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liz-allyn · 1 year

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sugar and vice, pt. 23 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!oc]

summary: in the beginning, there was darkness...

words: 5.1k

chapter warning: gratuitously deep philosophical nonsense.

series warnings: mob-typical bang bang violence, hurt/comfort. smut. Spicy situations. spousal / domestic abuse. family trauma. verbal abuse. PTSD, psychotic breaks/episodes, drug use. coercion. manipulation. kidnapping. gore. blood. possessive!peter, protective!peter. toxic/yandere!peter (maybe, sorta), negative self-talk, shameless forced proximity trope. ‘only ten one bed oops’ trope, imprisonment. slowest burn. a dash of questionable and/or morally grey intentions. extremely toxic relationships. having happiness ripped away from you.

This version of TASM Peter is not canon. The relationships and characters here are not healthy.

Don't date a mob boss.™️

18+ You’re responsible for your own media consumption, but if you think that this symbol

is the logo of some off-shoot programming block on Nickelodeon, then you're wrong. But are you? Regardless, live a little and come back later.

Part 23

Tick... Tick... Tick... Tick...

Peter thought of the elements.

Tick... Tick... Tick... Tick...

The Greats. Earth. Wind. Water. Fire. Space. Born out of Hinduism’s sacred literature. Also, Captain Planet’s sidekicks.

Tick... Tick... Tick...

The Chemical Elements. Only 118 of them have even been discovered. Only 95 of those are primordial, whereas the rest are man-made.

His dad used to talk for hours about this stuff.

Tick... Tick... Tick...

The interrogation room he was in was dark, despite the flickering fluorescent bulbs. The buzz of the lights sounded like a buzzsaw. The air was cold, too. The thin NYPD-branded, crew neck tee that Peter had been given to wear didn’t help much.

Tick... Tick... Tick

The lights flickered again, this time with a greenish hue.

Argon. Symbol: Ar. Number 18. A noble gas. Mercury. Hg, number 80. Also known as quicksilver. Highly toxic. Phosphorous. Number 15.

In his class, he was Number 2.

Atoms aren’t even as old as people assume. After the Big Bang, the universe was still nothingness—white, hot light that scorched everything out of existence. The heat was uninhabitable. Hydrogen didn’t make its appearance until roughly 370,000 years later.

370,000 years of hot, blinding nothingness.

Tick... Tick... Tick...

Hour after hour, they came at him like waves of radioactive light.

First, there were two detectives—both a bit too junior to be assigned to such a high-profile case, but Peter figured that they didn’t know that. A reserved Eagle Scout named Sousa and a snarky blonde female named Carter.

Or just ‘Sharon,’ as her boss Alexander Pierce referred to her, to her thinly-veiled ire.

The Commissioner waltzed into the room mid-interrogation and essentially asked his naive detectives to go back to coloring while the adults talked. Both detectives walked out of the interrogation room with a scowl on their faces.

They probably didn’t know it, but Pierce wasn’t concerned about their abilities as detectives, or the integrity of the case. All he needed was to get Peter behind bars, where crooked guards and violent inmates could take over. Where he could give Peter the same welcome that Miguel had.

They probably didn’t know it, but Peter could tell by the scent of Pierce’s cologne: a $1,200 bottle of Bond 9 Dubai that not even New York’s police commissioner could afford.

Peter recognized the scent. It was Wilson Fisk’s favorite gift to give his friends.

They probably didn’t know it, but Peter did.

Pierce had no intention of letting him make it to trial.

Peter was disconnected. Drained. Eventually, even Matt’s voice became static which blended into the tone of the room, and droned beneath the ticking of the clock and the god-awful buzz of the lights.

“—he’s in’a world’a trouble...”

“... absolutely no evidence —not even formal charges have been presented...”

It might not have been productive, but Peter allowed himself to tune out. Matt was a good lawyer.

“—lucky we’re not pressing charges against the department after Captain Stacy’s unwarranted attack on my client, whom he’s been stalking for years—”

Oh man, that’ll piss George off when it gets back to him. A very good lawyer.

Despite his earlier act, he still felt a great amount of sorrow for George Stacy. Not exactly sympathy... and not quite guilt. Just sorrow.

Looking into his eyes was like looking down into a sinkhole. Or passing a destroyed car on the highway. Unidentifiable. Cold. Hollow. Empty. Somehow the emptiness in Gwen’s father always triggered an empty feeling in him. It was a secret weapon that George had over Peter that his estranged father-in-law didn’t even know he had.

On the outside, Peter could wear a mask that projected cockiness and make lewd comments about the man’s wife. On the inside, George could eviscerate Peter with a look.

370,000 years of nothingness. Nothing but white, hot rage.

Peter tuned back in for a moment when Pierce said the name Walker. He hadn’t even heard the question fully and already his blood was boiling. He wished that he was guilty of that bastard’s murder. He wished that he had killed him. He tried to focus on something that Felicia said months back which resonated with him: about how Honey needed a chance to stand up for herself.

Maybe Felicia was right. Maybe it was just a terrible thing that needed to be done, and Honey was the one that needed to do it.

Honey wasn’t Gwen.

The history she shared with that dead asshole was a far cry from the tragic turn of events that led Gwen to shove a man off the ledge of a clock tower.

Honey wasn’t Gwen.

The look of heartbreak in her eyes. He’d never forget it.

George looked at Peter that way once, too—after a closed-casket funeral when he laid his daughter in the dirt.

They looked the way Peter felt all the time. Devastation. Ruin.

How could Peter possibly be capable of such cruelty? The world was full of monsters. Sometimes Peter was one of them.

Honey wasn’t Gwen.

