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basilone · 4 years ago

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This is a really, really unexpected follow-up to the “blind dates with your muse”-thing that I posted not too long ago, in which I created an OC and put her with one George Luz for a little adventure in Normandy. It seems that Bette had a whole lot more to say, still, and so we’ve now landed with a part II to Salvage. (You can read the first part right here!)

I suppose I owe a thank you to @softspeirs, who reviewed the first part saying she’d love to read a bit more of this story, and to the fact that my brain doesn’t want to be held hostage by my big project just yet. 😂 Please keep in mind that I have absolutely no plans, still, to build this out to a big fic..

salvage (II)

George Luz would be an asset in the field.

It’s an assessment she doesn’t make lightly, these days, having been stationed in Europe for longer than comfortable and unfortunately having met several field agents who wouldn’t know how to fight their way out of a paper bag. She’s not sure how George is with the fighting, but he can mimic just about anyone he’s ever heard speak and memorize people’s mannerisms while he’s at it. It’s something useful – how to become someone else, like a second skin – and once he stops cracking jokes he actually listens to her musings.

“Hey, George, who’s the broad?”

The same, unfortunately, cannot be said for the majority of his compatriots.

“This is Bette,” announces George, patting her knee and smiling up at the latest bunch of soldiers to make it to Sainte-Mère-Église. “She’s OSS.”

“No fucking way,” says the man who’d asked, and there’s a glint in his eyes she doesn’t quite care for. He sounds like he’s on his way to starting a fight – and maybe that’s just the way he speaks, all Philadelphian grit – and is surprised to find a woman mixed up in the potential brawl. “Did ya hear that, Joe? One of ’em agent types!”

There’s something entirely long-suffering in the demeanor of the man she thinks must be Joe. “Yeah, I heard,” he confirms, eyeing her briefly. His voice is more of a rasp – almost hoarse, which she thinks must be from shouting at the Philly fellow – but his eyes aren’t unkind. “Winters said the fella we came in with, Jack, is another agent. Dunno why you’re surprised to find more of ’em, Guarno.”

“Jack’s here?”

“Yeah, down that way with the officers.” Joe jerks his head toward the busier hustle and bustle closer to the town. “You know him?”

“Yeah,” she offers as she slides down from the haybale. “Have to go down there for my debrief. George, if you still want that radio..”

They hadn’t had much luck so far, with people yelling over each other to be heard and everyone clinging to their supplies like a lifeline, to uncover a new radio for George to use. Some of the Fox Company soldiers had wanted to trade her part of a radio for the knife of German make, as if having part of a radio would somehow weigh up to the very real asset of a weapon in her hands. It’d taken George’s hissed intervention – you fucking yokels, he’d snarled, leave her the hell alone – and some glaring on her part to dissuade them from trying to make the trade.

Jack might have a radio, though. Jack’s always got something useful, or knows his way around something that could garner something useful.

“Sorry about Guarnere.”

She’s turned a mostly deaf ear to the very Philly complaints about women at war and just what the fuck does everyone think they’re playing at letting a couple of broads join in that arose behind her back as soon as she’s turned it on him. Bette isn’t surprised to find that none of the men in the vicinity jump to her defense aside from the apology George offers her now.

“It’s fine,” she says determinedly. Her cheeks burn as another suggestion – what’re they gonna do, seduce the Krauts – hits a little too close to the truth. “Used to men saying dumb stuff. As long as you don’t go around saying things like that, George Luz..”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

George is a shadow at her back as she moves toward the town. She doesn’t mind half as much as she should, to have a paratrooper at her back who’s not once wolf-whistled at her or looked at her with obvious distrust. Though, in this morning light, the blood on her clothing does more to dissuade anyone from getting in her way than George’s presence does.

She pulls her sleeves down over her hands. Curls her fingers around the stiffened, bloodiest parts of the coat. There’s something of armor in this – I’m at war like any one of you – that moves men out of her way while she wobbles her way up the muddied path. She almost curses as her ankle rolls treacherously out of sync with the rest of her body. Steadies herself on George’s arm, which had shot out like lightning at the first sign of a near-stumble.

A radio for George, and some boots for her. That’s the goal.

“I bet you’re glad your companions are all right,” she offers him with a slight smile. George carries himself a little better now – he’s less pale beneath that war paint, at least – and she wants to bet seeing more of his own company trickle in might have had something to do with the spring in his step. “It wouldn’t do to get stuck with Fox, huh.”

“Yeah, that’d be bad,” laughs George, and she likes him just a little bit more for the way his grin broadens as he glances at her. “Guarnere and Toye are good guys, ya know? Everybody listens to them.”

“Sergeants?” she assesses knowingly. “That’ll be helpful. Seen any others like that?”

“Yeah, Malark,” he says, nudging her side and nodding at a red-haired man and his rather hassled-looking companion, “and Martin over there too. Haven’t seen Tab or Chuck yet, though.”

“Well, lots of folks aren’t here yet.” Bette pats his arm in reassurance. “I’ve got a friend, Susan, down in the area of the 502nd right now. She fought with some tank crew in Italy before, so I know she’ll probably be right as rain, but that doesn’t stop me from worrying about her something fierce.”

“More women, huh.”

“Yeah, that’s the way it is. We’re less suspect than you.”

“Oh, is that what it is?”

“You’re damn right,” she grins as she expertly swerves one of the more harried-looking medics and his patient. “Who else would you use for undercover jobs, huh? Susan’s been down fixing comms and working with some of your pathfinders. I’ve been stuck here keeping an eye on the Germans and getting as much info out of them as I could before you all landed.” She doesn’t detail how she got the information. Doesn’t want the pitying glances, or worse. It’s best that he doesn’t know. “I’ve got another friend up here, Darlene, who’s mostly worked with Air Force but has a great eye for trouble.”

“And Jack?”

“Our long-suffering superior,” she clarifies. There’s no use keeping things secret, not when they’re on the same side and she’s been compromised to the point where she knows she faces extraction sooner rather than later. “I have to debrief with him and make sure that I – oh, hi, lieutenant Speirs.”

“Agent Peters.”

The man’s face is unreadable as she stutters to a halt in front of him. Smoke curls out of his nostrils and leaves his mouth in an exhale. His eyes travel down to her bloodied sleeves and muddied legs. Flicker back up to her face relatively quickly, then narrow.

