#is “what are you a cop” I’m going to assume you haven’t actually been to any protests

[wheretheeternalare]

sorry still angry at the people clowning in the notes of the protest poll. 1) it is okay to talk about attending protests in a nonspecific way on tumblr dot com. you will not be arrested for this. in fact I would say it’s actively good to talk about to encourage others to get involved, which is clearly necessary! 2) if you don’t know about protests happening until after they’ve happened, maybe demonstrate some agency and find out how they get organized? a lot of protests are organized on social media if you know who to follow. if you go to one you can talk to people and find out about more. 3) going to rallies (as opposed to direct actions/sit ins etc) is not necessarily about enacting change in that very moment. it’s about demonstrating to the authorities that there is a groundswell of support for the cause in question, that there is a large number of people ready to mobilize if, say, the people doing the more risky actions get arrested. please learn to value expressions of solidarity over instant gratification.

[revelboo]

Hey! Hi! Absolutely love your writing so much! I look forward to everything you post, and appreciate what you do a lot!! I’ve definitely come to appreciate and learn more about transformers cause of you!

Really just wanted to show my gratitude :]]]

Oh, and look what I’ve done to poor Megs

Thank you! Honestly, giant Roddy is probably his worst fear, because he can be so much more annoying

Everything Is Alright Pt 89

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Venting tiredly as he walks past Thundercracker in the hall, for a second Megatron can swear the other Seeker has the scent of human clinging to him, too. Must just be his imagination, though. Starscream? It’s not like he’d not realized the Seeker was a bit of a freak, but xenophilia? Fragging an organic alien? Maybe. Running a hand over his helm, he grimaces. Maybe it’s the size difference? The Seeker getting off on being bigger than a partner. But Soundwave? Both of them together when he’d been sure they hated each other? Surely, it’s not what it had looked like. Because seeing that interaction had left him with so many more questions. Two of his commanding officers can’t be deviants. Surely not. There’s a morbid sort of curiosity despite himself to figure it out, though.

• Trying to get yourself back in control as the panic attack shakes you, it’s their hands on you that ground you. Calm you. You’d known you’d been gone a long time, the guy who’d driven you home that night Star had tried to abandon you had said as much. Not realizing the actual time lost, but knowing it was long enough for everyone to have just assumed you were dead. Most of your family is on the other coast, you’d never been super close and it’s been a long time since you’d gone home to visit. Someone would have contacted them, though. Told them you were missing. Had that guy told the cops he’d taken you home? That you’d been found alive? Had they gone looking and found you gone again? Had your family been told, getting their hopes up only to have them dashed? Because you’ve been so wrapped up in yourself and Star and Soundwave that you’d barely thought of your family.

• Helm nudging the side of your head as you start to calm, Soundwave slides a hand under your shirt, surfing his palm against you to strengthen that connection. To try and understand what he’d done to hurt you. Feels that guilt twisting inside you, hurting. “I’m awful,” you whisper. “I didn’t really even think about them. At all.” Servos tightening on you, he retracts his mask and presses his mouth against your throat. Deepening that connection, but also because he needs to. Trying to comfort you with his touch.

• “Who?” Star growls, hands cupping your face, unsettled by those teary eyes as he runs a servo against your cheek. Are you talking about that other human? Grieving the stranger he’d seen in photos in your home? Whose belongings had been scattered among your own. Your breath mingles with his intakes as he tries to ignore Soundwave draped against your back. Hating the other mech still, wanting to lash out, but resisting so you don’t get more upset. Do you miss that other human? Regret bonding to him? Miss your freedom and that other life?

• Star’s lips brush yours, not a kiss just sharing the same breath. His tone was a demand, but his hands are gentle on you. Surprisingly patient when you know it’s not his strong suit. “I’ve been with you for months,” you say, not sure if he’ll understand. Or care. While he’s shown you time and again that he cares about you, you’re pretty sure it’s only you. Anything you adjacent, Soundwave, your family, he doesn’t seem to care about. He’s never even asked about your family, but you haven’t asked about his, either. You really are awful. Both of you. Wanting to ask if you can go home. Get your phone and at least call them to let them know you’re okay, but afraid that Star will refuse. “Everyone must think I’m dead.”

• Head lifting to glare at Star as the Seeker’s wings droop as if relieved that’s what’s wrong, Soundwave rumbles softly until the SIC looks at him. Sees Star curl a lip slightly, still furious with him and seeing him as a threat and a traitor. Surely, he’s not so dense as to not realize that he needs to say something. Even if it’s just to commiserate with your misery. Knowing the mech is selfish, but realizing how selfish is infuriating. Because anyone around you that’s not him is a threat, endangering you and his hold on you. That if not for Soundwave hearing you and finally investigating, the Seeker would have fully isolated you to ensure you can only look to him, only trust him. Only need him. “Can arrange for you to speak with them,” he says, watching Star tense at his words. He can arrange it so the communication can’t be traced back to their location. There’ll be no danger and you need this. Even if it’s saying goodbye, you need closure and he’s going to make sure you get anything you need. Despite Starscream.

Previous

Next

[fan-dweeb]

(large spoiler) Ever think that quirkless Keigo is just gonna keep going with his model career?? Like he's not a pro hero anymore, so he just keeps the modeling gig?? I wanna know your thoughts on this lmao

Hii!! Small disclaimer, I’m actually not caught up with the anime, let alone the manga, at all, so most of what I say is based on snippets I get from fanfics and meta lmao

Hmmm this is really interesting. Short answer: I think with the way that Keigo has finally been set free (symbolically with losing his quirk, and literally from the HPSC (I think)), he’ll probably stop everything else related to Hawk’s job as well.

Slightly longer answer:

From Horikoshi’s perspective, Keigo has already served his original purpose as a character so it wouldn’t really make a difference either way canonically. If he does intend to have those ‘5 years from now’ snapshot, I feel like Keigo will be overseas travelling or something rather than modelling though, if just to be consistent with his theme of being set free. If not as a personal choice, ‘do it for the plot’ lmao. I do mean this quite literally though, because now he’s got so much potential for the ‘self-discovery slice-of-life’.

,,,, but I personally think this is a bit of a cop out choice for Keigo’s future.

I’m not gonna be the analyst who says ‘he never had a chance to make his own choices’ because technically he did. This doesn’t mean he made a good one, but if you step away from popularised fanon, he did agree to going with the HPSC because he wants to be a Hero and not because of his mum. This isn’t so much that I haven’t ‘read between the lines’, but that he never once looked at his mum or made reference to what would happen to his mum if he followed the HPSC. Unless ‘reading between the lines’ include fabricating entire dialogues under an assumption that Hawks was suppressing his memories, I think it’s safer to assume he just couldn’t care less loll. But that’s the thing; his whole life revolved around Heroes, whether as Keigo or as Hawks. Now that it’s been brutally and suddenly ripped out of his hands and NOT in the form of death like he was probably expecting? He has to find something else to do, whether it be modelling or travelling or being a librarian or whatever,,,,, that is, if we make an assumption that he can’t keep being a Hero.

Look, we know he wants to help people. Some might even say he’s kind (that might’ve been drilled out of it by HPSC’s cold blooded training, but hey, maybe it’s just buried really, really deep inside). If we look at this not from a story writing perspective but purely from the character Keigo’s perspective (a bit counter intuitive, I know but bear with me), I honestly think at some point in the far future he might try to pursue a career in Heroism/ the police dpt / the fire dpt (hAH irony)/ some kind of physically-inclined job that traditionally seeks to help people. I think most people tend to stick to things that feel familiar with them even if it’s an unconscious decision.

So how does this link to whether he continues modelling? (because I’ve totally been building up to a point and not just going off on a tangent lmfao)

I think a lot of the fandom sees modelling as Evil, whether this be because of the horror stories of modelling in real life, because of an understanding of mutant quirk discrimination, wing kinks, and thinking Hawks definitely didn’t like being seen in that light, or because of some mixture of other reasons. And I think that’s true in the sense that it probably wasn’t what Keigo had in mind when he first signed up to being a Hero.

With that said, I’ve seen a particularly well written fanfic (I forgot which tbh) where Hawks is explaining the importance of modelling in promoting a sense of safety in civilians, especially for Heroes with anthromorphic quirks, outside of just gaining popularity. Which I think is a really fresh and extremely valid argument. As such, modelling could be a very nice supplement to him regaining popularity or at least, regain familiarity with both the general public but also his roots of inspiring confidence and safety if he decides to pursue any of the jobs I’ve mentioned above.

There is a counter argument, especially for Keigo being a Hero, that the quirkist ideas are so ingrained him (subconsciously or otherwise by the HPSC) that being a Hero again, or just doing any job at all without a quirk probably never crossed his mind. And if he wanted to keep up with helping people, there are a multitude of other jobs he could do. (Which modelling still doesn’t quite fit but ehh maybe as encouragement to/ empowerment of quirkless people?). But, I think this is a rather naive and simplistic analysis of Hawk’s and Keigo’s character of a person too deep into fanon.

If there’s one thing Hawks fans can agree on, please let it be that he’s really freaking complex.

He’s seen the worst and the best of society. He’d just about experienced every facet of society possible as a person in the bnha universe besides being an Average Joe. And now, he’s about to head into the small undiscovered area of quirklessness. (We as readers get a bit of this from Izuku’s POV, but for Keigo this is about as novel as it gets). Speaking as a writer, whether modelling is part of that experience remains entirely on what you want to explore with Keigo as a character.

Lmk what you guys think as well!! (in comments/ tags/ dm/ asks, all are ok :D )

(note: apologies for the barely organised word vomit and non-answer at the end, this was typed impulsively from my phone lmao)

[atlasscrumpit]

Platonic Miguel x Teen reader

(An au where he didn’t become Spider-Man)

Miguel had been dating a woman recently, he decided it was time to get out there again. After all it had been five years since his wife and daughter had died.

So far this girl seemed nice, he knew she had a daughter who was sixteen years old, but he hadn’t met her just yet.

Letty, did mention he might see her when he came to pick her up for their date.

Miguel was about to knock on the door of her apartment before he paused for a second.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to be your fucking mother! You ruined my fucking life!” He heard Letty screamed as his eyes widened in shock.

“Shut up! I fucking hate you!” He heard who he assumed was Y/N scream back.

“Do you have any idea how much I’ve given up for you! And you’re fucking useless!” Letty screamed as Miguel paused for a second.

The door opened and Miguel looked down to see a young girl.

“Um, maybe this is a bad time.” He muttered as you glared at him.

“Mom! Your fuck toy is here!” You screamed before storming away.

Letty came to the door and smiled at Miguel.

“Miguel! I’m so sorry about all of this, I’m ready to go.” She said as Miguel looked at her in confusion.

“Will Y/N be okay on her own?” He asked as Letty shut the door behind her.

“Yeah, she takes care of herself.”

—

Miguel had really enjoyed his date with Letty and had forgotten about how the evening started.

He walked her back to her apartment and smiled.

“Do you want to come in?” She asked, making Miguel a little confused.

“Y/N won’t mind?” He asked as Letty rolled her eyes.

“Don’t worry about her she texted me she’s running away so she’ll be god knows where by now. She always comes back.” Letty muttered as Miguel stopped himself from going inside.

“Letty, does she have somewhere safe to go?” Miguel asked as Letty groaned.

“Miguel, please. She isn’t your kid, you have no idea what I’ve gone through with her.” Letty replied making Miguel even more concerned.

“No, Letty. I do know what you’ve gone through, because I had a mother like you. I would run away, hurt myself or do anything I could so she would pay attention to me… Letty, I know I haven’t fully met Y/N, but I know what kids are like. She needs you.” Miguel said as Letty looked at him and rolled her eyes.

