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arlana-likes-to-write · 3 days ago

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Doctor, Doctor

Family is More Than Blood Masterlist

Summary: The tide is pulling you in and you are getting to weak to stop it.

Warnings: bad mental health, implied suicidal thoughts, implied past abuse, therapy, Sam is a good guy, non-sexual nudity.

Relationships: Carol x Reader, Yelena x Natasha x reader (platonic)

Word Count: 3.6k

The pacing was the only thing keeping you grounded. So you paced: 5 steps in one direction, then five steps in the other. Everything around you turned to white noise. Not that there were many people in the Avenger’s compound. The world seemed to be holding on by a thread as fires spread across the globe. The only people that could put out those fires were the Avengers. The team was spread worldwide, and since you weren’t part of the team, you couldn’t know the specifics. You had half the mind to hack into FRIDAY to get updated everyone. With the stress of not knowing how the team was doing, combined with the sleepless nights due to nightmares, you were on edge.

It seemed your mind and body had enough. You were at your wit’s end. Each night, your mind creates horrific scenarios of those you love. Your hands were covered with so much blood. Your mind was having a hard time separating your nightmare and reality.

Usually, you would ignore it, push through, and hope your mind would figure itself out. That was past you, and you were trying to be better. You wanted to enjoy the life you were living with the people in it, but you weren’t sure if you could do it on your own.

But admitting you needed help was a weakness, and a weakness meant death. Honestly, you were proud of yourself. The person you were now was leaps and bounds from who you were in the Red Room. Still, these habits were hard to break. His voice was still engraved in your head. “Hey,” you jumped at the sudden voice and the hand on your shoulder. You put your hands up, ready to fight. “Sorry,” it was Sam. “I didn’t mean to scare you. You seemed lost in your own head.”

“Yeah,” you put your hands down. “Sorry, I haven’t been sleeping well.” His eyes scanned you over.

“Do you want to get out of the compound?”

“Please,” you said. If you weren’t so desperate for a distraction, you would have hated how weak you sounded. Sam smiled, and you followed him to the garage. The silence was comforting. Sam was special. His presence was calming, like a lifeboat in a raging storm at sea.

As he drove away from the compound past the small nearby town, he turned down a nonpaved road. You raised a questioning eyebrow. “Are you taking me out here to kill me?” The man rolled his eyes.

“Please, like I could kill you,” he teased, sparing you a glance before focusing back on the road. “And if I managed to kill you. Natasha, Yelena, Alexei, Carol, and Melina would be on my ass. Nooo, thank you,” he paused. “I would never know peace.” You rolled your eyes.

Finally, he parked in a small lot. There was only one other car. You followed him out of the car and took a deep breath in. The air was crisp. It felt cleaner somehow. “Ready for a hike?”

“Are you going to be able to keep up?” The man glared at you.

“I don’t know why I try to be nice to you, Black Widows.” You chuckled.

“Come on, Sam,” you smiled. “I’m following your lead.” You followed him to the start of the trail. He filled the silence with stories from his childhood and his family in New Orleans. But most of the walk was spent in silence besides the crunch of the leaves and sticks at your feet. With each step you took, the weight on your shoulder seemed to disappear.

You smiled at the couple who walked past you on their way to the car. Soon enough, you reached the end of the trail and at the top of the mountain. The scenery around you felt otherworldly. The air was crisp and cool. In one direction, you could see the other mountains part of the range surrounded by green trees.

It was mid-afternoon, and the sky was a vast and brilliant blue. Birds were flying at your level. There was a beauty at the top that you forgot existed in this world. “So,” you looked at Sam. “Wanna talk about why you were pacing a hole in the ground?” You smiled and sat down on a rock.

“I don’t know, Sam,” you said. Some days, I feel like I have it together, like there isn’t this crushing weight, but recently, I feel like I can barely hold my head above the water. " You picked up a stone and threw it up and down. The tide keeps trying to drag me under, and I’m afraid. " You let the stone drop back to the ground. I might stop fighting so it can take me out to sea.”

There were so many dark thoughts that echoed inside your mind. On certain days, listening to those thoughts seemed easier than fighting them. “And I know,” you continued before Sam could speak. “That I have so many people on my side that support me and count on me, but I am so fucking tired,” you squeezed your eyes shut. “I just want it all to stop.” You admitted. “I mean, the world will keep spinning, right? Even if I’m no longer in it.”

You heard the man let out a low hiss. You weren’t suicidal, but it seemed easier. “Ours would stop,” Sam finally said. “Our world would stop spinning.” You reopened your eyes to see Sam walking towards the edge. “Have you ever been sky diving?” He looked over his shoulder as you shook your head. “I should take you,” he looked back at the view. “It is the most freeing and adrenaline-pumping thing a person could do. I love it.”

You stood up slowly and walked to stand next to the man. “I’ve been on a roller coaster, does that count?” He slapped you playfully. “Why did you ask me that?”

“In sky diving or even for us Fly Boys on the team, you have to have complete trust in the people that you don’t necessarily see,” you frowned, a little confused. You have to trust the pilot, trust the instructor leading the pilot, and trust the people who packed your gear that they did it correctly. Blind trust is terrifying,” he said and touched your shoulder.

Trust. So much of your trust has been broken. “Do you trust me?” He asked.

“Yes,” you answered. The man smiled.

“Then trust me when I say this,” he took a few deep breaths. “I think you need to see a therapist, and I can find you a good one.”

“No,” you pushed his hand off your shoulder and headed back down the trail.

“Wait, ugh, hold on,” you heard him quicken his pace to catch up to you. “Look, I can’t imagine what that sick bastard put you and your sisters through, but I’ve lost someone because they couldn’t fight the tide. I will not stand by and watch it happen to you,” His confession stopped you and turned around to face him. “An old service buddy of mine,” he answered the question before you asked. “The weight of what happened over there got too much, and he let himself drown.” He took a few steps closer to you. “My mama said every soul that touches us leaves a mark - some as gentle whispers or bold strokes - but their imprints remain even when they’re gone. You’ve shaped our lives by being in it, and there is no going back.” You felt your chest tighten. Sighing, you placed your hands on your hips and looked at the ground.

“I trust you to find me a good one, Samuel,” the man laughed and put his arm around your shoulder.

“If I find you a good one, can I push you out of a plane?”

It was to disguise your trip to the city to check on a few Widows who had recently been exposed to the red dust. You felt bad about telling a white lie, so you visited a few of them; one was going to school, and another was starting a business. It made you happy that they were getting out of this life.

Now, you were sitting in Dr. Sabrina Hale’s lobby. Your leg was shaking, and you were gripping your jeans. You felt like you were going to be sick. Anxiety swirled in your stomach. Like Sam, you needed to believe in the blind trust of this stranger. “Hi,” you looked at the doctor. The woman was pite - her black hair was cut shoulder length, and her blue eyes seemed to have a caring presence. “My name is Sabrina. It is nice to meet a friend of Sam’s.” You introduced yourself and shook her hand. “Please come in.” You followed her into the office.

Her office was much bigger than you expected. It had a large window overlooking the city, and her wooden desk was in front of it. Next to it was a couch with a chair. In the corner, there was a small table with chairs covered with coloring pages and art supplies. The most striking detail about her office was how decorated it was. There were plants in every corner and pictures on the wall documenting her travels and her family.

“Sit where you are comfortable,” you sat on the couch. “Do you want something to drink?”

“No, thank you,” she grabbed a travel mug from her desk and sat in the chair beside you.

“I will start off this session by saying that everything you say here is protected by doctor-patient confidentiality,” she said, crossing her left leg over her right.

“And if I don’t say anything?” Sabrina shrugged.

“Then we stare at each other for an hour in silence. Regardless, I still get paid,” you let out a dry laugh and stared out her window. “Sam told me you work with the Avengers, so I can guess whatever is haunting you isn’t pretty,” you scuffed, folded your hands, and rested your forearms on your thighs. “I tell my patients that you get out of therapy based on what you put into it. You need to want to be here. You want to get better.” Sighing, you stared at her.

She had a small smile on her face. Her eyes were so kind; they seemed to stare into your soul. “Do have any siblings? I have an older brother and a younger sister.” She was the middle child, and that made sense. Middle children were known to struggle with a sense of identity. Every piece of decoration showed you a piece of who Sabrina is. They also were known to rebel - her nose ring and sleeve of tattoos gave her away. But you snapped out of that. Sabrina was here to help you. She was not your target.

“Yeah, I have two younger sisters,” you smiled. “We aren’t related by blood.”

“Family is family,” she said. “Blood doesn’t matter.” You nodded and felt better that she had the same viewpoint as you. “Who annoys you the most?”

“Excuse me?” You were shocked by the question. Sabrina laughed.

“Come on. You are the older sister; your younger siblings must annoy you.” You chuckled and leaned back on the couch. She was right. It got on your nerves when Natasha left her pointee shoes lying around. Yelena had the annoying habit of putting her dirty laundry with yours so you would do it. You smiled again.

“They both do things that get on my nerves, but I love them.”

“I love mine too,” she said. “We got these tattoos together.” She turned her arm over to show you the artwork forever marked on her skin. It was like the work of three birds on a branch.

“Did it hurt?” You questioned. “The sleeve, I mean.” She watched as you looked over your sleeve.

“The first one did,” she answered. “After so many, you get numb to the pain.” Her blue eyes were watching you closely. Missing how your body tensed at the comment was not hard for her. “Are you numb to it all? After everything you’ve been through.”

You were unsure how to answer because you weren’t numb. You felt everything. Every hand that hurt you. Every bullet and knife slash that pierced your skin. That was why you wanted it all to stop. You shook your head. “I feel it all,” you whispered. “I wish I was numb to it all.”

