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brookston · 1 year ago

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Holidays 10.23

Holidays

Asian Corpsetwt Day [Every 23rd]

Aviator’s Day (Brazil)

Broken Diamond (Elder Scrolls)

Celery Day (French Republic)

Chinese American Day (California)

Chulalongkorn Day (Rama V Day; Thailand)

Claire & Henry’s Wedding Day (Time Traveler’s Wife)

Day of the Macedonian Revolutionary Struggle

Doctor’s Day (Mexico)

Event Organizers Day

Frost Descends (Chinese Farmer’s Calendar)

International Museum Meme Day

International PTEN Awareness Day

International Snow Leopard Day

International XLH Day

iPod Day

Kabuki Syndrome Awareness Day

Liberation Day (Libya)

Lock Your Meds Day

Mole Day (Chemists)

National Aviation Day (Mexico)

National Croc Day

National One United Race Day

National Slap Your Irritating Co-Worker Day

Nemzeti ünnep (Hungary)

Paralegal Day

Paris Peace Agreement Day (Cambodia)

Peniamina Gospel Day (Niue)

Republic Day (Hungary)

Swallows Leave Capistrano Day

TV Talk Show Host Day

Ueno Tenjin Matsuri (Parade of Demons; Japan)

Vote Early Day

World Edible Insect Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

Boston Cream Pie Day

Canning Day (a.k.a. Canned Food Day)

Spam Jam (Hawaii)

World Mozzarella Day

4th Monday in October

African-American Cotton Pickers’ Day [4th Monday]

Equality Day (Antarctica) [4th Monday]

Green Monday [Monday of Last Full Week]

International School Library Day [4th Monday]

Labour Day (New Zealand) [4th Monday]

Independence Days

Neeburm (Declared; 2021) [unrecognized]

Woodland Patchwork (Declared; 2013) [unrecognized]

Feast Days

Allucio of Campugliano (Christian; Saint)

Amon of Toul (Diocese of Toul; Christian; Saint)

Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius (Christian; Saint)

Beginning of Scorpio (Astrology; Pagan)

Bobby London Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Christmas (a.k.a. Feast of Señor Noemi, the Child Jesus; Apostolic Catholic Church)

Feast of the Most Holy Redeemer (Christian)

Festival of Forgotten Gods

Fontenelle (Positivist; Saint)

Giovanni da Capistrano (Christian; Saint)

Ignatios of Constantinople (Christian; Saint)

Island Heads (Muppetism)

James the Just (a.k.a. James, brother of Jesus; Lutheran, Episcopal Church (USA), Eastern Orthodox)

Jean-Louis Forain (Artology)

John Capistran (Christian; Saint)

Joséphine Leroux (Christian; Saint)

Lawren Harris (Artology)

Navami [9th Day of Dashain]

Peter Pascual (Christian; Saint)

Romain (a.k.a. Romanus) of Rouen (Christian; Saint)

Servandus and Cermanus (Christian; Saint)

Severin of Cologne (Christian; Saint)

Strip for Your Lover Day (Pastafarian)

Surin (Christian; Saint)

Theodoret (Christian; Saint)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Taian (大安 Japan) [Lucky all day.]

Premieres

Almost Blue, by Elvis Costello (Album; 1981)

Arches and Planes or The Old Chisel ‘Em Trail (Rocky & Bullwinkle Cartoon, S4, Ep. 172; 1962)

Auntie Edna (Pixar Cartoon; 2018)

Baba O’Riley, by The Who (Song; 1971)

The Big Countdown or Tally in Our Alley (Rocky & Bullwinkle Cartoon, S4, Ep. 171; 1962)

The Black Parade, by My Chemical Romance (Album; 2006)

Chili Corn Corny (WB LT Cartoon; 1965)

A Creep at the Switch or Sudden Pacific (Rocky & Bullwinkle Cartoon, S2, Ep. 66; 1960)

Dictionary of the Khazars, by Milorad Pavić (Novel, English Translation; 1989)

Dumbo (Animated Disney Film; 1941)

Elizabeth (Film; 1998)

Hello, by Adele (Song; 2015)

I, Claudius, by Robert Graves (Novel; 1934)

I Will Survive, by Gloria Gaynor (Song; 1978)

The Last Hurrah (Film; 1958)

Life Is Beautiful (Film; 1998)

Live a Little, Love a Little (Film; 1968) [Elvis Presley #28]

The Magnificent Seven (Film; 1960)

My Neighbor Totoro (Anime Film; 2005

On the Waterfront, by Budd Schulberg (Novel; 1955)

Orgazmo (Film; 1998)

The Picnic (Disney Cartoon; 1930)

Pleasantville (Film; 1998)

The Queen’s Gambit (TV Mini-Series; 2020)

Rehab, by Amy Winehouse (Song; 2006)

Reservoir Dogs (Film; 1992)

Rock the Casbah (Film; 2015)

Rugged Bear (Disney Cartoon; 1953)

Sourdough Squirrel or Hardrock Rocky (Rocky & Bullwinkle Cartoon, S2, Ep. 65; 1960)

The Times They Are-A-Changin’, recorded by Bob Dylan (Song; 1963)

Treasure of the Temple (Animated TV Show;Jonny Quest #6; 1964)

Trespass, by Genesis (Album; 1970)

Today’s Name Days

Johannes, Oda, Severin, Uta (Austria)

Borislav, Ivan, Severin, Teodor (Croatia)

Teodor (Czech Republic)

Søren (Denmark)

Leevi, Liivi, Liivia, Liivika (Estonia)

Severi (Finland)

Jean, Simon (France)

Johannes, Severin, Uta (Germany)

Iakovos, Jacob (Greece)

Gyöngyi (Hungary)

Giovanni (Italy)

Daina, Dainis, Severins (Latvia)

Odilija, Ramvydė, Sanginas (Lithuania)

Severin, Sørene (Norway)

Iga, Ignacja, Ignacy, Jan, Marlena, Odilla, Roman, Seweryn, Teodor, Włościsław, Żegota (Poland)

Iacob (Romania)

Alojzia (Slovakia)

Juan (Spain)

Severin, Sören (Sweden)

Fifi, Josefina, Josepha, Josephina, Josephine, Josie, Pepita (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 296 of 2024; 69 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 1 of week 43 of 2023

Celtic Tree Calendar: Gort (Ivy) [Day 21 of 28]

Chinese: Month 9 (Ten-Xu), Day 9 (Jia-Yi)

Chinese Year of the: Rabbit 4721 (until February 10, 2024)

Hebrew: 8 Heshvan 5784

Islamic: 8 Rabi II 1445

J Cal: 26 Shù; Fiveday [26 of 30]

Julian: 10 October 2023

Moon: 69%: Waxing Crescent

Positivist: 16 Descartes (11th Month) [Fontenelle]

Runic Half Month: Wyn (Joy) [Day 12 of 15]

Season: Autumn (Day 30 of 89)

Zodiac: Libra (Day 30 of 30)

#calendar #Holidays

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brookstonalmanac · 1 year ago

Text

Holidays 10.22

Holidays

Asian Corpsetwt Day [Every 23rd]

Aviator’s Day (Brazil)

Broken Diamond (Elder Scrolls)

Celery Day (French Republic)

Chinese American Day (California)

Chulalongkorn Day (Rama V Day; Thailand)

Claire & Henry’s Wedding Day (Time Traveler’s Wife)

Day of the Macedonian Revolutionary Struggle

Doctor’s Day (Mexico)

Event Organizers Day

Frost Descends (Chinese Farmer’s Calendar)

International Museum Meme Day

International PTEN Awareness Day

International Snow Leopard Day

International XLH Day

iPod Day

Kabuki Syndrome Awareness Day

Liberation Day (Libya)

Lock Your Meds Day

Mole Day (Chemists)

National Aviation Day (Mexico)

National Croc Day

National One United Race Day

National Slap Your Irritating Co-Worker Day

Nemzeti ünnep (Hungary)

Paralegal Day

Paris Peace Agreement Day (Cambodia)

Peniamina Gospel Day (Niue)

Republic Day (Hungary)

Swallows Leave Capistrano Day

TV Talk Show Host Day

Ueno Tenjin Matsuri (Parade of Demons; Japan)

Vote Early Day

World Edible Insect Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

Boston Cream Pie Day

Canning Day (a.k.a. Canned Food Day)

Spam Jam (Hawaii)

World Mozzarella Day

4th Monday in October

African-American Cotton Pickers’ Day [4th Monday]

Equality Day (Antarctica) [4th Monday]

Green Monday [Monday of Last Full Week]

International School Library Day [4th Monday]

Labour Day (New Zealand) [4th Monday]

Independence Days

Neeburm (Declared; 2021) [unrecognized]

Woodland Patchwork (Declared; 2013) [unrecognized]

Feast Days

Allucio of Campugliano (Christian; Saint)

Amon of Toul (Diocese of Toul; Christian; Saint)

Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius (Christian; Saint)

Beginning of Scorpio (Astrology; Pagan)

Bobby London Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Christmas (a.k.a. Feast of Señor Noemi, the Child Jesus; Apostolic Catholic Church)

Feast of the Most Holy Redeemer (Christian)

Festival of Forgotten Gods

Fontenelle (Positivist; Saint)

Giovanni da Capistrano (Christian; Saint)

Ignatios of Constantinople (Christian; Saint)

Island Heads (Muppetism)

James the Just (a.k.a. James, brother of Jesus; Lutheran, Episcopal Church (USA), Eastern Orthodox)

Jean-Louis Forain (Artology)

John Capistran (Christian; Saint)

Joséphine Leroux (Christian; Saint)

Lawren Harris (Artology)

Navami [9th Day of Dashain]

Peter Pascual (Christian; Saint)

Romain (a.k.a. Romanus) of Rouen (Christian; Saint)

Servandus and Cermanus (Christian; Saint)

Severin of Cologne (Christian; Saint)

Strip for Your Lover Day (Pastafarian)

Surin (Christian; Saint)

Theodoret (Christian; Saint)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Taian (大安 Japan) [Lucky all day.]

