#everyone say thank you arno “thank you arno” | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ahungeringknife · 1 year

Text

365 May 3-6

After a point Desmond just came to the understanding that his life was weird and he really didn't feel like arguing with it anymore. Coming back from the dead? Near death? Limbo? Whatever did that to a person. He was so beyond his life throwing arguably impossible shit at him.

"I'm home," he said looking at the living room of his apartment that absolutely should not fit as many people in it as it did. And yet.

The first week it'd happened he was sure he was having a new mental break down. But no. That'd have been a reasonable explanation for a bunch of murderers showing up at his door looking like people out of a ren fair. He didn't know why they were there. They didn't know why they were there. When Desmond asked they just grabbed his blackened hand or arm. They were drawn to it. Somehow? For some reason?

Seven languages all roughly saying, "Welcome back," came in a chorus. They could all understand him at least. Whatever fucked up magic or whatever had given him that at least so he didn't have to sift through seven different tongues in his head to pull out the one he wanted.

"I brought bread," he said which got everyone interested. He didn't anticipate people from previous centuries to be picky eaters but they absolutely were. And that didn't even cover Ezio's insanely high standards for olive oil, which he basically drank. But everyone ate bread. Thank god. He always had to go down a few blocks for an actual bakery because of course they wouldn't eat store bread. The bakery knew him on sight now since he'd been going there every other day for a month and bought the exact same arrangement of bread. When they saw him coming in they just packed up his order for him.

"Everyone get their shit done while I was gone?" he asked amid some talking. Some of them could communicate but it was a near thing. Some of them even spoke English, which was cool.

"It was boring, but yes," Ezio said.

"Good. Who wants to make dinner?" Desmond asked, going into the kitchen and taking the bread out.

"Everyone stop looking at me," Evie said. "Just because I'm a woman."

Desmond didn't engage while Jacob was defending his sister's honor, or whatever. After a bit of bickering he called out, "Fine then we're all going to be unhappy and Altair will cook." There was some groaning.

"Fools," Altair said and Desmond was the only one who understood. He got up from where he was sitting on the floor and entered the little kitchen with Desmond. "My cooking isn't that bad... now," he added. Altair, like the rest of them, were not how Desmond remembered them from the memories as mostly wild and blood thirsty twenty-somethings. They were all older. In their thirties or forties. It was still weird seeing Altair in a beard. At least he wore it better than Ezio.

"Yeah you don't burn my pans now," Desmond said. Desmond still helped him figure out what to do. They all knew how to use the appliances by now but other than Connor, Bayek, and Evie none of them had ever had to cook for themselves until they'd shown up in Desmond's life. But like good Assassins they all took to instruction quickly and Desmond just had to tell them what to do and they figured it out.

"How much longer are we staying here?" Arno had come around to the kitchen while Altair was cutting onions with freakish laser precision. Desmond wasn't sure Altair couldn't understand French but he always acted like he couldn't so he didn't push it.

"I dunno. Until you guys fucking leave?" Desmond said. Who knew when that would be. Who knew why that would be or how!

Arno gave him an annoyed look. "I know that. But this is unsustainable," he motioned to the living room which had all the furniture shoved into the corners to make enough room for everyone to sleep. Desmond's bedroom also had some sleeping space on the floor. "Even at our lowest this is too much."

"Well if I want to break my lease I need to pay a fee. And then I have to find a new place that I can afford. And if you guys all fucking vanish one day I'm going to be in a big place all by myself unable to pay. I don't mind having roommates from former head mates but actual normal people? I'd rather die."

"That can be arranged," Altair said behind him.

"Shut it, you," Desmond frowned at him but Altair wasn't even looking at him.

Arno was also frowning. "Well perhaps it would be more useful if we put our minds to figuring out what happened to bring us here instead of what you have us doing."

"If you want to go ahead but I can't afford to feed someone who isn't helping," Desmond said, folding his arms. Because magic that they could all understand his spoken English they could also understand written English. Desmond had found all of them some reasonable paying translation gig work. Desmond knew they all hated it but also had no idea what to do in this century, let alone how to cross a street without almost being run over by a car.

Arno also folded his arms and mirroring Desmond. "I am not a stranger to hardship. But I'm tired of waking up with someone's feet in my face. Also Jacob snores; loudly," he put a pained look on his face.

Desmond grimaced. He could sympathize. Before he could keep going with Jacob Altair tugged his sleeve. He turned around. "Is this right?" and it was still so baffling hearing a hard ass like Altair ask him something so kindly.

Desmond looked over the chopped vegetables Altair had in the pan. He'd added raisins. Always with the fucking raisins with Altair. "Looks fine. Don't cook it too long or it'll turn to mush." He turned back to Jacob. "Look I'm not unsympathetic. I just don't know what to do myself," he said.

"Can we help you? Clearly we're supposed to be here? So we should help you."

Desmond sighed, "I would love that but none of you know how to use a computer."

"... A what?"

"Exactly."

"Is that the little glass tablet you carry around with you?" Arno asked.

"Yes."

Arno looked conflicted. "It seems... confusing but I'm willing to figure it out if it gets me into an actual bed."

"Fine," Desmond said and already knew it was going to give him a headache. "This weekend when I'm free."

Arno smiled. "Great," and he walked off.

Desmond sighed dramatically. "Punk," Altair grumbled, or about as close an approximation as Desmond could translate out.

"I knew you could speak French," and Desmond punched his arm.

"My wife is French, of course I can," Altair said with a grunt. "His accent is so snooty. I hate it."

"He's Parisian," Desmond said.

"No wonder he sounds like a prick," Altair grumbled and Desmond laughed.

--------

Having seven people crowding your space while trying to use your laptop was... something. It sure was something. Somehow they all managed to perch around him without getting in each other's way too and were all staring intently at the screen. Desmond had been talking to them, very slowly, for about three hours now explaining how a computer worked. He typically had all their translation work printed out and then on his days off typed it all into the programs or emails for the clients.

Surprisingly the one who seemed to understand it the best were the two old guys Altair and Bayek. Bayek was especially insane because he was from before the common era. Like the numbers ticked down on the grand time line of human civilization from where Bayek was from. Desmond wasn't particularly surprised by Altair who'd had his head in the future through the Apple for decades. That didn't mean either of them were good at it but they asked the least questions when he asked if they understood.

"I think that's about as much as I can just explain. You have to try it now. Who wants a go?" Desmond asked. He expected Arno to immediately volunteer. Hadn't he been the one excited to help him find a new apartment?

"I do," Bayek said.

"Weren't they still playing with sticks and rocks in your time?" Jacob asked, not knowing what Bayek was saying but getting the idea. Evie smacked his arm, hard, making him complain.

"Sit," Bayek sat. "It's light, hold onto the keyboard area so it doesn't fall off your lap," Desmond said and put the laptop on Bayek's crossed legs. There was a moment of confusion as Bayek figured out how to use the touch pad but then he got it. "I'm surprised you're at all good with this," Desmond said casually.

His answer absolutely floored Desmond. "This is nothing compared to the Isu ruins." Desmond hadn't personally lived through Bayek but he'd been told the story. Bayek was really good at telling stories. "That is actual confusing shit."

"What'd he say?" Ezio asked.

"He said it's nothing compared to Those Who Came Before," he said. "Didn't know Egypt had that sort of tech involvement with the Isu," he said thoughtfully.

"Ask him if it's as easy as it appeared when you did it," Arno said.

Desmond did and relayed it back while Bayek was clicking around on the computer and internet. "He said it's like reading a scroll where the words and pictures move with your thoughts."

"How poetic," Arno said.

"I also wanna try," Evie said.

"Yes, and I," Ezio said.

"Give him a few minutes," Desmond said.

"The keyboard is... confusing. I know what these letters mean but their arrangement is-- quite stupid," Bayek said.

"Yeah, basically," Desmond agreed.

"It also hurts my eyes."

"Yeap. It'll do that too," and he took the laptop back. Then Evie got to mess around with it while Bayek rubbed his eyes. He hadn't blinked the entire time. Then it was Ezio's turn once she'd had a go at it.

"Is there a way to see these mmm- webbed sites in Italian?" Ezio asked.

"Sort of? Just type into the text box in Italian. It should pull up Italian sites."

Watching Ezio pick and poke through what he wanted to ask Google was excruciating. "Ha! Italian," and he scrolled through the search results. Desmond leaned over to see what he was looking at.

"Hey!" Desmond snatched the laptop away. He switched into Italian himself to scold him and god he sounded a lot like Claudia by the way Ezio wilted. "Don't look up boobs on my fucking laptop. Of course I leave you alone for a minute and you're trying to see some tits. What are you? Seventeen again?"

He was going to have to put child locks or something on this thing so these Assassins didn't give his laptop a fucking virus looking up porn. "What can I say. I'm a man of simple pleasures?" Ezio said with a wry grin.

"Banned," Desmond pointed at him in annoyance.

He let everyone try out the laptop. No one was as taken with it as Bayek and Connor somehow almost broke it. Arno at least came away from the lesson and hands on part being slightly confidant in using it. Everyone also complained it hurt their eyes. Because none of them blinked while using the laptop. Blue light was hell of a thing.

They dispersed after that. Bayek, who still sat next to him, said, "Can you show me more things?"

"Sure? Like what?"

"I want to know what happened to Egypt," he said. "And the Romans. And the Greeks. Are they still around?"

"Well Ezio is what you could call Roman," Desmond said slowly. "He lived in Rome, the city, for a while."

"Is Rome no longer an empire?"

Desmond chuckled, "Buddy, they wish."

"... I would like to see what made Rome fall," he said, not in a sad way but rather he was very interested. "And what happened to Julius," his eyes narrowed.

"You're going to love what happened to Cesare," Desmond said and pulled up some wikipedia articles. He showed Bayek how to navigate the site, what the colors meant, what the little numbers next to words meant, and the sources at the bottom. After that Bayek was glued to it. "And make sure you blink," Desmond added. Bayek nodded.

Desmond got off the couch and wandered into his room, flopping down onto his bed. That had taken so long. He picked up his phone and looked at it. It was only mid afternoon. He had a few missed texts. It looked like they were from work. He ignored them. He wasn't paid enough to answer texts on his day off.

----

Desmond was used to being watched at this point even if he couldn't see them. Didn't bother him. This time when he looked across the Goodwill it was Jacob staring right at him looking like he was dying while Evie was trying to find some clothes. Seemed that even after a few hundred years brothers still would rather die than shop with their sisters. He chuckled to himself and went back to ignoring him.

Desmond was more concerned with convincing Bayek and Connor that no they couldn't just walk around shirtless or tank tops all the time.

"But it will get in the way of my movement," Bayek said about the long sleeved shirt Desmond was trying to get him in. It was summer so was pretty warm and Bayek had never existed in any sort of cold weather in his life. His logic was sound for Egypt.

"Yeah but you can't enter most stores without a shirt, dude," Desmond said. Connor was more accepting of full shirts having grown up around Westerners but Desmond remembered being in his head. He always felt too big for in his clothes. Especially Achilles' old uniform that he'd nearly ripped several times from just how thick his arms were.

"But it's hot out. We don't need sleeves until later in the year," Connor said.

"What'd he say?" Bayek asked and Desmond repeated it. Honestly a lot of the time he was just repeating what everyone said so any two of them could hold a conversation. "Why would the time of year matter?"

"Winter?"

"... What is that?"

Desmond pinched the bridge of his nose. "Think like the flood season but instead it gets cold."

"It would get cold in Egypt sometimes," Bayek said.

"No like water turns into ice," Desmond explained.

"But it's not like that now? And there's so much clothes here surely I won't want for them," Bayek said. Everyone had been pretty stunned when Desmond had brought them to Goodwill and it was just filled with more clothes than any of them had seen in one place.