“It’s good that you are feeling,” she told you. It means you can still be pulled back. You can be saved. The question is,” You watched her stand up and walk over to the mini-fridge. She grabbed out a small water bottle and walked back to you. “Do you want to be saved?” she asked while handing you the bottle.

She was extending an olive branch, waiting for you to take the first step—blind trust. Like sky diving, you needed to trust that everyone did their job to ensure you would survive. You wanted to be saved because there was so much life you wanted to see. You took the water bottle. Sabrina smiled and sat back down. “Good, the ball is in your court,” she said. “Lead me in whatever direction you want.”

“I’m going for a run,” you said while you entered the common area. Yelena watched you grab water from the fridge. “I’ll be back.”

“Do you want a running partner?” Natasha asked, but you quickly shook your head.

“It will be quick,” you smiled. “Figure out what you guys want to do for dinner.” You called out before putting on your headphones and left out the side door. Yelena frowned as you left. Twice a week, you leave the compound and go on a run. You went alone every time, no matter who asked you to join. Natasha walked over to the window, and Yelena got up from the couch to join her.

“She’s hiding something,” Natasha said. Yelena nodded in agreement.

“Do you think she’s cheating on Carol?”

“God no,” Natasha shot that idea down. “I just wish she trusted enough not to have to hide.” There was no way to hide the hurt in Natasha’s voice.

“She’ll come around,” Yelena smiled. “She always does.”

“Still hiding away, I see,” you rolled your eyes. You were video chatting with Sabrina for your weekly season. Your back rested on the tree trunk while you sat on the forest floor. There was a thin layer of sweat on your forehead from your run. “Why don’t you trust them with this?”

“I do trust them,” you defended. “I just-” you trailed off. It was one of the annoying things about Sabrina. She was patient - too patient for your fucked up mind. “I don’t want to seem weak.”

“Admitting you need someone to help you through your mind does not make you weak,” she told you. “I think it makes a person very strong.” You sighed and looked past your phone to the wilderness around you. “Trust is a thread that holds relationships together,” you looked back at Sabrina. The doctor was drawing in her sketchbook. It was something she always did during your sessions. You never asked what she was drawing, and she never showed it to you. She put the sketchbook down when she saw that you were looking at her. “When it frays, even those who care the most are left powerless to help. Doubting those who care for you builds walls, not of protection, and in the end, loneliness becomes your only certainty.”

“What are you getting at Hall?” You asked. The doctor was spinning a pencil in her hand.

“You are at a standstill,” she said. “You will not continue to heal unless you trust them with this side of you. But also trust yourself.”

“I do trust myself,” she looked at you like she did not believe you. The only way to survive in this world was to trust yourself.

“To an extent, yes, you had to trust yourself because who else would you trust? But I want you to trust yourself to be vulnerable and to feel weakness. You do not have to be the strong one all the time.”

Natasha’s door was open when you knocked on it. Yelena was on her bed while they were sharpening some of their knives. “Are you going to throw one of those at me?”

“Do you deserve to have a knife thrown at you?” Natasha questioned. You shrugged.

“Depends on who you ask,” you smiled and walked into her room. You found some space on her bed and sat down. Yelena handed you a knife and a sharpening tool.

The repetitive action of sharpening a blade was calming. It was nice to spend time with them. “Do you have something on your mind, sestra?” Yelena asked. You smiled and looked over the knife. Flipping it over, you stared at your reflection.

“Sam helped me find a therapist,” you decided to rip off the band-aid. “I’ve been seeing her for a few weeks now.”

“That’s great,” Yelena said. “I’m so proud of you.” You looked down, embarrassed by the praise.

“Why did you wait this long to tell us?” Natasha asked. You sighed and, when you were done, handed the knife to Yelena.

“Million-dollar question, right?” Natasha chuckled. “I guess I didn’t want to seem weak to you guys. Hell, not even Carol knows.” You picked up another knife to begin the process again. “I trust the two of you with my life,” you began. “But I’ve learned that I don’t trust myself to be vulnerable or weak. If I’m not the strong one, then what is my role? What is my purpose.” Natasha took your hand to stop you from sharpening the knife.

“You just have to be our sister,” she said. “That’s all we want.” You smiled.

“Sometimes I wish life was kinder to us,” you admitted. “We were far too young to be subjected to the darkness.”

“We got each other out of it,” Yelena smiled.

“The best thing to come out of the Red Room,” you joked.

You stayed awake until Carol returned from space. “Jesus,” she jumped when she opened the door to her room. “You scared the shit out of me.” You giggled and stood up from her bed.

“Sorry,” you smiled and closed the distance. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, consider me surprised,” she said, wrapping one arm around your waist while closing the door with the other. She pulled you flushed to her chest. “Hi baby,” you felt the words rumble from her chest. I missed you.”

“Missed you too,” you kissed her cheek. “How was space?”

“Good,” she sighed. “Tiring, but I kicked ass and looked good while doing it.” You shook your head with a laugh.

“You always look good,” she covered her mouth as she yawned. “Come on, my captain, let’s get you to bed.” Carol shook her head.

“Shower with me first, then bed,” she kissed you softly. “I promise to behave.”

That was hard to believe, but you followed her to the bathroom. This type of intimacy and trust was new to you. Showering with someone was never slow and sweet. It was usually against your will, dirty, and fast. Carol taught you differently.

You helped Carol out of her tactical suit and kissed the new bruises that decorated her skin. While the water was warming up, she helped you out of your sleeping clothes. You stood in front of her—naked like the day you were born. It took time for you to be like this with her. The dark thoughts that invaded your mind and the scars that covered your skin made you believe you were undeserving of this soft trust.

You helped Carol out of her tactical suit and kissed the new bruises that decorated her skin. While the water was warming up, she helped you out of your sleeping clothes. You stood in front of her - naked like the day you were born. It took time for you to be like this with her. The dark thoughts that invaded your mind and the scars that covered your skin made you believe you were undeserving of this soft trust.

“Krasivyy (beautiful),” Carol mumbled. The words she knew in Russian were few, but she knew the ones that made you smile.

“No funny business,” you warned, pulling the Avenger into the water. She insisted on washing your hair first. The way her fingers massaged into your scalp made your body feel boneless. Once your hair and body were clean, you returned to the favor.

Carol hummed. “You have magic fingers, baby girl.” You chuckled and kissed her shoulder.

Once the soap washed off Carol’s body, you turned off the water and dried yourself off. You took some of Carol’s clothes to change into and climbed into bed. Instantly, Carol pulled you into her arms. Like with your sisters, you decided to rip the band-aid off. “I’m seeing a therapist,” you said. Sam found me one based in the city.” She put her finger underneath your chin and forced you to look at her.

“Do you like her?” You nodded. You liked Sabrina. She was annoying and got underneath your skin, but she forced you to face the hard parts of your psyche. “Proud of you, baby,” she kissed your forehead and hugged you tighter. Her fingers ran through your hair, bringing you closer and closer to sleep.

Carol was proud of you, as were Natasha and Yelena. It felt good to hear. “I love you,” you mumbled against Carol’s chest. The tide was all-consuming. You felt breathless and weak, but you were working on fighting the waves. You were proud of yourself, too.

#carol danvers x reader #carol danvers x you #carol danvers x y/n #yelena belova x you #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x y/n #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #yelena belova x natasha romanoff x reader

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drivestraight · 2 days ago

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BUXTON: Trolls, Extreme, and the not-silly season

may 20, 2016

Max Verstappen’s victory at the Spanish Grand Prix left me stunned – yet entirely unsurprised. I’ve been convinced of his incredible talent since we shared a racetrack in Florida two-and-a-half years ago. I have always stated I believe him to be something special, someone who was going to change the way we viewed the sport we love. But while one swallow does not a summer make, to have taken the gilt-edged opportunity of a step up to a world championship-winning team and to have won on debut is about as emphatic an exclamation mark to the doubters as one could envisage.

[...]

There is a difference between looking at numbers and watching a driver control a car. There is a difference between results and potential, talent and statistics, between emotion, opinion and cold, hard maths.

The reading of talent is something you feel, something that lies instinctively in your gut. It is a warmth of elation that rises inside you. It’s the nervousness you feel when a pretty girl looks at you. The moment you hear a song that makes your heart skip a beat. The spark inside you which ignites a flame. It is rare, but when it hits, it hits you hard. It is unmistakable and unflinching.

Raw racing talent, pure racecraft is, in itself, a type of artistry. And as art, its judging is entirely subjective and individual. It is an imperfect science because the very concept is personal. What one person sees, another might not. It’s no different to our views on art, music or literature. Wassily Kandinsky is my favorite painter, Edward Elgar and Gustav Mahler my favorite composers. The greatest movie ever committed to celluloid is “A Clockwork Orange.” Extreme, right, is the most underrated rock band in the history of the genre. The greatest album ever recorded was DJ Shadow’s “Endtroducing.” I love The Beatles and tolerate The Stones.

Max Verstappen is a once in a lifetime talent.

These are my opinions. Subjective, individual, personal reflections. Truths I hold as absolute.

Whether the quantifiable of the results Verstappen creates in his career ultimately position him in the pantheon of the all-time statistical greats is a completely different matter.

While I shy away from comparisons, many others have not. I flew back from Spain with some of the boys from Red Bull and what struck me was how immediate an impression he has made. Some told me he reminds them of Sebastian Vettel. He even gets into the car the same way. For those who’ve been around long enough and who worked with him back in the day, they’ve even said he reminds them of Michael. Not the young Michael, mind you. The champion. Helmut Marko says he’s like Senna. My dear friend Sam Posey says he’s like a combination of Stirling Moss and Alain Prost. Again, these are but opinions.