Premieres

Almost Blue, by Elvis Costello (Album; 1981)

Arches and Planes or The Old Chisel ‘Em Trail (Rocky & Bullwinkle Cartoon, S4, Ep. 172; 1962)

Auntie Edna (Pixar Cartoon; 2018)

Baba O’Riley, by The Who (Song; 1971)

The Big Countdown or Tally in Our Alley (Rocky & Bullwinkle Cartoon, S4, Ep. 171; 1962)

The Black Parade, by My Chemical Romance (Album; 2006)

Chili Corn Corny (WB LT Cartoon; 1965)

A Creep at the Switch or Sudden Pacific (Rocky & Bullwinkle Cartoon, S2, Ep. 66; 1960)

Dictionary of the Khazars, by Milorad Pavić (Novel, English Translation; 1989)

Dumbo (Animated Disney Film; 1941)

Elizabeth (Film; 1998)

Hello, by Adele (Song; 2015)

I, Claudius, by Robert Graves (Novel; 1934)

I Will Survive, by Gloria Gaynor (Song; 1978)

The Last Hurrah (Film; 1958)

Life Is Beautiful (Film; 1998)

Live a Little, Love a Little (Film; 1968) [Elvis Presley #28]

The Magnificent Seven (Film; 1960)

My Neighbor Totoro (Anime Film; 2005

On the Waterfront, by Budd Schulberg (Novel; 1955)

Orgazmo (Film; 1998)

The Picnic (Disney Cartoon; 1930)

Pleasantville (Film; 1998)

The Queen’s Gambit (TV Mini-Series; 2020)

Rehab, by Amy Winehouse (Song; 2006)

Reservoir Dogs (Film; 1992)

Rock the Casbah (Film; 2015)

Rugged Bear (Disney Cartoon; 1953)

Sourdough Squirrel or Hardrock Rocky (Rocky & Bullwinkle Cartoon, S2, Ep. 65; 1960)

The Times They Are-A-Changin’, recorded by Bob Dylan (Song; 1963)

Treasure of the Temple (Animated TV Show;Jonny Quest #6; 1964)

Trespass, by Genesis (Album; 1970)

Today’s Name Days

Johannes, Oda, Severin, Uta (Austria)

Borislav, Ivan, Severin, Teodor (Croatia)

Teodor (Czech Republic)

Søren (Denmark)

Leevi, Liivi, Liivia, Liivika (Estonia)

Severi (Finland)

Jean, Simon (France)

Johannes, Severin, Uta (Germany)

Iakovos, Jacob (Greece)

Gyöngyi (Hungary)

Giovanni (Italy)

Daina, Dainis, Severins (Latvia)

Odilija, Ramvydė, Sanginas (Lithuania)

Severin, Sørene (Norway)

Iga, Ignacja, Ignacy, Jan, Marlena, Odilla, Roman, Seweryn, Teodor, Włościsław, Żegota (Poland)

Iacob (Romania)

Alojzia (Slovakia)

Juan (Spain)

Severin, Sören (Sweden)

Fifi, Josefina, Josepha, Josephina, Josephine, Josie, Pepita (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 296 of 2024; 69 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 1 of week 43 of 2023

Celtic Tree Calendar: Gort (Ivy) [Day 21 of 28]

Chinese: Month 9 (Ten-Xu), Day 9 (Jia-Yi)

Chinese Year of the: Rabbit 4721 (until February 10, 2024)

Hebrew: 8 Heshvan 5784

Islamic: 8 Rabi II 1445

J Cal: 26 Shù; Fiveday [26 of 30]

Julian: 10 October 2023

Moon: 69%: Waxing Crescent

Positivist: 16 Descartes (11th Month) [Fontenelle]

Runic Half Month: Wyn (Joy) [Day 12 of 15]

Season: Autumn (Day 30 of 89)

Zodiac: Libra (Day 30 of 30)

#Holidays

0 notes

comiiical · 3 years ago

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Send a meme, comment with a prompt of sorts, or if you want a reply to one of your opens with one of the following muses: Geir (Connor Jessup), Thomas Ward (Julian Morris), Andy Trudeau Jr (Chris Hemsworth), Kody Mitchell jr (Tanner Buchanan), Maximo (Taylor Zahkar Perez), Wade Wilson (Ryan Reynolds), Harry Osborn (Curran Walters), Keith (Nico Greetham / Adam Huber ), Julian (Brandon Flynn). Frank (Jake Gyllenhaal), Phelan (Frank Grillo), Eddie D*az (Ryan Guzman), Steve Rogers / Patrick Nivans (Chris Evans), Pascal / Prescott (Robert Buckley), Preston (Matt Cornett / Ed Skrein ), Buck / Stephen (Oliver Stark), Stephen (Froy Gutierrez / Robbie Amell), Lucas O’riley / Percy / Grant ( Brett Dalton ), Shaun (Nyle DiMarco), Miles (Ben Affleck), Noé (Lucas Bravo) . I am in no mood to write a single bottoming scene, so it is HARDLY unlikely that I’ll do outside of specific dynamics and particular muses, such as Harry. Mostly Harry. Almost only Harry. So keep it in mind. If you have more than one open just… point me to the one you want an answer to or give me a few options, IM also possible if it’s easier, or discord.

#online notice #kinda also feel franklin? But that's a maaybe because not really but also eh? uknow?

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mothandpidgeon · 3 years ago

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THE SINS OF THE FATHER - a Molly York story PART 2

(gif by @pajamasecrets)

PROLOGUE - PART 1

MASTERLIST

Characters: Dave York, Molly York (Carol and Alice, too)

Words: 3500

Rating: T

Warnings: character death (canon), loss of a parent, angst, training your daughter to be an assassin?

Summary: After contacting a mysterious acquaintance of her later father's, Molly York learns more about the man. And about his death.

a/n: I'm a little obsessed with this fic right now. I love writing soft!Dave and his daughter. I know this isn't the mean daddy Dave smut we usually love, but I'd love to hear from you if you're enjoying this!

Thanks @purplepascal042 for helping me with this part! Love you, B!

/ / / / /

Dave is exhausted from jet lag, sprawled on the bed, still in his shirt and slacks. The last job took a lot out of him. He needs a shower but his body won’t budge.

“Daddy are you sleeping?” Molly asks from the doorway in a stage whisper.

“What’s going on?”

“Will you help me with my homework?” she asks. She’s clutching a worksheet and a pencil.

“Sure. Come here,” he says and she climbs onto the bed beside him. “What’ve we got?”

“I have to interview a grown up about their job. For Career Day,” she explains.

Dave looks over the page, his tired eyes barely focusing. “Did you ask Mommy to do this?”

“I want you to do it,” Molly insists.

He lets Molly read him each prompt and he answers as simply as possible. She dutifully writes down each answer in scrawling pencil.

“How do you spell ‘investigation?’” she asks.

“Sound it out,” he encourages. He’s so burnt, he’s not sure he can manage to spell it either.

“‘What is your favorite part about your job?’” she reads.

Dave sighs longer than he means to. “Coming home to my family.”

“No, Daddy! It has to be about work!”

The address Capra had given Molly was a boarded up movie theater off the highway about 30 miles outside of DC. Molly told Carol that she was shopping for dorm decor when she’d left the house full of nerves. She’d gotten so good at lying, sometimes she believed her own.

The parking lot was empty, the cracks in its pavement filled in with grass, punctuated by street lights every few yards. Molly had expected to meet at a coffee shop or a restaurant, not some out of the way place. She was sitting on the trunk of her car, her leg bouncing, when a black BMW pulled up. The woman driving it looked to be in her late 40s, her hair pulled back neatly. When she stepped out of her car, she pulled her sunglasses down her nose and eyed Molly up and down.

“How old are you now? 20?”

“18,” Molly told her.

“You’re the older one?”

“Yeah,” Molly said.

Capra approached her and she hopped down from the bumper.

“Didn’t your dad ever teach you not to talk to strangers?” she asked.

Molly hesitated. She had her pepper spray in her back pocket and she was much younger, probably quicker than this woman. But Dad wouldn’t give her Capra’s number if he didn’t trust her. Still, Molly decided to lean against her car and keep her distance.

“You know a lot about me for a stranger,” Molly replied.

Capra grinned. She nodded her head back and said, “Walk with me.”

Molly paced the pavement with her, glancing at the woman beside her. She was slim with sharp features, whispers of frown lines in her face. Capra offered Molly a cigarette which she declined.

“Is Capra your first name?”

“It’s what my friends call me,” she replied.

There was a darkness in her tone that made Molly edgy.

“Did you work with my dad at the agency?” Molly asked.

That would explain some things. But Capra laughed.

“No.” Capra observed Molly and then her lip twitched up into a wistful smile. “Jeez I bet everybody tells you you look just like him.”

Molly’s stomach churned.

“Were you and my dad-”

“No,” Capra said. “God no. Your dad was...a complicated guy but not when it came to his family.”

