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countrycrackheads · 2 months

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Run for Your Life

Bowers Gang x Reader

Summary: fem!reader is being hunted down after discovering who’s been making the kids in town go missing

TW: Murder, blood, implied rape, violence, weapons, death, some small gore I suck at writing. Don't expect this to be amazing. note: as I finish writing this I realize how much I despise dark themes. oh well, I already wrote it. Also, yeah the title is stupid. It's okay.

“: ̗̀➛did you really think we would just let you off the hook so easily?‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ”

Seeing them shove that body into the quarry was the beginning of the end.

Perhaps it wouldn't have been if you had simply made a break for it as soon as you saw it, but how could you? Seeing the mutilated body of Chase Foreman was quite the sight to see, a sight so mesmerizing that your feet had cemented themselves to the ground. Any will to run or scream was paralyzed as your mind screamed at you to escape.

It was only after Belch Huggins had thrown Chase’s body off the edge of the cliff that you found the strength to turn around. But when you did, you were immediately slammed to the ground by Patrick Hockstetter’s hard chest.

"Didn't your parents teach you it's rude to spy?"

Patrick's sarcastic, shrill laughter of joy rang through your ears as he kneeled down beside your body, his knee pressing between your thighs. A large rotting Cheshire grin was on display before your very eyes, the smell of cigarettes assaulting your senses.

Your mouth opened pathetically, ready to sputter out any excuse to spare your life as tears threatened to spill out. Patrick, however, wordlessly put his fingers to your lips, softly shushing you in an oddly soothing way—as soothing as someone like him could sound.

"Don't fret, little bitch. I'll make sure to finish you off quickly. But what's the harm in a little fun?"

His dimly lit face turned up, looking behind her. The moonlight revealed the dirt and blood smeared across his face, casting a sinister glow on the deranged psychopath. Panicked footsteps crunched against dirt and gravel. A shadow came over Patrick and his grin vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

"Just make this quick, Hockstetter." It was Belch Huggins' worried voice coming from behind her. The crunching of dirt and gravel signaled a third presence.

"What's the fun in making this one quick?" Victor Criss mused as he knelt down behind you. He leaned over your shoulder before abruptly gripping your neck, pulling you back into his chest as he observed your face. A choked sob escaped your lips as you gasped for air, while his fingers tightened around you. "She's a looker. Got a pretty mouth too..." Victor trailed off, his tone filled with dark intent. Another shrill giggle came from Patrick as he climbed on top of your body, watching your eyes roll back into your skull.

"I like the way you're thinking, Vic." Patrick suddenly tore Victor's hand off of you, making the blonde grunt in irritation "But if I'm gonna fuck her, I want her to be awake." He looked down at you with that same grin, grabbing your jaw as you pathetically gasped for air. "Isn't that right, little bitch? You better look me in my eyes when I'm inside you."

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Henry stood over the boys, watching with disinterest as Patrick eye-fucked the witness to their crime.

"Yeah, yeah." Patrick brushed off Henry's comment. "You're one to talk, Bowers. All high mighty 'cause you never stick it into our girls, huh?"

Henry's eyes trained on Patrick as his nostrils flared. His hands jutted out, lifting Patrick off of you by his collar. "Don't fucking talk to me that way, you goddamn pervert. One more word and I'm making you the next kid on a poster."

Patrick only grinned at Henry's empty threats. "You wouldn't dare get your pretty little hands dirty. That's my job." He had made it a point to get in Henry's face, enjoying how Henry's eyebrow would twitch in irritation. If there was one thing Patrick was good at, it was getting under Henry's skin. His comments had challenged Henry's masculinity, and for this crime, Patrick would pay the price.

It had all happened in mere seconds. Patrick’s body was slammed down, his head violently bouncing off the ground before hitting cold earth. Gasping sharply, he tried to recover the breath Henry had knocked out of him. Henry loomed over Patrick, straddling him with clenched fists. Patrick’s defiant laughter rang in the tense silence, his breath ragged as he laughed at Henry’s pathetic attempt.

Without hesitation, Belch lunged forward, ripping Henry off, while Victor rushed to Patrick’s side. Despite their lack of genuine concern for each other, the gang all understood their unspoken rule: no turning on each other.

Henry kicked and flailed like an enraged toddler as Belch manhandled him. "Get off of me! I ain't gonna hurt 'em!" He shouted, shoving Belch away and kicking dirt in Patrick's direction. The dirt hit Victor in the face, causing the blonde to sputter, spitting out any dirt that got into his mouth.

"What the fuck?" Victor complained, wiping his mouth repeatedly. The blood on his long-sleeve had now smeared across his lips, a stark contrast between his pale skin and the crimson streaks. Henry's rage had moved from Patrick to Victor, sneering at the smaller blonde.

On that cold earth, you laid there motionless, watching the boys through your peripherals. You felt a strange sense of joy when Patrick was thrown to the floor, and an even greater relief washed over you when the boys left you behind to break up the cat-fight. Your body was flooded with fear and adrenaline, and your mind went into overdrive, thrust into a survival mode you had never felt before.

Without a second thought, you pushed yourself off the ground, sprinting into the woods surrounding the quarry. Your absence hadn't gone unnoticed, and as soon as you made it into the woods, shouting ensued. Twigs and leaves crunched under your feet, drowning out the sounds of the boys chasing after you.

The boys you had known since childhood—whom you watched grow up as you went from playing with toys together to wanting to play together—were now hounding you like rabid wolves.

As you ran, a gunshot went off. You flinched violently, causing the bullet to only graze your flesh. Instinctively, your hand shot up to grasp your barely bleeding cheek in shock. "What the fuck!?" you screamed, your legs pumping faster.

Glancing over your shoulder, you noticed the distance in between you and the boys widened, giving you the advantage momentarily. Ducking under thick foliage, you followed a mini trail that would lead you to the barrens. With limited light, you ran blindly through dense woods. Branches and logs snapped against your face, pulling at your clothes, and threatening to trip you as you raced forward.

The shouting continued to follow you, except now it had split. Wicked voices bellowed at you from the surrounding trees, and with the dim light you could hardly tell what was coming from where. Your head tilted up, trying to gauge the sky from the trees, but it was entirely pitch black aside from the twinkling of stars and a melancholy moon.

"I'm coming to get you, little bitch!"

This time the voice was right beside you. Whipping your head to the right, you saw Patrick Hockstetter running, a wild grin on his face as he tried to swoop in closer, weaving through trees to get on your path. You swerved to the left, only to be greeted once more.

"You can't run forever, slut!"

It was Victor Criss this time, his baggy clothing whipping through the wind as he grasped a knife tightly in his right hand. He was weaving in towards you, both boys working together to trap you in between them. Your legs were aching and sweat drenched every inch of your body, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop.

Victor swiped his knife at you, nicking you in the stomach. A gut-wrenching scream followed as you felt the blade run across your tender flesh. Your hand immediately pressed itself against the bleeding wound, trying to stem the flow. Patrick's laughter drowned out your screams, his voice filled with eagerness as he closed in on you. His arms reached out, desperately trying to latch on.

“Fucking grab her already!” Henry’s voice roared from behind Patrick, filled with a frenzied intensity. His eyes locked onto you like a mad bull. He drew the pistol from his belt, aiming it in your direction. Fueled by a surge of adrenaline, your cramping legs pushed harder, desperately propelling you forward.

The bullet darted out, intent on killing. You instinctively shut your eyes but it never came. Victor's body collapsed on your left, abandoned as the group continued the chase.

"Fuck!" Belch wailed, maneuvering past Victor's corpse.

"Nice aim, moron!" Patrick taunted Henry with another shrill giggle. Henry only roared out in frustration. Your eyes were wide, body racked with fear and oddly enough, guilt. But you kept on going anyway, better Victor than you.

With ringing ears, you weaved through dense foliage and never-ending trees, feeling as though you were in a relentless loop. The constant barrage of Patrick’s taunts and Henry’s angry roars only added to your despair. You wanted to give up. To just collapse like Victor had on the cold earth and rest. God, death just seemed so tempting.

Something you feared for years suddenly seemed so desirable. And wrapped up in these thoughts of sweet death, you had hardly taken notice that Belch Huggins had swung his axe at you, lodging itself into your shoulder blade.

"Fuck!" You bellowed as the blade was pulled back. Your left arm dangled pathetically, blood oozing out as tendons strung your arm to your body. Immense pain took over and you collapsed, screaming as you cradled your arm.

The three boys stalked towards you, watching you intensely. Your sobs echoed through the trees, birds scattering out of trees hearing your screams of agony.

"Fuck, just kill me already!" You pleaded, tears streaming down your face. Belch solemnly crouched down beside you, a look of guilt on his face.

"Don’t take this personally…" he mumbled, glancing down at your bloody arm. Your eyes locked onto his, and you whimpered softly. Despite the situation, you couldn’t help but remember Belch’s kindness from long ago—how he had always been a big sweetheart, even back in kindergarten when you’d share a nap blanket. What happened to that kind soul?

Your eyes lowered to your arm, bile creeping up your throat until you couldn't help but pathetically keel over and vomit. Henry scowled, letting out an annoyed scoff while he panted heavily.

"Good going, tubby." Patrick sneered at Belch. "I can't enjoy her rockin' body when her arm is all fucked up. That's why we wait to cut them up after I've already dumped my load." The psychopath scoffed at this inconvenience, disregarding your dying body as just another dumpsite.

"Shut the fuck up," Belch mumbled, shooting a glare at Patrick. His attention moved back towards you, noticing how you were starting to fade away. He removed his flannel, gingerly put it over your body. He especially was trying to cover your arm. "I really didn't mean for this to happen," he whispered as he covered you.

Henry scoffed, "Don't tell me you're sweet on a dying girl."

Patrick snickered, nudging Belch. "The guilt getting you again, big guy?" His taunting laughter filled your ears.

Your eyes slowly rolled up to stare at the burly axe-wielding bully. With a small scoff, you groaned softly again. "Just fucking kill me..."

"If it's what you want," Henry grumbled, beyond annoyed that he had to run for so long. "Fuck, that's what we've been trying to do this entire time. Dumb bitch." He cocked his gun, aiming it at your head.

"Any last words?" Patrick cooed, his eyes glinting with a twisted excitement. His gaze darted back and forth between you and the gun, a dark smile stretching across his face. The anticipation in his voice was almost palpable.

You forced a sneer, even as your vision blurred to white.

"Yeah, fuck you," you rasped, your voice trembling.

The gunshot rang out, its echo a brutal punctuation to the silence that followed.

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xclowniex · 4 months

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I don't see how people can still say that the "hostages were treated well" after the lastest video was released of 5 women hostages.

The video is so heart breaking and its been edited so the super bad stuff isn't in it. Which in a way makes the video worse, but still not as bad as if the stuff taken as was included.

I am going to discuss some things that were said in the video tw rape threats and related threats under cut

They are called beautiful by their captors and one states that they are the ones who can get pregnant because they are zionists, obviously heavily implying that they plan to rape them and get them pregnant

That is fucking terrible. Reports of rape has already been told about months ago and it was horrible then and horrible now.

But like, the idea that they are being raped with the intention of getting them pregnant and either have the baby or force a miscarriage???? ten fucking thousand times worse.

#antisemitism #israel #i/p #jumblr #palestine #i/p war #gaza #bring then home #bring them back now

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ryaiga · 1 year

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The One God Forbade

Chapter 1

Pairing - Captain Price X GN!Reader X Lieutenant Riley

MDNI 18+ PLEASE.

WORD COUNT: 6.3K

Summary: You survived an interrogation but don't remember anything except the pain you endured and Captain Price saving you. Once you recovered, you were left with more questions with seemingly no answer.

AUTHOR’S NOTE AT THE END!

WARNINGS/CWS/TWS: GRAPHIC SCENES(DETAILED GORE, there will be a warning and a spacer just for it so you can skip), Military terms that might be wrong, Drinking, Childhood trauma, mention of abuse, death and mentions of death, talks of scars, implied rape.

Spacers/Headers by: @mmadeinheavenn , @imlevis , @animatedglittergraphics-n-more , @wanwanparty

{(N/n) = nickname}

It was a surprise Kortac didn't sign you from the get go. You knew of a couple of their members, König and Horangi specifically, only by mere whispers. You were the new recruit on base. Anyone and everyone would kill to have your spot, a vacancy was opened and granted to you to join Task force 141. Nobody saw it coming, you'd always thought it was the best soldier from your squad who'd be nominated, but everyone including you was blindsided by the choice.

You were home, on leave for only a week after a grueling mission your platoon had to complete and after recovery. Intel was needed and special ops teams Alpha, Delta and ,your squad, Echo were tasked to gather it, eliminate all threats if faced and by any means get said intel. Other squads joked (some meant what they said) that you didn't belong in the army, but rather a mercenary group like Kortac. The lengths you'd take to accomplish a mission gave you that title. It was a switch, something even you can't control. What lays in your wake is the multiple sights of mangled and bloodied corpses, those whose faces were intact belonged to people you have never come across once in your life.

That mission made your attempts to sleep futile, it haunts you every night when you rest your head. You were separated from your team, trying to exfil but ended up amidst an ambush. Everyone knew how skilled a soldier you were, but never had taken you for the type to sacrifice yourself for the means of your fellow squadmates' safety. You'd make headway to a couple of your injured comrades, shooting at enemies who’d even think of taking a step forward. Dragging them back to the safety of the group, you’d left them to get first aid, hell you even threw your back up kit on top of one of the injured before running to the last man. The few before him received shots to their limbs, nothing that would render them dead, but the last man had more than just a shot.

Rodney was Echo team’s Field Team Leader(FTL) and had been by your side pulling the injured and returning fire on the enemies. That was when a stray IED happened to go off, you swore that a pebble triggered it but you didn't have the time to think about it. Luckily for the both of you, it wasn’t close to do deadly damage but it was enough for the building in front of you to shake and a piece of rubble had fallen onto Rodney’s leg as he was trying to get up after the explosion. You had been scraped by flyaway shrapnels but one happened to embed itself into your thigh, right above your knee. Seeing that he had it worse, you made it a priority to get that injured comrade out of the way first so you can focus on Rodney after. You’d almost — or hell quite literally — thrown the man to safety and dashed for Rodney, using the momentum, you attempted to kick the rubble off and thankfully it did. Placing a tourniquet on Rodney’s leg so he didn't bleed out.