In the beginning, there was darkness. Then, there was an explosion. Then there was an inferno that burned so hot, even the basic building blocks of the universe could not begin to form.

Honey wasn’t Gwen; she was Peter’s universe. The stars in his sky. She was a vast, endless expanse that surrounded him. That held him in an ever-growing, outwardly-expanding gravitational orbit. She was everything, and outside of that, there was nothing.

And every second in that room he felt himself getting further away from her.

Peter’s bones hurt. His back was in so much pain it was difficult to sit still. On top of that, he was weary. He was traumatized. He was grieving the loss of his security, his home. Grieving Eddie.

Despite that, Peter could toss the table like a Coke can. He could punch a hole in the wall and stroll out if he wanted to. Or crawl across the ceiling, to Pierce’s astonishment and horror.

Pierce was staring at him again. This time, there was a self-satisfied smirk on his lips.

Even if Peter did escape, he had too much to lose. Peter knew it. Pierce did, too.

In all the ways that mattered, he was trapped in his own web.

After several more minutes (or hours, maybe) of grandstanding on both sides, the door to the interrogation room swung open. A stocky figure silhouetted the doorway. Intense features, sharp lines in his jaw, brow, and aquiline nose, as much shadow spilling over him as there was light.

The temperature of the room shifted. Matt and Pierce stopped talking. Peter froze, lifting his chin as he met the dark glare of Manhattan’s district attorney.

“Frank,” Pierce said with a tinge of discomfort. “I wasn’t aware you’d be joining us so soon.”

Matt’s voice warmed but maintained a snarky edge. “Ah, is that the Honorable Francis Castiglione?” he bitingly beamed.

Despite the smile on Murdock’s face, Peter could hear the pace of his lawyer’s heart pick up. Which... wasn’t a great sign. Even Pierce started to sweat.

“Mr. Murdock,” New York’s toughest DA replied without batting an eye. Unswayed. Uncompromising. Undefeated. He held a stone, straight-laced expression. Even beneath a conservative black suit and tie, he was one of the most intimidating men Peter had ever laid eyes on. He was at least a solid 170 pounds, Peter supposed, of solid muscle and righteous fervor.

“Just having a little fun, Mr. Castle,” Matt charmed with obnoxious flair. “How could I forget your name with all of the posters still hanging around? ‘Stand Your Ground.’ Great campaign slogan, by the way. Especially for a pacifist who managed to ban every firearm in the five boroughs. Although, I’m certain you won’t be getting any gift baskets from the gun lobby—”

“I wanna speak with your client alone.” Frank’s deep voice rolled through the room like the first tremors of an impending avalanche. The other men stared back, blinking silently.

Matt’s sunny disposition dimmed as his jaw tightened. Pierce’s hackles were raised, although he tried to suppress it. Wordlessly, they blinked and flinched and tried to wrap their heads around the request.

A humorless laugh left Matt’s lips. “Yeah. That’s not gonna happen—”

“That’s fine,” Peter answered. He and his lawyer spoke simultaneously, their voices crossing each other in converse directions.

Matt turned his head towards Peter’s side of the room, his whole body going stiff. The flesh behind his light stubble turned pale. “Um,” Matt subtly cleared his throat while his heartbeat hurled alarmed profanities at Peter. “Uh, that is... not advisable.”

“S’okay, Matt,” Peter calmly replied, keeping his eyes locked on Frank. He could hear the sounds of his lawyer’s brain overheating while trying to reboot. Pierce pinched his lips in an anxious pout, avoiding looking directly at the district attorney.

Matt gripped the head of his cane tight enough to nearly break it. “Uh... Um. Oh-okay.” Awkwardly, Matt pushed his chair back as he came to a stand, shuffling to his feet.

Leaning back into the chair rest, Pierce visibly relaxed until Frank sternly added, “You too, Commissioner.”

The irritation in Pierce’s eyes didn’t go unnoticed. Shoulders tensed, teeth gritted, the man stood from his chair. He mirrored Matt as he sidestepped from the table and towards the exit.

Matt lingered for a moment at Peter’s side while his nails anxiously scored the cane. Peter noted the pinched expression behind Matt’s ruby-colored glasses.

“It’s okay,” Peter murmured under his breath, repeating an earlier sentiment that Murdock was skeptical to believe. And with that, Matt was powerless. Hesitantly, he gave them a parting nod, and followed Pierce out of the room.

The metal door echoed as it slammed shut, leaving the two of them alone in the cell.

Peter threaded his fingers together, the metal in his chains clinking, and leaned back as far as his restraints would let him. Thighs spread and chin tilted off axis, he fixed Frank with an unimpressed glare as a smirk played on his lips.

The prosecutor shifted like a monolith unearthing itself. Frank measured the cocky, sharp-tongued mafia ringleader with eyes colder than steel as he strode to the table. He pulled out a chair across from the prisoner and lowered himself down into it.

The two of them sat quietly for a moment on opposite sides of the room. But it was their positions on opposite sides of the law that created friction.

Frank was at least a decade older than Peter, but Peter seemed even more juvenile by comparison. The mob boss looked and acted like a young prince, leaned back in his seat with a smug face. Alternatively, Frank glowered down at him with the authoritative scrutiny of judge, jury, and executioner.

“Hot daaamn,” Peter said, mouth curved into a smile. “You put on some weight since I last saw ya, bub.” Waggling his eyebrows, his eyes flicked over the other man’s form. “You been workin’ out? Crossfit, maybe?” He let out a mirthless laugh. “Forget bein’ the scourge of New York’s underworld— Bro, you must be killin’ it in the gym.”

Unfazed, Frank disregarded the remarks without a single blink. His dark eyes bored into Peter, and he remained more than comfortable with the uncomfortable silence that followed.

