#also I guess the russian lady | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

late-to-the-party-81 · 1 year

Text

Power Play Chapter 5

Chapter 5 - Free Week - “S”

AN: It’s the chapter you’ve all been waiting for! Hopefully you love everything that happens here. Thank you for joining me on this wild ride. It's still the 2nd of August in Honolulu, so I'm all good.....

This week is a free week, with the optional prompt of something starting with “S” - so I’ve gone simple and just gone with Sex, but another word beginning with S also applies and hopefully you will all work it out at the end. Thanks @buckybarnesevents

Also, like in the cinema, don't leave straight away....

Beta’d by @buckysbarne

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and banner by me

Master list | Hot Bucky Summer Master list | Chapter 4

Summary: You return to Bucky’s mansion after quitting your job and confronting Walker. Are you ready for the rest of your life to properly begin?

Relationship: Mob! Bucky x Undercover Agent! Reader

WC: 3.4k

CW: Soft!Dark! Bucky, Canon Typical Violence, Russian Pet names as mangled by Google translate, Explicit sexual content (body worship, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PinV sex), Minor character death

The car came to a halt, pulling you from your memories.

Had it only been a few days ago that you’d woken, tied to a chair in Bucky’s office, scared for your life but trying not to show it?

A few days in which he’d convinced you that not only did he wish you no harm, he actually admired you and thought that you could change your life for the better by joining in.

Were you ready to throw your morals away for the promise of a better life and, by all indications so far, mind-blowing sex? Surely people did that everyday in the name of capitalism?

“I can hear you thinking, Pchelka.” At the sound of Bucky’s amused voice, you lifted your head from where it had been resting on his shoulder during the car ride, and looked up at him.

Despite the fact that you’d been living in his mansion for a week and spending a significant portion of each of your days with him, his beauty still took your breath away, more so when he unleashed a smile.

The feared mob boss reached out to cup your jaw, rubbing a rough thumb across your cheek..

“Don’t second guess yourself, milyy. You did wonderfully. You did what you had to do, and now you are free. Free to do what you want, what pleases you.”

His eyes sparkled and you felt emboldened. The car may have stopped but the doors hadn’t yet opened, despite the fact that Bucky’s driver had already alighted. Taking advantage of the apparent privacy, you twisted in your seat, and moved to straddle Bucky’s lap. His lips twitched, suppressing a smile, although he did raise one of his eyebrows. You grasped the lapels of his suit for balance and then ground down over his already partially chubbed up cock.

“What if I want to ‘do’ you? I have a feeling you’ll more than please me.”

It was obvious from the flex in his jaw that he was finding it harder to keep a straight face.

“Let it never be said that I don’t give a lady exactly what she wants and needs.”

In a move that surprised you, he flung open the door, swivelled in his seat and stood out of the car, with you clinging to him. His hands were under your ass, hoisting you up and your legs wrapped instinctively around his waist. That it had the unfortunate effect of sending your skirt shooting up around your own waist had you squeaking in embarrassment, but your soon to be lover just chuckled.

“There’s no-one around, Pchelka.”

You peeked, firstly over his shoulder and then turned your head to look around further. He was right, of course. For once you couldn’t see hide-nor-hair of any of his guards or close associates, not even Sam.

“Show me your bedroom, Bucky.”

You kissed him then, harshly and with a fierce need, as though the damn holding your back had finally burst. Unfortunately it made it rather hard for him to carry out your request, so he only indulged you for a few moments, drawing away before you were ready to let him go, and he chuckled again at the needy noise you let out.

“Patience, lyubimaya. If you wish to be made love too in comfortable surroundings you need to let me take you upstairs. There’ll be time in the future for more… unusual trysts.”

His mocking words, no matter how affectionately meant, had heat racing to your cheeks and you buried your head into his shoulder. Your mind was assaulted by thoughts of Buckty taking you in the back of his expensive car, of him bending you over the desk in his office, of him between your thighs in his home cinema as some erotic French art house film played on the screen. You let out another whine, your hips bucking against his torso as your body sought friction for your aching clit.

Thankfully, Bucky managed to get inside the house and upstairs in record time, shouldering the door to his room open, kicking it closed and then laying you on the bed, following your down so his body pressed into the V of your hips, and finally kissing you back as ardently as you’d kissed him minutes before.

The beard scruff covering his cheeks and chin, scratched across your skin, but you didn’t care. His hands skimmed down to your waist, kneading your soft flesh over your clothes, before tunnelling under your blouse, freeing it from your skirt and starting to work on the delicate buttons that held the soft silk closed. You gasped at his touch, and at the way his kisses moved from your lips to pepper your jaw and then your throat.

The buttons dealt with, Bucky eased the front of your top apart, baring your lace covered breasts to his gaze.

“Prekrasnyy!”

You may not have understood what it was he said, but the tone in which he said it, and the way in which he ducked his head to press his lips to the swell of your breasts, explained enough. When his mouth moved lower, sucking on your flesh through the lace, your body arched up, your hands flying to his short hair and clutching his head. You didn’t know whether to push him away or pull him closer, the stimulation sending your senses into a tailspin.

As Bucky worshipped your breasts, his left hand, the one so artfully decorated with ink, slid up the outside of your right thigh, skimming over the stockings you wore, until they reached the clasp of your garter belt. He deftly dealt with the two clips, and then his hand was pushing up under the belt to grasp your ass again, squeezing gently as you sighed and moaned beneath him.

His mouth continued its journey southwards, until it was halted by the bunched up fabric of your skirt. His deep chuckle, by now one of your favourite sounds, broke from him again as he eased away from you. However, he took hold of your hands, drawing you up into a sitting position as he dropped to his knees in front of you.

The image of the most powerful man in New York acting and looking subservient to you sent a fresh rush of arousal to your pussy, and you were certain that your new, La Perla panties were hopelessly ruined.

With his ice blue eyes never looking away from your face, he slipped your blouse from your shoulders, whisking it away and, without a care, tossing it away from the bed. His hands slid around your ribcage, to the fastening of your bra. He tilted his head, a silent question, to which you replied with a small nod, your lower lip held gently between your teeth in anticipation. The lace dropped away quickly, and you heard Bucky’s intake of breath and saw his eyes darken.

“Tak ochen', ochen' krasivo.”

You expected him to take your breasts into his mouth again, but he surprised you with his actions, instead peppering your sensitive skin with gentle kisses. His stubble tickled you and your skin puckered, your nipples standing to attention.

Bucky’s hands then moved to your waist.

“Up, Pchelka.”

You stood, and your one loosened stocking slithered slowly down your leg. But your lover ignored it, instead pulling your skirt back down over your ass and thighs, but only so he could reach the zipper and undo it. It too pooled at your ankles, but Bucky steadied you as you stepped out of it. He then undid your one remaining stocking and removed your garter belt.

“Sit again, milyy.”

As you sank back down onto the counterpane, painfully aroused and almost vibrating with anticipation, Bucky lifted your right foot onto his knee, undoing the ankle strap of your shoe and removing it just as gently as every other item of your clothing, his fingers returning quickly to divest you of your stocking, before doing the same to the other foot.

With you now only wearing your panties, Bucky rose to his feet and stepped back. He loosened the tie at his neck, undoing it and tossing it away, his eyes still fixed on yours, and you swallowed thickly. His jacket quickly followed, shucked and discarded at lightning speed, but when he unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt, you let out another whine, pressing your thighs together.

He gave you a knowing smirk and you mentally cursed him, however, when he finally released all the buttons of his shirt and let the fine cotton slip to the floor, it was your turn to gasp. You obviously knew about the tattoo on his left arm, but he now revealed to you that it covered his left shoulder and the top of his chest on that side. You itched to trail your finger over the twisting vines and ask him what the various words meant, but now wasn’t the time. Especially as now Bucky had, oh-so-slowly, popped the fly of his pants and was drawing the fabric down over his thick thighs, and…

Oh my…

Black boxer briefs clung to him like a second skin, leaving very little to the imagination, and you knew you were staring.

“My face is up here, sladkiy…” That condescending note appeared in his voice again and you automatically dropped your chin and turned your head, for some reason feeling ashamed, yet also excited.

Bucky didn’t let you hide for long. He was back on his knees, between your legs, tilting your chin up with his index finger.

“Don’t hide from me, Pchelka. And never apologise for looking at what’s yours. Because I am. And you are mine. Now, lie back and I will prove how much I worship you.”

You eased back onto your elbows, and Bucky curled his fingers around the waistband of your panties. You lifted your hips and finally you were fully exposed. For a moment Bucky said nothing, just placed his hands on your thighs and gazed at your sex. His hands shifted, his thumbs reaching up to spread your folds open, and he groaned. Then, without any further warning he bent his head those last few inches and licked a stripe right up your weeping pussy, flicking over your erect clit.

Your elbows gave out, your head meeting the mattress with a dull thud. Bucky’s fingers tightened on the malleable flesh of your thighs as he explored your folds. All you could do was moan and mutter ‘yesyesyesyesyes’, over and over again. When he pressed one of his fingers into you, you almost came on the spot, your body clutching at the intruding digit, squeezing around it, greedy for more. Then, as if he could read your mind, after a few exploratory thrusts, he added a second finger.

Your eyes rolled back in your head, and you palmed at your breasts. With his free hand, Bucky lifted one of your legs and placed it over his shoulder holding you open and pulling you impossibly closer. You thought you’d known pleasure when he’d touched you before, but this was different, both exquisite and tortuous. It was as though he knew when you were approaching your peak and purposely changing tack to keep you hovering right on the edge.

Then it hit you. He was ensuring that you were just how he wanted you - spread open and needy.

You let out a whimper, knowing you were playing directly into his hands, and not caring in the slightest. You wanted him. No, needed him. As if he were the very air you needed to breathe.

“Bucky!” Your stomach tightened and your legs trembled as you wailed out your plea. You no longer cared how pathetic and wrecked you sounded.

You felt him shift between your thighs, his face leaving your soaking pussy and you raised your head to look at him. His eyes were dark with lust, his cheeks pink and his mouth wet with your arousal. You reached out your arms, making pathetic grabby motions with your hands and with a smile Bucky climbed up onto the bed.

Aware of how your legs dangled over the edge of the mattress, you shuffled up the counterpane as Bucky’s form slinked forward, covering your own. You lifted your right leg to hook over his still clothed hip, your body arching up against his erection.

“It’s okay, Pchelka. I’m here. Soon, soon.”

He kissed you, transferring your essence from his lips to yours. His left hand cupped your face, his weight on his forearm, while with his right he pushed down his briefs. Your hands gripped his shoulders, and when you felt his cock settle between your folds, hard and hot, your nails dug into his skin as you gasped. Then his hand was between you, notching himself at your entrance, and you lifted your hips to help him.

Bucky sank home, engulfed by the clutch of your body and the sound of your twin moans filled the room. He thrust into you gently, still kissing you and your arms left their death grip on his shoulders to twine around his neck. You moved together, an erotic version of the dance you’d had when you’d first met, and Bucky was right - you just fit so well.