#i wish it was my job to wax poetic about max verstappen #will buxton #maxy #ref

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liveyun · 3 days ago

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tomorrow | p.jm

title. tomorrow

pairing. park jimin x fem oc (named y/n)

rating. T

genre. supernatural themes, mystery, horror, angst (?)

warnings. coarse language, reader discretion highly recommended. contains death but no gore, mild horror, english is Not my first language ™

word count. 2.6k +

The library wasn’t Jimin’s usual haunt.

In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d willingly stepped inside one. He never liked the library ; it was so downright boring. He knew there were better things to enjoy in his campus which were much better than this — but with the cold wind biting at his neck and the campus quad too noisy for his liking, he had wandered in.

It was more like a distraction than a destination.

The heavy silence pressed against his ears as he slumped into a seat by the window, his chin resting on his palm. His table was empty — no books, no notes, nothing that might suggest he had any serious intentions of studying or anything closer to that.

He tapped his pen against the wooden surface in a lazy rhythm, watching the snowfall outside.

And that’s when his eyes landed on you.

You were seated at a table in the corner, your posture straight but not stiff, your eyes scanning the pages of a worn paperback intensely. A stray lock of hair fell across your cheek, but you didn’t brush it away. Instead, you stayed perfectly still, immersed in whatever story was hidden between the pages.

Unlike most of the students who filtered in and out of the library, you didn’t seem rushed or distracted. There were no frantic flips of the page or exasperated sighs of someone cramming for an exam. Your movements were deliberate, calm — too calm, even.

Jimin frowned, leaning back in his chair. You were familiar, though he couldn’t quite place why. Maybe it was because of your bag carelessly slung over the back of your chair. A model student, maybe? Or just someone who liked their own company?

He tilted his head, studying you like a puzzle he couldn’t quite piece together. He knew your name — although he feigned ignorance for the most part. There was a quietness about you that felt out of place — not just in the library, but in life itself.

Like you were a shadow passing through the world rather than living in it.

It bothered him, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the way you didn’t fidget, didn’t glance at the clock or check your phone like everyone else did. Bothered him in such a way which had him narrowing his eyes at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Or maybe it was the faint crease in your brow, the kind that made him wonder if the story you were reading was actually that interesting.

Boredom forgotten, Jimin leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. He licked his lips, his teeth gently nibbling on the plump flesh. You fasicnated him enough to not feel himself being bored to death, so, he decided that he should try and do something which would entertain him further.

So he decides to sit just beside you.

“Aren’t you just always reading?” he grins, his voice just loud enough to carry across the quiet space.

Your eyes flicked up to meet his for the briefest moment, and something about the way they held his gaze made his breath catch. Then, without a word, you returned to your book, as if he hadn’t spoken at all.

Now that was something Jimin couldn’t ignore.

“Not even going to say hi?” he asked, leaning closer.

“Hi,” you said softly, not looking up this time.

To say Jimin was offended was an understatement. How can someone ignore Park Jimin?

That was it. He reached over and plucked the book from your hands, your lack of resistance or reaction slightly surprising him again. “What’s so special about this old thing?” The cover of the book is faded, the texture a bit rough with its corners frayed, but he doesn’t care about that.

What he cares about is riling you up.

But you just sit there, watching him with an expression so blank it’s almost mocking. “You can keep it if you want,” you say softly. “Tear it, throw it, do whatever. I don’t care.”

His eye twitched at the nonchalance of your tone. Were you doing this on purpose to piss him off?

“And why is that?”

“It’s not mine.”

Jimin blinks.

What?

“I saw you pull it out of your bag.”

Your gaze drops to your clasped hands. For a moment, you seem almost… thoughtful, as if the gears in your head are working overtime to formulate the reply.

“I took it from an accident site,” you reply.

What? except that it wasn’t just inside his head. If anyone would see him, his thoughts were visible on his face, just like how subtitles are, on the bottom of the screen.

“What?” His voice pitched and he felt his brows knit together.

You leaned back, tilting your head as if recounting a casual memory. “The person was already dead. Hit-and-run, I think. They were grasping it, so I took it.”

You say it in such a manner almost as if you are talking about the evening’s weather.

“What?” His grip tightened on the book. “You just. . . took it? Did you call anyone? Cops? Medics?”

“There were people already there,” you said with a shrug. “What was I supposed to do?”

What were you supposed to do!? Jimin stared at you, his pulse racing. “You could’ve. . . I don’t know!” Damn it. He definitely should’ve just attended the class which he felt like was important all of a sudden. There was a reason why he doesn’t ever visit libraries . “Done something instead of stealing a book from a dead person!”

You stood, brushing invisible dust off your coat. “I was planning to return it to their grave after I finished reading,” you said, your voice calm as ever. “But now it’s yours. So I guess that’s your responsibility.”

He gaped at you, his brown pupils shaking slightly. “No. No fucking way.” He held the book out as if it was some radioactive substance. Call him a lunatic, but he was already feeling it burn his hand. (Was he exaggerating? Maybe. But was he ready to accept the book for real? Fuck no.)

“I’m not keeping this!”

You smiled faintly, stepping away. “It’s already yours, Jimin.”

And then you leave, your footsteps barely audible.

Jimin found himself back in the library.

Not because he was bored. Not because he wanted to study — but because everything else was driving him nuts.

The book, Wuthering Heights, sat on Jimin’s desk back in his home like an accusation. He couldn’t bring himself to open it, no matter how hard he’d tried last night. Each time he felt his fingers itch to finally touch the book, his brain immediately imagined the lifeless hand that had clutched it last.

By nightfall, he couldn’t take it anymore. He drove to the cemetery, the book tucked under his arm, the cold slapping his skin like a belt.

Rows of graves had stretched before him, their names lost to time and shadow. He wandered between them, each step making him more impatient as he carried on. He felt like a halfwit. Who the fuck visits a cemetery to return a book? And why was he doing this?

He wasn’t scared of cemeteries by any means, but surely you don’t have balls of steel to be standing like a dumbfuck in the middle of a graveyeard at midnight without feeling anything. He didn’t even know what he was looking for — how could he?

He didn’t even know if the accident victim was buried here.

Fuck, he didn’t even know who was the victim in the first place.

He doesn’t exactly feel the most cheerful at the thought of so many lives being reduced to stones and dates.

Frustrated and uneasy, he’d left the cemetery, just wishing he’d never visited the library.

So the next day, he finds himself back in the library. He doesn’t know why — he could have just simply abandoned the book. Or just kept it under fate’s custody, because he surely 1) wasn’t a book nerd, 2) after knowing the source of the book, he definitely wasn’t interested in that book anymore.

Maybe he hopes to see you again, to demand some kind of explanation or even simply just return you the book. Only because he’s a decent human being and felt bad for leaving the book alone.

But you’re nowhere to be found.

“Shit,” Jimin muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. He slammed the book down on the nearest table, earning a sharp glare from the librarian. He waved her off with a sheepish smile but didn’t bother lowering his voice. That damn thing on the table felt like it was judging him with each step he took.

“What the hell am I even doing here?” he grumbled, flopping into a chair, truly exhausted.

”Jimin?”

He turned, or well, craned his neck up to see Namjoon standing a few feet away, an eyebrow raised in that familiar mix of confusion and mild disappointment, but he doesn’t look surprised.

Namjoon was exactly the type of a guy you would very much expect to see in a library. If he wasn’t wrong, he was a literature student with an endless supply of opinions, known for yapping on about bullshit Jimin really doesn’t care about, he was the last guy Jimin would want to run into.

Atleast, not now.

Namjoon adjusted his glasses as he glanced at Jimin.

“Did the sun rise from the west today?”

“What?”

“What is Park Jimin doing in a library?”

“Ha-ha, how funny.” Jimin shot back, rolling his eyes. “I was just, well, . . . . never mind.”

Namjoon pulled out a chair and sat across from him, his gaze flicking to the book on the table. “No seriously, what’s going on? You look, uh, kinda constipated.”

Jimin let out a frustrated sigh, leaning back in his chair. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

Jimin exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as he launched into the story. “Okay, so yesterday, I was in here, right? There was this girl. Very concentrated. She was just sitting there, reading this book.” He motioned to the paperback sitting between them on the table.

“And I thought, you know what, a conversation won’t harm anyone. But she seemed to not give a single fuck about me!” Okay, Jimin feels his cheeks slightly heating at the way he just said it.

Anyway..

“She didn’t even flinch. Just looked at me all calm and said I could keep it, tear it up, do whatever the fuck I want to.”

“Mhm,” Namjoon leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed.

“And then,” Jimin said, leaning forward as his voice dropped, making sure no one could hear them. “she tells me it’s not even hers. She said she found it, at a fucking accident scene. Like, a hit-and-run. She just took it. . . out of the dead person’s hands!”

Namjoon’s face paled, but Jimin didn’t notice. He was too busy rambling.

“And you just. . . took it?”

“I didn’t even want the damn thing!” Jimin snapped, jabbing a finger toward the table. “I don’t want my own course books. How the hell would I want a book which looks like something which was probably printed like what, centuries ago?”

“But she just dropped it on me. I thought, fine, I’ll go to the cemetery — because, apparently, that’s the only thing I could think of. But guess what? I don’t even know who it belongs to.” Jimin grits his teeth, taking in a cool breath. He cannot be losing his shit over a book.

“What was I supposed to do? Wander around like an idiot, asking no one in general if someone is missing a book?”

Uhh...

… . .

Okay.. was that too much?

Namjoon hasn’t replied. For someone who has a say in everything and anything, it feels strangely quiet to see the taller guy being absolutely quiet, and even a bit. . . pale.

“Joon?” Jimin frowned. “You look like you just got your balls kicked.”

