#and yes its the same guy who made smiling felons

[johnkrrasinski]

No Light, Dead End; 

full masterlist

Pairings: Steve Rogers x female!reader

Word count: 2,812

Warning: SMUT!!!! slight dub-con. slight dark!steve but with feelingsᵀᴹ.

Summary: takes place after civil war and before infinity war because who is she? we don’t know her. after the avengers were divided due to the accords, you went on the run with steve, natasha and sam. during on the run, your relationship with steve had been going through a rough patch until one day, you decided to leave him. but he made sure that you knew who you belong to. 

a/n: this one is for @mariessecretfantasies​‘ 500 follower writing challenge! i chose prompt #8 ““No light, no light in your bright blue eyes. I never knew daylight could be so violent.” No Light, No Light- Florence + the Machine” i wanted to write something anguish but with a hint of darkness, just enough to spice it up. cause we all love possessive, slightly crazy steve, right? 😌 please leave a like & comment! enjoy. 

You stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door behind you. You just had another quarrel with your grouchy boyfriend, Steve. He wasn’t always like this though. He used to be the heroic face of America after all… Used to be. He was a man with perseverance, sagacity, and altruism. All his life, he wanted nothing but to help others. To serve his country. But all that changed since the Accords.

The whole country decided to turn its back on their favorite golden boy aka Captain America. The man they used to look up to and call out for when miscreants exterminated the city and when aliens invaded the planet.

He was a man with assertive morals, never doubting his purpose and his will. And the whole world agreed. Until his best friend, Bucky Barnes was accused of the bombing of the UN in Vienna and was shortly located where he had been hiding for the past couple of years.

Steve Rogers had faith in his former best friend who could barely remember him when he said that he wasn’t the one who committed the crime. But the whole country didn’t. And so, through all the battle at the airport in Germany, and the unauthorized flight to Siberia and the grievous alteration of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes to a group of wanted felons, you stuck and stayed with him.

You had faith in the man you fell in love with a year ago and you knew his true heart. That deep down, no matter what the world paints him to be, you will always believe that he was still the same selfless hero. A battered soldier with nothing but pure intentions. He had lost so much in his stolen lifetime, so you understood his desperate wish to keep his best friend alive and out of heavily guarded prison.

And so, after the final battle with Tony Stark in Siberia, Steve and Bucky agreed that it would be best for everyone if Bucky went back to cryostasis chamber until Princess Shuri finds a way to fix him. King T’Challa had made peace with the fact that Zemo was the one who murdered his father, and he realized that Bucky was only a victim just as much as T’Chaka was, so he allowed him to stay in their land and agreed to mend the broken man.

After Bucky was back under the ice, Steve went back to The Raft and reunited with Sam, Wanda, Scott, and Clint, releasing them out of the Arctic prison facility. Whilst, Wanda and Vision agreed to lay low and started a secret life together in Scotland, Clint and Scott went back to their residents under prohibition.

You, Steve, Natasha, and Sam on the other hand, went on a run, as a group of uncivilized nomads, living in crummy motels and working vigilante jobs in the dark. You changed your looks and camouflaged within the crowds. And this was the turning point.

Your relationship with Steve hadn’t been the same since the fallout. He became rougher around the edges, sterner, and crueler. Some days, you couldn’t even remember what his genuine smile looked like anymore. How his eyes used to gleam so brightly, you could see your lucid reflection on them. How he’d hold you so tightly, you felt nothing but his warmth after he passionately made love to you for hours.

How did you get here? You had lost count of how many times you had fought with Steve Rogers. Small sparks of fire growing into a massive one, burning the entire house down. You could feel the heat all over the room when his voice roars so loud and your words cracked through your lips due to the unwanted tears threatening to fall.

Hurtful words were tossed, if the walls could talk, they’d tell you the lunacy that echoed night and day when you and Steve are going at it. You two were crazy, mad people in love. Or at least you used to be. Not only him who changed after the Accords, but so did you. You became more reticent, more practical, and more indignant.

Whenever you were on stealthy missions, Steve would always order you around like you were nothing but a fellow soldier. He’d talk down on you like there was no history between you when you disagree with him. Whenever you made the slightest mistake, he’d deprecate you like you were a delinquent, untamed child.

Sam and Natasha were aware of the lingering tension in the room when you two were on bad terms, but they didn’t know how excruciating it could get behind closed doors. Whenever you stared into his electric blue eyes, you didn’t find the same vivacity or earnestness anymore. All you sensed was rage and darkness.

Darkness so steep and hollow, that sometimes you’d find yourself getting lost and trapped in them. Like he could devour you and crush you by a single fist of his palm. Deep down, you wanted to get your Steve back. The considerate and faithful man you fell in love with. The man who would bring you flowers from his morning run because they just reminded him of you. The man who would kiss your shoulders in the morning to gently wake you up, because he didn’t have the heart to disturb your peaceful state, but he needed to hear your voice.

Often times, you’d wonder if it was still possible to go back to the way you used to be. But he had been so hardened by the arduous circumstances now, that it sounds like a fairytale if you could go more than 5 minutes to have a decent conversation.

“Fuck you, Steve! You don’t fucking get to tell me what to do, you hear me?”

“Yes, I do! I’m your Captain. Watch your language.”

“I don’t fucking care. You are not the Captain anymore. You ungrateful asshole! I can’t believe I stuck with you after you became a criminal. You don’t fucking deserve it. You don’t fucking deserve me.”

“What are you gonna do, sweetheart? You’re gonna run back to the compound and sign the Accords? Well, guess what? The first thing they’re gonna do as soon as you show your pretty little face, is they’d cuff you up. And when they lock you up in the Raft, I’m not going back to save you ass.”

“I don’t fucking need you to. I’d rather be locked up in the middle of the Atlantic ocean rather than spending one more goddamn second with your grumpy, irritating ass.”

He stayed silent. His back was to you now. His shoulder slumped as he leaned his hands on the table. He listened to your hasty movements as you stormed into the bedroom that you hadn’t shared in a while. Since you two had been at each other’s throats nearly every day, he’d sleep on the couch while you get the bed.

The truth is, Steve still loved you just as deeply. But things had changed, and he couldn’t pretend that everything was okay just because he was still madly in love with you. He had to be tougher now, he constantly had to watch his back. He couldn’t afford to be distracted even for just one second when the whole world was looking for him and the entire country wanted him penalized.

He also had to be hard on you, because you knew that if any of you let your guard down, you’d be doomed. You could be caught. Or worse, you could be killed. Not only the villains who wanted you dead now… Thaddeus Ross had made it clear that if it’s necessary, he wouldn’t hesitate on shooting any of you on sight.

So he tried to forget the man that he was, stripped himself out of the Captain America mantle, and lived as Nomad now. He was fine with that, although it took him a while to get used to the slummy hotel rooms or sometimes, abandoned safe houses. And Nomads don’t maintain a lovey-dovey relationship and kiss each other dearly while cleaning each other off in the shower.

No, Nomads creep in the shadow and have each other’s backs in combats. Even if it means one of them had to be the meaner guy. As long as his allies were safe and returned in one piece, then that’s all that matters. He couldn’t care any less if they no longer liked him as a comrade.

And the thought of losing you terrified the shit out of his soul. The kind that he couldn’t shake away because somewhere, deep down, he knew it was inevitable. This line of work didn’t promise him safety insurance. Literally and figuratively, now that he was no longer claimed by the government or the Avengers.

So if talking to you as if you were nothing but a fellow soldier will remind you that you both no longer had the luxury to plan your next date night or cuddle in the sheets at night to keep each other warm, then he was going to do what’s necessary.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t hear you pack up your bags and stepped out of the room with your travel bag in your shoulder. You didn’t have that many personal belongings anyway. When he stole the Quinjet, you couldn’t go back to the compound to pack up all of your stuff and say your farewell to the rest who stayed, so along the way, you bought just enough clothes to have something to wear other than your battle gear. So most of your things were left in the compound, just like the entire journey over 5 years with the Avengers.

Steve and you had said a lot of things neither of you really meant when things were heated up, but he could live with that as long as you were safe and he could keep an eye on you. He’d let you have your moment of tranquility, knowing that when daylight comes, you’ll have to fight another day and bleed.

He thought that tonight was just another night where you two claw each other’s skin but would act as if nothing happened last night in front of Sam and Natasha. You had threatened to leave more times than he could count but you never did it. Just like the rest of the things you said. Meaningless contempt.

But this time, you were out of your mind. You really could be such a force to be reckoned with sometimes. That’s why he fell in love with you in the first place, but it would often drive him crazy too. And not the good kind.

He turned around and saw you sprinting toward the door. You were dressed in all black; black jacket, black shirt, black jeans, and black sneakers. He was confused at what you were doing but he maintained his calm posture and stayed in the same spot where he had been standing, with his hands on his hips.

“Where the hell are you going?”

“I’m leaving. I can’t spend one more goddamn second with you. I’m done.”

Steve didn’t even try to hide his panic. He really thought you were joking or maybe you were going somewhere to calm your head, then you’d come back. But no, you were really leaving this time.

“Hey, hey! Don’t be fucking ridiculous. You are not going anywhere.”

“Yes, I am. And you can’t stop me.”

“Stop acting stupid and just calm down for a sec.” He reached out for you but you flinched, not wanting to hear any more of his bollocks.

“Get your fucking hands off me, Steve. Before I break every single one of your fingers.” You swatted his hand.

Suddenly, his demeanor changed. You saw it in his eyes, the flash of that shift. The one that you had been seeing a lot these days. The alteration from Steve Rogers to Captain America. Or more suitably, America’s Golden Boy to The Most Wanted Criminal. You’d be lying if you weren’t a tad frightened by that darkness in him, but you weren’t going to lay it out on your hands and present it to him. You were no coward.

Rest in peace, to your naive bravado… Your headlessness had backfired.

Steve slammed you into the wall behind you as he grabbed you by the throat, inching his face closer to yours. You could hear his labored breathing, sweeping on your skin, his eyes glared at you, locking you in place.