The fire inside you, which Bucky had so carefully stoked with his earlier endeavours, became an inferno. You didn’t want this to end, but at the same time you ached with the need for that ultimate satisfaction, and wanted to feel him find his in your body.

“Bucky, please.” You whispered against his mouth, and without missing a beat, he moved his left hand from your face to where you were joined and using his unerring instinct to touch you just right, drew soft circles on your clit, spreading your arousal over the bundle of nerves.

You came.

Hard.

Your voice let out a strangled cry, your eyes squeezing so tightly shut that tears rolled down your face. Your hips continued to meet Bucky’s, thrust for thrust, and he let out a few small grunts, letting you know he was close too. As your body shuddered with the aftershocks, you cupped his face with your hands.

“Come for me, Bucky. Please. I need to feel you.”

“Moya malen’kaya pchelka. Moya koroleva. Nastol’ko sovershenen. Perfect.”

You felt his hips stutter and loose rhythm, and felt the warmth of him flood you as he let out a deep groan. His body collapsed on yours and you ran your hands up and down his sweat-coated back, basking in your shared closeness. After a few moments he rolled to the side, his arms keeping you flush to him. You tipped your head up to look at him, and he smiled back down at you.

“Sleep, lyubimyy. It’s been an eventful day. We can talk more in the morning.”

You nodded against his chest, sighing in satisfaction and accepting your body’s request for slumber. You whined as he eased away from you, the mattress shifting as he got up, but he returned quickly, a warm, wet washcloth making its way between your legs.

Bucky got back in, sitting up against the headboard, and tucking you against his side, your legs tangled. As you drifted off, you heard the soft chirp of his phone.

“Is it done?... Good work, Sam. The message should be clear enough.”

Tag list: @jobean12-blog @sidepartskinnyjeans @flordeamatista @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @chemtrails-club @seitmai @talia-rumlow @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida @writing-for-marvel @kmc1989 @casa-boiardi

Post Credits Scene

Sam chuckled into the phone.

“Clear as crystal, boss.”

The call ended and he pocketed his phone, before looking back down at the ground.

Walker’s blue, lifeless eyes started up at him, the bullet hole in his head a gorey facsimile of a third one. The former agent, and grade A douchebag was sprawled in the alley outside of his favourite bar.

Sam knew he should get going - this watering hole didn’t lack for patrons and it wouldn’t be long before the body was discovered - however, he needed to find the bullet, and remove all traces of himself.

It hadn’t been hard to carry out Bucky’s orders. Walker was - had been - nothing but predictable, heading straight there after his confrontation with the boss and his little bee. Sam smiled to himself. It had only been a week and he already had a soft spot for Bucky’s Queen. She’d do the boss good - he’d already noticed a change in Bucky’s demeanour, and so far it was all for the better. He’d have taken out Walker for her, even if Bucky hadn’t asked.

Sam had bided his time though, waiting for night to fall before taking any action. Walker liked to come outside into the alley behind the bar for a smoke. Sometimes Hoskins came with him, sometimes he came alone. He wouldn’t have minded shooting Hoskins too, but someone had to relay the message.

His opportunity came at around quarter to eleven. The rear door of the bar opened with a crash and Walker stumbled through it, so drunk he could barely stand. He slumped against the wall, and pulled a battered box of cigarettes from his pocket. He placed a smoke between his lips and started to spin the steel wheel of his lighter. It sparked, but didn’t light and Walker cursed to himself.

Taking that as his cue, Sam had stepped out from where he’d been hiding himself. His target had looked up, but had been too drunk to be wary.

“Hey man, you got a li…”

He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence, as Sam had raised his arm and shot him straight in the forehead, decorating the wall behind him with his brains. Sam had considered taunting him, but what would’ve been the point? The man would die anyway, and in reality he wasn’t worth any extra time or energy. The corpse had slithered down the wall before tilting sideways, barely coming to rest before Sam had pulled out his phone to notify Bucky.

With that done, Sam pulled out his flick knife, stepped over the corpse, and dug the bullet out of the brickwork. Pocketing both, he was about to make his way out of the alley to walk the half a block to where he’d left his car when he suddenly halted.

Being in the business he was, he’d developed keen senses and knew when he was being watched. He waited a breath, and then another. The sound of a glass bottle falling over and a stifled gasp had him pinpointing where the watcher was hiding - down the side of the large garbage bin, behind a pile of overflowing bags.

Four large strides and he was there, pulling the refuse sacks away.

“What have we got here?”

A pair of large, sunken eyes in a gaunt face, surrounded by dirt matted hair looked up at him in fear.

“I won’t say anything, mister. I promise. Please don’t kill me.”

Sam was torn. He killed who needed to be killed, avoiding collateral damage at all costs, but he couldn’t afford to leave a witness either. And this girl - no, young woman - obviously hadn’t had an easy life so far. He reached out toward her and she shrank back, squeezing her eyes shut as she undoubtedly prepared herself for her last moments. Then, unexpectedly, she sagged, her face going slack, and Sam realised she’d fainted.

Fuck!

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t kill her. But he couldn’t just leave her here either. He knew what type of predators were out at this time. Hell, he was technically one of them.

He dragged his palm down his face and pulled his phone back out, dialling a different number than earlier.

“Steve? It’s me. I’ve got a situation and I need you to bring the car around to the back of the alley. And try and be stealthy this time, man….Yeah, fuck you too.”

With a sigh, he cut the call, shoved his phone back in his pocket and bent down to scoop his new charge - cos he sure as hell knew that he’d just made her his responsibility - into his arms. She weighed far too little, and that realisation caused some kind of ache inside him. He didn’t want to investigate that feeling too much.

As he walked down the alley, a passed out homeless girl in his arms, Sam wondered what the fuck he’d gotten himself into?

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #hot bucky summer #hotbuckysummer2023 #late writes #mob!bucky x reader #mob au #mob!bucky

94 notes · View notes

noonaishere · 1 month

Text

Music of the Heart [J.YH] - seventy-eight | misc

HOW were you supposed to know that the person who edited your videos was a streamer? And one who had a lot of fans?

You’d never watched a video game stream before, you were normally busy working on some mashup or another so you thought they were a waste of time. Maybe you could watch one of y/n’s, just to see what the hullabaloo was about?

You navigated to her page and, as it turned out, she was currently streaming. You clicked on the stream, not really knowing what to expect. A prompt told you that you had to make an account if you wanted to use the chat, so you opened another window and did so.

You refreshed the stream page and now it showed that you could use the chat and had a name: NEROmusic

“Alright ladies, germs, and Other.”

You had no idea who anyone was. You looked at the grid of people on the screen, some showing their faces and others just represented as their user icons. Oh, the frame around their icon lit up green when they said something. This was… MickTheMacken talking. Okay, you were getting the hang of this.

“Am I a ‘germ’ or ‘Other’?” MorningStar asked. MorningStar sounded like San, so you figured that was him.

“You can be Miscellaneous, if you like.”

“I want to be ‘Misc’,” Jageun Gomen Goyangi said, the frame lighting up. You knew who she was now, so you knew it was y/n. It was still funny to you to think about how you were working together all this time, and yet didn’t know you were working with a - by what you saw - kind of famous streamer, all because it was never something you would ask.

“‘Misc’?” Mick asked.

“‘Misc.’” She repeated.

“I adore it. I am enraptured.”

“You’d better be. I worked for all of five seconds on it.”

“Forceful.” Mick looked into the camera flirtatiously.

The rim around BrickTheBracken’s screen lit up. “Stop stealing my man.”

“Ummm, excuse me? I don’t need to steal a man? I already have one?”

“Mhm.” San said emphatically.

“I desire not your man!” Y/n yelled. “Make haste, wench! Say your piece.”

Mick laughed. “Are you all watching my stream?”

Ryujin lit up. “I’m sniping so hard right now.”

“We’re all cheating crazy hard.” Keeho said-- wait, that was the idol from JUPiTER you had met! Keeho was a streamer? No wait, you had seen that video thumbnail where he was laughing or something… what a small world. Absolutely tiny.

“GOOD.” Mick continued. “Anyway, for the people out there in Radio Land: welcome to our third annual… what did we call it last time?”

“I don’t remember.” Yeji said.

“‘Secret Non-Santa’?” Ryujin guessed.

“With Cat here? We’d never come up with something so obvious. It has to be obtuse.” Keeho added.

“Secret Satan.” Y/n said.

“Round Robin Russian Roulette.”

“Hell.”

Mick laughed. “ANYgay, we’re doing That Fucking Thing We Do when we all find the worst games we can possibly find, throw them into the hat,” he lifted up a tophat, “and we each pick a shitty game and play it for the rest of us to yell at.”

“And everyone watching gives us money for charity!” Yeji said quickly.

“Yes, sorry Yeji, I’m always so preoccupied with our suffering that I forget we’re also trying to make other people’s lives better.”

“You’re welcome,” Yeji said pleasantly.

“How are you picking which of us are going?” San asked.

“Bracken made a wheel.”

“Oh?”

BrickTheBracken appeared in the frame as he wheeled a small game show-style wheel into view behind Mick and presented it to the viewers like a beautiful game show lady.

“Our beautiful Bracken,” Yeji said.

“Wowwww, we’re really coming up in the world.” Y/n said.

“We’re bougie.” Keeho added.

“Mhm.”

“Okay, take your seats, start your engines, keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times, because here we go!” Mick spun the wheel. “Cat!”

“Ahhhhhhhh shit.”

Everyone laughed. You laughed too.

Keeho laughed. “Couldn’t’ve happened to a worse person.”

“Keeho, I would like to be the first, to wish you a very Die.”

“Seven years of friendship and this is how she treats me?” Keeho pretended to cry.

“I’m calling your mother.”

Everyone laughed again.

“And to pick the game of our very aggressive contestant--” Mack fished around in the hat for a slip of paper “--Scary Granny! Please click link number five.”

There was a pause as - you guessed - y/n clicked the link and it opened. “...Oh god.”

Mick laughed as he read the description. “Look for evidence against granny in this dark and eeeevil game!”

“Is the game evil or is the granny?”

“I think it’s the game.”

“Before I play this, I would like to try and argue against it.” Y/n said.

“I won’t allow it, but go ahead.” Mack replied.

“I should not have to play this for two reasons: the first being that: …I’m hot. And the second being that: I hate this.”

“I’ve never seen you so I can’t account for the first one, and we all hate this but we do it for the yucks so: start the game, Cat.”

“I’ve seen her, I can vouch for her hotness,” San said.

“But we’ve never seen you either, so how do we know you know what you’re talking about?” Ryujin asked.

“Uhhhh…”

“Morn is hot,” y/n came to his defense.

“But you see how that still means nothing?”

“Circular hotness,” Ryujin said.

You chuckled.

“Keeho can solve this,” Braken started. “You’ve seen Cat, is she hot?”

Keeho’s eyes widened in the kind of shock someone’s face has when someone asks if their sibling is hot. “Um, I don’t want the ‘Keeho and Cat are dating’ rumors to start again so I’ll unfortunately have to decline.”