“Thanks for the fucking parenting lesson.” She growled before slamming the door closed.

Miguel wasn’t proud of it but he had a talent for pick pocketing, he never really used it but it came in handy sometimes.

Like now when he had grabbed Letty’s phone. He unlocked it and texted your number asking where you were, when he got an answer back immediately he deleted the message and left Letty’s phone at the door.

He ran out and went to where you’d said you were. To his shock it was just outside of a strip club, he found you outside sitting next to the security guard.

“Y/N.” He called out as you looked up at him, he could see the disappointment in your eyes knowing your mother hadn’t come to collect you.

“What the full are you doing here?” You grumbled as he walked up to you.

“Letty told me you ran away and she didn’t seem to care…she actually got pretty angry at me. But, I couldn’t leave knowing you were out here alone somewhere. Look, I had a mother like Letty. I know how shitty it feels when they don’t care and how badly you want them to care. Is there somewhere I can drive you? Maybe another family member or a friend?” He asked as you looked away from him.

“No, this is the only friend I have.” You muttered as the large security guard nodded at Miguel.

“I can’t just leave you out here… and I know you won’t go home. Do you want to stay with me? I know that sounds sketchy, I’ll leave my name, number or even a photo of myself with your friend here and if he doesn’t see you around he can call the cops on me, okay? I can’t leave you out here.” Miguel said as you looked up at him in shock, no one had cared about you like that before.

You nodded a little and Miguel wrote all of his information down, even showing the security guard on maps exactly where his apartment was. It made you chuckle softly but also feel safe, he wanted to make sure you knew you were safe with him.

You walked along the streets with Miguel.

“You’re different to the guys my mom usually dates.” You muttered as Miguel looked at you while you walked.

“How so?” He asked making you chuckle a little.

“You don’t have tattoos or sell crack.” You replied making Miguel chuckle too, though it was worrying.

"You wanna get some take out on the way home? You can choose whatever you want."

--

After picking up 'dinner' you got to Miguel's apparent.

"Ive got to say, I've never had breakfast for dinner. I didn't even know you could get breakfast at this time." Miguel said placing all the food down at the dining table.

"What! It's the best thing! I fucking love breakfast!" You shouted making Miguel laugh, if he was being honest it can been a long time since this apartment had heard any laughter.

"So, why do you have this giant apartment if it's just you?" You asked as you sat down and began eating.

"Well, I had a family. But they passed away." He muttered sitting across from you.

"I'm sorry... Did you have kids?" You asked as Miguel smiled a little.

"Yeah, I had a daughter. Her name was Gabriella." He muttered in response, sadness evident in his voice.

"I'm sorry that you lost her." You replied making him smile softly.

"Thank you, Y/N. Now let's have breakfast at 11pm at night."

[echonvoid]

My version of the Poppy Playtime protagonist. They’re based on Aliens Ripley but if older. They couldn’t remember a whole bunch from the week or so around the Hour of Joy; they were attacked by Huggy and managed to make it right outside the front doors with the help of one of the other employees, who, valiantly (read *stupidly*) ran back inside to try to help. He never came back out. Anyway, Protag was found by paramedics, but the inside was empty of bodies by the time they got there. There was a shit load of blood, and after a brief scan by the cops, they just shut that shit down. They lost a couple cops and paramedics, but mostly used their instincts and ran. Like smart people who survive a horror movie.

So the protagonist ends up in a couple month long coma and comes out of it with a severed nerve that connects to their larynx. Now they haven’t been able to properly talk for 30 years (ignore my math, I’m still unsure how I fucked it up so bad)

I can’t decide if they’re late 50s or 60s. They’re farsighted, but their reading glasses have broke, so it’s really hard to see all the small faded text (which is why you can’t just read any ole file while playing)

They feel guilty bc they had been so proud to be a part of something with so much benefit and joy to kids, and now they’re finding out the actual *EVIL* that was happening to those with connection to the place. They feel guilty bc they feel like they should’ve known; *how could they have let this all happen right underneath their very nose*;etc. etc. they also have a burning hatred for the other managerial heads in the company (they themselves being head of toy production; their name is destroyed bc the prototype was enraged that one of the five main evils of the company got away or some shit like that)

It took them a while to figure out how to live and function without speech; and after a few years of slogging through a comphet (compulsory heteronormative) marriage, they finally went through a nasty divorce. Shortly after they figured out their own gender identity (or at least started the awkward process of) and their own sexuality.

Thirty years later (almost on the dot) they got the message and tape that cried for help from the factory and nearly shit themselves. Proto definitely assumed that the company had just shut down, cuz you know that the cops were paid to keep a building with almost 500 (or so) employees, that went missing and were presumably dead, under wraps from the public. They’re definitely super grateful they’ve been doing tumbling and martial arts classes, so they have been in incredible shape and can do all the crazy shit required to stay alive.

Edit: this is what I’m gonna call the Survivor AU cuz I realize that the game takes place in 2005 and not, like, 2025. And we apparently played hooky during the “hour of joy” in canon lore. Oh well

God this chapter fucked me up, in a good way. It was spooky as fuck, tense and terrifying; they’ve super upped the quality. But now I have just enough brain rot and characters to attach to to actually go through and draw up the design that’s been banging around in my head for ever.

[lordkingsmith]

@whatwedointhecraft they’re immediately so banter-y lol

He sent the message asking about the state of the tree and how much it’d cost to get it to England, and left the laptop to get mail. When he came back, there was a reply.

lol a what now?

Embarrassingly he still didn’t notice the fact he wasn’t messaging Nathan and assumed he was tired due to time zone differences. So carefully copy and pasted the little ad and reiterated his message with more clarification.

Man I think you’re talking to the wrong person lol

Which actually made him look. And yes. He was. Neil Breaker. He didn’t even know who that was. He quickly looked at the man’s page and realized he was a teacher in Seattle. He was 40. And they’d friended each other months ago over the same PennyThought Arcade game, for extra perks. The travesty of not being able to will yourself into sinking through the floor whenever an embarrassment occurred. Chancy swallowed around it and went back to the DM’s.

-I am so very sorry. I didn’t realize I wasn’t messaging my friend. I apologize again, I just haven’t really been all here since my wife passed a few years ago

Why he put that he didn’t know. Impulsive, embarrassed, and wanting to make sure the other knew he was fully apologetic. He got to Nathan and left an a dm about the seedling, double and triple checking he had the right person this time.

Nah, I get it. Happens. Sorry bout your wife tho

You ok???

Was waiting for him from Neil and his heart did a double flip.

-I mean. I’m 55. I have a retirement I didn’t want, I’m a single parent of a daughter I did want, and I’m a widower. Financially I’m fine. Everything else is empty, I suppose. The one person I thought was going to be here to enjoy this with me isn’t. I barely talk to anyone in person much less anything physical. The only time I’m happy is when I’m with my daughter or when I’m in my garden.

He took a deep breath, hands lightly shaking as he finished writing. He hadn’t admitted any of this to anyone. And here he was, telling a perfect stranger he was horny and lonely and depressed. Too much information to just share on the internet as well, he knew.

Another long stretch of silence on Neil’s end and he took the time to wash dishes while waiting, anything to expend the jittery nervousness.

“C’mon Chance” he scolded himself as he angrily washed a bowl. “You’re not some seventeen year old about to cop a feel in the movies. You are fifty five years old. Act your age.” But this was the closest he’d gotten in years to. Well. Anything.

You realize you’re talking to a dude, right?

And an American

Christ on a pogo stick I’m across an ocean to you, my guy

<control=io>bot will explain function</control>

Chancy felt another embarrassed flush creeping down his neck. Alright, yes he probably did sound like a bot. He found, copied and sent the song “Guess What? I’m Not a Bot” by a singer his daughter loved. A few moments later he got the cry laughing emoji and smiled faintly.

Ok fair enough, I’m sorry. Can’t be too careful.

Look

My school’s just hit break. Not expected to do anything for the summer but do course planning. So I can. I dunno. Take a vacation

Why not

Chancy about choked.

-Really? You don’t have to

-I was just ranting

-But I wouldn’t say no

-You’d just…I can book you a hotel?

He ran his hands through his mildly curly brown hair, staring at the screen. He couldn’t believe he’d just typed this. Was entertaining this.

You wanna try something over video chat first or..?

-I’m not a robot

No no I get that. I mean sex, dude.

Or talking. Either works

Just so we know each other, you know?

And then yea, sure, after that I’m down for you booking me a hotel

Gimme a week tho

I gotta find a place to take my dogs while I’m over there

-you have dogs? I have a dog and a cat

-Rumor and Sneeze Master

I’m guessing Sneeze Master is the cat

-mhm lol

And now you’re talking like a person lol. I shoulda mentioned cats sooner

-it’s always cats, isn’t it?

Always

-If you’re in Seattle, you should perhaps go to bed

Man don’t tell me how to spend my vacation lol

-never!

-you’re just planning a sexual encounter and neither of us are exactly spring chickens lol

Man fuck you

-That’s the plan. Unless you want it the other way?

JFC

😂😂😂🥵🥵🥵

[gvtted-ratz]

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JACKAL

Jackal/Dean x Hacker!GN!Reader

Last Edited: 21/06/2024

TW: mocking, bleeding, drugging, kidnapping, corrupt cop, foul language, imprisonment, threats of bodily harm, illegal information gathering, open ending

Requested: No.

Word Count: 3,415

AO3 LINK -> HERE

Notes: This took two weeks. It’s the pig’s time to shine. Not. Fuck this nasty bastard with his midlife crisis mohawk. Now, take it away, Penny. (/SpongeBob ref for Rppik.)

@rppik (editor/co-writer): this one goes out to my hyperfocusing baddies out there,

“I assume this is everything?” You can hear Blue and Red getting shifty at your words. They, as well as you, have been waiting for the introduction to end to start your biddings.

“That it is, yes! Would my esteemed customers like to let this lowly Auctioneer know what goods you wish to purchase?” 

Yes, that is the question, isn’t it? Who will you be bidding on to take with you?

》YOU HAVE SELECTED JACKAL 《

“ Blue window? Which do you wish to take with you? I’ll make sure to have it all written down!” The Auctioneer asks, motioning towards a metal door. Behind it, you’re sure there’s someone there to take notes of what items are purchased, they will be shipped to, as well as who wasn’t bought.

“Oh! I’ll do 250 for Mason and Machete each!” Blue’s window lights up. She sounds excited to go first with her purchases. Then again, she always complained when she didn’t get to go before everyone else; better she goes now than later.

“Very well. How about the red window? Whom will you be taking?” She asks, facial expression unable to be seen behind her bandage-like mask, though the way she talks with such joy only highlights how well she is at her job.

“120 on Jackal, 340 each for the Goffard boys,” Red says, window lighting up.

“What the fuck! Fuck you!” Derek says, Matt looking just as livid as his brother. The sweat that had been gathering on Dean’s forehead drips as his lips peel back in a sneer. Those that haven’t been chosen appear to be less tense, relieved to not be bought. On the other hand, both of the larger men that Blue has picked look ready to kill; their eyes looking this way and that, bodies tense like large predators ready to pounce. She’s known for enjoying men much larger than herself so she can “put them in their place” as she so puts it; Red always tends to mock her for her types, excluding the fact that they enjoy the bratty ones.

“Green window? Would you kindly tell this lowly Auctioneer your choice?”

“220 on the corrupt cop,” you announce. Dean looks towards your window, swallowing heavily. It looks like he knows he’s screwed if he goes with you. Yet, there isn’t a thing he can do about it.

