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indigovigilance · 7 months

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Continuity Errors

Crowley can stop time. We’ve noticed buggy things about time. Let’s talk about it.

I’m going to start with an overview of every time he has definitely frozen time in order to establish the mechanics of Crowley’s time-stopping power in the GO universe. Then, I’m going to talk about other events where Crowley may have stopped time, and it wasn’t (directly) shown to the audience.

or read this 3,500 word beast of a meta on Ao3

edit: if you're deciding whether or not to read this, check out the reblog notes!

Opening obligatory "do not put anything about this in Neil Gaiman's askbox"

Crowley freezes time locally, selectively exempting individuals

S1E2

In S1E2, Crowley freezes time at the corporate training ground to interrogate Mary Hodges, formerly Sister Mary Loquacious (played by Nina Sosanya, actor for Nina in S2). It may seem like she’s just hypnotized and time is progressing normally around all of them, but that isn’t the case. Immediately before Crowley hypnotizes Hodges, we can hear gunfire in the background; a few seconds before Hodges is released from the trance, we hear shouting and sirens. But during the time that Hodges is entranced, all we hear is three things: the dialogue, music, and what sounds like the ticking of a kitchen timer.

We could do a little bit of extrapolation from the fact that the beginnings of gunshots and siren sounds are temporally very close together, especially depending on how we measure time. Crowley turns the paintball guns into deadly weapons at 36:59. Crowley freezes Mary Hodges at 38:47. A ticking sound starts the same moment. We also hear what we will come to recognize as the “pause time” sound, a sort of wobbly sound. The ticking sound seems to stop around… 40:07? Right before the line about lovely little toesy woesies? It’s unclear with the overlapping tracks. At 40:11 Crowley says “let’s go” and we can hear sirens in the background start now. Aziraphale then snaps his fingers and unfreezes Hodges at 40:17.

So during 191 seconds of screentime, 84 seconds of it was spent with time frozen, if I accept the ticking sound to be the indicator. If time was only frozen locally, meaning just the paintball grounds and not the nearest police station and roads leading to it, then emergency services had just over three minutes from the time the first live round was fired to arrival. If time was actually frozen globally except for Crowley, Azirarphale, and Hodges, then emergency services got there in 85 seconds, or less than a minute and a half. Maybe Britain is doing something wildly different than here idk but I think the more likely explanation for the event timing is that Crowley is only freezing time in a local bubble. The shooters stop shooting but the police are still driving towards them while Crowley and Aziraphale are interrogating an entranced Mary Hodges.

The case with Hodges is kind of confusing because the audience is presented with a false dichotomy between “frozen in time” and “hypnotized.” It’s actually both. Crowley has frozen time around the three of them, but Hodges, like Aziraphale, was exempt. It just so happens that she was also entranced at the same time, which explains as well why Aziraphale can release her from the trance, since our best evidence indicates that he can’t control time.

S1E3 & S2E3

In S1E3, Crowley freezes Jean Claude, the executioner at the Bastille. Immediately before, we can hear the guillotine, screaming and jeering outside the cell. As soon as Jean Claude is frozen, however (13:29, complete with wobble sound), there is complete background silence, except for the dialogue between our ineffable aristocrats. When Crowley restarts time, background noise restarts as well. This evidence indicates that Crowley froze time for the surrounding area as well as inside the cell.

In S2E3, Crowley freezes Mr. Dalrymple. We don’t have definitive information about how much of the rest of the world is affected since the scene takes place indoors on a quiet night and there are no external cues of time starting or stopping.

S1E6: Freezing Out Satan

In S1E6, not only are Crowley, Aziraphale, and Adam pulled out of the normal flow of time: it seems that they are also pulled out of normal space. They appear to be in an ethereal desert where we can see their wings, but we don’t actually know where they are. The way we enter, inhabit, and then exit this time-stop is completely different from any of the other three explicit timestop scenes: Crowley must use his whole body to summon the power to cast the miracle, they travel elsewhere, then he must use his crankshaft to exit the time-stop.

I take this to indicate that freezing time when Satan is near takes a lot more power than freezing time around Mary Hodges, Jean Claude, or Mr. Dalrymple. Presumably, the power a being has, the more power it takes to lock them out of a bubble to stopped time.

Time Stop Mechanics

Here are my key takeaways from analyzing these four scenes:

Crowley isn’t so much freezing all of time as pulling himself and Aziraphale (and sometimes Adam) out of the flow of time. The effort this takes is dependent on the entities that they are “pulling away” from. It is easy to pull away from humans, so much so that they don’t have to pull away very far and can occupy the same space in a bubble of paused time. When he is “pulling away” from Satan, however, he must pull away much further, all the way to another plane.

Crowley’s ability is so powerful that he can use it to escape Satan. He could use it to lock out other powerful beings, if he wanted to, but it would take a lot of effort.

Aziraphale, a being with power somewhere on the spectrum between human and Satan, could be frozen by Crowley’s powers. The fact that Aziraphale is still present and active during all of these scenes, unaffected by the time stop is only indicative of Crowley’s choice to exempt him, just as he does with a hypnotized Mary Hodges and Adam.

Crowley has stopped time on Aziraphale

In a previous post I have addressed the possible symbolic meaning behind the Honolulu Roast sign that suddenly appears behind Crowley in the S2E1 coffee shop scene. This addresses the symbolic meaning of Honolulu with respect to Aziraphale, but fails to address the “roast” part, which I have the opportunity to do now. I begin by establishing two premises:

Crowley loves Aziraphale and after 6,000 years knows him very well.

Crowley is a dick.

Crowley sits down at the table across from Aziraphale and asks him what the problem is. At this point, there is no “Honolulu Roast” sign behind him. The camera flips to Aziraphale as he (badly) tries to deny that there is any problem. When the camera flips back to Crowley, a “today’s special: Honolulu Roast” sign has appeared behind him.

What does Crowley do next?

Crowley roasts Aziraphale.

Crowley proceeds to read Aziraphale to filth, rattling off all his tells and putting him in his place for even daring to think that he could mislead Crowley about his internal emotional state.

While we’ve seen a lot more of his soft side this season, we cannot forget that the demon Crowley, at the end of the day, is a prick. He really did pause time just so that he could go get a chalkboard, write a pun on it, and hang it on the wall behind him like a display card for open mic night. He’s still going to help Aziraphale, of course. But he’s going to make fun of him first.

Let me reiterate: Crowley literally paused time, got up from the table, put up this sign, then sat back down in (as close to) exactly the same position (as possible) to fool Aziraphale into not noticing the pause, because this joke is entirely for Crowley’s own amusement. We have some cinematographic evidence of this besides just the sign itself: the lamp behind him has moved slightly, and the camera angle focusing on Crowley has changed. Literally, the left hand side of the frame gets cut off due to the repositioning. From a production perspective, this scene would have been shot all at the same time, so should not have changed angles. That said, they did a by-hand follow-in of Crowley walking in and sitting down, then switched to a dolly, but… I have faith that they could have matched the shot line-up practically pixel for pixel if they wanted to. All to say: changing the camera position before and after, alongside the other conspicuous changes, seems like it was a deliberate framing choice used to indicate that Crowley tried his best to get back into exactly the same position, but was just a little off.

But Crowley’s prank is troubling from a perspective of honesty and agency. Based on the way the dialogue progresses, it seems pretty clear that Aziraphale doesn’t know that he was frozen. Whether or not Crowley could freeze Aziraphale was beside the point until this scene where we learn that Crowley would, even for a really dumb reason like making a joke at Aziraphale’s expense.

Before moving on, I want to note that the sudden appearance of this sign could be characterized as a continuity error, even though it was the result of a deliberate action by an in-world character. Jettison your traditional understanding of “continuity error” as “production made a mistake.” In this universe, we can have continuity errors by virtue that Aziraphale is experiencing time as if it is continuous, not noticing that he functionally blacked out for a few minutes and that things have changed around him. This is not a show-level continuity error. This is an Aziraphale-level continuity error.

Crowley can reverse time

Credit where credit is due: it was this comment on the Ao3 version of my meta, The Erasure of Human!Metatron, that became an earworm that got me thinking specifically about Crowley's abilities:

So thank you, LoveIsLove <3

Let’s go back to the Mary Hodges scene, or actually a few minutes before. Our ineffable idiots get shot by paintballs.

“Look at the state of this coat. I've kept this in tip-top condition for over 180 years now. I'll never get this stain out.”

“You could miracle it away.”

“Hmm… Yes, but… well, I would always know the stain was there. Underneath, I mean.”

Aziraphale finagles himself a favor without ever actually asking for it. Full points, princess. But let’s examine the actual content of the dialogue. This cannot be a complete 100% bluff; Aziraphale is not going to tell a straight lie to Crowley that they both know is false about the respective nature of their powers. It must be the case that there is some truth to this statement. There is a fundamental difference between what Aziraphale can do about the paintball stain and what Crowley is actually going to do about it. Furthermore, what Crowley does is something different than a miracle.

Crowley then blows on the stain, it disappears, and Aziraphale looks quite pleased. Yes, yes, he cajoled Anthony J Acts of Service Crowley into doing his signature move, but also, he’s genuinely thankful that Crowley did something for him that he couldn’t do for himself, because miracles don’t work like that. Notably, Crowley doesn't snap his fingers or make any other gesture that we normally associate with miracles, and we don’t hear the miracle sound, which is further evidence that this is not a miracle, but something different.