“You traitor!” Cat yelled. “Coward!”

You couldn’t tell if she was fake mad or actually mad. Everyone laughed, regardless.

“Cat, start the game,” Mick commanded.

She sighed loudly and the game replaced her icon on her screen. In a few seconds, hers was made the main screen so the viewers could watch.

“Oh my god,” y/n said, as the game loaded.

You hadn’t played any video games in your childhood on account of it not being allowed, but you could easily tell that the opening screen… what’s it called?

“The home screen looks like shit…” y/n devolved into rueful laughter.

Ah, yes: the home screen.

“This looks like a PS1 game threw up on itself. Do I really have to play this?”

“Yes, Cat. This is for charity. You have to do the thing.”

“Just tell me if all the games are this bad.”

“They are.”

“Fine.”

You chuckled to yourself.

She started the game and groaned.

You may not have played a video game ever, but you’d seen ads for them before and this one looked like the most unfinished, garbage things you’d ever seen. It was ugly, and all the controls looked bigger than they needed to be.

You must steal from the old woman! was the text that came up on the screen.

“So I’m a burglar?” She asked.

The group laughed.

“Girl help, I’m knocking over an old woman.”

She started running around the level attempting to complete any of the missions the game gave her, but was having a hard time. The granny meant to chase the player got stuck in a wall, got stuck in the middle of the room for a bit, got stuck in the ceiling, and when she fell through the floor and then rapidly went flying vertically through the room a dozen times before shooting off into the stratosphere, Cat went silent.

She sighed. “God damnit.”

Goddamnit it, indeed.

“You have to make it funny, Cat,” Mick said.

She sighed and seemed to think for a moment as the old lady killed her and the level started over.

“You know those scam marriages where people get married to try and become an immigrant in another country?”

Mick laughed a little, seeming to know that this question was leading him. “Yeah.”

“Who are you really scamming if you scam marry someone to move to a place?”

“The government.” Yeji answered.

“You say that like no government has ever scammed its people, ever.”

“...That’s true.”

“I just think that the idea of a marriage being a scam because it doesn’t involve love totally negates asexual and aromantic people. You don’t need to be in romantic love to be married.”

“What about people who might be friends who want to get married for the benefits?” Ryujin chuckled.

“Are you seriously trying to tell me that every straight married couple on the planet loves or even just likes each other? My parents might still be awesomely in love, but I had friends with shitty parents so I KNOW that’s not true. And just look at all of the ‘I hate my spouse’ memes that boomers share; why would they share them if they actually love their spouse?”

“Oh my god.” Keeho said.

“How are you so smart, Cat?” Bracken asked, half-joking.

“I’m just really cute and sexy and good at thinking.”

San chuckled. “So humble too.”

“Mhm…” Granny got stuck again and she restarted the level. “But back to my point, not every marriage is a loving or even a liking one and those people should just get divorced, so the whole point of a marriage - supposing to be about two people who love each other who want to stay together forever - doesn’t make sense anyway.”

The granny killed her again and the level started over. She sighed.

“What about the argument that it’s to have kids?” Keeho asked.

“What about hetero couples who can’t get pregnant? What about couples who adopt, whether they’re gay or straight? Or women and men who are past the child bearing age? Should they get divorced then?”

Mick sighed. “Cat, I said make it funny, not get on a soapbox--”

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this.” San observed.

“Only about five minutes. But my brain is very big and sexy and--”

“Don’t say it.” Keeho said.

“Wrinkly.”

“Ew.”

“So it was easy.”

Mick laughed as Keeho continued to make a disgusted face.

“How do you propose we treat marriage instead?” Mick asked, trying to find the punchline.

“A business venture. And I don’t mean that in like a right wing, small government, libertarian-because-I’ve-never-left-my-small-town-or-even-encountered-a-woman way. I mean that, pre-feudalism, most families produced some sort of good with both members of the marriage contributing to the creation of that product or products, and either one or both participated in the selling of said products: I think that we should just treat marriages as long term business ventures.”

“I’m… I feel like that makes sense? But I’m not sure?” Yeji said, a little confused.

“And we should treat kids like ponzi schemes.”

Keeho sighed. “And there’s the joke.”

You laughed loudly with the group.

“Was that WHOLE FUCKING THING, just for that joke?” He yelled.

“No, I thought of the joke right at the end.”

She cleared the level but somehow the granny killed her despite the game having gone to the ‘Level Over’ screen.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” She yelled.

Everyone laughed.

The level started over, but this time, none of the buttons were anywhere to be seen.

“Um… there’s no controls.”

“What?” San asked.

��There’s no controls. I’m moving the mouse and nothing’s happening.”

“What? How?” Keeho asked.

“I have no idea… I think I’m done, guys. Oh my god I can’t even exit the game.” She laughed. “I have to close the program, hold on.”

You decided to comment in the chat.

NEROmusic: Nice job, Cat

“Hey! The person who made my intro is here! Everyone go check out NEROmusic! They make awesome mashups and they’re so so so good.”

“She’s in your chat?” San asked.

“Mhm. She just said ‘good job’. I’m not sure if she’s being sarcastic or not.”

NEROmusic: I’m being serious. That game looked like shit lol

“It was shit, NERO, thank you for commiserating.”

The group went to the next game: Ryujin had to play something called Papa Simulator and had to try to take care of children while making a pizza. Somehow, everything ended up on fire.

Your phone buzzed.

previous | main cast | masterlist | next

Send an ask or leave a comment if you want to be added to the tag list! 🎵

@luvvvx • @iamthehotdemon • @hrts4hanniehae • @rachs-words • @stayatinykatsy •

#Yunho #Jeong Yunho #Ateez #Ateez smau #Ateez fic #Ateez au #music industry au #enemies to lovers #childhood friends to lovers #reader fic #ᴍᴜsɪᴄ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ

13 notes · View notes

princemick · 2 years

Text

MICKLORE for dummies

here;s part 1 with his racing history

because over roc weekend people seemed to have gotten to know him a lot better so here's a bunch more of mick info that I deem as essential

so under the tab I will add a bunch of stuff that kinda break trough that introverted pr trained wall he has.

this will be broken into facts, quotes, moments and videos.

--enjoy--

Mickfacts:

he speaks, english, german, french and italian but beraly speaks italian and french because he doesnt feel comfortable enough with them

the f-2002 is his favorite of his dads cars

during a lot of 2022's off season he has been dirt racing in the states where he bascially races for as long as the car runs together with gina's bf (x) (x)

apperantly recognizes the italian anthem before the german

can't choose himself for a dream team so his dream team is michael and seb

couldnt choose between lewis and max in 2021 "because theyre both nice to me"

he used to play drums as a kid

his middle name is 'junior'

he is named after Mick Doohan (5x mtotogp champ) who used to live close to Michael who were really good friends and so him and Jack Doohan (f2 driver) have always been and are still close friends.

apperantly introduced himself to kevin when he got back to haas with 'suck my balls'

modified said off road buddy that he does mud racing with so it goes quicker then intended

he seems to have extra clothes with him at all times bc he borrowed an extra pair of pants and shirt to callum for their f2 podium celebration

his dad wanted him to study engineering (also interesting piece of related information: he said he would have become a biologist if not an f1 driver in this video)

he refers to his dog angie as his best friend

in F3 he won 5 races in a row. race 22 til 26 of the 2018 season.

he started doing champions for charity where he organizes a football match every year with a bunch of german sports players

mick denies it but this man has bleached his hair

Mickquotes:

"a bomb, a knife, a serial killer. I mean that comes all together so.."

"I mean if poeple ask me if I'm mick I usualy just say no. I learned that from my dad."

"can I eat this?" procedes to eat it

"you guys are gonna do pushuupss"

"can I go and pet it?? play fetch??"

"those cars are so shit"

"deutsche, german..WHA??"

"you sure??"

"my dad, my dad, my dad, my dad"

"I just wanna get to my dad"

"beep beep beep"

"I won f2 and f3 for a reason"

"you guys are fucking brilliant, FUCKING BRILLIANT! fucking hell- sorry for all the swearing guys"

"I have a problem with italian bread tbh"

"PTW man, PTW" (pwt means prove them wrong)

"so you have to be smooth, realise that its an old lady and treat it that way, take it easy and enjoy the ride"

"hmm, have you ever driven on the road blindfolded?"

"ah, I was fine" after crashing

"I'm glad it was you I was fighting against"

Mickvideos:

prema stranger things - where he bascially just shouts his ideas and is loudly jock and himbo coded

The 5 Second Challenge - him having to really quickly talk and think shows how he thinks really well aka himbo

The Taboo Challenge - where he has to explain something without using specific words

Seb And Mick Take On The Formula 1 Tower Challenge! - where Seb and Mick ask eachother questions as they play mega jenga

Mick and Dan at the 2021 russian gp presser - just wholesome

Mick and Sean cook pizza together - him being wholesome and happy and speaking italian

Prema Trivia Challenge - giving ultimate himbo rights

him hugging every haas mechanic after his last race w them

mick post Q2 in Canada

the groundhog video

Some minutes with Cyrus Watches: Mick Schumacher

The Texas Red Hot Sauce Challenge - shows his relationship with gary (his old race engineer) really well

Guess the Flavour: Japanese KitKat Taste Test - shows how weird mick is sometimes

Map The Track - himbo.

Mick celebrates with the team after first F1 points - hes so beloved

Gina and Crorinna's congrats after his first points

okay there's much much more, if you wanna get more into it I reccomend watching more of his prema and haas videos and just keep updated with him over his time at mercedes

dont be afraid to send me asks with questions or anyting!

and special thank you to 2/3 of the pillars of mickblr @acrosstobear and @schumaclerc for helping me out w some micklore and @stoffelvandoornegf for this post

#listen...I cud go on #im nt gonna #micklore #mick schumacher

203 notes · View notes

iamafanofcartoons · 9 months

Text

Psychogator gives us "The Waiting Room" with Ruby Rose, Claire Redfield, Heavy, and Hellboy.

Somewhere in an omni-dimensional realm: The Merchant's Inventory...

(Claire Redfield finds herself in the bright room, where she sees the other three characters sitting on their seats. They seem to be waiting for the same thing she is. She just sits on her seat, taking a magazine and tries to read...though she can't help but feel curious)

Claire: *To Ruby* So...what are you supposed to be? Some kind of Red Riding Hood?

Ruby: Huh? Oh, my name's Ruby. I'm kind of a monster hunter.

Claire: And you...? Red Guy?

Hellboy: "Red Guy"? Really?

C: You some kind of demon? Who I guess also hunts demons?

H: That's kind of leaving out important details, but...yeah. That's the gist of it.

C: And the other guy's some of mercenary.

Heavy: I am Heavy Weapons Guy. I was commissioned to Red Team.

C: And none of you are weirded out by this?

R: Mmm...Nope.

Heavy: Niet.

Hellboy: Trust me. I've found weirder things in weirder worlds than this.

C: Okay, then...

