#suicide squad sound track

[thetimelordbatgirl]

Someone please tell me where its remotely in character for Captain Boomerang, who like the rest of the Rogues is on good terms with the Flash, to piss on The Flash's/Barry Allen's corpse in Kill The Suicide Squad, because apparently according to people defending this game till their last breath, its in character because 'they evil!'

[artist-issues]

Be careful of emotional music in movies and TV Shows.

By "be careful" I mean, when you're doing that thing I never stop talking about—you're trying to figure out why a moment in a story moved you—think about whether or not the story really set up and followed the moment through...or if they just threw a really emotional-sounding track/song over top of a rushed, cheap moment.

Like in the Vampire Diaries, or Suicide Squad, or an animated-streaming-movie. The characters will be saying something normal or maybe a bit cheesy to each other, the scene is about to end, and the storytellers don't have a good way to end it, so some song starts playing quietly under the dialogue. And suddenly you're feeling something, even though a second ago you were not that into it.

In the Vampire Diaries, it's usually The Fray. In Suicide Squad you'll get a punk-rock song as a new villains-enter-the-room scene starts...or several, every time a new scene starts.

In a streaming-budget musical, it might even be an original song with original lyrics that the characters are singing...

But pay attention! Music is one of the very easiest ways to engage a human's emotions. It's why influencers play inspirational piano music or covers of good movie soundtracks over what they're saying when they're trying to send out an encouraging message. It's why motivational speakers have a musical pad under everything they're saying. And yes, it's why movies use music, too.

And that is not a bad thing.

But what is bad is music that is used to try and make a moment impactful...but the story itself, and the characters in the scene, and the context of the scene, and sometimes even the lyrics of the song itself, can't support it.

The lyrics could be total crap—they could fail to fit the characters singing them, or the moment they're being sung during, at all—

—or it's an indie pop song that is actually about a friend with a drug addiction, but it's playing over, like, a scene where a young girl is saying "see you around" to the boy she has a crush on, so you feel all hyped emotionally.

It's cheap. It's silly. It's what Disney did in Wish (you knew this was coming, I've been on this topic for weeks)

Having Asha and Magnifico sing "At All Costs," which is a love song, to a room full of tangible bubbles makes zero sense. The song's lyrics only work if you're a pair of lovers declaring your devotion to each other—or, maybe, if you're a king and apprentice singing to actual people, not a room full of their daydreams. But!

The music is pretty. And it's literally engineered to be inspiring, and play with your heart strings. So you're sitting there going, "oh, wow, what a breathtaking magical song, I love it,"

but try and explain to me why you love it in connection to the story and there's nothing there.

Nothing that makes sense. You've just been emotionally manipulated by music. What you're really responding to is just the way the song sounds, and nothing else.

It's like the song (whether it's a musical number sung by the characters, or a piece of the score, or a pop song playing quietly in the background) is a beautiful set of curtains.

If you hang it up on a curtain rod, or even drape it artfully from the ceiling, it can do a lot for the space. It can make the place look bigger, or more comfortable, or show off the room's depth, or set off other pieces of furniture. It can even be a focal point.

But you know what the curtains need to do all that? A curtain rod. Something to be hung on!

If you just ball up the curtains and drop them in the center of the room, someone might walk in and go, "oh, are these curtains? They're pretty!" But you know what else they'll say? "Where are you going to put them? Why are they in the middle of the floor?" Because they don't belong there. The curtains are wasted on the floor.

Like a song that has no contextual meaning and is just laying in the scene like discarded curtains, arbitrarily playing with your emotions. Doesn't belong there; and what a waste!

So next time you really love a scene that has music in it at all, see what part the music plays.

If the lyrics make sense with the characters, if the story has reached a point where the song is all that's needed to accentuate the emotional depth that's already there, instead of creating it where it was lacking, then awesome. Now you can articulate what made you appreciate the song, so much better!

But if the lyrics made no sense with where the characters or the story was at; if it sounded pretty but didn't fit the scene; if it was the only emotional thing about the context of the scene—then it's not the story that you like. It's just the song, by itself. Add it to your Spotify playlist but don't say you loved that movie or that scene. You just loved that song.

Give credit where it's due instead of letting filmmakers trick you with cheap musical moments.

[finniestoncrane]

2.5k Event Request - King Shark x GN!Reader word count: 850 a/n: please give me nanaue i'll take him on a wholesome date i swear to you i can be trusted!! i'll hold his hand and be polite i SWEAR cw: fluffy blind date scenario with some hand-holding and soothing of insecurities 🔞minors dni🔞 • masterlist • kofi link • tag: finnie2.5k (to follow or to block)

As you walked towards the park, you reflected on the choices that had led you there. Desperation played a part, just something to break up the mundanity of your life. You needed a little bit of excitement, but something relatively safe, which was not listed among the options Harley had provided you at first when you had expressed your problems to her. But when she suggested that she could set you up on a blind date, you reasoned that it was actually a pretty good idea.

Now, however, you realised that you had trusted Harleen Quinzel, of all people, to find a partner for you, and you began to worry about who might be waiting for you. Given her own track record with men and the people she considered to be friends, you worried that this might verge out of "fun and exciting" and into "dangerous and potentially life-threatening." Although, you were her friend too, so you wondered what that might say about you to the person you were meeting.

At least you were meeting in a public place. Your date had requested that, asking to meet you in the park for a walk in nature. The day was pleasant, warm but not hot, sunny but with a gentle breeze. There were enough people there to make you feel safe, but not too many for it to be considered busy. And in the distance, there was someone you vaguely recognised from news bulletins.

King Shark was a formidable figure, one you were aware of through his various crimes and his work with the Suicide Squad. It was that memory of his affiliation that made you realise that he was likely there to meet you. Harley was very fond of him and talked about him often. That did bode well for your afternoon. So you approached him, admittedly nervous, and introduced yourself.

"So... yeah, I think you're here to meet me?"

"Yes, Harley told me your name and what you looked like. It is not so much a blind date in my case then, I suppose. But I wasn't sure how these things usually went."

You smiled, assuring him that there weren't really any rules to it, and asked him if he'd like to head towards the pond on the set out path. As you walked, you could feel your heart fluttering. You were giddy, excited. Harley had gotten it so right. Nananue was big, strong, but surprisingly soft. He spoke so enthusiastically about the plants and the wildlife, so interested in learning about them, and your opinion on them. You'd barely been with him for a half an hour before you began planning a second date to a museum.

"I suppose I wasn't exactly what you expected. I am sorry for that."

He sounded so awkward as he said it, confessing his worries to you now that he felt a little more comfortable in your presence.

"Hm... I won't lie, you weren't what I was expecting at all..."

His slight smile dropped, sharp teeth covered by his lips.

"... But this is a much better outcome than I could have imagined. I mean, it's Harley, after all. I could have been set up with... Harkness!"

Despite his fondness for Captain Boomerang, Nanaue still laughed at your joke, feeling comforted that you would have picked him over a human, even. And with his worries somewhat assuaged, he was able to let his soft smile return, eyes sparkling with excitement of his own as you continued on the path.

His questions were insightful, perhaps a little bit rehearsed, but he seemed so interested in getting to know you, listening intently as you offered up answers to him, and smiling when he responded to your own queries about his interests and his life.

As you were hearing his joke about the last mission he had gone on with the squad, a shrill ringing interrupted you both. A bike approached quickly from behind, and Nanaue grabbed your hand to pull you out of the way of the cyclist to the side of the path. Once you were free from the risk of collision, he apologised prousely, letting go of your hand immediately.

"What are you sorry for? You saved me from getting knocked on my ass in front of you!"

"I... my hands are clammy, and large. I hope I didn't hurt you by grabbing you or being too rough. So I apologise."

You took his hand in yours, holding as much of it as you could. They were huge, by comparison, but you didn't mind at all. In fact, the idea that he could hold so much of you just in his palms felt nice, on several levels.

"It's maybe a little too soon to reveal this to you, given it's out first date... But I'm actually qute interested in things being a little rough."

He looked at you quizically, raising his brow as he spoke.

"What do you mean?"

With a smile, you wrapped your hand around two of his fingers, pulling him back onto the path.

"I'll explain it another time... maybe after a second date."

[altrodent]

Sundress

Pairing: Abner Krill x reader

Genre/Warnings: Fluff, slight NSFW, little make-outish, friends with benefits, lots of flirting from other characters (besides Abner), PDA (Public Display of Affection)

Summary: Abner was living a totally “normal” life… until he saw his best friend in a sundress. ❤️‍🔥

(PS: does this photo look small out of editing (like when it’s posted) or is it just me??)

It was a rare occasion that The Suicide Squad would get to go on a badass mission to save the world. This wasn’t the first time, but the last mission of just tracking a small drug cartel wasn’t as fun as your current mission.

“Operation: Sun n’ Gun” Waller announced, the current mission list consisted of Harley Quinn, Bloodsport, Peacemaker, Ratcatcher 2, King Shark, Rick Flag, Polkadot man, and you! This was your first mission with everyone, except for Polka-dot man. As amazing as it was, you two had actually grown more together in prison, seeing as he was the only one able to get you to come out of hiding.

“Question-“ “No questions until I say so, Christopher. Your mission is to uncover a cult that plans on summoning some sort of Kathulu like demon from the ocean. As ridiculous as that sounds, I’m sure you’ve seen the human-sized weasel, so don’t think about the demon too much. Any questions?” Chris raises his hand, Waller ignores him and calls on Bloodsport, “How the hell are we gonna blend in, in a place like that?” He makes hand gestures towards himself, with the way everyone is dressed, he has a point. “We have that covered, and if we don’t have any more questions, we can get you all suited up and dropped down there.” She turns off the projector as we all make our way to a room, with in which eight people stand, each with a costume bag. They’re a thick white material so you don’t see what’s underneath “Jesus, do we really need to dress up?” Bloodsport groans, Waller taps your shoulder to give you the signal to let her through “It’s necessary if you don’t want me to eradicate you. Now, they will hand you the outfit, then your will get changed and head straight to the drop ship. Are we clear?” She eyes everyone, her eyes landing on your “You will need extra time, seeing as you will be distractor number one, understand?” Your brows furrow “Distra- what do you mean?” She sighs, “talk and walk, I’ll discuss it with you while you change. The rest of you, hurry up, and get dressed out.”

“So what’s this about me being distractor number one?” You step into a small dressing room, closing the curtain behind you. “As shocking as it may seem, the cult leader is obsessed with women, and with various amounts of research into his ‘type’ I felt as if you were the best candidate.” You open the bag “Is this a dress?” She leans against the changing room “I asked most of my men what they think women on the beach look most attractive in, and while I expected them to say ‘Skimpy Bikini’s’ or even nothing at all, the majority said Sundresses. Strange, but they know what would happen if they were to lie to me, so I trust their responses.” You exhale, loud enough for Waller to hear “I’ve done some fucked shit, but this is probably the weirdest thing I’ve ever done... or wore.” You turn it around looking at it from every angle, it isn’t even on you and you’re already concerned. “Look if anything happens, everyone else will be there to help… especially Abner Krill, he seems to have taken a liking to you.” You laugh a little bit “Feelings mutual.” You mumble to yourself, biting the inside of your lip just thinking about him, he’s cute, quiet, and as thrilling as you could ever imagine. He would sneak off and find you during free time, and if he feels like it, maybe gets a little touchy. But after two arms through the sleeves, the sundress is on “holy shit…” you step out, the only person left, looking more than perfect. You could almost see a slight smile forming at the corners of Wallers mouth “You’re ready. Hurry up and get on the drop ship. You have work to do.” You nod and quickly hurry to the ship. It’s fitting in all the right places, short in the most flattering way, and god damn you had to admit you looked hot.

“Woah.” “Holy shit!” “What happened to you?” You hop onto the drop-ship, everyone inside staring, even Colonel Flag of all people. Your face turns red from embarrassment, but there’s just something you can’t seem to not notice. Krill is sitting there, just looking at you. While he normally smiles once you spot him and then look away awkwardly, he is just staring. From shoulders, to thighs, he just can’t seem to get enough. You sit next to Abner, his eyes still scanning over your body. Cleo, Harley, and even King Shark still spewing compliments, “You look very nice in the dress!” “You’re so hot, OMG! We could be like- twins!” “PRETTY FLOWERS”, and you delivering them back. Peacemaker making inappropriate remarks, while Bloodsport just makes quick peaks with undeterminable facial expressions. You still turn back and see Abner, not looking at you. You gently graze your fingers over his hand, “Hey, you doing okay?” His head shoots up, as he was recovering from his daze. “Uh- yeah-“ he gazes finally meets yours and he offers you a soft smile. Peacemaker laughs way too loudly “He totally wants to bang!” Abner looks away, ashamed “Don’t worry Polka-man, I would too, trust me-“ you shoot Chris the most painful daggers, “What? It’s a compliment, ever heard em?” You grimace “Chris, I will shove this umbrella so far up your ass, I swear” Flag stammers into the conversation, “I will say you look very nice.” You smile, “Thank You, Colonel Flag.” He smiles back, Chris pouting in his seat.

The drop-ship lands and quickly lets you all off. “So we just have to stay on the beach all night and wait for the cult to arrive?” Flag asks Waller, “Yes, and remember if you deviate-“ “We lose our heads…” you all say in unison. “Well, we get to have a fun day in the sun before we uncover a cult.” Flag says, grabbing some of the luggage. “Did Waller provide these?” Cleo asks, “Nope, I just don’t want to be bored for however the hell long the cult takes.” Bloodsport and King Shark grab the rest of the stuff before everyone else goes ahead. “After you” Flag winks at you, you blush. You go ahead and catch up with Abner “Hey” he smiles at you, biting the inside of his lip. You lean your head against his shoulder “Hey, you feeling better?” He nods “Yeah, sorry… it’s just rare to see you out of orange. You look…” you can hear his breath hitch as he tries to avoid looking at you. “Stunning.” He says trying to hide an oncoming smile. Getting a random burst of confidence, you shoot back “Well you can look at me as much as you want before the mission really starts” you can hear Cleo “oooh” to her rat, Sebastian. He mumbles, “I’d like to do more than look.” You genuinely didn’t hear what he said, but it couldn’t have been that important… right?

After about 30 minutes of walking through the jungle, you reach the beach and set up. Immediately, you realize the only fault of the disguise… you can’t swim. There wasn’t a bathing suit or anything in there, so unless you want to strip, you can’t get in the beautiful, clear water. You pout, laying on your beach towel. Although you wouldn’t really care just swimming in your undergarments, Chris had to be creepy and say ‘he wouldn’t mind seeing that’, which earned him a slap across the face. After a minute of pouting someone sits next to you, casting a light shadow on you. You look up to see him, “Abner, you don’t have to stay up here. Go, swim and have fun.” He leans back on his hands “They’re doing their own thing. Besides, I don’t want you to be lonely.” You smile, as you sit up be at his eye-level. And with a burst of, what can only be assumed as lust, Abner’s hand quickly reaches to yours, and his hands wander mindlessly. “Abner-“ his face leans in close to yours “yes?” His breath clashing with your own, his hand finding its way to your thigh. “What about the others?” His lips inching towards yours “I don’t give a shit what they do anymore.” His open hand reaches for your face as his lips clash with yours, and you’re down for the count. Your lips melt into his, and his hand that was placed on your thigh makes its way up to your waist. He earns a pleased moan from you that echos between your mouths. You can’t hear the others whispers over the sounds of the waves, but like Abner said, you don’t give a shit what they do anymore. Your back reaches the towel and Abner quickly starts to slightly hover over you. Once he pulls away, he starts leaving kisses around your jaw and neck. He loves the way your legs squirm when he touches the right spots. Your arms slowly work their way up his caging arms. “Abner…” he hums as his lips make their way down your arm and to your thigh. Your arms retract to hide your blush ridden face, his lips slowly growing closer and closer to the inside of your sundress. Hands wandering, heat rising, situation escalating. He pulls away before he goes too far, and holds your head in his hands “If I see any of them looking at you the way only I’m supposed to, I’ll do something rash.” He says calmly. “I won’t let them.” You both slowly sit up, as he gently moves you to his lap. “You’ve been praising me this whole time Krill, and I haven’t gotten a chance to do the same for you.” You pout, he leans his forehead against his “Don’t worry about it, love. I like seeing you in this… and in this way.” His almost liquor laced words keep making you want to come back for more, but you have to resist as much as you don’t want to. “Yes, but I like seeing you like this too. I’ve never seen you in just shorts before… I must admit, it’s much better seeing you this close.” You tease, he smiles shyly. “Maybe after this mission, if Waller lets us go… we could have our own beach date?” You cup his face in your hands, “Abner Krill, are you asking me out on a date?” He averts his gaze, as if he didn’t just ravish you on the beach in front of others. “W-well, I mean if-“ you bring a finger to his lips “I’m just teasing, Abs, I would love to go on a date with you.” His gaze returned to you, seemingly melting with love. “Words can’t describe how much I cherish you, love.”

You lean in before someone touches your shoulder “Sorry, Krill, but the Cult leader arrived, and we need your lover girl to go for him.” He pouts, as Flag helps you up. “I’ll be safe, Abner. I have You after all” You send him a smile before straightening the dress out.

