#I was so confused why I couldn't find the scene in german

[julesodd]

I will forever be mad at the german Hannibal dubbing for saying "Murder Brothers" instead of "Murder Husbands".

[onetouchparadise]

Find my way back to you ~ Müllendowski

"What!?" he wasn't beliving what his hears were hearing, what have the management thought? He looked at him questioningly and if he wasn't so angry he would have felt slightly scared under the ice look of his best friend who, with his usual calm, answered: "You've heard perfectly Thomas: the coach has decided that, to develop healthy bonds of rivalry with other teams, we are going to stay in the same hotel as Barça till the end of our little trip here in Portugal. I can't understand, why are you so upset?". Müller took his time to answer him, it seems to him a too private thing , even to speak about it with Manu, a friend that always supported him since when they know each other. He was just deciding in his mind if tell him or not when Sané came in, grabbed Thomas by the shoulders and, smiling ambiguously, gave his opinion while laughing: "But how Thommy? I was ready to bet 20€ that you'd be the happiest man ever all the day. Don't you go running around, stressing the entire staff to share the room with your dear Lewangoalski once again? You're so sad since he left to Barça..."; the person directly concerned gave the newcomer an unexpected grim look, detached himself from his arms and turning abruptly towards him replied with empty, controlled words, whitout any joyful emotion that he used to show: "What I do or think is none of your business Leroy. And don't call me Thommy, do not even try.".

The always happy and prankster midfielder went to practice without paying them more than a glance and Manu wondered what had happened, what he didn't notice, that had made Thomas like this. Sané had an incredulous face: "Wha-What did I do? Has he a day off? Whatever, by lunch he'll have already forgotten...", Neuer really hoped it was true...

The afternoon, however, did not improve things, in fact it made them worse.

Thomas was really tired, the trainings for the Champions League had exhausted him, but they had also had the advantage of making him forget what had happened in the morning; everyone was already having lunch together and he couldn't wait to have some fun and eat something so he walked towards the large, well-laid common room of the hotel. His happiness was obviously short-lived: after crossing the long white path that separated him from the food, he reached his team's table, noticing however that it seemed to lean towards the centre. All of his team-mates seemed to be having a happy conversation with a single person, the person he wanted to avoid, the one he hadn't forgiven yet… yes, at the Bayern table was sitting Robert Lewandowski.

As soon as the Pole saw the German approaching, he stood up with a big smile and went towards Thomas with open arms: "I missed you!" Robert hugged him, but the midfielder didn't return the hug and if the ex-Bayern striker noticed the lack of warmth shown by his old companion, he didn't say it and continued to talk to him cheerfully: "Come and sit next to me, Thommy! Long time no see!", he tried to bring him closer, but Thomas seemed uncomfortable, both because of Lewy's pressure and because of Manu's steady gaze analyzing the scene; he looked around frantically, suddenly under all that stress he lost the desire to talk and be in company. So he said: "Sorry, but I have to go upstairs, I forgot one thing ... bye!", and left immediately, disappearing from everyone's sight, with the last image before retiring towards the corridor of Lewa's wounded face and Manu's confused and slightly disappointment..

Thomas closed the wooden door of his room with a big bang, he felt like an idiot, a real fool for running away, but he couldn't stand the pressure of being around him, who treated him as if nothing had happened ...he knelt down and covered his ears with the hands, his eyes red with tears, a single sentence anchored in his head, whispered to himself in the darkest moments: "If you really missed me you would never have left..." "Why did you abandon me?".

In the mood he was in he wished he could have stayed in his room all day, in his inner tranquility and "peace", with only the sound of his regrets and the TV playing some random channel that he honestly gave a shit about, but his fragile, regained balance was soon broken like his window by a balloon on the balcony.

The footballer jumped up and went towards the terrace, opened the window... or what was left of it... , leaned against the iron railing and, looking down, yelled at the top of his lungs: "Who did it?! ?", at that moment Leon appeared from the pool below, the owner of the balloon without a residence permit who was illegally staying on his terrace, soaked in water from head to toe, who said to him: "Come on, Müller, come down! unsocial! Otherwise the whole team will come and get you in your room.". Exasperated by his teammates (and with the secret hope of cheering up), the midfielder was forced to put on his blue bathing suit and go down the stairs to the hotel's lush garden which also included a swimming pool and beach volleyball court.

As soon as he arrived he sat on the edge of the pool to tan under the Portuguese sun and smiled happily, finally he was taking a break from all the troubles of the day and the only thing he wanted to do was rela- PLUFF!!!

The poor Thomas was thrown into the pool. It took him a few seconds to realize that he was underwater and to return to the surface so as not to drown, as soon as he opened his eyes (wet like the rest of his body) he was greeted by the small smile of Manuel "The Wall" Neuer who looked at him smugly towering in all the its bulk from the poolside. Thomas yelled "Why??" "You looked depressed" was the reply of his friend who tried in vain not to laugh, "And trying to assassinate me was the only solution to cure my depression??" "Now I wouldn't put it that way, Thomas..." "Shut up Neuer, now you'll pay!" and, taking him, by his arm he pulled the poor Manu into the pool, the last one victim of the consequences of his own prank..

They spent the next ten minutes of their lives attempting to smother each other with big laughs from the dry onlookers. Suddenly, however, with a mighty bomb dive, a third person entered the pool and started spraying the other two, who, without even realizing who he was, began to react to the fire by giving battle. When things settled down, Thomas realized that the person he was having so much fun with just seconds ago was the one he'd left in the dining room half an hour earlier; he didn't want to run away from Robert as previously: he would have been too ashamed to do the same thing again, so this time he would just ignore him. Yes, now he had a plan, clear, easy and he would stick to it. He forced himself to continue playing happily in the pool, albeit in a muted mood compared to him before, but managed to cover it up skillfully thanks to his natural playful personality. At one point, however, Lewy got out of the pool and dried off quickly ("It's so beautiful with wet hair...No Thomas! Don't think about these things, how they even come to your mind...?") then, again with a sunny smile amplified by the hot rays that hit him directly Robert asked the two against whom he previously fought: "Come on let's go for a game of beach football! It's been a while since we've played together as a team." Thomas made a strange face: his plan was already being compromised shortly after the start, but he certainly couldn't not participate. Manuel, on the other hand, seemed happy, but also a little angry: he hated not knowing things and perhaps not being able to fully understand the vicissitudes that undermined the relationship of

Lewy and Thommy got him into trouble. While the shorter one was still brooding about the goalkeeper, the latter spoke: "Okay Rob, in the meantime, go prepare everything and get the ball, we'll dry off for a second and then we'll join you.", the Polish striker gave the thumbs-up to his friend and ran happily towards the small beach in the center of the hotel garden. Even Neuer and Müller, when Robert had gone, came out of the pool and covered themselves with towels, the youngest was about to put his slippers back on again, but even before he could put his foot in, he felt jerked and pulled towards the entrance of the hotel from Manu, who, after carefully looking around, had chosen a secluded and uncrowded spot. Thomas knew that the moment of truth would arrive, he had awaited it with frank resignation and had hoped to delay it as long as possible. The blue eyes of the 1,93m tall colossus pierced him like not even an arrow could. "Now I want to know what's going on...". The shorter one didn't want to answer so he pretended not to understand: "What are you talking about Manu? The Oktoberfest has been over for two months, are you still drunk?", Manuel got offended and showed his mood with a frown: "Don't the play dumb... there's a strong hatred between you and Robert, which has never been there in all his eight years at Bayern.", "Manu, I swear..." began to say Thomas, he didn't want anyone to get in the way, he would have come across as an idiot, "Don't lie to me! I'm just worried about you! I've known you for over nine years and I've never seen you like this.". The vice captain sighed, the time had come to repay his best friend for always being with him from his debut in the national team (and subsequent victory) up to the Club World Cup, yes, he would have given him that truth that for eight years had hidden from everyone.

"Manu I... I love him" the listener's open mouth was a good indicator of his disbelief, but other than that he didn't get upset and signaled him to go on, he continued: "For 8 years I have loved him but I've never been able to confess to him, I was afraid that our relationship would be destroyed... you know it, it was enough for me to close my eyes to know where he was on the pitch, and off the field I always wanted to be with him, without it I felt lost. broken, incomplete.". "So you were terrified that he wouldn't see you and act the same way again if you confessed how you felt." He speculated Manu and Thomas nodded, "How did it happen in the beginning? At first I well remember you hated him, then you basically became Yin and Yang…so what?" "It's a long story um..." "I have time." "Alright! You're right at first I didn't like him, euphemism, I would have gladly thrown him off a balcony, but then, well... I discovered he wasn't as bad as I thought, he wasn't conceited or snooty, but he was kind, protective, almost shy and when he spoke with such a slight Polish accent it seemed to me like..", Manuel made a colossal facepalm: "Lost in love...". The midfielder was very embarrassed: "Yes", but then his face darkened a lot and tears welled up on it, suddenly he no longer had the necessary strength to stand up and, shivering, he sat down on the cold tiled floor, his bare feet caressed the grass that bordered the sidewalk, Manuel, sad for his best friend, sat down next to him and watched his stricken face. "But now he's gone, he's left me here... I didn't even have time to confess, during the last training session I... I tried, I approached him when he was alone, but I didn't I found the words, they were all dying in my mouth and I gave up, I hugged him telling him to have a good trip, how stupid I am..." "No Thomas, of course you were a bit stupid for not telling him but.. ." "Thanks Manu! Really helpful!" "Let me finish! I was saying... can't you tell him now? I can't understand why you don't want to tell him now that you have another chance?!", after his friend's words Thomas stopped: "I-I... don't know... today, as soon as I saw him again he made me feel, strange... I didn't understand how he could still treat me the same way as before, it was like he still loved me, but not the kind of love I wanted It to be.". At that speech Manuel started laughing and the other looked at him offended, the porter gently took his shoulders, smiled and said: "Thommy but do you realize that you're causing yourself a lot of problems when you don't even know if he reciprocates or no?".

Müller's wide-open eyes silently replied to his friend, who squeezed him in a sweet embrace cradled by the smell of the shampoo on Thomas's still wet hair: "Okay, come on, you'll try tonight, but now let's think about having some fun, damn you're really weird in your version hopelessly in love ... come on!" the speech brings back happiness on the tear-stained face of the vice captain who got up and followed his friend towards the beach volleyball court illuminated by the sun and by Lewy's smile when he sees his former partner arrive.

The afternoon passed quickly and the teams stayed out until sunset, after the pink gave way to blue everyone found themselves in the dining room filled with joy and good food. There was no longer the sparkling air of news and curiosities perceived during lunch. It was... different, equally cheerful, but different: it seemed like one of those big family Easter lunches where everyone knows everyone.

Manuel and Thomas were having dinner at a quiet table on the side furthest from the buffet and chatter, where the moonlight filtered through the windows, after all the day's misadventures they just wanted a few minutes of peace and a nice soup. "May I add to your table?" a voice abruptly broke the silence as Fates cut the thread of Life, Thomas looked up even if the only voice was enough for him to recognize Robert, "Sure, come along." he couldn't tell him no, he just hoped he wouldn't talk about how he'd been avoiding him almost the entire day like he was the plague.

Lewandowski smiled and sat next to Müller, the latter had to control himself so as not to visibly melt at that facial movement, he hid his trembling hands in his pockets and checked the butterflies that had inevitably replaced his blood. Then he returned the smile.

Manuel noticed everything and the fire reignited in his calculating eyes, "Uh? What are you saying Leon? Yes, I'll be right there.", Neuer turned to another table, took his dinner and walked towards Goretzka, but Thomas was sure the young boy hadn't spoken. True or not, the two "almost-boyfriends" were left alone.

Silence pervaded the two men and if it hadn't been for the colored lights that illuminated the room Thomas would have sworn he saw a slight blush on Lewy's face who was simply looking at him ... and how he was looking at him. He was still busy contemplating the divine beauty of his former partner that he spoke: "You know, I missed you Thommy so much ... it's not the same without you.". This in Thomas's heart lit a flame fed by a candle that, slowly, strengthened instead of dripping and wasting away with every word Robert said. "I missed you too, you don't know how much..." (“because when you're not here my heart is broken, it's missing and I can't find the piece to rebuild it; I don't want to find it” were the words that he kept inside and didn't the courage to utter.) at that moment Lewandowski put the spoon he was eating with on the napkin and put his hand on the table feeling the carvings of the wood underneath, in the meantime he didn't take his ocean blue eyes off the one next to him and his smile grew.

As if that were destiny Thomas took his hand and shook it crossing his fingers as if they were the textures of a dress, handmade, slowly, but of inestimable value. "I'm really happy that we remained great friends even after all this..." and Rob with those words involuntarily broke the spell, Thomas suddenly withdrew his hand, as if he had been burned by that same candle flame that had perhaps grown to much. Robert gave him an incredulous and covertly guilty look. Müller was about to cry, he couldn't think of anything and at that moment the noise became deafening, but silent as a grave at the same time compared to mess of his brain.

With tears, he left the room, but his eyes saw neither Lewy nor Manuel. “Friends, friends, friends…” was the only word in his mind.

He didn't know how long he stayed like this: sitting on the carpet in his and Manu's room crying for a love that never really started, never really existed ...

One hand was on his hair pulling it, oblivious to the pain that the gesture caused him, the other wandering around the floor following the designs of the fabric with the tip of his index finger, desperately looking for a solution to his scene that everyone could clearly see. even better than the one at lunch: "Of course I can't enjoy even a meal peaceful without coming back here to cry over myself and regret too late." he whispered to no one in particular, too pathetic at the time to be heard even by the walls surrounding him.

Due to an unexpected noise Thomas jumped and looked around frantically, when he saw the door vibrate and the malignant to move slightly wiped his tears with his arm, managed to shuffle with difficulty to the threshold and opened.

"Hey..." Robert's shy voice flooded the room, "L-Lewy... what are you doing here?" nervousness began to creep into Thomas, what was the Pole doing there? Was he upset about things that happened during dinner? Müller was so tired, he wouldn't be able to get the face of a man "not on the verge of a psychological breakdown" for much longer and giving in to the man he loved was certainly last on his "to-do list for the next millennium". "I, well, I wanted to deeply apologize to you for what happened at dinner...", ok, maybe it's true that Thomas in front of Lewy was no longer able to understand anything and totally melted, but here he was absolutely sure he had heard correctly and the sorry frown, clearly visible from the eyes and from the light biting of the lip, of the striker left no room for doubts: Robert was apologizing to him. "W-What should you apologize for?" Thomas just couldn't understand, why was Robert doing this? Lewandowski looked between hysterical, exasperated and sad, only at that moment did the German realize the emotions and exhaustion that his friend felt inside him, he immediately felt sorry for him, even if he didn't know the reason.