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

Claire: So, how did you guys hear about this place?

Hellboy: I was recommended to it by a friend of mine, and I was pretty much okay going into any place that can cook up a good new firearm for me. No questions asked.

Heavy: My Soldier friend brought here one day.

R: A Blacksmith Lady give me a ticket for a dimensional-traveling gig. I told them I just wanted to see cool weapons instead of just being around people. That's what's school's for.

Heavy: Da. School is good, Tiny Sniper. Where do you go?

R: Ever heard of Beacon Academy?

Heavy: I do not. This is good school?

R: *sigh* It's the BEST. You can learn how to fight monsters, how to work as a team, but the only bad thing is learning about history and stuff.

Heavy: Learning is good. I went to Soviet College of Mines, Farms, and Science. I have PHD on Russian Literature.

Claire: Do you...use that in your line of work?

Heavy: More than you think. *Turns to Hellboy* Hell-Man, what is your favorite enemy to kill in war?

Hellboy: I don't know about "war", but...I think my favorite enemy is probably giants. Either normal giants or gods, it's all the same to me. It makes things a lot more challenging.

Heavy: Killing giant robots is good thing, but to kill Spy is glorious thing! Brings glory to team! What about you, Little Rose? You are killing type.

Ruby: MY favorite enemy? I-I don't know. Beowolves, Ursas, Nevermores, Geists...It's like choosing what my favorite kind of cookie is!

Heavy: Hahaha! I like you, Tiny Sniper!

Claire: I got a few enemies I've come across. A few lickers and an asshole tyrant are kind of a breath of fresh air after swarms of zombies.

Heavy: Do Lickers disguise as best friend and stab you in the back?

Claire: Well, no, but...I have lost a few good friends to worse...

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

Ruby: *Turns to Heavy* Why do you call me "Tiny Sniper"?

Heavy: You are tiny and Sniper, no? You wear red, fitting for RED Team. Your gun hits like Machina. You earn this by being futuristic killer. You should try out for RED Team.

Ruby: I guess that could be fun. I mean, If I'm only there to kill monsters and robots and not...you know, people.

Heavy: Da. This is good for you. I suggest helping us against Gray Manns' robots and Merasmus' undead. You will kill many of them before dying, I think.

Ruby: I hope it doesn't come to that. Yang will get pretty worried if I do.

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

Hellboy: So, Redfield, what heat do you usually carry?

Claire: Anything I can get my hands on, really. Shotguns, grenade launchers, miniguns, secret weapons with infinite ammo. That sort of stuff. Usually, though, I rely on a good handgun or two, like my brother's Samurai Edge. What about you? You seem to carry a lot in that coat.

Hellboy: Well, it's your usual monster-killing stuff. Brimstone Grenades, Valisia's Gift, Agrippa's charms, but most of the time, I often rely on my Good Samaritan. I'm not a good shot, but it uses really big bullets.

Ruby: What rounds do you even use for them to be that big? That sounds like something that my Crescent Rose uses.

Hellboy: I usually use custom-made 22 millimeter Whoppers. Made them, myself. Holy water, clove leaf, silver shavings, white oak...the works.

Heavy: Hmph. Not much to be of use for Sasha.

Hellboy: Yeah? What rounds do you use?

Heavy: BIG.

Claire: Are we talking .300 Weatherby Mag?

Heavy: Bigger.

Ruby: .50 Cal?

Heavy: Bigger than .50 Cal. They are handmade, custom-tooled cartridges with classified diameter.

Hellboy: Geez. Why's that?

Heavy: So enemy cannot use ammunition...but Sasha can chew through THEIRS.

Ruby: That sounds...SO. COOL! Love

Heavy: *nods* I think so.

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

Hellboy: *To Ruby* So, Ruby, what's this "Crescent Rose" of yours? Some kind of a gun?

Ruby: Oh, my sweetheart is more than just a gun. It's a customizable, high-impact sniper rifle that's also a mechanical scythe. It pretty much uses .50 Cal bullets built with Dust.

Hellboy: *cocks a brow, unimpressed* Dust.

Ruby: Fire Dust, Ice Dust, Electric Dust...I can use Gravity Dust to launch myself like a missile. And if there's one thing you need to know about me, it's that I'm not slow.

Claire: You just "launch" yourself with your gun? That sounds...dangerously irresponsible.

Heavy: I know of this. Soldier does this with rocket launcher all the time.

Ruby: Yeah, but I usually have a semblance, or "superpower", to use speed. I usually do this to outpace monsters WAY bigger than me! I move around like a blur!

Hellboy: So, your world has weapons that are also guns, bullets that use magic, and you fight monsters bigger and deadlier than you.

Ruby: Yeah! Killing monsters is the coolest thing to do in the world! *Realizes it's Hellboy* Oh. Um...I hope I didn't offend you.

Hellboy: Offend me? *He smirks, genuinely excited* You just made my winter!

www.deviantart.com/psychogator/art/The-Waiting-Room-997558423

#claire redfield #resident evil #hellboy #dark horse comics #team fortress 2 #heavy tf2 #tf2 heavy #rwby #psychogator #rwby fanart #ruby rose #rwby ruby #rwby ruby rose

31 notes · View notes

g-girlshavingfun · 6 days

Text

A sister’s vigil: 5 times Rachel visited her sister in hospital, and 1 time she didn’t.

3/6

Word count: 4,085

His hand clung to Abby’s wrist, firm but not tight, thumb running up and down the back of her arm and two fingers pressed to her pulse point. Specs of blood stained the skin around his nail beds and burrowed themselves under his overhanging nails. Every few seconds, his fingers seemed to squeeze, subconsciously pressing deeper on her pulse as if to reassure him it was still there. Or to reassure her that he was still there, Rachel couldn’t be sure. Maybe both.

Oh.

He was really freaked out.

———————————————————————

Chapter 3/6

“Okay so don’t freak out.”

That’s a terrible way to start a phone calI.

Her husband had been married to a CIA operative for nearly ten years and had been one himself for several years more. Effective communication and managing difficult situations were two key skills in their line of work, and yet he still hadn’t mastered the art of breaking news over the phone.

When he called her after their first date, because it’s gentlemanly to call a lady and tell her you had a good time, he caught her voicemail and told her its “vital to his ongoing survival that she call him back”. Obviously Rachel thought this meant he had got himself made or kidnapped or was being held at gunpoint by an international terrorist, so she hacked IP address using the last flirty email he sent her and turned up at his apartment guns blazing. His roommate didn’t appreciate it but given how easy it was for Rachel to track them down it did demonstrate that they needed to move.

When he called his parents back home in Nebraska to tell them she was pregnant, he launched straight into the name of their local hospital and the dates of their appointments. With his background of information - meaning the pregnancy - this made perfect sense to him, but his parents thought one of them had been diagnosed with some terrible illness and had called Rachel in a panic.

When their daughter’s first word had been “Dada”, he had called Rachel at the office to brag and genuinely thought that starting a sentence “I know this is devastating for you to hear but Cam-“ was actually very funny and shouldn’t have made you panic like that.

So when he called her after a two week stint in Peru with her sister and told her not to freak out, she really did try.

“It looks bad. And it sounds bad. And I guess its not exactly good, which I guess means that it is bad. And-“

“Matthew!”

“Right. Get to the point. Um, so everything was fine, but Abs thought I was being tailed on my way to our extraction point - which I wasn’t by the way! She said she saw this little girl that was on our bus in Lima as well, but I would’ve noticed if I was being tailed by a kid-“

Not exactly true.

Just a few months ago their own daughter had managed to follow him though the mall as he did his Christmas shopping. Abby thought it was hilarious, was certain it was a credit to Cammie being highly skilled and having a nose for trouble. Both of which she also credited to her own influence. It was funny, but in truth the incident had made Rachel wary, terrified that her husband was dropping his guard. That keeping up with assignments, those both on and off the books, as well as his family, all the sleepless nights she knew he was having trying to be a perfect father and husband and friend and son and operative all at once, was finally catching up with him. That this time it was his daughter catching him buying her a new bike, but next time it would be a Russian informant catching him making a dead drop.

She knew Joe was beginning to worry about the same thing.

“-so she said she’d cause a distraction, obviously if I knew her plan was actually to cause an explosion I would’ve stopped her-“

Matthew’s nervous rambling, plus her sister’s involvement, plus the word explosion was starting to make her anxious.

“-and the stitches held fine in the helicopter ride but when she woke up she was sick and she must’ve tore them cause there was more blood and-“

“Matthew! What hospital?”

“Oh right, Georgetown.”

“Okay, try to breathe, I’ll be there soon.”

“Right, yeah. Love you”

“Love you too.”

Still trying not to freak out, Rachel gave up on the laundry she had been pretending to fold, and on the cipher she had mentally been working on for the past hour, and started packing a bag.

It probably wasn’t that bad. Matthew would’ve calmed himself down long before calling her if Abby was in any actual danger, and he would’ve sent Joe to pick her up instead of letting her drive herself to the hospital. So she figured her sister was just injured enough that she couldn’t physically restrain Matthew and stop him from calling, but not injured enough to be admitted for longer than a few nights.

She packed herself a change of clothes, just in case it was bad enough that Rachel thought she needed to spend the night keeping an eye on her, or not bad enough to physically keep Abby bed-bound, meaning Rachel would need to stay the night keeping an eye on her, and a few of Mathews things for him to use and Abby to steal. Throwing a few snacks into the bag, and mentally calculating how long until someone would have to pick Cammie up from Emily’s birthday party, she was about to head out when the door to the downstairs bedroom caught her eye.

Technically, the room was a spare, but only one person had really used it since the family had moved in. Matthew’s parents preferred the spare bedroom upstairs, as did Grace on the rare occasion she stayed the night before flying home, and Joe always refuses to stay over, so the Morgan family tended to just refer to the downstairs room as Aunt Abby’s room. Despite refusing to call it as such herself, because I’m a grown woman with my own apartment now Rach, I don’t need my own room at your place anymore, Abby’s stuff was strewn all over it. Some stuff had been left after countless nights where Abby had stayed over, sometimes babysitting but equally as often not, stuff like laundry Rachel will eventually give in and wash, and mostly-empty shampoo bottles Matthew will eventually give in and throw out. What Rachel was looking for however had been there for years. Had, like most of the things packed away in boxes, moved here with them from Abby’s actual room back at their old place. Things she deemed important enough to keep when she moved in with them after their mother died, but decided she didn’t need when she moved out and into a shoebox not far from Langley less than a year later.

She grabbed the old lamb and the even older dog from deep under the bed, stuffed them both in her bag, grabbed her keys and headed out.

As long as she wasn’t actually on her death-bed, Rachel couldn’t resist the urger to tease her little sister.

———————————————————————

“Excuse me, I’m looking for my sister, Sarah Michael?”

Rachel didn’t see the point in Matthew using an alias when checking Abby in, this was the hospital she was taken to with her first boyfriend after she totalled Rachel’s car when she was 14, so its not like they didn’t have her real name on file. Joe, however, believed in never using real names where possible for anything spy-related, and he had trained the same habits into Matthew long before Rachel got her hands on him.

