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consumedkings-archive · 4 years

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WITCHING HOUR, a john seed/deputy fic.

chapter seven: a little death

word count: 11.1k

rating: m for now, rating will change in later chapters as things develop, tags will be updated accordingly.

warnings: gore. so much gore. "a little death”? more like a lotta death. yeah it’s just blood and guts, and then john is kind of a fucker for like .0000005 seconds

notes: hi folks! we've got another big'un, a little more john/elliot centric with some plot threads starting to weave together. i'm really excited with where things are going and how things are shaping up, and i hope you guys enjoy this chapter as much as i enjoyed writing it!

special thank you to @shallow-gravy for lending me her eyeballs to proof this chapter <3 dani and sylvia both are characters of @starcrier's beautiful talented mind and she was kind of enough to help me fill out the cast for the world i'm working on!

as always, thank you so much to everyone who reads/comments/kudoses/likes; whatever your form of support is, it really means the absolute most to me and it's the whole reason i keep going!

“Well, well, well, Mr. Seed!”

It was Sylvia’s cheerful voice that first put a smile on Elliot’s face. It was the ensuing expression on John’s face when he realized he’d have to slide into boots worn by at least twenty other people that kept it there. He grimaced as he set his own perfectly tidy shoes to the side and pulled the first Wellington on.

John had done the right thing by swapping out the collared shirt he’d been halfway through putting on into a black turtleneck—still, certainly, more expensive than perhaps any item of clothing Elliot herself had ever owned, but less pretentious than a silky button-up.

“Right size?” Via asked.

He forced the grimace into a smile. “Perfect fit.”

With a satisfied nod, the blonde turned back to Elliot and handed her the lead to the horse she was going to brush—a hefty Clydesdale that plodded out of his stall obediently. He nosed her pockets for treats, whuffling against her offered but empty palm before she started tying him to keep him in place for a good brushing.

“You look fit as a fiddle and ready to ride,” Via announced, clapping John on the shoulder once he’d gotten his shoes swapped out. “What do you think? Wanna climb on up?”

“On that?” John asked incredulously when the blonde indicated the bay.

“Yes sir. Hugo’s great for beginners.”

“Hugo’d be great to stomp me to death,” he muttered. “Ah, no thank you, Sylvia—I think I’ll stick with the ground for now.”

“Suit yourself.”

She gave Elliot’s shoulder a quick squeeze before setting off at a brisk pace. At the barn, Via always seemed to operate on a different kind of frequency—she was still quick to smile and quicker to laugh, but there was definitely something more businesslike going on. John watched her go for a minute, mouth downturned in a frown, before his gaze returned to Elliot.

“So,” he said, “what are we doing?”

“I’m brushing Hugo,” she replied primly. “You can...give him a treat, or something.”

“I thought you wanted me to do something?”

Elliot sighed, patting Hugo’s neck and giving him a scratch. The bay turned his head, regarding John for a moment before bumping his muzzle against her hip affectionately.

“Here,” she said, holding out a brush. “You can brush him.”

It was John’s turn to do the regarding, then, eyes darting down to the brush and then back up at Elliot. He did still look a bit ridiculous—walking around in the Wellingtons, brushing loose wisps of hay that had somehow managed to cling to his turtleneck, the normally perfectly-slicked back hair falling loose and unruly. As John weighed the brush in his hand like it was some kind of artifact, he gave Hugo an awkward pat on the nose and one stilted brush along his neck.

“Great,” Elliot chirped. “Just keep doing that, but...better.”

She stepped away, leaving John with the horse and heading down the main hall. She’d taken about five steps before she heard John go, “Wait, where are you going?” and she turned to look at him, brows pulling together in something close to pity.

He looked so uncomfortable. And it was so good.

“To brush another horse, honey,” she replied, voice dripping with sugar. “What, did you think we were going to hold hands while you made yourself useful?”

John’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve gotten mouthy,” he said, eyes on her as she clipped a lead onto her usual equine companion, a handsome palomino named Butterscotch.

“I’ve always been mouthy, John.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

A few minutes of silence lapsed between them, filled only by the occasional whuff of horse breath or John muttering a swear. Elliot had just gotten into the rhythm with the palomino, gliding her hands and the brush across his neck in slow, even strokes, when John said, “So, you’ve been coming here a lot then, huh?”

Elliot let out a sigh. “This is supposed to be my quiet time.”

“I’m just curious,” John replied. “What made you want to start spending time around big, smelly animals?”

She dropped the brush in a bucket, fishing out the comb and starting to work on some of the knots. “Doctor’s orders.”

John made a low noise, agreeable even though she thought that he might be burning over there. Back in Hope County, he’d been determined to know her—get inside of her, get in the nitty-gritty, dig his elbows up into her guts and gore and figure out every little thing about her and what it was that she was keeping from him.

It made her wonder if he had read the file Joseph had compiled on her. It had been given to him, after all, like a trophy. Like she was a trophy, a gift from Joseph to him. His reward.

The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth. Maybe that is what John thought; that all of his ragged attempts at convincing her that what they’d had, those fleeting moments, had been love. But she’d seen the way he’d looked when Joseph had praised him, the way he tiptoed around himself and his true nature, always with a foot on Joseph’s side and one on hers. Now, watching him stand awkwardly to the side of a giant Clydesdale, making an attempt at integrating into her daily life—it was almost sickening, to think that she had been the prize in some weird game for Joseph’s approval.

“Left him all alone with Hugo, huh?” Sylvia asked, jarring her out of her thoughts and reminding her that she’d been brushing the same spot in the palomino’s mane for a while now.

“Ah, yeah,” Elliot replied, clearing her throat and focusing on a different spot. You make me sick, she wanted to tell him, the warmth of the morning evaporating in the wake of her anger. You make me fucking sick, I won’t forget it, I can’t forget it, fuck you fuck you. “He could squirm a little. Builds character.”

Via’s eyes narrowed playfully, squinting at John as he gave the bay a hearty pat on the neck. “Not an animal person, huh?”

She felt her mouth twist wryly, wanting to say something vicious. Something mean. Something—

( I’m glad I didn’t break that wrathful streak out of you, )

“City boy,” is what she ended up supplying, to which Via went ahh, as though that explained a lot. In a lot of ways, it did.

“How’re you holdin’ up over there, buddy?” the blonde called down the hall, Hugo’s ears flicking in her direction. John glanced up and planted a smile on his face that was so canned Elliot thought he couldn’t have seemed like he meant it any less.

“Fine,” John said, like he was on automatic, and then quickly added, “Great, actually. We’re bonding, Hugo and I. The two of us.”

“Yeah?” Via’s head tilted. “That’s nice to hear.”

“Yes. A pair, he and I.”

“Good,” she replied cheerfully. “You can take him on a walk then.”

“Huh?” came the intelligent reply, followed by the unceremonious drop of the brush in the nearby bucket. “What?”

“Take him out, stretch his legs a little,” Via explained, her voice warm. “He’s a nice boy, you two are pals. Should go fine.”

John grimaced. “I don’t know how to do that.”

Elliot had to swallow back a laugh when Via asked, “You don’t know how to walk?”

The brunette sucked his teeth. A little smile was on his face, but it was the same kind of smile he’d given Elliot when she said something particularly mean-spirited—and though Sylvia West was clearly not a mean-spirited person, she had yet to find John very charming at all. Jury was still out, after all. Elliot was sure that bothered him.

“I’ll show you,” Elliot sighed, after a few seconds of Via waiting patiently for John to explain himself. “Just unclip the—”

“Don’t stress it, Freckles,” Via interjected gently. “You’re busy with Butterscotch. I’ll help John.”

She hesitated, feeling a sudden jolt of panic. Via was saying, take care of yourself. She was saying, put yourself first. She was saying, you don’t have to jump to do the stuff all the time. But it had been so long—so long of trying to prioritize herself and choosing other people.

You don’t have to Atlas this thing yourself, deputy, Jerome had said, like she wanted to let someone else handle it, like she wanted to be alone with herself.

But before Elliot could convince herself that it was more important that she show John how to do something fairly self-explanatory, before she could protest that Via was too busy, the blonde picked up the brush, put it back in her hand and crossed the hall to John with great purpose.

“Don’t worry, bud, I’ll make sure you don’t get trampled,” Sylvia chirped at John, unclipping the lead from the hook in the wall and setting it in his hand.

“Thanks, Sylvia.”

“No sweat, that’s what they pay me the big bucks for.”

“Lot of money, having people walk horses around?”

She flashed a smile that was all teeth. “Tons. I fill my pool up with hundred-dollar bills just for fun. Swim around in it and everythin’.”

John’s mouth twisted in a wry smile. He glanced back at Elliot, their eyes meeting for a moment—and maybe it did make her regret, a little, all of the poison she’d been thinking about him; maybe seeing him standing there and jesting with Sylvia and giving her that boyish smile made her regret thinking about how much she hated that he wanted to know her, all of her, all of the yucky, nasty bits of her that she wished didn’t exist.

Watching him walk out the front of the barn in the rubber boots, Hugo plodding along amicably behind him while Sylvia chattered, made Elliot wonder what it would have been like if he’d kept his word; if he’d meant it when he’d said that they would leave Hope County. There had been a time where she’d thought maybe she and John were meant for each other like he’d claimed. There had been a time where she’d thought maybe she didn’t want anyone else, maybe she wanted someone who kissed her when she was still covered in another man’s blood, who didn’t mind when her fingers itched and burned for acts of violence.

Yours must surely be the sin of Wrath.

Maybe he was right. Maybe he was it for her, Elliot thought while John and Sylvia walked the Clydesdale in a big loop around the snowy parking lot. Maybe she never would find someone who loved her, all of her grit and gore and venom, the way that John did.

The way that he’d looked at her scar, then a wound, with adoration, his hands red with her blood. The way he’d said, It’s going to look so good on you.

“That’s okay,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone, feeling the palomino’s velvety muzzle bump her hand impatiently for her attention. “I’m—”

Not ‘I’m’. It wasn’t ‘I’m’ anymore. It’s not just about you, anymore.

“We’re,” Elliot amended, swallowing thickly, “just fine being alone.”

If she said it enough times, maybe she would learn to believe it.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“You really never walked a horse before, huh?”

John glanced up, his gaze darting to the blonde that had been walking alongside him as they circled the parking lot. This is not what he wanted to be doing. When he’d said he was coming with Elliot to the barn, what he’d anticipated had been something closer to getting time with her—out of the house, away from the dog and her mother, and in a situation that was more comfortable for her. She clearly liked coming here, or she wouldn’t have strongly considered objecting to his tagging along.

Hm, something inside of him said, doesn’t that say something, that she doesn’t want you in a place she feels happy and safe?

No. Not really. Not in the least.

“I haven’t,” John replied after a moment, realizing that Sylvia was waiting very patiently for his answer, without rushing or prompting him. That was probably why Elliot liked her. “It’s funny, I grew up in Georgia and never seemed to be around a horse my entire life.”

“That is funny,” Sylvia agreed, without laughing or cracking much more than a polite smile.

His eyes narrowed. He pushed a smile onto his face, the rope hung loosely in his hand as Hugo trailed along beside him, content to brush at the ground with his nose once in a while. John thought, there’s got to be a way to figure you out. There’s got to be something. What did Elliot say to you about me, Sylvia? What did she tell you that’s making you this obstinate?

Just as John opened his mouth to say something, the blonde said, “You know, I don’t like you much, Mr. Seed.”

He closed his mouth, stopping at the far end of the parking lot. Sylvia turned to look at him, her gaze scrutinizing, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Well,” he said after a moment, “I don’t know what I did to disenchant you, Sylvia, but—”

“I spend a lot of time with troubled people,” she interjected, and infuriatingly she did it so kindly that it almost lost its insulting edge.

Swallowing, John’s brain scrambled rapidly, looking for some kind of footing before he began as amenably as possible, “I hear equine therapy is beneficial to plenty of people—”

“Doctors and therapists send folks here all the time to try and get some kinda relief. I don’t always know what it is, but I’ll tell you one thing: that girl in there—she came in looking more haunted than a cemetery, and the way she looked when I first saw her is the same way she looked when I caught y’all on the street.”

The polite smile dropped from her face. “I don’t like that she got that look back.”

John bit back his venom and said, “To be frank, you don’t know anything about our relationship.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” Sylvia replied lightly. She turned to him, and reiterated with pointed firmness, “All the same, I don’t like it, and I don’t like you, John Seed.”

“You’re awful polite,” he said tartly, “for a woman who doesn’t like me.”

Sylvia sucked her teeth in a gesture that was reminiscent of going come on, shaking her head again and huffing out a sigh. “You strike me as a man that hasn’t ever been just plain old disliked before,” she said, planting a hand on his shoulder even though he easily had two or three inches on her. “Just because I don’t like you doesn’t mean I think you’re hopeless, John. Jesus Christ, people been givin’ up on you that fast, huh?”

John blinked rapidly. That was not the answer he had anticipated. The words rattled around in his head, clanging painfully loud, foreign and unfamiliar and scary in how it felt to have someone, Sylvia, look at him and say, people been givin’ up on you that fast?

Mentally scrabbling, he brushed her hand from his shoulder and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m perfectly fine. I just don’t understand putting yourself through the trouble of being nice to someone if you don’t like them, that’s all.”

“People can change,” Sylvia told him plainly. “After all, you said you’ve never been around a horse before, right?”

“Well—”

“And now here you are, walking a horse around an empty parking lot in Nowhere, Georgia. I’d say that’s changing, wouldn’t you?”

John snapped his mouth shut. There was something unsettling about the way Sylvia was looking at him; like she was seeing him, really, right then and there, after knowing her for so little time. It was the same—

It was the same way Joseph looked at people. Seeing them, for exactly as they were, with everything they brought to the table. So why did it feel different when Sylvia looked at him? Why did it feel different from Joseph when she looked at him and said, I’d say that’s changing, wouldn’t you? Why did it feel more real?

“You’d probably best head back in,” Sylvia continued after a minute, smiling at him brightly. “Hugo’s an old man, he doesn’t like to be out that long. Much rather prefer to be inside and warm.”

“Yeah,” John said after a moment, pressing his lips into a thin line. “I’d better.”

He didn’t like this, not at all. He especially didn’t like the feeling of Sylvia, a woman who blatantly did not like him, seeing him.

Turning, John started back across the parking lot to the barn, the hefty Clydesdale trailing obediently behind. It wasn’t until he was nearly to the doorway that he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket; pulling it out with his free hand, John brought the horse to a stop and lifted the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Hello, John.”

It was Joseph. Speak of the devil, something in him whispered as he glanced back over his shoulder at Sylvia beginning to trek down into one of the riding yards.

“Joseph,” John said, clearing his throat, “I’m so happy you called.”

“How are things going?” His brother’s voice maintained its typical serenity, but there was a strange idleness to it, like he wasn’t fully invested in their conversation. It was unlike him, to sound like this—to sound absent, or troubled.

“They’re good,” he began cautiously. He wondered if Isolde had told Joseph about him hanging up on her. It would be just like her. “Really good. There was a doctor’s appointment yesterday—” That Elliot didn’t let me go to, he thought, as Joseph made an agreeable noise to show he was listening, “—and the baby is healthy. Really healthy, and good, and next week we’re going to find out the gender. Elliot’s been going to these stables because the doctor thinks it’s good for her stress—”

Joseph’s voice cut in over him, sharp and impatient. “Do you know what’s going to be really good for the deputy’s stress?”

He shifted on his feet. “It’s just, she’s been talking to the doctor about it—”

“There will be bombs dropping, John.”

“I—know that,” he replied quickly, glancing back at the barn and seeing Elliot dusting her hands off on the top of her jeans, having put the palomino away. “I know that, Joseph, I promise, I—”

“There will be no baby to be worried about,” his brother continued, “if you and our sister are not here when they fall on us.”

Joseph bit the word out, sister, like it was a cyanide pill crushed between his canines. Just hearing his brother’s voice change like that made John’s throat feel tight. The anxiety of hearing Joseph’s displeasure was rising up high and hot in his throat, and Elliot was walking towards him, head cocked to the side curiously, and if she knew he was talking to Joseph she was going to go ballistic. She would, and he would be back to square one—and he’d only just gotten a little bit closer; the feeling of the soft skin of her throat beneath his fingers from earlier that morning still lingered, burned in his memory.

“I understand,” John said automatically, pitching his voice low. “I do, I’ll—”

“You have a week left. I won’t wait for you.”

“Joseph—”

“I’ve given you great freedom to fetch your wife and child, when I have every reason to have left her to Hell.”

His stomach wrenched. He knew it. He knew Joseph was angry about it. Regret flooded him; he should have stayed back in Hope County a little while longer, until Joseph was done in his solitude, to talk to him first. “I know, please, if you would—”

“The next life is something that has to be earned,” came his brother’s voice, sharpening as he spoke, “and your wife has done nothing but reject the absolution that I—” He paused. “—we offered her, at every turn.”

I know, John wanted to say, but could not; what would be the point? What would it matter? He’d said it a handful of times already, but Joseph was angry, he was so mad, so mad, and all that time spent back in Hope County felt very suddenly like it had amounted to nothing.

“The gates will be closed to you.” And then, his voice harder now: “Tell me you understand, John.”

He gripped the horse’s lead tight. For a second in time, the comedy of it all—trailing after Elliot into a stable, joining her and her friends that didn’t like him at a bar, listening to her mother expertly sliding in barbs—had been overwhelming. His life had temporarily become a rom-com, and by the season finale they’d make amends and everything would be fine.

This was a reminder that was not how things were going to go. He didn’t have the leniency to just take however long he wanted; there would be no time to make friends, even ones that looked at him and said, just because I don’t like you doesn’t mean I think you’re hopeless.

Get Elliot and baby. Bring them home.

“John.”

“I do,” he whispered. “I understand, Joseph.”

“Good.” Joseph paused, and then after a moment: “And no secrets, John. I’ll know if you’re keeping something from me.”

The words washed a strange, cold sense of dread over him. For a second, John thought, have I been keeping a secret from him? Have I been lying to him about something?

Elliot had stopped a few feet away, her head tilted inquisitively. She was far enough that John thought she might not be able to hear him, but still he turned his head like he’d seen something interesting back in the parking lot when he said, “I would never do that.”

There was a little exhale on the other end of the call. “I know. You’ve always been good.”

Something frantically pleased lit up inside of him, rapidly firing the neurons in his brain. Good, they said, chanting, we’re good, we’re good, he said we’re good, Joseph thinks we’re good.

Just as John opened his mouth to reply, Joseph said, “We’ll talk soon,” and the line clicked. Call Ended, said the screen when he pulled the phone away from his ear and turned back to Elliot, who’d started making her way over to him again. Something in his chest sank a little; he quickly tucked it away, focusing his attention back on the task at hand.

You’ve always been good.

“Who was that?” Elliot asked as she came up, rubbing her hands together in the cold absently. John gestured for her to head back inside, and she did, letting him fall into step between her and the horse.

“Just a wrong number,” he replied with a little smile. “It’s a new phone. I’ve been getting them a lot.”

“Ah.” She didn’t sound convinced, but he supposed he never expected her to. “And how was your walk with Hugo and Sylvia?”

“You would be surprised to know I feel much the same as before I walked.”

Elliot’s mouth quirked up at the corners, tugged into a smile. It wasn’t the first time that he’d seen that little smile on her face, but it was the first time that it didn’t feel forced, or driven by something sour or venomous.

John offered, “Sylvia has confessed she’s not fond of me.”

The redhead next to him made an inquisitive noise, though she didn’t remark on it. He imagined this was not news to her, given the way they’d been chatting when he’d come back from warming up the car the other night. He’d be lying if he said that it didn’t spike a little bit of jealousy in him; that Elliot found it so easy to connect with Sylvia, even though they had history, even farther back than Eden’s Gate, if he was going to be a stickler about it. And he was. He wanted to be.

A little, he thought, maybe he was jealous that despite everything, Elliot still found some way to make a friend that defended her so fiercely.

Stupid, he thought, letting Elliot take the lead from him. It’s stupid. I have people who will protect me too. Jacob, and Joseph—

“But you already knew that,” he added after a moment, watching her. The redhead moved with a kind of surety around the horses; there were no darting eyes, no furtive glances out into the distance, searching for an invisible threat that only she could see.

“Well,” Elliot replied, “you didn’t really endear yourself to her. She met us in the middle of an argument, and then you proceeded to try and use your snake charms—”

“My what?”

“—on her, and that’s just not really her style,” she finished plainly, working to take the halter off and then sliding the stable door shut. “You don’t have all of your little cultists here to chant ‘yes’ at you whenever you please. You have to make a real effort with people.”

“I am,” John snipped out, “making a real effort.”

“Mm,” came the reply as Elliot slung the halter over her shoulder and started heading off down the hall without waiting for him.

“Elliot—”

“John,” she replied amicably. “I’m not going back and forth with you about this.”

He closed his mouth. Every single nerve-ending felt violently frayed from the onslaught; first Sylvia, then Joseph, and now Elliot. John could feel the headache blooming behind his eyes. Even though he’d felt that rush of adrenaline the second Joseph had praised him, there was still a knot in the pit of his stomach; just there, rolling tight and painful, reminding him that he still would have preferred that Jacob called instead.

Elliot returned, picking a loose piece of hay off of his shoulder and dropping it to the ground. “We going or what?”

Regarding her carefully, John said, “Only if you’re done. We’re staying however long you want.”

“Oh, are we? It’s all about what I want now?”

“It was always about what you want.”

She gave him a look. As she shrugged the heavier coat back on her shoulders, and he tugged the boots off, Elliot said, “You know how you’re always saying I need to find a new catchphrase?”

John pulled one of his shoes on. “Uh-huh.”

“I think you should take your own advice,” Elliot continued. “The whole ‘I’ll give you anything you want, Elliot’ bit just doesn’t hit the same when you spent the whole time lying to me.”

“I—” He let out a frustrated breath, pulling his other shoe on. “I meant it when I said it, Elliot.”

“Fucking me,” Elliot replied, “does not amount to giving me anything I want.”

“But it is what you wanted,” John retorted.

“Among other things.”

“Among other things,” he agreed.

They stood like that for a minute, regarding each other with tight expressions and the sourness of their exchange still lingering in his mouth. John exhaled through his nose and passed a hand over his face. It was one thing to be on edge because Sylvia had come right out and said she didn’t like him; another to then follow-up with a conversation that reminded him of his existential dread; yet another to be putting up with Elliot’s vitriol.

“When I said,” he began, “that I l—”

“Don’t,” she snapped. “Don’t fucking say it.”

“When I said it, I meant it,” he amended tartly. “I said a lot of things that I didn’t mean, too, but I meant that.”

“Yeah?” she asked, cocking her head to the side. “You didn’t mean to tell me that I’m never going to find someone that’s going to love me and all of my ugly too, is that what you’re trying to say? That whole ‘no one’s going to love you with all that red in your ledger’ bit was just a fun little jab—”

“No,” John replied evenly, feeling that petty little spike in his chest, “I meant that.”

His words seemed to catch her off-guard, immediately unseating her. The expression that crossed her face was bewildered; the animosity had fled it, and instead what replaced it was hurt—bright and blooming across her features, flushed under her skin in a gorgeous high color. It wasn’t unlike the flush in her cheeks from when she’d been frenzied by the killing of Kian, and it looked just as beautiful now, too.

John thought, I love her, just like this. Wretched and wicked and furious with me. Hurt and needing.

He had seen her in fury, in grief. Watched the remains of what happened when she sank her teeth in down to the bone, whether it was to kill or to howl in her sorrow. And he had loved her then, too.