"In winter cold weather clothes tend to go quick," Desmond said.

"Hmm-

"Desmond," he looked over at Evie's voice as she came through the aisle. Jacob was sulking a ways away.

"Sup."

"My brother is useless as ever. I need input on these modern clothes," she said.

"Sure."

Evie showed him two shirts. They looked pretty nice and were fairly subdued, which he expected. One was a feathery blouse, the other was a thin sweater. They complimented her skin color. Desmond didn't know a lot about fashion but he'd seen enough women come into a bar to know what was good. "Which one?"

"I like them both," Desmond said.

"That is not helpful," she said.

Desmond reached over and grabbed the tags. They were both five bucks each. "Do you like them?"

"Yes."

"Then you can get both-

"What?" she asked, confused. "But these are so fancy and high quality," she said. Desmond knew the Industrial Revolution had been going on during Evie's time but fast fashion was a hell of a thing.

"It's fine, they're just a few dollars-

"That's expensive! Are you sure?" she asked.

He chuckled. "Yeah. If you like them we can get them. Make sure you find some bottoms you like too to match."

"Are you really sure?" she asked.

"Yes. And tell your brother to stop looking like a creep and pick out some clothes too," Desmond said.

She rolled her eyes. "He knows no other way. But yes, thank you," she held the clothes to her and walked off.

"Those are expensive though, are you sure?" Connor asked. He understood modern money better than Bayek who was ignoring them and looking at clothes.

"It's about the equivalent of fifteen cents," Desmond said, knowing Connor would understand that.

"Oh! Really?"

"Yeah. Inflation is hell of a thing-- don't worry about it, it's economics," he told Connor who just looked so confused.

"I think I like this one," Bayek said and Desmond sighed when he pulled out the most Dad shirt he could have found. It was a tie die tank top. "Finally something brightly colored. This time is so drab," he scoffed. The worst part was Desmond knew he'd absolutely wear it.

"Okay," Desmond said, defeated. Then he groaned at the sound of some very angry Arabic a few rows over. "Now what?" he looked and saw Ezio harassing Altair about... something? "Excuse me. Before Altair kills his biggest fan boy," Desmond said. "Find a shirt that fits you, Connor," he told Connor and went over to where Altair very nearly had his hands on Ezio's neck.

Desmond easily slotted himself between the two of them. "What's this about?" he asked.

"Ezio says I dress like a woman," Altair pointed at Ezio furiously.

"... What? Also how do you know what he's saying?"

"He's just speaking a different version of Latin," Altair said. "That isn't the point!"

Desmond turned to Ezio. "Did you say he's dressing like a girl?"

"I said he'd look like a fancy lady with his dress," Ezio said and yeah Desmond got why Altair was about to kill him.

"Take like twenty steps back while I defuse this bomb you made," Desmond told Ezio.

"I resent that," Altair growled at him.

Ezio did step back and Desmond turned around to him. "So what did he get you about?" Altair raised a shapeless dress that was very much a dress but it was also shaped like a thobe which was traditionally exactly what an old guy like Altair would wear. "Looks like a thobe to me," Desmond said, realizing what Altair was going for.

"Yes. That's what I tried to tell him."

"But it's a dress too."

"So?"

"Look I don't care," Desmond raised his hands before Altair bit his head off. "You'll get looks if you wear that though and I know you hate being perceived." Altair grimaced at that. "If you want a thobe I'll order you one or find one at a Middle East bodega or something but you should just find some pants and a shirt." Altair huffed in annoyance. "Yeah I know, you hate rules. Get over it," Desmond rolled his eyes.

"I am more annoyed you know me better than myself at times," Altair grumbled, arms folded. "Same as the rest."

"Trust me I really wish I didn't. Either way, we can still get it if you want but I would suggest pants."

"Fine," Altair huffed.

"Connor, Connor," he heard Bayek calling from the end of the aisle. At the least that was something they could do. Desmond watched Connor join Bayek down the aisle and Bayek triumphantly held up an old sleeveless Laker's jersey. Desmond snickered imagining Connor's face of horror at the yellow and purple monstrosity. Connor for his part waved his hands like he didn't want it.

An hour or so later Desmond was finally in line for check out with the others. Evie had taken what he'd said to heart and found a bunch of stuff but everyone else was still too stunned by the variety to pick more than three or four pieces. The cashier was pleasant and had clearly seen weirder shit than a guy like Desmond shepherding a bunch of adults forward to have their clothes rung up and then put into individual bags. The total wasn't even that bad for buying clothes for seven people. The more modern Assassins still gasped or gagged at the price but Desmond didn't flinch at the hundred and seventy dollar price tag.

"That had to be wrong," Connor said once they were leaving.

"What was?" Desmond asked.

"The price-

"You said not to worry. That was a fortune!" Evie cried.

"It was like five dollars," Desmond said.

"That's not what the cash register said," Evie insisted.

"It's the equivalent of five dollars," Desmond rolled his eyes.

"Seriously?" Jacob asked.

"Yes. Seriously."

"That's still a lot of money," Arno said.

"For seven people buying clothes that is a steal. I've seen people buy a single shirt for five dollars," and he chuckled when Evie, Jacob, Arno, and Connor looked appropriately disgusted. Bayek, Ezio, and Altair just looked confused.

"Are these dollars worth a lot?" Ezio asked as they walked down the sidewalk.

"I do not have the brain power to convert to florins," Desmond groaned. "Or dinars or deben across like a thousand plus years okay?" he asked. "Like a shilling?"

"Ah," Ezio nodded.

"If you aren't worried about it neither am I," Bayek said.

"Sounds like a bunch of poor people to me," Altair said, specifically in Latin.

"I would agree," Ezio said absently. Desmond slapped his hand over his face.

"I wasn't poor. That's still a lot," Arno said in something recognizing Latin. Both Ezio and Altair laughed at him. "What?"

"Your accent," Desmond said.

"What of it?"

"Sounds like he's talking without moving his lips," Ezio chuckled. "Open your mouth when you speak," he said loudly. "Or speak with your hands. I can understand you better if you do," and he did indeed wave one hand while talking.

"Can we not do this?" Desmond groaned as they got to the parking lot. He'd rented an actual van for the day just to avoid public transport. He'd gotten them all on a bus or subway individually as they'd appeared but he didn't want to have to watch all of them at once on a subway. He knew somehow, someway, someone would get lost and he didn't want to hunt down an Assassin in a big city. Especially not these guys who could be... a bit stab happy if you bothered them too much. Well except Connor.

They all loaded into the van and Desmond reached into the center console to grab the single dose of pain killers he'd made sure to bring with him. Because he knew and had been right; by the end of this shopping trip he could feel the start of a headache. "Okay everyone buckled in?" Desmond turned around once he'd taken the pain killer. There was still some confusion about buckles for Bayek but Jacob had gotten it for him. They all gave him a thumbs up to cut down on the cacophony. "Great. Who wants lunch?" More thumbs up. "How about McDonalds?"

"What's that?" Jacob asked.

Desmond chuckled. "You'll see," he said and backed the car out of the parking spot and drove off from Goodwill.

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

Desmond was looking over rental listings drinking his morning coffee in bed. Altair and Bayek were both on a blow up mattress on the floor. He'd bought a few over the past month but there was still only so much room. It was going to be so expensive to move. Thankfully now that everyone could operate the laptop or tablet now they could input their own gig work so could do more so long as they weren't blinded by boredom. A single bedroom apartment wasn't enough for eight full grown adults.

There wasn't much reasonable in the city itself but outside the city he could rent a full house. That was doable. And about as expensive as his current apartment actually. He scrolled listings on his phone but did consider just picking a neighborhood outside of the city and calling a realtor to find him a rental house. He didn't even care what it was.

He knew it was light out because Bayek woke up. He was punctual and even with the curtains over the windows Bayek always woke up at dawn. He sat up blearily. "Coffee?" it was the one English word he could say because the word didn't exist in any language he knew. It wouldn't have been invented for another sixteen hundred years for him. Didn't mean he hadn't immediately become addicted just like everyone else.

"Full pot in the kitchen," Desmond said, sipping his mug.

Bayek got off the inflatable gingerly and left the room. Desmond didn't have the heart to tell him no matter how careful he was about it Altair always woke up after he left. On the bed Altair huffed, awake now as well. "You could just go back to sleep," Desmond said.

"No," Altair said softly and that tracked. He sat up. "Do you ever worry?"

"I grew up in the twenty first century, my entire body is just made out of anxiety," Desmond said.

Altair grimaced. "I mean why we're here?"

"Nope."

"Really?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"After the shit I've seen this isn't even the worst of it," Desmond said, sipping his coffee, barely paying attention to Altair.

"How is that possible?"

Desmond looked at him now. "I died, you know," he said casually, like discussing the weather. The only indication that had actually happened was his left arm was fucked up beyond belief. "And coming back from death? Nothing really bothers you," he shrugged. "Certainly not some old head mates."

"Which you won't tell us what that means," Altair said.

Desmond shrugged. "Better that way."

"So you really don't care? Why we're here? Where we came from?"

"Not even a little," Desmond was done looking at rentals. He'd just call a realtor, get them to find him a three bed two and a half bath with a yard. He switched over to Twitter. Perfect turn your brain off activity.

They sat in the dark quiet of Desmond's room for a bit. "What's it like, being dead?" Altair asked after a few minutes. Desmond didn't answer him. "Desmond?" he looked over because Altair's voice was close. He had moved to be next to Desmond's bed.

"You should know what death is like, you've killed more people than me," Desmond said off handedly.

"I've sent people to the afterlife. I've never been to one. The others have grand Catholic ideas. Bayek said he fought gods in his afterlife. But you've died. What's that like?"

"Nothing," was all Desmond said.

"It was nothing?"

"Sure. We'll go with that."

Altair scowled at him. "You're being annoyingly obtuse, young man," he growled.

Desmond looked right at him. "Don't with me," he said in a serious way. It must have been plain on his face because Altair didn't press the subject.

Light spilled in from the living room when Bayek opened the door but it was Ezio behind him who spoke up, "Desmond, Jacob drank all the coffee and there's no more left."

"I made a pot. How'd he drink an entire pot?" Desmond groaned. "Also I know you idiots know how to use the coffee machine."

"No powder," Bayek said in his Dad tie dye tank top.

Desmond sighed. "Okay I'll go to the store," he got out of bed and rummaged around for some pants. Ezio and Bayek left the doorway. "Jacob," he yelled into the main room, "you're coming with me for drinking all the coffee."

"I didn't do shit!" Jacob yelled back.

"You better be dressed when I get out there or I'm dragging your ass to the corner store in your skivies!" and it was a real threat. Desmond changed his shirt and his dead beat dad would have been so proud of him tucking his long sleeved shirt in all the time now. He didn't like it rising up when he lifted his arm, you could see the death damage on his flank too, horrible thick black veins and old burst capillaries. He also always wore a glove now.

Jacob was fuming standing in the living room when Desmond came out of the bedroom but he was fully dressed. The inflatable mattresses had been put away already and the only person with coffee was Bayek since he'd woken up first. "I didn't even drink it all," Jacob complained. "Ezio just says whatever he wants and you believe it."

"Contrary to what he thinks its because the guy can't lie to save his life. Least of all to me," Desmond said. "Now stop complaining," he pulled on his shoes.

When he opened the door to walk out he almost bumped into someone. It was a woman. She was tall for a woman with ash brown hair and old eyes wearing an insanely sharp pant suit. "Veronica?" Jacob said next to him.

"Jacob?" she said with an accent Desmond couldn't place.

"Holy shit what are you doing here?" Jacob asked.