Your hands immediately went to his, trying to break free out of his tightening grip, cutting off your airway. “S-Steve…” You tried to get him off of you by striking his face, but he still wouldn’t relent. He immediately dragged you to the couch, as you nearly stumbled on your feet.

“You think you can just run and leave me? Stupid girl. Looks like you need a reminder of your place.”

“St- Steve! Stop!” As your back hit the couch. You tried to stand on your feet but was abruptly stopped by his hand on your shoulders, pushing you back down. “Shut the fuck up.” He grabbed your waist as he turned you around, so you were reclined on your chest. His hand immediately went to grab a fistful of your hair as he whispered into your ears, “you really wanna push my limits huh? Riling me up like a stupid little brat, thinking you can get away with it. Hell no. I’m gonna show you the consequences of your foolishness, little girl.”

Then he slammed you back down as he immediately pulled down your pants with your underwear along with it. You thrashed your body, trying to push him away but it was futile. Steve lifted up your hips, so you were standing on your knees. Then you felt a harsh smack on your ass, eliciting a raw yelp out of you. He did it once more, and more, and more, until your tears started to leak out of the corner of your eyes. You lost your ability to speak, trembling from the excruciating pain.

Just when you thought the torment was over, you heard the clank of his buckle as you instantly turned around to see what he was doing. The hastened glance was enough to verify your fear. You immediately pushed yourself on your hands and attempted to get up but you couldn’t as he quickly pushed you back down with his massive hand and held you there. His other hand went to his cock as he lined himself up to your entrance, intruding your body violently without any warning.

His hand that was on your back, went to your other hand along with the other, to pin them behind your back as strictly as a cuff. Then he began to drive his hips into you until he was fully seated. He groaned due to the pleasure. He slammed back into you and out. He repeated his motion until you couldn’t help but feel the tightening coil inside of you. He startled you in your hazy state with another spank on your ass. You squealed.

“I can feel your cunt tightening around me, little girl. See? I told you you could never leave me. You belong to me. Only I can make you feel this good.” He gritted between his vigorous thrusts. You couldn’t even focus on his mortifying words anymore when you could feel your climax was approaching. You were so close. A few more slams by his hips and then, you fell apart.

You moaned in pleasure as your release was prolonged by his still unrelenting thrusts, attempting to reach his own climax. You closed your eyes in bliss, as you could feel the fight in you had drained. You couldn’t think of anything else or remember the way you ended up being fucked hard on this couch. You were still lying in the same position, with your face pressed on the couch and hands restrained behind your back as you heard Steve groaned from behind you.

You could feel his warm cum unleashed deep inside you as Steve pushed a few shallow thrusts to deplete every drop of semen. When he was completely finished, he pulled out of you and unloose your wrists as he sat on the couch. You were paralyzed. Despite him not holding you down anymore, you still couldn’t find the energy or will in yourself to move or carry on with your plan.

You were too wearied to start any altercation anymore so you just laid there as your eyes started to droop. Before you were completely dazed out, a gravel voice whispered to you like the sound of the wind blowing; subtle but crystal. “I’m not done with you yet, babygirl. I’ve got all night to remind you who you belong to.”

[altankatt]

Neal and Peter catch Keller

Neal knew Peter was likely going berserk but he had to reach there before Keller. He jumped into a cab, against the rules for how to transport himself on his own. He had no idea if Peter had sent his 'checked out' text to the Marshals or not. If he had, his anklet would be monitored and the speed of his transport would likely set off an alarm. It could not be helped.

"Manhattan Helicopters. FDR Drive," he told the cab driver. A convicted felon with an anklet going to a helicopter pad. He made a phone call to check what he already guessed. Then he called Peter.

"What the heck are you doing, Neal?" he almost yelled. "The Marshals called and—"

"I know. Keller is on his way to Manhattan Helicopters. So am I. Meet me there."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. You can check Sergei's flight plan yourself."

"Sergei himself?"

"The one and only. I have to go. I'm there now."

He ended the call, paid the driver and rushed out on the pier. There was no sight of Keller yet, but he probably waited inside the terminal, waiting for a call from Grace.

A black helicopter approached and Neal saw Keller exit the terminal and walk towards the pad. They met by the helicopter when it turned off its engine.

"Bravo, Keller."

"Seriously? Wow. So you came by to see me off, huh, Caffrey?" Keller grinned. "Who knew you were a gracious loser?"

"I have to admit using the real Ben Franklin bottle, did not see that coming," Neal said with honest admiration. "Stroke of genius, really."

"Thanks. That actually means a lot coming from you," Keller replied and for a second he looked like a little brother getting praise from his older, adored brother. "Only wish Kate was around to see it," he added to hide his emotions. "We both know she always loved a winner. Who knows? Maybe I'll look her up, see if she still does."

Neal looked back with a blank face. That was Keller. Always hiding his emotions by hitting at other's vulnerable spots. Sad, really.

"So I'm curious," Keller continued. "How'd you find me?"

"Checked Sergei's travel plans." The short version was just fine. "See he does it in style. I also hear he doesn't take it lightly when someone owes him money."

"Owed," Keller corrected. "As in past tense. Yeah, you see, our little go-around with the bottle cleared my debts. In fact, I just got a text from my broker. Bottle went for seven figures."

Neal hid his smile of triumph behind one of fake admiration.

"Wow," he expressed. "Wow, congratulations, man." Keller did not have a clue.

"Thank you. Thank you."

"So it was a two birds, one stone thing. Humiliate me, turn a hefty profit while you're at it?"

"See? Now you're catching on, Neal." Though Neal knew Keller wanted to hurt him it was painful to hear him say it. They had been friends once. "Listen, I'd love to chat, buddy. But unless you got anything else, I should get going. Be good."

For a second Neal thought about not saying a word and let Keller leave. Without money to pay Sergei with, he was likely to end up dead somewhere. One less killer in the world. One less trouble for him. But that was not how it was done. That made him like Keller. And if it was one thing Neal was proud of in his life it was his ability to care for people, even though he was a criminal. He was pretty sure that ability was one of the reasons that Peter had taken the deal.

He turned to Keller who had his hand on the door to the helicopter where Sergei was waiting.

"I haven't made my offer yet."

Keller glanced at his watch.

"This should be good."

"I'd like to offer you the opportunity to make a full confession for your crimes. The robbery of the Natural History Museum, the murder of Manuel Campos anything else you wanna add in."

"You know what? I was wrong. This isn't good. This is sad, man," Keller said, disappointed. "This is a moment I'll cherish. Seeing you at your most desperate." He turned back towards the chopper.

"The winner of the Franklin bottle it wouldn't happen to be bidder number 57, would it?"

This made him stop. Neal beamed at him and saw in Keller's eyes that he knew that he had lost.

"Why?"

"Now, this is just awkward, but I don't have a million dollars. The auction house said they'd give me a week to put the money together."

Neal heard people approaching from behind. He felt more than heard that it was Peter and his agents.

"A week, huh? You know what? A week's not that long. I can buy that." That, if something, was desperate. Clutching for straws. Neal smiled.

Peter drove out on the helicopter pier, waving his badge to the guard. He saw Neal with his back to him facing a black helicopter. And between the young con-man and the helicopter was Keller, leaving. Peter stopped and got out of the car.

"The winner of the Franklin bottle it wouldn't happen to be bidder number 57, would it?" he heard Neal say as he approached.

Keller stopped and faced Neal.

"Why?"

"Now, this is just awkward, but I don't have a million dollars. The auction house said they'd give me a week to put the money together."

Now Keller saw Peter and his team too. He was not about to give up yet.

"A week, huh? You know what? A week's not that long. I can buy that."

"Did you tell him I'm launching a federal investigation on the bottle?" Peter said.

"Oh, yeah, yeah. There's that too," the kid added with enthusiasm and Keller made a face. "How long can a federal investigation go on for?"

"Not sure," Peter said. "Years." It could, even it was rare.

"Oh, years, wow," Neal grinned.

Keller did not seem that excited about it all.

"Son of a bitch," he said to his opponent and Peter knew that Keller knew that he had lost.

"How patient are Sergei and your Russian friends?" the kid asked.

"You can take a helicopter ride and find out," Peter suggested. "Or you can come with us. Your choice."

He watched his pet convict and his enemy eye each other. There was no gloating.

"Well played," Keller said. He held out his arm and dropped his bag to the ground.

"Good game, Keller," Neal replied.

Keller grinned.

"The game ain't over."

"Help the gentleman into the car," Peter told his team and two agents stepped forward. Keller put his hands behind his back without a fuss.

"Looks that way to me," the kid said.

"Yeah?" Keller glanced at his rival as he got his hands cuffed. "I mean, you were locked up, broke out. Maybe it's my turn to accept a challenge. Best two out of three." Peter was not happy about that statement and could see on Neal's body language that he did not either.

"I'll see you around, Caffrey."

Neal took a step forward and told Keller something for his ears only. Then they led him away to the car.

"Poor Sergei's going home empty-handed," Neal smiled at Peter who bent down and picked up Keller's bag.

He felt so proud of the kid. There had never been a doubt about Neal's intentions. When the marshals called he had yelled at them not to worry even before checking with his convict what was going on. And seeing the kid out there on the helicopter pad, winning over his rival without mockery, it was such pleasure to see. Peter was a strong believer in fair treatment and no gloating when a suspect was arrested. Even a guy like Keller who was hardcore on the surface could be scared when being cuffed.

He pattered the kid on the shoulder on the way back to the car.

Neal remained where he was and Peter did not ask him to come along. He would not be involved in anything more concerning Keller. If the kid wanted to be alone as the adrenaline rush left him, it was his choice. Peter smiled. Neal would probably not be alone for long. He had a hunch a little bald fellow would turn up as soon as they left.