“Room 12, just down there to your right. One of the nurses will be along in a moment with a new bandage, but your brother’s in there with her now.”

Brother?

Dammit Matthew.

Her husband had clearly forgotten to specify that “Sarah” was his sister in law, not his actual sister. Again. Last time he did this Rachel had to spend half an hour explaining to Cammie’s teacher that he means she’s my sister. He only calls her that to tease her. No they’re not blood related, we’re definitely not blood related. Yes I know its confusing when he says that, but we’re really not related.

Hopefully she wouldn’t end up in the same situation today.

“Thank you.”

She followed the nurse’s pointed finger down the hall, checking the numbers on the doors as she went, until she heard her husband’s distinctive accent in muted tones up ahead.

“-hospital back home. You bumped your head a bit but you’re fine. The doctor said you have to stay here for a day or two but-“

“Called Rach?”

The whisper was half slurred, half whined in protest as Abby’s half closed eyes made contact with Rachel’s own. It was the exact same tone she used when she found out Professor Buckingham had called her after she set on of the Gallagher labs on fire in her senior year, and Rachel felt her face slip into the same scowl it did then, unimpressed with how unimpressed her little sister was.

Matthew, being the soft touch he was, mistook her tone for affection.

“Yeah yeah, she’ll be here soon.”

“Uggghh.”

“Wow thanks Abby, now I really feel loved.”

At the sound of her voice, Matthew spun around on his chair, eyes lighting up at the sight of her. The tension he had been carrying in his shoulders seemed to melt away, and half a smile stretched out his face. He reached for her, so slow and slight she doubted he even knew he was doing it, and her name escaped his lips in a breathy whisper.

Rachel felt herself soften at the sight of him.

Her annoyance at her sister’s stubborn need for independence, her unmatched tendency to not think things through and end up hurt, the way Rachel could never quite push down the worry and panic she felt every time this happened, all melted away as she took in her husband’s appearance. Despite spending the last fortnight in South America, he looked paler than he had when she saw him last, which was clearly also the last time he shaved. Dirt, ash, or both clung to his eyebrows, crusted around the backs of his ears, and settled into his normally soft hair, though Rachel suspected it was currently greasy with days worth of sweat. Dark bags tugged at the skin below his eyes, and his shoulders sagged under the combined weight of his exhaustion and relief.

He looked beautiful.

Rachel whispered a greeting to him, something small and soft that lifted her lips into a matching half smile, and couldn’t hold herself back from reaching for his outstretched hand, too distracted by his other.

It clung to Abby’s wrist, firm but not tight, thumb running up and down the back of her arm and two fingers pressed to her pulse point. Specs of blood stained the skin around his nail beds and burrowed themselves under his overhanging nails. Every few seconds, his fingers seemed to squeeze, subconsciously pressing deeper on her pulse as if to reassure him it was still there. Or to reassure her that he was still there, Rachel couldn’t be sure. Maybe both.

Oh.

He was really freaked out.

It wasn’t abnormal for Matthew to fret over an injured loved one. When Joe turned up at Langley armed with crutches and a story about a gunfight with Italian mobsters, Matt drove him straight home with a lecture on rest and recuperation and proceeded to dote on him hand and foot until Joe kicked him out. When Rachel dislocated her shoulder abseiling down a Venezuelan cliff, he refused to let her use it around the house for months, long after it had fully healed. Even when Cammie grazed her knee after toppling off her bike a few years back, he nearly gave himself a hernia carrying her around so she wouldn’t put weight on it, and Rachel had to put her foot down to stop him taking her into hospital to ask about stitches.

He usually tried not to fuss over Abby though, knowing she tended to take it as an insult to her pride in a way that Rachel never had and Joe had mostly grown out of. That’s not to say he didn’t hover around her when she last broke a rib, or wince when she drove herself around with a sprained wrist, but he tended to keep his concern much more concealed than it was now. Rachel couldn’t be certain if it was the exhaustion weakening his defences, or if this was just a particularly bad incident, but she’d figure it out once she got Abby alone. As much as she tried, her sister still hadn’t mastered the art of keeping things from her, not like Rachel feared Matthew had. For now though she just gave her husband’s hand a squeeze, watching the way he breathed a bit deeper, smiled a bit wider.

“You two are gross.”

“And you look like crap.”

“Rude.”

But not untrue.

Abby usually had an annoying ability to still look good after days on on the road. No matter how little sleep she got, her skin always looked flawless and her eyes were always shining; she could go days without a decent shower and still have hair that wouldn’t look out of place in a shampoo commercial. No matter how many times Matthew had told her that she was exactly the same, it infuriated Rachel a little bit every time her sister returned from an assignment looking like she had gone on a relaxing cruise.

She didn’t look that way now.

The smattering of freckles across Abby’s face had darkened and grown as evidence of her time spent in the sun, but she was paler than Matthew, almost paler than the hospital sheets she was draped in. The longer Rachel examined her, the more the skin on her hands and around her eyes had a bluish-grey tinge to it.

Her eyes were hooded, half closed and glazed over in exhaustion or pain or drugged-induced sedation. They looked dry, and dark, and sluggish. They hardly moved to track Rachel as she crossed the room to her sister’s side, instead her head just lolled slightly on her neck to keep both her and Matthew in view.

It wasn’t obvious from a distance, the dark shade of brown hiding any discolouration, but up close Rachel could see the same specs of blood that stained her husbands fingers was woven into her sister’s hair. She reached out to pick some of the blood out, but froze at the way Abby tensed in anticipation.

“M’fine.”

“-Clearly.”

“-Matt shouldn’t bothered you.”

“-Hmhm.”

“-S’just a bump.”

At that Rachel snorted and Matthew let out a shaky sigh that almost sounded like a chuckle. Pleased with herself, Abby smiled and closed her eyes, relaxing back against the hospital bed.

It wasn’t just a bump.

Nearly the entire left side of her forehead was blackened in a swollen bruise, some of the discolouration spreading down to the bridge of her nose and across her eye. Reaching out again, Rachel gently smoothed away some of her sister’s hair, noting that the bruise snaked its way almost completely around her head. Stitches ran from the corner of her eyebrow all the way back through her hairline, jagged ugly things that tugged the skin taunt in some places and left it loose in others. The wound edge was probably too damaged from Matthew’s torn stitches to have a good suture line, but Rachel still grimaced at its sloppy appearance.

“How bad is it?”

At that Abby’s eyes shot open.

“-It’s not.”

“-The doctor said-“

The two voices layered over one another as they both jumped to answer her question at once. Matthew fell silent as Abby’s head lolled back to the side, her eyes now pinched in a weak glare.

“Maaatt.”

“Matthew?”

The poor man actually gulped. Rachel wondered if she was imaging the small bead of sweat that ran down his forehead.

“S’nothing!”

“Matthew.”

She dropped her tone slightly, a little bit pleased at the way the pulse in his neck immediately jumped. His eyes flickered between the two of them, torn between appeasing his increasingly annoyed wife and pleasing his pathetic-looking injured little sister.

“Don’t do it.”

“Honey?”

Rachel tried not to smile at the way he immediately crumbled.

“The doctors want her to stay at least 48 hours to keep an eye on her, they said she’s fractured her skull and there’s a little bit of internal bleeding-“

“Ughhh you’re the worst!”

“-but that should resolve itself. She lost quite a bit of blood and she’s pretty dehydrated from, well, everything, so she has to have fluids while she’s in. The stitches have to stay in for a couple weeks, and she’ll have a pretty bad concussion for a while, but she’ll be fine as long as she takes it easy.”

Matthew squeezed Abby’s hand in apology.

“See, just a bump.”

Rachel just sighed.

———————————————————————

After suffering not-so-silently through a clearly needed lecture on explosives safety, Abby dozed off into a fitful sleep. Rachel then took that opportunity to get the full story of what happened from Matthew, or at least his version of what happened.

The picture he painted of losing the little girl who wasn’t tailing me Rach, really, then circling back to the site of the distraction-slash-explosion only to find Abby splayed unconscious on the concrete, blood coating her head and the ground beneath her, had made her chest clench. Abby was fine, but she just as easily couldn’t have been.

Rachel could tell that Matthew was having the same thoughts, running through the what-ifs in his head, so she sent him to pick Cammie up from her birthday party. Inevitably, this would end in him spiralling. He would start replacing Abby’s face with a made up, adult-version of Cammie in his mind, imagining all the possible ways a future in this industry for their daughter could go wrong. He’d spend his days and nights thinking up worst case scenarios, and in a few days it would come to a head, and they’d fight about sending her to Gallagher again. It didn’t matter that the possibility was years away yet, anytime Matthew was reminded about the mortality of their jobs he brought it back up.

Even knowing this, Rachel still sent him on his way. One of them needed to be there for Cam, but right now she needed to be there for her sister.

She was stubborn and argumentative and prideful, but she was also in pain, no matter how much she tried to hide it. So Rachel got comfortable on the chair next to Abby’s bed and prepared herself to stay the night.

It was a few hours later when Abby woke up.

“Still here?”

An afternoon of sleep hadn’t done much for the slur in her voice or the grimace on her face.

“Hmm, someone has to make sure you don’t blow this place up.”

“Like you could stop me.”

“I doubt you could even sit up strai- Don’t try! Just lie down Abs.”

Her sister is infuriating.

“He was being tailed Rach, he didn’t even notice.”

Her sister was also very good at her job.

Rachel sighed at the look on Abby’s face. Eyes wide and unblinking as they stared up at her, eyebrows knitted together, and lower lip clasped tight between her teeth. It was the same face seven year old Abby had made when she found Rachel crying in her room after her first breakup. The same face thirteen year old Abby made when Sarah, their old nanny, lost her husband. The same face sixteen year old Abby made when their mother first fell ill. It was the face she made when something was wrong with her family, something she couldn’t work out how to fix.

“He was probably just tired-

“-He’s always tired.”

“-It looks like it was a rough mission-

“-it was going fine!”

“I’ll speak to him okay!”

“He needs to pull himself together or-“

“Abigail!”

The tiniest flinch from her sister, whether from the use of her full name, the tone, or the volume hurting her head, made Rachel take a deep breath.

“I’ll talk to Joe okay? Between the two of us we’ll get him to talk, or at least take it easy, but you don’t need to be worrying about that right now, you need to rest.”

“I’m fine.”

The protest was weak, and fell on completely death ears, Rachel just rolling her eyes and looking away from Abby’s half pout, half glare.

She wasn’t looking forward to the next few days. Knowing she’d have to practically hold her sister hostage here until the doctors conceded to let her go home, knowing the fight that would inevitably ensue when Rachel drives her back to the Morgan household rather than Abby’s own apartment. The fact she’d have to have another fight about Cammie and Gallagher, followed by another fight about Matthew and what he’s killing himself over, followed by another fight about Joe and what he’s keeping from them. All while trying to stop Abby from going back to work, trying to convince her to let someone take care of her for once.

