#far cry Nancy

[afarcryfrommymain]

Context

Nancy is the Deputy that stayed behind who betrays you right at the beginning

Joey Hudson, as you know, is one of the deputies who was part of Joseph's arrest and was held captive by John Seed.

[the-silver-chronicles]

WIP Wednesday + Last Line Paragraph

Tagged by @direwombat @g0dspeeed @inafieldofdaisies and @josephseedismyfather

Tagging @socially-awkward-skeleton @cassietrn @chazz-anova @adelaidedrubman @wrathfulrook @shallow-gravy @strangefable @voidika @poisonedtruth @derelictheretic @detectivelokis @josephslittledeputy @vampireninjabunnies-blog @snake-in-the-garden @strafethesesinners @a-rose-in-a-garden-of-weeds @henbased @ladyofedens-blog @little-wolf-seed and @deputy-morgan-malone + anyone else who wishes to join and share.

Here's a WIP of Silva's Hope. And we got some Mary May! This isn't my most polished work so the final result will be a bit different once it's published. WIP below:

Mary May raised a brow at Nadi, regarding the smaller blonde with puzzlement. She finished polishing the glassware, placing it onto the counter with a soft clink.

Setting both arms firmly on the bar, Nadi's brown eyes had to endure the intensity of the barkeep's light blue. She noticed the skepticism, how the Fairgrave woman was running her words through her head, tearing them apart.

However, Nadi didn't waver from her poker face, and maintained the clueless Fall's End overseas nouvelle venue act. Masking emotions was a quality she learnt from Jacob, and later John had given her a few tips on how to hide intentions to get information better.

A pause was heavy between the two, until Mary May finally responded, but with her own question, "Now why do you want to know about a dead girl?"

Nadi smoothed a hand over to her small braid, playing with it as she answered, "Well, like I said, I've been learning so much about Fall's End for a few weeks now... to get a clearer picture on everything that goes about here, you know? But I can't seem to get a straight answer on this Omar girl. She seemed to have a... mixed reputation, non?"

Much to Nadi's delight, Mary May snorted as she shook her head, reaching under her counter to grab a beer bottle.

"Understatement of the century," the barkeeper mumbled, eyes easing the intensity in her eyes. Cagnotte, Nadi proudly thought to herself as Mary May's lips parted to answer.

“Now, so you know, my word isn’t exactly a picture perfect replication of who Elsa Omar was," Mary May stated, opening the bottle and pouring it into a glass for a patron, "Neither does anyone else in Fall's End. We only ever saw one or two sides of her, and that was what she wanted us to see. The closest you’re going to get to an accurate description of her would be from her older sister, but even then, I'd assume her account on her little sister wouldn't be anything but with rose-tinted glasses. What sister wouldn't think their sibling was anything more than the person they grew up with?"

Mary May held a distant look that Nadi pretended to not notice as she thought on her words. The short-haired blond couldn't help but agree with the sentiment. As an older sibling herself, she knew exactly what it was like to view those younger and older than herself in a different light than everybody else. Even when she probably shouldn't have. I'll need Sister Nancy to tell me more about this older sister of Elsa's. Hopefully she's managed to achieve her assignment by now.

"Now with that said,” Mary May paused, tapping her fingers against the wooden counter, “Elsa Omar was a performer, a tricky one at that. I believed her about her fragile bones. Defended her even. Because who would lie about something like that? Probably helped her case that there were times we heard of her getting what should have been very minor scrapes for anyone else but serious injuries for her. Multiple trips to the clinic wasn't unusual for that girl. Felt bad for her, as did everyone else. We were also in awe by her spirit, in spite of the disadvantage she had. I know I was."

Seeing that she still had Nadi's attention, Mary May continued, "I never like to speak ill of the dead. It just... never feels rights when the person isn't around to hear it themselves. But I gotta say, Elsa was, and will always be, one of the most confusing people I have ever met."

Nadi tilted her head, shuffling her stool seat closer to the counter, "How so?"

Mary May huffed, shaking her head with pursed lips and furrowed brows as she spoke, "I just never got her deal. She had a successful business. A family member close by. And got lucky with men and women alike. I honestly thought she was plenty decent until she continued to run her mouth around me. She could be really nice to you. She could be really good to you. She could have even made you believe she was your best friend. Or she could be a self-absorbed, rude shit with an ego that puts John Seed and Guy Marvel to shame. Never hated her, but didn't exactly like her either. Most people though either had one opinion or the other about her, both good and bad. As I said, she was tricky. And quite the actor. I could never tell which facade was her true self. If either was the "real her" anyways. She didn't cause unnecessary problems, or try to get my business shut down, which made me a little lenient to tolerate her. Her sister always got a free pass from me because she didn't bother anyone. Or she was too shy to. Though I chalked it up as someone who didn't have a good handle on their English yet. Never liked making conversation, always keeping things short. Not Elsa though, she talked like it was her way of breathing."