“So, I just go over there, hope he’s seduced by me and get intel?” Flag nods “yep.” You give him a confused look “But why me, and not Harley or Cleo?” He straightens his posture “Well, out of all of us, you’re exactly his type. And if I may say, you do look very nice, so it should work.” You grimace “I don’t even wanna know how you figured out his ‘type’ of woman.” He seethes “You really don’t but, you’re ready just walk past him.” You fix your hair, puff out your sundress, and you saunter your way past him. He isn’t attractive, to say the least. Hell, you probably would’ve gotten with TDK before him. He’s scrawny, but has some muscles. Hair is probably the best feature, but has a hideous open scar on his face. You don’t stare too long, but as soon as you look away, he whistles “Hey there, Pretty Kitty, c’mere!” You walk over to him, and he’s basically foaming at the mouth when you walk up to him. “Well, what brings a pretty thing like you to this here beach?” You fake giggle “I just like the way the sun feels on my skin… why, should I be here for something else?” He leans in closer to you, as if he wasn’t a tiny bit terrifying to begin with he was humongous, at least 6’11. “Why don’t you come sit with me, I want to get to know you better” he holds out a hand for you to take, the pungent smell of old beer on his tongue. You take his hand, scared to see what he might do next “I’d like that.” He smiles “Good girl.” You want to barf, if anyone was going to call you that it’d be Abner… but we’re not gonna talk about that. He guides you to sit on his lap “Don’t be shy, now, baby. I won’t bite… unless you want me to.” His tongue, abnormally reptile shaped, you begin to wonder if he’s even human himself. Still, you keep up the act, giggling and blushing at his creepily “flirty” passes. “Take me out to dinner first” you drape your arms around his shoulders, “I can do a lot of things on a first date, baby.” He winks at you. Barf, gross, Ew, no, thank you. “Oh really… could you show me?” He smiles with an evil grin “I’d show you but we’d have to go somewhere more discreet.” You sigh, luckily your radio is on, so flag understands his signal. “What would you show me?” He leans in close to your ear, his hot breath tingling the peach fuzz on your face, all you can think about right now is Abner, how you want him to save you from this god awful mission “Whatever you want me to show you.” You lean into him, trying not to break character “Oh, my…” he chuckles before standing up with you still in his arms. He makes his way to the forest before he gets shot down by Bloodsport… and Chris too. The screams of other beach visitors echoing in the air, the beach eventually being fully cleared. He looks up at me with some of his final breath, “You fucking- you set me up whore!” You take one of his nearby beer bottles and break it on his head “I did, and you enjoyed it too!” You take the rest of the bottle and stab it through his chest. “Fuck! That guy sucks!” Quickly you’re scooped into a pair of arms, arms extremely familiar. “I’m so glad you’re safe. He didn’t hurt you right?” Abner checks your face for wounds “I’m okay, Abbie, I’m okay.” He holds you for a second before looking behind you in horror “What’s wrong-?” You’re cut off by the distant sound of chanting and eventually a giants roar. “No fucking way-“

“Are you kidding me?!” Everyone groans “I thought they needed their leader??” You drag your face with your hands before Waller comes back on the comms “Apparently, what you just did, is make their leader the sacrifice. I was hoping the sacrifice was just going to be our lovely Agent here, but whatever. Kill the demon and the cult members.” You’re furious “I’m sorry, re-fucking-peat what you just said?” Cleo gasps “She was trying to sacrifice you!” You turn to Flag “Did you know about this?!” He puts his hands up “I swear to god, I didn’t, you know that!” You huff “I don’t give a shit, I’m killing all of them, and when I am done, you better pray to whatever gods you all believe in that I don’t come back and kill the rest of you.” You argue, walking away… before quickly coming back “Okay, maybe not by myself, but- just come on!”

Operation: Sun n’ Gun: Successful!

Flying back to the prison, ready to be released was the best feeling. Well besides laying on Abner, and him being the most comfortable thing in your life. After your releasing, you did go on the beach date. It was quiet, empty, and most importantly; romantic. Now it was just you two against the world, and you both loved every minute of it.

~

(A/N): I’ve been meaning to write him for a hot minute, and with the sundress season coming up I couldn’t get him and his slutty man face out of my head 🤭 Anywaysssss… I hope you enjoyed! 🩷

[ladyvillainous]

Midway City: Welcome to The Party

Inclusion of my OC Suzanna Walker AKA Fade into the Suicide Squad. She is a former colleague of Rick Flag, a childhood friend of Harley Quinn, a former member of the Joker's gang after his escape from Arkham and Harley’s transformation and now a member of the Task Force X team. She will also be getting up close and very personal with our favourite Aussie, Captain Boomerang.

Description

Follows the recruitment and formation of Task Force X ahead of the 2016 movie

Midway City Part 1 of 4

Warnings

I think every member of the Suicide Squad is a warning all by themselves but to be clear there will be violence, swearing, a complete lack of morals or ethics of any kind at times. Spoilers!

Word Count: 6368

Blinking slowly against the dazzling light Fade lifted a single hand to shield her eyes from the onslaught. A small groan leaving her throat morphing to a small sound of surprise when she realised, she was free of her restraints. Raising the other hand before her, she squinted at her reddened wrists flexing her aching joints with a deep sigh.

Dropping her hands to the cot she was lying on, she stiffly levered herself into a sitting position, swinging both legs to the floor. Dropping her head downwards and breathing deeply against the wave of nausea that washed over her as the room swam alarmingly. Swallowing thickly, she coughed her mouth sandpaper dry, the all too familiar side effects of the neurotoxin they always kept swimming through her veins.

At the thought of the neurotoxin, she frowned down at her hands resting on her knees, the absence of the IV drip noticeable replaced with a livid dark purple bruise adorning the back of her hand. Experimentally she flexed one hand, lifting if from her leg and concentrating as hard as her foggy brain would allow. It faded turning transparent but barely, resolidifying moments later, a pained wince ripped from her with the action.

“Did you know you kinda… glow… when you do that?”

Fade groaned pained for another reason, not even needing to look up to place the voice of her former commanding officer “I’m told I go slightly blue, especially my eyes” Fade murmured with a small nod “I’d say it’s good to see you Flag but well…” she trailed off, raising her thumping head at last to eye the man from across her cell. The very picture of ease, he was leaning against the bare concrete wall next to the rusted metal door, watching her with less apprehension than she would have expected, but she knew his poker face well, and his tells.

“No need to look so worried” Fade muttered “I don’t bite… well not unless you ask me to” She snickered, enjoying needling the man, watching that muscle in his cheek twitch at her words.

“What happened to you?” Rick asked at last sliding down the wall onto his haunches back until they were eye to eye.

Fade snorted “Classic good girl gone bad story”

Rick shook his head “Seems like there’s more to it than that” he motioned to her hand now fading in and out with every flex of her fingers as they spoke, the unconscious action becoming less painful every time.

Fade chuckled mirthlessly “Once a murdered always a murderer, right?” The muscle in his cheek twitched once more as he clenched his jaw against the memory. Fade took no joy from reminding him he after all he had been the only one to defend her, shrugging she brushed past it “Honestly it’s a long story, how long you got?”

Rick stood Fade’s amused gaze tracking his movements responding “Not long” with an impatient shake of his head.

Cocking her head to one side she smiled up at him “So what are you here for? Can’t imagine they’d let you wake me up to catch up on old times… they don’t like it when I’m awake” she finished darkly, eyes darting to the open section of the cell door where the guards in full riot gear were watching her closely.

“We’ve got a proposition for you, one that will allow you to remain awake… if you cooperate” Rick muttered, side eyeing the same guards who hastily stepped back from the door.

Fade eyed the man curiously “Who’s we?”

Rick’s jaw clenched once more muttering only one word “Waller”

Rising to her feet Fade snarled “You want me to tell you where you can shove your deal? or can you figure it out for yourself”

To his credit Rick didn’t flinch but then he knew Fade when she was still called Suzanna Walker and a member of his unit. He knew what she’d become in the years since he’d seen her, despite his questions, but he refused to believe she’d changed so much in the last few years that she’d hurt him. The Guards weren’t as convinced however, they could be heard reacting to her outburst, weapons being raised, fighting positions adopted, as if that would help them.

“I see you’ve been making friends since you’ve been here” He jerked his head towards the door, Fade grinned darkly, her mood shifting mercurially “They weren’t being very gentlemanly”

Rick smirked at that, having seen first-hand how she reacted to what she termed ungentlemanlike behaviour before her accident, he could only imagine how much worse it would be now.

“Look…” He started, stepping forward towards her but stopping short of actually touching her as a warning flashed in her eyes, echoed by murmurs from the guards outside the door watching them. “Forget Waller, trust me” he nodded firmly, watching the indecision cloud her eyes momentarily.

They stood in silence as Fade weighed her options finally nodding, recognising that Rick had never given her any reason to distrust him “So what is this deal then?” She asked dropping back down onto her bed tiredly.

Dropping down next to her onto the cot with a heavy thump Rick grimaced slightly, even for a soldier used to sleeping anywhere he could, her cot was damned uncomfortable.

“We’re putting together a task force, if you agree to join you’ll get time off your sentence for successful missions and I’ll see to it that they keep you awake…” he paused as she smirked dangerously in response to his words adding “As long as you behave”

Fade pouted “You used to be more fun Flag”

Rick chuckled at her words “I’m not sure I’d go so far as to call any of our previous missions’ fun. But I always felt better with you there, knowing you had my back; you still have my back right?”

Glancing sideways Fade nodded once “Some things never change. I’m in, what else have I got to do” she waved her once again solid hand airily around her dank cell to punctuate her point.

Rick nodded “Very true, hold tight I’d lay odds we’ll be back sooner than I think any of us would like” standing he moved to the door pushing opening the rusty metal with an ominous creak and pausing on the threshold as she spoke “I’ll be here” she sang out, waving serenely from her bed, settling back against the cold wall, and pulling one knee up to her chest.

***

Rick was proved right when less than a month later the task force was mobilised, the guards opening Fade’s cell door with anxious looks upon their face’s. She’d behaved as promised, for the most part, but hadn’t been able to resist playing a few harmless pranks on the guards. Her favourite had been to phase and walk out of her cell when they least expected it. At first, they’d panicked scrambling away from her unable to use the only weapon they had that was effective against her. Rick had strictly forbidden the use of the neurotoxin darts against her as it took days for it to fully leave her system and they needed her ready to go at all times, not hindered because a guard couldn’t hold their nerve. This left the prison staff very unnerved to begin with as they had no way of stopping her from doing anything she pleased, it had therefore necessitated that many of them had to start being nicer to her. To both their shock and relief, whatever Colonel Flag had said to her seemed to be stopping her from hurting anyone or just walking through the outer walls. So far, she hadn’t even attempted to leave her cell block, a slow tense truce settling between her and the guards.

With a smirk Fade stood from her new cot, a gift she suspected Rick had arranged as it had arrived the day after he left. Striding towards the open door she shot the nearest guard a swift wink as she exited the man coughing nervously. Usually when Bell Reve prisoners were transported, they were strapped to a chair and wheeled around like an invalid, but there would be little point when she was awake and fully in command of her powers. Thankfully for them they had already recognised it was pointless without needing a demonstration, so they simply pointed her down the corridor wordlessly. They nonetheless surrounded her unnecessarily, escorting her with raised weapons containing nothing more than standard bullets. The concept amusing to her as they marched further into the prison, down several corridors finally exiting into a wider area Fade knew would lead to the outside. They paused as another pack of guards passed them; a blonde woman strapped down but cackling loudly as they pushed her past the doorway.

“Harley?” Fade called out at once, shocked to see her old friend, having had no idea she was even at Belle Reve.

“Zuzu?” Harley shrieked back, attempting to twist in her seat to look at her friend but held firmly in place by her restraints as she was propelled down the corridor without pause.

“How did you end up here?” Fade called out, barely sparing a glance for the guard that pushed her through the doorway though it was enough for him to hastily step back.

“Damn Bat ruined date night” Harley trilled back irritably.

Fade chuckled, trust Harley to be less concerned about being in prison than the fact that Batman had ruined date night with Mr J. The thought of the Joker left a sour taste in her mouth, it might have been the Bat that caught her, but it was because Joker had hung her out to dry in the first place.

***

“Zuzu!” Fade giggled as the blonde bombshell leapt at her, tackling her to the ground with her exuberant affection almost the second she was released from her restraints.

“Alright that’s enough of that” Rick called out.

Striding forward with a roll of his eyes, hand twitching like he wanted to help Fade up, even as Harley scrambled up and returned to her spot in line. Giddy with excitement she grinned and waved at the soldiers and various military personal surrounding them none of them looking pleased to see their little group.

While Rick resisted the urge to help a tall lean dark-skinned man clad in an orange jumpsuit reached past him with a hand outstretched, helping haul her to her feet muttering quietly “You two know each other?”

Resuming her vertical position Fade eyed Rick as he rapidly stepped back averting his eyes from her, curious glances and raised eyebrows being exchanged between the rest of his squad.

Fade grinned at the man that had helped her noting his eyes and the intelligence lurking there as they darted to Rick and then back to her with his question “We all got a past sweetheart” She responded simply.

“Oh, me and Zuzu go waaay back don’t we hon” Harley called out, having both overheard and misunderstood the man’s question, but he didn’t react beyond raising an eyebrow at the two women, letting it go without comment.

“Name’s Lawton” he intoned, holding his hand out to her again, Fade nodded grasping his hand firmly “Fade”  

The man frowned slightly “Why she calling you Zuzu then?”

Fade shrugged “In a past life I was Suzanna Walker, but it’s just Fade now”

“Why Fade?” he asked but she just laughed “You’ll see”

Turning their attention back to Harley they both smirked as she called to the group at large “Hi Boys, Harley Quinn, how do you do?” Fade chuckling at her antics, she’d known Harley long before she became the Joker’s queen, she was more high energy these days, but she’d always been a little off, he just somehow made it worse.

“What was that? I should kill everyone and escape?” Lawton laughed at that one, though no one else did. Fade was watching the military personal curiously for their reaction, which so far was broadly extreme disgust as they glared down the uncaring criminals in their midst.

“Sorry. The voices” Harley continued to perform, wide grin on her face turning to Lawton and Fade “I’m kidding geez! That’s not what they really said” Fade laughed loudly, only stopping when she caught sight of Rick’s irritated face. Something was off with him, she doubted he was happy babysitting a bunch of crazy Metahuman freaks but there was something more. A tension that radiated from him she hadn’t seen before, and they’d been to hell and back together more than once. Frowning at him she shot him a questioning look, but he merely shook his head fractionally, all but confirming her theory but clearly communicating now wasn’t the time.

A chopper had arrived behind them drawing Rick’s attention, with an impatient grunt he strode past the assembled group to deal with the new arrival.

Fade on the other hand was now staring curiously at the reptile man on her other side, Lawton moving to greet the remaining member of their group, a heavily tattooed man who so far had remained silent.

“What do we got here?” Rick called as an oversized duffel bag was dumped unceremoniously on the floor, attracting the groups attention as it moved.

One of the men that had dropped the sack laughed as Flag pulled a knife and used it to slice open the bag “12 pounds of shit in a 10-pound sack”

“Welcome to the party, Captain Boomerang” Flag quipped, the other soldier laughing as the man struggled to extricate himself from the bag. He lived to regret it when the burly man in question finally leapt to his feet and decked him, laying him out cold with one punch.

Fade snorted in amusement as Rick jumped forward with another of the soldiers, the two of them having to work together to subdue the man, the former pinning him to the vehicle behind them with a strong arm across his throat. All aggression wiped from the newcomer’s face in an instant as he held his hands up in surrender, a nasal Australian wheeze bursting from him “Ey Ey Ey, what’s goin on ere? Hey, one minute I’m playing Mahjong with me Nanna… Then this red streak hits me outta nowhere”

“Shut up!” Rick shouted irritably “You were caught robbing a diamond exchange”

“I woz not” the Australian whined, highly affronted.

Coughing to cover her laughter Fade decided not to push Rick any further the man already looking like he was on the edge, but the muffled sound caught the Aussie’s attention eyes flickering to her at the noise. Then just as deliberately raking up and down her body, hidden though it was behind the decidedly unflattering orange jumpsuit. Fade raised an eyebrow at his complete lack of shame with an accompanying shake of her head even as he grinned at her.

Letting the man go Rick returned to his unit muttering to himself, the beefcake trailing in his wake making a beeline right for her. With an outstretched hand he smiled widely at her, gold tooth glinting, in what was clearly supposed to be friendly way, but it just came off as arrogant “Digger Harkness sweetness, but you can call me Captain”

Lawton rolled his eyes, but Fade laughed, a cheerful grin on her face, despite his cocky attitude she couldn’t help but warm to the man. He seemed like he’d be entertaining at the very least as they descended into whatever hell Waller had planned for them.

“Fade” she responded, taking his hand, and laughing once more as he raised it to his lips depositing a swift kiss on the back of her hand even as he leered at her.

“Harley Quinn, nice ta meet ya” Harley bounced over attracting his attention, Fade noting how he leered at her too apparently, he was an equal opportunity type of lech. She couldn’t help but notice, with some amusement, the way his lingering gaze kept wavering to herself even after the bubbly blonde bounced over.

Her attention diverted by the arrival of a black SUV from the opposite direction to the chopper that had brought Digger, Fade watched at the last member of the group alighted from the vehicle a disdainful look upon his sour face. Rick declared him to be Slipknot the man that could climb anything, looking disgruntled but unsurprised that the first thing the man did was floor the woman holding open the door with a punch to the face. His justification was announced to be that she had a mouth, something that left Fade snarling at him though the others did little more than wince with the notable exception of Harley who started cackling loudly.

“What the hell Flag” Fade growled, echoing the earlier complaints of his squad as they’d arrived, even as she attempted to kill the man with her stare alone.

“Calm it Fade” Rick sneered the last word, reminding her they weren’t on the same team anymore.

Shooting him a nasty look sideways she fell back into line with the criminals with a terse but exaggerated “Yes Sir”

Making sure she stood as far away from slipknot as she could she wedged herself in between Harley and Digger, the latter eyeing her curiously as she glared venomously at the newest arrival.

Rick didn’t react to her jab beyond clenching his jaw, instead addressing the group as a whole “Listen Up! In your necks… the injection you got, it’s a nanite explosive” this pronouncement had all of them scratching at their necks except for Fade who merely raised an eyebrow “It’s the size of a rice grain but it’s powerful as a hand grenade. You disobey me, you die. You try to escape, you die. You otherwise irritate or vex me, and guess what? You die”

“I’m known to be quite vexing. I’m just forewarning you” Harley called out, waving a hand at Rick and making Fade laugh again. It was amazing how much she was finding funny today, despite being sent to her death.

What she didn’t find amusing at all was Rick’s barked and harsh response “Lady, Shut up!” Harley falling silent at once with a geez what’s his problem look to Fade. With a pointed look at Rick, she stepped forward phasing in and out quickly as she did so, the small metal explosive that had been buried of the meat of her neck hitting the ground with a quiet metallic tinkle that drew everyone’s attention.

Stooping Fade picked it up and held it out to Rick in the palm of her hand, eyebrow raised “What was that you were saying?”

Rick sighed aggravatedly, motioning to one of the support squad to take it from her without comment, the rest of the task force eyeing her appreciatively while Harley barely attempted to stifled her gleeful giggles.

Fade smirked but noted the way Rick gripped his side arm a little tighter, tapping his finger on the weapon, telling her without words that he was prepared with the neurotoxin bullets the Bat had brought her down with, she’d expected nothing less.

Rick continued to talk, Lawton in particular seemed to be sizing the man up, but dick measuring didn’t interest Fade, so she found herself zoning out. Stifling a yawn, she let the details of the mission go over her head, uncaring of how they intended to kill them and just wanting to get on with it.

Realising Digger was still staring at her intermittently she allowed herself to study him closer. The man was built solidly though clearly more muscle than anything else, if his tanned exposed arms protruding from his black tank top were anything to go by. She couldn’t help but think the mutton chops was a strange style choice, but they didn’t look terrible on him. It helped offset the fact that when he wasn’t smiling, he had a tough looking face.