“What? C’mon, Green. What’s the Old Man got that you’d want? I’m sure he’s twice your age. 230,” Red tries to barter.

“You’re taking two of the wealthiest men already. Corrupted or not, pigs tend to have information I can use. 320,” you refuse to back down. There’s a reason you tend to only take one, as you can spend the set limit if need be.

“Fine. I’ll take the beastkin for 120 then. Keep the fucking pig, Green.” Ren gives the red window a blank look, likely keeping his mouth shut in hopes of possibly being able to find a way out of the mess he’s gotten himself into. On the other hand, Blue cackles at Red’s defeat, always enjoying the show any sort of bickering brings. Your warped hum in agreement has The Auctioneer clasping her hands together, mic being jostled slightly.

“Then this concludes the bidding! I’ll have the purchases shipped–”

“Shipped?!” Dean cuts her off, but she keeps talking, ignoring the outburst.

“–to you as soon as possible! And those who were not bought will be released, as my lovely regulars have asked!” Some sort of gas starts to fill the room the prizes are in, causing many to start tugging at their bounds, yelling at each other or the windows. The only ones unaffected are you, your fellow buyers, as well as The Auctioneer, as the products start to sway, collapsing in heaps on the metal floor below. Just as quickly as the gas had started, it clears at once.

A crew comes in, dressed similarly to The Auctioneer, to start carrying, dragging, or wheeling away both purchased and unsold. Those who were not acquired are carted off to be dumped somewhere in their respective towns, unlike the procured. They will be drugged up so it’s easier to move to their designated places via buyers’ chosen locations. You watch with muted glee as your choice is put in a wheelchair, having the IV drip attached to his arm, now ready to be shipped to your given drop-off destination. He’ll be dropped off at your little hide-out, awaiting your return, whether he knows it or not.

“With all this now settled, you will wire the payments, yes?” The Auctioneer asks, the customer-service tone of voice still present. You bring out a burner phone, clicking through it to gain access to an account you set up a month prior to this show. If anyone were to get through your firewalls and protections, they’d only track it to some poor sap’s laptop off the coast of the US. It wouldn’t be your fault if said sap happens to have a few megabytes of illegal images saved onto that computer’s hard drive, either, busting the entire operation they have going on.

“I’ve sent the amount agreed upon. It should arrive shortly,” your words hold true, as some device beyond the metal door The Auctioneer is standing beside lets out a ding . Hearing it, she glances over the door before nodding.

“Thank you, Green. May your purchase bear lovely fruit for your taking!” You leave the boxed room, not bothering to listen to the other buyers in case they have any issues; such instances usually end up in heated arguments or death of said buyer, and you're not particularly interested either way. The door closes, another person dressed business-casual stepping in front of you to lead you out of the auction house. The only sounds available are your footsteps echoing, paired with the guide’s loud breathing, muffled poorly by the gauzy wrappings around their head. 

Arriving at a dark-wooden door, the guide opens it, stepping aside to allow you to walk through. You don’t slow your pace, heading down some brick steps to follow a worn gravel path towards your vehicle. Your keys are handed to you by another member of staff, dressed just like the others before them, allowing you to enter and start up the rental with ease. You don’t look back as you drive off, heading towards your work location. By the time you arrive, you’re sure he’ll be there, still hooked to the drip.

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

Pulling into the gloomy drop-off location, you spot an ambulance parked at the warehouse. You position your own vehicle near it, turning off the ignition before stepping out. Another one of the auction house’s people steps out to open the van’s back doors. They step away, allowing you to confirm that this is your item. You give a jerk of your head, confirming that the man strapped down on the gurney is your purchase. With your affirmation, they start to undo his bindings, removing the IV in the process. With the obstruction gone, a member of the crew picks him up like a sack of grains. You lead them into the dilapidated warehouse, knowing they’ll follow without hesitation,  having orders to please, alongside heed, high-ranking buyers.

The lot of you walk past chunks of concrete, piles of metal, a metal beam, clumps of dirt, and countless weeds that have made their way into the place. Entering a back room, you gesture towards a chair seated close to the middle of the area, nearly hidden away in the dark place; had the door not been open, the chair would have been completely obscured by shadows. It’s the only area that’s remotely salvageable out of the entire place, with the roof still held up, all walls in place, and a functioning door to lock when you want. As the lackey none-too-gently jostles Dean into the chair, you stride over to a desk housing a multitude of monitors. Clicking on your mouse, the monitors light up, casting a glow into the mostly dark room as your C.P.U’s fans start up from underneath the desk. The motorcycle helmet has a tinted lens, keeping the bright lights from harming your eyes; of course, protecting your vision was an added bonus of keeping your face and voice hidden from others, it being the main purpose of the costly helmet.

Turning your back to your setup, you look over at your newly acquired purchase slumped in the uncomfortable office chair; the wheels had been removed so anyone in it wouldn’t roll themselves around looking for escape options. You give the worker standing beside your unconscious prize a dismissive wave, their job now complete. They leave without a word nor hesitation to escape your place of employment, shutting the door behind them. You can admit, they had manners many before them hadn’t; The Auctioneer must have taken your words to heart and retrained or weeded out the unfit employees who had been rude. In the past, you had encountered some who believed they had the right to tell you how to treat your belongings like they knew what they needed more than you, the owner, did.

You stare down at the once egotistical man, waiting until you hear the van’s engine start; the gravel crunching under its wheels as it drives off, probably to head back to the auction house. You then turn your back towards the sleeping figure, deciding to rummage around in one of the drawers in your desk. Additionally, you move a few boxes of snacks to find a bundle of zip ties kept together with a rubber-band. With these in hand, you go back to Dean. The drugs in his system keep him under, completely malleable if you wanted to do anything you desired. Thankfully, you’re not like him when it comes to his tastes, if The Auctioneer's words were anything to go by; you're sure he would readily take advantage if he were in your shoes, happy to get his rocks off anyway he deemed fit.

You slip the plastic bonds over his wrists and onto the office chair arms, using more than 3 on each one; his ankles are bound together before being fastened to the gas lift under the seat. By now, you’re almost completely out of the restraints, making a mental note to buy more. Having Jackal completely secured, you’re able to get back to your job. Throwing the last few ties into the drawer, you kick it shut and plop down into the only other office chair in the building. The monitors’ lights greet you, your previous tabs still covering the screens.

Your keycaps clacking, alongside your mouse clicking, are the only sounds in the room. Time passes by relatively quickly while you work, hyper-focused on your job as code, images, intel, and correspondence between other informants sinks its claws into your attention.

That is, until you hear a low groan emerging from your captive. Keeping your gaze trained to the current sequence of coding you’re looking over, you decide to finish the task at hand before paying him any mind, making sure to glance at another monitor that houses photos of people; their private information is summarized in bullet points next to their respective pictures, knowing it won’t take much longer for this particular assignment to be finished.

The office chair housing your new, shiny, and reluctant informant creaks as he tries to yank his hands out of the plastic ties. You don’t let that distract you, dragging an image from a monitor you weren’t typing on to the one you’re currently using; it sticks itself to the document you’ve placed it over, the information beside it matching the file you’ve constructed for this individual.

“Hey,” his gruff voice croaks out. He’s been asleep for hours, making it sound more gravelly than usual. Perhaps he’s finally noticed his current situation. It’s too bad you’re not interested at the moment. 

“Hey!” You ignore his call, saving your progress on your current project. You can feel him seething at your lack of attention from how heavy his stare is, the creaking of the office chair echoing as he tugs and throws himself around. It isn’t long before you hear a growl that turns into a hiss as the chair tips from all of his struggling. The sound of his body smacking into the concrete below brings a small amount of satisfaction; you can hear a wheeze escape his lungs. With this, you finally decide to bless him with the oh-so-sought-after diligence he wanted from you.

“Having trouble, Old Man ?” The question sounds warbled from your helmet, but the mocking tone is so pronounced that not even your face covering can keep it monotone. The chair you sit in creaks as you swing it to face him. His crumpled form on the ground greets you, as does his curled lips in what would be a snarl, if he didn’t look so pathetic, that is. “For such a cocky pig , you sure do look like a wet mutt. ”

“Fuck you! When I get out of this, I’ll make sure you wish you were dead!” You click your tongue in annoyance, turning your chair away from him to continue your task. He can stay down there if he won’t be polite; let a worm like him wiggle in the dirt.

Your clacking sounds up again as you get back to work, tuning out more of his threats, growls, and hissing. To you, they sound like a cranky old pig squealing about all the wrongs it's suffered before getting slaughtered. Time passes by faster than you think, forcing all your attention to creating files upon files of information on people many of your clients have requested; good, bad, neutral, it matters not. This is your job, after all.

When you feel your back tighten from sitting in the same position for too long, you lean back, twitching at the quick shot of pain you feel. You turn your chair, looking over at the still collapsed man. He’s frowning, staring at you from the ground; Dean had stopped making sounds after realizing that you weren’t listening nor paying attention. With your now diligent eyes back on him, however, he curls his lips back like a mutt does when snarling.

“You need somethin’, Old Man?” The mocking tone you use seems to make his snarl deepen. “Well, I need something from you.”

“Fuck you! I’ll crush your fingers to fuckin’ dust with my boot heel if you so much as touch me with ‘em!” You raise your brow, knowing he can’t see it through the helmet.

“As if I’d be a captive fondler like you, Old Man. I need your brain for this,” your honesty only serves to make him hate you more; the way his eyes seem to glaze over with utter disgust and rage tells you so.

“And why would I help you?”

“Because you’re in no position to refuse. Unless… You want me to start taking your fingernails off one by one. I don’t have any issues either way,” your distorted voice says, not even bothered by the threat you’ve just promised him. You can see the gears turning in his head as he purses his lips in reluctant thought. To give in is to admit defeat, or that’s what you assume he believes; he has to give in one way or another due to the fact that one route promises a very bloody and painful outcome.

“Fine,” he begrudgingly agrees to you picking his brain on something.

“Good. Tell me how you get your victims through your swine work.”

“My what work?” Jackal looks completely lost on your command; it makes you sigh in annoyance. You even turn your chair away from him again to start typing.

“Your swine work, Hog . Pig . You’re a cop, Dumbass. Tell me how you nab your victims through it, Old Man,” you talk slowly, adopting the tone one would with a child.

“Stop fuckin’ callin’ me Old Man !” He snaps; you’re unsure if it was your tone that pushed him over or the name. That doesn’t mean you’ll stop, though.

“I’ll call you whatever I please, Old Man ,” you pause, looking back towards him over your shoulder. “ Now answer the question. ” The voice changer seems to glitch, causing it to warp and warble; it sounds much deeper than how it did in the previous line of conversation.

“ Fine . I punch out when it’s time to, change my clothes, and fuckin’ find someone I think looks like they’d put up a fight. That enough for you?”

“ No. Keep up your little cute act and you won’t have fingernails soon. ”

“Fuckin’ bossy. Fine . I go for the feisty ones, unless I’m in the mood for someone I can overpower easily. I follow ‘em around for a bit, see if they got what I want, and then try to drive ‘em into a corner where I can do whatever I please. Sometimes I just need to get off, and others I really just wanted to gut ‘em. I like doing both, though. Seein’ ‘em die with that fear in their eyes… It’s a huge fuckin’ turn on,” during his entire schpiel, your typing hasn’t stopped. In fact, it appears to have gone faster as he spouts away.

“Are there any specifics for who you target? Or did you just happen to find them…?” You trail off, trying to pick apart the brain hiding beneath his midlife crisis mohawk.