The woman, Veronica?, looked at Desmond, then at Jacob, "That's my question." She looked over Desmond's shoulder then back at Desmond, her eyes wide in an expression just from the way she held herself Desmond took as she wasn't surprised easily. "What are they doing here?"

"Uh... they're my friends?" Desmond said, confused by the line of questioning also who the fuck was this lady? For a moment he thought she was like the others but there was no befuddlement to her, no wide eyed bewilderment. They'd all appeared looking out of time and place. She was not. She was something else.

"Who's at the door?" Ezio came around. "Ah? Maria?" he asked.

"You also recognize her?" Desmond asked.

"That's Veronica," Jacob said. Now the others were coming around.

Desmond looked at the woman who was looking right back. "You also shouldn't be here," she said and it stuck him right in the chest.

"Well that's rude," Evie said. "Don't be mean to our friend, Veronica."

"Do you all recognize this lady?" Desmond asked the Assassins and stepped back into his apartment. He felt better being surrounded by them. Whoever or whatever she was wouldn't be able to fight off seven Master Assassins.

"Of course."

"She was our friend."

"She helped me."

"She knew my father."

"She helped me complete my mission."

They all said almost at once. What the actual fuck? He'd never seen this lady in any of the memories he had but apparently they all knew her. She was a friend. They all knew her by a different name though. "What are you doing here, Melite?" Altair was the only one asking a serious question.

The woman just sort of smiled apologetically. "My name is Kassandra actually," she said. Then she looked at Desmond. "I think we need to talk."

---------

And… that’s it lol Oops sorry If you want to see other scenes maybe suggest some? We should talk about it

134 notes · View notes

teecupangel · 1 year

Note

Hello! I just discovered you recently, dived headfirst into several your fics and am so in love with them. I'm also incredibly grateful because I'm in the middle of putting a house on the market and your fics are saving my sanity. My most recent read is 'Ouverture', and I love bitter, slightly elitist and secretly disdainful Desmond. Now I have so many questions about Unity cannon (that you've cannonballed) if you wouldn't mind just head cannoning some future what if answers?

Does Arno return to France and get caught up in the revolution? Does Des come with and keep out of sight? IS Des considered a traitor by the Paris Assassins? Arno have an opinion on the Parisian Brotherhood? Does he have better Eagle vision since Des trained him? Do Paris Assassins read blue or white to him? Does he meet Elise again? What has become of the de la Serre family?

The French Revolution:

*random rooftop after absurdly flashy physics breaking move that avoided the lookout of five Paris Assassins*

Pierre: "Pisspot."

*arrogant eyebrow game at max and full permission from Des to be an asshole*

Arno: "0uncle Pierre."

Pierre. "Figured. Only one other who could hold eagle vision that easily to evade everyone with that stunt without breaking his neck. He would have kicked me as he flipped over my head."

Much love and thanks! And sorry for the long submission!

Hello! I’m so happy my fics were able to help you during such a hard time and please don't apologize. I love getting submissions and asks, no matter how long or short they are (although I am quite late in answering them TTATT). I hope selling your home is going well!

Okay, so let’s talk about the possible future of Ouverture and A New Way To Do Things in relation to Arno.

Arno will, of course, grow up in the homestead in this one. Unity officially starts 5 years after the end of AC3 when Arno is around 21 years old. Arno returns to France because he actually followed Desmond back to France (while Ratonhnhaké:ton and Clay had to stay behind for the Brotherhood and tells Desmond that they’ll catch up to him instead). Desmond returns because Lafayette requested their aid (he and Lafayette talked a lot during the American Revolutions as two French dudes doing whatever they can) and Desmond agreed to help his ‘motherland’.

This means that Desmond and Arno went back to France without the Parisian Brotherhood’s ‘approval’ so they’re going rogue (although Charlotte gets a visit and she cries because of how much Arno has grown).

Arno now calls Desmond ‘dad’ in this one too although he still calls Charles Dorian ‘father’ and they become embroiled in AC Unity’s plot as well, with Desmond having bad feelings because there’s something in Paris that just makes his skin crawl.

Desmond is sorta in a very precarious position in the Parisian Brotherhood, especially now that Sophie Trenet is a council member. A lot of the council members have a more forgiving stance on Desmond, especially after they hear how he helped Ratonhnhaké:ton take back the ‘colonies’ from the Templars but they’re not necessarily happy that he’s back. Sophie’s the one who is pushing for him to regain his old rank (not that Desmond wants it) though because she remembers him as being a good man and a great Assassin.

Desmond and Arno actually visits Bellec in prison and that’s how they reunite. Well…

That and the cannonball that ‘started’ the prison break…

Arno is officially a member of the American Brotherhood of Assassins (like Desmond) so he’s not thought of as a traitor but more like an outsider. Arno doesn’t mind though because his memory of France felt more like a distant dream. He doesn’t like to go to Versailles though.

Arno’s opinion of the Parisian Brotherhood is pretty much nonexistent. Desmond doesn’t like to talk about them, not even to complain about them. Other than say their ranking system is ridiculously long but Arno is pretty sure Desmond was being sarcastic (he was not).

Because of this, the Parisian Assassins appear as either blue (Bellec and Sophie) or white to him. They’re polite to him but also sorta cagey because he is not one of them as far as the Brotherhood is concern.

He does have a better Eagle Vision, one of the more advanced ones, actually, considering Desmond, Clay and Ratonhnhaké:ton trained him (and that means his Assassin style is a combination of his three instructors). The whole “I see their memories” thing Arno is also theorized by Clay as being a mutation caused by Arno’s close proximity to whatever Charles Dorian was carrying with him before he handed it off to another Assassin then returned to France to get his next (and last) mission. Clay believes that it’s some kind of POE and that it sorta mutated Arno’s Isu genes to be more prevalent in this case because he was still young when he was in it’s area of ‘influence’. Of course, that’s all guesswork and Arno just uses it to get more information.

Arno does meet Élise once more and it’s… well… it’s complicated.

While it’s highly possible that Arno would still hold a torch for Élise during that time, it is also highly possible that she would just be a distant memory, the kind girl whose parents may have had a hand on the death of his father (or so Desmond believed). Hell, if you want to add more drama in that front, it could be that Élise and Arno sees each other as ‘enemies’ this time around, their childhood memories being nothing more than the innocence of children that they could no longer go back to (especially with them no longer having any long history with one another so Arno sees Élise as a Templar gone rogue and Élise sees Arno as just another Assassin). (If you want to make it hurt, have Élise be the one to actually carry a torch for Arno while Arno had already fallen in love or may have already gotten married by the time he returns to Paris. To who? Ellen’s daughter Maria who becomes Arno’s childhood friend in the Davenport Homestead). Also, he’s seen as the older brother of Ratonhnhaké:ton’s children as well so, in many ways, Arno feels more at home at Davenport than he is in Paris while Élise’s father died because he couldn’t get the letter meant to warn him in time and she’s just full of anger and the burning desire for vengeance right now, with no one she can trust at all.

Also, also… Desmond has a reunion of his own to rival Arno’s Templar-connection past.

His aunt…

Madame Flavigny.

(Yeah, that’s right. The only person who knew Desmond as Antoine Faroy and his only living blood relative is a Templar, to be more exact, a Templar from the Radical Faction.)

32 notes · View notes

cut-small-but-deep · 2 years

Text

Christmas Headcanons for the Assassins (and Shay and Haytham are included)

This modern one is for Altaïr, Ezio, Connor, Edward, Arno, Jacob, Evie, Bayek, Alexios, and Kassandra! Now, I know that Kassandra is considered the real assassin here, but I gotta include Alexios too. I just got into the Origins and Odyssey stories, so excuse me if I make the three OOC. Anyways, Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas!!

Christmas Day

To me, I think Ratonhnhaké:Ton is the first to wake up, and be the one to go hunting outside, though his grandfather, Edward, would be the one to wake up to this afterwords to tell him not to, as it’s Christmas. Since Connor isn’t aware of what it is, Edward has to explain it to him along with Altaïr and Ezio.

Jacob is the one to stay asleep for longer, and be a bit of a snorer too. Evie, however, would awake after Ezio, and be the one to tell Jacob to stop his snoring or wake up, which he wakes up instead. It comes with a bit of arguing, but Arno stops the two before it goes too far.

Connor, though, asks everyone if there’s already a meat that can be ready to cook, which Altaïr says they don’t, unfortunately. This answer has Connor go outside anyways to find something to eat.

Alexios and Kassandra are the last ones to wake up, with Bayek joining Connor on this hunt for food. Kassandra and Evie start on making the main food for tonight, and yes, Jacob is Evie’s helper for getting the ingredients out of wherever she asks him to.

While they’re doing that, the others get to opening their presents and maybe have some hot chocolate ( or whatever Christmas drink you choose)

Connor and Bayek come back with something that everyone will like, then open their presents.

Haytham and Shay are invited to come over, and they do so, not going to be the bad guy and turn down something like free food (lol)

They also have presents too, and good thing is, none of them deal with hurting them. Edward and Haytham have a father son moment though and the same for Haytham and Connor.

Bayek also helps the ladies with the cooking because he’s such a sweet guy, and even brings out snacks for the whole group to munch on while food gets ready.

Christmas Night

That night, everyone gathers around the table to feast on what the ladies made, and thank them for doing so, and in turn they thank Bayek and Connor for getting the main dish.

For Connor, this is one of the times where he smiles, a genuine one, and says he likes the holiday, and if only it was like this every year.

Edward, afterwords, would bring out egg nog and put a bit of alcohol in it, even persuading other people to drink it. Haytham has to be persuaded a bit more but everyone drinks it

Soon, once the alcohol hits everyone, the night is spent laughing and dancing or playing games that has everyone share their deep secrets.

Edward and Arno are the first ones to pass out and they don’t care where they pass out, so they’re basically on the floor

Bayek and Alexios are the next ones to fall asleep, with Kassandra and Altaïr soon to follow

The others either fall asleep too or talk to each other before falling asleep too

33 notes · View notes

kp777 · 1 year

Text

By Arno Kopecky

The Globe and Mail (Canada)

July 18, 2023

Arno Kopecky is an environmental journalist and author. His latest book is The Environmentalist’s Dilemma: Promise and Peril in an Age of Climate Crisis.

In 2019, Greta Thunberg headlined a global climate march that brought millions of people into city streets around the world. Thanks to the pandemic, there hasn’t been another one since. That’s finally about to change: The March to End Fossil Fuels has just been announced for Sept. 17.

I’m an independent journalist who has long held activism at arms-length, but the climate crisis has grown so urgent that straight-up reporting now feels like a passive response that verges on complicity. This time, I’m marching with the protesters.

Even for those who saw it coming, recent developments have been shocking to behold. Annual carbon emissions have steadily increased over the past four years, with Canada leading the charge – production in the world’s fourth-largest oil producer has doubled since 2010. The result has finally untethered itself from the abstract hypotheticals ofscientific literature and leapt into the daily lives of several billion people.

Virtually all of North America is coping with some combination of record heat, drought, flood, wildfire and smoke. A heat dome stretching across North Africa and Southern Europe to the Persian Gulf has pushed highs past 40 C in Spain and Iran. China just set a new national record with the town of Sanbao experiencing 52.2 C. Extreme flooding has raged through England, Turkey, India and Japan. Some water in the Florida Keys is now the temperature of human blood.

I’ve never been big on slogans. I distrust the righteous certainty that so often accompanies activism. I tend toward doubt, which is fine for journalism but wreaks havoc on conviction – a vital prerequisite for blocking traffic at a protest. But this summer, after 20 years of writing about climate change and seven years of being a father, the magnitude of events finally caught up to me.