I meant it, he thought, because no one is good enough to love you except for me.

“Well, it doesn’t fucking matter,” Elliot replied after a minute. Though her words carried with them the same cadence any other angry response would have, her voice sounded small, like he’d sucked the wind right out of her sails. “What you think, it doesn’t matter. You don’t know fuck all about me or what kind of person could love me, and—” Her lashes fluttered. “And fuck you, John.”

John watched her expression for any giveaway that he’d gotten where he wanted: inside. Before, he’d known her quite well—could gauge her anger and her grief and catch it before it exploded. Now, with the baby, things had changed a little.

“I think I’m familiar with exactly the kind of person who could love you,” he said after a moment. And then, gesturing ahead of him: “Shall we?”

The tension in her jaw tightened, flattening and flexing the muscle when she clenched her teeth. Those spiteful little eyes; he’d missed them, missed the way she’d looked at him. As of late, she’d gotten too comfortable withholding her attention from him.

Get Elliot and baby. Get home.

It was a mantra now, running its track in his head over and over until it wore a rut into his brain. As Elliot brushed past him to walk to the car, and he fell into step trailing behind her just a foot or so, he let the words sink in. He’d gotten distracted; strayed from the path—but he wouldn’t let that happen again. Joseph was right. He was good, and he would just have to make Elliot see that.

One way or another.

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Staci Pratt was doing alright, all things considered.

The Veteran’s Center was empty. Had been for weeks, in fact—after a particularly tense call with Joseph, Jacob had evacuated most all of his Chosen except a select few into the bunker and locked it down. He’d grabbed his keys, looked Pratt dead in the eyes and said, “I want to see you sitting in that chair waiting for me when I get back, Peaches.”

How long was he going to be gone? That was a question that had been sitting on Pratt’s brain for the last two months.

It might have been more than that; it honestly could have been a little less, too. He had no idea. Three days after Jacob had left with his chosen, and left Pratt in the Veteran’s Center, the radio chatter had fuzzed out. Interrupted by something. A day after that, he saw strange convoys along the streets.

Well, he’d thought, Jacob did say to stay put.

So, stay put he did.

There was food, and water, and even though the snow was falling, the place stayed pretty warm. He hadn’t heard Jacob’s voice on the radio for weeks. He’d stopped checking it. He thought that since it had been so long, maybe Jacob and the others were—

“Staci,” came a sweet voice from the other room, “come here, quickly!”

Pratt pulled himself to his feet. His limbs felt heavy, but pleasantly so; like he’d been grounded to the earth, finally, at last. For a second, the floor seemed to stretch out under his feet, as far as he could see; the leaves, having blown in before the snow through then-open windows, folded and melded against his shoes. Like they were trying to be with him. What had he gotten up for again?

“Staci!” The sing-song voice came again. Dani, he thought, taking an unsteady step forward. Shit, Dani’s calling me. That’s what I got up for.

“Coming,” he managed out, taking a few steps and then catching his momentum and carrying himself into the next room over. The glossy-haired brunette was sitting with her legs tucked up at the desk, watching the security monitors avidly. Sheridan had come knocking a few days after the convoys had passed, and at the time, Staci had thought she was some kind of test—after all, Jacob had said to stay put. Sitting in that chair, waiting for me when I get back. That’s what he’d said. Getting up for a pretty girl at the door was directly disobeying him.

But he’d let her in, because she smelled good and smiled at him with pearly teeth and a cute accent he couldn’t place, and asked if he had room for her in the building, and said things like, You can call me Dani, if you want!

That was what—four weeks ago? Maybe more? She’d made herself at home, explained she’d gotten lost from her family and that she’d been worried because she saw strangers with guns running around. She had food, and water, and warm clothes, and—

Drugs. The “herbal” kind. It will open you to the influence, Dani had told him, giggling when he blinked owlishly at her. Brings you closer to the earth, Staci. It feels nice, I promise. Pratt thought it might have been Bliss, at first, but it was different; it didn’t jar him on his way down, the crash felt so much gentler, and Dani offered it to him to use whenever he wanted, and he just wanted to feel. Good. For a little while. That’s all. Just a tiny while.

It wasn’t hard, to feel good around Dani. It was like he’d spent all that time in constant fear and stress, listening to Jacob tallying body counts from Elliot. Sometimes the redhead would suck his teeth and say, what the fuck is my brother doing with that girl? and shake his head, and the idea that Jacob Seed wanted to turn Elliot into a perfect killer had washed him with a cold, ferocious dread.

Then, Jacob had left. No more body counts. No more radio calls, listening to the redhead’s urgent voice from the other side of the door. A tiny while had turned into four weeks, and now he was here: stumbling his way into the security room where she was curled up. Somewhere in the distance, a little alarm bell went off in his head. Jacob would be so mad, that alarm bell said. He would be so mad, so fucking mad, so so so mad.

But the thought was a small voice, easily washed out by Dani’s blinding smile when he got close.

“You remember I was telling you about my family?” she asked. She was tearing tiny bites off of a piece of fruit leather; Pratt reached blindly around in one of the drawers and pulled out a bag of beef jerky.

“Yeah, you said they’d be looking for you,” Pratt replied. That was weeks ago, he thought to add, but did not. “Did you find—?”

His eyes fixed on the screen. It was a stranger there, on the screen—which was to be expected—but she didn’t look like Dani. Not at all. They looked to be the same age only, but the woman on the screen had short-cropped, light-colored hair, and she was swathed in dark fabrics high up to her throat.

“That is my sister,” Dani told him excitedly.

“No way,” Pratt said, blinking at the screen. The woman on the screen was obviously not related to Dani by blood. He watched her move, wraithlike, a ghost skimming along the side path up to the F.A.N.G. center—one of the only places Jacob had left some of his Chosen out and about.

Oh, no, he thought suddenly. Oh fuck, this is bad. Oh fuck, Dani’s gonna watch her sister get killed, holy shit—

“We have to stop her,” he blurted out, starting to fumble around for one of the radio’s batteries—he was sure he could charge it up enough, he was sure, he was sure, slamming the walkie talkie on to the charger he’d conveniently left off because he didn’t want Jacob calling for him—when he saw the flicker of one of the Chosen coming out around one of the building’s corners, suspicious. “Um—that guy, he’s—”

“Shh, shshsh,” Dani said, waving her hand at him and watching the screen. “Do not be so noisy. I am watching.”

“Dani, you don’t understand,” Pratt tried again, more urgently, “that man is going to—”

The brunette made a sharp little noise, a quick tst, and planted a bit of fruit leather in her mouth, knee tucked up against her chest. It was like she was watching a movie. It was like—

Oh, God, Pratt thought, swallowing thickly as the figure of Dani’s “sister” came scooting around the corner behind the Chosen. She was going to get killed. She was going to get fucking murdered, right there on screen, in front of this nice young woman who’d been nothing but kind to him, and he was going to have to explain to her what it was he’d watched Jacob do and—

Something sleek and metal glinted on the video feed. Dani’s sister was not sneaking, anymore, but grabbed the chosen’s shoulder with one hand and drove the point of her blade straight into the junction of his shoulder and neck.

It was hard to make out expressions on the screen, details and nuances, but there was one thing clear from the woman’s body language: she was not troubled, fighting for her life, and she had done this before.

“Dani,” Pratt whispered, feeling his stomach lurch when the knife was pulled out of the Chosen’s neck, arterial spray coloring the ground in black and white on the computer screen. “Dani, what is—”

“You are going to miss it,” Dani told him, shooting him an annoyed look.

“Miss what?” he croaked. He didn’t want to look. He didn’t want to see whatever it was Dani was afraid of him missing. The only thing he wanted was—

But she reached up, snagging his hand and squeezing it absently. She had been doing that sort of thing a lot—touching. She’d bring his hand to her pulse so that they could breathe in tandem, touch their foreheads like she was checking him for a fever, take his hand while she walked through the halls and looked around. Another thing Jacob would be furious about, if he found out.

When he found out.

Dani’s hand offered him little comfort now, though. She leaned in to the screen a little and murmured, something in a thick, rolling language that Pratt couldn’t quite make out, and said, “Oh, how many people do you think are there?”

“I don’t know,” he said, fixing his eyes back on the screen. “I don’t know, a lot, Dani, there’s probably a lot—”

There were a lot. There were a lot of them, crawling around the F.A.N.G. center, and he watched Dani; watched her watching the screen as her sister—“sister”—dispatched each one of them with distinct, violent ease. Like it was a dance. One, two, three, waltzing as she picked up whatever she could find and used it to incur blunt force trauma.

Blood, everywhere. Viscera when she shot both kneecaps of one out. Spray when she pushed yet another’s face into a broken plank of wood, falling off of the side of the building. The picture was in black and white, but even still, Pratt could see it: red, everywhere. Red in the snow. Red on her hands. Red on their faces, on their clothes, on her knife on the gun because she twisted it out of one of their hands and pushed it into his mouth and fired, insides painting the wall of the building behind him.

So. Much. Blood.

“What—” Pratt swallowed, his mouth dry as sandpaper. Suddenly, feeling like the world was a conveyor belt under his feet didn’t sit so well anymore. “What is—?”

“This is the important part,” Dani told him. “You have to watch her. Återfödelse.”

“What does—”

“Shh.”

He watched. He watched, and he wished that he hadn’t, because the woman on the screen shrugged out of her coat, pulled some black latex gloves out of her pocket, and snapped them on.

And then, she gutted them.

Like fish.

Stripped their shirts and jackets off. Cut them from the hollows of their throats down to the tops of their jeans—which she had enough generosity to leave on them—and then scooped their insides out like a butcher at home in her own work shop. Scooped them, dumped them, sat them up against the wall of the building. The woman moved with the unhurried but thorough, single-minded pace of a woman determined to finish her plate and lick it clean.

He was going to be sick. He was going to be fucking sick. He pushed the forgotten bag of beef jerky onto the countertop beside the computer. Dani must have thought he was offering it to her, because though she was fully engrossed in her sister’s work, she said sweetly, “Oh, no thank you. I am vegetarian.”

Pratt pulled away from the computer screen and the chair where Sheridan sat, admiring the bloody gore being laid out before her. The world pushed and pulled in his vision in time with his rapidly increasing heartbeat; he stumbled into the next room, reaching blindly out of muscle memory alone before his fingers found the edge of the trash can and he could bend over and throw up whatever was in his stomach.

He was wrong. This was worse than Bliss—Bliss was one kind of trip, and you knew immediately what it was going to be from the start. But this? This was a fucking nightmare. Each time he closed his eyes he kept seeing them, Jacob’s Chosen, entrails scattered in the snow and jaws lax and ribcages split open.

Fuck, he thought, breathing over the trash can as another wave of nausea hit him. Fuck fuck fuck, fuck fuck—

“Oh, Staci,” came Dani’s sugared voice, teeming with pure, unadulterated sympathy, rippling bright pink and blinding in his vision. How long had he been knelt over the trash can like this? “Are you feeling unwell? It can be a lot, you know. The first time you see it.”

“There—” Pratt lifted his head weakly, looking at the girl who’d happened to wander in here, just after he’d seen those glossy gray vans patrolling the area. Separated from my family, she’d said. “It happens more?”

His words came out in a wail, pitching almost into hysterical. Dani clicked her tongue, smoothing the hair back from his forehead in a gesture that was supposed to comfort him.

“Of course it does,” she told him, crouching beside him, bringing his hand up to her cheek. “Återfödelse. Rebirth. It will happen to us all. If we are lucky, Helmi will be the one who does it for us.”

The last thing he wanted was for that woman—Helmi—to do anything for him. He struggled to keep his eyes open, the exhaustion of his adrenaline and the crash of his high digging straight into his skeleton.

I have to get the fuck out of here, he thought. I have to get out of here and tell—tell the others—tell Jerome and Hudson and Elliot and—

“It is okay,” Dani murmured, planting her hand on the back of his neck and giving it a little squeeze. “She knows I am here. That was good thinking, to get the radio all charged up.”

It took every ounce of his strength not to moan in misery at that. The brunette smiled at him, radiantly and with pearly teeth, and he was suddenly filled with dread at the idea that there may be someone out there worse than the Seeds.

“You should lay down, get some rest,” she suggested gently. Coming to a stand, Dani glanced back at the monitors, and then back at him, lips still quirked in that pleasant little smile.

“You will want to be at full speed when she gets here.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Things in the car were uncomfortable. That is to say, Elliot was still nursing whatever wound his honesty had given her, and regarding him warily out of the corner of her eye every time he attempted to strike up conversation with her.

I’m not going to apologize, John thought resolutely, between the stop at the pharmacy and the house. I meant it. I’m not going to apologize for something I meant. And mean. I know I’m the only one meant for—

“What is going on?” he asked, slowing to a crawl when he came to the turn up the Honeysett’s driveway. It was packed with cars—lining the parking area in a little cluster. The redhead beside him let out a frustrated, agonized little moan, burying her face into her hands.

“It’s Tuesday,” Elliot replied tartly.

“Okay, and?”

“Tuesday’s the day mama has all of her debutante friends over.” She shifted in the passenger seat, gesturing with her hand. “Well, you gonna park or what?”

John’s mouth pressed into a thin line. Great. An audience, a crowd, for the impenetrable, unshakeable tension sitting just there, right between them. But even now, it was a relief; all of those weeks spent without her had reminded him that even when things hadn’t been the most ideal, when they’d been fighting constantly, at least it had been something. As long as she wasn’t acting like he didn’t exist.

“Can’t wait,” is what he said, pulling the Jeep down the long drive and parking it where no one would need to have him move it later. Through the glass, he could see gauzy shapes milling about, drenched in amber light; Southern women, hair curled and faces powdered and the flowy fabrics of their loose-fitted (and yet, somehow still miraculously tailored) clothes, martini glasses in hand.

Elliot said, “Stepford housewife does seem on-brand for you.”

He shot her a dry look. “I prefer my women with a bit more bite to them.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

So, it was going to go great, then.

As he made his way up the steps, Elliot paused, turning and looking at him before they could reach the door. He looked at her expectantly; eyebrows lifted.

“I don’t have to tell you to behave,” she began.

“No, you don’t.”

“But I will anyway.” Elliot’s hand rested on the doorknob. “These women are nicer than mama. They’ll want to know all about you, ask you tons of questions—I need you to give them vanilla answers. The most vanilla. You’ve gotta be as unthreatening as a wafer, John.”

Still recovering from the pleasant swoon of hearing the words I need you come out of Elliot’s mouth, John said, “Scout’s honor, Ell.”

Her mouth pressed into a thin line. Loose wisps of ginger hair tumbled out of the half-pony she’d slung her hair in, and her eyes darted—unsure, wetting her lips, like there was something that she wanted to say to him but she didn’t quite trust herself to.

“I’m—” She stopped.

“They’re going to wonder why we’re standing out here.”

“I’m trusting you,” Elliot bit out. The words were almost as sweet as I need you, he thought. “Trusting you not to...take advantage of the fact that I may or may not have omitted important information about what was going on back home. I would really like it, John, if we could get through this evening without my life coming apart.”

The urge to reach up and brush the hair from her face, cup her cheek—it burned in his fingertips, itching. But he kept his hand at his side and said, mood instantly elated by the idea that Elliot needed something from him, “No nuclear bombs dropping tonight, my love.”

“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes. “Fine. We get in and we get out, no casualties.”

“Just like old times,” John agreed. “Sans the ‘no casualties’ bit, of course.”

Elliot’s mouth twisted. He thought she might have been trying to stop herself from smiling, but the expression was wiped so quickly from her face that he didn’t have any time to dwell on it too long before she opened the front door and he was hit with a blast of heat and floral perfume.

Oh, yeah, he thought, stepping inside after Elliot to the sound of bright, vibrant chatter cascading over soft music playing in the background, that’s debutantes.

“Is that Elliot?” exclaimed one woman, perhaps a few years older than Scarlet, coming to a stand and setting her glass to the side as she hurried over to wrap Elliot in a hug. “My goodness, look at you. You dyed your hair, didn’t you? I love it, it’s beautiful, sugar.”

“You’re home late,” Scarlet remarked as Elliot shrugged out of her jacket, perched on the couch. Boomer had come racing down the stairs at the sound of someone’s arrival, little feet tapping excitedly against the carpet as he begged for Elliot’s attention.

“We had to make a stop, mama. And—thank you,” Ell replied, clearing her throat, returning the embrace for a second before she pulled away. The interaction was an interesting one to watch—and gave him, perhaps, more insight into the dynamic between Scarlet and Elliot than his wife would have wanted. After all, it wasn’t Scarlet getting up to embrace her pregnant daughter after not knowing where she was all day.

Elliot turned and gestured to John with a smile that looked more like a grimace. Her hands had gone to Boomer, though, rubbing his ears—more for her benefit than his, it seemed. “Delia, this is—um, John. John, this is Delia, she’s—kinda like my aunt.”

The woman, Delia, turned bright eyes on him. “Well, um John, isn’t it nice to finally meet you!” she exclaimed, hugging him tight and filling his senses with perfume and chiffon.

“Pleasure,” John replied, beaming, “is all mine, I assure you, kinda Aunt Delia.”

She’d been right, of course. All of the women in the room regarded the two of them with nothing short of warmth, glowing curiosity—certainly, they gossiped, but nothing quite as scathing as Scarlet Honeysett’s own impression of him and even, to an extent, Elliot. For the most part, the matriarch’s disdain of him was carefully bottled, though she made no move to greet him or show him off like a mother-in-law ought to.

“John is Elliot’s husband,” Scarlet said lightly from the couch, where the other women made various noises of feigned excitement and disappointment alike. He could about hear Elliot wanting to crumple in on herself.

Delia left one hand on John’s shoulder, the other affectionately twisting one of Elliot’s coppery curls and letting it fall to the side. “Dyed hair, married—honey, is there somethin’ you haven’t been up to? And what about a weddin’?”

John had never seen Ell turn into such a shrinking violet before. She blinked owlishly at the women—even the one she claimed close enough to be her Aunt—and shifted on her feet.

“We didn’t really think about it,” Ell managed out shyly, cheeks flaring pink. “And no, I haven’t, but—well, except—”

Painful. It was painful, how much she was suffering through this. “It was an unconventional thing,” he supplied easily, flashing a charming smile. “We thought about maybe having a nice reception, but we’re just not in a rush right now. Can’t do anything nice in the middle of winter, after all.”

Instant relief flooded Elliot’s face. “Yeah. Exactly.”

“Finally,” Delia hummed, “a man who has some taste. You know, Scarlet, my boy’s been trying to find indoor places to have his weddin’. I asked him, what, does he think folks want to be sweatin’ like a sinner in church the second they step foot in there? It’s no less than—come here, John, honey, you can sit with me—no less than two hundred guests, and...”

John let Delia manhandle him into a chair nearby the fireplace. It had been quite a blow to his ego to have Scarlet regarding him with so much disgust, like he wasn’t even worth her time of day; even now, when his mother-in-law came to a stand, beckoning Elliot into the kitchen with a single elegant hand into the kitchen, she barely spared him a glance. Like he was nothing.

That’s where she gets it from, he thought dryly. Honeysett women.

“John, you ever been to one of Scarlet’s Christmas parties, honey?” Delia asked him, jarring him out of his thoughts. He planted a polite smile on his face.

“Unfortunately, I’ve not had the opportunity,” he replied lightly. This was easy—older women, dying to know more about him? Easy as pie. “Christmas is next week, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes,” Delia replied, patting his hand. “You’ll have to come. I mean, of course you’ll come—Elliot will be there. Where are you staying? Scarlet didn’t put you up in a motel, did she? I’ll tell you what, I hear the most awful stories about that place. In fact, just the other day, Justine Adler was telling me...”

The woman launched into another bustle of gossip, busying herself with pouring a drink which was then promptly planted in John’s hand. Somewhere close to halfway into that, Scarlet and Elliot returned, the older woman resuming her spot at the center of the couch and Elliot sitting herself on the ground beside him, back to the fireplace.

He leaned over, as the women burst into glittering laughter, and said, “Wanted to sit by me instead of your mother, huh?”

“She told me to pretend like we like each other,” Elliot muttered back. “What are you drinking?”

John flashed her a grin. “Delia made it for me.”

“Elli,” Delia said sweetly from the chair, “do you want somethin’ to drink, too?”

Elliot flushed. “No thank you, ma’am. I’m alright.”

“Well, if you’re sure.”

The conversation resumed, and John let a few beats go by before he leaned to the side again; this time, he pitched his voice lower, and he saw Elliot tuck the hair behind her ear. “I like when your accent comes out,” he told her, turning his head to look at her, and she did the same at the same time, putting them almost nose to nose. “It’s cute.”

“You’re on thin ice, buddy,” she replied, eyes narrowing. “I haven’t forgotten what you said.”

“I’m counting on that elephant’s memory of yours, Elli.”

“John, are you fixing to get glassed or what?”

He couldn’t stop the grin from hitting his face again. She had to behave here—she couldn’t kick up a bit fuss about it. But even when she asked him if he was trying to get his face bashed in, a little bit of wry amusement bled into her voice, like muscle memory demanded the jab be more playful than threatening.

“I’ll drink to your health,” John added amenably, “and merciful nature.”

She squinted at him, the corner of her mouth twisting into something close to a smile.

“Sure, John,” she replied. “You’ll need all the help you can get on that front, anyway.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

By the time the last lady had left and the glasses and plates were cleaned up, night had fallen deep and dark over the Graves (Honeysett) home. Elliot thought she’d never been more tired her entire life than she had been sitting through that little gathering, listening to the women ply John with questions about what he did and what he was doing, and how did they meet, and wasn’t he just so happy to be down here in Weyfield? Wasn’t he so pleased to have Scarlet as a mother-in-law?

To his credit, John upheld his promise to behave. He took only one alcoholic drink from Delia and spent the rest of the time sipping it, engaging more freely with the other women than she’d seen him do with her own mother or even Sylvia—likely because they had no reason to dislike him. On a surface level, John Seed was a very charismatic man. Charming. Thoughtful. Perceptive. He laughed and he made the ladies laugh, and even her mother seemed a little pleased; not without her carefully placed jabs, but for a second in time, Elliot felt less like she was going crazy and more like a normal girl. A real girl.

It made her think about the night she’d first met him, almost two years ago now, and the way he’d looked at her and said, a lot can happen in a week, beautiful. She’d been a fucking fool back then, and in a lot of ways, Elliot thought she still was a fool—but at least she was on the defense. At least she felt comfortable with the idea that her baby might never know John, in any capacity.

She was ready to cut and run, if needed.

And why haven’t you? Something inside of her asked, as she moved up the steps and stopped at her bedroom door. Why haven’t you cut and run already?

“Elliot?” John turned to look at her, pausing when she did. His eyes were inquisitive. No, not inquisitive—prying. “Are you sure you don’t want to sleep in my bed?”

Lonely, another part of her replied. We haven’t cut and run because we’re lonely.

“I’m sure,” she said after a second. “Nice try, though.”

“You’re still mad,” he said, his voice rumbling teasingly. His eyes darted over her, lingering on her mouth before fixing on her eyes. “Didn’t I do good? Just what you asked?”

“You—did,” Elliot allowed after a moment. It was true. “But of course I’m still mad, you fucking idiot. You told me no one was ever going to love me, and that you meant it.”

John sighed. There was a brief moment where he neither said nor did anything, but after a second he reached up and swept the hair from her shoulder. The gesture made her skin prickle; anticipation curled at the base of her spine and began its stretch, luxurious and leisurely, up to her neck. Tight, tingling anticipation, when his fingers brushed the side of her neck.