Nadi clasped her hands together and rested her chin on top, supported by her elbows on the bar counter, as she continued to listen to the sinner speak her mind. While the business she owned enabled others to indulge in their vices, Nadi couldn't help but be enraptured by Mary May's words. She could see why John had a small infatuation with the barkeeper. She had an aura of a person who was capable of taking care of herself, a reliable ally who could pull her own weight and someone who was tough. Someone who wouldn't go down that easily. All were admirable traits, and useful too. Not to mention, she was pleasing on the eyes.

Nadi felt disappointed that the other blonde let her Pride vehemently dictate her decisions, rejecting the Father's truth. John's chances to give salvation. Would've loved to see her walking around in Chosen attire, came the intrusive thought.

The image of a beauté like Mary May dressed as a Chosen, just like Nadi's fellow brothers and sisters back at the Veteran's Centre, darkened Nadi's cheeks, and her want for someone's touch return.

Shaking her head, Nadi shooed those tempting thoughts away. Restrain your LUST, Sinclair, a voice, either her own or John's, chided, You already need to resist charming your boss, don't push yourself further into sin by leading others or yourself down that path... again.

"Hey, you alright?" Mary May's voice cut through Nadi's thoughts.

Nadi blinked, and put on a smile before gesturing towards Mary May, "Oui. Got lost in thoughts. Please, continue."

And here is the last lines for La Última En Pie. Nightmare sequences are difficult to write (also trigger warning for child abuse, nightmares of implied child murder and, uh, creepiness):

“No matter where you hide. No matter how far you run. No matter which sinners you choose to sully what little virtue you have with,” Father told her, his grip getting tighter, constricting her breath, “You. Will always. Be. Mine."

Sylvester clawed at his arm, his wrist, his hand. Choking on screams he kept silent. "This isn't supposed to be happening," she wanted to say, so desperately, "This wasn't how this went." Her wide grey eyes stared into the unbothered gaze of whom she shared the colour with. Father drew her face closer to his, as he whispered his promise, "And we will be together in my Garden. My paradise. No matter which form I mold you in."

[simplegenius042]

WIP Wednesday

I was tagged by @wrathfulrook. Thank you so much!

Tagging: @socially-awkward-skeleton @shallow-gravy @poisonedtruth @adelaidedrubman @derelictheretic @strangefable @purplehairsecretlair @direwombat @inafieldofdaisies @vampireninjabunnies-blog @voidika @a-rose-in-a-garden-of-weeds @g0dspeeed @snake-in-the-garden @gaeadene @neverthesameneveranother and @alwayssunnyinedensgate

Anyone else who wasn't tagged is more than welcome to join.

This is my first time participating in a tag game, so I hope I've done this right.

I have many WIPs of Far Cry 5 that I have been working on for the past year, all just mini or alternate stories. However, since it's WIP Wednesday, I thought, "May as well give a snippet of the main story you know?" It's nowhere close to ready, and there are still some things I'm working on, and not all of this is guaranteed to be in the final product, and in fact might get revised, but I think it will be nice to share a bit of my progress thus far.

So without further a-do, below is a snippet of chapter one of my main Far Cry The Silver Chronicles story, currently under the name Silva's Hope (though this name may or may not change in the future):

“I heard you’re not from Montana,” Nancy spoke again, her prying curiosity breaking through. It was as obvious as a voice crack, and the older woman’s unspoken questions were even clearer to the recently hired younger woman.

It was a behaviour she had noted a lot of folks in Fall’s End were doing ever since she had reappeared back into public view. It had been something she contemplated would happen.

Silva crossed her arms as she leaned against the red bricks of the Sheriff’s Department building, exhaling the intake of cold afternoon air.

“Who’d you hear that from?” Silva asked, grey eyes focused on the fading orange and blue of the afternoon sky. Hoping to catch an early star.

The clouds didn’t make it any easier.

“Overheard from a lot of folks, including Earl himself after he first met you,” Nancy answered, giving a weak chuckle as she adds, “I never try to eavesdrop, but the tea people spill openly is just too dang entertaining to ignore. Excuse my choice of words.”

