#holding up guns as the solution to your problems IS ONLY GOING TO END WITH MORE WOMEN MORE KIDS AND MORE MINORITIES DEAD
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musical-chick-13 · 11 days ago
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It is because these people are stupid. Hope this helps.
#like. I don't know what to tell you. most people who commit murder are not Super Genius Criminal Masterminds#if your priority is killing someone and not anything else you don't make a flashy spectacle of it???? most people who do shit like this#want attention. it's not about some moral obligation they want attention. and when people prioritize Getting Attention. they do some#pretty contradictory and myopic things. have you ever observed a human. jfc y'all are not serious people#current events#tw: guns#okay sorry I'M SORRY. I'll stop talking about this. I just feel like I'm going insane#worshiping this guy is NOT it#y'all are going to drive me to substance abuse is2g#In the Vents#also.#if you are a feminist. then you should be against this. hold on let me explain before you go 'how are those even related you're deranged'#violent men are typically the ones more likely to hate women and abuse their partners because of it. and spousal homicide is going to#be a LOT harder to do if no one has access to guns. if you say 'oh there's an acceptable situation where you can point blank shoot someone#because they're a loathsome enough person' then. these people are going to take away the message that if their girlfriend/wife/female#relative/partner/etc. is 'bad' enough. is making their lives difficult enough. then it is acceptable to murder them. if you say 'there is#an acceptable circumstance for this' then EVERYONE WILL THINK THAT *THEY* HAVE THE ACCEPTABLE CIRCUMSTANCE#holding up guns as the solution to your problems IS ONLY GOING TO END WITH MORE WOMEN MORE KIDS AND MORE MINORITIES DEAD#and if you think that's an acceptable sacrifice because someone you hate might die. then I think maybe you shouldn't be talking to me.#like I said. I'm not going to be patient anymore. this is non-negotiable for me. if you're valorizing this guy and the culture of#gun violence that made his actions possible then get out I don't want to talk to you.#oh also once again: if your takeaway from this is that I'm somehow defending the CEO and you come on my post to say that I'm putting#you on blast so everyone can point and laugh at you for your lack of reading comprehension. again hope this helps :)
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thebiggerbear · 1 year ago
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"Sleep. I'll keep you safe." - Beau Arlen Prompt Response
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Summary: Your house is broken into one night when Beau wasn't home and now you find yourself expecting it to happen again at any moment. Will you ever feel safe in your home again?
Pairing: Beau Arlen x Female!Reader; Beau Arlen x Female!Lawyer Reader
A/N: Prompt from @thelonelyempath. My brain immediately settled on this idea when I decided to respond to this prompt from more than one character. It just seemed to fit. Hope this is alright.
A huge thank you to my beta @rieleatiel for her services. You rock, girl!
Warnings: mentions of break-in, mentions of guns, mentions of possible violence scenarios, implied possible assault scenario
Word Count: 4030
Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187
Beau Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl
Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat; @deansbbyx
You can read on AO3
"Sleep. I'll keep you safe."
Soldier Boy version ✨ Dean version ✨ Jenny version ✨ Tom version ✨ Jason version ✨ Anael version ✨ SDV Alex version
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You checked and rechecked the locks on the windows of your upstairs bedroom. You’d never admit it aloud, but you were nervous and on edge.
The other night, Beau had had to work late due to some case that had dropped into his lap near the end of the work day. When he’d called, all apologetic, you’d told him it was no problem. You lived with a lawman so you knew how it could go sometimes, and you knew to adjust accordingly. The simple solution? You ordered takeout and decided to indulge in some wine and Netflix. 
Once you’d finished half of the newest season of Virgin River, you decided it was time for bed. Sadly, Beau had gotten so tied up with the same case and wouldn’t be home for a few more hours, and that was only if he was lucky. You made sure both doors were locked, turned the lights off, and headed upstairs. At one point, you smiled to yourself at the thought of perhaps waiting to get into bed before calling your cowboy and enticing him to lock himself away in his office or car for a bit.
You had just finished your nightly routine, slipped on the silkiest nightgown you owned, and crawled onto the bed. You positioned yourself as best as you could, smiled as you flipped over to Beau’s contact picture, digging your teeth into your bottom lip. You were just about to facetime the sheriff, hoping he would move away from anyone he was around to answer it, when you heard a sudden breaking of glass downstairs.
You froze, your heart pounding and a part of you wondering if the wine glass you’d left on the counter had fallen off. Then you heard it again. This time a larger volume of glass broke and it was obvious that there was force behind it. You knew then that someone was trying to break into your house. Your mind began to race; to outsiders, your house gave all the tell-tale signs that its owner was home, moving about and/or possibly asleep. Whoever was downstairs was making a lot of noise, and if someone intentionally broke into a house that was clearly occupied, it could only mean one thing.
You jumped off the bed and ran to the closet, speedily entering in the combo for Beau’s gun safe. You grabbed the gun, made sure it was loaded, and hurried to close the bedroom door, hitting the lock. You swiped your cell phone off the bed and called 911, huddling in a corner that couldn’t be seen right away from the door should someone bust in. You kept the gun pointed at the door as you quietly gave the dispatcher your address and all the info needed. You remained on the call with them until the police arrived in record time.
Beau hadn’t been too far behind them, Poppernak having heard the call come through and letting him know immediately. You were in a robe and a pair of Uggs you had thrown on quickly, talking to the responding officers, when your boyfriend pulled up, jumping out of Pedro and running right over to you. He gathered you up in his arms and lifted you off the ground. “Thank God,” he whispered, holding you to him. After a moment, he gently placed you back on your feet and cupped your face, studying you intently. “Are you alright?”
You nodded, still not fully able to speak. The adrenaline was still running rampant through your body, yet fear and shock were slowly starting to make their presence known as well.
He gave you a tender smile and pulled you in for a hug, holding your body against him in a way to further reassure you that everything was alright. And if it wasn’t, you knew he would do everything in his power to make it so.
The officers had taken your statement and assessed the damage, but the suspects had gotten away before the cops showed up. That’s right, suspects — as in plural. Your neighbor across the street, Melanie Layton, had seen them running down the street to the soundtrack of police sirens getting closer; said persons then disappeared in a car that she didn’t know the make or model of, nor could she make out the vehicle’s color. She had just pulled into her driveway, having finished a long evening shift at the nursing home she worked at, and between the darkness and her own exhaustion, she hadn’t been able to really see much of what had happened.
That evening, Beau brought you out to the camper he kept even though he’d moved in with you four months prior. His reasoning had been that you two could take a break from the town should you ever need it, and that night, you’d never been more grateful for his thinking ahead. He stayed in bed with you until you fell asleep. and when you woke up in the middle of the night to find him not in the camper, you quickly discovered that he was sitting outside in one of the deck chairs, sipping coffee and cradling a shotgun in his lap. 
He’d given you a smile when you stepped outside. “I didn’t wake you, did I, darlin’?”
You crossed your arms and inclined your head towards the gun. “What’s that for?”
He shrugged. “I just feel better having it handy is all.”
“So you’ve got a shotgun while you’re sitting on the porch.” You sat down in the chair next to him, flashing him a smile of your own. “What’s next? Yelling at kids to get off your lawn?”
He didn’t laugh at your teasing like you’d expected him to. Instead, he held out a hand to you and you took it. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there, sweetheart.”
“Beau, you had to work. It’s okay.”
Beau let out a heavy sigh and lowered the shotgun safely to the ground with his other hand before pulling you over to sit with him. “No, it ain’t. I should have let Hoyt handle that case and I should have been home with you.”
You weren’t quite sure what to say. You knew it wasn’t his fault, of course, and how could it be? Still, a part of you was still coming down from earlier and your thoughts were running rampant. What if the suspects had come through the bedroom door? What if you’d had to shoot one — or both? Worse, what if you had frozen up and they came upstairs to find you all alone, defenseless and in a vulnerable position? What if you hadn’t even heard them and you were facetiming Beau when they found you? What if you had been able to convince Beau to go somewhere private for a few and you had been in the middle of—
You squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting that thought to go any further, and instead laid your head on Beau’s shoulder. He kissed your forehead and rubbed soothing circles into your back.
“We’re going to get through this,” he quietly reassured you.
You opened your eyes and nodded. “We will. I know we will.” 
A sweet smile formed on his face and he grabbed the blanket that had been wrapped around him and carefully wrapped it around both of you. You had snuggled into him and he pressed a kiss to your hair before laying his head on top of yours, holding you close. You had stayed like that for the rest of that night.
Presently, the police still hadn’t been able to find the suspects even though they checked street cams, traffic cams, canvassed the neighbors, and even took another run at Melanie in case she remembered anything more from that night. At first they tried to dismiss it as most likely two young guys high on meth looking for an easy score, but after one glare from Beau, the detectives assigned to your case cleared their throats and assured you they’d delve deeper. You had been asked to come up with a list of anyone that might be less than pleased with you and, being a county attorney that worked the Criminal Division, that list was bound to be long. You’d even had to think back to your time in Bozeman. Still, nothing panned out. The cops literally had nothing to go on, but they said they would keep you updated about any new developments that came up.
Beau hadn’t left your side for the first two days, electing to have his undersheriff delegate any new cases that came in and handle anything that he usually would. You both had stayed in the AirStream since you weren’t ready to go back home yet. He’d cooked for you, made you laugh, he’d taken you out and about to get your mind off things, and he’d held you close at night. He kept his gun next to the bed as an added means of making you feel safe, but you already felt safer just being with him and being out of that house. Feeling better or not, however, that didn’t mean you didn’t have your moments. When a server had accidentally dropped a glass at the diner Beau had taken you to for breakfast, you had nearly launched out of your seat with how high you’d jumped. Some young guy had stared at you a little too long as you and Beau walked down the sidewalk, and you immediately moved into your boyfriend and dug your fingers into his side when you passed the stranger. You didn’t feel comfortable being anywhere alone in town, feeling as if the moment you were, someone would either grab you, attack you, or hurt you then and there, and you wouldn’t see it coming. You were beyond grateful that you were allowed to conceal and carry, and you were even more thankful that your father had made sure you knew how to hunt, fish, and, most importantly, shoot by your eleventh birthday.
You knew what was happening and why you felt the way you did. You’d dealt with this situation enough in your job — you’d spoken with enough victims of burglaries and home invasions — so you knew the break-in had rattled you. You hated it; being scared of your own shadow wasn’t you, yet you couldn’t help how you were feeling even with Beau as a constant reassurance at your side. 
You really appreciated the careful attention he was paying you; after dropping you off for a visit with Cassie and Denise, a visit that was much-needed and much-enjoyed, he’d even replaced the back door that the would-be thieves had busted in their haste to get inside. There had been a beautiful back door with multiple panes of glass that allowed the sunlight in to brighten up the kitchen each morning, one of the features of the house that had you signing a lease two years ago when you’d moved back to town. What was broken had been replaced by an even nicer door that still allowed your kitchen to have that beautiful golden-hour glow, and the sheriff himself had installed it, locks and everything. Overall, Beau had been amazing and supportive, truly there for you without you needing to ask him to be. But eventually, after a few days, he did have to return to work and so did you. 
He’d had Jenny do a walk-through of the house with the both of you on your first night back. They both made sure all of the locks were working and Beau showed you the new alarm that had been installed as well as cameras on both entryways — everything was secure. Jenny had even posted a deputy outside your house for your first night.
But here you were, obsessively checking every entry point into your bedroom, the place that had served as your safe haven up until the other night. The aluminum bat that you’d purchased was placed next to the bed and you made sure your phone was fully charged in case you needed to call 911 again. You confirmed you had a full clip in your gun that was sitting on your nightstand. Beau had come in some time ago and watched your every movement as he got ready for bed. Only when you checked the locks on the window for the sixth time in your circuit did he slowly approach you.
“Honey, we’re sealed up tight. No one’s getting in without us knowing about it. Plus, Poppernak’s sitting outside. We’re good.” He wrapped his arms around you and hugged you from behind. “Why don’t you come to bed?” He whispered huskily into your ear. 
Any other night, you wouldn’t have needed to be asked twice, but this wasn’t any other night. “Did you make sure the alarm was set?”
He carefully turned you in his arms to face him, cupping your chin and lifting your eyes to meet his. “We’re safe, sweetheart. I promise.”
“I know, I just—”
“We’re safe,” he reiterated, brushing your hair back behind your ear.
You nodded and let out a deep breath. “I know. I’m just…” You struggled to get the words out. “They picked us.” At Beau’s furrowing of his brows, you elaborated: “Out of all the houses on this block they could’ve picked, they picked ours. They knew someone was home. How many cases have you worked where the suspects broke in while someone was in the house and that someone didn’t get hurt? I’m not talking run-ins, I’m talking purposeful breaking and entering, fully knowing someone was there. Because the cases I’ve had where that happens don’t usually have a happy ending.”
Beau mulled over your words for a moment, licking his lips as he tended to do when he was nervous or was about to spout some of that wisdom of his. Given the subject at hand, you knew it had to be the latter.
He framed your face with his hands and stared into your eyes. “Honey, we’re gonna find them. Okay? Helena PD is looking everywhere and so are we. We’re turning over every rock, checking out every possible place they could be.”
“But we don’t even know who they are,” you pointed out. 
“No,” he agreed. “But we have a description to go on. If they risked breaking in like they did, not caring who heard or saw, then they’re bound to make the same mistake again. It’s only a matter of time.”
“So someone else could get hurt before they’re finally caught?”
His brows began to furrow as he stroked your cheeks with his thumbs. “Sure hope not. But I promise you, we’re gonna find them. Soon they’ll be in jail where they belong, and in the meantime, you’re safe.”
You scoffed and pulled away from him. You knew he was just trying to help, to reassure you, but your nerves were frayed — had been fraying since the break-in. “You can’t promise that, Beau, no one can. What happens the next time you have to work late on a case, or you have to travel to testify in a case from Houston like you did a few months ago? Or what if I work late and I’m walking to my car, alone, and…” You couldn’t even finish that sentence, the idea absolutely frightening to you. “And the thing is you’re saying you’ll find them but how can you? You only have a description, not fingerprints, DNA, a profile, a license plate, a make or model of the getaway car — nothing. They could literally be parked behind Poppernak right now, waiting to get in here again, and he wouldn’t even know because no one knows what they look like!” You finished the last part in a yell of frustration. You weren’t mad at him, it wasn’t his fault, and you didn’t mean to lash out, but you were so tired of the bullshit assurances that everyone — from Jenny to the detectives to your friends — had given you the last few days when you knew better.
Beau studied you for a moment and then slowly approached you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into him. “How long have you been feeling this way?” He murmured into your ear.
“What? Frustrated?” You laughed but there was no mirth in it.
“Unsafe,” he clarified.
You dug your fingers into the back of his shirt and you could feel the familiar burning in the corners of your eyes. “Since the break-in,” you whispered.
He pulled back to look at you, sighing. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I thought by fixing the door, installing the alarm system and the cameras, and having Jenny do the walk-through with us… I thought all of that would make you feel better. I should’ve realized that maybe it was too soon for us to come back here after what happened.”
You shook your head. “It’s not that. I appreciate everything you and Jenny have done, and I won’t let anyone keep me out of my own home. It’s just…”
“It’s just what?”
You bit your lip, debating on how to tell him this next part. You knew he would be more than understanding, but for some strange reason you hated even giving voice to it. If you spoke it aloud, it might dare the universe and next time, you might not be so lucky.
“Y/N?”
You let out an uneasy breath and circled your arms around his neck, staring into his eyes. You forced yourself to admit to him what was really bothering you. “That night… When you were going to be late…”
His eyebrows flashed upwards, urging you to continue.
“I wasn’t… I was underdressed.”
You could see confusion starting to layer his expression but he gave you a nod of understanding. “You were getting ready to go to bed, you said.” 
“I was getting ready to facetime you.” When he still didn’t pick up on your meaning, you gave him a look. “So we could have a moment alone. Together.”
“Oh.” His eyes widened slightly when the realization hit him of just what you were talking about. “Oh.”
You nodded, retracting your arms and trying to step back a little, but his hand caught your hip to keep you from leaving. “I just keep thinking, what if I hadn’t heard them breaking in? What if they had come upstairs, into the room, and saw us? What if they…” You swallowed the rapidly forming lump in your throat, unable to finish that thought out loud. You noticed Beau’s jaw tighten, but his eyes remained soft as they stayed trained on you.
He urged you to close the gap between you with a gentle squeeze to your hip. “C’mere, sweetheart,” he whispered, encasing you in his arms once more. He hugged you tighter and you buried your face into his shoulder, inhaling his comforting scent. “That didn’t happen and it’s never going to happen.”
“You don’t know that,” you choked out. “One night you might not be here and then—”
“No one will ever lay a goddamn finger on you while I’m still breathing,” he vowed menacingly. “I promise you that, baby.”
You hugged him tighter, sniffling. It had always amazed you just how secure and at home you felt while in his arms before this; now, you were grateful for the feeling and you wanted to bury yourself in it until this other terrible feeling went away. Logically, you knew that Beau couldn’t be with you every single second of the day and you shouldn’t want that to be the case yourself, but right now, until you felt secure in your own home again, you really didn’t want to be here without him.  
After holding you for a few minutes, he gently moved to wipe a tear that had begun to make its way down your cheek. He offered you a reassuring smile while his eyes were lit with the fire of determination in what he’d promised you. “Whaddya say we move this conversation to the bed?” Your jaw dropped and his eyes bugged out of his head as he scrambled to correct himself, “I didn’t mean like that. I only meant that you’re tired — we’re both tired, and I thought maybe it would be better if we laid down and tried to get some shuteye, that’s all. I—shit. I’m sorry, honey.”
A laugh escaped you, surprising you both. Things had been so serious since the break-in, so intense, even a few minutes ago, that it felt good to laugh again. Just like he had been making you laugh back in the camper — something you never thought you’d experience in this house again. It was a pleasant and welcome surprise. You actually felt yourself start to relax a little. 
Beau beamed down at you, happy to feel some of the tension easing away from your body. “So, bed then?”
You lifted up on your toes and pecked his lips, grinning. “Bed.”
He waggled his eyebrows playfully at you, smirking, as he took your hand and led you over to the bed. Once you both were settled in, you snuggled up to his chest and his arm came around you. You felt even more tension melt away from you which was nice. You didn’t realize just how tightly wound you’d been since you walked back into this house.
“You know, if you wanted, I could start looking around for a new place for us,” he murmured to your hairline.
You frowned and fidgeted with his t-shirt. “I don’t want to be run out of my own home.”
“No one’s running you out of anywhere, sweetheart,” he promised. “But I do want you to feel safe. Whether I’m here or not.”
You thought it over for a moment. You’d been in this house for two years and you’d never had an issue, not until now. This was supposed to be one of the safer neighborhoods and you even knew a few of your neighbors. You’d been to their Christmas parties and Sunday dinners — you’d even been to Sarah Tyler’s daughter’s 5th birthday party at the beginning of the year. You didn’t own this house, yet it had become a home to you. You weren’t sure that you wanted to leave. But you also weren’t sure that you could feel one hundred percent comfortable here ever again. You hated the crux you were in. 
Almost as if Beau heard your thoughts earlier, he whispered against your skin, “If you’re worried about the kitchen door, we’ll take it with us.”
You couldn’t help but laugh. “We can’t take the door with us.”
“Sure we can.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “I installed that puppy and I can take it back down.”
“And leave the house without a back door?” You teased. “Not sure I’ll get my security deposit back when they notice that missing.”
“Nah, we’ll just grab a door from Home Depot and give ‘em that one. I’ll even install it for them for free so you can get that deposit back.”
“My hero,” you joked, turning your head upwards and kissing him.
 “Just think about it, okay?” He murmured to your lips. “You don’t have to decide right now, but at least think about it.”
“Okay.” You smiled when he tenderly brushed your hair back with his hand before kissing you again.
He helped you to settle back down against him and gently rubbed your back, something that made you close your eyes. You were starting to nod off when you heard him murmur, “Sleep. I’ll keep you safe, baby.” Your smile reappeared hearing his voice reverberate underneath you, knowing he meant every single word.
“Love you,” you whispered, kissing his chest and snuggling into him once more.
“Love you, too, darlin’.” His other arm came around you and he kissed your forehead. “Love you, too.”    
You weren’t quite sure what you would decide when it came to the house, but you knew one thing: here, in Beau’s arms, knowing he would do whatever it took to make you feel secure again, you were starting to feel just that bit safer already.
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fort-of-novelty · 2 months ago
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Just held playtest #5 of my playing card Weird West Horror game! This time, the theme is REMOVING RULES FROM YOU GAME.
oooOOOoooo spooky I know!
But don't worry, you don't need to be afraid of removing rules. On the contrary, removing rules is a design tool in of itself.
How I learned this lesson was in my quest to improve The GM tools of my game. The tool I was tweaking was this:
Threats and Horrors
As a GM Move, the GM may foreshadow the presence of a Horror (supernatural) or Threat (mundane) in the narrative. When they do, The GM may put a playing card onto a index card labeled with tha Threat or Horror. Threats have their cards placed face-up, while Horrors have their cards placed face-down. When the maximum amount of cards is placed in the pile, the cards are used in my game's conflict resolution system against the Player Characters.
There are two major problems with my original approach:
1. It Takes Too Damn Long
Because each Threat or Horror is a separate pile and which can have a maximum of 3 or 4 cards, the GM found it difficult to naturally advance their presence. Often times we would end sessions with at least 1 Threat or Horror never even reaching its maximum! This would force the GM to work outside the guidelines of the game and just introduce the Threat or Horror's next step anyway.
2. It Kills The Suspense It's Trying to Develop
The main purpose of this system is to illicit suspense. As a player, watching a meter made of face-down cards slowly build up communicates that danger is brewing, but it also doesn't give you a lot of information. But I realized that by labeling each individual Threat or Horror, I was diminishing that suspense. Because.. it's labeled. The Players aren't stupid, they know exactly which Horror or Threat is going to appear when it reaches maximum card capacity.
So What Was the Solution?
Well, the premise of this GM tool definitely works, but the system is getting in the way of the tool's purpose. So something has to go. And I think now that I've written it out it's pretty clear what parts have to go.
Firstly, Threats and Horrors are just going to be a single meter of face-down cards. I'll let the GM choose what Horror or Threat they want to use when the meter hits maximum; whatever makes the most sense in that moment. No need to hand-hold there.
Secondly, let's do away with the labels. This is kinda already done by only have one, generalized meter, but it's worth saying that now the Players will have no clue what will happen when the card meter hits max. They just know that it'll be bad for them.
Conclusion
Don't be afraid to cut away parts of your game that are getting in the way of the narrative experience! But also, don't jump the gun and completely trash a tool. Instead, try to figure out what exactly that tool is supposed to be doing, and then troubleshoot from there.
Until next time!