Peter glared at him with darkening eyes, balling his fists against the table. “Is it safe to assume the cameras are off at this point?” Animosity sharpened his voice to a razor’s edge. “I mean, that’s the only way you’d ever allow yourself to be seen fraternizing with a criminal like me, right?”

The temperature of the room pitched downwards even further. Icy waves surged off of Peter. Frank was a stone wall, letting each wave crash over him and fall back into the surf.

“I’m not the one who put you in those cuffs, Peter,” Frank answered, nonconfrontational. “I’m not the bad guy here. And I never wanted to be your enemy.” He kept his voice soft and respectful, wisdom shining from his eyes. “You and I—we’re not so different. We’re not monsters; we’re men. We’re bound by the law. Both of us, judged by the law.”

The smile faded from Peter’s lips. “Well," he glowered, bitter frost in his bite, "aren’t you a modern-day Moses on the Mountain.” His words were punctuated with ire as he scrutinized him with disdain. “Y’know, they told me ya caught religion, but I didn’t realize what a holy roller you were. When we’re done here, I’ll give ya Matt’s number. Give ya tons to talk about. Bet'chu two would be a hoot at parties.”

Peter sneered at him a moment longer, then let out a bored, depreciating sigh. “M’not much of a Bible thumper, myself,” he half-shrugged. “Only verses I know by heart are Ezekiel 25:17... and, uh... whatever that bullshit was in Shawshank.”

Frank glanced down, deep in thought. “‘His Judgment Cometh and That Right Soon’,’' he said, recalling the prop he referenced. It was a tapestry embroidered with the Bible verse hanging in the corrupt Warden’s office—a MacGuffin in the film’s plot.

“That's not a real verse,” Castle noted, matter-of-factly. “You’re probably thinkin’ of Psalm 98:9—’Let them sing Before the Lord; for he cometh to judge the earth: With righteousness shall he judge the world and all of its people equally.’”

Peter’s eyes narrowed. “Well.” The word tasted bitter on his tongue as resentment spread through his chest like a tumor. “I’m Jewish. And even then, I never drank the Kool-Aid. S’not really my thing.”

He waited, expecting Frank to take offense. To Peter’s dismay, he remained as peaceful as a lake on a windless day.

“I get that,” the older man mused somberly. Contemplative, he looked up at Peter with sympathy coloring his face. “If what happened to you, happened to me,” he said, “I don’t know if I’d like who I’d become either.”

As he said it, his gentle eyes settled in on Peter with a knowing expression. Pity. It made Peter's teeth grind and his temper burn. It took all of his self-restraint not to break out of his chains and (re)break the prosecutor’s nose. Indignation writhed inside of his chest, souring his face and his stomach.

“Heard you were gunnin’ f’me real hard, too,” Peter muttered bitterly, tossing words like daggers. “Really put the heat on me— M'actually flattered.” Salaciously, he flashed his canines with a wink. “But ya didn’t hafta go to all that trouble, Frank. If y'wanted to get me alone in a dark room, y'coulda just hit me up on Grindr.”

“Are you done?” he replied witheringly.

“Oh, c’mon,” Peter taunted, equal parts threatening and scandalous. “I mean—they don’t call ya ‘The Punisher’ for nothin’, right? Well, go on. Punish me, Daddy. Why doncha just bend me over your knee?”

Frank’s eyes flicked to the black, mirrored glass window, shaking his head in frustration. “Always a comedian,” Castle huffed, annoyed. “Between you and Wade Wilson, it’s like watchin’ a hundred-car pile-up of clown cars. Can’t even be just a little real, not even for a second—”

“That’s not true,” he pouted. “My tits are real...”

Fed up, Castle shook his head and grumbled, “Y’think everything's is a joke! Can you at least pretend like you give a shit about any of this—?”

Peter’s temper flared suddenly, hitting a flashpoint that boiled the humor out of their rapport. “Y’know what I think?” he snapped back, eyes dark with rage. “I think you’re a God-damn hypocrite! That’s what I think! You and this whole corrupt, bullshit organization. That’s the joke.”

Frank shook his head, grinding his teeth. “There you go. Always a martyr.”

“Again, with the religious talk?” Peter rolled his eyes into the back of his head while letting out a dramatic sigh. “Look, ‘m’not interested in joining your little MLM cult-club, alright?”

“‘Mob Boss,’ my ass,” Frank scoffed. “Ya act like a fuckin’ child! Always whining about being the victim! Like you’re the only one in this city who's ever lost somethin’! Arrogant prick, I did three tours in Iraq while you were doodling in your diary! I was washing the blood of my brothers off my uniform while you were crying into your pillow at night! People die! Thousands of ‘em, every day! All tragedies, all the time, yet— somehow—yours is special!”

Frank’s voice boomed off the concrete walls, patience shattered. “You wanna talk about hypocrisy?” Castle said sharply. “Punishment?! How about three weeks ago in Forest Hills? Right in your backyard. Cops got a call about a domestic dispute. When they got there, the perp somehow ended up with a bullet hole in the back of his head, even though no one in the house owned a gun. You know anything about that?”

Peter straightened his lips into a thin line, lifting his chin. “Sounds like the dispute was resolved.”

“How about that hedge fund manager that committed suicide last spring?” Frank said, skewering him with his gaze. “The one that decided to swallow a container full of gasoline and light up a cigarette before jumpin’ off a roof on Park Avenue?”

“Tragic,” Peter replied, deadpan. “I read about it in the news. Guess the shame of stealing $8 million dollars of pension money from a firefighters union must’ve really burned him up inside.”

Agitated, Frank scowled with his eyes narrowed into slits. “How ‘bout in Brooklyn last fall? How do three seasoned drug pushers end up OD’ing on half their own supply of Fentanyl?”