You'd only manage to drag him halfway to the group, before a crazed hostile came charging at you with a knife. Stupid as it was to bring a knife to a gunfight in a literal sense, you reached for your pistol and raised it to shoot the hostile, hearing a click instead of a shot going off. An empty mag, you chuckled. Shouting for Rodney to crawl the rest of the way and yell for someone, you holstered the pistol to exchange for your trusty karambit. You've been in hand to hand combat for training but for some reason this was different. You found yourself on the ground quicker than ever, despite being top in your batch.

The man stood over you with a sinister look, with a grin stretching from ear to ear. “Another American added to my collection, I won’t kill you so soon. Not yet at least, we still need to know how you found this place. And dear little soldier, oh how much fun I’ll have torturing you and keeping you barely breathing.” He proceeded to plunge the knife into your side, somehow missing everything vital but you convinced yourself that it would be blood loss that kills you at this point. You’d rather die quiet than betray the military. Blacking out due to the shock, the last thing you heard Rodney yelling for the rest to fire at the man and not just stand there with their dicks in their hands. At last it was too late, the team had to exfil but not without calling it in and letting the team who was aiding us with the mission about the situation at hand. A rescue mission for a fellow soldier.

Neither you nor your team knew that the intel was for Task Force 141’s next deployment, you were the bait Laswell had deployed. It was to ensure that the ring leader didn’t take the situation seriously, a random military team out on patrol happened to stumble upon a measly little operational base they had out in the sandy town, a perfect bait. Bringing back the intel to the team at base, Laswell gave Price the details of your rescue, unbeknownst to you of course.

TORTURE SCENE AHEAD, AVOID IF YOU AREN’T COMFORTABLE WITH SUCH

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

You woke up to the sharp and pulsating pain in your side, vision blurred and arms shackled to a metal table, you remembered what happened. You braced yourself for the worse, nothing like good old torture. The next 8 hours felt like hell, from waterboarding, branding you with a metal rod that was heated to the point of it glowing bright orange, to nails being pulled starting from your toes then to your hands, you endured every second of torture being thrown at you. Sure it was horrible, but you kept your mouth shut by any means possible. Every time a nail was pulled ever so agonizingly slowly, you bit your lips to the point that blood dripped down your chin and that the pain was now numbed, you no longer felt it. You closed your eyes, counting every second.

1, 2, 3, 4- “How did you find this compound?” 9, 10. 30600. 1, 2, 3- “I know you can hear me!” 7, 8, 9, 10. 30610- Another slow pull of a nail, this time it was your right pinky toe, no nails on the right foot 8 hours, 35 minutes, 20 seconds into being kidnapped. Yeah they took a whole 5 minutes to torture your pinky toe for information.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5- the door to the room opens again, a different man enters. This time with a trolley with surgical tools. You could see a scalpel, clamps, retractors, suction, staples and energy systems, you could tell this man enjoys the torment he inflicts. With the orchestra of surgical tools laid out in front of him, he was the conductor who was gonna lead your screams into a melodious conforment of the perfect harmony, a symphony to his ears. 45950.

1, 2, 3, 4, you felt him cut open the top of your hand, using the clamps on the nerves and playing with them, all without anesthetics, you growled as your face contorted to the pain. Cauterizing the incision, “You know, I had enough sessions like this, I could get a medical license just from how talented and skill I am with my tools.” Deranged as he sounds, you kept counting. 50400. It is now 50401. You had enough when you felt him grab your belt buckle. That’s where it happened. You blacked out. The last that you remembered.

Back at base, Laswell called for the last mission briefing after Price gathered the boys and informed them of what was going on. After which Price and the few members of Task force 141 geared up. He led them onto the helo and they flew out to the sandy plains you were left at. 3 hours after the incident was called in.

Laswell had informed him of the prestigious yet silent soldier that was being considered for his team. He’d lost a recruit in an earlier deployment, one he took to heart. Like many from the past, another scar added, that lay permanent by his chest and the haunting that left him shaking and restless at night, another one failed by his very leadership. Making even the unshakeable captain wake in cold sweats and trembling and to his vices in the attempts to be grounded to earth once more. So to hear that he was getting a new member that was as or more skilled than the one before, meant that the military was willing to sacrifice yet another valuable asset if it meant that his team was complete from every angle. A well trained sniper, hardy in hand to hand, a versatile team player yet nothing more than your skills were known. Similar to his lieutenant, you were an enigma. Not even a drop of ink was placed about your past and how you came about the military. Your file had a picture, a battle hardened soldier who completed every mission with ease and precision of high caliber, but no other name besides (N/N). You hadn’t been rewarded with a callsign, no one knew enough about you to even give a title to your talents, unlike Soap or Ghost. Price read up on your previous missions, but to his disappointment (or amazement), every debrief on the details stated that no one saw how you executed. It was always done and over with by the time the rest came to you, and it happens within mere seconds. A regal display of crimson red, a mural of your skill assets that leaves even your FTLs in fear of ever being your enemy. However, No one was ready for what was to come. For you’d gain a title like no other, a prestige as high as the greatest artist known to man, the difference being that it came not from art. But from your ungodly fits to kill and survive, a display left out to strike fear in any person who wronged you.

Price and his team sat in the helo, adrenaline slowly creeping along their nerves as they awaited for the pilot's call to jump. “Hope we get there in time, wouldn't be good if we found ‘em KIA. Laswell seemed rather fond of the enigma.” Ghost briefly spoke, an utter breath that Price barely caught. Nodding in response, Price wanted to see what you were. How you handled the predicament you were in, knowing full well if it was one of his men, that they wouldn’t even think of breaking. Could he blame you? Not even your platoon had knowledge that you were against a group of skilled mercenaries guising as cartels selling American weapons on middle eastern soil. He’d seen what they’ve done to the soldiers before you, they never made it home and if they did, it was a closed casket ceremony.

Needless to say you were in desperate need of saving if you even want to think of coming out alive. Ghost reminds the rest that they aren’t to hope too highly of your chances, another tag and body bag might be amongst them on their return. A slim chance that you’d even be crawling out that hellscape. It was a bad omen that Price hated, he didn’t like the thought of a rescue being a failed attempt before it even began. Before he could even try to save the person. The helo landed miles away from the building, too many for the team’s liking. It meant time was wasted traversing the dunes, and time was not on their side.

They managed to reach the building on the 14th hour, Gaz situated at a high vantage point and taking out any guard that would alert the others and prevent the team’s entry while Price and the other two got closer. Price split the teams, Gaz with him and Soap with Ghost. Ghost and Soap would make the initial breach, having that Soap was their demolitions expert. Gaz made his way to the other side of the building with Price to flank and surprise any enemies with the possible off chance of stumbling into you during the sweep. Over the comms, he gave the signal. A blast shook the building, he’d hear a handful of footsteps rush towards the other two, giving it a second before kicking the shitty metal door open. Entering the 4 story building, they cleared the first floor with ease before coming across a walkie talkie on one of the now dead tangos. “Goddamn it! Kill whoever that was, we need to handle-” the person on the other end was cut off and without a second for Price to ponder what the situation was, more enemies came barrelling down the steps, managing to count 6 as they entered a room for cover before a gunfight ensued. Soap deployed a 9 banger - a flashbang that would go off 9 times back to back - a headbanger experience for the poor dead men walking. Using that as a distraction Gaz took out 3 enemies before Ghost and Price eliminated the remaining few.

Ghost and Soap rushed to the second floor while he and Gaz went to the third. ‘Faster’ echoed in the back of Price’s mind. The team only managed to clear 3 rooms when a gut wrenching cry and a shot going off not long after was heard. It came from the fourth floor, He waited for the two below them and got into formation. Leading his men into the unknown, they hurried up the flight of stairs. Looking down the dimly lit and putrid corridor stood 4 rooms, only one of which was closed, something wet leaked from its crack but the lighting made it hard to distinguish what it was. After clearing other rooms of hostiles, Price had Gaz stand guard by the stairs, Soap covering his and Ghost’s six. His clothed hand slowly reached the grimy steel knob, twisting and pushing it open to find that it was locked from the inside. You had to be there, surely. He tapped Soap and motioned for him to breach with a thermite. Bracing for the explosion, the thermite goes off rattling who stood by the door no doubt, using the initial explosion as a distraction, Price enters.

He’d heard of soldiers crawling away from death’s grip, but nothing he’d seen or heard would have prepared him for what he had just walked into. Before Ghost could turn to clear and call out on the comms, Price stopped him and the other two from entering. A war torn soldier wasn’t an unusual sight but the horrors he’d just laid his desensitized eyes on was enough to remind him of what he once feared back when he was a young recruit in the SAS. A trolley with surgical tools and a lone pistol stood at arms reach of a small figure wearing a familiar uniform, hands busy with what he could only assume was the soldier’s face, chains jingling as they continued with what they were doing all whilst embracing the sun’s warm grace. That wasn’t what shook him, a metal table typically used to interrogate people stood to the right of the room. The chains that held you down were broken, the spot where the chains were welded to the center of the table had an upwards dent - you ripped the chains off the table with sheer force.

A man in surgical garments sprawled on the table, innards now turned out for all to see. A spectacle made out of human intestine, organs pinned outside the man’s body by multiple scalpels that went through the metal and blood viciously splattered around his corpse. Price wished he could say that was it but the gruesome art went beyond just insides turned out. The man’s entire nervous system was intricately laid out around his organs, decorating the entire table in a mix of thin blue threads barely visible amongst the puddle of red. The nerves still connected together in a web, not severed in any section, the extreme precision to carry such a brutal butchering left Price speechless. The scene was as if it paid homage to the Blair Witch Project, or worse a page from a sacrificial ritual. Price could only hope that the man was dead when all of this was carried out.

Another, laid on the floor not too far between the man on the table and inches away from the door. A pistol in his mouth, brain matter laid out on the ground, his face frozen with a plea for mercy. That was what he was standing in, and what had seeped out the door crack. Yet another lay in front the soldier Price was facing, neck snapped and his dead body laid to rest sitting up right by the wall in front of the aforementioned soldier, a metal rod shoved into his mouth and the sharp end had protruded out his torso. Price took another step forward before he heard a whimper to the left most corner of the room, their target - the head honcho of the operation - sat bare and huddled. His clothes on the ground at arms reach yet the man was too afraid to take a step forward. As though he would meet the same fate as his men if he took even a breath of air.

“(N/n)? It’s Captain Price, Laswell sent Task Force 141 to rescue you.” Price spoke softly, not wanting to surprise you, unsure of the current mental state you were in. Especially after what was laid around you and the torture you went through. “Are you injured?-” You didn’t answer, instead opting to slowly turn. Price made the right call, the state you were in was dire. “Ghost, call for exfil ASAP, (N/n) is alive but in serious condition.” Price called out to his right hand man with urgency and a slight tremble in his voice.

Your eyes. He’d thought that when he first met Ghost, that his eyes were the epitome of cold and soulless. But somehow yours went beyond that, for a lack of better words. A frigid cold looms behind those dull and matte black pupils, reminding of the cold he once faced during a deployment in Russia during a winter’s snow storm, striking his very core cold. Bangs sticking to your bloodied face by sweat and grime from the hours of torture you endured. A chunk of your skin hanged off your face, a knife cut and what looks like one of the man’s attempts to rip the skin out and off your face. It started right above your eyebrow traveling down to your lips. He was hopeful that it was repairable, it wasn’t a wide injury, barely missing your eyes and narrows down where it ended in the middle of your upper lip, still connecting at both ends to your face by what looked like a thin fishing line. You were stitching your skin back to your face. Your hand had a butchered attempt to stitch a wound close with one hand, nail beds down to your knuckles had trails of dried up blood. Uniform stained a dark red, mixture of your injured comrades blood from the fight and yours, the side of your torso had a big patch of blood. Sleeves rolled up, bright red burn marks running down your entire forearm, the man before you had branded you with the very metal rod that was now embedded in him. On your other arm were 12 lines stitched into your skin, 8 weren’t freshly stitched in, leaving Price confused and curious as to what it was.

END OF TORTURE SCENE

Price could see the soldier mouthing something softly. His ears strained to hear the soft word, or numbers when he realizes that you were counting out by tens and adding to a bigger number before repeating. The hours you were torture. He slowly approaches you, calling out to you. It took a solid minute for you to realize what was going on. Signs of a soul return to your eyes, glossing over as soon as you hear your name. Arms slowly raised to surrender and it starts to tremble when before they were as still as though belonging to the world’s best brain surgeon. Tears drip down your cheeks, face still emotionless. You were dazed. The sound of the chopper’s propeller came to earshot, fresh sunshine scalding your back through the glassless window.

Gaz calls out to Price, “They’re here! Let’s go!” Price immediately takes off his shemagh and drapes it over your head, covering your face before standing to your left. He gave you a shot of morphine he had on hand to help with the pain. Grabbing your left arm, wrapping it over his shoulders, bending both of you and carried you bridal style as you were in no condition to walk - your toenails gone from the torture and the piece of shrapnel still in your thigh, he could only imagine the pain you were going through. He carried you out the room, ordering his team to escort the two of you to the safety of the chopper. Before he could descend the stairs, you spoke softly. “My karambit. Find it, I can’t lose it. I won’t leave without it.” The team shoots Price a confused look before turning to each other. “What are you waiting for? You heard the soldier. Quickly find it.” Price commands, he feels your breath starting to get labored, he hurries the guys and tells Gaz to follow him out.

The medics on board administered emergency first aid, shooting you with a dose of adrenaline to make sure you stay awake during the flight. They had laid you down on a stretcher. Not long after you, Price and Gaz enter the chopper, Ghost and Soap follow suit with your karambit in hand. Soap walks to your side, kneeling before he places your Karambit safely onto your chest and grabs your left hand to be placed on top of the knife. “Rest easy now (N/n), you and your karambit are safe.” Soap shot you a comforting smile as he spoke with a tone to reassure you.