Neal enjoyed the temporary solitude. He watched the Statue of Liberty out in the bay and Brooklyn Heights on the other side of the river. He was outside his radius and Peter had let him remain there when they left. He took it as a gesture of trust. Still, Neal was pretty certain the moment he returned to his radius, Peter would send his text to the Marshals.

The imaginary freedom he felt down there by the water was worth a lot and he wanted to stay for a while.

Besides, he expected Mozzie to be around soon and was right.

"Did I miss Keller?" he heard his friend's voice. Neal barely needed to nod. The answer was obvious. "Damn. I wanted to see him do the perp walk."

"Sorry. Good news is he won't be bothering us for a while."

"How long is a while?"

"Maybe long enough to finish our chess game." Neal wished it was so.

"You think they have a prison that can hold him?" Moz asked.

"I don't know." He had broken out of one. Keller could probably do it too. Not with the same means, but if he wanted out he would get out. The question was if he wanted to, with an angry Russian mob breathing down his neck.

"Okay, so, what's the bad news?" Moz asked.

"You won't be drinking a million-dollar bottle of wine tonight."

Mozzie grinned

"I'll live."

Life was good. Right now at this moment, Neal had never been more certain that he would gladly spend the rest of his sentence working for Peter.

"You were right," he said and Mozzie glanced at him. "I could use one less mystery in my life."

"Oh, I rescind that comment," his friend said and Neal stared, not very thrilled of this new mystery. "There's suddenly been a lot of chatter about the music box. You need to talk to Alex."

"She won't tell me anything while I work for the FBI."

"Then… make it worth her while."

That was a challenge to Neal's liking.

Like this? Check out https://desnordlund.wixsite.com/altankatt

[sweetpeachjones]

You Made Ur Bed 8

Episode 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 , 6 , 7

A/N: excuse the typos and grammer, and curse me out later for making you wait so long

After the ceremony at Davida House

OMG Sean, you should have been there.Y/N  was there being a total slut damn near sucking this nigga dick-

She stopped in her tracks when Sean jerked up wiping his nose. Davida looked behind him, and all she could see was a mirror with two white powder lines and a playing card.

"Sean, I KNOW you aren't doing what I think your doing, I thought you quit that." "I did but I just don't it recreational, plus I'm bored as fuck." "Well, how but getting a job." "You know how hard it is for a felon to get one, they see that on my app and its, don't call us we'll call you' type bullshit." "But bae you can keep you from trying I'm mean I got my ticket, she exclaimed rubbing her stomach, you need to get yours, I don't need some sorry nigga eating off my plate." "The fuck you say, I wasn't any sorry nigga when I had you in the diamonds n furs, dripping sauce. Nigga gon for some time and bitches want to get amnesia. "Yeah well times have changed, she said getting up taking off her jewelry, you need to get it together and clean that shit up now!"

Sean angrily cleaned the mess up and walked out of the room slamming the door hard.

One week after the pool incident at Eriks house

You sprained your ankle and fractured your elbow and a laceration above your right eye. You had a cast on your ankle and the sling on right arm and stitches for your cut. Against your wishes, Erik insisted you stay to get better and even took off to nurse you. He has been waiting on hand and foot and doing the sweet thing like washing n oiling your hair and make sure your cast was dry as he gave you luxurious bubble baths and even carried you to the bathroom. But you knew Erik this is his whole game to get you to stay.

You sat in the bedroom on the bed fluff high on pillows while Erik was in the other room. You needed something on the dresser but you didn't want to bother Erik, plus he was smothering so you were going to take advantage of his absence. As you reached, you fell out bed with a loud thud. You never felt so helpless and began to weep. Erik ran upstairs to see you on the floor as he picked you up you start to get angry.

"Get the fuck away from me," you sobbed as tried your best to hit him in the chest.

"Girl wtf is wrong you!" "YOU, YOU THE FUCKING CAUSE FOR THIS!", pointing to the cast and moving the sling. "This is your fault because of your fucked up ego." "Well, I did think you would jump." You looked at him, and before you blew a gasket, you calmed down, "You know what, you said coolly if I didn't make it it would have been a lot better than to married to you." Erik looked you in the eyes hoping to see the humor, but you were dead serious. "You don't mean that Y/N." "Oh yes I do, this marriage has gone to hell. I don't know why I stayed this long with your cheating ass and constant lying. You think Davida was the only one, I knew about the others, I know when you were out fucking them hoes ERIK!. I'd find hints: the perfume, lipstick, the missing earring in your car. I noticed the way you shower, or you were smelling like a different, soap I don't even buy. I just let you do your thing as long as they never had the guts to step out place I was cool, cause at the end of the day you are going to do what you want to do and you were home every night mainly. But you started to get reckless and shit with Davida, so I figured you weren't giving a fuck anymore. And had the bitch calling the house and your fucking student at that! The fuck was you thinking; you were about to risk it all for some broad? Really?!

Erik looks away, before answering.

"She reminded me of you before you lost the baby. She had that happiness, that joy, that light you once had. We clicked like me, and you used to."

You rolled your eyes at his last statement. He continued.

"After the incident, you became bitter and once you started drinking you was like a shell. Like I understand she went, and nothing will bring her back, but you got to move on. It was never my intentions to get her pregnant we stopped after a few times then she tells me. I love you more than anything; I'll do whatever I can to right my wrongs. But I will be a father to my child."

"You wanna right your wrongs, grant me a divorce. Well split everything down the middle and keep control of our organizations."

"You sure you want that"

"Yes I can't keep going on like this, I love you, but I can't be in a marriage with you."

Erik looked deep in thought. He sighed, "Okay if that's what you want. I won't hold you back."

Next day at Davida's House

"So how far are you now?" Erik asked. I'm 35 weeks so our Lil boy will be here soon," Davida answered excitedly.

"Cool well when you are going on your next appointment I'll be there. I'll be over later to help set the crib and baby stuff."

"I need you to set up something in my bedroom," Davida answered back seductively.

Erik catching the hint but didn't feed into it, "yeah like I said I'll be over to put the BABY stuff up."

"Mhmm, well see you soon boo." "Don't call me that," and he hung up quickly.

Davida just laughed as she put her phone in the car seat as she pulled up her driveway. She parked the car and remembered she had to set a date in the phone at the same time entering her front door. She didn't notice the five large men sitting on her furniture. She looked up from her phone and grabbed her chest as fear and shock took over her whole body.

"Who are you and why the fuck are you in my house?!"

"Be cool sweetheart," the smaller of the five spoke. He physically fit but wasn't as buff as the others." I'm Mike Love and we just looking for ya boy Sean that's all."

"I don't know a Sean." "See, I'm trying to be a gentleman here but you're lying is going to turn this into an UGLY situation, and you don't want that." Mike said coolly as he walked towards her stroking Davida's cheek. "Now I'll never hit a lady especially a pregnant one, but I can't say the same for my guys. They weren't born with sense." "I don't know where he is I swear, I go to school and work part-time," he goes where he wants to, tears streaming down her face. "Shhhh it's okay love I believe you. But you tell Sean to get at me asap; I'd hate to come back here again and next it is not going to be as pleasant."

Mike turned to his goons and told them to leave and just like that they were gone. Davida ran to lock the door behind them and sunk to the floor a blubbering mess.

Four weeks later at the lawyer's office.

Well, I have to say this was the smoothest divorce ever an easy way to make my paycheck." Erik lawyer comments as he finalized the paperwork.

Erik and Y/N sat across from each other. Neither of them looked up as it was too sad to look each other in the eyes. Erik was the most hurt, he felt betrayed, he felt like he was trying and Y/n was giving up months of progress screwed up by two days. He couldn't fathom life without y/n she had been with him since day one, she believed in his projects, his dreams and wished he could have given her whatever she wanted. So he cheated little fuck up compare to the husband his friends were. Even in the pants suit, she was wearing she looked like a goddess and all he wanted to do to take her away forget all this drama and start over.

Y/n could feel Erik staring. After all these years he could still make her blood rush just by one look. She always loved Erik deeply but how many times can he spit in her face. Plus being careless enough to get someone pregnant, the audacity of it.

She felt a nudge pulling her out of her deep thoughts.

"What's that." "I said do you, and Mr. Stevens agree to the terms of the divorce?" My lawyer repeated. "Oh yeah, I'm good are you?", Y/n said finally looking up at Erik. He nodded, and we both signed the papers.

"Well that's it you two are no longer hitched. Haha, I must say I've done sooner if only my wife wouldn't take everything. Women right." He playfully nudged Erik and Erik only stared at him.

The lawyers began to leave the room and Erik, and y/n lingered in the room.

Well this is it, Erik said

Y/n leaned against the table arms folded

"I guess so huh." "I guess it wouldn't hurt to have a goodbye hug?" "No, it wouldn't."

Erik walked over in two strides stood in front of y/n and hugged her. He head protectively rested on top of hers as y/n slowly wrapped her arms around his chest. They stood like that for a minute until Erik kissed her forehead. Y/n leaned her head back some allowing Erik to kiss her nose; she leaned back until Erik pecked her lips. He pecked them again seeing as she didn't protest the first time. The third time he let his lips lingered as she kissed back. That's all he needed for confirmation. He gently grabbed her hair pulling her head back some allowing access to her neck. He kissed and sucked on her neck as if he was a vamp on his victim. They were too busy to hear the conversation of one the lawyers doubling back to find something. Once the door flew open, they immediately stop while Y/N's lawyer just stared as if they crazy, while Erik's lawyer smirk and closed the door.

Regaining common sense and more so embarrassed y/n pushed Erik back and fixed her shirt chastising herself while doing so. Erik just looked more frustrated as he fixed his coat. No words being said to each other as they head out of the office when they got to the elevators and stood on the opposite corners. Erik spoke first.

"Well, I hope we can friends after all this." "I don t know about that." "Aww come on y/n," he said walking towards her, "we have known each other for too long just to stop being each friend." "But u sneaky tho." Erik feined shock, "Me no," and he flashed those golden slugs and mischievous smile the y/n knew all too well. She laughed knowing this could be nice. "Yea whatever"

At Davida house two weeks back

Sean pulls in the driveway days after disappearing. Davida was waiting on him. Sean thought he could sneak through the patio. As soon he turned on the lights a glass cup was hurled at him, but he dodged it quickly.