Peter remained expressionless. “Dunno, Frank. Guess the Lord works in mysterious ways." The attorney huffed with nostrils flaring. By contrast, Peter idly see-sawed his head. "Rather poetic," he said, "as far as justice goes.”

“That’s what I call ‘punishment,’ Parker. Not justice! Vengeance! Plain. Simple. And cold-blooded.”

Peter sat up, leaning forward as his colorless eyes flashed with rage. “Before you accuse me of anything else you can’t prove—especially the messes that New York’s Finest shoulda handled—how ‘bout you explain to me how two innocent women were butchered and burned to death in Midtown and not a single arrest has been made?”

Frank turned silent.

“How ‘bout the dozens of immigrant families who’re bein’ forced against their will to launder the Mayor’s drug money so he can spend it on campaign ads?”

The other man’s jaw clenched while Peter continued his attack. “Let’s keep goin’ shall we?” he hissed. “Tell me how a Russian oligarch and his buddies park a yacht in the harbor—filled with stolen girls—children, practically—and somehow just... get away?” Veins protruded from his neck as anger rippled through his chest.

“Got any answers for me, Counselor?” Peter spat harshly, jabbing his index finger at Castle as far as he could while in handcuffs. “Wanna phone a friend? How ‘bout you call your boss, yeah? Why don’t you ask Wilson Fisk? Ask yourself! If you’re such a holy man, then how can you work for the Devil?! How can you even sleep at night, huh?I”

Outwardly, Frank was stoic with nothing but a crease between his brows to telegraph his thoughts. Inwardly, Peter could hear the attorney’s heart rate drumming up as Peter relentlessly dressed him down. Castle’s jaw was locked tight, holding his breath.

“And tell me one more thing,” Peter added, eyes flashing with rage. “How many times do you think about what woulda happened if I hadn’t been in the Park that night?” He blurted out the statement with a livid snarl and a dry throat. “What if I hadn’t intervened in the Blacksmith deal? What woulda happened if I hadn’t gotten your wife and kids outta there before the guns started goin’ off? You ever think about that!?”

Peter’s voice buckled on the last word. Memories of the violent night in Central Park five years ago flooded them both, bringing a tidal wave of conflicting emotion that swallowed him up.

It was Peter that covertly led the FBI to a plan to eliminate several gangs (and Peter’s enemies) at once. Practically a gift from the gods, it seemed, to take out all of Peter’s competition in one swoop.

Once it was clear to the young mob boss that the FBI cared more about making headlines than making sure the park was clear of innocent people, Peter chose to intervene. In the end, it was a disaster anyway.

When the other gangs realized they were being set up, a shootout erupted. Lives were lost. Peter saved as many people as he could, including Frank Castle and his family. For everyone else, it was still a tragedy.

Gwen included.

It was the first and last time the two men had met. And subsequently, a night that neither of them ever talked about.

Until now.

Peter’s eyes glazed over, tortured by the consequences of his choices. A tidal wave of conflicting emotions swallowed him up as his mind flooded with horrible thoughts. Betrayal, and resentment, and bitter, evil, disgusting jealousy that Peter could save Frank’s family but not his own.

Peter looked contemplative, then. Haunted. He fixed his weary eyes on Frank, continuing to unravel.

“And I’m gonna level with ya, pal,” Peter said in an unnervingly soft tone of voice. “Fuck. You. If you think that you and I are the same. You and I are not the same. Never will be.” Heartache pierced his throat, compressing his voice. He jerked his thumb toward himself. “Because somebody saved you.”

Tears glistened as Peter breathed hotly through flared nostrils. “Fuck your judgment!” he growled. “Because if what happened to my family happened to your family—ya wouldn't last a goddamn day! You’d be a nut job! You'd be beggin' for a bullet in ya head, rather than see what I’ve seen!”

Fury vibrated through the younger man’s being, indignation piercing each sentence. “I don’t give a shit what nickname they call you,” Peter seethed, “in the media... in the Marines... not even in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade! When it’s your family filled with bullet holes—believe me— that shit hits different.”

Peter’s eyes were wild—black with anger, wet with tears. “‘You wouldn't like who you'd become either?’” he repeated, muttering spitefully. “Fuck you!" Peter’s voice echoed, bouncing off the walls and reverberating in Frank’s chest.

He took a measured breath. His throat bobbed, cords pulled tight. "I may not be a religious man," Peter added as his chest heaved, "but I pray you never have to find out.” His volume abruptly dropped, adding a foreboding sentiment to the words. Like whispering a dark secret. A warning.

Blinding, white hot rage obliterating everything in its path. Scouring any sign of life before its existence.

Castle sat stoically with his arms crossed. Breathless from his outburst, Peter slowly retracted himself back into his seat. Frank studied him with a contemplative gaze and a tight-lipped mouth.

Until he broke his silence. “Every night.”

It was barely a whisper. Peter blinked at him with a crooked brow while the other man held Peter in his gaze.

“Every single night,” Frank answered, a little louder, “I think about what would’ve happened to my family if you hadn’t been there.”

Peter pressed his lips together, jaw flexing stiffly. Mist gathered on his lashes. He drew a shaky breath, lip trembling. To keep his eyes from betraying him further, he hardened his brow.

“You’re a hero, Peter,” Castle said simply. It was just a fact. “And a good man.”

Peter averted his gaze, casting it down while he swallowed a thick lump in his throat.

“You have the power to do good,” he said. “So much more than you realize.” Frank’s eyes swelled with something like reverence and admiration for his antithetical counterpart. “And yeah,” he noted matter-of-factly, “I do pray." He watched him placidly and empathetic. "And when I do, I pray that one day, other people will see you for the man you really are. And maybe... just maybe—you'll see it, too.”