Namjoon’s hand trembled as he reached for the book, but he didn’t pick it up. His voice was barely above a whisper, his pupils shaking woldly.

“Jimin... This book. Are you sure she gave it to you?”

Jimin throws a nasty glare his way, frustrated. “I’m fucking sure. She was right there.” He pointed to the seat by the window, almost as if pointing that way would have you sitting there once again. “Oversized sweater, baggy jeans, muddy boots. What the fuck do you mean?”

Namjoon swallowed hard, his eyes darting between Jimin and the book. Finally, he stood up, grabbing Jimin by the shoulders. His voice dropped low, steady but trembling at the edges.

“Jimin, listen to me. Do you remember when our lectures got canceled last month?”

“What?” Jimin blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in topic. “I don’t even remember what I had for dinner last night. How the fuck wouldd I remember about lectures?” Jimin scowled. “What does that even have to do with the current topic?”

“They were canceled because of her,” Namjoon said, his grip tightening.

“Y/N. She died in a hit-and-run.”

“What?”

“A car hit her right outside campus and left her to die.”

Jimin shook his head, stepping back, an unamused laugh escaping his throat. “That’s not, ha, hah — she was here yesterday, Namjoon. And I talked to her.”

Namjoon’s voice cracked, but he pushed forward, firmly gripping Jimin’s shoulders. “I saw her, Jimin. I was there. She was lying in the street, and — and she was holding that exact book.”

“I remember it because we checked it out from the library together. But when the paramedics came, the book was gone.”

Jimin froze, his gaze blurring. No fucking way in hell. His heart pounded as his mind scrambled to process what Namjoon was saying.

“No.” His voice was barely a whisper. “That just doesn’t make sense. Stop fucking with me.”

Namjoon’s expression was grim, his voice low and firm. “You didn’t talk to her, Jimin. She’s gone. She’s been gone.”

“Okay, what the actual fuck are you saying?” Jimin snapped, his heart racing now. “She was literally sitting here yesterday. Like, I swear on everything, she was here. I talked to her.”

Namjoon’s face morphs into a look of pure defeat, his grip loosening on his shoulders.

“And I saw her die.”

Jimin felt the bile rise up to his stomach. “Bro,” he whispered, his voice shaky. The room felt like it was spinning, and he was being forced down to stand with his wobbly limbs.

“What the fuck is going on?”

Just open it. It’s just a book.

The lamp’s light flickered as Jimin sat at his desk, hyper aware of everything around him — even the faint ticking of his table clock. He flexed his fingers, trying to shake off the nerves, but his palms were clammy, and the tremor in his hands wouldn’t stop.

He exhaled sharply, trying to steady himself. “It’s just a book,” he muttered, but it was something he himself couldn’t believe.

The room felt unnaturally quiet as his fingers brushed the cover.

The rough texture sent a chill skittering up his spine. Never ever even in his wildest dreams had he even thought that opening a book would make him shit his pants, but here he was. Slowly, he peeled it open, the spine creaking softly in the stillness.

The words were there, faint but deliberate, etched on the first page in a beautiful cursive drawl.

Return it to me.

He blinked, his mind scrambling for logic, for reason, but then his gaze dropped lower. There, written in neat, bold letters, was a date.

It wasn’t yesterday’s. It wasn’t today’s either.

It was tomorrow.

a/n : poor mimi 😔 if you enjoyed reading this, let me know what you think 💬 here’s the anon feedback box for you :-)

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crisiscutie · 2 days ago

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The reunion at hand may bring us joy. Pt 1

Pairing: "Fluffy" Sephiroth/Pregnant Darling

A wee distant prequel in the alternate Domestic AU, back when Darling was still on the run from Yandere Sephiroth with the boys.

You gently touched your slightly swollen belly, shaking your head as you looked at yourself in the bathroom mirror. There was no denying it now - you were pregnant with your fourth child. This revelation shouldn't have come as a surprise. Something had to result out of those nightly passionate sessions you had with Sephiroth months ago.

Yet with the familiar symptoms and signs, you had acted like nothing was different since you and the boys went on the run. Now that your baby bump had begun to form, ignoring your greatest worry was no longer an option. You covered your eyes and let out a soft sob as you anxiously deliberated your next steps.

You could should be able to handle this one. After all, ten years ago, you had been pregnant with triplets. One more child in the picture was no problem.

But you couldn't even bring yourself to explain to your precious boys why you all had to leave that fateful day. The horrifying atrocities and the true monster their father had become were things they shouldn't and couldn't comprehend. So how the hell could you explain to them that you're pregnant while being on a special mother-sons expedition, celebrating your degradation mysteriously curing itself? The boys were already concerned when you had bouts of morning sickness, but you diverted their attention by promising to take them to the Gold Saucer, since they had begged to visit while you guys were traveling through Corel. They're smart like Sephiroth, though. You won't be able to hide this from them for long. Maybe you could tell them at the Gold Saucer during a quiet moment? You pulled your wool sweater down and slipped your black jacket on for even more cover. It's bad enough being an ex-SOLDIER on the run with three kids. No need to make it obvious that you're a pregnant ex-SOLDIER on the run with three kids.

When you were about to leave the restroom, you heard a groan of distress from behind. You turned around and came face to face with a woman dressed in tattered black robes. She looked to be on the edge of death. Her lifeless, baggy eyes, sickly complexion, and brittle hair nearly sent you into a panic. She reminded you far too much of yourself when you were afflicted with degradation. She stumbled towards you, losing her balance. You immediately reached out and caught her, allowing her to rest her head on your shoulder.

"Miss... are you okay?" you whispered. You couldn't resist the instinctive desire to hold her tightly, as if she were a precious jewel that needed safeguarding. Maybe it was just your natural empathy and decency for a fellow human. Or it's just your pathetic projection.

You tried to support her upright, but in a swift second, the woman summoned all her strength to push you against the bathroom wall, her small form transforming into the towering visage of your dear husband, Sephiroth.

In a slow, robotic movement, he lifted his head from your shoulder. His fuming, slit pupils locked with yours, devoid of the soft, almost-catlike gaze he once wore. Instead, there was only the stare of a snake watching its prey.

He cupped your chin. "You dare to run away? With my children? After all I've done for you. For them," he hissed. You couldn't respond. Were you already beginning to lose your mind? How did he know your location? How is here? As he caught the flicker of fear and shock in your eyes, his slit pupils constricted. Following this, he sneered and slid his gloved hand down your body, opening the jacket and lifting the wool sweater to expose your slightly swollen belly.

"I will reclaim what's mine," he declared, his gloved hand resting on your belly. These were his final words before the robbed woman retook her place. She groaned in your ear once again. A nurse burst into the room and quickly approached the two of you. She pulled the robbed woman away from you.

"Excuse her. She's not feeling well because of the mako poisoning!" the nurse hastily explained to you, shortly lecturing the robbed woman afterwards. You stifled a gasp at them before fast walking out of the restroom. Your gaze darted up and down the streets, clutching your bag close to you.

Fuck. Fuck. The boys. Where are they!? You all can't afford to stick around much longer. But you don't see them anywhere! They should've been here, waiting outside of the bathroom as you ordered. Your panic increased tenfold when you rushed down the dusty road, seeing the bodies of dead Shinra grunts scattered about. You forced your head to keep looking forward, not even noticing the black feathers on some bodies.

Time passed slowly until you found a platform with a gondola, hoping your boys were near since you quietly searched everywhere else. You then heard the familiar whisper of Kadaj calling out to you from behind.

"Mother, we're over here!" He said. They were hiding in small bins, with a white lid over their heads nearby an abandoned clinc.

"What happened?" You asked.

"We don't know... Those men were running after us, so we hid in these bins when they lost sight of us," Yazoo explained. The three came out, their hair and clothing a bit rustled, but no signs of physical injury. But their eyes said it all. They were shaken. Afraid. All supposedly under your watch. Poor Loz was crying silently, keeping his hand over his mouth to keep quiet. You ruffled his hair, giving him an apologetic gaze.

The three hugged boys hugged you tightly, afraid to let you go. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't left you three alone..." You said. Kadaj lifted his head, about to say something before the sight of your uncovered pregnant belly caught his attention. The other two followed after, their fearful gaze turning into utter confusion and curiosity.

Shit. Of course you didn't bother to fix yourself up after that bathroom encounter with Sephiroth. "Boys... I-"

"They can't be far! Split up and search the alleys!" a voice from a distance ranged out, with a tone you recognized to certainly belong to a grunt captain. With quick thinking, you ushered the boys into the nearby gondola and closed the door.

"We'll discuss this later. Just stay quiet for Mother please..." you uttered, maneuvering to the controls. Your sweet triplet boys nodded, immediately sitting down and observing you silently. Thank the planet that they knew when to get serious and follow directions. But alas, mayhap this be evidence of them growing up too fast. Any other child at their age would still be shaken, frantically asking questions, begging for assurance. Just how much more horrors did they witness in your absence?

You slapped the control panel in frustration, which seemed to make it work. The gondola creaked and drifted along the cable lines. You peeked out of the tinted window, seeing more Shinra troops scouting the streets. Thankfully, no one seemed focused on the gondola. You sighed in relief and wiped your forehead as you sat down, sitting opposite of the triplets.

They were still staring at you, their intense catlike pupils constricting as the silence persisted. It was too difficult for you to not think of Sephiroth at this moment. This peculiar aura was all too familiar. Each one was so so similar to him, in each and every way.

Your lips curved into a forced grin, as you leaned forward, talking in your light tone.

"You know, this itinerary of Corel told me about a very special attraction nearby." The boys broke out of their peculiar observant trance, their slit pupils now dilating in anticipation as they leaned forward themselves, meeting you with excitement.