“Good to see you made the jump okay,” she says breezily. Flashes him a grin that’s entirely too conspiratorial to be genuine. “Think I saw some of your men down that way. They’ve been arguing with Fox about the use of prisoners.”

Dog Company’s lean, smiling, trouble-spelling sergeants are the ones who’d nodded at her once in recognition and then proceeded to argue with Fox over her head in increasingly irate terms. She hadn’t bothered to listen too closely, but she knows the man in front of her doesn’t suffer foolishness from anybody. The little she’d heard of the argument had been stupid – Fox’s rebukes most of all – and she very much wants to get Speirs out of her line of sight.

“Thank you, agent Peters.”

Unflinchingly polite. Impassive, too, though there’s a slight falter in his step as he moves out of her way. She almost grins at its appearance. Knows he’s thinking of the same things she is, in that moment, and these aren’t exactly the sort of things that suit a war.

“You know Speirs?” asks George as soon as the man moves relatively out of earshot. There’s a hush to his voice that makes her purse her mouth into a grim line. He nudges her side again, though, and there’s something soft in it this time. “Learned your full name now, huh. Bette Peters.”

She doesn’t have the heart to tell him it’s not her real name. She’s carried it so long, like a second skin, that it almost feels like home. She’s been Babette, Bette, Bettina, Bernadette, and any variant thereof. Has been Peters, Plantier, Pelletier, Perrault, and a bunch of other names since she set foot in Europe. But what use is a name, really, beside something that feels right or wrong in someone else’s mouth? The way George says Bette Peters sure sounds safe enough to her.

“Know him?” she says instead, and nudges his side too. Drops her voice down to a near-whisper. “He was in England well before the rest of you lot showed up. They wanted him in intelligence, but he wouldn’t leave his men.” She’d respected that, then, and still does even when she thinks staying with his men was the easiest way to say he has a war brewing beneath his skin. “Last I saw him, he was giving Darlene a pretty good time.”

She grins at the memory of the pillow that had been flung at her face at lightning speed when she’d chanced walking into Darlene’s room without knocking. It hadn’t precisely been the first time, either, that she’d waltzed in and caught an eyeful of some man or other, but it’d sure been the first time it’d been an Airborne officer instead of the usual Air Force buddies Darlene seemed to land with. Then, as now, he’d met her eyes rather unflinchingly.

George’s whistle is low. “He remembered that just now.”

“Yeah, I think he must’ve,” she laughs. Is pleased to find that George startles into laughter as well. “Hard to forget, what with Darlene shrieking at me and me laughin’ at the whole thing before I hightailed it outta there. He’s.. not my type o’ man.” She wrinkles her nose. “Fine to look at, but there’s somethin’ wrong about him. Think that’s the same with the rest of Dog, yeah?”

“Bette,” he says, then, and there’s something so abruptly serious in his tone that the smile dies on her face, “you gotta stay with us, okay? Ask this Jack or somebody to put you with Easy.”

“Why?”

“I dunno.” George shrugs. His mouth quirks into the semblance of a quick joke. “Maybe three days and three nights of rough fightin’”– he mimics, likely pitch perfect for the way it draws laughter out of the soldiers that pass them –“and we’re gonna be back in England. You can’t go back to where you were before I met you, either. I saw your face earlier.”

“What brought this on?” she asks, not willing to admit how right he is and cursing the fact that she apparently still can’t school her face quick enough around people she wants to trust. “You’re gonna get more than three days here by the way this is going, anyway, and I doubt your fellow soldiers want me to stick around..”

“You know people. You’ve got Dog down within seconds of knowing them. Fox, too. And Toye liked you just fine, I could tell, and Guarnere’s gonna be no problem at all once he knows you can take a joke.” He’s rushing his words out. His hand’s warm on her arm. “Think about it, okay? I dunno what happened before you probably saved my life back there, but it doesn’t look good. And I don’t want somethin’ to happen to you, you know?”

“That’s sweet.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” he grins, unapologetic, “sweet and totally right about this.”

“Uh-huh. I’ll think about it.”

It’d solve some issues to just stay where she is. To blend in with the masses of soldiers who’ve now landed in Normandy, perhaps act as a nurse the way Darlene had been adamant they should at least learn, and then regroup somewhere familiar where she can figure out a new way to be useful. Compromised within an inch of her life, Bette’s not sure a quick extraction’s on the table anymore now that the Allied invasion of Europe is on the way. Staying with Easy – with George – seems like one of the few valuable options she’s got left.

Bette squares her shoulders the second she lays eyes on Jack. Marches up to the flint-eyed man without hesitation dogging her footsteps, though she still has to hold on to George’s arm to stop a stumble in all this damn mud. Jack’s conversing with soldiers she doesn’t know – one so white-haired he seems like he was sired by snow, the other red-headed and cautious in movement – but that’s never stopped her before.

“Sir.” She skids to a halt in front of him. “Good to see you.”

“And you, agent Peters.” Jack’s smile is warm. His grip on her hand as he briefly shakes it is as firm as ever. “I take it you ran into trouble?”

“Schmidt,” she affirms sourly.

Bette unbuttons her coat now that she’s safe, now that she doesn’t have to guard this with her life, now that it can be of use. She almost smirks at the near-blush that appears on the red-haired man’s cheeks, but raises an eyebrow at the interest of the white-haired one. Normandy’s warm air brushes against her bare skin as she extracts papers from her tattered chemise.

“I had to make the call,” she says as she hands the small stack over to Jack’s waiting hands. “This is all the intel on Carentan. His unit’s set to move there today, but it’s probably gonna be stalled a bit now. It’s gonna take them a bit to get new command running.” She shrugs. Doesn’t want to detail the fact that Schmidt and Weber both didn’t survive her last night. Doesn’t want to admit to the things she does to keep these men safe. “I hightailed it out, ran into George – he needs a radio, by the way – and probably blew my cover pretty good all in all.”

“Thank you.” Jack’s eyebrows rise in obvious appreciation as he rifles through the papers. The next word out of his mouth is a command. “Mayfair!”

“Sir?”

“Get this George fellow a radio. And try to stay out of trouble this time, Darlene, yeah?”

Darlene Mayfair’s gap-toothed grin is the most welcome sight in the world. Bette finds herself grinning back as the woman affirms the order. She looks a little worse for wear, too, Darlene does, all slightly singed-looking red hair and dark smudges on her freckled face, but that smile doesn’t change so easily.