Shooting pain in his fingers alerted Peter to the fact that his knuckles were clenched white. He kept his head lowered, eyes hidden and fixed on the shackles around his wrists.

“I pray that you find faith in yourself,” Castle said, then. His soft voice sliced through Peter’s toughened heart. The older man’s lip tightened into a line, his deep voice thick with sorrow. “And salvation... from yourself.”

Peter looked upward. The attorney gazed back at him in earnest. The silence which followed felt like the end of an era.

“You and I want the same thing,” Frank then said, returning to a sense of formality. “You want to expose Wilson Fisk as the Kingpin. So do I.”

Peter studied Frank’s heart—and his own. Steady. True.

“The only difference,” Castle added, “is I want to do it right: by the law. Justice. Not revenge.” Peter couldn't help but roll his eyes. “Because if we can’t do this right, then it’s not worth doing at all.”

“The only difference is,” Peter countered, “when I take Fisk down, he’s gonna stay down.”

Frank gazed at him incredulously. “That’s nice. Good stuff. You want me to write that down and read it at your funeral?” Peter glared bitterly but had nothing to say.

“Cards on the table,” Frank explained. “I don’t have enough evidence to charge you. Not today. Now you can walk outta here, go back to your old ways. End up in a casket, or in a jail cell sooner or later. Take my word, there are plenty of people in this building that want you dead. You won’t last a night at Ryker’s without someone tryin’ to stab a broken toothbrush through that giraffe neck of yours.”

“Sounds like it’s gonna be painful,” Peter muttered in a low voice. “For them.”

Frank fixed him with a stern glare. “Alright, smartass. Then what? These people are comin’ for blood. And they’re not going to stop with just yours.” He paused, then added, “You should know that, more than anybody.”

Peter had nothing to say to that. The thought alone stole his breath.

“You wanna fight the system?” Frank said. “You wanna take down Fisk? Then you bring me proof to put ‘em away. All of ‘em. Fisk, Pierce, his little ‘Shield’ SS hit squad. Every last one of them.”

Peter bit his tongue, contemplating the idea.

“And most importantly, you keep your hands clean,” Frank declared sternly. “No more dead car thieves in the river. No more pimps gettin’ scraped off the subway tracks.” His tone was cold, eyes sharp as he skewered Peter threateningly. “There’s enough killing in this city as it is. You cross that line, and I will come for you, you understand? Deal or no deal, our history be damned—you are not allowed to take the law into your own hands. You got that?”

Peter raised his chin, peering at him through the fringe of his slitted eyes.

The clock ticked on. Primordial elements as old as time surrounded them. And for reasons that Peter could not fully understand, he walked into a coffee shop one day and walked out with hope. A dangerous seed.

A force that could save the whole city. The world.

Maybe even his own soul.

The district attorney came to a stand, holding the mob boss in his stare. “You’re a free man, Peter,” Frank said. “What happens next is up to you.”

After another moment, he headed for the door. As soon as he placed his hand on the doorknob, he glanced back at the man who he owed his life. With a stone expression, Castle made one final plea.

“Whatever you do... Don’t let me catch you.”

It was half past noon when Honey walked into her modest apartment in the Theater District off 45th Street.

Flipping on the lights, she peered hesitantly inside. Stepping through the threshold felt like tumbling down a wormhole through time.

More or less, the studio apartment looked exactly the same as it did nearly a half-year ago, when she left for work at the coffee shop.

It was a bit tidier than how she’d left it—her cheetah print throw blanket neatly folded on the edge of her thrifted loveseat. The smell confirmed that all the perishable food had been discarded. An empty vase sat alone on a scuffed, white, gateleg table that was crammed into a corner of her kitchen. The daisies that it once held had wilted and been tossed long ago.

The world was alien to her. It was like walking through a dream, or onto a theater set piece constructed for a play about her life. These were the possessions of a person she didn’t know anymore.

“We had someone come by earlier with groceries,” a voice said from behind her. She turned as Karen Page strolled into the apartment wearing camel wide-leg wool trousers and a matching double-breasted blazer from The Row paired with Salvatore Ferragamo Vara-bow pumps. “A maid came in once a week to tidy up, but other than that everything should be as you left it.”

Honey blinked with wide eyes as she watched the strawberry-blonde haired woman breeze through her home—former home. She pulled a rolling carry-on case behind her filled with a small portion of Honey’s wardrobe. Karen came to a stop in the center of the apartment. With neatly manicured nails, she produced a keyring from her blazer pocket.

“New keys,” she explained, handing it over to Honey. “Any pertinent mail has been left for you on the counter. The new wifi password is on the sticky note next to it, along with your new cell phone number.”

She had almost forgotten. Honey reached into her coat pocket and pulled out the latest model of iPhone. She stared down at the foreign object queasily. This one had no spider decal, she noted.

“There’s also a debit card, too,” Karen explained methodically, as if reciting a monotonous dialogue. “New bank account information is in the folder. We’ve made a small deposit to compensate you for your troubles, at least until you find a new job. But you shouldn’t have any more problems from here on out.”

A few seconds of silence passed as Karen eyed the peeling paint on the walls. “Well. I’ll leave you to it, then,” she said, straightforward.

Honey’s eyes darted over to Karen as the woman turned to leave mouth “Wait!” she called out, her forehead creased and mouth hung agape. Karen stopped in front of the doorway. “Wait... is that it?” she said, dismayed.

Karen blinked her radiant blue eyes. “Was there something else you needed?”

Her nose crinkled at that. “What about Peter?” Honey said, almost in a demanding tone. “What happens to him?”