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etoilesombre · 1 year ago
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hi! this is maybe very out of the blue, but - i'm reading 'our feast is but beginning' on ao3, and in a comment on part one you write something about the urca gold being a cursed symbol and that it makes zero economical sense. idk really what i am asking but maybe - do you have posts on hand that deal with that? or would you write down some of your thoughts on that? it sounds really interesting! thanks (:
OOOH I'm so excited to talk about this -- it is actually going to come up more in the final chapter of that series, and it comes up as a major plot point in longfic, because I think its a really great example of how in some ways Black Sails is Just a Story. Which is also to say: none of what I'm saying here is a criticism of the show. The Urca Gold is Pirate Treasure writ large, it serves its function in the narrative, we don't actually need to think about the real world implications of stealing it.
But IF, for instance, you were a fanfic writer and kind of a history and econ nerd, and inclined to 'well actually' stuff, then you might see a couple problems with the gold as a solution for a free and independent Nassau. I think of them basically as problems of scale and form.
Let's talk about scale first. Basically, if you are going to steal and not die, you have to make a few calculations.
If you can steal something big, run away and live anonymously ever after, good for you! No problems. (This was Silver's initial plan. He was smart.)
If, however, you are going to steal openly, and maintain some sort of defended home base (see: bandits, organized crime, pirates) you have to ensure it is not worthwhile for people to come get their stuff back. This is why, as a pirate, it behooves you to have a reputation for extreme violence, and also a remote hideout. Merchant ships have insurance, the right people quietly profit from the fencing of pirated goods; nobody actually wants to die, so piracy is cost of doing business, and the world carries on.
The Urca gold is in a completely different class of stealing. This isn't holding up a truck; it isn't robbing the bank. It's robbing the Federal Reserve. Five million Spanish dollars, in today's money (yes, there are issues thinking of it this way, but the point holds) equals somewhere around 250-300 million US dollars.* There is simply no way that it is not worth Spain's (or England's) time and resources to go get it back. The cache they were fighting over at the end was one share and it was enough to cause all that trouble. The full amount would be worth sending a good chunk of your navy for, and the fact that this did not happen immediately requires some suspension of disbelief. Anyway.
Flint's theory seems to be that it's enough money to allow the pirates to defend Nassau against that threat, and basically establish themselves as a rich colony the empires won't fuck with. This is treated by the show like a reasonably serious proposition. So why does it fall apart? You can buy anything with that kind of money, can't you?
Now we get to the problem of form. Gold is only useful if you can exchange it for stuff you need. This is a problem for the pirates on two different fronts, defense specifically and trade in general.
In terms of defense, the pirates would need, very quickly, enough ships and guns to fight at least one imperial navy. But only the major powers were capable of manufacturing those ships and guns. Even if the pirates bought up all they could in terms of well-armed merchant ships/found a corrupt governor or two to buy guns and powder from, it would always be a losing battle because no matter how much money you throw at them, the powers that make warships are absolutely not selling you any. Why would they, when they can use them to come take the gold instead?
So, if the pirates aren't going to live long once they have this gold, can they at least spend their last months being filthy rich and enjoying themselves?
Not really.
We see Jack's crew members getting huge shares, everyone else on the island taking payment to help with defense when the time comes, as well as Jack paying laborers exorbitant amounts. So there's plenty to go around right?
This is how inflation happens. If we all suddenly have twice as much gold, but there is no more actual physical stuff, almost instantly the stuff will cost twice as much. This problem at least theoretically could be corrected by increasing trade. [Also, realistically, people would leave. But let's say they're staying for belief in the pirate republic reasons.] Because in the wider economy of trade in the Atlantic money is still valued normally, you can just import what you need.
And, maybe. This is more plausible than the rest.
But that sort of correction takes time, and given the whole 'war with civilization' situation, there can't be legitimate and sanctioned trade. It's pretty hard to get enough illegitimate goods in for an economy to prosper --- especially because if you're relying on black market trade during wartime, notoriously there ends up being price gouging and then you're back to square one with inflation.
In conclusion: the show does not get bogged down by this, as it shouldn't. It's fine. But yeah, the gold is fake and makes no sense, and Flint and Jack especially are borderline delusional about what it can achieve for them.
*This is actually not as impressive as I wanted it to be, once I started looking up reference points, eg, how much outstanding student debt is there? how much money does besos have? how much is defense spending? Did y'all know we should fight capitalism and eat the rich?
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unia102 · 4 months ago
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Me when I’m big brain.
So inspiration to @crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington for their Ethan work and @granola-slut-quet for bouncing this idea with me!!
So an Ethan and Rebecca team up fan game. Hear me out: Rebecca is sent out to study and collect samples of this new virus going around the markets and in true RE fashion, it goes horribly wrong as the sample she gets, mutates and takes over her only form of transportation, forcing her to flee into the woods of Europe. Basically all of her supplies are lost and all she has is a knife, and a radio that can’t pick up shit. Eventually through the will of god she finds an old hideout black market traders were using, giving light exposition on the new virus and running into a a ‘survivor’. It’s Ethan. He’s of course presumed dead after RE8, only surviving through sheer stubbornness and my word. He’s trying to get back home making up a story of being kidnapped and ‘infected’ after hearing Rebecca researches this.
There’s two big sections: the Rebecca section where she’s hunting down ingredients and tools to try to make a serum for Ethan
And Ethan sections where he’s trying to carve a path home, while trying to single handedly take down every single cell this corner of the world in order to help Rebecca.
Rebecca sections are your classic RE fare, item management, guns, puzzles, and crafting. She has the ability to heal herself more and do puzzles that involve more biomedical processes. Don’t quote me on this. She’d have more of your classic tank controls, while Ethan is his typical 1st person POV gameplay.
Ethan on the other hand deals with more Shadow of Rose DLC where he can use his mold powers to get through obstacles and enemies. The downside is if you use this too much the mold takes over you and it’s a game over. So you have to take it slow and steady still and balance between using a gun that’s weaker but won’t KO you, or a much more powerful mold attack but constant use without any items to reduce how molded you are, will result in a KO. The more you use Ethan’s mold powers the more visibly moldy you get: mold on the edge of the screen, your pants and grunts are replaced with growls and hisses, occasionally you’ll run on all fours. You’ll also look visibly different in cutscenes and Rebecca will react accordingly to this. Such as concern for him being more animalistic than human, and removal of certain scenes
The syringes used to curtail the mold is something that’s used by the black market traders to hinder the molds progress during transport but it never was a solution and that’s why Ethan was in the area, he was looking for some as his mold is almost constantly growing and threatening to take over.
As quoted by granola slut, there are boxes where you can drop supplies, so when you go over the area again as the other character, or in a different area, you can retrieve these supplies and balance out the items you have. This also gives more of a mechanical interaction with the dynamic duo to endear the player to their dynamic. ((I’m very bitter about RE7’s way of handling Mia))
During cutscenes there is their banter and just generally call backs to older games. For example a scene talking about their ‘hard head friend of gold’ is really just them talking about Chris and neither of them knowing. As well as chances to trade collectibles and get your achievement hunter on.
So when the big reveal that Ethan has actually been molded for a while and is lying to Rebecca about everything? Well fuck that break up!! Rebecca doubles down and holds Ethan because that man has been through a lot and he just wants to live a normal life and she respects that. They’re in this together and they care for each other. They are brother and sister and you can’t stop me.
Either way
At the end the big but predictable reveal that Ethan can’t be cured comes up, and they take down the headquarters of the local ring that’s been causing them problems. Rebecca manages to get a rescue but Ethan despite wanting nothing more than to see Rose, also really doesn’t want to be studied like a bug. Rebecca pulls out her girl boss powers and manages to get Chris to stand down and let Ethan live his life. His condition is manageable and he’s no less of an intelligent and lovely being than any other person. So Chris is strong armed into letting Ethan live his life and it’s our first happily ever after with and RE series in a bit because holy hell they need this
:)
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elvenbeard · 1 year ago
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Blank Canvas
Cyberpunk 2077 Fanfic Summary: Mr. B has called, and V and and Kerry follow his invitation. The man who claims he holds the solution to V's problem in his hands, has yet to deliver the proof and keep his word... This is truly V's last shot at a long and happy life, and he sacrificed so much to get here... it better be worth it. (Post-Sun-Ending, mostly canon-compliant, Chapter 8/?, 7542 words, Kerry Eurodyne/V, content warning for mild body horror and canonical disgustingness! - notes at the end >> Previous Chapter >> Read from the Beginning
V’s Kenshin tech pistol rested heavy in his lap. The sharp, cold metal ridges of the word “arasaka” engraved into the barrel bit his tracing fingertips. His eyes were pinned to the building not far ahead, casting an ominous shadow on them in the late afternoon light.
“Got the sneakin’ suspicion we’ll lose contact as soon as you go in,” Rogue said on the holo, “So if I don’t hear back from you within an hour…”
“Send in the cavalry,” V chuckled, as did Rogue on the other end of the line. She sighed.
“Don’t think you gotta worry as much as ya do. They’re shady motherfuckers… but that’s what’s gonna be your protection. They wouldn’t wanna draw the attention hurting you would get ‘em… and even more so, fuckin’ Eurodyne.”
“Good point,” V said, but he couldn’t quite shake the impression that Rogue herself wasn’t so sure about this, deflecting, relativizing a little too much. She’d been in this business more than thrice the time he had, knew what she was talking about. Usually. But even she didn’t know more about these people than V did.
“Ya really think it’s a good idea to take him along?” she asked after a short pause.
V kept his eyes straight ahead, to not give Kerry, on the driver’s seat next to him still, any indication that they were talking about him.
“Well, what do you think?” he said in a tone as neutral as he managed.
“That he’s almost as fuckin’ stubborn as Johnny,” Rogue said, “I get it, really do. Still… Y’know what happened last time I took a rockerboy to a gig.”
“Yeah…”
This knowledge, this memory, was exactly why V did not want Kerry here with him, amongst many other reasons practical, logical, and probably also irrational.
“I’m not sayin’ that lightly,” she said, “But be careful. He might be doin’ this for you, and it could make all the difference. But they sure as fuck know he’s your biggest weakness while you’re in there together. They’re not gonna hesitate to use that against you if they gotta.”
There was a short, heavy pause.
“C’mon now, go, kid,” Rogue then said, ordered almost, “Lemme know how it went… And don’t worry ‘bout the Afterlife. We’ll cope with not havin’ ya around a little while longer.”
“Still not a fan of my optimization plans, hm?” V grinned.
“Fuck off. And move your ass. I’m not gonna come over and kick it for ya.”
She ended the call and V sighed.
“So… she got any final words of wisdom?” Kerry asked, fingers gently drumming on the steering wheel. They had swapped cars at home, and with what Rogue had said just now V wondered if it might not have been better after all to use Kerry’s Aerondight to get here… But then again, if shit hit the fan in some way, he didn’t want any more unnecessary negative attention drawn to him.
“Not really,” V shook his head, “Nothin’ I didn’t think of already at least.”
“Told ya so,” Kerry shrugged, pulling out his cigarettes at the same time. He only paused when he noticed V’s stern stare.
“Ah, fuck,” he mumbled and then got out of the car. They had not only swapped cars, but also changed clothes quickly while at the penthouse. As he slipped from the driver’s seat, Kerry’s black bomber jacket rode up briefly, revealing the gun tucked into the waistband of his cargo pants.
“You shouldn’t do that,” V said as he got out himself, “Posers in action films keep their gun in their pants. In the real world that’s gonna get you shot in the ass faster than you think.”
Out of reflex V closed the passenger side door with his left elbow, flinching at the pain shooting through his shoulder and chest. He took a deep breath, then adjusted his own gun holster worn snugly under his coat.
“Fiiine,” Kerry sighed, lit cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, and he put the gun into his jacket’s pocket. Not ideal still, but better. V smiled at him, and then slowly turned to look down the short, narrow side street they were parked in. They were close to the Santo Domingo district border, in the middle of the industrial area at the edge of the city. The location coordinates Mr. B had sent him laid not far ahead. A new, sleek white building, curved and modern in design, rose at the center of what he remembered to be factory grounds formerly. V guessed it around seven stories tall and it was far from imposing, a little bit lost on the large lot even, but it blended in well with the surrounding corpo complexes. The entire compound was fenced in. V spotted cameras and security turrets near the reinforced entrance gate. No security staff though, not even mechs or drones, much to his surprise. Or maybe they were simply not out in the open, or cloaked, or, or, or...
“I’d like to have a short look around before goin’ in,” V said, turning back to Kerry, “You wanna wait here?”
“I’d rather tag along,” he said, then added, “If I’m not in the way.”
Kerry’s tone was off, he stood slightly hunched over, as if to make himself smaller.
“You’re not,” V quickly said, forcing a smile as he reached out to tug on his sleeve briefly. Kerry really wouldn’t be a bother for some casual scouting ahead of time. He might even notice things V didn’t. Four eyes, and all that.
“I’m just asking ‘cause I’m still not sure what to really expect. Give you the chance to back out, y’know?”
“V, how many more times do I gotta tell you you’re stuck with me?” Kerry asked sternly, then slowly started walking towards the compound and V followed. As soon as they’d reached the end of the side street though, he hesitated and turned back around, downplaying his uneasiness with a brief smirk and cocky shrug, as if to say, “after you”.
“Let’s go for a short walk around the block,” he decided, nodding to have Kerry follow him around the corner. To look around, and to maybe walk off some of their nervous energy.
They headed along the main road in northern direction, “Francis Street” said the small buzzing signs at the intersection. The building was to their left now, and they’d slowly surround it counterclockwise. Kerry stayed close, V had his scanners active and investigated the security setup, looking for weaknesses in the system or structure, and anything out of the ordinary they could potentially use to their advantage.
“Isn’t it, dunno… suspicious to walk around out in the open like this?” Kerry asked shorty before they’d turn around the first corner, “I mean, not tellin’ ya how to do your job, but…”
“No, you’re not wrong,” V said, “But this is not a stealth job. If we had to sneak in quietly, I would’ve parked the car somewhere else to begin with. Do the reconnaissance from further away, over a longer timeframe. But since they expect me, and we got an access token…”
“Then… why make the effort?” Kerry wondered.
“Can’t hurt to know what we’re up against if something goes wrong,” V said, “I don’t know this area well, and it’s good to have a rough layout of everything in mind at least. ‘specially since the place doesn’t seem to have regular windows.”
They stopped briefly on the northern side of the compound and V nodded into the direction of the building. So far, he had noted nothing out of the usual, nothing he wouldn’t have expected in one way or another.
“See that?” he pointed to a gate on the side of the building blending in so well with the exterior walls, it was barely visible without a scanner, “Could be a garage entrance, and going by the size it’s big enough for a small tank. Could even lead underground. And the lights on the roof, the colors, and the way they’re arranged, suggest an AV landing pad. But can’t tell from here if there’s one there right now or not. No big communication towers or anything though, so this is all pretty closed off, which fits their secrecy and posing as an independent little lab with no ulterior motives. The security tech I’ve seen so far… all Arasaka, even if they removed the branding for most of it to make it less apparent.”
No wonder, his former employer’s name wasn’t well-liked in Night City once again.
“Huh,” Kerry pondered V’s explanations for a moment, looking the building up and down, “Wouldn’t even know where to start, like… sure, there’s security turrets and cameras but, what to do with that info…”
V had been uncertain about whether or not he wanted to… but in the end, he was convinced that Mr. B would expect him to check out their security upfront.
“Can you keep an eye out for a moment?” V asked, “Just out here on the street. Make a note of anyone passing by or giving us weird looks.”
“What’re you up to?” Kerry wanted to know, shoulders tense, but voice relaxed.
“Check the cameras. Just a minute or so, don’t wanna push it,” he said with a grin, hacking into the CCTV at the same time. His vision blurred and he gained control of the camera nearest to their position. It was attached to the corner post of the fence surrounding the compound.
“Oookay…” Kerry said reluctantly, and through the lens V saw themselves, Kerry looking around with his hands in his pockets, surely clinging to his iron.
“Don’t worry,” he tried to soothe him, “I’ll be quick and then we continue.”
The cameras on the outside of the building were all part of a separate closed-circuit network, and V couldn’t find an easy way to gain access to any internal systems. Not that he had expected to. He switched through the various cameras, most of them on the fences, around the gate, then surprisingly one surveying from the rooftop. He panned it around.
“Huh, no AV on the roof,” he informed Kerry, “Also, nothing out of the usual… apart from all security completely automated it seems. No illusive private security firm like the Peralezes had to deal with…”
He logged out of the system again, blinking a few times until his optics had refocused.
“Let’s move on.”
They completed the rest of their lap around the compound in a little less than ten minutes overall. There was not much to discover, nothing out of the usual, and V had to shut up the nagging voice in the back of his head complaining that all he did was procrastinate the inevitable.
“Last chance,” he said quietly, turned to Kerry, who shook his head sternly, eyes narrowed and dark.
“The only way I’m not going in there with you ’s them draggin’ me back out by my feet.”
V more mouthed than said “okay” in response, but still his whole body screamed to put Kerry back into the car and lock the doors until this was over. Instead, he stepped down from the curb onto the dusty tarmac. Crossing the few yards now separating them from the compound entrance seemed to be an insurmountable distance, while with each step V’s dread grew.
The gate at the center of the lot was heavy black metal, just like the fence. V recognized security scanners embedded into the floor. A couple of signs attached warned of trespassing and lethal force being used, the usual markings one could find to the entrance of every corporate- or government owned facility like this. Only now V finally noticed the nameplate above the entrance. It was somewhat subtle, fine silver letters engraved into white marble-like material, mirroring the design of the building.
“Beyond?” Kerry muttered as if he’d read V’s mind. V glanced at him also reading the sign, then Kerry looked at him.
“Heard worse names for a startup,” V shrugged. Very faintly below the “Beyond” a tagline stated “Technologies” in a spaced out, heavier font.
“Guess time will tell if they’re beyond awesome or beyond awful,” Kerry muttered, and V chuckled.
“Beyond belief, maybe?” he said, and Kerry groaned.
“Beyond belief how many bad puns this will lead to…”
They both snickered, briefly forgetting why they were here, that there was nothing really to joke about just yet.
V looked around for an intercom or something comparable, but there was nothing.  Security cameras, yes, but even as they finally stood right in front of the gate, there seemed to be no immediately visible way inside, nothing happened.
“Hello?” he asked out loud, for lack of a better idea in the moment, his heart beating in his throat, “I’m here… For Mr. B?”
Nothing.
Kerry stepped a little closer, hands still in his pockets, and looked around, over his shoulder, at V.
“Gonna try and call him,” V said after a couple of moments, but then a soft crackle of static somewhere above their heads made them both look up.
“Welcome,” a voice said. Not Mr. B’s as far as V could tell, probably an automated receptionist. He still couldn’t tell where exactly it was coming from though, it seemed to be all around them with no discernible source. Not loud or otherwise attention-drawing, only just so they could hear it.
“Please step into the scanner,” the voice ordered.
V did as he was told, somewhat reluctantly, and he flinched slightly when suddenly Kerry grabbed his hand. Not to hold him back, just to hold on as he followed. The scanner activated, blue lights flashing and surrounding them completely for a few seconds.
“Firearms detected,” the voice said, “Combat cyberware detected.”
“A cyberdeck is classified as a weapon now?” V muttered under his breath as the scan completed.
“Ezaki, Vincent, 28. Fixer, Afterlife-Merc. Ex-Agent, rank III, Arasaka Counterintelligence. ‘King of the Afterlife’, wanted in Night City for - …”
“The fuck, you wanna yell my whole biography across the street?” V complained and almost simultaneously Kerry also started berating the voice.
“Shit, how do you even know - …”
They looked at each other, as the voice continued. Then it dawned on V. He only heard it in his head.
“Fuck me sideways…” Kerry muttered quietly, coming to the same conclusion, “That’s not creepy at all...”
“Scan complete,” the voice said before they could even recover from their realization, “Token verified. Visitor access granted.”
There was a loud click and a thud, and then, like an ancient creature awaking from its slumber, the massive gate crawled open.
“What the fuck was that?” Kerry asked, both of them hesitating to enter.
“Intimidation tactics,” V said sternly.
“If that’s how they treat their guests I don’t wanna know how they treat their enemies,” Kerry mumbled. V wondered if concepts like “friends” and “enemies” really mattered all that much to these people.
“Stay behind me a bit, just in case,” he said, still convinced that any moment now someone would open fire, or snatch Kerry away from him, that he was not wanted here after all. Reluctantly Kerry let go of his hand as they entered the compound, the gate rattling shut behind them again. Mr. B had sprung one of his may traps once more.
A white-tiled path wound its way between coarse dark gravel towards the entrance of the building, framed by freshly planted, synthetic bonsai trees that were all a bit too uniform, too perfect. V and Kerry were not even halfway there when the tall black entrance doors slid open, revealing a sprawling hall beyond. A handful of flat steps led up and into it, and the hair on V’s neck stood up when they stepped inside.
“Got a bad feeling,” Kerry uttered out loud what V was thinking.
Describing the entrance hall as imposing was an under- and overstatement at the same time, somehow. Its dimensions were certainly breathtaking, encompassing at least half of the building’s height and width. A smartglass ceiling projected the endless night sky above them, cosmic clouds swirling between sparkling stars and far solar systems, the logo “Beyond Technologies” floating among the digital nebulas. The darkness of the ceiling was reflected in the black marble flooring, while the indirectly lit walls were white. Decorative silver lines crawled between earth below and sky above, reminiscent of circuit boards. “We reach for the stars” seemed to be the message here, and the first impression was certainly something. Apart from that though, the room was disappointingly empty, almost as if the budget had run out mid-furnishing. No desks, chairs, decorations. No people, either, and the security systems, which certainly existed, were well-hidden. On the inside the building was just as devoid of actual life as its surroundings.
The only outstanding architectural element was a large glass tube housing two separate elevator shafts at the center of the room, the only other visible ways in and out. Just as V had finished the thought, an elevator came into sight from above, within the familiar face of Mr. B.
“That’s him,” V whispered, and Kerry shuffled, whether with unease or to ready himself he was not certain.
The elevator stopped on their level, the door slid open elegantly. Mr. B, dressed in a white blazer combined with sleek, silvery pants today, stepped out towards them.
“So glad you could make it this soon,” he said, tone overly friendly, “Although you look somewhat more roughed-up than Saturday…”
“Nothin’ to do with the gig,” V quickly deflected.
“Didn’t think so,” Mr. B said with a nod. He slowly, steadily walked towards them, but stopped retaining about three yards of distance – respectful or distrustful? Arms behind his straightened back, he held his head high, and blue glowing eyes looked V up and down briefly before wandering to Kerry.
“Mr. Eurodyne,” he hinted a bow, “A true honor and pleasure to meet another Night City legend in person.”
V half expected a snarky response like “wish I could say the same” or “can we just skip the pleasantries and get down to business”, but in fact, Kerry remained quiet. V looked over his shoulder, just to make sure he was still there.
“So, you’re the guy claimin’ he can save V’s life?” Kerry then finally said, the tiniest, most gut-wrenching tremble accompanying his last few words.
Mr. B’s smile grew slightly wider.
“I’m not just claiming it,” he said, oozing confidence.
“How?” Kerry asked promptly, “’Cause - …”
Mr. B raised his hand to stop him, and Kerry scoffed.
“I think it is easier to show you than to explain,” he said, “Follow me, please.”