Suddenly the Pole gave a humorless chuckle: "Well, you've been avoiding me since this morning, you never want to be alone with me and always terribly uncomfortable in my presence then... tonight at dinner..." his voice broke down but he continued anyway "I don't know what I said did but you ran upstairs Thommy you had tears in your eyes! Whatever happened I'm sorry I didn't mean to, last thing I want to make you feel bad ... well, now I'm crying too." and Lewy wept, the tears flowing without stopping.

Horrified, Thomas did the first thing that his instinct ordered him and lunged at Robert, hugged him, felt his warmth on his skin and his shoulder half covered by the pajama shirt on the hollow of his neck; the Barça player's eyes snapped open as he put his arms around Thommy.

Müller took the other's head with his hands and, while looking at him with eyes full of tears, he took courage: "Robert I don't hate you, I..." and the memory of what happened next still lives in the German's mind: their lips met each other, finding Paradise.

When they broke the kiss it seems to them to have spent an entire century like this.

Both were crying, they cannot belived their eyes, their lips, their emotions. Suddenly Thomas started to talk and what he said melted Lewy's heart: "I love you, Robert Lewandowski, for eight eternal years, but I didn't know how to tell you, I thought I'd have..." "Ruined everything? Yes, Thomas I can understand... I love...I love you too." and they kissed again, nobody can believe it and for them it was like living a beautiful, never ending dream.

It was when Thomas, very tired, literally collapsed on Lewy's face that the two woke up, the Pole smiled and, gently, took him like a bride and carried him to Manu's bed (hoping that the goalkeeper wouldn't get angry, even if he strongly doubted it having understood that he was behind the confession of his new boyfriend, one day he would have thanked him properly...). So Robert moved the bed near to his mate's one making some sort of king size.

He tucked Thomas in and slipped under the bed too, embracing him, looked at him with infinite joy and love, gave him a light kiss on the forehead, pushing aside his dark hair and whispered: "Kocham cię, Thommy" , Lewandowski was about to close his eyes when he was pulled closer by a gentle push and a soft: "Ich liebe dich, Lewy.".

When Manu entered in and found them sleeping like this he smiled and turned off the lights, then he came off and closed the door. Then he went to another room: surely Leon and Joshua would have hosted happily him for a night or two.

[cartoon-yuri]

Finally, I have the courage to write this...! This one is a tricky post, I will admit it. It will be both about the weird german that was used in World Dai Star — the anime, since as far as I know there wasn't a lick of this language on the game — and about a little critic I have about the english translation. Please, bear with me.

Well then... we have this scene here:

Bist du gut in Japan angekommen?

Erzähl mir bitte wie deine Vorspielen war.

Ich verspreche mir sehr viel von dir.

This is what is written in the text that Kathrina's mom sent. There is only an english translation about the first two sentences:

Did you make it to Japan safely?

Tell me if you pass or fail your audition immediately.

Which is understandable, since the third sentence is the weird one — something that I discovered after trying to work on them with my very basic german knowledge. Yes, I am not a german speaker (yet) and my level of this language is barely scratching the A1; but I did start studying it before, so I do think I should comment about it. Anyone who has more knowledge about me in german can correct me on any error I made if they wish to do so!!

And why am I even talking about it...? 'Cause it misled me about the daughter and mother relationship that Kathrina and Theresa have. Or, being more specific, the translation misled me. After reading it, my first thought was that Kathrina had the typical relationship that rivals characters have with their mothers in anime: a very bad one. The first question seemed okayish, but the second one? It gave me the impression that Theresa was strict, unsupportive of her daughter's wishes and distant. It seemed that she only cared if Kathrina was good enough as an actress.

Of course, we know by now that this is not true. However I must admit I was pretty surprised when I found it out. When I saw that Theresa cared for her daughter? When I watched her being worried for Kathrina, being understanding and supportive? I couldn't understand why she was like that — and I blame my confusion on the translation of the text.

Look, I do know how hard it is to translate something. I am a language nerd, and translation is one of my favorite topics — still starting to study it seriously and all. That's why I will be critical over it, especially if it changes how I am supposed to interpret a character. [And that's why I said to bear with me...]

Thus, here is, more or less, my translations about the first two sentences. It is definitely not a great one, but it's more in character, that I assure.

Did you reach easily in Japan?

Relate me please how your audition went.

See, way less demanding...! I tried to translate the third one, but in german it simply doesn't make sense. It became something like “I promise me much much as long for you” — this is me translating german to portuguese to english, now. Can you hear me crying? No way I will try to translate it straight from german to english after finding results like this from translating machines when I first tried to.

Seeing as the last one was weird, I asked my friend if she could translate the text for me from japanese to portuguese. At first she thought there wasn't a japanese version of it, but she soon found it!

It became something like this — just a note I am, again, translating from portuguese to english:

Did you got safely in Japan?

Send me the audition result as soon possible.

I am awaiting with anticipation.

Very different, no? It also made me realize that the anime translations were, most definitely, also from the japanese version. Seeing as both of them have the second sentence mentioning Kathrina to tell her mother the results the fastest she can, it makes sense for it to be from the same language. Also, doesn't the third one make way more sense now?

Theresa also sounds more like a supportive and kind mom here than she did on the first translation. If I was introduced right at the start at this, I would definitely not be surprised when she shows up later. Being honest, I would expect something like she pulled off on the anime, hehe.

That's why I am criticizing the translation; it can help us to understand the character or it can drive us away — or, in my case, misled me from what the character actually is. And as also a literature nerd, this hurt me, since I will make all the wrong connections based on the little I know (the translated subtitles) and then, when I am proven wrong, I will not understand why since the first piece of information does not correlate with I am presented later. Which also makes me interpret things in a way it shouldn't. That's why I am a big supporter of having a variable of translations about the same source!!

Anyway, that wasn't supposed to get this big. I hope you enjoyed some part of this, since this is my first meta post, and that I made you think a little more about how complicated translation is...!

[where-the-flash]

"The Henpecked Duck": A Morbidly Intensive Reflection (Part 2)

Daffy is lying exhaustedly underneath one of the windows, giving the audience a good view of an impendingly gloomy day. Then, the faint sound of trumpets blaring as the distant figure of Mrs. Duck struts across the window frame. It's a frightening moment, to say the least.

In full panic mode, Daffy runs and jumps frantically around the house, searching for any kind of ovoid facsimile to fool the missus. The pacing and editing of the scene is frenetic and sprinkled with intense low angle shots. One of which is a moody shot of the wall with Daffy's silhouette jumping up and down. The next is about as exaggerated a low angle shot as you can imagine, with the nest looming, as big as a house, over Daffy. It confused me as a child as the nest had the appearance of a large thatched hut, possibly a refuge for those terrible rural monsoons I've heard so much about.

Daffy pulls out the white doorknob from the front door, places it snugly on the straw (with the knob facing up), and as he jumps up, the knob, in a physics-defying moment that not even a mustachioed German patent examiner could figure out, spins around of its own free will. Strange, considering that the knob is not resting on a hard, flat surface but on a divot of straw where it couldn't possibly move in any way. It also makes one question which part of the knob apparatus is more top-heavy: the knob itself (presuming its made from marble or ivory) or the metal bolt on the other end. Anyway, the point is, the bolt, which is conveniently phallic-shaped, is sticking out and jabs Daffy in the rear. He bolts up like a horse and smiles in a suggestively post-coital manner. Only four hundred years before, an apple dropped on Isaac Newton's head. I imagine the poor man's face would turn a shade of puce to find that his theories had been upended for the sake of cheap juvenilia.

Mrs. Duck walks in and greets Daffy pleasantly, which is humorously contrasted with the forceful thwack of the door opening. We cut back to that silhouetted shot from earlier with the "Home Sweet Home" sign (the "Home Sweet Home" music returns at a frighteningly faster tempo than before). Mrs. Duck demands to see "Mama's little darling," lifting Daffy out of the nest by his neck. A close-up dutch angle of Mrs. Duck lovingly doting on the phallus. She then realizes what she's looking at and declares that "this is the last straw". A head-on shot of the bolt, a 2001-esque monolith, laying as a tribute to Daffy's transgressions.

We return to the present as Mrs. Duck despairingly pleas for a divorce (Daffy's face looking either genuinely aggrieved or ungodly annoyed by Mrs. Duck's harping). Porky asks Daffy if he has anything to say. Wide-eyed, Daffy begs Porky to give him one more chance, which is an odd request. Shouldn't he be asking his betrothed? Why does he need Porky's approval? Unless he's on trial for infanticide, I don't bloody well see the need to bother the judge about it. In any case, Porky grants his request.

This is followed by a succession of dramatic low-angle close-ups of Mrs. Duck and various members of the audience jutting their heads forward in anticipation, a low murmuring throughout the courtroom. A dog wakes up the snoring hen (as mentioned earlier) and the hen groggily wakes up, then, amusingly, juts her body forward tensely as well.

Daffy rolls up his feathery sleeve and attempts the magic trick one more time. "Over the Waves" plays once again, only at a slower, more cautious tempo. He prays for forgiveness and the egg reappears gloriously between his fingers. The murmuring starts up again as the crowd exclaim their surprise (it's mostly gibberish, except for one tiny moment, which I find precious; as the murmur dies down, though slightly buried in the mix, you hear a man audibly say, "My goodness!").

Finally, the elderly hen gets her moment to shine. Doing her best ZaSu Pitts impression, she says, "Alacazam, and you get an egg. Oh, dear! And for fifteen years, I've been doing it the hard way." Followed by a sad blink for emphasis.

Mr. and Mrs. Duck nuzzle beaks in reconciliation as Porky looks on in admiration. An upbeat, jauntier version of "Home Sweet Home" plays on the soundtrack. A close-up of the egg as it cracks open and a newborn chick, with large mallet-like gavel, declares that the case is dismissed. "STEP DOWWWWWWWWWN." Iris out.

Since I was a child, animated shorts from the 30's and 40's have been a source of morbid fascination for me. We are about seventy or eighty years removed from these two decades in question and suffice to say, they are as ancient and foreign to us millennials as Tudor architecture. The voices coming out of our speakers are all dead voice actors, the music is composed and played by dead musicians (the music is eerily expressive in a way that creeps me out, like it's composing a siren-like message from beyond the grave, like "Yes, we were moving just as precipitously towards the darkness as you folks are now!"), and all the anthropomorphic animals had dark, light-smothering pupils.

But that does not mean I shrink from it. In fact, there's a squealish delight to it. Imagine it's night and you're walking down a dark hallway so you could use the bathroom, and in your easily startled, excitable young mind, you hear the soundtrack from an old cartoon you watched earlier that day (if we're going to get uncomfortably specific, a Disney short from 1937 entitled The Worm Turns, more specifically in the beginning when Mickey is experimenting with a chemical potion, the soundtrack is a eerie blend of trumpets and bassoons [which always give off a creepily guttural sound] mixed with sound effects of a now-deceased man making gurgling spitting sounds) and it's stalking you like a prancing red-nosed ghost with a 30's era bowler hat.

Before I discovered that the word 'earworm' existed, I consistently referred to these phantasmic music loops playing in my inner ear as "hearing dreams". Instead of something annoying, like "Walking On Sunshine," I was having what might have been the equivalent of an eerie Penderecki composition playing on repeat in my cerebellum, and they always came at night, in the dark. Cartoons r fun, but they r also fucking scary.

It's ancient media, all cobwebbed and mothballed. It's the uncanny valley effect but in a distant generational sense. Like, sure, it's animation and we recognize it as animation, but it's hand-drawn cel animation, an almost extinct form, and, yes, we still have it and was present in the decades following the 30's and 40's but computer animation is so dominant now that looking at it feels subtly dislocating, with its early use of rotoscoping and its unnaturally lush Technicolor palette. Like, sure, those actors talking are people and sound like people, but they're non-corporeal entities now. It's a kind of wholesome 'hauntology' (I just thought I'd drop and oversimplify a term by Derrida for credibility points; I think I've set philosophy back hundred years).

I choose The Henpecked Duck as an illustration of this macabre fascination with the past, because there's a low-key intensity to it that reverberates eighty years later. Admittedly, The Henpecked Duck is a fairly random example to choose from since there are plenty of better, more surreal examples (like the Bob Clampett-directed Porky in Wackyland or the Max Fleischer fever dream known as Swing, You Sinners, the greatest anti-chicken-stealing PSA ever made). But since this examination is motivated by a solipsistic, misguided eye on posterity, The Henpecked Duck will do just fine.

It affected me as a kid because it was a cartoon, yet it was set at a higher pitch than most cartoons I watched, with it's intense camera angles, its highly expressive film score that matches the action on screen, the flailing, overdramatic performances, the absurd scenario, and the fact that it was presented in dusty old sepia vision only made the whole thing feel ghostly. It's like finding an dusty ancient Buddha statue that suddenly starts screaming in your face. In the case of this short, it's screaming, "I WANT A DIVORCE! I WANT A DIVORCE!", with an urgency only reserved for the the dead wanting to be heard throughout the eons. I hear you loud and clear, Mrs. Duck.

Further reference:

If you want to read more about the infamously faulty tapes of the Cartoons R Fun series, this was a surprisingly informative read.

[finn-writes-stuff]

A Goose Chase

Blame @graythemoth for this. They're the one who got me into this fandom.

TF2 Medic x Reader

Warnings: There's some talk of vague medical-ness in the beginning, and allusions to Archimedes's tendency to sit inside people's ribs. The main plot is the medic trying to find his bird, so there's some anxiety over a lost pet, but everything is fine. Gender-neutral Reader, but there is a pet name used in a masculine form. (I don't know if there are gender neutral alternatives in german >-<)

Soldier was somehow even more insufferably patriotic when he was loopy, Medic mused, calmly wiping the blood off of his operating table. The attempt to completely change the man's blood type had taken him longer than originally anticipated, but Medic was reasonably sure that Mr. Doe wouldn't keel over and die because of the experiment. At least 70% sure.

Either way, what was done was done, and now all the doctor had to do was finish tidying up the lab, and make sure he himself was presentable.