Silva snorted in amusement, shaking her head. A smile almost tugged up, but she kept it grounded.

“They would be right though,” Silva told the older woman, “I’m not from Montana. Or America even. Immigrated here nearly a decade ago. It was a real shitshow, getting citizenship and all. But I’d say it was worth it.”

“You came over from Spain, right?” Nancy queried, her gaze genuine and endlessly curious. Silva found it rather easy to talk to the older woman, even if it was about the superficial information she’s grown accustomed with telling people over the years.

“It’s what I keep telling people.” And they continue to eat it up without question.

“But it wasn’t just you, though,” Nancy pointed out, tapping her index against her chin, and recalled, “I remember the talk of two girls that came here from overseas. It was all the folk around here could chatter about for a while. You and your sister, Elsa, wasn’t it?”

Silva’s breath soundlessly hitched to a stop at her younger hermana’s name. She hesitated in a reply, swallowing down the unexpected wave of sadness that clawed at her mind.

No, not here, she reminded herself, remembering who she was next to. Silva had initially thought she was over the loss, but it seemed the grief was still there. Subtle, but apparent.

Silva didn’t give it anymore concentration than she already had to. Not with eyes on her. And just to make sure, she didn’t dare correct Nancy on how there were three of them that came to this county.

“…Si, that was her name,” she replied steadily. A practiced skill. A required one she learnt. One she couldn’t live without lest the wolves smelled weakness.

“She was quite a smart girl, that one. With a smart mouth as well. Always kept Earl on his toes,” Nancy reminded, and Silva couldn’t help but let a stifled and weak snicker out.

Silva did remember those aspects about her hermana, and it tugged a sore spot on her heart.

Nancy continued, “But she was really beloved around here. Quite the socialite. Never far from gossip or the festivals. Always easy to talk to. Uh, no offence to your reserved character that is.”

“None taken,” Silva assured, for it was true. Elsa was the easiest to talk to out of the two, a mutually agreed plan when they first entered Hope County. Both understood each other’s strengths and weaknesses and worked together to take those traits into consideration.

“Mayor Minkler adored her, you know? Really helpful in organising events with him, which I’m sure he appreciated,” Nancy smiled at Silva, the warmth of the older woman comforting. Though something shifted, as Nancy took on a solemn expression, “My condolences for you loss. It must have been very hard, as her older sister.”

Silva stalled a reply, shoving away the resonating sadness down once more as she softly replied, “Gracias.”

“It’s an absence still felt throughout Fall’s End. Many people miss her, as I’m undoubtedly sure you do as well. It was a real shocker to folks when her floristry had been bought off.”

Silva didn’t look at Nancy. Especially not when the dispatcher’s eyes glanced to the dark-haired woman leaning against red bricks, about to ask a question Silva was all too familiar with by now.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why did you sell it?”

Silva glanced towards a familiar white sign down the road nearby. Despite how far the sun was already setting in the horizon, there was still enough light to make out the contents on the sign. Her grey eyes glared at the unique design of a cross, and the words etched beside it, ‘Return to the Garden’.

Not on my fucking life, she wanted to spit out. But more daringly, she wanted to trot over the sign, take it down, take it to Kamski’s Clinic, and dissolve it in acid.

Aware that Nancy was still next to her, patiently awaiting an answer, Silva simply replied, “I didn’t.”

[inafieldofdaisies]

In Hope of Tomorrow | Chapter 1: Welcome to Hope County | now up on AO3

[mayordeas-clone]

just submitted an application for a collab project i have been WAITINGG to come across and participate in and now looking at my art and presented portfolio tbh my art looks like ass all of a sudden.

[seedofjoseph]

"And hell followed with him."

"Rookie, cuff this son of a bitch."

"Rook, put the cuffs on him."

"Yes, sir."

"It is finished, child."

"Yes, Father."

[fictionisthebetterreality]

What a goddamn idiot.

Rook’s opinion of the Marshall is made certain the moment he walks up to the front desk of the jailhouse, coughs loudly, and announces, “US Marshall Cameron Burke, here to see Earl Whitehorse.”

His chest is puffed out more than a pissed off skunk in heat, and she’s sure he expects them to lose their tiny backcountry minds at the statement. Nancy is on the phone to Ms Pearl (for the fourth time that week, which makes it one less than Rook needs to win her bet with Staci), so the Marshall looks to Rook instead, frowning when she doesn’t scramble to his needs like some rocker-boy’s fangirl.