“I usually just saw ‘em by chance and went from there. I wanted innocents. Couldn’t give a shit about guilty folks.” You hum in acknowledgement, your typing slowing down only to be replaced by mouse clicks as he continues, “Why? Or are you just gonna say it’s not my business?” His snarkiness is laced into his question, nearly making you want to say exactly that– it’s none of his business.

“It doesn’t concern you. You’re just another means to an end, Dean .” The inhale from him seems to echo in your eardrums, knowing you’ve simply upset him once again. Then again, how can you not? He’s just another squealing pig, albeit an even more crude one than you're used to running into; he’s just another pawn you’ve bought for your entertainment.

The clacks from the keys signal the end of your chat. You’re now focusing on your assignment again, not caring about the man laying prone on the ground. Engrossed with the task on hand, you don’t hear your captive rubbing against his bindings, forcing the skin to break and bleed; it doesn't register in your mind when he starts to slip his wrists out from the ties so he can try his luck at his ankles. As far as you're concerned, the only thing worth your consideration is the annoying endeavours you’ve been hired to complete.

What does get you to stop your production is the leather-covered arm wrapping around your throat from behind. There may be no blade, but the arm is tight, unrelenting in this choke hold you’ve been placed in. His other arm is securely gripping his own form, making sure that you won’t be able to break free of this situation.

“Spent too long on your work, Green ,” Dean sneers from behind you. If you didn’t have your helmet on, you would have felt his breath, reeking of cigarettes from the few he smoked before his kidnapping.

“I’ll admit. I underestimated the piggy,” you say, feeling the arm constrict like a snake squeezing its prey. You choke out a wheezy laugh, hands laying still on your keyboard; you make no move to pry the arm off, knowing he’ll only go through with choking you out if you escalate the struggle further.

“Hook, line, sinker . You didn’ even notice when I started to use the ties to cut into my wrists. Everyone knows blood is just another kind of lube,” he retorts. “And now, I’m goin’ to make sure you feel just as humiliated as you made me feel. Let’s hope you don’ bleed out too quick. ” Those words are all you hear before the arm squeezes more, cutting off all your airflow. Your hands fly off your keyboard to claw, tear, and yank at the jacket’s sleeve, unable to grab any skin. You’re at a disadvantage, knowing only when it’s too late to save yourself.

Maybe you should have chosen a different person to bid on.

》 START OVER? 《

[survey--s]

476.

When was the last time you got more then eight hours of sleep? A couple of nights ago.

Do you find that people don't really understand you? Ha, that’s such an angsty way of looking at the world. I don’t fee that way but I definitely remember thinking like that when I was a teenager.

Is there anyone in your life that you wish you were closer to? Yes, but more geographically than emotionally.

Would you say you are a gullible person? No, I wouldn’t say so.

Are you one to swear often? Yeah, most days.

Have you ever sat down and played video games all day? No, but I could easily spend all day on my laptop/phone messing about online.

What is one thing in your life that is no longer there, that you miss? I have no idea.

What do you believe is the best thing about being a kid? No responsibilities or worries about things like money.

What flavor Dum-Dum is your favorite? I have no idea what that is - I assume like a lollipop? In which case, cherry.

What is the last book you read/are reading? Did you/are you enjoying it? I haven’t read a book in quite a long time. I think the last one I read was The Night Circus which was really good.

Are you on a laptop or a desktop right now? Laptop.

If you could go anywhere right now, where would you go; why? A holiday to somewhere with a nice, hot beach please. Maybe Mauritius or the Caribbean lol.

Have you ever trusted someone you wish you wouldn't have? Sure.

Have you ever been on a picnic? Yeah - I find they’re pretty overrated. Like, the idea of them is always way better than the actual reality lol.

Which is better tea or coffee? I prefer coffee, but both are good.

Do you own an umbrella? Yeah, it lives in my car.

Do you like the ocean? I absolutely love it - the beach is my happy place. I’m so fortunate to be able to go there most days.

Is there anyone that you wish you were with right now? Nope.

Who was the last person you hung out with? Aside from Mike, I would say Suzy.

What animal cracker is your favorite? We don’t have those here.

Is there anything you're currently holding back? No.

Do you like your smile? No, not really.

Have you ever watched something on the TV that truly disturbed you? I’m sure I have - probably on some true crime documentary lol.

Are you scared of needles? No.

Is your current cell phone out of date? It’s just over a year old, so no, not really.

Have you ever drank milk when it was spoiled? How does that even happen?

Would you/have you ever bought a gym membership? I’ve never paid for one myself but I used to work at a gym and got membership for free, and then my dad paid for one when I was at university.

Have you ever bought anything on the TV? No.

Have you ever done something that you knew was wrong? Sure.

Do you know what all the keys on your keyboard do? Probably.

What is the last channel you were on, when watching TV? We never watch live TV.

What is your favorite restaurant? It depends on my mood and what kind of food I fancy.

What is the last thing you spent money on? Flowers for my mum for Mothers Day.

Do you know of anyone who hates you? I mean, not to my knowledge.

Lose your arm or your leg; Which do you choose? I mean, why would I ever be in a position where I had to choose? Maybe my leg though, as I could still drive (automatic) etc.

Has an animal ever bit you? Yeah, cats and dogs.

Have you ever tripped over your own feet? Sure, all the time.

Do you ever take out the garbage? Yeah.

Do wash your face thoroughly everyday? Yeah, I wash it everyday in the shower.

Would you ever do a ride along with a cop? Sure, but that’s not a thing here.

Are things, in your opinion, overly expensive these days? Definitely, the price rises are ridiculous thanks to Brexit.

Where was your last car ride to? I drove home from work yesterday.

Are your nails long? No, I cut my nails yesterday.

Have you ever gotten food poisoning? Yes.

Have you ever had to put a dog to sleep? No, thankfully not.

What messenger services do you use? WhatsApp and Messenger, and occasionally iMessage.

Have you ever lost someone important to you? Yeah.

Are you listening to music currently? No, I’m watching an old episode of The Simpsons.

[fluorescentvermin]

Chapter 9

Reclaimed Factory - Charlie

With our tummies full of delicious food, we continued our way to Gage’s place. The cold night air was chilling me, I hoped that our walk wouldn’t be much longer. Surely Gage was just as cold as me, he was wearing a sleeveless shirt. His arms were covered in tattoos of different colours. He had a tattoo of a snake, a heart with an arrow, a police car that was on fire, a security camera, amongst other cool designs. Where did he get these from? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a tattoo studio. Maybe I just haven’t been looking.

“Are you still in pain from last night?” Gage asked, scanning over me quickly.

“A little bit. I’m fine mostly. My head and ribs feel a bit tender” I wince, poking my ribs to double check.

“We have an in-house doctor at my place. Their name is Artemis. They can look you over and give you some medicine, if you’d like?”

“That sounds great actually”

“Fantastic! Bit of a warning though, Artemis is tall and super broad. They might look a little scary, but they’re a big softie”

“Okay. Noted” I nodded.

Shortly after, Gage stops in front of what looked like an abandoned factory. It had boarded up windows and the outside was littered in graffiti and posters. The only sign of life was a faint glow peeking out through the wooden boards.

"This is it! It's more homey on the inside, I promise" he smiled at me.

"Here? No. No, that's an abandoned building. Surely, you're not serious" I wager.

"It used to be. We keep it looking like this to avoid cops and other assholes"

“So, are you or are you not a squatter?” I joke half-heartedly. I wanted to lighten the mood, but I was worried about this place.

“You’re still going on about the squatter thing?” Gage laughed and rolled his eyes.

“The look of this place isn’t very convincing to your argument” I mutter. Suddenly, sounds of laughter erupted from the building.

“How’s that for timing?” Gage nudged. He walked towards the front double doors of the building, and I followed him begrudgingly. I approached slowly and analyse the windows. They're boarded up but the wooden planks don't completely cover the glass. It would let some sunshine in, but it wouldn’t be enough to fully brighten a room. I tried to peak in through the parts of the window that weren't covered. Sadly, I couldn't make out anything. This is it, be ready for anything, Charlie. Don't even go in unless you're sure it'll be safe.

I take a deep breath to try and calm my nerves. Against my better judgement, I make it to the entrance.

Gage is holding open the door, enough for me to look inside. He wasn't lying, this place looked homey. This place had charm. Old, mismatched rugs sprawled out over the metal floor, and the entrance opened into a living room of sorts. There was a couch made from canvas material I think, a table that looked like it was made from a pallet, and there were a group of people sitting around laughing and chatting. Maybe this won't be so bad, after all, why would anything suspicious happen in a place filled with laughter? I can only assume anyway. So, I walk in. Gage closed the door behind me, and I took careful notice to see if he would lock it. He took his hand off the door and walked away from it, leaving it unlocked. I can't get my hopes up yet. I don't know these people; I don't know what they're capable of.

"I see why you guys didn't want to go to the bar" Gage chuckled, approaching the people drinking.

"Gage! Apollo was just telling us about his awful hookup last night" a woman with red coloured dreads responded.

"Go on" Gage eagerly walked over and took a seat in the conversational area.

The feeling of this factory was nice. It was toasty with sounds of a distant fireplace crackling and warm light eliminating from lit candles. I decided to gingerly approach them as they chattered. I took a seat next to Gage and listened in.

"This guy was disgusting! I know it's hard sometimes for us to find running water, but it was like he didn't even put in any effort to clean himself" I'm assuming, Apollo, recalled.

With a closer look, I was able to recognize how eccentric and varied Gage's friends looked. Quite a few of them had colourful hair, but they weren't wearing the same punkish outfits like the others I had seen at the bar. A short slender woman with choppy lilac hair was wearing many things layers of comfortable looking clothes and the taller woman sitting next to had grass green hair, wearing gumboots and a dress over a turtleneck sweater.

"Hold on, who is this? Oh my goodness! Your clothes!" The woman with the green hair noticed me, concern riddling her face. Wait, did she have stubble?

"You're all dirty! You poor thing! Are you okay?" The girl with the lilac hair cooed.

I guess I hadn't thought about whether I was okay. Today had been a whirlwind. I've been cold, yelled at, lost amongst maze like streets. Just thinking about it caused a lump in my throat. I tried to answer, but tears welled in my eyes.

"I... Um" I started, but I felt the sobs crawl out of my chest.

"Oh honey!" The green haired woman rushed over, sitting next to me and putting a hand on my back.

"N-no! I'm not okay!" I stuttered through my cries. The woman with the lilac hair came over as well, pushing Gage out of the way just to rub my arm.

"What happened, sweetie?" The green haired woman continued.

"My wife kicked me out of the house and I tried to find a hotel but they wouldn't let me stay because of my stupid credit score and then I got mugged and beaten up! I don't have anything! They took my phone, my wallet, my laptop. I couldn't even find a bathroom! I had to piss in the street like an animal" I blubbered frantically. It all just bubbled out of me, I couldn't control my sad rambling.

“Is that dried blood in your hair?” The girl with the lilac hair carefully inspected my tangled hair. These two were being touchy, but it was nice to have some comfort while fat tears rolled down my cheeks.

“We’ll take you to Arty. They’ll look after you” The green hair woman insisted.

“Let’s get you cleaned up!” The lilac haired girl added.

The two of them held me as they escorted me through the living room and up the stairs, rubbing my back as I let the tears flow.

We made it up the flight of stairs. I was already out of breath by the second floor, but the women assured me there was only one more floor to go. When we finally made it, they lead me down the hallway to what looked like an examination room. Inside looked sterile with clean white walls and linoleum flooring. There was no one here except for us three, but the two women let me sit on the examination bed in the middle of the room.

“I’ll go get Arty” The lilac haired girl announced before she left the room.