“George, was it?”

“Yes ma’am,” says George. He sounds rather strangled now that he has obviously connected the dots on the fact that the Darlene from the story and the Darlene in front of him are one and the same. “Nice to meet you.”

“Oh, quit it with the ma’am,” waves Darlene, “and just call me Darlene like the rest of these fellas do. We’re all dyin’ together, anyway, so all this formality’s just a little too much. Ya can forget about salutin’, too, while you’re at it. Ain’t anybody got the time for that, right, Bette?”

“Not if you’re getting shot at, no,” she affirms, winking at George as she buttons her coat back up. “Told you we’d have a radio for you, didn’t I?”

“You’ve been tellin’ tales, I can tell,” hums Darlene, not even sounding terribly put out about it. She extends a hand toward George. “Come along, then. Ya can tell me all about your landin’, sugah, how ’bout that?”

Bette shakes her head, still smiling, as George shoots her a glance that she thinks signifies I am walking straight to my doom. She likes the man’s no-nonsense manner of being. Thinks Darlene might appreciate it, too, even when he’s far too sweet to fit Darlene’s views of warfare and necessary sacrifice. Darlene sure seems content to chatter away at George as they walk off toward another group of men who’re unloading a lot of boxes.

A hand on her arm startles her out of her reverie.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine, Jack.” Bette shakes her head in a bid to clear her mind. “Please tell me the papers are useful.”

“They are. Let me think about extraction, okay?”

“Yeah.” She swallows thickly. “I’m sorry about that.”

“I’m not.”

“Well,” she flounders, gestures, sighs, “I’m a bit put out about it. Could be of more use –”

“No. It’s all right. Let me introduce you to these gentlemen, yeah? Stop your fussing.”

Jack nods at the white-haired man first, and introduces him as Compton. Buck Compton, to be exact, which seems to be another nickname like some of the other names she’s heard around here since they got to town. The red-haired man is called Winters, which is a name she recognizes.

“You’re George’s lieutenant?” She hedges the guess out loud. Isn’t surprised when the man nods. “He mentioned you. Said you’re a good sort.”

She likes Winters, she decides, when the man startles into a near-smile and his light eyes soften a little. Likes him more than Compton, who’d offered a frosty nod and nothing else, and certainly likes him a whole lot more than the steel trap called Speirs.

“Nice to meet you, agent.. Peters, was it?”

“Yes, sir.” She smiles. Extends a hand. “Nice to meet you as well.”

Winters’s hand is warm and firm in her own. And she can imagine following that, she thinks, when Compton next extends a hand to her and echoes his leader’s sentiment. If he can change one man’s mind about her presence within merely a few seconds, he can likely help change his company’s mind about a woman at war.

“Jack,” she decides, “I might have an idea about my extraction..”

#band of brothers #george luz #oc: bette #basilonefic #you know what this is? this is me avoiding what I need to write #but it was fun and needed to come out #I'm not making this a full fic I'm not #(I say as I publish 3k of this lmao)#writing20202021

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knives-out20 · 4 years ago

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Inglourious Boyfriends - Part 8

Fandom: Inglourious Basterds (2009)

Pairing: Joshua Margolis (OC) x Lt. Aldo Raine

Word Count: 1220

Warnings: Spoilers For Inglourious Basterds,

Note: This Is It, Part 8. Part 9 Will Be The Finale, I Can’t Wait To Finally Show You All!

Hans had uncuffed Aldo, Joshua, and Utivich before he got on the phone with their General.

Utivich stood back, by the doorway of the room, pensively sipping his wine with his eyes glued on Hans.

Aldo stayed put, his gaze fixed on the table as he was lost in deep thought while untying his bow tie with one hand.

Joshua, meanwhile, had already finished his wine, so he stood right behind Aldo, massaging his shoulders.

"So when the military history of this night is written, it will be recorded that I was part of Operation Kino from the very beginning as a double agent. Anything I've done in my guise as an SS Colonel was sanctioned by the OSS as a necessary evil to establish my cover with the Germans. And it was my placement of Lieutenant Aldo Raine's and Captain Joshua Margolis' dynamite in Hitler and Goebbels' opera box that assured their demise".

Aldo looked up at Hans with a 'you gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me' look on his face, tugging his bow off with one hand to hang around his shoulders like a small, useless scarf.

"So that's what he did with our explosives? This fuckin' bitch" Joshua thought to himself.

"By the way, that last part's actually true" Hans claimed, telephone in his hands as he talked into it, walking around aimlessly."I want my full military pension and benefits under my proper rank, I want to receive the Congressional Medal of Honor for my invaluable assistance in the toppling of the Third Reich..." he stopped walking, to ponder."In fact, I want all the members of Operation Kino to receive the Congressional Medal of Honor".

Joshua tried his best to seem calm and collected, but with his boyfriend of almost 15 years and best friend of around 30, along with a Basterd who feels like a brother to him being in the room, it was clear to them that the ugly truth of Donny's incoming death was shaking him up. So he distracted himself with Aldo, trying to set his mind on solely massaging his shoulders.

"Y'okay, Joshy?" Aldo mumbled, not moving his head.

Joshua nodded strictly, even though Aldo couldn't see him. He felt Utivich's eyes on the back of his head.

"Joshua?".

"Yes, sir" Joshua sounded mentally exhausted. He heard Utivich put his wine glass down, and footsteps walking over; this was followed by a soft hand on his shoulder.

Utivich's silent form of comfort. He pulled through by going for a hug- Joshua used one hand as a half-hug back, the other still working on Aldo's shoulder.

"I-I'll be okay, Smithson. Go, uh, finish yer wine" Joshua instructed, Utivich hesitantly following the order. Josh went back to massaging both of Aldo's shoulders, staring off into space with his jaw clenched.

"Hey," Aldo looked up at Joshua, squinting due to the light."I love you. Y'know that, right?".

Joshua nodded."I love you too, Aldo".

"You also know that if Omar and Donowitz go out without us, they'll go out with bravery? They know they're doin' the righteous thing, and we should give 'em that".

Joshua blinked back tears at the thought of never seeing his best friend again, nodding; Aldo has always been a soldier first and foremost, so it's no wonder Aldo is trying to distract them by using the plan."O-Only thing that takes Donny Donowitz out is 'imself".