He half-turned and elegantly gestured towards the elevator. V and Kerry exchanged a quick glance. V could sense Kerry’s nerves, his nausea about this whole situation. Every cell in V’s own body warned him about stepping into that elevator and yet… Was that Johnny’s lingering influence, his aversion to corporations and slimy bastards like Mr. B, or really V’s own instinct speaking? Also, Mr. B seemed surprisingly relaxed about Kerry even being here… V had expected more of a resistance, more hoops to jump through. And now they were invited in just like that?
Mr. B led the way and V and Kerry felt they had no other option but to follow, as if they were being pulled by an invisible leash. There was no way for them to speak, communicate what to do if something went wrong. V did a quick scan of their surroundings as they walked, noting that there really were no doors beyond the entrance and the elevators in this whole cathedral of a room – was this really built just to show off, impress the – presumably – rare visitors?
“After you,” Mr. B said and V stepped into the wide, circular elevator, closely followed by Kerry, glued to his side.
“I know everything is a bit bleak still out here,” Mr. B then said with a glance over his shoulder, right as he joined them. V shivered.
“Not at all, it is impressive,” he flattered, “But yes, you mentioned this building is brand-new?”
Blue-Eyes nodded.
“You are among the first of our… clients to walk within these walls,” he said, “For lack of a better term.”
The doors slid shut with precision. V couldn’t see a control panel, and yet the elevator just seemed to know where they were headed, ascending towards the galaxy ceiling, and then passing through. Remote controlled, probably. Blue-Eyes had to be stock-full of chrome capable of little tricks like that, nothing that impressed V too much just yet.
“Who are your other ‘clients’, apart from people you invest in,” V inquired instead. Unable to hide his curiosity he deliberately used Mr. B’s terminology, even though he’d always hated to be treated as some corporation’s investment. Kerry’s stinging stare was like a knife to his throat, but V kept his eyes on Mr. B as they ascended slowly. The elevator shaft was only see-through on the ground level, further up the futuristic magic of it all was somewhat diminished, replaced with run-of-the-mill skyscraper interior aesthetics.
Mr. B turned to look at V, smile as piercing as his eyes.
“So far it is only people we invest in – in one way or another,” he said.
The elevator came to a halt, the doors slid open again, revealing a long, bright corridor that screamed “lab”. There were doors left and right, but V could not make out identifying markers, nameplates, or anything else to give an indication of what lay behind them as they followed Mr. B to the end of the hallway. The silence, apart from their echoing footsteps, was thick, and V counted the doors, memorizing how far apart they were and approximated how long it would take to run the entire distance to the elevator, how quickly they would be able to find cover.
Mr. B opened the tall white door ahead of them. They entered a large office, its shape followed the curve of the building’s exterior walls, and V roughly knew where they were now. Somewhere above the large garage gate they’d seen from the outside.
The room was about twice the size of V’s old Megabuilding H10 apartment. The entirety of the curved wall was covered in smartglass displaying once more the name “Beyond” on a minimalistic, slightly animated white and silver background. It provided enough illumination to bathe the whole room in soft, almost-natural light. A large white desk sat roughly at the back center of the room, a modern art piece of its own volition. There were two comfortable armchairs for visitors and a large office chair behind it, all white leather. In fact, the whole room was so bright, so white, so immaculately clean that it made V dizzy. As if he’d walked right into the afterlife – the literal one this time, not the bar. And again, apart from the desk and seating, there was nothing else in here. Some modular shelves built into the walls that weren’t covered in screens, but no decoration, no sliver of personality. Smooth, cold, bright, blinding, corpo-chic… in a way, it did make sense after all that this was Mr. Blue-Eyes’ office.
“Please, have a seat,” Mr. B said as he sat down in the office chair. V and Kerry obliged, Kerry still with his hands in his pockets, slumping back, legs spread wide, right one slightly bouncing. He never took his eyes off Mr. B. The latter pulled up a holographic screen in front of him, top-notch tech if V had ever seen any. Arasaka’s collapse was probably what had made the setup of this lab possible in the first place – certainly the security measures, so why not the tech on the inside as well? In a way, V was suddenly thrown back into Jenkins’ office, the many lengthy private meetings either with just V alone or the other agents on his level invited.
“I take it Mr. Eurodyne has been brought up to date on why you’re here today?” Mr. B then asked, catching V completely off guard. Blue-Eyes tapped around on his screen briefly before leaning back in his chair, legs crossed, and hands folded expectantly. Only now Kerry briefly glanced at V.
“Wish I was being brought up to date still if I’m being completely honest,” V said sternly, “I’ve kept my word, no mention of what I did for you until it was done.”
“Who else knows?” was the counter-question.
“No-one that wasn’t directly involved,” V replied fast and truthfully.
Blue-glowing eyes stared him down intensely, certainly equipped with the tech to read intention and recognize lies. But V was a good liar, and in this case, for once, he even told the truth, had nothing to hide. After a couple of moments, Mr. B’s shoulders relaxed somewhat, but V’s heart continued to run a marathon in his chest.
“I’ve left him in the dark long enough. Your turn now,” he added sternly.
Mr. B slightly tilted his head, and his smile returned.
“You remember our conversation at the Afterlife?” he asked, “I promised you something beyond your wildest imagination… An instant and permanent solution to your medical issues.”
He cleared his throat briefly, then continued. V had to force himself to relax his own posture, mirroring Blue-Eyes’ now with his legs crossed, as if they were having a nice dinner date to talk business.
“The way I see it, having known you and your condition for a while now, your problem has always been the one of an alert, bright mind, trapped in a dying body,” Mr. B said, “First it was the Relic slowly killing you, and now it’s the only thing that’s left of your life how it used to be.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” V shook his head, but he was sick to his stomach hearing what he knew deep down spelled out so clearly, with so little emotion. The doctors they’d dealt with so far had always at least somewhat tried to sugarcoat the facts, usually in medical terms. Or provided them with the same “options” Hellman had already loved to push on him, “options” to consider apart from chasing a cure that didn’t exist.
“You can sense it though, don’t you?” Mr. B continued, leaning forward slightly now, “You should, at this point. Your mind disconnecting itself, slowly but surely, from a host not fitting its specifications anymore.”
“Can you cut it out with that gross tech-jabber?” Kerry interrupted him now, “V’s not some machine, and his body is his body, not a ‘host’, for fuck’s sake.”
Mr. B briefly turned to look at Kerry, keeping up his friendly smile.
“Apologies,” he said, “I do sometimes get caught up in the technical terminology.”
“How do you know all that anyway?” V then asked, trying to maintain his relaxed posture while his head began to throb in pain once more, “The emptiness the… disconnect. Because yes. That’s how I’d put into words what I’m feeling lately. Or… not feeling, rather.”
Blue-Eyes reached out to turn around his screen for V and Kerry to see.
“We were able to get our hands on a lot of very interesting data from Arasaka’s ‘Secure your Soul’ program,” he explained, “It is far from complete, but we have access to a large database containing both simulations and clinical trials with human study participants, for both the original Relic and the Relic 2.0. With what we have, gaps were easy to approximate.”
V scanned through the data on the screen briefly, recognizing some names and information here and there from his own venture into the depths of Arasaka’s labs during that long, dark, awful night back in June.
“The 2.0 never made it to completion though,” V then said, looking up from the terminal, “I’m the first one where it… somewhat worked as intended. Failed successfully. Hellman himself said so.”
“Indeed,” Mr. B nodded, “We were able to secure many notes of Mr. Hellman’s team as well, verifying his concerns on our own time meanwhile, and reaching similar conclusions. In subjects where the Relic malfunctioned or the engram didn’t fully take, even in those otherwise most promising, there was always mentions of a growing numbness, disconnect, distance between engram and host… until the engram eventually malfunctioned and, for lack of a better word, disabled itself.”
“You mean, died,” Kerry said sternly.
“I hope you’re not implying you’ve carried on Hellman’s work…” V asked, his mind racing at the mental image of the basement levels of this building just a whiter, friendlier-looking copy of Arasaka’s labs, while containing the same or even more messed up levels of human experimentation. He did not like Mr. B’s widening, predator-like smile.
“Not in the sense you’re imagining,” he shook his head. But he did not outright deny it either.
V swallowed, he struggled to continue holding eye-contact with Mr. B, when his mind told him “Run. Now!”. Kerry looked back and forth between V and Blue-Eyes tensely, brow heavily furrowed, slowly sliding closer to the edge of his seat.
“Anders Hellman’s focus were the Relic’s architecture and the engrams themselves. Optimizing those two variables to ensure the transferred personalities were as close to their originals as possible,” Mr. B continued, “For Arasaka’s purposes that was a valid concern. Nothing worse than transferring Saburo-sama into a new host body only to have him, well… come back wrong. Not the man, the leader he is. It makes sense.”
He paused, uncrossed his legs, and got up from his chair. He turned to look at the smartglass wall behind them, the slightly pulsating “Beyond” engulfed in digital fog. Then he looked back at V.
“Your concern though, as mentioned, lies in the fact that you’re currently in the wrong kind of host body, which is actively rejecting your psyche.”
“Get to the fucking point, fucking hell,” Kerry muttered and pulled out his cigarettes.
“I’d kindly ask you not to smoke in here,” Mr. B said, tone still friendly, but he looked down on them, towered over them.
“Make me,” Kerry challenged, rummaging for his lighter at the same time, eyes electric and wild.
“Kerry,” V awkwardly placed his injured hand on Kerry’s right thigh in an attempt to soothe him. Only after staring at each other intensely for a couple of moments Kerry stopped searching for his lighter.
“I don’t like where this is going either,” V thought, hoping somehow to convey his conflicting emotions without words. He hated everything about this, but… Mr. B’s promise was his last shot at a life together. At the very least he wanted to hear all details of his offer, even if…
Kerry put his hand on V’s carefully, holding it in place. He understood.
“I know this is a lot to take in at once,” Mr. B then said, “Even more so I am glad to have you both here, as, with how close you are, my solution to your problem will certainly be a concern for each of you to consider.”
V’s stomach twisted at that implication alone. Mr. B tapped around on his screen once more, and a sudden hissing noise behind them made both V and Kerry flinch, then spin around. A previously invisible hatch in the ground slid open, steam rolling in, probably caused by the reaction of some sort of coolant with the nicely air-conditioned office. A large platform began to rise from the ground, on top of it an eerily coffin-shaped and -sized container.
“Here is my offer, my solution, my payment for you, V,” Mr. B said proudly, “And my promise for a bright future ahead.”
V’s heart and thoughts were racing. The platform came to an agonizingly slow halt, locking into place with a metallic thud. The cold steam slowly subsided, and Mr. B walked around the desk passing them, towards the container, until it sat between them. It was built from the same black metal as the gate and fence outside, as the interior of the building beneath the polished white walls and shiny screens.
“Am I gonna regret looking at this?” V asked hesitantly, still glued to his chair, as was Kerry, fingertips digging into the syn-leather.
“I think you have seen worse in your time,” Mr. B smiled, then beckoned him to come over. V rose, slowly, each movement calculated precisely. Step by step, one after the other… his feet barely obeyed him, he had to convince them to move, carry him towards this human-sized pandora’s box.
Kerry remained behind a little while longer but got up as soon as V had reached the platform.
The lid on top of the container was see-through, thick security glass, slightly covered in condensation. The interior was still clearly visible though, illuminated by the same icy light as everything in the building.
V leaned forward, daring a glimpse. He gasped, shuddered at the sight of a body laying inside. Not surprised, he was also not thrilled, but also unable to take his eyes off of it. This was not a random dead person in front of him. It appeared human at first glance, but the longer V looked the more wrong it became. It was hairless, sexless, naked, its facial features weirdly smooth and undefinable, a mannequin made to look human at best… and the worst alternatives would certainly haunt V’s nightmares in the days to come. It appeared sleeping, or dead, arms resting at its sides, its eyelash-less eyes closed. It wasn’t breathing, seemed frozen in place almost, and the container was giving off an icy cold aura.
 “What in the fuck… is that?” V finally managed to ask. Stepping away from the container he bumped into Kerry who had only just reached his side.
“Your means of survival,” Mr. B said as if they were looking at a cartoonishly colorful pill bottle, not a prop from a bad mid-last-century sci-fi horror flick.
“Sorry, but that ain’t quite cutting it as an explanation,” V said, and he was close to reaching the point of slapping the slimy smile out of Mr. B’s face. He kept his cool though, forced himself to breathe slowly.
“Motherfucker, what the hell…” Kerry hissed, now also getting a peek into the futuristic metal-casket, but he quickly withdrew again, “That a fuckin’ corpse or what?”
“What you’re seeing here is a second chance for many people in your situation, V,” Mr. B said, disregarding Kerry’s remark. He placed his hands on the rim of the container’s lid.
“People with a healthy mind that are dying of an incurable disease, whatever it may be. Let down by their own body, all options are exhausted. But they are not yet ready to give up. This is an individual, pain-free solution to live a long, healthy life, in a more natural way than any other modern therapy could offer.”
“Fuck that, nothin’ ‘bout that thing’s natural,” Kerry grumbled, and once more, Mr. B raised a hand to stop him, calm him down. Kerry glared, then he turned to V.
“You’re seeing how fucked up this is, right?”
V’s own heartbeat was so loud, he barely heard Kerry’s voice.
“This is more natural than your body is at this stage, Mr. Eurodyne,” Mr. B said, then paused briefly, “No offense.”
Kerry froze, biting his tongue certainly sharp with an angry retort.
“What exactly is it, even?” V then slowly asked, but still didn’t dare to look back inside the container, “Some kinda… RealSkinn-covered cyborg? A new kinda total body conversion, a clone, or what?”
“Neither, not quite,” Mr. B shook his head. He looked down into the coffin, bright light from within reflected in his eyes, illuminating his pale face. Then he took half a step back again and sought V’s gaze.
“This is the product of years of trial and error, research and optimization, many failures,” he began to explain, “A blank canvas comes closest maybe to what it is exactly. No conversion, but a replacement. A biological body, with slight… enhancements. It needs food, sleep, exercise, grows hair, ages, can get aroused, sick, injured, bleeds, and it will eventually die… everything a ‘natural’ body would do as well. This is not immortality, but life. The body can be pre-equipped with top-tier synthetic organs, an operating system, interface plugs, personal link, and any other cyberware the client wishes for or is used to. With the great benefit that, since the body ‘naturally’ comes with these enhancements, cyberpsychosis is almost no concern anymore, for example. On its own though it cannot survive. It needs to be equipped with a conscience first.”
“Not so ‘natural’ after all then…” Kerry muttered under his breath.
“No offense,” V said, “That’s all nice and well but…”
“You can’t see yet how this would help you in your situation?” Mr. B asked. V grinned.
“That thing’s ugly as fuck,” he said, “Adam Smasher was a beauty pageant winner in comparison.”
Mr. B chuckled, but his eyes remained coldly fixated on him.
“Can I just pick a nice faceplate to slap on, too, together with all the other fancy chrome you can stuff in there?”
“Oh, far from it, V,” Mr. B said, raising his head triumphant, “This body can be yours as much – or even more so – than your current one is.”
He walked to the lower end of the container, tapping onto a small panel there. V was momentarily scared the creepy flesh-mannequin would now wake up and emerge, to secure its spot in the top three of messed up things he’d seen this year. Instead, though, the glass panel atop the container flickered, like a screen being turned on.
“No need to be afraid,” Mr. B smiled.
“I’m not,” V quickly retorted, almost believing himself.
“Come closer, have a look.”
V swallowed, then slowly stepped forward again. When he looked in the container, his heart stopped. He looked at his own face, asleep, dead, frozen in this weird state of stasis.
“What the… a projection?” he realized as he tried to process this visual still.
“To give you an idea of what’s possible,” Mr. B nodded.
And indeed, it was still the same, blank, doll-like body, just with his face and hair projected onto it. Kerry slowly approached again as well, staring into the container speechlessly.
“The body will be yours not only in a biological sense,” Mr. B explained, “We use your DNA’s structure as a basis to shape the genetic aspects. From skin- and hair color down to individual freckles.”
The projection slightly adjusted, beginning to resemble V more and more. Describing the visuals as “bizarre” was not nearly strong enough an emotion to fit V’s thoughts and feelings in this moment.
“But we can also modify every aspect to your liking, create an ‘ideal’ you, far from what modern medicine and modifications could currently achieve in an already existing body.”
V didn’t even have to ask for clarification when the appearance of the body’s chest changed, top surgery scars gone as if they’d never existed… and its genitals definitely were different from what V was used to seeing when he looked down, when he scrutinized himself in the mirror on a bad day. He shuddered, with intrigue, horror, disgust, curiosity alike.
“You’re saying… you’re remaking my body from scratch, and ‘better’, basically…”
He barely managed to get the words out, his throat tight and dry, his stomach unhappy with the mere thought.
“Not better,” Mr. B said, marketing-voice in full action, “However you want it, whatever you wish it to be like.”
Next, V’s neck cyberware appeared on the projection, then his tattoos, in surprising detail. Even Johnny’s stupid love-heart… V didn’t want to ask or even know just how they got all of this down so accurately.
“Okay okay,” V said and stepped back from the container, before the nausea of seeing himself lying in that coffin, kind of dead-looking, got the better of him, “You got a new body for me, alright. But how do you get me in there? And…”
His breath hitched at a grim realization.
“What happens… to this body? My… real body?”
Mr. B blinked slowly, raised his eyebrows, then turned off the projection. Only the blank body base from the beginning remained in the container.
“Your new body will be more real, more you, than this one is at this stage,” he said calmly, gesturing in V’s direction, “It will be healthy, free of old trauma, and equipped with the tech to safely contain your mind and memories without the option of someone – accidentally or willingly – turning the lights off by removing the Relic from your neck slot. I hate to say it, but your current body is your greatest weakness, V, riddled with exploits. You will not need it anymore, as it is only holding you back from using your full potential.”
V's head began to spin wildly, midway through Mr. B’s explanations.
“Vince…” Kerry, who had kept himself in the background for the last couple of minutes, reached out to support him, hand firm on V’s back.
“So… what, I gotta… You’ll run me through Soulkiller again, or what?” V asked, trying to sort his racing thoughts as he spoke.
“In a way, yes,” Mr. B said, but he might as well just have punched V in the gut, “We are currently looking into creating our own version of the algorithm, a more… gentle approach. The problem of engrams created with Arasaka’s Soulkiller has always been, to more or less of a degree of severity, their emotional stuntedness. We would want to avoid a further decrease in authenticity for this transferal.”
“And my body is just… It will die?”
“It is dying this very moment,” Mr. B said, without a hint of sympathy in voice or expression, but a flat matter-of-factness striking V at the very core, “And it will take your mind along with it, if we don’t act soon.”
“Hold up, hold up,” Kerry said, his fingers digging into V’s bruised side, making him flinch, but he leaned into the touch, into Kerry for support, “Didn’t you just say you’re still working on… how to even get him into this new body?”
“Yes, and we are almost ready,” Mr. B nodded, “A few days, at most. And for the time being, we also have the option – just an option, no must – to slow down the decay. A medically induced coma, in laymen’s terms. You go to sleep in this, and wake up in your new body, without noticing anything in-between, ideally.”
“Ideally…” V repeated weakly.
“V?” Kerry said quietly, urgence in his voice. V slowly turned away from the container to look at Kerry. His eyes were wide and worried, he looked him up and down briefly. Beads of cold sweat ran down the small of V’s back, his legs were numb, his hands clammy.
“I think I need some fresh air,” was all he managed to say, trying to hold Kerry’s gaze but failing, grabbing his arm now as his head grew heavier by the minute.
“Of course. It is a lot to take in at once,” Mr. B said. With that and a loud clank the body container started to slowly disappear into the floor again, locked away behind shiny white tiling, like a well-hidden dirty little secret.
“Let me accompany you outside,” Mr. B suggested, and now it was Kerry to raise his hand at him.
“We’ll manage, thanks,” he said, mimicking Blue-Eyes’ overly friendly tone.
“As you wish,” Mr. B nodded, opening the office door for them at least, “As I said, at the latest in a few days we are ready to receive you here, but you can come in any time from now on to get the procedure started. It’s the least we can do to ensure your wellbeing for the future, V. That you even get to see a future… both of you together.”
“Sure, thanks,” V said tersely, Mr. B’s voice muffled and distant as Kerry half-dragged, half-pushed him out of the office, through the endlessly long white hallway with mystery-doors left and right. The open elevator awaited them, miraculously took them to the ground floor without them having to push any buttons or even say a word.
“We’re outta here in a moment, don’t worry. It’s all good,” Kerry said, hands cupping V’s face, but every time their eyes met, V reflexively looked away at the stinging flash of blue.
The elevator doors snapped open, and V and Kerry marched across the huge, empty, echoing entrance hall to the already open exit. The sun had almost set when they stepped outside onto the flawless path ahead, sand and street dust swirling across the courtyard. V stumbled down the steps by the entrance, almost pitched forward, breath shaky, knees trembling. For a moment he thought he’d be able to regain his composure, taking a few deep breaths… but his headache, the nausea that had been riddling him the whole time they’d spent in that building, took over. Right on Mr. B’s doorstep, between neatly trimmed fake bonsai trees, V puked his guts out onto the pristine white marble tiles.
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>> Next Chapter
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Notes:
Last time there was smut, and now here's the promised angst... HHHH I was really really nervous about posting this, cause we're entering straight-up sci-fi territory now and my Cyberpunk lore knowledge is not as deep as I would like it in some regards sometimes XD But yeah... V's problem is, his body's letting him down, is dying... time for a new one right? Simple! Easy!
What would you do in his situation? I'm honestly curious (as I'm unsure how I would even feel like xD)!
I hope you enjoyed reading this, I think this was the longest chapter so far... and the angst will continue for a bit next time but maybe... maybe (I'm really not 100% certain yet, depends really on how V and Kerry are gonna behave XD), we'll have a little cameo of someone coming up soon 👀
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@humberg @r3d-f0x-blog @thatinternetwanderer @localtranspigeon @xtaiyo  @kharonion  @genocidalfetus  @seeker-of-truth 💜
If you’d also like to get tagged when I post a new chapter for this fic, leave a reply on [this post] or send me a DM!
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jadelotusflower · 1 year ago
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Stargate rewatch: 1x21 Within the Serpent's Grasp
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We’re back in tarp city, quite a circle back to the pilot.
Daniel sans glasses once again, urging the team to go through the gate to the address he got in the AU. Jack still doesn’t believe him and Sam is concerned about a court martial, but Teal’c is immediately on board.
“In the other reality by the time I left Sara was dead, Carter your whole family was dead, hell I was dead, everyone was dead.” Interesting that Daniel specifically mentions Sara here, I wonder if the Jack/Sara relationship was something they were considering revisiting at some point.
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The first use (I think) of the black BDUs by the team.
Is Daniel wearing contacts? At least in the earlier scene he had his glasses hooked on his shirt. I realise I’m harping on this but there doesn’t seem to be any continuity to Daniel’s vision.
Story by James Crocker (his only Stargate credit), teleplay by Jonathan Glassner, directed by David Warry-Smith.