Push him away, she thought.

“I do mean it,” he said, “because, I don’t think—”

Push his hand off of you.

“—anyone else is going to love you—”

He was closer now, much closer than before, like she’d blinked and suddenly he was there, in her space. Elliot felt her lashes flutter; the smell of his cologne washed over her, drowning out all of the alarm bells in her head, speaking to a creature inside of her that craved comfort.

“—the way that I can love you.”

John’s forehead brushed hers. So close, too close—but she thought about waking up this morning and the way he’d put his hand just there, in the same place, the way he’d murmured concernedly, you said you’ve been sleeping fine.

“Ell.” His voice was pitched soft, low, something safe and warm and just between them, his fingers threading into the hair at the base of her skull, and now their noses brushed, and John had crowded her up gently against the doorframe, just the way that he knew she liked. “I want to kiss you.”

Elliot’s throat felt tight. I want to kiss you too, that wretched, sad little thing inside of her said, but instead she thought of something else—she thought about John, holding her under the water, and John, saying enough of that sad little whimpering, deputy, you’re pulling on my heartstrings, and John, spitting mad, telling her he was never ever going to take her back even though no one was going to love her because of the things she’d done.

“Can’t,” she managed out, her voice hoarse. “You can’t.”

John exhaled through his nose, his eyes shutting like he was trying to stop himself—from saying something, doing something that he wanted to do very much but would regret later. It took a second, but once she gathered herself, she reached up and gripped his wrist with her hand, applying just a little pressure—and that was all it took for him to drop his hand from her neck.

“Okay,” he said after a moment. It sounded more like a way to console himself rather than an answer to her. He passed a hand through his hair.

“We can’t.”

“Okay, alright. No kissing.” He lifted his hands in a show of innocence. “You’re the boss.” The brunette’s eyes glided over her face for a moment, almost ruefully, before he stepped back and started heading down the hall. “Goodnight, Elliot.”

She stayed put, up against the doorframe to her bedroom, fingers curled into fists. Everything in her felt like it was burning—rioting, that she had denied herself something that might give her some temporary relief, some temporary pleasure.

But it wasn’t just about her, anymore.

“John,” she said, waiting until he turned to look at her. “Why are you even here?”

He stared at her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she continued, hating the little tremble in her voice, “did you come here because you wanted to be with the baby and I, or did you come here because you were mad we left?”

Elliot watched the muscle of his jaw tense and tighten, flexing as he tried to come up with an answer. And he was, having to come up with one, because he was doing that thing where he wanted to say something that was true to him and would make her happy.

And she didn’t want that. She just wanted him to be honest.

“Alright, good talk.”

“Elliot, listen,” he started, and she stepped into her bedroom, shaking her head.

“Goodnight, John.”

She closed the door behind her, pleased to not hear any follow-up knocks on her door or John’s voice coming through the wood. It was five minutes of waiting before she finally dragged herself into her pajamas, put a sleeping pill in her mouth, and crawled into bed with Boomer curled into her knees.

That’s okay, Elliot thought tiredly, shifting and closing her eyes. That’s alright. It can be just you and I, baby.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Staci?”

Roused from his sleep, Pratt lifted his head. When had he fallen asleep? How long had he been sleeping? He struggled to a sitting position, clearing his throat and blinked his eyes rapidly to try and get them to focus. It was Dani’s face that came into view, then, her hair slung up in a ponytail and her nose scrunching up in an amused little smile.

“Good morning. You must have been exhausted, you slept for so long,” she teased him, and for a second he felt relief flood over him. It had been a dream. It had all been an awful dream. Now, more than ever, he was sure that he needed to get to the Resistance—take Dani with him and get out of this fucking nightmare of a building. Yeah. Then he’d feel better.

“Yeah, I must have been,” he said a little sheepishly, his voice rough from sleep. “Hey, d’you think we could—”

“Is he finally awake?”

The voice that came from the other room filtered straight into his brain, crisp and sharp and distinctly un-accented. The sound of footsteps echoed across the tile before an unfamiliar woman filled up the doorway, leaning one shoulder against it and regarding him with dark, scrutinizing eyes.

No. Not unfamiliar. Very familiar, painfully familiar, disgustingly, awfully—

“Yes, Helmi,” Dani replied warmly, “he is awake. It was his first time seeing Återfödelse.”

The woman, dark and swathed in fabric up to her throat, swept her eyes over him. “Dani told me you puked.”

“I-I-” Pratt tried to function through the panic in his brain, rioting bells going off nonstop. Helmi had washed herself of any blood, that did nothing to erase the image of her driving a man’s face into a splintered plank until he was skewered on it, or the way she had methodically emptied out Jacob’s own chosen and propped them up.

To get found. To send a message.

“You?” Helmi prompted, her voice flinty. “You what, boy?”

“He is still coming down,” Dani said, pouting her lips. She no longer struck him as affectionate on an equal level, but instead gave him the distinct feeling of a girl fawning over a cute animal. An animal she thought was also stupid.

“Why do you think he’s been holed up in the big one’s base of operations? He’s their lap dog,” the blonde bit out. She took a few steps over, leaning down—she was tall, but dextrous, her mouth curving in a smile that was distinctly threatening. She reached up, and when Pratt felt his body flinch, she grabbed his chin. “Aren’t you, doggy?”

“I-I’m not!” he said quickly, jerking his face out of her grip. “I’m not, I swear, I don’t even like the Seeds, I swear I don’t, Jacob was keeping me here and then he got everyone in the bunker and—”

“Wait,” Helmi said, eyes narrowing. “You know where the bunker is?”

“Yes!” Pratt said quickly. His eyes darted between Helmi and Dani, nervous. “I do, I know where it is, but—but no one can get in without Jacob now. Everyone in there is locked down until h-he gets back.”

“I told you,” Dani said to Helmi eagerly. “I told you he was helpful, Helmi.”

Helmi sucked her teeth, giving him one last scathing once-over before she planted a pleasant smile on her face.

“Come on, doggy,” she said, grabbing Staci’s shirt collar and hauling him to his feet. “You and I are going to make a little trip. And—”

She paused, thoughtful, even as Pratt scrabbled to push her hands off of him. They made his skin crawl—long and elegant, but he had seen what they could do. What they had done. Helmi shoved the walkie into his hands, as well as a heavy coat.

“Why don’t you tell me everything you know about our friends the Seeds on the way there?”

#fic: witching hour #john seed x female deputy #my writing #ch: elliot honeysett #ch: john seed #ch: helmi #ch: sheridan stark #ch: staci pratt #i have sated my desire for blood and now we can get back to getting these two idiots to fucking kiss already #far cry 5 fic #far cry 5 oc #john seed/female deputy #fc5 oc

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sergeant-donny-donowitz · 4 years

Text

The Lady in White: UtivichxFem!Reader

Happy Halloween guys! :))) Here's a lil spooky basterds fic for y'all

TW: Gore/blood/animal attacks/ghost stories

@owba-chan @war-obsessed @inglourious-imagines @tammykelly @struggling-bee @frozenhuntress67 @kwyloz @sodapop182 @marlenemarauders @what-the--curtains @taikawho @spookybearlandtaco Let me know if you wanna be added to the IB or OUATIH taglists! :)

******************************* 'Baba Yaga brodit no lesu dazhe zdes...' "Baba Yaga wanders the forest, even here."

Aldo narrowed his eyes as he stood over a heavily wounded Soviet spy with weary eyes and a frightened whisper. The basterds had been hunting a patrol, and just when they were close, they heard blood curdling screams. All they found was this Soviet spy, tortured half to death...who could only speak Russian, German, and French. "What's he sayin' Wicki?" The spy was loosing blood, but seemed to speak with a sly smirk, repeating it over, 'Baba Yaga brodit no lesu dazhe zdes...' Wicki shrugged, "I don't know he's saying it in Russian now." Hugo hovered over the wounded man, "Deutsch sprechen?" "You speak German?" The agent's eyes darted, and looked directly at Hugo, speaking with as much conviction as a half-dead man could, "Baba Yaga wandert auch hier durch den Wald." Aldo nodded, his hands at his hips, "That. What's that mean?" Wicki turned back, "He's saying Baba Yaga wanders in the woods, even here." Donny narrowed his eyes, "Who, or what the fuck is Baba Yaga?" Hugo grunted, "Slavic myth. A witch." Smitty, who had just returned with a member of the resistance the basterds were friends with, managed to sputter, "W...witch?" "It's only a myth. Besides, he's lost a lot of blood. He's delirious." Wicki chuckled, though he looked back at the agent, "Die Franzosen werden sich um Sie kümmern." 'The French will take care of you.' The day went on as usual. Evening came, and the basterds sat around a fire, eating some Hershey bars as the wind tussled the red leaves of autumn. "So... suppose the patrol did see something out in the woods, and they left the commie behind..." Smitty looked around, hoping for some reassurance. "There's nothing in the goddamn woods, Uti." Hirschberg rolled his eyes, though he held his breath, and turned to the others, "Right?"

Wicki, who loved a good scare, chuckled and shrugged, "I don't know, kid. The Soviet said somethin' about 'dama v belom'. Know what that is?"

They shook their heads. "Lady in white." He smirked, and Hugo muttered, with a slight nod, "Haus Ausel..." referring to an old German myth about a ghostly lady in white. Wicki chuckled, but shook his head dismissively. "He was delirious. There's no such thing as ghosts." "But...we heard the screams. Krauts wouldn't have just left a high stakes prize like a Soviety spy behind like that." Donny shrugged, grumbling with a mouth full of chococlate, "So they saw a wolf or something." Smitty shook his head, "When have you ever seen a fucking wolf around here?" "Well.....fucken..." Donny scrunched up his nose in thought for a moment, then muttered"...just eat some hersheys damn it." Wicki smirked a little, "You afraid of a ghost story, Utivich?" "Wh....no...."

Aldo smirked, catching on, "Well, you ain't been scared till you seen the ghost of Sadie Baker." "Who the hell is that?" Omar rolled his eyes, though...he did love a good ghost story. "Well ain't you a lucky man," Aldo cleared his throat, snorting some tobacco, and then facing the boys, about to make them 'unlucky,' and telling them about Sadie Baker. Omar laughed, "Get the hell outta here." "You got a better one?" Aldo leaned back against a tree with a dismissive smirk, and Omar shrugged, "Better one? Here's a good one: Ghosts aren't real."

Hirschberg shrugged, "Maybe not...but you ever hear of the Jersey Devil?" Omar rolled his eyes, "Oh again with this shit? There is no Jersey Devil!" Donny frowned a little, "You ever hear about somethin' called the wendigo? Now...I'm not sayin' it's real...but that is some scary shit...if you believe in those things.... Which I don't." The night went on, the leaves rattled in the breeze, the yellow moon rose. There was wild screaming in the distance the likes of which they had only heard in chilling radio shows or horror pictures. Wicki and Hugo smirked seeing Smitty jump and look around nervously with every snapping twig and falling lead. They started joking around about the supposed 'lady in white,'. The only one who seemed fully unfazed was Aldo. When asked why, he replied simply, "Down south everything's either built on an Indian burial ground or on a civil war battlefield. This ain't nothin'." Though Utivich was the only visibly frightened basterd, the others were beginning to wonder about the howling in the distance. "Maybe there is a wolf..." "So that explains the screaming?" "If you saw a wolf you wouldn't scream?" "Not like that." Omar smirked, "Hey...isn't there a cemetery around here? Between that last village and the forest?" Smitty narrowed his eyes in suspicion, "You're setting me up, aren't you?" "You think I'd make all this up to get to you? I have other things to do." Omar rolled his eyes, and Hirschberg sighed, "Cemetery's down that way. Southeast." They heard another bone chilling scream, followed by an echoing howl. "It's...uh....just the wind." Hirschberg cleared his throat, crossed his arms, trying to look unbothered. "Hell of a wind," Donny mumbled as he looked up and around. Omar was smirking, poking around as he walked away from the group, "Aldo?" "Yeah?" "Can we go check it out?" Aldo sighed, having just taken off his boots for the night. "Take two of the boys with ya. Come back in an hour. We got a long day ahead of us, and ain't no ghoul out there gon' help us scalp nazis. Got it?" Omar nodded, "Got it. Come on." He grabbed Hirschberg and Utivich. Hirschberg seemed game, being bored out of his mind and not quite tired enough to get to sleep yet. Utivich....well... he stammered "Oh no. No fucking way. Take....take literally anyone but me. Take Hugo or-" Hugo scowled. "Or maybe not....How about Wicki?" Wicki was already laying down, his arms crossed behind his head, and his coat draped over his upper body. He sighed, half yawning, half disinterested, and one hundred percent too old for this shit. "Not tonight, boychik."

"But...but..." Utivich turned to Donny, panic seeping through his wide eyes, "Donny?" Donny was sharpening his knife, "You heard Aldo. We got a big day tomorrow, kid" He smirked, not just because of the big mission, but because he got a kick out of giving Utivich a good scare. Which wasn't very hard to do. "Come on, we're just checking it out." Omar nudged Smitty, who sighed as he dropped his head and followed along. About thirty minutes in, he asked "Are you sure you know where we're going?" Omar turned around, "Look." he sighed, "Ghosts aren't real. You know that." "Yeah but...." "For the last time, Uti, there is no wolf," Hirschberg chuckled and patted Utivich on the back as they kept walking. Omar asked, "What are you scared of anyway? If anyone's out there, they should be scared of us." Smitty chuckled a little, "I guess you're right." "Atta boy, now-" They reached the last few trees, and could see the looming, ancient gates, and the silhouettes of crooked and broken tombs just beyond it beneath the silver moonlight. And just as it came into view, they heard a shrill, guttural scream of a man. "It's uh...coming from the cemetery..." Hrischberg stalled for a moment, and Omar rolled his eyes, pulling them both behind him. "Come on." "You know...in the pictures, it's always one dumbass that gets everyone killed." Omar shook his head with a smirk, "Yeah, well we ain't in the pictures, Hirschberg." Omar pushed open the rusting, dusty, forgotten gates, and stepped in. "Footprints. Ghosts don't leave footprints." He turned around, "And no, a dybbuk wouldn't either." Hirschberg narrowed his eyes, "How do you know..." "We don't have time for this! I'm just saying that w-" There was another scream. "This way..." He seemed a little more hesitant, but still, made his way toward the screams, towing along the other two basterds. The cemetery seemed to go on for miles and miles, almost as if it were endless. "See? Nothing. I told y-" Omar's eyes went wide as he wobbled at the edge of an open grave, "WHOA-" Hirschberg grabbed onto Omar's arms and pulled him to safety. "Alright. That's it, asshole. Let's go home." "Aww you scared of a little wind?" "No." He clenched his jaw, "I just...it don't seem too respectful to be stompin' around these graves." Utivich nodded hastily, "Y-yeah...r...respectful..." "You coulda gotten hurt, Omar. Let's go." Omar sighed, "Just a few more minutes. I wanna see if-" They heard a low, ghastly groan, "Hilfe..." it almost seemed to be begging for mercy. Begging for death itself, "Hilfe!" 'help...' It was German. Omar then peered over the ditch he nearly fell into....and realized it was far deeper than six feet. And it was far from empty. There was a pile of men, bloodied, seeming as if they'd been gutted and torn apart by a wild animal. "Hilfe...." 'Help...' Omar's eyes shot wide, his heart stopped, and his blood went ice cold when he saw one of the bodies reach up with a shaking, bloody, mangled hand, eyes looking directly into Omar's. Hirschberg then peered over, "Holy shit. It's a nazi!" He laughed, putting his hands at his hips as he looked on at the bloody masterpiece. "I-it is?" Utivich felt significantly less scared, as he looked between his friends' shoulders, and saw just that. An endless pile of dead nazis in a seemingly bottomless pit. "It is!" He smiled, though he was still a little uneasy with the idea of being in a cemetery in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night. Hirschberg kicked some dirt in, "Wonder what happened." "Who cares." Omar crouched down, wondering what to do next. Killing the nazi was too much mercy...leaving him be meant a small chance that he'd survive and tell someone he saw the basterds. Hirschberg seemed to read his mind. He called out, "English?" The nazi sobbed, "Ja...Yes!" "What happened?" He sputtered, blood trailing out of his mouth, his eyes shifting back and forth as he struggled for a breath of air long enough to speak. "W-woman...." He looked with blank eyes remained unblinking and unresponsivein fear, gasping for breath, "W-white...white dress..." he gulped, "Wolf....attacked..." His mangled arm wrapped around his sliced abdomen. Omar looked back at the other two basterds, "Ok...so he's delirious." "Omar, I don't think-" Smitty peered over, "Are you delirious?" Hirschberg rolled his eyes. "Hey." Omar threw a rock into the pit, but the nazi didn't answer. His wide, yellow eyes glazed over. His mouth dropped open as final streams of blood poured out. His arms fell to the sides. His organs spilled out. "....A wolf could do that..." Hirschberg pointed at the evisceration with a shrug. "Let's go." "Don't you wanna know how the bodies got here? I mean-" Omar loved a good mystery. "Why would a wolf drag bodies to a grave? A spirit can't pull bodies into a ditch. A spirit wouldn't care if all the evidence was found! Someone's gotta be out there." "Or....s-something...." Smitty's hands were shaking as he looked around. Omar rolled his eyes, "For the last time, there is no such thing as ghosts." Hirschberg pushed Omar, "Who cares. It's late. It's way past the hour that Aldo gave us. Leave well enough alone."

"You too, Hirschberg?" "What!" Hirschberg was visibily irritated, and uneasy, mostly because of the pungent smell. He didn't care about the nazis...he cared about being in the middle of a graveyard in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night, with the possibility of a wild animal attacking. "You're scared too." Omar grinned smugly. "I'm scared of Aldo knowing we stayed out here for more than an hour on purpose. Sure. Come on, kid." He pulled Smitty along, and Omar sighed, "Fine. Fine, lets go." The three wandered back through the gates in silence, not even commenting on what they found. "Umm...Omar?" Omar sighed in annoyance, "What, Smitty?" "Do you know where we are?" He slowed down, beginning to realize they had been walking for a lot longer than when they left camp. He looked around, suddenly not recognizing anything despite having known this side of the forest like the back of his hand. "Uh..." He practically turned in a circle, squinting, trying to make something out of the dark, vast nothing among the dense trees. "Are you fucking kidding me?!" Hirschberg groaned, more annoyed than scared, as he sunk down on the ground, catching his breath. "What? We can't be that far!" Omar stepped a little further into the woods. "I...think we should stay here till morning." "Oh is someone getting scared?" Omar smirked a little as he glanced back at Smitty. "This isn't fucking funny, Omar. We're lost!" Hirschberg crossed his arms, and Smitty said, "Besides...even if there's nothing out here, it's fucking cold." "Then let's keep moving." Smitty shook his head, "No."

Hirschberg knew Omar wouldn't stop.. As much as he hated the idea, he couldn't let Omar go on his own. "Fine." Smitty definitely couldn't handle being alone, so he quickly followed. After what seemed like a thousand years, Omar stopped to catch his breath, finally conceding, "Ok...so we're lost." "Fucking knew it." Smitty looked out into the darkness, whispering under his breath, "lost..." Omar and Hirschberg stood beside each other, looking up at the towering trees.Suddenly, they both felt a heavy, iron grip grab at their shoulders, and pull them back. Both of them screamed at the top of their lungs. "What part of 'one hour' and 'big fucken day tomorrow' did you not fucken understand?!" Their hearts eased, and the color came back to their cheeks when they turned and saw it had been Donny who snuck up on them. "Oh fuck...." Omar rested his hand over his racing heart, "Ok..." he took a deep breath, "Ok..." Donny saw how pale they were. Smitty suddenly hugged him. He'd always been like a younger brother to Donny, though Donny found the hug odd as it seemingly came out of the blue. "You uh...you alright, kid?" Smitty looked up at him, and said about a million words in half a minute, none of which were understood by Donny. "I'll take that as a no?" Donny then glared at Omar and Hirschberg ,"What'd you do to the kid?" Donny knew it was a sort of favorite past time among the basterds to scare Smitty, but this seemed to have gone too far. "Nothing!" Before Donny could respond, they heard a howling sound. It wasn't the wind because there was no wind. And it wasn't a distant figment of their imagination. They all heard it....and it was close. "Can we please get back to camp for the love of- They heard snarling and growling as if they were surrounded by a single creature. The four basterds stood back to back, keeping their eyes ahead of them. A pair of glowing, pale, yellow eyes appeared in the underbrush. "oh shit..." Donny's heart skipped as he fumbled with his gun, trying to load it. Just before he could, they all heard a distant, bubbly, almost innocent laugh. Smitty's hands shook almost as violently as his voice when he raised his finger, pointing at something behind the wolf's eyes, "Wh-what the fuck is that!" It was a white silhouette, barely within sight.