I felt myself succumbing to a strange type of manic depression. The urgency and the despair took on the quality of a terrible dream, like I’d been handcuffed and forced to watch as villains suffocated my daughter. This can’t be how it ends, I thought. There has to be something more I can do. I surprised myself by starting to reach out to my contacts to see if I could organize a march myself before I learned that the March to End Fossil Fuels was already in motion.

If you’re also wondering what on Earth you can do about all this, Sept. 17 is for you. “The time is ripe for a big climate march,” says Tzeporah Berman, chair of the Fossil Fuel Non-Proliferation Treaty Initiative and a veteran activist who is among the organizers of the climate march. “Everyone is starting to realize that as long as we don’t shift our energy systems, there is nowhere that’s safe.”

As in 2019, the global strike’s epicentre will be New York City, where the UN is hosting both a Climate Ambition Summit and a General Assembly the following week. With organizing just now getting under way, thousands of groups are expected to assemble crowds in cities across the planet.

Caroline Brouillette, executive director of Climate Action Network Canada, agreed that this could be a historic march. “We’re having a summer where different climate impacts are coming at us here and now and are often overlapping,” Ms. Brouillette told me from her home in Montreal. Two days before we spoke, she had to take refuge from both a heat wave and a tornado.

2 notes · View notes

lilydoeswrite · 7 months

Text

THE MERCILESS SIREN | CHAPTER ELEVEN

wattpad link previous chapter series masterlist next chapter

summary: It is the 66th Hunger Games when Oceana Fontaine is reaped as tribute, and at just thirteen years old, the odds are certainly not in her favour. As much as it is seen as an honour for Oceana to represent her district in the games, it is also practically a death sentence. But Oceana knows she needs to go home and is determined to, no matter how low her chances are and with the help of her mentors, she might just do that. But if she is to win, she will have to learn where her biggest strengths start to turn into her biggest flaws and weigh her options carefully as she starts making choices that pushes her morality and the lengths she will go to for love.

tags: slow burn (finnick x oc), eventual violence, the usual stuff when it comes to the hunger games, weapons, not sure what else

“Good job, out there,” Gill smiles as we enter the empty elevator together. The crowd throughout the city has slowed down the cars containing the stylists, mentors and chaperones, so it’ll be just the two of us until they’ve arrived.

“You too,” I smile back as we walk out onto our floor. “You did really well on the interview questions, the crowd really loved you.”

“So did you,” Gill laughs, “that applause you got? That was probably the loudest one tonight.”

I smile shyly and nod– I can’t deny it, I know that it’s true. Silence falls upon the both of us as we wonder about what to say. “The games are tomorrow,” I say, although my voice comes out a little soft.

“Yeah,” Gill nods, “everything we’ve been preparing for.”

“Yeah,” I reply and try to figure out what to say but before I can do so, the elevator opens to reveal the rest of District 4 and our stylists who are beaming at us.

“Well done, you too,” Stella is more than overjoyed, it’s clear in her voice. “Both of you were just excellent!”

Finnick walks over to me and takes a seat besides me, putting his arm around my shoulders. “Well done, Oce, that was amazing!” I can’t help but smile at his words as I turn my head slightly and glance at him– he’s smiling with pride as his dimples poke the sides of his cheeks. “I’m so proud of you, I know it wasn’t easy,” he whispers barely loud enough only for me to hear as he looks at me.

“Thank you,” I smile as I lean my head on his shoulder as I watch Dover and Arno praise Gill for the way he handled his interview. I must admit, Gill had also managed to impress me with his charismatic responses which made the crowd absolutely adore him. It’s only when Valeria walks up to me that I lift my head up from Finnick’s shoulder and sit properly as she pulls me up from my spot on the couch to embrace me into a tight hug.

“You did so well!” She squeals, “I told you not to let a little stage fright get in the way of you shining!”

“Thank you,” I smile at Valeria who grins at me brightly. Everyone is in high spirits despite the games being tomorrow but I don’t mind– I want to enjoy one last bit of joy before I’m thrown into the arena to fight for my life. Adrianna, Coral and Mags all praise me as they admire and touch the dress I still have on, saying how good my interview had went and how beautiful I look in the dress. Soon, it’s time for our last dinner together and we make our way to the dinner table. Tonight’s dinner looks more grand than usual but that is probably because it’s our last meal together.

The fact that this could be the last time I see Finnick or Coral or Stella or any of the victors who have done nothing but treat me with kindness and graciousness now makes me sad. I had grown close to them, some more than the others, but I’ve now realised how much they mean to me now. The thought of this being the last time all of us would have dinner together makes me emotional but I can’t help but wonder how they will handle watching the games as they try to gather sponsorships for us. Will they watch in pain or with pride?

Suddenly, the delicious food seems unappetising although I do my best to eat as much of it as I can as I try to stay present in the conversations despite my wandering mind. The dinner table, like any other night, is filled with light-hearted chatter and laughter but the heaviness in the air is very much present– more so than other nights. Still, it’s enjoyable as I talk to Adrianna, Coral and Mags. I’m more talkative than usual, according to Clifford, but everyone doesn’t seem to mind. I’m eating and talking peacefully until Adrianna makes a comment about an incident back home which causes me to nearly choke on my food, my eyes widening in surprise. “What?”

“Yes, I know! It’s crazy,” she laughs, “it’s hilarious, though, just picture this– at least a dozen dogs chasing this guy as you’re trying to peacefully have lunch!”

The table bursts into a laughter and I’ve never felt more at home than ever since I’ve arrived at the Capitol. We take a little longer to eat dinner, which no one complains about since we’re all having a good time sharing jokes and talking about things which brought us comfort, recounting ridiculous stories from the past.

After dinner, all of us sit in the living room and watch the replay of the interviews. I see myself in the dress Valeria had made for me, entering the stage confidently. I come off rather charming and confident, if I have to say so myself. I just hope that’s how the audience perceives me as which everyone assures me of. Then we watch Gill’s interview. It’s obvious to me his approach towards the interview was to be as charismatic as possible yet a little cocky and arrogant which is something the Capitol audience has proven to love year after year.

“You’ll have sponsors lined up around the block, you two!” River lets out a laugh, patting the both of us on our backs as the anthem plays and the screen goes dark. “You two were simply unforgettable!”

I nod, although now I feel a little nauseous. Rewatching the interviews is a reminder to me that the games are tomorrow and that at dawn, I will be awakened and prepared for the arena. Although the actual Games don’t start until ten because of the amount of the Capitol residents that rise late, Gill and I, along with the rest of the tributes, must make an early start to the day. There is no telling how far the arena that has been prepared for this year’s Hunger Games is and how far we will have to travel to the arena. The victors and Stella will not be going with us, so tonight is a final goodbye. As soon as they leave, they’ll be at the Games Headquarters, signing up our sponsors, working out further strategy on what, when and how to deliver the gifts from us. It is Valeria and Ophelia that will travel with us all the way to the sport from which we will be launched into the arena. Having to say my final goodbyes is getting emotional for me.

Stella takes Gill’s hands and wishes him well, along with some words of advice before approaching me. She bends down and looks at me in the eye and I can see there are actual tears forming in hers just as mine are threatening to spill out. “Oceana,” she smiles wobbly as she lets out a sigh. “I know you will do well in there, but I want you to know that I have my full confidence in you.” She runs back behind Clifford after giving us both kisses on the cheek.

“Trust your skills, trust everything you have learnt until now. You must believe in yourself and for the record, I speak for all of us when I say we have every bit of confidence in you two. You have proven yourself to be excellent in every single area and all I can say is trust yourself and your instincts,” Clifford says as his final talk to the both of us before taking a deep breath. “You two have got this.”

The rest of the victors, except our mentors all wish us good luck, giving each of us individual hugs as they whisper words of encouragement to us.

I look at Coral who is wiping a few tears streaming down her cheeks. “You got this, Oceana. You really do. I have my absolute belief in you and I will do my best for you from the headquarters. You got this, okay? Believe in yourself and stay strong.”

I’m nodding repeatedly as I bite my bottom lip which quivers as I take in her words, hugging her tightly before letting go and looking at Finnick. His sea green eyes are filled with nothing but sadness as he looks at me before engulfing me in a hug. “Oce,” he whispers.

“Finn,” I respond, closing my eyes as I let a few tears fall.

“You got this okay? I know you do,” he says, letting go of me as he holds both of my hands as he crouches down so we’re at eye level. “Fear is what drives you, do it scared, just do it. Embrace the feeling and go with it, you’re a brave person, I know you have it in you. Hope is the most important thing to have, keep your faith, keep your hope. It will take you far. Keep believing in yourself, alright? You have the spirit in you, never lose that. You can win, Oce, I really do think that,” there are tears welling up in his eyes now as he repeats everything he’s ever said to me but to know he cares so much about me makes me tear up even more. “You have to be fierce, you have to show no mercy, you have to be tough– physically and mentally. It may sound like a lot but I know you have it in you. You got this, you really do.” He stands up and gives me a final hug before pressing a light kiss on my forehead. “I hope to see you again, sea-star.”

I head to my room after everyone has left, feeling more empty than ever as I try to face the reality of everything that’s now hitting me harder than ever. I let out a shaky breath as I enter my room and the moment I shut the door behind me, tears fall and rush down my cheeks like a waterfall. Now what? I head into the games and that’s it. I’m going to have to fight for not just myself but the prospect of seeing my friends and family again. I pray that I will be strong enough to get through the games. The ugly and harsh reality has never hit me as hard as now– not when I got reaped, not when I was heading to the Capitol. My heart pangs and aches for a sense of familiarity. I long for home; I miss the beach, the ocean, Aurelia, mother, father, Cordelia, Pearl– I miss them all. I long for Finnick; he has been really the only real friend I’ve made so far and I never realised how close we had gotten until now amidst all the early morning and late night conversations at the balcony. I feel a thousand emotions all at once but none of them are happy ones.

All I can do is hope that I really will be strong enough to get through the games, and despite Finnick’s words, I’m starting to doubt that. I’m only thirteen for goodness sake, I’m not sure what kind of person everyone thinks I am but if there’s one thing I know is that I am not some kind of god which is invincible– I’m not immune from pain, I have feelings, I have a mind of my own and I have a soul. And if there’s another thing I know is that I’m not the strongest soldier.

I stay seated on the floor for a while as I cry my heart out before trying my best to put myself together and head to the shower, scrubbing myself clean of all of today’s work. The only thing left is the designs my prep team has painted on my nails which I keep– it’s a nice reminder of home and who I am, and most importantly, what the audience thinks I am. I stare at them for a while, one nail has a seashell painted on, another has a wave. They’re undeniably gorgeous and I smile a little thinking about how much everyone has cared about me, from the victors to my prep team.

I can’t let them down, not now, not in the games, not ever.

I put on a blue jumper and some shorts before climbing into bed. It takes me less than a minute to realise that I’ll never fall asleep. I let out a groan because I need to be able to sleep. Showing up to the games tired tomorrow will only make me weaker and it’s practically an invitation to death. I reach out for my bracelet only to find it missing and now I’m frustrated although I shut my eyes and try to catch some sleep. I try to imagine the sea, surfing, diving, snorkelling and all sorts of activities back home but it doesn’t put me to sleep so I try to come up with a story inside my head but fail to. It’s not good at all. One hour passes, then two, then three and although my eyelids are heavy, my body refuses to sleep.

Slowly, I climb out of bed and head to the balcony only to find an unfamiliar silhouette leaning against the panels. “Gill?”

Turning his head around, Gill smiles at me as I approach the balcony. “Hey, Oceana, couldn’t sleep?”

“Yeah,” I sigh, “you too?”

“Yeah,” he says.

A silence falls over us as we watch as the city below us celebrates, blasting music through the streets as they dance. I can’t help but think how fun it would be to join them.