"I-Is it the gold saucer?" Loz asked. You nodded.

"Mhmm!" I was thinking, 'Maybe we could go there sooner.' What do you boys think?" The boys collectively hollered in excitement, littering you in gratitude and requests to go to a specific attention first. You chuckled, sitting back and watching them argue with each other about who gets to where first. Good thing you got them focused on something else for now.

Though your amusement ended quickly when you spotted a black feather stuck in the window's crevice, reminding you of your duty...

Oh, why can't something be easy for once?

#sephiroth #ff7 sephiroth #final fantasy 7 #crisis cutie #ff7 #sephiroth x reader #yandere sephiroth #Sephiroth's christmas kids au #remnants of sephiroth #tw: emotional abuse #tw: pregnancy #final fantasy x reader #female reader #reader insert #yandere x reader #x reader #reader x character #pregnant reader #tw: yandere

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silaslich · 2 days ago

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Here’s some unabashed roommate!Johnny fluff for the anniversary of his death - can this get any more macabre? I think not

Truth be told, Johnny was a piss poor patient. Unable to sit still for more then five minutes before he was skirting around the house looking for something to do.

To make matters even worse- you were stuck at home with him, the whole team happened to be on leave at the same time (that in itself was rare).

A few weeks of respite might have seemed like a good idea, but cleaning up the trail of destruction left in Soap’s warpath was not how you wanted to pass the time.

He was frustrated and that was understandable, you’d all been there. Angry and sour because you can’t wipe your own arse or brush your teeth without it hurting or being a mass struggle. He’s your best mate, and you hated watching him trudge around the house with heavy bags under his eyes and a limp in his step.

You’d made him as comfortable as possible; had cooked and cleaned and bought him some Lego to build with some help from yourself. Despite how fucking irritating he was, seeing him quiet and reserved wasn’t the Soap you knew, you hated it more then you hated his early morning alarms or ridiculous jokes.

Those feelings of empathy were quickly snuffed out however, he was soon fighting fit again, back to the usual programming. His footsteps echoing through the house with a new found spring in them. He was back to moving the furniture every other day because he didn’t like the layout, back to making messes and leaving them there. Part of you was relieved but the bigger and more irritated part of you wanted to put him back in the hospital.

“Johnny, please would you just behave for five minutes” it was well and truly safe to say that you were not having kids, Soap had put you off a long time ago. Parenting him was a full time job on top of the military at this point.

He rounded the dining table with fire in his eyes and a smirk slanting his mouth, his stance was low, ready to pounce. You on the other hand were on the opposite side, running from the 6’2 Scotsman with a knowing worry folding your brow.

“Come off it, bonnie” he grinned “I just wanna show you somethin’” that something, was a spider in his hand.

You weren’t particularly scared of them, not by a long shot, had seen and done unspeakable things. A little bug didn’t frighten you, but John Mactavish did.

You’d watched him swallow a slug on a night out a few years back, knocked it back with a can of hooch for good measure. How he didn’t get sick you don’t know, didn’t care, you just knew that you wouldn’t let him forget it till the day he died.

When it came to Johnny and creepy crawlys, you wanted nothing to do with it.

“John” you caught his attention and his smile fell, if only slightly, gaging your reaction as he stepped slowly around the table, following your retreat.

“I’m warning you, John, I swear to fuck if you don’t put that thing outside I’m going to throttle you into next week” there was no weight to your tone, despite how hard you tried, it made him laugh.

Just when Soap saw the golden opportunity to leap across the table, both of your attentions were snapped away, sucked out of the open window where a figure now stood.

“Gazza!” Soap practically bolted it out the door, and you didn’t fail to notice that when he opened his curled fist- there was in fact no spider at all. Prick.

Kyle was early and you’d never been more grateful to see a friendly face, well, a more welcome friendly face. John was wearing thin at this rate, he’d be off the mortgage by the end of the week if he wasn’t careful.

You’d invited everyone to come to your place for the night. No special reason in particular, a night in with a takeaway and enough booze to down a horse, maybe watching a film or catching up on what everyone had been getting up to.

Price had politely declined, to nobody’s surprise, he was too old to be mucking about. You were all surprised however, that Ghost had accepted, un-begrudgingly at that too.

By the time Simon arrives, Soap has already dug out his old wii console. He and Gaz are both a few beers deep and are playing wii sports while you watch from the sidelines, nursing a gin and lemonade and already guessing what Soap will break first - it’ll be the telly or Gaz’s nose.

A knock resounds at the door and you’re the only one that notices, with a grunt and a ‘fuck the two of you then’ you’re heading toward the source of the sound. Ghost isn’t at the door, Simon is, mask gone and face bare. It’s becoming a reoccurring thing, seeing his face, out here in the civilian world no one knows him, no one will piece together who or what he is, so he doesn’t need to hide.

You step aside and allow him in, he follows you to the kitchen and throws up his hand when the other two finally acknowledge him and screech their greeting through a game of tennis that is getting a little too much of a contact sport so far, you’re living room isn’t big enough for those two knobheads to start scrapping over scores.

Simon is more timid out of uniform, he’s quieter, he’s no longer a lieutenant. He’s just Simon. He revels in the quiet, you know things like this drain his social battery quick, so you’ll keep him away from too much of the loud noises and fast movements for now. It’s a pity for everyone when he gets too overstimulated and has to take his leave. So you’ve all learnt his little quirks and warning signs, it’s better to take it slow and ease him into the socialising gently.

That goes without saying; once Simon is a beer and two gins deep, it’s a different kettle of fish. Because it is in fact Simon Riley that breaks Gaz’s nose with his wii controller.

All four of you sit in a&e, drunk, causing a disturbance and ultimately earning a hot girls phone number, you all decided you’ll play a round of cards when you get home to decide who gets to keep the number.

#COME HOME JOHNNY I KNOW YOURE NOT DEAD #call of duty #lichwrites #john soap mactavish #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap x reader #call of duty soap #soap #soap call of duty #soap cod #soap mw2 #soap mactavish #soap x reader

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lizz-crimson · 2 days ago

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The Gala (Doomfist X Female! Reader)

Ahhhh! I've been working on this one for a while! Doomfist lovers come get yall juice!

Summary: After returning a stolen file to Doomfist, your boss has an extra special mission for you.

Tags/Warnings: [SFW, Female Reader, (Name) used instead of (Y/n), Doom is a bit of a tease, very gentleman, very polite, a lil jealous.]

Words: 5200+

A silence sat in the meeting room. Doomfist's hands pressed on the table as he leaned on it, glaring at his comrades. Reaper turned his head to the side, Sombra gave a side-eye to Moira, and Widowmaker didn't react at all as usual. Moira, however, stared right back at Doomfist, though her gaze wasn't nearly as piercing.

Akande inhaled through his nose, making it wrinkle like an angry lion. "So, where is it?" His chest fell harshly as he breathed out, his tone dangerous. "Where. Is. The file." He emphasized. Sombra's eyes flicked to Moira. She couldn't contain her curiosity. Moira was usually so organized.

"It's gone," Moira said factually.

"Gone where?" Doomfist shifted to lean more on the table, his glare intensifying.

"Am I to magically discern where all my stolen files go?" Moira asked.

"No," Akande said sharply. Then there was a pause. "You're to make sure all files remain hidden. Secret. Locked up." The steel table dented as he gradually added more weight to his hands. "You are the one responsible if something goes missing," he growled. Moira's own nose curled, and she immediately retorted.

"I'll have you know, Akande, that it was Sombra who was in charge of that particular sector at the time. Not I."

Sombra gaped. "What? You're trying to pin this on me?"

"I'm not trying; it's a simple fact," Moira replied. Sombra groaned and gestured to Reaper.

"It was Reaper who was by the server room during the attack!"

Reaper stood, his chair falling to the floor as he loomed over Sombra. "Shove that finger in my face again and see what happens," he threatened.

A slam of Akande's gauntlet was enough to shut everyone up and gain attention back to him. The poor table now bore a mighty dent in on itself.

"Enough! If you all weren't vital to Talon, I'd make sure you--"

A sudden round of knocking on the meeting room doors made everyone turn their heads. Nobody else was told to come join the meeting. Could there be another attack? There were no alarms going off.

Akande flumped back in his chair with a huff. He rubbed his eyes and gestured for Sombra to go see. The hacker gave an annoyed look but didn't complain. She went on over to the large double doors and opened them up.

You, one of the middle-tier Talon soldiers, stood on the other side. Your cheek bore a sizable bruise, and your gear was messy and damaged all over. In your hand was a cracked datapad.

"Hello," you said politely, but tiredly, not even aware of the uproar that had been going on moments before. You held out the datapad to Sombra with both hands. The last thing you wanted to do was damage the thing further. "Um, one of the agents from the attack made off with this, and Miss O'deorain wasn't in her lab, so I figured I should bring it on up here," you explained quickly. You weren't supposed to be here, and you knew it.

Sombra snatched the datapad out of your hands and then began furiously tapping away on it. She sighed after a few seconds. Nothing had been breached. Thank God.

"Hey, Doomfist!" Sombra turned from you, wiggling the datapad in the air. "(Name) got our file back! Say thank you!"

Doomfist pushed himself out of his chair and lumbered over, snatching the datapad from Sombra's hand.

"Ay, watch the gauntlet!" she hissed, rubbing her wrist. Akande brushed her off and then took a look through the datapad himself. He hummed. Not a satisfied hum, nor a frustrated hum. Just a deep rumble of his chest.

He lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours as he handed the pad back to Sombra.

"Did you look in the file?" he asked.

"No, sir," you answered curtly and honestly.

"Did the one who stole it get away?"

"Uh, yes, unfortunately." The sting of your bruise was still very much present.

