#and aldo just goes what. what. what. what. who are you. what the fuck is a 'row bot'

[mxdotpng]

i have a severe deficiency in bad mobile jrpgs so lets see how another eden goes

[weightgainworld]

How to tease someone else, or at least try.

This is going to be a general guide for doms who are unsure what to say, subs who want to play with their dominant side, and me when I want a refresher on what works.

All of this is what I have tried and works for me. Teasing is an art form and has many different ways to approach it. No approach is right, but there are wrong ways.

1. Some do's and don'ts

-Remember that each person you tease is an individual first. Just because that one guy or girl liked it when you called her a dirty slut, doesn't mean everyone likes that.

- Don't force teasing if the other person doesn't want it. They aren't playing hard to get, and you are not sexy for being more aggressive.

- To find out what that person likes. Sometimes it takes just 10 seconds to see they enjoy pet names on their profile or in a post wherever you read it. It is even easier face-to-face since you can just ask. Even though it is awkward. It can't be weirder than saying something you read in an erotic novel and repeated in the heat of the moment.

- Don't beg for attention. There are exceptions where you can tease someone while still begging, look at tons of subs who beg for pleasure, but as a dom, you need to choose your words carefully. Aka doesn't beg for pictures, dms, etc., and tries to disguise it as shitty teasing.

2. What do you say?

I feel like this is a common question that people have when they are just starting or their brain goes blank under pressure. If you have no idea what the other person likes besides knowing they want to be degraded, try to focus on one or two things you noticed from a photo or their body in person. Take their ass for example, you could describe it as a big wobbly spanking zone, a pretty small butt that needs some red marks, or daddy's favorite body part. If you are a sub or switch, you can in most cases just imagine what you would want someone to say to you. Doesn't always work if the other person doesn't share the same kinks, but it is a starting point that you can work off of. Something is just seeing what other people say while they tease someone. Don't just copy what they say. If you don't have a dominant bone in your body and you do that, it will just be more funny than sexy. See how you can modify what they say to fit the person you are teasing or the situation. A great example is a good boy or a good girl. Both are okay on their own but can be elevated by just adding more passion to it. For example, "You are such a good fucking boy for me playing with yourself and drooling for pleasure."

3. How should you say it?

Unsure if this is helpful to address, but going to mention it anyway. In my opinion, you should say things that fall into the middle ground of sexy but expressive. I roll my eyes when I see someone say 3 or 4 words that are repeated by everyone and their mom. "Nasty slut", "cock whore", "you should be sucking my cock". There is a time and a place for more direct teasing like this though. Some people just want to hear that they are dirty girls while having their hair pulled. That's why seeing what someone likes beforehand can go a long way. However, you could also elevate what you are saying by being more descriptive. You can go from saying, "You are such a slut", to, "You can't help but act like a whore with your tits hanging out." Both ways will get the job done, but being more expressive can help you stand out or just sound sexier. No like I don't use the first example all the time. This is Aldo helpful to keep in mind when writing erotica since you can only say slut, bitch, or cunt so many times before they lose their impact.

4. You can tease without being degrading

This is something that even I forget since I am more of a fan of aggressive domination. However, teasing is more than just saying whatever rude thing you heard in a porno. You can be softer about it like saying, "Are you going to be a good girl and come hump yourself on daddy's hand?" At the end of the day, teasing should be used to push someone you are playing with down a rabbit hole of horny. It is not just so you can vent frustration about not getting that promotion at your job. Not everyone wants to be a slut and that's okay. You can still be a handsome boy who deserves butt rubs while getting pounded.

5. Mix fetishes in for more variety

Like I mentioned before, spamming the word slut every 5 minutes isn't going to impress anyone. Using that person's fetishes to tease them is a simple way to do that. Have a foot fetish? You could say, "Of course, you want to be a foot slave, just put your cock right there and let me help you out." Into bdsm? You can say, "Don't even bother trying to lie to me, you want me to tie you up like the rope bunny you are and rub my hands over your reddening body." I think I have made my point. Kinks are cool, use them to make you sound sexier.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk. Learn from other doms how to talk to sexy as well. I am just a random dude with too much time on my hands.

[phantomdoofer]

Tower Town, Chapter 24 - Betrayal

Content warning for graphic descriptions of death and bodily harm.

Paolo sat back. “Wow. You two were that close?”

Aldo sighed deeply. “Thick as thieves, as the old saying goes. At least, I thought we were.” He stared into the distance.

Paolo waited, but the old gnome seemed to be lost in memories. Finally, he coughed, and Aldo shook his head. “Sorry, ragazzo. Where were we?”

“You had just been roped into conspiring with your department head,” Paolo said with a wicked grin.

Aldo laughed. “You make it sound so skullduggerous! You have to admit, we had our reasons. Anyway, the next couple of years didn't involve anything of real importance - exciting if you were a researcher, not so much to anyone else. But a couple of years down the line, things got much more interesting…”

~~~~

Raphael slammed his hand down on the counter, sending pens and tools bouncing to the floor. “No, Dom! I refuse to try to… to market this to anyone! Remember, we agreed - this was too dangerous to release like that! It could destroy the world!”

Dom flung his hands up in frustration. “Why are you being so damn thick-headed about this, you arrogant rock! I told you, there's ways to put fail-safes in our work! We could even remotely destroy them!”

“Yeah! By blowing them up,” Raphael said hotly. “you don't think that might be just a touch inhumane? To say nothing of someone getting their hands on that little toggle and blowing your precious army into chunky salsa!” He shook his head violently, but his voice dropped a bit. “No, Dom. It's too dangerous. Too easy to fuck up.”

Dom stared at him silently. Finally, he snorted. “Well, I guess the great Raphael has spoken, hasn't he? It's his work, after all, I have no say in it…”

“Oh, come on, Dom, it's not like that and you know it,” Raphael said, his voice rising a little again. “I didn't get into this to profit! I did it to help people! I thought - I thought you felt the same,” he finished quietly.

Dominic's eyes softened a bit. “I did, of course. But… in all seriousness… do you really think we can keep this genie in the bottle? Once it's out, it's out. It'll be a new arms race, maybe the worst in history. There's definitely gonna be people with no scruples about selling this tech once we release it. Why shouldn't we profit off it?”

Raphael's heart sank. There was too much truth in Dom's words. He turned and put a hand on the computer beside him. “You're… you're right about that.” He stared at the screen, window into his life's work, a single page of the hours and days and years the two of them had poured into it. His blood was in this research. Literally. “Maybe we should just erase the whole damn thing. Forget it ever existed,” he whispered.

Dom’s eyes almost popped off his face. “B-buh-but,” he spluttered, “all our work! All our time and effort! Raph, Raph, don't be hasty…” he was practically vibrating with stress and fear.

“I know, Dom,” Raphael said sadly. “But… I've been thinking for a while. This is so dangerous. And you make a good point. There are people out there who will murder the world just to make a profit off this.” He leaned back. “‘At the end of the world, the last man will murder his brother in cold blood. And ascending a mountain of skulls, he will sit down and declare triumphantly, ‘I won!’”

Dom blinked. “What's that from?”

Raphael shook his head. “I don't remember where I read it. It's old, ancient, even. But it's always stuck with me.” He hopped down, walking slowly to the door. “Maybe we won't be helping the world. Maybe we'll just be putting the gun to our heads.”

Dom stood in complete silence as Raphael closed the door behind him.

~~~~

Raphael squinted as he walked out into the sunlight. He held up a hand, shielding his eyes. How long has it been since I came outside?

The sights of modern Rome were a carefully-crafted mix of cutting-edge technology and ancient style. Rome was one of the few cities to retain its identity all these millenia.

It was also one of the few cities to survive the Scorched Earth era.

Some of his colleagues waved and called to him. He waved back, and one in particular caught his eye. “Hey, Gia!”

The younger gnome ran over, flipping her hair out of her eyes. “Doctor Alighieri! It's been years! How are you?”

He blushed. He'd had quite the crush on this woman, years ago. “Oh, I've been so caught up in what I was doing, I just…”

She laughed. “Lost track of time. It happens to the best of us, Doctor!”

He smiled. “Just call me Raphael, Gia. Or Raph, if you like.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

She giggled and playfully slapped his shoulder. “Doctor! We're in professional environs! We shouldn't be so familiar!”

He lowered his voice. “Perhaps we could meet under… less professional circumstances? Say, this evening at eight?”

She eyed him speculatively, but she seemed interested. Her friends were whispering to each other. Raphael was one of the top researchers there, and it wouldn't hurt her at all to be seen in such prestigious company, even if it was casual. “All right then. Eight o’ clock, sharp, Doctor. Right here.”

“I'll wait with baited breath…” he paused, in the middle of a formal bow to kiss her hand. “By the way, what is you title now, Gia? I know you haven't just been resting on your laurels all this time.”

She chuckled. “It's ‘Doctor’ as well, now, Doctor. Doctor Giovanna Hulbrew.”

He stood and switched to shaking her hand. “Congratulations, Doctor! I'd love to discuss your research over dinner… along with yourself.” He quickly lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it before she could retract it.

She laughed. “You haven't changed at all, Doctor!” Then she smiled brightly. “I'm glad. I was afraid being cooped up with Doctor Totino would sour you.”

“Oh, he's not so bad,” he said airily. But his mind drifted to darker interpretations. What has he been up to to earn such a reputation?

She gave Raphael a searching look. “If you say so, Doctor. Eight o’ Clock!” She waved to him over her shoulder as she sauntered away.

Raphael squared his shoulders. He was in a much better mood, now.

He walked off into the parklands around the Institute, whistling a jaunty tune.

~~~~

Raphael woke up, snorting as he did. The sunlight through the apartment window had woken him. So unused to that.

He looked over. Gia was burrowed into her pillow, snoring softly.

He smiled and gently kissed her forehead. Apparently she'd missed him as much as he'd missed her. They'd come back to her place for the night, and things had proceeded from there.

He stretched and yawned. I needed that - getting out of that lab. They'd chatted all through the evening - he'd had to be vague about his own research, of course - but she'd been happy to share her own work.

He'd hung on every word. He loved knowledge as much as he loved women, and here was both in a single package.

He quietly snuck out of the bed, sliding into his clothes. He didn't want to sneak out, but he also didn't want to wake her. He'd figured out that she was on the verge of exhaustion herself, and had coaxed her to take the day off. When she'd protested, he'd pulled some strings to get Testa to agree to it.

“No, no, I agree. Doctor Hulbrew, you're no good to us burnt out and exhausted. Take a day off.”

And so she had.

As he buckled his pants, he heard her stir behind him. “Mmm, leaving already?” She said sleepily.

He turned, grinning over his shoulder. “Duty calls, and all that. I really enjoyed last night.”

She smiled. “I missed you, too. My neighbors might not have.”

He blushed a little. “I meant the dinner conversation, but that was nice, too.” He laughed. “We need to get together and compare notes sometime.” He rolled his shoulder. “Not today, though. You get some rest, some real rest.”

“She laid back, saluting jauntily. “Yes, sir, Doctor Alighieri.” Then she yawned. “Call me, OK? I know you don't have much free time.”

He nodded. “I will.”

And he meant it.

~~~~

Raphael stood, staring at the Institute's gleaming Tower… and felt a massive sense of dread, like a lead weight, settle into his soul. I don't think I'm ready to go back, yet. But what to do?

His entire life revolved around the place, now. He didn't even have separate living accommodations - he slept in the lab.

He looked down at his hands. When did I sacrifice my life to this?

He couldn't recall.

He turned, walking away. Testa gave me time. I'm gonna take it.

~~~~

Raphael was sitting at a street cafe, munching on a plate of tacos. The Institute had a robust cafeteria, of course, but…

It can't replicate the experience.

Around him, people chattered about nothing in particular, laughed, smiled, yelling and crying and living. The full experience. It was like sitting in the middle of a maelstrom, and he found his heart aching with a mixture of joy and exasperation.

I should have done this a long time ago.

He felt his phone buzz. He sighed and pulled it out.

Where are you, Raph?

Dom, Raphael thought. Fair. This is pretty out-of-character for the me he's used to. He typed out a reply:

Sorry Dom, my burnout got too bad, Testa sent me on a trip Outside. Just out mingling and relaxing. Something wrong?

He'd barely sent the message when he got the reply.

Oh, OK. Just used to you being in the lab. On that grind, you know? You get your head back on the right way, Raph. Probably do you good.

Raphael nodded to himself. He was feeling better. The feel of fresh air on his face, the sound of birds, the chatter of the people… it was reminding him of why he was doing what he was.

The whole point is to improve the world.

He checked his credit account - he was well in pocket. The Institute gave him a generous stipend he rarely used. By most people's standards, he would be almost rich.

Think I can afford to take a few days.

He sent back - Think I'm going to take some time coming back. Freshen up my view, stuff like that. You OK being alone for a few days? Remember, you can call Testa if you have a problem.

He had enough time to finish his meal before the reply came.

All right Raph, I'll hold things down here. I shouldn't need Testa's help, but I'll keep him in mind. Any idea how long you'll be gone?

Raphael put a hand to his chin, stroking his beard. How long, indeed?

Until I feel better.

Don't know, friend, he sent back. Until I feel inspired to work on it again, I suppose. I'll try not to be more than a week.

All right. It'll be here when you get back. Maybe better.

Raphael chuckled - he could see the smug little smirk on Dom's face in his head.

He flipped apps and quickly found a little hotel to stay in that had an “indefinite” option. He booked it for immediate use, then locked his phone. He looked around, taking in the sights.

Time to reconnect with life outside the Institute.

~~~~

Raphael walked through the main doors a week later, whistling. He'd been to concerts, visited bookstores and old friends and more restaurants than he could recall. Why have I been denying myself this? He'd attended one of Gia’s lectures, and it had reconfirmed his love for the woman. She was just as smart as she was beautiful. He'd even sat down one day and helped her work past a thorny problem in her own research.

“Can't believe I didn't see that,” Gia had said, exasperated at how quickly he'd seen the issue.

“A fresh perspective can really help,” he'd said. “Outside eyes see differently.”

Now, he felt energized, awake, alive, again. I don't feel like a zombie, anymore.

One of his colleagues walked up, looking concerned.

“What's up?” Raphael said.

The young ogre was at the head of a small group of junior researchers, and they all looked worried. “Dr. Alighieri, so glad you're back. I understand you needed some time to recharge, but…” he trailed off.

After a few moments, Raphael rolled his hand and quirked an eyebrow. “Buuuuut…?” He said leadingly. Sometimes these kids need some encouragement to say what they're thinking.

The young ogre scratched absent-mindedly at the patchy beard that was so common on young male Ogres. “You know, your work partner, Doctor Totino? He hasn't been seen outside your lab the whole time you were gone.”

Raphael smirked. “And that's unusual?”

“It really is,” he said. “No offense, sir, but it's usually you who stays in the lab. Doctor Totino is usually the one out grabbing things, interacting, being seen. It's been a little off-putting.”

Raphael blinked, realizing what the younger researcher said was 100% true. It IS usually me cooped up in there. “Is he at least getting food sent in?”

“Not as much as he should, no,” the ogre said. “He keeps the door locked. Even Director Testa is getting concerned. He only let the Director in once, just to show he was OK.”

Dom, what have you been doing? “I'm sure he's just been really focused,” Raphael said, waving a reassuring hand at the small, worried group. “He can get that way, sometimes. Couldn't tell you how many times I've made him stop and eat, or take a nap. Man gets focused, he won't stop til he falls over.” He laughed lightly, and the group followed suit, even if it was a little stilted. “Don't worry, guys. I'll check on him. And I'll let him know you were concerned.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” he said. As the rest of the group broke up, he paused. “Sir, if I may ask a question…”

Raphael planted his feet. “Shoot. I'll answer if I can.”

“What are you two working on that's got you both so focused?” He said hurriedly. “You even have Director Testa helping you!”

Raphael sighed and laughed ruefully. “Ah, lad. Can't answer that. Not yet. Don't worry, once we get finished, you'll know.” He paused, his eyes a bit unfocused, and looked upwards. “The whole world will know.”

The Ogre seems a bit taken back at the statement. “Well, I know if you're involved, sir, it'll be something big.”

Raphael came back from his thoughts and smirked at the young Ogre. “You trying to butter me up, young man?”

The Ogre quickly held his hands in front of him, looking contrite. “Oh, no sir! Nothing like that! It's just… you're an inspiration, sir. To a lot of us, down here on the ground. You're so much more approachable than the others. We all wish you'd come out more. You make us feel like we're part of something big.”

Raphael reached up and patted the Ogre's hip. “You are part of something big, ragazzo. The things we do here are important. Not just for us. Remember that. You may be just one cog, but this machine changes the world.”

The young man smiled. “That's what I'm talking about, sir. You make us feel appreciated. Special.” He squared his shoulders. “I've taken enough of your time, sir. Thanks again!”

Raphael waved as the young man walked away. Good kid. We need people like him.

An elevator opened, and Director Testa stepped out. “Ah. Raphael, my boy. Glad you're back. Your colleague has had some… concerning behaviors since you left…”

Raphael nodded. “Yeah, the kids just clued me in. No idea, sir. Dom has been dead silent since I told him what I was doing. I was just about to go upstairs and find out, myself. Care to come along?”

Testa nodded, and they walked into the elevator. “He admitted me once, but it was a brief visit. I didn't see anything untoward, but… he was so nervous.”

“He's always nervous,” Raphael quipped.

“True. But something felt… off. I didn't want to alarm him, so I left it alone, but…” he sighed. “I would really like to know what's going on that's got him so worked up.”

The door dinged and opened, arriving at the floor where their lab resided. “Like I said, he's been dead silent the whole time. We'll find out.” He pulled out his keycard, flashed it at the reader… and it made a negative noise, indicating the door was passcode-locked. “Strange,” he said, entering a code, only to be rejected. “He never puts this level of lock on the door.”