Our first use of the Zat’nik’tel - unpopular opinion maybe but I love the Zats, they become somewhat of a crutch as an all purpose stun gun rather than the “extreme pain” they’re introduced as inflicting, but that’s how it goes.
Jack, Daniel, and Sam being floored by the ship accelerating but not Teal’c is a nice touch.
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It’s Ferretti! Confirmation that he took over from Kawalsky leading SG-2. I always liked Ferretti, it’s a shame he wasn’t more of a supporting/recurring character in the show. In fact I don’t think we see him again after this episode? He’s off to get into prosthetics on Andromeda.
Some continuity issues with what Teal’c knows about the Ha’tak vessels in this episode compared to later on - his knowledge/experience really is dictated by the episode requirements.
The Jaffa turn on the big ol’ silver ball of communication and Apophis dials in to introduce his son Klorel. It’s a bit of a retcon from the pilot but I discuss my headcanon explanation in that episode writeup.
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Daniel shifting into rage mode at seeing Apophis.
Also lol at everyone in their beanies but Jack. RDA really said nope, caps only for O’Neill, no exceptions.
The discussion the team has about whether to try and capture Klorel/rescue Skarra is actually a nice mirror of the one they have in The Nox - Jack and Daniel, being emotionally invested, are keen to do it despite the risk and are quick with justifications (Jack - it would be a strategic advantage, Daniel - they could try and reach Skaara), Teal’c supports them with his own tactical logic, while Sam appropriately questions the plan and makes sure there’s a contingency.
It’s part of why they make such a good team - each of them bring a different skillset and pov to each situation, and they have the respect for each other to talk it through.
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Sam and Daniel plant the C4, and apparently Daniel’s glasses were clipped to his shirt after all, because he takes them out and puts them in a vest pocket for some reason.
For Daniel's snark about "uploading a virus to the mothership" the previous episode, it's kind of lol that their solution ends up being just blowing up the mothership - uploading a virus in the form of explosives.
Jack and Teal’c actually nab Klorel pretty easily in the end - it’s holding onto him that’s the problem.
“He is my father. He seeded the queen mother. He chose the host in which I will live out eternity. Apophis gave me life.” I suppose we’re meant to assume Amaunet is the queen in question but I really wish they’d done more with the familial relationships - both of the Goa’uld and human sides.
Alexis Cruz gives a great performance as Klorel, really pushing Jack’s buttons.
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After Jack shoots him with the Zat, Skaara calls for both Sha’re and Daniel 🥺
Skaara is able to maintain a degree of influence over Klorel even when he regains control - afteraffects of the zat, Skaara’s strength, or because Klorel is a young Goa’uld not yet experienced in controlling a host? Perhaps all three.
Klorel gets Daniel in the hold of the ribbon device (but of course!), and Jack has to make the agonising decision to shoot Skaara to save Daniel’s life.
I mean, if I had a nickel every time a member of SG-1 has to shoot one of Daniel’s family to stop the Goa’uld that possesses them from killing him with the ribbon device…
Maybe it’s not that weird it happened twice, since Jonathan Glassner also wrote Forever in a Day.
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“O’Neill, you must take action!” Why doesn’t Teal’c take action? Someone run over there and tackle Klorel instead of standing around watching Daniel’s brain get fried!
But of course it has to be Jack - Jack who brushed by Daniel in the pilot to greet Skaara, but has grown closer to Daniel since he joined SG-1; they started out only united by a common goal (find Sha’re and Skaara) but have started to develop a real bond. It’s the emotional climax not only of the episode, but the whole season in forcing Jack to chose between the lives of his surrogate son and his comrade and friend.
Added to this is the trauma of Jack being forced to stop Skaara with a gun - Charlie died in part due to Jack’s negligence around his gun, but Jack actively had to shoot Skaara here and that’s heartbreaking.
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A nice mirror to the end of the last episode, with our team staring down at the Stargate framed by the control room of the SGC, and now they're staring down at Earth framed by the Pel'Tak.
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So I (finally!) bought a pair of really good noise cancelling headphones, and it has changed my life! It's the fanciest thing I've bought in years, so to recoup some of the cost, I’ve researched & written a little essay based on my experiences with extreme noise sensitivity.
Hypersensitivity to sound is something I’ve dealt with all of my life, but I only recently found out it's medically known a Hyperacusis. (Please note this is a separate condition from Misophonia.) If you consistently struggle to cope with noise, the info below could be helpful! I’m including a link to my ko-fi, and I will be answering questions in the notes.
(skip to the bottom to read fun facts about my tax return and/or street organs vendettas!)
DISCLAIMER: I am not a professional, this is based solely on my experiences as a patient, and on what I have read and been told by professionals. Please notify me if you have corrections or concerns about accuracy!
BACKGROUND: Sensitivity to sound is a common type of sensory issue. While anyone can experience such issues (most people, for example, might be bothered by loud music in a crowded restaurant), some people are more sensitive than others, to the point it becomes a quality-of-life aka a medical issue.
If you consistently struggle with environmental stimuli that other people aren’t bothered by (background noises, bright lights, certain textures and tastes, etc), to the point it causes daily discomfort or limits the environments you can be in, I recommend reading about Sensory Processing Disorder.
SPD and sound sensitivity are both super common in autistic folks (like me!), but allistic (non-autistic) people can experience them too. Weep, ye prisoners of mortal coil, for none are safe, nothing sacred, not in this thy most accursed tomb of human flesh!
Anyway.
SOUND SENSITIVITY or HYPERACUSIS: Noise issues are particularly difficult to navigate in a world that is increasingly...noisy. The relatively new phenomenon of constant overhead music in restaurants, grocery stores, shopping malls etc—all of this means that public spaces are increasingly inaccessible to people with auditory issues.*
As a kid, nothing quite triggered sensory overload/meltdowns for me like the constant exposure to noise I couldn’t control—the background chatter of other kids in the lunchroom, the constant noise in public spaces, being trapped in the car with the radio on.... I had so many fights with my siblings about the car radio, and who got to choose the music.**
But it’s not just loud sounds that are the problem. As an adult who lives alone and works from home***, I’m lucky enough to be able to avoid loud environments most of the time. This does wonders for my general levels of anxiety and discomfort. But even in a mostly controlled environment, I still experience problems. Because part of sound sensitivity is that even normal or quiet sounds can feel loud and intrusive. Here are some “normal” sounds that can cause me discomfort (ranging from annoyance to outright pain, depending on the day):
refrigerator/AC/ceiling lights humming
dishwasher/washing machine noises
ceiling fan making that damn ceiling fan noise
faint sounds of traffic
riding in a car
other people having a normal conversation in the background
someone talking to me in a perfectly normal inside voice
Unfortunately, even in a “controlled” environment, many triggering noises can’t be controlled. And many parts of life can’t be lived in a controlled environment. This presents...some incredibly freaking annoying problems. Luckily there are solutions!
Sorta.
There are sorta some solutions.
They are imperfect, but they help.
TREATMENT: And now I have something rather shame-faced to admit. In all the years of managing my symptoms, it never once occurred to me to see a hearing specialist for my issues with sound. I wasn’t even aware that treatment options exist, because none of my other doctors mentioned it. Instead, I’ve spent years finding my own coping mechanisms and tools, with help from therapists and psychiatrists, but without ever consulting an audiologist/ENT. It was only while researching this post that I found out that was even an option, holy shit.
So it turns out I am going to be making an appointment with my local ENT practice. shit.
Apparently treatment options include sound/acoustic therapy, systematic desensitization/exposure therapy, cognitive behavior therapy, sound machines, and other options that I had no idea even existed, goddammit.
MANAGEMENT: In the meantime, here are my current coping mechanisms. I’ve relied rather heavily on hearing protection, which is very useful when used in moderation. Unfortunately, it can cause its own problems: it’s important not to overuse hearing protection, because in the long-term this can increase your sensitivity. So again: a useful tool, but be careful not to overdo it.
With that in mind, here are some of the coping strategies I’ve used over the last decade to manage my symptoms. This is not a perfect system and you should contact your local ENT clinic for better, long-term solutions, but in the meantime here are some tips I use to just get myself through the damn day:
Regularly spending time in a quiet controlled environment, to allow my nervous system to decompress.
Wearing earplugs, (I use two different grade, depending on the level of noise prevention I need), and always carrying an extra pair in case I need them unexpectedly. I bought a 50 pack for $7 and put spares in all my bags and jacket pockets.
(I mostly use Mack’s Ultra Soft, but there are so many types and materials and brands, including foam, silicone, wax, custom moldable etc. Even if you have trouble wearing things in your ears, you might be able to find something comfortable.)
Similarly: hearing protection earmuffs, the kind used in gun ranges and on construction sites. I bought mine online for $10. they look like normal wireless headphones, so I've never gotten comments when wearing mine in public (other than “cool heaphones” bc i added skull glitter stickers).
Sometimes I wear the earmuffs on top of earplugs, when life is just too damn LOUD.
Listening to music w/ earbuds or headphones is a great way to balance out background noises, especially if you can find soothing playlists that help you concentrate. Also useful to put in just one earbud when you need to pay attention in class/at work.
Pro tip: if your hair is long enough you can wear wireless earbuds without anyone knowing.
White noise, rain noises, ocean noises etc can be helpful! Some people like whale songs although personally this activates my primal fear response
Active noise cancelling headphones: the reason I wrote this post to begin with—I finally bought a pair! As in, a really good pair! As in, a depressingly expensive pair with noise cancelling technology that actually WORKS, holy shit. I probably need to wear them a little less at home (bc overprotection causes problems in the longterm) but they have absolutely transformed my ability to go out in public and i never ever want to take these suckers off again please take a power screwdriver and nail these to my head, bury me in the sweet sweet shroud of silence. holy canoli and cream puffs I want to marry form a civil partnership with these headphones. Plus they have a bunch of features, like being able to control the level of noise cancellation, so I can hold a conversation or be aware of some ambient noise for safety reasons.
Oh, and also they play music I guess?
Sorry sorry I promise this post wasn’t supposed to be me shilling for Big Electronics. I’m just excited, I’m an excited flabby little ball of expired flubber. ANC headphones aren’t a perfect solution, and I still sometimes wear earplugs underneath, and I will always be uncomfortable some of the time, but for me it’s been a big step.
Unfortunately the cost of good quality ANC technology means this isn’t an option for everyone, and the (much cheaper) gunshot protection earmuffs I mentioned earlier still provide an impressive amount of protection and bang-for-your buck (maybe even an equal amount of protection, if you can find ones that fit well). But if noise consistently prevents you from enjoying public space and life in general, and you’ve already tried earmuffs & earplugs and find they don’t offer enough comfort/convenience/protection, and if you’re in a position to save up for a one time non-necessity purchase of $150+, noise cancelling headphones are an option to be aware of. (Please always check the return policy so you can try before you buy. I ended up buying and returning 2 pairs before finding what worked best for me. And please look for a retailer that offers an extended warranty. You want those motherforkers to last).
There are cheaper options available, including some under $50. The ones I tried didn't work as well as my hearing protection earmuffs, but some people report good experiences, so that is something to consider. it's always good to know your options! Passive noise canceling is another affordable alternative.
Medication: A final tool in my toolbox, which for me personally has helped as much as every other method combined. Like, a lot, it’s helped a lot. It turns out some anti-anxiety medications can also help sensory issues. There’s not much research on this, and I only discovered it firsthand when a medication my doctor prescribed for anxiety ended up significantly helping my sensory issues. I no longer need medication for anxiety, but my psychiatrist still prescribes that same medication off-label for my sensory stuff. Ask your psychiatrist to research your options (they will probably have to do some digging to find relevant research, but you deserve to know all your options, even the obscure ones). Fyi, the medication I use is in the benzodiazepines class, but there are other options for those concerned about dependency or side effects.
(I'm also told anti-anxiety supplements may be helpful, though I haven't tried this yet. If you're on prescription meds, always talk to your doctor about contraindications before taking anything over-the-counter.)
So there you have it, my main coping strategies for sound sensitivity! They are not a replacement for medical treatment (except that last one which is in fact...medical treatment), but I find them helpful and I hope some of you will too! I’ve struggled for a long time, and I’m very pleased to have reached the point where I can just do things in public. Eating out in loud restaurants? I can do that now, and even enjoy it, holy shit! I can comfortably travel in cars for hours at a time, and walk around shopping malls and grocery stores with overhead music, and, and —and just exist. It is so so freeing, to feel like maybe, after everything, you are actually allowed to just exist in a world that wasn’t really designed for you.
Again, be careful not to overuse hearing protection—the goal is to allow you to be less uncomfortable and to function better, but if you find you are becoming more sensitive to noise, it is time to dial it back a notch. Or maybe consider listening to music (at a reasonable volume) to block out background noise instead.
*(This also includes people with hearing loss and related issues, btw. While that’s not my area of knowledge, I would welcome it if any of my HoH followers want to share their experiences.)
**A sign of sensory issues that parents often miss is when a child complains about music being too loud—but has no problem listening to their own music at high volume. This is because music that is already familiar to the listener (and that the listener enjoys) is much easier for the brain to process, since it knows what pattern of sounds to expect. Loud music that they get to control can be soothing for people with sound issues, especially when it blocks out background noise and sensations. This is why repetitively playing the same songs can be a helpful form of stimming.
***(working on this blog, actually. since it’s my only source of income, my 2020 income tax return literally lists my occupation as ‘Tumblr Blogger.’ Oddly, my parent didn’t feel this achievement was worth including in the holiday family newsletter.)
bonus fun fact: Charles Babbage aka “father of the computer” may have been autistic and hypersensitive to sound. He definitely had a huge problem with public noise pollution, and spent his later year waging a war on street musicians (and organ grinders in particular).
(bc like, yeah. screw organ grinders.)
Sometimes when I’m out in public and the overhead music is particularly unbearable, I’ll take a moment to look up to the sky and scream out: “HE TRIED TO WARN US! THE FATHER OF COMPUTERS TRIED TO WARN US!!! we should have listened, sweet heaven we should have listened!”
except i don’t scream it, i say it very quietly under my breath
(i have issues with noise)
so yeah that is my short essay. and here is the ko-fi goal
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k ciao i gotta go pick out glitter stickers for my headphones
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sebastianstangirl01 · 2 years ago
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Could you do a Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x teen!daughter!reader where she's in highschool and falling behind in her classes, he gets mad and she does too, they fight, she runs off to Maverick's house and he's worried sick because he can't get a hold of her (just pure angst at this point). He finds her, they talk it out and then just pure fluff? I love the way you write Rooster with a platonic reader!
Runaway
Title: Runaway
Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Daughter!Reader
Summary: After getting a bad grade tensions rise at the Bradshaw house leading the reader to runaway.
Warnings: language, angst, happy ending
Authors Note: The reader is 16
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From the moment you woke up this morning you knew it wouldn’t be a good day.
The past few days tensions have been high in the Bradshaw house, between your dad working hard as a new instructor at Top Gun and you with school work and playing both Softball and Soccer neither of you have had a lot of extra time. Which means housework has been neglected, last night you both had an argument about how the dishes haven’t been done in days and the laundry needed to be caught up.
With it being the end of the school year you had a bunch of tests you had to study for and with it also being Softball season you have been too busy to do any of your normal chores around the house.
You got your temper from your father and with your teenage moodiness anyways that didn’t help the situation that ended with you being sent to your room to prevent either you or your father from saying something rash.
Your dad was already gone to work by the time you made it downstairs to leave for school but he left you a note next to a blueberry muffin saying he loved you and hoped you have a good day at school. You smiled at the note and made sure to put it in your backpack before grabbing the muffin and a bottle of water and hurrying to your car so you wouldn’t be late.
You were anxiously sitting next to your best friend Bella waiting for your online test results from your math test, math was never your strongest subject so you felt extremely nervous about how you did even though you studied really hard.
“I’m sure you did fine Y/N, you studied so hard!” Bella reassured you with a supportive smile
“Ok class, your tests have been graded and your results were sent to your emails. If anyone has a problem with their grades then you try to find a better way to study for your final at the end of the month.” Your teacher Mr. Olson said, he was a mean old man who wasn’t a very good teacher he never helped students when they asked just told them they should know the content by now.
You anxiously opened your email and chewed on your thumb nail waiting for it to load, when it finally did you felt your breath hitch and your stomach drop.
56%
You gaped at the screen with wide eyes you had studied so hard for this test and thought you would at least pass.
“What’d you get?” Bella asked you trying to sneak a peak at your screen
You quickly shut the computer making Bella jump at the abruptness.
“It wouldn’t load.” You said embarrassed, especially when you saw that she got a 90 on the test
“Ms. Bradshaw I need to speak with you. Class dismissed.” Mr. Olson said making you gulp as the rest of the students left. “You are the only student who got below a 70% on my exam. Care to explain why?”
“I don’t know Sir. I studied so hard you can ask anybody, I don’t know what happened.” You shook your head in disappointment
“I’m afraid that if you do not score at least a 80% on the final that you will fail my class. Unfortunately I am going to have to call your father and hopefully you two can work out a solution to your less than acceptable work. That will be all.” Mr. Olson said nodding his head to the door
Your face was red with embarrassment as you grabbed your things and hurried out the door, luckily it was the end of the day and you quickly made your way to your car before anyone could see the tears of frustration.
You just knew that when you got home you would be in so much trouble, not just because you failed a test but because your teacher called your dad while he was in the middle of training like he always is. Part of you thought maybe you could hide away at your uncle Hangman’s house until he gets home from training so he can be a buffer between you and your dad, but logically that wouldn’t work.
When you pulled into the driveway you were surprised to see your dads bronco in the driveway, instantly paling thinking about how much trouble you were going to be in since he was already home. You sighed and turned off the car before making your way into the house and closing the door behind you.
The house was quiet which is very unusual since there is always something playing on the tv in the background because neither you or your dad like the house completely silent. You walked into the kitchen and saw your dad sitting at the table with his arms crossed watching the doorway for you to step through.
“Your teacher called me.” Bradley told you with a blank expression making you even more nervous.
“I figured since your home so early.” You said with a sigh
“He said you have been giving zero effort in class, that you always goof off and never pay attention and then end up doing bad on the tests. You know the rules, as long as you give your school work 100% of your effort then I don’t care what grade you get because I will know that you tried your best. But you are smarter then a F, Y/N! That’s not your best work! All I ask is that you do your best in school, sports, and help out around the house that’s all I ask of you!” Bradley exclaimed making you furrow your brows
“I wasn’t slacking off dad! I tried really hard on that test, I studied for hours, I did the best I could but the test was hard! I’m sorry if I haven’t been helping out around the house as much but it’s smack dab in the middle of softball season, it’s my junior year so I have the stupid ACT I have to study for. It’s been a lot and you don’t even care!” You exclaim, feeling all the built up frustration explode
“Don’t raise your voice at me young lady! I work my ass off everyday to make sure you can have your own car, and play 2 sports, and have everything your heart desires! The least you can do is help me out around here!” Your dad said frustratedly making you shake your head
“I try dad! I really do, but it seems like nothing I ever do is good enough for you lately.” You said with tears in your eyes
“Well maybe you should grow up and try harder and stop being such a disappointment!” Bradley exclaimed before his face dropped, you felt your throat burn as tears rolled down your cheeks at your fathers words. “Baby.”
“I hate you.” You said as your voice broke before rushing out the door
“Y/N! Baby I’m sorry!” Bradley exclaimed running after you but you had already gotten in your car and drove off. “Fuck!”
Bradley stood in the driveway with his hands on his hips as he sighed and looked up at the sky trying to blink away his own tears. The last few weeks have been really stressful at work and it didn’t help that the anniversary of Goose’s death was coming up next week.
“Talk to me dad. I screwed up.” Bradley sighed before pulling out his phone, he didn’t dial your number because he didn’t want you looking at your phone while driving so he called around to some of his friends that you were close to hoping that maybe you ran to one of them.
You tried to wipe your tears as you drove down the street but they were falling down your face rapidly to the point that you could barely see where you were going. You never in a million years could have imagined that your dad would call you a disappointment, especially since you are so close he always calls you his little miracle.
You are just so hurt. So you went to the one person you knew you can count on.
Pete Mitchell was sitting back on the couch with a beer as a baseball game played on the tv, it was one of those very rare moments when he didn’t have anything to do. Penny took Amelia out on a boating trip, he didn’t have to teach any classes at Top Gun, he finally finished building his plane last week, and you and Bradley were doing your own thing.
He was ready for a night of peace and quiet. Until there was a repetitive knocking on his front door. Pete furrowed his brows before getting up to answer the door, before he could speak a word a force crashed into his stomach almost knocking the breath out of him. He looked down and saw you nuzzled into his chest with tears falling down your cheeks.
“Hey. Hey. What’s wrong kiddo? Your shaking.” Pete said wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into the house closing the door behind you. “Talk to me sweetheart.”
“Me and dad got into a fight. He called me a disappointed, Papa Mav.” You hiccuped making Pete frown as he pulled you over to the couch to sit down beside him
“You know your dad didn’t mean that right? He loves you so much, almost as much as I do.” Pete teased poking your side trying to get you to smile
“Then why did he say it?” You asked leaning into his side as he rubbed your back soothingly, exactly the way he did when you were a baby and couldn’t go to sleep because of colic.
“When people get frustrated we say things that we don’t mean. Trust me I’ve done it enough, me and your father have had our fare share of fights and said things in the heat of the moment that we didn’t mean. But that doesn’t mean that I love him any less.” Pete told you as he placed a kiss on your forehead. “Why don’t you go make you a snack and I’ll call your dad to let him know your ok.”
“Ok.” You sighed before making your way into the kitchen, Pete always had snacks for you when you came over it was one of the main reasons why you loved spending time at the house with him.
You grabbed a blueberry pop tart and a Yoo-hoo from the fridge before making your way back into the living room where Pete was sitting on the couch and plopped down next to him.
“Want to watch a movie?” Pete asked putting his arm around your shoulder
“Tombstone?” You asked with a smile, it was one of your and Pete’s favorite movies ever since he introduced you to the world of Western Movies when you were 6.
“I’m your Huckleberry.” Pete smirked making you laugh as he turned the movie on
“Have you ever noticed how much Doc Holliday looks like Uncle Ice?” You asked as Doc Holliday came onto the screen for the first time in the saloon playing a game of poker.
“Huh. I guess he does, you’ll have to tell Ice that I’m sure he’d get a kick out of it.” Pete told you with a chuckle
Suddenly there was a knock on the door before it cracked open and your fathers head poked into the room making you tense.
“Hey. Uh, sweetie can we talk please?” Bradley asked you making you look at Pete who gave you a encouraging nod
You sat your snacks down on the coffee table and stood up following your dad out to the front porch you both sat down on the swing.
“I’m so sorry. I never in a million years should have said that to you. You are without a doubt the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I never want to imagine what my life would be like if I didn’t have my little girl.” Bradley said rubbing your cheek when he noticed your eyes getting watery
“I really am trying my best dad. I promise, I studied so hard for that math test and I thought I did good on it but I guess not.” You said looking down
“I know you are, I should have never doubted your work ethic I know how serious you take your studies and sports. How about I talk to Uncle Bob and see if he can help you study, he’s really good at math and you might feel more comfortable getting help from someone you know well.” Bradley suggested and you nodded liking that idea much better than trying to ask your teacher
“Ok.” You nodded and Bradley smiled pulling you into his arms
“I love you so much.” Bradley said kissing your forehead
“I love you too dad.” You said hugging his waist. “Do you want to come in and watch Tomb Stone with me and Papa Mav?”