Your boss's gaze was always so intense. And long. And solely on you. Not a group of operatives. Just you.

Akande nodded, seemingly believing you and mercifully speaking up.

"Thank you. You are dismissed."

He shut the doors on you without giving you the chance to say, 'Yes, sir.'.

Working for Talon wasn't completely stressful. You actually had a lot of downtime to do as you pleased when you weren't on duty. Of course, you were required to live on base, so you were always ready for potential attacks like earlier. Which is exactly how you ended up getting into a brawl with some sneak thief agent. The bruise ached, but you were just glad they hadn't gotten away with it.

The day stretched on, and when your shift ended, you went straight to your dorm and flopped into bed, still in your damaged uniform and with a hastily applied bandage on your cheek. The other bed in the room was vacant. Your roommate had been caught trying to defect, and, well… you no longer had to trip over her shoes in the mornings. The bed was now where you piled your snacks.

Speaking of, you went ahead and grabbed some mini Oreos and continued to laze about. Just as you got comfortable and relaxed, a round of knocking sounded. You stood and approached the door with a quiet sigh. "Coming." When you opened it, you nearly choked on your snack.

Widowmaker stood on the other side, looking unimpressed as always.

Was this it? Were mini Oreos to be your final meal? Why didn't you grab the regular-sized ones under the mattress?

It took a good few seconds to notice the lack of bullet in your cranium. Windowmaker didn't even have her gun on her. Your feet shuffled, and you cleared your throat.

"Uh," you stuttered. "Can I--?"

"Doomfist wants to see you," she said in a flat tone. "Now." The added use of 'now' made you shudder.

"Right," you replied. You threw your shoes back on, and Widowmaker made way for you as you passed her without another word.

You had always been slightly afraid of elevators. You couldn't shake the thought of one of them malfunctioning in a plethora of different ways. It was rare it happened nowadays, but you assumed Rick the elevator guy was hired for a reason. Your hands formed fists over and over at your side until the elevator came to a slow stop at the top floor. A breath of relief left you as soon as the doors mercifully slid open.

Okay, now for the second, and arguably more prominent issue.

Akande's office was no more than two steps outside of the elevator. To get it over with, you knocked despite your uneasiness. Two run-ins with the boss in one day? Clearly luck had decided to pick on you specifically.

You flinched as the doors slid open, and Akande's voice sounded out.

"You got here fast. Come in," he said. He was sat at his desk at the far side of the room, typing something into another data pad. The curtain wall behind him had a view of the city anyone would kill for, and the rest of the office looked more like a real living space than a place of business. As you came in, the doors closed behind you, and he gestured to another chair in front of his desk. "Have a seat."

You sat.

Were you supposed to talk now? You weren't really sure, and you didn't want to take the risk either.

"(Name)," he said, breaking you out of your nerves. He put down the datapad, giving you his full attention. "I know it's a sudden call, but I wanted to go over today's breach and the agent you failed to catch."

Oh, dear.

You stuttered. "I promise I tried my—"

"Do not panic. You're not in trouble," he said.

"I'm not?"

"No. Reaper dealt with your quarry after the meeting earlier. I only have a few questions."

That was a relief, but you couldn't help but feel like Akande was being unusually calm about this. You failed to catch a thief but were able to recover a stolen file. He said you weren't in trouble, yet he'd called you to his office for more questions? Sombra could easily roll back the security feed, corrupted or not, and get answers if he had any doubt about her honesty.

A snort. "You are thinking pretty hard. Didn't I just say you weren't in trouble?" he asked.

"Oh, uh," you stuttered and adjusted yourself in your seat. "You did, yeah."

He chuckled and stood from his seat. "Calm down. This is an invitation, not an interrogation." He went to stand before the curtain wall, hands behind his back. "Are you aware of the Vishkar event going on this Friday?" he asked.

"You mean that gala?"

He turned his head, pleased. "Yes, that one. They have one once a year, and this time it's being thrown there." He pointed to a tall building outside. It wasn't far off, and the Vishkar logo flickered to life as the evening sun set in. "As you know, that building is home to many experimental designs. One's Talon would greatly benefit from. At first I was going to send Sombra during the festivities, but I received an invite to the gala itself."

That made sense. Akande wasn't someone you'd want to make an enemy out of. Holding a gala and not inviting him to it, all the while holding beneficial technologies, experimental or not, was not a good idea.

"But this invite has a certain requirement." He turned his body fully to face you. "A plus one."

Oh.

"Oh."

"So here's my proposition," he started, walking around his desk to you. "You and I will attend the gala, mingle, find someone to plant false evidence onto, then leave. Sombra and Reaper will have been in and out by that time, and no blame can be placed on our organization."

It didn't really sound like he was asking, but he didn't sound forceful about it either. That tone of a dangerous leader he always carried was gone. Now he was just a man. A big and intimidating one, but a man nonetheless.

One who'd especially look nice in a suit, too.

"I accept," you said.

"Fantastic. Here." He suddenly handed you a card. "This should hold more than enough funds to ready yourself for the event. If you want my personal recommendation, the boutique near the port has many fine dresses and accessories to suit a plethora of tastes." He circled back around his desk and sat down again. He took the datapad once more and began typing something down. "I'll have transport arranged in an hour. You should also stop by the medical bay to have Moira fix up that bruise of yours. No need for a scandal at the party, yes?"

"Uh, right—" You cleared your throat. "Yes, sir."

He smiled. "Good." He leaned back a bit, his eyes returning to the datapad. "Now, I have other work to attend to. I shall pick you up at eight on Friday."

You stood, excusing yourself. For once, you were thankful for the privacy of the elevator. Your ears burned like the sun, and the shiny interior reflected your bright red face right back at you. You were going to a gala. With Doomfist. And you were actually looking forward to it. Why did he pick you? Was it because you let the thief get away? No, no, he'd already said you weren't in trouble. Ugh.

You'd covered your face with Doomfist's card from the imaginary audience at this point. The damn thing was a black card, of course. Shiny. Few fingerprints. It was likely new. You made a mental note to give it back to him as soon as you could. Who knows how much money it held?

Enough for a dress at that extremely expensive boutique by the port, plus accessories.

Yeah, you really needed to give this back to him.

The elevator door opened, and you pushed the card into your pocket for the time being. You nearly bumped into Rick the elevator guy as you stepped out.

"Whoa, sorry, Rick!" you apologized.

"No worries. You should probably steer clear of the elevators for the time being, though. The one on the west wing fell from the fourth floor," he replied casually.

You exhaled. "Oh…"

What kind of person forgets their own favorite color?

You, apparently. As soon as you walked into the boutique you were met with all manner of gorgeous dresses in all colors and styles. You were hoping it would be a quick trip, but no. Doomfist needed to send you to the best damn place in the city. How dare he.

Your attention was caught by a sparkling necklace in a display case nearby. The chain was thin, like most necklaces, and the bale held a pendant in the shape of a bird. The iridescent shine of the piece reminded you of a starling's feathers.

At least this choice wasn't hard.

The dress was still giving you a headache, though. You swore you'd been looking for over an hour. You don't recall ever spending so much time picking out clothes in your life. Let a alone a dress. You hadn't worn one in years now. You never had a reason. Sure as hell did now.

You let out a frustrated huff and put another dress back on the rack.

"Awe, having trouble, amiga?"

"Jesus!" You whip around and see Sombra on the other side of the clothes rack, smirking over at you. "Sombra?"

She chuckled. "Hola."

"What are you doing here?" you asked, still trying to calm your heart.

"Just browsing. This place has a good selection. I'll definitely sneak back in after closing to collect."

"Mm. Well, at least you found something. I can't choose a dress for the life of me."

Sombra tsk'd. "C'mon, Doomfist isn't picky."

You felt your ears burn up again. "I'm—I'm not worried about that; I just. Well, there's a lot of options, so…"

"Well then, what's your favorite color?"

"…I forgot."

"Ha! And you're sure you're not worried about Doomfist's opinion?"

You didn't respond that time.

"Ay, don't worry about it. Just go to the VIP selection. I hear the good stuff's in there."

There was indeed a whole other section of the store. It was closed off; the walls were pitch black, and they even had an employee at the front to check before letting people inside.

You look yourself over. Jeans, a t-shirt, a bruise you should really get looked at. You didn't match the usual description for a rich person. Hell, people had been giving you the side-eye since you walked into the boutique.

Sombra rolled her eyes. "The card."

"The card…? Oh!"

You pulled out Doomfist's card from your wallet.

"That's your ticket," Sombra said. "Now, go. I need to copy these serial numbers."

You've never gotten a dirtier look than the one you got from the entry clerk at the entrance to the VIP selection. Let's just say the disgusted-looking-up-and-down expression wasn't exclusive to movies. It was gone as soon as it came, and the clerk interlocked her fingers and put on her best customer service smile.

"Hello, how can I help you?"

"Hi, um," you handed her the card. "This'll get me in, right?"

The woman looked taken aback. She took the card, scanned it, then went wide-eyed at her screen. She quickly handed the card back to you and nodded. "Why, yes, of course. Hehe, go on in."

"Thanks."

"No issue, ma'am, and if you need anything, just holler."

"Will do."

You won't. Kiss ass.

So, time for round two of dress-hunting. You swear, how many outfits could they pack into one place?

You stopped in your tracks. Looking up at a pristine display case, a dress more gorgeous than any other. The neckline was low, but not too low, and still left plenty of room for the necklace you picked out. Sleeveless. The skirt was long but wasn't meant to touch the floor and had a slit to show off one leg. The best part: it was the perfect color!

"See something you like, ma'am?" another clerk walking about asked.

"Yes," you replied in a snap.