After several failed attempts, Raphael had gone from concerned to annoyed. “I apologize for this, Director,” he said, and his eyes lit on fire. He held a hand up to the screen…

Lines of fire wove through the circuitry of the lock, striking like serpents at key points, physically breaking down the machinery keeping the door locked...

The lock made a positive beep, and the lock opened.

“That's a handy trick,” Testa said.

Raphael’s eyes returned to normal. “Yeah. But now we need a new lock.” He waved his key again, and the door opened.

Inside was dark, only the lights of the computers and equipment lighting the room. A smell of chemicals and stale bread wafted out of the room - the smell of a Ninda who wasn't taking care of themselves.

Raphael and Testa walked through the door, which whooshed closed behind them. “Dom?” Raphael called out. “Is something wrong? You OK?”

“I forgot you said you'd be back by now,” Dominic's voice called from the shadows. The Ninda appeared from another room.

Raphael approached him. “Mio Dio, amico, you look rough. You've been neglecting yourself again.”

“Oh nothing of the sort,” Dominic said airily. “I've made some major improvements since you left, in fact.”

“Improvements?” Raphael said in surprise. We didn't talk about doing any major changes! “Can't wait to see what you've been up to, Dom, but…”

Testa stepped forward. “I and your colleagues have been worried about you, Doctor Totino. You haven't been seen in over a week, other than my brief visit. You're normally more… out and about. If I may ask, what have you been doing in here to keep you so cloistered?”

Dom immediately got defensive. “I told you, I've made some major changes. Is that so wrong? People need to mind their business!” His face turned red as his temper grew.

Raphael held up a hand in a placating gesture. “Dom, no one's making any accusations! They're just worried about you, is all. You know how we can get… a little hyperfocused at times. We try to look out for each other, you know?”

“What business is it of theirs?” Dominic said, swiping the air with his hand. “They just want to steal my work!” He pointed a finger at Testa. “Just like you!”

Raphael felt his own temper rising. “Dom! No! You're being paranoid! Testa's trying to help! We never would have gotten this far without him!”

Testa stepped forward. “I don't appreciate your words, Doctor Totino. I've been thinking for a while now - maybe you need to take some time for yourself, get out of this place. It seems to be wearing on your nerves.”

“NO!” Dominic roared. “You’re not gonna steal my work out from under me!”

“No one's suggesting that, Dom!” Raphael said. “Also, ‘your work'? This is our work, Dom! Ours! Together! I brought you in on it because I knew you would be able to help! But you're acting like it's all yours, now!” A note of despair crept into his voice. “ I'm sorry, Dom, but… maybe you should step back for a while. Go get your head back on straight.”

Dom looked stunned. “You're… kicking me out, Raph?”

Raphael felt his heart break a little at the pain in his friend's voice. “Dom, I… I don't think you're doing well. In your head. You've changed, man. It's affecting your judgment. The old you wouldn't have jumped all over the Director like that. What's wrong, buddy?”

Dom was looking at the floor. “You don't want me here, anymore. I get it.” The air seemed to shift. “You want all the glory for yourself. The great Raphael Alighieri, the famous, talented researcher, savior of the world.”

“Dom, it's not like that…”

“You were always better than me. Lording over me. Making me feel inferior.”

Raphael's eyes went wide. “No, Dom, I never-”

“Shut up, Alighieri.” The venom in Dominic's voice brought Raphael up short. “I'm done with you. Done with you both.”

He snapped his fingers.

Suddenly Raphael and Testa were floating in the air. A swirling aura of white flame surrounded them, holding them up.

Raphael stared in horror. That's my flame. “Dom… Dom, what have you done?”

Dominic looked up, and the smile on the Ninda’s face was dripping with malice. “I'm doing what I always planned to do, ‘old friend,’ ever since I saw what your power was capable of.”

Testa writhed beside him in the air. “Let us go, Totino! What do you-”

Dominic snapped his fingers, and Testa began to burn from the inside out. The man shrieked in agony as his innards boiled and his skin crisped. Raphael tried not to vomit as the charnel smell flooded the room. He tried not to think about the sound of the man's fluids bubbling and popping… but the sound burned itself into his mind.

Shortly, nothing but ash remained.

“I never liked him, anyway,” Dom said casually.

Raphael stared. He couldn't believe it. “Dom… why…?” He said in a tiny voice.

Dominic scoffed. “You had me genuinely worried for a moment, ‘old friend,’” Dom said. “I really thought you would destroy all that work you did.” He gestured, and Raphael drifted closer.

Outside, the sound of people beating on the door were audible. Testa had not gone to his death quietly.

“But you made a fatal mistake,” he said, smiling, “when you left me alone with it. With the password, no less.” He laughed. “That gave me plenty of time to copy everything over to my own private archive… and to take a few other steps.”

Raphael saw the door fly open, and several of their colleagues stood outside. “My God, what -” one started.

Without looking, Dominic sent a wash of white-hot flame into the corridor.

The screams were barely audible over the roar of flame.

Raphael felt tears trying to drip down his face, but they evaporated nearly instantly. “Was I just… a means to an end, for you?” He said, his own eyes lighting up -

The wall of flames pulled in closer; Raphael smelled his beard and hair starting to burn. “Ah ah ah,” Dom said, waggling a finger. “I know all about how your power works, Raphael. More than you do, in fact. No, I genuinely liked you, once.” He laughed. “You sweet, gullible little fool. You could have ruled the world. Even before your admittedly brilliant research.” He nodded. “I never would have figured out some of what you did. Thank you for that - you made this so easy.”

Raphael felt his own eyes beginning to sizzle as the flames burned him. “What… are you going… to do…?”

“Isn't it obvious? You were right - this is too dangerous to let run loose. So… I'll just… keep it to myself.” He chuckled malevolently. “I'll take every other power in the world for myself, too. Then it won't be a problem, will it? And I'll just rule everything. Can't be wars between nations if there's only one, right?”

Raphael didn't think he could get any more horrified. He was wrong. “No…”

“Oh yes.”

A spear of white flame pierced Raphael's heart. He gasped as he felt his organs flash into ash. He barely felt it as he slammed to the ground.

He could barely see Dom bend over him. “As thanks, I'm granting you a quick death, old friend. You won't be here to see me take over this tainted world… but you can watch from the other side, and think… this is all my fault.”

Dom turned and started to walk through the gaping, melted hole where the door had been. Raphael weakly raised a hand. “N-no… please…” he whispered…

Then there was nothing.

~~~~

Hours later, the small, charred body laid where it had fallen. The room was silent, except for the occasional beep of a computer.

A tiny white ember appeared in the hole in the corpse's chest.

It quickly grew, tendrils of flame reaching out and wrapping around the body. A mesh of flame wove inside the gaping cavity that had been Raphael's torso.

The flesh began to knit.

Raphael's body began to hover in the air, surrounded in a cocoon of flame.

After a few seconds, his eyes flew open as his mind was violently reawakened. He gasped, then shrieked as half-restored nerves screamed damage reports to his brain.

The pain was indescribable.

He looked down, watching as the blackened flesh writhed, becoming whole and pink again. He sobbed as his overloaded mind tried to comprehend what he was seeing.

Behind him, a pair of huge flame wings sprouted from his back.

Finally, restored to his healthy form, the flames faded, and he dropped heavily to the floor. He stayed on all fours, gasping and sobbing as the pain slowly faded.

The memory of his friend's betrayal was almost as bad.

Shakily, he stood up, holding a hand up to his face. He turned it, examining both faces. The flesh was warm, whole, unblemished. He patted his chest, and realized his shirt had completely burned away. He stared down at his breastbone. There isn't even a scar.

As his mind settled, he realized what had happened. My powers resurrected me.

He staggered out through the melted hole where the door had been… into a nightmare. Most of the lights were broken, and piles of ash lay everywhere… if the half-burned body wasn't laminated to the wall, or in one case, the ceiling. As he approached, the vibrations of his steps caused the body to break loose, and it fell to the floor, bursting into a grotesque amalgam of half-cooked flesh, charred bone, and ashes.

Raphael would have vomited… if he'd had anything in his stomach to pass.

He retreated back to the remains of his lab. He seems to have left it mostly untouched. He growled. Obviously a ‘mercy’ for his ‘old friend’. He was surprised to discover the computer still worked, and even had network access. He pulled up a map of the building…

Most of it was darkened. Offline. Such a simple word for what's been done. He used codes and hacks he'd never told anyone he had, not even Testa or Dominic, to access the cameras. He stared, appalled, for a few moments, then he shut them off. The scene was the same everywhere. He left no survivors. Except me… and that was accidental.

Another kind of flame was building in his chest, now. You're gonna pay for this, Dominic.

He accessed their research database, and found it scoured. No real shock, here. Dom wasn't stupid. He’d known their research could be used against him, and taken precautions.

Raphael smiled grimly. Not enough, though.

He walked over to a nondescript part of the wall, tapping a specific sequence in ancient Morse Code. Part of the wall swung out, revealing a hidden alcove. Testa had helped him set this up, months before. He glanced over at the sad pile of ash that had been his mentor and friend. Thank you, for everything you did.

He reached in and pulled out a high-density storage drive. It had everything they'd ever done. He pocketed it. Probably gonna need this in the near future.

He ran over to the stairwell - he already knew the elevators wouldn't be working. He looked down the endless flights, feeling his heart sink. Gonna take me forever to get down there.

Then he came up with a solution.

He leapt over the guardrail, in free fall. As he approached the bottom, he fired off a flame blast, slowing his fall...

It wasn't enough, though, and he landed hard. He heard a sickening crunch as his legs broke.

He rolled over, screaming, the pain blinding him… and then he screamed louder as he felt his body light on fire again, and the bones and flesh violently realigned and healed.

In seconds, it was like nothing had happened.

Raphael sobbed, standing shakily, covered in sweat. Great idea, Raph, he thought. Just slow yourself down, that'll work great…

He walked out into the lobby. It was the same as everywhere else - ash and laminated bodies. The entire front wall was gone, blown away.

He stepped outside…

He stood and stared at the destruction. Dominic had apparently gone on a destructive rampage on his way out. Buildings were either blown to bits, half-melted, or collapsed.

And bodies. Everywhere, scorched, blackened bodies. Ash flaked off them in the wind. Trees and grass were either scorched stumps or just completely gone. The vista had been a mix of natural beauty and inspired architecture, before. Now, everything was silent. Not a bird sang. No insects buzzed. A malevolent firestorm had razed the entire city.

It was the aftermath of an apocalypse.

Raphael used his flame to fly upwards. It was shaky, but he had better control this time. He found more of the same. Buildings, plants, animals, people…

Complete genocide.

Raphael thought about the eager young researchers, happy and excited to be part of something bigger.

He thought of all the people he'd met in his wandering, just going about their lives… unaware of the horrors to come.

Horrors that I enabled.

He thought of Gia, and he spun, flying over, looking for her apartment… and saw only a blackened mound of slag.

He circled the whole city, looking for any sign of life. The silence was deafening.

An hour later, he hovered, dejected. Everyone and everything was dead or destroyed. He landed, looking around in despair at the destruction surrounding him, his eyes full of tears. This is my fault. My hubris. My blindness. My trust. Cost all these people their lives.

He clenched his fist. I will fix this. If it takes me eternity, I'll fix it.

~~~~

Paolo sat back, horrified at what Aldo had told him. “My… my God…”

Aldo nodded. “Yeah. While I'd been gone, Dom gave himself a copy of my power. Then, when I said what I said to him… I guess that was the final straw.” Aldo sniffed. “He razed Rome. I can still smell it. People came back, but… it wasn't the same.”

“And you spent the next 500 years fighting him?” Paolo said, his voice shaking.

“Yep. Started using the name “Nascosto” to hide my identity. Started the Resistance. Started engineering powers to give to people I thought could handle them.” He clenched his fist. “And I started trying to work out a way to stop him. I couldn't figure out a way to kill him permanently, then, but…”

“But you came up with a way to stop him. That ring,” Paolo said.

“Yeah. It took four of us - the strongest members of the Resistance - to do it.” Aldo growled. “And the sick bastard still got us with the Plague.”

“It worked out in the end, though,” Paolo said, grinning.

“Yeah. Yeah, it did,” Aldo said, a smile growing on his face. “Thanks to you guys.” He hopped out of the chair.

Paolo stood, facing him. “Thanks, old man. Thanks for letting me know… we were right to do what we did. And thank you… for giving us the chance.” He laughed. “And thanks for coming to visit.”

Aldo chuckled. “Anytime, ragazzo.” He turned, then turned back. “I know… I know you worry that you're like him. And to be fair, as someone who knew him… you do have a bit of him.”

Paolo felt his blood run cold.

“But you need to remember - that sick, cold feeling you got, just now? That shows you're not him. You're better than him. You care.”

“How… how did you know?” Paolo whispered.

“It was written all over your face, lad,” Aldo said. “Three thousand years of experience? You learn to read people.” He walked back, grasping Paolo’s arm. “Keep that in your head. Right now, you're better than him. No matter what happens, no matter where you end up… you did the right thing, in the end.”

As the old gnome left, Paolo slumped onto the bed. I'm better than he was.

Paolo held those words close, and they warmed his spirit.

[kayotic-catgirl]

TMAGP 18 LIVEBLOG TIME WEEWOOWEEOO!!!!

ohhh the vibes from this ep title are SO rancid im afraid

RETURN OF TEDDY??)??!?!!!!?!?? hi alice i love you <333 teddy why are you lingering. oh miss dyer please kiss me (platonic) you are so funny. why does she has chemistry with almost everyone.

ALICE DID YOU JUST DESCRIBE CELIA AS "really weird but in a hot way". YOU ABSOLUTE BISEXUAL PLEASE JUST ASK HER ABOUT POLYAMOURY

i hope so bad thry actually get to meet up for those drink. i want everyone to be friends and happy but i know in this podcast thats basically impossible. bye teddy i hope you don't die and you actually get a job <33

sam honey are you alright. lena why are you like that. no celia today </ 3 SAD, i'll miss you darling. "childcare emergency" WHAT DOES THST MEAN. IS JACK OKAY. IS CELIA OKAY. lena do you know how small talk works.

AUGUSTUS IS THAT YOU?,!,!??!?????!!!!!!

"god i hope she stays silent" OH SO THR TALKING CORPSES ARE A REGULAR THING NOW. OKAY.

THIS CASE ALREADY REMINDS ME OF THE LONELY I KNOW THOSE SYSTEMS PROBABLY DON'T APPLY ANYMORE BUT IM ATTACHED. also this casement feels mecore can't explain it but HOLY SHIT THE SAID IT THET SAID THE WORD LONELY

oh no sam's letting alice know about the horrors hope it goes okay. "you can't just ignore this—" "why not!?" ...ow. alice :(( that hits home, are you alright?? poor alice......i understand that feeling, not wanting to address something because you're afraid it'll get worse if you do.

ALICE WHY ARE YOU SO FUNMY. I LOVE YOU. hi gwen :333

oh gwen is struggling......the horrors . god i can just hear her pure dread. i don't like the audio ambiance its making me feel like something bad will happen

GOD BONZO MENTION GET AWAY MR BONZO!!!/!/!/!/ SAM DON'T LAUGH AT HER :(( its nice to hear him crack up but GOD ANY OTHER SITUATION PLEASE

oh my god. the way gwendolyn yells at him to shut up fills me with so much upset. she's clearly fucked up by this. the sheer fucking fear in her vocie as if she's reliving it again.

alice. alice i fuckinng LOVE YOU but PLEASE. jusr be nice to gwen.

IM ACTUALLY FUCKING SHAKIFN. GEORGIE??????????? GEROEGEINVNCNNCNC!?!?!,!,!;!:!?: ALDO JACK IS HERE OMG ABSHSKSHDHD I CAN'T I CANT SOMEONE SEDATE ME THE WHIPSLAHS IS KILLING ME

"oh no! who keeps taking georgie's face?? :OO" i don't know why that was just so adorable to me

"celia...you don't have to lie to me." "i'm not!" [audio glitch] OH GOOD LORD. GEORGIE WHY IS THST YOUR FIRST QUESTION. celia darling whats happening with you.

in conclusion: OH MY GOD I FEEL LIKE I JUST GOT HIT WITH SEVEN TRAINS IN A ROW. FIRST TEDDY, THEN AGUSTUS, THEN GWEN, THEN GEORGIE??????? GOD AT THIS POINT JUST SHOOT ME I CAN'T HANDLE THIS

[mlmxreader]

To Die | Wilhelm Wicki x gn!reader

Anonymous asked: "Just keep your eyes on me, don't look at anything else" And our dear and beloved wicki? Please

summary: Wicki gets hurt, badly, and you're there to pick up the pieces.

tws: injury, violence, blood, wounds, swearing, smoking

Wicki couldn't be sure how long he had been out, a crackling sound coming from his clothes when he tried to move, an even worse sharp pain shooting through his chest when he opened his mouth and took what felt like his first breath; groping his chest and shuddering as he realised. Flecks and spots of dried blood littered the palm of his hands. Through blurred eyes, he could see bodies being dragged off, he heard distorted grumbles and cries of agony - Stiglitz's voice. He could remember meeting Hammersmark, he remembered hearing Stiglitz saying "say auf Wiedersehen to your Nazi balls", but everything after that was a blur. A mess of blood painting the air and smoke smearing the red stains.

It wasn't until you crashed down next to him, on your knees amongst blood and smoke, that he dared to pay attention to something.

"Alright, alright, okay, alright," your voice was shaking, uneven and panicked. He wanted to grab your hands and tell you it was all going to be okay. "Fuck... okay. Alright. Aldo! Aldo get your fucking ass down here now! Aldo! Donny! Omar! C'mon, you useless sons of bitches, fucking get down here!"