“Sure.” Bradley said letting you pull him back into the house where Pete sat with his beer in his hand
“All good?” Pete asked the two of you
“All good Mav. Thanks for watching out for her.” Bradley said sitting on your other side
“She’s my number one girl, of course I watch out for her.” Pete said nudging your shoulder before handing you your snack and pressing play on the movie
The rest of the night was spent watching movies and ordering pizza with your two favorite people in the world.
Taglist:
@daughterofthereaper02
@luckyladycreator2
@calpurniatypes
@littlebadariell
@qnfluvr
@raefoxiegirl
@maverick-wingman
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youryanderedaddy · 4 years ago
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I had a dream just now that might make a good story. So, I had a virus on my laptop which allowed a hacker to see everything I did on my computer and use my webcam. The hacker ends up falling in love with me after stalking me for a few months and pays for someone on the dark web to kidnap me. It works, and then I wake up tied up in the hacker's arm as he caresses and kisses me. That's pretty much it, good night! 🌙
Yo this is my kink 😳
Also I couldn't not write this for Saeran, ok.
Title: Stranger danger
Tw: nsfw - ish, female reader, masturbation, cyber stalking, hacking, mentions of dark web, very irresponsible online behavior, obsessive behavior, implied kidnapping
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You knew that this was a stupid idea. Lurking on the dark web with almost no protection other than the Tor browser and some free anti-virus program wasn't your best decision, but fuck it if it wasn't entertaining. You had always been drawn to the darker, scarier part of the human mind and this side of the internet proved quite interesting. Your friends always warned you about the dangers that came with looking up shady online searches and sites but everything had been quite peaceful so far. There weren't hackers or murderers on the dark web, the worst you had seen were people selling drugs and weapons for unreasonable prices, along with some questionable fetish porn and the typical popping ads.
Your favorite thing to do while online was chatting. Two weeks ago you had stumbled upon an unusual forum called "Scream buddies" where upon entering you were automatically connected to another random profile. The whole theme of the forum was discussing horror and mondo movies, shockumentaries and overall creepy stuff, your forte. The person you met on there shared a similar fascination with all things dark and gory which soon made talking to them the only thing you were looking forward upon opening the site.
You didn't know much about the guy behind the profile yet, except that he was a young man. His icon showed an eye so green it emited with the neon pigment and his username was just as mysterious - BlueRose7. You enjoyed chatting with him about your hobby but the thing you liked the most was undressing him little by little, metaphorically so, by getting pieces of information about his life. It started small - his favorite food, favorite book, favorite game, but the moment you tried digging deeper and asked whether he had siblings or not, the man simply disappeared for the next few days. You quickly realized just what type of topics you needed to avoid to keep your new friend from leaving. Family, childhood memories and work matters were out of the picture.
The stranger wasn't fair, not really. He didn't show you vulnerability and kept his secrecy while demanding to know everything there was to know about you. For the longest time you didn't want to answer just to stay on a equal footing, just to show him how frustrating it was, but there was something about the man that drew you in. He was magnetic, clever and witty, if a bit pessimistic and dark at times. You couldn't help telling him everything he wanted to hear - what your job was, whether you were single or not, all that jazz. In your defense, BlueRose7 actually listened to your stories, took your problems seriously and provided solutions, which despite being too extreme and overprotective at times (upon hearing that your bestfriend talked behind your back he offered to "take care" of her), were comforting. It was nice to have someone caring around even if you met him on a sketchy website.
Meanwhile your personal life wasn't going too great. You had to balance between attending college, working long shifts as a waitress and meeting your friends from time to time which was draining. On top of all there was a weird virus on your computer which resulted in the camera turning on and off and the most random times of the day - while you were studying, watching TV, or in some cases, fully naked and ready to take a bath. You didn't think much of it though, with all the illegal movies and games you downloaded along with the dark web lurking it was more than expected for your laptop to behave weirdly. You didn't even mention it to your friend from the IT major because you knew that he'd force you to delete Tor and put an end to your internet adventures.
One time you were particularly bored after several long lectures and you were laying in bed, the camera turned on once again. It was a hot afternoon and you were wearing boyshorts and a loose T- shirt with nothing underneath it, you were home alone so there was no need. The bright red spot was twinking like a recorder, the light reflecting in your eyes, when a silly little idea came to your mind. You slid your hand under your blouse and lifted the fabric up, exposing your breasts to the laptop, your nipples hardening due to the sudden coldness, becoming pink and stiff in seconds. You played with for a few minutes, pinching and pulling the buds gently, moaning softly into the pleasant sensation. Soon you could feel yourself getting wet, and slowly, teasingly, removed your shorts and panties. You smiled at the camera, biting your lip provocatively, imagining you were a camgirl performing for her desperate little fanboys and fangirls. The thought alone was enough to make you spread your legs wide and slip two fingers into your throbbing cunt, using the wetness to push deeper. You used your other hand to stroke your clit and whimpered wantonly, your face red, your neck sweaty and your heart pumping fast from the adrenaline. You were quickly reaching your orgasm and your mind wondered to the boy you were talking to in the forum. You wondered how he looked like, how his body was built, whether he was a sweet sensual lover or a rough mean one. Fucked up as it was, you pictured the man as one of your most loyal viewers, watching all of your streams with a fist around his thick vock and an excited grin on his face. He would comment things like "you look so beautiful like this" or perhaps even "pretty little slut" after tipping you enough to last you a week. Soon all the mental stimulation sent you over the edge and you came with a loud cry full of pleasure. Well, this felt good.
After your "performance" was over the camera was magically turned off, which may have caused some concerns if you weren't too busy feeling embarrassed and dirty about the unhinged fantasy you had just had, and with a person you knew nothing about. You managed to calm down though - it wasn't nothing more than a fun pastime, a naughty thought that would never become the reality. You would never actually meet BlueRose7, right? There was nothing to worry about, so you just went on with your day.
You had some dinner afterwards and decided to have an early night as you already felt full and tired. You put on your favoruite pajamas and laid in bed, staring at the ceiling until you fell into deep dreamless sleep.
You woke up due to a weird noise. You could hear someone's heavy breathing right next to your ear, someone's grabby hands were wrapped tightly against your body, trapping you between the wall and their hard chest. You had only a few seconds to scream before the intruder's palm covered your mouth.
"Shhh." The man whispered softly and stroked your hair like you were a doll he was playing with. "Don't scream or I'll be forced to hurt you, flower. I have a gun." His voice sounded deep and rough but this didn't stop you from thrashing and turning on your side until you came face to face with the man. It was dark in the room and you couldn't exactly see all his features but his enchanting green eyes would forever be burned into your memory - they seemed dashing, hypnotizing. You couldn't utter a word.
"It's me, the person you've been talking to all these months. I came to take you home" He spoke out suddenly, the line of his mouth twisting into a smile or a smirk, you couldn't quite tell. You shook your head no, tears threatening to spill all over your cheeks from the fear. It couldn't be him, the man would never do that to you. Or would he? With what little information you knew, you couldn't really tell. His hold finally loosen, seeing you quiet like that.
"Let me go, please." You begged, pushing at his shoulders weakly since you were still sleepy, groggy and tired. "I don't know you." You said, hoping this would remind the stranger you weren't friends, lovers or anything that gave him the right to be so close to you, to touch you so intimately. Unfortunately, this only seemed to amuse him and he chucked darkly as he pulled your hair away to place a small chaste kiss on your neck.
"But I know you, flower." Your supposed online friend replied shortly after, his eyes full of malice. "And your little show today makes me think you want to know me too." He added in a low tone, licking his lips before smashing them on yours, forcing his tongue deep into your mouth just to hear your whines and protests. Then it hit you. The camera, the virus, the questions. He had watched you, he knew where you worked, where you lived and studied, everything. You had told him after all.
The hacker thought you looked so adorable right now, figuring things out, helpless, confused, regretful and most of all, weak. You were so weak and careless, and he loved you for it. It reminded him of himself before life screwed him over.
You wouldn't be in this position, underneath him, if you had just told someone about your laptop virus and the bad guy you had encountered online. But Saeran couldn't say he wasn't glad your self-preservation instincts were so very broken and dysfunctional. He wouldn't meet you otherwise. "I need you, princess. That's why I'll take you to Paradise." These were the final words you heard before you felt lightheaded and sleepy again, your last memory a pair of green mint eyes.
You really shouldn't have trusted strangers on the internet.
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ttuesday · 3 years ago
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Hi! Could you do one where the fellers take care/react to a reader who has depression and is having a bad day/few days? Thank you! <3 <3 <3
I hope you get through this slump anon, honestly I’ve felt the same way too recently but I’m sure we’re both gonna get through this wave of bad days <3
Arthur
Arthur noticed your change in mood after the first day. He could tell something was off but he didn’t want to push you for answers. He had asked you if you were ok and you’d always reply saying you were fine, though that was an obvious lie. 
After a few days and seeing no improvement in your mode, Arthur decides to push you a little more. This time after you said you were yet again ‘fine’, he sighs “You sure? You seem down lately”. He isn’t great with his words and scared of saying the wrong thing.
He knows that whenever he feels down that saying around camp can do more harm than good, so Arthur suggests you go stake out Cornwall’s factory with him for a mission. Nothing much happens but giving your mind something else to focus on certainly helps.
If you do decide to tell Arthur about how you’re feeling, he stays quiet and nods along to everything you say. Even if you only tell him a small bit, he feels honoured that you trust him enough to say it and he makes sure you know that no matter what, he’s always going to be there for you.
Charles
Charles could tell from your demeanour that something wasn’t right. It’s the little things Charles picked up on, like how you now had to force a smile more often or how you always seemed distracted during conversations. 
Charles overheard a few of the others asking if you were ok and you always gave the same answer so he didn’t bother asking you that question again. Instead he asks if you’ll go hunting with him. He tells you how he needed an extra pair of hands acts totally casual .
After a nice ride through the forest and some relaxed conversation, Charles leads you through to a small opening where he apparently saw some deer. He hopes being out in nature and away from everyone will help your mind relax.
He doesn’t push you to talk about how you feel, Charles just wants you to have a good time and to have a genuine smile on your face. If you want to talk about your feelings then Charles is happy to listen and try to come up with solutions but ultimately he just wants you to have a good day.
Dutch
It took Dutch a few days to fully realise you were feeling down but he does notice it eventually. First he just presumed that you were feeling down because a job didn’t go to plan but he got worried when you’re mood didn’t seem to lighten.
His first approach to trying to cheer you up is by giving you materialistic goods. Dutch surprises you by giving you a shiny new pocket watch he just so happened to ‘find’ somewhere and he even gives you some money form the donations box and tells you to buy yourself something nice.
But Dutch can see that his plan didn’t work. Sure materialistic items are nice but they didn’t change how you were feeling. It’s times like this Dutch is happy he has Hosea to give him some advice on how to help you.
While the gang is distracted serving up dinner, Dutch pulls you aside and says “I know you haven’t been yourself lately and I know I can’t make you talk to me but if you ever feel like chatting, I’m always here for you”. He doesn’t want you to feel forced into talking but Dutch wants to make sure you know he’s there.
Micah
Micah knows this sounds kinda creepy but he likes to keep an eye on you when you’re in camp. So because of this, it’s actually pretty obvious to him when your mood changes.
When he tries to get you to open up first, he’s very abrupt and straight out asks you what’s wrong with you. But when he realises this method only pushes you further away from him, he attempts to take a more relaxed and calm approach.
When he sees you’ve trailed off by the edge of camp, Micah follows you out with two glasses and a bottle of whiskey. He’s always found it easier to talk when he’s had a drink and he’s hoping you’ll feel the same. 
He doesn’t expect you to tell him all about how you feel but if being there and occasionally annoying you works as a distraction from that dreadful feeling, then he’s happy to do that. He wants you to feel like you can tell him things like this, even though he understands he ain’t the most trustworthy person out there.
John
John can be kinda awkward at times and sure, he doesn’t know how to have those deep emotional conversations but he cares about you and genuinely wants the best for you.
He tries to be subtle about it and says little comments every now and again like “Well you know where I am if you wanna talk” or he’ll compliment you throughout the day, just to make sure you know how great you are as a person.
But when he sees you’re not feeling any better, he starts to worry. On the outside it’s easy to see John as someone who doesn’t notice the change within you but the truth is John sees it but he’s scared that if he brings it up, he’ll accidentally make it worse. 
In the end, John goes with what he feels in the moment. Seeing the sad, drained look on your face, John’s almost sure his heart is breaking. Sighing, he holds out his arms and says “C’mere”. John hugs your for as long as you need, not daring to let go first. Sometimes you’d be surprised how great a hug can be.
Javier
Javier likes seeing your smile. It’s the one thing that’s guaranteed to make his day better. One of his favourite things in the world is making you smile, especially since it gives him that butterfly feeling in his stomach. So he’s recognises when your smile seems too forced or as though you’re smiling without genuinely feeling happy.
Javier sits with you and reminisces about old memories, hoping stories of goofy robberies that somehow didn’t get ye killed would make you smile. And it works! …but only for a little while.
Javier knows that this feeling comes and goes, and that sometimes it can seem like it’s in the background of your mind for weeks. When he first left Mexico, he had strong feelings like this too so he knows how each day can differ and how the feeling fluctuates.
But Javier tells you he’ll be by your side for all of it. He wants to be the shoulder you cry on and for the nights that seem long and dark, he’s there. He lets you rest your head on his lap and Javier hums a few songs as he runs his fingers through your hair.
Bill
We all know what Bill is like. It can take him a while to understand how you feel but the main thing is he tries to help in whatever way he can. At first he thinks that you just feel sad over something. He doesn’t think it’s a big deal and Bill just thinks the feeling will fade in a few days. But it doesn’t.
Something that always helps Bill destress and forget about life’s problems for a while is playing with Cain. He’s convinced that dog has superpowers cause Bill’s in a good mood whenever Cain comes around. One day when Cain comes over to Bill for some belly rubs, Bill gets you to join in too.
You spend the rest of the afternoon with the two of them, using Bill’s bandana to play tug of war with Cain and laughing when Cain flops down on Bill, tired from all the games. 
As ye relax, Bill distracts you some more by telling you a few stories, like when he drunkenly mistook a cow for his horse. Bill doesn’t care if he has to tell you a thousand stories and pet a thousand dogs with you, if it’ll make you smile again then he’s willing to do it.
Sean
Sean wants to be the most helpful person ever. He wants to be there for you through it all, holding your hand each step on the way. Seriously, when Sean sees the shift in your mood and notices you aren’t your usual self then he holds on to your hand and doesn’t plan on letting go anytime soon.
Anytime you want to talk, Sean has no problem stopping whatever he’s doing and giving you his undivided attention. You’re so goddamn special to him and he’s scared of losing you, so he puts 110% into making you feel more comfortable in yourself.
Whenever Sean hears about a robbery or sets up a job, he always brings you along, whether you wanna go or not. He doesn’t think staying around camp all the time is good for you so whenever he goes out, he drags you out with him for a change of scenery
Does Sean know what he’s doing or if he’s helping you overcome this? No, he’s just winging it but this man will literally do anything if it means getting you out of this slump.  
Hosea
This is Hosea, of course he notices when you become more reclusive and depressed. Hosea’s a strong believer in love and support helping people get through anything, and so that’s what he gives you. 
It doesn’t matter where ye are, what time of day it is or if you’re in the middle of a shootout, if you need Hosea then he’s there to reassure you and tell you everything’s going to be alright.
He understands how it can be hard to talk about things like this and how sometimes it feels like you can’t put your emotions into the right words. If you try to talk about how you feel but start to get upset, then Hosea stops you and instead suggests you just sit with him for a while and wait for the feeling to pass.
He never tries to pressure you into talking and if anyone gets pissed off cause you’re not ‘pulling your weight’ around camp then Hosea becomes absolutely furious with them, unholstering his gun making sure the person knows they’re a fool for saying such a thing.
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wolferine · 3 years ago
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Heart Skips a Beat - Part 4
Natasha Romanoff x Reader
Summary: Natasha faces her worst nightmare when a rescue mission goes wrong…
Warnings: Violence, blood, torture
Word count: 2843
Part 3
Tags: @blkmxrvel @blackxwidowsxwife @marvelwomen-simp @phoenixofash @marvels-bitch-boy @when-wolves-howl @bitterlime13 @hallecarey1 @orangewheein @unexpected-character
AN: I apologize if some tags don’t work! Tumblr can’t find some of your usernames.
After listening to Steve’s plan, all four of you—technically five, since Bucky had to tag along—take the Quinjet to Siberia. The goal was to break out the five soldiers in Bucky’s former task force and bring them back to the Avengers Tower, where there was the technology to free their minds from HYDRA. 
Each of you were armed with a mask which would spray a powerful sedative into the face it was applied to, keeping the victim unconscious until it was removed. It was the simplest solution to taking down the super soldiers—when Bucky had been skeptical, Natasha had slapped a mask on him and he was out before he hit the floor. You were pretty sure you pulled a muscle from laughing so hard.
Now, you and Natasha sat in the cockpit while the others sat behind you.
“Hey, Y/N,” Bucky says suddenly.
“Yeah?” You don’t even look over your shoulder.
“I’m…sorry for shooting you.”
“Twice,�� you clarify. “I didn’t forget the count.”
“Sorry,” he repeats.
“Well, as long as you don’t mistake me for Steve again, I’ll be okay,” you say with a chuckle.
“So, just to reiterate our plan, Bucky will be with me and Clint, and Nat, you’ll be with Y/N,” Steve says.
“Even Captain America knows better than to break up the power couple.” You grin and reach over to put your hand on her thigh. Without taking her eyes off the controls, she takes your hand and interlocks your fingers.
“Yeah, so you two just do your thing—” Steve catches himself. “Wait, not that kind of thing.”
Clint explodes into wheezy laughter and Natasha shakes her head, her cheeks reddening. You’re not embarrassed like she is, but you’re still quick to defend yourselves.
“It was one time!” you protest. It had been a mission where everything that could’ve gone wrong did, and you and Natasha were convinced it would be your last. You two decided to end it wrapped around each other, but then the rest of the Avengers had barged in and said there had been a miscommunication and it wasn’t the end of the world after all. It was the one mission you would never live down.
“Just keep it professional, please,” Steve begs. “No matter what happens, we’re all going home alive, okay?”
Bucky looks completely lost.
Natasha lands the Quinjet in a flurry of snow and all of you exit the warmth of the plane.
“I should’ve brought one of your hoodies,” she mumbles, walking as close to you as she can without tripping you. 
“It would’ve clashed with your uniform,” you say, putting your arm around her waist. The super soldier serum in your veins causes you to run a higher-than-average body temperature. You feel as comfortable as if you stepped out of hot shower.
The facility is the only building for miles. It looks big enough to fit a space rocket and has a dull, concrete exterior. The only security is a chain-link fence with a frozen padlock that Steve breaks open with his shield. You file through the gate, and Bucky inputs a code into the door to grant everyone entry. The interior is just as disappointing as the outside. Nothing but a maze of concrete halls with metal doors. The ceiling has dripping water stains and an uncomfortably musty, moldy smell hangs in the air.
“I bet you’re really glad you escaped this rust bucket,” you say to Bucky. He only shakes his head.
“Stay alert,” Steve advises. “We’ll split here. Keep us updated on your position and if you find anyone.”
“Copy that.” You and Natasha turn right while the others turn left. She finds a flight of stairs and you follow behind her. You unholster your gun, holding it at the ready by your side. Natasha makes random turns and ignores every room you walk by. You listen intently for any sort of noise that would indicate a person lurking in the shadows, but so far, there’s nothing.
“Do you even know where you’re going?” you ask.
“Do you?” she snaps.
“Hey, I’m just following you.” You back off. Even though you know this is no time to be making jokes, you still can’t help yourself. High-stress situations make you nervous, especially when you’re with Natasha, because anything that could happen to you could happen to her.
When you pass by a room with its door open, you see a large glass tank big enough to fit a human and filled with murky green water. For a reason you can’t explain, you feel yourself drawn towards it and you step into the room, a chill raising goosebumps on your skin. You reach out to touch the tank’s wall and close your eyes.
You’re floating in a tank of your own, tubes running out of your nose, mouth, and down every limb. You jerk around wildly in the water tinged pink with your blood. Your lungs seize for air, but every breath you inhale is wet and salty.
“Shall we go another round?” you hear someone on the other side say.
“Might as well. No pain, no gain, right?” someone replies.
You want to bash your hands against the glass, but you’re too weak to have any control over your movements. You feel a sharp pain in your lower back, at the base of your spine, and your body arches as more drugs are pumped into you. You have no breath to scream with as your body twists in agony. It feels like a fire eating you from the inside out, burning through your bones, and you want nothing more than to wither away to ash...
“Hey.” You jump when you feel Natasha’s hand on your shoulder. “What are you doing in here?”
“Um, I…I thought I heard something,” you lie. Natasha frowns. Like Steve and Bucky, you had been a lab rat yourself, although not to SHIELD or HYDRA. You had been passed around other government agencies—at least, that’s what you think. Most of your memories of that time were fuzzy, which you were fine with. The ones you did remember weren’t worth reliving anyway.
“Y/N.” Natasha looks concerned.
“We’ll talk about it later, okay?” You don’t want to interrupt the mission with your personal problems.
She knows better than to push you, especially at a time like this. “Okay,” she says, leaving the room. You take a minute to collect yourself. When you finally turn around, you see a black-haired woman, shorter than Natasha even, standing in the doorway in the same vest Bucky had worn the first time you met him.
“Hello,” you say, holstering your gun. You’re not going to shoot someone who looks like she’s barely of age. “You must be one of the super soldiers Bucky told me about. Who was your target supposed to be? Romanoff?” you tease.
“Thor.” The woman’s voice is dainty. Her body is literally the size of one of Thor’s arms. There’s no way she’s telling the truth.
You laugh. “That’s cute. But this is no place for a kid,” you say, walking towards her. But she sees that you’re too casual, your guard let down too low, and takes advantage of that. “Now all I need is for you to put this mask on and—”
The woman launches at you with a speed you don’t even process. She swipes your legs out from under you, causing you to crash on your back. Then she’s on top of you, hands around your throat. You reach into your pocket for your knife, all jokes lost with her attempt to take your life.
You flip the blade out and swing at her face, but she’s quick to dodge and rolls to the side. You jump to your feet, wondering where Natasha is. But you’re too embarrassed to call for her help, even if this soldier claims she was given the task of taking out the god of thunder.
The woman is impossibly fast and she lands blow after blow on you while you stagger back and slash out helplessly with your knife. When she kicks you in the stomach and your back collides into the water tank, you’ve had enough. 
You switch your knife to your left hand and aim for the woman’s neck. She grabs your wrist and twists it around so the knife turns towards you. Your eyes widen as she puts her entire body weight behind the knife. The blade sinks into your shoulder.