Molly nodded, not sure if she felt relieved or if that just gave her more questions.

“So how did you know each other?” She asked.

“It’s a long story,” Capra said, scratching her forehead. “We did some freelance work together.”

Capra made some small talk, asking Molly where she was headed for college, what she’d be studying. Molly had so many questions of her own she could only manage short answers. Finally, she had to ask the question that had been nagging at her the loudest.

“Do you know what happened to my dad? How he died?” She’d stopped walking.

“I know the same as you,” Capra said.

“Which is?” Molly asked. She wasn’t going to accept such a vague answer.

Capra gave a wry smile. She flicked her cigarette butt to the ground and twisted it into the pavement under her shoe. Molly’s heart sped up. She’d caught Capra in a lie.

“You’re a clever one,” she said.

“It wasn’t an accident, was it?” Molly asked. She searched Capra’s face for an answer. “Please.”

“I wasn’t there,” she replied.

“But you know. Please. I need to know.”

Molly felt like she was holding her breath. Capra looked away, then back at Molly.

“You don’t want to know,” Capra said.

“I do,” Molly said. She balled her hands into fists so she didn’t shake Capra by her shoulders.

“He wouldn’t want you to know.”

“How do you know that?” Molly spat. “What the hell do you know about him? I’ve never even heard of you. You don’t know.”

“Trust me, there’s plenty about your father you didn’t know,” Capra snapped back.

Molly was so frustrated she wanted to cry. Instead she let out a growl and turned back towards her car.

“Fuck this!” She stomped away.

She’d crossed half of the parking lot when she heard Capra call after her. Molly squared her shoulders, tried to compose herself, and turned around to glare at the woman. Capra was clutching the bridge of her nose, her eyes shut. Finally she dropped her hand with an exasperated sigh and pulled out another cigarette. Capra lit it as she closed the distance between them, blowing smoke out of her mouth and shaking her head. She held the cigarette out to Molly.

“You’re going to want one of these. And you’re going to need to sit down for this.”

Dave parks the car in the driveway. Molly is sitting in the passenger seat, still grinning from her first experience at the shooting range.

“Now remember,” Dave says before he opens the door, “this is our secret. So if Mom asks where we were, just tell her our cover story.”

She nods eagerly but then her lips twist into a thoughtful frown.

“It’s lying,” she says.

Dave feels guilty for a moment. Deceit is practically second nature for him but what kind of father teaches his daughter to be dishonest?

“But it’s a white lie,” she justifies to herself. “Right?”

Dave kisses the crown of her head.

“It’s alright, baby. Everybody has secrets.”

Molly felt dizzy. The story Capra told her made her feel like she’d gone from a tilt-a-whirl into a funhouse. Everything was distorted and she was upside down. Already, she was replaying her memories of Dad with this new context tinging them like a dark filter.

Dad kissing her on the forehead before bed. Hoisting her onto his shoulders on the 4th of July. Singing along to “Baba O’Riley” and drumming on the steering wheel. Dad killing people. Earning blood money. Dying by someone else’s hand.

“It’s a lot,” Capra said. They were sitting in Molly’s parked car, the windows rolled down, the sound of the highway traffic washing through like white noise. “But he did it for you.”

Molly’s eyes flicked to her. She hadn't asked for anybody to die.

“He was trying to take care of his family,” Capra clarified.

She let Molly sit in silence for a while as she sorted out what she’d just heard. Molly felt like she was grieving him all over again. Except this time she mourned the father she knew.

“My mom-"

“She never knew,” Capra said.

Molly nodded weakly.

“It was a secret because he loved you.”

Molly felt a tear slip from her eye. She didn’t want to feel hurt. She didn’t like feeling deceived. She wiped her face and set her jaw.

“What happened to Mac?” she asked.

She remembered meeting the man who had killed her father. Everything that had happened just before he died was so clear in her memory. She could still see Mac’s face, his friendly smile.

He’d seemed like such a nice guy. She remembered asking him a load of questions as he rode with them to school and he’d laughed and told Carol what a bright girl she was.

It sickened her to know he’d been right there. So close. And she was so small and clueless. Had Dad known what was coming?

“He lives up in New England,” Capra said. “Retired.”

Molly turned to Capra, anger burning in her chest.

“He’s still alive?” she asked.

“Afraid so,” Capra said.

Molly looked back out the windshield, took a deep breath. Retired. Dad would never get to retire. Go golfing or build model cars or whatever old men did.

“And you do...what my dad did?” she asked.

Capra didn’t confirm or deny it.

“You can’t discuss this. With anyone,” she informed her.

Molly nodded again. She wouldn’t dream of telling Carol this. She would protect her from the truth just like dad had.

“I’m sorry about this,” Capra said before they parted ways. “You’ve got my number. Give me a call if you ever need anything.”

As Molly drove home, thoughts solidified in her mind.

Dad was a killer. But he’d been a killer before, in the Marines. He’d still loved her. He went to her karate matches and read her bedtime stories. She might have lived her whole life without ever finding out what Dave York really was.

If he hadn’t died.

He could have taught her how to drive. Taken photos before senior prom. Visited colleges with her.

He would have danced with her at her wedding. Helped her fix up her first home. Held her future children in his arms.

If he hadn’t been murdered.

And what about mom? She wouldn’t have worried about calling plumbers and taking her car to the mechanic. Run herself ragged getting Alice to dance class and Molly to archery competitions. She wouldn't have had to sleep alone every night.

If it hadn’t been for Robert McCall.

Molly could absolve her father’s sins. But Mac she would never forgive.

“Young lady, open this door right now,” Dave barks.

“You told me to go to my room! I’m in my room!” Molly snaps through her bedroom door.

She’s given Carol lip all morning and he’s had enough of the attitude. Every day, his sweet little girl is fading more and more into a stubborn teenager.

“You do not slam doors in this house.”

“Leave me alone!” Molly yells. “I hate you!”

Dave knows that she’s angry and she’s got a bad temper. That these outbursts are the first signs of puberty rearing its ugly head. But, still, her words punch him right in the gut.

“If that’s how you’re going to speak to your father, then you’re grounded,” he manages.

“Good!”

Molly had been reserved ever since Dave’s death but, after meeting Capra, she felt her melancholy harden into bitterness. She went through college. She didn’t make a lot of friends or date many people. She studied, she practiced her marksmanship, she trained.

As soon as Molly turned 18, she was back at the gun range. It had been a long time since Dad had taken her for target practice but she was pleasantly surprised by her grouping. She’d had a good teacher.

She liked everything about shooting. Not just because it had been a secret she shared with her father. She liked the ritual– loading the magazine, carefully picking up the gun. She liked the focus– taking a deep breath and looking down the barrel. She liked the power.

Mac’s grin stayed fixed in her mind. She thought about it when she pulled herself from bed at five in the morning to do push ups. She pictured it when she worked herself into a sweat at the gym’s punching bag. She imagined it when she put holes through the head of the target at the shooting range.

She didn’t think she’d have the chance to do that in real life. But she dreamed about it almost every night.

Molly had always stayed close to home but she visited less and less. Alice started college in New York so Carol had an empty nest. Molly could hardly bring herself to visit her mother anymore.

Molly had always been good at keeping secrets but this one was the most difficult. Every time she saw Carol, Molly imagined how devastated she would be if she knew the truth. It had become too painful pretending and so Molly simply avoided most situations where she would have to.

Capra stayed in touch, calling every so often to check in. It was clear to Molly that she felt responsible for this angst but there was no one else to talk to about it.

Some people were driven by ambition or lust or creativity. During college, it felt like Molly ran on anger. It helped her concentrate, to work hard. She graduated at the top of her class and had no trouble landing a job that paid well.

Adulthood was different.

Dave had been wise enough to set up trusts for the girls so Molly hadn’t racked up student debt. But now she had rent and bills and car insurance. She couldn’t stuff herself with fries from the dining hall and call that a meal. She had to work long hours for a demanding boss. She had to take care of herself. She had to go through the monotony of life.

When it came down to it, she just didn’t have the energy to be mad anymore.

Molly still held a flame inside. Mainly, she kicked herself for not getting to the gym more often. She hated that she was moving on. She had dulled as she got older, as she followed the news every day and saw that the world was a shitty place where justice was scarce.

Molly was in her childhood bedroom, going through layers of old school papers, polaroids from her friends’ bat mitzvahs, and certificates from karate tournaments like an archeological dig.

Carol was finally selling the family home. Downsizing. The girls were there to help clean things out, decide what should go to the Salvation Army and what would be going home with them.

It pained Molly to think about the house with another family living inside it. Even now in her late twenties, she still walked in the door and expected Dad to come around the corner from the kitchen, to say, “Hey, kiddo!” the way he used to. Once the house was sold, she would never experience that sensation again.

It was strange, Molly thought, how you could live somewhere for all of your life and then, one day, you’re locked out forever.

Carol was moving to a two bedroom condo closer to the city so she couldn’t take all of this junk with her. Molly packed a bankers box with some trophies and a few of her favorite books and brought it down to the kitchen.

Alice was leaned against the island, lazily sorting through cookbooks. Although the day called for packing boxes and hauling trash bags, she was dressed to the nines. Molly wondered if her sister owned casual clothes anymore. Alice had gotten a job at a fashion magazine and, although it seemed like she was low in the pecking order, she acted as though she was Anna Wintour herself.

“That’s all you’re taking?” Carol asked, eyeing the box.

Molly shrugged. She already had already taken the things that were most precious to her long ago.