Of all the people in her life who Rachel loves, her eight year old is by far the easiest to deal with.

She wasn’t quite the most fun to tease though.

“Do you want anyone else here? I can call someone?”

Hackles immediately raised at the mischievous glint in Rachel’s eyes, Abby frowned.

“Who?”

“Agent Cadence?”

“Seb and I split up last month.”

Thank God.

Aside from the fact that his name was Sebastian Cadence, there was a whole list of reasons why Rachel hadn’t approved of Abby’s latest fling. He was a subpar analyst who thought the sun shone out of his ass, and clearly resented the fact that Abby was actually good and respected in their line of work. He made sly digs about how much she travelled for her job but spent the nights she was actually home hanging out with his drinking buddies more often than not. He had a tendency to look more at Abby’s chest than anything else, and if Rachel heard him call her sister “Doll” one more time she was going to knock his teeth out.

“Oh that’s a shame.”

“You hated him. You and Matt hate everyone I date.”

“No I didn’t, and no we don’t!”

“Matt hated Richard,” dull “and Blake,” dismissive “You definitely hated Alex,” controlling “and Stace-“

“I did not hate Stacey, I just didn’t think you should be dating a civilian-“

“-and Jess.”

“…Okay but in my defence, Jess was a bitch.”

Abby chuckled at that, probably because Jess was a bitch. Even Joe said he didn’t like her, and Joe typically avoided sharing his opinions on Abby’s partners lest she remind him of his singular disastrous attempt at dating in the time she’d known him.

Rachel was still waiting for the day when Abby met someone who respected her. Who understood her work and supported her in it. Who could keep up with her mind and her mouth, who could match her stubbornness and challenge her, who knew she was led entirely by her heart no matter how much she denied it.

Someone who adored her as much as her family did.

“Well if I can’t call Cadence, do you at least want Lupa here?”

“…Who?”

Gasping in mock outrage, Rachel pulled the toy dog from her bag, ignoring the groan that filled the room at its appearance. She dropped it on her sisters lap, not failing to notice the fingers that reached out to stroke the old thing.

“Next you’ll be telling me you don’t remember Montauciel here.”

Another groan, though this time Abby couldn’t hide her smile as she semi-reluctantly grabbed the lamb’s foot when Rachel presented it to her.

“You used to take these two everywhere.”

“Stooooop.”

“Couldn’t sleep without them either, bet you’re glad I remembered to pack them.”

Her sisters laugh lit up the room, and Rachel couldn’t help but join in. No matter how sore Abby’s head would be for the next couple months, she was fine, and no matter how annoying she was, Rachel was immensely glad of it. And no matter how tense things may get with Matthew over the next few days, they’d work everything out and he’d be fine too. And Cammie was happy and healthy waiting for her back home, and she’d stay that way forever if Rachel had any say in the matter.

Her family was still whole and she would take the time to be happy for that.

“I take back what I said to Matt, you’re the worst.”

“Love you too Abs.”

—————————————————Authors note:

Rachel: Abby needs to date someone stubborn and argumentative who thinks she’s the best but doesn't tell her that in case she gets a big head

Townsend: Hi

Rachel: Nope, send him back

#gallagher girls #gallagher girls series #gallagher girls fanfiction #abby cameron #abigail cameron #rachel cameron #rachel morgan #matthew morgan #matt morgan #rachel x matt #matt x rachel

10 notes · View notes

farasen · 3 months

Text

Russian dub yapping

It's my turn to rant on the Russian dub. So, as I previously mentioned, dwk cannot be found on any official sources or streaming services. Therefore, they're not written down at any VAs role list, which means all the following may turn out to be false (although I'm 100% sure on most of them).

Leon (also Michi and this guy with glasses from the Cool kickers)

One of those who I'm 100% sure, because the actress' voice is pretty recognizable. He was voiced by Irina Grishina, an actress and a voice actress. She also voiced Helga from Hey Arnold! in some seasons, Nelson from The Simpsons and younger Tommy from The butterfly effect. Also Pixel and I guess Ziggy at some point from LazyTown.

Jojo, Natasha and Raban (plus background characters)

Also 100% sure on this one. They're voiced by Olga Golovanova, and, yknow, it's the voice that you call your "childhood voice" because this actress voiced quite a lot of movies and cartoons so she has quite many characters. For example, Twilight Sparkle, Fluttershy and Sweetie Belle from My little pony, Daphne from Scooby-Doo, Rhonda from Hey Arnold!, Lady from Lady and the Tramp, Mercury from Sailor Moon and many many more.

Deniz and Markus (also Paul and some other background characters)

Another VA that I'm sure in - Prokhor Chekhovskoy. Also a recognizable voice actor with a lot of background. He voiced Frodo from The Hobbit, Jaskier from Netflix The Witcher series, Ted from The Lorax, Tobias from TAWOG, Marty from Back to the future, Daffy Duck from Looney Tunes show. He also voiced video games characters, like Ralph from Detroit: Become Human, as well as some from League of Legends and Dota 2.

Marlon

Now to the ones I'm not really sure about. Marlon is supposedly voiced by Irina Kireeva. She's a quite popular actress, but I think she specializes more on films and games. It's Ashley from Mass effect, Zarya from Overwatch, Romka from Russian novella Tiny Bunny, Eivor from Assassin Creed and more.

Willi

Also not sure about him, but people say he's voiced by Daniil Eldarov. He voiced BBC's Sherlock Moriarty, Knuckles and Eggman from Sonic Boom, Captain America in many Marvel movies, Luke Skywalker, etc.

Vanessa

Who voiced her? Shit if I knew. The only one on whom I couldn't find anything, even though I'm pretty sure I heard her voice before. But so far I have nothing on her, if I find out I'll make an update maybe.

Okay, so we're done with that, but may I comment on the quality?? Even though I think rus dub is one of the best dubs for dwk, there are still some errors. Like there were a few times when the actor just changes for one phrase for no reason and you're like wtf?? And it's always Marlon for some reason idk

Like, the first is his normal voice and the rest is.... whatever this is

Also the way they pronounce Kevin (yeah it's English version of names for us) differently every fucking time. Sometimes it sounds like [e] and sometimes it's more like [ye]. It's not that bad but it's kinda annoying.

#shitpost #die wilden kerle #dwk #dwk animated series #die wilden kerle animated series #dwk deniz #dwk leon #dwk vanessa #dwk markus #dwk marlon #dwk jojo #dwk raban #dwk willi #dwk natasha

10 notes · View notes

the-wize-1 · 2 months

Text

Thawing the Widow (A Natasha Romanoff Story): Chapter 4 - Friendly Conversation

Chapter Summary: Cat's left alone with this Natasha lady, who's kind of scary but not that much anymore. Awkward conversations commence

Chapter Warnings: Hints of child abuse (not explicitly described)

Notes: Again, incredibly sorry for not updating in like a year. I’ll try to be more consistent. Please reblog/like/comment if you’re enjoying it! Also, you do not have permission to repost this anywhere.

Thawing the Widow Masterlist

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

To Cat’s surprise, Natasha had readily agreed to let her free from the chair.

“Make sure you stay still,” she’d said.

Probably because the woman was no longer threatening her at gunpoint, she was a lot less threatening. Her demeanor had done a complete one-eighty. Previously, she’d been terrifying and angry, like she had caught Cat doing something she wasn’t supposed to. Now, she was still distant and businesslike, but not an immediate threat to Cat’s life. In fact, she was almost pleasant, as if she hadn’t just been training a gun at her head a few minutes ago.

Now that she had time to study her, Cat realized that the woman was much less physically threatening than she’d originally thought. She was compact and muscular, like a fighter, and shorter than Trevor, but Cat would bet that this woman could take Cat’s uncle out in a heartbeat if she wanted to. She moved with a deadly gracefulness— somehow, her feet didn’t make a single sound against the wooden plants— and with such confidence that it added a few inches to her height.

Cat had come to the conclusion that Natasha wasn’t going to kill her— if that was her plan, she would’ve done it already. Cat still regarded her with a little bit of unease, but since she could be certain that the woman wasn’t randomly going to stab her with one of her very sharp knives, she felt much better about the whole situation.

Cat guessed that she and the Arrow Man— Barton— were definitely spies. They’d mentioned a “mission,” and they were dressed in black leather, which was definitely suspicious. It was sort of surreal and exciting, to be caught up in some sort of movie-like scene. But what had Natasha meant by “get rid of her”? Cat still had to figure that out, and also how to get out of this place as soon as possible.

“So,” Natasha said, as she sliced one of the ropes that bound Cat’s legs to the chair with her knife, “you speak Russian.”

“Yeah, so?” Cat asked defensively. “Doesn’t mean I’m some sort of terrorist.”

“I don’t think you’re a terrorist.”

“Really? Because it kinda seemed like it five minutes ago.”

“We’ve moved past that.” Natasha shrugged. “I just think it’s interesting.”

“Why?”

“Most kindergarteners don’t speak Russian.”

Natasha’s eyes flickered up, just in time to catch Cat rolling her eyes. She wasn’t bothering to dignify that with a response. She’d given up on correcting her, even though it should’ve been blatantly obvious that she was much older than some puny kindergartener. She was nearly ten flipping years old, for god’s sake.

“How’d you learn?”

“Why do you wanna know?” Cat asked suspiciously.

“Just making conversation.” Her gaze sharpened, turned more calculating than curious. “Did your parents speak Russian?”

At the mention of her parents, Cat’s guard went up. Her knee involuntarily jerked up, just as Natasha was reaching up with the knife to free her from the wrist restraints. It happened so suddenly, the woman only had just enough time to pull back her arm so that the knife only grazed her knee. It was a shallow cut, but it still stung. Cat was unprepared for how sharp it was. She had to bite her lip hard to suppress the cry of sudden pain.

Natasha frowned up at her. “Didn’t I tell you to stay still? I’m holding a knife.”

Cat was startled by her tone of voice. She knew it was ridiculous, but for a moment it had sounded almost like a mother, scolding a child. It’d been so long since she heard that tone used against her. It made her feel so uncomfortable and squirmy that she didn’t know how to react.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“We’re going to have to put disinfectant on that.” In one smooth motion, the knife sliced away the bonds that held Cat’s wrists together. They were sore. Cat moved them around a little, sighing in relief, immediately jumping up and flopping down onto the sofa instead.

“Thank god. I hate that stupid chair.”

Taco, who had been waiting by the floor, immediately jumped into her lap. He licked her hand excitedly, barking. Cat held back a smile. He had been spectacularly unhelpful throughout the entire interrogation, but now he decided that he actually cared about her? He had completely ignored the fact that Cat was in obvious need of rescue— not that he could do much to help her, but an attempt would’ve been nice. She was sort of mad at him, but knew she wouldn’t be able to stay that way as long as his adorable face stayed that way.

Natasha straightened from where she was crouching and reached towards Cat. There was something in her hand, flashing in the light like metal. Like a knife. Lightning fast, Cat flinched back, her fists raising in front of her face, preparing to ward off an attack.

