplies, Davies?”

Davies looked like he was probably going to shit himself, but he shook his head in their grip. “I don’t know anything- I-”

Sole interrupted him with another slam against the road. This time they let him stay, grinding his broken nose into the ground, pulling a muffled scream from his limp body. “You know who you were working for, you piece of shit. Start talking.”

Muffled words were swallowed by the ground, and they dragged him up by the hair once again.

“All I did was do what Char told me to do. I swear, that’s all I know, please, she said she’d kill me if I didn’t do it. Please.”

“Oh, Davies.” Their lips curled into a sneer. “Did you really think Char could fuck you up worse than me?”

“No,” he whimpered. “Please, Overboss…”

They shook their head and gestured to a raider nearby. “Get this dumbass on a pike, and bring me Char.”

Davies’s screams and begs for mercy echoed off the building and fell on deaf ears. Sole stood up and wiped their hands on their jeans.

“Nice work, boss.” Gage offered them a can of water, which they plucked from his hands. “I think a lot of the people around here could stand to learn somethin’ from you.”

They snorted and handed the water back. “We could make our own red room here, if we really wanted. Make a whole new line of raiders. Nobody would dare fuck with us, then.”

Gage didn’t quite want to ask, but curiosity was burning him up from the inside out, and eventually he just couldn’t hold it in. “A red room?”

“Yeah, you know. A place for training. You take a bunch of people, put them in isolation, make them learn to be killers and spies and beat the shit out of them or kill them if they don’t succeed.” They eyed his undoubtedly quizzical look. “Do those not exist anymore?”

“Don’t think so.”

“Well, maybe they should.” They kicked some dirt over the spot of blood Davies’s face had made on the ground. “After all, I learned everything I know from a red room.”

“You’re a badass, boss, there’s no denying.”

They grinned at him, and opened their mouth to say more, but Char’s voice cut them off. 

“What the fuck is going on here? Why do I have to see the Overboss?”

Their grin widened into something far more unpleasant, and Gage settled back to watch them work, contemplating how to set up one of these “red rooms” for the boss. It’d make a nice present for them.

Char’s shriek echoed off the buildings as the Overboss’s ball bat connected with her knee.

Plus, it might keep him on their good side for just a little while longer.

Hancock: He sank back into the couch cushions, watching the colors begin to spin along the ceiling. Sole sank in beside him, head dropping back against his arm, and they let out a contented sigh that he could just barely hear over the song playing from the radio. He loved to get high with sole.

“‘S a good batch,” he mumbled, and reached up to gently run his fingers through their hair, soft strands tickling his skin even more than usual.

“You hear that?” they asked in reply, sitting up again. He whined a little at the sudden lack of warmth against his side.

“What, the radio?”

“No, that- that-” They stumbled to the window, pushing it open. Cold air rushed into the room, and Hancock whined again.

“That what?”

“That screaming. It’s getting louder.” Their now-yellow eyes darted around the room, and they reached over to shut off the radio. The world went quiet around him.

“I don’t hear anything.”

Their hands reached for their ears. “How do you not hear that?” they shouted, making him jump and land unceremoniously in the floor. “God, it sounds like-”

They froze, eyes on the door. He looked over, seeing nothing, but sole looked like they’d seen a ghost. Fingers still curled around their ears, they whispered, “Alex?”

“Hey.” He crawled across the floor to wave a hand in front of their eyes. “Hey, there’s no one there.”

“I’m sorry,” they whimpered, tears beginning to run down their face. “I didn’t want to, Alex, they made me, they said they’d kill me, they’d kill my son. I didn’t want to. I’m sorry.”

Hancock’s drug-addled mind made two and two connect, and when they finally made four, he was glad they’d taken Jet. Just a few seconds left, now. “Sole. Hey, there’s no one there. It’s just us.”

“I’m sorry,” they said again, rocking back and forth slowly. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to, I’m sorry.”

As the drug faded out, he wrapped them in a hug, tucking them against his chest. He rocked them a little slower, trying to calm them, trying to soothe the sobs that wracked their body. The colors finally disappeared from around him, and sole’s hands fell away from their ears.

“Bad trip?” he whispered gently, and they nodded.

“Real bad.”

“What happened.”

“I- I saw an old friend of mine. Someone I was forced to kill. We were close and-” They laughed and didn’t bother to finish their sentence.

“Who’d make you do that?” He ran a hand through their hair.

“My handlers. That’s what the red room does, John. It makes you do terrible things, and then it uses the guilt from that to make you do more awful things until you stop caring and just start doing what you’re told. And if that doesn’t work, they show up to your house in the middle of the night and threaten to kill everyone inside, including your newborn son, if you don’t carry out your orders. So, you go torture your best friend to death for turning and then you try to move on with your life.”

He wasn’t sure what all that meant, exactly, but he was sure that sole needed him. So they sat on the floor together, slowly rocking back and forth, him whispering calming words every now and then, and he promised himself that he would never, ever let sole get high on Jet again.

MacCready: Robert Joseph MacCready was in no place to judge people for their personal business. He’d woken sole up enough times shouting Lucy or Duncan’s name that he couldn’t be irritated when they talked in their sleep either.

But still, he thought there was something a little different between shouting for a family member and snarling, “Begging for your life won’t matter to me” at three in the morning.

The strangest thing was that, come morning, sole never mentioned this. They were their usual chipper self, offering him a cup of instant coffee and a cigarette. The sheer juxtaposition of the sharpshooter he knew by day and the apparent psychopath that came out in their dreams was enough to unsettle him to the point he was actually willing to ask.

“So what’s up with your dreams?” He asked one morning, after their mutterings had kept him up late into the night.

They raised an eyebrow as they refilled their coffee. “I don’t catch your meaning.”

“Y’know, what do you dream about at night? You’re a pretty restless sleeper.”

They slurped the cool layer of coffee off the top. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, RJ.”

He sighed, seeing that they weren’t going to give him the answers on their own. “You say weird stuff in your sleep. It’s creepy and I want some answers.”

“What do I say?” They laughed a little, leaning back against a tree, seemingly unfazed.

“Weird stuff,” he said again. “Stuff like, ‘Shut up or I’ll kill you.’”

Their face collapsed. The energy in the camp seemed to shift in merely a second, and he’d swear the world went a little grayer. “Oh, I thought… Nevermind.”

“Sole.” His eyebrows furrowed seeing how clearly upset they had suddenly become. “What’s going on?”

Their fingers ran over the side of the mug they were holding, tracing the design on it. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“It’s clearly bothering you.” He reached out to touch them, but pulled away at the last minute. “You can talk to me.”

A breath hissed between their teeth, stirring the steam rising off their coffee. “Did you ever wonder how I got be such a good shot?”

“Sure, lots of times.”

“I figured.” They sipped their coffee again, clearly uncomfortable. “This is hard to talk about, I guess. But, y’know, you’ve told me a bit about you, so it’s only fair…” They sighed one more time, then set their coffee cup to the side. “Back before the war, I was trained in a place called the red room. Heard of it?”

He shook his head.

“I didn’t figure. Basically, it was a ‘learn to do this or I’ll kill you’ thing, where I learned how to fight, how to seduce people, how to… well, torture them to get information. That’s what you’re hearing. I was there for a long time, so I guess it stuck.”

His breath hitched in his throat, stealing his words for a moment, but he finally managed to choke out, “You torture people when you dream?”

They bit their lip and nodded slowly, picking up the coffee cup again. “I guess so.”

“I- that’s messed up.”

They laughed, bitterly. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

They lapsed into silence. MacCready tried to process what he’d just heard. His fingers combed through the grass, trying to ground him to the here and now and not freak out over this new reality.

“If you don’t want to stick around, I understand.” Their voice didn’t shake. “I probably wouldn’t.”

He scowled at them, a little playful but mostly genuine. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

They glanced over, eyes betraying their vulnerability. Suddenly, he felt a pang of guilt for not having told them more about himself. “Promise?”

“Yeah, sure.” His cheeks flushed a little. “Unless you do something awful, I’ll stick around.”

They nodded, and their posture relaxed once again.They drank their coffee, he drank his, and together they settled back into life.

Nick: The Valentine Detective Agency was usually a quiet place. Nick liked it that way. There was something comforting in knowing that, no matter what happened, he always had a place to go back to that was warm and quiet.

That changed a little when sole arrived. It took them a while to settle into the routine that he and Ellie had unofficially set out, but once they had the hang of things, Nick found he liked having them around. They had a relaxing air about them, and it was nice to have someone else to work on cases with.

The only time sole ever broke their usual calm persona was at night. On the rare occasion they slept in the agency, it wasn’t uncommon to hear whimpers of what he thought was pain at first, or words that begged for someone to not hurt them.

Nick knew what bad mental health looked like, and he hated to watch his friend suffer.

“Got a minute?” he asked, one particularly slow afternoon.

Sole glanced up from the case file they were reading over for what had to be the hundredth time, then nodded and set it to the side. “Sure, what’s up?”

“Well, I’ve noticed you don’t always sleep very well. Get a lot of nightmares?”

They pursed their lips in displeasure but nodded, refusing to meet his eyes.

“You know, talking about this stuff helps.” He offered them a mug of coffee, which they accepted but didn’t drink. “I’m always here.”

“It’s hard to talk about.” They wrapped one arm around themselves, staring into the distance.

He considered that for a moment, then motioned them to sit in a chair beside him. They did, slowly, and he produced a piece of paper from his jacket along with a pencil. He scratched down. “Do you think writing about it will be easier?”, then offered the pencil to them.

They considered the offer for a moment before setting their coffee to the side and plucking the pencil from his fingers. “It might.”

Their handwriting was far nicer than his, and he tried his best to not be jealous, instead writing, “What do you dream about?”