A simple enough task of course, now that Soldier was gone and no longer rambling about how the constitution was his favorite color. Quite frankly, he was surprised the soldier could pronounce the word constitution.

Pushing his glasses up his nose, he idly called out for Archimedes as he put away his tools. It wasn't until everything was away and the drawer was closed, that it hit him that Archimedes had not only not come to his call, but hadn't so much as cooed back at him.

"Archimedes? Where have you gone?" He had assumed the dove would be flitting around the lab somewhere. He was relatively sure that his pet couldn't have found its way into the soldier's chest without him noticing. And yet he couldn't find a sign of him anywhere in the lab. The doctor adjusted his gloves, assuring himself that Archimedes had likely flown out of the lab and gotten closed out. A simple solution for why he was not here. Occam's Razor and all that.

He knew himself well enough to know that if he started stressing about this too much, he'd start snapping at whoever was helping. Heavy didn't deserve that. Perhaps Scout could help instead? No, even with his speed, asking him to help would not be worth it at the moment. for now.

And so the doctor was left on his own, his only company being the quick click of his shoes on the floor as he searched.

Archimedes would not have just flown off. There's no reason that would be the case. He knew very well how much it enjoyed the lab and the experiments. Of course, it would still be here. Somewhere. He just had to find it.

Perhaps he had ended up closed in someone's room by accident? Most people's doors were kept closed usually, so it was completely feasible. Medic began checking through the other Mercs' room immediately.

The rooms were either empty both of mercs or Archimedes, or he was promptly yelled at for bursting in without permission. Or course he left only after checking if Archimedes was perhaps there. There was no sign of him.

Your room was at the end of the hall, the last he checked. If all his coworkers were on a scale, you were certainly on the end with those that had achieved some of his real respect. So he did not slam your door open at least, but he did still burst in, just slightly gentler.

The scene in front of him caught him by surprise though. You were looking up at him from where you were laying on your bed, looking as if you'd just woken from a nap. He was struck for a moment by how soft you seemed, with your hair a mess and your eyes half-open, looking at him confused.

He did not muse on that fact for long though, as there were more important matters at hand. Namely, the fact that Archimedes was tucked comfortably in your arms, looking as smug and content as a bird could. Even with the medic bursting in, the dove simply curled against your chest. Perhaps he was getting fond of the feeling of heartbeats? It couldn't have been as strong when he wasn't resting against the heart itself.

"Archimedes? What are you doing bothering them? When did you get in here, you had me worried quite sick!" He felt a sting of regret when your eyes went wide and you properly sat up.

"I'm sorry doc! He was sitting with me when I was out in the kitchen and followed me in here and I fell asleep and didn't think about the fact that he was just missing as far as you knew. I'm so sorry!"

He waved off your apologies quickly. "Don't you worry mein lieber, it isn't your fault in the slightest, I apologize for waking you." Your voice was rough with sleep still and there was a part of his brain telling him to pull the blanket back around your shoulders and let you sleep longer. He compromised by holding out his hand for Archimedes and speaking up again. "I'm awfully sorry if he was bothering you while I had been busy. He seems to have forgotten his manners."

Archimedes, the comfy-looking traitor, simply cooed.

"He's been a dear, it's fine! We were just napping, he wasn't getting into any trouble," You assured him with an earnest, if sleepy, nod.

Medic couldn't quite tell if he was frustrated that Archimedes did not come when asked, or if it was simply the fact that he himself would rather be curled up with you.

No. He drew the line at getting jealous over a bird. He had more dignity than that. And since when did he want to be curled up with you? That was usually the type of thought he quickly dismissed, he had no time to be entertaining thoughts like that about his coworkers. It did not matter how soft you looked or how much his birds liked you or how sweet you sounded when you were tired.

"If he is not a bother, I'll let him stay. Let me know if he is ever being a nuisance though, I will handle it, of course." He nodded swiftly and turned to leave your room without waiting for a response. He needed to focus on something other than you. Even if everything else seemed a drab alternative at the moment.

[colinsbagel]

Someone Like You

requested by @spider-starry : Ooh how about a coffee shop date with Colin??

Summary: Your co-worker, detective Colin Zabel has asked if you'd like to have coffee as a distraction from a tough case to lighten your mood, it turns out to be a lot different than you would've anticipated.

Colin Zabel x GN!Reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: a lot of Sherlock references, me expanding the plot.

[a/n] This sucks, I'm sorry if it seems rushed. Also this is not proof read or has "great" grammar so please don't make a big deal out of it.

You sat uncomfortably in your chair shifting back and forth with your leg on the table as Colin stood up on your desk shuffling through the files and evidence you had managed to gather from the crime scene. "So we know she's German? Rache it's German for revenge." Inspector Andrew Philip said leaning on the door frame. "Yes, thank you for your input," You said standing up walking past your desk and Colin, “Now bye.” You shut the door on his face and let out a slight groan. “What do you think ?” you said standing beside Colin and gesturing to the files. “ Uh, well so the lady is certainly linked with the suicides -” “Murders” you corrected him mid-sentence tilting your head to the side. “Oh, yup, the murders…” He looked at you with a confused look.

“You good ?” you asked pulling the chair towards him. “I'm fine, I'm fine, you know you shouldn't stress yourself out on the case right?” He said sitting down on the chair, you walked over to the cabinet to find an old case to compare the evidence with, “What makes you think I'm stressed ?” You said turning around to meet his dark brown eyes staring at you. He turned his head back to the door and back to you, “Well you know ..." You closed the cabinet door and put another file on the desk "Right, it's probably nothing I'm sorry” You met his gaze while slightly leaning over the desk looking at the mess on it. "Let's get some coffee" Colin said standing up from the chair. Your head shot up with his immediate change of topic. "You look tired, it might be helpful" He looked down at his feet thinking you might say no. " Sure, there's a nice place around here, I know the owner" You said walking over to the door as you watched Colin grab his coat "Did you help them off murder charge or something ?" He said with a chuckle Nope, helped put some shelves up" You said with a laugh passing through the hall and walking out of the station.

Both of chuckled as you got into your car. The car ride wasn't long, though it was quiet as neither of you were able to start a conversation. You did find an eye-catching post-it note near your seat. When you reached the cafe Colin held the door open for you as both of you went in. It was a very sweet gesture, and you couldn't help but smile about it. His kindness always made you suspicious about him when he first joined but as time went by you started trusting him more. You both sat down at a corner table as the place was a bit crowded. "They take the same poison but what was different this time" you mumbled under your breath. "Hm?" Colin looked at you staring outside the cafe window. "Oh it's just the case don't worry." His smile slowly faded with made you look back at him "Is something wrong?" "I just hoped that we'd talk about something other than the case" He said as the barista came to take your orders. "Hello, welcome to The Friendly Bean what can I get you two ?" You both completely forgot to check the menu, he took a quick look and decided he wanted an Americano with 1 sugar. "What about you?" he looked up at you. You turned to the barista and said "Uh, I'll just have an espresso, thank you" She noted it down and said "Pressing case, is it? "She asked. "They're all pressing until they're solved'' Colin gave you a warm smile as you looked back at him. You returned his smile, “Why don't you want to talk about the case?" You looked up at him and leaned back into your chair. "Y/n, I brought you here to take a break from the case" Slightly leaning for he reached his hand out to you, gently holding yours. "I know, I know -" You paused for a second and looked into his eyes. They always looked so full of hope, and had such an attractive glimmer. You suddenly realized you'd been staring at him for a while. "Hellooo? Earth to Y/n, you there?" He said in a sing-song voice. Your face turned red as soon as he spoke "Yeah, uh yeah just thinking of ... stuff" You said looking down with the most childish smile. "You have nice eyes" you said looking back at him. He looked up with a chuckle "You have a nice smile" He said rubbing his thumb against your hand.

The barista came back with your drinks, you both gave her a “Thank You” and took a sip of your drinks. "Is this a date ?" You asked sarcastically putting your cup on the table. "Do you want it to be one?" He said looking up at you while bringing his cup to his slips, taking a quite sip of his drink. You didn't expect him to take the question seriously. "I- I don't know, I just said that as a joke". You said lowly, making sure not to sound rude or disrespectful. "Oh I'm so sorry, I probably just blurted it out, I'm really sorry if I made you uncomfortable".

He started apologizing instantly, as he was letting go of your hand you intertwined your fingers with his. "It's fine, you didn't make me uncomfortable" You gave him a reassuring smile. "So you're saying that you're ok with" He paused looking at your hand intertwined with his, "...this being a date'' He looked into your eyes with a smile. You knew he was very nervous, so you gently squeezed his hand "You don't have to look so scared, it's fine with me".

Colin hadn't been on a date since his ex-fiancée called it off, he was really nervous about his heart breaking again, yet he didn't feel like a nervous wreck at the moment. He always wondered if he would be able to find someone who could console him, love him and care for him.

"Colin?" You untangled your fingers with his and reaches for his forearm. He was looking down at the dark liquid in his cup for a while, it wasn't unusual but his expression was. "Are you alright?" He looked back up at you, then at the hand tugging on his. Breaking out of his daydream he quickly put the cup in his hand on the table in a haste motion. "It's nothing, I just don't see someone like you being with me" He let go of the cup which was nearly empty and gestured towards you. You stared at him blankly not knowing how to respond or react to it, you didn't know what he meant by 'someone like you'.

"I- uh, Colin I don't know what you mean by that but if you're worried about what happened with your ex-" You paused to move your other hand to cup his cheek and made him meet your gaze. "Don't be"

You let go of his hand and face bringing your arms to rest on your lap. He let out a sigh "Should we get back to the case or do you want to stay?" You asked finishing your coffee with a last sip. He was quite disappointed when you asked that, knowing he had a choice to ask you to stay but didn't want to seem too clingy. "I'm cool with whatever you'd like" He gave the most trying smile to cover that he desperately wanted to talk to you. You inhaled sharply as Colin finished his drink. Checking for the closest barista, you asked for your bill. Colin shook his head ever so slightly as you asked for the bill unsure if you wanted to go on another date with him.

You pulled out a 10 dollar bill from your left pocket, knowing the conversation it would arise. "Hey ! It's fine I got it" Colin said pulling some cash from his wallet. "Don't worry about it Colin I can pay for it" You pushed his hand back with your own as you continued "Maybe you can pay on our next date, if you want that" You said paying the bill. You stood from the chair, turning towards Colin, he had a huge smile on his face and practically jumped out of his chair.

"I'd take that as a yes?" You said with a chuckle. "We should get back to the case c'mon" You said walking towards the front door of the shop. Colin followed behind you, "So you do want to go on another date?" He questioned as the both of you made your way to the door. "Yeah! I'm free this Friday" You stopped turning towards him and giving his arm a gentle nudge. "That's cool, it's great" He walked past you to hold the door open. You rolled your eyes and let out a hearty laugh at the action, he mimicked your laugh as you both walked towards the car.

As you started the car you whispered into Colin's ear,"I still won't let you pay" he brought his face close to your ear, his short hair brushing against your cheek. "Then I won't go on the date" You looked at him, your faces barely an inch away. You scoffed to break the ice,"It's up to you". He placed a gentle kiss on your cheek, his lips felt warm against your face. He leaned back in his seat giggling like a 5-year-old. "Stop smiling !" You started the car and backed out of the place where the car was parked. "Why?" "I didn't know I was dating the Grinch" He brought his hand to yours, holding it tightly. "I only act like The Grinch at work”.

Tag list: @americxn @trashmaximoff @xlucyintheskywithdiamondsx @spider-starry @kaisbestpieceofass @just-some-lesbian @darlingkitt (let me know if you want to be added or removed)

[joaquinwhorres]

Stitches & Blankets (Joaquin Torres x Reader)

SUMMARY ››››› You find Joaquin Torres after he tries to stop the bank robbery.

WORD COUNT ››››› 3,000-ish

WARNINGS ››››› language

A/N ››››› OK, why are there not more Torres fics? I'm legitimately confused about that. Also, I realized after writing half of this down, that a bank was robbed, so there were probably still police on the scene and the reader'd probably be speaking Swiss-German but uh...fan fiction.

There was a body in the street, which was not what you expected to see coming out to your car.

You'd heard the wailing sirens and shouting and the thunderous footsteps--they're what kept you pressed against the side of the building for the past ten minutes, avoiding the chaos as much as possible. It wasn't fear that kept you there though, it was experience. You'd become used to the quick riots and little skirmishes for resources over the past few months. You knew it was better to stay out of the way, wait out the storm, and then go about your life. They became nothing more than minor nuisances. Bits of unrest that were there and then gone in the next instance. They weren't supposed to leave a body behind.

"Meine Fresse," you murmured, racing forward to the person lying supine on the stones, arms out to their sides, the white of their sneakers reflecting the street lights. As you drew closer, you saw it was a man--about your age with blood around his eye and nose and lip. For a brief second, you wondered if he'd been trampled, but he definitely would have looked worse for wear based on how many people you'd heard.

"Bist du okay?" Your voice was loud as you checked over the rest of his body. He didn't seem to have any other injury, and there wasn't any blood under his head, so you decided it was safe enough to gently shake him.

He didn't rouse.

So, instead you knelt your ear down to his lips, laying your hand flat on his chest. You felt your hand rise before you heard the slow intake of breath, and you rocked back onto your knees. He was breathing. He was alive.

Still, something gnawed at the back of your mind, urging your fingers up under his jaw, gently pressing into his neck. It was only then that you felt a surge of relief. His pulse was there, and it was strong. He was really alive.

And then you remembered that you should probably call 112.

All things considered, it was a quick phone call--the operator seemed to know your exact location and vaguely what had happened as you explained where you were and how you found him. Instead, most of the conversation was spent listening to their instructions to roll him into a recovery position and check for any signs of life-threatening injuries. When they told you that you could hang up because they were close, you did so and found the man blinking at you.

"Hoi," you greeted soothingly. "Wie heisst du?"

He groaned, attempting to roll onto his back once more. You reached out a hand stopping him, and he looked up at you confused.

"Comment t'appelles tu?" You attempted, hoping he wasn't an Italian or Romansch speaker. You hardly knew enough of either language to tell him you couldn't speak it.

He winced and lifted his hand to his face. "Shit."

English. Good.

"What's your name?" you asked, and his eyes seemed to focus on you once more, this time a spark of recognition or maybe just awareness lighting up behind them.

"Joaquin," he informed, and you released an arm, allowing him to finally roll onto his back like he wanted. He had a strong American accent, even through the gravelly voice of barely regained consciousness. "Did they get away?"