"What the fuck." : What the fuck is right where have you been?!" Davida mocked furiously.

"I had some moves to do." "Liar u smell clean as fuck, so been u at somebody house, but I don't care who is Mike love and why the FUCK was he in MY house.

Sean's hearts stop. That's one name he did not want hear.

What did you say Nigga you heard me who is Mike Davida listens, Sean grabbed hold of her shoulders. I pissed off some significant and dangerous people, and for your safety and mine, I should not be here. Damn right u shouldn't, niggas come up in here seven deep, just what the fuck did you do? You remember Physco from our old neighborhood? You mean walk around with a machete in broad daylight Physco, him?! Yea well I had an opportunity to blame something on his baby brother in jail. I didnt know they were related, but word got around and by that time I was long gone.  

Feeling like an ass, Davida felt more sympathy for Sean. All this time she was hard, and he had a deathwish looming. She knew what he was up against and Physco was the type he wasn't gonna stop til there was blood.

Well, here I got some money n take my car. Take your car?! Yes, take it, ill tell Erik it was stolen n ill get another besides your safety is important to me. Ok but id have to go tonight. Tonight?! Yeah Davida sucked her teeth fine She went upstairs to her safe, put the code in pulled out 30,000 her women intuition was screaming "heffa are you crazy," but her heart wanted him to be safe. She wanted to travel with him, but the dangers that followed were enough to keep her back. She put the money in a crown royal bag along with the keys to her car and the passport and falsified documents that he asked him to do a while back when he was job hunting. She ran back down and gave it to Sean. He looked apologetically as he was taking away from a pregnant woman, sensing his hesitation she spoke. Please take it and when you get to a safe place ill come.

They embrace in what seems like the worlds longest kiss. Sean rushed out to the garage. Once he cranked the car and sped down the block, he never noticed the black Lambo following him. As the road twist and turned the car behind never missed a beat, and since they were the only two on the road, it was hard to lose them on a one-way street. Sean knew exactly who it was and turned off into the woods. Once he got deep enough, he turned the car off and lit a cigarette. Now or never he thought. As the Lambo neared the headlights nearly blinded him in the rearview mirror. He took his last drag as the passenger door to the Lambo opened up. Out stood Mike and Sean opened his door. The two men walked to each other and embraced in a lovers kiss! The tongue kiss was so explicit that the guard in the car started to get a little uncomfortable.

Omg bae I missed you, Mike said So have I, Sean replied So did u get the documents, Mike asked Of course, plus she gave me the car, you must scare the crap out of her. Well, I had to sell it. Breaking into her house, in that neighborhood, with five niggas was hard as hell. But worth it now that got my baby back. Let's go Paris awaits. Well what can we do car Either take it with us or better yet torch it, makes it more believable something happens to you. But she gave me this car Mike was getting slightly jealous, "And!?" Well I just don't want to torch it "Fuck that I'll take care of it," Mike walked towards the guard in his car mumbling, "Nigga act like he still loves the bitch or something!" "Hey!" motioning towards the guard. " I want to get rid of this car I don't care what you do I don't want to see it my sight again. SEAN!! let's go!"

The guard got out, and Mike and Sean got in the Lambo and drove off. The guard was left by himself in the car.

"Shit nigga crazy as hell baby mama bout to get a new whip!"

Present Day (After the Erik's and Y/N divorce agreement)

So your car was stolen?" Erik asked in disbelief as he works putting up the baby's crib and other items as Davida told her story sitting in a rocking chair. Erik made sure she didnt lift a finger, and she enjoyed every minute of it.

Yes, would you believe, right in my friend's neighborhood, I had to take an Uber home? I knew I should have stayed my ass home, told that girl to move out the projects.

Well, luckily you and the baby are safe. Ill hook you up I got a cousin who works for Honda.

Honda? The fuck! Do you want your baby mother and your heir riding around in some raggedy Honda? Because if I pulled child support, I can afford more.

It will be a current year! he pleaded. She stared at him motherfuckerly.

Alright, what you want? he asked

Momma wants a Benz!

Momma gonna have to clap them cheeks and suck a mean dick, and I mean to make that shit disappear for a Benz.

Aint like I done it before, Davida laughed, so how your wife anyway

Don't worry about her; he said what quick attitude.

Damn alright, I got to go to the bathroom, help me up these damn cramps killing me.

Cramps! What do you mean you in labor?

Not till the water breaks

As soon as she stood up she felt another cramp not so intense but bad enough to double over, Erik kept her steady.

I think we should go, do you have your things packed?

Yea in the downstairs closet in the foyer

Erik went to retrieve the bag as Davida wobbled to the restroom. She felt pressure and pushed thinking it was #2 when she got up she almost fainted at sight.

ERIK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

@curls-and-crosses @killmoncoochie @killmongersgurl @pupyluv247 @kreolemami @dumbchick @thiccdaddy-mbaku @wakandan-aesthetic @errin261 @lunaerly @muse-of-mbaku @royallyprincesslilly @brownsugarcocoabutterwildflowers @nemesispawn @imgabbyrae @hausofgucci @inxan-ity@wakandalivesforever @killmvnger@whorderofthepheonix@goddessofthejungle @chaneajoyyy  

@imaginewhoever @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade@bezzywazhere @wakanda-inspired

[jackyjango]

I’m not the only one to be blamed for this. @gerec did say: ‘someone cherik this’

Written for this prompt: if the next big fanfic trope isn’t ‘we had a maybe-fake-maybe-not marriage 26 years ago and i just realized that we never bothered to check if it was legally binding’... or a version of it

Tags: Bad writing, Erik being Erik and swear words thrown in here and there

It's a lazy Tuesday afternoon in the Manson. Storm and Jubilee had volunteered to take the younger ones on a trip to the greenhouse across the lawn, leaving Hank, Sean, Alex and Raven to enjoy a quiet lunch in the kitchen.

Raven sighs when the serene silence is broken by the echoes of her brother's voice from down the hall.

'No, don't talk to me…’ Charles is scolding Erik as he rolls into the open kitchen, and Erik is trailing behind Charles like a lost puppy-- no, a frustrated puppy-- hissing out a mix of curses and 'will you just listen to me’s.

‘How are you guys back so early?’ Raven asks. It's probably for the best to leave out the 'from your physical checkup’ from the end of her sentence, Raven decides. There's absolutely no need to bring up the fact that they’re all growing long in the tooth in casual conversation. Besides, it's Erik's turn today, it'll be hers tomorrow.

Her words, however, seem to pull them out of their private bubble. Charles and Erik turn towards them. Their wide eyes and baffled expressions confirm that they didn't realise that they had company-- just like every other time, then.

'What?’ Charles asks, confused.

‘How are you guys back so early?’ Raven repeats her question, and when she still doesn't get a response: ‘You guys left for Erik's first physical checkup… because he was complaining  of chest pains… Any of those ring a bell?’

Charles squares his shoulders and subjects Erik to a death glare, 'Yes, Erik. Why don't you explain to Raven why we came home this early?’

'Oops…’ Sean whispers next to her.

Erik looks at Charles, and when the strength of the Telepath’s glare doesn't abate, he turns to the rest of them. He shrugs defensively, ‘Well, it turns out that Charles’ insurance doesn't automatically apply to me.’

‘How's that possible?’ Hank asks, nose scrunched, ‘As Charles’ husband, you should be covered by default.’

Now Charles crosses his arms over his chest, 'Erik, darling,’ he says, words dripping with sarcasm, 'Why don't you tell them why, even as my husband, you're not covered under my health insurance scheme?’

Erik, too, folds his arms across his chest mirroring Charles’ posture, and in a single breath, says, ‘May be because our marriage might have turned out to be a not-marriage and maybe because we never checked if it ever was legally binding all these years.’

It takes a minute for Erik's words to settle into the room and its occupants.

It might have been twenty-six years ago, but Raven remembers the day like it was yesterday. Remembers her then twenty-three-year-old brother returning from his humanitarian trip to Israel with a ring on his finger and a Nazi hunter by his side. ‘Erik proposed to me on the ship on our way back,’ he had said-- all doe-eyed-- ‘and we got the Captain to marry us! Isn't that romantic, Raven?’

Raven had been mad at him for weeks. Firstly, he was too young to be getting married.

Secondly, what was he thinking getting married to someone whom he met on a trip? And that too someone as scary as Erik? Most importantly, Raven hadn't been on the Caspertina to witness her own brother’s wedding. Of course, she had the right to be pissed.

‘-contrary to what's shown in the movies, it's not true. A wedding officiated by the Captain of a ship is not legally binding in all the countries,’ Hank is saying when Raven’s thoughts stray back into the present.

Trust Hank to know the laws, amendments and constitutions of all the countries.

Charles had been so blissfully happy and so madly in love then, that, of course, he hadn't bothered to check if the marriage would hold against the law.

'Alright. Let's assume for a moment that the two of you aren't legally married, and therefore Charles’ insurance won't cover you.' Alex reasons, turning his chair to face Erik. ‘But what about your own insurance?’

'I don't have one,’ Erik shrugs.

'How don't you have one? That's the first thing the Professor got us done when we came here,’ Sean questions.

'About that…’ Erik trails off.

'About that.’ Charles groans.

'About that?’ Raven raises her brows in question.

'Maybe because I may or may not have a valid visa.’ Erik shakes his head, his expression so quotidian that he might as well be considering his choices for dinner.

Charles winces. Sean opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water. Hank sighs loudly.

'You don't have a valid visa!?,’ Alex asks, ‘Dude, that makes you an-’

'-illegal immigrant,’ Sean finishes.

'How the hell did you survive this long, then?’ Alex asks, quietly impressed.

'By living dangerously as an outlaw,’ Erik replies, baring all his teeth, like he's bloody proud of it.