Beeping. You hear the sound of a heart monitor beeping to the same rhythm as your heartbeat, however it was muffled. Eyes fluttering open, squinting due the harsh and glaring light that was directly over you. Consciousness returns to your still body. A body that didn’t feel like yours, sore all over and strapped down to the bed, limiting your movement. Your vision blurred, you attempted to analyze the room. Aside from the continuous beeping of the heart monitor, the fluorescent lights that had basically served as a flashbang buzzed like white noise. Reminding you of the time when you were living in that shitty college dormitory, but there wasn’t that stale air that was permeated by the pungent scent of body odor from athletes who freely roamed the halls. Instead, it was the smell of disinfectant that was greatly welcomed. The A/C hummed quietly, you soon realized it was a hospital or medical bay that you were in.

Something was off. How did you get from that dry and sweltering room that was stained with the smell of mold and bodily fluids to this clean environment. You scrapped at your foggy memory, who came? Was it the military who came to your rescue or did the fuckers who tortured you, who sold you off as a token and bargaining chip to a client? Panic creeps up your leg, feeling it coursing through your veins. You quietly looked for a way to get out of your restraints, not wanting anyone to hear you scheming away.

Your eyes spotted a paperclip that was left right on top of your cover, probably dropped from a clipboard. You started to shimmy under the tiny metal paperclip, it inches to your reach and soon you popped it into your mouth to bend it in a way that allowed you to lockpick the 4 locks that held your restraints against the bed. You hurried, taking off the restraints that were on your hands and started to work on your foot.

You only managed to free one foot when you heard someone walk into the section of the medical bay that housed you. Your heart starts beating aggressively quick, the sensation made it as though your heart was in your throat and actively trying to suffocate you. Before you were able to formulate a plan, someone was sliding the thin curtain aside. "They should be out cold, that wasn't an average dose of sedative Capt. Had to get Alex to hold 'em down with me and he just got back too." Scottish man but he wasn't alone, you glared at the curtain to gauge how big the Scot was. Standing at 6'2(1.88m), nothing you haven't encountered, a build fit for a soldier. You weren't gonna take your chances though.

You leaned to grab the flower vase that stood tall on the bedside table, readying your other hand with the paper clip to fling it at the man as hard as possible once you distracted him. The curtain pulls back and sure enough he was distracted talking to the other person accompanying him. You threw the pot straight at the Scottish man's face, catching him by surprise and stumbling onto the ground with his hand on his nose. The pot didn't break, if you weren't trying to escape and it was safe, you'd be laughing in the back of your mind. Immediately turning your attention to the other man who merely looked at his buddy on the ground groaning in pain. You took that as a free opportunity to get the man. You flicked the paperclip hoping to at least get it embedded into the side of his neck.

However, to your horror, he leaned back just in time to dodge the clip. It pierced the concrete wall next behind him. Before you were able to do anything, he turned to you and pinned you down against the bed. Your wrists in his hands and above your head, you tried to pull away but to no avail. You started to buck your body against his, trying to get him off. This only causes him to yell at his comrade, who's whining and rolling on the ground in pain. "Soap if you don't get up and help me pin their legs or hell, even get the doc, so help me I will ensure the lavys are nice and grody just for you to clean till next month." The man that you almost stabbed in the jugular with a goddamn paperclip has his body on your torso, just so you’d stop struggling, had an annoyed look similar to a dad reprimanding his son for breaking a glass and not bothering to help.

“It’s Captain Price- Calm down Echo 2, we aren’t going to hurt you. You're back at base and safe.” Captain Price? Price? You heard of his name. Rodney had mentioned that name before, something about a transfer. You stopped fighting back, as he mentioned you’re safe now and realized you nearly killed a higher up, you apologized. He slowly got up, wary that you’d try to pull something. Especially after that stunt. “You had woken up several times the past few days, manic on several occasions. We had Soap watch over you in case you woke up and chose to attack the Doc.”

“Permission to speak. How long was I out? And are my platoon mates safe?” You asked after Price gave you a nod. “A week, your body was weak from blood loss. The doctors helping you had stabilized you. Removing the shrapnel in your thigh, stitching the remaining skin that you hadn’t stitched back onto your face, treating your stab wound and the burn you had from the branding. Your platoon was brought back safely thanks to you Sergeant (N/n).” It came back to you. The ambush during exfil, dragging injured man back, Rodney, the counting, the questions, and you don't remember much after that. Funny how it all went down within 24 hours.

The doctor came in with a Soap who wasn’t too happy to open the curtain. Doc ran a couple of tests to make sure you were clear for rehab. Your recovery was a speedy one and rehab was smooth sailing. The platoon came to visit you, those you saved came to show their gratitude. Some silently cried as you laid in the comforts of your hospital bed. You were still trying to register what happened, how you got 3 more stitches on your left arm. You had 8 on your arm from your past, marking those who wronged you.

One belongs to your deadbeat dad who abused you and your mother when you were younger, he died mysteriously. All you recalled was the newscaster covering his death as a brutal and grotesque murder that the nation had witnessed in years. Your mother knew what happened but she never disclosed that information, not to the cops and especially not you. You had stitched a blood red thread into your arm.

Another was a friend who left you to die after a crash that nearly rendered you paralyzed, you remember crawling with only your arms trying to get help.

Six belonged to each member of a jock clique who trapped you in the college’s equipment shed and took turns abusing you in too many ways yet you didn’t remember how. All you could remember was limping away in your tattered clothes covered in bright purple bruises that covered your body and a permanent red line that went around your neck.

The last one belongs to a guy who was close to one of the jocks, he somehow had entered your dorm room and attacked you after coming home from a long study session in the library. A scar ran from the back of your right bicep down to its shoulder blade. What amazed you was that you never remember what happened after those traumatic moments. All you knew were they’d end up dead one way or another.

You ran your hand over the stitches, something about it is soothing to you. Last thing you remember was seeing Captain Price walking up to you, and the mangled bodies scattered around you. Before you could get lost in your thoughts, Rodney came to visit. “(N/n)? How you holding up?” He pushes the curtain aside with his crutch and sits on the chair sat beside your bed. “As good as I can get Echo 1. How’s the leg?” The two of you made small talk, he told you that the rubble had broken his leg and that the medical team had to place a metal rod in there to treat the issue. He also mentioned something about gifts being dropped off and placed in your cage. Shocking considering you weren’t close to the team, “You know, if it weren’t for the bandages covering your face, I wouldn't know what you’re thinking. But your eyes speak volumes, it was thanks to you that we got to come home safely. At the expense of your own safety. I don’t think any of us could show just how grateful we are and could never repay you for it.” you didn’t say much, purely unsure what needs to be said. You simply reached for his shoulder, resting your hand on it. “Rodney, it's my job as much as yours to keep the rest safe. The least I could've done.” Rodney looked up at you with great admiration.

“I came here to let you know something. All I can say is that I left a good word in for you.” You were confused by what he just said and was about to ask what he meant by ‘left a good word in’ when he got up. “The platoon is waiting for you to fully recover, they want to head to the bar. I know what you’re about to say, ‘It's fine FTL, I’ll sit it out’. Not this time Echo 2, we’ll be celebrating your return before we get some down time.”

About 2 weeks after the incident with Captain Price and Sergeant Soap, you were given the all clear to head back to cages. The stab wound was still limiting your range of movement but at least you weren’t bound to the hospital bed or the confines of the rehab room. Being able to wear your uniform felt good, however you had to stop by the base’s surplus store to buy more balaclavas considering the huge scar on your face. You weren’t one who loved being stared at or given attention for no reason. When you walked in the surplus store, the lady working the cashier stared at you the entire time. You didn't hesitate to grab a couple pairs of gloves while you're at it. You immediately wore one of the all black balaclavas, walking out with a new cap as well, it didn't hurt to add a cap to your wardrobe, especially since you didn't want to look like a clothed bald. You chuckled at the thought, now you don't have to worry about your hair not meeting the requirements, you could even grow it out if you wanted.

You made your way to the cages, finding the aforementioned gifts on yours. The platoon had gotten you new clothes like multiple thin long sleeves to wear under your t-shirts or uniforms, balaclavas, a bunch of hats. A lot of gifts for a second in command that hadn’t bonded with the team much despite being with them for years now. What caught your eyes was a trophy, you picked it up. It reads ‘Best 2IC of the year’. You felt eyes staring holes into your back, “You guys know that you can’t sneak up on me right?” you turned to see the platoon hiding by the doorway, they came charging in. They picked you up and started to toss you up into the air, clearly happy that you were back. They never once seemed to like you until now, you can’t deny it, it felt good to feel appreciated. But you’d never show it.

They let you shower and change out to something more comfortable. You had chosen to wear some cargo pants, one of the thin long sleeves under a windbreaker you owned, not forgetting the balaclava and cap you bought. Once you changed, they carried you out to one of the trucks Rodney drove and hopped in after you. The drive to the bar was chaotic, the boys were singing alongside the handful of ladies who braved war alongside you. Music blasting through the truck, you could barely hear your own thoughts. The truck halts to a stop, now at the infamous bar that every soldier from base would frequent, The Old West. They were known for their top shelf bourbon and scotch. The guys dragged you in, the bar had an oaky scent that was somehow comforting. You and the platoon had taken up the biggest table and since the bar offered food, you ordered some mozzarella sticks to share with them. After sitting and chatting with the platoon, Rodney bought everyone a beer to celebrate. A cheer was called for and it being a weekend, the bar soon became loud with everyone joining in to cheer you guys.

After a while, you needed a moment to yourself. You had made your way to the bar, sat on one of the bar stools and had ordered a shot of vodka and a glass of whiskey. You didn't realize it but you were shaking, you weren’t used to being in a ‘huge’ crowd. Thankfully you had sat at the end of the bar and somewhat away from the noise. That's when you spotted Captain Price. He was talking to the bartender and hadn’t noticed you, how could he especially with how you looked now. And you’d like for it to be that way, still feeling bad for nearly killing him. You down the vodka with ease, nothing you weren’t used to considering how it was one of your many vices that helped you forget about the atrocities that you had committed over the years. You pulled your phone out to scroll the news, blankly reading it and enjoyed the whiskey.

“Care for another soldier?” Somehow you didn’t see the captain saunter his way next to you. The bartender had placed 2 drinks in front of you, that was the talk that he had with the bartender. Not wanting to be rude, you humbly accepted the drink. “At ease soldier, I'm here to enjoy a drink just like everyone else.” He turns to you and shoots you a smile. You simply nod. It stayed that way for the remainder of the night, with the occasion of either of you calling the bartender over for a refill. It wasn't as uncomfortable or awkward as you thought it would be.

Rodney spots the two of you and comes to say hi, “Captain, sergeant. Hope y’alls enjoy yourselves as much as the rest of the bar.” he chuckles, arm around your shoulder and beer in his other hand. “Hope this one right here will do you good captain, it’ll be sad to see ‘em leave. But it's for a better cause. Anyways, (N/n) the rest wants to leave in a bit, thought to let you know!” Rodney walks back to the rest, albeit a little wobbly than you’d like. You turned to ask Price what Rodney was on about but he was already up and had paid. ”Drinks on my soldier, see you the next time we meet.”

So many questions, yet nobody answers them.

A/N: Raiga here! This is the first chapter of the TOGF series, heads up that this will predominantly focus on your rs with Price, I might change the way this is heading as I do have a couple ideas on how to carry this story. I want to preface that the dynamic is not going to be too romantic. All this while writing my first GN! oh so many first! so do give feedback as it is greatly appreciated. If you’d like to be a beta reader, shoot me a message as it would help with releasing each chapter faster.

The first chapter was mainly to give you an idea of the ‘mc’s’ behavior. Sorry if it’s much, most of it is based on my experiences. So if you happen to dislike it, I wouldn’t fault you. But I do hope you are able to enjoy the story! I’m also trying to avoid having the boys be OOC too much, I want it to feel more authentic as it can get if you were to fall in love with your captain despite it being forbidden.

Till then, that’s all from me! Raiga out.

IF YOU’D LIKE TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST, LEAVE A REPLY!

Taglist;

@thychuvaluswife @tiny-kasper

#cod mw2 #cod mw2 fanfic #captain price #captain john price #john price #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #captain price x you #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost simon riley #lieutenant simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader

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kiwisfics · 8 months

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A/N: Don't read this if you don't like dark fics! Don't come at me if you don't like the content. Triggers are listed and the only non-"constructive" comments I'll take are about any triggers that need to be added. I said I was gonna post this like... three days ago but I kept going over it again so if I don't post it now I'm not gonna. JUST TAKE THIS! Let me know if I missed any uses of my SI's name when I was editing.

Context Needed: I normally keep the fics I write that are lore-heavy to myself, but since people said they wanted the dark fic… Reader is a rifter, which basically means that she’s capable of traveling dimensions, and is conditionally immortal. Reader goes by Black Robin and is implied to have a suit that shows a lot of skin and to have a flirty persona as a vigilante.

TWs under the cut because there's... a lot.

Light TWs: Self-loathing, reader diminishes her own worth, reader has past trauma with being left behind by people she cares about, Dick is giving reader the silent treatment at the beginning but it’s mostly pre-setting, canon-typical violence/blood mentions. “Good girl” gets used condescendingly.

Heavy TWs: Do NOT read this if you have any triggers related to rape/non-con. Nothing actually happens, but it heavily revolves around reader believing that it's going to. Seriously, don't read this if you don't like whumpy stuff, because you're not gonna like it. My love of whumper to caretaker shows through here. Lots of mentions of trafficking, reader is kidnapped by said traffickers, fear of rape/non-con, Dick is very mean. Like, seriously, he’s very OOC for the majority of this fic. Threats/implications of rape/non-con, inappropriate use of one of his escrima sticks (just in the mouth) reader has a spiral at the end where she’d convinced that Nightwing and Red Hood are going to rape her.