He shut his eyes, and as if in response, there was a whistle. The snarling stopped, and was instead replaced with a whine, and the sound of retreating paws. The figure was gone, along with the glowing eyes. Donny still had his gun aimed at the now vacant forest. He didn't dare look away yet. He did ask one thing. "You...you wanna run that story by me again, Smitty?" ***** Aldo didn't believe a word of it. Neither did Wicki, or Hugo. After their mission, they went back to the cemetery with the younger basterds. Aldo joked as they stepped through the gates, "Whatever it is, it's making our jobs a hell of a lot easier." "There." Omar pointed to. The rest of the basterds huddled around it....a patch of dirt... "I swear it was right here." Hirschberg and Smitty looked on in shock. There was dirt where there were bodies the night before. Wicki shrugged, "You dragged us all the way out here...for an unmarked grave?" Hirschberg picked up a handful of soil, letting it sift through his fingers, "Why is it so fresh?" Smitty nodded, "Yeah...it looks like it was just dug." Hugo grunted "Maybe because we're in a cemetery." Donny shook his head, "No. We saw something." He was so adamant, it made Aldo pause for a moment. Donny had never lied to him before, why would he now? "Alright." Just as the basterds were beginning to push dirt aside, they heard an old, creaking voice that nearly stopped the hearts of the younger basterds. " Puis-je vous aider?" 'Can I help you?' Omar, Smitty, and Hirschberg immediately held on to each other. Aldo rolled his eyes. It was an old man in worker's clothes, and was presumably the graveyard's care taker. The old man repeated again, "Puis-je vous aider?" In broken French, Wicki and Hugo pieced together a story: The kids heard a ghost story in town, and they'd all leave and stop bothering him. Instead, the caretaker invited them all to his house, seeing as though they might be hungry. Smitty shook his head, "Creepy old man in a creepy cemetery with a creepier house..." Aldo, being a southerner, and therefore literate in the art of hospitality, knew it was rude to say no. "Just cause he's old, and we're surrounded by dead people don't mean you get to be rude. Ya did break into the man's property, after all." And with that, the basterds followed the old man through the cemetery to another gate, newer...and less creaky, behind which there was an open space, and a small cottage, with a fresh coat of paint in whatever spots weren't covered with bright bougainvillea. It seemed so out of place, so charming, almost enchanted. It didn't seem to belong there, like an oasis in the middle of a barren desert, but boy was it a sight for sore eyes for the tired basterds The old man apologized, as all he had to offer the brave basterds was some stale bread and water. Rations had been cut in half in the village. He sighed with a smile, though. "She'll be home any minute with more." Wicki asked, "She? " The heavy wooden door opened with a slight creak, and in appeared a figure in a deep green dress, with a basket, "Je suis de retour, papa!" you announced your return, and just as you stepped in, you spotted the crowd of strangers. "Visiteurs?" 'Visitors' you asked, seeming a little uneasy, unable to identify their allegiance. 'Soldats américains,' He explained with a hearty laugh, "american soldiers" with pure joy in his eyes and all the hope an old man could have. Wicki began to explain, "Well..." Hugo waved it off dismissively. Your dad explained that the younger basterds had heard some scary story around the town, and had come by to investigate. You laughed, though nervously...it sounded familiar to at least one Basterd. Smitty mumbled, "It's you..." Donny instantly caught on. He nudged Smitty, "Shut up." Aldo introduced himself, and each of his basterds to you. You nodded with a simple innocent smile, and introduced yourself, as shortly as possible, "Y/n." Aldo nodded, "Pleased to meet you, Y/n..." He turned to Smitty, "Utivich, why don't you go on and help Y/n." "I....ok..." You forced a polite smile to keep up appearances, and he followed you into the kitchen to put away what you'd brought. You were both quiet for a moment, though at one moment, you both looked at each other. You spoke at the same time saying, "I know who you are." You both raised your eyebrows, stepping back in shock, and again on the same beat, quipped, "No you don't!" "Quit it!" You put the tea kettle on, and arranged some cakes you'd brought into a tray, remarking, "You're a basterd." He raised his eyebrow with a smirk, as he leaned against a cupboard, "And you're a ghost." You rolled your eyes, "Really?" You tapped on your left forearm, "I think I know a dead person when I see one, soldier boy. And you should, too." He was quiet as you turned around to pour the boiling water into cups. You sighed reluctantly, "Sorry....that was mean," You sighed sighed again, "Things have been so..." He nodded, having seen the decimated, occupied village himself not too long ago. "I know everything." You looked at him, "You know nothing of hell." You stepped outside through the back door, into a peaceful meadow, seeming even more out of place than the cottage itself, and he followed, "I saw you." "I don't know what you're talking about." "The lady in white bullshit everyone's talking about. Killer wolf. Unmarked grave with a stack of dead nazis in it? I-" You turned around, "Do you see me wearing white? Don't you see endless graves around here? And killer wolf? Here? That's absolutely ridicu-" You both heard a whining.... You shut your eyes, and sighed, and muttered through gritted teeth, "Pais maintenant, Brouillard..." 'Not now, Brouillard...' Smitty saw a greyish-white wolf standing by your side, "No wolf, huh?" "He's not a wolf," you crossed your arms defensively. Smitty looked at you, absolutely puzzled for a moment, and you muttered, giving up. "He's a wolf-dog." "So it was you." "You're lucky you weren't here a few nights too soon, or Brouillard would've howled, and papa would have shot you down." "Your dad? That sweet little old man?" You chuckled with an understanding smile, "It doesn't seem like it, but he takes his job real serious. And well... last night of course you know Brouillard wasn't here to warn him about your little...uh...escapade... We had our hands full." "Does he know?" Smitty spoke softly now, looking at you with wide eyes. "No. And..." You smirked a little, "Let's keep it that way." He nodded, and you stepped back inside, reaching for the tray with cakes as he took the tray with tea, "Wait..." You glanced back, "Yes, private?" "Why?" "Why?"

"I mean...thank you for the help and all, but...why you?" You sighed, putting the tray back down on the counter. "Let me show you something..." You pulled him back outside, but he stopped in his tracks when he saw the wolf again. Brouillard trotted up and rubbed his head on Smitty's leg, as you laughed, "Go ahead." Smitty smiled, and patted Brouillard on the head, commenting, "Your laugh is a lot less ominous now....I mean...I...uh..." You laughed again, taking no offense, as you reached for the young soldier's arm, "Come on." You climbed up a trellis hidden by the vines, and sturdy enough to hold you. You popped into the second floor, and peeked over the window, "You won't fall, I promise!" Smitty nodded, trusting you for reasons he'd figure some day. You helped him in, and he looked around, immediately blushing realizing it was your bedroom. "Ummm..." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, and chuckled, "No one's going to come up. It's the only room up here." You still peeked into the hallway and half down the stairs before slowly shutting the door, and then the window, and closing the curtains. "Y/n....I hate to say this...but I-I think y-you, this is a misunderstanding! I-I don't want to- I mean you're gorgous but. Fuck! I mean-" You opened a dresser, produced a long, lovely, lace and pearl dress, and laid it over the bed. He stopped stammering, and was more intrigued than embarrassed now. He spotted the ragged, torn bottom, with leaves and twigs etched into the lace. "It's a wedding dress." He looked up at you with a sly smirk, "Impressive...Nice disguise." "It was my wedding dress." You sighed, as your fingertips brushed over pearl buttons. Smitty caught his breath, knowing there were a million things that could have led to this: Number one: Widowed by the war But he was wrong... And when he heard the truth he wished he had been right. "No." You smiled a little, "I was happy here. We all were. Then the nazis came." You held the dress up, "One of them, a sergeant... He saw me, and demanded I marry him, or he'd never stop terrorizing the town." "Y/n..." He shook his head, heart broken by the extent that war could go. "The night before the wedding," You turned to him, with the glint of a grin hidden behind your eyes as they wandered over the lace, "He was in the pub, and I knew it. I knew where he'd be. I knew where he would go. And..well, people here are very superstitious. Everyone knows these old myths. Especially in small, isolated places like this. So, naturally, if a...say....vengeful spirit appeared when the town was disturbed, no villager would really say it was fake. They wouldn't dare." "You killed him?" Smitty was grinning a little, as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Me?" You smirked, pleating the white dress against your chest, tracing the details with your finger, "I simply lured him into the forest." "You?" "Well," You shrugged, "You know what they say. It's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding." His jaw dropped, both in awe and in shock. "Now, it looked complicated, but Brouillard is a watch-dog...wolf-dog. Very protective. But, it's also not uncommon to spot wolves around here every few years. So naturally, have him howl around a little for a week or so before the deed, and people think it's just one of those wild lone wolves wandering in the woods. So...when a nazi turned up mauled in the woods, well, c'est la vie." "It was that easy?" "Easy?" You scoffed, "It was messy. But...there was no blame. Oh, no. Just what a tragedy before a wedding. Killed by a wolf, well, no one's to blame but his drunken self... Now, when his mates refused to leave town, a little more luring and a few more unpredictable wolf attacks meant the town was free. Well..." "Till more nazis showed up?" "Well...the people seem to understand that wandering the forest late at night might not be the best idea. Naturally the new nazis always want to be the one to solve the mystery of their missing soldiers, they want to get a prize.... So the nazis have no problem ending up at say, the wrong place at the wrong time. Still, Brouillard is a lone wolf. He can't get to each and every one of them so quickly, so, a few have gotten away having spotted a 'lady in white,' But, as of last night, the town is free of nazis. And when the next patrol arrives, I'll be here, waiting." You sighed, placing the dress back into the dresser. "I never would've....This..This is fucking amazing! How have you not been caught?" "The last place anyone would look for a dead body is in a graveyard," you smirked as you sat by him. "You're fucking brilliant..." "Well...I don't know if I'd say 'brilliant,' but...." You stammered a little, tilting your head down, though you now shyly glanced up. You opened the curtains and the window, and stood there for a while. You felt him standing by you. You both looked out at the endless graves, and he asked, "Do you ever feel scared by that?" "Scared?" You shook your head, though your eyes didn't part from the cemetery bathed in the falling red light of sunset. "I think it's peaceful...Though, maybe a little lonely at times." Your shy glance met his timid eyes, and you both smiled softly. In only a moment, you both began leaning in for a kiss, before sneaking back down to the garden, and back to the kitchen.

**** The basterds were walking back to their camp out in the woods, and Donny smirked, "So, Uti...." "What? Yeah?" Utivich snapped out of a trance where he was smiling dreamily at nothing. Donny raised his voice up a few pitches, "YoUr LaUgH is LesS ominous..." "Fuck. You." Utivich blushed as the basterds cackled, and Aldo sighed with a smile, "So? What'd she say?" Utivich sighed and explained the whole story. Aldo nodded, "Well...I'll be damned." Omar grinned, "Ha! No ghost." Hirschberg nodded, "No...but that's one hell of a girl..."

For as long as the basterds hid out in that part of the woods, a year or so, Smitty snuck off alone into the woods late at night, no longer scared of howls or shadows. Where he went....well it didn't take a genius to figure it out. All it took was a minute of bravery to run through the graveyard, luck to not trip over any crooked tombs, and a good grip to climb up to your open window. When the inevitable day came for the basterds to move on, Smitty went back into the woods one last time. This time, he didn't run through the cemetery. He took his time... He'd take his time for once. He walked around to the back of the small cottage that didn't seem to belong, and found a dim, orange glow in the second story. He climbed up carefully after petting Brouillard once more, and bribing him with some dried meat so he wouldn't blow his cover with whines. You heard the familiar shuffling and rustling. You smiled, as you met him with an open window, and a kiss. He couldn't stay much longer, though you knew the day would come. So when the night was over, the dark blue sky began to give way to a new day and mission, he was off to a town in the other side of occupied France called Nadine, about thirty kilometres from Paris, to meet a British contact. Smitty said goodbye to you... But not before swearing he'd come back some day, when the war was over. You watched, as you sat by the window, as the basterd disappeared beyond the forest, as the moon faded and the sun rose. You smiled softly, knowing he'd be back. And, you'd heard that patrols in the area would be discontinued until an investigation gave an answer as to what lurked in the woods... So, as you wondered about the end of the war, you put the dress away with a soft, and relieved smile. You knew he'd be back...and when he was, you knew just what to do. Maybe the dress needed some mending....maybe a new one was in order... But, he'd be back. And when he was, you'd leave the window open and the candle on just for him.

#smithson utivich #Smitty #smithson utivich x reader #Inglourious Basterds #inglourious basterds imagine #Omar Ulmer #aldo raine #aldo the apache #donny-donowitz #Donny Donowitz #hugo stiglitz #Wilhelm Wicki #gerold hirschberg

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currywaifu · 4 years

Text

𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: barbie movies as troupe plays part 1 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: sfw

𝐚𝐧: if you think i won’t do all 36 barbie movies, you’re wrong. regardless of whether people want this or not. i have barbie brainrot 24/7. i’m just separating it into parts so it’s not too long *this isn’t meant to be that serious y’all my reasons vary from legit to just jokes

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥: i won’t go in-depth with any plot differences from movie to play, or how the characters would work out... for now *chuckles in future ppt*

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏: nutcracker, rapunzel, swan lake, princess and the pauper, fairytopia series, magic of pegasus, barbie diaries, island princess, three musketeers 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐: coming soon 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑: coming soon

𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐞: mixed troupe! spring x autumn. one of the seasonal events/scouts for A3! has a nutcracker theme, and to avoid spoilers that’s all i will say :3

𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭: since this is based on barbie’s take on the nutcracker, changing up the cast from what tsuzuru had in plan:

clara/sugarplum fairy: sakuya. i want to see him go through a costume & hair transformation sequence, not gonna lie.

nutcracker/prince eric: juza. obviously he has to be the ruler of the land of sweets.

mouse king: sakyo or chikage. i want one of them to wave around a sceptre and say quotes like “i’ll reduce the Nutcracker to a pile of splinters"

pimm: taichi... pimm is a spy :O who has to do dirty work :O but the real reason is i just want taichi to follow around sakyo again or maybe even chikage this time lol

major mint & captain candy: tsuzuru and citron respectively. mint is pretty serious and awkward, candy is a lot friendlier- i just think it’ll be a good way to insert some humor in the play

𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐞: mixed troupe! summer x autumn.

𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭: rapunzel in this one actually is the “servant” of gothel. also, rapunzel has a magical paint brush and also there’s dragons. who are purple.

rapunzel: kazunari. obviously. actually, kazu has a lot of similarities with her: a good artist, patient, adventurous, quick thinking, hardly ever complains- also he’d look good with long hair i think ><

gothel: omi. there is an action fighto scene + also just the theme of omi playing villains lol... also THERE’S A SCENE WHERE GOTHEL PRETENDS TO BE RAPUNZEL BY WEARING A LONG WIG AND BOI- KAZU AND OMI’S BODY BUILDS ARE SO DIFFERENT BUT IT’D BE FUNNY IF THE PRINCE FALLS FOR THE TRAP ANYWAY

penelope: kumon. a PURPLE funny and clumsy dragon- fight me, the only answer is kumon especially once you see who’s next.

hugo: juza. a PURPLE dragon who’s penelope’s dad but he’s gonna be the older bro in this one (i wonder why...)

hobie: a passive and worrisome rabbit... Tenma.

prince stefan: he also has a couple fight scenes... ngl bc stefan has blue eyes, light brown hair + described by the wiki as “fierce”, he’s banri.

𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐞: winter troupe. i will stand by this forever.

𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭: this is like one of the ones i’ve had figured out for a while already...

odette & odile: tsumugi. i’m just saying, tsumugi’s duality- he can do both the white and black swan because he has power. impact.

prince daniel: not tasuku bc spare him the prince roles he’s sick of it. guy. why guy? because he obviously has a good idea of how to act like a prince :3

rothbart: HOMARE! I WANT! THIS MAN! TO PLAY THE ANTOGONIST! GO OFF ABOUT DARK ARTS! TRANSFORM EVERYONE TO ANIMALS LIKE THE EXTRA BEING YOU ARE.

fairy queen: azuma. ugh just- imagining how ethereal he’d look.

erasmus: tasuku. he’s a troll that can act mean, but is genuinely kind and helpful... also, the VA of erasumus is also the VA for “unnamed burly villager” and i’m just saying-

kelly the cygnet: hisoka. there’s too many animal children, so hisoka is gonna be the baby swan. uwu. also, kelly has a quote, “I can't sleep.” and wOW THE IRONY

𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐞: WE’RE GOING FOR THE COMEDIC ROUTE WHAT’S UP SUMMER. reason: i went “wait... no actor really looks super alike though.”

𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭: tafahfuoahoaf it’s my favourite barbie movie... OKAY SO THE RUNNING GAG OF THIS IS THAT THE PRINCESS & PAUPER DON’T LOOK ALIKE, BUT EVERYONE KEEPS GOING “Wow! you two look so identical!” no they don’t

anneliese: muku. first of all please look at the sprite i used in the header. anneliese = pink = muku. she’s the sweet princess archetype... but in this version she also goes on tangents about rocks and mineraLS AND HOW THE MINING INDUSTRY SUX AND THE ABSOLUTE AUDACITY OF-

erika: kumon. first of all, the sprite in the header again. erika = blue like ugh this is perfect. ALSO erika has a cat who BARKS and i just imagine kumon talking to her cat like: WOOF WOOF WOOF GRRR GRRR and the dog responding and everyone in the palace going wtf

king dominick: i had such a crush on him anyway he’s tenma. rich, young, talented king who disguises himself as a page so he can find love for realsies. im just saying. he won’t be tenma’s only role tho ><

julian: kazunari. the wiki went “he’s the only bestfriend a barbie MC ever married” really shook me like ugh friendship dynamic between muku and kazu roles??? also kazu’s genuinely smart so him as the tutor was just gucci in my eyes

preminger: misumi. FIRST OF ALL PREMINGER IS ICONIC? WHEN HE SANG HOW CAN I REFUSE I WAS LIKE UGH KING. i just wanna hear misumi play an antagonist that’s also funny and do things with his voice.

madame carp: yuki. a bossy and rich woman who owns a dress emporium. pretty much it.

nick & nack: YUKI AND TENMA. THEY WILL DOUBLE ROLE FOR THE SAKE OF BEING MISUMI’S DUMB UNDERLING DUO

𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐞: spring troupe. i wanna see them have wings uwu.

𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭: just gonna combine the whole fairytopia series into one

elina: itaru. first of all, pink motif. also i just like the idea of itaru being this recurring protagonist.

bibble the puffball played by kamekichi

laverna: recurring villain citron. for no reason other than i think it’s cool when he plays power hungry villains

enchantress: i just want sakuya to play a role that’s more of a “powerful character” but still really kind uwu. another recurring good guy.

azura & glee: tsuzuru. elina is azura’s apprentice, and glee is a friend who’s generally really happy... ngl, i wanna see tsuzuru play someone more energetic for funsies

nori: masumi. nori is kind of a stubborn and jealous person at first, him and elina won’t get along right away BUT DAMMIT THE ENEMIES? TO FRIENDS IS GUCCI!!!

merman prince nalu & linden: chikage... yeah i just gave chikage the guy roles ngl... but i wanna see chikage as a handsome merman AND handsome fairy so *shrugs*

𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐞: cross troupe. spring x winter.

𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭: partially based on the ice-skating cards (i have yet to read the event story, unfortunately).

annika: tsuzuru. i thought it’d be fun to cast tsuzuru as a more sheltered character due to annika’s parents’ protectiveness. the contrast y’all.

shiver: sakuya. shiver is a polar bear cub sidekick who’s friendly and likes shiny things and that’s just... really cute... put bear ears on sakuya...

brietta: guy. brietta is annika’s older sister... who got transformed into a pegasus by the villain... i wonder how they’d change the pegasus thing lol

wenlock: tasuku. NOT GONNA LIE- i want tasuku to play the villain for all these wonderful one-liners: "Oh, smile! You didn't lose a daughter; you've gained a pet!", and "I thank my lucky stars I didn't marry you!"

prince aidan: masumi bc i want more roomie interaction on stage i mean their friendship keeps getting cuter and cuter.

cloud queen: azuma... that’s all. i just remembered her bc her hair has a braided crown, and i went “azuma braided hair brainrot”

𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐞: mixed troupe! summer x autumn.

𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭: i was gonna make it full autumn, but then the age casting felt awkward since they’re in high school...

barbie: taichi. barbie here is shy but wants to stop blending in the background! i just went “damn that do be resonating”. also i wanna hear taichi sing more y’all and barbie is a singer/guitarist here

courtney: azami. i like the idea of azami playing a spunky character who’s more of a tomboy, but still does like fashion and accessorising and... lip gloss?

tia: misumi? tenma? idk the intelligent and passionate archetype is very broad... especially in a high school setting

kevin: kazunari. just the whole best friend thing + kevin being a goofy person who loves to make ppl laugh ugh

racquelle: yuki. i know racquelle’s a bully here and say not to bullying... but sharp tongue.

todd: honestly? todd was so boring in the moving. we need someone like banri to give him CHARACTER!... yes that’s my reasoning ugh

𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐞: sUMMER SUMMER SUMMER-

𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭: AHAHAHA WHAT IS THIS CASTING? MY REASONINGS FOR THIS ONE IN PARTICULAR ARE SO SHALLOW LMAO

ro/rosella: “a 16 year old girl who can talk to animals! adventurous and brave” me: *gasps* mISUMI-

prince antonio: “prince antonio loves travelling and exploring-” okay yeah it’s kazu...

queen ariana: i just want yuki to sing to me “love is for peasants which we’re obviously not” and i’d go :O also ngl... i wanna see yuki in like darker palettes and plotting to poison all the royals

princess luciana: queen ariana’s daughter... played by muku. because i wanna hear muku counter yuki with “all the shoujo mangas books i’ve read, all the poems always said, that the heart is made to share...”

sagi the red panda & azul the peacock: honestly, just basing it off of colour matching but tenma is sagi and kumon is azul lol

𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐞: AUTUMN x SPRING

𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭: AHAHAHA WHAT IS THIS CASTING? pt 2

corrine: i keep wanting to put sakuya in these roles oops. i just... let him sword fight on stage again :>

viveca: purple musketeer, artistic, designs clothes... fights with ribbons... you know, for the sake of banri being a fAshIoNisTa... it has to be banri y’all "Don't mess with the animal print dress!"

aramina: green musketeer, fights with fans, romantic and loves ballet... pfft, for the sake of “wouldn’t it be funny-” it has to be azami. poor bby, having to swoon over romance on stage- he can’t relate

renee: chikage. purely because of that scene where she threw a feather duster (?) at a flying shard of glass and perfectly hit it. yeah.

helene: the old and strict instructor that teaches them how to be musketeers... sakyo.. duh.

philippe: the main antagonist... it has to be omi again. and since philippe has a goatee, we’re bringing back facial hair omi~

prince louis: itaru, lol. he’s like the one significant non-action oriented character in the film. he has just enough moments where itaru still looks princely, but mostly? he just wants humans to fly y’all.

want to order again?

#a3!#a3! act! addict! actors!#a3! act addict actors #a3! headcanons #cafe: dessert menu #serving: barbeQUEUE #nathya stans barbie ✌️💖#a3! game

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firemblem-fics · 4 years

Text

Smitten Kitten [3]

one | two | three | four | finale

-> Pairing: Felix x Female!Reader | Hybrid!Au (mostly platonic idk)

-> Words: 1.6k

-> Warnings: Cursing, A Literal Karen, Mentions of Abuse (not too in depth, but still there), Manipulation, a Slightly Suggestive Conversation

-> Genre: Fluff, Crack, Some Angst

-> Summary: You never wanted to be involved with hybrids. They were risky and had too many rules for you. But what will you do when a little black and white cat that you take in turns out to be the very thing you steered clear of?

-> A/N: so I made two FE3H oc’s and also have gotten back into drawing so I was wondering ... how would y’all feel if I wrote and also posted some of my drawings and stuff here? it would give y’all more content and I’d probably be inclined to post more often lol anyways enjoy

“This is fucking stupid-”

“Stupid? Felix, you lied to me.”

You were livid. First this fuck-ass cat shows up in your life, worms his way into your heart even though you swore you wouldn’t get a hybrid, and then brings all kinds of trouble with him. If you weren’t already so attached to him, you’d just let the people- Doug and Karen- take him. But you couldn’t. You cared too much.

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

“It’s a huge deal! You told me that they didn’t want you, not that you ran away. Do you know how this can affect me keeping you? They can take me to court or something and get you back.”

“But you signed the papers, I’m yours.”

Your heart fluttered, but you ignored it. “You’re mine, but you also belong to these people. I can’t just take you from them, but I can’t let you go back to them if they were that bad to you- were they even bad? Or did you just not like them? Did you lie to me about that too?”

Felix’s eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t like them because they were bad. Look at ‘em. They don’t love anything except for the gold around their necks, especially not me. I was literally put in cat shows to earn money. If I ever got below first place, they’d…”

He shuddered and sat down on the edge of your bed. You leaned against the door, arms crossed. From the other room you heard talking. Ashe probably saw your front door open and came to investigate.

Felix couldn’t look you in the eyes. You looked so hurt. Not even angry- just hurt. “Please don’t make me go back.”

You sighed and dropped your arms. “I don’t want you to go back, Fe. But I- I don’t know what else to do. They’ve obviously got more money and if they take me to court they’ll win for being ‘better equipped’ to care for you.”

“But they’re not.” His voice was growing desperate. “You are. What if- what if we can prove the center that you’re better than them? Courts don’t deal with Hybrid ownership, the facilities do. Nancy does.”

At that moment, the door creaked open. Two red ears appeared first, then a mop of red hair.

Sylvain grinned and walked in, closing the door and throwing a wink Felix’s way. The cat bristled.

“Give me your phone.”

“I’m not cheating, I swear.”

“We’re not- fuck you, give me your phone, Sylvain.”

The dog practically whimpered and handed over the phone. Felix had a Cheshire grin as he unlocked it. Typical Sylvain to not have a password despite all the dumb shit on the phone. You tapped your foot impatiently, anxious for Ashe who kept the two other people occupied.

“So, what are you planning?”