“I, uhm, couldn’t turn my mind off, so that’s why I’m here,” I look at him curiously, is he nervous? All this while I had perceived Gill as one of the few who carried confidence with them as we head into the games but it seems as though I had been wrong. “I can’t stop worrying about the games…”

“Well, can’t exactly blame you, can I?” I comment, “thinking about your family?”

“Sort of,” he replies, “but also about tomorrow, which is stupid, I know, but I can’t help but think about what could happen. It’s stupid because there are endless possibilities as to what can happen and where they can put us.”

“Want to talk about it?” I ask and he accepts my offer.

“It’s just, I can’t stop wondering what arena they’ll put us in, or what mutations will they make or what sort of traps they’d do. It’s pointless to think about it, I know, because what happens will happen and we will both deal with it.” We? I want to ask why he’s referring to us both but I decide not to.

“Whatever happens, happens,” I repeat, looking at him. For whatever reason, knowing that someone as confident as Gill is feeling slightly worried and anxious about the games makes me feel a little better. “No matter the arena we’re in, I’m sure you’ll do great.”

“I can say the same thing about you, Oceana,” Gill smiles.

We spend the next hour talking about the endless possibilities and what we miss most about home alongside talking our emotions out which seems to make the both of us feel better before making our way back to our rooms after deciding that it would be a good idea to catch some sleep. I think about Gill, though, he’ll probably do great during the games even when faced with life and death. He’d probably become one of those raging beast tributes, not the kind who tries to eat someone’s heart after they’ve killed them but the type who will kill with no mercy. Me, on the other hand? I’m not exactly sure.

Surprisingly, I manage to get some good sleep in the remaining hours I have left and I feel as energised as ever when Valeria comes to me before dawn, letting me quickly clean myself up before giving me some simple clothes to wear and guides me to the roof. My final outfit and preparations will be done alone in the catacombs under the arena itself. I watch as a hovercraft appears out of nowhere and a ladder drops down which I climb, some sort of substance glueing me to the ladder while I’m lifted safely inside.

I manage to free myself from the ladder when a woman in a white coat approaches me carrying a syringe which immediately makes me squirm. “It’s alright, Oceana, it won’t hurt,” she assures as she flashes me a smile. “This is just your tracker, the stiller you are, the more efficiently I can place it.” I nod, and close my eyes as I extend my arm out, hissing in pain as soon as I feel the sharp stab of pain of the needle poking through my skin, inserting the metal tracking device deep under the skin on the inside of my forearm. Now I understand how the Gamemakers are always able to trace the whereabouts of a tribute.

The woman disappears and Valeria is retrieved from the roof before an Avox girl comes in and directs us to a room where breakfast has been laid out. I’ve lost any and all appetite I had once had but with Valeria’s encouragement, I manage to swallow down my usual bowl of granola and some fruits. I’m so nervous and anxious I feel as though I can throw everything out. “The views aren’t bad,” Valeria says, as she looks out the windows as we float over the city. I peek out the window and look at the bustling city in awe. I can imagine seeing this view from nighttime and it will only be more spectacular. The ride lasts about an hour or so before the windows black out, indicating that we’re nearing the arena. Valeria and I go back to the ladder which leads down into a tube underground and into the catacombs which lie beneath the arena. Valeria reads the instructions to my chamber for my preparation which I follow. It’s called the Launch Room. I personally call it ‘the Pits’– that’s what my ancestors called the garages that held race cars before they were released. It’s a better name than the Launch Room in my opinion.

Everything is brand-new in here and I will be the first and only tribute to use this Launch Room. The arenas are seen as historic sites which are preserved after the games. Apparently they are popular destinations for Capitol residents to visit and to go for vacation in. They come here, rewatch the games, tour the catacombs, look at the Pits, visit the sites where the deaths took place and even take part in reenactments. I don’t understand the logic behind the whole idea nor do I make an attempt at trying to understand it. I couldn’t be bothered. The more you try to figure out why the Capitol residents do what they do, the more confused you’re most likely to be, so I refrain from trying to figure everything out.

Valeria helps put my hair in a beautiful braided ponytail as she says words of encouragement and motivation to me and then the clothes arrive. It’s the same for every tribute and Valeria has no say in it. She doesn’t even know what will be in it but she helps me dress in the clothes provided. There is a wetsuit for whatever reason but I put it on regardless of my many questions followed by a pair of grey pants, a sturdy black belt and a thin, hooded black jacket which falls to my mid thigh. “I’m guessing you’ll be expected to swim and prepare for some cool nights, the material in the jack is designed to reflect body heat.”

The boots, worn over socks which cling to your skin, are of high quality. They’re made of soft leather with a rubber sole with treads through. They’d be good for running and hiking. I’m about to ask Valeria how I look when she pulls out my bracelet from her pocket. It’s still in shape, with its blue, turquoise and white strings still in tack along with the seashell that hangs in the middle although there have been some new additions. A small yet beautiful charm of a surfboard to its left and a dangling charm of a sea-star to its right, pearls have been added to some of the strings miraculously and it's gorgeous.

“Where’d you get it?” I ask in awe as I look at the bracelet. It’s even more beautiful now with its additions.

“Finnick gave it to me and asked if I could add a surfboard and a sea-star,” she says, smiling and I can’t help but smile. “I told him I could and so I quickly got to work. It got cleared by the review board quite easily.”

I’m grinning as I put on the bracelet, admiring the two additional charms.

“Finnick wanted to give you a surprise,” she says.

“Tell him I really love it,” I say, looking at Valeria who gives me a smile as she nods. “And it’s beautiful.”

I walk around and do some stretches and warm ups as advised by Valeria. The clothes fits comfortably well. I drink a glass of water as we sit and wait on the couch in silence, waiting for the call. “Thank you, for everything, Valeria,” I speak up, breaking the silence. “And will you tell everyone that I’m entirely grateful for them as well?”

“Of course I will,” she smiles.

“And tell Finnick thanks for being my friend and mentor,” I nod.

“Remember what everyone said, alright?” Valeria speaks up. “We all believe in you, and we all know you can do it. Even if you don’t think you do. And I want you to know that I truly believe in you. Stay tough out there, alright?”

Then, a pleasant female voice announces it’s time to prepare for launch.

Valeria takes my hand and walks me over to the circular metal plate. “You got this okay? Stay strong, be as fierce as possible, be as tough as possible, everything will follow, just stick to your plan. Stay strong, champion. Show no mercy,” she says and I nod. “I believe in you and I’ll be rooting for you. You’ve probably heard this a million times but you can win this.”

“Truly?”

“Truly,” says Valeria. She gives me a kiss on the cheek. “Show them what you’re made of.” And then a glass cylinder is lowering around me and I let go of her hand. She smiles at me and gives me an approving nod as I straighten out my posture and stand as straight as I can, lifting my chin up and raising my head high as I put on my poker face. I’m in darkness for a few seconds before I see a dazzling bright light and the strong gusts of wind with the familiar smell of sea salt water.

I take a quick look around me, I see Gill on the opposite end, Chase relatively close to me, Briar a little further away, Giselle is near Gill and Alvise is somewhere else in the circle. I take a quick scan of my surroundings. There are islands surrounding us with thick forests, fields and mountains which you’d have to swim to and I get a look at the glimmering Cornucopia in the middle. I see the countdown clock and slow my breathing down in an attempt to slow my rapid heart rate as I get into position to run.

“Ladies and gentlemen, let the Sixty-sixth Hunger Games begin!”

author's note: sorry for the long wait for this chapter but here it is! i hope you guys like it and i can't wait to publish the next one! if you've enjoyed this chapter, please consider reblogging or commenting, it will mean a lot to me! and as always, constructive criticism is always welcomed!

12 notes · View notes

kiatheinsomniac · 2 years

Note

Hiii, how are you? I hope you're doing great. May I ask about about how (arno, evie and Jacob) would be with a soulmate whose has a low confidence about their looks or/and skills? -I know it's a weird request :D I love weird requests- and thank you ♡ (your page is the best btw 💞)

notes: it's not weird at all! I get quite a few asks that say they find comfort in my writing and I'm glad that I can give it! You all deserve to read about how your favs will love you, including the things you feel insecure about <3 And awwee!! I'm soso happy that you think so highly of my page!!

characters: Arno, Evie, Jacob

☾ ⋆ﾟ MASTERLIST / RULES / TAGLIST FORM

a r n o :

Arno’s a romantic at heart and he uses this to try and get you to see your own beauty and skill

Whatever you’re good at, he’ll cheer you on and will go into extensive detail about what he likes about it

He’ll write poems about his love for you and, if he ever needs to leave for an extended amount of time on missions, he’ll leave a little pile of love letters for you go go through when you’re feeling down

You’ll find some sketches that he’s done of you too (though you will need to find these yourself as he’s a little too embarrassed to show you)

e v i e :

Evie will congratulate you on each accomplishment of yours, no matter how great or small

As much as I can see Evie enjoying poetry, I can’t really picture her writing it? But I think she’ll write some prose about your beauty that will leave you breathless (she’s a born bookworm, I doubt that she hasn’t tried her hand at writing herself)

She’s a very supportive partner and is as quick to praise you as she is to shut down your overly-self-critical tendencies

Sometimes she can just cuddle up with you and tell you about how brilliant she thinks you are for hours on end, even if it means she gets a little embarrassed and she has a bright blush across her freckled cheeks

j a c o b :

He’s like your personal cheerleader, he makes sure that all of your accomplishments are celebrated and everyone should know about it, in his opinion

He tells you that you’re beautiful each time he sees you, he’s made it his personal mission to make sure that you hear it at least once a day because he wants you to see yourself the same way he does

He understand what it feels like to second-guess all of your skills, that was his childhood in a nutshell so he knows exactly what to say to get you to believe in yourself more

Jacob might not be all flowery words and traditional romanticism like Arno and Evie but he’ll tell you how beautiful and skilled and amazing you are in his own words which are much more straight-to-the-point, he adores you and wants you to know how brilliant you are

☾ ⋆ﾟ Buy me a coffee?

🏷️@gojohater101 @daddyadler @writing-noah @havatnah @aarnodoriann

#arno dorian imagine #arno dorian x reader #arno dorian #arno dorian headcanons #evie frye x you #evie frye x female reader #evie frye x fem reader #evie frye x reader #evie frye #jacob frye headcanons #jacob frye imagine #jacob frye x reader #jacob frye

140 notes · View notes

nemo-of-house-hamartia · 2 years

Text

Change of Url and A Small Update

I am sort of back.

Sort of, because as of now, I still don't feel 100% in general, and most definitely don't feel that well in regards to AC or anything connected to it.

So, for sometimes, I will just put on hold all that I have regarding AC, and will most likely focus instead on my other original characters from other fandoms.

I hope this doesn't mean that I will lose everyone around here because I know that the majority of my mutuals are here for AC, but AC was sucking away the life out of me.

I am sorry for this, but I had reached a point where I was creating because I had to, rather than because I wanted to. I put too much pressure on myself, and I broke down.

It didn't give me any more joy, just sadness.

This doesn't mean that I will stop entirely working on Jacob and Dottie or Arno and Colette or Lucia and Federico, the Gods only know how much I adore them all and how much work I have put into all their stories.

Nor this means that I am abandoning the fandom.

Allow me to repeat: I am not deleting anything and I am NOT leaving the fandom.

I am just taking a break, resting my brain, and just detaching myself from it a little bit, because I need to start breathing again.

I just have crystallized things until I feel a little bit better about myself again. Until I will be able to center myself and again find that spirit I had in the beginning, the fact that I am working for myself first and foremost.

Knowing myself, I know I will probably work on my stuff for AC anyway, but will probably withhold sharing it, at least for the time being.