“What’s your name, hon? I’m Percy. That was Nova” The green haired woman, Percy, introduced.

“My names Charlie” I squeaked. Tears still flowing.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Charlie. Don’t worry, we’ll look after you” Percy declared with a warm smile.

“Thank you”

“Your wife kicked you out of the house? That’s terrible! I’m really sorry that happened”

“I-I don’t know why. I just came home, and I couldn’t open the door. We had an argument in the hallway, and it was really embarrassing”

“I can’t believe someone would do that!”

“Tell me about it” I roll my eyes. I was able to calm down a bit, but I still felt the gravity of sadness in my stomach.

The door opened and the girl with the lilac hair, Nova, came in, followed by a tall person with wide shoulders. They barely fit through the door.

“Were you sleeping Arty? Sorry to drag you out of bed” Percy cooed.

“I was just doing some reading, it’s no problem, my child” was this Artemis? Arty? This person matched the description that Gage gave me.

“This is-“ Nova started, looking at myself and Percy.

“Charlie” Percy let out.

“Charlie! They were beaten up. Would you be able to take a look at them, Arty?” Nova continued.

“Of course. I will have to ask you two for some privacy” Artemis looked at the girls. They both nodded and made their way out of the room.

“We’ll be right here!” Nova announced. They closed the door behind them, and tension grew as I remembered the strange situation I was in.

“Before we start, I feel it’s only polite I introduce myself. My name is Artemis, and I use they/them pronouns. What are yours?” they introduced themselves, sitting on a stool with wheels.

“I’m Charlie. Nice to meet you. My pronouns are he/him” I responded with a shrug. It will be nice to meet them if they actually patch me up.                                                                     

“Now, can you tell me where you feel the most pain?”

“I know I have an open wound on the back of my head. It should have healed at least a little by now. I’m not really in too much pain right now, but my ribs, neck and shins feel tender” I explain, pointing to each spot.

“The wound on the back of your head should be easy to fix, but I’d like to take some X-rays so I can see if your bones were affected. You were able to make it here, so I doubt there are any broken bones” they explained, looking at the back of my head where the split was.

“Are you going to steal my organs?” I blurt out.

“No, Charlie” they smiled.

Artemis took some X-rays and looked them over. They say that I’m lucky, and that my bones are fine. They took me back to the examination bed and cleaned my wound before giving me a local anaesthetic and sewing my skin back together. Artemis carefully dressed my wound and gave me some painkillers. The rest of my injuries were all bruises, and they instructed me on how to look after them. After they were finished, there was a knock at the door. Artemis called out, telling the person to come in.

“How are you feeling?” Percy asked, stepping into the room with Nova behind her.

“Still hurts but the medication helps” I let out. Even though it all went smoothly, I still felt uneasy.

“You should try to sleep on your side or your stomach if you can. The wound will be tender for a couple of days” Artemis instructed.

“Did you want to have a shower?” Nova asked.

“Excellent idea. We’ll happily launder your clothes for you in the meantime” Artemis offers.

“Thank you” A nice hot shower sounds so great right now. I feel slimy.

“We’ll show you where they are! We’ve got spare clothes that you can change into” Nova added.

We headed off, through this reclaimed factory that felt more like a makeshift home than an abandoned building. The walls of this place looked new, at least compared to the cold flooring. When we got to the bathrooms, the girls let me have some privacy after showing me where everything is. The bathrooms felt strange, they looked what I would assume prison bathrooms looked like. Multiple shower stalls and sinks under a gigantic mirror. They were toilet cubicles that were separated from the showers, the mirror and sinks were connected to a freestanding wall that split the room. Did they build this?

I felt calm hearing the sound of running water as I turned the shower on. The water was lovely, warming me from my skin to my bones. I took my time while washing myself, enjoying this peaceful moment of silence.

<- Previous Chapter | Next Chapter ->

[sleepymarmot]

Get Out (2017)

[Watched on July 15th]

Very glad to see this film lives up to its reputation.

Of course I haven’t escaped spoilers in all these years; I knew what the plot was going to involve, but didn’t know how. So I figured it out 45 minutes in, when a young black guy was acting like an old white guy and also like the husband of an old white lady. This made the pacing feel pretty slow until the secret was out in the open, though I can’t tell if it’s the film’s fault for playing its hand too openly, or my own for knowing spoilers. The only thing that stayed unclear until the reveal was whether Rose was in on the conspiracy or not.

As a fan of the “bodyswap” and “actors playing each other’s character” tropes, I was very impressed by the writing and performances of the bodysnatched black characters, especially Andre Hayworth/Logan King. Throughout the whole film but in these scenes in particular, I kept thinking that it must have been difficult to localize it for other languages, especially in dubbing. The film places a lot of attention on speech — I’m glad to discover it won an Oscar for best original screenplay, well deserved — and a lot of horror comes out of how unnatural both their words and intonations sound, which is probably hard to convey in localization. I usually find the “person acting weirdly” kind of horror to be tropey and contrived, but it really worked for me here. After rewatching a few of their scenes, I also noticed that the two grandparents acted in an eerie, semi-hypnotized way, while the guest behaved more naturally as an old man with a young face; I wonder if that’s intentional and why. Another difference between them I noticed is that the grandparents have a more youthful body language, while the guest is slouching and pulling in his head as if he still has an old body with a bad back; I’m assuming that’s because he is the newest “patient” and not yet used to being young again (there was a shot of him showing off his new body to other guests).

Some nitpicks:

I had to rewatch the scene to see that “Georgina” died in the crash — the shot of her still face was very dark and short, so I assumed she survived and was confused why Chris didn't go back for her again.

The portrayal of Rod veered into comic relief a bit too much. More importantly, what was with the glorification of TSA? The film goes out of its way to say “Cops, even black ones, are dismissive, useless, and drunk on their power. You know who doesn't share the same flaws at all? The kind of cops who frisk people at the airport.” ????? Am I missing something about the US realities again or is this choice really bizarre?

Connections to other films:

I think this was more cohesive than the other directors’ recent films in the satire/thriller genre I can think of. The 2021 Candyman sequel (also co-written and co-produced by Peele), Midsommar, and Knives Out kind of undercut their own narrative each in its own way, and as for Parasite, I have already posted two angry rants about everything that didn’t work in it for me. It feels like Get Out was much better at showcasing its own themes — or maybe I’m still in the post-viewing high and the fridge logic hasn’t kicked in yet.

The plot has a surprising amount in common with Midsommar: a young American person traumatized by the loss of their family is invited into an insular traditionalist white cult so that they could be brainwashed and their body used for the perpetuation of that community. In both cases the protagonists are targeted specifically because of their race, for opposite reasons.

In retrospect, the plot of Get Out is pretty much what I expected the plot of Parasite to be. The rich are literally parasites in this one! Conversely, Parasite is like if the family from Get Out didn’t actually have a violent sinister secret and their wrongdoings were limited to “being wealthy” and “committing microaggressions”.

Had a bit of deja vu at the beginning: the protagonist of the Candyman sequel was also a young man with a successful career in arts. A relatable archetype for Peele, I’m guessing :D

Other notes:

Immediate red flag: Rose tells Chris her parents don’t know he’s black. You mean you have a good relationship with your parents and have never shown them a single photo of your boyfriend of five months? You mean your parents have invited your boyfriend to their house even though they haven’t even seen a picture of him? Bullshit.

The microaggressions were so painful and embarrassing to watch that the straightforward horror scenes were almost a relief.

Why did the grandparents pretend to be servants? Why didn’t they hide, or pretend to be other guests? Was that another mind game — did they think seeing black servants in the house would prepare Chris for his fate on a subconscious level? So in addition to his personal trauma (guilt for his mother’s death) the family also intentionally triggered his generational/racial trauma?

I’m surprised to see most reviews on LB talk only about race: my own impression was that the film was defining the conflict as being between classes/social groups as much as it was between the races. The protagonist is well off, but the difference of wealth between him and the family is even more striking than the difference of culture. One of the secret society members is Japanese. There’s a fairly long scene where a black man goes to the police about the disappearances of two other black men and expects sympathy from the policemen because they’re also black — and they laugh in his face, because they’re cops first and everything else second. It’s interesting that the film avoids a simplistic “white bad, black good” dichotomy not by adding sympathetic white characters, but by adding asshole characters of color.

[crowfeatherquill]

Someone and Something

“So...I’m gonna assume you’re aware that breaking and entering is illegal.”

“Call a squad car, then, officer.”

Rowan leaned heavily against the counter in his kitchen and observed the woman that had, for all intents and purposes, broken into his apartment. She was bold -- that much was obvious -- standing near the window in a bright red leather coat, with not a hint of reticence on her face. She gave off the distinct impression that she was daring him to do something she knew he wouldn’t do.

He sighed.

“Great. So long as we’re on the same page about that, who are you, exactly?”

“Kit Carlisle.”

Rowan blinked.

“The reporter? What...could you possibly be expecting to achieve here? There are avenues for interviews that don’t involve--”

“I’m not here for a fucking interview, Grey. I’m here because the word on the street is that you’re pretty on-purpose bad at your job. And the fact that you haven’t been publicly crucified and fired over it yet means you might actually be pretty good at getting away with it, too.”

This caught Rowan’s attention. His posture tensed and he inclined his head just slightly. If she was here to blackmail him, she’d made an interesting choice of target, all things considered. But...she didn’t seem the type for that. Which made him all the more curious what she did want.

“Alright,” he kept his tone low and even, attempting to de-escalate. “So...what?”

“So,” she moved over to sit on his couch, which, again, bold, “I need help. From someone who actually gives a shit and might even have the resources to do something without getting immediately arrested.”

“And your best plan was to break into a police officer’s apartment?” Rowan’s tone had gone entirely flat. “Have you considered, I dunno, filing a report?”

Kit just stared at him. Alright, maybe not the strongest argument he’d ever made. Likely any problem involving the words ‘immediately arrested’ would get buried nigh immediately as soon as it was entered into the system. Even he had to admit that. He scrubbed his hand down his face.

“Alright. Okay. Point. What exactly is it that you think I’ll be able to help you with?”

“I think my friend’s in over his head. And I can’t find anyone else who’s willing to go with me on it.”

Rowan nodded, slowly.

“Alright. And what gives you that impression?”

“Off the record?”

“I mean I haven’t called this in yet. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

This time, it was her turn to sigh. She leaned forward and her gaze got distant for a moment -- just long enough for Rowan to get the impression that this was actually as serious as she was making it out to be -- before she seemed to come back to herself. Her expression set into something hard, determined, even as she gripped her hands a little tighter together.

“Up until about a year ago, he was an active vigilante. One of the best, actually. Had his hands in community movements all up and down the coast. He was...friendly. Kind. Real ray of sunshine kind of guy. And then one day it’s like he just...snapped. Went off the deep end. Dropped off the face of the planet for a few months and the next time any of us saw him, he was running with criminals. Helping them. Like he’d just...completely switched sides overnight.”

Rowan listened, quietly, and restrained himself from commenting. She seemed awfully sure that her ‘friend’ was in trouble and not just a sudden turncoat, and he wasn’t about to fight her on it. Not in this situation, at least.

“It’s...it doesn’t line up. Something’s wrong. I know it is, but I can’t get a hold of him to press him about it and nobody else will fucking help me. So. Here I am. Breaking into a cop’s apartment. You in, or what?”

“Woah woah, what do you mean in? What exactly do you think I can do about any of this? You’ve essentially given me some vague anecdotal suspicion that your friend started acting strangely about a year ago. That’s not exactly pursuable, I’m not a private investigator.”

“Well someone has to do fucking something!” She slammed one fist against the back of the couch and Rowan heard something crack. He winced.