If you haven’t already, please read my meta entitled Jimbriel, Satan, the Book of Life, and what it means for Crowley. It explains in depth and with evidentiary support my theory about how erasure works in the Good Omens universe. The Cliff’s notes version is that erasing something, whether it be a name from the Book of Life or a paintball from a coat, is akin to erasing a pencil mark on paper; it’s technically gone but you’ll always know it was there. Underneath.

What Crowley has done, then, is not erasing the paintball stain.

He’s reversed it.

When he blows on the paintball stain, he is reversing time in a microcosm of the universe, truly making it so that the paintball never hit the jacket. In a world full of rubber erasers, Crowley has the only Control-Z. When things are “erased” by the Book of Life, they are changed, but when Crowley reverses something, they never happened (making Beelzebub’s description of the Book of Life actually a more accurate description of Crowley’s power). It is something unique that Crowley can do that Aziraphale can’t, and we haven’t seen any evidence of any other celestial being pausing or reversing time. Please feel free to reblog with links to relevant meta if I’m wrong about that.

In true Neil Gaiman style, Crowley using this power to do something mundane like get rid of paintball paint was an incredibly benign and subtle way to indicate that Crowley has an immense, untapped power that we have not yet seen him use for any major purpose.

I repeat: we didn’t see him use it. Because usually, like Aziraphale, we the audience are exempt from the time freeze, and we get to watch what happens. But this time, we were frozen out with Aziraphale.

Clock Theory revisited: a reinterpretation of “continuity error”

A summary of clock theory

Neil Gaiman’s ask and answer on clock theory

Neil Gaiman responded to an ask about the clock jumping forward from 9:25 to 9:40 before and after the kiss with a single sentence: “It’s a continuity error, I’m afraid.”

In the usual manner, Neil is not lying, but he is relying on you making an incorrect interpretation of his seemingly straightforward and innocuous but actually ambiguous and incredibly meaningful statement. As I stated with regards to the Honolulu Roast chalkboard sign, do not interpret “continuity error” as “production made a mistake.” Interpret “continuity error” as “Aziraphale believes that his experience of time is in lockstep with the actual flow of time and doesn’t realize that 11 minutes passed while he was frozen.”

Let’s consider the evidence:

Image at timestamp 41:04 “[Hold that thought!]” the clock reads 9:25

Image at 45:04 “If Gabriel and Beelzebub can go off together, then we can” the clock still reads 9:25

Image at 47:56 the clock now reads 9:40.

Image at 48:14 the clock reads 9:40

There are two four-minute gaps, from the perspective of the viewer, and we have views of the clock face at both ends of each gap.

Gap 1, from 41:04 to 45:04, the clock hands do not move at all, nor do they in any of the intervening shots.

Gap 2, from 45:04 to 47:56 (or 48:14, as you prefer), the clock hands move 15 minutes.

The Occam’s razor, Doylian explanation for why the clock hands don't move from 41:04 to 45:04 is that the clock is a prop. It does not have any timekeeping mechanism, the hands don’t move unless some human being opens up the glass, reaches in there, and manually adjusts it. They weren’t going to interrupt filming this moving scene to move the clock hands minute by minute, so it seems pretty plausible that the fact that it doesn’t move is just an artifact of production limitations.

The Watsonian explanation, which I do not favor, is that Crowley has frozen time for just the two of them. They are in a microcosm all their own. If true, this would have an abundance of implications, such that they are actually free to speak to each other freely, which they don’t. So I feel like with that alone, we can set this aside, but I’m open to being convinced otherwise.

If we accept the “clock is a prop” explanation for Gap 1, it doesn’t really hold for Gap 2 that they moved it a full fifteen minutes. So much care and attention to detail was given for all other parts of this show; I don’t realistically believe that a production staff member moved the hands a random amount. The music carries us from Crowley’s exit to Metatron’s entrance seamlessly, yet more time seems to have passed in-world than on-screen. There are two possible explanations:

There was more material that was supposed to be filmed to account for 15 minutes that got cut

We are supposed to figure out that there’s some “Greek play” style shenaniganery afoot

I will debunk explanation #1 with simply this: David’s contact lenses would sometimes rotate so that the slit pupils were not vertical. This error was fixed by VFX in post.

You might assume, when watching Good Omens, that Crowley’s serpent-like eyes are created using contact lenses. Or perhaps you’d presume they’re CGI. Actually, they’re a mix of both.

“The CGI versions were usually because the contact lenses had swiveled in David’s eyes … and we had to fix it,” says Mackinnon.

If they could fix Crowley’s eyes in post, there is absolutely no reason to expect that they couldn’t or wouldn’t have fixed the clock hand positions in post, especially if it was someone’s job to reach in there and change the positions to try to maintain set continuity in the first place. Additionally, there is deliberate use of clocks to symbolize various themes across both seasons. A Doylian error like this is not something that would have been overlooked and survived into publication.

So we are left with explanation #2. Time has passed that we, the viewers, don’t observe. What was happening during that time that we missed? More importantly, who knows that this time has passed? Aziraphale doesn’t seem to, and it’s unclear what the Metatron does or doesn’t know.

Some fans have posited that the Metatron is doing the time manipulations, but canonically, the only entity we have observed manipulate time is Crowley. We assume the Metatron is powerful because the angels are all afraid of him, but we’ve never actually seen him do anything, and so have no primary evidence for this. All over, he’s got some big “pay no attention to the man behind the curtain” Wizard of Oz vibes happening; I’m not convinced he could miracle his way out of a wet paper bag, and there’s a chance that in Season 3 we’ll find out that he’s all bluff. Not so with Crowley.

My hypothesis is that Crowley froze Aziraphale and everybody else for a one block radius, including the Metatron, and did something important in the bookshop before it lost its protection. Please see my meta on Sovereignty, Citizenship, and the Bookshop for an evidence-based argument on why the bookshop was the only place in the universe that Crowley could have safely hidden something. Since Aziraphale is no longer the head of an independent embassy, whatever Crowley was keeping safe in there isn’t safe anymore, and needs to be moved. Universe time continued to pass and the clock reflects that, but Aziraphale and the Metatron aren’t aware that they were paused.

Which also gives us a new interpretation for the kiss.

The Kiss, revisited

Crowley didn’t want to send Aziraphale a message.

Crowley needed a plausible cover for the immense effort it was going to take him to freeze time against Aziraphale and the Metatron that he knew was standing outside.

How do I know he knew?

No nightingales.

Juliet. Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day:

It was the nightingale, and not the lark,

That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear;

Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate-tree:

Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.

Romeo. It was the lark, the herald of the morn,

No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks

Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east:

Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day

Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.

I must be gone and live, or stay and die.

No nightingales could be the end of a romance. I argued as much in my inaugural meta just six weeks ago (and what a six weeks it has been, people!) But “no nightingales” could also be a secret signal to two people who have a unique bond through Shakespeare that Crowley has realized he is not safe, and he needs to leave, and he’s trying to tell Aziraphale that without letting their spectator in on the message.

Now he has to stop time to secure whatever item he’d been keeping safe in the bookshop. But keeping Satan at bay required him to lunge upwards, using his whole body to freeze time. He can’t get away with anything like that here in the bookshop, that would give up the ruse.

But what if he lunged at the person everyone knows he’s in love with and violently kisses them on the mouth, his entire body tense with the effort of freezing time in the presence of two ethereal beings? No one would notice the difference, or think anything nefarious of it; a Class A surreptitious time-stop.

One last crackpot theory.

Aziraphale knows what Crowley did. Well, he knows that he froze time, and for the first time realizes that Crowley has locked him out, and that he used the kiss as a cover. The violation of agency, trust, and their romantic bond are all breaking across him in the instant that time restarts, after Crowley has gone away for 11 minutes and returned to almost, but not quite, the same position inside Aziraphale’s arms. It is an intimate act that Aziraphale is fully tuned into, and for the first time, he’s noticing the continuity errors.

His horror-filled expression is one of broken trust. But his bond to Crowley is too strong for even this to break it. He knows that whatever reason Crowley had to pull this trick on him, it must have been a good one. It must have been to protect him.

“I forgive you.”

***

One more completely crackpot theory based on the Gavin Finney interview at The Ineffable Con last weekend.

The camera was supposed to circle them. Finney says that this was to show that they are the center of their universe, and their world is spinning.

Okay, okay. But could it not also have represented the spinning of clock hands? I’m just saying.

Closing obligatory "do not put anything about this in Neil Gaiman's askbox"

Find my entire collection of metas here

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mookinng · 8 months

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OH MY-“ [GLASS SHATTERING] [CAR CRASH] “OH FUCK” [PEOPLE SCREAMING] [EXPLOSION] “MY LEG…!!!” [CRYING] “AHH AHHH” “SHUT THAT BITCH UP” [HELICOPTER NOISES] [SIRENS] WEE WOO WEE WOO [GUNSHOTS] [SCREAMING NOISES] [YELLING] [FLAT LINING]

#jeff ward #one piece live action #opla buggy #buggy one piece #buggy the clown #buggy live action

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aurorawritestoescape · 2 months

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LOVERS ON THE RUN || 2,5k

Pt 3 of Kiss Kiss Bang Bang series

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, angst, rough Joel/soft Joel cos I want it all, m!oral, injury(not reader), blood, cum eating, ball sucking, pussy grinding

Summary: it gets risky… and hot

A/n: hugs and kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing and @iamasaddie for the gif <3<3

Series masterlist || Masterlist

*****

The sirens and gunshots are still ringing loudly in your ears as Tommy is driving Joel and you to a safe place. Yet you can only hope it’ll be safe.