I want to write again for me, for myself, not for what I might be afraid others might say or think.

Also, as per title, I decided to shed off my old URL, and embrace one that fits my persona more.

A return to the origins, if you will.

Thank you so much for everything, and again, I am so sorry.

--Nemo

#Nemo babbles #personal

37 notes · View notes

moonlightguardianmoon · 3 years

Text

Random thoughts with

Jacob Frye pt.2

The whole family was watching an action car movie (it's all about family). Everyone sat in the living room together, some on the couch and some on the floor, Jacob sat next to Evie by the armrest of the couch as the movie went on with out any issues, it was then that Jacob, thought of the most random thoughts ever.

Desmond: *eating popcorn*

Jacob: . . . Popcorn is just explosions frozen in time for you to eat.

Desmond: *stops eating his popcorn*

...

Everyone: ...

Evie: *hard sighs* brother... pls...

Altair: *clenched teeth* ... not... today... Frye...

Ezio: is this what I missed when I wasn't at the dinner table last week?

Shaun: lucky you, yes. Not so lucky now though...

Jacob: Did you know, dinosaurs were more closely related to birds... so... since our creed's mascot is an eagle-

Malik: don't you dare Jacob-

Jacob: and if we were all from the prehistoric times-

Desmond: Jacob-

Jacob: *smug grin* Doesn't that make us-

Evie: Jacob I swear to god don't-

Jacob: Dinosaurs Creed! *wheezes*

Edward: HAHA!!! *wheezes* yes! That is exactly what we are!

Altair: no! No, we are not!

Leonardo: ... again, he's technically not wrong.

Shaun: Leonardo, listen we love you, but pls... don't encourage this any further.

Jacob: oh no it's far too late for that Shaun!

Claudia: can't we just watch this movie in peace, please Jacob...

Maria: *rubbing her head in irritation* yes pls, Jacob I rather not get a headache this late in the day.

Jacob: ... Dinosaurs are just pokemon with weaker evolutions.

Achilles: pls! Frye, just zip your mouth for more than five minutes for once in your life!

Jacob: fine! ok! ok!

Edward: Aw, you all are no fun...

Desmond: thank you, Jacob.

5 minutes later. The family seems to go back to relaxing and watching the movie, they are at a car chase scene.

Jacob: ... *smug grin is back* ... if lightning McQueen was real, would he get car insurance... or life insurance?

Edward: *snickers* Haha!

Arno: Oh mon Dieu! Do you ever shut up!

Alexios: well I know what movie we're not watching next. Thanks a lot, Jacob you just ruined cars for me!

Evie: I knew it was only a matter of time.

Achilles: And didn't I tell you to be quiet!? What happened to that!?

Jacob: yes, you specifically said "can you be quiet for five minutes." And I was quiet for exactly five minutes.

Rebecca: well how about literally longer than five minutes?

Jacob: nope! And did you know that the youngest photo of you... is technically the oldest photo of you.

Kassandra: remind me again as to why we have family events? If they're only going to end in disaster...

Haytham:... Is this how all the events usually end up being?

Connor: a good chunk of the time yes...

Haytham: huh, well look at that... I actually feel sorry for you for once son.

Jacob: if flys have their wings removed... are they then called walkers?

Ezio: Mio Dio, Jacob... stop.

Leonardo: here we go again...

Jacob: if a fire truck catches fire, it becomes the very thing it was sworn to destroy.

Desmond: Jacob don't make us have Altair kick your @$$ again.

Jacob: if the earth is the 3rd planet from the sun, doesn't that mean every country is a third world country?

Altair: ... *grabs a pillow from the couch and proceeds to scream all of his rage into it*

Jacob: if you sweat in a sweater... does that make you the sweater?

Shaun: pls someone makes him stop!

Bakey: how do we make him stop!?

Jacob: Lawyers hope you get sued, doctors hope you get sick, a mechanic hope you break down... but only a thief wishes you prosperity.

Evie: *takes the popcorn and gets up* well then I wish you all prosperity. *leaves to her room*

Desmond: hey! Wait that was mine!

Jacob: how come your lips don't touch, when you say the word touch, but touch when you say the word separate.

Alexios: oh like how you're tearing THIS FAMILY APART AGAIN!!!

Edward: *just laughing on the floor*

Jacob: There have likely been times in history where a leader was believed to have been poisoned but probably just had a severe food allergy.

Arno: I- ... that actually explains quite a lot now that I think about it.

Jacob: your future self is spying on you through memories.

Everyone: ... *looks over at Desmond* ...

Desmond: ... can we not, go over this again.

Jacob: you have to pretend to sleep, to fall asleep.

Aya: I'm going to throw him out of this house if he keeps this up.

Jacob: two wrongs don't make a right... but three lefts do.

Maria: this nightmare will never end will it...

Jacob: Your Teeth are warm.

Altair: . . . that's it! *pause the movie* COME HERE FRYE!

Jacob: NOT TODAY! *Jumps over the couch and runs upstairs to his room*

Altair: *runs after him*

The chase is once again lead to the second floor of the house as the remaining group is left downstairs to hear the echoes of the chase from the living room.

Everyone: ...

Malik: ... well I guess that takes care of that.

Leonardo: and I'm guessing like before, we aren't going to help him correct?

Shaun: yep.

Rebecca: Oh absolutely.

Desmond: pretty much... damn it now I gotta go make more popcorn. *gets up to make more*

Edward: *coughing and wheezing* Haha... ha...

While Desmond went to go do that the sound of the chase echoed from upstairs as it sounds like Jacob almost made it this time... almost. Jacob's screaming can be heard from the upstairs and the sound of something breaking.

Jacob: *upstairs* EVIE HELP! SAVE ME!!!

Evie: *from her room* you made your bed, you sleep in it. *closes her room door*

Jacob: NO EVIE WAIT-

And then the sound of glass shattering is followed as Jacob can be seen falling from the second floor to the front of the house from the living room window as Jacob moans in pain outside.

Desmond: *comes back in with more popcorn* got more popcorn.

Altair: *comes down stairs and sits back on the couch* ... so remind me again on why we are watching a movie about cars again?

Desmond: cause it's all about Family Altair. *eats some popcorn* it's all about family. *puts shades on and continues the movie*

Welcome back to part 2 of

Random thoughts with

Jacob Frye

Hope you guys enjoy this one ✌ and go check out part 1 of Random thoughts with Jacob Frye. Click the eagle to check out the first one.

🎩

🦅

125 notes · View notes

welcome-to-oslov · 3 years

Note

I’m addicted to the Oslov verse and I am dreading the time I catch up with the series. I can’t hate anyone cause they’re just so interesting, that’s helluva skill, my friend :) thanks for replying on my comment for your Dreamcast. Would you compile them here, and also expand on your choices for others too, including the Sanctioned Brothel bunch? Much love ♥️♥️♥️

Thank you so much for reading and suggesting this! <3 Let’s see what I can do with my very basic Tumblr skills. And please tell me who I missed.

The Grand Oslov Dreamcast Compilation!

Tilrey:

I have a hard time settling on a single Tilrey! But I really like @quincette’s suggestion of Martijn Lakemeier.

Gersha:

Rufus Sewell, now and forever.

Besha:

When I saw Adam Nagaitis playing the villain Hickey in The Terror, I knew I had a perfect match. He’s so weasly!

Einara:

Adèle Haenel from Portrait of a Lady on Fire. Maybe she should be a little less passionate and chillier, but damn, she’s just so gorgeous.

Kai Meirthal:

Again, thank you to @quincette for suggesting Jorge Lopez from Elite, a show I should clearly watch. :) Just the right sultry quality.

Stefan Altmering:

When I think Stefan, I think expressive dark brows and lashes. Thank you again for suggesting Belgian-Egyptian singer Tamino!

Valgund Linnett:

This one’s tough. But Damian Lewis might work in a pinch.

Dal (Magdalena) Arno (Tilrey’s childhood friend):

She’s really based on a childhood friend of mine ... but Melanie Lynskey (Heavenly Creatures) works.

Adelbert Verán:

Hah, he’s always been Timothée.

Detmer Verán:

What can I say, I watched Bo Burnham’s Inside and it just clicked. :D

Malsha:

Old Laurence Olivier. He could get creepy!

Janta:

He should have dark hair, but Dane DeHaan’s not a bad fit.

Aleks Snowblind:

Emile Hirsch in Into the Wild.

Ceill Linnett:

As everyone is always noting, Ceill and Tilrey look very alike! But Louis Hofmann is another actor I’ve sometimes imagined as a model for the younger Tilrey.

Davita Lindblom:

I’ve said Rachel Weisz in the past, but I was sort of thinking, “someone like Rachel Weisz but of South Asian descent.” Now I think Sarita Choudhury is a really good match.

Ansha:

Always thought of him as Domhnall Gleeson.

Angelika Lindtmerán (Tilrey’s mom):

Tilda, always.

Albertine Linnett (Vera and Valgund’s mom):

And if we have Tilda, we must have Dame Helen!

Bror Birun (Tilrey’s kettle boy friend):

Channing Tatum. Not my type, but he’s grown on me and he just feels right.

Still mulling over:

Vera Linnett: I have a clear picture of her in my head, but I can’t find an actress who corresponds. Very pale, heavy-lidded eyes, nimbus of fluffy reddish hair. A little Dianne Wiest, a little Mia Farrow. Must mull some more.

Bors Dartán: I need a character actor. A less confident Steve Buscemi. Still thinking.

#oslov dreamcasting

12 notes · View notes

weeinterpreter · 3 years

Note

Okay, Blue here- forgive me because I know this isn’t angst or anything, but because I am a comedy lover- this AU where Artemis joins a league of Evil Villains... perhaps a bit of a light-hearted spin on it and some shenanigans? Idk I just feel like the villains are Not Ready to handle the likes of Artemis Fowl. (Your writing is absolutely spectacular, btw- the FEELS. How dare you break my heart like that... even if I love it so.)

Hi Blue! Thank you so much for your message and the lovely praise. It really means a lot to me. 😊

Now to your request: Butler alive AND I get to write happy, funny, goofy League of Evil Villains?! Hell yeah! I love comedy! Let’s get this party started!

The conference room was filled with the most dangerous criminals in the world, happily chatting away with each other. This was the last place Butler wanted to be in. But Artemis had received a personal invitation from the President of the Evil Association of Evil Villains, and the boy had been adamant on going, making Butler's life – as usual – extremely stressful. He stared across the room at Jon Spiro's bodyguard, who sneered right back.

Before the two men could exchange hostilities, though, another man entered the room, and the conversations died away. Butler turned to him as he stopped at the one empty seat at the round table. He looked more like a retired teacher than a criminal with his grey hair and bushy beard, but Butler had been in the business long enough to know better.

The President, the evilest of the evil villains, beamed at his fellow evil villains.

"Most respected Evildoers," he said, rolling the words like a true Irishman. "Thank you all for coming to the monthly roundtable of the Evil Association of Evil Villains. The first part of the agenda today is to welcome our newest and youngest member. I won't say too much as some of you have already made his acquaintance, but I am quite pleased that he is a fellow countryman of mine. It's the Irish businessman, Artemis Fowl II."

The members knocked on the table as Artemis gave everyone a cordial nod.

"A kind reminder, everybody,"–the President gave every single person a stern look– "associates aren't allowed to kill, maim, bludgeon, poison or otherwise threaten other associates or their henchmen. Okay, let's continue with the monthly high score of Evilness. Last month has been truly quite successful, and I am pleased about your commitment. You have achieved a new record of the most almost committed crimes of the last 20 years. I think that deserves some applause!"

The criminals around the table whooped, giving each other high-fives.

"You all did amazing, but I am sure you want to know who got to the top in July, huh?"