Alex wolf whistles. 'I gotta admit man, that’s pretty bad a-’ after being subjected to a withering glare from Charles, clears his throat and amends '-not cool at all. Not at al-’

'Wait a minute!’ Sean interrupts triumphantly, like he’s made an earth stopping discovery, ‘I’ve seen driving licence. They don't hand those out without a visa.’

'But have you verified if it's real?’ Erik deadpans.

'Fuck!’ Sean squeaks. ‘I’ve been living with an illegal immigrant and a felon for twenty years. Will I go to Prison for it?’ He turns towards Raven with fear in his eyes. 'I’m not going to Prison, am I?’

‘Nobody's going to Prison.’ Charles says firmly, putting an end to Sean’s fretting. ‘I'll find a way to sort this all out. Sort out our fake marriage-’

Erik's loud groan cuts Charles short. ‘Stop saying that, would you?’

'Saying what? That our marriage is a fake? Not saying it doesn't change the fact that it is.’

'No, it isn't!’ Erik snaps. ‘To me it isn't’ His deep voice reverberates throughout the silent kitchen.

They both stare at each other for a long time, no doubt hosting a furious telepathic debate between themselves. Finally, Erik deflates. The long sigh that leaves his body drags the expanse of his shoulders along with it. He kneels down before Charles and takes his hands. ‘I'm sorry, Charles. For… everything. But a marriage certificate is just a piece of paper. How does it matter what it says about us? When I call you my better half, it's not because a certificate gives me the right to do so, but because you are, in every sense of the phrase, my better half. What makes a marriage is this-’ He waves a hand between the two of them. 'The love that we share, the home that we've made, the school that we've built together, and the family we've created with these children. And nothing can tell me that it isn't otherwise. And absolutely

nothing can stop me from being your husband, not a piece of paper or a social convention.’

Raven has seen Erik over the twenty-six years they've lived under the same roof now. With his dry humour, resting bitch face and shark like smiles, she'll admit that he has reluctantly grown on all of them. But even after all these years, she hasn't got used to seeing Erik being tender with her brother. It's sweet and scary at the same time. Downright creepy.

What makes it even more so is that Charles isn't immune to it. Her brother turns into a puddle of goo on being the victim of Lehnsherr’s heartfelt confessions. Even now, Raven can see the moisture in Charles’ eyes and the smile he's hiding behind his defiant front.

'That still doesn't change the fact that our marriage isn't legally binding, Erik,’ Charles protests.

'In that case, we'll just marry again. That is, if you'll still have me as your husband for the rest of your life,’ Erik says simply.

Charles lets out a chuckle. ‘That was the most unimaginative marriage proposal ever. But, yes, darling,’ he cups Erik's cheek fondly and blinks rapidly, 'I’ll marry you once again.’

They share a tender kiss.

'Why don’t we elope to Europe and get married there? I'm sure I'm a citizen of one of its countries,’ Erik tries as he straightens.

'No! No, Erik. We aren't eloping.’ Charles holds up a stern finger up.

'Urgh, Charles, you're so boring. I'm already regretting proposing to you,’ Erik says wrinkling his nose, like one of the younger students forced to eat their greens.

Charles laughs out loudly throwing his head back, ‘If you think that's boring, wait till you see all the paperwork you'll have to fill to get a visa.’

Erik groans shaking his head. ‘It's proven. Marrying you has been one of the biggest mistakes of my life.’

Charles giggles at Erik's theatrics. 'Come on, old man,’ he says fondly, holding out his hand for Erik, 'Let’s talk to my Lawyers and see what we can do.’

The two of them leave the kitchen hand in hand, leaving Raven and the boys in silence.

It's Sean who breaks it. ‘Are you sure,’ he asks leaning towards Raven, ‘that your brother is the same guy who's an omega level telepath with three PhDs contending for this year's Nobel?’

Raven chews on Sean's words, then shrugs it off as a moot cause. 'Well, none of those guarantee to give you common sense.’

‘No, it doesn't.’

They go back to their lunches agreeing on it.

-

[davidcarner]

Pros and Cons Ch 1, Homecoming

A/N: I hear you groaning, not another one, so let me explain. I have Asperger's. Sometimes I find myself fixating on something, and that's been this new fic. So instead of fighting it, I embrace it. This fic has been in many people's hands, but something was wrong with it. I wanted something slow (I feel you rolling your eyes) but as it progressed I realized I had the chance to do something, just fun, and caperish. So, consider the first six to seven chapters the lead in. I have eight of them already completely written, and as I complete a future chapter I will update this. I'm thinking weekly, but if I should get done early...(I'm also the guy who sometimes updates every 24 hours.) As for everything else, I'm working on those to, but I do/did have dry socket, and things have slowed to a crawl, hence why I'm publishing this to give you something to read. Enjoy this one, it's been fun, and it will remain fun. There's a few more angsty moments then I've ever done (save that one shot) but it's kinda necessary. BTW, thank you Zettel for the title name. It's seen at least four different ones.

A/N 2: I need to thank Zettel, Halfachance, Angelgurl0 and Steampunk . Chuckster for help with this one. While I was writing it I was dealing with a tooth issue that turned into dry socket and small things were wrong with this one. These fine folks helped me fix it. This fic has been working its way through my brain for a better part of six months. I knew how it started, how it ended, I didn't know how the middle went and then Angelgurl0 made an innocent comment and I knew. This one is a slow burn (not 40+ chapters like some people I know) (love ya SC). One last thing. Bryce is a GOOD dude in this one (Wade1978 just disowned me) No backstabbing, no nothing, he's a good dude. I hope you enjoy Pros and Cons, Ch 1, Homecoming

A/N 3: Jenny, Sam, and Sarah are all the same person and will soon be Sarah Walker. Hopefully there is no confusion.

Disclaimer: Don't own Chuck,

The cell door buzzed open and Sam walked into the property room, and up to the property clerk. She'd been looking forward to this day for two years. She had survived and there were times she wondered if she would. She took a deep breath to settle her nerves. The property clerk studied Sam for a second, and Sam gave her a small smile. The property clerk picked up a bag beside her, and opened it.

"Samantha Lisa Garrett?" the clerk asked. Sam nodded. This was really happening. She was really leaving. Two long years were finally over and she was free again. "One pair of jeans, blue, one tee shirt, white, one vest, black, one pair of shoes, black, and one pair of sunglasses." Sam nodded. "One purse, forty-three dollars inside." The property clerk studied her. "Sam, you gotta chance, don't mess this up."

"I won't," Sam said, her throat tight. The clerk grinned at Sam, and shook her head.

"If I see you back in here, I'm gonna kick your ass," the clerk said with a grin. Sam smiled. "Bathroom's over there for you to change. Anyone here to pick you up?" Sam shrugged. "Okay, if not, the bus will be here in forty minutes."

"Thanks," she said. "And Harriet, I won't be back." Harriet gave her a smile as Sam went into the bathroom. She changed out of the prison outfit, and began to put on her own clothes. It felt like heaven not to be wearing something from the prison. The clothes still fit, which was good. If anything, they were a little looser. She chuckled to herself, she had worked out in prison, and taken self-defense classes. Guys weren't the only one's who could come out of prison fit. She wasn't jacked up or anything, she was more athletic, she ran, for endurance and cardio. While she was inside she did everything she was asked to do. She didn't cause any problems, and even took a few college courses.

She paused at the bathroom door before opening it and wondered if he'd be there. She told him not to. She told him it was time for her to move on, and he gave her that grin he always did, and those kind brown eyes of his sparkled. Where was she going to live, where was she going to work he had asked. All valid questions she had no answer for. As usual, he insisted to let him help her, even thought he had no reason to. She shook her head and smiled. He was the one person that treated her like a person, through everything, and he wanted nothing from her. Nothing at all, in fact, he had even said something about her getting back with her boyfriend. She didn't have the heart to tell him, again, that Bryce wasn't really her boyfriend, although she was sure Bryce had told him that many, many times.

She looked in the mirror at the woman in front of her, and grinned. She nodded, pleased with herself. She was twenty-four, and she had her whole life in front of her, and someone who wanted to help her. She couldn't let him, he deserved to be free of her. She was the daughter of a con man and also a former convicted felon, he didn't need her associated with him. She walked outside, and Harriet let out a wolf whistle. Sam winked at her, and walked to the door. A buzzer sounded and she walked outside into the sunlight. She had been outside in the yard during her stay, but there was no cage, no bars holding her in. It was a brand-new day for her. She had thought about changing her name, literally starting a new life. She thought about where to live, where to work. She couldn't take advantage of him, but he said he was going to make her work if she took the job. He needed a personal assistant to keep people off of him, and he trusted her. She told him he shouldn't. He gave her that smile he had that made parts of her warm she didn't like to acknowledge and told her she'd never done anything wrong to him.

"Sam," she heard his voice. She looked over, and there he was. Chuck Bartowski, co-owner of Carmichael Solutions, the company that believes everyone deserves a second chance. She snickered at that, knowing how much the tagline drove Bryce crazy. Chuck and Bryce had built it from the ground up. It had started out as a video game company, but quickly had expanded into cyber security, and even a little into the recovery of missing items, persons, and even money when fraud was involved. His breath had hitched a little when he saw her. She was so beautiful, inside and out, and seeing her made his world better. He steadied himself before he spoke. "Need a ride, pretty lady?"

"I thought I told you I had it under control," she replied, grinning, both of them knowing she was messing with him. This was just part of who they were, and he didn't know how much she appreciated him for it. Chuck just grinned like he always did.

"I mean if you don't want to drive," he said, and she realized the car he was driving was her Porsche.

"How'd you get my car?" she asked. Chuck shrugged, like it was no big deal.

"I told you I'd take care of things," he said. He had. When she went in, he told her to trust him, that he'd take care of things and in two years they'd figure everything out. He grinned at her and gave her the line she knew was coming, but was 100% Chuck Bartowski. "Everyone deserves a second chance."