“I’ll go back with them, but I’ll keep this phone. I’ll- I’ll take those audio messages and send videos and shit when I can. I’ll just have to be careful.” This was the most Felix had ever talked to anyone. His voice was shaky, despite trying to desperately hide it.

“Absolutely not. Felix, you're not going with them! Who knows what they’ll do-“

“I think me dealing with their shit for a few weeks will be worth it if I get to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Your eyes widened and so did Felix’s. He flushed a bright red after realizing what he said. Sylvain cracked up.

“I- I mean, as an owner. You don’t do those things, that’s all. I just-“

“Nah, nah, it’s alright, you little smitten kitten~” Sylvain still smiled. “We catch your drift.”

Felix huffed. “There’s no drift to catch! Fucking drop it! Drop the drift!”

He stood up and yanked the door open, scaring the shit out of Ashe. You followed him quickly, grabbing onto his sleeve as Sylvain went back to Ashe’s side.

“You don’t have to do this, we can find another way.” You whispered. Felix could clearly see your absolute distress at letting him leave.

He held your gaze and let out a sigh. “I’ll be okay. You and Ashe just keep a lookout for my messages.”

With that, Felix tugged his arm out of your grasp and walked to Doug and Karen. He didn’t say anything, just looked down at the ground, his head lowered.

Submission.

That wasn’t the Felix you had come to know. Felix was loud and didn’t take shit from anyone. To see him suddenly reduced to something resembling a kicked puppy- the irony- was borderline heartbreaking.

You couldn’t help but tear up as the door closed. Sylvain whimpered. Ashe, who was silent and confused the whole time, whipped around to you.

“What the fuck is going on?” He seethed. “You didn’t even put up a fight-“

“Take a chill pill, Ashie.” Sylvain went behind Ashe and began to massage his shoulders. Ashe slapped his hands away. “We’ve got a plan.”

“A plan? Y/N, listen, you’re not Claude. You’re not Yuri. Your little plans never work the way they should.”

“Just give this one a chance!” You practically pleaded. “Felix has Sylvain’s phone. He’s gonna send updates and videos on what they’re doing. Hopefully they’ll be enough to convince the facility that Felix is better off with me.”

“Or not! If you don’t remember correctly, the lady fucking hated Felix. She’d probably do whatever she can to make sure he suffers.”

“Maybe the fact that we’re fighting to get him back will prove that we care more than the others-“

“-who literally came to your door and wanted him back. I’ve got no doubt they’ll fight too.” Ashe sighed. “This will only work if they really do something.”

At that moment, your phone pinged. The notification was from Sylvain’s phone. A video from Felix.

You opened the message and pressed okay, shushing Ashe and turning up the volume. Felix was in the backseat of the car while Doug and Karen sat up front. The angle was shitty and the phone was extremely shaky. Felix was trying to hide the phone from them.

“Felix Hugo, what the fuck were you thinking? Leaving like that? After all we’ve done for you?” Karen’s voice was shrill and loud, not even hiding her anger.

“After all you’ve done for me? You’ve done nothing-“

“Shut up! You’re ungrateful. We’ve fed you and housed you. You’re lucky someone even does that for a dumb cat like you. You’re practically feral- unlovable!”

The camera shook a little harder at that word.

Unlovable.

Your heart clenched, but there were still a few more seconds to the video.

“I can’t believe you thought a girl like that would even care about you. See how easily she let you go? She didn’t really want you. See, Felix Hugo? See how worked up you’ve gotten me?”

Doug’s voice cut in, silencing Karen’s annoying distress. “Just wait until we get home. We’ll deal with him there.”

You were probably shaking even more than Felix at this point. ‘Wait until we get home’... you didn’t even want to think of the implications of that.

The video was pure manipulation. But… to some, it may not be enough to make them question Felix’s safety.

Unfortunately.

You texted back, “Just a little more. In about two days, we’ll contact the facility and try to get them to hear us. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re trying your best. Just… try faster.”

“Miss you already.”

Seen.

Hanging your head, you looked up at the two boys. You shrugged and turned off your phone. A few more days, you said. Could you even handle that? You were already so used to his presence. To have an empty household again was something you didn’t want.

Even if it was full of Felix yelling… it was kind of endearing. He was always angry when Ashe and Sylvain were around. It makes sense why other people would be put off by his personality. But he was just…

Defensive.

Felix had walls up that were practically impenetrable. Could that excuse the rude, borderline abusive words he said to others? No. He could only apologize and do better from that. But he wouldn’t get better if he was with Doug and Karen.

You put your head in your hands and began tearing up. “I just want him safe. With me.”

Ashe and Sylvain exchanged glances.

“Yeah, you want him with you. To be with you. To… share your bed, in a literal sense, right?” Sylvain’s eyes held a sly glint in them. You raised an eyebrow.

“What are you on about now?”

“You and Felix. You want him to be with you. You want to be with him…”

“What?”

“Do you have feelings for him? You wanna fuck that cat?”

“Wh- I don’t want to fuck a cat! He’s… he’s more human than cat. Hybrids are just people that can turn into animals…”

Sylvain rolled his eyes. “Hybrids are people that can turn into animals, have ears and a tail, go into heats, all that shit. You don’t want to deal with an angry feline in a heat-“

“Is that why you’re neutered?”

“I’M NOT NEUTERED. FUCK YOU.”

You just sighed and checked your phone again. No check from Felix, even though it hasn't even been five minutes since the last message. You were just scared.

Ashe got up and began to cook dinner for you, deciding that you weren’t fit to do it tonight. You protested, but ultimately complied as Sylvain laid his head in your lap in hopes of an ear scratch.

That night, you tossed and turned. It was weird without a little cat body at the foot of your bed. You couldn’t help but think of worst case scenarios, spanning from just not being able to get Felix back to rather… unsavory ideas of what could be happening to him now. You finally settled down and forced your eyes shut, hoping that your dreams would be better than your thoughts.

They weren’t.

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akimmito · 4 years

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Heroes are made by the path they choose

Previous | AO3 | Next

___________________________

Chapter 3

The Paris news continues to speak of the Akuma two days after the event, Marinette is stressed coping with the disaster that remained on her catwalk. Unlike in previous years, Paris is not ready to deal with another Hawkmoth again, and the city's mood fell immediately from the moment appeared. Fashion week continues, but everything feels bad. They have not officially left the apartment since the event, although they have been going to the MT headquarters.

She looks at the cup of chamomile tea that Hugo, her butler?, was kind enough to prepare to help her relax, but she knows that a tea won't help her.

"Mother, we should get out of town. You're pale. ”Damian approaches her and analyzes her posture, obviously she didn't sleep the night before because she was checking the security cameras distributed by Paris looking for the origin of the butterfly, but they are more than five hundred and Max's algorithm barely reduced it to one hundred and twenty cameras. He's concerned about her health, he knows how she gets when she focuses too much on a task.

"Do you want to go to the country house?" She asks putting her head on her arm, dozing off from lack of sleep and the calming effect of chamomile. She just needed a distraction from her mind.

"Yes, you could use a break. Felix can take care of everything in the MT and if they need us, we are a portal away. "He maintains his neutral expression, there are days when he reproaches himself for caring for the woman who decided to adopt him knowing that he's a trained killer, but today is not one of those. She never wanted to change it, not as he thinks his father would have done if he had gone to live with him... Bruce Wayne doesn't tolerate murder, after all. The MT is curious, they dance a lot on the gray line. He was lycky to get them.

"Yeah... you're right." Mariette straightens up and rubs her eyes. If they are going to travel, she must avoid falling asleep until they are in the car on the way to the country house. "That reminds me, we can take Ringo, the vet says that its leg is already better and that he can be transferred from the shelter without problems. "

Damian is encouraged by the news, the little cub was shot in the leg by some thieves, the owner despised him taking it as lost, but he asked his mother to help it heal so that it would not die. The puppy is alive and they can take it to a place where he can be safe and be a happy dog. They made the right decision.

"Go get your bags ready. Maybe we will get to lunch time. "She gets up and picks up her phone, she must notify the employees that they will arrive earlier than planned.

Damian goes to his room being followed by Longg, he must get everything he will carry ready. Not even fifteen minutes have passed when he has everything ready, keeping comfortable clothes to be able to play with his pets in the extensive terrain, very different from his normal residence.

Marinette and Damian live on the top floor of an apartment building just four blocks from the Eiffel Tower, she likes the evening view and even has a window where she has placed a mattress. Damian also became a fan of that same location and became his favorite area within the apartment, although he prefers the Animal Shelter and the country house, both of which were bought especially for him, all because she couldn't fill the apartment with animals (despite of her own desires to do so).

The only pet in the apartment is a very demanding fluffy white cat who likes to be the center of Damian's attention, who gets angry on weekend trips to the country house, where it's forced to live with the others animals ... dirty and unworthy of be a Lenoir. The cat is very proud to be the favorite and it hates with all its might the cat of country house, which always steals the child's precious attention (with dogs it doesn't get in because they are very large, two German shepherds, a Garafiano shepherd and an Australian Shepherd, plus a Bernese Mountain puppy.)

Damian is ecstatic with the prospect of spending six days on the country house, although the cat, named Dafne, doesn't look happy and even growled at the boy when he tried to grab it the first time, now it has already relaxed and brought its bad humor to its transport box. He closes the box and takes his things, now all he has to do is wait for his mother to stop being a mess to they can leave.

"Do you have your suitcase yet?" Marinette asks going from one side to another in the rooms, Damian doesn't even answer her and he only goes out to the living room to wait until she finishes messing up the whole apartment. "Hugo, where are my sketch books?"

They're already packed, Miss Marie. Also the fabric catalog of the next collection and the general balance of the month."

Hugo is a very English man to someone who lived in France most of his life, but she's not going to question him about it (Max did a very good background check). He started working with her a year after founding her brand and somehow managed to discover the MT and is now an unofficial member, making her escapades much easier by having him cover her. She's grateful to heaven for making her cross her path, she would have gone mad without him already.

"Thanks, Hugo."

"Hugo, did you pack the Kwami and Dafne meals?" Damian asks when the man returns to the room. He's eager to leave to meet his pets, he sees them every week, but it's not enough time.

"Of course, the extra order for cheeses was also made for the country house."

"Oh, Hugo! You're the best, I hope you live a thousand years!" Plagg arrives full of joy and almost dares to hug the man, but that is not his style, on the contrary, he cheers for the excellent service. "I wish all my kittens would treat me like you. "

Marinette enters the room with her suitcase and looks at Plagg with mock annoyance, amusement seeping into her gaze. She misses Tikki, she was always the voice of reason, but Plagg has a unique way of keeping her high spirited and, with the stress of her life, very much appreciates his presence, daring to consider he more effective than encouraging words from Tikki.

"Yeah, right? It's not like I paid for all your cheese. ”Plagg flies towards her and repeats the action, causing her to finally laugh at his games. Longg lets out a small snort from his position near the boy, he had not made any noise and that causes others to be surprised by his presence sometimes. Damian rejoices when he sees the others jump off for forgetting that Longg is active too.

"Shall we go now, mother?"Damian takes out some Dior brand sunglasses and the black mask from his handbag to prevent his face from going out in magazines or social networks without his consent, he doesn't understand what is the interest in them, they are only people with a little money and a brand that becomes more famous after each show. In any case, they shouldn't be interested in him and he detests those who do.

"Yeah, we can go now."

Damian smiles with pleasure putting on his dark glasses, which are already part of his daily wardrobe because he always accompanies Marinette to all kinds of events, the least he can do is learn to combine brands and styles for each time he goes out. He usually opts for black, although lately he no longer cares about trying styles and clothes that he would never have considered wearing.

When they go out to the main entrance, where Hugo is already waiting for them with the car, he have already put on the mask and, of course, a curious spectator treats them as if they were the stars of an Oscar-winning film. At least no one can notice his annoyed expression under the mask.

They enter the car and Damian takes the opportunity to get Dafne out, it prefers to travel like this and they will not change vehicles as when they leave the country, he can carry it all the way. Everyone thinks that he’s too spoiled, but he considers that it's fair since it's the only animal that he's allowed to keep at home.

As the small Lenoir family moves towards the country house, in the MT, Kagami destroys the training dolls with a saber, under the watchful eye of Luka who, from the second level, watches her move with the fury of a hurricane. He mentally notes placing the doll replacement as part of the following month's expense.

"If she continues like this, she will come looking for us to fight with us." Luka turns to the person who has just entered, Alix stands near him, appreciating the power of the cuts and the lethality of the Japanese woman. "The little demon would have a good training match with her. "

"Mari sent a message, they will be at the country house. "

"How envious, I wish I had a place like that to escape to." She yawns, leaning on the railing. "But duty calls.”She mutters when her phone starts ringing to the rhythm of the Seven Nation Army, which means it's a call from work. Alix walks away just waving.

Luka smiles softly, it's a calm day. Perhaps everyone is a little more tense, stressed and with excitement itching their hands, but it's very calm, life continues its course regardless of the problems that may exist. The insignificance with which life itself deals with the matter gives he the certainty that they will solve it, that this time there will not be a third party that stands in their way of recovering Nooroo.

The voices are loud outside the training room and he can see the moment when Nathaniel and Kim enter arguing, Marc is a few steps behind them looking at them with an undoubtedly irritated expression, as if they had been on that same topic for a long time.

"I tell you, if we were to work with someone outside the MT, it can't be Batman. I love my privacy, thanks. ”Nathaniel says tired, he despises eternally the heartless blonde who brought up that subject only to leave saying he had job. Kim is not an official member, hei tournaments trips and constant swimming training prevent her from being one, so he doesn't fully understand why the MT remains so in the shadows (even with the irony that the Parisian media talks about they with the same frequency as Jagged, Clara and other famous faces).

"He would help a lot, you know."

"Yeah, but he would also discover the Miracoulous and that is a resounding no. Our duty is to protect them and the less people know it, the easier it'll be. "

"They mention it in the news!"

"In fact. "Marc speaks behind them, tired of hearing them repeat arguments. "Since decree No. 35 of the current French government was released, any mention of the Prodigies in the media will be sanctioned according to the provisions of the MT, that is to say, us, and of the Parisian heroes, also us. It has even been included in the Constitution as a secret of identity and provenance for the protection of heroes. Chloe was devastating when she demanded a law that protected us and the Kwami, without lying, she put all the cards on the table without mentioning personal gain. "

Kim is speechless, he really didn't know that. When was the last time he updated on the laws in his country? He might as well break some and he wouldn't know it. To take into account, just like talking to Chloe about it.

"You see? Now that we are done with this, can we train? "

Kagami destroys the last doll at that moment and turns to the newcomers, has released all her frustrations.

They are supposed to be starting the investigation into the new Hawkmoth, but the mayor's office has requested that they refrain from starting the investigation for a week, he does not understand the irrationality of that request. She's very angry at the mayor's negligence, the longer they delay the investigation, the harder it will be to track him down. Still, it annoyed her more the way Marinette and Felix so easily accepted orders… when they don't take orders from anyone, they can move around the edges of the law, but they're not below it.

"Has Mari-hime arrived?"

"She texted that she'd be at the country house with Damian, she needs the break," Marc replies before heading to the locker room to change into training clothes.

"Where's Felix?"

"Work." Nathaniel growls the answer and then follows his boyfriend, just thinking about the blonde makes him bitter. An hour arguing nonsense with Kim is enough to put anyone in a bad mood, he doesn't understand how Max can be such a good friend with him.

Kagami frowns and hands the saber to Kim before leaving the training room, she's angry again. What do Marinette and Felix intend? She rarely understands what goes through their heads.

Luka comes down from the second level to intercept Kagami, she's being overbearing on the whole miraculous butterfly issue. He knows that Marinette doesn't play with the affairs of the MT, she doesn't endanger them on purpose and they don't make hasty decisions, only one person is more cautious than she and that is Felix, if the two agreed to wait, they have something keep in mind.

"Kagami." He calls her, but she doesn't stop. "Kagami."

"I'm not listening to you, you're going to defend them."

"I ask you to think about it more deeply. Mari is very serious about retrieving the butterfly clasp, she knows what she's doing."

"Oh, Yeah. I really believe that." She looks at him annoyed, in front of him.

"You are upset, but don't let anger cloud your thoughts. We are all frustrated, eager to fight, but we will only hit a wall if we rush. You have to know when to take a break, this is a good time. "

She purses her mouth, holding back the words. He's somewhat right, their cannt just run into the unknown pretending they know where they are going. Her only answer is a nod before she resumes her journey, perhaps she should go see her mother and stay away from the MT until the break ends or another Akuma appears, whichever comes first.

_______________________________

Damian @DamianLenoir

Ringo is better and today he will meet his new brothers, he is a very happy puppy.

[Attached photo]

Alix @LostHeroBunnix

Why did I think opening an art school would be fun? I should have kept my skates.

Felix @GrahamV_Felix

Should I yell or yell at the worthless one who flooded the set? I just had to turn on a tap, not recreate the scene of the Biblical Flood.

Nath @NathanielKC_twt

@GrahamV_Felix Being nice and not giving a scare of death to the people around you could help you the other people not flood the set. Did you know?

Felix @GrahamV_Felix

@NathanielKC_twt And become Marie? Is not my style.

Marie L. @MarieLenoir

@GrahamV_Felix @NathanielKC_twt Too much style for you, it doesn't fit with you; p

Chloe B. @BourgeoisQueen

Marie take me with you! @MarieLenioir

Damian @DamianLenoir

@BourgeoisQueen NO.

______________________

Ages:

Tomoe T: 50. Bruce: 45. Dick: 28. Luka: 26. Jason: 25. Marie and her group: 24. Tim: 19. Damian: 10.

#dickinette #maribat #dick x marinette #ml x dc

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sonicgetsrawed · 4 years

Text

It’s 3 am and I Can’t Stop Thinking of You

Modern Au in which Ruddiger is a trickster and Varian may or may not gain a boyfriend because of it. Enjoy!

It was three am and he’d yet to get one fucking minute of sleep. Of course it happened on the day he decided to go to bed early instead of staying up all night to work on various projects. Not that he could really blame Ruddiger, it wasn’t his fault he was sick, he had to be for him to not stop crying. It started softly at first, but the raccoons' little whimpers and chitters soon filled the entirety of the apartment. It pained him to hear him like that and nothing he did seemed to help. He checked to see if he wanted to go for a walk, checked to make sure his litter box was clean, he checked him over to make sure he hadn’t acquired any injuries. There was nothing that he could find wrong with him, and yet he wouldn’t stop crying. The internet provided him with no answers, only increasing his worry that the only cause had to be that Ruddiger was on the brink of death. Varian spent about half an hour in which he was the one crying, holding Ruddiger tight and sobbing into his fur, during which he failed to notice the animal had stopped his crying. By the time he pulled himself together and conducted another internet search all the veterinary clinics were closed. It was in a moment of desperation that he messaged the school wide chat, in hopes someone might be able to help.

V: My raccoon won’t stop crying, all clinics are closed. Someone help! I’m getting desperate here!

He didn’t really expect a response, he wasn’t sure if he even wanted one, but he was on the verge of a panic attack and he just needed someone to tell him he was overreacting. Then of course, tonight of all nights the chat was dead. He was about to give up hope, allow himself to wallow in his worry, then his phone lit up, signaling that someone had messaged the chat.

H: Hey, I’m a vet tech, maybe I can help?

Varian startled a bit at the response. He hadn’t expected to get any actual help, just a wave of reassurances to ease his mind until he could take Ruddiger first thing in the morning, or later in the morning was more accurate.

V: Ok.

Varian cringed at his response. Okay? What was he supposed to do with that? They probably thought he was crazy now. He was genuinely surprised when they responded again.

H: Meet in twenty? On the corner outside the campus library?

Varian looked at his screen, a bit unsure on how to respond. Was he really about to meet a stranger at three am? Ruddiger’s cry confirmed it, he couldn’t let him suffer through the night when there was an option to ease his pain.

V: See you then!!

He grimaced, goddamn he was so awkward. Now he just seemed overeager. He didn’t have time to dwell on his social awkwardness, instead quickly throwing on some shoes and a hoodie, before getting Ruddiger in his carrier and heading out the door. His nerves were a mess, but hopefully it’d be worth it and this person could help. It didn’t take him long to get to campus, it was just a short walk from his apartment. He did regret not changing into something warmer, it was winter and the cool air did nothing for his light clothing. He should’ve waited, it took him a whole ten minutes to get to the meeting location, he’d have to wait another ten minutes in the cold. Ruddiger was wrapped tightly in a blanket, letting out a whimper every so often. “It’s okay, bud, we’ll get you all taken care of soon.”

It didn’t take long for someone to approach. He looked to be slightly older than him, his blonde hair tied back into a ponytail, his green eyes shining even in the dark. “My labs about a fifteen minute drive from here, I can run some tests there.”

He was walking away before Varian could respond, leaving the other to chase after him. “How- how did you I was the one you’re meeting with?”

He stopped, eyebrows furrowing as he looked around, before finally crossing his arms and looking at Varian. “I’m sorry, but do you see another idiot standing outside the library with a fucking raccoon? Cause I don’t.”

Varian wanted to say something in retaliation but he had a point. So he followed instead, letting the other take the lead again. “Right, sorry.” He should’ve known better, really. His eyes darted to the sidewalk, almost missing the way the other flinched at his apology.

“It’s fine. I’m Hugo, by the way. Thought you might want to know that much at least, before you get in my car.” Hugo said, stopping in front of a beat up car and fighting to get the door open. Varian stopped in his tracks, eyeing Hugo and the car wearily. He really shouldn’t be doing this, he didn’t know him, or where they’d be going. Once he got in the car it was essentially game over. He considered shooting his dad a text just so if he came up missing they’d have some lead, but he knew he’d just get berated for it. Hugo seemed to sense his hesitance. “Look, do you want help or not? I’m not going to murder you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

He must’ve looked scared, Hugo’s eyes softening ever so slightly. Varian’s heart stopped in his chest, now that he could see him better, he was beautiful. His eyes sparkling in the light of the street lamp, he seemed sincere, and his uncle always said one could tell a lot from someone’s eyes. He nodded, pulling the passenger door open. “I appreciate your help. I’m Varian.”

Hugo simply nodded, getting in the car, and starting the engine. Varian slid into the passenger’s seat, buckling up and placing Ruddiger in his lap, thankful that Hugo wasted no time in turning on the heat. Hugo drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, the silence deafening to the both of them. “So, what are his symptoms?”

Varian startled, his nerves once again taking hold. “Oh, um he seems fine, he just won’t stop crying. I’m scared something’s wrong.”

Hugo hummed, tapping his fingers once again, Ruddiger drowning the sound with a whimper. “We’ll definitely have to run some tests, probably blood work is best. I’ll give him a once over as well, listen to his heart and lungs and all that. If it’s something internal though you’ll definitely have to go to an actual vet later.”

Varian’s eyebrows knit together in concern, he was scared something serious was wrong with Ruddiger. He couldn’t lose his only friend, his best friend. He felt tears starting to prick his eyes, he couldn’t cry in a stranger’s car, he refused. His shoulders shook from the effort, but he didn’t care, this was already embarrassing enough. He completely missed the concerned look Hugo sent his way.

“Hey.” Varian’s head snapped up, smiling a bit at Hugo’s soft smile. “I’m sure he’s fine. Seems pretty tough to me.”

Varian smiled. “Thanks. For doing this, for helping me. You didn’t have to.”

Hugo shrugged, his smile becoming slightly more teasing. “What else was I going to do at three in the morning?”

“Sleep? That’s what I was trying to do.” Varian laughed, covering his mouth when it turned into a snort. “Sorry.”