Wicki could feel your hands trembling as they came to lay on his chest, unbuttoning his shirt and looking at the damage. Thank fuck he had kept that metal cigarette tin you had given him, an anniversary present, and thank fuck even more that he had put it in his breast pocket. He could feel the wounds throb and spasm each time your fingers graced over them, not even applying any pressure but still making him seethe and wince.

"Wicki, baby, just keep your eyes on me, don't look at anything else," you told him gently, although the words came out stumbled and rushed. "Please, don't fucking die on me... we got Stiglitz out. Hammersmark's being patched up by some fucking vet. Hicox... he'll recover. C'mon, baby, you have to make it. Look at me."

Wicki couldn't take his eyes off of you, trying not to think about how he may have succumbed to his wounds a long while ago and these were merely the last sights for a dying man; but then he felt something at his back, someone lifting him and chucking him onto the top of a broken table to haul him out. He didn't take his eyes off of you. He couldn't.

When he went under, the veterinarian having given him a bit too much but not enough to kill him again, you didn't leave his side; when he woke, stiff and groggy, in terrible, awful, nausea, the first thing he saw was you. And he smiled.

"Did I die?"

"No, my love," you told him with a shake of your head. "Actually, the vet fixed you up pretty good... said you'll be right as rain in about six weeks."

Wicki winced at how bright the lights were. "The others?"

"Hugo's okay, he's battered to fuck, but he'll be okay," you started, "the British guy, Hicox, he's gonna be alright, too. Hammersmark got a cast, but that's about it."

"What happened?"

You frowned, not sure if you should tell him about the shootout, about the bargain with the Nazi soldier who was thankfully put down by Hammersmark in the end, about the change of plans for the cinema; perhaps, you thought, it may be best if he were to hear about it when he wasn't fresh off the operating table.

"A whole lot of shit," you chuckled softly. "I'll tell you all about it later, but... you need to rest."

His voice cracked a little as he dared to ask, "are we gonna go home?"

You clenched your jaw as you shook your head, swiping a bloodied hand down your face and leaving just a little smear of it on your skin, not really caring about it too much; a little bit of blood from helping dig bullets out of your boyfriend could be forgiven.

"No. Aldo said he's gonna get an evacuation for us, Hugo and Hicox included, if everything goes to plan."

Wicki nodded, weakly gripping your bloodied hand as he cleared his throat and let out a little yawn, the painkillers starting to settle in as his eyes waterer, rendering the corners of his vision blurry and bubbled. "You'll stay?"

You tapped his hand gently, nodding as you brought your legs up to rest them beside his, leaning back in your chair and lighting up a cigarette as you hummed softly. "Always."

You couldn't have been more grateful that he slept until the afternoon, being transported from that shitty little vet clinic through to allied territory; Donny and Omar were badly hurt, Aldo said they had been taken to a military hospital along with Hugo and Hicox. The doctors wouldn't look at Wicki.

"Why the fuck not?"

"Ah, somethin' to do with a lack o' staff," Aldo shrugged. "They said the nurses ain't gon' bother."

You shook your head, nearly breaking the cigarette between your fingers in half as you clenched your jaw. "You sure it ain't because-"

"Nah, it ain't," he shook his head. "Y'know I would've kicked off if it was."

"Okay," you said slowly, letting out a harsh sigh as you looked back into the tent. Wicki was up, at least, flicking through a newspaper with a cigarette between his lips.

You couldn't take your eyes away from the bandages around his torso, and you frowned.

"Hey," Aldo nudged you gently. "He's gon' be alright. We're all gonna be alright... g'on, go sit with ya boyfriend for a while. I'll see if I can't find a goddamn doctor fuckin' around."

Quietly, you agreed, and flicked your cigarette away before you made your way inside the tent; at least you were all in allied territory, and at least everyone was alive. At least you and Wicki made it out, together.

"You feeling alright?" You asked, and when he nodded, you smiled. "Aldo's gone to see if he can't grab a doctor."

Wicki frowned, shaking his head as he reached for your hand, the newspaper falling to his lap. "Mein geliebter, I'm okay."

You gave his hand a little squeeze before bringing his palm to your lips, leaving a gentle kiss against his skin. "I just wanna make sure. Y'know what it's like these days, infections are fucking brutal, and-"

"I'm okay," he repeated softly, quietly. "Trust me."

You swallowed thickly, and bit at the inside of your lip. "We're gonna go home at some point."

"We are?" A flicker of hope came to his eyes.

You had not seen that in a long, long time and you almost wanted to howl and to scream with joy at noticing it; you nodded, though, and cleared your throat.

"Yeah, we're going home, baby," you started, "as soon as everybody's healed up, we're getting on a plane, meeting with the General, and we're fucking off home. All of us."

"Will you finally tell me what happened that night?"

You nodded. "You won't like it, though."

"I want to hear it," his voice got lower, like he didn't quite believe his own words. "From you, mein geliebter."

[maldito-arbol]

strengthhhhh

THAT RUCKIGN CROWN HRRRRR

Toad lords toad lords toad lordssss

It’s the crownnnnnn sashhh

Sasharcyyyy :(((( whyyy mallll, why can’t they just be happy

STRENGTH GRRRR

Tbh I find the castle interesting in general, it’s pretty cool.

FROOG FROOG FROOG

Oooooo secret doorway yumm, but also oh god it’s the basement isn’t it oh fuck.

OOOO STUFF LORE YUM, ALSO WARHAMMER MY BELOVEDDDD.

GRRR WHAT THE FUCK MALLL, WHAT WAS THAT WHAT WHAT

PERCY BRADDOCK OMGGGG THE DUDES!! I LOVE THEM

“He puts his hands up. “You have the final say,” he reminds her. “If you’d rather have them here, I won’t stop you. But remember that our enemies are numerous, and having eyes in different places is helpful.”

“Having eyes in different places is extremely helpful.””

Fuck I hate it here /lh

Anne :( :( :(

SASHARCY PLEASE JUST TALK IM BEGGING ON MY KNEES

Tbh I kinda like Aldo hshsshjs He is interesting

BERNARDOOOOOO

WOOO NEW OUTFITS

Braddock <3 <3 I love them!

Oh godddddd the claws were no a good ideaaa

LEGGGSSSSS YEAHH SHE HAS LEGSS WOO

WOOP WOOP Marcy’s new outfit!!

Sasharcy being soft eating this knowing things are probably gonna go to shit soon

Noooo orange ey door

Oh god sasharcy,,,,,,

MARCY OH FUCK

I feel emarresed for not realizing it’s probably the core and not strength till now,, I knew it didn’t feel like strength though

NO SASHA NO MARCYY

NOO THE COLLAR FUCK FUCK

““When you said you couldn’t bear to watch me die? When you made me promise to n- never let go?” It strikes Sasha like a knife to the heart. “…when did that change?”

And she bursts into hysterics, Marcy Wu, her precious girlfriend falls apart here in her arms, sobbing like she’s never been broken before this , a betrayal that painfully marks the ending of the era in which Marcy could depend on Sasha to feel safe. Now, it’s all shattered. “

FUCK ME HOLY FUCK /pos HOLY FUCK

Sasha and the plantersss :(((((((

Ooooooo languages

Marcyy and Sasha and Anne grrr :(((((((

Nooo not the fucking crown oh god Sasha Sasha Sasha fuck

BARREL BARREL?? MAL MAL MAL HOLY FUCK

THE CROWN THE FUCKING CROWN GRBRGRGHEHSJSMEKSJEJ GRRRRRRRR

THAT ENDING GRRR MAL WHAT THE FUCK WHY THIS CLIFFHANGER MAL IM GONNA DIE GRRRRRR

Gooooooddddd chapter but holy fuck Holy fuck holy fuck /pos

Oh, Strength

Fear the crown >:3

Can you tell I love the Toad Lords cause I Love the Toad Lords

Psshhhh whatre u talking about nothings wrong

Sasharcy was happy in IBYBF I had to change that

Leave Strength Alone 2k22

I LOVE the castle! This place is wild and hell yeah I’m gonna make that clear

Froog makes her debut >:3

Another secret doorway because we can never have enough of those!

Hehehehe I’m also Obsessed w the Warhammer can you tell

That was Something :)

PERCY AND BRADDOCK FOREVER

you like my eyeball jokes? We have fun here :)

Poor Anne. She out here listening to Heart’s horrible horrible story meanwhile all this shit going down.

Sasharcy talk about ur feelings challenge.

I like Aldo too I love Aldo I’m obsessed with Aldo I LOVE THIS MAN!!!!

BERNARDO MAKES HIS CAMEO!!

Yes finally! I get to update their designs!!

Braddock screentime because she deserves it.

Hahahahaha the Claws were a GREAT idea in canon but when I take from canon i can’t just let it be fine and dandy, I gotta ruin everything <3

Yes!! We’ve officially Passed True Colors era, which is marked by the arrival of Polly Plantar’s L E G G S

Super proud of Marcy for finally having a cape that isn’t torn! Although I did like the torn cape, maybe I’ll find a way to rip it in future chaps >:3

I had to give sasharcy SOME soft moments cause god knows I can’t live without them.

Orange :) Eye :)) Door :)))

Rip sasharcy there it goes

There Marcy goes too haha

EVERYONE WHO WAS HATING ON STRENGTH BETTER BE ASHAMED OF THEMSELVES NOW (no it’s ok I did that on purpose to cause all of you emotional damage)

Here comes the Collar again 👏👏 my favorite Angst Device!

YEAH I HAD JUST REREAD PMIT CHAP 2 AND I WAS LIKE “HOW BOUT I MAKE MYSELF CRY” so then I Did :’)))

So sad to see Sasha and the Plantars separate :(

Oh yes the languages. Do I have a plan for that? You bet I do!! Have fun translating that shit, Marce <3

Sashannarcy separates for real this time, SO tragic

Go Get That Crown Sashy >:)

BARREL MY BELOVED MAKES HIS DEBUT can you tell I’m obsessed with this man cause I’m obsessed with this man

Haha oh, that Crown

BECAUSE I LOVE CLIFFHANGERS!! NOW WHOS READY TO GET A NEW CHAPTER THAT DOESNT ADDRESS THE CLIFFHANGER WHATSOEVER CAUSE I AM!!!! ;)

As always, thank u for the ask hehehehe I enjoyed ur reactions <3

[sassytrickster666]

Fluff alphabet : Donny Donowitz

A while back I saw a couple of templates this Fluff Alphabet concept is based on. Unfortunately I cannot remember which(really not intentional, id never copy ideas/templates on purpose) . If you think I've gotten inspired reading your work, please let me know! 

A = Admiration (What does he absolutely adore/admire about you?)

-Your ability to always stay calm. It amazes him how you stay calm no matter what happens. When there's an emergency you´re able to keep your shit together and do something about it. 

-How ballsy you are. You can't stand when people are being a jerk for no reason and you call them out even if they are twice your size. 

-Your reliability. Donny knows you will always be there for him. A thought that calms him and makes him feel warm and fuzzy. You won´t leave him for no reason. You comfort him when he needs it (even if he says he doesn't) and you support him. 

B = Baby (Does he want a family? Why/why not?)

Yes. Yes. Yesssssss. I cannot express how much this man wants to start a family with his one great love.  Even with all the crap he has seen, the idea of bringing something as pure and innocent as a baby into this world with you is very appealing. 

When you're pregnant he´d be giddy. Completely and wholly his. He'd spoil his princess even more than usual. Extra pillow underneath your head, accompanying you everywhere, opening up doors for you. Honestly, his ´helpfulness´ drives you crazy sometimes. 

C = Cuddle (how do you cuddle each other?)

-Big spoon. Every time. Tends to throw his leg over yours in his sleep, which in turn makes sure you´re not going anywhere. -Very intense cuddler. Likes to surprise you by grabbing/cuddling you from behind and lifting you up (especially when there's other people present like his friends).

-Really loves it when you snuggle up against him, laying your head on his chest. When you do this it is another reassurance that you feel utterly and completely safe and relaxed when you are with him. 

D =Doll (What pet names does he use?)

Doll, babe, sugar, cutiepie , and his favourite; princess.

E = evenings (how do they spend their evening? So they go out? Do they read?)

While he loves hanging out with the boys he loves it even more when you join them. You get along really well with Wicki and Aldo so why wouldn't he try to take you with him? As soon as you guys had the baby he preferred just staying home with you both being wholesome and all. 

F = first date (what was it like?)

He took you out to play pool. After both of you getting over your nerves there was lots of banter. He discovered you were better at it than he expected you to be. Tough, you totally did pretend you sucked at first so he had no choice but to show you how to play. He didn't mind ´having´ to be so close to you one bit. 

G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?)

He tries to be. He is such a bull in a china shop. He's big, he's loud… and secretly quite clumsy. The sheer amount of times he accidentally headbutted you is astounding. He makes up for it by giving you the gentlest of kisses on you forehead when he leaves for work or simply thinks you're being cute. 

H = Hands (How does he like to hold hands?)

He likes holding hands, but he prefers it when you hook your arm through his. What can I say, he likes having you close to him. It also makes it easier for him to sneak kisses. 

I = Impression (What was his first impression?)

The basterds introduced the two of you. He thought you were hella pretty and had a good sense of humour. The fact that you could hold your own around these men sure said something about you too. 

J = Jealous (Does he get jealous easily?) Depends who gets close to you. He never gets jealous when any of the other basterds get near you. You could have Aldo hanging around your neck and Wicki winking at you and he won't give it a second thought. He trusts these boys with anything. However, these are not things strange men should do if they like having nuts. Or eating without a straw. Seriously, he knows you can handle yourself perfectly fine but he just doesn't trust others. He knows what men are capable of and he is protective AF. No one gets near his princess. Not that anyone that knows this huge man belongs to you would try anything. 

K = Kiss (How does he kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?)

He kissed you on the lips first. You´d kissed his cheek long before that. You usually did when saying goodbye. This time he just couldn't help himself. You were so close to him, laughing at his jokes, touching his arm. He kissed you firmly on the lips, waiting for a response from you. Once you realised what was happening and kissed him back he immediately grabbed you and held you close to him, deepening it. 

Donny is a passionate kisser and never passes up a chance to kiss you hello or goodbye or goodnight. He also likes to kiss you to assert his dominance over other men. 

L = Love (Who said I love you first?)

He looooooves going picknicking with you. Just chilling out in the park or in the woods, enjoying some good food and each other's company. It was one of the first dates you went on and he will never forget the way you looked in your navy coloured dress, smiling up at him. It was the moment he realised he would never let you go. That he loves you to bits. It took him another week or so to casually tell you this when going to bed. As if it weren't anything significant or interesting. 

M=Mad (Do you often disagree? What happens if you do?)

You do tend to bicker about the stupidest things. But it's a nice way of bickering. It's usually playful and you just try to convince one another. If you do actually get in a fight, Donny gets uncharacteristically quiet. To be honest, it kind of scares you, even though he would never do anything to hurt you. After you've cooled off he comes up to you to make up. 

N = no (what is their pet peeve?)

Loud chewing, rude people, people that clip their nails in public, and socks that get lost in the laundry. WHERE DO THEY GO??? 

O = Orange (which color reminds him of you?)

This is so utterly fucking cheesy, but the colour that reminds him most of you is red. It is the colour of love. Donny always has been and will be a sucker for cheesy things. He also likes to ask you if it hurt when you fell from heaven. Get matching coffee cups. 

P = parent (what kind of parent would they be?)

He's quite protective of his kids, especially of his baby girl. Real papa Bear material. I pity the boy that wants to date his daughter…. He can be tough at times, especially when they did something he really dislikes like being disrespectful or lying. He would never hurt his kids but he would ground them in a heartbeat. That said, he would do anything for his kids as he´d do for you. 

Q = Queasy (How they handle being sick or you being sick)

When you get sick, he's such a sweetheart. He fluffs your pillow, gets you medicine and attempts to make you soup to help you feel better (he can't cook to save his life, so you can imagine how well that went). You often tell him you can actually get around and so some chores with a bit of a temperature or a simple stomach ache. He won't have any of that though. 

Donny doesn't get sick often, but when he does he is such a man about it. 

R = Rainy Day (what does he like to do with you on rainy days?) Stay in. Get cozy. Play games. Have friends over. Have some drinks.

S = smile (what makes them smile without fail) Your face when you have to get out of bed in the morning: a slightly grumpy, sleepy bed head looking up at him. You being overly excited about a pet or animal. You surprising him with a hug.

T = together (how clingy are they? How long do you two spend together per day on average)

Donny works quite a lot and he works hard. He takes care of his family and likes to spend a good amount of time with them (he takes you with him of course ). You don't have a lot of alone time. However, as soon as he comes home from work he quickly makes his way to you to sweep you up in his arms and shows you how much he missed you during the day. He then spends the next half hour following you around in the kitchen.  

U = Unencumbered (what helps him relax?) Doing sports (have you seen him?), having fun with friends, he also finds watching you cook or bake (and eatin it afterwards) very relaxing and mostly, actually, having sex. 

V = videos (do they take lots of videos or photos during your relationship?)

He keeps a photograph of you with him wherever he goes. It's his lucky charm. You two also keep a small photo album with photos of the most important moments. This includes some pictures of him and the guys, pictures of your wedding day and pictures of your family and kids. 

W = Wedding (What is your wedding like?)

It's a given that Donny likes to joke around and pull crazy shit. Not on his wedding day he doesn't. He is a nervous wreck when getting ready. He takes everything going well very seriously. What will you look like? Will you have gotten cold feet at the thought of spending your entire life with his crazy, annoying ass. Are they stupid and ungrounded thoughts? 100 percent. Do they successfully drive him nuts and jittery? Definitely. And definitely a couple sips of Aldo´s bourbon worthy. The wedding itself was pretty simple. The people you loved were there. Traditions were honored and the food was good. Donny couldn't hold back the tiny tear that slipped down his cheek when he saw you in your dress.  