Aldo silently groaned, reaching up to pat one of Joshua's hands."I'll miss 'em, too" he weakly admitted, already starting to wish that things could have gone differently, that the fates of the men he cared so deeply about could've been helped.

At least he still has Utivich, and Joshua, after all this time.

"Full citizenship for myself- well, that goes without saying. And, I would like the United States of America to purchase property for me on Nantucket Island as a reward for all the countless lives I've saved by bringing the tyranny of the National Socialist Party to a swifter-than-imagined end. Do you have all that, sir?" Landa asked, so full of himself that he didn't catch the quick kiss Joshua planted on the top of Aldo's head."I look forward to seeing you face to face as well, sir...Lieutenant Raine?" He turned to face Joshua and Aldo."Right here" Hans walked over, Aldo taking the phone from him.

Aldo softly nudged Joshua, a gesture for him to back away from Hans.

Joshua pulled his hands away, stepping away from Aldo and Hans, arms at his sides and at attention.

"Yes, sir?" Aldo started into the phone. He listened intently to what the General on the phone was saying, unaware of Hans' gaze focusing on Joshua, who arched a brow when he noticed.

"You know, Lieutenant Margolis, you haven't spoken much since I mentioned Donowitz's inevitable peril" he pointed out.

Joshua cleared his throat."Uh...J-Just...takin' it all in, I suppose" he spoke, taking a step back when Hans took a step toward him."It's not everyday when yer best friend is gonna die and you can't do anythin' about it".

Landa nodded knowingly."Of course, I'm in the right to assume you have a grotesque history with Sergeant Donowitz, as well?" He asked, cocking an eyebrow as the words dripped off his tongue like poison.

"E-Excuse me?" Joshua's expression changed to an offended one, so fast.

The Colonel hummed, taking another step towards him, making Joshua take a step back."I'm also in the right to guess you've had unspeakable pasts with all the men in your little team, eh?" He hissed. Abruptly, Hans reached out, his hand cupping Joshua's cheek."Shame. Disfiguring a Jew with a disgusting lifestyle like yours, but with such a face like yours...it would have brought me so much joy. Especially a body like yours, that your old man's friend supposedly defiled".

Joshua shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Utivich, then Aldo.

Utivich stared at them, pushing himself off of the wall. He glanced over at Aldo, who mumbled "yes sir, excuse me a second-" when he saw Hans with his hand on Joshua.

"Get yer nasty fuckin' Nazi hands off 'im!" Aldo's voice boomed, as he stood up immediately.

Hans closed his eyes, taking a deep, annoyed breath. He painted a fake smile onto his face, pulling away from Joshua and turning around."Aldo, I'm glad you went through that call well. I was just telling your lapdog here how this deal does't fully satisfy me like he apparently fully satisfied that one man" he chirped, Joshua running around him, over to stand behind Aldo.

Aldo glanced over at Joshua, gaze going soft on him, but cold as ice when they returned to Landa."He's not my fuckin' lapdog. He's a Lieutenant who could easily kick yer ass if we didn't make this goddamn deal".

Hans put is hands up, shrugging."Whatever you say, Lieutenant. If anything, I bet ol' Margolis was begging for it".

Aldo stepped forward, more than ready to take a swing at Hans for continuously bring up what had happened to Joshua (which truly happened).

Joshua put a hand on Aldo's shoulder, softly calling him."Aldo, don't".

Aldo turned to look down at Joshua, shoulders slightly relaxing as he obliged.”Fine”.

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quilloftheclouds · 5 years ago

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Storyteller Saturday — Do you have any AUs for your OCs? Any major “what ifs”? Do you have any AUs for your WIP in general as well?

Happy Storyteller Saturday!!

Oh gosh YES

I answered a similar ask before which you can find here, but here’s some more info~

Technically One Siren’s Soul itself is the au! It’s a pirate au! Of the au I made of SU with all my Steven Universe gem ocs so there’s that! I guess you could count the story with my gem ocs being the au, now? Celestine, Dione, Colin, and Phoenix were originally based on (Dark Blue) Celestine, Chrome Diopside, Bronzite, and Onyx! Gosh it’s hectic chaos. All of my stories are.

But an actual au I’ve written/sort of still am writing is the “they kidnapped the wrong sister” au! (Thinking of calling it the Violet Lightning AU, but I feel like that’s... maybe a little on the nose.) I... uh. Can’t really talk about this one much because it’s basically a flip on a really really plot important event in two of the main characters’ backstories! Betcha can’t guess what that was... >u>

Without spoiling too much, some of the consequences of that switch around caused someone’s magic to come in shockingly early, caused some heckin’ shenanigans with the Navy, and overall led to some not-fun times for those two characters, and a major shift in personality for both of them!

There’s also a modern spy au, which involves great fun with a rogue federal agent having to work together with a black hat hacker, picking up a famous boxer and a hostage street musician along the way. It’s very fun. XD Magic still exists too, so it’s basically just OSS but in a later time period. It’s great.

Anyways that got long but!! It was certainly fun to answer so thank you for the ask! ^u^

#ask #ask reply #sts #storyteller saturday #oss #one siren's soul #oss au #violet lightning au #vl au #modern spy au #dannggg now i wanna write more for vl #dogwrites

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batboyblog · 6 years ago

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5’10” (before heels) & 98lbs.

The Sliver Ghost, AKA Diana Arlett. A young grad student in the early 1930s Miss. Arlett was exposed to an unknown form of radiation. Miss. Arlett found herself stuck between two wave lengths, meaning that she can change her density at will becoming intangible, invisible, or super dense. When super dense Miss. Arlett is basically indestructible, how this is very physically taxing so she can only do it for a few moments at a time. As a result of her accident Miss. Arlett’s hair turned a reflective Sliver and when not concentrating she is less dense than a human her size should be resulting in a lower weight. During World War 2 Miss. Arlett was recruited by OSS to act as a spy and saboteur against the Axis, a job she did outstandingly. After the War Miss. Arlett fell under suspicion by HUAC during the Red Scare due to connections with foreign sciences studying radiation. Fired from the CIA and black listed till long after McCarthyism ended Miss. Arlett was rehired by the CIA in the mid-1960s. By this time she had noticed she was not aging. Miss. Arlett turn active part in the CIA’s Phoenix Program in Vietnam and is widely believed to have been at the Fall of Saigon. Miss. Arlett activities become more vague still after the 1970s, she is still an employed CIA Agent but her location, and activities are classified, the CIA denies any and all assassinations after February 18, 1976.