“I’m not saying I won’t,” he said, bringing his hands up to try to placate her, “I’m just not sure what exactly you were expecting.”

The fight seemed to go out of her and she slumped against the couch.

“I...don’t know. Something.”

[kath-artic]

.

wellthat all went in exactly the direction i thought it would and i still couldnt quite tell you what happened. she accused him of cheating on her and it turned into a whole big blow up. she’s had that angry energy around her all day, i knew this was coming. it feels so sickening knowing a fight’s coming. i tried to keep it together but when i went to go get something to eat she cornered me in the kitchen and started asking me “why am i going to be made out to be the bad guy in all of this?” and i just collapsed and sat there for an hour. there’s no answer i can give to a question like that because shes already assuming i have an opinion or that my dad has turned me against her when i haven’t talked to him at all. what i WOULD say if i knew i could is that my opinion only extends as far as i know that when she gets mad at him, she takes it out on me. my dad has never done that. me and my dad have fought before and he’s said stupid shit to me and done really really irresponsible stuff, but he’s never laid a hand on me and he’s always apologized and always reassures me that he loves me and i KNOW i can bring up any problems i have with him and he’ll actually be receptive. he’s not always the best dad and sometimes he feels more like a friend than a parent, but i’m never afraid that he’s going to hurt me (he might GET someone hurt by doing something stupid, but thats another story). my mom has hit me, told me she hates me and that i’m embarrassing, told me she doesn’t care that i was assaulted because she had it worse, and then denies it all when i bring these things up to her or deflects by saying its my dad’s fault she was so angry in the first place. when emotions are high, i KNOW my dad is the safe option. thats why it seems like i’m always on his side. when it comes to this situation specifically, my opinion is that there’s a pretty simple and innocent explanation for everything that i’ve been made aware of today, but i can see how the evidence she’s drawn together could point to the conclusion she’s coming to it’s just not enough for me to say “oh yeah he’s cheating for sure. go team mom.” i dont know enough to “pick a side” or whatever it is she wants me to do. she kept cominginto my room and asking me for my opinion and i just kept trying to tell her i dont have one, but to her that means i’m on my dad’s side and that he’s been influencing me so she started dumping all this dirt on him to me--how is that not influencing me?? i want to tell her that i honestly have no opinion because i will never know the truth and any information i get from either party would be “influencing” my opinion while also being impossible to confirm. there is no truth for me at this point. i don’t want to know it.

its not that i dont see her side either. i do see it. ive entertained her reality where every emotional outburst is the result of being worn down mentally to the point of there being no other choice and then having those outbursts be used to make you seem like a crazyperson to the point that even your own daughter struggles to believe youre being abused after watching you get pushed to the ground. but then i remember that the time my dad pushed her, he did it to stop her from punching me and that she stumbled and fell because she was drunk. i remember every scheme she was convinced my grandparents (her in-laws) were plotting against her that turned out to be completely baseless. in times like this where she demands that i pick a side, i remember that she’s my mother and that our relationship is fundamentally unbalanced and that these are not issues i should be made to weigh in on. she’s my mom, not my friend. i shouldn’t have to be doing this devil’s advocate shit.

above all else, i remember that night i called the cops on her because it really shifted things for me. i ran through the woods barefoot and crying to meet with the cops and to beg them not to arrest anybody because my mom was threatening to call the police on my dad for pushing her. i tried so hard to be honest and impartial, i told them yes he pushed her, but he did it to protect me and yes she fell but i dont know if he pushed her to the ground or if she stumbled because they both are claiming different things, but i can’t have my dad go to jail for protecting me. i remember the cop looking at me and telling me that it sounded like i was the victim in all of this and it stopped me dead in my tracks because i forgot i was even involved in the whole thing. i forgot that the whole fight centered around me in the first place because i was so caught up in the fact that my mom and dad were the ones fighting. i’d spent so much of my life being made to think of these things as an issue of whose side i was on that i never realized i could be on my own side. i shouldnt have to protect them. thats their responsibility. there are a lot of things ive done for them that shouldve been their responsibility.

tldr i have no patience for this “truth” shit anymore when it comes to family matters. i’ll always love everyone in my family, but i’m not on anyone’s side unless i have a concrete reason to be. everyone’s a faulty narrator, but i will love and believe so far as i am able to. at the end of the day, these are the people that were supposed to take care of me and i owe it to myself to at least take on that responsibility if they wont

[yourdenpadenko]

A little break from the fantasy scripts, and back into the criminal world! I find that I actually like these a lot too!

So here's a sassy little #Valentinesscriptchallenge for you!

Script text below~

Aha, well well well.

You caught me!

I gotta admit, you’re better than I thought you’d be. I actually didn’t try to get caught this time and yet here you are, right between me and my only means of escape.

Hm? What do I mean, trying to get caught? 

Don’t worry about it too much.

Though I really gotta hand it to you, you put up quite the fight back there.

I really didn’t think you would jump in like that to save someone like me.

I mean, we are on different sides after all. Enemy sides, in fact.

You over there, bright and shiny. Upstanding citizen. Upholding the law, and all that.

And then there’s me. A sneaky lil’ shit. A big bad guy. Steal from the rich and keep all for myself.

Oh no, I readily admit it. I Am the Bad Guy. You are fully within your rights to stop me from getting away with this lil’ thing here.

I commend you for it, honestly. Most people probably would have cut their losses and let me go. Just call it a necessary evil. But here you are, making sure that you get those bad guys And this one.

It’s something I’ve really come to like about you.

(chuckle) What’s with that look on your face? Hm?

Didn’t expect me to say that, huh?

I won’t lie, I guess I’m a little upset. After all, I went through all that trouble just to let you get your hands on me last time. I just assumed that you were just respectful when you really didn’t do anything but put me in the back of that cop car, but now I’m starting to realize that maybe I haven’t been being blunt enough for you.

So, how about this. 

To make it up to me, I’m going to make you chase me for real. No more pretending to get caught just for your attention. I’m going to steal everything right from under your nose just to make sure you don’t take your eyes off me.

I’ll rob this entire city blind, if it means I get you to notice me.

And when you least suspect it, I’ll steal the one thing that matters to you the most.

Then you’ll have to chase me even harder, just to get it back.

Oh, ah ah ah!

I told you. It’s for Real now. So you’re going to have to be a lot quicker than that.

Oh, don’t make that face at me! I know you’ll have just as much fun as I will.

Besides.

Your heart does look a lil’ heavy, so why not let me take it for a while?

background and image edits done by @EbahZeb on Twitter

[knowseverythingaboutyou]

starsinshadows​:

     He was not phased by ‘aliens’ and he sure as hell wasn’t the most pessimistic person she knew, but he had damn good reason to be hitting the levels he had and aliens just… really weren’t that impressive. Maybe for someone who hadn’t been dealing with the Upside Down for years before being sucked into a nightmare realm and spat back out 40 years later to find out that comic book shit was actually real, too. His first instinct when he heard 'aliens’ was how dangerous they were and how did you stop them, and that said everything about his experiences with anything not normal.      “Trouble with the power is exactly the kind of shit that I’m talking about. That happened,” he started, quite obviously thinking about the labs running their experiments and obviously the Entity grabbing them  - he didn’t know if there was an issue with the power when that happened, but given how weird shit worked, he wouldn’t have been surprised. Hearing it made him want to look deeper, and she might say that Hawkins had been fine since everyone disappeared, but what did she know if it was being covered up? Her agency might not be in the loop, right?      He also had very little reason to have faith in the 'adults’ and general authority figures, considering how they’d mostly been either useless or actually hostile in his past experiences. Joyce Byers and Chief Hopper were obvious exceptions, but it wasn’t like all of the Hawkins cops were in on the truth - Powell and Callahan had actively been treating Eddie like a suspect and murderer. Generally, agencies were not to be trusted, which made this thing with Maria a lot more complicated. Of course, she also asked if he wanted her to track anyone down for him, and that? That made his jaw snap shut. “No, I–. No. It’s been too long, forget it.”

“I know that’s what happened, I’m just saying that power outages were all that happened afterwards. No bodies being found, no one going missing, no National Guard redirection or suspicious bank transfers from a branch of the government to anyone in Hawkins. It could have been a blip, or a mini-time loop, or one of your friends trying to reach out to their family the way that your friend Will did before everyone got snatched.” She shrugged. Taxes were always the way to find out where someone was or what they were doing — the reason for the paycheque might be fudged, but it would still be issued. Catching Capone on taxes had made a lot of organizations change the way they paid their people off the books. No one liked going through accounts more than Congress and the IRS. “Okay.” Maria eyed Steve thoughtfully but didn’t say anything else. She could assume the thought process behind his refusal — what if the people he knew were dead? What if they weren’t? Forty years was a long time to be gone. It was a lifetime, and everyone would have to deal with that. Maria could understand why Steve didn’t want to deal with it just yet, if ever. For some of them, if they were still alive, it might be kinder to let them think that Steve had, in fact, died when he disappeared in the eighties. “Well, if you ever change your mind, road trips are kind of my jam.” Trying to get a SHIELD jet for that without explaining why she needed it wasn’t worth the effort, honestly, and commercial flights were — well, terrible. “Indiana Pacers still haven’t won an NBA Championship, but hope springs eternal. Trust me, I’m a Cubs fan.”

[darkwaveho]

The thought of y/n and Monica being in a healthy relationship just makes me melt. I usually don't like fluff, but they're something special 😤💕.

When you have time (and if you want to), can you please give us a small drabble about Monica and y/n? Maybe the two of them are living in bliss with Nat scheming while she's in prison 👀. I wonder how Nat will react when she hears y/n and Monica are in a relationship (I just know she'll have connections in prison lol). Do you think that if Nat were to break out of prison while Monica and y/n were together that she would go back to Natasha?? Would Nat go crazy when she finally finds them? I love how your AU's have AU's 🤣.

Also the lack of Monica Rambeau fics on this app sucks 😫.

Damage control

Split decisions

Parings: Monica Rambeau x reader, Natasha Romanoff x reader (Past) 

Warnings: 18+, fluff, abuse, violence, cursing suggestive themes, mentions of murder, shitty parenting, hints of Stockholm syndrome. 

 A/n: Sorry it took so long anon hopefully you like it. I tried to add in as much as you asked for but I might’ve forgotten a few things. my bad if I did lol <3

Damage Control masterlist

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

Monica enters her house with a sense of uneasiness, she doesn’t know what it is, but something felt off. she assumes positions drawing her gun from her holster and walks further into the room. the living room is empty nothing there put left over honeybun on the coffee table. she falters in her steps when she hears a noise coming from the kitchen.

during this time, you were always on the couch waiting for Monica to get back from work. no matter the time you waited, she brought you a sense of comfort and stability that you never knew you needed. Monica walks into the kitchen raising her gun higher to the eye level of the other person in the kitchen, she releases a breath and lowers the gun.

“Yn? What the hell?” 

“Yeah, what the hell Mon! I could’ve killed you; you know!” you yell at her for scaring you.

Monica had words at the tip of her tongue but seeing you and actually taking in your full figure she had new words forming with a burning question. “What are you even doing with that?” she points with one hand as she uses the other to safely put her gun back in the holster.

“I thought I heard something in the basement.” She takes the gun from your grasp. “Where did you even get this from?” 

“I’m not telling you, you’re a cop Mon.” She rolls her eyes and moves you to the couch. “You sure this is just about a noise you heard?” She rubs your hand soft and tenderly. “Yeah of course, what else would it be about?” 