Hugo laughed at that. “Don’t apologize. That was adorable.” Varian’s face flushed, turning his eyes away. Hugo cleared his throat. “I, uh, we’re here.”

Varian nodded, exiting the car and following the other inside. “So, uh, what made you want to be a vet tech?” He asked, trying to fill the silence that plagued them again.

Hugo stiffened, swiping his ID and holding the door for Varian to enter. “Not my choice. I personally would’ve loved to go into engineering. That’s what you study, right?”

“Yeah. How’d you know?” He asked, tilting his head. He was pretty sure he didn’t know Hugo, so how did he know he was an engineering major?

“Remember that seminar last semester? The one on Demanitus?” Hugo clarified, as he went about preparing his station. Varian getting Ruddiger out and onto the table.

Varian definitely remembered the seminar. He’d been looking forward to it all year, then when the time came there was an annoying blonde that- oh. “That was you?”

Hugo shot him a wink, already beginning his examination on Ruddiger. Varian’s mouth hung open, he couldn’t believe it. He’d asked so many good questions, and sure he’d been annoying about it, but he made some really solid points. “How are you not an engineering major?” Varian asked before he could stop the words.

“I told you it wasn’t my choice. Now, can you be quiet while I check his breathing and heart?” Varian shut his mouth, waiting patiently as Hugo went about his task. Eventually he removed the stethoscope, placing it around his neck, and began checking the rest of Ruddiger. “My, uh, guardian, I guess, refused to pay for my schooling unless it was veterinarian school. So, here we are.”

He looked sad, not that Varian could blame him. It was terrible to be forced to pursue something that one wasn’t passionate about. “I’m sorry.”

Hugo laughed, scratching Ruddiger underneath his chin. “Why? It’s not your fault.”

“I know, it’s just-“

Hugo held up a hand. “It’s fine, really.” He didn’t believe it, but he decided to drop the subject, raising an eyebrow when Ruddiger started to purr. “He’s fine, by the way. This little bastard just wanted attention and I’ll be damned if he didn’t know how to get it.”

Varian stares at him in awe, not believing a word he was saying. “Wait, you mean he was faking it?!”

Hugo hummed in confirmation, Ruddiger continuing to purr as he was scratched and pet. “Yup. Little bastard has you wrapped around his finger, doesn’t he?”

“He- I am not!” Varian protested, scooping Ruddiger up and placing him in his carrier, despite his cry of protest.

“Whatever you say. Should we get out of here then?” Hugo said more than asked, already holding the door open for Varian. He simply nodded following him out, his face burning in embarrassment. He should’ve guessed it really, Ruddiger always knew how to get what he wanted, he’d just never gone to such extremes before. He’d have to keep a better eye on him from now on. The ride back to the library was in a more comfortable silence than the ride over, the emotional rollercoaster of the night weighing Varian down. He almost didn’t catch Hugo’s words as they pulled next to the building. “It’s nice that you care so much about the little bastard. He’s lucky to have you.”

Varian stared at him for a moment, a blush dusting his cheeks. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself. Not many people would meet a stranger at three in the morning to help out.” Hugo simply smiled, watching as Varian got out of the car. Varian hesitated for a moment, not feeling quite right leaving things like this. “Hey!” He called, regretting it the instant the word left his mouth and Hugo rolled down the window.

“You forget something?” He asked, leaning down so he could see him out of the window.

“Yeah, uh, thanks again. Maybe I can make it up to you? Coffee? Next Saturday?” Varian asked, his voice wavering slightly, half of him wanting him to say no and the other more prominent part wanting him to say yes.

Hugo smiled, shooting him another wink. “It’s a date.” Varian’s blush returned tenfold, forgetting completely that he didn’t have a time, meeting place, or Hugo’s phone number. By the time he realized the other was long gone. Not that it mattered, the next Saturday Varian was back in front of the library at three in the morning waiting for Hugo, a smile gracing his features as the other rounded the corner.

#tangled the series #varian #hugo #varian/hugo #varigo #pre relationship #varian and the seven kingdoms #modern au #ruddiger

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jellybeanbeing · 4 years

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Avatar: The Last Airbender Book Tag

I recently watched and finished Avatar: The Last Airbender for the first time in my life and it was sooooo good. I wanted to do a book tag to celebrate this event so here we are! This tag was created by Hannah from A Clockwork Reader!

Water:

Katara & Sokka: Best sibling relationship // Declan, Ronan, and Matthew Lynch from The Dreamer trilogy by Maggie Stiefvater

These three are far from perfect, but they are my favorite sibling trio. They are so different from each other but it adds to their dynamic. They can never fully understand each other and the choices they make but they’re there to care for the other when they’re in trouble. Sure, they don’t get along a lot, but not every set of siblings does. One of my favorite things about this trio is that they had a period of time where they hated each other and wanted nothing to do with each other (mainly Declan and Ronan) because of what had happened to their family but overtime, they learn to mend that wound and grow closer together. I just love my angsty boys.

Yue: Favorite star crossed lovers // Emma & Julian from The Dark Artifices series by Cassandra Clare

I know that a lot of people do not like this couple, and that’s valid. I really love this couple though. What can I say? I just love my angsty characters. But really, it’s the yearning and the “will they come out of this situation alive” pain that fuels my love for this couple. Their relationship is filled with so much intensity, and then you add in that factor of “we don’t know if they’ll have a happy ending” and it just hurts, but in a good way. They are strong-willed characters who have so much pain built up inside them and the one thing they so desperately want is each other and to be together but they can’t. Say what you want about this couple, but they are one of my top tier OTPs.

Blood Bending: A book with disturbing/unsettling concept // Thunderhead by Neal Shusterman

It feels odd to choose the second book in the series to talk about, but this book has one scene that almost made me vomit, and that has never ever happened to me before. This entire series’ concept is deeply unsettling because it’s set in a world where technology is so advanced that even death by natural causes has been conquered so people called ‘Scythes’ are tasked to keep the population at bay. Within that world, there is corruption with how Scythes choose to kill their victims. Before I say what I say, just know that I really like this series. Anyway. I have never been more nervous and angry while reading a book and I thought I had reached my limit with book one, but no. Book two was just a fucking treat. The ending was fucked. The buildup to it was fucked. What Goddard did to Tyger was what made me almost vomit, and just thinking about it and Goddard makes me want to rip my head off because what the fuck. I still haven’t read the third book yet, but I will. Soon. Maybe.

Earth:

Toph: A character whose strength surprised you/or surprised the other characters in the book // Kell Maresh from the Shades of Magic series by V.E Schwab

We all know Kell to be a powerful magician, but at the time when I read this, I didn’t really understand how powerful he was capable of being. He’s one of the few Antari in that world so obviously it would make sense that he has a huge amount of power. It wasn’t until the second book when it clicked in my head that Kell has the power to do so much more destruction. In the tournament scenes through Lila’s perspective, I started to see the extent of his powers because of how much he was holding back and it blew my freaking mind.

The Tales of Ba Sing Se: Best short story/poetry collection // none

I have not read a lot of short story/poetry collections that really stand out to me so yeah, none for me.

Kyoshi Warriors: Best warrior character // Helene Aquilla from An Ember in the Ashes series by Sabaa Tahir

I love Helene Aquilla so much. She’s such a badass and it’s great. What I really love about her is that she’s not just a pretty face who wields a sword around. Yes, she’s strong physically and mentally at the beginning of the series, but during the journey she goes on, all of that is broken down until she’s at her most vulnerable. We are constantly seeing the turmoil inside her and it adds so much to her character. She’s far from perfect but those imperfections are what makes her such a strong character.

Fire:

Zuko: Best redemption arc/a redemption arc that should have happened // Matthias Helvar from the Six of Crows duology by Leigh Bardugo

Literally, almost everyone hates him and I understand why but the amount of growth he goes through is one of the best things about his character. Sure, he’s a straight pasty white boy who, on the outside, is boring compared to the other five (or six???) characters but seeing his development from being a bigoted asshole to a more understanding and caring character was something I loved reading about. It takes a lot to unlearn the things you grew up thinking was true and heavily believed in, and to see a different view of the world. I do understand the meaning of his end but there was so much more potential for character to really grow even more than it did and I will forever be bitter.

Iroh: Wisest character // Evelyn Hugo from The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo

Evelyn Hugo is such a great character. She starts from the bottom and then climbs her way to the top by doing things that are considered to be not ethically correct. She’s aware of all of that and yet she feels little to no shame about it because she did what she had to for the dream she wanted. She makes mistakes and has flaws but that never brings down her character. After all of that, she still holds herself up. She went through so much in her life and throughout the book, she provides so much insight on the choices she made and how they affected her.

Azula: Best downfall // Bonnie from The End of the Fucking World S2

I know there’s a comic but I’m going to talk about the Netflix series, and I know it’s not a book but I really wanted to talk about Bonnie and her downfall. Would you call it a downfall? I don’t know really, but I guess I’ll consider it as one. Her downfall was by far the most emotional that I have ever seen/read about. I feel like episode 7 was just a perfect episode to capture Bonnie’s character and the downfall she has. Not to mention that it’s a fucking great episode and it will remain one of my favorites. Bonnie is a character who grew up with a lack of love and has seemingly detached herself from a lot of things and people. I say this because for the majority of the show, it seems as thought Bonnie is unfeeling and emotionless, but there are moments when her emotions just override and are visually expressed. In episode 7 when she confronts James and Alyssa, Alyssa asks Bonnie, “what happens next?” and it literally clicked in my head that Bonnie never really had a sense of purpose in the world until she met the professor. From there, her purpose was to be his “little salmon” but that ended up not happening and from there, her purpose is to get revenge for him by hunting down and killing James and Alyssa. From there, what does Bonnie do? There’s nothing left. The entire diner scene is just fantastic yet so heartbreaking. At the end of the episode, you just get Bonnie saying, “I’m really tired” and it hits so hard because of all that Bonnie went through.

Air:

Appa: Favorite fictional animal/pet // none

I actually have not read a lot of books with a fictional animal/pet that is super prominent in the story or that I have a big attachment to, so again, none.

Aang: Purest cinnamon roll // Aled Last from Radio Silence by Alice Oseman

Aled Last deserves the whole world and that’s a fact. He has such a pure soul and good intentions, and the fact that he goes through so much hurt in the book, hurts a lot. Aled is just a character you want to hug and protect. It’s so difficult to explain why Aled is a pure cinnamon roll because he just is and you just have to read the book to understand that this boy deserves nothing but love.

Avatar State: A stubborn character/a character that struggles with letting go // Elias Veturius from An Ember in the Ashes series by Sabaa Tahir

I love Elias Veturius with my whole heart and mind and soul, and you should too because he’s just a freaking amazing character. The journey he goes through in this series is so fucking painful because he constantly has to do things and become things that he doesn’t want to but he has to for the sake of keeping the ones he loves safe AND IT’S NOT FAIR THAT HE HAS TO GO THROUGH SO MUCH PAIN. We are always seeing Elias at war with himself and duty, and from this, he does make decisions that causes consequences but ultimately, he chooses duty, leaving the ones he loves behind in order to protect them.

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sim-songs · 4 years

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“hi, I’m not from the US” ask set

So I wanted to answer all of these, because why not you know? @dreamsongsims now you can learn more about Belgium ;)

It’s under the read more so I don’t clog up your dashboards.

1. favourite place in your country? Honestly my home. I am living in Antwerp right now with the bf and I honestly love it, even though we aren’t really going outside much right now bc of the virus. I do miss the green and the “not city” smell haha

2. do you prefer spending your holidays in your country or travel abroad? I am okay with both. My family always goes on vacations during holidays, the last few years we’ve gone to Thailand for example but I’m more interested in staying closer to home. I LOVE Norway and want to go on holiday there again but it’s expensive.

3. does your country have access to sea? Yes. 67 kilometers of ugly “badsteden” lol (literally means bathing towns). To be honest I like the coast in the Netherlands better because it isn’t as gray and superficial.

4. favourite dish specific for your country? A nice “frietje van de frituur” (french fries), specifically a “frietje speciaal”, that’s french fries with ketchup, mayo and thinly sliced onion.

5. favourite song in your native language? I hate Belgian music, absolutely despise every Dutch song on the radio. But if I have to pick one its Goud from Bazart, it’s an older song by now but it’s one of the few I did not mind listening to.

6. most hated song in your native language? As soon as I read this I immediately thought of Banaan from Jebroer. Just shudders ugh. But really all Dutch songs in this style.

7. three words from your native language that you like the most? I’m gonna paste my earlier answer here: Hmm that's a hard one for me... Gezellig is a word I've always liked bc it doesn't have a real translation, just like cozy or smt. Another one I like is grassprietjes, meaning blades of grass bc it sounds funny and kinda rolls of the tongue and non dutch people will never be able to properly say that! and a third is eenzaam, meaning lonely. I don't really know why I like that one tbh

8. do you get confused with other nationalities? if so, which ones and by whom? I don’t really remember ever being confused for another nationality. I have read that Dutch sounds like German on crack, and that Belgian Dutch is easier than Netherlands Dutch for foreigners.

9. which of your neighbouring countries would you like to visit most/know best? Visit most: France and Germany, I have been to them both already but never for long and a long time ago. Know best: Probably the Netherlands. We share a language after all so we share some cultural things! (Does Temptation Island count as a cultural thing lol?)

10. most enjoyable swear word in your native language? Mmm tough one to answer, because me and my bf are big English speakers so most of our swearing is of the “fuck” variety. I like “godverdomme” (god dammit) and what my dad sometimes says “godverdomme miljaarde nondeju” (there is literally nothing I can do to translate this)

11. favourite native writer/poet? I can’t think of any poets, but I like the writer Valerie Eykmans, specifically the book “Verloren Maandag”

12. what do you think about English translations of your favourite native prose/poem? So I really like “Het Weer” by Hugo Claus, I even have a poster in our living room with the poem in his handwriting.

Weather

How was the weather in the country without you? At first mist fell over the concrete mountains.

Then the sun hung like mist over the mother-of-pearl sand.

Then the sky moved and became clammy as your armpits.

A lightning closed my teeth.

And everywhere the smell rose of the big animals that don't exist

unless in the ringing of your ear, in the rustle of your hair.

That's how it was back there without you. You are the air pressure and the dew and the snow in my skull.

It does not rhyme much in Dutch, it’s more about the rhythm of the words, so as far as the translation goes it’s pretty accurate in it’s contents but the rhythm is definitely off in the translated version

13. does your country (or family) have any specific superstitions or traditions that might seem strange to outsiders? What immediately comes to mind is the whole “Sinterklaas” problem where every year the discourse starts again whether or not the “Zwarte Pieten” are racist. Honestly not gonna comment on that because it’s not my place to feel offended or otherwise about this issue. Another thing that’s a bit more lighthearted is the “jaarmarkt” in our hometown, it’s like a big market that always finds place on the first sunday of the year. There’s a “stoet” (procession) with the walking orchestra, horses, horses and carriages, dogs and a whole load of tractors all going to get blessed at the church where the pastor throws holy water on everyone passing by. I have a love hate relationship with this tradition because it’s always freezing, and the tractors take forever to end. Oh and the main street of our town is completely closed of and there’s a big market with stalls in the street and everyone gets drunk of of the “jenevers” from the Scouts stalls lol.

14. do you enjoy your country’s cinema and/or TV? Not really, the only thing I used to watch was “Helden van Hier: Brandweer” (Heroes from here: fire brigade), it was just following the fire brigade around to fires and what not.

15. a saying, joke, or hermetic meme that only people from your country will get? ah je moe kakken moe je kakken he 😉

16. which stereotype about your country you hate the most and which one you somewhat agree with? Hate: Belgians are small-minded people not interested in anything going on outside of their home. Just not true at all. Sure there are people like that but every country has those. Agree: Belgians are hard to get to know. I hear this one a lot and I can see why people say that.

17. are you interested in your country’s history? Copied from an earlier answer: I am interested in history in general, it was one of my favourite classes in high school. I do like learning about Belgian history, mainly because Belgian history is, in one term, a messy bitch

18. do you speak with a dialect of your native language? Yes, I speak with a “Kempisch” accent, but in general I’m still pretty understandable.

19. do you like your country’s flag and/or emblem? what about the national anthem? I really don’t care about our flag, the Flemish Lion is being overly politicized to exclude the Walons lately and our national anthem is meh, no one can sing it and it’s more of a joke to people my age I think.

20. which sport is The Sport in your country? Soccer (or football idk) and veldrijden (literally field riding, but cyclo-cross as the translation) GO Wout van Aert! (idc abt sports but he’s local to me so)

21. if you could send two things from your country into space, what would they be? I’m not sure if this means you want to get rid of it or if you want to memorialize it? Getting rid of “Manneken Pis” because he’s stupid and memorializing an entire classic “frietkot”

22. what makes you proud about your country? what makes you ashamed? Proud: Our cultural diversity and lately our banding together during the crisis Ashamed: All the racists (looking at you Vlaams Belang)

23. which alcoholic beverage is the favoured one in your country? BEER, ALL THE BEER

24. what other nation is joked about most often in your country? Honestly our own nation is most joked about for good reasons. Flemish joke about the Walons and vice versa, and everyone jokes about the joke that is our government.

25. would you like to come from another place, be born in another country? I’m happy where I’m at now, so no.

26. does your nationality get portrayed in Hollywood/American media? what do you think about the portrayal? I have never seen any prominent representation of Belgian in a Hollywood movie.

27. favourite national celebrity? Probably Tom Waes

28. does your country have a lot of lakes, mountains, rivers? do you have favourites? We dont have much haha, we have rivers, most notably “De Shelde” which runs though Antwerp not too far from my apparment.

29. does your region/city have a beef with another place in your country? Flemish and Walons have always had beef, so yeah.

30. do you have people of different nationalities in your family? I had a phase where I was into genealogy and it’s safe to say I’m one of the most Belgian Belgians out there lol, especially on mothers side her family literally has been living in the same place since the 1600′s and my grandparents had never seen the ocean until my parents took them.

#ask game #non sims #dont mind me i just wanted to answer all of them #anyway if u dont care just scroll past

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breg21 · 5 years

Text

Ladynoir Month: Waiting On You

@ladynoirjuly2019

Ao3 FFN

Husband's Background Music Recommendation: "Wild Roses: Of Monsters and Men"

I can't believe this is it. It was so hard to write, to say goodbye.

But nothing golden can stay, now can it?

I really hope you guys enjoy.

"Madame Agreste! Madame Agreste!? Has anyone seen Madame Agreste anywhere!? I can't find her!?"

Adrien chuckled as he watched the assistant run around like a chicken with its head cut off, almost yelling into her earpiece, looking for his wife. Even at twenty four, and being the owner of Gabriel's fashion empire, not to mention being Ladybug, Marinette still had trouble being punctual.

Like now for instance, right when her show was set to start in ten minutes and no one could find her. With every minute was ticking down till the start of the show. Everyone was running around trying to make heads ort tails of where the young designer could be.

Models were in distress, needing last minute touch ups that needed to be done by Marinette, the setup crew was growing more frantic with each passing minute, and words were being drowned out by the sea of people yelling at the top of their lungs.

Yep, gotta love fashion week. Adrien was thankful he only modeled for Matrinette's line, well only from time to time. He never wanted to be a full time model ever again, but for her, there would always be an exception.

And just when everyone thought all hope was lost that they just couldn't reach her, she miraculously— he loved to fit in a good pun whenever he could— appeared.

"I'm here! I'm here!"

They all turned to see Marinette running up in six inch heels, hair piled up in a messy bun, grey skirt, red blouse, and a blazer that matched the skirt hanging perfectly around her shoulders. She was gasping for air, as if she had just ran a marathon, and knowing Marinette, she probably had just to get there in time if her beaten red face said anything. "I-I'm here."

The whole room seemed to have sighed in relief at her appearance.

Adrien laughed some more. That was definitely his princess. And he wouldn't trade her for anything in the world. He pulled her into his arms before hair and makeup could whisk her away, and pressed a small kiss to the middle of her forehead. "Look who finally decided to show up." He teased.

She huffed, lower lip turning out into a pout. "My… alarm may've or may not have gone off this morning."

He knew his eyes were dancing with mirth. "And that's why I was trying to drag you out of bed." He had. He had even pulled the sheets that she tried to hide under, to no avail. She just wouldn't budge. "We're just waiting on you."

She rolled her eyes, but nevertheless, followed the director and makeup artist to her dressing room before the show began.

Adrien smiled. She had, after all, been late to their own wedding. She was always fashionably late. Even with how chaotic everything was, he never minded waiting on his wife.

He always would.

"Emma, do you know where your mother is?"

The ten year old glanced up from her drawing tablet to look at the director of the show, giving a shrug of her shoulders. "You know how she is, Mr. Rue. My auntie's and Dad are out in the crowd if you wanna see if they know. You'll be able to spot dad a mile away when you look for two screaming toddlers. Louis and Hugo can get quite loud."

The man sighed, pressing a button on his earpiece to mumble some instructions to the person on the other end. Mr. Rue looked exhausted, to say the least, and Emma couldn't blame him. Her mother didn't always have the best timing, never did. "Between your mother and your father, I'll never understand how you're on time for things."

Emma threw her head back and laughed. Because, he was right. She wondered that sometimes herself. "You're not the only one, Mr. Rue. You're not the only one."

He smiled and ruffled her head, before disappearing off into another section of the backstage. Chuckling to herself, Emma went back to the task on hand.

That was, before black high heals appeared in his vision. "Hey, kitten. How's it going?"

Emma looked up to see her mom standing there, all bright smiles and soft eyes.

Emma was indeed a daddy's girl— she was almost a carbon copy of him, what with her blonde hair, green sparkling eyes, and tanned skin, though she had her momma's freckles— but no one could deny that she was her momma's world. "Hey, Momma. Almost late to your show. Again." She snickered as her mom sent her a playful glare. "They're all waiting on you."

The older woman rolled her eyes, but took the tablet from her daughter's hands and moved it aside in favor of pulling her up off her seat and into her arms for a bone crushing hug. "You're too much like your dad sometimes, kitten."

Emma returned the hug without thought. "I know, you've told me so many times."

A soft kiss was placed on the crown of her head and her heart almost purred like the animal she was nicknamed after. Her momma's hugs were always one of the best. "You know, I gave birth to you for nine hours straight, and you came out looking and acting like your father."

Emma pulled back, and reached up to boop her mother on her nose. "Au contraire. Papa says I'm so like you that the reason I look so much like him is so that I could have all your personality. Auntie Chloe, Alya, and Kagami agree." She stuck her tongue out as if to solidify her point.

Her mom shook her head, but a pleasant smile gave away the fake annoyance that she had been going for. "You are too much sometimes, kitten."

Clasping her hands together, she popped her leg just a bit behind her and gave the cheesiest grin she could muster. "I know." She glanced at her watch and saw that it was only five minutes until show time and started to push the older woman onto the stage. "Now, go. Don't wanna be late for your own show. Papa's probably waiting anxiously."

Marinette was nearly onto the stage when she poked her head back in through the curtain. "When did you become so grown up?"

"Easy." The pre-teen answered, not missing a beat. "When you have amazing, caring parents as I do, you pick up on a few things."

If any of the pictures later on from that show displayed her mom with tears in her eyes, Marinette contributed it to allergies.

But Emma knew better.

As Marinette strolled down the catwalk, looking to every possible camera that she could, she smiled with unabundant joy as she made her way to the podium. It was the final sho for the Ladybug and Chat Noir line, and it was a full house. Something she was undoubtedly grateful for.