“What the—” You don’t even register the pain, more upset that you’ve been harmed with your own weapon. The woman grins, distracted, and you punch her in the throat as hard as you can. Her eyes bulge and she coughs, her hands flying to her neck. 
You take the mask out of your pocket and shove it onto her face, hearing the hiss as the sedative is instantly released. The woman immediately goes limp and you have no problem letting her drop to the floor.
“Y/N!” You look up and see Natasha staring at you, arms crossed over her chest.
“I got one.” You puff out your chest proudly.
“Why didn’t you call me?” Natasha comes over and inspects the soldier’s limp body.
“I didn’t need to. I handled her all by myself,” you say, a little annoyed by her doubt in your abilities.
“Is that a knife in your shoulder?” she asks.
“I…Oh, yeah—” 
“Is that your knife?” Being called out hurts more than the actual pain of having the knife in your shoulder.
“Uh…maybe…” You can’t even look her in the eye.
“Y/N,” Natasha growls. “Here, let me take it out.”
You back up until you hit the tank again. “Wait, shouldn’t we—ow!” you yelp as Natasha jerks the knife out.
“You’ve been through worse.” She tries to hand you the knife, but you shake your head, too embarrassed to continue carrying it with you since you obviously can’t be trusted with it. She shrugs and pockets your knife, taking out some gauze and tape to patch up your wound. You rotate your left arm in circles; besides an uncomfortable twinge, it works fine. 
“So, what do we do with her body?” you ask.
“We’ll come back. We need to find the other three first.”
“Three? I thought there were four.” You try to do the math in your head. Bucky had said there five super soldiers, and you had just defeated one, meaning there were four left—
“Three,” Natasha repeats and you look at her in confusion. “Mine’s outside.” Unlike you, there wasn’t a single scratch on her. Together, you leave the room and find a man slumped on the floor, a mask on his face.
“When did this happen?” you ask.
Natasha shrugs, but you can tell she’s extremely proud of herself. “When you were busy dealing with that little girl.”
“Excuse me. According to her, her target was Thor,” you say. “So, I just took out the soldier who was supposed to take down the god of thunder.”
“Yeah, you can keep telling yourself that.” Natasha nudges you playfully.
“Whatever.” You roll your eyes.
“Hey, are you two okay?” Steve asks in your earpiece.
“We disabled two soldiers on the second floor,” Natasha responds.
“Perfect. We got two down here as well.”
“Who did you take out?” Clint asks.
“This tiny woman and a guy,” you answer.
“How big was the guy?” Bucky asks.
“Maybe around your size?” you estimate, staring down at the soldier Natasha subdued.
“Okay, because the two we took out were also average-sized dudes. The last one—I was hoping it wouldn’t come down to this—he’s an absolute beast. I think he’s almost seven-feet tall and could bench press a plane with one hand,” Bucky says.
“So whoever takes him out wins,” you say. Between you and Natasha, you were certain you could win any fight.
“You’re on,” Clint says.
Natasha and you leave the soldiers where they lay and search the rest of the floor. This time, you take the lead, a little more cautious since you know what to expect. You head up to the third floor, expecting the last soldier to jump out at any moment. The tension of waiting to find him is almost unbearable and your muscles ache from being coiled so tightly.
“You guys find him yet?” Natasha asks through the earpieces.
“Negative.”
Suddenly, a moving shadow catches your eye and you throw out your arm to stop Natasha. A man steps out from around the corner and Bucky wasn’t lying about his size. He’s so tall the top of his head disappears behind the ceiling beams and he looks like he would sweep any bodybuilding competition he entered.
“Never mind, we found him. Third floor,” Natasha mumbles.
“Don’t engage him alone.” That’s Steve’s voice. “Try to stall—”
“Too late” you want to say as the man charges towards you. There is no way you two are taking him down without the use of any weapons; plus, you don’t have any more masks to use. But if you punched or kicked him, you wouldn’t be able to reach his face without catching airtime. You run backwards, fumbling with your options. An idea pops into your head.
“Maybe he has a safe word, too,” you say, crashing into Natasha and shoving her back. “Lizzie! Karen!” you scream the first names that come to you. “It could be a guy’s name—can’t assume anything, right? Chris! Tom! Mark!” The names have no effect other than making you look like an idiot.
“Shut up, Y/N—” Natasha hisses.
The man roars and reaches out, grabbing a fistful of your shirt. He throws you like a javelin and you can’t believe how far you fly, landing on your stomach and skidding another 30 feet.
Natasha tries engaging him, and although she’s faster than him, any punch or kick she lands goes completely unnoticed by him. The man flings her aside like a sack of flour and comes towards you.
You reach for your gun, but before you can bring it up, he kicks it out of your hand and stomps on it. The barrel literally flattens before your eyes, and you roll onto your back to face him. He lifts his foot, which is easily as big as your calf, and brings it down on your right knee.
CRUNCH.
The pain of your leg snapping in half is so blinding and nauseating you don’t even scream. It feels like someone is holding a blow torch to your bones and your entire body starts trembling in shock. The man scoops you up with an arm leveraged underneath your chin, and once you’re upright, you feel the lower half of your right leg dangling like a broken branch.
He lifts you high enough so your feet don’t touch the floor, leaving you scrabbling at his arm and choking on your saliva. Your vision flashes white and you feel the overwhelming urge to vomit as he spins you around to face Natasha.
She has her gun out, pointed at his head. “Put Y/N down,” she orders.
“And what if I don’t?” the man says in a voice that sounds like it came from the depths of the ocean. “You think you can shoot me before I can break a neck?” He squeezes you harder and you whimper.
Natasha pauses to think, and her eyes dart to the side before looking back at the man. “Okay, okay.” She sets her gun on the floor and raises her hands. “Just please don’t—”
“Kick it towards me.” The man crushes your windpipe like a straw and your eyes water.
Natasha reaches out with her foot and sends the gun spinning towards you and your captor. Suddenly, the man tosses you away and when you crumple on your broken leg, you swear you see purgatory. 
“Get on your knees,” the man tells Natasha. She doesn’t obey. “I said, get on your knees!” Very slowly, with a defiant look on her face, she drops to her knees one at a time. The man picks up her gun and holds it in front of her face. “I’ve been waiting years to finally meet you, Agent Romanoff.”
“Well, sorry for not coming around sooner.”
“My comrades may not have been successful in eliminating their targets, but I don’t fail,” the man says.
Natasha looks away from him to you. “I love you,” she calls, as casually as if you two were lounging on the couch watching a movie together.
You blink away tears to make eye contact with her. You can’t move, you have no weapons, and he has a gun pointed at her head. The complete helplessness you feel hurts more than your broken leg, more than Bucky’s gunshots had, more than any pain you’ve ever felt before. There’s a thousand things you want to tell her, but you only have time to say one.
“I love you t—”
But there isn’t even enough time for you to finish your sentence, because suddenly Natasha’s face is covered in blood.
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Click here for Part 5!
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bagsybaggins · 2 years ago
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The Ghost of Her: Chp. 3
Chapter 3: FIRST MISSION
The familiar feeling of adrenalin, the burning of my muscles, and the sound of gunfire. A mission, a task, or a problem that needs to meet its solution. A solution that ends with bloodshed.
What's your reason for fighting? To complete the mission.
What keeps you going? The mission that will be next.
What makes it worth it?
I still haven't found that answer.
"Raven, how copy?" I hear Soap's voice come through my earpiece and I sigh.
"No sign of any movement, and no sign of target. Anything on your side?" I ask as I shuffle forward and glance through the scope of my rifle.
He responds with, "Negative. It's a quiet night right now."
Closing my eyes, I groan and let my head knock against my gun. "For fucks sake Soap." I hear Gaz mutter before comms fall silent.
"I've got eyes on the target, they're moving west going down your road Raven. Should be in sight in five ticks." I hear Price say while Soap exclaims, "About fuckin time."
Peering through my scope again, I watch the road between the two buildings, exhaling when I see a blue 4-door SUV drive into view.
"Blue SUV?" "Affirmative." "Then I've got eyes on the target."
I rest my finger alongside the trigger but not on it, and as I shift to follow the car I notice something in the back of the vehicle. Reaching behind my back, I reach behind my back and pull out my binoculars. My eyes widen as I catch sight of what is in the back of the car.
"Price does the target have a family?" I question.
Silence fills the comms before I hear the click. "Negative, why do you ask?"
Clenching my jaw, I return to my scope, placing my binoculars by my feet. "There's kids in the back sir."
The car pulls into a building, and two guards in the front close the gates behind them, the vehicle disappearing from my sight. I scar the roof of the building, spotting a small number of guards patrolling the roof.
"Two snipers, one in the clock tower, another in the building to your left Raven." Ghost's voice startled me, but my eyes darted up toward the locations.
Shifting my position, I aimed toward the clock tower peering through the scope to catch the sniper.
"I've got the clock tower sniper in sight. Tell me when." I murmur through comms.
"Hold." Ghost replies, and I hover my finger above the trigger as I watch the sniper scan the area around the tower.
The Sniper pauses as one of his teammates climbed up the ladder and starts talking to him while taking out their own rifle. I narrow my eyes as I blink from a sudden light flashing from my far left, and I slide back as I turn my scope to check it. I pull out my binoculars, gazing through them quickly, and then duck down behind the ledge. 
"This is Raven, I've got a daisy to my far left, inside the building with the blue tarp, top floor. I repeated, building with the blue tarp. I might be compromised, holding position until confirmed." I called out in the comms, peeking over the ledge and taking another look at the one in the building.
"Copy that Raven. Soap, get your eyes on that target." I hear Price say before I lift my rifle again.
I peer through the scope and scan the surrounding windows and roof, searching for anyone else possibly hiding. I let out a small exhale of relief when the man falls down with a bullet hole in his skull.
"Nice shot Sergeant," I reply on the radio, turning back to the clock tower.
The one who was originally there was now moving down the ladder, so we had caught them in a shift change. I watch as he disappears from sight before I shift my aim up toward the one left in the tower, who was now smoking a cigarette.
"At least you hand out compliments Raven." I hear Soap respond, causing me to smirk.
"I only dish them when they're deserved Soap." I lean back and glance down at the watch on my right wrist. "This is taking too long, I'm taking the shot."
"Negative-" I hear Ghost say, seconds before I fired my shot into the sniper's head. He collapsed into a crumbled heap before I turn my gaze to the one on the building to my left, and I knock him into an endless rest.
"Snipers down, you're clear to move to the gate." I pull back and look through my binoculars and try and catch anyone else I could snipe without drawing attention. However, there was none to be found. Well, none that could be taken down with a single shot anyhow.
 ---
"Raven- Lucy?" 
I exhale shakily before turning my head up towards her voice, Scraps. She had a look, the familiar damn look of sorry and pity on her face. One that I've seen too often today.
"What do you want Scraps?" I huff, turning away and lifting a bottle of some shit-tasting beer to my lips.
I hear her sigh. "I wanted to check on you L.T. No one's heard from you for a week now. We've been getting worried."
Shaking my head I smack my lips together as I swallow the bitter liquid. "I'm fine, now leave me be."
A moment passes, and I can still see her shadow looming over me. "I said get Scraps!"
"No, I'm not leaving you, Lucy. You don't have to be alone, in fact, you shouldn't be alone right now-"
I stand up, my blood boiling underneath my skin as I turn to her. "And who are you to decide that, huh Scraps? Do you think that I need to be babied right now? That I should be watched so I don't do something drastic, or stupid? What, you think I'm going to just grab my gun and put a fucking bullet between my eyes? Huh?" I yell at her, stepping into her personal space as she slowly backs up.
She stares at me with wide eyes before her lips pull downwards into a frown. "Yeah, I do. I think that I have a right to be worried about you, because I care about you, Lucy." She inhales deeply before shaking her head. "We've known each other for over two years, Lucy. I know you well enough to know where your head is at. I know what you're thinking."
I narrow my eyes at her, cocking my head slightly to my right. 
"So what am I thinking, Vanessa? What is going on in my head?" I ask, my brow raised.
"You want to end it. To see her." She whispered, with that stupid fucking pity.
I laugh loudly before shaking my head. "That's where you're wrong Vanessa. I want revenge. And I'm going to find them, and rip them to shreds."
---
I shoot a man through a window as Soap and Ghost sweep through the right side, while Price and Gaz took left. 
"This place is a bloody maze." I hear Soap complain as he ducks behind a corner. "How are we going to find what we're looking for? At this rate, we'll be trapped like mice before we even find the room, let alone the intel."
I take another shot at someone who was sneaking up behind Gaz, switching from team to team, covering their six when they couldn't.
"Cheers for that Raven," Gaz calls out as I reload. "Not a problem Gaz."
"Kid, find us the room or join the bloody fight." Ghost hollers in my ear, and I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth.
I gaze through my scope, scanning the windows before noticing someone escaping out of the back alleyway. The blond male with the two boys ran towards the vehicle. I inhale deeply before firing my shot, shattering his kneecap. He screams in pain as he falls to the ground, the boy's faces filled with terror as they try to help the man up but ultimately fail. The narrow my eyes as I zoom in on the boys, noticing the badly hidden weapons tucked away in their jackets.
"The target is in the back alley and is now injured. Any intel we're searching for will be in his main office, which is to the left side of the building, top floor, and the last door on the right. The target has two armed child soldiers with him." I report in, my eyes staying on the target who with trying to wrap the bleeding with a part of a kid's sleeve.
"Fuckin hell, how do you know all that?" Soap asks.
"I'm your eyes in the sky, anything I see, I report. Besides, it was the only room in the building plan with a stairwell in it leading to the back alleyway. Oh and Ghost? It's Raven, not kid." I narrow my eyes at the target before standing up. "Price, I'm going to make a move on the target. We can't let him slip through our fingers."
"Roger that Raven, keep us informed. We're clear the building and scavenge the intel."
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maibi · 4 years ago
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Consideration
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Gojo Satoru x reader
Summary: A joke you played on Gojo kinda backfired. But was it really backfire or something you didn’t mind happening.. ;)
A/N: this turned out longer than I had expected. ANYWAYS I enjoyed writing this one ngl:)
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Gojo was by far one of the most annoying people you have met, but sadly at the same time he is one of your closest friends. He’d always joke around and never really took anything serious. You would be training the 2nd years on the field and he would just be playing around with his first year students. You didn’t mind that he went easy on the first years, but he just left all the extra hard work over to you once they were in their second year. Which naturally made him more annoying to you. For a 28 year old he sure doesn't act his age. 
“What if you just went on a date with me?”, Gojo said as you were walking to your room, the one you stayed in at school. It was a much cheaper solution, so you didn’t mind it much. Plus you got to spend more time with your students and... other colleagues.
“What about no?”, you said as you stopped in front of your door. 
“AAAAH SENSEI THAT HURTS”, Gojo said as he clutched his heart over dramatically. 
“I’m not your sensei”, you answered back at him.
“I mean you could be”, he answered with a wink.
“How about no”, you said as you opened your door. “I am just your colleague.”
“Did I really just get colleague-zoned?”, he said as he wiped away a fake tear making you roll your eyes.
He was always like this. He’d joke around about liking you and didn't’ even conceal the fact about wanting to be in a relationship. But it had been like this since forever and you were so adapted to all the rejecting you did, that it always happened naturally now. He’d go “I like you a lot so let’s go on a date” and you would just shut him down in various ways. 
Of course there were times he’d make you blush or make your heart beat a little faster than normally, but you never really took his words into consideration. For example a certain situation that made your heart beat faster:
“Not gonna lie, You look really stunning this evening”, he said as he accompanied you on an evening party between all the teachers from Tokyo and Kyoto Jujustu High. 
He had reached out his hand for you to take because that was the kind of guy he was. He didn’t care about how he presented himself in public, so looking like his partner or not was not one of his concerns. So you just didn’t see a problem with it and took his hand as he locked both of your arms.
“Why thank you sir Satoru”, you said as you played along with him. “Though I have to say it feels a little too tight.”
“I think it accentuates your body perfectly”, he said with a wink. “Shall we go inside?”, he said back as your face was probably flushed red. With a nod the both of you went inside the building. 
It had been a peaceful night until a man wouldn’t stop bothering you. He was probably a teacher from Kyoto High so you didn’t want to sound rude, but you really did not enjoy the way he was bothering you. 
To your luck, Gojo had been watching the whole scene and couldn’t hold his chill. He walked up to you and linked your arms again. “I will be walking this person outside, if you have no business left with them you can gladly leave”, he said with a serious expression, boring a whole in the man’s face with his look. 
He pulled you with him to the exit and you just went along. “Maybe we should tell the rest that we’re leaving”, you hesitantly said. 
“It’s alright I'll let someone know we left”, he said.
“Not to be rude, but if we leave so abruptly together they might think wrongly...” You didn’t want to finish that sentence because he’d either act hurt and make jokes out of it or he’d be actually hurt and try not to show it.
You heard him sigh. “I’ll tell them you felt sick and that I sent you with a taxi. Don’t worry about it”, he said in a low voice. 
You weren’t gonna lie that that moment had made your heart beat faster, but you couldn’t tell him that. It felt weird to admit that to a person you have been rejecting for over years now. It’s not like you would feel like this constantly, so you didn’t mind it much. But little did you know... It wasn’t just a temporary feeling.
“You should check on your students, they’re still outside in the rain because of your punishment”, you said snapping back to reality. 
“Ah that’s alright, I gave Megumi the lead. He made sure all three of em went inside before it started raining. All so that I could have some alone time with you", he winked again.
“Then why are only Nobara and Yuuji outside?”, you asked as you pointed at your window. They weren’t, but you just wanted him to shut up and leave, so that was your solution. 
His eyes widened and he just sprinted in the directions of the stairs. He took it very serious when his students got sick, because he needed all of the time he got to teach his students. You always made fun of his way of teaching, but in the end the students always turned out to be strong. You didn’t ever really admit is, but he was a good teacher and in some way you looked up to him. Though that piece of information was not for him to know. He had a dream, and his students were helping him achieve it.
“Ooooh y/n sensei, you didn’t sleep yet?” It was Itadori who came walking in your direction. “I was looking for Gojo sensei, but I can’t find him anywhere.”
“Oh I sent him outside to look for you guys, because I told him Megumi left you and Nobara outside in the rain”, you said.
He looked visibly confused and looked his own body up and down. “But I'm right here?”
“Exactly”, you said as you winked and pointed a finger gun at him. 
His eyes widened and he started laughing. “Sensei that’s so cruel!”
“I have to do what I have to do in order for him to leave me alone sometimes”, you said with a sigh.
“Is Gojo sensei that bad towards you then?”, Yuuji asked.
“Ah Yuuji you’re making me seem like the bad guy here. But no, he actually isn’t all that bad. But he just doesn’t know about the word private space sometimes”, you said reassuring the teenager. 
“oh no I didn’t want to make you feel bad about your words”, he worriedly said as he shook his head. “I just know how Fushiguro gets annoyed easily, so I thought it might have been the same for you. Oh Gojo sensei!”
You turned your head to the side and saw Gojo walking in your direction as Itadori waved frantically, but it faded more and more as Gojo walked closer. He was completely drenched and he held his eye mask in his hands. He looked pissed, or more annoyed. 
“Yuuji could you leave me alone with y/n sensei”, he said not looking up.
“y/n sensei is this alright”, Yuuji whispered.
“It’s alright Yuuji, don’t worry about it. Just make sure you don’t stay around here, okey?”, you said with a smile and a nod to reassure him.
“Okey”, he said with a worried expression as he left anyways. 
You waited till You didn’t see Itadori anymore. You walked inside your room and Gojo just walked right in after you. You didn’t have the time to close the door as he just pinned you against it, making the push close the door. You were taken aback and Gojo just stared at you. You couldn’t read his expression at all. 
“Listen, I play and joke around a lot I know. But making me worry about my students’ health isn’t one of the things I can joke around with”, he said.
“What is it Gojo, did I push the wrong button?”, you said back, not giving a sign of being intimidated by him. 
“Don’t go playing all big and mighty now”, he said in an almost whisper, inching closer to your face.
Your heart was beating in your chest, but you didn’t give in. “What are you gonna do about it?”, you said also inching closer, leaving almost no space between your faces.
That was his sign. That was all he needed as confirmation so he just held you neck and pulled you in, closing the space that was left between the two of you. you synced with his movements and he barely gave you a moment to breath.
He pulled back and looked you straight in the eyes. “I’m not joking around with you, I'm serious. I am ready to give you my all, I hope you realized that by now. I know you feel the same way and I'll give you as much time as you need. But don’t make me waste my time. So if you want me just tell me and I'll give you all the space you need after that”, he said with no hint of sarcasm. 
“Who said I wanted space?”, you said with a smug smile. “Why would i want space when I can take you right now Gojo Satoru”, you said in a whisper with a smug smile. 
He liked that side of you. That playful side of you that appears once in a while. It turned him on, it made him imagine things he shouldn’t and you knew you had that impact on him. Because in the end he never showed any effort in concealing his true feelings so figuring him out wasn’t as hard as you sometimes thought it would. 
He smiled back at you and raised his eyebrows. “Guess chasing after you was really worth it huh?”
You pulled him back in for a kiss and this one was more passionate than the other. You pulled him closer, you deepened the kiss and he did everything in his power to not squish you against the door. Your hand moved to his damp hair and you tugged at it lightly. He moved his head to your ear and trailed down kisses to your shoulder. 
His hand moved to the lock of the door and you heard it click. You turned your head slightly that you had a good view on his face. He was smirking and you rolled your eyes at him in a playful way.
“Let’s see how good you keep your word when saying you can take me right now”, he said.
“I can’t back down now, can I”, you smugly answered.
With a breathy laugh he brought his face back to yours. “where were we”, he said in a whisper.
“Here”, you said and you pulled him back in for a kiss. 
It was quite obvious from the start that you and Gojo would end up like this. You couldn’t deny your feelings forever and Gojo was one hell of a pain in the ass to keep on reminding you that you had no escape from him. Not that you wanted that. But like said before, he didn’t need to know that piece of information. Some things were better left off not said, because in the end Gojo Satoru is one hell of a cocky person, but that was one thing you adored so much about him. And let’s not forget, you were in love with him and there was no denying that either. 
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221bshrlocked · 4 years ago
Text
masked in desperation
Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader
Word count: 6044
Warnings: Verbal Degradation. Physical Humiliation involving Din making reader wet herself. Dirty Talk. Penetrative, Non-Protective Sex (wrap the shlong before you king kong por favor). Rough then Soft Din. Don't worry, this is consensual and there is aftercare involved.
No summary because I don't even know what to call this? All you guys need to know is that this fic is based on/inspired by the following asks [x] [x] [x] [x]
A/N: Uhhh this is new for me so I'm sorry if I didn't get the dynamic involved with a humiliation kink right. Please let me know how I could correct anything should there be something off. This was supposed to be rougher...but I turned soft midway because nervous Din makes me warm. I hope you like it nonetheless though. Comments are hella appreciated. And you can add yourself to the taglist here. Enjoy and please don't @ me once you finish this fic. And I apologize that it took long, this semester was hell.