She gives it a minute before stubbing out her smoke, making sure it’s good and out before reaching behind her to close the window she’d been sneaking it out of. Nancy hates the smell, which is why Rook makes sure to do it as often as she can.

“That’ll be Sheriff Whitehorse, then?” she asks. The Marshall opens his mouth, sure to spill a bunch of new bullshit, so she takes a breath and shouts.

“SHERIFF! GOT THAT MARSHALL HERE FOR YOU.”

Nancy stutters over the phone, jumping slightly in her chair before clearing her throat and apologising to Ms Pearl about the bad line. The Marshall’s eyes dart to the walkie on Rook’s hip as his face slowly starts to flush, and she doesn’t bother to hide her shit-eating grin.

“Rook, how many times I gotta tell you not to smoke in here? You know Nance doesn’t like it.”

The Sheriff enters the room before the Marshall can take up the red rag thrown at his feet, so he shoots a glare at her and steps over it, waiting until Whitehorse reaches him before extending his hand.

“Cameron Burke, US Marshall,” he repeats, turning his back to Rook so that the US MARSHALL emblazoned on the back jumps out at her. He wears the kit like it’s his own personal merch, and Rook snorts slightly as the Sheriff nods and steps back.

“Yeah, I see that. You got here in one piece, then?”

The Marshall makes a noise of scorn, his chin jutting out as he inflates with his own importance.

“Those sheep don’t have the balls to attack a federal convoy,” he says, and Rook bristles, stepping away from the wall. Most everyone in Hope County has lost someone to the cult by now. Joey’s little brother took off last month, left a note with fuckin’ Nancy of all people to tell her where he’d gone. Staci’s girlfriend was three months pregnant – closer to five, by now – said he’d be welcome to join her if he atones. Whitehorse’s fishin’ buddy, Larry – more of a brother to him than his own flesh and blood – he’d disappeared at the end of last summer. They’d sent out patrols, thought they’d find him dead in a creek, but then an officer up in the Henbane had radioed in and said they’d seen him at the Eastwing Farm, healthy as a horse and teaching bible class.

“Those are still our people out there, Marshall,” Whitehorse says, his tone hard.

“Exactly, Sheriff,” the Marshall replies, hardly missing a beat, and Rook has a bad, bad feeling even before he finishes the sentence.

“That’s why we’re going to arrest Joseph Seed and bring his whole regime crashing down around him. Tonight.”

[stevebabey]

hiii i am just so obsessed with the way you write steve, do you have any tips about writing for him? i’m thinking about getting back into writing fics again haha

stop i’m blushing i love my steve and i love hearing OTHER ppl love my steve 🥹 tips are hard!! firstly, i’ve always got a devil on my shoulder @hawkinsindiana hehe & no joke i drop in paragraphs and go ‘hey this in character?’ so we can debate it LMAO

i think it’s easiest to think of him in his diff contexts!!

we’ve seen in canon that boyfriend!steve is very loud & proud bout his love, heart on his sleeve type — i always try lean into his goofy side cos lines like ‘see, ninja?’ are just proof of how silly his flirting is <3

but he can also be serious — there’s no goof when he confesses to robin because the situation is different. he can tell from the go she’s denying what he says & he thinks it’s because she doesn’t believe him— so he’s all sincere, completely open (‘that’s exactly why i like you robin’) to get her to believe him

also he knows he’s hot, king steve and all, but in recent seasons you can see his desperation for love & closeness, all the dates & such— and i try to put that in, whether through being overzealous with affection or surprise at small moments you give u it to him (nancy’s character doesn’t scream fond of PDA)

idk if that helps at ALL (stevie just lives in my head, i just be Knowin) but i think any emotion u pick for a fic — whether steve’s angry or flirty or content — there’s a scene in the show to draw the basis off. extrapolate of em ! (but maybe not s4 he was a bit crazy this season ☠️)

[saltyfilmmajor]

Hey for reasons can I know where that zoom litigation class screen cap is from 👀

Hello!

it's from Far and Away (1993) @ 1:05:25

[afarcryfrommymain]

Far Cry 5 NPC Bracket

Here's how this is gonna go! For the sake of my storage space, there will be no pictures in the first round, but there will be on the polls (as well as context for everyone here)

Poll Status:

ROUND 1: Finished

Round 2: Finished

Quarter Finals!: Finished

Semi Finals!!: Finished

Finals: Finished

Match ups

Round One!