Karen cast her eyes to the floor, sighing uncomfortably. “I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that.”

Honey glared at her crossly. “Well, can I at least talk to him—?”

“It would be best to limit contact at this time.” The pleasant formality of her voice made Honey want to punch her.

“For how long?” she scoffed.

Karen gazed at her for several moments of silence. Which continued on, until Honey realized that an answer wasn’t coming.

“We’ll be in touch,” Karen added gently.

As the woman stepped out into the tenement corridor, Honey nearly jolted after her. “Wait... M-Ms. Page?”

She waited.

“What do I do now?” she asked meekly. Her voice sounded timid to her own ears.

Karen stared back at her then lifted up one of her shoulders. “Whatever you want.”

And with that, Honey was left alone for the day.

And the next.

Continue to Epilogue

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euphorbic · 9 months

Text

Off the back of my photo dump post, here’s the detailed bit.

First, anyone that follows me should likely know that one of my Special Interests ™️ is motorcycles. Second, others follow me for ball-jointed dolls (BJD) stuff. BJD are just big action figures for me.

Concept

Motored Cyborg Runner (AKA 少女発動機) is a line of 17.5cm action figures, which are a mashup of “girl” and motorcycles. These designs are based on AF Kuro’s work.

I am n o t a fan of his barely-pubescent t¡ts and aśś and pυbis mons work. (Someone call the Hawkeye Initiative on this weird and gratuitous twät shot.) BUT I DIGRESS!

Here’s a pallet cleanser:

As you can see: basically sportbike gajinka. My (very gross) hero!

The details

Sen-ti-nel and Goodsmile teamed up to create action figures based on these designs. I’m assuming that this design is Tsujigiri. (I use Hepburn spelling, despite all packaging and marketing materials using Kunrei-shiki: Tsu-zi-giri. Why? Because there is no “zi” sound in Japanese and because I love you, of course!)

Onward! Have a recap photo:

Here’s where the motorcycle enthusiast in me gets consumed with glee. The motorcycle details. Starting with the removable fuel tank backpack. The tank shape isn’t motorcycleish, but from this angle? Yes, yes it is. It’s like looking down at your fuel cap from sitting on the seat.

Then there’s the torque wrench settings. On race bikes and cars, torque settings are painted next to bolts so nobody has to remember how many newton meters (N/M) is needed for each one.

Sorry, this shot sucks because I just used my phone all these. The warning label on this one reads: Caution, hot surface. The black arrow points up to the engine, but more specifically the engine’s header. Caution is appropriate: I don’t know a single motorcycle tech that hasn’t been burned on a header.

The single cylinder engine is very accurate to a motorcycle. Even the silver cover combined with the darker case is iconic. It’s so accurate that I can’t help but question why anyone would go with this single cylinder 4-stroke model when they could go with a 2-stroke? Better choice in my opinion… on a completely made up future that has internal combustion still in existence.

And, of course, we have the 4-stroke style collector/silencer/muffler. If I had some Akrapovic, Arrow, or Yoshimura decals in the right size, I’d slap that sucker on. The figure comes with two silencers, but the other one is very short.

Not a motorcycle thing, but look at this tiny QR code on the arm pocket! Adorable.

So there’s my word vomit on motorcycle things that make me half the target audience for these figures. Just one more thing, to mention, I guess. Scale.

Scale

Have a super crappy, backlit photo:

Pictured with:

Masterpiece (MP) scale Starscream

Classified scale Cobra Viper

Figma Utena Tenjou

The figure is the same sort of scale as Classified G.I. Joes if you compare them knee-to-knee. Tsujigiri has a lot of height in those wheels.

If you don’t mind that her height obliterates the illusion of “massive machine” she scales very well with MP scale Transformers.

Go to the photo dump post

#motored cyborg runner #少女発動機 #action figures #toy review

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chellychuu · 4 months

Text

Weird ramblings, don’t mind me lol 😅💖 (very brief Ed and emotional abuse mention)

For the longest time I’ve felt like I haven’t matured or mentally aged past 18-21 and I wondered why, like was there something wrong with me?

Then I remembered all the trauma and unpleasantness from that time period (height of my ed, not one but two emotionally abusive boyfriends, finding out my best friends from high school hated me the entire time, being isolated and sad all the time etc)

So I guess that could be why? Like despite eventually overcoming those things and coming out the other side, I still don’t feel as old/mature as I should; like that period of time just mentally stunted me. Idk just weird ramblings haha ; u;

Also despite the bad shit from that time, I’m still so nostalgic for it? Like 2010-2015 things bring me so much joy. Especially tumblr things from those times; the popteen magazines scans of hairstyles and fashion (especially Liz Lisa!), so many anime gifs and blogs dedicated to them, ask -character- blogs and the answers would be drawn, follow forever posts, gyops (I don’t think people use that anymore; it meant Gratuitous pictures of yourself lol), etc etc

Like I just constantly yearn for how everything felt around here during that time. Every now and again I go back through my archive and just remember the good old days™️ lol

Sorry for rambling about a loosely connected thought haha I’m old and miss things 🥹

#oh early 2010s I miss you so much #sorry for using the void to talk about things like this haha 😅#nostaliga #Chelly rambles #text #text post #not pink #abuse mention #ed mention

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vultureboi · 4 months

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More funny AO3 tags I’ve come across!