“You know, Mom, if you don’t want to move, I can help you with the mortgage,” Molly said.

Molly had been saving up to buy a place of her own but she would happily give that up for her mother. Nowhere would ever feel like home the way this house did.

“It’s time,” Carol said. “I don’t need this much house to myself.”

Mom didn’t look her age but the bags under her eyes had grown more defined. She’d stopped coloring the streak of grey hair that had come in at her temple.

“It’s a good idea,” Alice jumped in. “Mom needs to get out there again. She hasn’t met any guys in the suburbs.”

The idea of Mom dating always made Molly bristle. She didn’t want Carol to be lonely but couldn’t picture her with a man who wasn’t Dad. The same way she couldn’t see her living in a different house.

“I’m going to work on the study,” Molly said and retreated to the home office.

This had been Dad’s room and, even though it had accumulated a mess of things over the years— old workout tapes, discarded hobbies, books about tidying— it still felt like his sanctuary. Molly picked through a shelf and found Dad’s high school yearbook. She hoped Mom wouldn’t mind if she took that home with her. She liked pictures of her father in his youth, skinny and bright eyed with scruffy hair.

Molly sat on the floor in front of the built-ins and fished out a few baskets and shoe boxes from the cabinets. The first one contained family photos. Vacation in the Bahamas, Alice’s 4th birthday party, Molly dressed as a ninja for Halloween. She went through each one with great ceremony. Molly already had a bunch of photos of her and Dad so she tucked these back in their box and put them in the ‘keep’ pile.

The next box was filled with cards. Sympathy cards. Molly sighed as she went into them. One from Carol’s coworkers with a rose on the front. Sending you comfort. A small card that looked like it had come with a floral arrangement from cousin John. He’ll be missed.

There was a card with a painting of a serene beach scene. With deepest sympathy. Molly opened it and read the short message.

So sorry for your loss. It feels like we’ve lost one of the family. Send my love to the girls. - Mac

The cold rage that had burnt out reignited in Molly’s stomach, her entire body so tight she almost shook. She could feel tears sting in her eyes.

That motherfucker. That fucking asshole had the audacity to send a sympathy card. To send his love. That piece of fucking shit. Molly almost crumpled the card in her hands, as if she could wring his neck through it, but just then Alice wandered in. Molly dropped the card into her lap.

“What are these?” her sister asked, crouching down and grabbing a photo. “Aw! You looked so cute!”

Molly swallowed hard and tried to slow her heart rate as Alice sifted through the pictures.

“Christ, why does Mom still have these?” Alice complained, picking up one of the sympathy cards.

“They’re for Dad,” Molly said.

“It’s not like he got to read them,” Alice replied.

She tossed it back onto the floor.

“Why are you always such a bitch about Dad?” Molly asked, the animosity she’d discovered in Mac’s card spilling out of her.

“Sorry I don’t worship him.” Alice rolled her eyes. “It’s not like he was ever around. And when he was, he spent all of his time with you.”

Alice crossed her arms and looked away self-consciously. Molly felt a jab in her heart. She knew Dad loved Alice. He’d done awful things so that she could take dance lessons and go off to a good school where she could study whatever she liked. Things that eventually got him killed. But Molly couldn’t tell her sister any of that so she just stared at Alice with her mouth half open.

“Girls, when you’re finished up there, lunch is ready!” Mom called from the kitchen.

“Call me a bitch…” Alice grumbled as she left the room.

Molly pushed the cards into the ‘Trash’ pile.

“Ow! Daddy! Molly hit me!” Alice whines.

“You hit me first!” Molly growls.

Dave glances at them in the rear view mirror.

“Is that true?” he asks.

“No!” Alice says.

He knows she’s lying. Molly’s sitting there with her arms crossed as Alice clutches her elbow dramatically, lips set in a pout.

He knows what he’s supposed to say. Some bullshit about being the bigger person, two wrongs don’t make a right. And if Carol was in the car maybe he would. But the world doesn’t work like that.

“If you hit somebody,” he warns, “don’t be surprised if they hit you back.”

Molly took Mac’s card with her. It was sitting on her passenger seat when she pulled away, Carol standing on the lawn, waving. Send my love to the girls. Every time she thought about it, she got so pissed off she wanted to puke.

She couldn’t even wait to get home before she was dialing Capra, one hand gripping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles ached.

“What’s up, kid?” Capra asked.

“I need to find Mac.”

/ / / / / part three soon!

@pascalslittlebrat @purplepascal042 @starlightmornings @mouthymandalorian @danniburgh @originallaura @tuskens-mando @221bshrlocked @wyn-dixie @goddessinwolfskin @cheekygeek05 @fangirl-316 @fairytale07 @rosiefridayrogersunday @a-skov @skulliebythesea @oceanablue @rebel-soldat @stevie75 @evyiione @buckwildbarnes @likes-good-reblogs-even-better @silverwolf319 @killermonkeys45 @velia27 @anxiousandboujee @amneris21 @green-socks @pedro4ever @pedrocentric @kesskirata

#dave york #dave york pit #dave york fic #pedro pascal characters #molly york #nothing but respect for my queen carol york

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screenviolense-a · 3 years ago

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muses that need more tlc, either interactions or opens. * is what i’m using to mark muses i need to write opens for. this also. mostly for my own reference unless you all are particularly interested

nino quincampoix *

aya drevis *

callum brodie *

celeste wright *

jurgen leitner

maggie short *

meriwether st. claire *

oliver cho

sarah carpenter *

merry *

lucky *

fauna

aneesa

farrah

ashlyn morgenstern

courtney morgenstern

viveca *

azumi fujita

erin greene *

cat chandler

jt forbes

ted logan *

jackson jekyll *

spectra vondergeist *

agatha of woods beyond

fionnula o’riley

buddy *

lyndsay *

violet nightshade

brigid tenenbaum

andrew ryan

diane mcclintock *

jasmine jolene *

elizabeth comstock

ella of frell *

persephone *

cordelia chase

jenny calendar

nancy drew *

annie edison

albert (mtap)

mei (mtap) *

sonia (mtap) *

remington *

marci forrester *

haru yoshioka *

bonnie applebottom *

granny applebottom *

elsie odair *

holland march *

bailey clarke

ellen *

rikki patil *

zinda blake

valerie geronimo

parvati holcomb *

atlas neredras

larianni

sten *

alexander king

august

emmaline wood

jade faust

mary lou walden

nadir khan *

bunny blanc *

raven queen *

erika

monica

lucy

melanie

marie

rosa

sonia magnolia

bobbi morse

cressida

dahlia lombard *

lidia posada

sancho alvarado *

sarah lyons *

clive dove *

katia anderson

emmy altava *

hershel layton *

garrett *

arden mcnamara *

claudia valentine

heather summers *

james whelan *

zhang jun

keats *

luke rutherford nolan

padme rutherford nolan

martin rutherford *

louisa julien *

mortimer allegri *

petra balboa

riley lynch *

robert woolf *

seraphim perrine *

tarot talbot *

viraj kaur *

abigail lockwood

dylas *

frey

illuminata *

ami mizuno *

rei hino *

bowie campbell

eleanor tate

johnny gat *

ben ravencroft

beau wilcott

bianca rivera *

claire parker *

daisy bright *

duke bright *

delilah *

jonas palmer *

rebecca jeffries *

skylar kohrs *

bertrand baudelaire

jerome squalor *

ara fusilli

dusty hogg *

kayleigh wintercrest

misty waters *

sancho paco panza

jakob horne *

ola song

hana

say’ri

panne

selkie *

orochi *

lorena thress *

maya torres

mack *

riza hawkeye *

gary galavant *

allison cooper *

kitty *

laura palmer *

emma pillsbury *

sadie oakley

tina cohen chang *

eudora patch *

rose blythe *

paul matthews *

m. gustave *

carina escobar

santos bergeron

elyse waldorf

pepper ortega *

karen

kathy

bloody mary *

nerissa *

dani clayton *

rebecca jessel *

willy wonka *

eleanor vance *

katarina bishop

roxy morton

marta cabrera *

elle woods

#ooc.

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starkiddreamcasting · 3 years ago

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Starkid The Producers

Welcome to the Kings of Broadway: It’s the Starkid dreamcast for The Producers! One of my favorite musicals of the 21st century, I’ve had this cast in my head for while, so I hope you all find it as enjoyable as I do!

1. Dylan Saunders as Max Bialystock 2. Jon Matteson as Leo Bloom 3. AJ Holmes as Roger De Bris 4. Joey Richter as Carmen Ghia 5. Alle-Monka Faye as Ulla 6. Brian Holden as Franz Liebkind 7. Jaime Lyn Beatty as Hold-Me-Touch-Me/Ensemble 8. Brian Rosenthal as Lead Tenor/Ensemble/Leo Bloom (u/s) 9. Jeff Blim as Mr. Marks/Prison Trustee/Ensemble/Max Bialystock (u/s)/Franz Liebkind (u/s) 10. Tyler Brunsman as Brynn/Guard/Ensemble/Leo Bloom (u/s)/Roger De Bris (u/s)/Carmen Ghia (u/s) 11. Robert Manion as Kevin/O’Riley/Ensemble/Max Bialystock (u/s)/Roger De Bris (u/s) 12. James Tolbert as Scott/Jason Green/Ensemble/Carmen Ghia (u/s) 13. Lauren Lopez as Shirley/Ensemble 14. Jamie Burns as Kiss-Me-Feel-Me/Ensemble 15. Joe Walker as Donald Dinsmore/O'Rourke/Ensemble 16. Curt Mega as Jack Lapidus/Judge/Ensemble 17. Mariah Rose Faith as Usherette/Ensemble 18. Kim Whalen as Usherette/Ensemble/Ulla (u/s) 19. Meredith Stepien as Foreman of the Jury/Ensemble 20. Corey Dorris as O'Houlihan/Ensemble 21. Britney Coleman as Ensemble 22. Denise Donovan as Ensemble/Ulla (u/s) 23. Rachael Soglin as Ensemble 24. Joe Moses as Bailiff/Sargent/Ensemble/Franz Liebkind (u/s) 25. Nick Lang as Swing 26. Alex Paul as Swing 27. Clark Baxtresser as Swing 28. Julia Albain as Swing

Make sure to leave any show suggestions or any questions on my casting choices so I can explain them.