First Half:

Sharky Boshaw V Adelaide Drubman

Nick Rye V Jess Black

Wheaty V Guy Marvel

Mary May Fairgrave V Dr. Sarah Perkins

Fuckin Nancy V Joey Hudson

Sheriff Earl Whitehorse V Casey Fixman

Sherri Woodhouse V Nadine Abercrombie

God V Willis Huntley

Second Half:

Grace Armstrong V Hurk Drubman

Kim Rye V Tammy Barnes

Eli Palmer V Staci Pratt

Brother Will V Zip Kupka

Crush (on Dr. Lindsey) V Dutch

Skyler Kohrs V Dr. Charles Lindsey

Aaron "Tweak" Kirby V Jerome Jefferies

Virgil Minkler V Xander Flynn

Round Two

Sharky Boshaw V Nick Rye

Wheaty V Mary May Fairgrave

Joey Hudson V Sheriff Earl Whitehorse

Nadine Abercrombie V God

Grace Armstrong V Kim Rye

Staci Pratt V Brother Will

Dutch V Slylar Kohrs

Jerome Jefferies V Virgil Minkler

Quarter Finals!

Sharky Boshaw VS Wheaty

Joey Hudson VS God

Kim Rye VS Staci Pratt

Skylar Khors VS Jerome Jefferies

Semi Finals!!

Sharky Boshaw VS Joey Hudson

Kim Rye VS Jerome Jefferies

Finals

Sharky Boshaw VS Kim Rye

[wheneverfeasible]

It had just been a joke.

He’d been bleeding out, dying, the pain from the demobat bites fading as that unending cold started to seep into his limbs. He was dying and Dustin was crying over him and he didn’t want to say goodbye but what else was there to do?

Pounding footfalls and then Steve and Nancy and Robin were skidding to his side amongst the fallen demobats and Steve was telling him to hang on, to not die, that they were there. Nancy and Robin were tearing garments to wrap around his bites but he didn’t care overly much, figuring it was for nothing. Instead, he was focused on Steve’s hand in his, pleading with him to hold on, and it was clearly just him babbling, but he’d said he’d do anything Eddie wanted if he just hung on.

And really, what better time to come out as gay to your crush than on your deathbed? Or, death-patch-of-dirt anyways.

“Go on a date with me then, Harrington,” he coughed out, choking on blood that splattered on his chin. Sexy.

Steve was noticeably shocked, and confused, but he gamely agreed if Eddie just promised not to die. Eddie blacked out with a grin on his face. He’d thought that was it, thought it was all over, except then he started feeling pain again. Which fucking sucked. Kind of rude to feel pain in death, unless Hawkins had been right and he was in Hell now. Bummer.

But then he heard the beeping, felt the cold air being forced into his nostrils, and he blinked open eyes that felt glued shut. Things were all woozy and fuzzy, but he saw big brown eyes staring at him and a smile he’d never thought he’d see directed at him of all people, and Steve was holding his hand again and that was nice.

Apparently he’d been in a coma for a month. Hilarious.

Steve had told him he’d been begging him to wake back up, they all were, and Eddie was high enough on pain killers to tease, “Didn’t think I’d let you out of our date that easily did you, big boy?”

He’d fallen back asleep almost immediately afterwards, so he didn’t get to see Steve’s reaction to that one, which was probably for the best, all things considered. Except Steve kept coming back, and he kept up the joke about taking Eddie on a date once he was better, even using it as encouragement when Eddie wanted to just give up and die from the pain he was in due to the multiple surgeries he was recovering from and undergoing.

Despite all that, he slowly but surely healed, able to finally move into the small house the government’s hush money had bought for them with Wayne after they also got him cleared of all charges yadda yadda yadda. Pretty sick deal, all things considered. All it took was being framed for multiple murders done by a psychotic supervillain and nearly mauled to death by demon bats. Easy peasy.

When Steve had given him a time and date for their supposed date, Eddie was just happy that the guy was able to joke about it with him instead of freaking out in typical Straight Jock. Steve apparently acknowledged his crush and still wanted to be friends, which was better than he could hope for. Or so he thought.

Because there was Steve, on his front porch, flowers in hand and looking far spiffier than Eddie ever recalled him looking like before. It looked like he’d even gotten a haircut. Good lord.

And it was amusing really, truly it was funny how far Steve was willing to take the joke, but something broke inside Eddie too because he was For Real Super Gay For Steve Harrington, but for Steve it was Just A Joke. And Eddie couldn’t take it anymore.