You are sitting in the back of the car with Joel, still clutching the gun in your trembling hand, the other gripping Joel’s jean clad thigh as if grounding yourself to him. The bags with money are at your feet but you forgot all about them. Your widened eyes are fixed on the road. You don’t seem to be followed now but Joel taught you to expect the worst.

“Fuck! That was close!" you exclaim with a tint of hysteria in your loud voice, attempting to shout over the roaring engine of the car and your heart pounding in your ears. You're so high on adrenaline, fear and thrill that you feel invincible, almost immortal.

Tommy's nervous chuckle shows that he's on it too - the only drug that gets you off the best - escaping death with an armful of cash.

Just mere minutes ago you were standing on the brink of the precipice, one wrong move and you’d fall meeting your death. But destiny spared you once again.

“You two are fuckin’ lucky… I had that feeling.. couldn’t relax for shit. Came back and …fucking cops.”

“Thank you, Tommy.” You reach to him and pat his shoulder as he gives you a warm smile in the rear view mirror.

You glance at Joel and say with adoration and almost piety in your voice.

“And thanks to Joel’s number one rule.”

You and Tommy chant it together parodying his drawl, “Always have an escape plan!”

Joel smiles with a corner of his mouth. Your nerves alight, one glance at the man and you wish you two were alone so you could pierce yourself with his cock and ride him until your legs give out. Or suck him off, choking on his length and getting a new fix of adrenaline when you almost suffocate on his member.

But it’s not the place nor the time and Joel isn’t even looking at you.

His head turned to the window, his thoughtful gaze is sliding over the trees and streetlights you’re passing.

Finally the cloud of the high dissipates and you look at him. Really look at him. His forehead is glistening with sweat. He’s chewing on his lower lip and clenching and unclenching his right fist. He’s nervous.

Well he must be, you think, after what happened. Wishing to comfort him you scoot closer, bracing your hand on his chest and lean in to give him a kiss…

“Fuck!, “ Joel winces startling you by a sudden jerk of his whole body and in the next moment you feel the claws of something terrifying grip your heart.

“Where?” You ask with a shaky voice as your eyes are frantically searching all over his body.

He nods down and to the side and you notice his dark shirt stretched over his broad shoulder is glistening. His right arm, the furthest from you, is pressed tightly to his torso.

Your fingers dart to his shoulder but you stop and look at him, eyes screaming ‘What the fuck do I do, Joel?’ You’re frozen, trembling hands raised. You’d never raise them for the police like that but you’re doing it now, staring into the face of your biggest fear - losing him.

“ ‘s gonna be ok baby, don’t worry,” He says through clenched teeth.

The stupor you’ve been in disappears and your head whips to Tommy.

“Joel’s been shot! Floor it!”

*****

The next few minutes flew like a whirlwind of actions and feelings and at the same time dragged on like hours. When you finally arrived at some old abandoned garage you’d already done everything you could in the moving car.

Joel popped a couple of Oxys and now he’s sitting on a stool, shirt ripped off his shoulder exposing a bullet wound. You’re stitching him up, having sent Tommy outside to watch out.

Joel’s every muscle is taught, teeth clenched and he growls with every push of the needle through his skin. The sounds he's making don't let you concentrate. You feel sad for him but can't forget that he growls like that only buried deep in your tight wet heat.

“Can you stop?” you mumble under your breath.

“What?”

“Your growling?”

“Why?” He asks and growls again when you make another stitch.

You shrug and feel him staring at your face, reading you.

It doesn’t take him long, never does, and you hear a soft chuckle coming from the pits of his chest. You glance at him, meeting his narrowed eyes and a shit eating smirk.

“Dirty girl, soakin’ your panties while your man is sufferin’, huh?”

“I’m the one who’s suffering here,” You reply earning another chuckle from him. “And I’m not soaking anything”.

“Should I check, baby?” He smirks tilting his head to the side.

“Jesus, Joel,” you whisper trying to hide that he’s right.

“Don’t call for him yet. I ain’t dead”.

You freeze with a bloody needle hovering over his skin. You can’t see it anymore, your vision gets blurry with tears. You try to hide your face from Joel leaning closer to the wound. But he notices.

“Hey,” he cups your face with the hand he can use, pulling you closer to his face and wipes your tears away with a calloused thumb.

“I’ll be ok, baby.”

“You don’t know it”.

“I do. It’s just a graze”

“No, it’s not. The fucking bullet went through you! You were bleeding so much and.. and …”, you cut yourself off suffocated by the fear.

“Hey,” Joel says and grabs your shoulder, “You stopped it. You did good, ya hear me?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, glistening eyes downcast.

“Look at me,” he asks gently, his gaze is warm and comforting, “Thank you, baby”.

You jerk your head in a nod and a tear falls down on his hand.

“I’m almost done.”

You continue your work in silence.

When it’s done and his arm is secured in a makeshift sling, you take some water from the car to clean yourself off the dark crimson blood. Joel’s blood. Then you start carefully wiping away the red off his big hands and can't help but imagine the world where these hands can’t hold you anymore, can’t wipe away your tears, can’t make you come, can’t be kissed by your loving lips. The wave of panic covers you whole again and you burst into tears.

Immediately embracing you with his healthy arm, no matter the pain he must be in, Joel holds you close kissing wherever he can reach, your hair, eyes, nose, cheeks. No one would believe that this big brutal man could be so gentle and soft.

“I’m s-sorry”, you hiccup after a few minutes of crying on Joel’s healthy shoulder. Your body is still trembling against his and you hate yourself for letting your fear get the best of you.

“Shh.. it’s ok, sweetheart. I’m here. We’re safe,” Joel whispers, pressing you closer to his naked chest peeking from his ripped shirt.

“We aren’t safe, Joel. Not after today.”

“Always have an escape plan, right, baby?”

“You think it’s time? Did we save up enough?”

“Yeah, baby. Enough for us and for Tommy. Can’t wait to see you in that micro bikini you promised me,” he groans in your ear and you quietly giggle. You press your cheek to his broad chest and furrow your brows in thought. You love this life, always have, but you can’t deny that your luck has run out. Going on will be like driving your car towards the edge of the cliff at full speed. With a pang in your heart you realize that it’s time to take another road while you still have each other.

You straighten up, check Joel’s shoulder and arm again and then look deep into his eyes. He notices myriads of thoughts swirling in your mind, wraps his heavy hand around the back of your neck and lightly squeezes.

“If you need somethin’ to calm down…?”

“I can’t smoke now… need clear mind.”

“I ain’t talking about weed, baby”.

“What then?”

“Oh, think, sweetheart. What always helps, huh?” He moves his hand to your face and his thumb brushes your lower lip.

You look confused, head tilted to the side, until he pushes his thick finger into your mouth. Your eyes sparkle with excitement while you’re sucking on his thumb.

“Good girl. C’mon now. Get on your knees.”

He pulls the finger out and you lower yourself kneeling between his legs.

“Sure I won’t hurt you?”

“I’ll be fine. Take what you need, sweetheart,” he replies, spreading his thighs wider for you.

Your heart sings and pussy tingles as you slowly open his jeans, tug them down to the middle of his hips and pull out his soft heavy package.

You press your cheek to his warm crotch and feel his cock twitch. You don’t do anything for a few moments, just breathe in his musk and purr into his soft lightly trimmed hair. Joel’s petting your head and you sink into a trance, as he holds you close.

When you’re ready for more, you start leaving open mouth kisses to his inner thighs, balls, shaft, tip. With every touch of your lips, you feel him grow bigger, stiffer, harder and you can’t help but whine feeling yourself gush. So you start grinding your clothed pussy against your booted heel, desperate for any pressure.

You look up at Joel with your doe eyes, full of devotion and love and he groans, scooting closer to the edge of the seat.

“Go ahead, baby. Suck on it. It’ll calm ya right up.”

You know it will. So you take his already hard cock in your hand and latch on the fat tip. Your eyes flutter shut as soon as precome hits your tongue. You hum as you lick it off him and then take his length deeper into your hot mouth. In a few moments you’re already drooling around him, soaking his cock with your saliva while your warm palms gently caress his heavy balls.

“Fuck… yeah, baby,” Joel groans making your pussy ache with need.

When his cock is nice and wet you pull your mouth away replacing it with your hand and bend lower to suck on the velvet skin of his sack. You trace its seam with the tip of your tongue and take a ball in your mouth. You roll it with your tongue and then suck. Joel’s huge fist clutches your hair, not too hard but enough to signal you to keep going. You suck one into your mouth, slurp and lick around it and then part from it with a pop.

“Hnggg…That’s my girl,” Joel praises you through growls when you start working on the other ball. Your hands aren’t resting, one clasped around his long cock, sliding up and down from the girthy base to the throbbing head, as the other caresses the other ball.

You’re burning up with arousal and not being able to contain yourself, you grind, grind, grind your aching pussy against your heel.