“Things I did before the war. I don’t want to bother you with all the details.”

He sighed and shook his head, retrieving the pencil. “I’m one of the few people who might understand. It’s not a bother. I want to help.”

They tapped the pencil against their lips a moment, considering, then scrawled, “I was in a red room. I did some stuff.”

“What stuff?” He already knew the answer, but him making assumptions wasn’t going to make them feel better.

“Torture. Killing. That sort of stuff. It was-” they paused int their writing, thought for a moment, then resumed, “awful. Sometimes, I think there’s still some of them out there, looking for me. Even though it’s silly and they probably all died when the bombs fell.”

Nick wrapped a gentle arm around their shoulders as he scratched out his reply. “The mind is strange sometimes. It makes us believe things that don’t make sense, puts memories in that we don’t want. It’s okay to be afraid. But you have people to help you. We’re on your side.”

The didn’t take the pencil from him, just opted to wrap their arms around him and whisper, “Thanks, Nick.”

He hugged them back. “No problem, kid. Any time.”

Piper: “Come on, sole,” Piper whined, trailing her traveling companion by a few steps. “You’ve picked this camp twice over already. There’s nothing here.”

“Well then what does this go to?” They brandished a key they’d pulled off of the Gunner Captain, metal glinting almost menacingly in the light.

“Probably something in one of the other camps.”

They shook their head. “Something isn’t right here, Piper. I just can’t put my finger on it.”

Piper sighed and resigned herself to another round through the building. “Alright.”

Sole nodded their thanks, and their right hand found the wall again as they traced their way through the building. Piper followed, mentally composing a new article on all the ways the hero of the Commonwealth was an idiot,though a lovable idiot, an idiot nonetheless.

Suddenly, sole came to a halt, and Piper, who wasn’t paying attention, ran straight into them with a small “oof.”

“What’d you find, Blue?” she asked, straightening her cap on her head and dusting off her coat.

Sole grinned. “Secret door.” 

Their fingers wedged in between two wall panels, and with a heavy shove and a grinding of rusted gears, the wall slid to reveal a long, empty corridor. Fluorescent lights flicked on overhead as they stepped into the hall, illuminating the area. At the end, a large metal door stood imposingly, and sole shot a very smug grin at Piper as they slid the key into the lock and turned.

The smile dropped away from their face as the door swung open. The key clattered from their hand to hit the floor, and they just stood, staring into what seemed to Piper to be an empty room like any other, littered with skeletons and a few towels.

“Uh, Blue?”

“They starved,” they whispered, seeming to forget that Piper was even there. “The handlers must have died when the bombs dropped.”

Piper rocked back on her heels anxiously. “Blue, it’s just a bunch of skeletons. We see them all the time.”

“I might have known these people, Piper. I trained here. This was…” They sank to their knees to trace a long scratch mark on the tile flooring, stained dark brown. “This was my red room.”

Piper’s breath caught, and she sank down into a low squat beside them. “Oh, I- Geez, I don’t know what to say.”

They shook their head. “Don’t say anything.” A long breath dropped from their lips. “It’s a long way behind me now. I guess at least I have closure. Nobody’s gonna be coming after me now, right?”

It was a weak attempt at a joke, but Piper smiled anyway. “Is there anything I can do to help you?”

“Wanna help me burn this place to the ground?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Preston: Sole had a lot of bad habits. He knew that about them, and so he tried to mitigate it when he could. He didn’t let them stay up all night working on new defenses, he made them take at least one day off a week, he made sure to get some food into them every once in awhile because they’d forget to eat.

He knew what guilt looked like for sole. It looked like running yourself into the ground week after week, trying to solve every problem they found, trying to save everyone. He didn’t know what they’d done, and for a while, he didn’t ask. He reasoned that it was their business and that they’d figure it out in time.

But they didn’t. As the months wore on, they only became more frenzied, taking on more responsibility, handling more issues. He appreciated the help, sure, and as a Minuteman he knew that serving the people was their first priority. As their friend, though, he knew it wasn’t healthy.

His tactic wasn’t the most honorable, he’d admit. He waited until late night, when they were exhausted and their defenses were down, to corner them at the workbench. They were bent over what looked to be the wiring for a new turret of some kind. He whistled loudly as he approached, trying not to startle them, and they waved with a screwdriver in his direction.

“General,” he said when he was finally close enough to not shout through the sleeping Sanctuary Hills. “We need to have a talk.”

“I’ll go to bed in a bit, Preston. I just need to finish this.”

“This isn’t about that.” Gently, he rested his hand on theirs, stopping their work. “This is about you.”

“I know, I know. I’m not taking care of myself, I work too hard, blah blah blah. Spare me the lecture.”

“Not this time.” He perched on the counter to the workbench. “This time it’s something different.”

“What then?” The lights made the dark circles under their eyes stand out against their paler-than-usual skin. They looked exhausted, and for a brief moment, he almost backed down and sent them to rest.

He didn’t. “What are you running from, sole? What are you making up for?”

They said nothing for a long moment, simply looked at him. The lights danced in watery eyes, and he wordlessly handed them a handkerchief. They took it and wrung it between their hands.

“I’ve got my own Quincy,” they whispered finally. “I’m just trying to make up for the damage I’ve done.”

“Sole,” he said again, softly and kindly as he could. “I can’t help you if you won’t let me.”

They trembled, undecided, for a moment longer. Their eyes held uncertainty and something he thought might be fear, so all he did was smile.

“It’ll be okay. We’re friends. You can tell me.”

They twisted the handkerchief tighter as they spoke, as if they could choke out their demons through it. “Back before the war, before I went into the vault, I was trained in a place called the red room. I… I learned awful things there. I did awful things there. My handlers would send in people and tell me to find out what they knew. A lot of them were scared. They were just normal people in the wrong place at the wrong time. I hurt a lot of good people, I-” They sucked in a breath. “I killed a lot of good people that didn’t deserve it. I just want to make up for what I did.”

“That’s noble,” he whispered, laying a hesitant hand on their shoulder. “That means you’re on the right track.”

“I don’t think I can ever make up for everything I did, Preston.”

“I know. But all we can do is try, right? We have to promise ourselves we won’t go back to that, that we’ll be better. That’s how we make up for it. We help others, and we help ourselves.”

They nodded, finally dabbing at their eyes. “Okay.”

He smiled and patted them softly. “Alright. Now, let’s get you to bed.”

For once, they didn’t resist, and he guided them away.

X6: X6 knew what humans were supposed to be like. He was around them often enough to observe their usual patterns and habits, and overall he would say he had a decent idea of what a normal human typically behaved like.

That was one of the things that intrigued him so much when it came to the new director. They didn’t fit that pattern at all. They were closer to him and his courser siblings than any human he’d ever known.

He wasn’t about to ask about it though. No, X6 had more pride than that, and he knew all too well what the costs of stepping out of line were. So instead, he snuck out at night to poke around in their personal file. No harm, no foul, and if he got caught, he could always just say he was doing research for their next mission.

What he found was hauntingly familiar. This concept of a “red room,” something he’d never heard of before, dredged up a host of old memories for him, and he forced them to the back of his mind as he scanned the file. It seemed there was a reason that the new director reminded him so much of a courser; the training was incredibly similar. The Institute had probably modeled their courser training after this, removing the part involving seduction and adding more to fighting.

He never did mention it to sole, though. It was their business, he decided, and he didn’t want to get punished for looking for answers he wasn’t asked to look for. But still, a part of him wanted that companionship with them, to reach out and let them know that they weren’t alone, especially when they cried out from night terrors or jumped at strange sounds in the dark.

X6 didn’t have the words for that, though, so he let them be, and hoped they’d approach him in their own time.

[mcstarr]