Give me a characteristic, I’ll give you an OC

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spicyh0tramen · 7 years ago

Photo

Numbskullz - Marvel Universe OCs

1. Numbskullz EP Album Cover

2. Kylie’s Sedgley OSS .38

3. Kylie’s Judas Gauntlet

4. The Numbskullz

Kylie Woodbury / 17 years old / Drums / AKA Toxic Bronze

Jonah Morris / 16 years old / Vocals + Rhythm Guitar / AKA The Weapon

Jake Marsh / 18 years old / Bass Guitar / Future Med Student

Adrien Marsh / 20 years old / Lead Guitar / Middleweight Boxer

5. Numbskullz Band Tee

6. Jake’s LTD Eclipse Bass Guitar

7. Kylie’s Peace Drum Kit

8. Adrien’s Retro Grosh Guitar

9. Jonah’s Les Paul Guitar

10. Map of the area

11. Zoomed in map

Joint project with @pietro-snarksimoff

Details and Stuff

Quincy Upper School District in Boston

Kylie lives at 27 Hanson Street and works part time at Caffe Nero as a barista

Adrien and Jake live at 8 Milford Street, just one over from Kylie, Adrien works full time at the Southend Glass Company as a Glazier (glass installer) and Jake isn’t working, he focuses on his studies

Jonah lives at 248 Shawmut Avenue and doesn’t work. He’s too focused on a war that will likely never come.

-Kylie Woodbury-

Kylie lived a relatively normal life for most of her life- she went to school, had a handful of friends, took dance lessons at a local studio, practiced drums with her friend Adrien’s band “Numbskullz”, and went to concerts and parties just all the time… she and her dad shared a common interest in WWII era history, while her mom and her both loved laughing at cheap oscure movies together. She really did get along with both of her parents well, despite a tendency to be a bit of a rebel and a lot of a slacker. But all of that changed, quick.

One day when coming home from work her father, Agent Bailey Woodbury of Homeland Security, was murdered. His case was investigated for as long as justifiably possible.. But nothing came of it. The murderer was still completely unknown. Life changed for Kylie. Her relationship with her mom, and everyone, deteriorated fast and hard.

Then, her grandfather passed as well. Kylie and her mother had no family left aside from each other. For her interest in WWII history, Kylie was given her late grandfather’s Sedgley OSS .38, an extremely rare WWII fist gun, the first and only ever to see military use… And after the murder of her father, and seeing the feats of numerous heroes and vigilantes throughout the United States and beyond? She decided to use it. To become a hero in her own right. It wasn’t all that serious at first- she had no idea what she was doing and went on with her whole act for weeks before even coming across a crime to stop. And when she finally did…?

It was way out of her league. Hammertech being sold to some ski-mask wearing thug in a back alley in Roxbury. She was a teenage girl with no combat training, and nothing but a one-shot fist gun to defend herself with, so she hid and watched. She was impulsive and foolhardy- but not completely stupid. She knew rushing out to fight would be a death sentence. She watched, and waited, until the transaction was complete. She waited for the seller to drive off, leaving the ski-masked man with his box of dangerous new toys… and then she struck. She dove out of the trash bin she’d been hiding in, and punched him right in the gut with a BANG, wounding him not fatally, but enough that he wouldn’t be standing up on his own again for a while. She kicked his gun away from him, and rushed to the package he’d received, and grabbed all she could carry. In the moment all she could think to do was get as many of these weapons off the street as possible and get out of there before the police (or anyone else) arrived at the scene. What she’d ran off with later turned out to be a few unusable pieces of an incomplete leg armor, and a single gauntlet, which she later learned to be a Judas Gauntlet.

One month later, and Toxic Bronze was born. The poisoned bullets, the Judas Gauntlet… She had become a truly well armed vigilante. She still lacked training, but that didn’t stop her. She did her best.

While working as a vigilante, she remained a member of the band Numbskullz which was planning to release an EP soon, and she considered vigilantism as more of a job than a lifestyle like some heroes. Eventually- out on the streets (and in school) she met a fellow vigilante (who constantly goes on about “The War”) named Jonah Morris. She convinced him to join the band after hearing his singing skills, as they were in need of a new vocalist, and now they’re friends of a sort.

-Jonah Morris-

Jonah was a quiet and angry child. By the age of 11 he felt like the whole world was against him. He’d never had a single friend and a house fire had taken everything he’d ever had from him, including his parents. His parents had been poor, but hardworking and loving people. He was understandably angry at their deaths. He got into several fights with the other children at his orphanage in the first couple months before Stick found him. He trained with stick from the age of eleven to the age of fifteen. Stick simply dissapeared and never came back with no warning. Stick trained him for war and by the age of 15 all he knows is violence anymore. When stick leaves he grows restless and needs somewhere to direct his anger and excess energy so he sneaks off at night to fight muggers and the like. He doesn’t form attachments easily. He thinks feelings are a weakness and friendship is unnecessary. They met on the streets and then in school. After they had worked together some she was like “yknow you should totally join my band it’ll help with team work skills” totally bullshitting and he was like “yes ofc that makes sense and team work will help me in The War” and joined. After a while he developed a crush on Adrien but was uncertain of what those feelings meant and considered them a weakness. After a long talk with Adrien where he was kindly let down, he came to understand that he was gay.

-Adrien Marsh-

Lead guitarist and amateur middleweight boxer, Adrien is pretty much the dad and the common sense of the group. He’s no superhero vigilante, but he’s tough enough to help his friends out of a tight spot when he needs to. His dream is for Numbskullz to go big and viral. He loves his friends,and his little brother, and tries to support them all in all of their endeavors.

-Jake Marsh-

A purehearted jokerster, Jake is the heart of the group. He had a crush on Kylie a while back (and sort of still does) which is how she initially got involved with the band. He’s no fighter, but he does his best to help his friends. He’s the most studious of the group and is planning on going to college- he’s on track to attend med school where he hopes to become a nurse, which Adrien is immensely proud of.