"Ähm," you looked around at the empty street. "Yes?" you guessed.

He let out a heavy sigh. "I'm gonna have to call some people."

"I think you should wait for the ambulance."

"Yeah," he agreed, the word breathy and pained. "That's probably a good idea."

"What happened?" you asked, and he raised his eyebrows, looking back at you.

"Flag Smashers."

"I didn't think the Flag Smashers hurt people."

"I'm just lucky, I guess," he answered, and you smiled, letting out a small laugh. He offered a small smile as well.

You could hear the siren now, the faint sound winding its way through the curving streets of Zürich and towards the two of you. Your head turned towards the sound, as if you could trace it back to the ambulance, and gauging the distance. "They should be close," you said, returning your attention to Joaquin.

"What's your name?" he asked, and the question surprised you. Then again, if the two of you were stuck waiting for an ambulance at nine o'clock on a Sunday night, maybe a bit of small talk shouldn't have been so surprising.

"Y/N," you answered, and he repeated it.

"You're very pretty, Y/N."

The laugh escaped you on instinct, although to call it a laugh might not be the best descriptor. It was more of a surprised noise, partially exhale and a tinge of amusement added through the slight smile at the corner of your mouth.

"Thank you," you said. "You are very pretty too."

And he was, underneath the dark red and rapidly purpling injuries. He had a strong jaw and kind eyes, and even the hint of a smile he'd given earlier had made something in your chest constrict.

"I don't feel so pretty," he responded, and this time your laugh was more of a laugh, and he reached up to feel at his face. You took hold of his hand, bringing it back down and trapping it in yours.

"Pretty enough for me to hold your hand," you joked, hoping to distract him from continuing to poke and prod and break all of the rules and instructions the EMTs had given over the phone.

"Well, I got that goin' for me, I guess," he said, letting his hand relax into yours.

Headlights bathed you in a warm yellow light as flashing blue lights bounced off the surrounding buildings, illuminating the rest of the street.

There were some shouts as the doors of the ambulance opened and people poured out, running towards you and Torres. The paramedic crowded around quickly, a blonde bearded man asking  quick questions in German.

"Er spricht Englisch," you explained, and he nodded, switching languages.

It became apparent as police officers pulled up and flooded out of their cars that you were no longer needed. You stood up, backing away and letting Joaquin's hand slip through yours.

"You're not going to stay and hold my hand?" Joaquin called out to you, and you let a smile curl across your lips. Around you, people were starting to come out onto the street, lured by the sounds of the sirens and lack of shouting and general ruckus. Your eyes fell back on Joaquin who was still looking up at you, even as a paramedic flashed a light into his face.

"Maybe he can hold your hand," you said, gesturing to a paramedic who had slid into your place. Joaquin gave half a smile as you turned and left him in the hands of the professionals.

As you rounded the corner, arms full of blankets, the last person you expected to almost run into was Joaquin.

Part of the surprise was the kind that generally accompanied running into someone outside of the context you know them in. A larger part of the surprise was the fact that he was not in the hospital.

Instead, he stood before you, face swollen, bloodied and bruised, with the small white bandages of butterfly stitches above his right eye. He blinked at you, as if he was caught in the headlights.

"Pretty Joaquin," you said, surprise ringing through every part of your voice.

"Y/N."

At least his memory wasn't affected by whatever the Flag Smashers had done to him. His response time was also quicker than it had been two and a half hours ago, and he seemed all in all more present and less hazy. "What are you doing here?"

"I work here." Your own surprise and mild confusion had not quite worn off. "What are you doing here?"

For a variety of reasons, he was not the typical person who stumbled into the Zürich GRC Refugee Camp. He was both too young and too old and far more put together than a normal incomer. He didn't have that haunted look behind his eyes that made your heart wrench. He looked battered and bruised but ok.

"I need a place to stay."

Your eyes ran over his form, from his fluffy dark hair and banged up face to his bright white trainers. You lifted an eyebrow. "The hospital wouldn't take you?"

He shook his head with a sheepish grin. "It's just a broken orbital. Not much else they can do for it." Your eyebrows didn't lower and he gave half a laugh. "Trust me I'm as shocked as you are."

"I'll need you to fill out some paperwork."

He winced. "Any way that could wait until tomorrow? My head is killing me."

You stared intently at his face. Over the past four months of working at the GRC camp, you'd gotten good at reading people. You had an eye for knowing who was going to be trouble down the line and who would need some extra comfort and care. You knew who to push about their stories, and who to wait for--to be there as they slowly unraveled their tale.

So while there was a lot about pretty boy Joaquin that just didn't add up, you could see in his eyes that he could be trusted to stay the night. Just not here.

"You can't stay here without going through intake," you shook your head. "But if you really need a place to sleep, you can come with me."

"Really?" Joaquin asked, turning to follow you as you set back off towards your car, and you nodded.

"It's nothing special--just my couch. But I've been told it's very comfy."

Joaquin faltered a step, slowing down. "You're sure you want me coming and bloody-ing up your couch? I could just stay here and leave before--"

"I'll put down some papers," you said jokingly in an attempt to cut off the subject of him staying at the camp.

"Ok," he said, his voice distracted before there was a quick shuffle of footsteps and he caught back up with you. "Ok, thanks."

The two of you arrived at your car shortly thereafter, Joaquin moving to sit in the passenger seat as you dumped the blankets in the car. You came around to slip into the driver's seat, quickly backing out of the spot and setting off back home.

"So what's with all the blankets?" he asked, pulling his attention from the streets and buildings and back to you.

"We got a late donation tonight," you answered, flicking on your turn signal. "They needed someone here to help organize the drop off and then our washing machine broke, so I have to take work home with me." You smiled at the joke, but he just nodded, leaving you to wonder if maybe your English was off. The next few moments passed in quiet before you checked over at a traffic light to see if he was still awake. He was, but he looked dazed. Maybe he had been telling the truth about his head. You eyed his injuries which looked even worse in the red light. Like his entire right side of his face had been smashed.

"So what brought you to Switzerland?"

It wasn't the question you wanted to ask. You wanted to ask him what had happened with the Flag Smashers--why had they beaten him up so badly. But you weren't sure you were ready for that answer or if he'd even give it. So you asked a question you didn't care if he lied to you about.

"I was looking for someone," he said, and the light turned green, causing you to turn away and focus on your driving rather than him. Still the sentence seemed to end earlier than his thought as you could feel the weight of more words hovering between you. It was a familiar pressure in your ears and your chest, and you'd long grown accustomed to the discomfort.

Like many, Joaquin didn't give the thought words to escape on.

"A refugee?" you asked, and he wobbled his head.

"Yes and no. She survived the Snap."

"She?" A small feeling like a tight wire cord wound its way around your chest and a  warmth of embarrassment flooded the back of your neck. "Your sister? Your wife?"

"No," he shook his head. "My grandmother."

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him look at you for the first time.

"What's her name?  If she came to the camp I should know her."

"Mariana Torres," he answered, and you ran through the array of faces you'd met. There was a Mariana Böschl , but she was old enough to be his mother, not his grandmother.

You shook your head slowly. "I can check the registry tomorrow, but I don't think she's with us."

"Thanks," Joaquin said, looking back out the window at the passing city. "Were you Blipped?"

"No," you shook your head, pulling into your designated parking spot by your apartment. "I was lucky." The two of you climbed out of the car, and he met you by the trunk, pulling the blankets out before you could reach for them.

"Thank you," you said.  And he gave a small grin.

"Thanks for letting me stay with you."

You gestured with your head up the stairs, heading to your third floor apartment.

Joaquin trailed behind you, arms laden with the blankets, waiting patiently as you stopped and opened the door. "Welcome to my home," you greeted, allowing him to enter before you. Your small apartment was dark, and you flicked on the light so that Joaquin could walk further inside without running into a wall or your table. "You can put the blankets by the couch, I'll wash them tomorrow," you instructed, and he did as you suggested before wandering over to the couch.

"I think I have an extra pillow in the closet," you said.

"Great," he thanked, dropping down onto the couch.

It took a few minutes to find the pillow and put a pillowcase on top of it. By the time you walked back out to the living room, the light was still on, and so were his shoes, but he was passed out. You walked over to the sleeping boy, placing the pillow down next to the couch in case he woke up and pulling the blanket over his body, your eyes once more tracing over his injuries.

You would have to speak to Karli about the violence.

[apinchofm]

Comfort, Not Rage

Phoebe gets caught in an old de Clermont family feud.

TW: discussions of sexual assault.

Phoebe was having a great day.

She had woken up with her hair was under control and the curls defined, she had an adorable boyfriend who packed her a really sweet lunch, with a cheesy joke note inside and she had made an amazing sale on a lost Rembrandt.

A great day.

Which means something was bound to go wrong.

She walked down the usual pathway towards Marcus' house which she had moved into in Mayfair. He always joked that she shouldn't walk around alone at night and she always retorted that she could take care of herself.

Winter meant it was cold and dark in London and she was looking forward to curling up with Marcus at home with a glass of wine. Perhaps check in with Diana over the phone-

All of a sudden she collided with a hard body, dropping her bag and disorientating her slightly.

"Oh, I am so sorry!" The stranger exclaimed. He gathered up her stuff. He picked up one of her business cards, "Phoebe."

The way he said her name ran chills down her spine. He had a slight German accent. Maybe he was a tourist, lost or worked around here somewhere. Either way, there was something off about him. His dark eyes bore into hers as he stood up.

"It's okay. Just need to be more careful." She reassured him. Where had he come from? Maybe she didn't notice him, lost in her own happy thoughts.

He flashed her a charming smile "Why don't I take you for a drink, to apologise?"

"No thanks. I, uh, have a boyfriend" She quickly dismissed with a small smile and tried to walk away. But he blocked her way.

"Yes, you're mating with Matthew's son," Phoebe froze, the smile falling from her face.

She swallowed, fixing her face into a confused smile "I'm sorry?" She remembered her mother always teaching her to stick to her manners as a last resort. People respected manners.

Vampires tended not to.

The vampire smiled wolfishly, "My dear little brother, of course. Though, I suppose he wouldn't call me brother. He is Matthew's favourite child and I was cast out."

"I-I don't know who you are but I have no idea what you are talking about. Good night." She politely dismissed, albeit shakily before turning on her heels and walking away. She sped up slightly but it wasn't enough.

Of course it wouldn't be.

He caught up with her and grabbed her by the neck, pinning her against an alley wall. She struggled against him as he sniffed her and sighed.

He turned her around, hitting her head on the brick wall and ripped the fabric of her skirt. Phoebe froze, knowing what was coming. Her mind screamed at her to fight, find a way out but she couldn't. She vaguely heard him muttering that he would mark her, ruin her.

"This will be fun." He smirked before plunging his teeth into her neck to drink from her. She screamed before blacking out.

....

Miriam had picked up the scent of the vampire from the last crime scene she visited. After a series of attacks on women, both creature and human, in London, they were all concerned that a vampire with blood rage was on the hunt. What was even worse was that all these women had been raped before savagely torn apart or beaten.

The press, were of course, having a field day which pissed off the Congregation, which pissed off Baldwin and so forth.

It was the scream that alerted her. In the same direction of the scent, she was tracking.

Another attack! She sped in that direction, tuning down an alleyway, the sight shocking her.

It was Phoebe, limp in the vampire's arms as he drank on her and moved his hands to her lower half. She needed to act quickly.

She threw the vampire off Phoebe, who fell limp to the ground. Her heart was still beating. Good.

The vampire turned to look at her, growling and if Miriam was alive, her blood would've run cold at seeing the familiar face.

"Benjamin?" She was shocked. How on earth was he still alive?

He smirked at her before speeding off. Miriam was half-tempted to run after him, but remembered Phoebe, bleeding out, dress torn and unconscious.

"Shit." she cursed, taking off her jacket, pressing it to Phoebe's neck. No major arteries hit, good. Shock must have caused her to pass out.

She pulled her phone out, dialling quickly.

"Matthew, it's urgent. Its Benjamin. He attacked Phoebe. Meet me at Marcus' house."

....

Marcus was driving home when Matthew called him. He said that Phoebe had been attacked, not going into detail. It wasn't exactly something you said over the phone.

Your older brother Benjamin who we kicked out of the family and didn't tell you about attacked the love of your life, drinking from her and attempting to...

Not something you told someone over the phone.

When Marcus got home, Diana and Fernando were i in the kitchen making tea, Baldwin was on the phone, informing Ysabeau and Matthew was waiting for him at the foot of the stairs.

"Marcus." Matthew stood, blocking his son's path. He could feel the panic and rage coming off him in waves. Phoebe didn't need that right now.

"Matthew." Marcus protested "Let me see her. Please."

"She's okay. Miriam is with her right now. You need to know."

"About Benjamin? Another de Clermont family secret? I know." Marcus snapped. Matthew nodded at his son's understandable anger.

"Just know she needs comfort, not your rage," Matthew warned gently. Marcus straightened up and nodded before walking upstairs into their bedroom.

He looked at Phoebe, relief and shock filling his body. She was in bed, wearing one of his t-shirts, her hair tied back and dried tear stains on her cheeks. Miriam was taking her blood pressure, not even looking at Marcus when he entered the room.

"Phoebe..." he breathed, cradling her face in his hands, checking her over. Miriam had bandaged her neck. He felt sick and anger at another vampire feeding on her.

Comfort, not rage he told himself.

"Marcus..." Phoebe whispered, so very relieved to see him. She pressed her forehead to his as fresh tears filled her eyes.

"Thank you, Miriam." Marcus said.

"I'm just glad I was in the area tracking the vampire," Miriam said, removing the blood pressure band as gently as possible. "I can't believe it."

Everyone soon joined them in the bedroom. Diana set a cup of tea next to Phoebe who nodded her thanks.

"Who was he?" Phoebe asked after a while. Baldwin and Matthew seemed to look at each other, communicating silently. Marcus watched the interaction, knowing what they were contemplating.

"She's part of this family now and he attacked her, she deserves to know who he is and why he attacked her." Marcus growled slightly.

Baldwin, as head of the family, was still so protective of the family's skeletons (of which they seemed to have many, from witch hunts to blood rage). He sighed and then nodded to Matthew reluctantly.

Matthew sat down on the armchair, looking at Phoebe, "His name is Benjamin Fox, one of my...children. I haven't seen him for a long time. Not since the 16th Century. We didn't even think he was still alive."