Joel lightly tugs at your hair to get your hazy half lidded eyes to look at him and chuckles when you do,

“Shit, look at ya. Already gone just from suckin’ on my sack.”

You let go of his ball with a pop and his cock twitches in your hand. A clear drop beads on the slit and you lick it off, not tearing your eyes from the man.

“Yeah, now onto the main course, sweetheart,” he groans with a smirk.

You smile back, licking your lips as your hand returns to his sack.

“Don’t hold back, Joel. Please.”

You don’t think it’s possible but his gaze turns even darker, completely obsidian with lust, his cock is throbbing as you’re holding it at the base.

“Ya got it, baby”.

His hand, soft and gentle just a second ago, grabs your hair tight and pulls you closer. You gasp as your lips smash into his warm head but you don’t hesitate to open them and take more and more of his cock, until your nose touches his dark pubic hair. Your throat is trying to accommodate his length, eyes are welling up with tears, fingers gripping his thighs. He fills you so well that all the fears are quickly pushed out of your head by him. You nearly suffocate on his thick cock, squirming between his thighs but he’s holding you tight.

“Keep it in, baby, ya doing so good…”

Your throat contracts around him and he pulls you off with a curse. You cough, swallowing air, drooling all over yourself while he’s holding you by your hair like a dog on a leash.

“Gonna make me come too fast… lemme enjoy this mouth of yours.”

Your mind has already shut down, all your actions, senses, emotions are focused on pleasuring him.

Your mouth is on his cock again, tongue pushing on the underside as you slide up his length and swirl it around his fat head. You’re drunk on Joel, his taste, sounds, scent, his essence is inside you, around you, everywhere. He’s your whole world and they almost took him from you. Angry tears roll out of your eyes while you hollow your cheeks and bob your head up and down, in control of his pleasure but completely under his power. You feel his cock stiffen and then it starts pulsating in your mouth. You take him deeper and drink his cum as Joel is spurting it generously right into your throat. With another roll of your hips against your boot you come, moaning around his length in your mouth, seeing stars behind your eyelids. When he discards of the last drop of his seed, he coos over you,

“Oh, baby, did your little pussy come already?”

Not waiting for the answer, Joel roughly tugs on your hair again, dull pain making you whine, lifts your head off his softening cock and finally sees your face, stained with fresh tears.

“Fuck, baby, c’mere,” he pulls you up on your feet wincing at the pain in his shoulder. You immediately push your face into the crease of his neck, trying not to hurt him, breathing him in. He turns to you and his lips find yours. You kiss each other, desperately and feverishly, like it’s the last time before your old life ends and you meet a new beginning together.

Joel holds you tight one second and in the next his arm falls and his whole weight slumps on you. With his name on your trembling lips, you see his eyes roll back and then close.

*****

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luxaofhesperides · 2 months

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if you give a ghost a trauma: a parody fic

read on ao3.

Danny wishes to be sent someplace he could have a better family. Unfortunately, that lands him in a Gotham where tropes are made reality to the extreme. He really just can't catch a break. (or: a dcxdp parody fic where i make danny the only one able to see how bizarre things are. this does not help him in any way.)

. . .

“We’re gonna get you!” Maddie Fenton, a Bad Parent™ cries as she shoots her gun at Danny, her half dead son.

“No!” he wails, flying around as he dodges the shots. “I wish my parents weren’t trying to capture me for Evil Science Reasons! I wish I had a better family!”

“Lol, done,” said Desiree, snapping her fingers.

Danny only has time to say Uh-oh before he’s sucked away into a magic portal and spit out into a dark and dreary city. In just the one second he’s there, before he even hits the ground, he hears gunshots, screaming, and the wailing of police sirens. Then he hits the ground and groans, releasing his ghost form to go back to being a human.

“Where am I?” he asks himself, getting to his feet and looking around. The alleyway he’s in is empty and full of garbage just scattered around. Wherever he may be, it clearly needed to invest more in its sanitation department.

He spots a fire escape on the side of a building and uses it to climb onto the rooftop, a totally normal course of action. Then he stares at the city, glowing with the street lights and neon business lights and a spotlight with the shape of a bat in it glowing on the clouds.

“This might as well just happen,” Danny says, “My life is already so weird anyway.”

He stands there for some time, at a loss of what to do next. The wind is cold and brings with it a promise of rain, and from the looks of the dark clouds above him, it’s going to rain soon. Danny needs shelter, fast.

“Hey, kid, you okay?” says someone who snuck up behind him.

Danny shrieks and jumps, nearly going over the edge of the roof.

“Woah!” the person says, grabbing his arm and pulling him back to safety. “That was close!”

Danny blinks up at his savior, then squints. This guy’s definitely not normal, since he’s wearing a domino mask and a lightly armored black suit with a blue bird emblem stretching across his chest.

“Way to nearly kill him, Nightwing,” says a new person, dropping down onto the roof from the sky. This new person wears red and black, a pair of bandoliers crossing over his chest.

“Well, I saved him, didn’t I!”

“Um, hi,” Danny interjects. “Thanks for grabbing me before I fell, but who are you?”

“You don’t know who we are?” blue bird asks rather incredulously.

“Do you think I’m asking just for fun.”

Red and black steps in with a smile. “I’m Red Robin, that’s Nightwing. We’re vigilantes trying to keep Gotham safe.”

Danny makes an educated guess that the city they’re currently in is Gotham. Not a city he’s ever heard before, but what does he know?

“Okay,” he says. There’s really not much else he can say.

“You never answered my question,” Nightwing says. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah, just fine. No idea where I am or how to get home, but it can always be worse, you know?”

“Did you get lost?” Red Robin asks, pulling a holographic computer up from his wrist. Tucker would kill to get his hands on something like that. Danny wonders if he can get his own as a souvenir.

“Something like that, yeah,” he replies. Another few gunshots ring out loudly through the streets, closer than they were before. Danny flinches, then ducks down a little, looking back towards the street apprehensively. “Um. You guys gonna do anything about that?”

The two vigilantes shrug, as if that’s an acceptable course of action. And then a hand shoots up and grabs the edge of the roof by Danny’s foot, making him jump in the air. Nightwing catches him yet again and moves him away from the ledge.

A red helmet, leather jacket wearing guy built like a pro-wrestle hauls himself up the roof easily. There are guns tucked into holsters on his thighs and a red, block bat stuck on his chest.

“Should I be concerned,” Danny says blankly.

“Nah, it’s just Red Hood,” Red Robin replies, “The only person he ever tries to kill is me.”

“Cause you’re a replacement. And also, get over it, that was ages ago We’re good now. I haven’t even had a Pit Rage episode in months!”

“So the bullets you shot at me last week were just for fun?”

“Yeah, and they were rubber, so it’s not like you would have gotten hurt.”

Danny takes a few steps closer to Nightwing, hiding behind him. He’s getting bad vibes all around from that guy.

“Tch,” a new voice says right behind Danny, making him flinch. A young boy with a sword steps out from behind him and joins the crew of vigilantes just hanging out on the roof. “As if he’s even worth that much attention.”

“Hello to you too, Demon Brat,” Red Robin says.

“How many of you are there?” Danny asks. “Don’t you need to like, protect the city?”

“Batgirl and Spoiler are working on it,” Nightwing says.

“We’re doing what?” another voice says, and a energetic blond girl dressed in purple armor hops onto the roof, tucking her grappling hook away. Following her is another person in all black, face fully covered, with stitches covering the mouth portion to make it seem as though they can’t talk. The person leaves the blond girl behind to head straight to Danny, making him take a few nervous steps back.

“Dead,” she says, poking his chest with a finger.

Is that a threat? It feels like a threat.

“No?” he tries.

“What are you talking about, Batgirl?” Red Hood interrupts. “We all know the only dead person here is me.”

Everyone promptly groans, telling him to shut up about it and go one night without mentioning his death.

Okay, that seems concerning! Is he another halfa? Is he like Vlad? Danny’s going to be so mad if he got dropped into another world directly into the hands of another Vlad.

“You’re dead?” he asks, leaning away from Batgirl as she pokes him once more.

“Yeah.”

“Same hat?” Danny tries, squinting at him.

“The fuck?” is the answer, which tells him that he probably doesn’t know what Danny’s on about. There’s still a 6% chance that he’s just lying to make Danny look like a fool, though.

6% is more than 5%, which means it’s enough for him to just act on instinct and walk right up to the gun-wielding Red hood. He tries to consciously use his ghost sense, which is an odd feeling that reminders him of the moment before he hiccups.

A light blue mist wafts out his mouth.

Yep, the rumors are true: this man is dead.

“Once, again,” Red Hood says, “The fuck?”

“Seconded,” Nightwing adds.

“Third!” Spoiler joins in.

Danny takes a page out of Batgirl’s book and pokes Red Hood’s chest. It’s very solid, only hard muscle, and reminds him a bit of Dan. That’s never a good sign. Something about Red Hood is making his skin crawl though, a sense of wrongness that sets alarm bells ringing in the back of his mind.

“Did you come back instantly when you died?” he asks.

The white lenses of Red Hood’s helmet turn neon green. “Why the fuck are you asking me that.”

“Just checking. The green I’m seeing right now is making me think you’re a halfa.”