X = eXtra (what’s an interesting fact about them that they don’t tell anyone about?) Once upon a time when you were dating he decided to steal your bathrobe to open the door for the delivery guy and he kind of never stopped stealing your bathrobe. Have in mind your bathrobe is really big (for you) and pink. And Fluffy. And Donny is a tall man so it comes up to just about the middle of his hairy thigh. It's hilarious that you actually had to buy yourself a new one.

Y = yuck (what do they hate? Could be a food, sent, word anything)

This isn't really a hard one honestly. The thing he hates most in this world are nazis and bigots alike. It makes his blood boil like nothing else. 

Other things he hates are: people that are unnecessarily rude or disrespectful, wet socks, and smelly cheeses. 

Z = Zebra (if he wanted a pet, what would he get?)

A dog. He thinks they´re great companions, and you can get crazy with them. Also, he wants a big dog. He doesn't get along with cats at all. Wouldn't know how to act around them. He always gets scratched.

[angelaiswriting]

Closer | Hugo Stiglitz x fem!reader

✏️ Pairing: Hugo Stiglitz x fem!reader

✏️ Summary: stranded in a spooky village, Stiglitz confesses his feelings, but she’s caught off-guard and panics. Back at the base, though, she’d like to see where the future takes them. (Requested by my new and unexpected love for this man)

✏️ Prompts by peaskyblonders (link below): # 4, 5, 7, 19, 20

✏️ A/N: the truth is, I should write more blowjobs instead of fearing new fandoms. HAHA. Italics are supposed to be German (unless it’s for emphasis). Prompts used are in bold. Kudos to @kind-wolf​ for throwing this new obsession at me without warning 💛 Also, please, for the love of all that is holy, listen to Closer by Kings of Leon (it probably has close to nothing to do with this story, but I had it on loop as I wrote and it’s absolutely stunning  – and it did give me a title in a time of need).

✏️ Warnings: 18+ ONLY (oral m/r, sex... haha + mentions of a bullet wound and of someone who’s not a pro poking around in it + plot... eh, kinda there, kinda a decoration lol)

✏️ Word-count: 4,785

“Stop whining, it’s just a bullet!”

The voices in the room gradually quiet down to a churchyard silence when Y/N groans, surgical pliers still poking around in the hole in Smithson Utivich’s leg and face set into a frown. English sounds weird on her tongue, almost cut down with the wrong kind of knife, and there’s no safe hiding place for her German origins.

‘It’s just a bullet’ in my fucking leg – they all know those are the words Utivich was about to spit out like burning venom before he opts for the safest solution, the one that lies in silence. There’s a reason if her German accent keeps on being so prominent when she speaks English and that’s because she just does not speak English unless she absolutely has to. She’s more similar to Stiglitz in this than anyone would ever dare express out loud – she either speaks German or French, or she doesn’t speak at all.

“I should leave it in here,” she mutters again when Utivich’s leg jolts up and someone – Andy – has to step forward and keep it pushed down on the table. “You’d deserve it, stupid idiot.”

“It was an accident,” Smithson mumbles, voice low and full of embarrassment. Just half an hour ago he had been outside by a fire, drinking with the guys, until Donny convinced him to play some trick with what should have been an unloaded gun. “And you don’t have to take it out, we can wait for Wicki.”

When the door opens, everybody turns into its direction holding their breath, but it’s not Wicki.

“What happened here?” Aldo asks, brows set into an unconvinced frown as his gaze lands on Utivich first and then Y/N.

“Stupid Americans, that’s what happened.” But then she sighs, shrugs her shoulders, and pulls the bullet out of the man’s wound. “Children shouldn’t play with guns,” she glares. “Someone get off their ass and go call a fucking nurse.”

When half the men in the room scramble out, almost stepping on each other’s feet, Aldo Raine steps forward. He’s expression is set and unreadable as he examines Smith’s leg and a couple of minutes go by before he speaks again. “I need you and Stiglitz on a mission. I have an informer down south that says there’s a couple of Nazis you two might have the pleasure to take out.”

*

“How’s our exit?” Stiglitz asks, crouching down next to Y/N and taking the binoculars she’s passing him. She’s tense and he can see right through her façade, right through that ‘I don’t fear this has all gone to shit’ mask she’s been wearing for the past few days.

“Still no sign of our guy,” comes her whisper when he finally brings the field glasses to his face and stares off into the distance. “I’m scared, Stiglitz,” she confesses right after, before that temporary bravery stops her from opening up like that. “I have a bad feeling about this. It’s the same I had the day we got arrested.”

He says nothing to that, just stares at the horizon for another minute before he hands her back the binoculars and moves to sit down, his back against the wall of the abandoned house. It’s a spooky village, the one they’re using as their hideout, and the temperature during the day has already started to scratch like an angry cat. Winter is approaching quickly and right there, in the skeleton of what was once somebody’s home, there’s no running away from it.

“I should have gone myself,” she goes on as she scoots closer to him in search of some warmth. “Raine doesn’t know how these people work. You just can’t trust them. He thinks he can, but…” Her rambling dies down and he knows she’s thinking back to that night she’s had to take a bullet out of Utivich’s leg. He doesn’t know how he knows, he just does. He’s worked with her long enough to just be able to understand how her mind works.

“We’ll get back.” It sounds like a promise on his lips and whether he means it as such or not, it’s met with a soft sigh as she relaxes against his side, her head falling back in surrender against the wall. We’ll get back, the words echo in his mind and he does his best to believe them like she at least pretends to.

Neither of them says it out loud, but that’s why they’ve always worked solo – or just with each other after they met back in Bavaria. They’re good at this, good at driving Nazis out, and even better at taking them out. Not as good as the Basterds consider them, but they get the job done and move on to the next name on the list. They jump from name to name and never collab with anyone – or so it used to be before their arrest. Now they’re made to trust other people and that’s just not what they’re used to. You don’t go trust the next person; you don’t lay your life in their hands if you don’t know who they are and what they’ve done to survive.

“You should try and get some sleep,” he says when her stomach complains. Had they known how things would go, they would have packed more food. But they’ve had to ration what little they managed to stash into their backpacks before fleeing the town Raine had sent them to, and now they have to face the consequences. “I’ll keep watch, wake you up in a few hours.”

The old boards of the parquet creak under his boots when he stands up but it almost feels like those are his bones, turned cold and brittle by the still young winter. It’s surely not that long, but the last time he’s laid down feels like it belongs to a past life. A split second before he takes the first step forward, toward one of the rifles they left in a corner of the room with their stuff, her fingers wrap around his wrist and he’s rooted to the spot.

“How long has it been since you slept?” She tugs his arm when she stands up, inhaling sharply when half of her weight comes to rest on the foot she sprained the day before. And even though she’s been trying to shrug it off – because that’s what she does: she clenches her jaw and moves forward, that’s how it’s always been and probably how it always will be – he knows it’s been bothering her every time they move.

And much like her, he shrugs his shoulders once, frees his hand from her gentle grasp, and moves to pick his rifle up. It’s always a comforting weight in his arms but as he peeks from the empty hole that had once been a window, the heavy clouds in the sky make it feel like some sick kind of doom.

“Don’t do this, Stiglitz. Don’t close me off again.”

He doesn’t turn around when he corrects her – Hugo, not Stiglitz.

You never let anyone call you that – that’s what the look in her eyes tells when he eventually turns around and finds her staring at him. He’s been with her long enough and after a while, you just start reading people. All the unspoken words are paint strokes on a face that’s better than an open book; on a face that’s more like a canvas.

“Hugo.” The smile that stretches her lips is the tired shadow of what he knows could fool Nazis before he stepped in, his weapon of choice in his hands. “You go to sleep. I’m fine, really. By the looks of it,” she continues, hinting at the sky with a movement of her head as she stretches her arm out for him to hand her the rifle, “no one will come: it’s going to start snowing soon.”

*

He wakes up to a snow-clad scenery outside the open window – and to snowflakes dancing in the chilly air a few meters from him, in that opening (one of many) nobody’s stuck around long enough to fix. The snowflakes flutter as they fall, and it almost looks like white flour. It’s been a while since he last saw flour with his own eyes and that’s what tears him from the cozy embrace of slumber and brings him back to reality.

The smoky tendrils of a past life still alive in his dreams are still caressing the edges of his mind, though, faint echoes that mix together into unintelligible whispers. They stuff him with cotton and he needs a few minutes to feel the hard floor underneath his back, the chilly air biting at his cheekbones and nose.

There’s enough light for it to be day already and as that realization dawns down on him, wrapped as he is in his cold blanket, he jolts up to sitting.

“No one came, I told you.”

His head turns to the side so quickly he gets whiplash.

“And it snowed all night.” Her eyes are sunken in, her eyelids heavy with missed sleep and the constant worries that are gnawing at her from the inside and from which he still hasn’t managed to distract her. Shoulders weighed down by an invisible weight, she looks smaller and less dangerous than she really is.

“You didn’t wake me up.” His voice is still drowsy; the words don’t roll as freely on his tongue, so the accusation comes out as a simple observation.

She smiles. I never said I would, the faint twinkle in her eyes seems to say. “We’re waiting one more day,” she decides as she comes to a stand, stiffened hands still holding onto the rifle she’s hugged to her chest like a child the whole night. “But tomorrow at dawn we’re leaving, I don’t care about Raine’s spy.”

Silence settles again between them when she sits down next to him, in the corner further away from the chilly winds outside. They share her last chocolate bar, something she’s clung on to ever since she won it at poker more than two weeks ago. He stares at her as she eats, her head resting against the wall and her eyes closed. There’s a tear trickling down her cheek and it takes the dust that has settled on her skin away.

“I think I might be falling in love with you.” His confession hangs in the air, in the closed space between them. And all he can do is stare as that tear slowly rolls down her cheekbone. He can’t even remember when the last time he ate chocolate was and now that he has a piece in his hands, he can’t even chew on it.

Her eyes open slowly and she looks at him almost from underneath her lashes, her head still tilted back and at an angle. For the first time, he can’t read them as they focus on him, bore right into him.

He’s a man of few words. He opens up, but only with the right people and only so much. And he knows she’s just the same – bad at opening up, but not at talking – she talks maybe too much at times and while it would annoy him if it were someone else, he’s alright with her babbling on and on. About the weather, about the next target, about how stupid people are, how hungry she is, but never about before. Who she was, what she did, where she lived, whom she loved – those are still well-guarded secrets, and Stiglitz is not one to pry.

“Don’t.” She swallows hard eventually, almost as though she’s trying to swallow down her voice – or his confession. “There’s a war out there.” Her eyes move to his right, to the blown-open window behind him on the opposite side of the room. “People are dying.” Her jaw clenches and as she swallows, he sees her struggle, her attempt at not crying. “If something happens…”

He sits in silence, eyes set on her as hers try to avoid him. They do their best but ‘their best’ doesn’t seem to cut it, not this time.

“We fuck, that’s it. Just… fuck, from time to time.” It’s a whisper and her lower lip quivers as his words still shake her bones. When did war stop being scary? When did love become something to fear? Neither of them knows. Was it the first time they killed? The first time they enjoyed it? The moment they understood they had to keep on doing it in order to survive?

When she turns to look at him, it’s a desperate animal the one sitting in front of him. Her eyes beg him to stop, to take it all back, because they both know where that if something happens is bound to end. And it’s not six feet under, but rather, somewhere up there, on the surface; face up or face down into the mud, it doesn’t really matter. Maybe that’s what brought her to murder, he reasons for a second; maybe she’s lost someone she loved and that turned her into a spy and a murderer that knows no mercy.

Her hand is trembling as it digs into the pocket of his jacket, the one where she keeps cigarettes – they’re usually for him, but she never turns down a smoke, either. He knows it’s empty, for they smoked their last one two days ago, a crumpled up cigarette that seemed to last less than a minute that day.

“I’ll check the perimeter,” he eventually says, laying the last of his chocolate bar in her hands. He doesn’t meet her eyes, doesn’t utter another word as he takes the revolver from his pallet and leaves the room.

*

Three days later they’re both back at the camp base – no resentment between them, just the usual, content silence of two people that don’t always need to talk to work just fine. But while everything seems normal on the surface and they both enjoy the welcome-back celebrations at the tavern, they’re both lost in their own thoughts.

Hugo has stopped thinking about the fact that maybe he made a mistake when he confessed his feelings to her.  Because she was right – there is a war out there, and it’s not even that far away, no matter how distracting the passing of shots of alcohol might now be. He stopped being a sentimentalist years ago, but if there’s a conclusion he’s come to, it’s that it’s better to spend your last days next to the people you love than running away from them.

There’s a couple of occasions in which he almost told her that.

The first was when they found a working telephone. Clothes soaked by snow and weapons now heavier than their backpacks, they sat in that empty house for hours, after calling one of Raine’s safe numbers, some French family collaborating with the Allies on the other end of the line. He had fixed the makeshift splint keeping her ankle in place and had reasoned, for the first time, that she shouldn’t have come, not this time.

The second was when they got back and the nurse managed to take her in only after the debriefing. She had smiled a I’ll find you later as Wicki dragged him away and the first thought his mind could form had been that he was glad that she seemed to always be able to find him anywhere.

But even though they’re sitting right next to each other now, shoulder pressed against shoulder as everyone seems like they want to sit at the same table, he can’t turn around and shake her awake. Why would he, though?

“We thought we’d never see the two of you again!” Donowitz is tipsy already and he doesn’t seem to notice how his drink sloshes out of his glass every time he moves his arm to gesticulate as he speaks. “Fucking bastards! You have nine lives, just like cats!”

Wicki’s laughter seems to drown out the roaring of the celebrations when he laughs. “I told them you’d both come back on your legs, still breathing,” he chuckles in German.

Y/N joins Wilhelm’s burst of laughter and then turns to her left and smiles up at him. It’s a weird thing, it reaches her eyes more than it does her lips and she seems on the verge of saying something before she shakes her head once and finishes her beer.

*

It’s midnight when she knocks at his door. Her knocking seems to echo through the whole once-abandoned house the Basterds converted into a place to stay, at least temporarily, for everyone’s still out drinking the winter away.

“I didn’t mean to turn you down,” are the words that greet him when he opens the door. He’s still only half-dressed after the bath he’s finally managed to take. “Back in that house. I got scared at the idea of something that might not even happen and I’ve spent the past few days thinking about what a gigantic fool I’ve been when I said those things. You took me off-guard because I thought I’d never love again, but…” She breathes in sharply and looks up at him, stares right into his eyes for the first time as she realizes she’s been rambling again. “Can I come in?”

Hugo nods and takes a step to the side before closing the door behind her. “You don’t have to say anything. I understand.”

“Oh, you and Wicki have a heater.” It’s soft and he almost misses it, but it’s gone before he can reply and she’s already back on the topic she’s most likely come to discuss. “I don’t know what I feel for you.” She doesn’t turn around when she speaks. Instead, she holds her hands close to the stove and sighs under her breath before she squares her shoulders again. “But I would like to find out, when we win this war. A while after you left, Raine started talking about how we’re all going to America when we take out the High Command and I realized that I could leave all of them behind but I couldn’t leave you.”

“I never considered the idea of leaving before.” He moves to stand next to her and hangs the towel he’s used on one of the hangers above the heater. “But we could,” he nods, turning towards her.

She’s looking at him this time, tired eyes staring at him from an even more tired face. But before she can add anything, he pulls her in and kisses her. He’s always preferred actions over words – words can be misinterpreted, but some actions…

Her hands are trembling when they move over his hips and then up his back, over the scars ridging his skin. She’s one of the few who’ve seen them – he’s not ashamed of them, but he does feel weird at the idea of showing them to others. It felt natural with her, though, almost as though they weren’t even there to begin with, the first time they slept together fully naked. It just, happened, it fell into place like anything else about her. She just fits in his arms, to his side, and when he’s inside her, his hips grinding against hers as they both lose themselves into each other and forget for a few precious moments what their survival revolves around.

“How’s your foot?” he asks in between kisses when he picks her up to lay her down onto his bed.

“Foot’s fine, don’t worry about it,” she laughs, her tone getting louder when he just drops her onto the mattress. Her laughter dies down when he settles between her legs, props himself up above her, his nose barely brushing hers. She smiles as he observes her, swipes his gaze across her features and breathes her in.

He contemplates saying something, but whatever innocence he had left at the beginning of his story has been swept away with his words by the things he’s done. He only moves when she speaks again – Kiss me, Hugo. That he does; he leans down and presses his lips against hers for a moment before his tongue comes out to swipe along her lower lip.

Her knuckles brush against his chest every time her hands move as they unbutton her shirt, a too-big garment she’s been given by God knows who. By the time she’s reached the last button and his mouth has moved down along her jaw and her neck to kiss her chest, she’s panting lightly, her hands wrapped around his biceps as he smiles against her skin.

She’s warm and smooth, even though there are irregular scars marking her skin. Just like his, they never matter, and even less when they get into bed together. His fingers just caress her and she this close to him is the only thing that truly matters in this moment. He kisses her collarbones, nudges his nose against the side of a breast before he allows himself to close his eyes and take a nipple into his mouth.

He feels the moan more than he hears it, it vibrates deep into her chest and almost buzzes against his lips as her fingers rake upward through his short hair. There’s a breathy moan of his name before his kisses and licks move lower down.

“I know for sure that I’m falling in love with you.” He’s serious when he says it, fingers fumbling with the button and zipper of her pants. Then, as he drags them down her legs with her underwear, he smiles at her. Sometimes he thinks that he only remembers how to smile when she’s around, almost as though she’s always able to swap his grimace with an actual sign of happiness.

She smiles back at him – at his words, at how caringly he removes her left boot, almost as though his only priority is not to revive the dull pain in her ankle. And then at how he covers her body once again, at how he looks down at her with that unreadable expression of his that just makes her fall for him a bit more every time.