“Yn, it’s okay to talk about it, to talk about her.” You shake your head. “Okay, another time then? In the meantime, please no more firearm’s sweetheart.” She holds your chin and places her soft lips on yours. “Another one.” She accepts and plants another kiss on your lips. You hum in satisfaction. “More.” She giggles and plants multiple wet kisses to your face knowing you would keep asking her for more. You pull her on top of you falling back on the couch. 

“So, what else did you do today other than have possession of an illegal firearm?” You scoff knowing she’s not going to let it go and she’ll most likely press you for more information about who you bought it from later. “Watched tv, ate doughnuts.” You give her a look of mischief. “Looked through your panty drawer and I finally opened that box you have hidden away in the back of your closet.” Her eyes go wide with shock. 

“What?” 

“I knew you’d be surprised, you’re really freaky Monica.” You wiggle your eyebrows in a playful way. She gasps and slaps you shoulder. “I think it’s sexy. You’re a lady in the streets and a freak in the sheets.” 

“That’s an invasion of privacy and I could have you arrested you do know that right?” 

“Oh, you’ve been dying to cuff me haven’t you Captain?” you wiggle your eyebrows playfully as you tease her. despite you staying with Monica you two haven’t done more than just making out. intimacy was different with her versus Natasha, getting Natasha to open up more and be vulnerable was like pulling teeth you hardly ever got her too emotional and real with you. 

“Shut up” she hits you with the couch pillow and laugh at the shrieking noise you make from being hit. her laughter comes to an abrupt stop when she sees the look you have in your eyes.

“Y/n, no.” she sends you a warning as she tries to pull away from you. “Why not?” you grin at her and add more strength around her waist. you pull her back on top of you and start attacking her neck with your lips.

 “Fuck, b-because we-” she loses herself with the sensation you send through her body. “Because what?” you pull away from her soft neck to taunt her more before going right back in. placing your lips upon her neck you focus on her soft spot and suck right below her ear. her hands halt any advances you had running rapid in your mind, and you respect her boundaries even if they were tortious. “Mon you’re killing me here, you can’t be nice and say sweet things to me. I’m still not used to it, and it makes me horny.” 

“Y/n, my mind still hasn’t changed about that.” she softly scratches your scalp with her hands tangled in your hair. once again you respected it but that didn’t mean you couldn’t come up with a compromise.

“Okay, what if we just watch each other.” you wiggle your eyebrows hoping she would get the hint. “Watch each other...” she waits for you to continue and fill in the blank.

“Yeah, I can watch you touch yourself while you watch me touch myself.” her jaw drops form shock “And I’m the freak?” 

“Don’t look at me like that, you mean to tell me that watching me naked completely spread out in front of you while pumping my fingers inside of myself doesn’t make you squirm?” you trail your hand along her chest as her breaths become shorter. “Your heart is beating really fast Mon, tell me if I slide my hands in your pants will I feel the same throbbing sensation underneath your panties.” Monica lost in your seductive trance she shakes her head and clenches her eyes standing up from the couch and untangling her limbs from yours. 

“I- should go check in with Darcy and Jimmy about something.” she avoids eye contact as she fetches her cellphone. “And it’s your night to pick, what do you want for dinner?” she tries to focus on anything she an in this room to stable herself from pouncing on you right now. you sit against the cushions slightly disappointed from the rejection. Monica doesn’t wait for an answer as she walks into the kitchen for her abandoned items.

“Pussy.” you mumble under your breath. “What was that sweetheart?” you hum and snap your eyes up at her waiting figure. “Oh, I said pizza.” you send her a tight-lipped smile that she knows is dripping with sarcasm and annoyance, but she doesn’t speak on it.

“Pizza it is then, I’m going to go wash the hard day at work off of me and then we’ll order, okay?” your eyes follow her every movement as she approaches the couch, the pout and scowl on your face had her feeling bad for unintentionally working you up like that. she gives you a quick kiss and runs up the stairs to cool herself off from the heated moment. 

-----------

“Five minutes, so make it quick.” the guard unlocks the steel door allowing the woman to step pass the threshold. the sound of the door closing and locking on the other side alerts the woman that was staring at the cold stone wall. “Natalia.” the woman breathes out an airy response. “Melina.” 

“Has she been found yet?” Natasha’s voice comes out raspier than normal, as she wets her dry chapped lips. Melina sighs doing what she never did before. she took pity on Natasha. seeing her like this at her lowest. “We’ve been looking, and word is going around that she’s...” Natasha’s eyes shoot up to the eye level of her mother’s. “She’s what?” the response comes out harsh and panicked at the same time. “That she’s been seeing that detective lady.” the ear screeching sound of Natasha’s nails scraping against the concrete floor. “No, no, she wouldn’t stoop that fucking low.” 

“I’m afraid she has.” 

“No, you’re lying and whoever told you that is a fucking liar as well!” 

“You mind your tongue!” the voice booms through the room. everything went silent as Alexei’s voice was heard through the other side of the door. finally hearing the creaking of the steel door, revealing his figure his steps into the room. Melina parts her lips to ease the tension, she was always trying to ease the tension between them. this time she’s not winning the battle.

“Leave us.” Alexei’s voice comes out firm with no room for arguing. After quickly sending Natasha a soft smile. Melina leaves as Alexei keeps his gaze on Natasha’s unease figure. “Don’t look at me like that, you got yourself into this mess, and dragged my baby girl along with you!” Natasha clenches her eyes as Alexei yells echos through the confined room. “What was it you said to me all those years ago? hm? ‘I can handle her father; she would never do anything to hurt me or Yelena’ “Look at where you and your sister are now! he sees Natasha clenching her jaw like she wants to charge at him. “What is it? are you upset? you want to hit me? is that it?!” he snatches her up from the ground and shakes her a few times until he gets an answer. “C’mon hit me then.” 

“Whose fault is this?” 

“You’re even weaker than I thought, I should’ve put a stop to whatever you two had going on.” a slap was too generous. way too generous. the punch to Natasha’s face was long overdue and well deserved in Alexei’s eyes. she grunts from the contact as she stumbles to the ground. “I. asked. you. a. question.” each word followed by a slap, a shove or the angry Russian’s fist.

“Mine!” her releases her from his hold and throws her to the ground. he turns away from her and waits for the door to opened. “Is Yelena, okay?” 

“You have no right asking about my daughter when you couldn’t protect her like you were supposed to! she suffers because of you, because of what you did and what you allowed that selfish bitch to do! Yelena was placed in solitaire confinement, she got into a fight, and she was also stabbed. What? is that not what you wanted to hear? you want me to lie and tell you she’s doing fine in her cell?  I’m not going to help ease your guilty conscious you can rot and suffer within these walls for all I care, my only concern is my daughter.” he knocks once against the door and leaves without another word. an hour goes by before a guard enters the room, walking towards Natasha he stops at her feet and holds a cell phone out to her. she furrows her brows and takes the phone she wasn’t expecting her usual guard to be on duty today. she says her thanks and shoos him from her room to stand outside. Natasha dials the number she’s been keeping in close contact with over a month now to weigh her options. the phone rings a few times before it picks up. 

“What do you need now?” The man’s voice laced heavy with his accent it was barely morning where he was after all.

“I need you to get me out of here, I don’t care how just do it, and I mean soon Rick.” she hangs the phone up and on queue the guard enters the room retrieving the phone and leaves again. Natasha wouldn’t stay another moment in this cell, in this building knowing you were out there parading around with the bitch that put her in here. 

----------

“You do know I haven’t heard a word you just said right?” you prop you head up with your elbow on the table popping a few of Monica’s French fries in your mouth.

“You’re unbelievable you know that? how are you going to ask me about my day and not actually listen?” she tilts her head slightly with a smirk on her face, showing you that she wasn’t upset about it.

“What? can you blame me, you’re gorgeous.” she shy’s away taking a sip of her sweet tea. you can’t help but focus in on her lips. how soft they were and how badly you wanted them on your body again. despite the heated moment you two had in her office two months ago there hasn’t been anything that heated going on between you two. part of you thinks Monica is holding back because of lingering, pestering feeling for Natasha that wouldn’t go away. you admired her for that. for caring and having feelings like a normal human is supposed to, this was something you weren’t used to. patience. the date goes on until Monica gets a call to head back to the office. she pays and you both exit the burger joint hand in hand as you walk to Monica’s car.

“Shouldn’t I be the one walking you to your car?” that was another change in your life, you had a car now, not being escorted around all day like before had its pros and cons, but you loved the freedom to do as you pleased. “Hush Mon, I want to walk my lady to her car. My car is in the back because I couldn’t find parking and you did pay for lunch so why not?”  

“So, buying you lunch makes us even because you walked me to my car? who knew this got you to turn on your gentle woman act.” 

“Well, you could see it more often if you let me pay for the date for once.” you roll your eyes at her stubbornness but then again, the money you had belonged to Natasha and Monica didn’t want that kind of money being spent on her, or you spending the dirty money in general. “And I could pay you in other ways if you would just let me, you know I’m good for it.” you swing her hand and bat your eyelashes at her innocently. 

“You don’t have to pay me at all y/n, I like doing things for you, just enjoy them.” you roll your eyes and fold your arms. Monica giggles at your reaction and struggles a bit to pull you closer to her. “Fine I’ll let you pick the next date.” 

“And you’ll let me pay for it? I mean the entire date Mon, I pay for everything, got it?” 

“Fine bossy.” she playfully rolls her eyes and unlocks her car door.

“Yeah, well you’re very stubborn.” you open her door for her and close it when she’s seated

“Takes one to know one.” one thing about Monica was that at work she could be tough and demanding but with you she could be childish and carefree. you loved it. you loved the playful banter between you two. “Real mature, Miss Rambeau.” she beckons you with her finger pulling you in for a soft kiss. “See you at home.” she gives you a wide smile as you lean away from her car repeating the same farewell as she drives off. “See you at home.”

-----------

You smile to yourself as you walk back to your car unaware of your surrounds, you’re oblivious to the car that trails you. it isn’t until you fell the hand of a person grip your jacket and spin you around to face them. to say you were at a loss for words were an understatement. 

“Hello, sweet face.” your ex-girlfriend stands in front of you with excitement in her expression and long blonde hair. “Did you miss me?” you only stare at her with your mouth parted, this can’t be real she can’t be here right now. aware of your silence Natasha keeps talking anyway. “I thought about you saying how hot I would look as a blonde, do you like it?” she noticed your eyes constantly going back to the top of her head, so she answered the question for you.

“You look good, I see you’ve been playing house with that bitch. I had a lot of time to think about what’d I do when I finally got out of that place…none of them ended up being this way, with me being calm and civil.” opposite to the meaning of the words her tone came out harsh and frantic. “Do you know how much self-control I had to not slaughter her right there in that seat?” 

“No letters, no calls, no visits.” hearing her entitlement after everything she’s done upset you. she could be a real bitch at times, but this was getting old fast after not having to deal with it for two months.

“I thought maybe that whore would be doing all of those things.” you shrug it off nonchalantly, while you barely hold yourself together on the inside. she grows angry with the tone and the harsh response. backing you up until you hit the brick wall.

 “Nat-” you flinch as Natasha bring her hand near your face. she places her finger against your trembling lips. “Shhh, I’m not gonna hurt you.” she studies your face intently, remembering every single detail of your face right down to every pore.

“Did you miss me?” her eyes stare deep into yours, searching for an answer even if not verbal she could tell. The emotion in your eyes gave her all she needed; your body language was all she needed. part of you missed her yes, but you were still angry and hurt about what she did. if she thinks you turning her in to the feds was enough for her to be forgiven, she was sadly mistaken. 