#numbskullz #ocs #mcu #marvel #defenders

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telgoo5 · 5 years ago

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The Compelling Need to Employ Intuitive Online Billing Software for MVNO Success

Mobile Virtual Network Operators (MVNOs) are small fish in the huge sea that is the telecom industry. For them to survive amongst the big sharks, it is important to have all the right tools that can make them competitive. The fact that MVNOs receive their frequency spectrum from MNOs lessens their burden, but access to spectrum alone is not enough. They still require a trustworthy and versatile online billing software solution that can help them monetize their services better and bring them to market quickly.

The Exigent Need for Intuitive Online Billing Software

Intuitive is defined as something that is easy to operate. As MVNOs, generally the skinny and thin ones, do not always have the necessary expertise in the telecom domain, they require an online billing software solution that can simplify their operations. A perfect blend of necessary functionalities and ease of use is their most essential requirement. As an MVNO, you do not want to invest in something that takes considerable amount of time to be learned and put to real-world use. Online billing software solutions that can be understood by your B/OSS operators fast and put to good use quickly can be the difference between success and failure of your MVNO.

The Best Characteristics of Intuitive Online Billing Software

The selection of an online billing software solution needs to be done with great care, in order to improve MVNO operations. Below are some characteristics you should seek in your MVNO software:

1. Convergence – An online billing software solution that has an Online Charging System (OCS) at its center can charge every single telecom service at the same place. This allows for the creation of a single invoice that reflects charges of all services used by a subscriber. When an MVNO sends single invoice with all charges to its subscribers, it improves the bond of trust by bringing in more transparency into the billing process. The job of customer services agents also become simpler as they have the record of every user interaction with the billing system.

2. Faster time to market – The time between service creation and service delivery is crucial. Hence, your online billing software should be capable of monetizing new services like IoT and 5G fast, so that you are able to acquire new subscribers and gain a leg on the competition.

3. Cross-product discounts – To maximize your returns on lesser-used services, it is possible to club them with popular services. So, if OTT video streaming services to your subscribers are not being used as per your expectations, then you can club it with call or data services and offer cross-product discounts. This will motivate subscribers to utilize video streaming services and your MVNO will generate higher revenue through an increased ARPU. And it is also possible that your customers would develop a liking for such services and subscribe for it even when the discounts are removed.

Multi-Tenancy – Online billing software

should come with multi-tenancy that lets multiple user logins at the same time with different user credentials. It will allow for maximum utilization of resources, which is a major requirement for any MVNO operation.

#Online billing software #Online Billing Software Solution #Online Billing Solution

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liebgotts-lovergirl · 2 years ago

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Fire On Fire: Chapter 15

(Ch. 14) ... (Ch. 1)

II Gallery II Tag List Application II Symbol Guide II

Summary: Tackling a mission meant for a team all by herself, Alix goes head-to-head with her most dangerous opponent yet. But perhaps this time, she's bitten off more than she can chew.

WARNINGS: VIOLENCE, ANGST, SEVERE INJURIES, Implied Substance Abuse, Death, the usual espionage stuff

A/N: Sorry this took so long, y'all! I've been on a trip! Here, have a holiday cliffhanger before I disappear again🤭💖

Taglist: @softguarnere @latibvles @mccall-muffin @lieutenant-speirs @brassknucklespeirs @parajumpboots @vibing-away @emmythespacecowgirl @hxad-ovxr-hxart @holdingforgeneralhugs @bellewintersroe @wwhatev3r @ax-elcfucker-blog

Contemporary: September 20th, 1944. Oosterbeek, Netherlands.

As soon as Lieutenant Kruger exited the Hendriksen Hotel, Alix was ready for him.

Opening her issue of Modes de Paris to a random page once more, she began to study the page on upcoming winter clothing trends, gradually increasing her pace until she "accidentally" collided with the young SS officer, causing him to stumble.

Most targets would apologize for knocking her and check to see if she was alright, but when the Lieutenant recovered his footing, something in him snapped.

Whirling around in a fit of fury, Kruger seized the spy by the throat, swearing in German as he slammed her against the wall of the Hendriksen hard enough to elicit a choking cough as the air was punched from her lungs.

Alix knew she couldn't put up true resistance or she would risk blowing her cover so she struggled weakly, one hand gripping his wrist and the other pushing him away from her as she fought for air.

The urge to break his arm was growing stronger with every second but Alix had committed herself to the civilian role and she would have to play it, even to her own peril.

Horrified townspeople saw the confrontation but scurried by, hastily avoiding the scene so as not to catch the SS officer's eye.

No one wanted to be next.

Tears involuntarily sprang to the spy's eyes as Kruger's hold tightened. When he lifted her off the ground, her ears began to buzz loudly as her vision began to blur and narrow.

Desperately fighting to remain conscious, Alix began to claw his hand and Kruger finally released her, yelling in pain, his voice seeming far away.

Gasping for breath like a fish out of water, Alix sank to her knees, the magazine slipping from her hand and falling limply to the cobblestones below.

The world seemed to be spinning like a children's top and Alix sat dazed. Kruger looked like he might come at her a second time but before he could, she saw another pair of boots approaching with the sharp clip-clip-clip that meant business.

As she coughed, leaning against the wall for support, the young woman could hear voices arguing above her in German. Blinking blearily upward, she could see a dignified-looking older man also in an SS uniform with the name “Schwarzkopf” emblazoned on the breast pocket.

A panoply of medals sat proudly on the opposite side of his chest, including what Alix recognized to be the Iron Cross.

This must be SS Captain Schwarzkopf then, she surmised through the haze. Werner Schwarzkopf.

She vaguely remembered his file.

Schwarzkopf was engrossed in a near-shouting match with the short-tempered Lieutenant, waving his hands as he gestured to Alix, to the street, and then jabbed an accusatory finger back into Kruger's chest.

All the fight seemed to have left the younger officer now and his body seemed to sag as he hung his head guiltily like a child being scolded by the schoolmaster.

After a few more minutes of back-and-forth, the row seemed to come to an end and the older officer knelt to pick up Alix's magazine before extending a hand politely down to her which she accepted.

Once she had gotten to her feet, Alix let the tears run down her cheeks and sniffled, hoping to seem more sympathetic.

It worked.

The older officer glanced over the title of the fashion catalog with a fond smile.

"Modes de Paris," he read out loud, his German-accent almost disappearing, making his French surprisingly comprehensible. "My wife is subscribed to this. Lisette has a weakness for capes."