Friday arrived a bit too soon for your taste. You took the last couple of days learning to walk in heels again. How Widowmaker did it all the time was beyond you, but you got it down in time. Your hair was fixed up, your nails painted, bruise gone, and your makeup done. The dress was a perfect fit, and the necklace around your neck was the cherry on top. You knew you shouldn't worry about it too much, but damn, you hoped Doomfist liked it.

Your phone buzzed, and you swiped it up. Just as you feared, it was time to go. Taking a breath, you put your phone and other things inside your purse and headed out. You were meant to brief with Doomfist, Sombra, and Reaper first. So you headed to the meeting room from before. Along the way, getting many a compliment from other agents. Though they were definitely confused on why you were dressed like that in the first place.

You knocked on the meeting room doors again, being immediately buzzed in. Sombra was again the one to open the doors, and you blushed as you saw that smirk of hers form on her face. She was definitely going to make a fuss, and it began when she stepped out and guided you inside by the shoulders. "The guest of honor is here!" she announced. Reaper stood just in front of you two, blocking your view of Doomfist. "Move it." Sombra shoved him and pushed you forward as he growled.

Now, you stood in front of Doomfist. And he looked nice. A white suit. White. It was perfect for him.

You looked at the wall. You swore you heard Reaper snort.

"You two are dismissed," Doomfist said to Sombra and Reaper. "Remember the plan. Don't get sidetracked."

"Got it, boss," Sombra saluted.

Reaper grunted. The both of them left, leaving you and your very nicely dressed boss alone.

It took a moment, but you finally built up the courage to look at him again.

"You look--"

Ah, you'd cut each other off. A chuckle left the both of you. Doomfist gestured to you.

"You first," he said.

"Ah, um, you…" You took a breath. "You look really nice."

"Me? Have you seen yourself?" he asked, looking you up and down. "You are absolutely breathtaking."

"Thank you," you replied. Damn it all. Your ears were going to burn off at this rate. "And I appreciate you choosing me for this mission, Doomfist. Er—is Akande all right?"

He chuckled and held out his arm for you. "Akande is fine. Always fine."

You allowed your heart a moment before you linked your arm with his.

"Now, come. The car is waiting outside."

Akande led you through the back halls of the base. No more ogling eyes from other agents. The sun was setting by the time you stepped outside. Waiting for the two of you was a long black car. A limousine.

Akande opened the door for you. "Ladies first," he said. You climbed in, and he right after you. "Diver."

All it took was a word, and the car was off.

"You picked the perfect color for yourself," he said.

"Oh, thank you. There were a lot of options there," you replied, fiddling with the necklace you bought. Akande's eyes landed on it.

"Let me see that." He leaned over and gently took the starling pendant in his hand, examining it. He hummed, and you could feel his breath hit your chest. His smile shifted to more of a smirk as he looked back up at you. "Who told you I was fond of starlings?"

You swallowed. "Nobody. I just got lucky."

"Well, luck is certainly fond of you, isn't he?" He said, leaning back. "I hope I don't have competition."

A chuckle left you. "Are you saying you'd fight a concept over me?"

"Any man would," he replied.

As the car neared the Vishkar building, Akande pulled something out of a bag on the floorboard. A bag that matched the color of your dress.

"And this is for you."

"Wow, it's gorgeous," you said as you took it. "I hope it didn't set you back much."

A more boisterous laugh left him this time. Your face went red again. How'd you forget how loaded the man was already?

"Never mind," you pouted. In efforts to save your embarrassment, you changed the subject. "So, about the mission…"

"Yes, yes," he calmed. "There is a USB in your new bag. Once I find someone to plant it on, I'll tell you."

The car came to a stop outside of the entrance to the Vishakr building.

"For now, we enjoy ourselves," he said.

Stepping out of the car, cameras flash, taking pictures of you and Akande. You ignored them, a bit too preoccupied with linking your arm with his again. The suit may have covered his muscular frame, but you damn sure could feel them.

And you were glad for it. Once you got inside the building itself, you and Akande were headed straight for an elevator. A godforsaken elevator. Your arm held his tighter as you two stepped inside, and he took notice.

"Not a fan?"

You squeezed your eyes shut. "No."

He held your arm a bit tighter and brought you closer. "Do not worry. I've got you."

"Appreciated."

After what felt like an eternity, the elevator stopped on the top floor. The doors opened, and you breathed a sigh of utter relief, opening your eyes again.

"See, you survived," Akande said, leading you out.

"I did," you nodded.

He led you through the room. The place was full of people you'd seen on the news for their achievements and ambitions. Vishkar didn't spare an invite for anyone. It made planting evidence harder. With so many eyes around, anyone could see her. And it wasn't like she was dressed subtly.

But Akande didn't seem concerned with that right now. He led you to a table, pulling out your chair and letting you sit down. A waiter brought over a couple drinks and menus, then left you two to think on your orders.

"Anything catch your eye, Starling?"

"Mmm, I'm stuck between the steak or the lobster," you replied. It took another few seconds to register the new nickname. "Wait, what did you call me?"

"You heard me," he gave a lopsided smile.

You quickly covered your face with the menu. You never expected your boss to be a tease.

"I'm leaning toward the steak as well. Shall we try it together?"

You peeked over your menu, burning ears just in view. "Sure."

"And I'll be sure to get you some ice cream for dessert," he chuckled. Oh, this man was awful.

Yet every moment was enjoyed. You don't think you ever smiled this much at a dinner date. Akande, while normally your scary, ruthless boss, was nothing short of a gentleman. He asked you questions, and he answered your own. You left to go to the bathroom; he'd watch over your drink. Not that anyone would dare try to mess with you or him, but there's no reason to not be cautious.

After dinner, the main event of the gala began, with scientists and entrepreneurs coming onto the stage in front to announce their projects and products. Most were unimpressive, just new ways of documenting information and simple construction projects. It made you wonder what types of experimental designs Akande was so interested in in the first place.

The next person took the stage. A man in business attire and holding probably the snobbiest smirk you'd ever seen. You couldn't help but curl your nose in slight disgust when he spoke so highly of his new 'Carry-Coin' project.

"Mm," you grunted.

"You don't seem fond of that one," Akande said.

"I'm… not," you admitted.

"Good," he replied. "Because he is our man."

You smiled at that one, and Akande chuckled.

Finally the man's announcements came to a close, and he was given minimal praise from the rest of the guests. The lights remained dim, and music began to play. While other guests took to the floor, you and Akande remained seated. Waiting.

"You clumsy fuck!"

Your head whipped to the side. There the snob was, yelling at a poor waitress who'd tripped and spilled wine on his suit. He was rending into the poor girl, and anger welled in your chest.

"That's your cue," Akande whispered low into your ear. It didn't exactly calm you.

So, with reddened ears, you got up, new bag on your shoulder, and approached the two.

"Goodness, you're a mess," gasped as you stepped up.

The man growled. "Yeah, and you can blame that one." He pointed his thumb to the waitress.

You waved your hands dismissively.

"Ah, leave her be. Nothing some wet wipes can't fix up," you said. You nodded at the waitress, who scurried off right away.

The man pouted. You pulled out some wipes and took his sleeve. "Now, what's that face for? Lighten up." You smiled up at him. His own face reddened.

"Oh… fine. You're persuasive, lady."

"I'm not the only one. Your speech was impressive."

The man raised his head up high. "Wasn't it? I'm sure to make millions within the quarter, hehe." He looked down at you and smirked. "And you're more than welcome to it all, doll face."

Your nose twitched. It had never been harder not to punch someone.

"Oh, some wine got on your back, too. Here…" You went behind him, rubbing his shoulder and pulling the USB out of your bag with your other hand. You dropped it into his coat pocket. You could see Akande from where you were, and you nodded. You couldn't help but notice his gaze was a bit harder, though.

"There ya go," you said, tossing the wipes into a trashcan nearby.

"Thank you, doll face. You've saved my night."

He looked out onto the dance floor.

"Though a dance would certainly make it better…"

Before you could decline yourself, a big hand found its place on your waist. You looked up, slightly startled. Akande glared over your shoulder.

"Sorry," he spoke, his voice low and clearly not sorry. Dangerous. Like the boss you knew. "But she's already taken."

The man all but disappeared, shrinking into himself and shuffling off quickly. Akande's hand slipped from your waist, and you turned to look up at him. His eyes were still locked ahead.

"You, uh, really wanted to scare him off, huh?" you asked, trying to lighten him up.

"Yes," he replied.

Well, that didn't work.

It was your turn to look out at the dance floor, where people danced to a high-energy beat.

"Fair warning, I haven't danced in years, but…" you trailed, but still left your meaning clear.

He followed your gaze, and his face relaxed. "Don't worry," he said, taking your waist again. "I'm here, and I'm an excellent teacher."

There we go.

To your absolute astonishment, the high-energy music ended as soon as you and Akande stepped onto the floor and switched to a slower, more romantic song.

"Are you serious?" You deadpanned; your poor face was going to bake. Meanwhile, Akande let out that boisterous laugh of his, and he took one of your hands in his while you put the other on his shoulder.

"I told you, luck is on your side," he said.

"No, luck is your wingman."

"Then he and I have no reason to compete after all."

And so, swaying to the gentle rhythm, you finally gain the courage to look up at him without letting your face deter you.

"Gaining some confidence, finally?"

"A little. Could be the wine."

A chuckle left him again, and you could feel it rumble in his chest. One hand came to lift your chin. "Red or not, you make me look pale in comparison." With that, he leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on your cheek. Right where that once painful bruise had been.

Your face pressed into his chest. It was the reddest it had ever been.

Some time later, after your dance and promised dessert of Oreo ice cream. A sound came from the communicator in Akande's suit pocket.

"Boss, all blueprints secured and headed back to base," Sombra said.