“I missed you too.” she leans her forehead against yours. she inhales deeply and quickly cringes from the scent she’s not used to. you changed things about you that Natasha loved. major things such as the way you communicated, to minor changes like the clothes you wore, or the perfume you chose. she could live with those changes and adjust but she knows for a fact that your love for her hasn’t changed. even if it is buried deep down in the pits of your heart. 

“I sat in my cell thinking about a lot of things. I thought maybe I can fuck the anger away when I got my hands on you for what you did.” The calmness she showed moments ago has dissipated. “And then I found out about you and her and I know longer wanted to bring you pleasure and pain. I just wanted to bring you pain and agony for letting her fuck you!” none of it might be true but she doesn’t know that, plus you wanted to get under her skin. 

“Who said she was doing the fucking? I basically have my tongue inside of her every night” Natasha’s ego dropped majorly at your response. either way you put it she would be angry but saying it in her face that you gave another woman pleasure hurt her, contrary to her doing the same thing when she cheated on you with Amber. her hand finds purpose around your neck, squeezing your airways tight as she backed you up against the cold bricks. her other hand squishes your cheeks together. 

“Stick your tongue out.” you look at her with frantic eyes this was a bad idea. she sticks her finger in your mouth grabbing the tip of your tongue with her pinched fingers. you find the will to breathe as her hand releases your throat. your relief was quickly forgotten when you felt the tip of her knife against your tongue. “Maybe I should cut it out, hm?” she pinches your tongue when you don’t answer her. so much for not wanting to hurt you. Natasha moves the metal away for you pocketing the knife and releases your tongue. you release the breath you were holding on to. “I’m really, really trying here. don’t mention anything like that again!” she spits the words out calm but harshly.

“You’re a damn hypocrite you know that? You want to be forgiven for what you did but I do it and I’m the trader, I’m the cheater and I’m tarnished right?”

 “No, never tarnished you just made a mistake, like I made a mistake.” her voice goes softer the anger she had fades away for the time being. placing her forehead against yours, she exhales deeply.

 “You were just upset, hm? you got your payback, now you can come home.” her breathing picks up momentum. her lips attempt to graze yours seeking to kiss you after two months of being without them. turning your face to dodge each attempt. “Nat, stop.” she doesn’t listen she couldn’t her mind was too intoxicated with you at the moment. she growls from being denied and slams her lips on yours. pushing her tongue past your lips, you fight for a moment before things fizzle away and next thing you know, you’re actually enjoying her touch again. enjoying her kiss, her tongue, her. seeing you let your walls down she makes her next move, sliding her hand under your waistband. she caught you off guard, but you’d be damned if you just gave her your body so easily like this. you harshly bite down on her lip causing her to step back in stinging pain. 

“Ah!” she stumbles back softly rubbing her thumb against her wounded lip. she looks at her thumb as the iron liquid runs down her fingertip. “Why so rough baby? I thought we could have a soft welcome home moment.” she says before she spits blood out on the concrete ground of the alley way. “Fuck you!”

“Well, if you play your cards right, I just might let you. being locked away in isolation really made me horny.” Rarely has Natasha ever let you have full control over her, maybe it was the fact that you mentioned having control with Monica that got her to lay the offer out on the table. the sound of the car door opening catches your attention and you can’t form words from seeing her. what could you say to make her understand your reasoning for doing what you did? your eyes follow her as she approaches, she looks more serious than before.

“Lena.” your breath hitches seeing your best friend, she stood there not giving you the time of day let alone a glance. “We need to go now Natasha we have things to do.” she sighs and nods to her sister before turning back to you. Yelena didn’t say anything to you. she didn’t yell or even make an annoyed facial expression. nothing. she treated you like you were nothing to her. Natasha turns your gaze back to her as she holds your chin. 

“I want you with me, we can go anywhere, and finally go on that vacation trip. for a much longer time than we originally planned but that’s just until things cool down. We can make the most of it.”  she squeezes your hand softly. a very different display of affection from just moments ago when she tried to forcefully shove her tongue down your throat.

“I’ll give you some time to think about it.” She rubs her thumb against your cheek. “Don’t have me waiting too long for an answer.” She was hoping that you would agree on your own instead of her using the backup plan to just drag you out of that house when Monica’s at work. Natasha was being civil, for now. this was how she could reel you back in on your own freewill with sweet words, hope, and broken promises. “I just got out of prison please don’t make me get my hands dirty within 8 hours of being released sweet face.” she traces your lips with her thumb, quickly pecks your lips and walks to the blacked-out car waiting for her. your heart drums through your chest as you replay everything that just happened. Natasha was free. she wanted you back, and she subtly not so subtly made a threat of harming Monica if you didn’t do as she said.

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“Y/n, I have to tell you something important.” she looks for you downstairs in your usual spot that you wait in until she comes home. she tries to remain calm and push the intruding thought about your wellbeing to the side. she cautiously jogs up the stairs to her bedroom to find you frantically looking for something in the dresser.  “Y/n? what are you doing up here?” 

“Hey, what’s wrong love?” her hand softly caresses your back as she moves you to sit on the bed. her smile fades as she opens the door and sees the bag on the bed.  “Are you going somewhere? did I do something?” you quickly dismiss her overthinking. “No, you didn’t do anything you’re perfect.” 

“Okay, so what’s the problem and what’s with the packed bag?” she places her hand in yours linking your finger together. “She’s back.”

“I know.” 

“You knew?”

“I came home as soon as I found out.”  you hum and turn your gaze back to your linked fingers. “Why didn’t you tell me when you first found out?” you shrug your shoulders. “I don’t know, my mind was running at a million miles a minute. I thought she would be put away for good.”

“Yeah, so did I, but the evidence was dismissed even though we had the warrant and everything.” she turns your face to look at her. “That still doesn’t explain the bag sweetheart.” you sigh, releasing a shuddered breath. “I can’t.... I can’t stay here anymore Monica.�� 

“W-what?” 

“I don’t want her to hurt you.” 

“She will, she will hurt you and I’ll never be able to live with myself if I let that happen.” 

“Where is this coming from?” 

“After our lunch date I was walking back to the car, and she cornered me and pulled me into the alley. she said she wants me to come back home and that she expects an answer soon. that’s bullshit! she’s not giving me an option she’s only making me think that I have one.” 

“Do you want to go back with her? I can protect you just don’t go, please.”

“I can handle myself...I can protect you y/n.” 

“Sorry to break it to you Mon but Natasha doesn’t care about a damn badge or the law! and she definitely doesn’t care about killing you especially since we’ve been shacking up for two months!” you shoot up from the bed with Monica following right behind you. Monica might be calm on the outside right now but on the inside she was anxious. anxious of what would happen, how she could fix this, and anxious about you leaving her and her never seeing you again.

“We weren’t just shacking up, at least not on my end. In the beginning I just wanted to help you and keep you safe but, you mean so much more to me. you mean more to me than you mean to Natasha. she isn’t capable of loving you, not the way that you deserve so please, stay.” she stands in front of you with tears pooling in her eyes as she begs you to remain with her. 

Two women holding special pieces of your heart makes every decision harder. did you want to stay with Monica and potentially cause Natasha to reign terror and hell on the woman you’ve grown close too over the last two months? or did your heart still beat for Natasha even after everything she’s done?

[burgundyhaven]

future- dallas winston x fem! reader

a/n: sorry i haven’t posted anything in a while i’ve just been super busy! but i’m into the outsiders now so yeah enjoy 😭i hate this a lot but i’ll be working on better stuff soon

warnings: blood mention, cut mention

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it was 12am and you were changing into a cream white silk slip when you heard a rythmic knock on your door

a normal person would be startled or pissed, but you were used to this by now

you knew who it was immediately, your boyfriend, dallas winston

you were taking to long to get to the door

“babeee open up”

he was all bloodied and bruised up, more than he usually was after a rumble

“god dal you look fucked up!” you say as you run up to him

“relax dollface i’m fine, just a few cuts and scrapes here and there, get me a cancer stick will ya babe”

“dally you are not fine stay here”

you run over to get some gauze and bandages from your room

“honey sit down”

he listens to you and sits down

he shuffles around in the couch seat trying to hide the immense pain he was going through, though you could still see it visibly

he accepted it at this point and took off his leather jacket, allowing you to see more of his injuries

that’s when you notice a blood stain on the side of his torso

“dallas don’t tell me this was another knife fight”

“ok it was, but babe if i had known it was gonna be a knife fight i wouldn’t have gotten like this you know those socs never fight fair”

“alright enough, take off your shirt that cuts gonna get infected if we wait any longer”

“wow you’re really that desperate to see me shirtless huh babe”

“dal just take the shirt off and shut up please”

normally he wouldn’t accept that kind of talk towards him but he was head over heels in love with you so he’d let you say anything to him and wouldn’t care, mainly because he just adored your voice

he took off his shirt and you got to work

“this is gonna sting a little okay”

you look up at him knowing he’s not focusing on your words instead he’s just looking straight into your eyes

“ah fuck” dally throws his head back onto the chair from the pain of the stinging

“ i told you it was gonna sting”

you wrap the gauze around his stomach noticing just how deep the cut actually was

“dal this shits pretty deep”

“yeha yeha i know ,just hurry i wanna go to bed”

“ok..”

you finish wrapping and bandaging and he gets up to go to your bedroom

“wait you’re staying over tonight?”

“yeah? i can’t stay over at bucks tonight the cops are gonna be looking for me over there”

“what the fuck? what else did you do now?”

“the cops showed up right before i started walking here, they saw me and started chasing me down, don’t worry though i don’t think they saw me come this way”

“shit dallas why you always gotta be getting into trouble like this?”

“what are you talking about?”

you see a rise in anger in his tone, which starts to scare you

“forget it, just go to bed dal the extra pillows are in the closet by the left door”

“alright…” he says turning back to you

….

after a long 15 minutes of silence, you assumed dally had fallen asleep already so you went along to the bathroom to get ready for the night

as you were washing your face, the sight of the gash on his stomach just kept replaying

you couldn’t help but think about how if that knife had gone a little further, you could’ve lost him forever

while you and dal had your rough spots, at the end of the day you could never live with out him

and with the thought of that your eyes began to water, then a river of tears came

you didn’t want dally to hear you, so you washed away the tears and just got straight into bed as if nothing happened

unfortunately he’s an incredibly light sleeper and when you got into bed he woke up

“y/n what time is it?”

his voice groggy and dry

“you’ve only been asleep for an hour go back to bed”

your voice was shaky and you knew he would hear it

and he did

“y/n what’s wrong?”

“what do you mean what’s wrong there’s nothing wrong”

dally turns on the lamp which reveals your puffy red eyes and nose

you see the scars on his face, his black eye and busted lip in more detail now that the light is on, you just broke down completely

he takes you in and holds on to you tightly

“doll what’s wrong, i can’t help you if i don’t know what’s buggin you”

“it’s you dal, i love you too much to see you getting hurt like this all the time”

“what?”

“if that blade had gone even an inch further i probably would’ve never seen you again, and i- i just don’t think i’d be able to live with that”

“you know i’ll never die from a rumble like that, i’m tough okay? you don’t gotta worry alright”

“i know you’re tough. but you’re not made of steel, a bullet goes through you and you’re gone… gone! you realize that right?”

“i know, but that’s not gonna happen alright”

dally moves his hands to holds your face

“look i know i don’t have a future, but you do and i just don’t wanna see you wasting that on someone like me. but if you want me to be a part of that future then i’ll try to keep out of shit that could get me killed”

“but you do have a future dal, at least with me..”

“so please just try to keep out of trouble”

“i can’t make too many promises but i can say ill try”

“thank you dally”

you look up into his eyes and fall into his warm embrace.