If it’s any consolation, this is technically hurt/comfort, so it isn’t all horrible. Just… most of it. Reader also forgives him far too fast in the end, but I can gladly share some more snippets of how this affects the reader character in the future. I’ve already got ideas for some short scenes that I’m gonna write.

Nightwing was going to kill her.

He’d been explicitly clear: he didn’t want to see Black Robin out ever again. She’d nearly gotten herself killed, but she knew that wasn’t why he was so angry. He couldn’t have cared less about that, after all, she was a rifter and that meant that she was built to take pain and that death was a moot point. He was angry because she’d risked the mission, nearly let a trafficker that they’d all been hunting for weeks get away because she got too confident for her own good.

She’d snapped back at him when he told her that she wasn’t to wear the suit again, told him that he was just like Batman. That was the wrong thing to say.

He hadn’t talked to her since.

So, maybe she was trying to bait him a little by coming into Blüdhaven in her suit, maybe she was trying to get his attention back because she couldn’t stand being punished with the silent treatment. Maybe this was her fault.

Well, it was definitely her fault, but in her defense, she was thinking with her heart and not her head. She didn’t want to lose him, and in some twisted way, having him level her with lecturing and anger was still better than the radio silence.

She would have been fine. Nightwing would never actually hurt her. That wasn’t what went wrong.

Her suit didn’t have a panic button. It didn’t need one because she was forbidden from going out on her own even before she’d wrecked a mission and been benched. So, when she’d stolen a bike and made her way to Blüdhaven in costume while Bruce was off-world, Tim was with the Titans, Jason was off on a no contact mission, and Alfred was distracted with keeping Damian from abandoning his studies in favor of full-time vigilantism, no one knew where she was going.

She’d even been stupid enough to leave a note saying that she was heading home to visit family, and she wouldn’t be back for a while.

Alfred would have already found the note. Bruce wouldn’t start worrying for at least forty-eight hours with no word.

By then, it might be too late. Too late for her pride and her self-respect at least.

For now, she contented herself with growling and spitting at the traffickers, fighting the urge to be sick over the taste of her own blood soaking the rag in her mouth. She had no chance of picking the locks on the handcuffs, because she’d never gotten the hang of it while Bruce was teaching her, so she didn’t bother fiddling with them, instead preserving her energy.

If no one found her, she’d need her energy if she got the chance to run. They’d have to uncuff her from the chair if they wanted to-

She gulped, pushing down the thought.

Nightwing was going to kill her, but he was also the only chance she had of getting out of this without something worse than torture occurring.

She could see the leering. She could read the expressions. She promised herself that if she got out of this, then she was going to change the layout of her suit. She needed to cover more skin. She needed to flirt less with enemies too, apparently, because the men that had grabbed her had parroted some of her own lines back at her while they gagged her and dragged her back to this warehouse.

It was always warehouses. For once, she wanted to get dragged to a penthouse suite and get threatened and tortured by a classy villain.

Nightwing was going to kill her, but she couldn’t help the way that her chest lurched with relief and happiness upon seeing his form drop to the floor from one of the open skylights.

At once, all of the guns were on him, but, as suspected, he didn’t so much as flinch.

“Here to save your little friend? Awful bold to jump right in the middle of the warehouse full of men with guns, even for you, Nightwing.”

He tilted his head, the clench in his jaw speaking of rage.

She was sure she was saved, because even if he was mad at her and was going to give her a lecture that might have her in tears by the end of it, Nightwing wouldn’t hurt her. Dick wouldn’t hurt her.

“Save her? No. She’s just getting exactly what she asked for.”

Her stomach lurched this time, but it was with fear and a sickly cold feeling that crawled up her throat like it was being swarmed by ants.

Was she wrong? There was no way he would just leave her to her fate. He’d saved genuinely terrible people from situations that weren’t even as bad as the one that she’d found herself in, so there was no way he was going to leave her here, just because they’d had a fight.

Right?

The men’s guns all seemed to lower in the slightest bit, but they didn’t leave his form, “You expect us to believe you’re going to just leave her here? That you just dropped in for a friendly chat?”

“Oh, no. I don’t plan to leave her here. You just saved me the trouble of getting her pinned down is all.” He twirled one of his escrima in his hand, like it was a fidget toy instead of a dangerous weapon. “I appreciate you making my night easier, but I’m going to be taking her off of your hands now.”

So, he was saving her, right? He was contradicting himself, but she didn’t care what he said if he got her out of this.

“Thought you weren’t saving her,” the guns raised back to their full height, the leader scoffed, “you go play hero somewhere else for the night and maybe will give her back when she’s nice and broken in. Might not even charge you the full rate.”

She didn’t like having her suspicions confirmed about what they planned to do with her, but that was fine. She had guessed that, and it didn’t matter anymore, because Nightwing was here and that meant that these idiots were just delaying the inevitable rescue he’d come to pull off.

“Well, I guess you could consider it saving. After all, I might not be quite as into pain as some of your clients are, but you shouldn’t worry, I plan to make good use of her.”

What?

No, no, that wasn’t right. He was not actually implying that he was going to use her exactly how these men planned to. There was no way. He was Nightwing. He was-

They’d been flirting since they’d met, the kind of flirting that made everyone that didn’t know better think they were already an item. Even she knew that he was attracted to her, but… had she really pushed her luck this far? Had she really made him hate her so much that the only way he wanted to make a move on that attraction was like this?

She was having more and more trouble holding back on throwing up the meal she’d had before leaving Gotham.

“Yeah, right. You expect us to believe you want her as a toy?” The leader scoffed.

She wished she was that certain that he was lying about it.

Dick- Nightwing walked forward, still twirling his escrima as he approached her. The men parted for him despite keeping their weapons squarely aimed.

“Who could blame me?”

She could feel his eyes burning into hers even behind his mask. Her own mask was long gone, leaving him an unabated view of her frightened eyes. She was sure there was betrayal there too.

His escrima rested beneath her chin, and she forced her head back, trying to put distance between her skin and the weapon that she knew could easily shock her, “Look how pretty she is when she’s scared.”

She tried to muffle the whine that escaped her throat, but there was no way that he didn’t hear it.

What was going on? This was wrong. Was this- was someone wearing his face?

No, she couldn’t pin it on that, because no one knew about the way he’d yelled at her about never wearing the suit again, and there was no denying that was what he meant when he’d said she was getting what she asked for.

He really did hate her, then. She’d really, really messed up, and now he hated her, and for some reason the sting that knowledge made bite at her heart was worse than the fear at what he planned to do to her.

“And what kind of payment are we getting out of this? We could make hundreds at least by selling a vigilante, especially if we only rent her out. And this one can break over and over again, just to heal back up. She’d a goldmine of opportunities. Why would we just hand her over to you?”

Dick’s—no, no, she couldn’t think of him as anything other than Nightwing, because if she thought of him as Dick, then she was going to breakdown for sure; Dick didn’t hate her, Dick cuddled her during movie nights and carried her to bed when she fell asleep—Nightwing’s jaw ticked with irritation. Apparently, he hadn’t expected them to be so unwilling to give her up just because he wanted her to himself.

Was he waiting for this? Did he know what he was going to do as soon as he’d told her to never put the suit on again? Was he hoping that she would, just so he could use it to justify punishing her like this?

His empty hand trailed up her chest, just barely brushing her shirt, but it was enough to make a jolt go down her spine. He grabbed her jaw, the escrima stick brushing lightly against her cheekbone, “You’re going to let me take her without causing me any more trouble, because otherwise, I’ll be telling the Bat about your outposts in Gotham.”

Angry muttering began among the traffickers, but the leader remained silent, “That’s not much of a payment.” He hummed, like he was considering the offer, but anyone could tell that he already planned to ask for more, “Tell you what, you can take her out of here, no problem. I’m not interested in getting caught by a stray bullet in a firefight, and, honestly, keeping one of the Bat’s things seems like asking for trouble. She didn’t put up much of a fight, so you can walk out with her, after you give us a show.”

She gagged audibly on the rag in her mouth, tears finally escaping her eyes while she put renewed effort into forcing the rag out of her mouth. She wanted to beg and plead and cry. If he was going to do anything to her, at the very least she didn’t want an audience.

For his part, she could see his eyes widen just a fraction behind his mask, but the surprise quickly seemed to settle, and he flashed a smirk to the men that made her feel like she was about to start hyperventilating.

“Fine.”

No, no, no, no, no.

He pulled the gag from her mouth with the hand that had been against her chin, and she instantly opened her mouth to beg, but snapped it shut a millisecond later, her teeth clacking together almost painfully.

His escrima stick was resting against her lips, and his free hand was holding her jaw again, fingers squeezing against her cheeks in an attempt to make her open her mouth, but she wasn’t budging. She wasn’t stupid, and maybe cooperation would make things better in the long run, but she wasn’t letting him put his weapon in her mouth.

“Unless you want this to hurt a lot more later, you should cooperate right now. I’d hate to use this somewhere-“

Her mouth shot open before he could finish, fast enough that her jaw popped.

Okay, so she was letting him put his weapon in her mouth. She’d take the loss.

“Good girl.”

She hated that the praise stroked something in her, making her heart flutter even while he shoved the escrima stick past her lips and far enough into her mouth to hit her throat and make her gag.

Blood. Steel. An iron tang that made her brain go blank for long enough that she missed what he said next.

He didn’t appreciate that.

“Am I boring you?” He growled the words as his free hand tangled in her hair and pulled her head forward, making the escrima stick hit the back of her throat again with what was almost a bruising force. “I asked if you were going to behave, or if I was going to need to make you deepthroat this while it was on, but I guess I have my answer.”

Cold terror battered against her ribcage in place of her heart. All that was left in her chest was a black hole of absolute horror and fear that could hardly classify as a heart.

She didn’t realize that the sobbing in her ears was her own at first, too far into her own head and too tense while waiting for him to flick the switch to make this humiliation painful to know what was going on around her.

She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t breathe!

And suddenly everything around her stopped and went deathly silent before gunfire began and the yelling of the traffickers became frantic and chaotic. The only words she picked up were “it’s the Hood!” and what normally would have made her think she was saved only made her panic more, because if Nightwing—the one that had held her while she cried and always agreed to musicals just because he knew she loved them—was going to use her as a toy, than that meant that Red Hood would too. She was sure he hated her too. She’d thought the way they bantered was fun and games, but she’d also thought that Nightwing cared about her and clearly, she was wrong about that. Nightwing had probably called him here so he could take out the frustration he had with her on her.

And then they’d tell Batman that they’d found evidence that she’d been trafficked and then they’d keep her locked up somewhere and- and- and- and- she couldn’t-

“Breathe.” A familiar hand fanned across her cheek, fingers brushing away tears that were immediately replaced with more, “Breathe for me, bird. It’s alright. It’s okay.”

She couldn’t. She couldn’t catch her breath, but the escrima stick wasn’t between her teeth anymore, so she could beg now. She could plead and promise to behave and maybe if she asked nice enough and they believed her then they’d let her go after they were done with her instead of keeping her.

“Please, please, I’m- I’m sorry, I-I’ll never wear the suit again, I promise. I promise. I’ll be good. I won’t fight, I’ll-“

“Hey, hey, stop.” He pressed his hand against her mouth, not hard enough to force her to be quiet or to muffle her voice if she did continue to beg, but she silenced herself instantly regardless. “You’re okay, bird. Just breathe. I’d never hurt you. Never. There wasn’t a way to warn you about what was going on without cluing them in. I’m so sorry, bird. I really am.”

He sounded like he was about to cry, and the way he was holding her face in his hands certainly didn’t give her the idea that he was going to hurt her or force her down to her knees so he could-

“I could think of a hundred better ways to have gone about that, ‘wing.” Hood’s voice made her flinch and sink farther down in the chair she was tied to. She didn’t even move her legs or arms when he’d gotten the cuffs undone.

“I needed to distract them so you could get the files and I’m still injured. I wouldn’t even be out tonight if you hadn’t told me that they’d gotten their hands on her. If I’d tried to fight them, then they would have taken me out before finding you, so I don’t want to hear it. Don’t act like I wanted to do or say any of that.”

That was… fair. It wasn’t fair to her, but she had gotten herself into this situation and- she would forgive everything if it meant that he wasn’t going to hurt her. Actually, she’d let him hurt her if it meant that he wasn’t going to use her.

“Dick?” She whined out his name like a kicked puppy, tilting her face against one of his hands in a placating gesture.

“Yeah, bird. I’m here. It’s me. That wasn’t real. None of it was real, and you’re safe now. No one is going to hurt you, especially not me.”

Another sob tore from her throat, and she threw herself forward, into his arms. She was trembling and sobbing harder than he’d ever heard, and she was almost positive it was harder than she ever had in her life. His form wrapped around her, tucking her against his chest as he pressed his face against the top of her head and placed comforting kisses.

Jason sat on the ground behind her, one of his hands running circles against her back in an effort to assist in calming her, and it worked.

After her sobbing began to slow, Dick spoke up hesitantly, “I thought you would know. I never meant- I thought you would know that it wasn’t real. I thought you knew I’d never hurt you.” His breaths shuddered, “I thought you knew that I love you.”

“But you- you were mad at me. You told me- told me I could never wear the suit again and- and then you didn’t talk to me all week and I thought- I thought you hated me. And- and I came here to get your attention because you were ignoring me, so- so I would have deserved-“

“Hey, no. Don’t even finish that sentence.” His hold on her tightened and his voice turned even more tense, edged with anger, “No one deserves to be taken advantage of and you know that.”

She sniffled, tucking her face tight against his neck, and breathing in the scent of his suit and sweat. “You said you love me.”

There was a long pause, and Jason took it as his cue to leave, ruffling [Name]’s hair as he stood and headed out of the warehouse. He landed a boot against the ribcage of the leader of the traffickers as he passed by.

“I’m going to alert Blüdhaven PD. Half of their guys are probably on this group’s payroll though, so I’d get out of here before they show up. They’re probably hoping whoever shut down this location sticks around so they can fill them with lead.”

“We’re headed out now.” Dick stood as he said it, taking [Name] with him as she wrapped her arms around his neck and clung onto him.

“You said you love me.”