His eyes were icy blue, but they sparkled with warmth and amusement as he turned and caught her staring with a look of blatant appreciation on her face “Like what you see Darl?” he cooed, blowing her a kiss as she smirked in response. It took a squeal of joy from Harley to alert her to the arrival of their gear. Fade couldn’t help but laugh as Harley skipped to her trunk, popping it open and clapping her hands together like an excited child at the contents, which were decided not child friendly.

Stripping out of her jumpsuit unashamedly, Harley instantly captured every male gaze in the vicinity allowing Fade to undress next to her with no unwanted attention on her, except for Digger’s continually lingering gaze.

The night she’d been caught she’d been out, up to no good on behalf of the Joker, all dressed in black attempting to go unnoticed. Her usual uniform of skinny jeans, knee high boots and black hoodie combo but upon inspection of the contents of the trunk Fade was confused to find them missing. A frown crossed her face as she assumed they’d provided her with someone else’s gear by mistake.

Reaching into the container she pulled out a dark grey almost black tactical jacket, an all too familiar union jacket patch on the arm that left her snarling “What the fuck Flag! This isn’t my gear”

Striding over to her with an impassive expression on his face he peered into the trunk and then offered her a shrug “Sure it is”

“Not for a long time and you know that! So where’s my damn gear?” She hissed incensed, uncaring that she was now drawing more attention to herself in her semi undressed state.

“The clothes and gear you had on you the night you were taken were used as evidence in your trial. If you remember they were covered with your victim’s blood” Rick stated calmly though his clenched jaw betrayed his agitated state.

Continuing to glare at him Fade folded her arms across her chest, not wanting to be reminded of the bogus charge that had put her behind bars, she might not be an angel, but she was no murderer, at least not this time.

“What about the stuff I had at my apartment surely that was all confiscated, I want that!”

“Your apartment burned down hon!” Harley called out, Fade’s head snapping round at the sound of her voice “What?”

Harley shrugged “Mr J don’t like it when people betray him you know that”

“I never! You know that’s not what happened” Fade shrieked, Harley offering a sympathetic but unconvinced shrug as she returned to her own trunk.

“Looks like it’s this or your orange jumpsuit” Rick snarked “Unless you’d prefer to go in naked?”

Fade glared at him “Don’t tempt me”

“I vote naked sweetheart, something nice to look at would be a bonus” Digger leered, a grin on his face his gold tooth flashing in the sun.

Rolling her eyes, she flipped him off to his general amusement and reached back into the trunk, as much as she didn’t want to be wearing her old special forces gear it was apparently her only option.

Yanking her old combats up over her hips, she added her combat boots and topped it off with a worn but soft dark grey undershirt that stretched down over her hands, thumbs hooking easily through the provided holes. Reaching for the tactical jacket she’d dropped in disgust earlier, she paused only to rip the patch from the arm before shrugging into it. Throwing the offending item over her shoulder as she zipped it shut, that was an affiliation she no longer held, her old country having long since washed their hands of her along with her adoptive country.

It was only when she snapped her thigh holsters into place and added her old but well-loved twin pistols that she started feeling a little better about the situation. Being armed to the teeth seemed to have that effect on her, so it was with a deep satisfied sigh that she secreted her various knifes and spare ammunition about her person.

Finally on locating a stay hair tie from her many pockets she twisted her long dirty blonde mane up and into low bun securing it at the base of her neck and declared herself ready for whatever was coming.

A quiet “What?” leaving Harley’s lips caught her attention, Fade snorting at the assembled men who started and scampered away, ashamed at being caught watching the blonde dressing, not that she could really blame them.

Fade sighed “Really?” Harley’s head popping back up from her trunk a question on her face in response.

Shaking her head exasperatedly she just chuckled at her friend’s choice of sequined hotpants, fishnets and high heeled boots to head into danger. Even more so that the woman had taken the time to fix her hair into pigtails, spray colour on the ends and apply a full face of makeup.

Straightening with her bat in hand Harley grinned devilishly at her “At least take your gun too” Fade muttered, motioning to the just visible gold and black firearm glinting from beneath one of Harley’s many inappropriate outfits. Harley nodded rapidly and disappeared into her trunk once more, bat hitting the ground with a wooden rattle as she rummaged for her forgotten weapon.

Looking round she found the Aussie quickly hiding something pink and fluffy in the depths of his grimy dark grey leather trench coat, a single finger on his lips at her enquiring gaze when he looked up.

“Captain Boomerang huh?” She asked indicating the metal items in his hands that he was rapidly tucking into every crevice of his battered leather trenchcoat “How good are you with those things?”

Standing Digger slotted the last one into the lining of his coat with a grin “I never miss my target sweetness”

Fade pursed her lips to keep from laughing, she doubted they were talking about his prowess with the odd choice of weapon any longer.

Now that the group was back in their usual attire Fade noticed how the men seemed to be sizing one another up, Digger prowling around paying close attention to the others Fade watching him with narrowed eyes. So far, he’d come across as a bit of a goon but now she was beginning to think he might be more intelligent than she gave him credit for.

The group minus Slipknot, who hung back to one side no apparent interest in the others, gathered around Harley as she continued to play with the contents of her trunk, torn whether to take her mallet or bat into battle. The men were talking but Fade had no interest continuing to ignore them just watching Harley with an amused expression on her face until Diggers voice broke through. Something about his voice just capturing her attention when he turned to Diablo asking, “What’s that crap on ya face, does it wash off?”

Croc chuckled darkly as Fade snorted, turning to look at the Aussie who looked vaguely pleased to have gotten a laugh out of her winking at her again, he was clearly a rogue but a charming one at least.

Looking back to Harley who was still playing with the mallet Fade shook her head at her, taking the weapon out of her hand and thrusting her bat at her instead. The blonde grinned at her and nodded decisively, Fade couldn’t’ help but wish she could talk her out of her other bad decisions this easily.

Rick marched up to them holding up a tablet emblazoned with the ARGUS logo “Behold the voice of god”

Fade snarled when Waller appeared on the screen, she doubted the woman even knew who she was really, but to Fade she was the one that volunteered her for the STARS lab project that resulted in her current state. It’s true she couldn’t blame the woman for the nuclear meltdown, as it turns out that was Mr J’s fault after his attempt to steal the reactor materials was thwarted by the Bat. But if it wasn’t for Waller she wouldn’t have been there when it blew.

Ignoring the woman, she crossed her arms and sighed impatiently, she’d never been one for standing around doing nothing but these days she felt like a live wire, her skin practically crackling with energy.

It took Rick shouldering past Lawton and Digger, who in turn knocked into Fade to drag her attention back to her surroundings with a jerk. Glancing around slightly wildly as if startled she gaped when she realised Digger now had a beer can in his hand “Where did you get that?” she asked incredulously, scanning their surroundings for the bar she’d clearly missed.

Offering her a cocky smile he rummaged in one of the many pockets of his grimy trench coat, producing another can and holding it out to her. Grinning in return she accepted the surprisingly cold can and snapped it open, downing half the can in one go “Good on ya girl!” Digger trilled in approval.

“Alpha, Bravo team, mount up” Rick roared over the sound of the oversized Chinook helicopters landing nearby.

Making no attempt to move quickly, the assembled team dubbed the suicide squad by Lawton followed Rick and the support teams to the tarmac.

With a wave of his hand, he motioned them into the nearest one and followed them all in, shouting over the rotors for them to take a seat, becoming more agitated by the second as they collectively dithered and failed to follow commands quickly.

 Fade fell into the seat between Digger and Harley, the Aussie immediately dropping one large hand onto her leg as she settled in, dangerously high on her thigh with a wide grin in her direction. She shot him a pointed look that clearly said move it or lose it without having to verbalise the threat, he chuckled in response but nonetheless retrieved his hand, though not before giving her thigh a gentle squeeze.

Usually, Fade didn’t approve of this sort of behaviour directed towards any woman, let alone herself, but today knowing they were all going to die anyway she couldn’t find it in herself to care. It helped that despite being generally lecherous there didn’t seem to be any real malice behind his actions. Digger just seemed to be playing around, which was harmless enough under the circumstances and he was relatively easy on the eyes, so she allowed it.

She didn’t know his background, but she doubted he’d found himself on the team because he was a nice guy, but despite being a relatively large man he wasn’t coming off all that intimidating either. Fade conceded that her take on what was and wasn’t scary was decidedly different these days, so maybe her worldview was somewhat warped.

Distracted by the contemplation of her own sanity, Fade failed to notice the woman hopping onto the chopper just as it took off until Harley called out to her, hand outstretched “Harley Quinn, nice ta meet ya. Love ya perfume what is that? The stench of death?”

Fade sniggered at the sound of Harley trademark cackle, but on looking round her eyes widened as she recognised Katana, the woman’s shocked eyes meeting hers across the airborne vehicle, mirroring her surprise. The woman looked to Rick for an explanation, but he only shook his head and motioned for her to sit.

Looking back to Harley the blonde smiled tightly at her friend having caught the recognition that flashed between them but surprisingly wasn’t the one to comment. Instead, it was Lawton who leant forward past Harley, voice dropping low as he enquired “Another friend of yours?”

Fade snorted “She look friendly to you?”

Both glanced at the woman who scowled at them in response “Decidedly not” Lawton agreed and settled back into his seat with a smirk.

 Now the choppers were up and on their way, Fade couldn’t help feeling an overwhelming sense of Déjà vu, just another beautiful day in ARGUS Special Ops, not that she was part of the team any longer or for some time. For some inexplicable reason the higher ups took a dim view to her attack on one of her former colleagues, they didn’t care that she’d caught him assaulting a local woman they’d rather turn a blind eye. They just weren’t prepared to turn a blind eye to her hacking off his privates with a machete though and they didn’t care to listen to the why, especially after the shock had killed him. Rick had tried to defend her, but she was nevertheless dishonourably discharged, her career over with immediate effect and remanded to Gotham Military Base Prison. It was from there she’d been effectively sold to STAR labs as a Lab rat by Waller.

Digger noticed her sudden preoccupation so didn’t take offence to her refusal to be drawn into conversation, instead wordlessly passing her another beer which she accepted with a small grateful smile in his direction.

Rick was glaring at the two of them, he didn’t approve they were on mission after all, but she merely cracked the can, clanked it against Digger’s and drained it while holding her former CO’s gaze.

He shook his head and turned back to Lawton who was attempting to start another dick measuring competition between the two of them.

Ignoring the men, Fade rolled her eyes at Harley who was up on her knees face pressed against the window, tugging her firmly back down into her seat “Come on act like you’ve been out in the world before…” the admonishment dying in her throat as she peered out the small round window herself, catching sight of the light show that was holding Harley’s unequivocal attention.

The sounds of gunfire hitting the chopper took them all by surprise, nearly everyone ducked on reflex making shrill noises of surprise and alarm at the noise even Fade. Her automatic response was to phase but she had to control that particular impulse, or she’d just fall through the chopper floor. Gritting her teeth, eyes screwed tightly shut she was vaguely aware of a shrill alarm announcing engine failure, the acrid smell of oil fuelled smoke and the nasty sensation of her stomach plummeted as the disabled chopped lurched downwards.

A shriek cut through her concentration from her left, realising Harley had removed her restraints to look out the window Fade reacted without opening her eyes. Snapping an arm out to her side she clamped it down over Harley’s midsection, hand spearing into the netting the other side of her pulling the woman back down into her seat as securely as she could manage. Fade felt rather than saw her friend’s hand clutching onto her arm as they fell from the sky, the chopper rolling with the screech of metal on metal indicating they’d hit something, the passengers lurcher sickeningly sideways.

The remaining pilot was doing his best despite his injuries but with no power they landed hard on one side, the chopper fuselage hitting the deck with the sound of rending metal, the rotors snapping clean away as they rolled over and over.

 Screams and shrieks filled the air, while most were secured into their seats or being held down by others, arms and legs were flailing wildly as the centre of gravity changed constantly. Fade was dimly aware of something heavy laying across her holding her down, her own arms braced across Harley and to her right. Rigid with the effort of trying to prevent herself from phasing and preventing the diminutive blonde from sliding out of her seat. With a nasty crunch the body of the destroyed vehicle finally lurched to a stop, the sounds of terror fading to be replaced with the ringing sound of sudden silence. The sounds of groaning and panting trying to catch their breath rising to fill the void, if Fade was honest, she wasn’t yet sure if they were dead or alive but then neither was anyone else.

Rick was up quicker than the others demanding they sound off, the troops responding reflexively as if on autopilot, including Fade as she forced her eyes open. Glancing to her left she flexed her hand loosening her knuckle whitening grip on the netting the other side of Harley with a small wince “You ok?” She enquired of the crazy woman that she called a friend.

Harley whooped and hugged Fades arm to her chest “Can we go again?”

Chuckling breathlessly relieved the woman was ok if not still nuts Fade removed her arm from her grasp, realising someone was wincing to her immediate right Fade snapped her head round to Digger’s face to see it screwed up in pain “You hurt?” she demanded urgently.

He shook his head “Nah love, ya just got a bloody good grip”

Frowning Fade glanced downwards belatedly realising her right hand was clamped around the poor man’s thigh, fingers biting harshly into his flesh. Snatching her hand away she smiled apologetically “Sorry”

Laughing he shook his head “Nah don’t worry Darl, I like it rough” he winked at her, earning a bark of relieved laughter that he returned easily.

Only then did Fade realise that it had been Diggers arm clamped across her during their freefall as she’d done to Harley, it had been his strong grip that had held her so firmly in place.

Looking down at the arm that slanted across her and then back up to the man with a deep sigh, she jerked her head downwards to draw his attention to the fact that his hand was currently placed firmly over her left breast.

“You can let go now” She added for good measure, Digger grinning at her but not immediately removing his hand.

It took a purse of her lips and a raised eyebrow for him to finally move it, chuckling as he did so “Can’t blame a bloke love”

The sound of singing drew their attention back to the cackling blonde “Oooooh Boomer and Zuzu sitting in a tree K, I, S, S, S, S, I, N, G!”

[mangowavves]

a mistake (spotify wrapped 2023 on steroids)

here's the top 100 from both of my accounts. and i mean both. i used two different accounts this year. meaning it's a top 187 :3

links will be supplied at the bottom in case you'd rather look at them that way

version one

1. ramen waitress - high sunn 2. hunter's moon - ghost 3. how to never stop being sad - dandelion hands 4. rats - ghost 5. ghuleh / zombie queen - ghost 6. the bug collector - haley heynderickx 7. nova scotia 500 - boyscott 8. ode to joy 2 - remo drive 9. per aspera ad inferi - ghost 10. where the sun sets - mars water 11. what a pleasure - beach fossils 12. seventeen (age) - mike krol 13. year zero - ghost 14. glass jaw - chokecherry 15. american spirits - inner wave 16. fifteen minutes - mike krol 17. kiss the go-goat - ghost 18. ever new - beverly glenn-copeland 19. visions - loving 20. dræm girl - no vacation 21. jigolo har megiddo - ghost 22. song for a guilty sadist - crywank 23. her sinking sun - coma cinema 24. lotus eater - foster the people 25. mummy dust - ghost 26. hospital beach - cottonwood firing squad 27. evergreen - richy mitch & the coal miners 28. what once was - her's 29. con clavi con dio - ghost 30. grade school love - mike krol 31. my blueberry life - current joys 32. clay pigeons - michael cera 33. call me little sunshine - ghost 34. the end - sisyphus 35. gnaw - alex g 36. i exist i exist i exist - flatsound 37. dance macabre - ghost 38. orgasm of death - the growlers 39. using - sorority noise 40. disco - surf curse 41. cirice - ghost 42. swing lynn - harmless 43. stress relief - late night drive home 44. boys - indigo de souza 45. jesus he knows me - ghost 46. red minivan - mike krol 47. blond hair, black lungs - sorority noise 48. smokey eyes - lincoln 49. twenties - ghost 50. ash in the sun - vundabar 51. kids - the frights 52. francis forever - mitski 53. square hammer - ghost 54. alien blues - vundabar 55. ***hidden track*** - prince daddy & the hyena 56. nostalgic feel - bedroom 57. faith - ghost 58. misty morning - travis bretzer 59. killing floor - subvision 60. fine, great - modern baseball 61. i'm a marionette - ghost 62. losing touch (nyc) - thanks for coming 63. make out song - the rosebuds 64. forever dumb - surf curse 65. monstrance clock - ghost 66. two weeks - grizzly bear 67. the gaping mouth - lowertown 68. art school wannabe - sorority noise 69. kaisarion - ghost 70. need 2 - pinegrove 71. you are going to hate this - the frights 72. velvet ring - big thief 73. ritual - ghost 74. rip van winkle - shannon & the clams 75. like a star - mike krol 76. i dreamt i saw you in a dream - sunbeam sound machine 77. watcher in the sky - ghost 78. maud gone - car seat headrest 79. natural disaster - mike krol 80. where'd all the time go? - dr. dog 81. griftwood - ghost 82. morning sun - dave bixby 83. glue - p.h.f. 84 idk - fake tides 85. stand by him - ghost 86. all alone - acid ghost 87. everything is going to hell - teen suicide 88. best supporting actor - good morning 89. spillways - ghost 90. cold weather - glass beach 91. woke up - olivia olson 92. heart attack - mike krol 93. from the pinnacle to the pit - ghost 94. nothing lasts - bedroom 95. enjoy yourself - saint pepsi 96. s.w.a.k. - luxary elite 97. crucified - ghost 98. resonance - home 99. 恢复 - 2 8 1 4 100. a sad song about a girl i no longer know - bedroom kites

version two

1. the village - wrabel 2. get fucked - mustard service 3. unlucky - lunar vacation 4. dancing through the telephone - the axidents 5. i think it might be hell - clarence james 6. common sense - benches 7. want me - baby queen 8. a portrait of - sorority noise 9. like or like like - miniature tigers 10. keep two-stepping - pretoria 11. smokey eyes - lincoln (48) 12. hanging from the ceiling - the velveteins 13. eventualities - daddy's beemer 14. card declined for pizza & wine - stevie dinner 15. fear of heights - daddy's beemer 16. why do you lie - the grinns 17. stay - buddah trixie 18. jesus he knows me - ghost (45) 19. demons - m.a.g.s. 20. shrek~chic - winona forever 21. why am i like this? - orla gartland 22. dogs - nouns 23. drought - carpool tunnel 24. where did my pets go? - furnsss 25. sea dogs & pyrite - soft cough 26. a.c.l. - the symposium 27. jaded - near tears 28. cowboy hat - sea ghost 29. typical - goodbye honolulu 30. nova scotia 500 - boyscott (7) 31. red minivan - mike krol (46) 32. like i care - noah nolastname 33. girls - girls in red 34. corpse - franky flowers 35. grade school love - mike krol (30) 36. dance with me - beabadoobee 37. dover beach - baby queen 38. lovesick - peace 39. like a star - mike krol (75) 40. sappho - frankie cosmos 41. colours of you - baby queen 42. too close - sir chloe 43. easy eyes - archer oh 44. strawberry milk - deep sea peach tree 45. art school wannabe - sorority noise (68) 46. pine point - pup 47. 27 club - strange case 48. blackout control - spendtime palace 49. kids - the frights (51) 50. where the sun sets - mars water (10) 51. the spins - mac miller 52. shred cruz - mom jeans 53. evergreen - richy mitch & the coal miners (27) 54. my only friend - lll spector 55. kim - joy again 56. don't delete the kisses - wolf alice 57. grass eater - the mellowells 58. call me - elevator fight club 59. if you want to - beabadoobee 60. lucid - rina sawayama 61. don't leave me (chapter 1: despair) - hmltd 62. buzzkill - baby queen 63. any other way - tomberlin 64. because i love you - montaigne 65. fever dream - mxmtoon 66. alaska - maggie rogers, toby green 67. i want to be with you - chloe moriondo 68. paper mache world - matilda mann 69. close to you - dayglow 70. telephone - waterparks 71. 14 days - floral tattoo 72. april - beach bunny 73. let's go - stuck in the sound 74. d'you have a car - swrms 75. soapbox sunday - courier club 76. dance macabre (37) 77. ode to joy 2 - remo drive (8) 78. star catcher - vansire 79. cut your bangs - radiator hospital 80. our window - noah and the whale 81. yer killin' me - remo drive 82. my own person - ezra williams 83. angel - lava la rue 84 clearest blue - chvrches 85. flirting with her - sir babygirl 86. heart - flor 87. what's it gonna be - shura 88. tired - beabadoobee 89. urbanangel1999 - thomas headen 90. knock me off my feet - soak 91. you are going to hate this - the frights (71) 92. nothing else i can do - ella jane 93. moment in the sun - sunflower bean 94. bang bang bang - lauren hibberd 95. imposter syndrome - sidney gish 96. natalie portman 2002 - jason is 97. nobody loves you - similar kind 98. i want to kiss you - the spook school 99. turtleneck sweater - marinelli 100. satan's hands - sexy girls

links for the impatient :3

[scoreconnaisseur]

Read at your own risk of spoilers. Let me know what I missed in the comments!