drunk boyfriend tag

summary: dan and phil get drunk and film the boyfriend tag (similar to what shane dawson did) tags: alcohol, so much sweetness and cuteness your teeth will hurt, extreme fluff by: angelboydjh on tumblr word count: ~1.8k first fic posted!! please, ignore any mistakes and reblog and like!! ilu!! send in requests for fics :-) ﾟ*｡:(人´v｀*)☆ﾟ:｡*ﾟ dan and phil got a little drunk. they originally got out some Ribena, which is completely unharmful, until dan spotted vodka on the kitchen counter, which they only keep for parties. its almost gone, with a half a bottle left, so dan thought of an idea. "phil, lets get drunk." phil looked at dan confused; dan never really likes drinking as much as he used to, hes grown, the satisfaction of being drunk doesnt really thrill as much, and its the same with phil. "why?" asked phil, sipping his Ribena. "because why not! we have no meeting tomorrow, we are bored out of our minds, and itll be fun! we'll even be safe, we can control each other well." phil thought about it. he never really likes hangovers, who does? he gets them bad, and he knows dan gets them worse, but dan was right, they were extremely bored and had no meetings tomorrow. phil shrugged, and replied with a sure, causing dan to jump up with joy. dan grabbed the bottle and went to phils room, closing the door, and sitting on his bed. he opens to bottle and pours a lot in his drink, doing the same to phil. there is now many 4 shots full left of the drink and dan was happy he rationed out well. "wanna do a toast?" asked phil. "with our vodka filled ribena?" chuckled dan. phil nodded, giggling a little. "why not?" phil responded, and dan nodded agreeing. they lifted their glass cups up and they look at each other. "to us!" dan laughed at the cliché, but echoed phil, and a clink noise was heard when the touched glasses. dan downed about half of his drink in that one sip, phil only taking a baby sip. phil made a face, hating the taste of vodka. dan hid his disgust, looking at phil. "now we wait." dan took another sip, already feeling slightly dizzy. *:･ﾟ✧ dan was fully drunk. he was giggling, putting his head on phil, slurring his words, all of it. phil was only tipsy. he didnt drink much yet, only about half of his drink. dan, of course, drank all of it, even the rest in the bottle! "phil!" dan slurred out, and phil glanced over slowly, so he doesnt get dizzy, and raised his eyebrow. "we should do a boyfriend tag." phil thought about this. is he that drunk that he doesnt really care if they do one or not? yes. he doesnt really care, its not like itll be posted. phil knows better than that. "sure." phil got up to get his camera from the other side of the room, and dan plopped on the bed laughing at who knows what. it took phil about 2 minutes to set up everything for filming, and an extra 5 minutes to find good goddamn questions. he finally found some question, a total of twenty. he can barely read them because of his blurry vision, and since he didnt have neither his contacts or glasses on. so he grabbed his glasses from the bed side and put them on to see if itll help. nope. he took another sip of his drink and locked his phone. he'll cross that bridge when he gets to it. he gets up and turns on the camera, praying to god its in focus. "dan, its on, we are filming." once those words left phils mouth, dan shot up from phils bed and looked at phil. "okay, okay, okay, okay," he kept repeating that until he finally was next to phil on the bed facing the camera. phil giggled at dan, dan looking at him with his red cheeks. "okay, ready, babe?" asked phil, seeing double of dan. dan nodded, and smiled at phil and then at the camera. "okay," phil breathed in and then 'took in his persona'. "hey guys!" he said cheerfully, but all it did is make him dizzy. dan was like, on top of phil, so hes grateful that he was, or phil wouldve fallen over. "im here with dan." phil pointed at him, and dan waved, his white oversized cat shirt being exposed, and you could even see his naked legs, since hes wearing shorts. "we are doing the boyfriend tag." phil said slowly, and dan nodded jumping up and down on the bed. "phil is my boyfriend! boyfriend phil! philip lester, boyfriend!" he yelled, making phil giggle. "okay, want ask the questions, or do u want me go ask them?" asked phil to dan. "ask me the questions! then we will do it back!" dan suggested, and phil nodded encouragingly. "okay, first question." phil unlocked his phone and read it very carefully. "when is my birthday?" he asked. "bonus points for the zodiac sign!" "january 30th, that makes you a......" he strung out the 'a' to think. "an Aquarius! aquarium." he laughed, and phil chuckled. "correct baby." he leaned in to kiss dan, and dan kissed him, tasting of vodka and ribena. "okay, now," phil was going to go to the next question, but dan protested. "now do mine! do mine!" dan pouted, crossing his arms. "june 11th! youre a gemini." phil stuttered out, making dan laugh. "lucky guess." he muttered jokingly. "next question," phil scrolled down the page. "where did i grow up?" "im too drunk for this phil!!" he moaned out. "the north! thats all youre getting." "well, youre not wrong." said phil. "ill give you the point." "what about me?" asked dan. "the south." "ugh! exact place!" "not fair, you didnt do that for me!" "ugh, whatever." dan pouted again. "wipe that pout off your face princess." phil whispered, grabbing dans chin. "im just kidding philly!" dan kissed phil, getting him off guard. "okay, next," phil asked. "whats my middle name?" "michael! these are too easy! i want harder ones. test me!" dan groaned out, and phil rolled his eyes. "okay, okay," phil said. he scrolled down to another website, which had different questions. "how about this: where was our first date?" "EASY!" he yelled, throwing his hands up. "well, kinda," he muttered. "its hard!" "well, tell me." phil said suggestively, leaning closer to dan. "we first met of course at the train station," he muttered out. "and then we went straight to your house, and, did things. does that count as a first date?" this took him way too long to say, as he was stuttering madly. "yes, it does. great job, cutie." phil said happily and leaned in for a kiss. "okay, let me ask the question!" phil started to give him the phone, but dan refused, saying he wants go make one up. "whats the first thing you notice about me?" he asked a bashful. "your smile." phil said simply. no explanation was needed to make dan feel all warm inside. dan covered his face and leaned on phils shoulder, grinning like mad. once he got up, he looked at phil, seeing his wonderful, eyes. "you know what mine is." he muttered, almost inaudible. it was phils turn to blush. they lean in and kiss once again, but longer than before. when they pulled apart, dan was seeing actual stars, and couldnt even understand what was happening, completely forgot about the video. "oh my god, i love you so much." he said in a shush tone, with phils hand on his cheek. they were only a few inches away from each other, and phil loved it. phil was exploding every inch of dans face, and so was dan. every moment phil made, it made him more dizzy and more dazed, but he didnt care. within a few moments, they both locked eyes, and somehow, both remembered they were recording. "uh, one more question," phil stuttered out, as dan looked around for his almost empty drink. "okay, last question. what is my favorite color?" "easy, blue." dan said, as he drank his final sips of his drink before crushed it and threw it. "hey!" phil protested, looking over at the cup. "ill pick it ip later, babe." dan slurred out almost incoherently. "whats mine?" "easy, pink." phil mocked. dan smiled softly, putting his arms around phils neck, phil put this hands on dans waist. "what kind of pink?" he muttered, with his sloppy grin on his face, his curly hair perfect in tack still. (which surprised phil) "pastel." dan groaned jokingly, letting his head drop down onto phils shoulders. "oh my god, i tried to trick you!" dan yelled. "well, you didnt. 8 years of friendship pays off." phil joked. dan put his head on phils shoulder, his head facing the camera. "can we finish? i wanna cuddle with you watch disney movies." phil chuckled and nodded. "we'll finish, lets do the outro." phil tapped dan, so he can get up from his shoulder, but dan didnt move a muscle, indicating hes not moving. "okay, well, goodbye everyone, please like a subscribe to me and dans channel, and our gaming channel! love you!" he waved and awkwardly looked at dan. "i need to turn off that camera baby." dan groaned and got up from phils shoulder. phil got up and turned off the camera, sitting right on his bed again next to dan. "can we just cuddle?" phil can tell dan was getting tired, and getting all drained. he gets like this when hes drunk, but also after recording videos. "of course, princess." phil laid down, then wrapping his arms around dan who is not next to them. they peacefully fall asleep, with the lights on and phils snoring. *:･ﾟ✧ it was the morning, and phil is posting his premade video on lessamazingphil, just a quick vlog from florida. its taking surprisingly long to process, since its only 2 minutes, but phil didnt question it. its almost done, so phil went to go see dan, who has the worst hangover ever. "how are you baby?" asked phil, laying next to dan. "better, how bad was it?" he asked, and phil laughed. "you were fine, not as bad as a few months ago, but you were not any better." dan groaned, and at that moment his phone dinged. he unlocked his phone to see the notification, YouTube popping up, and it was phils new video. "uh, phil." dan said. "yes?" phil hummed. "you posted the wrong video." "what?" phil yelled a little too loudly for dan, as he backed away and gave phil his phone in just one beat. "i uploaded our drunk boyfriend tag." dans eyes widen. "we filmed a video? no way, i dont remember this. did we kiss?" "i was drunk too!" "well, i would keep it up." "why?" "we already made this mistake once, lets just let them have what they want."

[ella-the-vamp-blog]