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zekes-original-character-rambles · 3 months ago

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Characters Organized By Universe

The Atlas Foundation

Carnival “Val”

Echo

Dungeons & Dragons

Anatomy “Ana”

Bianca

Black Brew

Butterfly

Cryptid

Dash Bloodwing

Edie Von Zarovich

Hex

Kane

Kirigu

Rags

Random

Robo

Saturn

Snail Rose

Wither

Hatchetfield

Amelia Brown

Amnesia Torres

Aster Hart

Arcadia “Arcade” Star

Bunny O’Riley

Cade King

Christopher “Chris” Otho

Chrysalis The Fae King

Crow Dunn

Cyan Jones

Emily Brooks

Evelyn Ward

Featharchism “Feathery”

Ghost Edwards

Green Hart

Hayley Gray

Honey Vespidae

Leona Murray

Mallory Hart

Melanie Brooks

Millipede “Millie” Danger

Nana Watcher

Niko Watcher

Onyx Smith

Persephone Smith

Poppy Jackson

Scout Brown

Sugar Bailey

Theodosia “Thunder” MacNamara

Tox Matthews

The Magnus Archives

Abigail “Arachne” Spinner

Avery Fitzgerald

Bones Dumont

Charlie Lantern

Emmett Ward

Everything “Eve”

Jacquline “Jack/Jackie” Lantern

Kit Crimson

Laika Roberts

Marionette “Mari” Graves

Mausoleum “Lee” Terminus

Michael “Mikey” Hallow

Mold Infested Automaton “M.I.A”

Monster

Salem Green

Viola Kelly

My Little Pony

Candle Shine

Comet

Romantic Horror Comedy

Ace

Jane Doe

Leela

Lizard “Lizzie”

Nicky

Mistophelees

School For Rouge Magical Girls

Bubbles Pierrot

Chance Angel

Mordred Banneret

Morgan Asphodel

Saskia Blight

Transgender Queerplatonic Vampire Polycule

Damien Hart

Michael

Valentine Carmine

Miscellaneous

Amethyst

Eio Carla Shara

Frigid

Galadriel

Ginger “Gingi” Kindheart

Hexadecimal

Leon

Natalie/Nathan Skye

Sabrine

Shapeshifter

Tempest

Violet

Zanthe Brighton Shara

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maladhstar · 4 years ago

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Tweet Tweet! Ah, finally. Back up with business, and the little stories going on in this home of ours. So first of all, have you all heard? There’s coming a little costume party, hosted by our Co-Mayor Lazar Vasilyev and his Valentina Flores. They’ve really settled into this domestic lifestyle from what I hear. Oh how I wish we could have had more of a chance on bachelor Vasilyev... Oh well, there’s still plenty of single bachelors, like our other co-mayor. You think he’ll stay single for long, or should I just dance into his office already to get a taste? I might just have to, hmm. Our party king Officer O’Riley seems to have added another party into his marriage, as Kai, Ace and Theo are an official thing now! Congratulations boys, best of luck!

Next on my list of news we have many congratulations and well wishes to Khaya’s new lead. Ceyhan Akinci. Related to Selin and Esma, I must assume? Oh and definitely her little sister, Kamile. So someone tell me, how does two sisters who’ve just been here for a few years, already snatch up two such handsome men? Mark and Travis, anyone? These ladies seem awfully close with these boys, and I haven’t heard of anyone else getting that close. Not that it’s my place to say, but hey. I wouldn’t mind letting Mark take a bite. Anyone knows if he prefers thigh or neck, hmm?

Oh, oh! We cannot forget this. Just a few days, or was it even days? My birds get confused, after Adonis, yes the Adonis, got hurt at the festival, he walked into Shiva’s office, and based of what I heard.. The noises coming from it was very biblical. Naughty naughty. As for another handsome fella... Anyone knows what’s up with Robert? He was observed screaming into the air about a Fred? Anyone knows a Fred? I want to know what this guy did to drive our new wolf that mad!

Besides all of that, anyone knows if Marcus is taking any more solo classes? Because damn that lil girl Lila is getting that beasts attention all to herself, and now with his sire out of town, I’d like a bite too. But I haven’t seen any private classes he’s hosting. So what’s the way, Lila? Is it bouncing on him that gets you private time? Or is it just pleading with big big eyes? I can do that, totally. As for another I wish some more one on one time with... Farid, you’ve been seen with a couple people who are not your sireline. You finally leaving the office? Write me up as one of your next dates, won’t you??

And in conclusion... You’ve all just grown hotter since last, Yue’s new bodyguard is a damn eyecandy, and I can’t wait to get Josie to do my makeup next.

Until next time Maladh, kisses to you all! xx

#host: diana ewing

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5-star-songs · 4 years ago

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youtube

“Motor Away” -- GUIDED BY VOICES

Guided By Voices toss off songs that sound like they could be hit singles if they were recorded by a band with more world-conquering ambitions. But a big part of GBV’s charm is just how casual they make those ear-worms feel. Even their catchiest songs don’t seem thirsty for admiration; it’s more like this is simply how Robert Pollard and company perceive the world: as awash in hummable melodies and resounding guitar chords.

This one’s like an indie rock “Baba O’Riley,” it’s building blocks are that substantial. It feels perfectly designed for singing at key moments in your life, whenever you’re leaving one situation behind and heading out for parts unknown, whether by choice or circumstance. But since it’s not ubiquitous on FM radio or coming-of-age movie soundtracks, it also seems like a bit of a secret.

That’s GBV’s magic trick: wowing you with sounds that strike universal chords, in a manner that remains small and mysterious.

#indie #guided by voices

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sinedras-snippets · 4 years ago

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We Deal in Gunpowder and Lead - Chapter 1

Arthur Morgan/ Original Female Character

Rating: E (descriptive violence, explicit language, murder, etc)

A string of misfortunes have driven Indira from her home and far out west; forcing her to survive in America's frontier. There, the unthinkable happens: a dear friend is slaughtered by a gang wanted by every lawman here to San Francisco. Revenge eats her until it's too much and she has only one goal: kill Dutch van der Linde. Only Arthur Morgan keeps getting in her way. The rugged, infuriatingly loyal, rough speaking outlaw gets under her skin in the worst way; one that could derail her whole plan. And she can't seem to get away from him.

When the wayward gang starts feeling like home, Indira knows she's in trouble. It's hard to justify the pain she'll cause Arthur, the others, for her own selfish vendetta. When Dutch begins leading them to ruin, the people she has learned to call family start to get hurt. Arthur's neck is on the line, hers too. Can she kill Dutch to save them all despite the pain she'd cause? Could a single soul even be saved?

Hilariously, leaning closer to the hysterical, out of all the places she had seen herself in life, this had never been an option. The present moment was so fantastical that it couldn’t be factual. How she begged to wake up, to end the nightmare, and be so very far from here.

The woman dared to look at the others upon the gallows with her: four identical nooses for four equally fucked individuals. A lawman was reading off their names and their charges, but she could hardly focus as a deputy went down the line. Tightening nooses as he went, whistled cheerily as the ropes pulled taut.

“Robert Miller: two counts of cattle rustling.” The kid – for that’s all he was – had pissed himself. Onlookers laughed, pointed, at the dark stain on his pants. Silently he cried; shivering like a leaf in a hurricane.

“Bill Williamson,” a pause came from the sheriff so he could sneer at the man who dared to spit at the crowd, “this degenerate will hang for numerous counts of murder, theft, kidnapping, and a host of other crimes committed with the Van der Linde Gang.”

Bill laughed madly; nodding his head toward the gaping wilderness beyond town limits. “You have no idea what’s comin’, you idjits.” The deputy gave the rope a harsh yank, but the choked laughter was a haunting sound. Women cowered while men turned away, the sheriff continued without a rebuke.

“Vincent O’Riley: one count of stagecoach robbery and three counts of murder.” He was the one beside her, giving her a nasty side eye. Measuring her with a deep scowl. Wasn’t he afraid to die?

Much like Robert, she quivered rather uncontrollably. Her skirt hid the worst of it, yet it couldn’t hide the heaving of her chest as the deputy stepped up behind her. There was no kindness in how he handled her; checking the noose rather brutishly, pulling her long hair and ignoring the hiss of pain. “I didn’t do anything.” It was a hoarse, quiet plea. One she hadn’t been able to voice before. “Please, I’m innocent.”

“Indira Bakshi: three counts of murder-“

“No!” She pulled as far as the noose would allow. “I didn’t murder them! It wasn’t me!”

“Kill her!”

“You deserve to die you murdering bitch!”

“Our country isn’t for the likes of you!”