“Hey, relax,” Natasha said, holding up a faint yellow bottle. It glimmered in the light again. It was labeled DISINFECTANT. “Just trying to help you not get infected and die.”

Cat relaxed a fraction, her fists lowering. “Oh. Okay.”

Natasha’s gaze raked her up and down. “Jumpy, aren’t you?”

Cat scowled at her in the most unladylike way possible. “I most certainly am not . I’m just ADHD. Like, I get hyper and super energetic. You know.”

“Okay.” Natasha managed to sound both skeptical and uninterested.

“And my parents didn’t speak Russian,” Cat rushed on, eager to change the subject. “I’m just a genius, that’s all.”

Self-appointed genius, but she didn’t need to know that.

Natasha tore open the hole in Cat’s leggings a little more to expose the cut. The fabric ripped with startling ease, being so worn and old. The cut didn’t hurt— Cat knew she had a high pain threshold— but she was surprised by how much blood such a small cut could produce. Perhaps she wasn’t a very good clotter.

Natasha dabbed the red away with a white cloth. Cat noticed that sometime during their conversation, she’d pulled out a first aid kit. “A genius, huh?”

“Yep. I can memorize loads of things. Books, maps, the periodic table. My third grade teacher—” Cat threw Natasha a significant glance, as to remind her that she was, in fact, older than a kindergartener. “— didn’t believe me when I told her I could remember it off the top of my head, but I showed that— ow!” She hadn’t been able to hold back her hiss of pain.

As Cat was speaking, Natasha had smeared the disinfectant over the cut on Cat’s knee. It stung like crazy. Cat swore a little, not too much, and she nearly saw Natasha’s lips twitch at the corners. Cat remembered that she wasn’t supposed to say those kinds of words in front of adults. She recalled how Mrs. Barington had sent her to the principal’s office— five times!— when she had.

She waited for the lecture, but all Natasha said was, “I think those words are a little too big for you.”

“Well, I don’t.”

She pressed a Hello Kitty band-aid on the cut. “Suit yourself.”

Cat frowned. “Are these the only kind you have?”

Natasha raised her eyebrows. “I don’t think you’re in much of a position to be making demands. You were the one stealing from me, after all.”

“I was not making demands,” Cat retorted indignantly. “And I was not stealing.” Under her breath, she muttered, “I didn’t actually leave with anything.”

“Because you didn’t have a chance to leave at all,” Natasha pointed out. “Being in the process of stealing is still stealing. Not to mention, you ate all of the peanut butter cookies and I haven’t heard an apology yet.”

Cat glared at her. “I’m sorry,” she said insincerely.

Natasha snorted.

“They were really good, though,” Cat admitted. She looked at the Hello Kitty band-aid, peeking through the hole in her leggings. “Are you sure you don’t have any other band-aids?”

“What exactly do you have against Hello Kitty?”

Cat huffed. “I just think it’s a little undignified.”

“Clint got them at the store. He claims they were the only ones there, although that’s debatable.”

Cat stiffened at that. Clint. She had to be talking about the Arrow Man— Clint… Barton. And the woman’s name was Natasha. Clint Barton and Natasha Someone. The names struck a chord in her memory. She’d read those names before, she was sure of it. It took a couple of seconds, like it usually did, but the memory came to her like she knew it would. It was three years and thirteen days ago, 8:32 a.m. She’d been six. Her father— she pushed aside the twinge in her chest at the thought of him— had been reading the newspaper. He’d always preferred holding the papers rather than checking his phone. The New York Times. She could nearly smell the coffee and bacon in the air, the lemon scent of her mother’s freshly washed hair.

Her father always let her steal his newspaper before he had his coffee so she could read a couple of passages aloud to him.

Look, there’s Iron Man, he’d said, pointing at the wide picture that spanned the entire half of the page, with the Avengers. Cool, huh?

Cat had been more interested in the words. She liked reading. She liked absorbing the information like a sponge. She’d dutifully scanned the passages, all about how the Avengers had saved New York again. There was Iron Man, Thor, Captain America, a couple other mentions, and… Hawkeye and Black Widow.

Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff.

Cat had never been as good as memorizing faces as she was with words, but she did recall seeing a flash of red hair and that black leather catsuit associated with Black Widow. And Hawkeye’s arrows and black getup were unmistakable. Everything made sense. Everything clicked into place.

What the hell is going on, Cat thought wildly, caught up in a frenzy. Did I really get interrogated by two Avengers?

She was so stupid! It had been so obvious. The arrows, the iconic red hair with the suit, the “secret agent” stuff— how had she not managed to figure it out?

“Oh my god,” she whispered to herself.

“What?”

She remembered that Natasha— who was the Black Widow— was still staring at her. Cat thought back to everything she’d ever learned about the Black Widow. She’d saved New York with the rest of the Avengers, but she was also a spy. An accomplished, deadly, and ruthless assassin. She’d killed dozens of people, probably without even batting an eye. She could probably do a lot more to her uncle Trevor than knock him out. Cat stammered for a little before saying, “Nothing.”

Natasha didn’t look convinced, but also like she didn’t particularly care. She closed the first aid kit and walked away from the room.

“Where are you going?” Cat called after her. “What’s going to happen to me now?”

“Still figuring that out.”

Natasha disappeared around a corner and disappeared into a room.

Cat’s eyes darted around the room. She needed to get out of here. Natasha had been neutral and non-murderous towards her so far, but there was no telling what she’d do to her in order to “get rid of her.” Cat had already found out their secret hideout, she knew their identities, and who knew what other confidential information she might’ve accidentally picked up. That gave them more than enough reason to get rid of her in a not-so-nice way.

They’re the good guys, Cat reminded herself. They wouldn’t kill a kid. That’s ridiculous.

She was being ridiculous. But she’d be safer out in the streets than she was in here.

Cat bit her lip, wondering what Natasha might do if she caught Cat trying to escape. Her backpack was hanging off the edge of the couch, but all of its contents were still scattered across the floor. Taco might bark or protest if she tried to drag him with her while he was dozing. Would Natasha try and tie her up to make sure she didn’t escape.

Cat didn’t have time to make a decision. Natasha was walking out of the room, a chunky laptop in hand. It had a logo emblazoned on the front. An eagle in a circular shape. Natasha set it on the coffee table and began typing furiously. Cat wondered what she was doing. She could’ve been watching funny animal videos, for all she knew, but Natasha didn’t strike her as the funny-animal-watching type. She noticed the woman seemed a lot less dangerous when she was frowning at the computer screen.

Cat swallowed hard. “You’re not going to kill me, are you?” she blurted. “Or hurt me, or maim, or anything?”

Now she had Natasha’s full attention. The woman looked annoyed. “Why the hell would you think that?”

“Well, I don’t know! You’re the Black Widow! You didn’t have any trouble pointing a gun at my head!”

Natasha paused. This seemed to surprise her. “So you know,” she said.

“Yeah, and that Clint Barton guy is Hawkeye. The arrows pretty much gave it away,” Cat said, not choosing to mention that she’d only figured it out a couple minutes ago.

“Huh. We should really do a better job of hiding our identities.”

“Yeah, you guys kind of suck at that.”

“We weren’t preparing to find a little girl in the safehouse.”

“I’m not a little girl.”

“I hate to break it to you, but you are.”

“I hate to break it to you , but I don’t usually trust people who try to kill me.”

“Would you get over that already? That was twenty minutes ago.” Natasha paused. “Think about this: why would I go through all the trouble of disinfecting a teeny tiny wound on your knee if I had plans to kill you right after? That seems counterproductive.”

“Okay, fine. You’re not going to kill me.” Cat sprang up from the sofa and arched her neck to see the computer screen. “So what are you doing?”

Natasha looked back down at the screen. “Just looking at your files.”

“I have files? What do they say? Can I see?”

“Everyone has a file.” Natasha pulled the laptop away from her view, and Cat pouted a little. “I’m seeing if it matches up with what you’ve told me already.”

“I haven’t told you anything!”

Almost as soon as she said it, Cat remembered that this wasn’t true. She’d basically spilled her entire life story to them. But hopefully she’d been talking so fast that Natasha hadn’t remembered everything.

“And all that ‘file’ stuff is a bunch of bull,” she continued hastily. “Who would even keep, like, official government files on me? I bet it’s not even accurate.”

Natasha clicked a couple times and read from the laptop. “Your name is Catalina Gray. Your birthday is August 19th. You were born in Manhattan Beach, California. You’re an orphan and a runaway. Your social security worker is Kimberly Kingston. Your favorite color is green.” She raised an eyebrow. “Still think it’s not accurate?”

Cat gaped at her. “How did they know my favorite color?”

Natasha smirked. “Lucky guess.”

“That is creepy!”

“Even better— look what I found.”

Natasha turned the screen towards her. It was a pdf of a flyer. A picture of Cat, taken from her second grade school photo, was taking up the majority of the space on the page. Underneath, big red letters spelled out MISSING! The description was: Short blonde girl with brown eyes. Wearing a pink backpack with butterflies. May be carrying a box of fruit loops. If found, contact this number.

“Short,” Cat grumbled. “I am not short. I am an average height for my age. And that’s a terrible photo.”

She had been smiling painfully in it. To be fair, it wasn’t that unflattering of a photo. It just brought back memories that she wished would stay hidden. That day, her mother had made her shower— twice— and sit as she brushed her hair into neat braids and tied them off with small black ribbons. Cat had been dressed in her nicest seafoam green dress and shiny hard shoes, even though they pinched her feet. She had no idea why school picture day was such a big deal to her mother. She tried to explain that the photo would only be a mugshot, so wearing such a flouncy dress and uncomfortable shoes didn’t even matter, but her mother had outright gasped when Cat suggested wearing Converse instead.

Natasha turned the screen back towards her. “The good thing is, now I know what to do with you.”

Cat didn’t like the sound of that. “And what would that be?”

“Send you back to your social security worker. This Kimberly Kingston woman.”

Cat shook her head. She had already started backing away. “I have a better idea. You let me and Taco go back to living on the streets, and you’ll never have to see me again. I won’t breathe a word to anyone, I swear, and if I did no one would believe me anyway. See? Everyone’s happy.”

She grabbed her backpack and started gathering her things from the floor and shoving them in. She leaned down and grabbed a fistful of cash that had fluttered down underneath the sofa. Her hands were shaking again at the possibility of ending up back in the system, which she hated. She was so weak.

Natasha didn’t try to stop her. She just did that silent long judgemental staring thing she did. “Why did you run away?” she asked suddenly.

Cat slowed in her frantic movements. She straightened a little. “It doesn’t matter,” she said fiercely.

“It does if you don’t want me to take you back there.”

Cat worked her jaw. She couldn’t believe that she was here, with an Avenger— not only an Avenger but with the Black Widow herself— having this conversation. It was easy to forget that the woman wasn’t a dangerous assassin, a killing machine, when she was sitting right there, in front of Cat.

“If you take me back, there’s a chance that my uncle will get custody again. And there’s also a chance that I might be in the foster system. And I don’t want either to happen, so living on the streets is my best bet.”