“What’s a halfa?” Red Robin interjects.

“An unlucky soul like me,” Danny responds, distracted. He lays his palm flat against Red Hood’s chest. The vigilante holds still, as if frozen, letting Danny do as he please. The ectoplasm he feels in other ghosts is usually calm, made unique by the personality of the ghost it belongs to, but it doesn’t roil and try to hurt the host like the ectoplasm in Red Hood is doing.

He pulls back and looks around at the circle of vigilantes surrounding him. “Can anyone answer how he came back? Where did he even find this must rotten ectoplasm?”

“Pit,” Batgirl helpfully answers.

“Pit,” Danny repeats. “Like a pit of death? Toxic sludge? Landfill pit gone evil? What am I working with here.”

“Lazarus Pits,” the little one with the sword says. “How do you know about them?” He then pulls out his sword and points it at Danny, ignoring the way Nightwing hisses Robin, no!

His name is Robin? Isn’t that just Red Robin’s name? Did this Robin have a color added to his name as well?

“I literally don’t, but if it’s green and weird, then it’s probably ecto.” He turns back to Red Hood. “I’m gonna take care of it now.” And then he shoves his hand into Red Hood’s chest, ignoring the alarmed shouts from the other vigilantes. They try to pull him away, but Danny goes intangible, making their hands fall right through him as he gets a good grip on the ecto, sending his own out in a steady stream to chase the rotten flow towards his hand, then yanks it out.

It’s green and goopy in his hands, steaming slightly in the air. “Ew,” Danny says. “That’s nasty. You were just living with this inside you?”

Red Hood doesn’t seem to hear him.

Red Hood takes off his helmet and stares at the rotten ectoplasm in Danny’s hand. Nightwing approaches him cautiously, laying a hand on his shoulder.

“Hood? You doing okay? How are you feeling?”

“It’s gone,” Red Hood answers, shocked. “The Pit Rage. It’s gone. I haven’t felt this clear headed since before I died.”

“That must have sucked,” Danny says empathetically, then shakes the nasty ecto off his hand. It lands on the roof with a wet splat.

Once again: ew.

“How did you do that?” Red Robin asks, crowding into Danny’s space. Batgirl slides up behind him, trapping him between them.

“Did you not just watch me yank it out? It was easy. Anyways, y’all got jobs to do, and I got places to go. So I’ll see you never!”

He tries to fly away, but only manages to get a few feet before he’s pulled down by multiple people grabbing at him.

“What is going on here,” A low, gravelly voice demands. Yet another vigilante appears, gliding out of the shadows. This one is much bigger than everyone else, cloaked in darkness, with a helm that has two little ear things poking out on top.

“Batman,” Robin says, “This meta cured Hood of his Pit Madness.”

“I see,” Batman replies, looking Danny over. “Are you an orphan?”

What the fuck. Who just asks that?

“No.”

“Are your parents well?”

“Sure? My mom was pretty energetic while shooting at me before I came here.”

“You do not have to be unsafe in your home again,” Batman says, grabbing something out of his tactical fanny pack. “You can live with us instead.”

He holds out fucking adoption papers.

Danny backs up as fast as he can, shaking his head. “Oh, no! No you don’t! I did not trade one fruitloop for another!”

“No new brother?” Batgirl asks sadly.

“Definitely not,” he insists. “No thank you! I’m fine as I am and fully plan on going home.”

Batman frowns. “You said your mother was shooting at you.”

“Yeah, and? The food in our fridge comes to life every meal and we have to fight it. This is normal for us. Chill out and put those papers away.”

The entire crew of vigilantes seems very put out with Batman obligingly puts the adoption papers away.

“Yeah, I’m done here. Go back to protecting the city. I’m just gonna… go.”

Danny doesn’t wait for them to say anything else before flies away, remembering to go intangible this time. He soars through the polluted streets of Gotham, weaving between tall buildings made with dark stone and decorated with gargoyles. It’s all very dark and dreary, which means Sam would love it.

She would not be loving the pollution, though. Danny certainly isn’t.

“I wish I could go home,” he says loudly, looking up at the sky expectantly.

No magic portal appears to yoink him back.

“I wish I was at home again, and not here!”

Desire does not appear to help him out. She leaves him stranded in Gotham, pouting at the sky until he gives up and flies down to sit on a new roof and angst about his situation. Hopefully this time a gaggle of vigilantes won’t bother him.

Resting his head against his hands, he sighs. Then again, and again, loudly. “Man, this sucks,” he says to himself.

“What’s got a kitten like you so down?” someone says behind him.

“I’m so tired of random people sneaking up behind me on rooftops,” he informs them without turning around. If they wanna talk to him, they gotta got to him, not the other way around.

“Ah, ran into the Bats, did you?”

They’re called Bats? But only two were Bats. None of the other vigilantes fit the theme. That’s just lazy and inconsistent. They should rebrand to something better.

The person walks over and sits down next to him. Danny glances over and is startled to find a woman in a leather body suit, with a hood that has cat ears and googles with an orange tint.

…Is everyone in this city just dressed strangely at all times? Is this the normal fashion of Gotham?

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to stare. Who are you?”

The woman laughs. “Oh, so you haven’t heard of Catwoman?”

“Nope. No clue who you are.”

“Well,” she purrs, “A pleasure to meet you. I’m a thief.”

The dots connect in his mind. “Like a cat burglar!”

“Yes, like that.”

“Man, this city is wild and I come from a place that deals with ghosts on a daily basis.”

“So what are you doing in a place like this? Gotham isn’t kind to newcomers.”

Danny sighs, yet again, and tilts his head back to look up at the cloudy, starless sky. “I made a dumb mistake and got sucked into a magic portal that spit me out here. I have no clue how I’m going to get home.”

“Do you have a place to stay?”

He glares at Catwoman. “I’m not open to being adopted. I’ll just eat any papers you send my way.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” she reassures, “I have no interest in being a mother. But I have a spare bedroom if you need it, and I wouldn’t mind teaching you a few tricks of the trade. It’ll be fun, messing with Batman.”

Ah, so she’s doing this for Trickster Reasons. Danny can respect that.

And he also doesn’t have any other options. Considering how much gun violence and general violence he’s hearing in this city, he’ll probably be killed an embarrassing number of times just from trying to find a place to sleep on the streets for one night. Between cold, dangerous streets with storm clouds hanging heavy over his head or a guest bedroom in the home of a thief with a theme, there’s really no choice.

“If you don’t mind me hanging around, I’d really appreciate having a place to sleep until I figure out a way home.”

“Come along, then! I was just about to turn in for the night.” Catwoman stands up, stretches, then takes hold of the whip on her waist and snaps it out. She takes a running leap off the building, then throws her whip out to wrap around a billboard to swing across the street.

Danny watches her go, then follows her lead, flying behind her, ready to catch her just in case. But Catwoman moves with ease, clearly experienced in recklessly moving through the streets, and makes her way to a highrise apartment with no trouble at all.

They land on a balcony just as the sky rumbles with ominous thunder. Another second later, and the clouds open up and heavy rain begins to fall.

Catwoman throws the door open and they both scramble to get inside before they get drenched. The lights flick on, revealing a stylish modern apartment, filled with art pieces and ornamental bonsai trees. A few quiet cries come from corners of the room, and then cats appear, one after another, moving around Danny’s legs curiously before turning to Catwoman.

“That was a close one,” Catwoman says conversationally as she takes off her hood and googles, revealing her face. Her pixie cut is messy and her eyes are bright and sharp, just like a cat’s. “I suppose since we’re going to be working together from now on, that we properly introduce ourselves.” She holds out a hand for to shake. “Selina Kyle. I look forward to the trouble we’ll cause together.”

Danny stares down at her hand, then takes hold of it. Looks like he’s going to be a thief! Well, it’ll be a fun story for later.

He doesn’t want his name attached to his new life of crime, though. And, he figures, this is a fresh start. New life, new name. There’s one that pops into mind immediately, and he latches onto it, ready to step into the world of crime.

“Call me Neal Caffrey,” he says, shaking her hand. “I’m ready to start when you are.”

#my writing #dc x dp #dpxdc #dp x dc #dcxdp #dp x dc fanfic #purposefully writing something bad is actually so freeing. everyone do this it will make writing so much easier #if ure confused abt the neal caffery joke check my end notes on ao3 ;)

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vcrnons · 6 months

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Thought you'd appreciate this <3

#💌 - mailbox.#❤️‍🔥 - moots.#rj 🍒#this was not only cruel. not only rude. not only devastating. not only uncalled for. not only painful. not only violent.#it was possibly lethal #ARE YOU KIDDING ME #this grey hair on him is actually going down in history as one of my favourite hao hairs oh my GOD.#he looks SOOOOOO good?????????😭😭😭😭😭#the cardigan??????? hello???????????? the CHAIN???????????????#the collarbone WHAT IF I [muffled screaming] [tyres screeching] [sirens wailing] [gunshots]#……..#im fine.