-contrast in themes between “Only One Spider-Man” and Miles’s take on it, “Spider-Man Loves You”

-whistling in “Visions Brooklyn 1, 2, 3.” For me, it always feels like the beat drops on an off-beat to show the awkwardness of what he’s feeling

-the Prowler’s “roar” sound, which first appears in “The Amazing Spider-Man”

-the 3-note “Destiny” motif in “Destiny,” “Mi Amor,” “Spider Training”

-also in “Destiny,” the 3-note Spider-Man motif. Used for multiple Spider-Mans, throughout the Alchemax excursion, especially in “Are You Ready to Swing?” and throughout the rest of the score

-“My Name is … Peter B. Parker” resembles the Peter (A) theme from “The Amazing Spider-Man” just like Peter B resembles Peter A

-“Peter enters the Spider-verse” resembles the opening title credits—the sound of the dimensions glitching; see also “Gwen Enters the Spider-Verse”

-keyboard clicks in “Alchemax Arrival” and “Spider-Man science.” A Daniel-Pemberton-ism is to use odd sounds

-You can clearly hear Gwen’s entrance because of the heavy drum presence that starts halfway or so through “Swing?”

-deep, heavy brass in “Kingpin Clicks” for Kingpin just like when he smashes Peter A

-“Spider-Man” theme in “Aunt May…” when going into the spider hideout, plus “Destiny” theme

-entrance of the Spider Team theme!!!! My favorite, literally almost 2 bars of 16th notes and a little triplet thing at the end of it

-techno for Penny, goofy old-school cartoon with slide whistle for Porker, part of Porker’s section includes something that sounds similar to “Entrance of the Gladiators” from the circus

-“On Your Way” = repetition of “Mi Amor,” with the “destiny” motif

-“The Team Leaves” has sad version of the 3-note spider man motif

-“Spider-Team Mission” EPIC SPIDER TEAM THEME, plus I love the beat drop with the line “It’s that easy”

-the irony of the name “Suicide Squad” as a track title

-“Miles Morales Returns” spider-man motif, plus his signature record scratches; Porker’s corny cartoon music section; repetition of the “rising” motif from “Comic Book,” also very representative of Miles

-repetition of the Peter A’s theme from “the amazing spider man” as they’re in the collider room again

-“Saying Goodbye” sad/nostalgic 3-note spider man theme

-“Shut It Down” repetition of the solo trumpet from “this spark in you”

-“Kingpin fight” 3-note “destiny” motif for Miles begins it except it sounds much more hard-core, like Miles has things under control now

-“Shoulder Touch” 3-note Miles “destiny” motif, record scratches, spider-man 3-note motif

-“Spider-Man Loves You” record scratches start it out, spider-man 3-note motif, rising theme from “Comic Book” that signifies Miles

[dankusner]

Alex Garland's 'Civil War' starring Kirsten Dunst packs a punch

"Civil War" (opening Friday), the latest film from British director-writer Alex Garland (“Annihilation," "Ex-Machina"), takes what many whisper about in these divisive, polarizing times and turns it into a smartly crafted, suspenseful, propulsive thriller that manages to make a statement without tipping Garland's political hand too much.

Kirsten Dunst and Brazilian actor Wagner Moura (“Elite Squad," "Narcos") are Lee and Joel, a photographer and reporter working for Reuters, who are covering the war that has broken out in a near-future America as the country's three most populous states, California, Texas and Florida, declare war on Washington, D.C.

The first two try to secede under the banner of the Western Alliance while the Sunshine State is heading the Florida Alliance.

The journalists decide to leave the relative safety of an unraveling New York City to travel closer to the heart of darkness in D.C. to attempt to snare the last interview with an increasingly embattled president (Nick Offerman) before he either surrenders, is forced from office or is assassinated.

In order to do that, they have to travel through areas that have fallen into anarchy and chaos.

Complicating matters is that they've taken on two passengers who may be more liability than asset: young, eager but inexperienced photographer Jessie (Cailee Spaeney, "Priscilla") and experienced but ailing war correspondent Sammy (Stephen McKinley Henderson).

Much has been made online how unrealistic it is that Texas and California would be allies in a potential conflict, and Garland has even responded to the social media firestorm by explaining in the Hollywood Reporter that he conceived the story in this way “partly to get around a kind of reflexive, polarizing position that people might fall into, that’s one thing, but actually that’s not the main thing. The main thing is to do with how the president is presented and what can be inferred from that.”

In other words, the president (who is never given a name) is a fascist who has both ended the FBI and used air strikes on American citizens, prompting blue-state and red-state America to erupt into spasms of ever-increasing violence.

Some might criticize Garland for cowardice in not wanting to offend one end of the spectrum or the other or for simply being unrealistic.

Still, his approach does allow all viewers to get on board with the premise.

It helps that Garland doesn't bother to explain too much.

The director drops you in the middle of the action and you're left to piece together the events that have led to this moment.

It just as well could have been contemporary Haiti, a collapsing Yugoslavia in the ’90s or any country that has hungrily turned on itself.

(It's probably no accident that the soundtrack includes tracks from the band Suicide.)

Yet "Civil War" isn't just about good guys versus bad guys.

It's not a reimagining of "Red Dawn," John Milius' 1994 drama about teenagers defending the U.S. against a Soviet invasion.

Instead, it's a much more nuanced look at people caught up in the middle of forces they are more and more finding difficult to comprehend.

That they happen to be journalists just trying to do their jobs underscores the importance of good journalism in an increasingly fractured world.

As the four descend farther into the belly of this new America, Garland cranks up the tension and suspense, using his command of visuals and sound (the film is especially powerful in IMAX) to propel the outwardly simple story forward.

If, at times, "Civil War" has the feel of a jump-scare horror movie, it's worth noting that Garland wrote "28 Days Later," one of the all-time great zombie films.

(And the presence of Offerman brings back memories of one of the best episodes of the HBO zombie series, "The Last of Us.")

And in a brief but memorable turn, camo-clad Jesse Plemons is zombie-scary as a paramilitary militia member whose loyalties remain murky while his cruel nativism does not.

Yet it's the versatile and impressive Dunst who holds the film together as a seasoned professional grown weary after a steady diet of death, despair and trauma as she and Joel try to write history on the fly.

It's something that she can't really articulate to Jessie, an acolyte who wants to be just like her, or her gung-ho reporting partner, Joel. Still, it's the film's beating heart.

And it's this internal war that just may be the toughest to win. Civil War is not the film you think it is.

The trailers.

The initial, enigmatic descriptions.

The title.

It all infers an analysis of America as a divided nation, one where the risk of a second great conflagration seems all too imminent.

But writer/director Alex Garland is not interested in red states versus blue states, as shown by the fact that the rebellion is being led by the unified forces of Texas and California.

Whatever it is that the president (Nick Offerman) has done, it’s so egregious, so horrifying, that even traditional antagonists are bound together in a new race to Berlin.

That’s the term bandied around by journalists in a New York hotel.

But it could not be New York.

It could be Saigon in ’75, Jakarta in ’65, Belgrade in ’91.

It’s anywhere that reporters gather and drink and wait for their next assignment, and the next assignment for battle-numbed photographer Lee (Kirsten Dunst) and adrenaline junkie writer Joel (Wagner Moura) is to get the last interview with the president in his bunker before he’s extracted and executed for treason.

Garland’s selection of these disunited states has nothing to do with our current political divide.

If anything, picking such unlikely bedfellows as the Lone Star and Golden states as insurrectionists is a clear warning to audiences not to get caught up in extraneous details.

It’s merely a familiar context, to add immediacy to a global experience.

There’s an especially chilling scene with a cameoing Plemons that seems drawn straight from stories of war bands roaming Serbia or Mogadishu’s militias, committing atrocities for atrocity’s sake.

It can, indeed, happen here.

These are horrors to which Lee and Joel do not simply bear witness.

They chase them, question them, record them, then send their experiences back to readers away from the front line.

Garland is telling the story of war correspondents – a rare, fucked-up breed who run toward gunfire and get quotes in the middle of smoking craters.

It’s an oddly alluring calling for those that romanticize it, like Jessie (Cailee Spaeny), a talented young photographer who idolizes Lee and worms her way into their car bound for besieged D.C.

She’s confined to the backseat by Lee with It Can Happen Here film Alex Garland enters the battlefield of combat zone journalism in Civil War grizzled old war zone vet Sammy (the perpetually excellent Stephen McKinley Henderson) as they head to the fall of the White House. Garland’s masterful and shocking script is counterbalanced with his quiet, mannered direction.

This may be his most restrained and introspective work since his razor-edged and gossamer-delicate script for 2010’s Never Let Me Go, but that’s not sitting at odds with the material.

Instead, it’s in tension with it, revealing the convoluted motivations that draw war zone journalists into the fray, and the damage that life inflicts.

This may be the closest we’ll ever get to a film version of My War Gone By, I Miss It So, the harrowing autobiography/frontline reportage by The Times reporter Anthony Loyd.

Garland’s script examines the sense of detachment that is necessary, the situational awareness of running through a firefight with the aim of getting the shot rather than taking the shot, and the dedication to presenting the unavoidable, grisly, shocking truth.

The conflict itself is constantly harrowing, whether it be tank battles in the streets, melees across abandoned apartment complexes, or navigating sniper alley.

But nothing is as harrowing as seeing the fracturing hardness in Lee’s eyes.

Dunst doesn’t round Lee out but hollows her out, interlocking with Moura’s portrayal of Joel as exploding with manic enthusiasm.

But for both, those defining character aspects are survival mechanisms to get the necessary job done.

Garland’s script is not just a warning about the ease in which an armed society slips into violence, but a love letter to journalism.

ACTION-THRILLER

CIVIL WAR

A

The journalists are the good guys, but also kind of the bad guys, in Alex Garland’s virtuosic Civil War , a jarring account of what a near-future disunification of the United States might look like.

Intended as a wake-up call, the long-fuse thriller — which starts slow and snowballs to a jaw-dropping raid on Washington, D.C. — embeds viewers alongside a dedicated team of journalists heading to the Capitol while the country unravels around them.

It’s the most upsetting dystopian vision yet from the sci-fi brain that killed off all of London for the zombie uprising depicted in 28 Days Later, and it’s one that can’t be easily consumed as entertainment.

A provocative shock to the system, Civil War is designed to be divisive.

Ironically, it’s also meant to bring folks together.

Led by veteran war photographer Lee Smith (Kirsten Dunst), the journalists are a tight crew of total pros.

They represent a troubling form of detachment, essential to their work yet practically counter-human as they endeavor not to take sides, which serves as an indictment unto itself.

Garland’s script skips past why the conflict started, offering only the questionable notion that Texas and California both seceded and subsequently pooled resources as “the Western Forces” against a power-hungry, three-term president (Nick Offerman).

Though it looks like another entry in the popular post-apocalyptic thriller genre, make no mistake: Civil War depicts the apocalypse itself.

Garland establishes the chaos early, as Lee covers a mob scene where civilians reduced to refugees in their own country clamor for water.

Suddenly, a suicide bomber runs in waving an American flag.

Civil War is a cautionary tale, repurposing the sort of imagery audiences have seen in overseas war zones — dissidents hanging from bridges, lime-covered corpses piled into mass graves — and applying them to familiar, all-American settings.

It’s startling, to say the least.

Sight unseen, Civil War has been criticized for exploiting tensions in an election year when, in fact, it’s meant to illustrate the futility of “sides.”

As statements go, Garland’s powerful vision leaves us shaken, effectively repeating the question that quelled the L.A. riots:

Can we all get along?

‘Civil War’ is one of the best movies of the year

It’s misleading to call 'Civil War,' Alex Garland’s latest film, political, because despite all appearances there are no politics to speak of.

Which maybe in itself is political.

But there’s no bothsideism here.

There are no sides at all, at least not in that way.

What there is, in propulsive, unrelenting intensity, is war – and the violence and the horror and the destruction it demands.

This is the aftermath of politics gone wrong, of deepening divisions and hunger for unchecked power – and the journalists documenting it all, and the price they pay to do so.

It’s one of the best movies of the year.

And among journalists, at least, it should be one of the most-talked about.

What is ‘Civil War’ about? Probably not what you think

The film opens with the President of the United States (Nick Offerman, outstanding, as ever), hair helmet firmly in place, rehearsing as he is about to address the nation.

'Some are already calling it the greatest victory in the history of mankind,' he says.

Sound familiar?

The images we see put a lie to what he’s saying: This 'victory' is the U.S. military turned on American citizens.

Texas and California – strange political bedfellows, which is doubtless the point – have seceded, forming the Western Alliance.

Florida has formed its own breakaway nation.

The president is in his third term.

He has disbanded the FBI.

He hasn’t given an interview in more than a year.

If this sounds like Trumpian wish fulfillment, fair enough, but that’s it for the political backdrop.

We don’t learn more about how or when the nation split apart.

We only know how it’s playing out.

And it isn’t pretty.

The film tracks four journalists who are chronicling events.

The informal leader is Lee Miller (Kirsten Dunst, as good as she’s ever been), a legendary war photographer.

She and reporter Joel (Wagner Moura) work for Reuters.

They’re covering what turns into a bombing in New York when Lee helps out Jessie (Cailee Spaeny), a would-be photographer who thinks of Lee as a hero.

Later that night, at a hotel bar, Lee and Joel chat with Sammy (Stephen McKinley Henderson), an aging reporter for 'what’s left of the New York Times.'

He’s a mentor of sorts to Lee.

They’re going to attempt to drive to Washington D.C. the next day; Joel and Lee have a line on the elusive interview with the president.

Much to Lee’s chagrin, Jessie tags along.

What follows is a road trip through the worst nightmare of what the country could become.

Jesse Plemons is terrifying in a small role

At least let’s hope it’s the worst.

A run-in with a rogue soldier played with menace as quiet as it is chilling by Jesse Plemons is horrifying.

At a gas station a gun-toting lunatic talks about how one of the men he’s got strung up out back didn’t much talk to him when he was in high school.

It is the petty grievances that have become so popular taken to their logical conclusion.

And it is terrifying.

To Lee, it’s a matter of getting everything on the record.

Should they intervene in violent situations?

Should they stand against something they know is wrong?

'We don’t ask those questions,' Lee tells Jessie, who has done just that. 'We record, so other people can ask those questions. If you want to be a journalist, that’s the job.'

But is it?

How far do you carry that belief?

Lee gives you a pretty good idea after she warns Jessie she’s afraid she’ll lose her mind or get shot.

'Would you photograph that moment – if I got shot?' Jessie asks.

'What do you think?' is Lee’s simple reply.

What matters most to her is the story, and she will go to almost any lengths to get it.

It is a dedication that goes increasingly unappreciated – the dedication to telling the truth, no matter how ugly that truth is.

Alex Garland’s direction is flawless

Garland, who also wrote the script, shoots incredibly intense battle scenes.

I saw the film in an IMAX theater and recommend it.

The sound enveloped the audience, percussive, disturbing.

Between the galloping pace of the action and the percussive soundtrack and sound editing, you remain tense the entire time.

Garland just won’t let you relax.

But there are subtler touches, as well, and Garland’s direction is flawless.

As they drive through Pennsylvania we see the words 'Go Steelers' painted on a bridge.

It takes a moment to notice the bodies hanging from it.

Eventually, they arrive at their destination.

But they are changed.

What they have seen and are about to see is unimaginable.

Or it should be.

What happens when your job is to bear witness to the destruction of everything you have known or believed in?

'Civil War' offers some answers, none of them easy.

Let’s hope these are questions we never really have to ask

Between the A.I. drama “Ex Machina” and the pandemic-based horror movie “28 Days Later,” the writer-director Alex Garland has made something of a name for himself as a chronicler of worst-case scenarios.

(Whether these scenarios are always persuasive is a separate question. “28 Days Later,” which was directed by Danny Boyle and launched the career of a young Cillian Murphy, is a masterpiece; “Men,” a solo Garland venture from 2022, is not.)

His latest film, “Civil War,” apes the iconography of the Capitol riot to construct another dismal future—one in which tensions between the states have reduced the U.S. to a conflict zone.