"Enough, it's all I can do to get Bryce not to punch you each time you say that," she said, serious, but a grin on her face. At this point Chuck was so used to saying it just it irritate Bryce it was just automatic.

"Yes, Ma'am," he said. She walked up to him, and he opened his arms. She hugged him, like she had never hugged anyone before. He didn't realize what he was to her, he didn't realize he might be the only person in her life she could actually count on. She had had virtually no human physical contact in two years, and for him to be the first person she touched was perfect. This guy, this amazing guy, that didn't have a clue how special he was. She pulled away, lowered her sunglasses and gave him the best stern look she could.

"We're gonna need some parameters, Chuck," she said. He grinned at her, and nodded. "I'm paying for my room," she said.

"It can come out of your salary if you want," he said, shrugging.

"I plan on actually working," she added.

"Oh, Sam, you are, I need someone to keep the jackals at bay, and I know you can," Chuck said. "Look, do this for six months, a year, if you hate it, fine, but then I can give you a reference, you have a work history, and you can rebuild your life." She relented and nodded. She stopped.

"I'm paying for the car," she said.

"Uh, no, this bad boy is mine now," he said.

"Jessie is a girl, and she's not yours," Sarah said, grinning.

"Jessie?" he asked. "You named your car Jessie." She gave him a playful smirk.

"Deal with it, Bartowski," she said. He grinned.

"Gladly," he said softly. "God, it's good to see you here, in the open," he said, his arms wide as if pointing out how open it was. She took a deep breath.

"Chuck, you need to let Bryce and I go."

"I just think you two are good together," Chuck said. "You two could have a great relationship."

"Chuck, he didn't come see me like you did," she said.

"It hurt him to see you in there," Chuck said, defending his friend. Same old Chuck, seeing what he wanted to see. "You two can pick up in your relationship in no time." This was pointless.

"Chuck, I spent two years in jail, I don't think a relationship is what I need," she said, getting into the car. Chuck nodded, tossed her the keys, and walked around to the passenger side, grinning. "What?"

"You know if a guy got out of jail what he would be thinking about," he began, and trailed off grinning. She bounced a shoulder.

"I never said anything about not getting a hook up," she said winking. Chuck had a look of faux shock on his face, but it quickly faded. He sat beside her, and watched her.

"It is so good to see you out of there, you look good," he said. She did, she looked real good, but she was Sam, and no matter how bad she thought she ever looked, he thought she looked good. He had missed her. She started the car, and sighed contently. She looked over at him.

"I worked out," she said, winking, and took off. Chuck laughed and thought back to the night three years ago when the three of them met.

-ooooo-

"Where's Jill tonight?" Bryce asked over the din in the bar. He and Chuck were seated at the bar having a drink. Midterms were over, and the two were celebrating. A half of a semester was left in their collegiate careers and then, they were out of Stanford with their degrees. The two had decided long ago when they graduated they would work together. They had been joking for years about what to name their company, and Bryce had to admit he liked the name Carmichael Solutions, even if Chuck did suggest it. The tagline…it made him want to groan each time Chuck said it. Chuck wanted to fix problems, give people a chance, but they both knew it would never fly out of the gate, so they decided to make a video game first, cash in, and then expand into other endeavors.

"She and some of her sorority sisters are partying," Chuck said, a forlorn look on his face. "I guess. At least that's what she told me." Bryce studied his friend. He thought he knew what was going on, but if Chuck didn't want to see it….He decided to try the straight forward approach.

"Dude, is there someone else she's seeing?" Bryce asked. Chuck shrugged. "I don't mean to be that dude, but things sound weird, off, you know?" Chuck put down his beer and turned toward Bryce.

"I mean I don't think so," he said, as honestly as he could. "But something weird is going on. It's like one minute we're moving forward together, and the next, she's pulling away, and you know how that scares me."

"Man, not everyone is your parents," Bryce said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Jill may go, I don't know, but I'm here, Ellie is there for you, and Morgan can't wait for you to go back home."

"Thanks, Buddy," Chuck said. "Well hello," Chuck said to the blonde that plopped down beside Bryce and grabbed one of their fries. It was obvious he'd had a few, because he never would have said anything to her, or been his normal self and stumbled and stuttered. Chuck was memorized. He chided himself, he had a girlfriend, but this woman, and her blue eyes that seemed to crackle. He forced himself not to stare at her.

"I had to come over here and prevent the crime that was happening," she said. Bryce and Chuck shared a look and turned toward her. She gestured to the fries. "You're letting the fries go cold." Chuck grinned and shoved them toward her. "Really? It was really just a cheesy pick-up line to introduce myself, but I'll never turn down free fries." The two chuckled. "Okay, why the serious look. Wait, are you two together and I interrupted something?"

"Us, no," Chuck said, making Bryce laugh. "I mean, you know dude, if I was, you would make a pretty great boyfriend." Bryce gave him a look. "I mean, come on, you're handsome, smart, know all the movies, and a nerd at heart." The blonde looked at one and then the other.

"Well," she said, eating a fry. "Is it reciprocated?" Bryce studied Chuck, and shrugged.

"I mean he's in the top twenty of guys I'd ask out," Bryce replied. The blonde laughed and Chuck exploded, making her laugh even more.

"Top twenty?" Chuck replied. He stood and gestured down his long frame. "Have you seen all of this? Top twenty?"

"Well, let's be fair, you're a little tall, and I'm secure enough to say that your height would bother me a bit in a relationship," Bryce said. Chuck picked up his beer, looked at Bryce, looked away, and then to Bryce again.

"Well, that's fair," Chuck said, and took a sip of his beer. The blonde was laughing.

"I'd say you're both pretty secure," she said. "Jenny Burton," she said, holding out her hand and shaking first Bryce's hand and then Chuck's.

"I'm Bryce Larkin, and that goof is Chuck Bartowski," Bryce said, pointing with his thumb over his shoulder to Chuck. "He's wallowing in misery worried about whether or not his girlfriend is cheating on him." Jenny raised an eyebrow. Chuck was going to say he wasn't wallowing since Jenny had shown up, but he knew he shouldn't, even thought he really wanted to.

"What did he do?" she asked. Chuck put down his beer, and tried to look offended. She could tell he wasn't and smiled.

"Probably was too nice a guy, if you want the honest answer," Bryce said, shrugging. Jenny looked intrigued. Too nice of a guy? Such a thing existed? "This guy, his parents leave him, his sister raises him, and what does he do, he goes and gets a full ride to Stanford. Then he convinces me, when we get out, to start a company that is about one thing and one thing only, helping people because they deserve a second chance." Bryce turned to him and clapped him on the shoulder, pride apparent. "Most people life takes a dump on, they get mad, pout. Him, he turns it into his life work to be more, to do more." Chuck shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. Jenny studied both men for a second.

"You sure it's just top twenty?" she asked, popping another fry in her mouth, grinning.

"Top fifteen," he said, shrugging, and lifting the beer to his lips. Chuck put his near arm around Bryce's shoulders, pulling him in for a side hug.

"Top two, and you know it," Chuck said.

"Who's number one," Bryce asked, curious.

"Pete down the hall," Chuck replied. Bryce nodded.

"Yep," Bryce replied.

"Who is Pete down the hall?" Sarah asked, about to burst from laughter.

"Oh, he is only the best cook we have ever encountered, and for tutoring him, he makes us dinner all the time," Chuck said.

"Wait," Bryce said, straightening up and looking at Chuck. "You'd take me over Pete?" Chuck shrugged.

"I'm not so sure anymore," he said, grinning.

"Okay, you two have had too much I think," Jenny said, finishing off the fries.

"No, we're just relieved because we're a half a semester away from being done with college," Bryce admitted. "And he's keeping his options open if Jill is cheating on him."

"Jill is an idiot," Jenny said. "No offense." Chuck felt his insides do something with that.

"None taken," Bryce replied. Chuck was standing there, his arms out, as if to say, "I'm standing right here." "See, Jill doesn't appreciate him."

"So she's having just enough sex with him to keep him in line?" Jenny asked grinning. "One of what they're having," she said to the bartender as he came by to check on them. Chuck pulled out cash and paid for it. She gave him a look.

"We're celebrating and I feel like being nice, even if you are disparaging my girlfriend," Chuck explained. Truth be told, he wanted her to hang around, and she could disparage all she wanted to.

"If she was here I wouldn't have to disparage her," Jenny retorted. Chuck made a face mocking what she was saying. She stuck her tongue out at him.

"Neither of you has a clue what that word even means," Bryce added in. "He claims she's not using sex like that, but I kinda agree with you."

"Chuck, you're a good-looking guy, funny, and apparently pretty intelligent. Plus you're just a good dude," Jenny said. "How many guys would do what you're doing? There's someone out there for you if she's not the one." Chuck felt his ears go red and was very warm inside. He was sure it was the beer. He knew it wasn't but he kept telling himself that.

"She's not the one," Bryce said.

"Enough, you two. Let's go find a booth," he suggested, wanting to change the subject, because he feared they might be right. Something was seriously wrong with him and Jill and while if it was over it was best to end it now so he could concentrate on the upcoming finals, he really thought she was the one. Before tonight he thought he was in love with her, but since meeting Jenny…he shoved that thought from his mind.

"Go get us one then, Slugger," Bryce said, giving him a half-push, nearly knocking him off the stool. Chuck got up and went to secure them a table he saw on the far side of the room. As he watched him walk away, he noticed Jenny watching him go. He leaned toward her. "Don't hurt him," he said softly. Jenny looked at Bryce.

"I wasn't here for him," Jenny said, grinning. Bryce looked at her, shook his head, and shrugged.

"They always want him, over me," he said turning to her. "He's Chuck. He's just the best guy I know." She looked at Bryce and then over at Chuck who was waving for them to join him.

"Are you complaining that your friend steals your dates?" she asked as they headed over toward him. Bryce laughed.

"Nope, I'm not looking for long term," he admitted.

"Maybe I'm not either," Jenny said playfully.