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spr0ut-b1t5 · 4 months

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ANGELSTONE 💥💥( [GLASS SHATTERING] [CAR CRASH] “GOOD LORD” [PEOPLE SCREAMING] [EXPLOSION] [CRYING] [HELICOPTER NOISES] [SIRENS] WEE WOO WEE WOO [GUNSHOTS] [SCREAMING NOISES] [YELLING] [FLAT LINE] )💥💥💥

#jrwi #jrwi fanart #jrwi apotheosis #just roll with it apotheosis #just roll with it #peter sqloint #elena sqloint #jrwi rumi #angelstone #my art #sprout but good

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selenastaylors · 1 year

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taylor performed would’ve could’ve shouldve? [GUNSHOT] [CAR CRASH] [BOOM] [PEOPLE SCREAMING] [SIRENS] [GLASS BREAKS] [DISTANT YELLING] [EXPLOSION]

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slashbitch2 · 10 months

Text

blood, betrayal and granola bars PT1

Summary: after a routine takeover of a HYDRA base goes terribly wrong, Natasha Romanoff finds herself stuck with her worst nightmare...you. Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader W.C: 5.7k Words part two

An explosion to your left sent shrapnel and debris flying through the air. You quickly tucked your face into the crook of your arm, too distracted by the task at hand to take note of whether anything had pierced your skin. The sound of not-too distant gunshots motivated you onwards as adrenaline pumped throughout your body and numbed the injuries you were sure to have acquired.

Another blast, this time to the right and a lot closer. Shockwaves had you stumbling backwards, falling to the ground and catching your breath. The explosion was intense enough to have penetrated the outer wall of the building, now exposing you to the frigid environment that lurked outside. You felt a gust of wind encircle you, carrying a chill with it. You shivered, watching as the flakes of snow drifted inside now.

An obstructed voice crackled in your earpiece. “ALL REMAINING PERS-NEL TO LAND- BAY ONE.” You rose to your feet, cringing at the pain that shot through your right side. “I REPEAT--- LAST AIRCRAFT CLEARED FOR TAKE OFF—LANDING BAY ONE.”

The aircraft hanger wasn’t too far away, but common sense told you there was no way you would make it in time. Even then, the likelihood of it successfully taking off in these conditions and without being shot down was slim. You leant against the wall, ready to sink back to the ground in defeat.

A distant boom sounded, followed by the very walls around you shaking and groaning as if barely able to hold up the remaining structure. Then a clunk, and suddenly the fluorescent white lighting switched off. You were thrown into an obscurity which matched the darkness outside. It seemed as though the night air was seeping in through the gap in the wall, shadows suffusing across the maze of corridors.

And then, ironically late, a siren rang out. It started quietly elsewhere, then grew louder and louder until the sound was echoing around your end of the base. A second later and the accompanying red emergency lights turned on, drenching the grey walls, ceiling and floor a bloody red.

Your eyes scanned the area, thankfully deserted, head whipping from side to side as you tried to work out where exactly you were in amongst the chaos. Your gaze fell upon a sign engraved into the wall reading NW12, the corridor you were currently in. Despite having spent the last couple months stationed in the base, your mind was blank and muddled. You desperately scoured your mind for if there was anywhere nearby which could possibly help your situation.

The storage room.

It was just at the end of the corridor and to the left, tucked away in a corner hopefully no one would have found yet. With a new motivation pushing you onwards, you set off at a jog, boots clanging against the metal ground at an uneven pace. Muffled gunshots, screams and footsteps continued playing in the background in a horrifying loop. As you turned the corner, you prayed nobody was round the other side, but didn’t dare to spare a glance.

The emergency protocols meant all locks had been disabled, but pure exhaustion and desperation had you all but slamming yourself against the storage room door. It gave way under your body weight, and you rather ungracefully stumbled through the doorway.

Most the shelves were barren, with everyone having grabbed what they could as the invasion began. But hidden away on the bottom corner shelf you caught sight of a First Aid kit. You lunged towards it, willing to take anything you could. To your convenience, someone had abandoned their backpack in the room, so you grabbed hold of that and shoved the kit inside. The backpack contained a jacket, gloves, pencil and an empty water bottle, so you stole those too,

Was it still stealing if the owner was probably already dead?

There wasn’t much left in terms of weapons. You had a gun on you when the conflict begun, but by now most of the bullets had been fired. All that remained in the storage room was a taser, which you opted to take anyway. It was better than nothing.

With replenished supplies, you decided now was as good as any time to leave. There was an underground garage with several vehicles equipped for tough terrain, and so that was probably your best bet if it hadn’t been raided by now.

The base was located quite literally in the middle of nowhere, with only one road in and out: a straight dirt track that was likely covered by a thick layer of snow this time of year. It was never busy as the base was relatively new and unknown amongst most HYDRA agents. To have been stationed here was an honour, and the fact that the base had been discovered by SHIELD was almost unbelievable.

Brandishing your gun in front of you and ready to fire at will, you began the journey to the garage. For a couple minutes, only the alarm and an eerie silence accompanied your passage through the base. With most the building being in ruins now, the conflict appeared to have been taken outside. SHIELD versus Hydra. Both attempting to evacuate while both making a last-ditch attempt at stopping each other from escaping unharmed.

They were as bad as each other…

Opting for a riskier approach, you lowered your weapon in order to start sprinting. Monotonous grey corridors turned into a blur around you, marked only by the occasional splatter of blood and lifeless body left to rot. Or even worse, the ones still conscious that called meekly out for help. You felt sick to your stomach. SHIELD and HYDRA agents lay alongside each other, unintelligible from one another in death.

Onwards you charged into the very core of the base where bullets were still being fired. You ducked around them, miraculously making it through unscathed. Instinct guided your movements; left then right, left again and straight ahead. And then you reached the final stretch, a concrete staircase winding down to the underground level. You halted for barely a moment to listen out for danger and heard nothing but your own heartbeat thundering.

You took a frantic step, ready to descend when something solid crashed against your chest and sent you soaring backwards. Your thudded pathetically against the wall and fell down, watching as a figure swung herself down from the stair rail above.

You fumbled for your gun and aimed it at the woman. She kicked it out of your grip before you had a chance to fire. While she was unbalanced, you shoved yourself forwards and kicked her leg out from under her. She grunted, hitting the hard concrete ground. You scrambled to retrieve the gun, but she was too quick, grabbing you by the shoulders and dragging you back.

In one last attempt, you seized the taser from where it was tucked in the side pocket of the backpack and dug it into her side. There was a buzz, a flash of electricity and sizzle. She cried out in pain, loosening her grip enough for you to escape.

You didn’t bother to get the gun but leapt over her body and down the first set of stairs, then jumped down the next, and the next. A gunshot resonated through the stairway, the bullet bouncing off the wall right where your head had been a second ago. You glanced up to see the redhead catching up now, aiming the gun and about to shoot again.

You dodged another bullet, descended another level. Another shot rung out, this one nowhere near you. There was no time to celebrate the ground you had gained as another ricocheted off the metal handrail right next to your hand. And then, a faint click. She had run out of bullets, and you had almost reached the door to the garage.

Without the gun in hand anymore, the woman leapt over each rail and masterfully swung herself down, skipping the stairs. By the time you were grasping onto the doorhandle, she was kicking you in the stomach. The door swung shut again as you flailed backwards. She had you cornered, your last chance at freedom now gone, yet she didn’t immediately attack.

At the same moment, you both heard it.

From the other side of the wall, a harsh beeping, its pace getting quicker and quicker.

“Shit.” You glanced at your attacker, who’s horrified expression matched your own.

The beeps grew louder, less distance between each as you remained paralysed, waiting for the bomb to implode.

She sprung suddenly at you, throwing both your bodies to the ground.

A shuddering blast.

Overpowering heat.

And then, darkness.

The first thing Natasha became aware of was pain. It started as a dull thudding in her head, then spread to a terrible ache all over. She was exhausted in every sense of the word, and endlessly grateful for the comfort of the mattress beneath her. A high-pitched ringing in her ears drowned out all other thoughts, becoming gradually louder and contributing to the pounding headache she had.

But what was that sound?

She tried desperately to think what could be causing it, or perhaps more importantly, where she currently was, but her mind came up blank.

The mattress shifted beneath her, a spring suddenly poking into her stomach. She tried repositioning herself to avoid the discomfort, and in doing so inhaled a lungful of dust. She coughed and spluttered, untangling herself and trying to sit up. Her body felt as heavy as lead, but something here wasn’t right.

Fighting against the agonising pain behind her eyes, Natasha finally took in her surroundings.

Pale sunlight was filtering in through the broken structure, reflecting blindingly off the snow that had found its way inside the remaining shelter. All around her was piles of shattered concrete, with metal pipes and other indistinguishable objects poking out. Snow had begun to cover everything in a crisp white blanket, as if hiding the damage done, reclaiming the site.

It all came back to her rather abruptly; the HYDRA base, the mission, how everything had gone wrong. The person she was tasked with capturing had escaped, and the mission was taking a turn for the worse. An order had just come in over the intercom for all remaining SHIELD personnel to escape, so she had been attempting to make her own way out when she’d run into-

Natasha realised now that the mattress that had cushioned her fall was in fact not a mattress.

You lay face down underneath her, unconscious where she had knocked you to the ground before the bomb had gone off. Despite how the world around her spun, and how every muscle called out for rest, Natasha was quick to push herself off you, sitting back on her heels to observe your current state. In response, you groaned, slowly but surely coming back to life.