It’s not love – she doesn’t want to call it love, but it sure does make her feel all warm inside as it tugs at the corners of her mouth even now, with her fingertips lightly tracing the lines of his face. Forehead, cheekbones, jaws, and then his lips, and he smirks when she outlines them.

When she pushes him onto his back and she moves over him, straddles his thighs, it’s sudden and unexpected, but surely not unwelcome, and he lets her do. His hands move up her thighs and hold onto her hips, and her bare body above him somehow makes his heart swell with pride. A thought crosses his mind, but it lasts only for a fraction of second before she leans down and pecks his lips once, and then once more – yeah, he could do this all day every day, even in America, if it means staying by her side.

Her lips trail down the column of his throat, then, before moving to the crook of his neck. She kisses and suckles as she grinds down against him, and he doesn’t care if he’ll have marks tomorrow – he won’t, because they’re both careful, but one day he’s sure he will – and she will as well.

She says something then, something he doesn’t catch, before she takes his hands in hers and moves further down his body, leaves kisses all over his chest and belly. For a moment, they both giggle, and she looks up at him with those eyes of hers that just, make him forget about the war and the Basterds and anything in-between.

She’s quick at unbuttoning his pants, but not so much at taking them off his body. She takes her time, and the lower she pulls them, the more kisses she leaves on his navel and then thighs. It’s funny and sexy at the same time, and when he’s fully naked and she’s kneeling between his legs again, that’s truly all he craves for at the moment.

“Come here,” he says, but she shakes her head, a smirk tugging at her lips, and bends down towards him.

He’s hard in her hands and when her lips press a kiss to the underside of his dick, he groans in the back of his throat. The muscles in his thighs tense when she takes him in her mouth, and his exhale is shaky as he does his best not to move his hands over her head.

It’s slow and slippery as she focuses on the head of his dick – suckles and kisses and licks, before taking him deeper every now and then, her hand slowly working the rest of his erection. Hugo Stiglitz is rarely ever vocal in the bedroom, but when someone – when she – is going down on him…

“Fuck.” Quick and breathy, almost like a half-formed word, that ‘fuck’ leaves his lips when she moans around him.

His breath almost hitches in his throat when she pulls up and smiles at him while repositioning to straddle his thighs again. He’s still in her hand and no matter how hard he tries, he can’t bring himself to look away from that sight. It lasts less than he thinks it does, though, because before he has the time to move his hands over her hips again, she’s sinking down on him.

She’s warm, and wet, and when she rests her left hand on his chest to balance herself as she takes all of him into her, her hands are wet.

His hips thrust up at the mental picture of her fingering herself and as he does so, she almost loses her balance. They both giggle, but when he moves to sit up, she pushes him back down and grinds her hips against his.

“Stay down,” she whispers against his skin, lips brushing right next to his left nipple before she leaves a kiss there.

The rhythm she sets is slow and sensual, something neither of them is used to – or has been used to for a while, now. It’s a nice change compared to the usual, almost-too-quick routine that’s just hunger and desperate, desperate need. It’s good, and Hugo Stiglitz finds himself relaxing underneath her, for once, hands moving from her hips to her back when she presses herself down against him. His hips start thrusting up into her, and he does his utmost best to keep it just as slow, but the feel of her around him just drives him delirious. 

Her lips latch onto his pulse point again and when she starts licking and sucking, he swears his temperature spikes up. His head leans back into the pillows, neck almost arching, and his thrusts get quicker and snappier the tighter he holds her against himself. Her breathing grows shorter and every time he thrusts up, he can hear as her moans get stuck in her throat.

It’s a while later that the door creaks open and Wicki slurs Stiglitz’s name in his drunken, post-celebratory state. Hugo hums in acknowledgment, but his eyes are closed and there’s still a smile on his lips.

“Hugo,” Y/N whispers against the side of his neck, still naked and still laying between his arms, one leg thrown over his hips as his own leg rests between hers.

He nods his head against hers, but she knows he’s already falling asleep. They went at it again as soon as he flipped their positions over, and she should have known better than to agree on spending the night.

She whispers his name again when Wicki starts fumbling over the words of a song she doesn’t recognize, too distorted by his drunkenness. “Please, Hugo, you know he can’t hold his liquor!”

“Y/N!” Wicki almost yells her name when he finally switches on the light and finds her in his friend’s bed. “‘S good to see you again.”

She’s quick at turning back around, pulling the blanket over herself to cover her body from the other man’s eyes. “Stiglitz, come on! You need to wake up. I can’t do this without you.” But when she tilts her head up on the pillow and her eyes land on Hugo and that faint smile of his still plastered to his lips, she knows there’s no way in hell he’s waking up again soon.

Feel free to leave feedback xo I hope Stiglitz wasn’t too OOC but the truth is, idgaf, I just had to write about the man of my dreams haha

Links: prompts by peaskyblonders https://peaskyblonders.tumblr.com/post/622451655662845952/random-prompt-list // photo used for the banner https://www.pexels.com/it-it/foto/albero-freddo-ghiacciato-innevato-909016/

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[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

Rogue Whisper (Donny Donowitz x Fem!Reader)

Requested by @marlenemarauders

A/N Reader is Jewish & Polish

TRIGGER WARNING: Holocaust/Death

@owba-chan @war-obsessed @inglourious-imagines @tealaquinn @struggling-bee @frozenhuntress67 @kwyloz @sodapop182 @marlenemarauders @what-the--curtains @taikawho

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_________ ***1939*** Only your eyes were visible, peering over a scarf that belonged to your mother, and under a wool hat to keep you warm. It was the only thing you had from home, now. You scanned the unknown. Your heart raced. Everything ached. Most of all, your heart. Words could not even begin to describe the heaviness... All you could do was run, and never look back. The same prayer running in your mind, sunrise to sunset. Even in the dreams you did have, you found the same words racing through your mind, in an attempt to find some solace. "Reisepass." 'Passport' The nazi sitting at the table demanded without so much as looking up.

After so many days running, the words were now muddled, as the skies were blurred with your tears. You could not speak.

You blinked, and hesitated for a moment too long. He looked back up, his barking "Reisepass!" You were hardly able to whisper, your heavy eyes burned with rage now that there were no more tears, "Tut mir leid." 'I am sorry.' Your voice was so quiet at that point, he didn't even notice your accent. He looked at the picture on the document, then looked back up at you. "Dein Name? Alter?" 'Name? Age?' Some day, you could tell someone your true name, but for now, you only repeated the details that had been forged to save your life. Your heart shattered leaving Poland and your family behind, but if you turned now to find a sign of them, it would all fall apart. All of this would be in vain. You took a breath, and looked at the nazi, as you gripped the gun hidden in your coat. It would have to wait. Some other time... He looked at you then back at the passport as he brought down a stamp. Your heart skipped a beat. "Nächster." 'Next.' ***1943***

The basterds were sitting around a fire, talking about rumors and stories they'd heard during the war. Hugo took a long drag from his cigarette before remarking, "There are others like me." He spoke with certainty, but added nothing else. He didn't need to. The basterds believed him. He had always been a man of few words. Those that he did say were always enough.

But this time, he had something more to say. He looked up, as if he could see his memories come to life. When he was in prison, he'd heard a rumor. Something that was terrifying the nazis stationed all over Europe. "Whoever it is, is not part of any rebellion or resistance that we know of, but seemed highly skilled. Trained." He took another drag from the cigarette. Omar looked up, smirking a little. He was always skeptical of these stories. Frankly, he didn't believe half of what was said about Hugo until he met him. "By who?" Hugo shrugged, "No one knows. A rogue soldier, perhaps. But whose soldier, was the question. Sightings and killings started in Poland, in 1940, or '41. It depends on who you ask. They were always the same. A sniper." "So it's some Polish kid who didn't think the resistance was enough and went rogue." Hugo shook his head, "Nazis almost caught whoever it was. Someone claimed to have shot them, and maybe that was true, because there was no more signs of the sniper in Poland." Omar shrugged, "So the sniper got away and might've died. Or someone's lying." "They would have found a body, asshole." Donny muttered as Wicki passed a bottle of whisky to him. "And woulda fucken paraded it around to scare people from rebelling too." Hugo nodded, "Maybe. But after that, there were nazis killed by a single sniper all over Slovakia, then in Bohemia, a few in Berlin, Paris, and back. Whoever it is started to move around, so nazis all over Europe were scared." "This sniper got a name?" Aldo asked, intrigued with the idea of finding such a talent. He did, of course, pride himself in having an eye for that kind of talent. "The story goes that the Polish resistance called the sniper Szelest." Hirschberg looked up groggily, "What the hell's that?"

"I don't speak Polish." Utivich straightened up, furrowing his brows, with a quiet 'Hm...' His grandmother was from Poland, and he remembered a thing or two. "It means a whisper or rustling. Something like that."

Aldo  nodded with a sly smirk, "Not too shabby." **************

Some time passed, and the basterds had gotten into some trouble. Honestly, it was looking a little grim, as their mission was botched and they were all being held at gunpoint by nazis. The nazis' taunts stopped cold, as they all heard something like a whisper in the winter wind that snaked through the tree branches. "Wer ist da?" 'Who's there?"

There was silence then, as snowflakes began to fall again, covering that morning's fall. The nazi stepped away from his group, again demanding to know who was there, only to be met with a new sound, familiar to every single soldier in the war. The sound of a gun. The unmistakable sound of a sniper. One, two, three, four shots. Seven dead nazis. One left alive, but screaming in pain as a bullet sliced through his hands, forcing him to drop his weapon. He whispered shakily, through a terrified sob, and wide, ghostly eyes, "Szelest..." Hugo turned around quickly, searching for any sign of a sniper, but found nothing. Smitty, Hirschberg, and Omar circled around, but also saw nothing. Aldo called out, "Hello?!"

The only response was an echo. The last surviving nazi whimpered, blood trailing from his hands, smearing on the white snow that caked the forest ground as he crawled, desparately trying to reach his gun. Wicki saw, and stepped on his hand, causing him to scream. Wicki paid no attention, he looked to his lieutenant, waiting for orders, "Aldo?" Aldo was still looking intently at the distance, thinking aloud, "Whoever it is must've known we like leavin' a witness too...If that sniper don't come out, why the hell else would they leave one of 'em alive?"

Smitty nodded, as he took a coat from a dead nazi, shuddering from the cold, "Sounds right to me, sir." Aldo nodded, "Yeah..." He turned around, seeing that all his men were alright, he said "Donny." "Yeah?" "Go 'n see if you can find anythin' about our, uh...friend." Donny nodded once with a sly smirk, "Sir." and trotted off into the hazy white distance, looking for any leads. There were no footsteps... The snow had fallen just enough to cover any up. There was nothing left behind. No trace, not even a... He heard a branch creaking, though the wind had turned to nothing but a soft breeze. He looked up slowly, and saw a figure sitting on a high tree branch, bundled up in clothes meant for trekking through snows like these, with a scarf covering the face. "Hey." Donny grumbled at the lack of response, and shouted, "HEY!" You turned slowly, and looked at him. "Why're you hiding from us?!" You shook your head. You? Hide from the basterds? Ridiculous. "Why didn't you...Why aren't you talkin'? What's-" He trailed off. He had so many questions.... And he realized there was a chance you might not even speak English.

He stammered, trying to scrap together all the words in other langauges he knew. And there wren't very many of them. "Uh...Bonjour? Parle français? Oder Deutsch? We have a guy that uh...Wir haben zwei...uh guys...who can....Uh....Polish, right? Ah fuck...uh...Szelest? That's you, right?" You sighed and leaned against the cool tree bark, "If I were to hide from you, I'd pick a better place than this." His eyes widened, and he tilted his head. He didn't expect to hear a woman's voice. Frankly, he didn't expect yo hear you respond to him at all. He smiled a little, "Guess you're right...So uh, what the fuck are you doin' up there anyway?" "Cleaner shot." He mused with a grin, "See anymore nazis?" Still, he looked up at the great height you'd climbed, wondering how you could have done that in the middle of winter without your hands freezing off, or you slipping. You shook your head. Both of you were silent for a moment, until you tossed something down at him. You threw his baseball bat to his feet, hitting the snow with a thud. He looked up at you, and you said, "I believe this is yours."

He picked it up, without taking his eyes off you, "So you do know who we are..." "There aren't many people in our line of work, sergeant." "So you know who I am?"

You lowered your scarf away from your face, instantly feeling the blisteringly cold air. "Anyone who steps foot in these woods should." He laughed, "Ain't that the goddamn truth, kid." Though he snuck as many glances at you as he could. You noticed, but said nothing. "Look, my lieutenant wants to ask you some questions. Mind comin' down?" In restrospect. Donny would realize how strange that moment in his life was. Talking to a girl with a sniper up in a snow covered tree in the middle of a war? Then again... he'd remember what it was to see you for the first time, and he'd remember what it was like to feel love at first sight. Then, he'd reason it would've been crazy not to talk to you. Back in the present, your response was simple, clean cut, like your shots. "I work alone." "Oh that a fact?" He spoofed, and you crossed your arms, leaning back against the tree. He grumbled, "Look, I know you been followin' us around. There's been one or two shots lately that we can't account for." "You boys are sloppy with your work." "Maybe you can help?" He looked up, genuinely hoping you'd give them a chance. And maybe you would... You jumped down from the tree, landing in the snow expertly, and started heading to the site of your latest kill. Donny was completely in awe, never having seen anything like that in his life. He found himself running after you after being stunned for a moment by all that you were. "So uh...I heard they call you Szelest." "Yes, sir."

"Donny." He was almost insulted that you didn't call him by his name. You glanced at him, and it was clear to him that you were hesitating. "Call me Donny," He smiled kindly. It was the kind of smile you hadn't seen since before 1939. "Yeah..." That smile entrapped you. It took you somewhere safe and warm for a brief moment. "Yeah, Donny." You turned, and kept marching through the snow. The war was far from over, and you still had bullets. "Hey wait a minute!" Donny trotted after you again, wondering why you walked with so much intent, determination. You were quite a bit shorter than him, so it amused him to see you walk that quickly. "Yes?" You half turned, but didn't really look at him. He expected you tell him your name, but upon second thought, he remembered that names in your line of work were prizes. They could be bought and sold, exchanged in trades and deals. One name for another. Still, it was silly, since you knew who he was. "Oh, what? You think I'm gonna tell a dead nazi what your name is?" You laughed. And that was the most at ease Donny had seen you. The most alive. You nodded, with a sigh, agreeing only because he was one of the basterds. "Y/n." He smiled, instantly engraving your name in his heart, "What..." It took him a moment to put himself together, "What rank are ya? What army are you really with?" You looked at him with a sly, amused grin. "Oh...shit...You're not even a rogue soldier. You're just...you're just-" "Good at what I do," you kept walking. "Why?" You stopped in your tracks. You lowered your gaze to the snow below with a sigh. You hadn't spoken to anyone in the past four years or so, aside from classified exchanges of information with a resistance here and there, or asking for a room in a hostel. That was all. It was odd to actually speak to someone, and someone as infamous, inglourious, and...absolutely stunning as that American sergeant. Well... A few words slipped. A few more than you would've liked. "I'm Jewish and I'm Polish, and I haven't been home in years." The one time you were able to go home after your escape, you did not find your family. You did not find anyone. But you knew what had happened. You knew you'd never find them again. That was all you needed to say. Donny put two and two together, and his grip around his bat tightened, his knuckles went white, though his heart sank as he murmured, "Hey..." You shook your head. "There was nothing left for me there..." That was when you started your work. You took your vengeance on those that took everything from you. That was the first rumoring of a rogue soldier, a lost whisper in the winter wind that brought death to nazis and vengeance to thousands. That was where it began. Donny understood. He kept quiet, which he didn't do very often, and walked with you to the team in silence. The cold was beginning to cut your dry lips, so you pulled your scarf back up. You knew that nazi was still alive, so you also pulled your hat down to hide as much of your face as possible. If there was one thing you didn't need, it was for the nazis to get a description of you. The nazi now had a bloody mark on his forehead, and raised his eyes deliriously when he heard your boots pressing on the snow. "S-s-Szelest..." he sobed and stammered in fear when he saw you approaching, sniper behind your back. You turned to the man with the scar on his throat, hands on his hips in accomplishment, and a blood machete.  He turned to Wicki, "Wicki tell that shitface nazi fuck to go 'fore we let our friend here have at him." Wicki didn't even finish translating before the nazi ran off. Aldo sniffed some tobaco, and asked, "You the one they call Szelest?" You nodded. He offered you a cigarette but you declined. "You a damn good shot, you know that kid?" "Thank you, sir." He didn't even bat an eye when he heard your voice. Nothing really surprised him after all he'd seen in his lifetime. "Now...I know you got a lot to offer, aint'cha?" You took off your scarf, and adjusted your hat. "Good set of skills like yours are hard to find. We're down a few men, now..." He took off his own hat out of respect for Andy, Michael, and Simon, "We'd be damn lucky if we could count you as one of us. Now, kid I know workin' alone's got its merits, but I wanna know if you wanna go pro." The rest of the basterds stood still, eagerly waiting to hear your answer, though none more than Sergeant Donny Donowitz. You smirked, and that was answer enough. You marched with the basterds through the forest after that, to a hideout of theirs. By the time you got there, the sun had set. You all ate whatever scraps of food were around, and called it a night. You stayed outside a while longer, by the dying fire, having long befriended the cool and cruel winters. Donny walked by from the east, where there was a river. He'd just taken a bath, and was heading into the hideout. "Aren't you cold?" you mused, as you looked at him through the few embers that were rising. He shrugged, "I'm from Boston." "Does it snow so much there?" He tilted his head, realizing maybe not everyone in the world knew a whole lot about Boston. "Yeah," He smiled a little, as though he could see his neighborhood in the distance, "Yeah, it sure does..." He sank down by you in front of the fire with a sigh. You noticed he'd taken his bat with him, even to the river. You were looking at the names that were written on the surface. He noticed, and handed it over to you. That would shock any of the basterds, who knew to never touch his bat... Frankly it shocked Donny himself, but he couldn't help it, as he explained why those names were there.