Indira had suffered insults before, but never this unanimously vocal. If Bill had incited fear, then she induced hatred. No one was willing to listen to a word she said; for every plea she tried to articulate, the people roared over her. Drowning out her voice completely.

“Quiet!! Quiet down!” The sheriff demanded and, this time, they listened. “All of you are sentenced to hang by the neck until dead.”

The world waited with bated breath as they stared upon the gallows in anticipation. Indira would be able to recall this moment with poignant clarity with every waking breath. For a moment the world was more vibrant and terrifying. Clouds were a clear, steely gray with curves so gentle they couldn’t be real; the air smelled like mud, shit, and of fresh grass with a hint of cooked vegetables. She noticed the coarseness of her skirt and the chill of the buttons on her sleeves. The sharp clank-clank-clank of the deputy’s spurs as he moved to the lever.

She noticed a hundred small details she often overlooked; ones she would never get to truly appreciate. Despite the desperation, her attention was stolen away.

Five men were approaching the crowd; walking forward with frightening conviction. Their features covered by bandanas and guns in hand. Her heart leapt in horrified hope and unflinching readiness. Was it better to die by bullet than being hung? It was a cavalier thought, given her predicament.

“Hold it!” The sheriff cried to the newcomers; noticing a fraction after her hyper-aware state. “Stop right there!”

They keep marching forward.

The crowd, a huddled herd whose sole focus was on the execution before their eyes, began chanting. “Hang them! Hang them! Hang them!” It became the tempo that she counted their steps to. Too soon, the deputy’s hand found the lever, she found herself taking in one last desperate breath. One last intake of life; her eyes on the line of men as they hit the edge of the congregation. In a uniform fashion, they raised their guns and aimed toward the stand she now stood upon. Was fate truly so cruel? Was her karma so bad that this was how her life ended?

If she did come back, she thought with a familiar haughtiness, she would come back as a mirror. Screw reincarnation. Act as tormentor to her unwitting aggressors? That was an unflinching yes. Have them tear themselves apart, be the tool of their own self-deprivation, mentally sabotage them, as they would her destroy her today. That was karma.

So, when she felt the wood give way beneath her feet, she was no longer surprised when gunshots rang out. It was almost with satisfaction that she took in the confused cries and delayed shouts. As focused as she was, it almost didn’t register that there was no blinding pain; no fight for air. It took her back hitting the ground – with a deep oof – to realize that she wasn’t going to die.

Indira coughed bit as she struggled to sit up. Her bound wrists proved a hindrance, but she had much bigger concerns right now.

Firstly, the whole situation had escalated. Gunshots echoed from all around her with no longer a clear divide between those shooting and those not. Secondly, she had not been the only one to make it. All four of them had smacked the ground instead of snapping their necks. One look at Vincent’s rope showed it hadn’t frayed, so had they been shot down? Did it really matter? Third, was Bill was hooting and hollering as he staggered to his feet.

“Good ol’ Dutch!” He cackled in a maniacal way that sent Vincent crawling clear away from him. “You sons of bitches, I told you! Die you bastards, die!” Then, without a modicum of rightly placed fear, he strode straight into the chaos.

She didn’t wait to see what would happen to him or any of them. Indira pushed herself to her feet and started running. She avoided fleeing from the wild crowd, staying right along the edge. Putting herself in the pandemonium where she was unlikely to be remembered or tracked. After all, there was a shoot-out going on. Not that it was at all safe; she did feel a stray bullet or two whizz far too close to her person and the panicked townsfolk had no problems pushing or trampling others. It was a stampede of idiots and yet it was still more anonymous than running through town like poor Robert.

The shrill whiny of horses became the second loudest noise she heard. With the pounding of hooves, this was a stampede proper. Rearing steads were suddenly yet another obstacle to avoid. Out of the corner of her eye she spots one horse racing out of town, then another, she’s pretty sure Bill is on one of them. Then more follow after and she isn’t sure if it’s lawmen or outlaws and she doesn’t quite care one way or another; as long as they aren’t following her.

But that assurance doesn’t last.

A hand grasped the back of her shirt; a strangled shriek tears from her throat. Indira was slung over the back of a horse, on her stomach, as she is lurched out of town. Ever single rock and dip in the road is pushed into her gut. Every kick of the spurs into the beast’s flanks is the air shoved from her lungs. It is an acute misery and once more she asks the universe what she did to deserve this. A horse… of all creatures for her to be stuck with, it had to be a horse.

They continue on that way, her captor and her, until the sounds from town are nonexistent. Until it’s just the steady beat of hooves and the dust being kicked up in their wake. It’s a sure reminder that she’s alive and yet she is anything but grateful. “Let,” she coughed out, “me, “ another deep gasp, “go!”

The horse skids to a sudden stop; the momentum nearly dropping her to the ground. Did the rider forget all about her? With a sigh of relief, she is pulled into a sitting position – her back to him and facing her escaped fate – and her wrists cut free. The resulting groan was embarrassingly loud and yet the sudden return of feeling is too good to care. “Oh, fuck,” she rubbed them, wincing at the pain, “bloody hell that hurts.”

“Quiet, woman.” It was a rough voice; one that made her want to cover her ears, one that caused a chill down her spine. Calloused and coarse, like the desert threatening to swallow them whole. He clearly did not have an ounce of sophistication. Even from where she’d been renting, in a town far from a world she had come to associate with comfort, the accent was heavy.

“After almost dying? I don’t think so-“

A gloved hand clamped down over her mouth. That voice was in her ear when he said, “I told you to shut your mouth, understand?” Even with a bandana, his breath was hot against her neck; the glint from his revolver bright in her peripheral. Indira would not be frightened by him. Whatever he was planning, she wasn’t going to allow it to happen. After all, an altruistic person would have let her go already.

So, what was a poor girl to do? Fight back against the bastard, that’s what.

Indira used her newly freed hands to give her leverage as she thrust herself back against the outlaw. Using her weight to shove him out of the saddle. He landed with a heavy thud; dropping the revolver as the fall has him stunned. In this time, the woman had turned to sit in the saddle. Indira hadn’t ridden a horse alone – not in years – but instinct took over and she dug her heels into the beast’s sides. Slapping the reins into its neck, driving it into a desperate gallop.

The animal was now panicked and running aimlessly, the woman too busy holding on for dear life to control it, but its destination was away. It’s good enough for her. The saddle horn pushed into her pelvis, her hands fisted into the mane, and her legs squeezed tight against the middle; there was a surprising amount of concentration to it all. She was not concerned about survival; the saddle bags had to carry supplies to survive the wilderness. There are guns in holsters too, in case she’s followed.

Indira has not yet learned that she will need to stop praising her good luck until weeks have passed, because she has less than she likes to think.

With a sharp whistle, the horse slid once more to a surprise stop. This time she is nearly thrown, only saving herself with the grip of her thighs and little else. One kick, two, four, then six to spur the animal back to movement are of no avail. This time, it staunchly remains still. Even turning its ears back and stamping in agitation as she kicks and slaps and cries. There’s a deep bellow as a sharp crack fills the air. The frantic struggle stops so she can cover her head and cower in the saddle.

“Made a mistake, girl!” He’s pissed. She risks a glance over her shoulder to see the dust-covered cowboy storming toward her. “I ain’t to be messed with!”

He’s getting closer and she feels her life coming at an end once more. The sand is sharp, it stings in her eyes as the horse continues to shift nervously under her. Another shot is sent flying over her head. She has one last gamble before it’s all over. Rani and Pratima would never know what happened to her, she would never get to explain what drove her west. She owed her sisters, her father, an explanation. So, she was not going to allow herself to die here.

So, Indira did the one thing she could do: pulled one of his rifles on him. The muzzle aimed right at his chest. The stranger paused, only a handful of feet away now; revolver pointed up at her. “You are going to let me go and we will part ways amicably.”

“Oh really? You know how to shoot that thing?”

His features were inscrutable, but hers were not. Her brown hair had come loose, framing her figure in wild way of her own, lips curled in a cold smile. One she didn’t feel due to the pounding of her heart against her ribs. “Test me and you’ll find out.”

“Why don’tcha put down the gun and get off the horse.”

“I would love to, but you have to holster yours first.”

“Don’t think so, girl, I could shoot you faster than you could pull that trigger.”

“And what about your horse?” She hissed, moving her finger to the trigger to show him she wouldn’t hesitate. “If I move, you might hit it and we’ll both be stranded out her together. That’s if we don’t kill each other first, because, even if it’s my last breath, I will shoot in turn and take you with me.” He said nothing, didn’t move, hardly blinked. She, on the other hand, was panting heavily. Trembling, but firm in her stance. She never lowered the gun; not even a hair. “I just want to get the hell away from here,” she said, her voice breaking a bit. Green eyes betraying her frightened desperation. “Let me go. Please, let me go free. You can have your bloody horse; I just want my life.”

The outlaw’s posture changed – so slightly she about missed it. The revolver lowered just enough that it wasn’t aimed right at her, his imposing height slouched, and the fire in those eyes doused as if it was never there. “Wasn’t gonna hurt you.” Was that so? She could have laughed at how believable it was. “Get goin’,” he waved his gun at her, “I ain’t got time for this all. I’m a wanted man, girl.”

“I’m no girl, cowpoke.” Ha, there was a bit of that fire again. If she could have seen his face, she figured his look would had been just as dangerous. She’d been west long enough to know the insult for what it was. “And, I’m trying.” Her light brown cheeks flushing. “It’s a very tall horse.”