"Why did you think he was dead?" Phoebe asked, looking at Marcus, who's jaw was clenching. Obviously, he'd only recently found out.

"He was cast out for trying to expose us all," Baldwin said, rather angrily. He was recalling the war between the Knights of Lazarus and Vlad's Order of the Defeated Dragon. He should've killed Benjamin when he had the chance.

"He suffers from the same blood rage Matthew does, but rather than control it, it seems he has been using it as a weapon against other creatures,". Phoebe saw Diana cross her arms protectively over her pregnant stomach and knew that it wasn't good.

"What do you mean?" Phoebe asked nervously.

Baldwin hesitated, so Miriam stepped in to answer "He rapes witches, attempting to create hybrid children. It's why Philippe formed the Congregation and the Covenant was signed." Phoebe sighed.

"But I'm not a witch?"

Baldwin nodded "No, but this is his way of letting us know that he's back. Targeting the newest member of this family."

Phoebe felt sick at information she had been given. A psychotic vampire with an appetite for sexual assault, targeting her to settle an old grudge.

"Did he say anything to you, Phoebe?" Matthew asked gently "I know you may not feel up to it but it would really help."

"Matthew-" Marcus started.

"No," Phoebe sat up "It's alright. I remember he was angry. At you. He seemed upset that Marcus is apparently your favourite son."

She wrapped her arms around herself as her voice broke, "He wanted to mark me, he said, to send a message but then it gets hazy after he bit me." Miriam rubbed her shoulder in comfort.

Phoebe could feel the heat radiating from Marcus. She couldn't look at him.

Phoebe asked quietly "Was he going to kill me after he...?"

The vampires all had grim looks on their faces, none wanting to answer. That confirmed it. It was Diana who came forward and squeezed Phoebe's hand in a comforting manner, "What matters is that you're okay and we now know who is doing this."

Phoebe nodded but she still felt uneasy inside

And she still couldn't look at Marcus.

.....

Phoebe had fallen asleep after Miriam gave her a small sedative. Whilst drugging her friends wasn't a hobby she partook in regularly, an attack by a vampire, particularly a vampire such as Benjamin would be traumatising. She needed rest to heal.

Baldwin spoke first, turning to his nephew and Miriam, "You should've turned her-"

"Not the conversation to be had now, brother" Matthew scolded.

"So she would be healed and less vulnerable." Baldwin finished. He liked Phoebe. Whilst he would prefer his nephew to have picked another vampire, Phoebe was intelligent and kind and well-mannered (something he hoped would pass on to his nephew).

Marcus was sat still, head in his hands "I should've met with her after work, I could've left the hospital earlier."

"Marcus, we didn't even know who was doing this until now, there's nothing you could've done. No way you could've known-" Diana tried to reassure him.

"I could've kept a better eye on her, protected her better!" He snapped. He wanted Benjamin dead. He wanted nothing more than to go out to the streets and tear his dear brother apart.

"Right now, focus on helping Phoebe instead of vengeance," Miriam scolded him. The last thing the poor woman and this family needed was worrying about Marcus rampaging on the streets of London.

For a man of medicine, he could be just as deadly as his father or uncles or Philippe when angered.

They all said their goodbyes, Diana giving him a big comforting hug before leaving. Baldwin promised to keep him updated on their hunt for Benjamin.

He walked back upstairs and sat on the chair next to their bed, watching her as she slept. The bruise on her forehead, marring her brown skin and the bandage on her neck made him feel as if he had failed.

Phoebe woke up with a gasp. It was darker than before outside she noticed, as Marcus instantly rushed over to her side, gingerly touching her as remembered that she was home, in her bed. Safe.

"What time is it?" She asked, her voice a little raspy.

"Around 1 in the morning. Do you want something to eat, drink?" Marcus rapidly asked, checking her over.

"No, no," Phoebe shook her head. She looked at him hopefully "I would like a hug please?" Marcus hesitated and turned his attention to the empty glass and pitcher.

"I'll bring you some water. Blood loss causes dehydration" He tried to smile at her before going downstairs. He always reverted to 'Doctor Whitmore' mode when trying to hide how he was feeling.

Phoebe's heart shattered slightly. She was still learning about how vampires worked. Did he not want her anymore because another vampire had bitten her and tried to stake his claim?

"Here we are," He set the glass down on the bedside table.

"Please hold me. Please." Phoebe pleaded quietly, tears shining in her eyes. Marcus looked straight at her, his adam's apple bobbing up and down.

"I don't want to hurt you." Marcus whispered. He had the same condition as his psychopath brother. She was emotional, he tried to rationalise, she couldn't want to actually be near him.

"This wasn't your fault and I'm not scared of you. But I need to know that you still love me." Phoebe said and his heart shattered.

"I do, I do, I love you so much" Marcus instantly gathered her in his arms. She felt instantly safe again, breathing in his scent. She began to sob, whether it was out of relief or she was simply overwhelmed.

"Stay with me, please," She begged tearfully. He knew she wasn't just asking for him to sleep with her, but generally to stay with her. Not leave her because she felt ruined, broken.

"I'm never leaving you ever," He promised, pressing kisses to the top of her head and rubbing her back in comfort. They stayed like that for a while, before he got up to get changed for bed. He came back and wrapped his arm protectively around her, listening to her heartbeat lull as she fell asleep.

He vowed revenge on Benjamin and would personally rip his throat out the day. But right now, he was content with Phoebe safe in his arms.

[ourmiraclealigner]

One and Only

Lewis Nixon x Reader 

gif not mine! credit to owner.

request: anon

taglist: @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @mavysnavy @ivy-miranda-2390 @ya-yeeteth @rayofshanshine @primusk @punkgeekchic @inglourious-imagines @wexhappyxfew @vintagelavenderskies @easy-company-tradition @meteora-fc @teenmagazines @order-of-river-phoenix @contrabandhothead​ 

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

Lewis Nixon was never one to get jealous- he never had a reason to be. He was a tall ivy- league man with dark hair and dark eyes, never having any trouble with women. He had joined Easy with a wife and child and was perfectly content with the life he had at home. He had tried to distance himself from the men in the beginning, only hearing about them when he listened to Dick. But as time went on, he found himself spending more and more time, getting to know each one more personally. 

Yet, there was one that he was interested in the most- (Y/N). At first, he kept it professional, wanting to get to know her as much as possible before doing anything he would regret. As they continued to grow closer, he had become bolder, starting to put his arm around her shoulders, brush pieces of her hair behind her ear, and shower her in compliments. And before he knew it, Lewis Nixon was in love. 

Their relationship progressed fast, wanting to make up for the lost time. There were very seldom moments they would be away from each other, and it seemed all of the destruction and heartbreak had pulled them closer together. 

Now, as there was an end of the war in sight, Lew found himself stressed about their relationship. He worried that once all of this ended, they'd just go back to the states and act as if nothing had happened. He knew it was likely; he was a difficult person to be with and was more trouble than it was worth. He won't blame her if that's what she chose to do. 

He stared across the river to the German side, Dick next to him as they spoke in hushed voices about the coming patrol. This was commonplace for them- discussing military strategy, command, and members of Easy. He found it hard to focus, wanting to do nothing more than slip back into his mind, but he knew now wasn't the time. 

"Speirs pick the men for the patrol tonight?" Lew asked, looking up at his redheaded friend. 

"I think so.." Dick trailed off, mind somewhere else, as he tried to play the patrol out in his mind. He didn't want any casualties this close to the inevitable German surrender. 

Eyebrows furrowed, Lew turned when he heard a familiar laugh, eyes immediately landing on the two. He couldn't help the anger that coursed through his veins as he watched (Y/N) and Speirs talking, casually strolling through the grey streets of Hagenaou, acting as if the world wasn't at war around them. 

It wasn't as if Lewis didn't want her to have friends. He did- he knew she needed a support system as they had been through a lot these past few months. He couldn't always be there, and if he wasn't, he wanted her to have someone. But there was just something about how Ron looked at her and the way she looked up at him that rubbed him the wrong way. 

"You think those are good?" Dick asked as soon as he finished rattling off the names of the men who were chosen to go, turning when he received no response from his friend. He followed the path of Lewis's eyes, understanding his silence when he got a grasp of the scene. "Speirs!" He called, watching Ron's head turn up at the voice. "Get over here."

Ron jogged over (Y/N) at his heels, a light smile painted on her lips when she caught sight of Lewis. She stood next to him, smiling fading when he didn't look or greet her. "Sir." She spoke softly to get his attention, trying to keep the act that he was nothing more to her than a superior officer. Maybe in his coldness towards her, he was attempting the same thing. But then again, he had never acted like this, and that worried her. 

"You can go." Lewis finally spoke, eyes casting down to meet hers. His words had a bit of frustration, his hands forming tight fists in the pockets of his warm jacket. If she wanted Ron, he wanted nothing to do with her. 

With a quick nod, she turned to Dick and Ron, mumbling, "I'll be back at CP." Before heading back the way, she had come. She was immediately lost in her thoughts, trying to explain away Lew's behavior. She went through all of the conversations they had had recently, wondering if it was something she had said. When she couldn't remember any instance where she could have offended him, she moved on to things she had done and still couldn't find anything. 

With a sigh, she flopped onto the couch, flashing a quick, polite smile to Lip before thinking again. She hadn't even realized she had made it back to CP. Fingers tapping against the soft fabric of the arm of the couch as she let her head fall back, eyes following the patterns of the ceiling. What had she done? 

Minutes felt like hours as she continued her endless barrage of thoughts, only snapping when she heard the door open. Three sets of heavy footsteps entered, Lip standing to greet the men as they continued their earlier conversation about the patrol. (Y/N) stood when she saw Lew behind Dick, her heat starting to beat a little faster as she knew the only way to solve this would be to confront him. 

She took a deep breath before speaking. "Sir." She kept her voice steady, beads of sweat collecting on her palms. "May I speak to you in private?" She looked directly at Lew, so there was no confusion as to who she was speaking to.

"Yeah." Dick chimed in, looking between the couple. "You two go along; I need to find Sink anyway." And with that, he was gone, leaving Lew with no other choice than to follow (Y/N) outside. 

They both shivered as they stepped outside, the cold air floating under their scarves and hitting their bare skin. They walked for a few minutes in silence, Lew trailing slightly behind (Y/N) until they found a little corner to stand in for privacy. He stood, back against the cool bricks of a building, dark eyes steady on her. 

"Did I do something?" She asked, not wasting any time in getting to the conversation. "Because if I did.. I'm sorry, and I want to fix it. I don't want you to be upset with me." She tried to catch his eyes again when he started to look away. 

"If you-" Lew cleared his throat, not wanting her to hear the shakiness in his voice. "If you don't want to be with me if this is just something to get you through the war, tell me right now." 

"What?" She asked, features creased with concern, "No. I don't want that. Why would you even think such a thing?" 

He let out a breath, creating a white cloud over them as they stood in silence. "I saw the way you were with Speirs today." He finally spoke, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his chest. "And I know you don't look at me like that. I don't want to be your second choice when we get back to the states." 

"You think you're my second choice?" She asked, starting to understand why he was so upset. "It doesn't matter what part of the world I live in-, you'll always be my first choice. Speirs is nothing more than a friend, I promise. I don't want you to have to worry about me doing something like that to you because I won't. I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable today; it wasn't my intention." She spoke with so much conviction; he almost forgave her on the spot. 

"I know what you want; you don't want me."

"Lewis." She spoke calmly, keeping her eyes on him as she wanted him to believe her. "I'm with you because I love you, not Speirs. If I wanted to be with him, I would. But I want you." 

He was quiet, taking a few moments to think about her words before nodding. He felt tears prick his eyes, realizing she truly loved him for who he was- even the bad. It had been a long time since he had felt that way, and he knew he was projecting his insecurities on her. She loved him as he loved her, and there was no reason to push her away.

"You mean that?" He asked, a large hand reaching out to grab hers. His skin tingled as theirs touched, his thumb stroking over her knuckles. He pulled his hand away for a brief second to pull her close and press a kiss to her lips before pulling her into a tight hug. 

"With my whole heart."

With a teary chuckle, he nuzzled his head into the crook of her neck; arms wrapped tightly around her as he tried to protect her from the cold. "You don't know how much I love you." He spoke into her scarf, words muffled by the soft fabric. "I've never loved anything more than you."

[lovelywingsart]

Forgotten Memory

-- Karl Heisenberg X OC (AFAB, She/They) --

So I did a few sketches of Emelia meeting the other lords(and Dimitrescu daughters) a while ago, and I threw in a little something for the Moreau one- well, here's what's basically the small follow-up that I teased for that one.

**Small reminder that I have a small 'Masterlist' for these!**

---------

*Warning?: Lost/regained memory, mentions of wanted parenthood, angst kinda?

Summary: A small, interesting discovery is made during a first visit to Lord Moreaus domain, leading to a heartbreaking revelation.

Emelia was silent. They had returned from her first visit with Moreau, and she had to admit, the 'Fish Man' was kind and rather fun to be around despite Heisenbergs dislike of him. The metal man in question sat at a separate table behind her, tinkering with what she could assume was an experimental piece for the Soldats with his hair in it's normal 'bun' for physical work. But her focus wasn't on him. No, it was on the tape Moreau had excitedly let her borrow. It lay on the corner of the table she had been sitting at, and though she had previously been sketching plans, she was unable to concentrate. Simply finding it at the watermill sent a chill of recognition down her spine, and she couldn't get that familiarity out of her head. It was as if it triggered... something. But she didn't know what, exactly. The cover of the movie alone was scarily familiar, but... she didn't know.

And so, here she sat in silence, staring at the cover of the yellowed and somewhat grimy case, picking at her brain for any possible lead. Not even the occasional German swearing behind her shook her from the concentrated phase she was in as Heisenberg caused a tiny shock among the wires he was currently fiddling with. She had been staring at it since she picked it up... She barely looked away from it on the way back to the factory, nearly tripping over multiple things while Heisenberg practically led her around. But she couldn't quite put her finger on why it was so familiar.

She was suddenly jerked out of her trance as she heard a rather loud 'FUCK', and she turned to see Heisenberg looking at his hand.

"Are you alright...?" She asked quietly. He shook his head, sticking a bleeding finger in his mouth.

"Eh, I'm fine... damn thing shifted on me." He muttered. She was silent for a moment, seemingly spacing out until she spoke again.

"Would you like a bandage...?"