Clearing her throat, she spoke easily into the mic. "Thank you all, for coming today, to the last showing of my Ladybug and Chat Noir fashion line."

The cheering and clapping boomed throughout the building, growing louder and louder by the second, and it made her smile all the more. "It's an honor to see what this line has brought to you all. It also was an honor and I'm ecstatic to pay tribute to Ladybug and Chat Noir."

It all felt so real. So much time had passed, so much of what she and Adrien did together, the life they had built, and it all lead to this, and she couldn't even imagine what more the future might bring.

She looked out onto the crowd to see her family there, all cheering her on. Her two boys waving frantically at her from their papa's lap.

And when she saw the sweet smile her husband sent her, it somehow made her heart all the more calm and rapid at the same time. It was all the encouragement she needed to continue.

Gosh, did she love that man. "A lot of things have been said, a lot has been done fo the city. Things have changed. Grown. They've paved their own ways as superheroes and without them, we wouldn't be where we are today. They have so much that has helped them through and made them who they are. But one thing is for sure."

"Your parents are something else, Emma."

Backstage, said girl gave a long roll of her eyes, arms crossed over her chest, before looking to her best friend, sarcastic attitude in full swing. "Trust me, Anna. You, auntie Kagami and uncle Luka may see what they're like in public, but it's nothing to what they're like at home. Twenty years of marriage and they still act like love sick teens— and that's something coming from a teen."

"They wouldn't be who they are— they wouldn't be Chat Noir and Ladybug, or come as far as they have through the years— without each other."

Even so, Emma smiled at her momma's words. They definitely wouldn't be. While she liked to complain about the public display of affections, she knew it was amazing to see. It was amazing to see two people still so incredible in love with each other after so many years. Not many people had that.

Anna laughed as Marinette finished her speech. "Say what we want, but if I'm being honest, they're the kind of love I look up to. A love to model after, you know? I know every love is different, but because of them, I know what to look for when love comes my way, if it's real, it'll be worth it in the end. It's okay to be patient, that's what love is— to make sure you're ready and not to let others tell you when it is. Only you know when it's real."

"That's it for tonight's fashion line, I hope you guys enjoyed. Please, give another round of applause for the models. I'll see you all at the next debut."

"Yeah." Emma agreed softly, clapping along with the audience as her mom made her exist. The young teen laughed hard. "I owe then a lot. More than I give them credit for. Because of them, I've learned about something from an earlier age, that most people can't grasp no matter how old they get, something that I will always believe in."

The dark haired teen looked to the blonde, eyes twinkling with curiosity. "And what's that, Em?"

Emma's lips curled into a soft smile at the thought of her parents. "I believe true love exists for those that fight for it. They fight so hard everyday. For the city, for everything they've accomplished, and especially for each other."

A love she wouldn't mind having one day.

Anna nudged her shoulder in play. "Your parents are the embodiment of what working hard and working together really means, together until the end, huh? No matter what they do, they do together."

Emma nodded, a fondness shining on her face. "And for that, they will always be partners."

Husband's note: Not sure when we will be writing this constantly again. So that being said I want to say thank you to the people that have given our stories the time to read. Seeing so many people comment, especially about my random bits of gibberish, is really surprising and as hard as things get I never get used to the surprises.

Wife.: Seriously you guys, thank you. From the bottom of our hearts. I have several one shots running around in my head, so be on the lookout for those as well. Until nets time, always lots of love!

#ladynoirjuly2019 #LadyNoir #ml #mlb #miraculous ladybug #love square

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robot-unicorn-attack · 5 years

Text

☽ NYX, 24

“ I’m the bad guy....duh. ” — Billie Eilish

Real Name: SOLANA PHYRE (”SOL”)

Agency: ʟᴀᴢᴇʀ (Lava World)

FC: Duckie Thot

Unicorn Name: U-800 [+]

Place of Birth: Ambrym, Vanuatu - largest city and capitol of LW's largest planet; Vanuatu An over-populated city crawling with illicit dealings and even more dubious people and intentions. Police and other enforcers prowling the streets that are overrun with more civilians than there are of cops. But nevertheless, they don't take shit laying down. Sol grew up just down the causeway from her family's mechanic shoppe ahem chop shoppe She was thrown into the family business since she was able to light a welding torch - which happens to be verrrrrry early on and she took to it right away. She knows the ins and outs of the city she called home; having to know 'em in order to outrun the cops as well as conducting illegal underground above ground races

Appearance: Within the first few months of Sol signing onto ʟᴀᴢᴇʀ; she underwent surgery - after much begging and pushing from the agency. Ocular implants aren't as widely consumed as one would assume. However, they aren't rare either. Hell, 𝕿𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙's own Ice Queen, Snow, had diamonds implanted into her irises. ʟᴀᴢᴇʀ felt it was a great idea to really sell the villain route of Nyx.

(What better than to make them tremble in fear just from your gaze alone? And to be able to see it from the track? Brilliant!)

They might have well had the conversations with themselves with the amount of input Sol gave. But, she gave in; secretly thrilled at the idea, though she'd never give ʟᴀᴢᴇʀ the satisfaction.

Piercing, molten gold eyes now stand out against her skin. The molten of her gaze almost glows in anticipation and when she's in the throes of passion and excitement. They dull, almost as if gold could tarnish, when she's expressing darker more sinister thoughts. It's in those times you should watch your back. However, she rarely lets it slip that she's concocting any sort of illicit activities and therefore - you should always be wary.

"Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer," as the old proverb states.

Swarthy skin as smooth as supple leather, but tough from living in LW as well as with the amount of time spent hunched over a blow torch and welding machines. Skin which takes on an almost ethereal sight when the light hits her just so and she is obsidian in the flesh. Typically her raven locks are worn long. However, when she was younger and growing up she could be seen sporting a buzzed style or her natural fro-curls. Due to ʟᴀᴢᴇʀ's villainous projection of Nyx, she continues to keep it long and straight for the most part - and then varying forms of the aforementioned.

Wardrobe: Black glitz & glam spiked heel to your face. Blacks, blacks and more black. With gold, silver and red splashed throughout. Sol is typically the poster child of all that Lava World fashion has to offer. While she's out and about, mainly strongly influenced by ʟᴀᴢᴇʀ and their contract with the woman, she is seen donning either high fashion pretty clothes as she refers to them, or the counterpart of high fashioned battle / racing gear [ you know, leather or fabric pants, jackets, tops - and of course some stunning kickass boots? that's the one ]

Places most likely to be found: Most likely can be found in the stables with Uuie; or getting her mechanic on - legally or illegally especially if there's an upcoming race. Otherwise, she likes to live it up as much as she can with her "free time". She can be spotted at any bar or nightclub with her siblings living it up or if it's mandatory - a promo event that her agency sets up.

People mostly likely to be with: Her siblings; Hugo, Ember and Pele. As well as her fellow teammates; Flame and Widow. She does still keep in contact with some of her old racing buds from the underground scene.

Strongest character trait: Ruthless

Public Image: cut-throat. ruthless. brutal. aloof. cold and calculating. the bad guy. the one you hate to love and love to hate. a true villain. what is she gonna do next? and will it be legal? very much a tabloid trashcat lol

Racing Strengths: tenacious. knows the limits of Uuie like the back of her hand - oh that's new - so she knows how to run him and the courses to the best of his abilities. she likes to think that she can easily adapt to a multitude of situations - whether it's due to a new steed, new course, even new teammates cough cough yrah right

Racing Weaknesses: pushes herself and Uuie to the limit. focused on winning, no matter the cost - except for in the case of Uuie as of late - she's grown soft with him

Personality: arrogant. headstrong. over ambitious. stubborn. sharp witted. silver tongue. quick reaction. an absolute instigator. somewhat of a bully. edgy and irritable. determined. observant. intuitive. confident. cunning. questionable motives for sure. untrustworthy - duh. sneaky. incredible liar. knows she's talented and takes it a bit too far. highly intelligent. nasty bitch. party loving animal. ruthless. aggressive. charming. cut-throat. brutal. aloof. cold and calculating. the bad guy. the one you hate to love and love to hate. a true villain. very much a tabloid trashcat lol hardworking. super handy. think female villainous tony stark she is also quite the lil cocky genius. she adores being center of attention - all the more challenging to get away with things - not to mention, being petty and subtle not so subtle in her tone and actions with others is so lovely~ will absolutely get inside your and her own head. ruthless. cunning. talented. hardworking. handy. can assemble and disassemble any and all unicorns and horses that cross her path after spending a few hours with it. can say the same for literally any other mechanical device / equipment. worries about stupid shit - specifically shit that she makes up in her head - ruthless. motives and means are questionable at best. shifty, shady lady. crass - sometimes doesn't realize it - it's just in her nature. insomnia is a real thing.

Biography: Sol grew up in a racing household. Well, kinda. Coming from quite a large, working family, Sol has never been one to shy away from hard work and working towards her goals. No matter the consequences. Her father used to race - unofficially, of course - but before then he was a mechanic. Constantly working on the horses. His father had owned and ran a shop specifically for the racers of Lava. Along with some shady chop shop goings on at the same time, and outta the same shop. Since her father and grandfather were so close, she was there everyday - learning the ins and outs of the . . . family business. Which only furthered her passion with the sport.

So, as soon as she could ride, her pops helped her get a rig of her own totally not stolen and they got to work building it up from the base it was literally a chassis. The majority of the work fell onto Sol's shoulders because not long into starting, her grandfather passed and her pop was thrown in jail not for long, but still .

Sol, being the eldest of her siblings, she hauled ass to complete her stallion, that she aptly named Frankenstein - yeah she was well aware that wasn't his name, but she liked it waaaay better than adam bleghh. The next day after his completion, she took him to an underground track where there was talks about races took place and positions won cash. Competing in her first race went . . . smoother than she anticipated. However, that isn't saying much seeing as how she not only lost but Frank was nearly destroyed when the ground shifted beneath him and they toppled to the ground, his large frame landing on top of her - effectively breaking her right arm.

After that point, she was constantly rebuilding Frank - eventually having to scrap him when there was no longer anything to rebuild and continue the same process over and over again. To say that Sol got in the experience of racing is an understatement. The amount of race time she put in rivaled that of the older crowd who'd been attending these events for years even before Sol was born.

Winning the races came after. The money going back into the family's food and shelter. But a few times, more often than not, the first place went to Sol for reasons outside of the stats of her current beast. No one could really prove it. And it wasn't like others participating weren't conducting similar measures of their own - it was just a blow to the pride when they believed that this . . . kid was the cause of the sabotage.

Fast forward a few years and Sol's name was known on the beat as the mechanic with wicked stats and even more wicked intentions. Winning unknown underground races was no longer thrilling for her anymore. Especially since no one posed any serious threat to her. Either because they all sucked or because they were too chicken shit to attempt, she couldn't be sure. But either way, she didn't like it. The only one to give her a run for her money was the now infamous Widowmaker. But since signing on with ʟᴀᴢᴇʀ, the scene has been . . . lacking.

Sol was excited for her long time friend and rival. Though she never could brush off that pang of jealousy she felt for being left behind. Regardless of her age.

It wasn't until she was 17 that things were beginning to look up for the eldest Phyre child. She'd just won a race - one that took place under and around the ʟᴀᴢᴇʀ agencies recruitment station and stalls where they house the unicorns and horses, ya know to add a lil spice to game. Well, their antics and noise drew the attention of the cities police enforcement as well as agency members. Sol was skilled enough to bolt, not lucky enough to get away. Turns out, ʟᴀᴢᴇʀ had been keeping tabs on the girl for awhile now - not to mention Widowmaker spoke highly of her - that they asked for her to join them. Unofficially as of the time, of course legality purposes and all bleghh.

Having known who exactly who she was and the family she stems from, they knew the exact role she was going to play within their agency. And since Sol had no issue conducting . . . less than legal means, they continued and played up that strength of hers ***though they would never admit out loud or publicly that what the rumors posted are true in any form of the word / i mean what ?***

Since her signing with the agency, Nyx has been the ever fan favorite villain. Her ruthlessness on and off the track knows no bounds. ʟᴀᴢᴇʀ has never been one to shy away from the drama or the dirty and the nasty and having Nyx's villainous tendencies, that she will do anything she has to in order to get what she wants, slip out into the public, well, oops, oh well

Nyx’s image and her skill with her Uuie have brought her moderate success. As of late, however, she's been quite worried about whether or not the agency is going to drop her - that she's not a fan favorite anymore. Which to be honest . . . she's still a favorite - the kind you wanna hate and love it. She’s good, no doubt, but she’s no Snow or Supernova. Which honestly, she never expected to be - they have waaaaay more experience than she ever will, but still~ However, with the currently rising Flame, with wins and popularity, she is in her right to worry some. Though, it's nowhere near where her imagination takes her. So, she has decided to go off script for the time being - continuing her tasks passed down through the agency - but also making sure to keep up her own appearance. Anything to get what she wants. Nyx doesn’t take no for an answer, so she’s going to do whatever it takes to get to the top. Even if it means exacerbating all the rumors of foul play that already surround her.

She's painted as the villain, right?

Might as well give them what they want . . .

Relationships:

Snow -

Sky -

Ice -

Supernova -

Sunbeam -

Flower -

Flame -

Nyx -

Widowmaker -

Playlist:

lucky you | eminem ft. joyner lucas

rap god | eminem

killshot | eminem

'till i collapse | eminem ft. nate dogg

lady in red | jolin tsai

el chapo | the game

don't be nice | watsky

punchin' bag | cage the elephant

mess around | cage the elephant

ride | zz ward

raise hell | dorothy

wicked ones | dorothy

monsters | ruelle

copycat | billie eilish

bad guy | billie eilish

all the good girls go to hell | billie eilish

dangerous | royal deluxe

unstoppable | the score

natural | imagine dragons

control | halsey

beekeeper | keaton henson

paint it, black | ciara

Headcanons:

As Nyx; she's expected to be a villain - always; that includes when out in public and at events. She has to play the part and well, be villainous. She doesn't mind, but also doesn't want to lose fans cause she's playing at being a bitch to them. Apparently, the die hards don't care, cause she's constantly in contact with them.

knows quite a few die hard fans by name and can spot them outta the crowds. she's a lil weary of a few of the more stan-y of them.

has kicked some of the creepy fans ass; which only helped solidify her Nyx role . . .

hasn't dated anyone since signing onto ʟᴀᴢᴇʀ | has had quite a few fuck buddies though - even having a buddy for each day of the week at one point. has toned it down however to just 2 - gotta satisfy that appetite

does have quite the lil crush on Flower; mainly because of how similar she sees them. Not to mention, she's such a cutie. Anytime they're together or near, she likes to tease the girl~

she likes to tease and make others uncomfortable regardless - it's just sooooo much fun

even though she can adapt to any horse / unicorn thrown at her, she has her fav; Uuie - she's sentimental that way

so she resorts to just makin' adjustments and any mods she can get away with

doesn't really like it when the agency throws a new horse at her while Uuie is undergoing repairs - but deals; begrudgingly

listens to music loudly while she's working / training etc. to the point where it makes it extremely difficult for her to hear anything else going on around her

insomniac

really, realllllly skilled in mechanations of all sorts

constantly in contact with her siblings - actually pretty close with them

they run the family business without her while she's off "being a super villain"

her father is still in prison and refuses to give up any information on his "alleged" illegal activities

he's kinda the big dog on site; has quite the following and is extremely proud of his oldest daughter and what she's become

looks up to her teammates; Widowmaker and Flame - though will NOT admit to the latter of the two; because she feels like it makes her look and sound weak and she canNOT have that

taken a play from flower's app has merch of her own team, specifically her own shiit; cause she's vain and LOVES how she's portrayed. what's wrong with having a small room dedicated to ʟᴀᴢᴇʀ cough cough herself

actually loves playing the villain; it isn't too far off the mark from who she really is

she's a lil more . . . lively than her villainous counterpart think harley quinn type lively

when she's Nyx; she hardly speaks - not really needing too - but when she does, expect, cool, acid tones to drip from her lips; sultry and cabaret sounding - while her normal tone is actually more city slang and more bubbly

sleeps in the nude OR an oversized shirt that typically hangs off one shoulder there is no in between

Family/Other Characters:

Baskara Phyre [ grandfather ]

Kiran Phyre [ father ]

Aithne Phyre [ mother ]

Hugo Phyre [ brother ]

Pele Phyre [ sister ]

Ember Phyre [ sister ]

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/kzombi3/rua/

#racers #racer info #nyx #sol #u-800 #written by kzzzz

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undonesarc · 5 years

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▌real name: griffith angelo d’aquino. ▌single or taken: single but.. we’re working on it. ▌abilities or powers: gun handling, knife combat, self defense (trained in standard boxing, wrestling, and has undergone courses that are essentially ripped straight from marine corps martial arts training programs), basic survival skills (desert-based, primarily, as that’s where the majority of his merc work took place), ▌eye color: a brown so dark it’s nearly black. ▌hair color: black. ▌family members: parents are sebastian d’aquino sr. and sheila d’aquino (nee walsh); six siblings, hugo (58), giorgia and emily (twins, 53), mia (49), lucas (47), and sebastian (44); one maternal uncle, max, and two fraternal, arthur and daniel (both deceased). ▌pets: n/a. has considered getting a dog, but doesn’t feel like he’d be able to actually be there for it as much as he should be, but if he ever considers retirement/a more permanent living situation then he’d probably get one. ▌something they don’t like: when people try to be all buddy-buddy with him, especially on jobs, especially if he barely knows them. he doesn’t like that sense of fake camaraderie, it makes him deeply uncomfortable. ▌hobbies/activities: crime, obviously, primarily bank robbery but he doesn’t mind getting involved in other things; more mundane hobbies include hiking, rock climbing, camping, boxing, playing video games, reading; at the home he keeps in new york, he has a library, and there’s an extensive collection of books there. ▌ever hurt anyone before: yes. frequently. as griff is fond of saying, you can’t be in crime without being a little criminal; he’s dealt out plenty of pain in his years, both professionally and on the side. his brief stint in the world of underground boxing was bloody. he’s picked more than a handful of fights in bars -- and not just yelling and some halfhearted punches. he’s thrown chairs, broken tables by slamming people into them, broken fingers and skulls and noses. he doesn’t flinch from violence, though that isn’t to say he revels in it, either; he’s not exactly apathetic, just doesn’t know how to deal with his emotions in any other way (but he doesn’t ever hurt the people cares about, i.e. his family/etc. he either deals with it by fighting or getting out the anger through work, or by going to a gym and taking it out on a punching bag/working it out through exercise). ▌ever killed anyone before: yes. 11 years of his life has been spent as a mercenary, seven with private military then four as a freelance killer in europe; his confirmed body count in europe was 13. outside of work, griff has only killed 3 people: his first was at the age of 16, when the eldest son of a “rival” family decided to send griff’s father a message by beating on griff (sebastian had refused to work with their family, and this was the retaliation for insulting them). griff fought back, unintentionally breaking his neck, then finishing the job by stabbing him in the throat. the other two kills were purely victims of circumstance; one was a man griff fought in the underground boxing he participated in (he didn’t die in the ring, but a few days later from injuries sustained); the second, a civilian who tried to be a hero during a robbery and earned a shotgun blast to the head for his trouble. ▌animal that represents them: a snake. ▌worst habits: the inability to own up to his feelings is the biggest one. this definitely extends beyond his sexuality; he’s not very good at showing his family (or the very rare friend that he has) that he cares for them. he’s not good at voicing his emotions, choosing instead to isolate (he camps by himself a lot) or something stupid like fighting (as mentioned above). he’s just very childish when it comes to emotions, and it’s goddamn annoying, and definitely makes it difficult to be friends with him. ▌role models: during their time together as mercs, jason became a sot-of role model for griff, with the impression he left continuing to influence griff into adulthood. his brother seb is also someone griff has constantly looked up to; because he’s only two years older, he’s the sibling griff was closest to. he helped griff deal with the body after his first murder; he’s the one who encouraged him to pursue theatre, then to leave home/the family when he saw how unhappy and uncomfortable griff was with them (seb has always known griff is gay, and hoped that by encouraging him to leave, he’d be helping him get to a place where he could learn to come to terms with who he is). griff has always admired the ferocity with which seb loves, and envies how easy-going he is. he’s tried to imitate it, but has never been able to perfect it. ▌sexual orientation: gay. ▌thoughts on marriage/kids: he doesn’t want kids, and doesn’t care for marriage in a traditional sense; he doesn’t believe in the ceremony and the paperwork. that’s not to say he wouldn’t flat-out deny a guy if it came to it, but he definitely wouldn’t want anything big. he thinks the commitment of saying i love you and then proving it by coming home every day is enough. ▌fears: being outed, and as an extension, coming to terms with being out; the reaction from his family; the act of actually being with a man again, though i think it’s less about actually being gay these days (because.. he understands it’s okay/natural, he’s really gotten over that fear and left it in his youth) and more of a fear of learning to love again, afraid he would lose it/ruin it like he did in the past. ▌style preferences: basic.. but like.. still kinda stylish? yeah he wears that ugly shirt with a cross on it in the movie, but that’s just how he dresses on jobs, primarily to throw people off and not let them get too familiar with who he really is. when he’s camping, of course he favors hiking boots and henleys. his style is dictated by what personality he’s presenting; in atlanta, he’s a hardened criminal, and dresses kinda corny to fit the part. in new york, he’s just another face in a crowd, but he wants to look good and feels more comfortable presenting closer to the look he likes in such a big city; he likes expensive dress shirts (and leans towards pastel colors) or designer shirts (he likes floral patterns like this) when he’s in new york, though sometimes he favors a more punk look (leather jacket, etc) when wearing more stylish and designer clothing makes him feel too exposed. he feels like there’s certain things expected from a guy who lives a life like him, who looks like he does, and sometimes he ends up falling prey to those stereotypes, because he’s too scared to let himself be who he really is. ▌someone they love: honestly.. to be honest....... he still has a little bit of love for jason and that’s never going to change. he also loves his brother seb a lot, and of course his other siblings as well -- they were all incredibly close growing up, and while he’s chosen to isolate, it isn’t because he hates them. he loves his family, he just needs to find his way back to them. ▌approach to friendships: he keeps anyone at arm’s length, though he does have some tentative friendships, all built on a mutual interest in crime, though the word friend is rarely ever used. griff tends to avoid “normal” people, not wanting to get them entangled in the life he lives; he doesn’t really have any genuine friends, people he goes out to coffee with or to the movies with or whatever, or people to talk to, actually, but god he needs it. ▌thoughts on pie: he’d kill you for pumpkin pie probably, ▌favorite drink: alcohol-wise, he loves strawberry cream tequila, and whiskey. liquor aside, he just drinks water and orange juice. ▌favorite place to spend time at: he loves the wilderness honestly! he goes camping every other weekend. he goes to the gym daily and really finds comfort in that routine. he doesn’t really like being at his atlanta apartment much, which is why he doesn’t spend too much money on it, or time in it. ▌swim in the lake or in the ocean: lakes; he developed a slight fear of the open water after working on fishing boats off of the west coast. ▌their type: we’ll have to revisit this........ i need more interactions w/ him before i say either way what he likes

tagged by: @armsdealing tagging: @armsdealing do this for buddy if you haven’t already, @exorsista, @exhauest

#long post #ask to tag #GRIFF.#GRIFF: META.