The blockbuster proved divisive long before it opened in theatres this week: when the first teaser dropped, in December, liberal commentators questioned its politics even as right-wing conspiracy theorists declared it “predictive programming” by the deep state.

The film itself—which follows a quartet of war correspondents who set out to reach D.C. in time for a rumored assault by secessionists—is as much of a Rorschach test as the trailer was.

Garland opens in a ruined New York City and leaves it to viewers to fill in the blanks of how we got to this point.

His visuals for the ensuing road trip are provocative, and his fluency with action yields genuine suspense, but the protagonists are little more than archetypes with conveniently old-school philosophies of journalism.

For Lee (Kirsten Dunst), a hardened war photographer, simply bearing witness is the be-all-end-all. “We don’t ask,” she tells a rookie.

“We record so other people ask.” Garland, too, is more than ready to supply the images. But he’d rather not dwell on their implications.

[astaldis]

To follow, flee or fight

Beware: Spoilers for “Baptism of Fire” by Andrzej Sapkowski and possibly for The Witcher Netflix Season 4 (depending on how closely the show will follow the original books).

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

The rain keeps falling, the land keeps burning and Cahir keeps following the Witcher and his company. Riding through the devastation and conflagration, passing columns of fleeing peasants bent beneath bundles containing all their worldly goods, fearful, horrified and uncomprehending. Seeing the worst imaginable atrocities. The ugly and terrible face of a war that is no longer his. Astounding how being wanted by both the northern kingdoms and Nilfgaard does change one's perspective. Lets you see this war for what it is - a monstrous crime against humanity. Fleetingly, Cahir wonders who has promised a higher reward for his capture, the Brotherhood of Mages or Emhyr var Emreis? Fortunately, the Witcher is giving a wide berth to any uproar of battle and avoids highways and well-travelled paths, and the fleeing peasants are far too dazed to notice him, let alone recognise him for what he is. A wanted war criminal and deserter. Riding alone through a war-tossed and ravaged country. Riding alone along forest tracks that are transformed into muddy slides by the continuing rain. Riding alone through fog and haze and smoke from burning buildings. Sleeping under dripping trees and in miry ditches, alone.

Suddenly, a few days later, he is not alone anymore. The Witcher on his horse is waiting for him in the forest clearing as he emerges from the brush, sword art the ready. Next to him Milva, bow in her hands, and Jaskier, the poet. Shit. They must finally have noticed him following them. And now he is cornered. Quickly he reins back his horse. For a moment they are standing there in utter silence, staring at each other, the silence broken only by the beating of the rain. Cahir could try to turn his chestnut around and flee. He does not believe the archer would shoot him from behind in cold blood, not after she pretty much saved his life from dehydration. However, where would he flee to? He does not intend to give up on his - admittedly very foolish and poorly conceived - plan to follow the Witcher across the continent anyway. Now, after having been spotted, he cannot expect to be able to secretly continue doing that, though. He is fed up with hiding, too, with being afraid every second of the day of discovery not only by northern as well as Nilfgaardian troops and Scoia'tael, but also by the very people he is trailing. And thoroughly tired of being alone day and night - especially so at night. Among the destruction, mutilated corpses and scary sounds of the dark forest, forced to sleep outside in the wild without both a campfire and a watch. No, he does not want to do this anymore. He will not flee. Neither will he fight. He has seen the Witcher in action, watched him slaughter his entire squad of Scoia'tael on Thanedd. Although he is probably one of the best sword fighters in the Nilfgaardian army - or at least he was before Princess Cirilla almost sliced his hand off - he would not stand a chance against Geralt of Rivia, the Butcher of Blaviken. Which leaves only one option. Cahir swallows. He knows that the chances of it working are slim at best. More like non-existent, if he is honest with himself. Well, desperate times, desperate measures. Even if it is, most likely, suicide.

So, Cahir stays, confronting the group despite the Witcher's warning that he would kill him like a dog if they ever met again. The silence lengthens uncomfortably. Until, finally, the Witcher breaks it.

"I forbade you from riding after us." Cahir looks down at his horse's wet mane but does not answer.

"I forbade it," repeats the white-haired Witcher, his voice as sharp as the blade of his sword. Cahir looks up again.

"You did," he eventually agrees. He stares at the other man defiantly. "But I must."

Wordlessly, Geralt dismounts, handing his reins to the poet.

"Get down," he then says calmly. The calm before the storm. "You've equipped yourself with some hardware, I see. Good," he continues, glancing meaningfully at the long sword hanging by Cahir's side in its black, Nilfgaardian scabbard. "There was no way I could kill you then, while you were unarmed. Now it's different. Dismount! And say goodbye to this life that ought to have ended weeks ago, on Thanedd."

"No." The Nilfgaardian shakes his head. "I'm not fighting you. I have no desire to do so."

"So I imagine," the Witcher scoffs. "No doubt, like all your fellow countrymen you prefer a different kind of fight. Like burning down homes with the people still inside or raping girls younger than ten, leaving them bleeding and naked in the streets. You must have seen plenty of it while following our trail." The Witcher's yellow mutant eyes gleam up at Cahir with barely contained loathing. The hand on the hilt of his sword twitches. "Or, perchance, you remember the refugee camp in Cintra? Ciri told me about it." Geralt pauses ominously. "Dismount!" he then bellows.

Cahir does not make a move. Nor does he answer to the accusations. As the Witcher is not wrong about the atrocities committed by his fellow countrymen. And by him. The dead eyes of the slaughtered children and women lying in the snow between the charred remains of the refugee camp still haunt him in his nightmares. As do the images of the blood-covered bodies of the people in the bakery. Maybe the Witcher is right about one more thing. He ought to have died on Thanedd. But he has not. What if there is a reason for why he is still alive?

"Princess Cirilla is not in Nilfgaard," he offers when the Witcher starts to twirl his sword impatiently.

"Spare your breath for our fight. I don't believe you," Geralt spits, venom in his voice. "Get down. I say it for the last time, Nilfgaardian!"

"I am Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach."

"I didn't ask you to introduce yourself. I ordered you to fucking dismount!"

"I will not. I don't want to fight you. And neither am I lying to you."

"Milva." The Witcher addresses the archer. He has had enough. "Be so kind as to shoot his horse from under him."

"No!" Alarmed, Cahir raises an arm before Milva has time to knock an arrow. The horse has nothing to do with all of this. "Please don't. I am dismounting."

"That's better. Now draw your sword, freak!"

Cahir folds his arms across his chest. The posture would have been quite impressive if it was not for the rain that makes the man look more like a half-drowned puppy than a murderous enemy knight.

"Kill me, if you want. If you prefer, order her," he nods at Milva, "to shoot me. Why do you hesitate, Witcher? Just get it over with. I'm not fighting you." Cahir pauses as if waiting for Geralt to strike or for the archer to loose the arrow that is already aimed at his chest. When neither happens, he draws himself up to his full height.

"I am Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach. I want-" For a split second he hesitates, then continues with resolve. "I want to join you." It sounds preposterous, even to him. Like a bad joke or the ravings of a lunatic after everything that has transpired, everything he has done. However, it is the truth.

"I must have misheard. Say that again." Geralt looks at Cahir suspiciously, as if the knight has totally lost his marbles. Maybe he has.

"I want to join you," Cahir repeats with even more conviction in his voice. Perhaps, if the Witcher is willing to let him explain... "You are riding to search for Princess Cirilla. And for Yennefer of Vengerberg. I want to help you. I have to help you. Please."

"He's a madman." Geralt turns to Milva and Jaskier. "He's taken leave of his senses. Those days in the coffin must have shrivelled up his brains. We're dealing with a madman, there is no doubt about it."

"He'd suit the company, then," mutters Milva. "He'd suit it perfectly."

"Why, think his proposition over, Geralt," Jaskier adds for consideration. "After all, he's a Nilfgaardian knight. Perhaps, with his help it'll be easier for us to get to Shitgaard. And, as I told you, he is - or at least was - friends with Yennefer. I wouldn't rule it out that he genuinely wants to help her. Yennefer has that effect on men, you know that."

"Stop talking rubbish, bard. Or have you gone crazy, too? You aren't feverish, are you?" Geralt mocks. "Have you forgotten? This is the black knight of Cintra!" he then spits. "Ciri's worst nightmare! The bloody bastard is not coming with us. Over my dead body!" Almost frothing at the mouth, Geralt turns to Cahir again. "As I said, draw your sword, Nilfgaardian!"

"I'm not going to fight," the former black knight of Cintra repeats stubbornly. "And I'm not a Nilfgaardian. I come from Vicovaro, and my name is-"

"I don't give a rat's ass about your bloody name. DRAW YOUR WEAPON!"

"No." Cahir maintains his defiant position despite the tip of the irate Witcher's sword now pointing directly at his throat. The two men stare at each other, both equally drenched and equally obstinate.

"Witcher," Milva interrupts, leaning down from the saddle and spitting on the ground. Afraid the confrontation will soon escalate and lead to Geralt eventually killing the stubborn knight after all - not that she cares about the man much, but Geralt would probably never forgive himself for offing somebody who is not defending himself - she continues. "Time's flying and the rain's falling. The Nilfgaardian doesn't want to fight, and although you're pulling a stern face, I know you won't cut him to pieces in cold blood. Do we have to hang about here all fucking day? I'll stick an arrow in his chestnut's underbelly and let's be on our way. He won't catch up on foot."

Cahir, son of Ceallach, is by his chestnut colt in one quick bound. Perhaps the archer would not do it, however, he cannot take the chance. The colt has been his only companion for days, steadfastly carrying his rider up and down hills, through brambles and brush, rivers and ravines, through smoke and fog and flames. He cannot endanger its life. He jumps into the saddle and gallops back the way he came, yelling at his steed to go faster and not looking back. The Witcher, the archer and the bard watch him riding off for a moment, then mount their own steeds. In silence. And not looking back, either.

When he believes he has put enough distance between himself and the furious Witcher, Cahir halts his horse, once again at a loss.

Damn, what the heck is he supposed to do now? He is not dead, at least not yet, that is a plus. However, it is obvious that the Witcher is not willing at all to let him join his company, nor to let him explain his motives. With good reason, Cahir has to give him that. Still, he knows that he could be helpful in the quest to find and rescue the princess - Ciri - and Yennefer. If only the Witcher would believe that Ciri is not in Nilfgaard. That he is riding in the wrong direction. In a direction that, most likely, means certain death for him and his company. Strangely enough and in spite of being not a little afraid of the man - and with good reason, too - he admires the white-haired, grumpy Witcher. And both the poet and the archer have helped him. Cahir would not wish any of the three to end up in a Nilfgaardian dungeon or on the scaffold. Which will inevitably happen if they really proceed with what must be the Witcher's plan - to go to the City of Golden Towers to free the princess. Well, who is the madman here? Perhaps, they all are? Maybe the entire continent has turned into one huge madhouse?

Be that as it may, somehow he has to find a way to convince the Witcher that the girl at Emhyr's court is not the real Cirilla but a bogus princess planted there by Rience on Vilgefortz's orders. And that he is not their enemy, on the contrary. That he can be a valuable ally. That he truly wants to atone for his sins, needs to atone for the evil he has wrought, needs to right at least some of his wrongs. And pay back his life debt to Yennefer. His friend, who might be in grave danger.

Fuck it. He turns around the chestnut colt. The only way he can do all this, against all odds and reason, is by continuing to follow the Witcher and his rescue party. Maybe there will be a chance for him, during the perilous journey lying ahead of them, to help in one way or the other. Let deeds speak, not words. Perhaps this is more likely to convince the Witcher of his good intentions. If the Witcher does not kill him first.

Hunched over his faithful horse, Cahir rides through the incessant rain back the way he has come from. East.

... ... ... ... ... ... ...

This is an excerpt from the brand new chapter of my story “To kill or not to kill”that I added inspired by the Whumptober prompts. Hope you liked it! If so, you might also like to check out the rest of the story, there is a lot more serious Cahir Whump in the other chapters  (injury, high fever, dehydration, fainting, angst, etc. 😉). Just follow the link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40814940/chapters/102270456

Or, if you like’d some Cahir torture (and comfort), maybe start with the first story in the Heart of Darkness series, “Prison Blues”:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39433770/chapters/98692479

“To kill or not to kill” closely follows the original books, but from different perspectives, mostly from Cahir’s. It also adds missing scenes and ties the book events together with the events from the Netflix series (seasons 1+2). Some parts of the excerpt above are directly taken from Baptism of Fire (see below).

[hxbbit]

Venus Fly Trap (Rick Flag x Female!Reader)

Words: 4k

Summary: Along with Project Starfish, The Thinker was also working on some other mind-altering substances. And it seemed like Rick Flag and you were the perfect candidates to test his new version of it.

Warnings: Some Suicide Squad spoilers! Smut! Dubcon!, dom/sub undertones, Dom!Rick, vaginal fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, choking, slight praise kink, creampie/breeding kink, swearing.

(Y'all wanted sex pollen? Y'all gonna get sex pollen.)

Also: Thanks to @clints-lucky-arrow for inspiring me with her beautiful, amazing writing! If you haven't already (which I doubt lol) go check her out!

Granted, your current predicament wasn’t exactly Rick’s fault, and you both knew that. However, you’d be damned before admitting that to him.

Stuck in a room in the bad guys lair, with no way out in sight. The door - heavy and made of steel - fell shut behind you and nothing seemed to open it. You had both tried it with everything you had in your arsenal, but you also had to be careful of ricocheting bullets in the small room, so the options were limited.

You had been angry at Rick before getting stuck in here, but this was just the cherry on the fucking top.

You were still pacing up and down the room which seemed to have been an old medical facility, only half of the neon lights working. There were some chairs and and an old operating table in the middle of the room and some empty cabinets on the walls.

Rick had opted for sitting down, probably trying to think of another plan to get you both out of here, but you were still too riled up. There was silence between you too, the only sound being the rattling of the air vents.

“Fuck!” You screamed out while kicking the next thing in your way which just happened to be an old metal chair. The noise of it echoed in the room uncomfortably loud and clattering, whirling up dust that seemed to be everywhere.

“Hey! C’mon, relax!” Rick spoke up now, voice firm, trying to calm you down, but you only shot him a glare.

“The others are gonna come for us sooner or later to get us out of here,” he tried it again.

“Sure…” You replied, still a cold tone to your voice and Rick could still see the tension and anger in your entire body.

“I don’t wanna be stuck here either, but we don’t really have another choice right now,” he tried again, getting up now and walking towards you and making you stop in your tracks.

“Yeah, but it’s not my fault we’re stuck here, so forgive me for not being exactly happy with this situation,” you turned away from him, and started to pace again.

“What? Like it’s my fault?” He replied, anger starting to rise in him now, too.

“I wasn’t flirting with those women and missing the target walk in, Colonel,” you threw over your shoulder, feigned nonchalance in what you just said. In reality, the fact that Flag had seemed to be flirting with some locals had made jealousy rise up inside of you.

You couldn’t blame the women, Rick had stood out like a sore thumb with his bright yellow shirt that clung to his biceps and the cowboy hat which actually looked ridiculously good on him. You wouldn’t admit that to him, of course. He was still your boss, leading this mission and feelings couldn’t get in the way of that.

“What? Is that what this is about?” He said, brows furrowed and an incredulous tone in his voice. You turned back towards him and getting so close to him that you had to look up at him now.

“Yes! If you hadn’t been distracted and gotten to him sooner, he wouldn’t have gotten away and we wouldn’t be stuck here!” You emphasized your displeasure by pushing his chest, making him stumble a step back, not having expected it.

“Yeah? Maybe if you hadn’t grinded on Peacemaker in the middle of the dance floor, one of you might’ve noticed him! But it doesn’t matter anyway because the Thinker obviously planned this, for whatever fucking’ reason,” he said in return.

As if on cue, the noise of the air vents became louder and you both looked towards them at the same time before a cloud of dust shot out of them.

“What the fuck is that?” You said, looking back at him, and then coughing a little as the small particles made their way into your lungs, irritating and scratching. It seemed to have the same effect on Flag as he started coughing, too.

You were both almost coughing up your lungs until the dust settled and you slowly regained your ability to breathe. You wiped some tears from the corners of your eyes that had appeared during your coughing fit and swallowed thickly, feeling a little dizzy.

“Something’s up,” you then spoke up and the previous tension had changed, there was less anger between you now as you seemed to have been reminded of the mission and that there was something going on that you didn’t know of yet.

“We need to get out of here,” you said, more calm this time but with a renewed sense of urgency.

“You’re right,” he agreed and once more he got to moving again, trying to find a way out.

You were going to move, too, when suddenly you felt even dizzier and your field of vision became blurry. Quickly you tried to hold on to something, the operating table the next thing in reach, trying to keep yourself upright. Rick seemed to have noticed it and immediately was next to you to help steady you.

“Hey. Hey!” He tried to get your attention, but his voice sounded like it was miles away.

You closed your eyes for a second, trying to breathe slowly, and when you opened your eyes again, the blurriness was gone. You could now clearly see Rick standing in front of you, his brows pulled together in worry.

“Are you okay? What was that?” He asked you, one of his hands was on your face, cupping your cheek and making you look up at him and the other one was on your waist, still steadying you a little bit, although you didn’t feel dizzy anymore.

“Yes- I…” You were going to answer, but suddenly, you couldn’t think of the words anymore, because all you could concentrate on was the feeling of Rick’s hands on your body and the heat emanating from them. You squeezed your eyes shut again, once again trying to focus on what you wanted to say, but still - nothing. Instead the warm feeling of his hands started traveling through your body and settled low in your stomach.

“Talk to me,” Flag tried to speak to you again, his other hand moving to cup your face now, too, and one of his thumbs started to gently rub over your cheek.

Again you wanted to say something, but instead a quiet sigh escaped your lips, the feeling of his soft touch feeling too good against your skin. Your tongue darted out to run across your bottom lip.

You raised one of your hands up towards him until you reached the collar of his shirt, confusion in his eyes, before you then tightened your grip and pulled him down towards you. His lips crashed onto yours and you quickly enveloped him into a hungry kiss. You didn’t know what had gotten into you, you wanted to kiss him for the longest time, but the rational and logical voice inside your brain always kept you from doing that, but now that voice seemed nowhere to be found inside your head. The only thing that was controlling you now was your desire and hunger for this man.

For a moment, Rick kissed you back with the same fervor that you were kissing him with, before then pulling away. He scanned your face, trying to find an answer to what was going on when suddenly he started swaying a little. He pressed his eyes shut for a moment and when he opened them, the worry and confusion was gone. Instead, his eyes looked darker and suddenly his lips were on yours again.