"Nah, I'll be fine." He shrugged, inspecting the digit once more before looking at the thing on his desk. "Wouldn't be the first time I've had the threat of losing a body part." His tone was almost thoughtful as he shifted his left leg. He then turned to face her. "What the hell is with YOU, anyway? You haven't stopped staring at that thing since we left the ugly freak. Usually you'd yell at me to wear gloves."

"Because you should..." Emelia rolled her eye slightly, "And he's a kind man, Karl. Don't be mean." she huffed, shaking her head as he muttered something under his breath. "No, I... I'm fine. Just thinking, is all."

"Ah. Well, don't hurt yourself." He smirked, turning back to his work as she glared at him.

"Twit..." she muttered, her eyes drifting back to the tape. She swore there was something about it...

She finally reached for it, holding it somewhat close to her face. She studied every detail. Every curve of the title letters. Every bit of the scenery. It wasn't until she turned it around to read the back that she paused, her brain picking out a few words to focus on. She simply closed her eye for a moment, only for something... a scene... to flash in her mind;

A woman stood in bright, almost entirely white scenery, holding a small child on her hip. Her other hand held that of an older child, and the childs other hand was held by a man. They seemed... happy. But she couldn't tell... The faces were simple blurs. She could only tell by the distant sound of laughter as the man and woman embraced, the two children huddling to them with giggles. The woman, she noticed, wore her hair longer with a ponytail to the side. No other features were clear. There was a sadness as the scene began to fade away, even as she desperately tried to clear the faces of the individuals.

Emelia jerked into reality once more with a gasp, making the man behind her jump with a startled swear.

"Fucking-" He started, shaking his hand again before looking at her with an irritated grunt. "What now???"

She stared at the tape in silence for a few seconds more before setting it down carefully and pushing herself to stand.

"N-Nothing, I..." she started, her voice wavering just slightly. Heisenbergs irritation all but disappeared as he watched her, switching to confusion.

"Emelia? What's wrong?" He asked, but she shook her head.

"I-I'm fine, I..." she tried, finally just running her hand through her hair and walking towards the door off to the side. "I'm just... tired. I'm going to sleep."

"... Oh." He replied, his confusion still evident. "Make sure you wake up, then."

She couldn't help but crack a small smile. It was always his way of saying 'sleep well'.

"I'll try."

~

Oddly enough, the bed wasn't too comfortable.

Emelia lay on her back, her arms behind her head while staring up at the dark ceiling. She had changed into her casual 'night' attire, thinking she could think better with the light off... But it only clouded her mind. The scene she saw kept playing in her mind. Who were these people? Why did she see them?? She let out a frustrated groan, moving her hands to rub her face. It had to have been a memory, right...? Was she one of the children? Was she remembering her family before this? Of course she had remembered small things as a child, merely second-long snippets of a foggy past that still wasn't entirely clear. COULD she have been one of the children?? While the thought should have calmed her, it only made her question more. If it WAS her original family, why couldn't she see the faces? She should have at least been able to remember her own... Not to mention the scenery itself was entirely different than she ever remembered... None of her memories were ever pure light. Something wasn't sitting right... But she thought back to the children she saw. They were happy... Laughing. They were all laughing a pleasant laugh, even the two adults, who she assumed were the parents. It was the joy of the scene that managed to calm her, and she couldn't help but chuckle from the silliness of it all.

She froze.

Wait.

She gave a confused hum, almost trying to repeat the chuckle. She then thought back to the memory, watching and rewatching the scene in her head, her muscles suddenly tense. Her attention was soon drawn to the woman. The woman's laugh seemed familiar as her face slowly became visible. Almost TOO familiar. It was almost like... Wait, that... Was...

No.

She bolted into an upright position once she saw the womans face clearly, her eye wide as the scene suddenly became uncomfortably clear.

The adult woman was HER.

But why?? HOW???

She threw the covers off her legs and pushed herself away from the bed, nearly ripping the door open with a burst of strength. She nearly ran down the steps, her breathing halted. How could that have been her? How could those memories be hers? She was older in that scene than she remembered to previously have been before all of this, and there was very clearly no sign of childbearing on her own body that she saw or knew of. Hell, she never thought she had BEEN with anyone like 'that' until recently, how could-

She startled Heisenberg once more as she pushed open the door to the workshop, making him jump as she briskly made her way back to the desk she had been sitting at. He spoke to her, but she couldn't hear him as she grabbed the tape and stared at it. Her... A family... Smiling, happy...

Another vision played in her mind, this one she had been familiar with. She was a child, tugging the apron of what she always assumed was her mother. 'Can we? Please?' Her small voice asked. She was a quiet child, that much she assumed from the memories she had unlocked before. She was already greeted with a kind smile as her faceless mother nodded. This memory she had seen, and it was always the same; she led the mother over, sitting on a fluffy couch in front of a large TV. A movie always played, but she couldn't see it... Until now. It was the same movie she currently physically held. But something changed... It was as if a new reel of film was cleaned in her mind, and she saw herself look up at the mother she cuddled to at the point where the memory would have cut off. 'I want a family like that!' She heard herself say excitedly. 'Just like that?' The mother asked, her voice warped somewhat. Emelia watched her child self nod. 'Yeah, a big one, just like that.'

It was then that the previous image of her older self played, vaguely hearing her child-self speak of her own family hopes over the laughter. And that's when it hit her with a wave of brokenhearted nausea. THAT'S why it was so bright... So happy... The vision wasn't a 'memory' at all. No...

It was a DREAM.

A dream...

No.

It was a goal.

A life goal her child-self had.

A goal stripped mostly once she joined the corporation before being taken Miranda years later. A goal that Miranda herself had more or less stripped ENTIRELY with no hope of settling down as soon as that goddamn parasite was embedded into her chest.

An important goal she had entirely forgotten about until now.

The realization hit her like a head-on impact from Sturm, and she dropped the tape. Her eye was wide, staring at seemingly nothing as her breaths came in quiet wheezes. She didn't even know she was crying until she felt a hand on her shoulder, jumping out of her thoughts with a gasp and whirling to meet the concerned face of Heisenberg. He seemed to jump back as well, startled to see face that pure sadness and anger. She could almost hear the memories of singing as she stared at him, her body trembling.

"Emmy??" He asked, taking his hand from her shoulder as if he himself had caused the tears that now streamed down her cheek. She was silent for a moment before her lip trembled.

"I... I remember..." she whimpered, taking deep breaths. Heisenberg paused before suddenly pressing on her shoulders.

"Sit." He said quickly, turning away to grab his own chair as she sat carefully. He brought the chair up in front of hers, sitting directly across from her. "What do you remember?" He asked, his voice genuine as he watched her. She forced herself to speak.

"Do... D-Do you remember... Uhm..." she paused with a shaky breath in attempts not to start sobbing immediately. She HAD to calm herself... "Do you remember when I... When I told you about that memory... The one when I was a child and the movie...?"

"I do... That was months ago." He replied, tilting his head. "What about it?"

"Th-There's... There's more..." she nodded to the tape on the table. "It... It was that... and... a-and..."

She finally broke down, covering her mouth as she let out a wavering sob. She nearly curled in on herself, only stopped by Heisenbergs hands on her shoulders. He then gently grabbed her face, leaning forward and making her look at him.

"Hey... Hey, look at me." He spoke. His jaw tightened as her eye met his, and he saw a painful recognition. "What the hell did that tape do?"

She seemed to hesitate for a moment before finally opening her mouth.

"... I... I wanted a family, Karl..." she whimpered.

He froze.

'Family'.

It was a word he grew to despise over the years. He hated it. He hated it with a burning, goddamn passion. The meaning of it was lost to time and trauma, and yet it sounded... innocent coming from her. It wasn't malicious like Miranda, or insulting like Alcina. It didn't even sound like a pathetic joke as it would have with Donna or Moreau. There was true pain behind the word as she spoke it, and he frowned as he watched her break down in front of him despite clearly attempting to hold it together. She always told him her memories... Hell, he encouraged her too. He knew what it was like, and he hated the thought of the same happening to her. But this time, he didn't know what to do. 'Family' was a sore subject around the factory. She let out a shaky sigh.

"I-I'm sorry, I..."

"No, no, just... Don't..." he started, only to sigh, himself. "Damn it-... Come here."

Emelia froze as Heisenberg pulled her into an awkward hug, though it wasn't enough to stop the tears. Instead, she reached up to hold his arms while her head threatened to fall onto his shoulder. He was silent for a moment, feeling as she almost curled to him, only stopped by the chairs. He couldn't quite think of anything to say. Nothing to help. Not even anything witty.

"... Keep talking." He said finally, feeling her breath halt.

"... What...?"

"I said, keep talking. Tell me about it... I guess." He managed. He felt her head shift while she managed to breath enough to sniffle.

"Is that a joke..." she asked quietly. He rolled his eyes.

"You really think I'd joke about that?"

"... Do you really want me to answer that..."

"Just keep talking, Emelia." He groaned. She was quiet before letting out a shaky breath and speaking.

"I-I... I remember..." she started, clearing her throat slightly and sniffling once more, "I remember begging her to watch it... I guess she never argued... Not that I could tell."

"Hm." He hummed quietly, setting his chin on top of her head. "How many times did you watch it, then?"

"I... I'm not sure... A lot, I suppose...?" Her voice was quiet as she sighed. "All I can hear is singing, I don't know..."

He raised a brow.

"Singing??"

"Shush..." she mumbled, earning a chuckle.

"So what does that have to do with wanting..." he paused. Hell, SAYING the word felt like poison to him... But she knew. She took a shaky breath before pushing away from him, wiping furiously at her eye as she sat back in her chair. She looked over at the tape for a moment with a frown.

"I told her I wanted a family..." she managed, reaching to pick up the tape and turning it over. "'A big one just like them', I told her... I guess I loved it enough to dream of it. Children, a husband... I suppose I could have had... SOMETHING like that with the corporation, but... NOW..." Her voice then gained a hint of bitterness as she leaned forward to put her head in her hand while holding the tape with the other. "It's impossible thanks to HER... And yet, I feel as if I still want it, now that I know..." The sadness quickly turned into a hint of anger as she lightly tossed the tape back on to the table. She was unable to stop the new flow of tears that started, glancing at her right arm. "Bloody hell... How damn stupid am I... A goddamn 'family' from THIS bloody mess..."

Heisenberg was quiet for once, watching as she wiped at her face furiously once more. What the hell was he even SUPPOSED to say to that?? That she was right?? No, he wasn't actively trying to upset her... Maybe he would joke normally, but even he knew that now wasn't the time. Oh, hell...

"Don't be hasty, Emmy. You've, ah... you've got a lot of life to live." He spoke awkwardly, clearing his throat slightly. "Or... um... something."

He jerked back as Emelia gave a disbelieving snort before choking back a sob as she looked to the movie again.

"'Or something'... Not like anyone would be willing to contribute while I'm like this..." she muttered, not seeing the look he gave with her voice still bitter as she frowned with a trembling lip. "That bitch stole every hope I had of being normal... I can barely remember everything still, and yet this is what I get when I do..." her voice lowered, but cracked with a mixture of pain and anger. It was a mix Heisenberg himself knew all too well. "I wanted a family and she tore that away for her own..."

"You could still-" he started, only to stop and snap his mouth shut as she looked up at him. What the fuck was he just about to say?

"I could still WHAT, Karl...??" Her voice was nearly pleading as she looked up at him. "Even if I tried, she'd still... She'd..."

She had to breathe. It felt as if her chest was collapsing in on itself as she doubled over with a sudden gasping sob. She was robbed... The life she once dreamed about wasn't at all possible. Even if she tried. Even if she somehow found a way, she knew it would be ripped from her again by the woman in selfish attempts to fix her own 'family'. And yet, she felt the distant longing she remembered feeling as a child... It wasn't until she felt arms around her once more that she started to look up, only to be nearly yanked off the chair as she was hugged with a sudden force and nearly brought into the man's lap.

"Don't say that." He growled quietly, making her freeze. "You still have a goddamn chance. Fuck Miranda and fuck her plans, she's not gonna do anything if you do." He paused for a moment. "She CAN'T do anything if you do, because I won't fucking let her."

Emelia froze in his arms, decently stunned. She said nothing, though couldn't help but curl into his shoulder as she fought off more tears. She knew he did it to make her feel better... And that's what seemed to hurt the most. He wasn't the most affectionate or reassuring person, especially with this. Sure, he had his odd ways of giving comfort, but it was never easy for either of them. But she managed to take a few breaths, returning the hug somewhat as he set his chin on her head. There was silence for a few moments before the reached out with a trembling hand and picked up the tape, looking at the cover with a light fondness despite her anger.

"... I think I'll visit Moreau tomorrow..." she said quietly, almost feeling his look of disgust.

"Why??"

"Unless you would like to watch it with me." She said simply, glancing up at him. He seemed to calm slightly, but still shook his head.

"You sure watching that is the best idea?" He asked, releasing his hold on her slowly. It was as if he didn't want to let go. She shrugged, wiping at her face.

"Potentially not, but... I don't know..." she sighed, pushing herself back on her own chair. She almost smiled as Heisenberg kept a gentle hold on her arms. "Maybe... maybe it would help... He said it was one of his favorites as well, I think it would be nice to have... willing company."

"I wouldn't be 'willing'?"

"Would you REALLY be, Karl?"

He raised a brow for a moment before giving a huff, but he didn't speak. She couldn't help but give a laughing snort before sniffling. It was then that another thought entered her mind, and she pondered over if for a few seconds, chewing the inside of her cheek.

"I think I'm going to get dressed." She said finally, slowly standing from the chair. She was met with a confused stare.

"I thought you said you were tired?" Heisenberg asked, watching as she walked to the door with the tape clutched in her hands. She paused to look back at him for a moment.

"Oh, I am. But now I'm more angry than I am tired." She said simply. "Have you got any disposable Soldats?"

She felt a little better as she watched a broad, toothy grin form on his face.

"I can figure something out." He said, suddenly standing and moving over to his desk to grab something. "Go ahead, I'll meet you down there."