“I did,” he finally confirmed, “but I don’t think now is the time to talk about-“

“I love you too. So much.”

He went quiet again, feet still carrying them away from the nightmare that she’d just gone through, “I don’t expect you to forgive me for that.”

She tightened her hold around him, burrowing against him as a sign that she wasn’t holding any grudges, but also in an attempt to hide from the could Blüdhaven night.

“I knew you were after them. I shouldn’t have stuck my nose in it. I just… I wanted you to talk to me again. Even if you were angry. I… I don’t handle the silent treatment well and… it felt like you were leaving me behind, just like everyone else always does. It felt like you had decided I wasn’t worth the trouble anymore.”

“Never. I’ll never leave you behind, okay? I know that me saying that isn’t going to make you stop thinking that I might, but I’ll prove it, alright? I’ll never leave you behind.” He brushed his lips against her neck, and she couldn’t fight the light laugh that escaped as the gentle touch tickled her skin.

“Okay. I, uh, just… one thing though.”

“Anything.”

“Please keep the escrima sticks away from me for a while?”

She could feel him cringe, but he nodded, “Yeah. That’s fair.”

#x reader #dc x reader #dick grayson x reader #dark dick grayson x reader #whump #dc whump

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zxphy · 1 year

Note

Okayy so you wanted some ideas, right? I saw your incel! Scaramouche post and I was wondering what your thoughts are on a yandere incel! Xiao? It's a popular idea but I really love it and maybe you could write it for Fem! Reader or Gn! Reader if you don't write fem! Readers

☆ No bitches?

Yandere! Incel! Xiao x Fem! Reader

Tws/cws: Xiao, misogyny, women beating, domestic abuse, use of the word "retard", implied noncon, fem aligned reader lmfao, gaslighting, doxxing, rape and murder threats, and non consensual groping. Multiple spelling mistakes are present. Both you and Xiao are 18.

Smut written by a minor, dni if uncomfortable.

Xiao was your best friend since childhood, but as you both got older into adult hood, he started acting different.

A lot more grabby and forceful. He was unable to get a girlfriend or get laid, so he went to reddit and 4chan to vent his frustrstions, there he met lots of people just like him.

He may or may not have asked them "why do women not like me", getting multiple misogynistic replies. Bro was easily manipulated then turned into a self proclaimed "incel" in about a month. He believed everything his new group of friends said.

He always talked about his discord servers and his gross friends to you, saying how they give him the best advice and their misogynistic views about how women should know their place and yada yada.

You started to hang out with him less and less, as Xiao grew incredibly insufferable. Just being near him made you uncomfortable, you were scared of even being in the same room as him.

Even though you hardly talked to him, yiu still interacted online because hey! He's been your best friend since birth you don't have the heart to end the friendship.. :(

The less time you spent with Xiao, the more time you spent with Aether, one of his best friends. Xiao obviously took notice of thst, and his huge crush on you did NOT help.

Xiao considered himself a nice guy, thinking he deserved sex from "females". Complaining that girls only want Chads who just use them for their body and leave, as if incels aren't the same thing but worse.

You wanted to help him you know.. NOT have that mindset, but his stupid 4chan friends kept encouraging his disgusting way of thinking!! :(

At sometime, Xiao eventually confessed his love for you. But honestly, you kind of expected that to happen considering you were the only chick that even looked in his direction, let alone talked to him. You let him down as lightly as you can, trying not to set him off. Cause from what you heard, self proclaimed incels usually never take "no" for an answer and take every rejection personally.

"I'm sorry Xiao, it's not you.. it's me." Oh it's definately him.

"But I'm a nice guy! I'll treat you well and get everything you want. I have a job, I can spoil you!" Ah. That would make sense as to where he gets all the money to blow on hentai from.

"I just don't have any feelings for you besides platonic ones. I'm sorry and I hope this doesn't ruin our friendship." You begin to sweat, praying you didn't set him off.

Xiao looked down to the ground at his feet and sighed. "I understand." You sigh in relief, until Xiao says this,

"Can I at least have a hug?" Oh fuck.

You begin to sweat more and nodded slowly, "S-sure man.." you open your arms out for a hug and Xiao embraces you tightly, good fucking god he smells disgusting. When was the last time he showered?? It should be common knowledge that axe body isn't a substitution for showers. The scents clash in a way that make your nose hairs burn and your toes curl. It took everything out of you to not gag.

But on the other hand, Xiao was in heaven, you smell so good! His face is in your hair and he takes a big whiff and he shudders, obviously enjoying himself. It's been forever since he's been so close to a girl, let alone YOU.

His hands slowly trail down from your back and get lower, eventually he had his hands on your ass and gave it a a light squeeze. You push him away and laugh nervously and wave him good bye, leaving him by yourself.

Days go by and you started getting mysterious phone calls, text messages and messages on your social media from anonymous people. Majority of them being death and rape threats.

Anonymous672

U stupid bitch why did u leave him to go fuck his best friend??

And another,

(777-777-777)

Im gonna rape u then kill u in an alleyway u deserve it stupid whore.

And another,

Anonymous929

I know your address.

And another...

Anonymous476

Get ready to get raped!

And... another.

(555-555-555)

He's gonna put you in your place, whore.

One time you even got a phone call and it qqs just a guy heavily breathing into the phone then threatening to rape you and then bury your body in the woods for "rejecting a perfectly nice guy."

At that point it was kind of obvious as to why you're getting such threats. Either Xiao has been using alt accounts and throwaway numbers or he had doxxed you to his other "nice guy" friends. You were honestly pissed, was he THAT butthurt because you didn't want to have sex with him? He needs to get a fucking life. Xiao used to be an amazing guy, your best friend, but now his stupid "nice guy" phase tore you both apart. You thought the rejection went well, that he'd be normal about it, but then he goes doxxing a girl because she didn't want to have sex with him? What the fuck?

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and started looking for Xiao's number, you hit him a message.

(You)

Xiao. Read 1:44pm.

(You)

XIAO. Read 1:57pm.

(You)

XIAO ANSWER ME, FUCKWAD. Read 2:00pm.

I know what you did. Read 2:00pm.

(Weird Fuck)

(You)

Xiao did you fucking doxx me?? Are you retarded? What the fuck is wrong with you, people keep threatening to rape and kill me you fucking ass wipe. Read 2:01pm.

(Weird Fuck)

Im sorry just meet me at my place

(You)

What?? No dawg, I'm not gonna go to your fucking house, I wanna know why you fucking doxxed me, we were literally best friends before you became a fucking misogynist. Why did you doxx me?? Read 2:02pm.

(Weird Fuck)

Come over and ill tell u

(You)

Kys. Read 2:02pm.

You shoved your phone back in your pocket and you huffed. Who does that fucker think he is?? All because you wouldn't date him!!

You being you, you still went to his home to get answers. He didn't deny doxxing you which ulset you even more. His dick probs got hard just by you texting him. (He did :3) You're sick of sll the threats, you just want it to stop. You just want Xiao to stop his bitchless behaviour. Now you're gonna do something about it.

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

You walk up to the lavish home and knocked on the door. Of course Xiao still lives with his dad instead of doing something productive like going to colledge like his twin sister Ganyu. You folded your arms and waited. You assumed that Mr. Zhongli wasn't home because you heard some random porn game from the third story window, Xiao's room.

You knocked again, but this time louder. You heard the game pause, then a door slamming, then rapid footsteps going down stairs. You hesrd a voice from behind the door.

"Are you the delivery guy?" *Xiao.*

"No fuckwad." You replied back. The door slowly swung open, revealing Xiao. He looked a lot more gross than you remember, he looked incredibly dishevled, with messy greasy hair, a random tshirt with very suspcious stains and dandruff on it, baggy gray sweatpants that aldo had a suspcious stain, but this time on the crotch area, and a pair of perscription glasses, the frame kind of similar to yours. But what you really could not get over, was the smell. He smelled like he hasn't showered in months, he smells entirely of spoilt food, semen, body odor and sweat. Disgusting.

"You look and smell like shit." You push past Xiao and walk into the lovely home.

"You came." He mumbled.

Of course you came, you wanted to know why the fuck he'd doxx you. He grossed you out comepletely, he was a digusting good for nothing freak. Xiao was actually a nice guy, he got good grades, was super sweet to everyone and made his father proud.

Xiao avoided eye contact and told you to follow him to his room, so you both could talk. You shook your head, feeling uneasy.

"Mr. Zhongli isn't home, why not talk here?" He ignored your question and walked up the stairs. You followed behind but kept a reasonable distance. Reasonable being several feet.

Xiao opened his bedroom door and you were immedately met with a horrible stench, his room smelled like him but worse. It smelt like semen, piss and shame. His room was covered in hentai posters and anime girl figurines, his clothes thrown all over the floor, and in the corner there was a really expensive looking gaming set up.

He could afford a multi-monitor gaming set up but not deoderant?

What couldn't go unnoticed was the collection of stiff socks gathering in a pile near his bed.

"Xiao what the hell? Your room is a fucking biohazard, feels like I need a gas mask and a hazmat suit just to be in here." You felt sorry for his father, you couldn't imagkne what it feels like having a son just like Xiao.

You walked into the room, being careful of wjere you step, Xiao sits in his gaming chair and then types a message into his Discord chat. He then got back up and cleared a space on his bed, throwing whatever was previously there onto the floor. "You can uh.. sit there."

You shook your head, but then you looked back at Xiao and he looked like he was about to cry. You felt bad so you sat anyway. You're definately burning this skirt when you get home.

You got a proper look around the room, not only seeing the weird posters, but pictures of you.

Creepy...

Xiao sat in his gaming chair and swung side to side, he looked nervous. Sweating as he looked at you.

You finally spoke up breaking the awkward silence. "So Xiao, why did fuck did you doxx me?" Xiao stayed silent and looked away from you. This really set you off. "Don't ignore me you asswipe! I've been getting threats of violent rape, I home you know you committed a cyber crime!"

"Relax, (Name.)" Xiao said still not looking at you. "It's not that serious." You scoffed and felt yourself getting more mad.

"Not that serious? NOT THAT SERIOUS?? Xiao! For the love of fucking christ, people are threatening to kill me! Why would you doxx me?!" You raised your voice at him, and you saw him get more nervous.

"Well.. I-I don't know I just. Me and you were like really close, but then you started fucking Aether.." You huffed, even more angry than before, "God fucking damnit Xiao! I'm trying to not fucking strangle you, but you're making it so hard!" You stood up and continued yelling, "You were so cool until you started acting like this! Kf course women won't like you if you keep thinking that she's gonna hop on your gross cock, Xiao! No one wants your tiny penis, I can assure that!"

You folded your arms and contued, "Sorry you feel so offended because I feel SAFE around Aether! He doesn't talk about how women's only purpose is to have kids and serve her mans or whatever, unlike YOU!"

Xiao fumbled with the draw strings on his sweatpants, "I-I don't know I uh just thought that you'd like me I g-guess.."

You face palmed. "Xiao. You doxxed me because I didn't want to date you? Dude! I explicitly told you that I have zero attraction to you. I only have PLATONIC feelings for you man. We had a good friendship but your gross ways ruined it-"

Xiao interupted you, "I'm a nice guy (Name), I'll treat you right. You're not like other females.."

"Oh my fucking god, Xiao..." you pinched the bridge of your nose. "I cannot believe that you think any girl would want to date YOU! A gross, disgusting people of shit incel like you! You're retarded if you think any girl would want your gross penis inside of her!"

Xiao stood up, "Fuck you (Name)!" You staggered back, surpised of his sudden outburst.

"Females like yourself are the problem. All you do is fuck chads and leave actjal nice sigmas in the dust!"

You blinked before letting out a laugh. "PFFTT!!! Dawg! Fuck this shit for real, and you know what? I'ma go to Aether's place to fuck him! How doed thst make you feel, Xiao? You gonna cry??" You flicked him off before getting up, walking to leave the room.

Suddenly your arm gets grabbed and you're pulled back, thrown onto the floor. Xiao gets on top of you and punches you square in the nose. You let out a loud squeal of pain.

"Xiao what the fu-" Xiao picks you up from under your arms and puts on on his bed, he starts feeling up your body, his hands trailing up yojr skirt, fumbling with the hem of your safety shorts.

You kicked him in the stomach and punched him in his face, Xiao staggered back and held his stomach as his glassed fell off his face, you took the chance and pushed him off you and ran.

Unfortunately for you, you tripped on the wires spewn about his room and you fell, Xiao took this opportunity and turned you around and kicked you until you stopped fighting. As an extra measure, Xiao grabbed your head, lifted it slightly then slammed it back down into the floor. You gripped your head in pain and whined.

"Xiao? What the fuck.." you wince. Xiao once again picks you up, and drops you onto his head, his hands trailing up your skirt. He lifts it slightly and pull down your safety shorts revealing your panties. His obvious erection poking through his sweatpants. Xiao went back to his gaming chair and once again started typing on his discord server, before getting up and locking his bedroom door. Too busy holding onto your head and lightly crying in pain, you had not noticed that he actually did lock the door.

The teen walked back over to you, took your shoes off and peeked off your safety shorts. He got close to you and whispered into your ear, "How does it feel to be put in your place?" He slapped you playfully.

Xiao shoved down his pants, his hard cock springing out. He hasn't shaved in a while, revealing curly black n green pubes covering his pelvic area. The tears that were threatening to fall, have fell, hot tears flowing down your cheeks hoping that Xiao isn't gonna do what you think he's gonna do.

"Xiao please. Don't do this.." You looked up at him in fear. Xiao ignored you and pulled off your panties, revealing your pussy. He threw them into a random direction. He pressed himself against you.

You're struggling to process what the fuck is going on, you're being held down, Xiao's dick is rubbing against you and half your clothes are missing.

Xiao then tore off your tshirt and threw the shreds in another random direction, then took off your bra, groping your chest the second he saw your tits.

"You're so fucking pretty.. and you're all mine." Xiao took his fingers and spread apart your lips, revealing your lovely pink insides. Xiao shoved two of his fingers inside of you just to test and you yelped.

"Fuck yeah, you're tight as balls." Xiao removed his fingers and quickly replaced his fingers with his thick cock.