"You wanna write some on it?" You smiled, and nodded once. You wrote names of your family there, and gave the bat back to him. L/N. His eyes wandered over the inscription of your last name, then back to you. He smiled, finally knowing your whole name. Y/n L/n. Just another kid fighting in a war that should have ended long ago.

Something about that moment...something about you, the way you looked at him... It seemed to flip a switch in Donny's mind. In that moment, when you gave the bat back, his hand grazed over yours. And in that moment, you became the most important thing to Donny. He couldn't change the past, but he'd make damn sure no one else ever hurt you again. In that moment, the world was at your feet. You glanced away, and cleared your throat, trying not to let him see your world changed in that moment. You took your scarf, and handed it to him, "You'll freeze." In that moment, all he wanted was to give you the stars. He took your scarf, and his smile was warmer than any fire could ever keep you. His eyes were brighter than any star in the sky, "Thanks, kid." You both sat together, silently. By the time the moon was in the middle of the sky, he was holding your hand, and he swore to himself that when the war was over, he'd never let go.

[jake-marshall]

First Line Writer’s Meme

First lines: fic-writers meme

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

Tagged by @beck-a-leck​ I’m taking a bit of liberty with this and using the first line of the most recent chapter for multi-chapter stuff.  I have a feeling I’m going to hate this but oh well let’s see where it goes.   After completing it, I think my favorites are “It’s What’s Underneath that Counts” and “Business is Booming”, lol Tagging anyone who wants to do this!! Putting under Read More.

1. You’re My Light  (RF2 everyone/everyone Collab with @belleofhell; chapter 23 - Barrett/Kyle): “Hey, Barrett!” 2. Safety Off (Inglourious Basterds - Landa/Hellstrom - explicit) Dieter couldn't turn his back on these Frenchmen for a fucking second. 3. Business is Booming (Inglourious Basterds - Modern Retail AU - chapter 4) One of the topics Smitty had discussed at length while drinking with Donny and Aldo had been how time did not exist in the same conceptual structure it did inside Fenech Mall, as it did once you exited it. 4.  Radiance Across the Sky (RF1 + 2 - Cecilia/Kyle) Aaron and Aria couldn't wait to arrive in Kardia and visit the plaza. 5.  My Own Soul’s Warning (Inglourious Basterds - Shosanna/Fredrick) In three days, her dress will be ready. 6. Fortsetzung Folgt (Inglourious Basterds - Landa/Hellstrom - explicit) Hans watches Fräulein Mimieux—or whoever she is—exit the front doors with her Negro employee. 7.  Give Me Something Good to Eat (Harvest Moon: Animal Parade - Luke/Selena) Two notable smells hit Selena as she entered Cornet Carpentry. 8.  Snowball Effect (Story of Seasons 1 - Lutz, Johnny & Melanie gen) When Lutz's mom had warned him about the dangers of staying out in the cold, she likely hadn't been talking about being barraged by snowballs while wandering around Johnny's orchard. 9.  Preoccupied (Inglourious Basterds - Landa/Hellstrom - Explicit; chapter 3 since @canis-raine​ wrote the openings of the other chapters) Hans didn't particularly like kissing, but he loved getting Hellstrom all riled up, and this was the perfect way to do so. 10. Smoke Gets in Your Eyes (Reservoir Dogs - Creamsicle) This isn't the sort of bar Freddy would frequent.

11. coup de foudre (Inglourious Basterds - Shosanna/Marcel) Marcel will never forget the day he meets Emmanuelle Mimieux.

12.  i need somebody so i won’t have to pretend (Reservoir Dogs - Toothpick Bitchslap) “God-fucking-dammit, you want this to heal or not?” 13.  Out With a Bang (Story of Seasons 1 - Fritz/Raeger) Ever since Fritz had moved to Oak Tree Town and become a farmer, it seemed like he learned something new every day. 14.  better wake up and apologize (Reservoir Dogs - Creamsicle) It's the day of the heist. 15.  Bound to Happen (Story of Seasons 1 - Fritz/Raeger - Explicit) There were so many things in life Fritz loved, and if he were to rattle them all off, he'd start with friends, food, birthdays, and Raeger. 16.  The Devil’s Den (Ace Attorney - 1920′s AU; Klavquill) Perhaps he was at the wrong address. 17.  A Different Sort (Harry Potter - Percy Weasley gen) All the other first years were gaping up in awe at Hogwarts on the horizon as the fleet of boats bobbed across the lake. 18.  Like Common People (Story of Seasons 1 - Johnny/Elise - Explicit) "My lady Elise?" 19.  It’s What’s Underneath that Counts (Story of Seasons 1 - Fritz/Raeger - Explicit) It was days like this that Raeger wished he drank. 20.  one two three (HM: Tale of Two Towns - Mikhail/Lillian) "This isn't what I meant by 'practice'," Mikhail whispered, reluctantly pulling away from kissing his girlfriend of two years.

[sagaiisms]

nolan ( @endthrives​ ) says : ‘ it’s because you are the love of my life. no – you are my life.’

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒  𝐈𝐒  𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐇𝐄  𝐇𝐀𝐒  𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃  𝐀𝐍𝐃  𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄.  aldo  had  always  known  it  was  a  possibility.  that  one  day  mr.  church  might  be  walking  into  the  lab  ,  telling  him  bad  news  about  the  soldier  he’s  fallen  in  love  with.  he  never  knew  which  possibility  would  be  worse  :  nolan  being  dead  or  captured  ,  no  longer  who  he  once  was.  maybe  even  in  pieces  because  that’s  how  vile  the  men  they’re  up  against  are.  it’s  bad  enough  they’re  involved  in  bio  -  warfare  but  they  have  to  get  their  hands  dirty  too  ,  have  to  leave  behind  death  &  pain  to  intimidate.  thinking  about  the  possibility  doesn’t  make  it  harder  to  hear  ,  didn’t  stop  him  from  stumbling  backwards  into  his  chair  &  holding  his  head  in  his  hands.  they  would  torture  nolan  to  get  whatever  information  they  could  out  of  him  and  ,  once  that  failed  ,  kill  him.  no  chance  of  a  ransom  &  in  the  beginning  ,  no  chance  of  a  rescue  mission. not  until  aldo  approached  tessa  &  the  bravo  team  ,  laid  down  the  law  with  the  higher  -  ups. 𝐀𝐋𝐃𝐎  𝐌𝐀𝐘  𝐍𝐎𝐓  𝐁𝐄  𝐀  𝐃𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑  𝐁𝐔𝐓  𝐇𝐄  𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐒  𝐈𝐍  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐎𝐀𝐓𝐇  𝐀𝐋𝐋  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐄.  just  like  he  believes  there  are  exceptions  to  all  rules  ,  morals  ,  the  people  that  he  would  do  anything  for.  nolan  is  the  only  one  on  his  list.  he’s  why  he  carries  a  gun  for  the  first  time  since  training.  he’s  why  he  kills  for  the  first  time  ,  no  hesitation  (  because  they  won’t  have  any  either  ).  eventually  what  he’s  done  will  come  crashing  down  on  him.  everyone  he  kills  has  family  ,  friends  ,  those  that  will  miss  them  &  some  that  may  never  find  out  what  had  happened.  but  much  like  when  it  comes  to  any  of  his  goals  ,  he  focuses  on  the  end  ,  not  the  means.  in  this  ,  he’s  finally  the  machine  they’ve  been  wanting  him  to  be.  most  don’t  even  realize  the  only  reason  he’s  able  to  accomplish  this  is  because  his  love  for  nolan  overrides  everything  else. later  ,  he’ll  contemplate  how  scary  that  is.                         ❝  stupid  fucking  —  ❞  he’s  talking  about  the  first  aid  kit  that  bounces  open  ,  some  items  skittering  along  the  helicopter  floor  ,  as  much  as  he  is  the  man  laying  down.  ❝  had  to  play  hero  ,  huh  ?  it’s  not  like  i  don’t  get  it.  someone  had  to  keep  them  from  finding  the  hangar  but  why  ?  why  don’t  you  take  a  moment  ,  think  ?  why  do  you  always  have  to  make  the  sacrifice  play  ?  how  can  you  keep  doing  this  to  me  ?  ❞                               ❝  it’s  because  you’re  the  love  of  my  life.  no  —  you  are  my  life.  ❞ 𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓  𝐀𝐁𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐘  𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐙𝐄𝐒.  this  isn’t  the  first  time  nolan  has  said  something  like  this  (  it  feels  so  long  ago  since  the  first  time  ,  where  aldo  has  been  trying  to  convince  himself  it  was  just  sex  even  when  he  was  already  too  far  gone  ).  hell  ,  it’s  not  even  the  first  time  one  of  them  has  slipped  up  &  said  something  like  this  in  front  of  his  team.  it’s  the  fact  that  he’s  finally  realizing  what  the  captain  means  ,  when  he  says  he’ll  do  anything  to  keep  him  &  the  hanger  safe.  this  goes  beyond  the  close  calls  that  have  sent  aldo’s  heart  jumping  into  his  throat.  this  is  torture.  nolan  has  been  tortured.  and  he’s  staring  up  at  him  like  it  was  worth  it.                         ❝  never  again.  ❞  he’ll  convince  him.  he’ll  make  him  see  that  he  can  stay  safe  at  the  hangar  &  still  do  good.  for  the  moment  he’s  fine  with  nolan  thinking  he  simply  means  he’ll  never  get  captured  again  but  either  way  …  ❝  never  again.  ❞  aldo  leans  in  ,  carefully  kissing  the  cracked  lips  of  his  partner  before  exhaling  &  picking  up  the  gauze  with  shaking  hands.  ❝  this  isn’t  going  to  feel  good  ,  baby.  get  ready.  ❞

[knives-out20]

Inglourious Boyfriends - Part 4

Fandom: Inglourious Basterds (2009)

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

Word Count: 1338

Warnings: Spoilers For Inglourious Basterds,

Note: Back Up To Speed With Part 4! Joshua, Despite Being In The War With Aldo, Is Startled By The Sound Of Gunshots. This Chapter Showcases How He Always Goes For/Reaches To Aldo For Protection, It’s Always Been That Way. This Chapter Also Shows Just A Lil’ Of How Much These Two Truly Mean To Each Other, And How Much They NEED Each Other. Enjoy!

Aldo kept his arms around Joshua's waist as they waited, his chest flat against Josh's back.

Donny was half-asleep on the bed at this point. He was jostled awake by a parade of gunshots coming from the basement tavern, very easily coming from more than one gun. 

Joshua hopped in fright, slapping his hand over his mouth to keep from yelping. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around Aldo, burying his face in the crook of his Lieutenant's neck as a source of protection.

Aldo kept an arm around Joshua's waist, the other stroking his brown hair soothingly as the gunshots fired, nodding at Donny to get up."It's okay, Joshy, I'm here, Aldo's here, I love you, darlin'" he whispered, kissing the top of Joshua's head.

Donny nodded, gaze going soft at Joshua's startled form as he slowly stood up, walking over. He put a hand on Joshua's shoulder, as comfort.

Joshua quickly calmed down, mumbling "I- I love you too" as he slowly pulling away, looking toward the door."W-We, uh, we- we need t'go see if Hugo 'n' the others are okay" he told, brushing off his outfit.

Aldo nodded, hands on his hips."Alright. I'll go first, Joshua, you follow me, and Donny, you follow Josh. Hirschberg, stay on lookout with the others" he ordered, Hirschberg nodding obediently. Aldo gestured for Joshua and Donny to follow him, making his way towards the door and opening it. He froze on the spot, hearing more gunshots- this time from a singular gun- fire at the winding staircase.

Joshua sucked his teeth, going to hold Aldo's hand.

Aldo turned to Joshua, bring his hand up to his lips and placing a soft kiss on his knuckles. He turned back around, hearing a voice call from downstairs.

"You, outside, who are you? British, American? What?" The unfamiliar, but terrified, voice asked, cocking his gun.

"We're American" Aldo called down in reply."What are you?".

"I'm a German, you idiot-" the voice called, unaware of the fact that Aldo had to hold Joshua back from going down the stairs and kicking his ass for calling Aldo an 'idiot'.

"Speak English pretty good for a German" Aldo commented, the voice calling up "I agree".

"So let’s talk" it added.

Aldo glanced to Joshua, then Donny, and back down the stairs."Okay, talk" he agreed, ready for a load of bullshit to be said.

"I'm a father. My baby was born today, in Frankfurt. Five hours ago. His name is Max; we were in here, drinking, celebrating, they're the ones that came in shooting and killing, it's not my fault!" He yelled.

"Okay! It wasn't yer fault" Aldo nodded, going along with him."What's yer name, soldier?".

"Wilhelm".

"Now, is there anybody alive on our side?" Aldo asked.

"No" Wilhelm shook his head.

"I'm alive!" A frantic, female voice suddenly called, sounding like she was in pain, followed by Wilhelm yelling angrily in German.

"Hammersmark" Joshua heard Donny breathe, barely above a whisper.

"Who's that?" Aldo asked, Wilhelm answering with another question; "is the girl on your side?"."Which girl?".

"Who do you think? Von Hammersmark" Wilhelm exclaimed.

"Yea, she's ours" Aldo sighed, Wilhelm ignoring his "is she okay?" To cuss Von Hammersmark out in German."Wilelm!" He called, to get the German soldier's attention back onto him, but he only heard Wilhelm yell at her.

"She's been shot!" Wilhelm finally complied, "but she's alive!".

Aldo thought for a moment, giving Joshua's hand a quick squeeze."Okay Wilhelm. What do y'say we make us a deal?".

"What's your name?" Wilhelm hesitantly asked, panting.

"Aldo" Aldo answered."Okay, Wilhelm, here's my deal; you let me and two of my men come down there and take the girl away. No guns, no guns me, no guns you! And we take the girl, and leave. It's that simple, Willie. You go yer way, we go ours. And little Max gets to grow up playing catch with his daddy" he planned, smirking when he caught the blush on Joshua's face the moment he said 'daddy'. Aldo nudged him, chuckling softly before regaining composure."So, what do you say, Willie? We got us a deal?".

Wilhelm stayed silent for a few moments."Aldo?" He spoke up.

"I'm here, Willie".

"I want to trust you, but- but...but how can I?" Wilhelm stuttered.

Aldo glanced to Joshua, then back down the stairs."What choice you got, son?" He asked, softly.

Wilhelm took a deep breath."Okay, okay, Aldo, I'm gonna trust you. Come down".

Aldo turned to look at Joshua and Donny."Stay at least a few steps behind me" he whispered, staring his descent down the stairs. Aldo put his shaky hands up, slowly peaking out and looking at Wilhelm with a hopeful smile. He ducked back when he saw the gun in Wilhelm's hands."Hey, Willie, what's with the machine gun? I thought we had us a deal" Aldo complained.

"We still have a deal, now get the girl and go".

"Not so fast" Aldo showed his face for a second, "we only got a deal when we trust each other. And a Mexican standoff ain't trust".

"Whoa, whoa, you need guns on me for it to be a Mexican standoff" Wilhelm corrected.

"You got guns on us. You decide to shoot, we're dead. Up top, they got grenades. They drop 'em down here, yer dead. That's a Mexican standoff and that was not the deal" Aldo whined, pointing a finger at Wilhelm."No trust, no deal" he added.

"Wilhelm." Von Hammersmark pleaded, speaking to Wilhelm in German.

Wilhelm huffed in thought, his gun shaking in his hands as he looked down."Alright, Aldo. Fine" he gave in, standing up straight and putting the gun down on the counter."Just take the fucking traitor and and get her out of my sight" he snarled.

Aldo, Joshua and Donny were about to go down the rest of the stairs, but stopped dead in their tracks when they heard a handful of gunshots.

Aldo came around and saw Von Hammersmark, shaking as she pointed a small gun at Wilhelm, who was now dead.

Joshua followed suit, gasping when he looked around."Hicox" he instantly recognized a limp body by the girl.

Aldo gulped, putting a hand on Joshua's shoulder."Y'glad you didn't go down with 'em, now, sunshine?". He sounded sarcastic, but the Lieutenant's heart was pounding out of his chest; it almost happened, he almost lost Joshua forever. Aldo felt his grip on Joshua's shoulder tighten, imagining what he would have done if Joshua ended up going down to the tavern, and being a victim to...this. What would Aldo even do? With this weight on his shoulders, knowing how he technically let Josh kill himself, by letting him go down here.

Aldo was pulled from his thoughts when he felt a pair of arms wrap around him, and hold on tight- Joshua's arms.

Joshua held onto Aldo, face buried in his shoulder as he repeated "I'm sorry" softly, over and over again. His voice was shaky, and full of regret, as if he caused this standoff to happen."I'm so sorry" Joshua wheezed, blinking back tears at the thought of leaving Aldo alone.

"Woah, woah, sweetheart, sorry for what?" Aldo sweetly asked, hugging Joshua back."Y'did nothin' wrong" he reminded.

Joshua shook his head, fingers twitching."I- I almost left ya, Aldo, I almost died without ya" he explained, gritting his teeth."I'm so sorry, Aldo, I almost left you alone, without- with-without me, please-" Joshua sniffled, painfully holding back tears. Leaving Aldo alone is the last thing he'd ever want to do, or even do, hell, it's not even on the list! Joshua can't be without Aldo, and vice versa. That's how it's always been. That's how it always will be.

Aldo kissed Josh's cheek, slowly rubbing his back."It's okay, Joshy, okay? I'm here, you're okay" he comforted, thanking whatever deity's out there for letting Joshua continue to be with him.