"That's what they all say, and then they meet him," Bryce said. He wasn't bitter, he was just honest, and Jenny didn't know what to say. "Jill's cheating on him, loads of women are dying to date him, and he's hung up on her. I can't prove anything without looking like a jerk, and he's going to get hurt." Jenny looked at Bryce.

"Sounds like you need a private eye," Jenny said laughing. Bryce nodded.

"I need someone to care about him as much as I do to stop him from getting hurt anymore," Bryce said, running his hand through his hair. "He's my best friend, and I don't have many friends, period. I want to protect him, but I can't. I can't prove what I think."

"Looks like you two are getting along," Chuck said, grinning. "Watch him," Chuck fake whispered to Jenny. "He keeps saying he doesn't want a relationship, but he's gonna find the right one and she's gonna change his life. Like Jill did mine."

"Jill Robertson is not the one," Bryce said, gently. Chuck waved Bryce off.

"She's just out, blowing off some steam with friends, we're good," Chuck said. "We're all good."

"Chuck, why wouldn't she be here with you?" Jenny asked. Chuck shrugged.

"I don't know," he admitted. Jenny didn't either, and for the first time in her life she felt the need to help someone, and she didn't know what to do about it.

A/N: Like Arrow there will be 5 chapters of flashbacks...mine will just be better. Hope you liked it, reviews and PMs are always welcomed…Take Care

DC

[howardlinkedin]

Debriefing (And Other Bad Jokes) Part 3

Part 2 here: X Summary: Things get serious except not since Tyki Mikk is now involved and Kanda breaks a chair. Meanwhile, Link struggles coming to terms that everyone he works with is attractive. 

The basement of the Black Order Police Department houses a gym, for the long nights of work, giving reprieve for the mind from homicide cases and missing persons reports.

Often, Lenalee could be found tearing up the treadmill or destroying yet another punching bag. Link had been given a perfect view of a hundred pound leather bag of cushion be ripped off its chain from the ceiling and burst at the seams the instance it hit the padded floor one evening, and it part frightened him and part aroused him.

The second half of that particular section in his lizard brain was vehemently beat down and shoved into a dark void Link managed to conjure up in his mind.

He was excellent at compartmentalizing.

“Oh, hello detective!” Miss Lee greeted, not at all out of breath as she lifted a new bag to replace the one she just decimated. “Do you need a sparring partner?”

---

Lenalee Lee, for all her loveliness and grace, was a real powerhouse compacted in a five-foot-eight, 140 pound body.

After Link became fast friends with the gym floor for the sixth time, countering the two he managed to deal her, the detective decided it was time to cede.

From the sidelines, Miranda applauded them both.

Laughing, the female officer handed the blonde a water. “Thanks Link! Who knew a stuffy guy like you had it in him?”

Link couldn’t tell if he was being insulted or complimented, but took the water anyway with gratitude.

On the opposite end of the gym, Walker was doing handstand pushups with just one arm, like the show off he was. Kanda thought it was a good opportunity to kick the arm out from under his partner.

The sparring match that ensued was really just a flurry of white and black, and Lenalee snorted while ushering out the medic and detective. “Let’s go before they start making out.”

“That is unprofessional.” Link looked cross, and was about to make himself stay and monitor the two.

“Listen.” The female officer looked the blonde detective in the eyes. “Either you ignore them or Allen will try and convince you to join them, OR Kanda will break both of your legs.”

---

Link wisely left, if only because he was conflicted and didn’t know which option sounded most appealing to him.

Once again, into the naughty thought box these feelings went.

---

Exactly one day after the bloodied wall and discovering that Walker had a stalker (and that he and Officer Kanda have more meaning behind the wrestling they do on the floor), Allen says:

“Arrest me officer.”

On reflex, Kanda snaps handcuffs on the other man and starts to drag him to the cells.

“No, no, you have to take me to the actual prison Bakanda.” Allen had the audacity to sound vexed that his partner didn’t follow his train of thought.

Lenalee was the one to often remind him that no one understands his thoughts, regardless of years acquainted, because his brain was a barrage of cats chasing after the same laser light.

Except, sometimes Kanda could comprehend Allen’s thought processes, when given the right cues.

Which leads the officer to turn into rage personified and snap a very pointed “NO.” in his partner’s face.  

Allen sighs and shrugs. “Well alright.”

Two seconds of silence.

“If you won’t come with me I’ll just take Link.”

With a click, the handcuffs fell to the ground, and Allen is out of the door with a very startled detective dragged behind him.

Kanda is left seething, glaring at the door.

---

This is how Howard Link found himself in the center of the Maximum Security Penitentiary’s recreation room, surrounded by people who have earned their occupancy, shadowing Officer Allen Walker.   

“Where’s your usual guard dog at Walker?” The one Link began to call Fellon 1 in his mind, asked.

“Yeah! Ain’t you always followed by that angry lookin’ guy?” Fellon 2 quips, looking Link up from head to toe. “This one’s just as nice to look at though.”

The blonde’s eyebrow twitched.

With a snap of his fingers, Allen redirects the group’s attention, expression serious. “Alright eyes over here.”

He slaps a hand of cards on the table.

“Full House!”

Everyone in the room groans, couple kick chairs over.

“Damnit Walker!”

Of course, Allen Walker is playing poker with criminals. Of course he is.

How the officer even gained easy access to the prison was beyond Link, seeing as it took months of paperwork to gain clearance. But nope. Not Allen Walker, manipulative, sunshine boy of the Black Order.

All the security had done was take one look at the white haired officer’s smiling face, and all entrances were open.

“Walker.” The detective hissed, side eyeing everyone else in the room. “This is not necessary! You’re overstepping your bounds enough as it is, if you don’t leave this instance, I’ll have to personally report you to the board!”

All parties in the recc room gave Link a blank (and somewhat crazed) stare.

White brows raised, Allen huffs. “Link it’s fine, these are my friends.”

“What?!”

All felons present erupted with laughter, because apparently Link was in an alternate universe, and he was actually the one not making sense.

The door slides open, and clad in awful prison orange, ankle chains and handcuffs, a scruffy man with a nest of hair and cracked glasses was escorted in.

Silence.

Allen twiddled his fingers at the newcomer. “Tyki, I love the,” He motioned with his entire hand. “Whole hobo rat aesthetic you’ve got going on.”

Turning on his heel, the man exits the room, only to return minutes later looking like a completely different person.

His hair was slicked back, revealing a crown of thorny symbols tattooed across his brow, glasses gone. He even popped his collar on his ugly orange jumpsuit, which Link thought was pointless.

The ink across his forehead labeled him unmistakingly Noah.

“Boy! Long time no see! Where’s your handsome hellhound at?”

Tyki Mikk managed to make walking in chains look languid as he shooed Fellon 1 from his seat and took the spot for himself.

The detective was really getting tired of being compared to Yuu Kanda, who apparently rarely left his partner’s side if even criminals took notice.

Allen began to collect and reshuffle his cards. “It’s hardly been a month Tyki.”

“Yes, but a lonely month without you here to brighten my dim days.” The literal murderer purred, accepting his cards. 

“No.”

Both men blinked and turned to look questioningly at the detective. He looked down right aghast.

“YOU.” Link points directly at Allen nose.

It scrunched.

“Are NOT going to play POKER with a Noah, and FLIRT with him!”

Allen sets down a three of spades in response. “Yes I am.”

Tyki began to howl with laughter.

---

For all their bickering, both Kanda and Walker made an excellent team.

And this was not just because they sometimes make out heavily on desks or hold hands at dinner.

Well, Allen holds Kanda’s hand while Kanda frowns A Lot at his fork like the awkward duck he was.

But as the smaller officer would say, details.

This exceptional teamwork allowed them to work in tandem through various plans, without needing to breathe an actual word to the other about said plan.

Which was why, even though Officer Yuu Kanda would rather be holding his sword to a certain Noah’s throat,  he also needed the detective out and his busybody ass away.

And Allen knew this. Thus, the grand display to drag Howard Link with him to crusade the Maximum Security Prison, and allow his partner to do what he felt needed to be done.

Which right now was lock himself and Lavi in the Profiler’s office like a creepy creeper.

“Now Yuu,” Lavi admonished, “I respect Allen too much to have an affair.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Kanda decided slicing Lavi’s chair in half would be a good stress relief.

The redhead looks balefully at the slaughtered seat. “Feel better?” “No.”

Bookman hummed and opted to sit on his desk. “Is this about our new detective?”

“I hate him, and I know you can give me actual reasons why.” Kanda rarely ever needed an excuse to hate someone. It’s usually his default reaction to new people, until they move mountains to prove to his judgmental and distrustful ego that they are not, in fact, agents of Satan. 

Which makes many wonder how exactly Allen Walker managed to worm his way into the angry man’s prickly heart.

But Howard Link? He arrived too soon to replace an incompetent detective, directly after too suspicious and fresh circumstances.

---

Lavi Bookman, mischievous, freckled man known by most for his constant jokes and upbeat persona.

Red hair in a constant state of windswept, with one eye hidden behind a patch after an unfortunate encounter, and the other a happy green.

Though, if one really took their chance to know him, they would soon find out that Lavi was also a satellite of surveillance. Every inch moved, every breath taken, Bookman could categorize someone’s every nuance and motivation with just a glance.

He wasn’t a Profiler for nothing.

It was thanks to him, that the PD was able to compile Tyki Mikk’s exact mental profile, right down for his need to become emotionally attached to his victims into order to kill them. Lavi never even saw the man, until the night of his arrest. 

  The moment Howard Link entered his line of vision, Bookman saw everything.

Which served frustrating, given the fact that Lavi was also a secretive bastard, and hardly ever shared his knowledge unless when on a case.

Kanda was frustrated he even had to ask.

---

A solid hour escaped them as Tyki and Allen tossed words and cards like ping pong across the table.

At one point, the Noah had tried to glide his foot up Allen’s leg, only for the officer to stomp it into submission.

Quite brutally.