He was kissing you like his life depended on it, deeply and full of hunger and want. He pulled you in close, his hands roaming your body, moving from your face to your neck and down to your chest, massaging your breasts which made you moan slightly into the kiss, before he went even lower until he found the hem of your shirt. He wasted no time in pulling it up, breaking the kiss only so that you could pull it off over your head and then he was on you again. Feeling his hands on your naked skin now felt almost like too much, like it was burning your skin, yet you wanted more. You could feel the wetness starting to pool between your legs and an ache in that same spot that needed to be satiated.

Now it was you who reached for his shirt, making him get rid of it and letting it drop to the floor and now his hard, muscled chest was pressed against yours with only the thin fabric of your bra as the last barrier between you.

The way he was so close to you also made you notice his hard bulge. And if you weren’t wet before, you sure were now, feeling how big and hard he was.

His hands trailed lower again, down to the back of your thighs and gripping you there, lifting you up on the table that you had leaned on behind you for support.

He was standing between your spread legs now, and he pulled you right to the edge. That way his bulge was pressed right to your center, grinding against you. Even through the layers of clothing still between you, it was already stimulating you enough to make a desperate moan slip from you lips. A cocky grin tugged on the corner of his mouth.

His hands then quickly undid the clasp of your bra, pulling the straps from your shoulders and immediately he placed his mouth on one of your nipples, tugging on it with his teeth to make you moan again and giving the other side the same treatment after.

By now you were breathing heavily, wanting more, needing more. And it seemed like Flag had read your mind because he was now working on the button of your pants, pulling the zipper down and then slipping his hand inside. There was still the barrier of your panties between his fingers and your pussy, but the fabric was so drenched if basically felt like there was nothing.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he then spoke, his voice dark and gravelly as he slowly moved his fingers over the length of your covered slit.

“This all for me?” He asked as if he didn’t already know the answer. His fingertips now pressing down on your clit and moving them in small circular motions. You swallowed thickly and nodded your head with another moan. Again there was that smirk.

“Use your words, baby,” he said, that smirk growing bigger.

You had no idea how he had it in him to tease you like this right now, when the need to have him inside you and fill you up was threatening to tear you apart from the inside.

But Rick Flag always had had a resolve of stone. There was a reason he was the leader of the ragtag Taskforce X.

You let out a whimper before you then whispered out a weak: “Yes- yes it’s for you.”

“Good girl,” he whispered, pulling you in for another kiss as he pulled his hand from between your legs, but only to slide them down again, underneath your panties this time.

He gathered up some of your wetness and then circled his fingers around your clit again, but now without the barrier, sliding over your bundle of nerves with ease. A jolt of pleasure shot through your body and you held on to his arms, your nails digging into his biceps as he continued his ministrations.

The way your pleasure built so quickly was insane, never had you felt anything like this but the way Rick touched you, with finesse and precision, was like he had done it a million times before and knew all your weaknesses.

He moved his fingers further down until he found your opening and slowly pushed one finger inside and then adding another one. There was a slight stretch to it, but the slight pain mixed with the immense pleasure you felt was intoxicating. He moved them in and out steadily, curling them upwards slightly, while his thumb found his way back onto you clit. Your hips were moving in tandem with him. He kept going like this, speeding up steadily and eventually you could feel yourself starting to clench down around his fingers as you felt your orgasm approach.

“Please,” you only managed to stammer out between heavy panting.

“You wanna come for me?”

Again you only nodded and it seemed like this time he was going to let it fly that you only gave a non-verbal confirmation, because he continued his motions and when your whole body tensed up he told you to let go and come for him.

Your pleasure came rushing through your body in electrifying waves, breaching every cell in your body and transforming into a mind-shattering orgasm that had you clinging onto Rick with your head thrown back and moan out his name and noises of pure ecstasy.

When you slowly came down from your high again he pulled his hand from between your legs and slipped the fingers that were just inside you into his mouth, tasting you that way.

He let out a low hum as he watched you still breathing heavily.

“Mhm, you’re fucking delicious. Might just have to have another taste,” he said as he reached for the waistband of your pants and hooking his fingers into it.

You lifted yourself up so that he could pull them down. He then helped you out of your boots and pulled your pants down completely, throwing them to the side with the rest of your clothes.

He was about to lower himself to his knees when you stopped him.

“No, please,” you whined out.

“No?” He asked, surprised and somewhat amused.

“I need you inside me. Need your cock… Please,” you basically almost begged at this point and reached out to let your hand move over the bulge in his pants and squeezing him slightly. That earned you a low moan from him.

“Now how could I deny you when you beg so prettily,” he smiled, petting your face gently.

“Lay back on the table,” he then ordered and you immediately complied.

You watched as Rick got on the table with you and he was now kneeling between your spread legs. His hands moved over your thighs to your hips, admiring your form.

“Rick…” you then whined again.

“So impatient,” he tutted at you, but nonetheless he stopped touching you and instead started working on his belt, opening it and then going for the button and the zipper of his tactical pants, doing so almost agonizingly slow. You bit your lip as you watched him put on this little show for you, his eyes fixed on yours.

After what felt like forever, he then started pushing his pants down far enough so that he could release his hard cock. He must be painfully hard by now and you involuntarily licked your lips at the sight of his perfect length and the drop of precum on the tip of it. He pumped himself in his hands a couple of times, before he grabbed your thighs and pulled you closer towards him in one swift motion, making you let out a little yelp.

He grabbed his cock again and started dragging the tip of it through your folds and over your clit, already making you moan again softly.

“Stop teasing,” you whispered and you could see his resolve crumble as he positioned the head at your entrance and slowly pushed in until he was fully seated inside you, a shaky breath escaping him. The size of him stretched you open so perfectly and finally feeling that ache that had built incessantly starting to be satiated.

“Fuck, you’re still so tight,” he said lowly, starting to move and thrust his length in and out of you.

He felt so good inside you, that all you could do was let your head drop down onto the table as he started fucking into you with more vigor.

He grabbed your legs and pushed them back and then leaned over you, reaching an ever deeper spot at that angle that made you cry out.

Rick started kissing you again as he kept on fucking you. You had one arm wrapped around his neck to hold onto him and with the other you were holding him close by his nape, running your nails over his scalp and tugging on his short hair.

He went from kissing your mouth to kissing your jaw and down your throat, leaving bruising kisses and bites there.

His hand then moved to wrap around your throat, squeezing the sides slightly.

“You’re mine, now,” he said, breathing heavily, still fucking you hard and fast while beads of sweat started forming on his forehead.

“I’m yours… Only yours,” you moaned out, feeling a little light headed now, not only because of his grip around your throat, but also by the way that he just declared ownership and dominance over you. Rick loosens his grip, but keeps his hand there as he kisses you again, deeply and hungrily.

He kept going and you felt yourself close to orgasm again, tightening around his cock and squeezing him.

“You gonna come again?” He asked breathlessly, feeling you tighten up on him.

“Yeah, gonna come,” you panted in reply, knowing that it wouldn’t take long now.

“Well, then come for me, baby.” He didn’t let up, he just kept pounding into you and that pushed you over the edge into another blissful orgasm that had you seeing stars.

“Gonna come, too,” he then moaned.

“Come inside me,” you said without thinking much about it, only knowing that you wanted all of him, deep inside of you.

“Yeah? Want me to fill you up?” He asked with a cocky tone.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you nodded.

It only took a couple more seconds before he then came to a halt and he released inside of you with a low grunt and then pushing it further into you with a few more shallow thrusts, before he then stilled completely.

You were both breathing heavily and your heart was racing, Rick had collapsed on top of you, still connected, with his head in the crook of your neck. After a while, you felt him place some soft kisses onto the skin there, before he then slowly pushed himself up and off you, pulling out of you at the same time.

He watched as his cum trickled out of your hole, almost transfixed by it.

As you were laying there, you could hear that voice inside of you starting up again, it was still somewhat suppressed, but it was enough to pull you out of that trance that you seemingly had been in.

You just had sex with Rick Flag. Amazing, mind-blowing sex with Rick Flag, your superior. During a mission.

How did that happen? What had come over you? And him?

You were sitting up on the table slowly, closing your legs and when you looked at Flag now, you could see him clear up now, too. Returning your concerned look.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t known what you were just doing, but you didn’t know what came over you to do it in the first place. It felt like all of your inhibitions and concerns had disappeared and you acted on pure instinct.

You were ripped out of your thoughts when you heard gunshots from somewhere outside of the room. You shot Flag another look and then you both quickly jumped up to get dressed.

Just as you were both ready, you drew your guns as the door was bust open.

Nanaue - who seemed to have broken open the door - was standing at the front, the rest of your squad behind them. Together with the Thinker in cuffs.

Quickly you realized that it wasn’t the enemy and you put your guns away and walked towards them. You were relieved to see them and you thought that Rick would feel the same, but he went straight up to the Thinker, grabbed him by his shirt and pushed him roughly against the closest wall.

“What the fuck did you do to us?!” He asked, with a threatening tone in his voice.

The squad looked at them, clearly surprised by Rick’s reaction and then their eyes turned to you.

Rick must have quickly figure out - or at least had a hunch - that the Thinker must have had a hand in whatever just happened between you both.

A sardonic smile spread across the Thinkers lips, seemingly enjoying the Colonels outburst.

“Tell me!”

“I didn’t do anything that you didn’t want to do deep down,” he said somewhat cryptically.

“What does that mean?”

“I’ve been working on another project alongside project starfish. Mind control on another level. See, my pollen - that’s what I like to call it - brings out your deepest desires and urges. Granted I was hoping for something more… violent, hoping to get rid of at least one of you,” he explained and he seemed to be enjoying the collective confusion on everyones faces.

“But it definitely worked,” he concluded

But suddenly it dawned on you, the air vents and the dust. It wasn’t dust - it was his pollen. Rick looked back at you, realization on his face and you just shared a glance and now you felt dirty as well as confused in your feelings on what just happened.

“Can anyone please tell me what the fuck he is talking about?” Bloodsport then asked, always wanting to be in the know of things.

“Doesn’t matter,” you said. “Let’s just go and get this mission over with.”

You started walking in the direction of what you assumed would be the way out and tried to push any thoughts of you and Flag out of your mind for now.

You couldn’t let yourself be distracted by your feelings.

*****

There was an undeniable tension between you and Flag.

Now that the mission was over and you were sitting on the bus back to the coast of Corto Maltese, you allowed yourself to somewhat relax and really think about what happened, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. About you and Rick in that room and the way he made you feel.

You also couldn’t stop thinking about the Thinkers words.

“I didn’t do anything that you didn’t want to do deep down”

You had feelings for Rick, had them for a long time, but you never acted on them. Too scared of rejection and jeopardizing your relationship and your missions.

But for Rick? He wouldn’t have gone along with it if he didn’t want to deep down.

So did that mean that he had feelings for you, too?

Quickly you looked over to Rick, who was sitting on the other side of the bus, only to see that he had already been looking at you.

He looked beat up and tired but he gave you a small smile.

You knew that you could pretend like nothing ever happened between you two, knowing that he would go along with it. But you didn’t want to do that, not really.

Sure, you had to sort out your thoughts and feelings first, but like the Thinker said, deep down you wanted this.

So you returned his smile.

*****

A/N: That's it! Hope you liked it! Left it open, for a potential part 2? Comments, Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated, thank you for reading! also kinda hate the title but i couldn't think of anything else rn lol Also! This was low-key inspired by the bar scene where you could see Rick and Peacemaker talking to some women in the background lol

[babblydrabbly]

jailbreak || rick flag x reader || drabble

rick flag x f!reader - general - 1k words - warnings: slight whump. language. blood. injury. needles. canon-typical violence. Post-TSS 2021. Fuck it, everyone lives.

You were once an unapologetic supervillain, then a member of the Suicide Squad. Despite your vehement dislike of Colonel Flag at the start of your time together, you both quickly formed a bond that not many could understand.

In other words, you loved him. And it took everyone dragging you off the island nation of Corto Maltese by force to get you to leave what you thought was Rick Flag's dead body behind.

But when you find out he's alive and at the Argus director's mercy, you decided to hand Rick's resignation in to Amanda Waller personally.

“Tell me, Flag. Did she ask you to turn your back on your country? Or did you decide to screw any honor you had left yourself?”

Rick shifts against his restraints, still weak with bone-aching exhaustion. The wound in his chest screams with the faintest strains, and the sweat and dirt and blood in his eyes still stings like it did down in the wet belly of Jotunheim.

The Belle Reve-regulation straps gripping at his wrists and ankles are a bit of a joke, really. Rick doesn’t think he’s got the strength in him to turn a door knob at the moment. He wets his cracked lips as he glances over at all the monitors attached to a mess of wires, his head lolling against the grimy leather chair he can only assume was made for tortuous looking rooms like this one.

Rick shuts his eyes and thinks of you.

Of the tear tracks down your dirt-covered cheeks as you held your arms around young Cleo Cazo. Partly to comfort her as the two of you stepped into the Thinker’s godawful lair after Rick, but mostly to comfort yourself. The both of you had seen plenty of evil. But that lab had been something else.

And then the boom, boom, boom of a caged nightmare. All rage and anguish. Filled with fire.

Rick recalls the split second before everything came crashing down onto all of you. He remembers the way his eyes found you across the room. How yours were already locked on his.

You hadn’t asked him to betray anything. Rick had made his own choice. And as Peacemaker held a gun to his face, you had marveled at the rebirth of Rick Flag. That rage and righteousness. A culmination of everything he had ever done in the name of what he believed in- or thought he did- all burned up upon re-entry. You were witness to something beautiful. Something you had been waiting for, Rick realizes now.

But Amanda didn’t need to know any of that.

Rick takes his time as he shrugs weakly in his seat.

“What can I say, Waller. The world was collapsin’, and the only thing that mattered to me was that she was alive.” The answer seems to satisfy her. Fitzgibbon proceeds, the nanobomb syringed and ready to go.

The doctor’s shadow blots out the light shining down on Rick’s frame as a gloved hand presses against the back of his head. He jerks again. The instinct to fight fate overrides him like it never has before you.

Waller nods her head to the soldier beside her. He approaches Rick and shoves his head down firmly against his chest. Rick muffles the pained groan that rips through him as his chin brushes the stitches over his heart. It’s all Rick can do to picture you here beside him just as he thinks he’ll pass out from the pain of futile resistance, when a sudden blast does the job for him.

A ringing in his ears rouses him a few moments later, the scent of spent C4 charges and atomized cinder block walls in his nostrils. He grunts as a hand grasps him by the jaw, drawing his head up.

He blinks tiredly at your masked face, your eyes flying over every inch of his exposed skin for injury. You say nothing as you cut him loose from his binds with a blade, catching him as he falls forward into your arms.

Distantly, he notes the sounds of automatic rifles exchanging fire down the wrecked halls of Belle Reve.

“You’re really alive.” You whisper, still holding his face. You pull away to yank down your neck gaiter, revealing yourself to the colonel.

“That’s my line.” He mutters.

“Not with the way you’re all banged up, it’s not.” You chuckle softly in his ear. Rick seizes the moment to bury his face in your neck.

And if your eyes are watering when you stand back up, Rick blearily thinks it must be from all the debris flying around. Otherwise he’d have to consider how truly happy you are to see him breathing.

You wheel something up to his chair. A gurney.

“Way’s cleared. You better tell Harls the fun’s up.” Says a familiar voice. Digger Harkness’ broad frame is a surprise. You and the thief take Rick by each arm, forcing a moan from the colonel as you lift him over onto the flat surface. Rick collapses onto it, his vision threatening to darken on him.

He drifts in and out as he’s wheeled somewhere quickly, unsure if you’re still near. It’s not until he feels a heat through his eyelids that he understands what’s happening. He’s outside. The hot Louisiana sun glaring down on him. The gurney makes contact with something, jolting Rick awake again.

“You alright?” You call over the start of an engine. Digger wheels the rest of the gurney up into the back of the large rig as you take a seat beside Rick. You and Digger exchange more words as Rick’s hand blindly reaches for yours.

Finally, you turn to him when the back door rolls down with a loud bang. Rick groans.

“Almost out.” You assure him. You lace your fingers in his as you push him to rest back on the pad. The truck lurches forward, and after a few miles without any gunfire, you ease your grip on his hand with a tentative breath.

Rick draws your attention with a squeeze. You glance up swiftly.

“You’re crazy.” He forces out with a lop-sided grin. “No way in hell this wasn’t all you.”

You huff as you smooth your hand over Rick’s forehead, pushing his sweat-matted hair away from his brow. Rick’s eyes flutter shut before flying open again with a start.

And there you are. Still alive and doing the saving.

You lean down and press your lips to the back of his hand, lingering there as you let relief fill your roaring chest.

“Anything for you.”

[lacontroller1991]

Cheers (Rick Flag x Reader)

Anon Request: Rick always complaints that reader never has anything good to drink at her place (jokingly), until one day he opens her fridge and it has his favorite brand waiting for him. Rick realizes reader cares about him and listens no matter how much she's tried to hide it

Warnings: Langauge 

It became like clockwork. The Colonel, your closest friend, stopping by your apartment every Friday at 7 o’clock sharp. The first times he visited, he brought over a bottle of brandy. The next time a bottle of wine. Soon enough, it just came to drinking whatever was available in your kitchen or his on the rare occasions that you went to his place.

“Damn (Y/N), this shit sucks,” he cringed as he swirled around the brown liquid in his glass as you drowned the rest of yours.

“You know, Flag, you are always more than welcome to bring your own drinks instead of stealing mine,” you retorted as he let out a huff.

“I might just as well, you have 0 taste buds.”

“Yeah whatever, I’ll remember that for next Friday,” visibly wincing at that date, he took a sip of his drink before turning to you, “what?”

“I have a mission Friday.”

“Again? You just had one.” Nodding his head, you let out a sigh before pouring yourself another glass.

“Waller keeps finding shit for them to do, and that means work for me.”

“I wish you would retire from the team,” you admitted, feeling the liquid courage running through your veins.

“Why? Afraid I’ll die or somethin’?”

“Well, yeah. I mean isn’t it dubbed ‘Suicide Squad’ for a reason?”

“Damn (Y/L/N), sounds like you care for me,” he commented, smirking behind his glass.

“You fucking wish, Flag.”

He was right. You did care for him, and nothing like another ‘mission’ for your brain to remind you of that small little fact. You, on occasions, got to sit in the mission room and help with the coms, making sure everything was running smoothly, but when you did, your nerves would constantly make you look over your shoulder and eye Rick’s vitals that appeared on the screen. 

“Flag to Waller,” his voice resonated through the room, pulling Amanda’s attention to the screen that tracked their movements. 

“Go for Waller.”

“We’re on the outskirts of hostile territory. Permission to,” the com cut out as gunshots echoed in the back ground, immediately grabbing your attention as curse words voiced over.