The stranger huffed what might have been a laugh before holstering the revolver, holding up his hands to her. “Put the rifle back and I’ll get’cha down.” She held it up higher and he growled. “Lady, we’re runnin’ out of time!”

“Show me your face.”

“’Scuse me?”

“You’ve seen mine; you know my name. It’s collateral, we can’t turn each other in if we know each other’s names.”

His laugh was more pleasant than his voice and yet so condescending. “You sho’ don’t understand the outlaw life, miss.” And, yet, he pulled down the bandana to reveal a very rugged face. He needed a shave and his nose was a bit crooked, but – for an outlaw with rudimentary English – he didn’t look as horrible as she had prepared for. “Better?”

“Name?”

“Nuh-uh, not how this works. See, Miss Backsea-“

“Bakshi,” she seethed.

He shrugged. “Don’t much care,” he said. “I got your name, I know your crime, now you got my face. S’all I have to give and even that’s already mighty generous.”

She lowered the rifle from his chest, eyes hard as she examined him. “Seems like awful big words for a man on the run, with a gun to his balls.” Oh, she hadn’t stopped aiming, not one second.

Those lips twisted in a ruthless smirk; she should have recognized danger when it stared her in the face. His hand shot out to grab the rifle by the barrel, jerking it downward in a surprising show of speed. Her reaction came too slow, already falling before she had let go. It was a bit humiliating to be on her back for the second time that day, but at least the first time she wasn’t coughing on dust. Nor had she been staring down the barrel of a rifle.

“You’re right,” he drawled slowly, “but I wasn’t the one ‘bout to be executed and I sho’ as hell ain’t the one in danger. You shouldn’t be so quick to trust, and, next time, make sho’ the damn gun is loaded before you start runnin’ your mouth.”

Her heart had leapt to her throat, fear had locked her body, but as an emerald gaze met blue-green, there was a silent understanding. He was giving her a harsh lesson and she had better listen and listen well. “I won’t make the same mistake again.” It was her promise. He nodded and stepped away, mounting his horse, all while watching her stand. Carefully studying every movement, right down to brushing the dust off her skirt and twisting her hair into a loose knot. “Where can I go?”

He huffed, eyes suddenly on the horizon. Watching, she assumed, for danger. “Nothin’ out here for you. Better go east, girl.”

“Can’t go back east.”

The look he gave wasn’t even marginally sympathetic. “Then don’t go fuckin’ anywhere, I don’t give a shit. But they’ll be lookin’ for you. Better figure it out and get goin’, fast. Take it from an old reprobate.” He smirked at himself and she had the feeling she had missed a joke. “Before that, you should worry ‘bout getting through the desert alone tonight.”

She straightened her spine and stared up at him indignantly, saying, “Don’t underestimate me, cowboy, I’ve escaped death twice today.” He opened his mouth, probably to point out how wrong she was, but she smacked the rump of his horse. Startling it into a quick canter. “I’ll make it!” She called after him, though he only spared her a single glance over his shoulder. “I’ll survive, mark my words!”

Only when he was a blur in the distance did she begin making good on her promise. Shelter, she needed to find shelter and a way to stay warm. Next, find water. The sun was at her back as she began walking, using his path as a start for her own journey of freedom.

A whistle faded into the desert as the woman walked. They wouldn’t find Indira Bakshi to hang her again, nor did they find Bill Williamson, only a poor starving boy and a lone robber met with the rope in that little town.

The rumors would say that the other two vanished without a trace.

#Red Dead Redemption #arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #red dead original character #arthur morgan fanfic #fanfiction #original character #character of color #slow burn #violence #rdr2 #rdr #red dead redemption 2

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sirenfromthelostcity · 5 years ago

Text

The Most Pt. 2: Dangerous Woman

A/N: Sorry if this has any errors that i’ve missed to correct when i was quickly reading it over, i just wanted to finally post it as y’all have waited long enough. I accidentally turned this into a bigger thing so this might actually have like 2 more parts. Personally i’m feeling kinda iffy about this part, partially bc it was kinda rushed but that was my fault. Still tho i hope you like it! The story changed in direction so many times lol but i really hope you like the final result of this part. As always, massive thanks to everyone who has bothered to read pt 1 and return for a pt 2! Feedback is always appreciated :) Enjoy!

P.S. I normally write my flashback scenes in italics but idk why in the last part it didn’t post that way.

Words: 3.3k+

The silence was unbearable. In fact, it’s been unbearable since you first departed John’s house for The Continental. Things certainly haven’t been the same since your outburst four days ago. Now here you both are, entering the elevator to take you to the lounge room where you are to meet your father and uncle Winston to officially mark John’s completion of the marker.

“So, this contract my father has for me must be quite important for him to have cut our training so short,” you remarked, no longer bearing the silence.

“I suppose,” he replied.

“Still, you must be excited.”

“I must be?” he frowned, turning his head to face you but you remained looking ahead.

“Today’s the day you’re set free. I know how much you hated being bound to the marker.”

“It wasn’t an easy transition for me in the beginning,” he admitted, “but I did enjoy my time with you... more than I expected to.”

“As did I,” you finally glance at him before licking your lips and dropping your gaze to your feet. “Listen, John, I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting these past few days,” you recalled the day of your outburst in training and the next few days that followed. “To tell you the truth, it’s really not how I would’ve preferred to spend our last few days together.”

“How would you have liked for us to spend our last few days together then?”

For a moment you were at a loss for words. He used the same words you had previously spoken yet it felt like they had a different undertone.

“Uh, probably more together–– wait that came out wrong. I think. I just meant I was kinda isolating myself and acting pretty distant and… and had I known my dad was gonna end my training so soon ...”

You hesitated, not quite so sure what to say. You questioned if it was even worth trying to say. John’s eyes implored you to go on but since you wouldn’t he decided to confess something.

“On the night of your father’s call, I tried to convince him to at least let you finish the full five years we had initially agreed on.”

“Why would you do that?” you frown in confusion and concernment. “You don’t think I’m ready?”

“No. I know you’re more than capable of handling yourself.”

“Aww that’s sweet, can’t take all the credit though. I had a really great teacher. He was tough on me sometimes but I know he was just trying to push me to be my best,” you jest. “So then why did you want to complete the full five years, you afraid you’re gonna miss me?”

“I know I’m gonna miss you,” his words, although so simple, were heavy with sadness. Though he wasn’t even trying to hide his sadness the task would’ve proved itself impossible for both his sorrow and vulnerability was evidently reflected in his eyes. You couldn’t help but stare back at him with the same sorrow and vulnerability reflected in your own eyes.

You were both so caught in the moment neither of you even noticed the elevator doors open. John attempted to say something but was quickly caught off by your uncle addressing your arrival.

“Ah! There they are,” Winston motioned towards you both.

“Uncle Winston!” You say in both surprise and slight annoyance for interrupting the moment.

“Winston,” John greeted your uncle before the both of you were ushered into the lounge room together.

After your father officially marked John’s completion of the marker in the book, he immediately lead you to sit down with him at a different area of the room for privacy. You felt John’s eyes follow you and caught him stealing a few glances your way during your conversation. At one point it seemed as if John was going to make his way to you but your uncle Winston decided to steal him for a chat instead.

That was the last time you saw John Wick. Until now.

Staring at you from across the entrance of a nearly empty warehouse, John stands completely surprised to see you for the first time in nearly two months, “(Y/N)?”

“John?” you reply, just as shocked. “What brings you to these parts of town? You’re not here to kill me are you?”

“No,” he furrows his brows, as if he’d ever take that contract. If anything, he knows he’d stop at nothing to ensure that contract is revoked. “But I am here for business.”

“Small world, so am I.”

“I didn’t know you were back in the city,” he states.

“Don’t take it personal, no one’s supposed to know I’m back,” you begin to approach him. “However, I was planning on visiting you after I finished sorting everything out with this contract. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

“So have I,” he begins to amble towards you till you meet, his eyes never leaving your form as you saunter towards him.

As you approach him you can’t help but admire how handsome he looks and how much you’ve missed seeing him. Little to your knowledge, John is doing the exact same.

You’ve always recognized John as an attractive man and tonight is no different. Although you’re more used to seeing his long hair styled more casual, almost ruffled, seeing it tamed in a slicked back fashion sends shivers down your spine accompanied with wild thoughts of having it tousled within your fingers. John owns a variety of suits, as it’s practically a requirement in your world, but you absolutely love how they adorn his body and compliment his tall form, especially the all black suit he wears now. You’ve seen John in his Baba Yaga mode before and have to admit his look is as delicious as he is dangerous.

As for you, this is the first time John’s ever seen you in your business mode and unsurprisingly to him, you look as stunning as you are lethal. Your attire essentially consist of only one color, black, but the color suits everyone and you’re no exception. Your garments consist of a simple v-neck long sleeve shirt tucked into your jeans and tall comfortable leather boots. To top it all off you wear a sleek leather jacket, one John can’t help but adore how well it flatters you. Simple garments indeed but to John you’ve always looked comely no matter what you wore.

“What a very small world indeed,” you both halt to a stop as you finally meet. “What are the chances that you and I, both with the intention of seeking and reuniting with the other, just so happen to cross paths at the same warehouse in New York?”

“Very slim. Although I am glad to see,” you heart flutters at this revelation, “this does seem a little suspicious.”

“Who did you say you were here for?” you question.

“I didn’t, but I’m here for Robert O’Riley.”

“So am I,” you frown. “I don’t understand, I was told this wasn’t an open contract.”