She hadn’t gotten a good look at you previously, only now allowing her eyes to scan over your face, which was littered in small cuts and bruises. Yet underneath it all, she was forced to admit you were rather beautiful. She almost regretted inflicting such injuries on you- like damaging a skilfully sculpted statue. Her gaze continued roaming over your body, taking in the basic protective gear you were wearing and concluding you were at least partly battle trained, and definitely still a threat.

The taser you had used against her was still tightly gripped in your hand, and she shuddered at the memory of how much it had hurt. She decided there was no way she was leaving you with it and leant over you to take the weapon from your grasp.

Suddenly, your elbow flew back, smacking into her face and throwing her off balance.

“Fuck!” Natasha cupped her nose, spluttering through the pain.

You had turned yourself over onto your back and were holding the taser out like a sword. There was recognition in your eyes, but you appeared just as disorientated as she felt- only without a freshly broken nose. You were breathing heavily, eyes darting around the destroyed stairwell and recalling what had happened.

You finally looked back at Natasha, expression softening ever so slightly as you took in the blood pouring from her nose. “Truce?” You suggested apologetically.

Natasha didn’t respond, her mind too busy racing over what was the best course of action in these circumstances.

You pushed yourself up onto your elbows and stared at her. “Did I break your jaw too or do you not speak English?” Then sighed as she continued being silent. “Tregua? Перемирие? Trêve?”

“Yes, I speak English.” She harshly answered at last, putting an end to your rambling.

You watched her curiously as she took a deep breath, bracing her hands on either side of her broken nose. Natasha knew the best thing to do was pop her nose back into place. She closed her eyes, mentally counting down from five and then pushing harshly inwards. There was a load pop as she grimaced, waiting for the agonising feeling to subside.

“You couldn’t have done that, I don’t know, not in front of me?”

“You’re the reason my nose was broken in the first place.” Natasha muttered, shooting you an unimpressed look.

“It was an instinctual response!” You stated, loosening your grip on the taser. All things considered, neither of you were fit to fight one another. “But I’m sorry.” You conceded, eyeing up the current state of her nose.

Out of all the things she expected from you, an apology wasn’t one of them. Natasha reconsidered you for a moment. You were in a more dishevelled state than she was, with dark red stains starting to seep through patches of your uniform, and a nasty gash along your forehead. With every small movement you winced, leading her to conclude that perhaps you didn’t pose as much of a threat to her anymore, apart from the taser which you were reluctant to let go of.

“If that’s your reaction to waking up after a bomb’s just exploded then I don’t want to be near you on a normal day.” She quipped, summoning the resolve to stand up fully.

Despite everything, you smiled and joined in. “Yeah, I did wonder why none of my relationships lasted past one night.”

Natasha didn’t respond, instead scanning herself for injuries. A bullet had nicked her shoulder, but otherwise every other cut was small and inconsequential. The main sufferance was the general ache that encompassed her whole body. From head to toe she felt beaten and bruised and knew it was only going to get worse. The stillness that enveloped the base meant that any chance of rescue was minimal. With SHIELD evacuations likely having finished hours ago, she would have to make her own way back. Somehow.

The wall separating the stairway and underground garage was now nothing but a pile of rubble. She could see that roof had collapsed in on itself and destroyed any remaining vehicles, resigning herself to the fact that the journey would have to be made on foot. Luckily enough, the structure of the building had taken the brute impact of the explosion instead of falling inwards and crushing you both.

Although unlikely that any survivors or supplies remained, Natasha decided to search the remnants of the base. She started to climb up the fragmented chunks of concrete that had once formed the ceiling when you called out after her. “Wait, where are you going?”

She didn’t bother to slow down or face you. If she was to make progress, then there was no time for delay.

“Hey!” You quickly followed the route Natasha had taken, clambering up after her. “Wouldn’t it make sense for us to stick together? For now, at least.” You proposed between breaths. You were already exhausting yourself trying to keep up with her.

“That depends. Do you plan on tasing or elbowing me in the face again?” After hauling herself up one last block, the ground levelled out into a gentle slope. From here she was able to overlook the barren, colourless scenery, broken up only by the demolished structure.

“You attacked me first!” Crunching footsteps in the snow alerted her to the fact you had caught up. She turned back to see you walking over determinedly, occasionally slipping on the icy, uneven surface.

“I attacked a HYDRA agent, don’t make it personal.”

“Yes, and then you saved a HYDRA agent.”

Natasha halted. “What do you mean?”

“You pushed me to the ground before the bomb went off,” You explained with a shrug. “And I highly doubt it was because you wanted a softer landing.”

Natasha nodded. “I did.” She hadn’t really thought of it like that, but in retrospect, she had probably saved you from some life-threatening injuries.

“Why?”

“Force of habit, I guess.” She sniffed, refusing to meet your probing eyes.

“Well, intentional or not, thank you.” You said sincerely. “Let me make it up to you.”

“How, by slowing me down? Turning me in to HYDRA?” She scoffed.

“No. By sharing my supplies,”

Natasha glanced briefly at the backpack hanging from your shoulder. After being stood still for a minute, she had become acutely aware of the snow falling softly all around her. Everywhere she looked was a mix of white and greys, with a line of dark green trees in the distance. The base appeared already devoid of everything, in the process of being reclaimed by the unpredictable wintry weather.

As if reading her mind, you added, “trust me, you won’t find anything useful in the wreckage if that’s what you’re hoping for.”

Natasha didn’t say anything, feeling rather defeated.

“Look, I have a first aid kit. I can treat that gash on your shoulder.” You placed the backpack down to rummage through. “And I have a jacket in here. I can see you shivering.” You held up a sandy coloured jacket. It would hardly provide much warmth, but it was a start.

“Fine.” She surrendered. As much as she didn’t trust you, there was also no point in going separate ways. “But only if you drop the taser.”

You frowned, shaking your head. “What if we run into trouble? This is the middle of the Russian wilderness. You think you’ll be able to take down a bear, or a wild boar with just some showy Karate Kid tricks?”

Natasha smirked. “Karate Kid?”

“You heard me.” You quirked an eyebrow challengingly, shoving the jacket back inside the bag.

“Fine,” She folded her arms. “Then give me the taser.”

You froze for a second, pursing your lips thoughtfully. “You really have trust issues, you know.” With a sigh, you hesitantly placed the taser in her open hand. “Try anything and I’ll hit you with my backpack.”

“I’m sure me and my Karate Kid tricks can handle that.” Natasha examined the small weapon. It wouldn’t do much damage, but you were right, it was better than nothing. She tucked it into her belt where she usually holstered her gun.

“Alright. Truce, Miss…?” You extended a hand, which she shook cautiously.

“Natalie.” She lied. “Natalie Rushman.”

“That’s not your real name, is it?”

“Nope.” Natasha didn’t bother to elaborate.

The location of the HYDRA base you had called home for the last few months was incredibly convenient for running undetected by most major governmental bodies, but as you soon realised, it was possibly the worst for wilderness hikes. You relayed this thought to Natasha, who stubbornly insisted on walking a few paces behind you. “To keep an eye on you,” she had said.

“I’m not sure walkability is usually taken into consideration when deciding that sort of thing.” She said in all seriousness, though you were certain you heard a smile in her voice.

It had been a few hours since you’d formed your impromptu truce and left the destroyed base. The sun was now steadily rising through the pale blue sky, the clouds having parted and snow discontinuing its assault. Still, enough of it crunched under foot that an uncomfortable puddle of water had invaded your boots.

“If I were in charge on designing military bases, I’d have them built in the middle of busy cities.” You stated, thinking out loud.

“Oh yeah?” Natalie prompted, thoroughly uninterested.

“Yeah. Inside of Starbucks’ or something. Somewhere no one would suspect.” You chuckled to yourself. “But I guess that’s why they don’t let me make the decisions.” You lied.

Despite finding Nat’s company to be relatively enjoyable, at the end of the day you were on different sides, and you were reluctant to let her discover your true role or identity within HYDRA.

“Well, that is a pretty stupid idea.”

You put your hand on your heart and turned back to her acting offended. Your gaze lingered on her for a second longer than necessary. Amongst the endless, flat fields of snow, Natalie provided respite for your eyes. The striking red of her hair and inky black suit stood out like artwork on an otherwise blank, white canvas.

After a beat you turned to face forwards again. “You’re the one with the taser. I think I should be making you walk in front.”

You heard her exhale loudly, but otherwise she said nothing.

“Or what if I tried to make a run for it.” You continued. “I know the area better than you do.”

“I thought you were just complaining about how un-walkable it was.” She retaliated.

“Doesn’t mean I haven’t walked around before.”

“Fine. When we make it to those trees, we can walk next to each other.” She pointed towards the approaching forest of evergreens.

“Wow, what an honour.” You said sarcastically. “Or is it because you know I could hide so easily in there?”

“No, I’m more worried you’d try to run and smack straight into a tree. I don’t want to have to carry a concussed agent round with me.”

You chuckled. “Why? Bad for your image?”

“Exactly.”

Upon entering the forest, the snow became a lot deeper and harder to wade through. The green of the evergreens was darkened by the shadows of other trees standing tall, and so all around you was a scene of black and white- like motionless static in which your mind played tricks on you. Every so often, you swore you saw movement out the corner of your eye, as paranoia began to press down on your chest and rendered you silent. With the taller pine trees blocking sunlight from penetrating the layer of foliage, you found yourself feeling a lot colder after only a couple minutes of walking through it.