“Flag, status update.”

“It was a fucking trap. Asshole set us up,” he yelled into the earpiece as you flinched slightly, making sure that the coms were working as efficiently as they could. Somewhere in the background, you could hear Harley’s laugh and screams. Suddenly, the electricity cut out, clearing the multiple tvs and turning them black.

“Shit, (Y/L/N), get those coms back up now,” Waller ordered.

“Yes Ma’am.”

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

Minutes turned to hours. Hours to days as the electricity still remained down. According to the sources, there was a city wide shortage and the back up generators didn’t have enough juice to power the mission room and the cells of the remaining prisoners, so Waller decided to keep the criminals locked up while you guys were in the dark as to how the mission was going.

“Everyone, just go home. You’re done here.”

“But the mission,” someone started before Waller shut them down.

“The mission is over. They’re either dead or alive. We’ll know more when they get home. If they do,” Waller’s voice remained stoic as you couldn’t help the tears that began to form. How could she just leave them out there? You thought to yourself as you picked up your belongings and walked out of the room.

Driving home, your eyes struggled to remain open as tears blurred the lines in the road. Eyeing the liquor store, you pulled into the parking lot before getting out of the car and wiping the watery residue off of your cheeks. Entering the store, you wandered around aimlessly, trying to decide what you felt like drinking until you came upon a bottle of 1792 bourbon. Rick’s favorite.

“You know you never have any good drinks here,” he laughed as he watched you attempt to balance a drink and plates of food before deciding to help you out.

“I know Flag, you tell me everytime,” you smiled as you placed the food in front of him.

“Don’t make it less true. Maybe one day you’ll eventually have my favorite here.”

“And what would that be, Colonel?”

“Easy, 1792.”

Grabbing the bottle, you headed toward the check out, avoiding eye contact with the clerk.

“Rough night?” He asked, scanning the bottle and placing it in a bag.

“You have no clue.”

-----------

You were a quarter of the way through the bottle and drunk as hell when a sharp series of knocks bounced off your door.

“The hell,” you muttered to yourself as you stumbled toward the door and swinging it open, “who are you,” slurring your words, you instantly sobered up as you heard a familiar chuckle.

“Who do you think I am?” The deep voice of Rick Flag asked, gently pushing past you, guiding you to the sofa.

“Flag,” eyes shooting open as you jumped into his arms and wrapped your arms around his neck and legs around his waist.

“Easy (Y/N), miss me?” His voice rumbled from his chest as his arms went to support your weight.

“I thought you were dead. Electricity went out and Waller decided to use the backup generators for the cells instead of the mission. I was up for nights worrying about you,” you openly admitted, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I’m here.” Setting you down on the couch, he walked into your kitchen to fetch you a glass of water to help sober you up, but instead he found a bottle of 1792.

“She remembered,” he chortled before grabbing the bottle and the water. Moving back to the couch, he placed the water down before taking a swig of the brown liquid. Taking a gulp of water, you used the back of your hand to wipe away excess as you began to stare at him.

“Don’t move,” you commanded as he nodded, remaining still while you crawled into his lap and gingerly placed your lips on his, meeting no resistance. Pushing you slightly away, Rick noted the saddened look in your eyes at his rejection.

“Darlin’, you’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re doin’,” he stated as you pouted at him before taking the bottle and taking another sip.

“Rick. Colonel. Flag. Colonel Flag, I am deeply in love with you and I thought I’d lost you.”

“Fuck this,” Rick stated before drowning his throat witht the harsh liquid, “I love you too, baby,” hungrily kissing your lips, your hands knotted in his hair as he pulled you closer to him, the two of you savoring the moment, wishing it could last forever.

Author's Note: Awwww I wanna share a drink or two or three with Rick 🥺

[pedrosbish]

Rick cradling his s/o close after coming back from a grueling mission, relieved that they're safe? Thank you and have a wonderful day. <3

red

warnings: mentions of injuries, swearing

pairing: rick flag x lieutenant!reader

The mission had not gone according to plan. 

Waller had benched him for this one, saying that there were some more important things for him to be doing instead of a simple reconnaissance mission. Everything in him wanted to argue against her judgement because nothing was more important than keeping an eye on you, but you had softly shook your head in his direction. 

You were more than capable of handling things on your own thanks to the years of service in the United States Army, your strategic mind having studied any and all possible entrances and exits of the building. 

Rick had pulled you to the side before your departure, a warm hand on your bicep and concern in his eyes as he walked through your plan for the third time that day, placing himself beside you in all the action in his mind. 

Chuckling, you had shaken him off, promising with a gentle smile that you would be back in record time and even bet that you would be able to add to the tally marks in the break room, an idea that the Suicide Squad had come up with after their fifth successful mission together. 

He watched as you boarded the helicopter, sending one final smile in his direction which he couldn't help but reciprocate, ignoring the feeling of dread deep in his chest for just a second. But then the doors had slid shut and the helicopter wings no longer blew his hair with its force and it took every bit of his willpower to not follow. 

Waller had set up a microphone on your uniform, the only link to you so that you could report back on any findings on the go and he sat in the corner of the room silently, wiping his sweaty palms on his cargo trousers whenever you updated them on what was happening. 

There had been a couple of silent moments and he sat up straight, back rigid when you began to yell, the sound of gunfire deafening in the room. He listened intently as you shouted at the others with you to fall back to the helicopter, the sound of your own gun firing ringing in his ears. 

It felt like years as he ran to the hanger, eyes scanning the sky for the helicopter and he felt like he could finally breathe again when it landed, no feeling of hesitation as he ran to get the door for you. 

The sight of you leaning heavily to the side in the seat as you clutched the side of your temple, fingers pressed tightly to stop blood that was seeping from a bullet graze, stopped him in his tracks for a second before sense kicked back in and he climbed on board, dumping himself in the seat next to you. 

He didn't speak at all when you shot him a lazy smile, wincing slightly at the burning sensation that follows the movement of your face, and instead gently clasped your hand under his and slowly removed it away from your wound, frown on his face at the droplet of blood that runs down and into your eyebrow. 

“Am I going to have a badass scar?” 

Shaking his head, a small smile plays on his lips at your attempt at an icebreaker, the tense moment becoming less awkward. 

“You're gonna need a couple of stitches, that's for sure.” He removes the gun strapped around your shoulder and slings it over his arm before wrapping the other around your waist, gently helping you to stand and leave the helicopter. “C’mon.”

He doesn't miss the way you hiss under your breath when you hop down onto the ground and he eyes your leg silently. You don't have the opportunity to say that you're fine before he moves the gun over his shoulder and bends down to scoop you into his arms. 

Waller stands to the side, eyes widened a fraction at the sight of you and the lack of others. You ignore her but Rick stops in front of her, teeth bared.

“You do shit like this again and I will fucking kill you.” 

Safe. 

That’s all he can think about as he helps you stitch up the wound on your head, chin gently placed between two of his fingers as he tilts it to the side to get better access before shifting his focus to the ugly cut on your leg (you had fallen over in the dark trying to get back to the helicopter you had explained with a flushed face). 

“I couldn't save them, Rick.” You blurt out, voice cracking on the words, as he finishes placing a bandage around your leg and his eyes snap up to meet your own, taking note of the way the tears gather in the corners. “I-I tried but I just couldn't.” 

“You can't think like that,” he whispers and his heart breaks for you when you sniffle. “You had to get outta there or you wouldn’t be here now.”

You nod but he can tell that his words haven't reached the part of your brain that blames yourself so without saying anything he scoots his chair forward, hands on your arms to pull you into his chest. He lets you cry, tears wetting his shirt, as he cups the back of your head with one hand as the other rubs soothing circles onto your back. 

You're safe and that's all that matters to him. 

[omg-foreverfilledwithweird-posts]

A Siren Song

Pairing: Robert Dubois/ Bloodsport x Reader

A/N: so I just finished watching the new Suicide Squad for the second time and I’m even more obsessed now than I was the first time I watched it. It’s a brilliant film with actually good humor, a non-sexualizing and actually empowering view on Harley Quinn (that leg scene?? y'all-), the rats?? Rat-catcher 2?? THE SHARK?? FLAG?? Who looked really good in this movie, he might be another contender for a story as well as Harley Quinn so lmk ;) but Bloodsport immediately piqued my interest because it’s Idris Elba and he’s gorgeous, I loved the complexities of his character and I want to write for him and no one else has done it yet?? so shoutout to @honey-im-emotional​​ for the support and push to do it! also love The Bodyguard movie, helped with the inspo <3 and i’m so sorry all of my stories are similar but I HAVE A TYPE enjoy and feedback is always appreciated loves and there will be SPOILERS so be warned, also if you want a Harley one next lmk ;) (it’s so long I’m so sorry lol)

Summary: You’re a highly targeted member of the royal family, the last in your line. Bloodsport is hired to be your bodyguard to both watch and assassinate the men after you. He believes it’s below his pay-grade, but reluctantly agrees, doing so to the best of his abilities. But the closeness brings more intimacy than you two expected, and sparks fly.

Warnings: foul language, sexual content, smut, choking, light bdsm, fluffy fluff, dirty dancing, dirty talk, violence and bad guys getting murdered, mentions of Harley x Reader (y’all sexy dance and kiss), reader likes women, dom! Bloodsport, age gap, alcohol consumption, jealousy, heavy kissing, slight angst, just a good time honestly

Word Count: 3,825

You dangle from the ceiling with your aerial silk, fitting your leg in the loop you’ve created, and dangling upside down. The rope wraps around your waist as you hang gracefully from your marble walls, flying. Your friend Harley Quinn taught you how to do this years ago, it now being your favorite form of exercise and relaxation when you need a moment to clear your head. 

As you lightly spin, twirling and dancing in the air with your chandelier reflecting light everywhere, a dazzling fairy floating in a sea of stars. You hear footsteps approach and move to hang upside down, facing towards the grand door. Robert Dubois, a.k.a Bloodsport, walks forward to stand directly in front of you. 

You have known him a few weeks or so now, him having to watch your every move and tracking down your family’s killers. He stands and meets your eyes as you dangle, hair falling below you.

“Hi,” you giggle, face flushed with heat. “I probably look ridiculous right now.”

He composes himself so he doesn’t crack a smile, but you see his lips twitch when he speaks, “No, Mrs. y/l/n.”

“I have a first name, you know,” you grin widely. “I’m younger than you, which hardly warrants such a professional title.”

“My apologies, y/n,” he fixes himself.

“It’s alright,” you ease, filling him with a sense of softness he hasn’t felt in a long time. You flip and land on your feet, letting go of your silks. 

You don’t notice as his eyes glaze over your body in your sports bra and shorts, something his cold, calculated stare should never succumb to, but he does anyway and he kicks himself for doing it. You’re his client and should therefore remain as such, no conflict of interest or thoughts other than to protect. He didn’t want this job, hell, he still doesn’t know why he said yes. Maybe it was the money. Or maybe it was upon seeing you that first time, in that star-studded gown the night of a charity gala you were attending, the way the diamond littered fabric hung over your figure, absolutely dazzled. The way you looked at him and smiled, like you were used to with all the other nobles and adoring fans. But he let himself believe it was different.

He can’t do that anymore, however, because he can’t allow for any complications. And falling for his boss is certainly a complication. 

You look at him and your eyes widen with realization, “Oh, I’m sorry. Let me cover up.”

You grab a tee shirt and toss it over your exercise clothes. He looks down as you do so and clears his throat. This brings a small smile to your face.  

“You called me in here,” he gestures to the necklace charm hanging around your neck that you can squeeze and send an instant distress signal whenever you need it. “What can I do for you, y/n?”

“Wanted you to spot me,” you tease, a smile overtaking your delicate features. You have a sort of stunning beauty about you that takes him by surprise every time he lays eyes on you. Which is often. You lay on your yoga mat and sit up straight with that same damned smile. 

“I’m here to do a job, y/n,” he says, his deep, honeyed voice coating the way he says your name like heat to sugar. “Not aid you in your workout routine.”

“What? Your assassin training didn’t include sit ups?” you smile, tongue in cheek.

“No, but if you need a way to kill a man with a book,” he presses a foot over both of yours as you begin to do sit ups. “Then I’m your man.”

“Yeah, you and John Wick,” you breathe out with a laugh. “And shouldn’t you be in here watching me already? Not by the door?”

“This room has no windows and no other door or entrance besides the one I was standing by. I thought you would want privacy,” he averts your gaze. “I’m sure it’s a hard thing to come by these days for a woman like yourself.”

You stop what you’re doing and look up at him, blinking, “Well, you’d be right,” you tuck your hair back. “So thank you.”

He meets your eyes, bordering on a smile, “You’re welcome.”

“Is that a smile I see?” you chuckle.

The smile shines, “It was a diversion. And you failed.”

You laugh loudly, “Will the next diversion be an actual laugh?”

“Wouldn’t be a proper diversion if you knew what it was.”

You tap his feet so he’ll get the hint and let you up. You rise to your feet and dust yourself up, “I appreciate your spotting.” You press a hand to his chest and hum. Warmth radiates from your palm and he inhales sharply. “For someone who wasn’t trained, you sure are a fast learner.”

He looks at your hand and back to your eyes, heat sprouting from where your hand touches. His hand flexes at his side as he looks around the room, to the door, seeing if it’s closed. 

“I-” he cocks an eyebrow then settles. “I think I should go.”

He watches you look at him with wounded eyes, brow lowered, you open your mouth then close it. 

You nod, moving away from him, “Right.”

You move to walk away when he stops you, mouth by your ear, voice dropping an octave when he whispers, “Just so you know-” you tilt your head up almost instinctively to hear him better. “-my assassin training did include reminding people who they are when they’ve forgotten their place.”

You look up at him fully now, “You work for me, remember?”

“I work for money. And you didn’t hire me. I was employed by Mrs. Waller to keep you alive,” he cocks his head slightly. 

“So it would be frowned upon by her when you’re unable to walk if you touch me like that again.”

You couldn’t believe he had just said that. Your eyes widen and your cheeks once again heat up, blushing. Your chest gets hot when he doesn’t break the stare like he’s calling your bluff, and fuck, did he do just that. You turn away from him.

You can hear the smile in his voice, “That’s what I thought.”

~~~

“Robert said that!?” Harley exclaims, eyes wide. Her jaw is dropped as she does her mascara aggressively in the mirror. “He’s usually so...”

You tug down your tiny halter top over your head, your bright, flattering makeup complementing the colorful swirling pattern, “An empty void with no emotion?”

She nods emphatically, agreeing, “Exactly! I had no idea he had it in him?” she raises her brow and smooths down her leather black and red dress, “Or that he wanted to put it in you-”

You slap her arm, chastising, “You don’t know that. It might have been a threat to actually paralyze me in a very not sexual way.”

“I say both are arousing,” she shrugs, platinum curls bouncing.

You roll your eyes with a small smile aimed at the floor, “Anyway-” you slip a belt through your tight jeans, hitting at your waist when you cinch it in. “We should get going if we want to get to the club on time.”

She pauses. “Y/n. Are you sure we should be doing this?”

You do a double take, “You’re telling me that we shouldn’t sneak out and have a good time?”

“I know the irony is apparent,” she looks at you with a knowing stare. “But not if it means you’re in danger. Which you are.”

“I know,” you frown. “But I’ve been locked in this house for months, I miss going out and having a life. I’m tired of being coddled.”

“I know, sweetheart,” she sighs, looking past herself in the mirror to flash me a sympathetic smile. She thinks for a beat and finally spins around, “Alright, screw it, doll, let’s go paint the town.”

You buzz with excitement, grinning, “Yay! Thank you, thank you! I wonder who will be djaying...” you trail off. 

Harley’s face falls and her mouth goes in a solid, straight line, looking past your shoulder, “I don’t think anyone will be.”

You laugh, completely oblivious, “Of course there will be. There has to be music. Dancing in silence would be pretty fucking awkward.”

“This moment is pretty fucking awkward.”

“What do you mean?”

A deep, irritated voice sounds off behind you, “Because you’re not going.”

You jump out of your skin, “Shit, Robert! You scared the hell out of me!”

“You’re not going to that club,” he folds his arms over his chest. You look over him and his casual, night wear: a loose tee and low hanging joggers. You almost wipe your mouth from salivating. Your outfit elicits the same reaction.

You pinch your eyebrows together, “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Yes, I can. I’m tasked with protecting you.”

“Yeah. And nowhere on your job description does it say ‘become my parent’. There’s not an opening now just because I don’t have one. I am a grown ass woman and I have been a prisoner in my own home. The same home where...” you pause, a lump in your throat at the reminder of your family’s passing. You shake it off, “I’m just tired. I want a piece of my life back. You can either stay here or come. Either way I’m going.”

He gives you a quick once over and contemplates his options before dropping his arms to his sides and letting out a long exhale.

“Fine.”

You somewhat relax at his defeated tone, “Fine, what?”

He relents, “You can go, but I’m coming with you. But if anything happens to you, I’m not to be blamed. I will leave your ass in that club.”

You grin and jump up to give him a tight hug around the neck. He stiffens before slowly rubbing your back. You sink into his embrace, feeling like you were floating in water, now above the surface as he brings you back to oxygen. Harley smiles at the exchange and she winks theatrically. 

He glares. 

It’s not long before you three arrive at the club, music blaring and colorful lights flashing over the crowded floors. From his stare and intimidating aura, the club staff thought he was a bouncer and let you all in immediately. But before he was roped into working, the three of you bee-lined to the bar. 

“The prettiest and strongest drink ya got, sugar,” Harley smiles at the pretty bartender.

“And what if that’s me?” she responds, ebony hair falling onto one shoulder.

“Then I’ll have to drink you later,” Harley gives her a flirty once over and you roll your eyes.

The bartender grins and gestures towards me for my order, I answer quickly, “Scotch on the rocks.”

Robert looks at you, poorly covering his shocked expression. “Really?”

“Yeah, why?” you look up at him.

“Didn’t peg you for a straight liquor type, Ms. y/l/n,” he finally lets his hidden laugh show through, butterflies erupting in your chest. The diversion definitely worked, whatever you were thinking about before this has immediately left you.

“Then this is going to be the first surprise of many tonight, Mr. Dubois,” you return the smug look as he orders the same thing. You both share a look.

The bartender slides you all your drinks, each of you taking a long swig for liquid courage for the night. Harley’s favorite Doja Cat song comes on and she gasps, clapping excitedly when she grabs you by the wrist, pulling you on the dance floor, “Come dance with me.”

You mouth a small ‘sorry’ to Bloodsport who you left at the bar, he shakes his head with a smile over the rim of his glass, watching you guys’ drinks. 

She dances wildly, jumping up and down, spinning to let her hair fall in many beautiful angles. She’s a powerful force and your greatest friend. She puts her arms around your neck and the two of you move in time with the music.

“So...” she motions to Bloodsport who’s being forced into a conversation with a woman at the bar. The woman puts her hand on his and he visibly shrinks back and whispers something to her that causes the most horrid look from the woman and for her to walk quickly away. You smile at the relief that interaction has brought you.

“So what?” you spin her around and pull her back.

“Quit with the good dancing, or I’m gonna fuck you myself,” she teases with a lightheaded giggle.

You smile, “We’ve tried that already, remember?”

“Too much history, I know, I know. Doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be nice...” she whispers into your neck, kissing the soft spot under your chin. Your skin heats up under her touch as she drags her hands down your sides, pulling you close to her so that you’re flush against her chest.

You give into her and kiss her slowly, her soft lips melt into your own when her hands tug in your hair. Harley and you have always had a complicated friendship, with enough sexual attraction to fuel a nuclear bomb, but not enough romantic. You love each other but not in the way you both need. You were in love with Robert and she is continuing to explore her sexuality because she likes women and so do you. So as she trails her hot mouth down your neck in the middle of dozens of bustling bodies and you lock eyes with an angry Bloodsport, you knew exactly what she was doing.

You whisper, out of breath, “Are you trying the jealousy trick?”

“It worked in college, didn’t it?” she kisses your cheek, smiling gently against your skin. “And it’s working now.”

“I think you’re just obsessed with kissing me,” you kiss her back.

“It was a win-win situation, doll,” she grins devilishly and you can’t help but agree. “So when you’re done with him, come see me. But right now, I have a sexy bartender lady to drink up.” You grip her hand and let her make her way to her next conquest.

Robert had seen the tail-end of your kiss, his deft fingers clenched around his whiskey glass. He knows he shouldn’t let this sort of thing affect him, something as juvenile and simple as jealousy. But he couldn’t stop that feeling of being stuck, unable to think about anything except the fact that it wasn’t him with his hands on you like that, lips marking you as much as he pleases. Sadness washed over him in a tidal wave and he set his glass down, about to get up to leave when he spotted a man eyeing you from the door. He looked familiar and it wasn’t just attraction he sensed in his eyes but something far more sinister.

A few more men followed suit and began making their way to you in the middle of the dance floor. He had no time to consider the facts, just to get you out of there as soon as possible. 

You feel a rough hand tug your arm and turn to face who you think to be Dubois, you smile, “Enjoy the show?”

“Very much,” an unknown voice answers, and you look up, eyes wide. “Now why don’t you come with me for a little talk, beautiful.”

“Get the fuck off of me,” you yank your arm back, slamming your heel down into the perpetrator’s foot. More men surround you on all sides, making it impossible for you to escape or use your subpar martial arts skills. Aerial yoga was a very different ballpark than kicking ass. And you were just a beginner.

You poorly punch a man in the face, only making them all angrier when you’re grabbed from all sides, being dragged towards the exit kicking and screaming. You didn’t want to be that helpless damsel in distress, but as all of these men, men you recognized from your family’s death, were surrounding you, you couldn’t breathe. Their hands felt familiar, grabbing your arms like they’d done that night before you hid in the secret door in the dining room. You had watched these faceless men through a hole in that door, stifling your cries when bullets sprayed the room your family was having dinner in. So while they were coming after you and pulling you outside, it’s all you felt. That same feeling when he wasn’t near.

Drowning.

There’s a hand that pulls you back and you watch, dazed, as Bloodsport puts every man who touched you on the ground. It’s filled with swift yet aggressive and barbaric movements, controlled, expert chaos and it happens within moments. His chest is heaving when he looks down at you and scoops you up in his arms. You’d object in any other circumstances, but this time, head against his chest and tucked in his arms, you were okay.

His voice rumbles against your side, “We’re going home.”