Dan and Phil's boyfriend tag drunk video fanfic

dan and phil got a little drunk. they originally got out some Ribena, which is completely unharmful, until dan spotted vodka on the kitchen counter, which they only keep for parties. its almost gone, with a half a bottle left, so dan thought of an idea. “phil, lets get drunk.” phil looked at dan confused; dan never really likes drinking as much as he used to, hes grown, the satisfaction of being drunk doesnt really thrill as much, and its the same with phil. “why?” asked phil, sipping his Ribena. “because why not! we have no meeting tomorrow, we are bored out of our minds, and itll be fun! we’ll even be safe, we can control each other well.” phil thought about it. he never really likes hangovers, who does? he gets them bad, and he knows dan gets them worse, but dan was right, they were extremely bored and had no meetings tomorrow. phil shrugged, and replied with a sure, causing dan to jump up with joy. dan grabbed the bottle and went to phils room, closing the door, and sitting on his bed. he opens to bottle and pours a lot in his drink, doing the same to phil. there is now many 4 shots full left of the drink and dan was happy he rationed out well. “wanna do a toast?” asked phil. “with our vodka filled ribena?” chuckled dan. phil nodded, giggling a little. “why not?” phil responded, and dan nodded agreeing. they lifted their glass cups up and they look at each other. “to us!” dan laughed at the cliché, but echoed phil, and a clink noise was heard when the touched glasses. dan downed about half of his drink in that one sip, phil only taking a baby sip. phil made a face, hating the taste of vodka. dan hid his disgust, looking at phil. “now we wait.” dan took another sip, already feeling slightly dizzy. *:･ﾟ✧ dan was fully drunk. he was giggling, putting his head on phil, slurring his words, all of it. phil was only tipsy. he didnt drink much yet, only about half of his drink. dan, of course, drank all of it, even the rest in the bottle! “phil!” dan slurred out, and phil glanced over slowly, so he doesnt get dizzy, and raised his eyebrow. “we should do a boyfriend tag.” phil thought about this. is he that drunk that he doesnt really care if they do one or not? yes. he doesnt really care, its not like itll be posted. phil knows better than that. “sure.” phil got up to get his camera from the other side of the room, and dan plopped on the bed laughing at who knows what. it took phil about 2 minutes to set up everything for filming, and an extra 5 minutes to find good goddamn questions. he finally found some question, a total of twenty. he can barely read them because of his blurry vision, and since he didnt have neither his contacts or glasses on. so he grabbed his glasses from the bed side and put them on to see if itll help. nope. he took another sip of his drink and locked his phone. he’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it. he gets up and turns on the camera, praying to god its in focus. “dan, its on, we are filming.” once those words left phils mouth, dan shot up from phils bed and looked at phil. “okay, okay, okay, okay,” he kept repeating that until he finally was next to phil on the bed facing the camera. phil giggled at dan, dan looking at him with his red cheeks. “okay, ready, babe?” asked phil, seeing double of dan. dan nodded, and smiled at phil and then at the camera. “okay,” phil breathed in and then ‘took in his persona’. “hey guys!” he said cheerfully, but all it did is make him dizzy. dan was like, on top of phil, so hes grateful that he was, or phil wouldve fallen over. “im here with dan.” phil pointed at him, and dan waved, his white oversized cat shirt being exposed, and you could even see his naked legs, since hes wearing shorts. “we are doing the boyfriend tag.” phil said slowly, and dan nodded jumping up and down on the bed. “phil is my boyfriend! boyfriend phil! philip lester, boyfriend!” he yelled, making phil giggle. “okay, want ask the questions, or do u want me go ask them?” asked phil to dan. “ask me the questions! then we will do it back!” dan suggested, and phil nodded encouragingly. “okay, first question.” phil unlocked his phone and read it very carefully. “when is my birthday?” he asked. “bonus points for the zodiac sign!” “january 30th, that makes you a……” he strung out the ‘a’ to think. “an Aquarius! aquarium.” he laughed, and phil chuckled. “correct baby.” he leaned in to kiss dan, and dan kissed him, tasting of vodka and ribena. “okay, now,” phil was going to go to the next question, but dan protested. “now do mine! do mine!” dan pouted, crossing his arms. “june 11th! youre a gemini.” phil stuttered out, making dan laugh. “lucky guess.” he muttered jokingly. “next question,” phil scrolled down the page. “where did i grow up?” “im too drunk for this phil!!” he moaned out. “the north! thats all youre getting.” “well, youre not wrong.” said phil. “ill give you the point.” “what about me?” asked dan. “the south.” “ugh! exact place!” “not fair, you didnt do that for me!” “ugh, whatever.” dan pouted again. “wipe that pout off your face princess.” phil whispered, grabbing dans chin. “im just kidding philly!” dan kissed phil, getting him off guard. “okay, next,” phil asked. “whats my middle name?” “michael! these are too easy! i want harder ones. test me!” dan groaned out, and phil rolled his eyes. “okay, okay,” phil said. he scrolled down to another website, which had different questions. “how about this: where was our first date?” “EASY!” he yelled, throwing his hands up. “well, kinda,” he muttered. “its hard!” “well, tell me.” phil said suggestively, leaning closer to dan. “we first met of course at the train station,” he muttered out. “and then we went straight to your house, and, did things. does that count as a first date?” this took him way too long to say, as he was stuttering madly. “yes, it does. great job, cutie.” phil said happily and leaned in for a kiss. “okay, let me ask the question!” phil started to give him the phone, but dan refused, saying he wants go make one up. “whats the first thing you notice about me?” he asked a bashful. “your smile.” phil said simply. no explanation was needed to make dan feel all warm inside. dan covered his face and leaned on phils shoulder, grinning like mad. once he got up, he looked at phil, seeing his wonderful, eyes. “you know what mine is.” he muttered, almost inaudible. it was phils turn to blush. they lean in and kiss once again, but longer than before. when they pulled apart, dan was seeing actual stars, and couldnt even understand what was happening, completely forgot about the video. “oh my god, i love you so much.” he said in a shush tone, with phils hand on his cheek. they were only a few inches away from each other, and phil loved it. phil was exploding every inch of dans face, and so was dan. every moment phil made, it made him more dizzy and more dazed, but he didnt care. within a few moments, they both locked eyes, and somehow, both remembered they were recording. “uh, one more question,” phil stuttered out, as dan looked around for his almost empty drink. “okay, last question. what is my favorite color?” “easy, blue.” dan said, as he drank his final sips of his drink before crushed it and threw it. “hey!” phil protested, looking over at the cup. “ill pick it ip later, babe.” dan slurred out almost incoherently. “whats mine?” “easy, pink.” phil mocked. dan smiled softly, putting his arms around phils neck, phil put this hands on dans waist. “what kind of pink?” he muttered, with his sloppy grin on his face, his curly hair perfect in tack still. (which surprised phil) “pastel.” dan groaned jokingly, letting his head drop down onto phils shoulders. “oh my god, i tried to trick you!” dan yelled. “well, you didnt. 8 years of friendship pays off.” phil joked. dan put his head on phils shoulder, his head facing the camera. “can we finish? i wanna cuddle with you watch disney movies.” phil chuckled and nodded. “we’ll finish, lets do the outro.” phil tapped dan, so he can get up from his shoulder, but dan didnt move a muscle, indicating hes not moving. “okay, well, goodbye everyone, please like a subscribe to me and dans channel, and our gaming channel! love you!” he waved and awkwardly looked at dan. “i need to turn off that camera baby.” dan groaned and got up from phils shoulder. phil got up and turned off the camera, sitting right on his bed again next to dan. “can we just cuddle?” phil can tell dan was getting tired, and getting all drained. he gets like this when hes drunk, but also after recording videos. “of course, princess.” phil laid down, then wrapping his arms around dan who is not next to them. they peacefully fall asleep, with the lights on and phils snoring. *:･ﾟ✧ it was the morning, and phil is posting his premade video on lessamazingphil, just a quick vlog from florida. its taking surprisingly long to process, since its only 2 minutes, but phil didnt question it. its almost done, so phil went to go see dan, who has the worst hangover ever. “how are you baby?” asked phil, laying next to dan. “better, how bad was it?” he asked, and phil laughed. “you were fine, not as bad as a few months ago, but you were not any better.” dan groaned, and at that moment his phone dinged. he unlocked his phone to see the notification, YouTube popping up, and it was phils new video. “uh, phil.” dan said. “yes?” phil hummed. “you posted the wrong video.” “what?” phil yelled a little too loudly for dan, as he backed away and gave phil his phone in just one beat. “i uploaded our drunk boyfriend tag.” dans eyes widen. “we filmed a video? no way, i dont remember this. did we kiss?” “i was drunk too!” “well, i would keep it up.” “why?” “we already made this mistake once, lets just let them have what they want.”

[winterrsun]

Avengers x Supernatural crossover

Summary: A Supernatural AU where the famine horseman hits the Avengers’ area and they all subsequently go nuts- lust and hunger and all kinds of crazy. take over the tower. 

A/N: Ok this got really smutty wow whoops, this is the most insane thing I’ve ever written and its quite possibly a hot mess...but thats kinda the point when the entire team loses their inhibitions? It’s my first attempt at a crossover, also the first fic I’ve written in third person and without the reader as a character and ALSO my first time writing Stony AND winter widow.

Warnings: SMUT, alcohol, unprotected sex, public sexual activity/basically an orgy, over eating and drinking?? 

If you aren’t familiar with Supernatural and have no idea what I’m talking about see the explanation below :) - its essentially based on this scene https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qaYnz8HR6yY

Supernatural explanation: The apocalypse hits and it brings four horseman with it; war, pestilence, famine and death. When the famine horseman arrives he makes basically everyone in town go crazy for whatever it is they crave; whether that be a certain food, food in general, sex, alcohol, (in Sam’s case, demon blood) etc.. and basically they have no will power against it and aggressively indulge themselves to death. I’ve decided the Avengers wouldn’t get QUITE so effected by it but they still can’t resist it fully. 

Its a dull day, following a stubborn clump of dull days that has formed a dull week or so in the tower. Its not like the Avengers at all to have such a long quiet period, to have so much time on their hands and so little to do. They’ve trained, sparred, practised shooting, firing and using every weapon they have, they’ve cleaned and tidied, gotten drunk, even did a day of touristy sight seeing as well as cleaned out all their Netflix watch lists. And still the days are dragging on. 

Nat’s decided to take up baking after Wanda offered to teach her cook, so now she stands behind the kitchen bench wearing an apron and furiously mixing.  Drops of cake batter spatter something every now and then, while Wanda sits at a stool on the other side of the counter, sifting through a magazine and affectionately rolling her eyes at her teammate. A continuous tapping noise rings throughout the room as Sam, Steve and Clint toss a small ball between them while Bucky watches, having grown bored of the mundane game quickly. Tony and Bruce are upstairs occupying themselves with something in the lab, and otherwise the tower is a ghost town, with Vision and Rhodey away at the UN on official business. 

“Nat I think your batter’s good now!” Bucky says, wiping some off the side of his face. 

She sticks her tongue out at him and laughs, but proceeds to tip the bowl into a cake pan and place it in the oven. 

“And how long is that gonna take again Wanda?” she asks. 

“About 40 minutes” the Scarlett Witch replies without looking up from her magazine. 

Nat nods before strolling over to the couch and plonking herself down.

“And now what then?” she sighs. 

“Come on lets finish the last of that Twilight movie series” Bucky offers, sitting down next to her.

“We really have hit a new low,” she mumbles, turning on the TV. 

20 minutes into Breaking Dawn part 2, Tony strolls into the room. 

“Guys! I’ve got uh, good news and bad news.” They all stop to focus on him, as the Iron Man continues. 

“Well, we aren’t going to be bored anymore. There’s something coming and its something big. So big I kind of wish we had more help but I think its gonna have to just be us.” He pauses, gazing around at his fellow teammates and feeling a sense of pride and confidence in their abilities, before taking a deep breath.

“Any of you familiar with the four horsemen?” he asks.

Most of the gang nod and murmur that they are familiar with the concept but not much else. 

“It’s like...a biblical thing right?” asks Bucky.