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It was an act of crazed desire concealed beneath irritation and anger, irritation with you for managing to claw yourself into his heart and anger at himself for allowing you to do so freely. He couldn't deny his feelings anymore, not if he wanted to retain whatever sanity he had left around you. What started out as nothing but stress relief and a way to help with the pain left behind by Grogu leaving turned into Din wishing he could stake his claim on you every moment of every day so you wouldn't seek anyone else out. Not that he genuinely believed you would. Still...
And it wasn't like this was any different from what the two of you usually do. At least that's what he says to excuse his twisted behavior, to not dwell too much on his sick, possessive fantasies.
It was driving him mad. He wanted to mark you up, always did during those passionate nights, loved watching as you tried, and failed, to cover up his love bites and handprints from the guild members. But he also craved to feel the same way. He wanted to bear traces of you on him so people knew how much he cared for you, perhaps even recognized the hold you have on him. The only problem was, no one would ever see the angry nail scratches and bite marks you left every night on his skin because of his beskar. So this, this would do the trick, even if it was barely noticeable, even if it would be gone when he washed his beskar, even if the two of you would be the only ones who knew what happened behind closed doors.
The weird thing was, he doesn't even know how he got to this point. Well, that's not true. He can actually trace his way to this moment, but he feels ashamed to do so? Reluctant maybe. It didn't matter what he was feeling at this point. All he knew was that he needed to watch you as you humiliated yourself in front of him, and had no power to do anything about it. Perhaps it was because, deep down, he wanted to show you that he'd accept you no matter what. He wanted to prove to you that he may just be worthy of having you in his arms. He wanted to assure you that he would be committed to you until his dying breath. And this, in some way, was the solution.
Before he can reevaluate and dwell too much on his decision, he fills a cup with water and heads towards you, ignoring the Marshal's glances as he approaches you and taps on your shoulders.
"Yeah?" You turn around, and Din forces himself to stand his ground when he sees your smile growing wider as you take the water from his hand. "Oh aren't you sweet. Careful, or else they'll think you're growing soft." You tease him as you down the cup of water and hand it back to him before returning to fixing the ship. He says nothing as he walks back towards the cantina, and resumes his quiet meditation.
And that's how it goes for the next couple of hours. He brings you a cup of water every so often, murmuring something or other about how he doesn't have time to take care of you if you suffered from a heat stroke before leaving immediately. Din quietly thanks the maker for your discomfort with public refreshers, because this plan wouldn't have worked if you decided to go to the cantina or elsewhere to relieve yourself. He's locked his ship's refresher and made sure to not be anywhere in sight when you sought him out to ask about the issue with the door.
He feels himself grow harder when he notices you squirming as you work on the ship, softly palming himself through his pants when you halt your movements every couple of minutes to either cross your legs or push your hand between your thighs to attempt and alleviate some of that pain. A part of him feels horrible for putting you through this, but something tells him it will be worth it in the end. Din Djarin isn't a man of prayer, but he pleads to whatever higher power that created you that this wouldn't backfire and make you leave him.
As the twin suns slowly set beneath the sky, Din moves away from where he's been hiding and heads towards the ship, making sure he is in your line of sight as he walks up the ramp and towards his armory. He quickly takes out the durasteel cuffs from where he's set them, hiding them behind his back as he pretends to head towards the cockpit.
However, he stops when he sees you rushing past him and setting all of your tools aside. You're mumbling angrily beneath your breath when things begin to fall over, growling when you try to fix them a couple of more times, and they continue to fall.
"Motherfucking shit," Din hears you swear as you carelessly try to set the box again and it falls over. Shaking your head, you turn around and sprint past him again towards the refresher. His eyes never leave your shaking form as you push on the refresher button numerous times and nothing happens.
"Pfassk! Din, how angry would you be if I broke this fucking door right now?" You try to grab the gun on his holster but he is quicker than you, slamming his hand on your own to prevent you from taking it.
"Extremely." His answer is short and straight to the point, mostly because he can't trust himself to respond to you without giving himself away.
"God please I- I need..." You hesitate and try to remove your hand from him, only to feel his hold tighten around your wrist. He thought you'd break and confess what you needed to do due to your desperation, but you don't, holding your tongue and looking up at him quizzically when he removes your wrist and clasps one side of the cuff on them.
"Din, what- what're you doing?" You look down and watch as he clasps the cuffs on your other wrist and ensures that they aren't too tight around your wrists before he locks them. Before you can ask him again, Din drags you across the ship and into the cockpit, ignoring your annoyed murmurs as he sits down and pulls you onto his lap.
You squirm around and try to get up but Din’s hold on your waist tightens and he slides you against his beskar until you fall into his chest. He says nothing as you push away and try to maneuver yourself so your legs aren’t wide open. He chuckles lowly when he sees how much you’re struggling, finally allowing you to put some space between the two of you. You rest your back against the controls board and take a few deep breaths before you stare at him.
“Can you please let me go?” You ask patiently, and hope he sees how genuine and serious you’re being. When he sits back but keeps his hold on you, you know he isn’t going to make this easy.
“Why?”
“Because I- I need to take care of something,” you look away when you respond and Din feels his cock twitch in his pants at the sudden shyness taking over.
“How about you let me take care of you?” He takes his gloves off and throws them aside, smiling to himself when he sees you shiver as he moves his hands up and down your body. You watch him like a hawk and you feel yourself growing wet for a moment, but you realize this reaction is the last thing you want to experience in his presence right now.
“Wait Din- just...it’s not like that.” You bite your lower lip and stifle a moan when he cups your tits and softly flicks at your hardened nipples.
“No? And yet here you are melting at my touch...your body knows me mesh’la, it’s blooming for me and I’ve barely touched you. Sweet girl, don’t you want me to make you feel good? I’ve been thinking about you all day long, about kissing you until you’re breathless...and biting you until you have my mark everywhere. Don’t you want me to show you just how much I’ve missed you?” Din knows he’s not being fair but the way your eyes are glowing with lust is enough to ground him so he could carry out his plan.
“I- I do...fuck, Din- I really do. I barely think of anything else...but I really need to-” You shut your eyes and groan as soon as you feel Din’s hand descend down your chest and rest on your lower stomach. He supports your back as he slowly begins to push against your navel, watching with fascination as your face contorts from pain and pleasure the harder he pushes on your muscles. You’re not sure what’s happening for a few seconds until you manage to open your eyes and look at him. His visor prevents you from seeing what he’s thinking but none of it matters when you feel him shift underneath you before he eases up. You sigh in relief but Din repeats his actions, only this time, he’s becoming a little more aggressive with his touches.
"N-no wait please I-"
"What's the matter mesh'la? You're usually fucking me like a loth-cat in heat by now, begging for me to have my way with you...take what I want until you feel properly fucked and filled with my cum." Din leans forward, never once easing up as he begins to move you over his beskar-clad thigh. There’s not much you can do due to the cuffs and how much advantage Din has over you in terms of muscle and size so you do the only thing that’s left.
You beg.
"Please, please Din I- I just...I need to-" It takes every ounce of control not to let go of your body’s function and you realize you’re not making much sense when Din cuts you off again and asks you what you want.
"Need to what? Go on sweet girl, tell me. What do you need?" His motions become more rough as he alternates between shoving his hand against your bladder and moving your clothed heat across his thigh. Din wants nothing more than to push you to the floor and fuck you until you can’t remember anything but him, but he tries his best to keep himself in check until he gets what he wants.
"I'll do anything Din just...need the- the refresher. I'm so- so...maker, please wait-" The controls dig into your back the more you lay on them but you can’t find it in yourself to care because a different kind of pain shoots down your spine when Din brings you closer to him and hikes your shirt up. His palms are warm against your skin and you hate how good they feel because this was not how you saw the day going with him.
"You know the safeword. Say it if you want me to let you go and I will." His tone shifts and you throw all caution aside as you confess to him why you need to leave.
"Din please...I really need to pee. I- I'll come back right away but I- oh it's too much, t-too much." You think he’s going to apologize and let you go when you tell him but all your admission does is cause him to momentarily stop before he wraps his arms around you and stands up. He’s pushing you up against the wall, not caring for what you just said to him or how rough he’s being as he nudges his leg in between your thighs and resumes his antics from before.
"I know."
The curt response washes over you like ice and your eyes begin to water as soon as Din takes off his helmet and you see him smiling down at you. You don’t know that you’re shaking in his arms but he leans down and nuzzles into the crook of your neck to commit the moment to memory. He loves the effect he’s having on you and although a small part of him feels bad, he doesn’t bother or care to hold back as he brings himself flush against you, the action causing his beskar to push deeper against your navel and have his desired effect.
"Din?" He thinks your whimpers might make him cum right then and there but he takes a deep breath before he pulls away and looks down at you. He’s sure that his eyes don’t convey an ounce of guilt at the moment, the opposite actually, and it only brightens his smile as he pulls down your tank top strap far enough to give him access to the top of your breasts. Din moves closer to you and lays lazy kisses across your heated skin, all the while attempting to grab your attention so he could tell you what he wanted.
"Why do you think I kept handing you water all day ner ka'rta?"
"W-wha-?" Your sniffles pull at his heart but he knows that you’re not in any physical danger and that all you need to do is whisper your safeword and he’d let you go. When a tear drop trails down your chin and hits his forehead, Din has to pull away to take a better look at you. He hates how much he loves the way you’re looking at him right now, like he’s simultaneously a villain and a savior to your predicament.
"And who do you think locked the refresher? Sweet girl… I thought you were smarter than that." Your surprised gasp adds more to the innocence he’s seeing in you and it’s the last straw before he holds onto your waist and begins to move you across his thigh again.
"You what?"
“Go on pretty, I know how much you’re trying to hold it in. ‘m not letting you go any time soon,” Din talks down at you and if you weren’t trying to prevent yourself from embarrassing yourself in front of him, you’d think it was the sexiest tone he’s had with you yet. But it’s getting more difficult to control your bladder and even though you get the sense that he will probably win in the end, you still try to hold off as much as possible.
“Look at you trying so hard...prettiest fucking sight in the galaxy. And do you know what makes it even better? I can smell how much you want me...this tight, wet cunt is begging for my cock. You can have me sweetheart, you can have me right now if you want. But you know what you have to do.” You’re shaking in his arms and plead pathetically when he applies more pressure on your navel. You try to ask him why again but you can’t find the words and resume moaning his name as he uses you.
And that’s what he’s doing. He’s using you. Like he owns you. Like he has the right to control every muscle in your body. You’re not sure what it is that made him act like this all of a sudden and you know it ultimately doesn’t matter because like he said, he won’t be stopping any time soon. It’s just strange that he wants this. He wants you to embarrass yourself. He’s practically helping your body let loose so you could wet yourself. You try to convince yourself that nothing about this should be turning you on, but the way his eyes are hazed with lust and desperation makes you reevaluate your thoughts and you manage to look up at him as he begins to speak again.
“It’s okay mesh’la, you can let go. Let go, now! Make a mess sweetheart. Make a mess of me, I won’t fuck you till you ruin my beskar and make this ship dirty. Go on. Or do you want me to help you again?” Din isn’t sure what’s come over him but he doesn’t hold back anymore, slipping his hand underneath your pants and pushing hard on your bladder until he feels your thighs squeeze around him.
“D-din fuck...oh- my...maker I- I can’t-” You throw your head back as you fist your hands into his cowl, holding on to that last bit of self control before you’re no longer able to. As he lifts his hand and pushes again, the thread breaks and tears slowly roll down your cheeks as you frown up at Din when your bladder gives out. Din looks into your eyes one last time before his attention moves south and his jaw clenches tightly when he notices the material of your pants grow darker the more you relieve yourself.
He doesn’t bother to stop, continuing to apply pressure on your lower stomach as a day’s worth of water floods down your legs and onto his beskar. He watches with fascination as his pants grow wet as well before he hears the faint sound of droplets falling onto his ship. You follow his line of sight and whimper in embarrassment when you notice just how big of a mess you made. There’s a small puddle forming where the two of you are standing and your nervousness only grows when you see how wet Din’s pants are.
When there’s nothing left and your shaking subsides a little, Din removes his hand from you and returns it to your waist, squeezing the skin he has access to so he wouldn’t strip you and fuck you in the middle of your mess. Every time he moves his foot, he can hear the soft splashing sound of the puddle underneath him and it only makes him harder. When he finally looks at you, he’s met with the most vulnerable expression he’s ever seen on you and although he wants nothing more than to kiss you and apologize, he allows himself to go just a little further until he sees you’re no longer able to put up with him.
“D-din...you- you made me, I-”
“Oh sweet girl, I made you do nothing.” The look of shock on your face is worth the hassle and he watches as you pout your lower lip before more tears leave your gorgeous eyes.
“You’re just a filthy girl, wetting yourself in the middle of my ship and not caring how dirty you’ve become...you really couldn’t hold it in cyar’ika? Look at this, look at the mess you made of my armor. You know how valuable beskar is and yet you pissed all over it. And my ship!? Didn’t we just clean this ship pretty?” Din could feel you melting into him with every word that passes through his lips and when you look away from him, his smile falls and he quickly grabs your neck, turning it straightforward so he could look into your eyes.
“No, you don’t get to look away from me when you’ve just pissed all over yourself and me. Maybe I should change your name, call you ad’ika from now on.” He has to hold back from smiling when he sees the moment you recognize the word. He’s only ever used that word whenever he talked with Grogu and you knew exactly why he was bringing it up now. “You’re my little girl aren’t you? My filthy, pretty little ad’ika who can’t fucking control herself and marked me up like she has the right...like she owns me.” Din watches as your expression softens a bit at his last admission and he trails his gaze down your nose until he is only focusing on your lips.
You can’t help but also stare at his lips and Din uses the brief moment of distraction to unbutton your pants and slip his hand into your panties, humming in approval when he feels the wet fabric scratch deliciously at his knuckles. You gasp when you feel his fingers softly rubbing your slit and as you look into his dark brown eyes, Din slips two fingers into your wet cunt and stops.
“Fuck, you’re so wet ad’ika, so warm and wet and ready for me.” He nudges his fingers deeper into he finds the spot that makes you see stars. You know immediately what he wants to do and reach for his arms as he grows closer to you. When they begin to get in the way, Din takes hold of the cuffs and raises them high above your head until the cuffs are glued to the wall. He can’t stop from smiling down at you, all stretched out and ready to be thoroughly fucked. But he doesn’t give in just yet.
“Din it’s...you’ll get dirty. I- I don’t want you to-”
“I don’t fucking care,” he growls as he leans down and bites shoulder again, moaning against your skin when he feels your cunt clench around him. “That’s it, open up for me...let me make you feel good. I- I want you to scream my name sweetheart, scream my name as you make a mess of me. Please...I need it, need- maker...need you to drench me again.” His words twist something inside of you and you lean back as he moves his thick fingers in and out of you until you feel that familiar pressure all over again.
“Oh Din...your fingers f-feel so- so good.”
“That’s right ad’ika, only I get to touch you. Only I get to watch you come undone...only I get to wear your scent, your beautiful fucking wet scent. I- I won’t wash this armor sweet girl, not when you’ve marked it...marked me, this much. Go on, be a good girl and make a mess of me. Let me walk around with the smell of you etched on my fucking beskar.” You whimper at the filthy whispers Din breathes against you and just as you’re about to come, Din grabs your pants along with your damp panties and pushes them as far down as he could. You bite into your lower lip as he tries to push his digits deeper into you, and when you finally manage to turn and look at him, you hold your breath as you see the way he’s looking at you, into you.
“Cum for me. Now.”
The quiet order, along with the pace of his touches, breaks you and you force yourself to not shut your eyes as your pussy throbs around his fingers, a wave of euphoria washing over you so swiftly you think you’ll faint. Din momentarily turns his attention to your heat once again and he hisses when he feels you coming on his hand just as you squirt on his beskar and the floor of the ship. You’re unable to form a coherent sentence as Din refuses to slow down and your eyes water again when the hold he has on your waist becomes more painful than before.
“Maker...you’re perfect.” Din kisses your neck as he finally decides to slow down but the way he continues to rub your clit with his palm does little to calm your nerves and you don’t realize how much you’re shaking until everything quiets down and all that you can hear is the sound of Din’s heavy breathing and your own heaving and sniffling. You wince when he fully removes his hand from you and helps you out of your pants and shoes. He takes a step back and groans when he sees how spent and ruined you look as you stand on your tiptoes and try to calm down.
As you try to catch your breath, Din unlocks both cuffs and throws them aside, reaching down and grabbing your ass so he could support your weight against him. You jump on instinct and moan when you feel the cold beskar against your skin as Din grinds into your soaked heat. He doesn’t waste another moment, diving in and claiming your lips until he could feel your teeth nipping at his tongue. He makes sure he has a good grip on you before he moves to the refresher and as soon as the two of you are standing in front of it, he pushes a code into the pad and unlocks the door. You pull away for a moment to look into his eyes, the silence of your gaze knocking the breath out of him as you hide into his neck. It takes but a second for Din to realize that he shouldn’t try to push your limits any further for the night.
His touches grow softer as he carefully sets you down on the floor of the refresher. Din can see you’re shivering from the cold room and makes quick work of his clothes and armor, choosing to leave his boxer briefs on so you wouldn’t think of anything else. He leans down and taps twice on your shoulders so you could raise them above your head. As you do, you look everywhere else but him and the gesture is a little too raw for Din because as he strips you down to nothing, he’s leaning down and kissing your forehead until he feels you relax in his arms.
When he’s satisfied with your slowing heart rate, he stands up and turns on the water, making sure to stand in front of you and block you from the cold water until it turns warm. Even though he doesn’t particularly enjoy it, he turns the hot water just a little further, knowing how much you preferred it when it struck your skin.
Grabbing the bar of soap you bought from the last hunt, Din sits down and rests his back against the cold metal of the wall before pulling you towards him.
“Come to me mesh’la.” His voice is much more controlled and mellow than minutes before and you melt back into him as soon as his skin comes into contact with yours. You rest your back against his shoulder and sigh heavily when his hands begin to massage your arms. The scent of flowers hits your nostrils in seconds, making you relax even more as the soap washes away any trace of what you and Din had just done.
Din kisses your shoulder and neck as he rubs the soap on your chest and stomach, keeping his touches as appropriate as possible to distract himself from the hardening issue he was struggling with. Although he prefers you all sweaty and dirty, he makes sure to wash every inch of you, knowing that you probably needed to feel clean after...after what he’s done.
He pushes your back until you’re leaning forward far enough for him to wash your back as well. His breath hitches when he sees evidence of his touches on your skin from previous nights. Some of them have turned a light blue color while others were still purple.
Fuck. He didn’t know his grip was this harsh. He was a little guilty for bruising your skin, your lovely, beautiful, gorgeous skin. But the more he saw as he rubbed the soap over your back, the more pride he felt in his chest at the knowledge that he was the only one allowed to mark you.
“D-din…” You moan his name when he pulls you back into his chest and you feel his hands descend lower to wash your thighs. You think that he’s going to touch you where you ache for him but when he focuses on your thighs, you realize that he wasn’t going to go anywhere near your throbbing cunt.
“I’m here sweet girl, let me take care of you.” His whispers are laced with promises and affection and you’re not sure what to make of it. He’s never been this intense, this touch-starved, even this controlling. There’s something about the events of the night that tug at your heart and you wish you could ask him what has changed all of a sudden. But you don’t, instead repeating his words from earlier over and over again as he continues to wash you.
He told you, although indirectly, that you had the right to...to mark him, to own him. He begged you to drench him so everyone would know that he’s yours. That you’re his.
“Din please,” overcome with emotions, you slap the bar of soap away from him and use his surprise to your advantage, quickly turning around and holding onto his broad shoulders as you straddled his thighs.
“Ner ka'rta, we don’t have t-” Din keeps his hands to himself as he feels you rub yourself on his clothed cock. You instantly cut him off, molding your lips with his in a bruising kiss until his arms wrapped around your back. When you knew you had him, you pulled away and laid kisses across his handsome features. He was a moaning mess in no time and when you took hold of his chin and pushed it back, Din felt like he was travelling through the stars, the rough nips you were leaving across the jugular of his neck making him notice just how needy you were.
The hot water cascaded down your back as you assaulted Din’s skin and when you felt him grab your waist and begin to move you across of him, you knew he wasn’t going to deny you from what you wanted. Needed. Craved.
“I need you...now, please Din. I need to feel you inside me.”
“But-”
“Please? Oh maker, I- you said...you said you’d give me your cock if I wanted. And I do. I want you, I want your cock. I- you promised. I- I’ll do anything.” The sound of your desperate pleas sends a shiver down his spine and Din nods frantically just before you pull him out of his briefs.
“You- you’ve done enough for me cyar’ika. So so much. And I- I...oh-” Din throws his head back and shuts his eyes as soon as you lower yourself on his hard cock. He thinks he’s going to cum right then and there, but then you’re moving on top of him and squeezing him so tightly and he realizes that he needed to feel more of you. You cry out his name over and over again as he twitches against your tight walls, and when his eyes snap wide open and look at you, you can’t help but lean forward and bite into his shoulder to keep some semblance of control.
“S-sweet girl...lovely girl, tell me you’re mine.”
The short request causes you to falter in your pace but Din decides to take over again, wrapping his arms around you as he begins to move you on top of him.
“I- I’m yours Din, I’m yours. No one else can fuck me like you, n-no one can kiss me and touch me and take care of me like you...gods, you’re amazing. And you’re mine,” Din groans when he hears the last of your words and he nuzzles into the crook of your neck as you continue to whisper sweet things to him.
“You hear that Din...you’re mine. You- you belong to me, you touch only me...you, oh maker, you fuck only me. This cunt is yours baby and your cock was made for it. Made for me. You l-love only me. Right Din? P-please I’m...already so close. Tell me Din because you know...know that I love you. I love you. No one else. J-just you-”
Din is sure he might be suffocating you with how hard he’s hugging you right now but he doesn’t seem to notice because all he can hear is your declarations of love and commitment. Neither of you have ever come close to being this intimate but his earlier actions apparently unlocked something in the two of you.
You loved him. Even though he could be kinder, and was definitely too broken. You still loved him.
“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum. P-pfassk...I love you mesh’la. Only you...always you.” Din comes with a cry when he feels your nails digging into his back and he growls as his cock throbs inside you until he’s filled you with his cum. But he doesn’t stop, instead maintaining his pace just to see you fall apart one last time. It’s all too much and not enough, and he’s already oversensitive from coming but he has only himself to blame considering how much he edged himself the entire day. When he hears your gasps turn quieter, he knows you’re close and slithers his hand between your bodies to flick your clit. You moan into his shoulder as you quickly peak one last time, the touch of his fingers reminding you of what he’s done earlier and in a matter of seconds, you’re clenching around him so hard to the point where you’re not sure if you’re experiencing pain or pleasure.
Neither of you say anything as you slowly return to yourselves. When Din moves to try and turn the water off, you accidentally dig your nails deeper into his shoulder and make him hiss.
“S-sorry.” The small apology does something to Din and he decides that he needs to do this now and not when the two of you are in his cot. Twisting his hand into your hair, Din pulls it back until you’re forced to look at him. You stare at each other for what feels like hours before you lean forward and kiss him. It’s much slower and kinder than the earlier kisses and you smile when Din unintentionally thrusts into you. He pulls away and returns your expression when he sees how genuine it is.