“I was told the same,” John takes a moment to assess the situation but it doesn’t take long for him to realize he doesn’t like it. He glances at you before taking your hand in his and heading towards the exit.

“Wait, where are we going?” you inquire, jogging behind him

“Away from here. I don’t like this.”

Before you and John could officially reach the exit the doors burst open in an explosive manner, sending you two flying back onto the ground. Along with a slight ringing in your ear, you hear a window break as another explosion goes off, instinctively covering your head to shelter yourself from the debris. At least three more explosions go off, the entire warehouse is now decorated in fire, smoke, and shattered glass.

“(Y/N)?!” John screams out for you.

“I’m fine! Where are you- AHH!” you suddenly get an excruciating pain pulsing through the left side of your lower abdomen as you attempt to sit up. You look down only to see a large piece of broken glass sticking out of you. “Not good.”

You yelp in pain as you extract the shard of glass from your body and promptly apply pressure to the bleeding wound.

Despite the pain you rise up to your feet, “John!” you call out, coughing and limping your way through the smoke.

“(Y/N)!” John calls out from behind you, relieved to see you alive.

You turn around and the two of your make your way to each other.

John immediately spots your bloodied hand covering your lower abdomen and the concern within him speedily rises.

Seeing his concern you swat your hand through the air in a nonchalant manner, “It’s really not that bad,” you lie.

John shakes his head, seeing through your white lie. Still, he knows he’d rather assess your injury outside than in a burning building.

“I know a way out,” he coughs.

Noticing your limp, he wraps your arm around his shoulder before wrapping an arm around your waist to help you walk. Together you exit the burning building.

As you both continue to walk together you suddenly holt as you hear movement and the sound of car doors opening and slamming shut, “Wait, someone’s here.”

The both of you remain hidden in the darkness but as you near the luminescence of a street light, you see at least six men all clad in suits huddling up to one man.

“Perché siamo ancora qui? L'edificio è sul fuoco del cazzo! (Why are we still here? The building is on fucking fire)” says one of the men with a hand up in the air, motioning to the burning building.

“Because, you dumbfuck,” the main mobster turns to directly rebuke his partner, “it’s (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and John Wick.”

“She’s back?!” trembles another. “And he’s here too?!”

“The fu- were you not listening the entire car ride here?!”

“They’re just two people,” the first ruffian exasperatedly drops his hands to his sides. “I don’t get why you had to bring a whole cavalry for this.”

Three more cars arrive and several more men begin to exit the vehicles.

“Do not, I repeat, do not underestimate them. They are two people that have proven multiple times to be very difficult to kill. We’re just here to make sure the job is finally done.”

“Matteo, you really think they’re still alive?”

“Doesn’t matter what I think. Valentino is not ruling anything out, so we’re here.”

You recognize the name and frown in perplexity. You know exactly who the mob leader is referring to but cannot recall ever crossing paths with him either in your personal or professional life. However, the same cannot be said for John.

“What do you want us to do?” chimes in another mobman.

“Look around the place, make sure no one besides us leaves this place alive. Boss wants no loose ends, capire (understand)?” he commands.

“Inteso (understood),” several of the men mutter.

“John we have to split up,” you whisper.

“My car is right there,” he nods to his vehicle a couple meters away.

“Okay but they are most definitely gonna shoot at us either as we run to it or as we’re driving away. I don’t wanna risk that.”

“You’re in a really bad condition right now and I’m not gonna risk that.”

“But John–” you grumble and he cuts you off.

“We stick to the shadows. You need to get patched up.”

Although endearing, John’s sudden protective nature of you slightly annoys you. With him being the man that’s trained you for nearly five years you’d think he’d have a little more faith in you. Nonetheless, you stick to John’s plan of sneaking your way to the car and it works. That is until you encounter one of Valentino’s thugs taking a presumably unapproved smoke break.

The man’s eyes go wide in shock and horror as the sight of both you and John was certainly not something he anticipated despite the warnings from earlier. Using his shock to your advantage you quickly push John into cover before outdrawing the mobman and expertly shooting him twice in the gut and once in the head for good measure. You immediately run for cover behind an empty car as the body drops to the ground. John sees a man aim at you and immediately shoots him in the head before any harm can be done, any harm towards you at least. With those shots fired, the battle begins.

You skillfully maneuver your way around different covers, successfully eliminating the mob men one by one. Never straying far from you, John swiftly does the same until there's no one left but the two of you. You take a quick look around your surroundings to make sure the threat is over. Upon spotting John your lips twitch into a small smile, relieved that he’s okay. However, as your adrenaline begins to fade, the pain from your wound returns and your breathing becomes heavy. You slide down against a car with a grunt and John is instantly at your side hovering down to pick you up and take you to his car.

“I got you,” he says, rushing to get to his car with you in his arms.

Once he finally has you situated in your seat, he gets into his own and begins to race to the nearest motel at breakneck speed. Although John would much rather prefer to take you to The Continental, he knows you’ve already lost a lot of blood and is not going to risk the long drive there.

“John, I’m cold,” you say, breathlessly.

“I know sweetheart, just stay with me we’re almost there,” his hand reaches over to inspect your wound and the fear within him rises more as he feels how soaked your hand is from your own blood. His hand overlaps your own, assisting you in applying pressure onto the wound.

You exhaustedly giggle at the new nickname, “John I have to tell you something, just in case–”

“Please don’t talk like that, (Y/N),” he says to you distraught. “We’re nearly there.”

“But John I–”

“What day is it?” he asks.

“What?”

“I need you to stay conscious. What day is it?”

“I’m trying to tell you something.”

“You can tell me that when you’re feeling better. Please, what day is it?”

You stay silent to actually think about it for a second, your mind feeling fuzzy, “.... Friday…. It’s now Friday...”

“Cats or dogs?”

“What?”

“Cats or dogs?”

“... That’s hard… they’re both so cute …. I love your dog though… dogs.”

“Day time or night time?”

“... Night time… definitely night time..”

“... Boy or girl?”

“What?”

“If given the chance would you want to have a girl or boy?”

“That’s easy… I’ll take either… so long as I love the person I’m having ‘em with … I know I’ll love the kid no matter what..”

John looks at you for a moment before focusing back to the road but his look can be described as nothing but doting and warm. To his relief the motel comes into his view and he drives into the parking lot.

“I’ll be back,” he says, exiting the car to get you two a room.

“I”ll be here,” you pant. “Sitting...”

On approaching the check in desk, John, looking like he’s just escaped from a burning building, briefly scares the man behind the desk. He orders a room for two with separate beds and pays the clerk extra for discretion and privacy. Before leaving he asks the clerk, Dave, if the rooms have first aid kits.

“Uh yeah, all our rooms have them. They’re in the bathroom under the sink.”

“Thank you,” John nods before quickly exiting the front desk area and heading straight to you.

At once John is opening your door and helping you out of the car and into your room. He quickly turns on the lights and seats you on a chair next to a round wooden table. As told, John finds the first aid kit in the bathroom then proceeds to disinfect his hands before helping you take off your jacket then sitting on the empty seat in front of you and fixing your wound. To both the relief of John and you, the shard didn’t break in you so he is able to clean the wound quickly. Unfortunately for you, your wound requires stitches. It’s not information you didn’t know but it is something you’re not looking forward to and John sees it when he catches you glare at the needle and thread in his hands.

“You’ve never gotten stitches before?” he asks.

“I’ve tried really hard to avoid them.”

“I have to do this,” he says and you silently nod in acknowledgment. “It’ll be over before you know it. Just, think about something else.”

“Like what?”

“Anything. What do you wanna do after this?”

“Sleep,” you blatantly reply, your eyes slowly blinking.

“No, no, no, you’ll get to do that but not now. You need to stay with me. What do you wanna do when this is all over?”

“Um,” you think. “The beach… I’d like to go to the beach…”

“Why the beach?” he asks, you feel the needle prick your skin and wince at the pain.

“Why the beach?” he repeats, continuing with stitching you up.

“... It’s been a really long time for me since I’ve been on one… since I felt the waves graze my feet … and crash into my body…”

“Tell me more.”

“I wanna feel the winds of the sea flow through my hair… and the sand…. soft against my skin …. Will you go with me?”

He pauses in his work to look at you, “Of course I’ll go with you, sweetheart.”

You smile, “There it is again.”

“What?”

“That nickname.”

“You don’t like it?”

“No, I love it. Just wasn’t expecting it.”

“I don’t think any of us really expected anything that happened tonight.”

“You’re right about that,” you giggle.

“All done,” he says as he finishes closing the stitch. “How do you feel?”

“Tired and light…. Guess that’s expected though, I lost a lot of blood.”

John silently listens and watches you intently. You wonder what thoughts are going through his mind.

“Thank you, John,” you start, “you saved my life tonight.”

“No need to thank me, (Y/N),” he reaches for your hand and gently squeezes it. “Thank you protecting mine earlier.”

You suddenly remember the big gun fight that erupted maybe an hour ago, “Oh yeah, nearly forgot about that. It was nothing, my instincts just kicked in then. Told you it was gonna happen, one way or another. But you were so worried about me.”

“Sweetheart I’ll always worry about you. I know you can handle yourself but the situation was different.”

“I get it,” you nod.

John quickly looks you over before rising from his seat and helping you get up from yours.

“Where we going?” you ask.

“You need to get cleaned up to get some rest and you can’t do that here. Not when someone is clearly out to get us. We’re going to The Continental.”

#john wick #john wick x reader #mentor x student #the most pt 2 #keanu reeves

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