He then slammed inside of you, putting his hands around your neck.

You're his now.

ANDDD.. DONE! I'M SO GLAD I HAD THE MOTIVATION TO WRITE THIS..

I honestly think I got a little too into it, anyway I hope you guys enjoy! :3

@mistywaves98

#🌧⋆⁺₊⋆✿:zeze's creations✧#incel xiao #yandere genshin impact smut #yandere #yandere xiao #dark content #yandere genshin impact #darkfic #dark fic #genshin impact smut #genshin x you #yandere genshin x reader #yandere xiao x reader #xiao x reader #gross xiao

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dirtytransmasc · 2 years

Note

What does quaritch think about spider running around half naked all the time at the Rda? Especially around rowdy military men, do you think he has a conversation with him about why he should wear human clothes or something else?

TW: referenced/implied sa

miles thinks about it each and every day, worries about what may happen to him. he knows what will happen to him, that this problem runs rampant in the military, that humans are still their filthy selves, taking and taking and taking. he knows when it happens, spider will get no justice, no apologies, no support; hell, depending on who it is, they might use that machine to turn his brain to mush or better yet, they'd kill him and make sure no one found his body. miles knows and it terrifies him, that his baby boy, innocent to the horrors of the world.

spider was na'vi in mind, he didn't understand something like this, like rape. the na'vi didn't even have a concept close to it, outside of human greed and he didn't even understand the basics of it; lying, hunting for fun, squashing bugs just for the sake of it. spider wouldn't even understand what happened to him, when, it happens. miles knew that's what would break his son, feeling that pain and not even being able to understand it, put a word to it, conceptualize it.

he tries to explain it, tries to explain the filth of the human race, their immoral lack of self-control, the savagery they are capable of. he hates having to imply it would be spiders fault, that his lack of clothing makes it ok, hates having to put that guilt on his son. it disgusts him, that spider is this young and has to worry about this, that his perfect innocence has to be destroyed. he tries over and over again to find the words, to get over himself and just say it, but he can't. the part of him that against any and all better judgment wants to scoop his boy up and run away, hole him and his squad up somewhere no one will ever find them, protect him with every primal instinct burning him up like an egg on a Georgia sidewalk in the middle of July; that part of him, couldn't break his boy like that, couldn't just spit out the truth not even to protect him.

he tries to always be with him, to never let anyone hurt him, but every day he gets more and more scared he will fail. so he forces spider to wear human clothes, only when he's inside and around the inhabitants of the lab, but spider still hates him for it. the kid would never fully grasp it, not without experiencing it, and miles would take his son cussing him out and shooting glares over that any day, so that's fine. he makes sure to take spider out more often, finds reasons to keep his son in the field even when he himself has to go back in to deal with ardmore, he's never forced to wear his human disguise for more then a few days at a time. miles promises that boy that he will move heaven, earth, pandora, wherever he thinks he's going when he dies, whatever he has to, to keep him safe.

but even with spider in the oversized t-shirt and baggy cargo pants, he still see's a little boy who human filth will lust after. now that he feels this fear, the pain of it wringing his gut, it will never stop. he worries about his baby boy every single day, longs to let him live in a world where the amount of skin he shows won't get him killed or worse. every day he continues to work as some sort of dog, follows every command, finishes every task, fights day in and day out to protect his son from the very company that is a threat to his safety, his innocence, brings him one step close to just leaving, following that gut instinct to just run and hide. maybe he will.

#I'm feeling angsty #sorry #spider socorro #miles socorro #miles spider socorro #miles quaritch #quaritch #recom quaritch #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water

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the-delta-42 · 2 months

Text

The Walking Dead Game What Ifs: What if all of the Ericson’s survivors were captured?

[First] [Previous] [Next]

Taken

What if all of the Ericson’s survivors were captured? TW: Implied/Referenced Torture and Rape/Non-Con.

Clementine ran her hand down her face. She heard Mitch let out a groan, before he sat up.

“What happened?” Asked Mitch, looking around.

The group was split in two, the older boys in one cell and the girls and younger boys in the other.

“Well, Tenn got caught, you tried to save him, got knocked out, Willy, Omar and Aasim got caught, Louis, Violet and Ruby got knocked out, AJ was captured, and I got shot.” Said Clementine, looking at the guard, “What?”

“Minnie.” Gasped Violet, hurrying forwards.

Clementine sighed, of course Lilly would send Violet’s girlfriend.

“Lilly wants to talk to you.” Said Minerva, getting a huff from Clementine, “Hey!”

“Hmm, what?” Clementine looked up, “Wait, you’re talking to me?”

Minerva glared at Clementine, “Who else would Lilly want to talk to?”

“I dunno,” Snarked Clementine, “you look like you have the intelligence of a goldfish.”

Minerva flushed, her face curling into a sneer.

“Minerva.” A dark-skinned woman stepped in, “Get her to Lilly.”

Minerva huffed, before wrenching the cell door open, grabbed Clementine and hauled her out of the cell.

“Where are you taking her?!” Yelled Louis, rushing towards his cell’s door, only to get the butt of a rifle to the face.

“She’s alive.” Everyone looked at Violet, “Minnie’s alive.”

“Violet.” Mitch got to his feet, “I think we have more important things to worry about.”

The group sat up, hearing someone approaching, all sat up. They saw Minerva shove someone into the girl’s cell. Ruby gasped, rushing towards the person.

“Clementine!” Ruby helped her up, “What happened?”

“I,” Clementine coughed, “I ran my mouth, I think.”

“You think?!” Ruby glared at Clementine, “What did they want?”

“They,” Clementine coughed, “they wanted information on the New Frontier, the group they’re at ‘war’ with. Lilly heard I used to be part of them, wanted me to,” Clementine let out a throaty cough, “to get them to lower their defences.”

“Why didn’t you?” Asked Violet, “We could get killed.”

“I’m not really open to people choking me for information.” Spat Clementine, wincing as she shifted.

“What’d they do?” Asked Mitch, frowning.

“Oh, the usual.” Clementine winced as Ruby prodded a bruise, “Beatings, cuts, the of threat of rape.”

Everyone looked at her, “What?”

“How the hell are you so casual about this?”

“Well,” Clementine scowled, “threats become a lot less frightening when you’ve already experienced them.”

Clementine opted to ignore the horrified looks from the others.

They watched Clementine get hauled off again, with AJ attempting to bite one of the guards, and get backhanded for his efforts. As soon as they were gone, Mitch looked at Louis, “We need to find a way out of here.”

“How?” Asked Louis, frustrated, “We don’t have any way to get the lock open.”

“Minnie can help us.” Said Violet, getting a scowl from Aasim.

“Violet, I know you’re excited to see her,” Said Aasim, “but if she wanted to help us, she would’ve done it by now!”

“You don’t know that!” Snapped Violet.

“Then why hasn’t she!” Demanded Aasim, “Why didn’t she escape? Why is she alone?”

“What’s going on?” They heard Minerva’s voice.

“Minnie.” Everyone heard Violet’s tone change.

“Where’s Clementine?!” Demanded Louis, banging on the cell’s door.

Minerva ignored him, instead focusing on Violet, “Lilly said I can take you out of here.”

Violet looked conflicted, glancing around, “W-what about the others?”

“They’ll get out too, when they stop fighting back.” Answered Minerva, opening the cell door, “Tenn can come out too.”

Eleanor frowned, Javi had sent her and Conrad with Clint and a group to meet representatives of the Delta. They’d unexpectedly gotten in contact with them, requesting a meeting. Javi suspected it might be a trap, so the small group was secretly reinforced by a larger group hidden in the surrounding area.

“Hello?!” They heard a voice.

Eleanor was vaguely aware of Max aiming his rifle in the direction of the voice.

“Hello?!” The voice repeated, as a ratty looking man appeared, “The name’s Abel. I’m here representing the Delta.”

“What do you want?” Demanded Conrad, glaring at Abel.

“A trade.” Said Abel, “You’ve got one of ours, Raphael, and we’ve got one of yours.”

As he said that, Abel threw something at Conrad’s feet. Frowning, Eleanor picked the object. She froze, recognising Clementine’s hat.

“That’s…”

“She’s alive,” Promised Abel, “for now.”

“She left.” Dismissed Max, “She’s not one of ours.”

“Neither are the people we caught her with,” Said Abel, “but, I doubt you’d want her boy to suffer like she has.”

“AJ’s alive?” Max looked at Eleanor.

“For now.” Said Abel, “You’ve got other prisoners we want back.”

Eleanor sighed, before looking down, “We’ll see.”

Javi looked at Clementine’s hat, frowning.

“Are you sure it’s Clem’s?” Asked Kate, looking at him.

“Positive.” Answered Eleanor, “They mentioned that they had AJ too.”

“Did they say what they were doing to her?” Asked Javi, looking at Max.

“No.” Max shook his head, “You don’t think they’ll hurt AJ?”

“I wouldn’t put it past them.” Sighed Javi, looking around, “So, what do we do?”

“What do you mean?” Asked Kate, frowning.

“We might like Clem, but can we really justify letting people go, just to save someone who left us?” Asked Javi.

Everyone was silent.

“If we don’t,” Said Eleanor, “they might kill her and AJ.”

“But, if we let Raphael and his friends loose,” Said Max, “dozens more could die.”

The group fell into an uneasy silence.

Clementine grunted as the guard threw her back into her shared cell.

“Clem!” Louis rushed forwards, “Are you alright?”

“What’d they do?” Asked Ruby, helping Clementine up.

“I,” Clementine swallowed, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

She let out another groan as Ruby helped her into a sitting position, “They,” she coughed, “they said the contacted the New Frontier.”

“S-so, we’re getting out of here?” Willy sounded hopeful.

Clementine ran a hand down her face, “No. Even with their new management, they wouldn’t risk losing their people to get one person.”

The sound of someone approaching the cells drew their attention. They saw Violet and Minerva walking behind Delta member.

“Remember your instructions.” Said the Delta member, before walking away.

Clementine straightened up, “Vio-” Clementine was cut off by Violet punching her. Clementine grunted as she hit the floor, with one of the girls landing a kick in her side.

“What the fuck?!” Screamed Louis, “Stop!”

Minerva took a step back, allowing Violet to take fully control of Clementine’s…interrogation. Minerva watched as Violet broke Clementine’s leg, hand and arm. After landing more kicks in Clementine’s side, Violet stepped back.

“That,” Clementine coughed, before glaring up at Violet and snarling, “was pathetic.”

Violet landed a kick to Clementine’s face, as Minerva spoke, “Michael said she isn’t going to need clothes for the next part.”

Violet hesitated, before grabbing Clementine’s jacket and pulling it off.

Clementine groaned as they left, leaving her and the rest of the Ericson’s group alone.

“Clem?” Ruby hesitantly approached hr, “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be honest, I didn’t wake up and expect to be raped in front of everyone.” Clementine voice was tired and hoarse, “Did anyone see where they put my clothes?”

“You’re…” Ruby trailed off, “You’re remarkably calm about this.”

“I’ve seen and experienced it all before.” Clementine winced as she shrugged, “I really hope my arm and leg aren’t screwed.”

Clementine looked over at the other cell, James had been caught shortly after them, “How’s James?”

“He still out.” Said Aasim, looking away from Clementine, “He’s still alive though.”

Louis managed to hook Clementine’s clothes with his foot, before bundling them up and tossing them towards Ruby, “Here.”

Ruby nodded, before helping Clementine get dressed, before resetting her broken bones.

“Clem,” Mitch got her attention, “when there were moving you, did you see anything that could help us escape?”

“No,” Clementine winced, “they’ve got all obvious escapes blocked off, I heard from one of them that they’re near Richmond, but, other than that, there’s no way off this boat.”

“Do you think Rosie’s okay?” Asked Tenn, speaking for the first time since he’d been thrown back into the cells.

“Hopefully.” Said Aasim, letting his mind wander back to the dog.

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.” Javi decided to ignore Max, they’d made a rudimentary blockade around the ship, as well as massed a massive group to seize it.

“I didn’t hear you complaining when we were planning it.” Javi smirked at Ava’s voice, she limped up to Richmond’s gate shortly after Clementine left, having survived her fall.

Conrad slinking towards them got them to go silent, “They’ve got a dog chained up in that Lilly person’s office. Clementine and her group are down in the cells.”

“Javi,” Eleanor murmured, “they, they said that Clementine had been… ‘passed around’. They said they planned on doing the same to her boy.”

Javi felt a wave of disgust run through him, “Okay,” he unhooked his bat from his back, “let’s go.”

Clementine winced as Ruby reset her fingers.

“What’s that noise?” Asked Omar, looking around.

“It sounds like…gun fire?” Louis frowned, “What’s going on out there?”

They received their answer when the door to the brig burst open and Minerva was being held at gunpoint.

“Max, get those doors open.” Clementine froze, she recognised the voice, but found she couldn’t remember the name. She spotted Max rushing to open the doors, with Louis surging past him and wrenching Clementine’s cell door open. Before he could reach her, Clementine saw Eleanor push past him.

“What are her injuries?” Eleanor looked at a heavyset red-haired girl.

“B-broken arm, leg and right hand, bruising and some fractures, I think.” The girl stuttered, as Ava joined them and helped Clementine up, getting her to release a groan.

“Dislocated shoulder.” Hissed Clementine, as Ava helped her walk.

“Ha!” Everyone looked at Louis, before he proudly held up ‘Chair-les’, “I thought they got rid of it.”

“Charming.” Said the owner of the familiar yet unfamiliar voice, “Clem, where’d you find these guys?”

Clementine winced, before looking at the woman, trying to put a name to the face, “…Christa?”

Christa let out a huffing laugh, “Nice of you to remember me, I only looked after you for two years.”

“…I thought you were dead.”

Christa sighed, “That’s fair.”

“We need to get them out of here.” Said Eleanor, interrupting the reunion, “I want to get her some proper medical treatment.”

The others silently agreed, “Javi and the others are rounding up prisoners now.” Said Ava, as she moved past the group.

“Yeah,” Called a man, “That guard dog Conrad saw was harmless.”