Perfect timing. The festivities were ending, and people were already filtering out of the building.

"Very good. (Name) and I will make our way out."

You stood with him, collecting all your things, then took his arm again. He didn't even have to ask this time. You two made your way back to the devil that was the elevator, and while you went down, you spoke up.

"I know this was more for a mission and all… but I enjoyed myself tonight. So, thank you, Akande."

"Of course, Starling. This wouldn't have gone as smoothly without you, and I would have enjoyed myself far less."

The car hadn't arrived yet by the time you and Akande stepped outside. The night was late, and you shivered from the cool air.

"Cold?" Akande asked.

"Yep," you replied, rubbing your arms with your hands.

"Hm. Here."

The next moment his suit jacket was placed upon you. The damn thing practically ate you, but you nuzzled into it all the same. "Thanks," your muffled voice came.

When the car came, you and he piled in, both letting out tired sighs. A single word to the driver later and they were off back to base. A mighty yawn left you.

"You look like you're ready for bed," Akande chuckled.

"I am."

"Join me?"

Your face didn't have the energy to be red anymore. You simply placed your head on his shoulder. "Yeah…"

You were nearly asleep when you returned to base. You two went in the way you came out to avoid any agents on night shift. Just before you reached the elevator, you remembered something important.

"Oh, hold on!"

You rummaged through your bag and pulled out his card. "Here you go. I meant to give it back earlier."

He held out his hand, pausing you.

"Keep it. It's yours."

"Huh? Are you sure? I mean, it's your money," you replied.

He held out his arm as the elevator door opened. "Oh, please. I'm not going to miss one hundred thousand dollars anytime soon."

You linked your arm with his one more time.

"How much?"

"You heard me."

Huh. And they say chivalry is dead.

---

Sombra set the communicator down on the dented table, in her other hand, a set of colorful cards. A lot of them.

Reaper placed a red four on top of a red three.

"Uno," came Reaper's amused voice. Sombra quickly fell into a string of Spanish curses before flopping back in her chair.

"(Name) gets to go to a gala while we are stuck here at base." She crossed her arms, pulling a green four from the deck and feeling her nose twitch. They never had to steal anything in the first place. Nothing but garbage is ever announce at the Vishkar Gala.

Reaper shrugged. "You helped her."

"That was a coincidence. I didn't know the bag would match her dress. I gave to Doomfist to help him."

"Whatever. Also, "Reaper placed his last card on the pile, "I win."

"Oh, you—!" No. No, we have time for one more!"

"No. I'm done playing."

"Come onnn!" she whined. She looked around and pulled another game off the shelf. "I have New Phone Who Dis!"

Reaper sighed. "Fine, but don't post anything like last time."

-----

There you go! Hope yall liked it! This will also show up on my AO3 later! Link in pinned post on my profile! Likes and reblogs are appreciated!

#doomfist x reader #overwatch 2 #overwatch #ow2 #ovw #fanfiction #fanfic #akande ogundimu #doomfist #talon #doomfist overwatch #overwatch doomfist #sombra #moira o'deorain #overwatch reaper #gabriel reyes

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tamilhobbit · 19 hours ago

Text

Rewatched Dead Men Tell No Tales/Salazar's Revenge today and boy, was it a disappointment. Absolute low point of the franchise. Genuinely surprised that the original writers were involved.

On Stranger Tides shows a much softer side of Jack but it's still pretty consistent with the choices he made in the original trilogy, and he has quite a lot of agency in the plot. The film lacks the clever cinematography of the original trilogy but it's still pleasant to watch. The night combat scenes are clearly lit, even if the combat itself isn't as gripping. The plot is weak, but entertaining enough. Not as good as the first three, but not bad.

Dead Men Tell No Tales is just awful. For one thing, it isn't even consistent with the previous films in terms of lore. The trilogy establishes, in DMC, that Jack bartered the compass from Tia Dalma. Here, in a flashback, he gets it from his old captain on the Wicked Wench while fighting Salazar?

Also, there is no damn reason for Will to even be cursed, which is what kicks off the plot. The only reason Davy Jones and crew were fish people was that he neglected his duty of ferrying souls. Will knows this. He knows the cost. He wants to be with Elizabeth every ten years. He would not neglect his duty. There is no inherent turning-into-a-monster curse tied into his role as captain of the Dutchman, and at the end of At World's End we see him returning after ten years, looking perfectly human and normal. Why would he suddenly be cursed after that?

Jack has literally no agency in this film. He achieves nothing and makes no difference to the plot! Henry is the one executing the daring rescue. Carina navigates. Barbossa does the double-crossing and also captains the Pearl. Jack has a fight with Salazar at some point but it's at night, poorly lit, and again achieves very little. Nothing has changed at the end of their fight. None of those clever acrobatics that cripple his pursuers we saw in previous films. The flashback to young Jack was cool, I guess. But his total lack of care when he thinks the Black Pearl has sunk is horrifically out of character.

Again, at the end, he's just sort of... there. He is an object for Salazar to pursue, a distraction while Henry and Carina achieve their objectives and Barbossa redeems himself.

Barbossa has a nice arc, though I think the daughter twist is rushed in order to make us feel sadder when he sacrifices himself. And I quite like Carina. There's clearly been an attempt to place Henry and Carina in the places of Will and Elizabeth, and they've tried to make Carina feisty and driven but in a different direction than Elizabeth, which I appreciate. She and Henry fall for each other very fast, though.

Also, I hate that Elizabeth is apparently dressed nicely and sitting pretty in her beach house, waiting and doing nothing. If she knew that Will was cursed, why would she not be out there doing everything she can to save him? She's the freaking Pirate King. She could not be held back in the trilogy. She's not old, either - she was fairly young when she had Henry, and Henry is clearly old enough to fend for himself now. They could have gone looking for ways to save Will together.

In many ways Dead Men Tell No Tales is just Dead Man's Chest disappointingly remixed - undead crew on a destructive cursed ship with special abilities, led by a captain who can't step on land and has a grudge against Jack Sparrow, controlling horrid sea creatures. A POC witch embodying all sorts of racist caricatures. A Turner seeking a way to free his cursed father, and in love with a feisty girl. Everyone searching for a magical McGuffin that will give them control or mastery of the seas, and they need Jack's compass for it.

It's especially egregiously disappointing after how good the original trilogy was. The plot in those certainly wasn't perfect, but it was tight enough and fast-paced and entertaining enough that you didn't care. The stakes were high, the villains were chilling, and the protagonists were cheekily morally ambiguous in their swashbuckling. The cinematography was stunning. The only real good things about this instalment were the music (which was reused from the previous films) and seeing Will and Elizabeth again.

Comments on Pirates of the Caribbean

So, I rewatch the first one after years bc I was sick by the Johnny Depp bullshit and through his presence would ruin the movie for me, thankfully, it didn't.

- Why don't they make blockbusters like this anymore? The scale of the production, everything feels so real, so damn good. They only used CGI when they needed it.

-Now I noticed that Elizabeth, Will and Jack have "friendship" matching scars, as all the three of them have a long cut on the palm of their hand.

-When Barbossa is about to cut Elizabeth, thinking her blood is the one they needed, instead of cutting her throat (something that was expected of him) he just cut her hand and when even Elizabeth looked confused at him, he says "waste not"

At first I thought that he was being nice, like there's no need to kill her, and this being a Disney movie really makes me think that. But now I get it, he wasn't being nice, he was being a nightmare as he only didn't kill her bc he was planning on SA her as soon as the curse was off. That's dark.

And it's weirdly nice to see how their relationship goes from this nightmare, to Barbossa not only actually respecting and acknowledge Elizabeth as one of them, but also with Elizabeth asking him to marry her with Will. It's like they became buddies at the end, almost lol

-People often praise only Johnny Depp for the success of the trilogy, and yes, he was good I got to admit but he wasn't the sole reason of the movies success. The proof of that is that after Worlds End, the movies went down in quality and will not pretend that the writing and production didn't go down either but the thing is that the characters also were not near as charming, charismatic and just as good as Elizabeth, Will, Barbossa, Davy Jones the crew guys...Jack Sparrow is good but he needs good company to truly shine. And the chemistry they all had towards each other plays a big part in the trilogy success. Jack Sparrow is amazing, but only when he isn't the protagonist.

Edit 1: I've saw the second and third ones again today and damn Hans Zimmer was inspired, the Davy Jones theme is the Best villain theme song (sorry Darth Vader)

At world's end, who also is the Will and Elizabeth theme(with some minor changes) is so good. It's not only good, it's a masterpiece. One of my fav original movie songs ever.

-Elizabeth arc is so well done. From damsel in distress, to pirate, to pirate queen. And it was natural, didn't feel forced at all. Even when she was damsel in distress, she wasn't helpless. In the first movie, after the ship battle, she launched herself at Barbossa , to punch in bc she thought Will was gone. She was always fierce.

And now in the second and third movie when she already knew how to fight...she became a menace.

-And Elizabeth lost her dad, her friend and the love of her life in like, just a few days. Damn. And all of the men she kissed, died lol. Jack, Norrington, Sao Feng and Will, and they all die right after kissing her. I bet she has some sort of "black widow" reputation among the sailors

-Jack really cared for both Elizabeth and Will, and we can see it in the scene when he told Elizabeth that her father was gone and when Davy Jones killed Will. And it makes sense cuz Jack was important in their journey from day one, and he saw their growth from naive young adults to pirates.

-Without a doubt, one of the best trilogies we have.

#Pirates of the Caribbean #Elizabeth Swann #William Turner #Captain Jack Sparrow #Captain Hector Barbossa #Carina Barbossa #Henry Turner #Armando Salazar #Dead Men Tell No Tales #Salazar's Revenge

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