Tony nods, Bruce now behind him. “Yeah, they’re associated with the apocalypse traditionally. But um, well apparently they’re as real as Thor and Loki, and one of them has to decided to pop in and say hi and fuck shit up” Tony says. 

Steve sighs before asking “do we even want to know which one?”

“Well,” Tony replies, “debatably, one that is the least dangerous. It’s famine”

“As in, we’re all gonna starve to death?” asks Wanda, wide eyed. 

“I’d say its more complicated than that, kiddo” chuckles Clint. 

“They aren’t certain what the full impact is gonna be, just that he will have an effect over everyone, at a pretty decent distance but we don’t know the exact radius. I don’t even really know how we can prepare for this to be honest..” Tony trailed off, throwing his hands in the air. 

“So when does it hit?” asks Nat. 

Tony raises his eyebrows and shrugs, prompting a “great” from Nat. 

“Who did you get all this information from?” Steve inquires.

“Fury. He called me.” Ton replies, a bit on the defensive. 

Steve remains silent but glares at Tony for a bit. He likes to be the leader of the group; he’s the captain for gods sake. And he’s far more responsible than Tony.

“Alright boys put your testosterone away, we need all our strength and teamwork to combat this it sounds like” Wanda placates. 

Tony raises an eyebrow at her, then glances back at Steve before turning away. 

The team all head off to their own rooms and apartments to get changed and grab whatever they think might help, though of course everyone’s feeling uncertain and frankly a little worried. 

By the time they meet in the conference room to await any news or disturbance, Sam, Clint, Nat and Tony have started feeling a little weird.

He’s eaten lunch only about an hour ago but Sam’s suddenly feeling very peckish. He licks his lip and chews down on the bottom one, trying to occupy his mind with something else.

“So uh, what do you think this is gonna be like?” he asks Clint, who is agitatedly tapping his fingers on the desk.

“What?” Clint snaps, looking at Sam before instantly softening his expression. “Sorry man. I..I don’t know. I’m feeling really edgy about it though.” 

Clint looks over to his best friend and frowns at how rigidly she’s sitting, but gets distracted immediately as another wave of it washes over him; the craving for alcohol. 

Wanda’s getting her magic fired up, making a chair levitate in front of her before dropping it to the ground and raising it up again, when Steve addresses her.

“I’ve been thinking, you might be the best one to diffuse this situation quickly Wanda. I think your ability to manipulate the mind is going to be a real advantage.”

“Actually Cap we don’t know whats doing to be an advantage here, that’s kind of the point”. Tony snaps.

Bucky raises his eyebrows and smirks at Wanda and Bruce; the only other two in the room paying attention. 

“I’m aware of that, Tony” Steve says through gritted teeth. “I’m just being logical and trying to deal with this the best way. Just because we don’t know much about this enemy doesn’t mean I don't know what I’m doing as a captain.” 

Tony rolls his eyes and tries to ignore the blood he can practically feel and hear rushing through him, clenching his fists.

After laughing at their stupid friends, Bruce and Wanda start to feel it too. Something intense and just...off. Then it grows and Wanda remembers the cake they left in the oven..it should be nearly done now. Bruce shifts uncomfortably and assures himself of his amazingly developed self control, though beginning to wonder if he should have removed himself from such an unstable situation. 

Not longer after it hits Bucky and Steve too. The two super soldiers almost mirror each other as they beginning fidgeting in their positions and become vaguely aware that their blood is also rushing, and that it seems to be rushing to one particular, downstairs spot. 

The entire room sits uncomfortably, now having internal battles. They’re somewhat aware that they are all in this predicament, that each of them is experiencing it, but only because they’re all so skilled and highly trained to monitor the environment. Suddenly, Clint snaps to his senses if only for a moment. 

He clears his throat; “guys, I think its hit...the famine effect.”

His teammates gaze at him blankly.

“Is anyone else” he continues, “um...craving anything?” 

Realisation hits them as hard as the famine did. The problem is, he must be getting closer because the feelings are getting stronger and stronger. 

Tony, not even really knowing what he's doing and definitely not able to control himself, starts to palm himself through his pants. Everyones wrapped up in their own thing but Steve notices him, feeling anger and disgust at his audacity to do that in front of everyone, ignoring the fact that he feels something else too. Because actually, its kind of hot. And he was going to yell at Tony and tell him to stop, but now he thinks maybe he’ll watch a bit longer. 

Steve licks his lips slowly as Tony closes his eyes and tries to resist the urge, thats getting stronger and stronger, to just stick his hand right into his pants. 

Suddenly Sam jumps up and strides quickly from the room. The gang are all sort of snapped out their dazes from this and they follow him into the kitchen to the sound of the fridge door slamming open and watch him help himself animatedly. They’re transfixed for a moment before becoming overwhelmed with their own feelings again. Wanda rushes past him to the oven, forgetting to grab a glove and yelping as her finger makes contact with the scalding hot metal of the cake pan. No matter for the witch, she levitates the cake out of the hot tray and begins devouring it.

Nat, who had been biting her lip and clamping her legs shut ferociously, suddenly yells “Screw it!” and grips the back of Bucky’s neck pulling his lips to hers hungrily. He instantly complies and slams her body back against the wall. 

“Wow right, okay then!” Clint exclaims at the pair, before striding over to the bar and helping himself to a 20 year old scotch, drinking straight from the bottle.

“I gotta get out of here” Bruce says to no one in particular. He rushes outside, not knowing how to handle his potential hulk out while he’s in this state, the only one to crave nothing in particular, not being able to identify this overwhelming feeling of desire, just knowing that he’s losing control. 

Steve noticed his best friend, who is now grinding against Natasha, trying to relieve his tension and is painfully reminded of his own. He hears a soft moan and is shocked to see Tony, hand in his pants stroking himself, watching the Captain. They make eye contact and Tony’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t stop. 

Steve walks over to him slowly, like its the hardest thing he's ever done, but at this point he doesn’t have a choice. 

“Take your hand out of your god dam pants” he orders in a low voice, and Tony slowly complies, eyes glued to Steve’s blue ones. 

Steve then thrusts his own hand inside his teammate’s pants, doing something he’s tried to suppress the fantasy of- the fantasy that sneaks into his head late at night when he can’t sleep- for god knows how long, grabbing his frenemies cock firmly. 

“Oh GOD Cap!” Tony is on the verge on losing control completely and thrusts into Steve’s hand. 

Steve begins rapidly stroking him and groans, disoriented and single-mindedly focused on this innate task; “Fuck Tony..I don’t know what I’m doing I-” he trails off. He succumbs to his urge further, leans over and attaches his lips to Tony’s neck, making the latter gasp loudly.

“We should’ve known–ah” Tony interrupts himself with a moan, “this would be the best way to handle all that tension between us.” 

Steve raises his head to give him a ‘shut up’ kind of look, before grabbing either side of Tony’s face and bringing his lips to his own, kissing his teammate’s smart-ass mouth aggressively. 

Everyone else in the room either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care what the rest are up to,  so engrossed in their own current actions. Wanda’s stomach has begun screaming as she is already three quarters through the fresh vanilla sponge Nat has completely forgotten about, having been so excited to produce it less than an hour ago. Sam, on the other hand, isn’t slowing down any time soon. He wraps an entire block of cheese up in salami and munches contentedly, though far from fulfilment and satisfaction. 

Clint has begun hicupping, with all instincts telling him to STOP drinking he now stands still, fighting against himself, the bottle frozen halfway to his mouth. He knows they need to snap out of it but dam it they can’t, he’s thinking of his wife and kids as he tries with all his might to put the bottle down while also trying to suppress the equally disruptive thoughts in his mind saying ‘nobody else is fighting it..you aren’t stronger than them...give in to it’. 

A loud, female moan echoes throughout the floor. Bucky and Nat had enough of their wits about them to make it around the corner into the somewhat privacy of the hallway before ripping away each others clothing. Bucky had hooked his metal arm underneath Nat’s legs as she jumped up onto him, pushing her against the wall and thrusting straight into her, bringing them back to now. 

Bucky pounds into the girl he has always been attracted to but had never felt enough desire to act upon, now wanting nothing more than to ravish her over and over as she writhes in his hands. He feels her wet slick folds envelop him with every thrust and groans into the crook of her neck.

For once, Nat happily lets her male colleague take charge as she succumbs to pleasure and the feeling of receiving something she craves so, so badly. The Winter Soldier is merciless as he drives into her, filling her wonderfully and sending her senses into overdrive. She has never felt so blissfully overwhelmed. Her stomach tightens and her pleasure builds and she whimpers, managing to stutter “Bucky..fuck i, I’m gonna come” before it crashes through her.

She shudders and shakes turning to putty, thankfully still fully supported by Bucky who if anything pounds into her harder after that encouraging display. Exhausted but still wanting more she happily complies, wrapping her hands around his neck when she gathers the energy and beginning to bob up and down, riding his cock the best she can, eliciting a deep moan from Bucky. 

Meanwhile, Steve continues to jerk Tony off, now craving his own release as well. 

“If this doesn’t stop soon, you know I’m going to have to take you into the conference room and fuck you” Steve murmurs into his ear, Tony bites his lip at the notion.

“Whatever you think is best, Cap” he responds lethargically. 

Steve nods and yanks his hand back and grips Tony by the wrist, marching out of the room. 

Wanda, having nearly demolished the cake, gazes around realising the indescribably strong feeling of desire is still there, but it has changed. Her hunger quelled she now feels...lust? She definitely desires something other than food. But maybe she can fight it. She swallows the last mouthful of cake and grips the bench determinedly, trying to clear her mind. 

“Fuck it” she murmurs and strides over to a positively drunk Clint. She places her palms either side of his face and kisses him square on the mouth. 