“Questionable friendship”

“They’re dumbasses Karen” and “sheltered Bakugou Katsuki” followed by “he doesn’t know what sex ™️ is”

“Fuck Marry Kill taken literally” and “they’re killers your honor”

“Just a little murder as a treat” oh god this one has a lot of good tags damn. “It gets worse then it gets better for a lil bit then it gets worse again”, “then you think it’s really gonna get better but really it just gets worse”, “there’s smut but it’s rated E for Extreme Trauma”, “just me traumatizing my favorite characters again”, “buckle up boys it’s another wild ride ahead of us”, “these assholes will suffer but they will DO 👏 IT 👏 TOGETHER 👏”

“A lil bit o angst”, “a dash of misunderstanding”, “emotionally constipated Bakugou Katsuki”

“Gratuitous use of the word cunt”

“I’m so sleep deprived guys”

“I don’t care if he’s good canon I want to make him suffer”

“Is it a gang if it’s only two of them? Discuss”

“Communication on boundaries” and “this is the most self indulgent fluff fest I’ve ever written”

“Snow cones”???????

“Xie Lian: to laugh or cry is the question”

Hold on. This is an actual tag?!? “Accidental cuddling”?!?!?

“Runaway genitalia” wtf?!? Nah, it’s a crack fic and it looks hilarious XD

“No ghosts were harmed in the making of this fic”

That’s all for now!!

#ao3 tags #funny tags #funny #funny fics #fanfictions #enjoy these weird ass tags

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choices-binglebonkus · 3 years

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Shit PB adds to a story ✨ just because ✨

-Dead parent

-Transcendentally shitty parent

-Parent who serves no role in the story

-“Shocking” betrayal

-Generic unimpressive white male love interest who looks like all the others

-Random annoying child we’re forced to care about

-“eXcLuSiVe DiAmOnD sCeNe”

-Walking Wardrobe™️ female LI

-Unnecessary diamond outfits

-Questionable diamond outfits

-Bland, unimpressive love interest the MC thinks is the greatest thing since sliced bread

-Gratuitous sex scenes with said bland, unimpressive love interest

-ILB MC, OPH MC, BB MC, or NB MC with *one* new face thrown in if they’re feeling spicy 🥵

-“let’s have a party to unwind!” X 4

-DESIRE DESIRE DESIRE DESIRE DESIRE DE-

-F!MCs who have no personality whatsoever

-*eyes darken*

-1 edgy, rebellious, cynical loner LI (usually male) and 1 kind, shy, demure LI (usually female)

-Maybe a love interest from the BFF trope if they’re feeling daring

-*wears same outfit everyday* “Omg MC, you can’t go out like THAT!”

-Hideous free outfits to force us to go diamond

-Hideous free hairstyles

-Okay let’s be honest, hideous diamond hairstyles too

-Collectibles OUT THE ASS 😮‍💨

-Unnecessary flashbacks

-Unnecessary “play as this character!” diamond scenes

-Toxic, deeply problematic relationships portrayed as normal and desirable for days

-Wow! This dead character they mentioned was actually alive the whole time! INCREDIBLE!

-Obligatory female antagonist (usually a woman of color) who isn’t actually that bad, but PB needs to pit women against women somehow, y’hear???

-I know we just met five minutes ago but I desire you more than anything else in my entire life. You are everything. Here are my keys. Come to my house and fuck me right away. Don’t forget the engagement ring.

-The side character we aren’t supposed to care about, but they’re the best damn character in the story MWAH MWAH LOVE YOU CARTER MWAH MWAH LOVE YOU GARY GARRISON

-The side character we ARE supposed to care about but hate with a burning passion

-*female antagonist turns on her heel and struts away in a huff*

-Reused characters with fucked up character models

-The MC who never learned how to mind their own goddamn business

-Sup, here, have another CEO love interest. No need to thank me

-The one love interest who tries to come across as sexy but really just comes across as super fucking creepy oh my god BACK OFF I HAVE PEPPER SPRAY

-The one Black love interest who is actually the most decent love interest we’ve had in ages, yet the fandom tears them apart

-Male-coded GOC love interests

-That single customizable love interest you’re forced into a romance with…whether you want it or not

-Paywalls 🤑🤑🤢

-Cheesy one-liners from an abandoned Wattpad fic

-Really unnatural conversations you’d probably never have in real life

-Non-compelling cliffhangers

-That one really killer outfit that unfortunately has no other impact on the story

-Super uncomfortable art scenes 🫣

-Oh look they reused the Robin sprite…again. Maybe he’ll be a good guy this time 🤡

-Petty conflicts that last far too long

-Set up Unimportant Side Character 1 and Unimportant Side Character 2 for diamonds

-The unobtainable side character you’d do anything to romance

-The fabled *free* backstory

#choices stories you play #playchoices #choices stories we play #pixelberry #pixelberry studios #playchoices fandom #choices stories you play fandom #choices stories we play fandom #choices meme #choices memes

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itslucyhenley · 3 years

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Trent Crimm, Independent (head canon)

Ted: "I'm sorry you're out of a job, but you know what this makes you now?"

Trent: "Trent Crimm, Independent. Yeah my father made the same joke."

Ted: "He sounds like a cool guy"

Trent: 😍

My head canon about the, frankly, gratuitous level of heart eyes that Trent is giving when he looks at Ted after this exchange:

James Lance mentions in the Subjectify interview (see below) that he felt Trent had a really tough father. And I imagine that when Trent's father made this joke to him, it was said with a little bit of antagonism and perhaps accompanied by some judgmental words and so it means a whole lot to him to hear those same words in such a genuine, caring voice; the earnestness, the sincere joyfulness at wordplay, all of it. Also, the way his look takes all of Ted in, like his eyes move up and down and take the whole wholesome Lasso vibe in. There's a kind of wonderment on his face at how the same set of words can have two completely different meanings, make him feel two completely different ways. I mean Trent always looks at Ted, from almost the very beginning, with so much curiosity, but this particular *heart eyes* is just beyond™️

Add onto all this the fact that if that article was written about anyone else, they would probably throw a punch at Trent the next time they saw him, but Ted is so glad to see him, expresses concern about his absence at the press conference, and is out there defending Trent to his friends and colleagues in an earlier scene.