Emelia only nodded, going through the door quickly. She knew it might not help entirely, but she felt the deep need to destroy despite not showing it on the surface. Whatever he was able to put together, she planned on imagining Miranda's face on every single creature she tore apart while mentally preparing herself for the trip the next day. WOULD watching the movie help? Would it assist with more memories? Or was it the worst idea she had ever had? She didn't know, and she couldn't keep her eye off the case as she retrieved her own clothing. She felt the pulses of her mutation even before she slipped on her own shirt, eventually letting the tendrils of muscle expand and grow along her skin. The bone spurs were the last to form, allowing her to flex and adjust her arm slightly. There was a moment of silence as the muscle hardened, feeling her heart beat against her chest. She took one last look at the tape before letting out a growling huff, letting the anger of the forgotten memories flow through her as she finally walked out the door and ran down to the depths of the factory walls.

[labarboteuse]

Sonate au Clair de Lune (Richard “Dick” Winters x OC)

Hello everyone ! Here is a little something with our favorite ginger-head nobody asked for. I've been wanting to try something for a while now, so here it is, see you at the end of the chapter. Enjoy !x 💕

As always, there’s no disrespect towards the real men of the company. It’s only based on their portrayals in the mini serie

Taglist : @supervalcsi  @ourmiraclealigner | Let me know if you want to be added. 😊

Warning : evocation of a dramatic war event

Sitting on a chair among the audience, Jeanne was stood straight as possible to see the scene where the orchestra was playing composition of Beethoven. As a linen maid in a Parisian hotel, she had spared money for months with her two friends and colleagues Gisèle and Solange to have the chance to afford an entrance for tonight’s performance at the Opera Garnier. Her family had never been rich, but she had received an education and music had been part of the instruction for the girls. She had quickly developed a passion for music but never had the financial means to learn to play an instrument or to attend performances.

The first notes of the “Moonlight Sonata” resounded in the Italian style theatre. Shivers came over her as she unconsciously played with the fabric of her little purse on her lap. Jeanne loved this piece that gave her a deep calm, whenever she felt bad, she would play the notes in her head to calm herself. As the composition was coming to an end, it provided to her a feeling of nostalgia, she thought to her parents she hadn’t seen for a while, her parents she had left few years ago to gain the capital city hoping it would be easier to find a job. Her parents had pushed her to leave the countryside in the Southwest of France where they were living, when she was 19 years old, convinced that she would have a better life by reaching Paris. No one had imagined that barely two years after her arrival war would be declared and that a little less than a year later the city would be under German occupation for the next four years. When Jeanne had arrived, she had to live for a few weeks on the meagre savings her parents had given her, then she finally found a small job as a linen maid in a hotel where she met Gisèle and Solange, the three of them having since become inseparable.

Her thoughts lulled by the music made her forget time and it was only when Solange gently pressed her arm that she came back to reality and realized that the performance was over. She gave her friend a friendly smile and stood up putting her brown coat back on before following her friends towards the exit.

She took advantage of each second passed in the building on her way out to admire the architectural beauty of the place she will not see again so soon. Once the three friends outside, they stopped at the foot of the stairs the time Gisèle lights her cigarette.

“C’était merveilleux!” - “It was wonderful!” exclaimed Solange. Jeanne laughed in front of the sparkling eyes of her friend, who had never had the chance to attend this kind of event either.

“Je suis d’accord, c’était magnifique, j’en ai eu des frissons.” - “I agree, it’s was beautiful, I got chills.” Jeanne passed her hands on her arms with a smile on her face.

Gisèle blew the smoke from her cigarette and nodded her head.

“C’est toi que nous devons remercier pour nous avoir persuadé de venir.”  - “We have you to thank for convincing us to attend.” She said to Jeanne and made a small reverence to her friend which made the three of them laugh.

People would walk by and sometimes look at them with curiosity, sometimes with a haughty look. It was the kind of event that attracted the Parisian gratin, dressed in their most beautiful clothes and adorned with their finest jewellery. And sometimes among this worldliness were simple people who had saved months or even a year to afford a place among the least expensive. Needless to say, Jeanne and her friends made a splash among the crowd.

“Allons-nous en avant qu’ils n’appellent la Maréchaussée pour nous évacuer.” - “We should go before they called the police to evacuate us.”  Gisèle mocked sarcastically.

The three girls laughed before leaving arm in arm. It was getting late but the city was far from sleeping, yet they had to return to their sinister little room on the top floor of an old building because they were starting their day very early. Gisèle and Solange separated from Jeanne once they arrived at their subway station to be able to return to their neighbourhood.

The young women kissed each other before saying good night. Once her two friends had left, Jeanne decided to walk along the Seine and enjoy the clear night and the beauty of the city before returning to her bed.

 As she walked along the quays, she couldn't help but admire the people around her who were enjoying the evening on the terraces of the illuminated bars and restaurants, life went back to normal. Since the Liberation in August, she enjoyed wandering the streets of Paris, especially in the evenings when it was less crowded and it was easier to admire the architectural gems without being pushed around by passers-by. She took pleasure in rediscovering this City of Light that had lost its luster during the past four years. Four years under occupation, fear, constant surveillance, violence generated by the reprisals of German soldiers against the resistance movements of civilians, attacks, shortages and rationing that had led a large part of the population to turn to the black market to provide for their needs, which Jeanne had been a victim of. Her meager salary already did not allow her to live a decent life, she had believed that she would not survive this.

Like many inhabitants, she had been a witness of the arrests of the Vel' d'Hiv’ Roundup in 1942, an event that had deeply marked the population, many of whom had bitter memories. A deep sadness invaded her thinking of all these victims, which gave her a shiver and she tightened her coat around her.

And then came August of that year 1944, the city had been liberated and Jeanne still remembered the feeling of relief.

Lost in her thoughts and without looking where she was going, she didn’t see the silhouette which also didn't look where it was going and ran into it.

The shock made her drop her bag and the program of the evening that she was still holding in her hands as if to prove to herself that the evening had indeed taken place. She crouched down to pick up her things and her head hit the head of the person she had collided with. She held her hand to her forehead and grimaced, releasing a sound of pain. The man had also crouched down to pick up her belongings and stammered something in English that sounded like an apology.

She stood up at the same time as he did, his head down, he glanced at the program he had in his hands and a small smile stretched his lips before straightening his head towards her.

“Sonata No. 14?”

A shy smile was born on her lips and she gently nodded her head, she may not have been bilingual but the music with this universal aspect made her understand what he had said. He gently handed her the booklet and she gently grabbed it and they stood there for a few seconds without either of them letting go of the paper and looking into each other's eyes. Finally, almost embarrassed, he nodded his head without letting go of his little smile and moved aside, passing by her to get back on his way, without taking his eyes off her before finally turning around so as not to bump into someone again.

Jeanne lowered her head towards the program cover with her shy smile still clinging to her lips, a strange feeling in her chest.

She finally returned home without any further incident and went to bed that night-joyful, not really knowing if it was because of her evening or her brief encounter with that soldier.

 ___

The next day she hurried to the hotel where she worked to take her shift. When she arrived she saw that the girls had already arrived and she hastened to take off her coat and put on her black apron, she had lost a few minutes in the subway and this made her arrive slightly late. When she met Solange on the service staircase, she learned that Louise, the fourth girl on the team, was sick and that they had divided up the rooms she should have taken care of between them three.

Jeanne hurried to fetch the clean towels to prepare the rooms before new customers arrived. In her haste she forgot to go upstairs one floor more and opened the door of the second room on the third floor, thinking it was the fourth. She didn't even realize that the door hadn't been locked, so there must was already someone in. She walked towards the bed and bent down to put down the towels on it when she stopped and slowly turned her head over a brown uniform lying there. She was abruptly struck by her stupidity and suddenly straightened herself up, perhaps a little too much, as she stumbled over a pair of boots and was about to finish her fall on her buttocks when she was caught by an arm that slipped around her waist.

Surprised, she quickly deviated of it and apologized, her babbling doesn't really wanted to meant something. She retrieved the towels from the bed before turning around and coming face to face with the same man as the evening before. He was only wearing a white shirt and a black underwear, he was probably in the bathroom when she entered that’s why she didn’t noticed someone was there.

“Vous ?” - “You?”

It was the mysterious stranger she had bump the night before. The same red hair, the same blue-grey eyes and that embarrassed smile so touching.

“Are you following me?” He asked both embarrassed and amused at the same time.

“Pardon ? Non !” - “Sorry?No!”

She tried to add something but nothing came out of her mouth and she shook her confused head.  

“I’m sorry I didn’t know this room was occupied.” She explained herself with a rather wobbly accent, which he found quite charming and which slightly stretched his smile.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine.”

Like the day before, they looked at each other in the whites of their eyes without saying anything, and then finally regaining the use of her limbs and speech, she walked towards the door, still stammering.

“I’m Dick.”

Even him was surprised of the words which came out of his mouth, what’s the point of telling her? He asked for himself. Also surprised of his words she turned towards him and it took her a moment before reacting.

“Jeanne.” She finally said calmly before rushing out, feeling her cheeks usually pale white turning into crimson red, so she hurried out before he noticed and that she looked ridiculous, at least more than she already did.

Dick looked at her in amusement and his gaze remained for a few seconds riveted on the door that had just closed.  

“Jeanne.” He says soflty to himself, a smile on the corner of his lips.  

 ____________________________________________

It's up to you! Do you think it's better to stop there? 🤔 Or how do you see a potential sequel? 😊

Throw me your ideas, they are the ones that will determine the rest of the story! Or not, it's up to you!🤷🏼‍♀️ It's your story!😉

[truecrimesposts]

The Axeman Of New Orleans (UNSOLVED)

Our story begins on the night of the 22nd of May 1918 in New Orleans. The bodies of grocery store owner Joseph Maggio and his wife Catherine were discovered in pools of their own blood by Joseph's brothers who actually lived just next door. Joseph and Catherine's throats had been slit with a razor while they slept, Catherine's was actually cut so deeply thst her neck was almost entirely severed from her shoulders. Their heads had then been bashed in with an ace. It was a bloody and brutal crime scene, their blood was soaked into the mattress of their marital bed.

Police discovered the point of entry to the home upon arrival, a panel had actually been chiselled out of the back door to allow the attacker to enter. It was also quickly clear that burglary was not the motive for this crime. Nothing had been taken from the home, or at least nothing of value. The blood soaked axe (which actually belonged to the couple) had been left in the bathroom, the chisel had been left by the door and the razor blade was thrown into the neighbours garden.

The police were very quick to make arrests in this case, including one of the Maggio brothers, however due to a lack of evidence all of the suspects had to be released. Due to the time severely limited the technology available, the only evidence the police were able to find was a message, scribbled in Chalk on the floor a short walk from the crime scene, which read, "Mrs Maggio will sit up tonight just like Mrs Tony." The police connected this message to Mrs Tony Chiambra, one of a number of grocers of Italian descent that were attacked and killed between 1911 and 1912. While these cases were never officially connected to The Axeman, the similarities in both the MO and the victim profile make it seem unlikely to me that they weren't connected in some way.

A month later, on the 27th of June, The Axeman Of New Orleans struck again. Baker John Zanca went to make a delivery to the grocery store owned by Louis Besumer just like he had many times before. When there was no sign of life from the front of the store, and no answer to his knocks, Zanca got the uncomfortable feeling that something wasn't quite right, and he decided to walk to the back of the building where he knew that Besumer and his (supposed) wife, Harriet, would likely be sleeping. However when he did reach the back of the store, he discovered the couple lying in pools of blood, with multiple wounds to their heads, but somehow they were still alive.

The Besumers would reported waking up to extreme pain, before seeing their attacker hacking at them with their own axe. When police arrived at the scene, they saw the panel cut from the back door, saw the lack of stolen objects and saw that the Besumers axe, which was used to attack them, had once again been left in the bathroom of the home. One of the most intriguing elements to this case for me has always been the fact that The Axeman would never bring his own axe to his crime scenes, and would instead use the victims, as this suggests a lot of prior knowledge about his victims, their belongings, and where in the home these belongings were kept.

Once again, a string of arrests were made in this case, including one of Besumers employees, but due to the lack of evidence and the media frenzy which would occur, they were all released. It was discovered soon after the attack that Harriet was in fact not Besumers wife, but his mistress, which was a total scandal at the time and led to the media frenzy actually interfering with the case. This media frenzy would only worsen in the two months before Harriet would tragically die. Before she passed away, she actually pointed the blame Besumer himself, claiming that he was actually a German Spy. Police had a difficult time believing this, largely due to the fact that Besumers had received some pretty severe injuries during the attack, including a skull fracture. However they apparently came over to Harriet side because 9 months after the attack, and 7 months after Harriet unfortunate death, Besumer was arrested and actually taken to trial for the murder, where he was found not guilty and released.

The next attack would occur in August of the same year, but this time, there was only one victim. 8 month pregnant Mrs Schneider was attacked in her sleep while her husband stayed for work. Mr Schneider returned home from work to find his wife covered in blood, with some of her teeth missing and her skull cut open, but she was alive. A few days after the attack Mrs Schneider regained consciousness and told the police what little she remembered. She recaes waking to a figure hovering over her holding what she would only know to be an axe when he started to strike. Luckily Mrs Schneider made a full recovery, and her unborn baby girl was miraculously unharmed, and she was born not long after the attack.

Police were confused as to why The Axeman had attacked Mrs Schneider, the MO matched perfectly but the victim profile was so off. Mrs Schneider was neither a grocer nor of Italian descent.

Just 5 days after the attack on Mrs Schneider, an elderly Italian grocer and his wife woke to the sound of a struggle coming from the room next to theirs, where their uncle was sleeping. When they entered the room they discovered their uncle Joseph Romano with a head wound, badly bleeding, and they actually saw the attacker flee the scene. Romano neice described the attacker to police as "dark skinned, heavy set and wearing a dark suit and a slouch hat". Once again, a panel had been removed from the door and nothing of value had been taken. Joseph unfortunately died from his injuries two days later.

Once again a media frenzy arose in New Orleans. Men began to arm themselves and watch over their families as they slept.

Police were looking into the growing list of things that simply didn't make sense about this case. Why did The Axeman always leave the chisel behind? Why did he never bring his own axe, and how did he have this kind of knowledge of his victims belongings? And why had he killed Mrs Schneider and Joseph Romano, Mrs Schneider didn't fit the profile, and why kill Romano and not his grocer nephew that was in the same home.

Just when the attacks began to speed up, with only 5 days between the last 2, The Axeman disappeared, for 7 long months the families of New Orleans began to hope again, wanting nothing more than for the axeman to be gone for good. But tragiy on the 10th March 1919, The Axeman returnee. When he did, nothing about his MO had changed. He entered the house through a cut out panel and he attacked the Cortimiglia fighting with The Axeman, a fight which he would lose, receiving multiple blows to the head and a fractured skull. The Axeman then turned to Rosie, and tragically her 2 year old daughter that she was cradling. The child sadly died instantly, and Rosie received a fractured skull.