For all of Allen’s honeyed words and inviting eyes, he had a very strict No Touching Allowed policy with condemned criminals. At this, Link’s mind rested just a millisecond.

Allen set down his cards. “Four of a kind!”

The Noah gaped and slammed his hands on the table. “STOP BEING A CHEAT!” he accused.

The officer took on an innocent expression. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, everything I do is fair and square.”

Letting out a frustrated, gravelly sound in the back of his throat, Mikk slouched elegantly in his chair.

On this day in history, Howard Link witnessed a decorated officer of the Order make nice with hardened criminals, play a card game with a Noah and watch said Noah pout like a child.

What was Link’s life, honestly?

“So,” After getting over his small fit at losing, Tyki stared intently at the officer. “What can I do you for? I doubt you came all this way to just humiliate me at cards.”

Wordlessly, Allen tossed a manilla file on the table, along with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Link glared at the white haired man, because where and when did he even get that information?

“Walker.” his voice warned.

At the sight of nicotine and fire, the Noah’s copper eyes light up. “Always so thoughtful, this is why I love you.”

At the admission, the detective felt his jaw crack, due to how hard he had just snapped his teeth.

Allen merely sighed out his nose and rolled his eyes.

Wasting no time opening the packet and lighting a stick, the Noah flipped open the obvious very classified file, filled with very sensitive information. “What bedtime story do you have for me here-oh GROSS!”

Tyki took on a very offended expression, sticking his tongue out in disgust. “Who the hell IS COPYING me? What the FUCK? THIS IS HORRIBLE.”

Stealing hearts, literally, was HIS modus operandi!

Before the Noah could get further outraged, and beyond reasonable, Allen reached over and

Poked his nuckle.

Tyki Mikk stared at the lone finger for a good three seconds before attempting to grab at the whole hand entirely. Allen moved it away out of his reach, looking as unimpressed as can be.

It should also be known that listed in Mikk’s file, the man was known to be obnoxiously tactile, needy, and prone to fixate on things he felt he couldn’t have.

As Tyki made grabby hands, Allen asked. “Do you know of anyone willing to go this far in copying you?”

“No.” The Noah had resorted to laying half of his body on the table in a sulk when he realized that he would not be getting to hold hands with the pretty police man.

Tyki’s life was frustrating like that.

“Sheryl might know though. The bastard knows everything that goes on when it involves death and destruction.”

Allen groaned, “I can’t stand Sheryl.”

“Join the club, Boy.” Mikk, still sulking, resumed flipping through the file. “OH DAMN.” He bolted up, eyes filled with glee.

“Whoever this jackass is, they sure take good photos.” The Noah, much to Link’s horror, spread all of Allen images on the table and began to pet them. “Damn, you look fine in these.”

“I know.” The officer was smug.

“I’m keeping these.”

“No.”

---

After Allen most likely fractured the Noah’s hands with a deck of cards for the file (and photos), the very frustrated detective and overly calm officer made their leave.

“Just be careful Boy.” Tyki warned. “Whoever did this, took a lot of effort to make this message for you. Someone wants your attention.”

An ominous promise, if Link have ever heard one.

---

Back at the Department, Kanda all but dragged his partner away where no one saw hide or hair of either officer for the rest of the evening.

At his desk, Link felt the hairs on his neck stand on end.

Someone had been through his things.

It was minute, subtle. But Link was a detective, and the little misalignment of his pens and computer items sent warnings behind his eyes.

After thoroughly combing over all of the drawers, it seemed as though no one has taken anything. In fact, despite the slight misplacement of everything, none of Link’s belongings were missing.

There was a clap on his back, causing him to jump.

“HA! How was your first ride with Allen?” It was the Bookman, eye twinkling. “You look a little frazzled, my guy.”

“It was...interesting.” The blonde cleared his throat. “I am in decent order mentally and physically, there is no need to comment.”  

Lavi blew a rather loud, and unneeded,  raspberry in Link’s face. “Yeah, whatever Mister Short Stack McTough Guy.”

“What?”

---

That night, Link also discovered that someone had ransacked his home.

Walker’s file was missing.

[abloodymess]

Scorsese Will Let You Be Wrong

“A few years ago, Scorsese unleashed Wolf of Wall Street upon a semi-unsuspecting public. It was a three-hour escapade of raucous, unhinged, bacchanalian hilarity about raucous, unhinged, bacchanalian people. I'd argue it not only features Dicaprio's best performance (I never knew he had that in him), I'd also say it's one of Scorsese's best movies. For there is no film more honest about the gluttonous madness that was '90s capitalism gone awry (though it could be true of any era, really). But the film's genius lies not in its hilarious portrayal of the allure of these jerks, but how it similarly does not shy away from their monstrosity. It's all there. Every callous, horrific, abusive action from Belfort, as well as every terrible tactic to screw over other human beings. These guys don't care. To them, this is all "funny," but the film is honest that their not-caring is funny, along with the fact it is plain-faced, sober and true. For we are a society that celebrates guys like Belfort. We offer no reward to the diligent Agents who spend their lives catching white collar scumbags, and we give those same scumbags a slap on the wrist for their crimes. This is what we do. And the ultimate point rests in the film's coda, in which Dicaprio stands before a crowd that has paid to see this felon teach them how to be successful. "Sell me this pen," he asks. The camera gracefully pans over an audience full of people watching on, eager, wide-eyed, and hungry. There we are. An eager audience watching an eager audience. The point could not be more clear: we are culpable for this. And we must reflect in our tacit approval. I cannot think of a more brilliant commentary of the way we remain enamored of such awful people.

And of course, the movie made some people piiiiiissed.

I remember one interaction I had in particular that seemed to go on and on. The person I talked with felt like the movie was completely reckless. That the movie did not punish Jordan Belfort for his actions. That it did not make it clear enough that he was bad. That it did not make it clear that the FBI Agent did a great service and that he should be happy (he should have smiled on the subway). That the film essentially glorified sex and money and greed and let everyone off the hook. He was incensed that, as a moral person, I could like this movie. That I must simply be deferring to Scorsese being a master and wasn't even thinking about it. Sometimes I worry that this is how a lot of people think, that depiction means endorsement. But I don't have to, because the movie handles it for me: it's all right up there on screen. This is how we remain enamored of awful people. This is what it looks like. Which just highlights the greatest irony of all (and also the true power of storytelling): we won't ever face the ugly truth in ourselves...

We want our movies to punish people so we don't actually have to...

And to this entire goal, I think what is so remarkable about Scorsese is he's so much more interested in priests/the faithful as they are, not as they should be. But this is what Scorsese does. What he has always done. He makes the best possible argument for being a gangster, then we see the honest answer of where it all goes. He makes the best possible argument for being a greedy capitalist, then we see the honest answer of where it all goes. And in making the best possible argument for religious devotion against evil persecution, he then gives us the most honest answer of where it all goes.

He just trusts us to draw the parallels ourselves.

But to me it's a perfect representation of Scorsese. He doesn't hand it to you. He doesn't guide you. If you don't see it, you miss it. Which seems so remarkable in a day and age where we want everything spelled out.

The most daring thing about Scorsese is he will let you be wrong.

"you have more confidence in most audiences than I do. Most in my screening seemed to miss huge parts of the point." Believe me, I get the concern. And I don't think I have any more faith than anyone else. So it puts us square into the question of what having faith in audiences even means. Should we trust complexity? Should we make it clear? What gets perverted anyway? This debate is not only old as hell, it will come seemingly about everything. Like a group of hatemongers who have recently co-opted the Carpenter film They Live. Carpenter even felt compelled to tweet about it, saying, "THEY LIVE is about yuppies and unrestrained capitalism. It has nothing to do with Jewish control of the world, which is slander and a lie." The film couldn't be more clear about this, but how can you stop such gross misappropriation? Heck, Citizen Kane could not be clearer to its point but watch some rich asshole stumble through his explanation of it, and you see him miss the point entirely. He almost gets to thinking "yeah, but who gives a fuck about a sled?" So we are left to ask, what is in our control? How much do we trust? What is our responsibility to clarity?

Again, the problem is the stakes always feel huge. Obama had faith in America and it got the rich asshole elected. But it was also Obama's faith in America that got him elected in the first place. Trust in audience is the eternal yin-yang concern of the communicator. But this is the world as it has always been. And it is precarious because of course it is. We even ask now "Did Russia hack us?" Yes. But that's not the answer that matters. It's the how and why that matters to the deeper result. For the real answers always lie in complexity. And if that's true, then we have to go to a scary place and I must ask a question...

Have you ever talked to high school student recently? I feel like most people don't spend that much time around any but their own, if that. And yes, oh god teens are such silly nincumpoops in so many ways. But all of them, at every level, are much smarter than you think. Especially the so-called "low-level" ones who tend to have more awareness of the given of societal complexity than all the grade-grubbing honors kids put together. If you sit there and actually explain to them something that is complex, but do so clearly... guess what? They actually get it. The challenge is in getting them listen in the first place. Even more so to ask questions when they do not understand. But the reason it is a challenge is because most have been talked down to their entire lives. They can absolutely feel it when you think they won't understand it. And so we make the explanation simple so they "will get it." Which just means that all the while, we end up ignoring the most important truth of all... that when you give someone a simple black and white answer they will therefore think simply and in black and white.

So there is nothing more damaging than ignoring complexity.

As hard as it may seem, consider this the desperate plea for that very thing. If there's anything we need in this world, it's more of complexity, not less. Especially in cinema, which is already complex enough to parse through. But it's always been complex. And as much as we think we're figuring it out now, we've been trying to figure it out for over the last century. Such is the pursuit. And while I feel I understand more aspects of it than I ever have, I feel I know less the limits of what cinema "is" than ever. Same goes for life itself. So all I really know when I watch the messaging of Scorsese and any number of brilliant filmmakers is that... this is complex cinema.

And I love it so.”

This is already long and I cut out all the stuff about Silence to avoid spoilers and this is already long, but the whole essay is great and you should read it.