“Rosie!” Gasped Tenn, as the dog ran up to them.

Clementine winced, the painkillers Lingard had given her had worn off, they’d put her broken limbs in casts. Javi had told them that Lilly had killed Gabe when they captured her, part of her was heartbroken, she supposed that she still held some feelings for the dork. Louis had dropped by, mentioning that the group had decided to stay in Richmond, Clementine had suggested to Javi that some people go out and establish a foothold in the school.

“How’re you feeling, Clem?” Asked Eleanor, checking in on her.

“I’m alright,” Clementine shrugged, “still feeling a bit sick, but the dizziness has gone.”

“That’s good.” Eleanor nodded, “Look, Clem, I know you might not take this well, but we’re going to do a pregnancy test, just to be on the safe side.”

Clementine felt a surge of panic fill her, before she swallowed, “Okay.”

Eleanor sighed, before leaving the room. Meanwhile, down in the makeshift prison Richmond had, Violet sat quietly, despondent to her surroundings. Louis had given her grief for ‘betraying’ them; Violet couldn’t think of an excuse. They knew Minne longer? Minnie had murdered Sophie. Everything fell apart because of Clementine? The raiders were coming for them anyway. Louis had brought up that she was one of the three that wanted to keep Clementine and AJ around, Clementine had gotten shot while trying to save her, and Violet had turned on her like it was nothing.

Part of Violet wanted Minnie, she always knew the right thing to say, to do. AJ didn’t want to see her; Louis only came to talk to her because Clementine asked him. She remembered Clementine’s promise, when they tried to take AJ, promising to kill her if she touched him. Violet wanted to say she didn’t know what made her stop, but she did. She stopped because she knew Clementine wasn’t bluffing. She stopped because she knew that if she took AJ, she would’ve lost her friend. She stopped because she still cared. Clementine had made herself AJ’s shield, and while that didn’t excuse how Violet had aided in the beatings and, in a miniscule way, the rapes, Clementine placed herself as a barrier for her boy and, after they’d been captured, the rest of their group.

Clementine heard them talking about cutting out Louis’s tongue, so she ran her mouth, insulted them, called them weak for targeting someone’s voice. Violet remembered seeing the bite mark on Minnie’s arm, finding out Clementine had bitten her when they mentioned targeting Tenn.

“Hey.” Violet looked up when someone banged on her cell door, seeing Clementine being supported by Louis, “I could hear you grinding your teeth from the hospital.”

“Why are you here?” Asked Violet, trying to make herself angry.

“To talk to you, dumbass.” Answered Clementine, “I’ve spoken to Javi about getting you and Minerva some help.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Demanded Violet, glaring up at them.

“The two of you were brainwashed.” Shrugged Clementine, “I’ve seen it before, met a guy who was full on drinking the Saviours Kool-Aid. They used someone you loved to get you to see things their way.”

“I’m not brainwashed!” Yelled Violet, jumping up, “Whatever plan you came up with would’ve gotten us killed!”

Clementine gave her a flat look, “You do realise you’ve just proved my point, right?”

Violet glared at her, making Clementine sigh and gesture for Louis to help her out of the prison. Leaving Violet alone with her thoughts.

Next Story: What if Carver attacked Clementine at the Cabin? (TW: Violence against a child)

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leastdatablebracket · 1 year

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QUARTER FINALS, MATCH 3

Propaganda under the cut! (tw rape)

Laito Sakamaki

Propaganda

I really could've picked any of the boys from that series really but this dude literally keeps referring to the MC as little bitch. Also, asshole wears a fedora. The fact he made the most datable poll astounds me

He's not a nice man with Yui (the protagonist) and even do some deplorable things with her when she SAYS she doesn't want to. He has a sobbing backstory and uses that to do whatever he wants. He should go to a psychiatrist. In jail.

He is a rapist! In both the anime and the games, he sexually harasses Yui. I can't remember if it was more explicit in the games, but there was a cutaway scene in the church Yui grew up in where he forces himself on her. Like the other vampire brothers, he enjoys causing her pain and suffering, and he particularly likes playing mind games with her along with his usual shit. Canonically, Yui is just the last girl in a very, very long line of "sacrificial brides" who the brothers all ended up killing in one way or another. Laito may look and act like a teenager, but he's an immortal vampire and he knows what he's doing.

This man repeatedly assaults the protagonist (Yui) because he wants to "taint" her. At first he only strips her and touches her only laughing when she says no because "well what a perverted woman, why aren't you being honest with yourself" and it's implied that he rapes her. There's a scene where Yui contemplate suicide (keep in mind she's religious and try to keep her faith even while abused so it's a big deal) because she can't take it anymore, and then Laito shows up in her bath and makes her harm herself. He humiliates her in public. He's just horrible. His excuse is that his mother abused him and he convinced himself he liked it and he loved her. At the end of his route Yui is totally broken in my opinion, convinced she is tainted now and losing her faith in god. Granted he isn't the worst of his brothers but this man is definitely undatable. While he softens in later games, this man is horrible.

Peter King

Propaganda

Oh I could go ON AND ON but here’s a list: He’s a stalker, he showed up late to a date HE REQUESTED, he killed either your landlord, roommate, or coworker (depending on route) and stuck them in a freezer, lied to the police about it, followed by a car ride either consisting of traumadumping about his family (valid tbh) or him talking about how much he wants to fuck your brains out, then you finding a bloody knife in his glove compartment, asking about it, and him smashing your head into the window to shut you up while he takes you to his house. He is The Worse Datable, as well as The Only Datable because well…he killed the others…and kidnapped you….

FUCK THIS DUDE!!! Country Human looking-ass bitch, I want him dead and obliterated

Many violence, Yandere behavior, cut your leg off in a semi-canon series of illustrations, smashed your head into the passenger side window of his creepy van, chloroformed you in your own house, brought you flowers that were probably tainted with his own blood, given context from another route. Generally a terrible person. Also just very strange to look at :/

He knows what he did….😒

He broke into Y/N’s house and chloroformed them. Generally a really creepy and perverted guy. TK is better :/

Send that man to Worst Datable Hell! Put him in the trash file (he’s a pseudo-sentient AI, similar to Monika, so this threat is valid)! He sometimes looks like a kicked puppy when talking to you, but with your small contributions, we can make him look even more like a kicked puppy! Vote Peter King for Worst Datable Datable Character today! Bonus: Funny canon facts about him! - He can’t swim - He’s allergic to peanuts - He has to wear glasses, but usually wears contacts - He had an emo/goth phase in high school - He’s a YouTuber; he does product reviews - He has very strong mother issues (understandably) - He will respond to and greatly enjoy the nickname “Cockbite” (there are many other names he enjoys, but this one’s the funniest to me)

#quarter finals

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wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 2 years

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Psycho Analysis: Slade

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS! ALSO, TW: RAPE MENTION! It’s literally unavoidable when discussing this guy!)

Teen Titans was one of the great DC action shows of the 2000s. It danced back across the line of silly and serious with its anime-esque art style, goofy J-Pop theme song, and humorous characters all juxtaposed with incredibly dark villains, serious stories tackling everything from racism to the dangers of pushing yourself to your limits, and some shockingly brutal deaths that, while not onscreen, don’t leave much to the imagination.

And what would this show be without a big bad? And there really is no bigger bad than Slade.

Comic fans would likely know this man as Deathstroke the Terminator, or perhaps simply Deathstroke, which is one of the single most over-the-top names ever created. In the comics, Slade’s main claims to fame are that time he groomed a teenager and also had sex with her and, even worse, the time he soloed the entire Justice League!!!! GASP! He’s had some cool appearances in places like the Arkham series and the Snyder Cut, but if there’s any appearance that has redeemed this cunning assassin in the eyes of many is his appearance as the master schemer supervillain who served as Robin’s most personal foe and the most reoccurring threat over the course of the series.

Motivation/Goals: This man has made it his life’s goal to fuck with these teenagers (but not in the same way comic Slade fucks with teenagers, thankfully). Season one has him trying to turn Robin into his evil apprentice, while season 2 has him working to dismantle the Titans from within before he dies. Season 4 has him working for Raven’s father to bring about the end of the world, but then he backstabs Trigon to get his life back. Slade seems to be a sadist who loves making these teenagers suffer for shits and giggles, because I genuinely see no other reason he’d go to such lengths to torment children when he time and time again shows he could give heroes like Green Arrow or Batman a run for their money.

Performance: Ron Perlman, the one and only Hellboy, has the perfect voice for an evil, underhanded villain, and he gives Slade just the right level of menace while still maintaining an air of mystery and coolness. I’ll elaborate more in the final paragraphs, but long story short: Perlman is to Slade what Hamill is to Joker.

Final Fate: While he is constantly thwarted and at one point dies by falling into lava courtesy of Terra (something I wish happened in the comics), all setbacks to Slade are ultimately temporary, and he ends the series no closer to being defeated than he was at the start of the show.

Best Episodes: Slade is no stranger to awesome appearances, getting at least one great episode every season.

Season one has the two part finale, “Apprentice,” which features him finally taking Robin under his wing. It’s incredibly climactic as the whole season has built up to this moment, helps solidify Robin’s arc in the season, and gives a badass final duel between Robin and Slade. It also features one of Slade’s cruelest and most brutal schemes, with the torture he inflicts upon the other Titans when Robin doesn’t comply.

Season 2 has the condensed retelling of the infamous Judas Contract arc with “Aftershock,” particularly the second part where Slade is unmistakably and unambiguously killed. The dude straight up falls into lava and dies.

But even being dead doesn’t stop Slade! Season 3’s “Haunted” is one of the most dark and brutal episodes of the series, with some of the creepiest writing coming from Slade. What’s even creepier is there’s never really any answers as to what causes the hallucinations Robin experiences throughout the episode; it’s implied someone activated Slade’s mask, but who? We’ll never know. Either way, leave it to Slade to give us what might be the show’s darkest episode.

Season 4’s “Birthmark” has Slade at his absolute creepiest, which is saying something considering the sexual assault vibes of “Haunted.” This is the episode where he assaults Raven in incredibly uncomfortable ways while delivering the news about her father. It’s horrendously disturbing in an allegorical sense, and serves to make Sade more monstrous than ever.

Season 5 doesn’t have any Slade, sadly. There’s a fake Slade in the final episode, but that’s it. Guess the Brain didn’t want his gay ass upstaged.

Final Thoughts & Score: Slade is genuinely one of the finest foes to come out of the great animated series of the 2000s, and arguably rivals Mark Hamill’s Joker with how good he is.

It mainly has to do with how utterly fucking disturbing his plans are in a symbolic level. Isolating teens like Robin and Terra from their friend groups, forcing them to depend on him, the undertones of grooming in his interactions with Terra, and both Robin and Raven suffering through experiences with Slade that could easily be read as allegories for sexual assault. Slade manages to be absolutely repugnant and unsettling, and mind you a lot of this comes before he is resurrected as a zombie demon slave. Of course, despite being disturbing as all Hell, he still manages to be cool. This is mainly due to Ron Perlman’s stellar performance, which is easily on the level of iconic voice acting that Hamill’s Joker is ; he adds so much menace to everything he says while (un)fortunately making Slade sound incredibly sexy.

I think what’s most impressive is just how much better than the comic version the animated Slade is. In the comics, Slade has been the bearer of one of the corniest monikers in all of comic history: Deathstroke the Terminator. And while it’s often shortened to simply “Deathstroke,” the name is still the sort of thing you’d find in the edgy Liefeldian crap the 90s shit out. Add on to this the guy is an uninspired mashup of Frank Castle and Steve Rogers in terms of origins, the fact that he is the subject of such obnoxious character shilling he soloed the Justice League in the already contentious Identity Crisis, and that writers continuously bend over backwards to justify him grooming with and having sex with an underage girl to the point where they actively put the blame on said girl, who for the record is a fucking teenager while Slade fought in goddamn Vietnam, and you have a character who is just remarkably unappealing and easily overshadowed by his Marvel ripoff (one Wade Wilson).

Contrast with the show Deathstroke. They ditch the edgy name, leaving him with his canonical first name only, which adds this air of intrigue and mystery to the guy. They keep the super soldier strength and reflexes, but they don’t expound on the origins and instead make him more akin to an expy of Doctor Doom, what with the robot duplicates, unseen face, seething hatred for the team leader protagonist, and the complicated chessmaster schemes. And best of all, they keep all the creepy, skeevy undertones comic Slade has… but they don’t try and justify it! Slade is always portrayed as a conniving, self-serving schemer and an inherently nightmarish figure who sucks up the comedy whenever he’s onscreen. This is the character done right, and he easily scores a 10/10.

#Psycho Analysis #Slade #Deathstroke #Teen Titans #Ron Perlman

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gunshou · 1 month

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(it's not 500 words but I'd very much love to have a dvd-esque commentary <3)

And afterward, Rumlow would disassemble his weapon, wipe him down carefully and perform any necessary maintenance before returning him to storage, unlike the last time when Skelton had the Soldier shoved back into cryo still full of come that froze and ruptured his rectum, a bloody frothy mess the technicians discovered upon thawing later. Brock Rumlow knew how to properly care for his weapons, how to clean and oil his guns and keep his knives sharp, and maintaining the Winter Soldier would be no different.

Rumlow was only a junior member of the team, however. Assigned to babysit and explain to the Solider how to act like a fucking human being instead of a death machine. He’d have to pay his dues for a while before he got his chance.

The asset nodded at him now, seeming to understand the implied command to hold off on dropping into his role until he was placed downstairs at the party. Again, Rumlow frowned.

“You know, I don’t think you’re stupid at all,” he said very softly, “even if your brain’s been fried to hell and back. I think you know exactly what you’re doing most of the time. Don’t you?”

The Winter Soldier narrowed those disconcertingly bright eyes, listening to the thin thread of danger mixed with admiration in Rumlow’s voice. Assessing it for threat.

“Yeah,” Rumlow continued in that same quiet, soothing tone. “Don’t worry.” He smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner, because he really didn’t want his neck snapped today. “I’ll keep your secret.” Murderbot wouldn’t remember the threat Rumlow posed for longer than a couple of days anyway; once he got strapped in the chair everything would disappear for him in a blaze of electricity.