~~~

Harley’s tears hit your shoulder as you sympathetically pat her back.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I shouldn’t have left,” she sniffles loudly. “I should’ve been there.”

You laugh softly, fitting your head into her shoulder, “It’s okay, Harls. It’s not your fault, there was no harm done.”

“There could have been,” she sighs. “I’m not letting you convince me to go out next time, you’re staying here forever.”

You roll your eyes with a smile, “Alright.”

She gets up and sniffs, wiping at her nose that’s now flushed from crying, “Good because I’m serious.”

“I know,” you laugh again, hugging yourself in a hoodie much too large for you, (because you stole it from Rick Flagg) swallowing you whole. 

Your eyes wander down the hall to where Robert is no doubt pacing around in your bedroom, the only room not laden with cameras (ironically for privacy). You kick at the floor in your fuzzy socks and think of an excuse to go check on him, even though you’re probably the last person he wants to see right now. You, frankly, don’t care.

“I’m gonna go-” 

“Check on Robert?” she finishes. “I know, honey. I was a psychiatrist, I’m not stupid.”

You crack a smile and grip her arm affectionately as you walk past her towards the bedroom. You don’t even take the risk of knocking for fear he’ll lock it and try your luck with just simply opening it. You see him, shirtless with a towel over his shoulder, a low hanging towel wrapped around his waist, while nursing his knuckles. He looks you over once you enter the room, trained eyes on you and the intimidation is definitely working already when he takes the damp towel on his shoulder and dabs the cuts on his skin.

He remains silent and you move to sit down on your bed, the awkward squeak filling the already high-tension atmosphere, thick enough to make your ears pop like you’re in an airplane too far up in the sky.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, drawing his eye. 

He hums and steps into your bathroom, washing off his hands. 

You frown at his lack of response, “Are you really going to pout this whole time? Because honestly, it’s beneath you, Robert.” You lean forward, watching as he walks out of the bathroom, still half naked, still silent. 

The silence is beginning to slowly kill you, especially when he looks this good, water droplets running down his chiseled torso from a hot shower. You didn’t let your mind wander because if the reaction your body is giving from the image before you was any indication, you want him. He walks in the room once again, mouth in an amused yet firm line. 

In actuality, he was ashamed of himself. Not so much of you. He would’ve left as that despair overcame him back in that bar. He would’ve left you there and abandoned his mission, leaving you to be hurt. If it hadn't been for those men, you could’ve been killed and it would be his fault. He alerted Waller of the attack, making up a lie about the two of you going for a walk at night and getting ambushed there rather than at a club. There’s a hit on each of those men being taken out as we speak as well as a search for their boss. Even though that still got him chewed out. He couldn’t imagine what she’d do to him if she found out the truth.

Robert walks slowly towards you, leaning against the bed frame, gesturing for you to continue. You watch him, distracted, as he wraps a bandage around his knuckles.

“I shouldn’t have kissed her to get a rise out of you, that was hurtful,” you exhale your words, quiet enough he wouldn’t be able to hear you if you weren’t within a breath of one another. You hang your head, “And it was stupid to go out in the first place when I am in this much danger. I could’ve been killed, and you could have been hurt. I’m sorry.”

He represses a laugh at the idea of him getting hurt, when the two of you both know that would never happen. But as the silence from him grows thicker, the more you start to ramble.

“Okay, this silent treatment isn’t going to work for much longer. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but you need to stop.”

He gives you a look that says ‘make me’. But you both know you couldn’t if you tried, and vice versa. He thinks of you as a siren, one of those alluring creatures in old sailor tales that lured unsuspecting men to their painful deaths. As if he has no control of the way he feels about you. Which in a way he does, but he knows better. He knows better than to fall under your enchanting song, but he can’t help but be pulled beneath the surface of the water. 

Robert tenses when you move forward and the hoodie falls off one of your shoulders, revealing more of your chest, the smooth skin that lays there. 

His chest tightens when you look up at him and sigh.

“But thank you for saving me,” you say, both because you think that’s what he wants to hear but also because you mean it, you wouldn’t be here at all if he didn’t come with you.

He licks his lips and nods his head in simple recognition. He appreciated the apology, truly he did, but a part of him enjoyed the way you continued to ramble on, so he remained silent. This was an old interrogation tactic he learned when he served, keeping quiet always got people talking. He looks down at you and leans to meet your face, hands on either side of you. 

“I don’t know what else you wish for me to say,” you admit quietly, fiddling with your hands.

He didn’t know either but whatever you would say, he would listen.

“So I take it you’re not mad anymore?” you infer from his relaxed posture, heart beating out of your chest, fast enough that it catapults to your throat. 

He tilts his head down so he’s an inch before your mouth, breath fanning over your face. when he tugs you up to your feet, hands gripping the sides of your waist when he pulls you close. Your heartbeats began to sync up, chest to chest.

“I’m fucking furious, sweetheart.”

You meet his eyes, looking up in that seductive stare of yours you never knew you were capable of until him, and close the distance, kissing him lightly. His arms falter by your side and it’s the first time you’ve seen him hesitate, losing his cool. It’s the most gentle thing he’s ever experienced, everything in his life being forced, hostile, and malicious, while your soft lips against his are anything but. You kiss him like he’s not the monster he thinks himself to be. 

“Then let me make it up to you.”

“Fuck,” he grips your sides harder, palm moving to push you closer with his hand flat against the small of your back. “We shouldn’t.”

You search his face for uncertainty, but all you sense is a profound sense of clarity, in the both of you. “I know.”

“Will you regret this?”

You shake your head, hand against his cheek, “No.”

His dark eyes fall to your lips, pupils filling his dark brown irises, lust blown, “You’re so good, baby. You’re too good for me.”

Before you can tease him about the new nickname and object to that, his lips have crashed against your own. His hand slides up to cup the side of your face, drinking you in with his intoxicating kiss. You hum, content, against his feverish mouth and he opens it, vulnerable and on display. You feel his guard still up, tense and calculated, so you rest your hand against his chest. You press a kiss to his eyelid, his cheek, his nose, his chin, his jaw, his neck. He softens beneath you, groaning aloud as his hands tighten. 

“You don’t need to be afraid with me,” you whisper to him, tender fingers trailing down his shirtless chest, hot skin against hot skin. It’s enough to make you sweat.

He exhales and captures your bottom lip with his own, holding your face in both of his hands. The kiss grows heated and rushed, like you’re running out of time, as if at any moment those men would come back and find you and take you away from him again. His tongue expertly works with your own, licking the pout of your bottom lip, and coaxing you open. He slides his hand down between your legs, dipping his finger to find the slick in the middle of your thighs. You moan into his mouth, his other hand at the back of your neck when he buries his face in your shoulder. He kisses you there, the crook where your neck meets your collarbone, that damned sensitive spot. You succumb to his touch. His beard tickles your skin and you gasp when he sucks hard, a bruise forming.

You breathe a laugh, “Everyone will see if you leave a mark,” you tug on his hair when you thread it through his coarse curls. 

He falls under your spell and there’s something so ironically beautiful about this trained assassin with a heart of gold and the scars to show for it, being so open with you.

His hands, his entire life, have been forced to be instruments of death and violence. But as they slide down your figure, holding your face, and pulling you into him, they’re his greatest gift. He’s surprisingly tender with you. 

But then he has enough and pushes you down on the bed, arms trapping you on both sides.

He responds bluntly, “I don’t care.”

You part your legs for him and he releases a shaky breath. He slowly unzips your sweatshirt and it falls off you just as you do the same and tug his towel down. Both of you are bare before the other as you take a moment to drink each other in. You were just as, if not more, beautiful than he imagined you to be. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says quietly as his hand drapes down the line of your figure. He touches you how someone would handle a glass vase filled with flowers. 

You take his face in both of your hands and kiss him, “So are you.” 

“I don’t think you know what you do to me, baby.” His hand finds your breast and squeezes while he kisses your neck.

You moan when he uses his other hand to grip your neck, thumb against your pulse point, “If it’s anything like how I feel right now, then yes, I do.”

He lifts his head up to watch your face as he chokes you, softly so he doesn’t hurt you but hard enough to play with your breath. His thumb opens your mouth and your legs tremble. 

“So I take it you’re into choking, my love?” You nod excitedly, unable to speak, and his grip tightens. 

You let out a squeak and he releases, face etched with worry, kissing your neck where he touched you. “Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry.” 

You shake your head and smile comfortingly, “No, baby, I’m okay. I’ll tap out if it’s too rough, I promise,” you tease.

His grumbling voice deepens, “Good... because, darling, right now all I want to do is bury my face in between those gorgeous thighs of yours.”

You inhale sharply when he opens your legs once again, looking up at you and you nod in consent.

“I need words, beautiful,” he smirks with his mouth just above your center. 

“Yes, please,” you breathe out and he responds with a swift lick to your pussy. He looks up at you and when he catches your eye, it’s as if the sensation grows stronger and your head hits your pillow.

“I’ve barely even touched you,” he mumbles into you and you feel his smug smile in your thigh. His fingers dip into you as he flattens his tongue and crooks them towards himself, you grip your sheets.

“Don’t... flatter yourself,” you sigh out. “I-it’s just been awhile.”

He removes his mouth and fingers from you, “So anyone can make you feel like this?”

You enjoy the feeling you get when he looks at you like that, his eyes dark and dominant, so you play along and nod. “Yes, in fact, I’ve had better.”

He licks his lips and gets up from the bed. He opens his drawer and you sit up to look what he grabs: a belt. Your heart beats excitedly in your chest even though you know you shouldn’t be. He gets back on the bed and climbs over you.

Robert looks at you, “Hands.”

You extend them to him wordlessly, watching as he ties your wrists together and puts them over the bedpost so you’re trapped there, unable to move.

“Now,” he holds himself above you, pressing a kiss to your lips. “You’re to stay tied up until I say so, anything like that again and they get tighter. Nod if you understand me.”

You nod emphatically. You had never seen this side of Robert before, so in control and not afraid to go too far, it was so unbelievably sexy. 

The best part was he didn’t tie it tight enough, afraid of hurting you, so you could easily slip out your hands at any moment.

He kisses, painfully slow, down your chest and wraps his lips around your nipple. He swirls his tongue around the erect bud and you gasp, desperate to touch him. He looks up at you from you chest as he switches to the other, massaging the unattended one as he sucks, the pleasurable feeling overwhelming you. So much so you have to clench your thighs together, longing for some sort of relief for the tension building in your abdomen.

“Baby, please,” you whine, squirming beneath him.

He shuts you up with a bruising kiss while his hand slips down to enter you, two fingers in already. He pumps them in and out of you before sliding back down the expanses of your body and letting his mouth latch onto your clit. He sucks hard and you stifle a loud moan that would surely alert everyone in the home of your arousal. He holds you down against the bed with a palm flat against your stomach as you begin to lift your pelvis. His tongue enters you while his fingers take over, stimulating you with gentle rubs and flicks. But just before you feel that euphoric release, his actions cease and you’re left hot and flustered. 

“Robert,” you look at him with a deep frown.

He grins, “Y/n...”

You blow hair out of your eyes, “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” He puts his lips near your ear, “Are you ready?” You nod as he pushes himself inside you and you bite back a moan into his shoulder. 

You finally have enough, slip your hands out, and he pinches his brow, unable to hide his shock before you bring him down to press your lips against his. He melts into you, arms wrapped around you while he holds you close, filling you out in all the right places. He quickens his pace and you whine into his mouth, nails digging into his skin. You wrap your legs around his torso and he hits you so nicely. He was right, it’s the best you’ve ever had. He rises and looks at you, lips swollen and red from kissing, eyes clear and pupils large, and face flushed with heat. Your hair is in messy tendrils at all angles and you’ve never been more attractive.

“You’re doing so good,” he praises in your ear, placing kisses across your jaw. “Taking my cock so well.”

You whimper and his movements stiffen as he approaches release and so do you, walls tightening around him. He reaches down and rubs your clit with his expert fingers. You finish together, mouths open and hands all over each other’s bodies. It overcomes you in a tingling, perfect sensation, it continues on, leaving you aching and wanting more.

He rubs his knuckles over your cheek, softly and adoringly he looks at you. You tuck yourself into his arms under the blankets. Everything you both have wanted for a long time, laying right in front of you.

“Still want to make me not walk?” you tease, looking up at him.

He kisses your eyelids and you giggle, “Fuck yes.”

Part 2?

[thefangirltreehouse]

mixed thoughts on suicide squad upon second viewing

bad

gunn still can’t write women.

again, gunn still neglects to give any agency to anyone who isn’t billed

and yet again, we’re still misunderstanding harley. honestly, at this point the only people i trust to write harley are animated series team & dini (maybe sean murphy)

fucked up amanda waller, despite davis’ stellar performance, do you seriously believe waller would let her staff away with that shit?! and the way her body just lied there was just distasteful

bop’s prison fight sequence was good, the re-do whilst good, felt disingenuous 

you killed rick flag and polka dot but let peacemaker live?!

you let elba keep his accent but not capaldi?! am sorry but “yankee-fucking-doodle-dandies” would sound much better in a scottish accent. (to be fair, he did slip quite a bit and i think that was one of the lines)

edgy for the sake of being edgy (which isn’t a surprise, you aren’t going to convince me gunn is a good person, and no, i don’t think he’s changed because he didn’t face any consequences, disney dropped him, so dc hired him.)

paring harley up again with another coercive abuser but because he’s hot its totally fine? gunn thinks that’s okay? fucking really?! sounding a little incel-ish if ya ask me.

i think we all know the only reason weasel survived was because he was played by sean gunn 

ye killed boomer?! fuckin’ why?! he was one of the few redeeming things about the original.

good

soundtrack was amazing standouts for me are “rain” (which weirdly wasn’t played during the best shot in the film, that heavily featured rain) and the track with nanaue in the aquarium is so soft and dreamy.

flag wasn’t boring and by the end of the film, i honestly really liked him plus he’s got one of the most powerful lines in the film.

cena can act, and act well? too well

davis, elba and melchior had amazing performances

sebastian is too fucking pure, as is king shark and his moustache disguise.

third act was incredible

it’s an incredibly well made, and intense film, again, see third act.

r2 and bloodsport’s friendship is precious as is harley and flag’s

just polka-dot, everything was great about him.

gen

gunn didn’t even try to hide that the fact the opening scene with robert and and his daughter was supposed to be for deadshot.

why do i feel like roy or jay would be good in these films, especially now with flag gone, not that it would make any sense i just like the idea of roy specifically being on the squad since dc doesn’t know what to do with him.

i’m surprised there was no mention of boomer after his death, or even lawton, katana or croc hell, there was no mention of bats and putting supes in the icu is a pretty big deal to be simply considered a passing comment

why is nobody talking about calendar man?!

can ivy hurry the fuck up and come collect her wife from these abusive male characters and awful directors.

why did harley feel like a side character?

“IT’S YOUR MUM!“