“Hold on.” You called out to Natalie and placed the backpack down to dig out the jacket and gloves.

“What happened to sharing resources?”

You looked up at her, pulling on the gloves and feeling instantly a lot warmer. “You should have asked earlier.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t complain.

As you unravelled the jacket fully, a bright green wrapper fell out of the pocket. You almost couldn’t believe your eyes- or luck, as a granola bar fell into your lap.

Unfortunately, Nat saw it too. “I call dibs on the granola bar, then.”

You looked up at her, exasperated and unimpressed. Food hadn’t been on your mind but seeing the snack suddenly brought to light the gnawing hunger in the pit of your stomach.

She simply shrugged and reached down to snatch it out of your lap. “You get the clothes; I get the food. It’s only fair.”

You rolled your eyes and watched as she tore open the wrapper. ““I would argue but I don’t have the energy. I’m too weak from hunger.” You stood up and walked onwards without her, determined to ignore the sound of her crunching behind you.

“Wait.” Nat’s voice was suddenly too serious for your liking, a horrible prickle at the base of your spine convincing you to listen to her.

You stopped in your tracks, allowing the silence of the forest to resonate all around you. There were no birds chirping, no branches snapping or wind rustling leaves. It was eerily still.

Static. The crackling of a radio in the distance. “Hello? Hello? Can anyone hear me.” An unfamiliar person was speaking into an intercom, met only by more static and silence.

The sound was coming from behind you, growing steadily closer.

“Requesting immediate assistance.” It was a different voice this time, but they had no better luck in reaching out for help.

Your mind was racing, your heart beating in your chest yet you didn’t dare to breath. They could be fellow HYDRA agents willing to join you in the search for safety. Or they could be SHIELD agents, left behind like Natalie and ready to kill you.

Should you reveal yourself and pray they would help? Or stay silent assuming they were the latter?

A quick glance at Natalie revealed the same indecision in her expression. You realised she was in the same situation as you, wondering whether to risk it and trust them, or to continue alone in your unstable truce.

Regardless the fact remained that, if you called out to them, one of you wouldn’t survive.

At this realisation, your mind came to an answer: you would not contact the strangers. Although Nat was your enemy, she had unknowingly saved your life earlier, a debt you were willing to repay. Any desire to fight with her had faded, replaced by the desire to cooperate, and to a certain degree ensure her safety.

“Y/N.” Natalie hissed your name, drawing your attention back to the matter at hand. The voices were steadily growing nearer and nearer, your view of them obstructed by the thick row of trees surrounding you. They hadn’t seen you yet but inevitably would.

Nat inclined her head to the right, eyes widening in an attempt to convey her plan. You followed her gaze to a fallen tree a few metres away, quickly assessing what she meant for you both to do. Relief filled your body as you recognised that she had come to the same conclusion not to turn yourselves over to the strangers,

Careful not to make too much noise, you ducked down and tiptoed over to the fallen tree, hearing her softly following behind. Having recently fallen, the leaves were mostly intact, and you were able to lean back into them and hide. Snow balancing on the branches fell onto you while the shark pine needles stuck uncomfortably into your back, but you ignored the discomfort to shift over, allowing Natalie to settle wordlessly down beside you.

Both of you held your breath and listened out, praying they wouldn’t see you as they went past.

The crackling static grew nearer, interrupted only by the same phrase repeated over and over. “Is anyone out there? Hello? Requesting immediate assistance-“

The footsteps stopped where you had been standing barely a minute ago. There was a dull thump of something hitting the snow, then an agitated. “Just give it up! No one is out there, and nobody is listening!”

The man who had previously been speaking into the intercom sighed. “Well what else would you have us do? Continue wandering aimlessly?”

“Better than listening to your stupid, fucking whiny voice over and over.”

“Yeah, and who made you team leader?”

“Can you two just shut up? Please?” A third exasperated voice interrupted the heated conversation between the two men. “Arguing isn’t going to help us. We’re stuck, the base is gone and HYDRA isn’t coming back to safe us so why don’t you just-“

You zoned out from the rest, too caught up on what he had said. They were HYDRA. They could help you. A sinking sort of feeling enveloped your stomach, previous hunger quickly forgotten and replaced by regret. You listened as the group continued onwards, their voices slowly fading, and with it; your regret only grew.

You glanced to the side, seeing how Nat was watching for your reaction with concern in her eyes. She expected you to run after them and leave her alone, or to call them back and have her ambushed. She must have seen the remorse on your face as her expression hardened, her fist clenched ready for a fight.

Without thinking, you placed your hand over hers and shook your head in way of silent communication. At your assurance, she seemed to relax slightly, so you removed your hand to stare straight ahead and wait for an all clear. Nat continued to impassively observe you until the voices had dwindled, and the forest fell into silence once more.

Darkness was descending upon the forest when you decided to stop for the day. You had made a fair bit of progress, but hunger was gnawing away at your patience, tiredness slowing down your limbs and the cold night air sending pain shooting through all your injuries. Yet in spite of all the negatives, you found you were getting on well with Natalie. Apart from the occasional meaningless squabble, you worked well as a team, and the only issue you had so far was the granola bar peaking teasingly out her pocket.

Currently, she was gathering as much dry kindling as she could find in the fading sunlight, while you were tasked with trying to keep the fire going. Under the shelter of particularly thick evergreen tree, you had brushed away the thinner layer of snow and set up a small pile of twigs. Then you had used the lead from the pencil left in the backpack as a fire starter and gotten Nat to spark the taser against it.

You were rather proud to see flames burning tall barely a moment later. Although, the evergreen pines burnt away rather quickly, hence Natalie searching the area for better materials.

Exhaustion caused your eyelids to droop and your vision to blur as you stared at the fire, hypnotised by the orange glow that danced through the still air. The warmth it emanated felt like a luxury, the light it provided was your saving grace. As much as you loathed to admit it, you found the forest ominous at night, preferring to focus on the way the smoke burned your eyes.

“Hey.” Nat reappeared before you, clutching onto armfuls of sticks which she set down just out of reach of the fire.

You simply smiled at her, too tired to think of anything to say.

“I found these as well.” Nat extended a handful of berries toward you. They were dark in colour, and you couldn’t help but be suspicious. Although you were certain you had been cooperating well, perhaps Natalie didn’t feel the same. Perhaps this was some big ploy to have you killed.

She quirked an eyebrow at the obvious suspicion laced in your expression. “They’re buckthorn.” She explained. “I’m not trying to poison you.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you.” You mumbled, though there was no real weight behind your words. You were starving, and at this point, willing to eat anything.

Carefully, she tipped the berries into your cupped hands. Hesitantly, you ate one.

They tasted fine.

You devoured the rest.

“So how come you know so much about Russian-wilderness gastronomy?” You asked eventually, changing the topic from your obvious distrust of her.

She regarded you with curiosity, surprised that you had thought to ask and considering how much to say. “I was born here.” She put simply.

“And what, you were a Russian girl scout?” You smirked, prompting her to say more.

The corners of her lips lifted up in a smile, then fell back into a serious straight line. “Not exactly.”

You could tell she was avoiding saying something, and you decided not to press her for an answer. Seeing the reminiscent sadness in her eyes, you felt the sudden need to apologise for having brought it up in the first place. “Sorry, just I’m trying to work out how you go from Russia to SHIELD.”

“With great difficulty.” She tilted her head amusedly. “What about you? How did you end up with HYDRA?”

You sighed, slumping against your backpack and debating how much to say. From Nat’s honesty, you decided she at least deserved a truthful response. “Accidentally.” You chuckled humourlessly. “Believe it or not, working for a secret organisation founded in a Nazi ideology wasn’t exactly first on my careers list.”

“Did you accidentally stumble across one of their secret bases located in a Starbucks?” She jokingly asked.

You laughed tiredly, pinching the bridge of your nose. “No, that would’ve been too easy.”

Both being equally exhausted as the other, you allowed the conversation to end and settled back to sleep. The ground was freezing beneath your body, the fire only providing so much warmth. You were using the backpack as an impromptu pillow, which made the sleeping situation slightly more bearable, yet it was still impossibly uncomfortable. You could hardly imagine how intolerable the night would be for Natalie.

Right on cue, you heard her hiss in pain from beside you. She was clutching at her shoulder, suddenly jogging your memory that a bullet had nicked her.

Your head lolled to the side as you faced her. “Do you want me to bandage that?” You asked quietly.

“I was waiting for you to offer.” She snarked.

You rolled your eyes and sat up, your muscles already aching from the two minutes you had spent laid down. You thumbed through the mostly empty bag to retrieve the first aid kit from the bottom. Beside you, Nat pulled her suit down enough to reveal the gash. You were unable to stop your eyes from lingering on the exposed skin; pale from the cold and covered in dried blood, yet your gaze still traced the way her collarbone jutted out. Your mouth felt suddenly very dry.

“I don’t mind doing it myself.” She commented, a smirk crossing her lips as though she had read your mind.

“No. Its’ fine, I’ll do it.” You shuffled towards her, examining the wound and preparing the necessary equipment to treat it.

She said nothing more as you set to work, your hands surprisingly warm despite the weather.

Softly, silently, you tended to the cut. Softly, silently, Nat basked in the warmth of the contact.

> PT2

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov x reader

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