"Well she's in luck because they appear to be all the rage this coming winter," Alix assured, returning the smile weakly as she rubbed her sore neck in with a gentle hand.

"I should hope so, with all of the money we’ve spent on them!"

The man let out a booming belly laugh that set Alix's ears ringing again and she winced, clinging to the wall of the bookshop with her left hand in a bid for balance as she slowly straightened up.

"I am truly sorry for my carelessness," she uttered softly, keeping her head lowered as a sign of her deference. "I sometimes get too immersed in my reading."

"No need to apologize, Mademoiselle, no harm done," the older man stated broadly but Lieutenant Kruger huffed like a spoiled child before shooting a suspicious glare in Alix’s direction for less than a second.

Strangely, the youthful SS officer couldn’t maintain eye contact to save his life.

Alix couldn’t even tell what color his irises were because they were dwarfed by his dinner-plate pupils and darting every which way as though distracted by a million different things that only he could see.

Lieutenant Kruger was muttering under his breath, seemingly speaking more to himself than anyone else as he rocked back and forth on his heels.

The agent glanced over to the older man with concern, lowering her voice to avoid triggering Kruger’s ire again.

“Is he… alright?”

The graying man grimaced.

“He is functional. Mostly.”

“What’s wrong with him?” she asked, making sure to keep her body language open and non-defensive to emphasize her earnestness.

The key was seeming politely concerned, not overly curious.

Schwarzkopf shook his head, seemingly mystified.

“Overwork perhaps? Who’s to say?”

“S-She’s a spy!” Kruger burst out suddenly, extending a shaking finger toward the agent.

Alix’s eyebrows shot skyward with a bemused laugh but the older man beside her merely frowned, his forehead creasing.

“You said the same thing earlier about 4 men in the bakers regiment, Klemens." Captain Schwarzkopf's voice was rising. "Is this your idea of a joke?"

Kruger was completely ignoring him, seemingly too immersed in his own paranoia to notice.

This was not a joke, Alix thought as she watched the troubled young man begin pacing anxiously back and forth along the same path.

Something was seriously wrong with her target and it wasn't trench fever.

"So many spies," the young man mumbled, his movements becoming more jerky in his distress. "So many…So many."

The lieutenant was becoming more and more agitated by the second, scratching frantically at his neck and face like a dog with fleas, raking his fingernails up and down the pockmarked skin feverishly as if trying to dig his way down to the bone.

Kruger's erratic behavior was causing Alix some serious trepidation.

The young SS officer was sweating excessively but there were no other symptoms, meaning the Intel she was acting on was incorrect. Whatever his affliction, it was most certainly not trench fever and Alix wondered if it might be better to take him out from a distance instead.

She might risk losing the chance to nab vital documents he was carrying but if his affliction was contagious, she didn't want to risk any more exposure because she could potentially infect others she came into contact with after.

Deciding to try one last ruse, Alix turned glanced over at Kruger, whose hands appeared to be twitching as he shifted restlessly from foot to foot.

"I really should get going," she excused herself breathily.

"Papa will be expecting me after Monsieur Pètain has gone, I'm sure."

With all the practiced coyness of an actress delivering a throwaway line over her shoulder, Alix turned to leave when she was stopped, as she knew she would be.

Kruger was slack-jawed, his huge pupils boring into her like black holes.

“Your father knows The Marshal Pètain? The Lion of Verdun? But how-”

"Papa was his roommate at Saint-Cyr," Alix lied effortlessly, cutting the babbling young man off. "And when they left the military academy, they served together in Artois. As you can imagine, they are quite close."

“What did you say your father’s name was?” the older man asked, a hint of skepticism in his gravelly voice and Alix forced her expression to remain neutral, hoping to God that her cover had been properly backstopped.

“Antoine Duchamps,” she replied, keeping her tone even, and Kruger’s ghostly face brightened immediately.

“I know that name!” He piped up eagerly and Alix resolved to thank Nixon later for properly planting her cover when Kruger began chattering twice as fast to the man next to him, leaving Alix blinking as she struggled to follow along.

The Lieutenant's French wasn't bad for a German but the faster he spoke, the more his words began to slur, running together in a muddled mess and on top of it, he hardly seemed to breathe!

"Philippe Pètain! My God, can you believe it? Do you think he would meet with us? Perhaps-"

But the older officer held up a hand to silence Kruger, who was starting to pace again in his excitement.

"I'm sure the Marshal is a busy man, Klemens," Captain Schwarzkopf began but Alix shook her head, tossing her curls airily like the airheaded socialite she was supposed to be.

"Don't be silly!” she chirped brightly, her tone syrupy-sweet. “He'd be honored to meet with some of our valiant German allies! If one of you could escort me to the nearest phone, I'm sure I could ring Papa and arrange it!"

The young agent paused for a moment, watching as Lieutenant Kruger began scratching vigorously at his neck and cheek again, angry red lines beginning to trail down the irritated skin.

"It can't be a party line though," Alix hinted, twirling a strand of her raven hair around her finger flirtatiously.

"The Marshal is very particular about who has access to him, I'm sure you understand. One can never be too careful these days. It should be somewhere…private.”

Kruger had ceased his clawing now, too distracted by the sight of Alix’s fluttering eyelashes and suggestive tone to focus.

“I know the perfect place,” the young man blurted out, seizing her by the arm rather suddenly and practically yanking her towards him in a sudden burst of virility.

Good, Alix thought as the notorious ladies' man led her back inside the hotel, leaving a confused Captain Schwarzkopf behind them. This should be quick.

But it wasn't.

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

An impromptu SS Headquarters on one floor and a rented love nest on the other, it seemed the Hendriksen made good money from collaborating with Nazis because the place was crawling with them.

As the pair made their way through the lobby into the elevator, Alix kept her head dipped low, making sure that her thick, Veronica Lake-style waves were obscuring at least half her face from passersby.

Beside her, Lieutenant Kruger was still trembling like a leaf; his short, shallow breaths coming out in pants as though he’d just run a marathon.

A part of her wanted to ask if he was alright but she thought better of it; Alix knew if she set him off again, she wouldn’t be able to hold back from killing him and she was fairly certain that the noise would attract unwanted attention from the multiple Nazis milling about downstairs.