Clint lurches backwards, stumbling in his intoxicated state. “Kiddo-WHOA slow down there wha-what are you doing! God I need another drink.” 

His whisky soaked breath is off-putting, washing over her face, yet the unsatisfied craving in her remains, though she knows how much of a mistake her action was. She turns away and frustratedly bites down on her finger, willing the feelings to subside. 

Sam is less than four feet away from them but he hasnt even noticed the interaction, his face being stuck in the fridge that is rapidly being drained of its contents. 

In the hallway, Bucky and Nat are still going at it after he’s come inside her, his ejaculate dripping down her legs as they continue to desperately thrust at an unrelenting pace. She bites down on his neck hard enough to break the skin and tiny droplets of blood appear from the wound. 

Steve slams the conference room door shut and pushes Tony backwards until his legs hit the desk. Without hesitation he spins him around and bends him over.

“You sure you can handle this Stark?” he asks, with no intention of stopping now.

“Just fuck me already Rogers” Tony replies, hastening to undo his belt. 

Somewhere near the Avengers compound, the officials working with famine receive information that Fury and his team are aware of their presence and working against them. As suddenly as they had arrived, famine and his accomplices depart the area.

Its fast and intense, like waking up from one of those dreams where you’ve fallen from a height and your heart jumps. Feeling like they had all been dowsed in cold water to sober them up, the Avengers come to their senses.

Steve’s holding his proud American cock in his hand, had he really been about to put it in Tony? Tony. Who has stood up as fast as if he'd sat on a pin and yanked his pants back up. The men both awkwardly clear their throats, looking anywhere but at each other. Steve sort of half nods before pivoting on his heel and striding determinedly back into the main rooms. Tony rubs his hand across his jaw, shaking his head. 

Their discomfort holds nothing, however, to their teammates. Nat finds herself suspended in the air, Bucky’s metal arm hooked under her knees while his chest presses her against the wall. He’s still hard, and still inside her. Wet, sticky and very messy, their eyes widen as they stare at each other, faces an inch apart. Clumsily, quickly they separate and he puts her back on the ground. They attempt to redress with nothing really to clean up with. 

“Sooo we just...” Bucky starts.

“Yup,” replies Nat, “famine huh?” 

Bucky clenches his teeth and nods, however the two manage to not feel too ashamed given the extremity of the situation. Nat tends to make everything easier and they both have to admit, they’ve always had chemistry.  

“Come on” Bucky laughs, “I guess we gotta all go and...debrief?” he lazily throws an arm over her shoulder and they walk together. 

The first thing Sam notices is that he has never been so full in his life. Not when he went to three thanksgiving dinners in one day, not when he got back from Afghanistan and hit the Taco Bell, McDonalds and KFC drive thru’s all in a row, never. He groans and clutches his stomach, thinking to himself how famine did a number on him, being completely oblivious to what the rest of his team went through.

Wanda is mortified. She tried to kiss Clint. She did kiss him. After scoffing an entire cake. Actually, mortified doesn’t really begin to describe it. She glances at Clint but he's running to the sink to vomit. Guiltily she can’t help but be relieved; hopefully he will have been too drunk to remember. 

Steve, Nat and Bucky come back into the room looking sheepish, followed by Tony. The air is thick with tension until Sam breaks it.

“So guys, that was some experience huh? But... I ate everything in the fridge, how was everyone else dealing with their cravings?” 

[m3gz77]

2x4

Part Ten

Pairings: Bucky/Asset x OFC’S?

Warnings: Swearing, violence, flashback. 

Words: 3,951.

Summary: Rydian starts to learn more about her masked savior. 

Authors Notes: This story has ruined my sense of self. Enjoy.

Asset

When she finally fell asleep I was tired myself. I never got tired before or hungry but I was. It was Bucky’s fault. His human frailties that we often overlooked. I made a note to eat something soon.

I could still hear her music blaring in my ears even after she fell asleep. How anyone could sleep through noise like that was beyond me. 

Night had fallen and I closed my eyes leaning my head against the wall listening to the beat. I don’t know how long I sat there minutes, hours, it didn’t matter. What did matter were the hushed voices and light footsteps coming up the stairwell. 

‘They found us.’ I told Bucky forgetting that he wasn’t here. 

  She was still sleeping and they hadn’t found us yet, I jumped up and ran to the lamp next to her and switched it off.

Darkness. It’s what I’m born of. 

I stalked down the hall, there were two of them. I slid my blades from their holsters on our back and slit both of their throats without a sound. I stepped over their bloody corpses and walked into the open office still littered with desks. 

These men had night vision goggles but they were looking for us in the wrong place. I stalked over to one of the agents and sliced his throat like I had done to the others only this time his gun went off and the rest of them reined fire down on me. 

I ducked down low, between the desks and took them out one at a time by slicing the tendons of their ankles, once they were down I slid my blade across their throats with ease. 

Heading to the stairs I saw a lot of them near the entrance. I hopped over the edge and took them by surprise. I kicked and sliced, Punched and stabbed. One guy I slammed into the drywall so hard he stayed in the wall. I found It hilarious, he looked like a strange puppet his arms and legs awkwardly positioned. 

A scream made me pause my slaughter and I felt electricity serge up our spine. I spun around and grabbed the taser baton in both hands before I broke it over our knee. The man looked frozen in fear as I flicked out my wrist and slit his throat; effectively taking out my last threat. 

I took off up the stairs back to the room. When I reached the room I saw a man straddling the girl; Rydian. He had her pinned to the floor near our bags, and was sitting on her legs, her hands held down above her head, our blade in her hands.

She had a small cut on her cheekbone and her eyes had a glint in them that made me want to purr. For the most part her eyes were wide with fear and panic but underneath that there was the furious wild glint of a survivor. A fighter.

I flipped my blade in my hand and threw it. It thunked in his temple and his body flopped down on top of Rydian. I grabbed his collar and pulled him off of her, dropping his body next to her and switched on the light.

Turning to her I caught her terrified gaze. “Time to go.” 

Rydian

I woke up from being yanked to my feet violently. My headphones were ripped from my ears and suddenly everything seemed too loud. Ear piercing pops sounded in my ears and someone was pushing me forward. 

My mind was hazy but I almost immediately realized that the person pushing me wasn’t my masked man. He would have held the back of my neck, this person just sort of jabbed at my back. I turned around, and the guy looked scared, his movements shaky. I knew it wasn’t me he was afraid of but I used it anyways.

I kicked the lamp over and ran for the bags in the dark. I heard the guy shoot his gun but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I reached into the bags until I felt the cold metal of a knife. As I pulled it out and turned around the lamp switched back on and I ran at him.

He easily blocked my attempt and took the knife from me. Fudge. I felt a sting in my thigh as a fist connected with my face and I cried out in pain. Falling to my knees and pushing away the pain I head butted him in his naughty bits. 

He dropped the knife and I scooped it up, sadly he was faster and grabbed my wrist as I went to stab him and he slammed me into the dirty carpet. I scooted back as much as I could scrapping my back but not having the luxury of worrying about it now.

He stopped me by sitting on my legs and straddling my hips. He hit me again as I struggled against him only this time it was so hard I saw stars. He hit me so hard I was sent into a flashback. 

I was thrown onto the ground and he shackled my ankle. I fought against him with everything I had but it wasn’t enough as he crawled on top of me and straddled my hips.

“Who’s a good whore?” 

No!

I snapped back. I would not let that happen again, not ever.

Suddenly the guy stopped moving and flopped on top of me making it hard to breath with his full weight on my chest. It wasn’t for long though, almost as quick as the heaviness came it was gone again.  The lamp turned on and flooded the room with light as the masked man stood over me and trapped me with his eyes. 

“Time to go.” 

He had said it so calmly that it made me uneasy. I had almost been killed, again, and he was just Dandy. I stood there and gawked at him as he shifted around the room grabbing the bags and placing them by the door. Next he went for my stuff.

He shoved all my stuff inside and threw it over his shoulder. He grabbed the lamp last and shoved it in my hands. I took it but stayed still, I still couldn’t move. 

He stalked forward and grabbed all the bags, turning around to face me I could see the urgency in his blue orbs. I needed to follow him, my feet started to move and I followed him out of the room.

I had the lamp in my arms but I wished he had just pushed me through the dark again instead. Dead bodies lay everywhere, blood splattered the walls and floors pooling around open throats. 

Men were strewn on the floor, over desks, and everywhere that didn’t have a fresh corps was littered with tiny animal bones. I didn’t want to see any of it, I kept my eyes forward.

I could see the back of his jacket. Skipping forward to catch up to him I grabbed his collar, he flinched away from me but let me hold on as he maneuvered us back out of the building. 

I kept my eyes closed trusting him to guide me until we got outside. He stopped and I peaked open my eyes, seeing we were outside by the trunk of the car I let him go. 

I went to get into the car but he grabbed the back on my neck and moved me to the S.U.V. next to it. Pushing me into the drivers seat he threw the bags in the back seat. 

“Move.” He ordered and I moved over to the passenger seat as he slid in behind the wheel. Turning the S.U.V. around we sped away. 

My body and mind were still reeling as I chewed my nails and tapped my feet on the dashboard. I kept trying to wrap my head around everything that had happened, the masked man, the bad guys, the flash back, Him. My mine was utter chaos.

I felt his hand grasp around mine and I stopped fidgeting as he put it at my side, though this time he didn’t let me go. Instead he kept his large hand wrapped around mine, and his eyes on the road. 

I didn’t stop him. I took comfort in his warmth and let it seep into my skin, calming my panicked thoughts. Occasionally his fingers would tighten for a moment and then loosen again. I didn’t want to comment on it because it was helping me and I didn’t want him to let me go. 