[theonetryingtolive]

Spoken and Unspoken, Hugo Stiglitz/ Reader, Inglourious Basterds

Tags: @warmommy @majwinters @junojelli @mayhem24-7forever @mawpheen-and-sizzuhs @higgles123 @wildwilliamguarnere @confusedwarchild @those-dusty-jump-wings @whoabrekker @iamaboojum @maiden-of-gondor @medievalfangirl @lostinthewiind @david-weepster

—

Hugo Stiglitz had been in that cell for what felt like forever. He wouldn’t allow himself to remember a time before, or to think of a time after. All that was real, all that was true, was the pain of his ribs, the nibbling of the rats on the scraps he’d been fed, and the inescapable feeling of failure. Not because he had failed to overthrow the Nazi regime, but rather because he had not been shot while he’d been chipping away at it. Of the many ways to die, being shot was the one that had always appealed most to him. When they dragged him from his cell, kicking and snarling, he had managed to kill another one of them. They still hadn’t shot him. He had begun to think they were doing it on purpose. After all, he didn’t consider himself to be dangerous enough to deem being put down in Berlin. All those were rumors, regimes didn’t topple down because a bastard like him had gone on a killing spree after enduring more than what he allowed himself to remember.

When he closed his eyes, there was a house. When he opened them, there were rats scurrying into the darkness. When he closed them, there was a garden, and in the garden a doll, a pink blanket wet with blood. There would always be a doll in every memory he dug up from the deepest, darkest corners of himself. A doll, and a pair of blue eyes, a smile. Whenever he closed his eyes he could hear the pitter patter of little feet running on hardwood floors, the sound of laughter. When he opened his eyes, the memories receded, faded into the background. The footfalls of the soldiers bounced off the stone walls, and he smoked one last cigarette.

The shadow of a man fell on him, but the tell tale clicking of the lock didn’t reach his ears. He’d heard the gunshots, but with his eyes closed he could replace their meaning with fireworks. Fireworks and a small hand clutched in his. Hugo opened his eyes, and looked up.

“We’re here to see if you wanna go pro.”

A nod, and he was suddenly riding in the back of a stolen truck. His back was torn to shreds, and the only other German speaker was giving him an odd look. Almost disgust, almost pity. Hugo snarled at him, and stuffed his left hand under his jacket, searching for the scrap of humanity in him. There was a rabbi among them, he noted. Maybe in another life he would have been worthy of the smile he gave him.

The crumbling building didn’t smell like his cell, but only because he hadn’t been in it long enough. From then on, every single building would smell of prison for him. From then on, everytime he closed his eyes he would be unable to recall if that hardwood floor felt warm during the summer months. Someone was talking to him, but he wasn’t listening anymore. He barely flinched when a pair of hands sewed him up, closing gaping wounds and tucking the remainder of his soul back inside him. As if that mattered. As if it helped.

A whole eight months later Lt. Aldo Raine sat down next to him with a sharp knife and started peeling an apple. Hugo barely acknowledged him. The lieutenant cleared his throat, and spoke in that odd drawl of his that made Hugo think of cabins near lakes during the autumn months.

“You look like a demon fucked you.”

Hugo smiled, and lit a cigarette. He shrugged in a way that managed to be both dismissive and derisive at the same time. “Nothing new to you.”

“No,” Aldo agreed. “How old?”

“Two.”

The lieutenant had made a face that Hugo had never seen him make, and threw the apple away. “Fuck!”

Hugo hadn’t said anything at first, mainly because there were not enough words in the world to encompass that which was indescribable. Then, with the voice of a man Aldo Raine had never heard, he said, “There is a hell. Believe me, I’ve seen it.”

He went on with life in the way he knew how, and really, the only way he could. There was always Berlin, he supposed. There was always the abyss waiting at the end of the lane, and if not, there was always the cyanide pill he kept tucked next to the scrap of a drawing in the pocket of his shirt. But the world doesn’t stop its trajectory because a man’s heart is gone. The war goes on, hearts are torn, and the clock strikes twelve all the same. Time, Hugo knew, didn’t fix anything. There was no bringing back, there was only pushing forward, sharing a bottle with an Austrian optometrist and shattering the glasses afterwards.

Lieutenant Aldo Raine has to transform back into Aldo Raine, and then just into Aldo before Hugo is able to process what he is saying, what he has been saying for the past ten minutes. When the words start to make sense, he had such a visceral reaction to them that Wicki’s hand shot out and gripped the back of his uniform before he toppled over. It takes them a whole three weeks before they’re able to reach the decrepit old building Aldo had described a thousand times. Surprisingly, it was Andy who opened the door, and then Hugo was taking the steps two at a time, his heart aching in his chest. There was a shrill scream that made him turn around in a panic, wide eyes scanning the rows of beds in the hall.

“Papa!” When Hugo dropped to his knees to hold the small girl to himself, it was as if the universe had gone silent. It was then that Wicki realised he had been wrong, because the girl looked exactly like Hugo, but was speaking English, and then it makes sense.

“Where’s your mother?” Hugo’s speaking English too, and this time not sounding like he normally did with the Basterds. It’s clear just from the way he moves his lips that this is a language he is comfortable with, a language spoken at home, in his daily life.

“Mama’s here,” You said from behind them, voice breaking as you attempted to sit up on the bed. Hugo’s eyes lit up, and the scrapped bits of his soul started to mend at the sound. He moved closer to the bed, and leaned down to press his lips against yours. “You found us.”

Hugo looked at Aldo, holding his universe in his arms, and mouthed a thank you. The lieutenant smiled, shrugged, and went back to look out the window.

[thesportssoundoff]

“For Christmas I  Want....” What the UFC needs per division in 2020

Joey

December 10th

Right around now the majority of us are desperately chasing down gift ideas and huddling our cash together to try and budget it out for the people we care about evenly. In MMA, December means that for one month we spend 31 days pretending that everything's going to be fine in MMA. That the sins of 2019 are gone and won't re-emerge in 2020 and we are about to embark on another insane run like 2015 or 2016. MMA's changing, growing and expanding and shrinking and evolving and degrading all at once around us and so as we embark upon what should be a hectic 2020,  I wanted to take a light hearted approach at examining what 2020 will be. What would the UFC request that the MMA Gods give them in 2020? What are the divisions asking for on their Christmas lists? Let's run down what each division is secretly wishing for when we enter the next year of MMA stupidity.

Flyweight and Women's Featherweight- A bullet

Simply put, both of these divisions would probably be better suited if the UFC just put them out of their misery. 2019 started with a UFC flyweight roster rapidly approaching the single digits and a threat of TJ Dillashaw stepping in to kill the division outright. It ends with a roster of fighters still not too far off the single digits with a champion who seems disinterested in defending the title and clearly has the plans to move up to 135 lbs full time. The likelihood is that the flyweight division will get a title fight or two and then fade off into obscurity as there's no real prospects of note, Benavidez as champion has long lost any luster and the Cejudo good vibes are dead and buried. For women's featherweight, it was a golden carrot to get Cyborg to stop feuding with the organization that hired her. The Cyborg championship era lasted all of two fights and the Amanda Nunes run with the title is dead and/or bloated. Nunes having a token title defense vs Megan Anderson might appease some folks but there's been no development and no real sign of progress. Let these divisions go and let Bellator and Brave/ONE find stuff for them to do.

Men's Bantamweight- Some sizzle for this steak

The UFC's 135 lb division has been one of the more promising developments over the past few years. While it took a slight step backwards for me in 2019, I still think this division is among the best in MMA even if it ranks slightly behind 170 and 155 lbs. There's depth, new talent, a variety of names and faces and personalities and barring something unforseen 20120 figures to keep the pace overall. What it needs in 2020 is for this division to finally get an ROI on some big time names. Henry Cejudo is a promising potential draw at the lighter weight classes but I think he's still going to need help to reach the high end mark on his upside. That requires some names to step up and give him an assortment of fun new challenges. Dominick Cruz needs to get healthy because Cejudo vs Cruz verbally at least has some compelling appeal to it. Cody Garbrandt still has SOME name value and I think if he goes on a streak, we'll see an reset in terms of how fans view him. Jose Aldo and Urijah Faber need to find ways to win tough fights and maintain in the title picture because while I may not care for Cejudo/Aldo or Cejudo/Faber, there are fans who very clearly love these guys and would be absolutely up for seeing them try to capture the title from Cejudo. Guys like MArlon Moraes, Sean O'Malley and Petr Yan need to continue to develop new fanbases and keep up their stretch of exciting fights. This division has a lot of talent but it might need to get a bit greedy in search of some big money fights.

Featherweight- A definitive Max Holloway solution

The UFC spent most of 2018 having open discussions about whether or not Max Holloway was long for the 145 lb division. They talked a bunch about wanting him to move up due to intense weight cuts, saw him move up and then immediately bailed on the idea when he fought Dustin Poirier. My take is that Holloway is still probably destined for 155 lbs and one loss to Dustin Poirier (who is a naturally monstrous dude at 155 lbs) shouldn't deter them. If Max Holloway is hurting his long term health at 145 lbs but may be "too small" for 155 lbs then he'll just need to adapt to that and overcome that the same way Frankie Edgar has done for years. Figuring out what Holloway will be doing in 2020 will probably be aided by the Volkanovski fight but even if Alexander Volkanovski becomes the latest 145 lber to come up short vs Max Holloway, I'm still not convinced I need to see Max toiling at featherweight. As a bonus item or a stocking stuffer if ya will, it SURE would be nice to see the likes of Zabit, Yair Rodriguez, Shane Burgos and Calvin Kattar continue to clear out the 145 lbers who have been sort of lingering in the same spots since about 2016 or so.

Lightweight- For their stars to actually fight

Easy enough, right? The UFC's lightweight division revolves around three names; Conor McGregor, Khabib Nurmamegodov and Tony Ferguson. I'd almost argue that Tony Ferguson is a level behind Dustin Poirier drawing wise but I think at peak value, those three guys make this division hum and draw the big numbers. Not even playing the "these guys fight three times a year!" card, the UFC got two fights out of those three guys and one of those (Ferguson vs Cerrone) was a desperation heave at the last minute. If this division is going to go places then Khabib needs to fight more, Conor needs to stay out of trouble and Tony Ferguson needs to come close to resembling the pace he had in 2016 and 2017. Even accounting for Khabib taking time off for Ramadan, this division cannot exist with THIS much talent in it without more fights from those three guys. I guess you could even throw in Justin Gaethje who expects to sit out until the Tony vs Khabib fight happens. You can't have 4 of your top 5 guys not doing anything with so much talent to be tested up and down the rankings.

Welterweight- A break

The welterweight division is the world's dumbest MMA riddle. It sure seems to trumpet out a finish or a "What the fuck is happening?!" fight on a per show basis better than any other division out there. I mean off the top of my head you have Vicente Luque, Tim Means, Mike Perry, Elizeu Zaleski, Niko Price, Geoff Neal, Robbie Lawler, Jorge Masvidal, Santiago Ponzinibbio, Muslim Salikhov, Matt Brown and that doesn't even begin to account for some of the dudes I can't remember off the top of my head. This division is loaded with dudes who exist to hit each other in the head really hard over and over and over until somebody falls down. It's the world's cruelest division in terms of raw violence. Unfortunately at the top of the division, we've basically had the same 4-5 guys hogging up spots and they more often than not tend to bring us fights that fall on the wrong side of the entertainment scale. Even if you like Kamaru Usman, Leon Edwards, Tyron Woodley and Colby Covington, you have to admit you're probably exhausted by four dudes with similar styles and similarly cringy trash talk skills sucking up all the air and hype in this division. The UFC could really use a break from these folks in 2020. If Edwards/Woodley and Usman/Covington go off without a hitch, it'd be nice for us to get somebody new and fun in there just to allow us all the chance to mentally reset. Maybe that's Jorge Masvidal even!

Middleweight- More Israel Adesanya

The UFC has been very fortunate with the health of its breakout star of sorts. Since coming to the UFC at the start of 2018, Israel Adesanya has fought four times one year and three times the next. He's been busy and consistent and either healthy or healthy enough to always make the walk. With some much instability around him, the UFC really needs Adesanya to continue to take fights throughout 2020. If the goal is to do Adesanya vs Jones then he needs to have AT LEAST two fights prior to this (say March and July of 2020) against top competition. Yoel Romero is seemingly going to be one of those guys and you'd assume a healthy Paulo Costa is the other. The goal should be to keep Adesanya busy because you won't have his freshness and ability to fight consistently forever.

Light heavyweight- A genuine Jones challenger

I feel like it speaks to the pain of 205 lbs that Jon Jones' two title fights were against former 185 lbers who had casually beaten the shit out of the guys who once held pole positions in the division without much challenge. 2019 was a weird year for the division as it felt old, stagnant and perhaps worst of all directionless. If you honestly asked the UFC, I'd bet they'd say privately that the biggest disappointment of 2019 revolved around the fact that the fighters they probably expected to move up and provide fresh challenges all failed. Chris Weidman was smoked by Dom Reyes, Jan Blachowicz retired Luke Rockhold, Jacare Souza's 2019 was abysmal and his LHW debut left nobody impressed while Yoel Romero and Anderson Silva stayed home at 185 lbs. If one was to remove Dominick Reyes from the conversation, the next in line would be two guys who have pretty much failed historically when given a major step up (Jan Blachowicz is not too far removed from a four fight losing streak and Corey Anderson has been KO'd by the likes of Gian Villante and Jimi Manuwa) while the likes of Nikita Krylov, Misha Cirkunov, Khalil Rountree and that one polish dude (Michal Oluwalewalebangbang) all sort of did nothing. Even prized prospect Johnny Walker had a topsy turvy 2019 punctuated by getting smelted by Corey Anderson. The UFC needs to end 2020 with one of two things set in stone; 1) A genuine challenge for Jon Jones or 2) an understanding that Jon will be leaving the division for good and the UFC will finally have to invest resources into rebuilding this morbid division.

Heavyweight- More of the same, baby.

Seriously. This division is A-ok. You got a bunch of new dudes beating the shit out of each other, every year 2-3 new doughy guys show up and make a bit of an impact, a new HW to get giddy about from Brazil or Europe or Russia every few months and the likes of Alistair Overeem, Derrick Lewis, Stefan Struve and Andrei Arlovski to tie this shit all together. Let's keep HW happy and dumb, right? The only complaint could be had in every division really; have your champs fighting more.

Women's Strawweight- ALSO more of the same

Seriously this division has really become one of the best in MMA full stop. It still has the well earned reputation of being a decision division but if one wants to be honest, the depth at the top of this place is UNREAL good. Joanna, Zhang, Andrade, Namajunas, Suarez and Ansaroff on their own merits are as strong a top six as any division can offer. Throw in a healthy mix of ladies like Alexa Grasso, Claudia Gadelha, Randa Markos, Carla Esparza, Cynthia Calvillo and Marina Rodriguez and you've got great depth below that. Even if there isn't an influx of exciting fun new names (I think Virna Jirandoba and Brianna Van Buren are really the only two new debutants worth really getting excited over), there's plenty of talent o be had here. This is MMA's most unpredictable division so keep giving us wacky madness then.

Women's Flyweight- An identity

I guess you could sum up a division by its champion and clearly Valentina Shevchenko is the perfect face for this division. She's really talented, sometimes compelling as a fighter but you can't name anything about her besides "She killed Jessica Eye and she has a bullet tattoo!" At this point, what could you say about the women's flyweight division? What's their identity? What makes the women's flyweight division unique? Is it not just a grab bag of fighters too small for 135 lbs, too big for 115 lbs and prospects who are still trying to cut their teeth throughout the division? Women's flyweight fights just feel like they exist, adding nothing but always appearing on shows. What's the key to figuring out this division? They need an identity that gets fans to better understand it.

Women's Bantamweight- Depth beyond Amanda Nunes

I think there's a really good chance that barring the emergence of some faces, this division will not see a woman on the same level of Amanda Nunes, GDR and Holly Holm. What this division needs is depth because Holly Holm is one foot out the door and GDR has already retired once already. Just sign a bunch of ladies!