“I think I should be the one apologizing ad’ika.”
You know what he’s referring to and you think that perhaps he’s beginning to feel more guilt at what he’s done but you brush it aside with a joke so he knew there was nothing of concern.
“Not sure what you’re talking about Din,” you leave a quick peck on his nose as you rest your cheek on his chest and hug him tightly. He recognizes what you’re doing right away and decides to not fight you, instead maneuvering you off of him to shut the water off. You try to stand but your legs give out immediately. Forutrantly for you, Din is there to catch you and he ignores your complaints as he carries you out of the refresher and into his room. You watch as he brings two towels and proceeds to dry you off, handing you the other one to dry your hair. You giggle when he almost stubs his toe as he comes back with a set of new clothes.
Din ignores your comments when you ask him why he was handing you one of his long sleeve shirts instead of your own, quickly putting on a pair of boxers before throwing the towels back into the refresher. When he comes back, you’re already comfortable and warm in his bed, the sight of you sniffing his pillows causing him to think of a multitude of thoughts. He brushes them all aside when you make room for him and ask him to come to you.
As he slithers underneath the covers, you waste no time and move closer to him until you’re sure you’re touching every inch of his skin.
“Are you okay mesh’la?” Although you know what he’s referring to by that question, you don’t bring up the topic, instead nuzzling into his chest. The sigh of content you hear tells you that he’s not overthinking what happened too much, and it signals for you to do the same because even though you never expected the day’s events, you can’t help but admit to yourself that one thing which you know Din will bring up when the two of you have properly rested.
As strange and sudden as it was, Din’s treatment of you turned you on.
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Translations:
Mesh'la - beautiful
Cyar'ika - beloved
Ad'ika - little one
Ner ka'rta - my heart or my soul
Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum - I love you
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Pedro Pascal (and any of his characters):
@pastel-0-princess @feelmyroarrrr @libbymouse @its--fandom--darling @spideysimpossiblegirl @princess76179 @cheekygeek05 @miraclesoflove @purple-mango @freeshavocadoooo @metalarmsandmanbuns @acthenerd @greeneyedblondie44 @cannedsoupsucks @purplepascal042 @talesfromtheguild @f0rever15elf @vibin-hippie @onesmokinbabe @leaiorganas @words-way-of-life @kideyz @lovesickmadsadpoet @niall7inches @rosiefridayrogersunday @tati-adventures @sleep-tight1 @itsfreeekinbats @cybergroupie @marsplsstop @ezrasbirdie @diogodxlot @janebby @juletheghoul @bii-aan-ckaa @nohartandsole @djjarins @lamelyssher @giselatropicana @pescopadral @blackmarketmummy @laviipopii @ew-erin @fan-of-encouragement @melody13522 @clydesducktape @planetariumx @sambucky21 @thirddeadlysin @leannawithacapitala @fangirl-316 @thou-creature-of-the-deep
Din Djarin: @a--1--1--3 @tanzthompson @mrs-ghuleh @caitlynmarty
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the-iceni-bitch · 4 years ago
Text
Killing Floor
Pairing: dark!Mr. Freezy x dark!fem!Reader
Words: 4389
Summary: You run into Robert Pronge one night and end up tangled in a scheme together.
Warnings: DARK so, so dark, please do not read if these type of fics upset you! non-con (erring on the safe side), dub-con (for sure), very graphic violence (m to f and f to m), death, gore, explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected vaginal sex, hate-fucking, cavalier use of a handgun), SMUT, 18+ ONLY!!!!
A/N: My first dark fic! It got away from me for sure but I enjoyed it. Please, please be mindful of the content you are consuming though, this could very easily be upsetting! Because of this, I’m only gonna tag my fellow Freezy hoes here, as I haven’t updated my taglist doc to include dark!Fics.
Check out my masterlist and join my taglist if you want!
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You eyed the Mr. Freezy truck warily as you carried your garbage to the dumpster behind your apartment building. This was the third time this week you had seen it outside your place, and it was setting you on edge. There were hardly any kids in your neighborhood, so you didn’t know why it was hanging out here.
You cursed under your breath as the truck moved to the mouth of the alley, blocking your exit. You pressed your back to the wall behind the dumpster, right as a man exited into the alleyway from the bar underneath your place to smoke a cigarette.
A massive man in a white uniform stepped out of the back of the ice cream truck and walked towards the smoker, pulling on a pair of black leather gloves as he made his approach. He asked him for a cigarette before pulling a silenced pistol out of his jacket and shooting his target three times in the chest.
You schooled your breathing as you watched him drag the body to the back of his truck, trying to remain as still as possible. He stormed back into the alley to search for the shell casings, turning his back to you as he collected them.
Your legs were starting to cramp from your crouched position, and as hard as you were trying to stay still, it was getting difficult. You tried shifting your foot, but your ankle rolled in your heels and you let out a hiss. The killer straightened up suddenly at the sound, cocking his head as he turned toward you with a sneer on his face.
“Is that a little kitty I hear?” He jeered as he walked toward you, his voice thick with a Boston accent.
You stood up from your hiding place, preparing to make a run for it. He saw you tense up and lunged at you, wrapping a massive hand around your throat and pinning you against the wall, knocking the air from your lungs and cracking your skull against the bricks.
“Nice try, sweetheart, but I can’t let you go just yet.” He pressed his body against yours to pin you, his other hand brushing his stringy hair from in front of his glasses. “You have got horrible timing. To think I almost got out of here without getting a look at you, kitten.”
You just glared him as he moved his hand down from your throat to dip inside your blouse, grinning as he pawed at you as he buried his face in your shoulder, grinding his crotch into you.
“Think I’m gonna have a little fun with you before I let you go. You’re being so good and quiet.” He panted against your neck. Suddenly he stilled and drew his face up to look you in the eyes. “Why haven’t you called for help?”
He had relaxed just enough to allow you to move and you drove your knee between his legs at the same time you shoved your hand into his jacket and drew out his pistol, whipping it across his face and sending him sprawling.
“You cunt!” He spat, bloody spittle flying from the corners of his mouth as he moved to charge you again, stopping short when you pressed his gun to his temple. “Oh, you stupid little bitch.”
“I’m the stupid bitch?” You growled at him. “You wanna tell me what the fuck a Gambino hitman is doing so far outside of their territory?”
“Shit.” He hissed between his teeth as he eyed you warily. “You’re with the Genoveses?”
“That’s right.” You said, drawing back the hammer on the pistol. “Now answer my question.”
“Alright, alright!” He raised his hands in supplication, showing you his palms. “Fella in my truck has a father who owes Marks a good chunk of change, and y’know, he needed a little incentive to pay off his debt.”
“Marks gave you the ok to take out this hit? The mans getting bold.” You snorted, releasing the hammer as you pulled the gun back. “Lucky for you, I feel like leaving this to the bosses to figure out. Get the fuck out of here.” He stood up warily and reached for his gun, which you pulled back with a tut. “No, I’m gonna hold onto this for now. Maybe I’ll give it back later.”
Mr. Freezy growled as he brushed off his uniform and stalked back to his truck, grumbling under his breath the whole time. You just winked at him as he drove away, heading back up to your apartment to call this in.
❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️
  You saw him again 2 weeks later at a sit-down. Marks came to make amends to your boss for overstepping, hoping to find someway show his remorse for sending his man into the Family’s territory without permission. You were perched on a stool in the back of the room when the two men entered, and a small smirk teased your lips.
Lombardo liked bringing you to meetings as a distraction. Most of his comrades assumed you were there for eye candy, just the latest piece of tail the boss was wetting his dick in, too stupid to care about. But the real reason he kept you around was for protection. He loved the look of surprise that came over his enemies’ faces when you pulled out your garrot.
“Great to see you Leo!” Lombardo said warmly, moving to give the man a kiss on each cheek before sinking into his chair, gesturing for Marks to join him. “Y/N, grab us some wine sweetheart. Does your man want any?”
“No, I don’t like my men drinking while they work.”
You moved to open the wine when a massive palm wrapped around your upper arm.
“This is the bitch I told you about, boss.” The killer seethed as he wrenched you around viciously.
“The fuck are you doing, Pronge?” Marks hissed, giving you a chance to grab the corkscrew and press it to Robert’s throat. “Benny, I apologize for my man’s behavior, he’s been foaming at the mouth about some broad getting the best of him and it’s made him a little erratic.”
Lombardo just laughed as Pronge released you with a duck of his head. You kept the corkscrew where it was, watching a thin trickle of blood run down his neck.
“Let him go, Y/N.” He said with a wave of his hand, and you moved to open the wine, pouring two glasses and bringing them over to the seated men. “My girl has a tendency to elicit that type of reaction. It’s one of the reasons I keep her around!” He gave you a pat on the ass as you headed back to your stool, your eyes trained on Robert Pronge.
He was glowering at you maliciously as he leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest and his forearms flexing as he clenched his fists. You heard him growl from deep in his chest when you gave him a conspiratorial wink.
“You see my problem Leo, we can’t have Gambinos moving through our territory with impunity, as much as we can sympathize with the need to collect a debt. Fortunately for you, the boss is still soft on you fellas, so we’ve come up with a solution I think will work for everyone.”
“Ah, Benny, I can’t tell you how happy that makes me! Of course, whatever you need.”
“Excellent! We’ve got a little problem with one of Big Mike’s nephews. The kids an idiot and has been making some waves that are making it increasingly difficult to manage our operations, I’m sure you know the type.”
“There’s one in every family.” Marks said with a shake of his head.
“That there is. Anyways, Funzi wants us to deal with the kid under the radar. I’d normally send in Y/N on her own to take care of it, but as great as she is, the kid is surrounded by morons all the time. We also have a disposal problem. Funzi wants to make it seem like the kid ran off with some bitch, hopefully avoid a war, and we’ve heard that your man Pronge here is a disposal expert.”
“Oh, fuck no!” Pronge exclaimed. “I’m not working with this cunt!”
“You’ll do what I order you to do, or I’ll fucking end you, now shut the fuck up!” Marks roared at Robert, making him wince as he leaned back against the wall. “He’ll do it.”
“Glad to hear it.” Benny murmured, his nostrils flaring in anger as he gave you the signal to relax. “Let’s drink to our friendship while we let these two hash out the details.”
You stood up from your stool with a deep sigh as you moved towards your new partner. The man looked like he wanted to murder you, and you just gave him a wicked grin. He seemed to relax as you went over the plan with him, not really offering any notes, just grunting in acknowledgement as his eyes roamed over your body. You managed to come to a grudging agreement and made plans to meet in two days to carry everything out.
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  You had been waiting outside the club for 10 minutes when Pronge finally parked his sedan across the street. He leered as he walked towards you, eyes drinking you in. You looked extremely different than the last time he saw you, relaxed in a flowing dress that stopped mid-thigh and plunged almost all the way down to your navel.
“You always dress like a whore on the job?” He grumbled as the two of you headed to the entrance.
“Sure. You always dress like a clown?” You asked, wincing at the painful pattern on his shirt.
“Fucking bitch.” He muttered under his breath, not quite low enough that you couldn’t hear him.
“That’s right.” You said, your eyes roaming around the club as you looked for your man. “There he is.”
There was a group of young men in a booth at the back. The leader bent to snort a line of coke off the table before screaming for more drinks.
“What a fucking moron.” Pronge said from directly behind you. You could feel the suffocating heat of his body against your back as you stretched your neck. You sensed his eyes boring into you, searing over your bare flesh.
“Wait for my signal.” You muttered as you moved towards the dance floor, winding your way through the crowd smoothly until you positioned yourself in front of the mark’s table.
Pronge moved around the edge of the dancefloor as he kept an eye on you, you even danced like a slut. Your eyes were fixed on the mark as you gyrated to the music. It didn’t take long for the idiot to notice you. Your hands wandered all over your body as you swayed drunkenly, tracing the curves of your breasts and running over your neck languidly before dropping to your hips and teasing the hem of your skirt higher on your thighs.
He felt his dick starting to get hard as he watched you move, fighting the urge to pull you into an alley and fuck you until you couldn’t talk. His bitch wife had been refusing to put out for months, but ever since he first saw you in that alley, you’re all he could think about. He just wanted to shove his cock in that smart mouth of yours and shut you up for good. He had dreams about wrapping his hands around your throat as he ruined your pussy, marking your tits with his teeth as he split you open.
Fuck, he was so hard it hurt. He did his best to school his thoughts as he watched the mark move to join you. He felt himself tense as he watched the moron slot himself behind you and grind against your ass. His hands roamed over your torso until he was cupping your breasts, squeezing them softly as you dropped your head back against his shoulder with a moan, arching into his grasp.
Robert lost his patience and stormed towards the bathroom, slamming the door open as he strode inside. His did his best to control his breathing as he checked the stalls for occupants. He heard your laugh coming from the corridor and he scrambled to conceal himself, perching on top of a toilet and closing the stall door as you entered the bathroom.
You were giggling breathlessly as the idiot mouthed at your neck. He ripped the sleeves of your dress down your arms until your tits were exposed, and you sighed as your nipples pebbled in the air. Your mark bent to run his mouth over your chest sloppily as he fumbled with his belt.
Pronge lowered himself to the floor gingerly, splaying his palm on the stall door and pushing it open slowly. Your eyes shot open and did your best to swallow a hiss. Something must have tipped off the mark, because he straightened suddenly and turned around.
You growled at Robert and wrapped your arms around the mark’s neck before he had a chance to raise the alarm, squeezing hard enough that his oxygen was cut off. Your eyes bored into his as you choked the man, bringing him to his knees as you crouched behind him, your body curled tightly around his. Pronge’s cock was pressing painfully against the front of his pants as he watched you work. Your dress gathered around your waist and your makeup smeared all over your face as the muscles in your arms strained with the effort of strangling the man.
He finally stopped fighting you, and you moved to grip his head at crown and chin before wrenching your arms in two different directions, snapping his neck. You dropped the body to the floor and stood slowly to glare at Pronge, your nostrils flaring.
“You’re supposed to be in the alley.” You seethed as you pulled your dress back over your shoulders, moving to check the hall for any alarm.
“You moved faster than I was expecting.” He hissed, climbing one of the toilets to open the small window to the alley. He gripped a pipe running over the ceiling and lifted himself up enough to shove his legs through. He moved his hands to brace against the sill as he slid through the narrow opening, his broad shoulders just barely able to fit through the frame. He dropped into the alley and looked around, ensuring there were no witnesses.
It was only a few seconds before you were shoving the body through the window for Pronge to catch. He couldn’t deny he was impressed. You were stronger than you looked to be able to lift all that dead weight through a window 8 feet off the ground. He caught it easily and hauled it to the Mr. Freezy truck, shoving it in the back before moving back to the window.
He came back to find you with your legs dangling from the window as you slid through. You dropped softly on the balls of your feet, being careful not to roll your ankles as you landed in your stilettos.
Robert was leering as you strutted past him, your hips swaying suggestively as you made your way to the truck, wrenching open the doors and stepping inside. He climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine, pulling out slowly as you worked to wrap the body in plastic sheeting.
The two of you reached the warehouse in a little under an hour. Robert backed the truck into the loading bay and threw it in park before moving around to open the dock doors. He opened the back doors of the truck and tossed the body over his shoulder as you stepped out.
“Just head straight through.” He instructed you. You gave him a nod over your shoulder as you headed in. He grinned wickedly to himself as he watched your ass swinging back and forth in those heels, moving to follow you.
You found the old slaughterhouse easily and lowered a hook over the drain in the floor as he came to stand behind you, close enough that he had you on edge.
Once the hook was low enough, you moved forward in tandem. You ripped the plastic sheeting off the body as Pronge moved to wrap the hook and chain around the ankles. Once everything was secure, you stepped back to raise the chain.
Robert was still watching like a hawk. You did your best to ignore his eyes on you as you stood with one hip cocked, one heel tapping impatiently on the slanted floor.
Once it was at the required height, you stepped forward to drain the body without an ounce of hesitation, pulling a hunting knife out of your bag.
He growled from deep in his chest as he watched you work, leaned against the railing surrounding the killing floor, his cock starting to harden again as you stepped back, wiping your blade on a handkerchief.
“Almost forgot, Pronge.” You said, digging your hand in your purse and pulling out a pistol. You grinned at the panic on his face before flipping the gun in your hand so the grip was pointed at him. “This is yours.”
He took it from you warily and shoved it into the waist of his slacks, eyes still boring into you as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip.
“We’ve got some time to kill sweetheart.” He murmured as you moved to walk past him, heading back towards the loading bay.
Just like that he was on you, one giant hand wrapping around your throat as he slammed you against the wall, your head cracking against the concrete and your teeth snapping together painfully. You brought your knife up whip fast and pressed it to his throat at the same time he drew the gun from his waistband and pressed it to your abdomen.
“You’re just turning me on even more, kitten.” He leered at you, slipping the gun down the curve of your hip and drawing the hem of your skirt up your thigh with the barrel. He brushed the edge of his hand against your panties, groaning at how soaked you were.
He brought his other hand down and shredded the thin fabric easily, tucking the ruins in his back pocket before digging his fingers into your hip, gripping you hard enough to draw bruises. He sneered at you as he slipped the gun between your legs, running the barrel between your folds and teasing it against your clit, making you arch into him with a hiss.
“God, what a fucking slut you are.” He chuckled as he slipped the cool metal over your sex, your arousal soaking the steel as you writhed against it. “Acting so stuck up, and here this cunt is begging for me. Maybe I should fuck you with my gun, would you like that?”
He pressed the tip of the barrel against your entrance and you spat in his face, pressing the knife further into his neck and giving a mock sound of sympathy as a drop of blood welled at the tip.
“Just keep doing what you’re doing, fucker.” You ordered him, grinding yourself into the steel as another round of arousal seeped from your pussy as it clenched around nothing.
“Oho, you bitch. I’m gonna fucking ruin you.” He growled menacingly at you as you slipped your hand under the buttons of his shirt, popping them open one at a time at an agonizing pace as you kept your blade trained on his jugular.
“Promises, promises.” You tutted, the coil in your abdomen growing tighter and tighter as you dug your nails into Robert’s chest, drawing a moan from deep in his throat.
He pressed the gun against your clit violently and grinned as you fell apart. Your legs trembled as you release gushed over the now-warm steel. You bit your lip as you gave a low moan, your cunt fluttering as came down from your high.
“That’s right, whore.” He withdrew the gun from between your legs and brought it up to his face, running his tongue over the barrel and moaning at the taste of you. He tossed the weapon aside carelessly before bringing his hands up to wrench the sleeves of your dress over your shoulders, until it was pooled around your ankles.
“Just fucking look at that.” He murmured as his eyes raked over you. “No wonder the Genoveses keep you a secret.”
He brought one hand to dig painfully into your breast as his other slipped between your thighs. You removed the knife from his neck before slashing it across his chest in a quick motion, making him hiss as you ducked your head to drag your tongue over the wound, moaning as the metallic taste of his blood hit your tongue.
His backhand sent your sprawling, your teeth cutting the inside of your cheek as the knife flew out of your hand. You laughed darkly as you straightened back up, spitting the blood out of your mouth as you watched him strip off his clothes.
“I’m gonna split you open and break you apart, cunt.” He spat as he stalked towards you. His body had an air of menace about it, thick corded muscles stretched over his frame that was covered in scars. “And you’re gonna fucking thank me.”
You groaned as he pounced on you, his mouth moving to trace your breasts hungrily as his fingers dug into the small of your back. You sucked in a harsh breath and wrapped your fingers in his hair painfully as you felt him sink his teeth into you and he moaned into your soft flesh. He moved his teeth over your tits in a vicious trail, marking you with them.
“Fuck.” You hissed as a particularly deep bite had him drawing blood.
He wrenched himself up to glare at you and wrapped his hand around your throat tight enough that it was cutting off your oxygen.
“I don’t wanna hear another word out of that mouth of yours.” He growled, pressing you against the wall again. “I’d shut you up with my cock, but I wanna wreck that hole between your legs first.”
He slapped his swollen tip against your pussy once before spearing into you. He grinned wolfishly as he felt your throat vibrating under his hand and he bent to scrape his teeth over your jaw.
“God, this whore pussy is so fucking tight.” He growled into your ear. “You’re squeezing me so hard, you gonna cum already?”
He felt you stiffen for a beat and then you were quivering around him, a thin whine escaping from your tightened throat as you raked your fingers down the muscles of his back, drawing deep gauges with your nails.
He slammed your head against the wall hard enough to draw blood as your release seeped over his cock, leaking down the inside of your thighs as you fought the urge to pass out.
Robert released you suddenly, his hand leaving your throat as he pulled out. You only had a second to suck in a breath as he spun you around, tilting your hips just a bit before slamming into you again. You pressed your cheek against the wall as he plunged into you brutally.
You let out a series of small whimpers as he pinched your nipples harshly, tugging at them and pulling your tits away from your body. You fought the urge to yelp when he slapped them, making your pussy clamp down on his cock as he fucked into you.
“What a good little slut you are.” He hissed in against your hair, smearing his face through the blood seeping from your head wound. “Yeah, you love the feel of my big fucking cock inside you?”
The only answer you could give was a low moan, followed by a gasp as he wrapped a hand around to pinch your clit.
“That’s right bitch, cream all over me. God you’re fucking cock drunk, aren’t you?”
You just whined as he tweaked your clit one more time and you came apart, your legs giving out. Robert wrapped a hand around your thigh and drew it up to pin against your waist as your body quivered against him, your pussy milking his cock as your eyes rolled back in your head.
“Fuck.” He whispered as his cock twitched inside you and he sank his teeth into your shoulder as he came, blood welling into his mouth as you cried wordlessly and he shot his seed into you, coating your canal in thick hot ropes that seeped out over your thighs.
He kept fucking you through it until he started to soften, then shoved you against the wall violently, pulling away and spitting your blood out of his mouth.
He watched you closely as you turned around, doing his best to keep from hardening again as he looked at you. Your hips and thighs were covered in bruises that were sure to darken even more over the next few days. There was the trace of his hand over your neck that you were absentmindedly running your fingers over. The side of your face where he had slapped you was starting to swell, a shallow cut running along your cheekbone. Blood was leaking from the corner of your mouth and your chest was covered in angry bite marks, some of them bleeding.
You wiped your hand across your face as you stared back at him, wincing. He didn’t look any better. His chest was covered in deep scratches and claw marks, smeared with blood from the cut on his chest. A thin red trail was running down his neck from the shallow prick you had made under his chin. His face was smeared with your blood from where he had buried himself in your hair, and when he turned to collect his clothes, you admired the deep gauges you’d made in his back.
“That was something.” You murmured, catching your dress in mid-air as he tossed it at you. You flicked your head towards where the body was suspended and gave a deep sigh. “Where’s your bonesaw?”
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A/N: Welp, I’m going to hell, but at least I’m taking you hoes with me!
Tags!
@stargazingfangirl18​ @starlightcrystalline​ @ozarkthedog​ @drabblewithfrannybarnes​ @slothspaghettiwrites​ @sultrygoblin​ 
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