We ended up driving like that in silence for a long while until the sun came up over the trees and we were far enough away to be safe for now. 

We drove for a few hours after that before he finally stopped to switch cars, this time stealing a Winnebago. He put all our stuff on the counters and chairs. I decided since I wasn’t tired I would sit up front with him. It sounded better than sitting alone with my hectic thoughts as company. 

We drove in silence, the air outside tight and foggy. We were somewhere in the mountains and if I looked close I could make the mountain tops out through the think mist. It was beautiful and haunting at the same time. 

“Why not the gun?” His gruff voice broke through my thoughts but his question didn’t make any sense, it was so random. It was like he had been having a conversation in his head and somehow thought I would actually know what he was talking about. I didn’t.

“What?”

“Why didn’t you take the gun?”

“What gun? When?” He needed to be more specific.

“In the parking garage. There were two men and you chose a single blade. Why?” 

I thought about it and it was true, there had been a gun in the bag, but I grabbed a knife.

“I don’t know I just grabbed whatever I touched first. Why?” I asked him but he didn’t answer me. He never gave me any straight answers and it was annoying. I was stuck here just like him, the least he could do is explain. 

“Why can’t you ever take the muzzle off and give me an actual answer?” I spat at him not caring if it made him angry. I wanted him to answer me and if making him angry would help then thats what I would do.

Out of nowhere the old R.V. swerved to the left and I slammed into my door, before I knew it I was jerked again and launched into him. I bounced off of him and fell to the floor on my stomach. He slammed on the brakes and the resistance sent me sliding to the front scrunched between the seat where I finally stopped.

I could hear him gasping for air leaning over the wheel. He sounded terrified, I knew the sound because that was how I was when I came back from a flashback or night mare. 

I pushed myself up and sat back in my seat. I thought he was going to snap and push me around again, so when he finally looked at me I was shocked to say the least.

There was pain and terror in his blue eyes. As they focused on me guilt washed over them and my stomach dropped. What the Blarg had happened to him? He was fine a minute ago; well fine for him, but now he looked like…he looked like me. 

“What did I do?” He asked desperation in his voice, it caught me off guard, he seemed so vulnerable.

“What?” I whispered confused and concerned by the look in his eyes.

He took a slow breath and shook his head, his face down and hair falling in his eyes, hiding him from me. 

“Your face.” He sounded far away and small. Did he think he hit me?

“You didn’t do this.” I assured him still confused and it was no doubt showing all over my face.

“What happened?” He asked me his voice thick like he was having trouble forming the words. He didn’t make any sense. What happened? He was there! Suddenly I heard his voice in my mind echoing in every corner. 

‘Our boss.’

He hadn’t been talking about me and him, he had been talking about himself as two separate people. What the crud-nuggets?

How do I handle something like this? I felt my fingers go to my mouth, as I touched my lip I heard him growling at me. His eyes still held all of the confusion and guilt from before, but he was growling like he always did. It seemed off; wrong. Maybe he really was two people. I swallowed hard.

“Whats the last thing you remember?” I asked and it took him a few moments before he said anything.

“I was… I was…” He looked so confused. “We were in the woods…” His eyes were unfocused and far away as he spoke. “You ran… he found you, and… you, you were yelling at us… and…” He blinked a few times and his brows furrowed, pinching in the middle as he tried to recall what happened. 

His eyes focused suddenly and shot up to mine.

“Did I hurt anyone?” He demanded.

“No.” I paused, “Well.”

His face dropped in defeat and I tried to make it better.

“Its okay, they deserved it.” I hadn’t meant to sound so mean but it still came out that way. It still hadn’t helped him one bit. His eyes were frantic and full of questions, his breathing fast and shallow. He was panicking, I knew that feeling well, and I hated it. I needed to help him.

“Turn around.” I tried to sound commanding but it came out small and timid. I tried again this time being more forceful and pushing his shoulder as I spoke, trying to move his large frame.

“Turn around.” 

He started moving like a robot as I guided him. When he was facing the window I reached to roll it down, the cool air seeping in. It wasn’t helping, he was still panicking. It was like he couldn’t breath.

I gripped the velcro of the mask on the back of his head and ripped it apart, pushing it off of his face and onto his lap. I hadn’t seen his face yet and I didn’t want too, not until he was ready, so I hugged him.

I wrapped my arms around his ribs and hugged him from behind, my eyes closed and my face pressed against his back between his shoulder blades. His jacket was cold and when he felt the contact he froze, his entire body becoming tense. He even stopped breathing. 

“Breath.” I used his tactic of one word orders and it worked. He took a slow breath; in and out. Good. Relax. I thought as I gripped the straps on the front of his jacket and held him closer, hoping that he was taking comfort from it.

I hugged him until he finally relaxed. Waiting until I could slowly pull away and sit in my seat without setting him off again. 

He sat there breathing quietly, it made me uneasy. What if he was angry when he turned around? What if he wasn’t? I curled in on myself and made sure not to rub my lip.

He sat up straighter and his hands came up around his head replacing the mask. Swiveling in his seat he put the R.V. in drive and took off down the road. He was quiet for a few minutes, the fog seeming to block us off from the rest of the world and stretching the minutes into an eternity. 

“Thank you.” He finally spoke his voice rough; unused.

“your welcome.”

I thought about what he said he remembered. It was when we were in the woods but that was days ago? The more I thought about it the more it made sense that he was two people. Why he was suddenly so aggressive and bossy, only speaking when he had too. Then other times he seemed so confused and afraid, but also kinder. 

Either he really was two people or he at the very least thought he was, enough to make me believe the act. Of coarse if it was true and he really was two people then a lot had happened since then. Days in fact. The least I could do is tell him what happened and hope it would help. 

“When we were in the woods you sort of zoned out after I yelled at you.” I paused to see if he wanted me to stop. He didn’t do anything but look forward so I continued. 

“I went to touch you and you snapped back to reality…” 

I told him everything I could remember and he listened quietly only occasionally would he start to rumble from his chest. I told him that after the woods we went to a Wal-mart, how he killed two men saving me because they were trying to shove me in their van. He relaxed a little after that.

I told him we went to a creepy warehouse, “I passed out after we got there, I was out for three days so I don’t know what you did during that time.” He grunted in response and I continued. 

I told him how bossy and rude he was to me, and about the men that attacked us while I was asleep at the warehouse. How he had save me again, he didn’t growl this time. 

“…then you swerved the R.V. and now here we are.” As I finished he was pulling into a rest area. Why though? We were in a moving rest area, we didn’t need to stop. 

  He pulled into a vacant spot in the deserted parking lot, the fog covering everything in an eerie way. I sat still only slightly nibbling the inside of my lip as he cut the engine and peered out the windshield for several moments, his eyes darting every which way. He was searching for threats. Even now after his “episode” he was still in mission mode.

He slid out of the seat and was at our bags in an instant. He moved so fast and sudden it made me yip. I hate that yip it always made me sound like a scared child. 

He grabbed the med-kit and headed to the back where the bedroom was and I slid out of my seat to follow him and sit on the bed in front of him. I knew thats what he wanted me to do before he asked. It was almost routine now whenever he grabbed the med-kit. 

He let out a small rumble, it was less of a growl and more of a purr. I liked the sound of it, it was much better than his normal aggravated grumble.

He crouched in front of me, his knees brushing my outer thighs. I could feel his warmth through the tight jeans I had on. It was a strange feeling not having the urge to shy away from the contact.

I hate being touched by anyone after everything I had survived, but right now? In this moment? 

He worked on my hands, seeing my arms and cut up fingers for the first time. Cleaning and rewrapping my arms he moved to my face. 

I knew I had a cut on my temple, and my cheek hurt but I had no idea what he was actually seeing. I hadn’t looked into a mirror in a while and more than that I didn’t want to. I probably looked like crud. 

He held my chin as he worked his heat sinking into my chin, I needed a distraction. I watched him as he worked, much like he watched me all the time even when he thought I didn’t notice. 

I was looking for anything, some kind of evidence that he wasn’t just him. It was hard to tell, he was so motionless all the time, covered from head to toe, only his eyes visible and even they were hidden behind his dirty matted hair. 

He needs a shower. I need a shower too, my hair was oily and stiff, and it was gross. I could smell myself too, I stunk like sweat and dry blood. The smell sent an unpleasant feeling to my stomach and I bit my lip. 

I heard him growling again and I let my lip go. Rude. Wait. Was that him? Or was it the other one? The other him?

I broke it down the best I could in my head. He was rude and pushy, but not all the time, he was also conflicted and kind-ish. I would make a list later. Maybe one was him and the other is? Him too?

I thought only one personality could exist at once? But I had seen both; well I saw one while I heard and felt the other. Blarg this is confusing. Not knowing his name only made it worse. I didn’t know one name and for all I knew he could have two.

Something clicked. Maybe that was why he couldn’t answer me before! He had said he couldn’t remember his name, but maybe it was just because he didn’t know which name to give. Two names, two people, only one body. That had to be confusing. 

I could feel my heartbeat pick up and my breath hitch at the realization. I felt so bad for him because someone must have really fudged with his mind for him to be so broken.

I felt pressure on my jaw. It hurt and I could feel something vibrating through my body. I slipped out of my mind and back to reality as if waking from a dream. He was in my face, so close I could feel his breath through the mask as he growled at me. His metal hand was gripping my chin tightly and his pupils were needle points full of rage. 

He was back, his aggressive side, and he was angry. What had I done now? I was biting on my lip again, hard too because my lip was soar. 

“I said stop.” He rumbled, and I stopped.

Had He been speaking to me? I hadn’t noticed if he had, I had been so deep in my mind, I felt like I was slipping back there again. But I couldn’t I had a question I needed to ask. 