[alexsmitposts]

Epstein is Dead, But His Legacy Will Be Inflicted On Us All The alleged suicide of Jeffrey Epstein has become one of the few things the currently very divided US population can broadly agree on. Epstein and his network of friends were so high profile that this alleged sex predator is highly unlikely to have committed suicide. At the very least he was assisted, while someone intentionally turned a blind eye to protect others hiding in the proverbial shadows. Even lawmakers on both sides of Congress have agreed to the need for an investigation, if only in the hope that it will cover themselves. This would involve not only the death but the “slap on the hand” lenient deal bargain brokered more than 10 years ago in the Miami Office of the US Attorney concerning previous cases of sexual abuse. What worms may turn up with a turn of a shovel are reported by the New York Magazine:. …for decades, important, influential, “serious” people attended Epstein’s dinner parties, rode his private jet, and furthered the fiction that he was some kind of genius hedge-fund billionaire.” Nearly everyone I have spoken to believes this was a faked suicide, and the government is lying about it. As the low voter turnout figures at elections have long suggested, most Americans already believe that all the US government does is lie rather than serve the people. But when all the contrary organs of disinformation – Democrats, Republicans, Fox News and CNN – agree there is a conspiracy, it is difficult to avoid the conclusion that there is. Yawn yawn The Epstein case is the latest in a long line of sex scandals involving high profile individuals. If you have never heard of Epstein, you can work this out by how this story has been handled. The usual playbook has been followed, in brazen defiance of the fact that we have seen and heard all this before, many times over. Belgium had the Marc Dutroux scandal, in which a convicted child rapist was released to rape and murder more children. After he claimed that he was part of a child sex ring involving many powerful people, the experienced and publicly trusted judge in charge of the investigation into his case was dismissed and replaced with a novice. The dismissed judge was later called as a witness in Dutroux’s trial, and stated under oath that the authorities were protecting witnesses and pressurising the prosecutors and the courts. At least 20 witnesses to Dutroux’s crimes have since died without apparent explanation. Strangely enough, the government’s investigation found that Dutroux had no high profile accomplices in his crimes, blaming everything on unspecified “corruption” within the police service ultimately responsible to the government. Jimmy Savile was a popular disc jockey and TV presenter known for his charity work. Only after he died was he revealed as one of the most prolific paedophiles in history. It is obvious from what has come out since that hundreds of people knew a great deal about Savile’s crimes, and that his charity work was a scam designed to gain him access to vulnerable people he could abuse. But at the time, few of these people (professional colleagues and family members) were listened to, and those who spoke up had their careers damaged. Nor will we ever know the details of some of Savile’s wide circle of influential friends, who are known to have ensured he paid off enough police and complainants to escape justice. Practically every country you can think of has similar stories to tell. Well connected people get away with everything whilst alive, then those who can talk mysteriously die. The few who face charges, such as former President of the French National Assembly Andre Le Troquer in the 1959 Ballet Roses scandal, get off lightly because if they had the book thrown at them they would deflect the book to several other people they would no longer have any incentive to protect. Epstein had to go because if he didn’t, too many other people would. He had served his purpose by providing sex slaves, as the documents released just before his death make only too clear. Like many another person who cultivates the well-connected for the wrong reasons, he found that he remains expendable at the end-of-the-day. Questions without answers! The question everyone is asking, including US Attorney General William Barr, is why Epstein was taken off suicide watch and left with little supervision, given the release of those thousands of pages of incriminating documents. The guards on duty, if they were even there, or sleeping, were on extreme overtime shifts. It is too reminiscent of the kidnapping and murder of former Italian Prime Minister Aldo Moro – he had the lowest security of any politician in Rome, no one would negotiate with his kidnappers (though they negotiated in every similar case) and the external agents drafted to help release him were obstructed at every turn by his “friends” in the political establishment, who seemed to be in league with the Red Brigades kidnappers. Epstein had been found unconscious in a cell a few weeks earlier with marks on his neck, apparently from an earlier attempt to take his own life. There is a long history of such instances amongst criminals convicted by the public. Dr. Stephen Ward, the society osteopath at the centre of the UK´s Profumo Affair of the early 1960’s, killed himself by overdose after he was convicted. Fred West, a serial killer, likewise suffocated himself in his cell to avoid being convicted of crimes which had been well publicised, even though his conviction had not yet been secured. There are so many such examples that it is almost as if we are being encouraged to think that this must be just another suicide of a lone criminal. But this is not the only explanation. Take for example the story of Frank Rudolph Olsen, an American bacteriologist, biological warfare scientist and CIA employee who worked at Camp Detrick (now Fort Detrick) in Maryland. He fell to his death from the window of a New York City hotel room. Some — including the US government — consider his death a suicide, while others allege cold blooded murder. All the information is out there, even about scum who were associated with Epstein. At the time of writing, attention is being focused on Ghislaine Maxwell, who might be described as Epstein’s right hand woman in the recruitment and grooming of young girls for sexual abuse. Maxwell is the daughter of the late Robert Maxwell, the notorious crooked newspaper proprietor who had links to Mossad, the CIA, Soviet and Czech intelligence and practically every other dark organisation you can think of. As one door closes, another opens, if only to ensure the other stays shut. Brand of convenience But anyone who alleges anything other than suicide in this case – even if they can be numbered in the tens of millions – will be dismissed as a conspiracy theorist. We have heard all this before too. So much so that it doesn’t seem so terrible a charge, and we lose interest in the implications of it. “Conspiracy theorist” used to mean either “crank” or “person with a bad agenda”. But after Epstein had been indicted, and just before his death, the FBI gave the term a new meaning – “terrorist” as being a domestic threat. Does this matter? Read any newspaper and you will see that it does. If someone is a crank or a person with a bad agenda, they are still entitled to due process … but if they are a terrorist, (at least labelled as) anything goes. In the name of freedom, you and anyone you are associated with can be hunted down and killed, even if Uncle Sam recruited you. Say the wrong word against the official account of Epstein and you can be eliminated on the spot. If this were not going to happen, the FBI, which has the same connections as Epstein, wouldn’t suddenly be interested in this long known phenomenon. Anyone who questions the MSM and official account of anything is deemed a conspiracy theorist by those who write the official stories. Just like those who alleged that Congolese independence leader Patrice Lumumba might have been killed by rogue CIA operatives, who then discovered that President Eisenhower had ordered the killing himself. Like those who said that Herr Klaus Altmann, longtime resident of Bolivia, was Nazi butcher Klaus Barbie, then proved he was. The time has passed when local and even national newspapers would investigate, dig up, muckrake the truth. Now it is spin, paid articles and damage control, all to protect the powers to be—and their royal friends, close associates and fuck buddies. Dead men speak no tales Suicides know each other. Olsen and Epstein were just not the type. Most others in the news were, but not them, and neither was Dr. David Kelly in the UK, that other strange death which results in everyone who questions the official narrative being deemed a conspiracy theorist. Want proof? Read “Silence of the Heart” by David Frith. This is about sportspeople, and particularly cricketers, who have ended it all. Though widely separated by time and circumstance, these unfortunates seem almost a club, united by an indefinable common strain. Try and write up Epstein in the same vein and see if even you are convinced. Just too many things don’t make sense. One of the two persons on watch over Epstein was not even a correctional officer, and went hours without being checked when protocol was to check on him at least every 30 minutes. The higher profile the case, the more procedures are followed to ensure the defendant is alive and well and available for the justice system. Charles Manson was watched day and night. You don’t leave the Epsteins of this world unsupervised unless you don’t want to see them face justice. Rachel Maddow raises many questions about whether the non-prosecution agreement for Jeffrey Epstein and any co-conspirators he may have had, as well as the non-disclosure agreements Epstein made his employees sign, are still valid after Epstein’s death or whether prosecutors will now have new avenues of inquiry as a result. As Manhattan US Attorney Geoffrey S. Berman recently said, “These events, [death in custody] are disturbing, and we are deeply aware of the potential to present yet another hurdle to giving Epstein’s many victims their day in court.” Perhaps now many more victims will come forth, who have previously been intimidated or paid off. The 2007 Miami plea deal is now moot, and in any event, it only applied in Florida. I suspect there will be more suicides, and not only in custody, as too many names were into the young girls. We can start with the passenger list of the Lolita Express. Stanley Kubrick’s 1999 death from a heart attack, just six days after screening a completed Eyes Wide Shut, can be compared by such a conspiracy theorist as myself to the opening of sealed court documents in the Epstein investigation. This should keep the media busy till the next presidential election in 15 months. Besides the ones that we already know about as fellow travellers and sex offenders, I am sure many more worms will soon surface, enough to keep the tabloids and MSM totally distracted. There are hundreds of names on Epstein’s contact “black book” list. Some of the alleged victims have claimed they were farmed out to other men. So it is little wonder that most people are risking summary murder by the US authorities by starting to believe the conspiracy theories which only a case like this could have criminalised them for believing.

[scraprecap]

UFC 235 RECAP

Fight pass recap:

I don’t have fight pass/I skipped these to get high and make dinner (Sicilian sausage), but it looks like there were some good scraps. Sorry!

 Diego “Nightmare” Sanchez v. Mickey Gall:

Winner: SANCHEZ BY KNOCKOUT

Gall is a young dangerous fighter with penchant for finishing by rear naked choke.  Gall has made a name for himself in his young career by beating some distinguished names –punishing CM Punk to the delight of all of America – and was the favorite coming into this bout. I like Gall, but was pulling for Diego, as the veteran who has given so much to the sport and the fans, and it was magnificent to see the stalwart veteran earn his first finish in ELEVEN YEARS!

The first of two Nightmares, Diego’s ability to hang in the fight while taking cataclysmic damage – which he attributed after the fight to his passion in anti-aging – transforms him into an increasingly dangerous fighter the longer the fight goes – appearing fresher than his opponent. Promising to get a first round finish, Gall pursued Sanchez with power shots, but was unable to hurt Sanchez, who admitted in the post-fight interview that he planned on letting the younger fighter punch himself out.

 Cody “The Spartan” Stamann vs. Alejandro “Turbo” Perez:

Winner: STAMANN BY DECISION

The first and the more successful of our two Cody night, Stamann’s volume carried the day. The commentators bemoaned Perez’s lack of volume/combinations. Specifically, I think he’d have done better concentrating on attacking Stamann’s lead leg, which he would occasionally attack and then forget about it – obviously easier said than done. Not the best nicknames or tattoos in this one, but I wouldn’t mind running this one back for a more definitive finish.

 Johnny Walker vs. Misha Cirkunov

Winner: WALKER BY KNOCKOUT

Cirkunov is no joke and I have a lot of admiration for taking this fight. Walker came in with a lot of hype and showed that it wasn’t hype, just facts. At the moment Walker is only 205er on the roster with the frame, creativity and athleticism to potentially hang with Jon Jones down the road (please do not rush him), Johnny Walker (just an unbelievable name; God bless Brazil) put Cirkunov down with a flying knee on some Tony Jaa shit and then promptly dislocated his shoulder during his celebration. Walker’s entertaining style and aw-shucks-blew-my-shoulder-out-doing-the-worm attitude demands that the UFC find him a higher ranked opponent.

Ten out of ten. Would recommend.

 Zabit Magomedsharipov vs. Jeremy “Lil Heathen” Stephens

Winner: MAGOMEDSHARIPOV BY DECISION

This, to me, was a worthy candidate for fight of the night had the next fight on the card not occurred.

Whose wife is Jeremy Stephens fucking?  A veteran of 44 professional fights, Stephens was coming off a tough loss to the legendary Jose Aldo only take on the latest Dagestani boogeyman, Zabit Magomedsharipov. In an alternate dimension, Abraham Lincoln never abandoned his wrestling ways (300-0-1 as an amateur) and disdained politics for Wu Shu. That dimension’s Lincoln is named Zabit, and he’s here with us now.

Zabit’s laconic style and blending of skills made him a great foil for Stephens and I really enjoyed this matchup. The first two rounds showcased Zabit’s class footwork, as he was able to land strikes and avoid Lil Heathen’s power right hand. Closing the distance on Zabit is a puzzle that has yet to be solved. Stephens was able to crack him a few times but Zabit’s chin, combined with his footwork was able to hold up. As in the Bokniak fight, Zabit seemed to slow down somewhat in the third round – although Stephens seemed to win the round, he needed the finish to take the fight and was unable to do so. Zabit’s height and reach advantage pays serious dividends within this division but he has seemed somewhat diminished towards the end of the fight. Decisions aren’t always satisfying to watch, and while this was a tough loss for Stephens, he shows that he’s still among the division’s elite. With this win over a highly-ranked opponent, I hope to see Zabit get increasingly higher profile fights.

 Pedro “The Young Punisher” Munhoz vs. Cody “No Love” Garbrandt

Winner: MUNHOZ BY KNOCKOUT

Holy fuck this was some wild ass shit.

Despite being favored in this matchup, I had a bad feeling about this bout for Garbrandt and thought Munhoz would carry the day, albeit by submission. The Young Punisher is just that, and after back-to-back losses to TJ Dillashaw, Garbrandt accepted a very tough fight on his way back up.

Garbrandt’s power is legitimate and for his weight class it is absurd. His handspeed, boxing skills, and wrestling background gave him all the tools to seize the championship from Dominic Cruz in late 2016. However, it wasn’t just those skills that made him king – his performance against Cruz showed great generalship and poise in the cage, and he dropped and frustrated Cruz over the course of five rounds. Since then, however, No Love’s aggression has worked against him. Like Aaron Pico, he’d be better served if he didn’t know how hard he hits.  Munhoz came out looking for and throwing the overhand right -- and in his post-fight interview had a sense of his opponent’s emotional nature.

Having cracked Munhoz, Garbrandt threw caution and hands to the wind, and they proceeded to recreate the Max Holloway-Ricardo Lamas stand and bang. Garbrandt has now lost three in a low and while still young, needs to quickly learn out how to manage his bellicosity – no easy task, since it was his power and finishing mentality that brought him to the show.

Munhoz showed unbelievable heart and skill (as well a spectacular chin) and ought to be on a very short list of fighters due to fight for the title. An excellent submission grappler, this victory showcased his improving stand up and I hope the UFC rewards him for his efforts.

 Weili “Magnum” Zhang vs. Tecia “The Tiny Tornado” Torres:

Winner: ZHANG BY DECISION

The betting underdog, Torres was game and enjoyed occasional success against Zhang, landing clean several times in the fight. Unfortunately for Torres, these moments were too infrequent -- Weili’s volume

The difference in this fight was Zhang’s inside leg kick and her continuous efforts in transitions – whenever Torres gained a dominant position, she was never able to maintain it. While at no point did it seem as if Weili was close to finishing Torres, I think that says more about the heart and skill of the latter; Zhang finished the fight in dominant position (but I’m not sure that she won all three rounds; what the hell qualifies these idiots to judge fighting).

Now the owner of a nineteen-fight win streak with sixteen finishes, Zhang presents a compelling matchup for the Strawweight Queen Rose Namajunas. I don’t know what the rankings are and I don’t give a shit; you and I both know at the very least Zhang deserves a top ranked opponent.

  Ben “Funky” Askren vs. “Ruthless” Robbie Lawler

Winner: ASKREN BY SUBMISSION

It was odd to hear the commentators refer to Herb Dean as “the gold standard” just two fights after his massive fuck up in this one.

I thought Lawler would win this fight convincingly – I didn’t think the layoff would hurt him, and I think he’d be a particularly bad match up for Askren, who has never faced someone with the striking prowess of Lawler. “Ruthless” has the kind of power can very quickly take control of the fight and put his opponent on the defense. Right away, I thought he’d prove me right, and he was doing just that.  

This was a disturbingly quick stoppage – Dean has let fights go on too long in the past – and we’ve seen fights stopped for less than what Lawler was doing to Askren early on. It did appear that Lawler’s arm went limp, but hindsight is 20/20.  

Askren was right to saw that he’s not to blame for the stoppage, but this fight showed that he’s not as unhittable against the elite – and that Lawler is still very much part of the elite at 170 pounds. I don’t know that we’ll see a rematch but I wouldn’t mind, and I think Robbie deserves it. At the same time, I’d like to see how the rest of the division handles Askren’s wrestling.

 Kamaru “The Nigerian Nightmare” Usman vs. Tyron “The Chosen One” Woodley

Winner: USMAN BY DECISION                                            

The trash talk between Woodley and Usman allegorically centered on their big brother-little brother vibe, and this one played out like the little brother who has taken too much shit for too long.

AND NEW!

Now over, viewers hopefully appreciated Tyron’s title reign and class he showed as champion (doubtful), and the former champion made no excuses in defeat, making no excuses for his loss and congratulating the new champion. One comment in particular during his post-fight interview was especially poignant, describing his experience like “a bad dream”: Usman confirmed that he is indeed our generation’s Nigerian Nightmare. This was an absolute mauling. Woodley showed championship-caliber heart in absorbing what appeared to be 10,000 bodyshots, but was never in this fight managing limited offense: desperate guillotine chokes and waiting for the timing for this thunderous right hand. That time never emerged. Undeniably the man of the moment, Usman took the fight the Woodley for twenty five minutes straight. Again, some really awful refereeing in this one: at one point Mark Goddard separated the fighters, and responding to a puzzled Usman (who had been applying the punishment) he said “It’s a fight Kamaru”. Uh, no shit. Open your eyes.

While not necessarily the most fan-friendly aspect of MMA (and the meathead in all of us), the dirty boxing/clinch fighting is among its most exhausting and critical facets. Fortunately, these break ups in the action served only to reinforce Usman’s dominant performance and gave us a great quip from Dominic Cruz questioning Mark Goddard’s wrestling credentials (and Crus is probably right, let’s be real, Goddard is British).

Tyron Woodley has been a dominant champion and that alone probably gives him the right for a rematch. It’s no secret that “The Chosen One” isn’t among the promotion’s favorite fighters and that probably doesn’t do him any favors. Woodley never really got going on this one and while it stands to reason that he’d put a better performance together the second time, Usman’s focus and confidence will likely only sharpen and grow. Usman looks to have the tools and focus to rule the Welterweight division for years to come.

Sanchez and Walker certainly deserved their performance of the night bonuses, but whatever Usman’s win bonus was, he deserves more. The UFC’s first African-born champion delivered the performance of his life on the biggest stage possible.

 Jon “Bones” Jones vs. Anthony “Lionheart” Smith

Winner: JONES BY DECISION

Like Woodley, Anthony Smith never really got going. While not able to secure a finish, Jon Jones spent twenty-five minutes imposing his will on the challenger. Both fighters are listed at 6’4, but Jones appeared to have the height advantage in this one and enjoys a reach advantage over everyone but Reed Richards. (Also. I was out of weed by this time and honestly this fight suffered because of that. I hate paying rent.) If Usman-Woodley was a pit bull mauling, this was a big cat playing with its prey. The commentating crew mentioning during the first round that Smith hadn’t planned to come out of the gate aggressive, and it did not pay dividends. Then again, coming out swinging against arguably the most dominant champion ever is easier said than done. The variety of attack that Jones presents appeared to freeze Smith out of his usual aggression, and the champion systematically shut down Smith. Smith’s corner also did not appear to have helpful tactical advice during the fight, other than “find your why” and “you need to let your Lionheart out”. He’d have been better served with actual strategy. While Smith’s last fight with Volkan Oezdimir showcased his ability to continually stay in the fight, and his ability to stay focused on winning the fight while not losing rounds did not do him any favors on the night. Jones’ real opponent is himself. As long as his focus remains sharp, he will remain in a class by himself. Frankly, I would like to see him at heavyweight, not specifically to fight Cormier, but to add variety to his challenges.