Cheers throughout the room. Butler had to fight hard not to roll his eyes at how everybody sat up straighter, eager to hear who would be the Evildoer of the Month.

"In a very respectable third place is Opal Koboi, with her attempt at making Castle Rock, a dead volcano, erupt once more. She almost caused fear and consternation among the people of Edinburgh. Very well done!"

Opal Koboi blushed, waving her hands at her fellow villains as she received applause, while her henchmen Mervall and Descant Brill shifted in their seats, hastily reaching for the water glasses, and gulped down the water. Butler frowned, studying the other henchmen. He caught Arno Blunt giving the pixie brothers a discreet thumbs-up.

"Next, Jon Spiro, with his truly devious invention of a 5G Brainwashing Chip. I realise there were some start up difficulties. Instead of brainwashing the victims, you gave them a really good internet connection."

The room let out a collective gasp. Jon Spiro shook his head in shame, lifting his hands in an apology. Ark Sool patted him on the shoulder, whispering some encouraging words.

"But the thought counts. You were really close, Jon, keep up the good work!"

Meanwhile, Butler watched Arno Blunt wipe away a drop of sweat that had run down his forehead before clapping with the rest of the room, hooting and chanting for his employer.

"Which brings us to our winner for July, which is our youngest, but surely most promising, member. Artemis, you almost poisoned the entire country of Ireland! Well done!"

The criminals around the table murmured among themselves, while Artemis made a face.

"I was convinced it would work, too. I don't know why it didn't."

Butler clasped his hands behind his back, trying hard to look innocent and not to gloat. His attempt at exchanging the poison-filled capsules with some harmless vitamin pills hadn't been easy. It had almost cost him two fingers, but thanks to Madame Ko's additional seminar "Your Principal is a Villain? 101 Ways to Thwart Their Plans" he had succeeded.

He caught the eyes of a goblin, who picked his nose in a way that Butler could only describe as congratulating.

The President lifted his hands. "You all did very well this month. Until next month. Be bad, do evil and have fun!"

The villains clapped loudly, while the henchmen, including Butler, let out a collective sigh.

42 notes · View notes

lorirwritesfanfic · 3 years

Text

Whatever She Wants

Author's note: I could've written a late night cravings fic for many of my usual OTPs, but for some reason, I had an Ahmed x f!MC headcanon. Why? I don't know. I don't make the rules here. I just follow my muse's orders. [Original characters are creations of this author. The others are owned by Pixelberry Studios] Book: Passport To Romance Pairing: Ahmed Khabbaz x F!MC (Amanda) Rating: T Word count: 2419 Reading time: ~10min Summary: Ahmed takes his wife out for dinner, but unluckily Amanda is craving something that isn't part of their very healthy diet. Based on the prompt: CFWC Flufftober - day 6: late night craving

Ahmed pulls up a chair to help his wife take a seat and sits across from her on the table. To celebrate their two years of marriage, he took her to Florence to enjoy his three days off work somewhere new. He rarely has time to spare when his team is in the middle of a big tournament, but the coach decided to cut him some slack this time. It's their special day and soon Amanda won't be able to join him in his travels.

Soon, a waiter greets them, hands the menu and waits to take their orders. While he's looking at the appetizer options, Amanda quickly flips through the pages and bites down her lip as her eyes land on a very specific list of options.

"Did you find something you like?"

"You could say that again," she answers without taking her eyes off the menu.

"Let's order it then," he says with a grin.

Her eyes widen for a moment, then she collects herself and flips back a page. "How about zucchini lasagna? You can pick the other dishes."

"Good choice, Mandy!" He then turns to the waiter. "We'll have bruschettas, zucchini lasagna and lemon tarts."

"Very well. I'll be right back with your appetizers, Mr. Khabbaz."

"Thank you." He nods to the waiter and looks back at his wife, who's capturing the sun setting in the horizon of the Arno river with her phone.

"Look at this sunset, everyone! Isn't it breathtaking?" She says holding the phone when she glances at her husband. "By the way, I have to thank Coach Baroni for giving Ahmed three days off, otherwise I'd be having pizza by myself at home."

"At least you'd have pizza. I'd be having some extra healthy and extra boring meals with my teammates to avoid gaining too much weight," he says.

"Ah yes. The hardships of being an athlete..." She jokes.

Ahmed makes a pouting face to the camera and she giggles.

"Alright, lovelies. I'll finish off the livestream and share a few stories of the dishes we ordered later. But now I want a moment with my hubs. Say bye, darling!"

"Bye, everyone!" He waves to her phone.

Amanda puts down the phone and beams. "This is a lovely place, Ahmed. I still can't believe we're here celebrating our anniversary here."

"Me neither. I didn’t think the coach would allow me to be here." He reaches out to touch her left hand and toys with her engagement ring and wedding band. “Two years, huh?”

"I bet you didn't expect that when you rescued me from the Seine."

"Honestly? I was just hoping the pretty tourist would notice my abs after she came to her senses." He winks.

"Show off..." she hides a grin behind her glass of water.

Just then, the waiter returns with their appetizers and orange juice. Once the two of them thank the waiter, Ahmed watches his wife carefully. Amanda takes a bite of the appetizer and hums in approval. He then lifts a bruschetta to his mouth.

“Were you thinking about asking something else if I didn’t eat this one?”

“No…”

She arches an eyebrow.

“Maybe…”

Amanda shakes her head.

“Don’t judge me. I don’t want to eat something that will make you feel nauseous.”

"Which is why you only chose dishes with sour taste," she concludes.

"Yeah. But you can't deny that all of them taste good."

"It's sweet of you to worry about us, but I'm okay. Really. I didn’t feel sick this morning."

"And that’s fantastic, but we still have five weeks to go, Mandy. What if you don't feel well?"

"I'll take the medication and we go home," Amanda replies matter-of-factly. "I know you're concerned, but I'm following all my ob/gyn's orders. We're going to be fine."

"Okay..." He nods and points to her glass of water. "Should we ask for more water?"

"No. We can ask for some juice instead."

"Good idea..." He then fishes out his phone and looks through something.

"You're reading the list of recommended foods for hyperemesis gravidarum again, aren't you?" She arches an eyebrow.

He avoids her gaze as he feels his cheeks heat.

"You're the sweetest, Ahmed." Amanda reaches out to touch his hand. "You're going to be a great father."

"I hope our little one agrees."

"Aw…"

Amanda blows him a kiss and he pretends to catch it and presses his hand to his heart.

The couple continues to share the appetizers when a few of their fans stop by to ask for selfies. They agree to take a few pictures and return to their meal, talking about their plans for the future. When the main course arrives at their table. But as the waiter lifts up the food cover from their plates, Amanda grimaces and covers her mouth.

"Darling?" Ahmed looks at his wife in worry as softly tanned skin goes pale. "Are you going to be sick?"

Amanda glances at her husband and the waiter then stands up. "I'm sorry..." With that, She rushes to the ladies room.

"Excuse me."

"Of course, sir."

A couple of minutes later, Ahmed sits on the couch outside the ladies room and stares at the door. When a woman from the restaurant staff who walked inside to check on Amanda opens the door, he stands up.

"Mrs. Khabbaz is alright, sir. She's just freshening up now."

He sighs in relief.

"Would you like to come inside?"

"Uh... I don't want to intrude..." He rubs the back of his neck. "Is she feeling well enough to come out on her own?"

"I think so."

"I'll wait here then."

"Okay. I'm sure she'll be right out, sir."

"Thank you."

"Of course." The woman is about to leave when she turns back to him. "Since you already paid for dinner, would you like to wrap up the dishes to go?"

"No, thanks."

The woman nods and walks away.

Ahmed sits down again, running a hand on his hair. He knows his wife's condition is mostly under control. Nausea is part of the package and they learned how to handle the situation in case anything happens. Yet, he can't help but be concerned for her well-being.

Just then, Amanda walks out. He immediately stands up again to meet her. He cups her face, studying her. Color returned to her cheeks and she even retouched her makeup. To anyone else, she looks as beautiful as she was when they arrived at the restaurant. But Ahmed knew better than that.

"Hey..." She gives him a weak smile.

"How are you feeling?"

"Tired..."

"Did you take the meds?"

"Yeah..."

"Do you want to sit down for a moment?"

"No... I just want to go home."

“Okay.” He kisses her forehead, takes her hand and leads her towards the exit.

Much to his relief, the roads back to Rome are calm by the time they leave. Ahmed drives in silence and glances at Amanda from time to time. Occasionally brushing her hair away from her face, she chews on a nail absentmindedly and looks out the window. He has seen her like this before. She barely can work or travel with him. They have canceled many public appearances that could be beneficial to both of them. Some days she could barely leave their bedroom. She feels like a burden to him. And no matter how many times he says otherwise, she still struggles to believe it.

"Amanda?"

"Mm..."

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah..."

"Are you sure?"

She looks down at her hands.

"Mandy, whatever it is, you can tell me," he says, glancing at her before looking back at the road.

"I'm okay..." She sighs. "I just wish I could skip this part where everything makes me nauseous. I don't want to feel sick from ordering a dish made with good and stinky cheese. I don't want to lose sponsors and viewers because I feel too tired to travel, to write, to live blog and do anything I used to do before I got pregnant. I don't want you to worry about me losing weight or calling all the time to know if I'm drinking enough water." She brushes away a tear. "I'm sorry... I don't want to complain so much."

Ahmed pulls over and takes her hand in his. "Darling, I think you're handling yourself so gracefully through all this ordeal. Your career was affected, your social life was affected and it's all because of a condition you didn't know you had in the first place. But I need you to remember you're not alone in this. I'm with you. That's why I worry."

"Thank you..." She unbuckles her belt and throws her arms around him. "And I know you're with me. I love that you are. I just wish you didn't have to worry so much."

"There's the only thing I can't fix. I love you, therefore I worry. There's nothing I can do about that." He shrugs.

Amanda presses her head on his chest.

"It'll get better. Just five more weeks and you’ll eat any stinky cheese you want, okay?" He jokes.

A small chuckle escapes her lips. "Okay."

The sound of the things falling on the floor wakes Ahmed from slumber. Rubbing a hand on his eye, he picks up his on the nightstand and checks the time and looks to the side of the bed empty. "Right on time as usual, Mandy..." He murmurs to himself with a smile and stands up.

Her late night cravings never really bothered him. He finds it funny how she suddenly wakes up in the middle of the night to eat something very specific. Last week, she craved a very peculiar type of mango, the week before was black beans, and the week before that was ice cubes. Luckily, it was nothing he couldn't pay for or handle until then.

As he approaches the kitchen, he stops by the threshold, crosses his arms and fights back a chuckle as he watches Amanda crouching down before the refrigerator looking for something to eat.

She lets out a frustrated sigh and tries to stand on her own. But before she could lose balance, strong arms wrap around her and help her stand up.

"Thank you..." She looks back over her shoulder with a coy smile.

"No problem, love. Did you find what you're looking for?"

"No, but that's okay. I just have a glass of juice and go back to bed."

"Are you sure? You didn't eat much of the mushroom risotto we ordered for dinner."

She turns around to face him. "I had seconds. How is that not eating much?"

"I don't know... I have a feeling you wanted to eat something else since we arrived at the restaurant in Florence."

Amanda looks down at her hands.

"What are you craving now, Mandy?"

"It doesn't matter..."

"I know you want something," he says, cupping her chin and lifting it just enough so she's looking at him.

"I do, but we don’t have it here."

"It never stopped us before."

“Yeah, but…” She looks away. "I don't know..."

"Mandy, we're in Italy. If there's anywhere in the world we can find good food, it's here."

"You might not like what I want to eat..."

"Then you don't have to share it with me."

She bites down her lip, still unsure.

"Try me."