“Your name…?” I sounded far away and I pulled myself back out when I heard him growl in warning. 

“No.” He said pushing off of the floor and turning to leave. I grabbed his metal wrist to stop him.

“Wait.” He paused in my grasp but refused to look at me. 

“I get it now.” I paused thinking. “Before… when I yelled at you…” 

What am I trying to say? I knew he wouldn’t indulge me for long, I needed to find a way to phrase it.

“I asked you your name.” I stated stalling. 

I felt his metal arm twitch and whir in my grip. I needed to figure out how to ask him that made sense but I was losing him. I searched my brain. He pulled his arm from my grasp. I was out of time. 

Screw it the only way to ask him was to be blunt and hope I didn’t sound crazy. 

“What are your names?”

@whitewolfbumble

[tuthillscopes-blog]

Genius by numbers: why Hollywood maths movies don't add up

check it out @ https://tuthillscopes.com/genius-by-numbers-why-hollywood-maths-movies-dont-add-up/

Genius by numbers: why Hollywood maths movies don't add up

From The Beautiful Mind towards the Theory of all things anf the husband Who Understood Infinity, Hollywood loves a math wizzard. Why cant it get past the fevered prodigy scribbling equations on home windows?

In the Tina Fey sitcom Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt, wealthy Manhattanite Jacqueline Vorhees wails to her assistant that they cant manage to get divorced. Despite the fact that shed get $1m for each year of her marriage.

I spend 100 grand per month. Ill be broke in ten years, she wails. No, thats wrong, counters Kimmy (Ellie Kemper), who scribbles some sums having a marker on Mrs Vorheess window. So $100,000 occasions 12 several weeks. Thats $1.2m annually. Divide that into $12m, you will find, youd be broke in ten years. However if you simply invest a lot of it, presuming a 7% rate of return, while using compound interest formula, your hard earned money would almost double.

Kimmy turns round triumphantly: Mrs Voorhees, I mathed, and you may get divorced! Mrs Vorhees eyes Kimmy narrowly. Individuals aren’t, she complains, erasable markers. What she doesnt mention is the fact that math isnt a verb. Not.

The scene is, amongst other things, Feys satire from the Hollywood cliche of genius squiggling on glass. In A Beautiful Mind (2001), for example, Russell Crowe, playing troubled maths star John Forbes Nash Jr, writes formulae on his dorm window. This scene is echoed in The Social Network (2010), where Andrew Garfield sets the equations for Facebooks business design on the Harvard window while Jesse Eisenbergs Mark Zuckerberg looks on. Within the opening scene of excellent Will Hunting (1997), janitor prodigy Matt Damon writes equations on the bathroom mirror.

So why do a lot of Hollywood maths whizzes forego paper? Stanford mathematician Keith Devlin explains. Depicting a math wizzard scribbling formulas on the piece of paper is much more accurate, however it certainly doesnt convey the look of the person amorously involved with mathematics, along with seeing someone write individuals formulas in steam on the mirror or perhaps in wax on the window, neither is it as being cinematographically dramatic.

Good point. Whenever we see a Beautiful Mind and appear with the window at our Russ, Hollywoods most built math wizzard (counterexamples on postcards, please show your workings), we pass beyond incomprehensive equations and convince ourselves were seeing Genius at the office. Even when, as some critics have complained uncharitably, Russs pi glyphs, greater-than and fewer-than symbols and the like dont seem sensible.

But theres one other way maths movies can confound the Monotony Equation, namely by departing a black hole in which the maths ought to be. The Man Who Knew Infinity, the brand new film starring Dev Patel and Jeremy Irons concerning the great Indian math wizzard Srinivasa Ramanujan, is intriguing in this way. Although we have seen Ramanujan doing maths, mostly the show has an interest in other activities how he falls deeply in love with his wife, the discomfort of separation as he travels from Madras to review at Cambridge, the racism he suffers in England and, most stirringly, the narrative arc from lowly clerk to globally recognised math wizzard.

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Hollywoods most built mathematician Russell Crowe in A Beautiful Mind. Photograph: Universal Studios

That said, the film has its charming moments. When Hardy visits Ramanujan in a nursing home, he complains about the boring number of the cab that brought him there. Ramanujan begs to differ: 1,729 is the smallest that is expressible as the sum of two cubes in two different ways. Today 1,729 is known as the Hardy-Ramanujan number. How does that work, you may be wondering? Like this: 1729 = 13 + 123 = 93 + 103.

Ramanujans mentor GH Hardy (Irons) is an atheist and rationalist, exasperated that this Indian prodigy cannot produce proofs for his work and, worse, is doubtful that proofs can explain the inexplicable. You wanted to know how I get my ideas, says Ramanujan. God speaks to me. But while the film may sketch two different mathematical philosophies, we leave the cinema with a warm glow that comes from anything but hard thinking.

If you want to learn some more about Ramanujans contribution to mathematics, rent High School Musical. Freeze-frame it at the moment brainy Gabriella Montez challenges her teacher. On the board are two of the equations of the inverse of the constant pi (1/) that Ramanujan offered in his first paper published in England. Shouldnt the second equation read 16 over pi? asks Gabriella. Of course it should.

Cinema often struggles with dramatising difficult ideas, particularly if they are abstract. One way of overcoming that problem is by metaphorical explanation. For instance, in Nicholas Roegs Insignificance (1985), a Marilyn Monroe-like character demonstrates relativity using toy trains and flashing lights. In The Theory of Everything, Jane Hawking uses a pea and a potato to explain the difference between quantum theory and general relativity, while her husbands friends explain Hawking Radiation with beers and crisps.

Movie explanations of difficult stuff, though, may obscure rather than enlighten. Whats more, some directors know this and have fun pointing out the shortcomings of their medium and those of their audiences. In Adam McKays The Big Short (2016), for example, Margot Robbie sits inside a tub sipping champagne and describing how sub-prime loans work. Her explanation is doubtless coherent, however when Im searching in a beautiful lady inside a bubble bath, I am not considering credit default swaps. So sue me. Later within the film, chef Anthony Bourdain chops fish in the kitchen while describing how collateralised debt obligations work. Finally, Selena Gomez plays roulette as one example of the thought of gambling on other bands gambles.

Each scene works as a parody of explanation. They are members of a movie that mocks you, you poor jerk, as well as your intellectual aspirations. You are not ever likely to know how difficult stuff works from watching movies, however much youd prefer to.

Sometimes, though, cinema can provide a genuine understanding of the intellectual process. In Agora (2009), Rachel Weisz as ancient philosopher Hypatia does a test on the shipped to test relative motion. If, she hypothesises, you drop huge sack in the mast as the ship is continuing to move forward, it’ll fall around the deck several ft behind the mast. The sack is dropped and falls much nearer to the mast than she predicted. Hypatia claps her hands in delight. However, you were wrong! states the ships captain. Yes, but it’s definitive proof! The sack behaves as though the boat were stationary.

What am i saying?

I do not know. However the identical principle could be relevant to our planet. It may be getting around the sun’s rays without us realising.

Hypatia, in other words, infers an innovative heliocentric cosmology from her falsified hypothesis. The show thus generously provides for us what we should are effectively denied in Good Will Hunting or perhaps a Beautiful Mind the news about how someone clever is considering an issue. Furthermore, its an antidote to Hollywoods vision of genius. It shows that getting stuff wrong reaches least as vital within the story of human intellectual progress to be right constantly.

Maths is frequently reduced to simply a MacGuffin. In Rushmore (1998), for example, Max Fischer (Jason Schwartzman) is studying the newspaper while his teacher informs his class that around the blackboard may be the hardest geometry equation on the planet. What credits would anybody solving it get, asks one student. Well, thinking about Ive never witnessed anybody understand it properly, including my mentor Dr Leaky at Durch, I suppose if anybody here can solve this problem, Id ensure that none individuals have to spread out another math book again throughout your lives.

Thus enticed, Fischer folds his paper and would go to the blackboard, and squiggles his solution while nonchalantly sipping espresso. The show at this time is not to declare but Fischers genius. Will we really believe Jason Schwartzmann can compute the region of the ellipse? Sure. Whatever.

Genius squiggling can there be once more just to assist Hollywood tell the sentimental story it never tires of: namely the storyline of somebody usually borderline demented by definition insufficiently recognised sticking it towards the establishment.

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Genius squiggling Rushmore

None of this should suggest we cant learn maths from movies. In Tina Feys Mean Girls (2004), for example, Lindsay Lohan plays a finalist in the Illinois high school mathletes state championship. Will her Northern Coast High team place it to individuals prep school toffs opposite? Heres the initial question: Two times the bigger of two figures is three greater than five occasions the smaller sized, and the sum of the four occasions the bigger and three occasions the smaller sized is 71. Do you know the figures? First got it yet? 14 and 5. Within the finish, Lohans team end up being the new condition champs because she wins the sudden dying tie-break. Exactly what does the scene prove? That individuals individuals who thought She no longer can do maths should certainly talk to her.

Possibly probably the most resonant maths scene in Hollywood cinema, though, comes in an exceedingly old comedy. Within the Abbott and Costello movie Within the Navy (1941), Lou is really a ships prepare. Hes baked 28 doughnuts, which he reckons is just enough to give 13 to each of his seven officers. But seven adopts 28 four occasions, objects Lous straight man. Not too, states Lou, who procedes to prove it around the blackboard inside a masterclass of cheating and illusion. The scene demonstrates an over-all truth, namely that whenever Hollywood does maths, it doesnt always accumulate.

The Man Who Knew Infinity is released on 8 April.

Find out more: http://www.theguardian.com/film/2016/apr/06/mathematics-movies-the-man-who-knew-infinity