“Hey,” Skelton called, “you two done making out over there? Time to roll.”

Rumlow raised an eyebrow and asked, “We good?”

Yay, thank you for the ask!

To start, I swear I didn't abandon this fic. My depression has had the better of me for awhile and I've been in a creative slump. But I do have at least another few chapters planned for this fic.

I love a hyper competent Winter Soldier, but anything that isn't muscle memory is going to have to be retrained each time he gets wiped, as well as new technologies as the decades pass. He picks up on things fast -- the memories are in there, but he can't access them -- but he has to be explicitly coached to bring them out. And of course, pulling on some memory threads runs the risk of unraveling the whole thing, so it's a delicate job. The agent tasked with it has to be proven reliable, but low enough on the ladder to be expendable in case the Soldier snaps. Rumlow, recently recruited into STRIKE, fits the bill.

The idea of TWS as a weapon, particularly Rumlow's weapon like The Gun, comes to me from SubverbalDreams and itallstartedwithdefenestration. They have a way of writing Winterbones that's codependant and wonderfully warped, and I really wanted to explore that vibe more.

I think it's easy for HYDRA to characterize TWS as stupid and obstinate: he's not chatty, shows no clear personality, and fresh out of cryo or the Chair he's a dazed and barely responsive wreck. But in the field, he's fucking terrifying. He kills precisely and relentlessly, and he does. Not. Stop. until the mission ends. His squad is trained to support him, but also to keep their guns trained on him, like he's a barely tamed bear they've collared and make dance in a circus. So they dehumanize him further and mock him to alleviate their terror of him. That shows up in the repeated rapes and in this case, a deliberate breach of storage protocol that caused just enough damage to agonize the Soldier on thawing without hopelessly compromising his ability to complete his mission.

Rumlow sees that shit as petty, and it irritates him. TWS is this perfectly crafted deadly weapon, one of a kind (as far as they know), and these dipshits scratch the paint and bust up the engine just to prove they can in some sort of pissing contest. And for what? It's not like the Soldier will react or retaliate: he can't.

Except Rumlow's not stupid. Rumlow is fascinated by the Soldier and has studied everything he can get access to on the man. And Rumlow has noticed that handlers who repeatedly abuse the Soldier tend to have a higher than normal chance of ending up dead. It's nothing obvious, and no evidence can be traced back to the Soldier even circumstancially, but still. The statistics paint a frightening picture there.

Except Rumlow isn't frightened; he's gleeful he figured it out and impressed that the Soldier is even more capable and crafty than HYDRA suspects... and completely, thoroughly responsive to his handler's will. That's a lot of power for one person to hold. Here's this devastating force of death held on the thinnest of leashes, and god, does Rumlow want to be the one holding that leash.

What could he accomplish for HYDRA's world order if he had total control over the Fist? What would it feel like to know the most dangerous assassin on Earth would follow his orders and protect him with his life?

All Rumlow needs to do is earn the Soldier's trust and he'll have TWS eating out of his hand. And earning his trust begins with a calculated risk: saying he suspects and respects the Soldier's intelligence, and then keeping that between them. The Soldier won't explicitly remember the conversation, but some part of him will recognize Rumlow next time they meet.

And when Rumlow has the Soldier's complete trust, when the Weapon fits perfectly to Rumlow's hand, his place in HYDRA will be secured.

#ask game #the winter soldier #brock rumlow #fic meta

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this-world-of-beautiful-monsters · 11 months

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Spider, the Sullys & the Metkayina kids - truth or dare?

Also posted on ao3! Heavy inspiration from so many blows ripping apart our gentle souls (and i shudder, 'cause i know what i don't want to know)

(tw body control, possession, psychological horror, forced tsaheylu, implied mind rape, implied underage noncon, implied child abuse, threats, intimidation, implied torture, blood, injury, hostage situations, recom jake, creepy behavior)

"The rules are simple," Lo'ak says.

Except it's not Lo'ak, not with those blank dead eyes of his, not with his kuru swinging like a rotten limb, tangled up with--with--Tsireya can't look at the demon directly, can't look at that thing with a knife-blade smile on Lo'ak's father's face. It makes her head hurt just to try.

But she can't bring herself to look at the others, either. Not Aonung and Roxto bound and kneeling at her side, Aonung snarling and Roxto's face pale green.

Not Kiri slumped across the steel skin of the Sky People's hideous craft, eyelids fluttering and blood trickling from her nose. Not Neteyam bloodied from where they'd ripped him off his ilu, weaving for air as he stares up at his father's shadow with wide eyes. Not Tuk sobbing in the arms of one of the demon women, who strokes her hair and shoots Tsireya a wink over her head.

The Sky Boy with golden hair and blue stripes (Spider, the Sullys had images of him, called him their brother) makes a pleading noise in the Sky tongue, twisting in the grip of the demon looming behind him. Lo'ak--not-Lo'ak--smiles and pats his cheek before moving on, slow, sinuous steps pacing around the circle. The demon he's bonded paces at his side, their kuru swaying together.

"You can pick truth, or dare." The Na'vi falls strangely from Lo'ak's mouth, stilted and wrong like no voice she's ever heard--and worse, so much worse, because it's Lo'ak. If her hands weren't restrained she'd cover her ears, maybe rip them out for good measure.

"Truth means I get to ask you a question, any question, and you have to be honest--about anything. About anyone." The blood under Lo'ak's nose and trickling from his ears has started to dry, crusting red against his skin. "If you lie, we'll know, trust us."

Tsireya knows what he'll ask, she knows what he wants, why the demons have gathered them on this ship with steel railings and guns cutting off their access to the ocean. They want to know where Lo'ak's father is, the one who isn't a monster. Which means they want to know where home is, Awa'atlu.

Which means that Lo'ak is hiding it from them, somehow. Trapped inside his own head, buried Eywa knows how deep, and still he's fighting with stubborn teeth bared. They have to hold out for him, they have to be strong, they have to, no matter how terrifying.

"Dare means...well, a dare. Like, say, like a journey beyond the reef." Lo'ak smiles at Aonung and her brother flinches, jaw tight (I thought it was your idea, Tsireya wants to scream at Lo'ak, heart pounding so fast it hurts. I thought--why would you--).

"Like a kiss." His eyes flick to her and Tsireya flinches--Lo'ak smiles, and it's his smile, his ears twitching the way the Omatikaya do when they grin, teeth hidden in the Na'vi way, features soft and gentle a perfect lie. "Like something you never would've done where the folks back home could see."

He sinks to one knee in front of Tsireya and the demon follows him down, hand resting on Lo'ak's shoulder. Tuk, Neteyam, and the Sky Boy are all calling out in a babble of tongues, their voices sliding over into a buzz of noise that nips at Tsireya's ears.

"Truth or dare, 'Reya," he says, casual as she's ever heard him. "What'll it be?"

"Lo'ak," and she hates herself for the crack in her voice, the broken, helpless sound. "Lo'ak, please--"

"Easy, now." He taps a finger against her lips, warm against her skin. "Don't overthink it, just pick one and then we can start." His eyes skip to her brother, to Tuk. "Or I'll have to go play with someone else, and you wouldn't like that, would you?"

No, no she wouldn't. Tsireya swallows hard, spit bitter in her throat. Dare is a sickening unknown, but truth...

Their parents are coming for them, she knows that they will. They just need time, and the truth will take that in the worst way.

She straightens her back the way her mother would, forcing herself to look Lo'ak in the eye. For a second she thinks she sees the faintest flicker of something familiar, something terrified... and then it's gone, replaced by the flat gold glint of a demon instead.

But he's there, watching. Tsireya is terrified of what he'll see, but she won't fail him, she won't fail home, and she won't fail herself.

"Dare," she growls, voice rough and jagged as hard coral. She turns her head slightly and spits in the demon's other face, Lo'ak's father's face, curling her lip as he jerks his head back.

The demon chuckles, rubbing at his cheek, as Lo'ak reaches out and brushes his thumb along hers. It's a warm, soothing touch and she almost--almost--wants to lean in, let him hold her tight.

"I was hoping you'd say that," he says, and it sounds like he means it.

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usmsgutterson · 11 months

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THE HALLOWEEK OF HURT: DAY SIX

Happy- G.S x gn! tidemaker! reader

all right! Second last day of this event and tomorrows fic is gonna be good! It's another kaz fic and kaz is delightful to write for so yay!

Fic type- I wrote this to help myself work through some shit, so it's hurt/comfort with a dash of resentment

Warnings- genyas trauma is the focus of this fic, but the reader does have trauma thats implied but still left unspecified, so tws for the following: mentions and discussions of sexual assault and rape

You found Genya in the corridor, one of what sometimes felt like the two thousand in the Spinning Wheel. The Queen of Ravka had grabbed her arm, and like it was an old habit risen once more, you had taken the moisture from the air and were ready to drown the Queen at a moments notice.

"Are you aware that your friend is a traitor to the crown?" She asked you, turning a glare on Genya as she fought her arm from the queens grasp.

"Are you aware that you married a rapist?" You asked in turn, glaring at the queen with as much intensity as you could muster. "I would like to very strongly advise that you step away, Tatianna. You are not the queen here and I do not care if it is treason, I will kill you and I will do without a moments guilt."

Genya looked at you, and your gaze met hers, and you found that you wished you could've killed the queen for the sake of it. You wished you could've killed the king, too, wished all of those in the Lantsov bloodline had never so much as existed.

You'd known Genya since the two of you were kids, had loved her and been loved by her since the two of you were sixteen. At twenty, the love had persevered through the beginning of a war, an undoing of the psyche and years of manipulation on the part of the Darkling.

"You wouldn't dare," Tatianna said. "You are being blatantly disrespectful, my subject, and I would suggest that you apologize. I can have you hung on the basis of a threat of treason."

You shrugged. You'd dealt with the Darkling--did Tatianna Lantsov really think she was worse?

"Do it," you said. "You seem to have a plan to persecute my beloved, so if you hang her, might as well hang me too."

"Madraya!" Came the booming shout of the ever-so handsome, and last-standing Lantsov prince. "I told you, you must leave Genya alone, and getting into a mix up with one of the best Tidemakers I've ever seen, who happens to be her fiance? Not a smart move."

You and Genya shared a glance before proceeding down the hallway, her hand in yours, back to the room you shared to spend the time you had until dinner with one another for company.

You found Genya on a balcony in the hours later, content to stand there for a moment and watch her watch the snow as it fell amidst a sky the color of darkness.

You approached and grinned as she turned around to face you, holding out one of the mugs of tea you'd managed to secure from the kitchens. She grinned in turn and accepted the mug, sighing happily as the two of you turned back to face the view.

There was the lingering but present idea of a conversation that had not occured yet. Neither of you were too keen to talk about the Darkling but you'd promised each other that you would at some point.

Neither of your experiences with him had been particularly pleasant, and you honestly didn't expect that night to be the one wherein the long awaited conversation took place, but then Genya spoke and you realized it was indeed.

"Do you hate him?" Genya asked. "The Darkling, I mean."

You'd never really thought about it beyond registering that emotion whenever you looked his way.

"I guess, yeah," you said. "I didn't go through nearly as much as you did, though, so my hatred is probably a little one dimensional. I hate him for everything he's done, for placing you onto the Queens staff, for the genocide."

"That's at least three dimensions," Genya said. Your shoulders shook with silent laughter as you took a sip of your tea, and idly, you wondered how you'd managed to get so lucky as to have Genya Safin in your life.

Silence lapsed between the two of you. She grabbed your hand with the one that wasn't holding onto her tea, and you interlaced your fingers within hers before giving her hand a squeeze.

"Do you?" You asked. "Do you hate the Darkling?"

"I didn't know if I did at first," Genya said. "You know how it was--how easy it was to fall into his words, to hang onto them, to believe everything he told you and to take it for the truth."

You remembered those days better than you'd ever admit to anybody outside of Genya Safin. You'd fallen for his charms once, too, for the idea of Ravka as the Grisha safe haven he'd promised, for the innately incredible idea of being able to walk the streets without fearing a slaver might whack you over the back of the head and haul you somewhere to be sold, indentured off to the first person who paid the slavers enough coin.

But the person who the Darkling made himself out to be was not the person he actually was, and you'd accepted that. You'd joined the war on the side of the sun summoner and no matter how foolishly glorious his ideals, there was a way to go about getting to the safe haven he had been promising without expanding the Fold, without killing hundreds of thousands.

"I remember," you said. "But, no matter how easy it was to cling to his words, to cling to the ideas he planted in our minds, he was still an inherently bad person, and you are allowed to hate him if you do because he did something to you that is inherently terrible."

"I do hate him," she said. "And I don't think I'll dance on his grave when he goes, but if I live to see it, I will indeed have to resist the urge. I hate him, I hate the tsar, I hate that so much wrongdoing has taken place and none of them have apologized for any of it, that they never will."

You sighed, and Genya sipped her tea. Her words were too true for the comfort of either of you, and they just held so much weight in them.

The Darkling had not been the one to do to Genya as the King had done, but he'd put her in a position wherein such was able to take place. He was just as responsible for placing Genya on the Queens staff as the king was for the fact that Genya had poisoned him and would likely be the reason he was dead by the following year.

Their downfalls were things of their own creation, and you both hated them with all of the vitriol you could muster. They had created their downfalls, had made their beds. All that was left to do was lie in them, but even as such, your hatred would remain.

"When this war is done," she said. "I will marry you, and then I will heal my wounds. We can be happy if we let ourselves."

You cheers'd your mug against hers. "To healing wounds and being happy once all is said and done," you murmured.

"To getting married and making a party of it, and to the downfall of those who have committed wrongdoing against us."

You pressed a kiss to Genyas lips and let her steal the last of your tea, your heart so content with the love of your life that it was nearly astounding.

You both had lots to heal from, sure, but you would do it when you could, and you would do it together. Doing it together was the only option you had, but you wouldn't have had it any other way

#genya safin #genya safin x reader #shadow and bone #shadow and bone netflix

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