“Your parents died, didn’t they?”

Cat tried and failed to stop herself from wincing. “What does that have to do with anything? I’m not a sad little orphan, okay? I don’t need your pity, or your help.”

“And then you moved to New York, started living with your uncle,” she continued ruthlessly. Cat wanted her to stop. Natasha watched Cat’s reaction like a hawk watching a rabbit. Bluntly, she said, “Your uncle— he hit you, didn’t he?”

Cat’s eyes flashed. “No!”

“I saw the way you flinched,” Natasha said steadily. “I’ve seen that before.”

“You’re wrong. You’re so wrong. It’s not like that at all.”

“You’re too young to be looking out for yourself. You’ve been living on the streets for what, less than a month? Trust me, you’re going to want to be in the foster system later, when you’ve run out of money and supplies. You’re going to need to go to school, get an education—”

“I don’t need to go to school,” Cat interrupted. “I can learn everything I need to know from the library. I can buy Fruit Loops from the grocery store. And I don’t need anyone taking care of me. I have Taco, and Taco has me, and we’re good on our own.”

Natasha shook her head. “Trust me, kid. It’s a rough world out there. You’re going to need everything you can get, and you can’t get it by yourself.”

“No,” Cat insisted stubbornly. “No. A thousand times, a million times no.”

“I’m trying to do a good thing here. You’re going to regret this later on, I promise.”

Cat stood up, all her supplies zipped up in that childish, bright pink backpack. She started towards the door. “Don’t try. Don’t promise. You don’t even know me. You don’t want to help me. And you can’t make me. So I’m leaving now. Thanks for not killing me and all, but I’m going. So bye. I’d say it was nice meeting you, but it was really the opposite, so c’mon, Taco.”

The beagle was still dozing lightly, which was both cute and extremely inconvenient. Cat shook him a little.

“ C’mon, Taco.”

The beagle yawned and blinked his large brown eyes at her. He didn’t budge, even when Cat tried tugging at him. He let himself be dragged over the couch, looking a little bemused. He made no move to stop her from moving him, but also made no move to get up and get the hell out of there.

Cat sighed, trying not to glance up at Natasha. “This is really awkward. He’s usually really obedient.”

“That dog is a ‘she’.”

Cat met Natasha’s eyes, astonished. “Really?” Then she remembered that this was getting the way of her being storming out of the room. She looked back down, trying to nudge Taco into action.

“Let me take you back,” Natasha tried again. “If you’re worried about being placed with a horrible home, I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen. And I’ll make sure your uncle doesn’t step in a fifty mile radius of you.”

“I told you, I don’t need your help,” Cat said through gritted teeth. “And I don’t understand why you care.”

“Just trying to wipe some of the red out of my ledger.”

“If you really want to do that, then don’t try and stop me.”

Cat couldn’t believe she just said those words— don’t try and stop me— to the Black Widow. It was kind of ironic because if she wanted to, the Black Widow could stop her as easily as lifting a finger. Use one of her electric zappy thingies to zap her senseless or knock her out with a single punch. Maybe the fact that she hadn’t already tried doing so was what made Cat feel so bold.

Taco finally got the hint. Not very impressively, he— wait, she— staggered to a standing position. Blinking her eyes tiredly, she followed at Cat’s heels as Cat finished her very dramatic storming out of the room.

To her disappointment, she realized that she wouldn’t be able to slam the door because it was so damn heavy. Instead, she did a very awkward pull at it until it started grinding against the floor, slowly shutting.

“Need some help with your dramatic exit?” Natasha called from inside.

Cat was straining herself with the effort. “No! I can… do it!”

She came to the door anyway. As she was helping Cat close the door, Cat said, “Thanks for not killing me again. But not-thanks for trying to take me to that Kimberly person. But also, thanks for not stopping me from leaving. And I really am sorry I ate all those cookies. And I hope I never, ever see you again.”

“Ditto,” Natasha responded, voice muffled.

With a final heave, Cat yanked the door back into its place. She was sweating a little. Cat fell back against the wall, chest rising and falling as she breathed heavily.

“Okay,” she whispered to herself. “That just happened.”

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Notes: Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!

#black widow #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x female #civilian!reader x natasha romanoff #auntienat #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fluff #platonic #Natasha Romanoff platonic

8 notes · View notes

nortism · 1 year

Text

i’ve watched the first four episodes of ghosts s5 and here are my thoughts:

‼️SPOILERS‼️

- the first episode was so funny, i love unhinged alison and pat being unprankable

- omg baby cooper, omg potential ghost seeing baby. i cannot wait for the christmas special

- SCOTTISH THOMAS??? THOMAS ANGUS THORNE!??

- since the captain was the meditator in julian and pat’s north/south debate i am claiming for the midlands. one of us one of us

- also i am shocked that pat and julian have not had this argument before, tory hating pat is real to me

- kitty thinking she’s pregnant when she’s really just displaying signs of neurodivergence, i love you babygirl

- also robin fucking his way through generations of ghosts is so funny to me, i need a full episode dedicated to his former lovers

- fanny saying she admired alison’s spunk when they first met 😭😭 bc bc she never got to be outspoken in her life guyssss i’m so sad

- the kitty death episode was not as sad as anticipated which is making me worried for whatever they’re going to do to the captain

- the thomas, julian, pat and the captain investigation squad was everything to me, they love her so much you guys 😭😭

- also kitty now has a canon surname!!! and she’s directly related to isabelle which we could have guessed but it’s still exciting to me

- i’m becoming more a of kitmas shipper by the second

- was not anticipating the eleanor and barclay redemption?? idk how to feel about it tbh especially the eleanor thing. like i’m glad kitty wasn’t murdered but idk it felt off

- also kitty thinking she was spider-man 😭😭

- mike worrying about being a dad was sweet, he’s gonna be so good (probably)

- BABY SOPHIE AND HUMPHREY!!!!!!!!!!!!!

- got to cross seeing another pre alison ghost off my bingo card, im guessing that was godrick??

- robin and sophie 😭😭😭 him wanting to comfort her when her nanny died but not being able to broke me

- can’t believe mike pulled the thing off with the french lady, good for him

- also who did robin learn russian from??? i need more robin lore and i know we’re not gonna get it 😭😭

#bbc ghosts #bbc ghosts spoilers #red lever #bbc ghosts season 5 #bbc ghosts series 5 #bbc ghosts s5 #ghosts bbc #robin bbc ghosts #humphrey bone #kitty bbc ghosts #thomas thorne #the captain #the captain bbc ghosts #pat butcher #julian fawcett #sophie bone #alison copper #mike cooper #fanny button

33 notes · View notes

frasier-crane-style · 3 months

Text

Treadstone (2019) is "from the world of Jason Bourne" (and "based on an organization from the novels by Robert Ludlum," the credits tell us). It doesn't at all manage to capture the nervy energy of the movies, but don't worry--it's bad in its own right, too.

Tim Kring is the showrunner and he seems to be aiming for a repeat of his Heroes success, with a vast and diverse cast sprawling across the globe. But whereas the fun of Heroes was watching the characters intersect and slowly join together for an apocalyptic climax, almost everyone in Treadstone is off in their own little world. One storyline is set in 1973! Characters regularly disappear from the narrative for entire episodes on end and when they reappear, it's a chore to remember where we last left them and what they're up to.

The main thrust of the plot would seem to be a North Korean plot to buy a nuclear missile from Russia that's aimed at Washington DC--though the only person that seems to care about this is an intrepid reporter, while other agents are tasked with pressing concerns like investigating a shot-up 7/11 or taking over the contraband pain pills business in the Midwest (no sir, I am not joking).

Where you'd think all the individual threads would come together at the end of this ten-hour series to stop the threat once and for all, the show leaves pretty much nothing resolved, everything on hold for a canceled second season.

The storyline would seem to involve Russian sleeper agents called Cicadas who are being reactivated to cause trouble--or maybe they're American sleeper agents--and aren't they all a bit young to have anything to do with the Soviet Union, which collapsed in 1991? Han Hyo-joo was born in 1987. Did the Russians train her to snap necks as a toddler?

Maybe I'm being facetious, since the CIA turns out to be corrupt and involved in a nasty plot involving American big business, a Russian obligarch, and a North Korean coup. Why, if the bad guys were running the CIA, could they not have just ordered the good CIA agents to stand down? Or prevented them from knowing there was a plot in the first place? I guess they're just bad at their jobs.

After all, we're told that the longer a Cicada is inactive, the more their programming breaks down... which would seem to miss the entire point of a sleeper agent, if you ask me... leading to virtually every protagonist being a Treadstone agent who is able to defy orders and do whatever they want. Just in case you thought Jason Bourne was a one-in-a-million fluke.

I feel like I'm underselling how hard it is to keep track of everything that's going on... the Bourne movies had complicated plots, but they earned being complex, they felt like they were really depicting, with verisimilitude, how these characters would operate in the real world. Treadstone features a character recovering his lost memories because he takes drugs with a hippie. Now, why didn't Matt Damon ever think of that?

I'm just going to list every main character and you tell me if you think they should've pared this story down somewhere.

*John Randolph Bentley is a CIA agent in 1971 for a sort of Jason Bourne: Origins story. He breaks out of a Soviet brainwashing factory after being held there for nine months, then has to prove that there's no way he could've been brainwashed.

*Petra Andropov is the woman responsible for brainwashing Bentley and she also fell in love with him. In the present, she's an old lady guarding the nuclear missile everyone (well, one person) is worried about. Despite the missile being key to the bad guys' plot, the show states that she's been forgotten about and the missile left to rust--no one thought to check up on it before they needed to use it?

*Tara Coleman is the reporter who somehow ends up being the tip of the spear for tracking down the nuke and stopping Washington from getting nuked.

*Matt Edwards is the CIA agent who starts off a little concern about Washington glowing in the dark, but then gets sidetracked by a Cicada/Treadstone agent who went a bit nutty.

*Ellen Becker is a CIA chief who is basically on looking at big monitors and going "Jesus Christ, that's Jason Bourne" duty.

*Doug McKenna is another Cicada/Treadstone agent whose wife turns out to be his handler, because she fell in love with him while brainwashing him. Did we really need two takes on this rapey dynamic?

*Soyun Park is a Cicada/Treadstone agent in North Korea. Since she's a woman, her spouse is just a normal dude and she angsts instead about taking care of her kid.

If this doesn't sound like a lot of characters, keep in mind, almost none of them are sharing a subplot. They all have their own storylines which barely intersect with everyone else's story. I get that the intent is to show all or at least most of the tentacles of this vast conspiracy, but did we really need to know all these aspects of the conspiracy? Did it have to be so vast that it includes the opiate crisis, North Korea, Soviet nukes, the year 1973...

I think if they had just edited it down to a few characters whose story was all wrapped up at the end of the season, they could've been onto something, but the show as is just takes on so much and covers so much ground that none of it comes together. It all just ends up feeling like random noise. Say what you will about 24, but at least it has an ending every season.

#treadstone #jason bourne

8 notes · View notes