"Okay... You're right. There was a dish I saw on the menu of the restaurant."

"Hm..." He smiles proudly for recognising her wife's needs without asking. "What is it?"

"Please don't be upset..."

"Why would I be upset?"

"Because it's something we don't eat."

"Darling, you're pregnant. We can make exceptions."

"Can we?" Her eyes sparkle with hope.

"Of course we can! Screw the rabbit food! My wife and child can eat whatever they want. We just have to hope we can find it at twelve in the morning."

Amanda chuckles.

"Out with it, darling. What do you want to eat?"

"Porchetta."

His forehead creases and mind goes blank. Amanda does come from a culture that adds bacon to everything. Even though she told him she wouldn't miss it after she became vegetarian, he figured that her pregnancy might affect her, especially now that they moved to Italy. But of all the things she could wish for, he certainly didn’t expect her to crave pork.

"I know it's haram and I didn't want to ask you this, but you insisted."

He remains in silence.

"I shouldn't have said anything..." She turns around, pours herself a glass of water and closes the refrigerator. "Let's go back to bed."

"No."

"What?"

"I can't let you go back to sleep when you're craving something. What if it's bad for you? Or the baby?"

"I'm sure there's something else I can eat. I probably just have some deficiency in something."

"Which is probably related to not eating red meat."

"Ahmed, we don't have to do this..." She frowns.

"Yes, we do," he says before kissing the top of her head. "Let's get you some pork."

About one hour later, Ahmed sits by the kitchen island smiling as Amanda makes a mess while eating her roast pork sandwich. They both agreed porchetta is a heavy dish to eat in the middle of the night. But she certainly looks pleased with the alternative. With sauce dripping on her chin, she digs in and occasionally drinks her orange juice, humming in delight.

"You look a little saucy, you know," he taunts as he reaches out to clean her chin with a napkin.

"Thank you..." She smiles shyly.

"You're welcome."

"And I'm sorry about this."

"It's no big deal, Mandy."

"Really?"

"Well, you're not Muslim, so you're not committing a sin and Allah protects all unborn children. No harm done here."

"Oh..." She sighs in relief.

"Were you worried about it?"

"A little…” She confesses. “We agreed our baby will learn about Omani culture and Islam, but they're free to decide their religion and lifestyle when they're old enough to do it. But I was concerned if I had to do any purification rituals or say any prayers."

"And you say I’m the sweetest...” He lifts her hand to his lips and kisses her knuckles. “You're both fine. Don't worry about it."

She smiles, looking visibly relieved.

He fights back a yawn and stands up. "Now we have satisfied your cravings, is there anything else you want?"

"Cuddles."

"Is that all?"

"And maybe watch a movie. You can sleep if you want... I just need you close to me."

"Of course, darling. Whatever you want."

After cleaning up the dishes, the couple goes back to their room. While Amanda sits by the headboard and searches for a movie, Ahmed lies down, leans in to kiss her small bump and rests his head on her lap. He's fast asleep as the movie starts.

"Thank you for everything, darling," she whispers, caressing his hair. "Happy anniversary."

"Mmhmm..." He mumbles.

Giggling, she proceeds to watch her movie in silence.

#choices fanfic #passport to romance fanfic #ahmed khabbaz #ahmed x f!mc #cfwc flufftober #lorirwritesfanfic #lorircreates

17 notes · View notes

sineala · 3 years

Note

Hello would you mind making a summary about what's been going on with comic tony currently? Also Steve? Thank you!

In their solo comics:

Tony has basically stepped back from most business stuff after the whole Iron Man 2020 thing where he thought he was a robot but he actually wasn’t and Arno was evil and, anyway, now he does car races on the street and in his spare time attempts to visit schools and whatnot. Also pretty much everyone he meets hates him and he hates everyone for not being grateful enough to him for saving the world.

Patsy Walker is his sidekick for this run and spends a lot of time telling him to shape up and telling him he doesn’t understand what it’s like not to have money or what it’s like to be suicidal, which are statements that he for some reason agrees with despite having been canonically broke and homeless and also having canonically tried to kill himself at least twice. Also they’re sleeping together. He’s no longer dating Jan.

Korvac, who is a villain you may remember from a classic Avengers arc, is back again and is trying to make himself into some kind of god. He has kidnapped Rhodey and has a plan that for some reason involves going to the worldship where Galactus lives. Which is in space. Tony has assembled a team of heroes to help him stop Korvac, many of whom (like Misty Knight) also inexplicably hate him. Also he’s broken his back in several places and has no time for medicine so he is basically using the armor as a backboard and cannot leave the armor, and this is a thing that also makes him angry at everyone. Basically he is very hurt and is not having a good time.

Steve’s plot is honestly kind of hard to follow but it’s very heavily inspired by Brubaker’s Cap run, and there’s a group of female superheroes calling themselves the Daughters of Liberty. Also Alexa Lukin who was Aleksander Lukin’s wife. He died a while back, I think. Anyway, she’s resurrected him, so that means the Red Skull is alive again, and I’m sure we are all shocked. Steve is going around fighting a lot of disaffected Red Skull fans who are busy having protests. Oh, and also Peggy’s alive again and young and weirdly not blond and Sharon is young again. Oh, and Hydra Steve died, like, a year ago. On panel. In the Cap run. I missed it for an entire year until I saw it on the wiki.

Honestly, the best thing that happened in this run was the part where Steve was framed for the murder of Thaddeus Ross (which not only did Steve not do, Ross is also not dead, and is now Hulked out again, I think) and got sent to prison and sat there and was Extremely Sad.

In team books:

Avengers is currently running an arc where various people get possessed by the Phoenix Force and punch each other. That’s it, that’s the plot. I don’t think Steve and Tony have interacted much. Phoenix Steve has an awesome outfit, though.

There’s an upcoming event, Heroes Reborn, which will be an AU where the Squadron Supreme is there and the Avengers aren’t a thing because they never found Steve in the ice, or so the previews say. Tony is mentioned in the solicits so I guess we will find out what he’s up to in this AU. I assume Steve will not be there.

The thing I am actually looking forward to is Kurt Busiek’s series The Marvels, which is hopefully actually coming out this month (it got pushed back from last year) and which is supposed to just tell a bunch of stories about pretty much everyone; Steve and Tony are both in the solicit for the first issue, and there was a preview page featuring Steve and Carol eating pastrami sandwiches, which is a plot development I am willing to subscribe to the entire series for. I am serious. I’ve subscribed.

#Anonymous #replies

39 notes · View notes

jimmymcgools · 3 years

Note

Director's commentary on the Twenty-Sixth of December from missing scenes series? 🙏

yesss! don't mind me working through these so slowly, i'm using them as nice little writing breaks 💖

this is a cool choice for commentary, i havent read this since i posted it and i've forgotten a lot, so it almost feels like reading a brand new thing? i remember i wanted to write a soft christmas oneshot, especially because the christmas chapter of safs was that sad 1979 flashback with angsty teen jimmy mcgill and his sads.

“Hey,” he says. He grins, and it actually reaches his eyes. They crinkle.

i wanted this to stand alone if it needed to, but in the wider acb context i don't think jimmy's smiles have reached his eyes for a while! this comes right after the end of chapter 15, when he's just had some fragile validation from chuck and reconnected with kim.

She takes the bowl and the two spoons. Their handles are criss-crossed.

idk why but this always makes me think of those shots in the show of their two briefcases lying together!

with the kim pov stuff, i often try to keep the descriptions limited to simple physical descriptions of things. just their tangible properties like colours or positions, but still try to draw mood from that? i don't know if that makes any sense. it's a little challenge.

From somewhere in the darkness, he pulls out a long-sleeved shirt, one she hasn’t seen before. It’s purple and white and blue, densely patterned. He slips his arms into it with his back to her then turns toward the room, looking down at his fingers as they do up the buttons.

slippin jimmy voice: they have this one shirt that costs one thousand dollars because the pattern's SO wild! i want that one SO BAD!

“What is that?” she says, leaning her head closer. “Is it paisley?” He looks down again. “I think it’s purple?”

s6 give us more dumb dumb jimbo, please, i dare you. "finish... translating?"

“Hey,” he says, settling beside her, “the ladies back home loved this.” “Sure.” She scoops another spoonful of cereal into her mouth. “Sure they did.”

oh for kim to hear that little speech he gave the skate rat twins. all the finest babes. ok buddy sure. and everyone in the bar stood up and applauded.

“Maybe we had an extra round at Arno’s that night,” he adds, eventually. “Threw bottles against the wall. Like fireworks, right?”

a reminder of the story he tells her before the HHM party!

He chuckles and nudges her. “Oh, I meant yesterday.” Yesterday? (And she hears a phone ringing, hears the shrill bell of it on the wall, and she knows who’s on the other end of the line, knows without knowing how she knows it.)

oh shit i'd forgotten how much fun this little technique of intrusive kim thoughts is!

this is making me want to do another kim pov thing. i love thinking about this kind of narrative voice stuff. even that "Yesterday?" is kind of surprising, like suddenly her thoughts are allowed in the narration in a totally transparent way, and then the bracketed part is like... something poking at the back of her mind, even as she tries not to think of it. so much fun.

Lifts her hand from his leg, pressing it to his cheek. Transferring warmth from one place on him to the other.

obsessed with these two each thinking of the other as a source of warmth and light

(And she wants to know how he managed to get through so much life but still look like that, because even when the dark spots come over him it’s still a bright kind of darkness, she thinks, bright and loud like back-alley fireworks.)

aw man, this really condenses so much of their relationship for me.

i love thinking about like... scenes presented in jimmy pov where he's deep in the throes of an emo fit, but from kim's pov she still sees the bafflingly optimistic and scrappy dude who never quits. i really love the thought of this bright golden thing being there in him, that he never sees in himself but kim always sees.

Into his neck, she murmurs, “Yeah, who’d miss this?” and she can feel his laughter on her lips against his throat.

always happy when i can get these two memeing during sex

(And the heaviness of him on her surrounds her, closes her in, closes her in the way you close a circle, in the way you close a door, because being closed is just the touch of things connecting, right? And she can feel everything closing to one warm layer and spreading beneath her skin, closing inside her and him amongst it.)

ahhh i forgot i went on such a tear about this! there's like this duality of meaning that i'm trying to pick apart. you hear the word "closed" and you think inaccessible or cut-off, but it also means things connecting. two things have to touch for something to be closed. i don't know!

“Jimmy,” she murmurs, and he smiles like he always does when she says his name.

this is another one of those things where like... i love to picture acb/safs/siaml jimmy smiling a little identical smile every time kim says his name, and we don't know he's doing it because he doesn't think of himself doing it, but kim sees it every time.

She can feel the closeness spreading beneath her skin again, and it’s like she’s the warm one now, like she’s the one passing the heat through to him, as she finally reaches down and tangles her fingers in his hair. Holds him in place.

LISTEN i know this is him doing down on her but are these not also character arc words??? no???

He hums, and then softly: “Merry Christmas.” She runs her thumb along his crown. “Not Christmas anymore, you know.” He shakes his head, hair catching in her fingers. “It’s still Christmas on the West Coast.” “Ah,” she says. “The west coast. Of—where, exactly?”

i love this dynamic these two do of like... one of them consciously playing the straight man and the other being silly. it's too cute. i love that they trade off the straight man role, too.

His face draws together. And he murmurs, “D’you think his name was really McDuck?”

poor sleepy jimmo is very concerned about this.

oh man, thank you so much for picking this one for the commentary! like i said, i hadnt looked at it since i posted it, and i usually dont enjoy reading over my stuff but i had a really nice time going through this one 🥺 so thank you!

#asks #anon #directors commentary #my fic #mcwexler #long post

14 notes · View notes