In the elevator, the young SS officer pressed a shaky hand to his chest, the feeling of his racing heart starting him rocking on his heels once again and Kruger’s anxiety coupled with the groaning of the rusted cables made Alix grit her teeth.

He better not drop dead before we get to the room, she thought bitterly. Because I’m not dragging him there myself.

Fortunately, the ding of the elevator signaled their arrival and the young spy allowed herself a quiet exhale of relief as they exited onto the plush, patterned carpeting of the hall.

It was showtime.

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

Common courtesy dictated that a gentleman should offer a lady a drink upon inviting her in but Lieutenant Kruger was certainly no gentleman.

Alix had barely sat down by the bedside telephone when the young officer plopped down beside her, his leg bouncing vigorously, practically shaking the whole mattress with it.

"My, my,” he marveled and Alix could feel his bony fingers boldly caressing her upper arm. “Aren’t you a stunning creature?”

It took all of her strength not to break his hand.

“Thank you, sir,” she simpered but when she reached for the phone, Kruger’s other arm shot out like lightning to stop her, clutching her wrist painfully tight.

“What’s your hurry, Fraulein?” he inquired and Alix felt a chill run through at the sight of his crocodile grin. “I’m sure the Marshal can wait until we’re through.”

The agent played dumb, wincing at his vise-like grip.

“U-Until we’re through…?”

“Until I’ve had time to properly enjoy…your presence.”

Good luck with that, Alix wanted to remark but she lowered her eyes to the carpet instead, feigning shyness.

"Forgive me, sir,” she murmured breathily, doing her best impression of a bashful ingenue. “But being alone with a man as…” She swallowed her disgust. “As handsome and well-respected as yourself…”

Beside her, the Lieutenant dropped her wrist and straightened up at her words, puffing his chest out like a strutting rooster and Alix bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud.

“You needn't be coy, Fraulein," he assured her with a pompous wave of his hand. "We're finally alone."

With that, he made a daring swoop toward her, attempting to hook an arm around her waist but Alix shied away, scooting closer toward the phone instead.

"Perhaps a drink first?” she insisted quickly, followed by a tight-lipped smile. "For both of us, to calm the nerves."

"I'm not thirsty," he countered, continuing to lean in and Alix kept her expression neutral, tolerating his advances as her mind raced through possibilities.

She needed him to ingest the cyanide somehow but she knew she couldn't push the subject or she'd risk blowing her cover.

So she played hard to get, ducking away from his arms again and hoping desperately that her attempts at coyness would pay off but they didn't.

The SS Lieutenant was like a machine.

He didn't need to eat, drink, or sleep; he seemed to run on desire alone and he was vibrating as though there was lightning coursing through his veins.

She tried several times to engage him in conversation but the Lieutenant wasn’t interested in talking. Once he’d reached out and groped her breast, Alix decided she’d had enough.

Swallowing her pride, the spy leaned in, keeping her lips just inches away from Kruger's as she slowly eased the F-S fighting knife from the waistband of her skirt. He was so near that she could smell his putrid breath and as soon as his eyes closed, she seized her opportunity and thrust the blade deep into his abdomen.

The force of the stab alone would probably have killed the average soldier but it seemed almost as though the SS officer was superhuman.

He let out a single, strangled noise and looked down at the knife embedded in his torso before his eyes shifted up, black with unspeakable rage as he leapt to his feet and took a swing.

Alix blocked his first strike with one hand while yanking the knife from his bloody ribs with the other, eliciting another bloodcurdling scream from her opponent.

Heart racing, Alix swiped at him with the blade like Nix had taught her but the Lieutenant was faster, catching her wrist and clamping down between the tendons, forcing her to drop the knife like a hot coal.

She hissed in pain and managed to land a blow to the side of his face before he struck back, his fist flying over her head as she dropped to the floor. Panting, she managed to sweep his legs out from under him and he came crashing to the floor with a loud thud.

But just as she straightened up, reaching again for her knife, the bastard latched onto her leg and dragged her back down onto the carpet with him, bellowing the only word in German that Alix recognized at the top of his lungs:

“Spionin! Spionin!”

Spy.

Rolling over, Alix rushed to clap a hand over his mouth but the damage had already been done.

She could hear the clamor of approaching footsteps, the squealing hinges of doors swinging open, panicked voices shouting in French and German.

The officer caught her dominant wrist before it reached him, bending it backwards with such force that Alix swore she heard a sickening crack and a hot pain shot up her arm just as he swung again with his opposite hand, this time connecting squarely with her jaw in a stunning uppercut that sent her head snapping back like a flipping switch.

Reeling from the dull throbbing in her skull and spitting blood, Alix managed to tug her pistol from its hidden holster and fired two shots, one after the other, into the man’s head, dropping him instantly.

The sudden cacophony of German coming from just outside the door spurred the agent to struggle to her feet.

Cradling her injured wrist, Alix was seeing double but she managed to stagger her way to the window overlooking the hotel’s back. The deafening jingling of room keys set her ears ringing and she leaned against the windowsill for support as the world seemed to spin.

Her heart thundered in her chest, her racing pulse causing blood to gush steadily from her split lip, dribbling down her chin in a warm stream.

Despite the pain, the young agent still managed to shove the window open and shakily clamber onto the sill. Staring down into the shadows of the alleyway, Alix felt nausea creeping in, her fear of heights making her stomach churn as her vision blurred.

The ground below seemed to undulate like an ocean tide and Alix had to lean against the wall, each time she blinked in the streaming sunlight feeling like a hammer slamming down onto her skull.

Hearing the deafening click of the door unlocking, the OSS operative swayed unsteadily for a moment as the world slowed to a crawl.

Standing on the ledge, Alix found herself in a fog, wondering thickly how long it would take for her case officer to be informed of her death.

It wasn't your fault, Nix, she wanted to tell him. You were a great handler. I wasn't a good enough agent.

"Too many risks, kid." Alix could hear him now, scolding her like he had during training. "You take too many risks."

Suddenly, several uniformed men burst into the room, interrupting her hazy contemplation. The resulting commotion sounded so far away, as though it was all happening underwater.

Holding a hand to her pounding head, Alix squeezed her eyes shut.

I'm sorry, Joey, she thought groggily, her aching head beginning to loll. I love you.

Then with a last shaky breath, she leapt from the ledge, sending herself plummeting downward onto the unforgiving bricks below.

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