Fellow grocer Iorlando Jordano lived next door, and when he heard his neighbours screams, he raised the alarm and ran into their home in attempt to help in any way he could.

Luckily, both Charles and Rosie made full recoveries, and Rosie claimed to know exactly whk did this. Rosie pointed the blame at the very man who had gotten them help, claiming that Iorlando and his son Frank had committed this heinous attack. Charles ferverently denied this, and would reportedly go on to divorce his wife because of this. The men were actually arrested and charged with the attack however, Iorlando was sentenced to life in prison and his son Frank was actually sentenced to hang. It wasnt until almost a year later that Rosie withdrew her testimony, claiming that she lied out of spite and jealousy.

A few days after this attack, there was an intriguing and chilling new development in the case. The Times Picayune newspaper received a letter from 'hell' and addressed to 'esteemed mortal'. The Axeman had decided to contact the people he had been keeping in fear for so long., claiming to be a 'demon from the hottest hell' with a 'close relationship with the angel of death' bragging that he will never be found as he wasn't a human. He then proceeded to make an unusual proposal:

Now to be exact, at 12:15 (earthly time) on next Tuesday night, I am going to pass over New Orleans. In my infinite mercy, I am going to make a little proposition to you. Here it is:

I am very fond of jazz music, and I swear by all the devil's in the nether regions that every person shall be spared in whose home a jazz band is in full swing at the time I have just mentioned. If everyone has a jazz band going, well, then, so much better for you people. One thing is certain, and that is that some of you people who do not jazz it up on that specific Tuesday night (if there be any) will get the axe.

When the clock struck 12:15 on the 19th of March, New Orleans was full of noise and people 'jazzing it up'. A local composer actually created a song just for that night, which would go on to become a huge hit, titled, The Mysterious Axemans Jazz. The Axeman was satisfied and there would be no attack that night and there wouldn't be another until early August.

Grocer Steve Boca was attacked while he slept, with the exact same MO as the previous attacks. Luckily Boca recovered but couldn't remember anything at all about the attack.

One month later on the 3rd of September, teenager Sarah Laumann was attacked during the night, and suffered severe head injuries and missing several teeth. However a lot of people question whether this was actually the work because there are several inconsistencies, from the victim not fitting the profile, to the axe being found out in the garden and not te bathroom like all the others, and most noticeably because the attacker came through the window and not through a door panel.

Another month later, there would be one final attack, another attack which isn't confirmed to have been the work of The Axeman. Mrs Pepitone woke up to the sounds of a struggle from the next door room where her husband Mike was sleeping. When Mrs Pepitone went into the room she saw her husband in a puddle of blood, with most of the room covered in blood spatter. But while Mr Pepitone fit the victim profile, Mrs Pepitone reported seeing two neb running from the scene. Mr Pepitone would sadly die of his severe injuries very shortly after the attack.

And that was the last New Orleans would see of the mysterious and horrifying Axeman of New Orleans. Sorry for the long wait but I hope the length of the post makes up for it. I'll probably do a follow up some different theories I can find floating around.

[apinchofm]

Comfort, Not Rage

Phoebe gets caught in the crosshairs of an old family feud.

AU of Book 2&3

Part of my oneshot series on ao3

Requested by the lovely @dearabby101 - my first, yay! I hope they like it🤞

TW: attempted rape because if you've read the books, Benjamin is a creepy arsehole

Phoebe was having a great day.

She had woken up with her hair was under control and the curls defined, she had an adorable boyfriend who packed her a really sweet lunch, with a cheesy joke note inside and she had made an amazing sale on a lost Rembrandt.

A great day.

Which means something was bound to go wrong.

She walked down the usual pathway towards Marcus' House which she had moved into. He always joked that she shouldn't walk around alone at night and she always retorted that she could take care of herself.

Winter meant it was cold and dark in Oxford and she was looking forward to curling up with Marcus at home with a glass of wine.

All of a sudden she collided with a hard body, dropping her bag and disorientating her slightly.

"Oh, I am so sorry!" The stranger exclaimed. He gathered up her stuff. He picked up one of her business cards reading out her name, "Phoebe" 

The way he said her name ran chills down her spine. He had a slight German accent. Maybe he was a tourist, lost or worked around here somewhere. Either way, there was something off about him. His dark eyes bore into hers as he stood up.

"It's okay. Just need to be more careful." She reassured him. Where had he come from? Maybe she didn't notice him, lost in her own happy thoughts.

He flashed her a charming smile "Why don't I take you for a drink, to apologise?" 

"No thanks. I, uh, have a boyfriend" She quickly dismissed with a small smile and tried to walk away.

"Yes, you're mating with Matthew's son" Phoebe froze, the smile falling from her face.

She swallowed, fixing her face into a confused smile "I'm sorry?" She remembered her mother always teaching her to stick to her manners as a last resort. People respected manners.

The vampire smirked "My dear little brother, of course. Though, I suppose he wouldn't call me brother. He is Matthew's favourite child and I was cast out." He stalked closer towards her.

"I-I don't know who you are but I have no idea what you are talking about. Good night" She politely dismissed, albeit shakily before turning on her heels and walking away. She sped up slightly but it wasn't enough. He caught her.

He sped and gripped her by the neck, pinning her against an alley wall. She struggled against him as he sniffed her and sighed.

He turned her around, hitting her head on the brick wall and ripped the fabric of her skirt. Phoebe froze, knowing what was coming. Her mind screamed at her to fight, find a way out but she couldn't. She vaguely heard him muttering that he would mark her, ruin her.

"This will be fun" He smirked before plunging his teeth into her neck to drink from her. She screamed before blacking out.

....................................................

Miriam had picked up the scent of the vampire from the last crime scene she visited. After a series of attacks on women, both creature and human, in Oxford, they were all concerned that a vampire with blood rage was on the hunt. What was even worse was that all these women had been raped before savagely torn apart or beaten.

It was the scream that alerted her. In the same direction of the scent, she was tracking. Another attack! She sped in that direction, tuning down an alleyway, the sight shocking her. It was Phoebe, limp in the vampire's arms as he drank on her and moved his hands to her lower half. She needed to act quickly.

She threw the vampire off Phoebe, who fell to the ground. Her heart was still beating. Good.

The vampire turned to look at her, growling and if Miriam was alive, her blood would've run cold at seeing the familiar face.

"Benjamin?" She was shocked. How on earth was he still alive?

He smirked at her before speeding off. Miriam was half-tempted to run after him, but remembered Phoebe, bleeding out, dress torn and unconscious.

"Shit!" she cursed, taking off her jacket, pressing it to Phoebe's neck. No major arteries hit, good. Shock must have caused her to pass out

She pulled her phone out, dialling quickly. 

"Matthew, it's urgent. Its Benjamin. He attacked Phoebe. Meet me at Marcus' house."

Marcus was driving home when Matthew called him. He said that Phoebe had been attacked, not going into detail. It wasn't exactly something you said over the phone. Your older brother Benjamin who we kicked out of the clan attacked the love of your life, drinking from her and attempting to...

Not something you told someone over the phone.

When Marcus got home, Diana was in their kitchen making tea, Baldwin was on the phone, informing Ysabeau and Marcus was waiting for him at the foot of the stairs.

"Marcus." He stood up, blocking his son's path. He could feel the panic and rage coming off him in waves. Phoebe didn't need that right now.

"Matthew," Marcus protested "Let me see her. Please."

"She's okay. Miriam is with her right now. You need to know" Matthew hesitated "He tried to...rape her. Miriam got there before anything could happen but she'll be shaken up about it."

Marcus stared in, shock filling his body "I need to see her" he said again, more gently.

"Just know she needs comfort, not your rage" Matthew warned gently. Marcus straightened up and nodded before walking upstairs into their bedroom.

He looked at Phoebe in shock. She was in bed, wearing one of his t-shirts, her hair a mess and dried tear stains on her cheeks. Miriam was taking her blood pressure, not even looking at Marcus when he entered the room.

"Phoebe..." he breathed, cradling her face in his hands, checking her over. Miriam had bandaged her neck. He felt sick and anger at another vampire feeding on her.

Comfort, not rage he told himself.

"I'm just glad I was in the area tracking the vampire," Miriam said, removing the blood pressure band as gently as possible. "I can't believe it". Baldwin and Diana joined everyone, Diana setting a mug of tea next to Phoebe who nodded her thanks.

"Who was he?" Phoebe asked. 

"That's not your-" Baldwin started before Matthew, Marcus and Miriam all glared at him.

"She's part of this family now and he attacked her, she deserves to know who he is and why he attacked her." Marcus growled at his uncle. Phoebe blushed slightly as Marcus asserted that she was part of the family.

Baldwin, as head of the family, was still so protective of the family's skeletons (of which they seemed to have many, from witch hunts to blood rage). He sighed and then nodded to Matthew reluctantly.

Matthew sat down, looking at Phoebe "His name is Benjamin Fox, one of my...children. I haven't seen him for a long time. Not since the 16th Century. We didn't even think he was still alive," Matthew explained, a look of shame and anger passing over his face.

"And he was cast out of the clan for trying to expose us all," Baldwin said, rather angrily. He was recalling the war between the Knights of Lazarus and Vlad's Order of the Defeated Dragon. He should've killed Benjamin when he had the chance.

"He suffers from the same blood rage Marcus and Matthew does, but rather than control it, it seems he has been using it as a weapon against other creatures." Phoebe saw Diana cross her arms protectively over her pregnant stomach and knew that it wasn't good. 

"What do you mean?" Phoebe asked.

Baldwin hesitated, so Miriam stepped in to answer "He rapes witches, attempting to create hybrid children. It's why Philippe formed the Congregation and the Covenant was signed." Phoebe sighed, a chill running down har spine.

"But I'm not a witch?" 

Baldwin nodded "No, but this is his way of letting us know that he's back."

"Did he say anything to you, Phoebe?" Matthew asked gently "I know you may not feel up to it but it would really help."

"Matthew-" Marcus started. 

"No," Phoebe sat up "It's alright. I remember he was angry. At you. He seemed upset that Marcus is apparently your favourite son." 

She wrapped her arms around herself as he voice broke "He wanted to mark me, he said, to send a message but then it gets hazy after he bit me". Miriam rubbed her shoulder in comfort.

Phoebe could feel the heat radiating from Marcus. She couldn't look at him. 

"He's been attacking all of those women around Oxford hasn't he?"

"We believe so, yes. He knows that this is part of our family's territory so attacking creatures and humans here, is a way of getting our attention."

Phoebe asked quietly, "Was he going to kill me after he...?" 

The vampires all had grim looks on their faces, none wanting to answer. That confirmed it.  It was Diana who came forward and squeezed Phoebe's hand in a comforting manner, "What matters is that you're okay and we now know who is doing this."

Phoebe nodded but she still felt uneasy inside. She still couldn't look at Marcus.

Phoebe had fallen asleep after Miriam gave her a small sedative. Whilst drugging her friends wasn't a hobby she partook in regularly, an attack by a vampire, particularly a vampire such as Benjamin would be traumatising. She needed rest to heal.

Baldwin spoke first, turning to his nephew "You should've turned her-"

"Not the conversation to be had now brother," Matthew scolded.

"So she would be healed and less vulnerable" Baldwin finished. He liked Phoebe. Whilst he would prefer his nephew to have picked another vampire, Phoebe was intelligent and kind and well-mannered (something he hoped would pass on to his nephew).

Marcus was sat still, head in his hands "I should've met with her after work, I could've left the hospital earlier."

"Marcus, we didn't even know who was doing this until now, there's nothing you could've done. No way you could've known" Diana tried to reassure him.

"I could've kept a better eye on her, protected her better!" He yelled. He wanted him dead. He wanted nothing more than to go out to the streets and tear his dear brother apart. 

"Right now, focus on helping Phoebe instead of vengeance" Miriam scolded him. The last thing the poor woman and this family needed was worrying about Marcus rampaging on the streets of Oxford.

They all said their goodbyes, Diana giving him a big comforting hug before leaving. Baldwin promised to keep him updated on their hunt for Benjamin.

He walked back upstairs and sat on the chair next to their bed, watching her as she slept. The bruise on her forehead, marring her brown skin and the bandage on her neck made him feel as if he had failed. 

His prim and proper Phoebe. He liked to tease her but he wanted his Phoebe back.

Phoebe woke up with a gasp. It was darker than before outside she noticed, as Marcus instantly rushed over to her side, gingerly touching her as remembered that she was home, in her bed. Safe.

"What time is it?" She asked, her voice a little raspy.

"Around 1 in the morning. Do you want something to eat, drink?" Marcus began.

"No, no" Phoebe shook her head. She looked at him hopefully "I would like a hug please?" Marcus hesitated and turned his attention to the empty glass and pitcher.

"I'll bring you some water. Blood loss causes dehydration," He tried to smile at her before going downstairs. He always reverted to 'Doctor Whitmore' mode when trying to hide how he was feeling.

Phoebe's heart shattered slightly. She was still learning about how vampires worked. Did he not want her anymore because another vampire had bitten her and tried to stake his claim? 

"Here," He set the glass down on the bedside table.

"Please, hold me. Please" Phoebe pleaded quietly, tears shining in her eyes. Marcus looked straight at her, his adam's apple bobbing up and down.

"I don't want to hurt you " Marcus whispered. He had the same condition as his psychopath brother. She was emotional, he tried to rationalise, she couldn't want to actually be near him.

"This wasn't your fault and I'm not scared of you. But I need to know that you still love me." Phoebe said and his heart shattered. 

"I do, I do, I love you so much" Marcus instantly gathered her in his arms. She felt instantly safe again, breathing in his scent. She began to sob, whether it was out of relief or she was simply overwhelmed.

"Stay with me, please" She begged tearfully. He knew she wasn't just asking for him to sleep with her, but generally to stay with her. Not leave her because she felt ruined, broken.

"I'm never leaving you, ever" He promised, pressing kisses to the top of her head and rubbing her back in comfort. They stayed like that for a while, before he got up to get changed for bed. He came back and wrapped his arm protectively around her, listening to her heartbeat lull as she fell asleep.

He vowed revenge on Benjamin and would personally rip his throat out the day. But right now, he was content with Phoebe safe in his arms.