I just love them so much. And I Iove the little community of folks on here sharing their thoughts and writing some of the best fan fic I've ever read (✿◠‿◠)

gif: (x)

"I had a conversation with Jason — I was talking to him about Trent Crimm’s background and I said that I felt that he had a really hard, really tough father and I just kept hearing this phrase that is that in my mind that Trent’s father used to say to him, which was “Are you a man or a mouse?” And he couldn’t live up to the sort of physical prowess and everything that his father wanted him to be, on a physical, masculine level, so Trent went to the library and kind of put on his intellectual armor and that was his vehicle, and that’s how he gets through." -James Lance interview with Subjectify (x)

#ted lasso #trent crimm #ted x trent #ted/trent #ted lasso meta #trent crimm meta #this show is just so special

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venom-2-2021-film-en-francais · 3 years

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Synopsis et détails : Un spin-off centré sur le personnage de Snake Eyes, redoutable ninja silencieux vêtu de noir de "G.I. Joe".

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❍❍❍ Definition and Definition of Film / Movie ❍❍❍

While the players who play a role in the film are referred to as actors (men) or actresses (women). There is also the term extras that are used as supporting characters with few roles in the film. This is different from the main actors who have bigger and more roles. Being an actor and an actress must be demanded to have good acting talent, which is in accordance with the theme of the film he is starring in. In certain scenes, the actor’s role can be replaced by a stuntman or a stuntman. The existence of a stuntman is important to replace the actors doing scenes that are difficult and extreme, which are usually found in action action films.

Films can also be used to convey certain messages from the filmmaker. Some industries also use film to convey and represent their symbols and culture. Filmmaking is also a form of expression, thoughts, ideas, concepts, feelings and moods of a human being visualized in film. The film itself is mostly a fiction, although some are based on fact true stories or based on a true story.

There are also documentaries with original and real pictures, or biographical films that tell the story of a character. There are many other popular genre films, ranging from action films, horror films, comedy films, romantic films, fantasy films, thriller films, drama films, science fiction films, crime films, documentaries and others.

That’s a little information about the definition of film or movie. The information was quoted from various sources and references. Hope it can be useful.

❍❍❍ TV MOVIE ❍❍❍

The first national color broadcast (the 1954 Tournament of Roses Parade) in the US occurred on January 1, 1954. During the following ten years most network broadcasts, and nearly all local programming, continued to be in black-and-white. A color transition was announced for the fall of 1965, during which over half of all network prime-time programming would be broadcast in color. The first all-color prime-time season came just one year later. In 19402, the last holdout among daytime network shows converted to color, resulting in the first completely all-color network season.

❍❍❍ Formats and Genres ❍❍❍

See also: List of genres § Film and television formats and genres

Television shows are more varied than most other forms of media due to the wide variety of formats and genres that can be presented. A show may be fictional (as in comedies and dramas), or non-fictional (as in documentary, news, and reality television). It may be topical (as in the case of a local newscast and some made-for-television films), or historical (as in the case of many documentaries and fictional MOVIE). They could be primarily instructional or educational, or entertaining as is the case in situation comedy and game shows.[citation needed]

In 2022, it was reported that television was growing into a larger component of major media companies’ revenues than film.[5] Some also noted the increase in quality of some television programs. In 2022, Academy-Award-winning film director Steven Soderbergh, commenting on ambiguity and complexity of character and narrative, stated: “I think those qualities are now being seen on television and that people who want to see stories that have those kinds of qualities are watching television.

❍❍❍ Thank’s For All And Happy Watching❍❍❍

Find all the movies that you can stream online, including those that were screened this week. If you are wondering what you can watch on this website, then you should know that it covers genres that include crime, Science, Fi-Fi, action, romance, thriller, Comedy, drama and Anime Movie.

Thank you very much. We tell everyone who is happy to receive us as news or information about this year’s film schedule and how you watch your favorite films. Hopefully we can become the best partner for you in finding recommendations for your favorite movies. That’s all from us, greetings!

Thanks for watching The Video Today.

I hope you enjoy the videos that I share. Give a thumbs up, like, or share if you enjoy what we’ve shared so that we more excited.

Sprinkle cheerful smile so that the world back in a variety of colors.

[VOSTFR] Venom 2 (2021) FILM COMPLET Streaming VF En Français

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leseternels · 3 years

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Titre : Les Éternels

Date de sortie : 2021-07-22

Durée : 121 min.

Genre : Action, Aventure

Acteurs : Henry Golding, Andrew Koji, Haruka Abe, Úrsula Corberó, Samara Weaving, Takehiro Hira

Société de production: Paramount

Synopsis et détails : Un spin-off centré sur le personnage de Snake Eyes, redoutable ninja silencieux vêtu de noir de "G.I. Joe".

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❍❍❍ Definition and Definition of Film / Movie ❍❍❍

That’s a little information about the definition of film or movie. The information was quoted from various sources and references. Hope it can be useful.

❍❍❍ TV MOVIE ❍❍❍

❍❍❍ Formats and Genres ❍❍❍

See also: List of genres § Film and television formats and genres

❍❍❍ Thank’s For All And Happy Watching❍❍❍

Thanks for watching The Video Today.

I hope you enjoy the videos that I share. Give a thumbs up, like, or share if you enjoy what we’ve shared so that we more excited.

Sprinkle cheerful smile so that the world back in a variety of colors.

[VOSTFR] Les Éternels (2021) FILM COMPLET Streaming VF En Français

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