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michalwu · 6 years

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Best of 2018 in TV

Another year passed and again I watched a lot of good quality tv. I think that although again it was very hard to choose my top 10 this year was a little bit less intense than previous. Still I had to do a short list of places 20-11 because I couldn’t resist not to mention a few more productions. That said remember I’m not a critic. I watch thinks I like not because I have to and this list is totally subjective though I tried to be fair. I watched over 50 series from 2018 and that’s the results:

20-11 (in random order)

The Affair (season 4), Atlanta (season 2), Homecoming, ACS: The Assassination of Gianni Versace, Killing Eve, One Day at the Time (season 2), Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events, Maniac (season 2), Legion (season 2), AHS: Apocalypse.

10. Anne with and E (season 2)

I never was a huge fan of the book as a kid but I read it as mandatory lecture in primary school. But I am a huge fan of this series. Beautiful placement of the plot plus very talented young cast with leading Amybeth. The best part of the story for me always was the dynamics of Anna's relationship with her adopted parents.

9. Patrick Melrose

What an absolutely outstanding trio of actors: Benedict Cumberbatch, Hugo Weaving and Jennifer Jason Leigh. Plus another young talent this year Seabstian Maltz who as a young Patrick is giving one of the most dramatic performence of the year. Creators did justice to the novel.

8. The Deuce (season 2)

This was one of the most enjoyable series this year. I love the period it shows and since the first season I started to develop a sympathy for all those characters especially for Candy. Too bad the series seems to be forgotten this year by critics. In my opion it came back in a lot better shape than last year. It’s funnier, it’s faster and the whole fuss around making porno adaptation of Red Riding Hood is just captivating.

7. Sharp Objects

Another great limited series and another proof of my love to the craftsmanship of brilliant Jean-Marc Vallée. The story from book was kinda predictable and tacky. But thanks to the director who is an expert of showing emotions and dilemmas from the past plus the cast of three great actresses made it into phenomenal work. I am really looking forward to see more projects from cooperation of Mr. Vallee and HBO because so far it brings only true treasures.

6. Barry

I was always a fan of Bill Harder on SNL and his (usually) small roles in comedies. So then I found out that he’s making his own show I kept my fingers crossed for the success. And the results are better than expected. Barry is a great combination of drama and comedy. It sound like things we see lately very often but Barry is the best mix of two this year (not to mention animated series). Why? Because drama is real (he’s a seriall killer with many very hard moral choices to make) and the comedy provided (mostly) by Henry Winkler is just a poor gold. Well done.

5. The Haunting of Hill House

I’m not a big horror enthusiast but I do have a soft spot for those stories in classical form. And what’s more classic than beautiful, old, and huge haunted house. I fell in love with this series and it’s so much better than the previous movies. This one is actually very far from the original story written by Shirley Jackson but it capture the atmosphere the best. Separation of episode focusing on different from five siblings was a great idea. From non-believer to the most affected of the kids the story became more and more intense and scary. I honestly was scared almost the whole time. Still I tried to play with creators and watch for all the hidden ghosts in the background. The secret of Bent Neck Lady was haunting me for a while and even after finishing the series it all stayed with me in my mind. This was my favorite new series of the year. I’d love to see it again in other form, maybe as anthology like AHS. With this cast yes please!

4. GLOW (season 2)

It’s so nice today that we can get such a smahing tv show this such a huge female cast. I love this series and those Gorgeous Ladies Of Wrestling since season 1. I always enjoy it when show or movie takes me to another peroid of time and GLOW blend us into into that reality of 80 like nothing else. We had so many exctiting things this season with Debbie becoming single mother after divorce, Sam Silvia trying himself as a father and the whole team becoiming more and more like a crazy family (recording of intro in the mall was amazing). In real life I’m not really intrested in wrestling (like at all) and though it probably differs a lot than reality I loved those duels bethween characters. Episode Mother of All Matches is one of the best in 2018.

3. BoJack Horseman (season 5)

Oh how I love this show and this character. And before anyone judge me I don’t love BoJack for being a walking disaster and misery. I love this character and many other on the show for the incredibly smart writing. He is a alcoholic, narcissus and washed-out tv star and that who he is. Just like Priness Caroline is an ambitious woman who will give up many things for career even if she know it won’t give her happines in the end. But that’s the greatest thing about this show and creators that they won’t change those characters and put them in unexpected positions just to get the wow factor from the viewers. They still find a way to present those persons in fresh and captivating way but making it “in” the nature of the character. And that’s the fift season so congrats! And still we can count on them to give us some real gems like episode Free Churro which is a masterpiece of writing. The thing is this season of BoJack doesn’t stand out in specific way from other but it gives us the thing it always did and never disappoints - crazy rollercoaster ride.

2. Mozart in the Jungle (season 4)

When I said at the beginning that this list is totally subjective I meant it inter alia because of this series. Mozart IS my favorite tv series. I don’t know if the best but it always gave me the most joy when watching it adn that’s a pretty good determinant. Unfortunately I will have to start saying it WAS my favorite because Amazon cancelled series after this season. I’m still mad and disappointed because GoT is about to end so all platforms grab the money to invest in “next huge thing” (in case of Amazon it’s new Lord of the Ring..yeah we need it). But don’t get me wrong. I didn’t put Mozart this high because I’m mad and or to mark someone’s mistake. I just really loved this season. Placing the plot in Japan was bull’s-eye move. Rodrigo De Souza (favorite tv character next to Leslie Knope) as a boyfriend of Hailey was hilarious, a much as observing her way to become succesfull and independent artist. The scene when she debuts as conductor with piece “Hi” is maybe my favorite moment in whole season. Even stronger is her performence at the finale. Although I rooted for Hailey and Rodrigo as a couple I’m glad that creators didn’t go into cliche with their relationship. Another strong scene is the on at traditional tea ceremony. Of course as always the whole season was very firm from the music side (this series helped me to discover a little piece of classical music and I’m grateful for that). I will really miss this series. I think it could easily do another season especially now when creators decided to end this season in such an interesting place. Too bad...

1. The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel (season 2)

There’s nothing to explain... but I will ;) I compared all the series with each other and in my opinion there was nothing better that Mrs. Maisel this year. I enjoyed it last year but I didn’t even expected how much delight will it be to have it back. Visually it is the most beautiful thing in tv right now. And the writing as always is case of Amy Sherman-Palladino is just excellent. Those characters are so fast and wit it’s just a pleasure to observe them interact and discuss with much to many words and refrences than any normal person would use. And those actors really take it like a champs. All episodes in Paris was nice but it was nothing compre to Catskill where it felt like watching dirty dancing but with much better and more interesting story. I love the way Palladino direct her characters. How they develop especially Midge, her friendship with Susie and her realisation that stand-up comedy is not only the thing she want to do but it is something she will do for the rest of her life. Every time she stands in front of audience, camera or father himself she proves to be nailer and we as audience live for those moments! I really enjoyed see her parents in Paris as we could discover totally different side of them both and also new romance of Midge. But my favorite sequence of the season was Midge watching Lenny Bruce (Luke Kirby is so on point with this role) in last episode and realising it all (inconspicuous scene but made me waste a few tears). At the end I will add that I love the attitude towards the children presented in this series...irrational like many other things.

*******

Suming up in my list dominant are HBO and Netflix productions but in the end two first places go to Amazon.

Comapring with previous year there is no sign of Legion in top 10. Well season 2 was good, sometimes even great but not enough to get into the top. Beside there’s less new series on the list (seven in 2017, four this year) but we had some amazing comebacks.

I don’t have huge disappointments this year, maybe just a few. 1) Romanoffs were boring as hell and I really counted on Weiner. 2) Cancelling of many good series like Mozart in the Jungle or Daredevil. 3) Riverdale became so absurd that it beats and law of logic. I mean why it gotta be so intense?

#top10 #2018 #year summary #tv series #hbo #netflix #Amazon #marvelous mrs maisel #mozart in the jungle #Bojack Horseman #glow #the haunting of hill house #barry #sharp objects #the deuce #patrick melrose #anne with an e #best of 2018

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sergeant-donny-donowitz · 4 years

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Long Odds (OmarUlmerxFem!Reader)

Requested by @mylovelyreblogs

@owba-chan @war-obsessed @inglourious-imagines @tealaquinn @struggling-bee @frozenhuntress67

Let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist! :)

Donny set his beer down on the pub counter, and smirked, "Five hundred francs." Hirschberg rolled his eyes, "What is that? Like ten bucks?" "Yeah, but we're in France...so five hundred francs. Take it or leave it." Hirschberg snickered, "Aint'cha got somethin'...luckier than that?" Donny sneered as he muttered under his breath, "Fucken lucky, I'll show you lucky." He set his lucky baseball card on the counter. Rare, 1939 Teddy Williams baseball card. Autographed. Omar raised his eyebrow, and grinned, "Goin' all in, huh?" Donny smirked, "Might as well. I'm the one that needs the least luck here." They all grumbled as the betting went on. They were betting on something...well...odd, to say the least. You were a basterd, and a friendly one, too. Friendly with all of them. As a matter of fact, you'd gotten a laugh or two out of Hugo, which wasn't an easy thing to do. As much as they hated to admit, each of the boys had a thing for you at some point or other.

They looked back to the other side of the pub, where you were dancing with anyone and everyone that so much as looked in your direction.... Boy was it a sight that would never fade away from anyone's memory. You were one of a kind basterd...but a basterd no less. Still, you were more than anyone of them could have ever bargained for. Especially Omar. To him, you were more than he could ever say. You were what they'd all dreamed of having by their side once they got home... But goddamn was it a perk having you there by their side in the war, where it mattered most. Where it was rough having friends, but...none of them would have it any other way. Now...they were all betting who you'd be "friendliest" with in the end... And looked down the counter, "Aldo?" He rolled his eyes, set his whiskey down with a clunk, and crossed his arms, and muttered, "I'm gettin' too old for this shit..." He cleared his throat, "And I respect Y/n too much to just bet on th-" Donny smirked, "You're scared, huh?" Smitty snickered, "You scared you'll lose, lieutenant?" Aldo narrowed his eyes as he looked at his men, "Lose?"

Hirschberg nodded, "You don't got it, old man." "Old man?! Old man?! Wicki's the oldest." Smitty nodded in agreement, "Oh yeah...Wicki's older." "Shaddap Uti." Donny raised an eyebrow....If he was in danger of losing his Teddy fucking Williams baseball card, he wasn't letting anyone get away with less than that. All or nothing. "Neat stash of tobaacco there, sir... Y/n's always sayin' that stuff aint no good for you. 'Specially if you're gettin' up there in your years-" Aldo rolled his eyes, "Alright, alright. I'm in." He slammed his tin of snuff on the table, next to the card, the francs, and the mementos everyone was willing to bet.

"Omar." The last one to enter the bet. And frankly, not the one most of the boys were worried about. With him, it was a long shot. ...Even if they wouldn't advise him (or Smitty, or even Wicki) to join in on the bet, he had something they all wanted. One impressive hoarde of chocolate. He knew that was what they wanted from him. And he was confident... He wasn't very good at holding a poker face, but frankly most of the boys were pretty dense as to why he was smirking, "Alright. Hersheys. I'm in."

"Everyone quiet!" Hirschberg spotted you coming toward them, and they all scrambled to hide their wagers. "Hey, why's everyone so quiet?" You stood at the end of the counter, after dancing for what seemed like an eternity, but not quite done for the night. The tavern’s band was taking a short break. And you just needed to cool off a little. Aldo knew that, and held up a glass of whiskey on the rocks. The most refreshing thing he could think of. "Y/n?" You smiled a little as you caught your breath, "Ya know that brunette back there keeps eyeing you, sir?" "What?" You smiled, and gestured back to the dancing youth, "There." "O...oh..well..." You smiled, "Maybe save that drink, huh?" "I-" A little way down the counter, Omar lifted a different glass. Cognac. Which is all you liked to drink. Which he knew. Hugo, thinking you had to be at least a little tired out, and noting the band had been playing some slower songs earlier, he figured, he might as well give it a shot. "Y/n...." You looked to him, with a naive, sincere smile, "Yeah?" All he had to say was "Dance?" And you nodded, "You got it!" You smiled at him, and turned to get to Omar. So...the basterds watched as you passed Aldo by, and somehow Omar and Hugo seemed to gain favor... Minutes later, after finishing that cognac from Omar, you were back on the dance floor...and Aldo withdrew from the bet, seeing that the brunette on the dance floor had a thing for the Tennessee man. He swung by the bar with her, and passed by the basterds. She was clinging to him, and looking up at him dreamily, passing a lit cigar to him. He held it up, eyed his tin of snuff, and sighed. "Men." They all stood waiting, as if he'd give an order. He smirked a little, knowing he'd get snuff some way or another, "I fold." And he was off, with his new acquaintance. With one less basterd in the race, the stakes were raised higher. "Five hundred and fifty francs!" Donny held his poker face...he had to. Frankly, that was all the francs he had to offer. Smitty looked on as you danced the night away, "Y/n likes music, right?" Omar chuckled, "Oh she does, Einstein?" "Look." Smitty narrowed his eyes, and Omar rolled his, and smiled "Y/n don't care what music plays, Smitty. She'll dance to anything." Donny laughed as he crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. It made him happy to see you happy. Frankly, he didn't really care who won the bet, as long as you were happy. He only bet to begin with because...well he's Donny Donowitz. He's just competitive. And impulsive...and regretted betting his lucky card. Still, he smiled with a sigh, "Ain't that the truth." He took a drink and looked back at the counter. His competitive instinct kicked in. He grinned, as he nudged Hugo, and looked on to the dance floor, "Y'know what Y/n really likes dancin' to, Hugo?" Hugo raised his eyebrow as the band came back. Hearing the blaring, wild trumpet beginning to play, as you looked back at them from the edge of the dancing crowd, waiting for your dance partner, His eyes widened as you gestured to him... Hirschberg taunted him too, leaning over the bar, and snickering "That's right. Ragin' wild swing." He looked back at Wicki, as if asking for help for the first time in his life. Wicki shrugged as he sipped some bourbon. "You aready asked her to dance. Might not be the best time to disappoint her, kumpel." Utivich laughed, "Her? Don't dissapoint us!" He pushed Hugo off his stool, and toward the dance floor. He grimaced, and looked as if he was about ready to snarl at them like a rabid animal...

Just then, you walked out from the dancefloor, and took his hands, and pulled him toward the crowd, your laugh like a beacon in a stormy night, pulling a smile from him.

"Damn can she do the goddamn charleston!" Donny chuckled, looking on. Omar narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out where Hugo had gone. "L-Is that Hugo?!" "Y-Yeah...." "Damn look at him go!"

The basterds laughed and started cheering for him, until he stumbled a little, and fell. "Look at him go!" Wicki smiled, as you came back to them, your laugh was like a song to him. Laugh! That was it! He tried to capture that light in your gleaming eyes in the milisecond before your laugh rang like a mermaid's song. A joke or two would do it... Except he stumbled on the punchline. There was a lot on the line, after all. And the boys laughed at him and his mistakes. Omar chuckled, "Careful boys, you'll break an old man's heart." Wicki rolled his eyes, and the jeering went on, Hirschberg smirked, "Might be having a stroke." You rolled your eyes, though you could hardly contain your guity smile as you punched Hirschberg’s shoulder, "Oh, you're so mean!" He looked up at you, and caught sight of that hidden grin, and felt at ease with himself for a moment. He'd made you smile...that was a start. But it wasn't much. Omar knew that, as he smirked and took a sip of his beer.

You could read a room. Better yet, you knew each of the basterds inside out, and knew something was up. You weren't blind either, so you had a pretty good idea at what was happening. You were killer at war, but a heartbreaker at nature. All it took to throw Hirschberg off his game, and blow everyone else's egos to bits was to wink at him. One little wink.| Omar hid his smirk again as he raised his beer to his lips, and raised his head back, dousing his retained laugh with the rich, bitter, cool beer as he shot you a knowing, loving glance.

************ "Y'know...I think...I thinkn y/n's on to us..." Hirschberg sighed as he loked down at the crumpled, orange and red leaves as he marched with Donny, Omar, and Smitty to a rendezvous point. You had gone with the rest of the basterds to a somewhat distant town for supplies, and they were meeting you at a hideout that was roughly the halfway point. The rest of the boys were discussing their progress in the wager, and Hirschberg was a little unsettled. Donny sighed as he stretched out his arms, "Oh yeah? What makes ya say that?" Hirschberg grumbled a little then admitted, "Made my move...and she wasn't havin' none of it. Got far enough to try and sneak in a little kiss." Omar, who had been splashing some water from a creek onto his face, stopped. He looked up, still facing away from them to hide his cheeky grin, "Yeah? How'd that go?" He knew you. He knew you'd always be true. You'd told him so, once, long ago. And he believed you. Still, he couldn't help but sigh a little, remembering the soft, secret touch of your lips. Sure enough, your lips were often cracked by the carelessness of war and winter, but still the best kiss a soldier like him could ever ask for.

Hirschberg wouldn't know. And that's what made Omar smirk. "She slap you?" Smitty couldn't help but laugh a little, and Donny suggested, "Punch ya?...Can't blame her. Wouldn't want a face like yours near me either." Hirschberg rolled his eyes, "No! She....she put her fingers...on my lips, goddamn it!" Omar smirked as he walked by him, patting him on the back, "Well, looks like you're losin' you're luger." "Yeah, yeah..." He sighed, wondering in defeat if he'd really lose his luger, "Then she said. She looks at me with those eyes, y'know...those fucken eyes..." Omar nodded with a sigh, looking up at the sky, as if he could see them, "Yeah...I know those eyes..." The boys didn't quite catch that air of sincerity in his voice. That trace of love, that hint of reminiscence Omar's dreamy daze was interrupted by Hirschberg's brash voice, "And ya know what she says? She pushed me back, see. And she says to me, 'Hirsch, you gon' tell me what this is all about or not?' "

Donny gasped, almost in disbeleif, like he was hearing gossip in a salon, "No!"

Hirschberg replied in the near same tone, "Yes!" Smitty shook his head, "Well what'd you say?!" "I said no, that's what I fucken said!" Smitty rolled his eyes in exasperation, "So you admitted there was something going on!?" "No, didn't you hear, I said no?!" Smitty sighed, "No. You said no, you wouldn't tell her what was happening, not no there was nothing happening." Hirschberg frowned, and opened his mouth to respond... Then quickly realized Smitty's point, shrugged, took a puff from his cigarette, and sighed, "Guess I did..." As the boys marched on, Donny spotted something poking through Smitty's jacket. "Whatcha got there, kid?" "A book." "Aw, yeah? What kinda book?" Donny smirked at Omar and Hirschberg, and nudged Smitty. Smitty pulled it out of his jacket. The cover read "Le Petit Prince." A story born and banned in France. Nevertheless, there it was, in his hands, wishing to find yours. "Ya know Y/n can't read French, right?" And in that moment, his heart broke into a million pieces. He wasn't in it for the wager, or even to win your heart. To him, you'd always be like a shining star, across the universe. He'd always hope to see you, but he'd never be close enough. He loved you like a friend could, from the moment he figured that out. He knew love was much like war, not something to be toyed with or bet on. It was far beyond his hands. He loved you, but not in the way you deserved, so he stepped down... He'd confided that to Omar, still not knowing the truth. And Omar had listened with a sigh, knowing you loved Smitty, like you loved all the other basterds. As brothers. But Smitty was, well, the youngest, and so you thought of him as a sort of baby brother. So Omar helped Smitty find that book. Did it nearly cost them an arm and a leg (literally)? Yes. Would either of them ever tell you? No. So Omar's heart sank when he caught that defeated look in Smitty's eyes, and stepped up. "She's got a French dictionairy, y'know she's learnin'. And...it's the thought that counts, kid. Chin up." Smitty smiled a little, and stopped for a moment, as Omar turned back around and kept marching with the others. Smitty looked up ahead, knowing you were somewhere out there, and he was more excited than evere to give you that book. After a few moments of silence, something started picking at Donny. "Omar." "Yeah, sarge?" "How the hell are you still so confident about this?" Hirschberg, Smitty, and Donny then stopped in ther tracks to look at Omar, and wait for an answer. Omar was the only basterd that had never had a steady relationship before. Hell, Smitty might've been the youngest, but even he had a high school sweetheart at some point. Hirschberg nodded, "Yeah you ain't even made your first move yet!" Donny sighed, having made more moves than he'd ever had to before, "Yeah you should do sometin' quick, Ulmer. You ain't got any idea what you're getting yourself into with that girl. It's fucking impossible." Omar shrugged, "Well...we did go through boot camp together." As a matter of fact, that was where it all started. Sneaking out of your bunks in the middle of the night, and roaming around under the stars, jsut talking. "And we spent our fair share of time together." This was the first time you'd been split up... And he failed to define 'together'. He shrugged, "I know a little more about her than you think."

Hirschberg crossed his arms and remarked, "That right?" "Yeah... She likes a good show. Action pictures, that sort of thing." Donny raised his eyebrow with a grin,"Action pictures, huh?" A few hours later, after ambushing a nazi outfit nearby, Donny was swinging with his bat, "Y/n likes action movies, right?" Omar smirked a little, "Give her a real show, Donny. Knock 'em dead." Donny smirked a little, and walked into the tunnel, already riled up.

And, after some intimidation and interrogation, Aldo called Donny out. And Donny did put his all into it... He really was the closest thing the basterds had to seeing a movie.

And at the end of it, as Werner lay dead, and his private gave Aldo all the information he needed, Donny looked across the fort to you, with smouldering, smirking eyes, and a sly grin. His eyes fell on you, your basterd grin, and laughing eyes, and moved down, and saw your hand. Your hand, resting on a stone. With Omar's hand resting on yours. "No..." His eyes grew wide. His mouth dropped open. The other basterds' eyes followed his, because if something left the Bear Jew speechless, it was something worth looking at. And indeed, it was. Because they all saw what he did. Omar smirking, his raised eyebrow, pulling his arm around your shoulders, and kissing you. What's more...they'd all just lost a bet. In fact, they'd lost the moment they even put their wagers on the table. Then, a million questions went back and forth. "WHAT?!" being the most common. Followed by "WHEN?!?!?!" and, of course, "HOW!?!?!?!" To which Omar responded, "Learned a lot more than you think in basic training. Y/n's been by my side since then. Made it official just before we left England." You laughed a little, "We didn't know we'd be leaving together." You didn’t know you were both being sent to the basterds. Hirschberg smirked. "So ya can do somethin' right, huh Omar" Aldo chuckled a little, "Say, y/n that how ya get him to shut his mouth every once in a while? Ya learn that trick in basic training too?" You blushed a little, "More or less, Aldo." Omar smiled as he looked at you, the basterds saving their grumbling about their gambling for later, for your sake. Still...Hirschberg slipped up and said "Some fucken bet..." Then, it all made sense to you. A bet.... The other basterds never had a chance to start with. They were betting blind. Omar though, he took a gamble of long odds when he met you. He bet it all on you again that night in the pub. It wasn't just his chocolate stash, it was his love, his pride, his heart. That was clear to everyone from that moment. But you didn't understand why. You spoke softly, a way only Omar ever heard you speak before, and you asked him, "Why?" He smiled. "Because I trusted you. I knew my odds, they were always on my side. Like you." You shut your eyes, feeling like a fool, and giving a small, amused smile. Loving someone during war was always a wager with death, with odds that weren't in your favor. But loving a basterd... Loving Omar Ulmer... Now that was a chance you were willing to take, from the moment you first laid eyes on him. He didn't know that. He'd played a game of fortune and heartbreak, once, and won. And he'd be willing to bet it all again, for you, and only you.

#Inglourious Basterds #inglourious basterds imagine #Omar Ulmer #omar ulmer x reader

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