He snapped, hurt by his feelings not being taken seriously, and ranted about ex-jocks and pretty straight boys who treated being queer like a joke. Though Steve looked shocked at first, he ended up just looking amused by the end, which annoyed Eddie further. He was just about to enter another diatribe when Steve cut him off with a simple sentence that took all the wind out of his sails and left him gaping like a fish.

“Thanks for calling me pretty, but I’m actually bisexual.”

Eddie blinked. Steve smiled. Flowers were pressed into his hand.

“Now, the only joke around here is thinking my date can wear sweatpants to our dinner reservations, so go change into something appropriate, Munson. Honestly.”

As Eddie was ushered to his bedroom to change into something more fitting than stained and holey sweatpants, he tried to figure out where he had, in fact, lost the narrative. Because it had just been a joke.

But somehow he had ended up with a first kiss, a real life boyfriend, and a happily ever after he never would have expected. Go figure.

[the-silver-chronicles]

Does anyone have any ideas on how to write in f***ing Nancy's POV?

[Context: Nancy is the Hope County Sheriff's Department's dispatcher, who sells her colleagues out to Eden's Gate (having been a member of the cult) and told journalists (in a newspaper) that reports of conflict between the locals and cultists were "exaggerated"]

I'm writing a Far Cry 5 fic, sometime pre-game events, at the Sheriff's Department itself, and I'm writing from Nancy's POV, where she has a harrowing encounter with Inquisitor!Silva in a little (kind of) non-canon AU (kind of) separate from my main AUs.

Anyway, I have the main ideas that I know Nancy should have in her POV, but I could use a bit of help on how to properly carry this out, and if anyone has any idea of Nancy, or even how they write her or help me write from her POV, that would be greatly appreciated.

The main points her POV should have so far are:

Feels pity towards her colleagues for not seeing Joseph's Word as true, but hopes they'll see it soon.

Internally praises "the Father".

Observant enough to notice when someone is "off" or deceiving her (given she is a mole and has worked for the Sheriff's Department for some time now).

Might direct complete strangers towards Eden's Gate?

Would she able to be coerced (have her life under threat from a gun being pointed at her) into giving police files on the Seeds to this strange woman who just attempted to pass of as a special agent or would she rather die than give any information on the Seed Family to an unknown (probable) enemy? Given she's a mole for Eden's Gate, would she give the files to keep undercover and stave off suspicion or would she risk her life and her mission to not betray the Seeds, causing Eden's Gate to have to send somebody else to replace her (if she was killed)?

[simplegenius042]

Late WIP Poll Winner(s) Wednesday

With Round 2 results in, here are the FC5 WIPs of Silva's Hope and the still unnamed "Proposed Arranged Marriage" scenario. For a cleaner context, I added a few more sentences.

I will be combining the rest of the other non-winner poll WIPs into one post soon. And catching up on some tags.

Tagging everyone who tagged me or were in the notes of this poll: @voidika @chazz-anova @inafieldofdaisies @cassietrn @adelaidedrubman @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat and @strangefable + anyone else who wants to read.

First! More Silva's Hope. Reminder that this WIP of mine is still under construction and some things may or may not change in the future. Introducing John's personal Chosen bodyguard (translation: unpaid babysitter), Nadi Sinclair doing some digging for Nancy:

Adjusting her shoulder, bringing the phone closer to her ear, Nadi asked into it, "Sister Nancy, I can't find any headlines nor editorials on "Elsa Omar" or any "Floristry"... are you certain there's something here? Perhaps you had read wrong, no?"

The older woman on the other end replied, her aged and gentle voice filled with patience, "I guarantee its in one of them papers, Sister Nadi. My eyes remember the exact words when I read the cover. You'll find it eventually dearie." Nadi made an affirmative hum as she unwrapped the next piece of paper.

And lo and behold, the words "MISSING OWNER OF ELSA'S FLORISTRY FOUND! BODY RECOVERED IN LOCAL HENBANE CAVE" were centered right in the middle of the page. Nadi blinked, momentarily perplexed, and checked the date of publishing. December 7th, 2013. Bringing her eyes back to the story, she read the first few lines the page had to offer.

And Kamski's POV in the arranged marriage scenario WIP!

[TW: Mention of coerced marriages and implications of canon infanticide. Also emotional manipulation?]

Joseph appeared unbothered by his lack of trust in the prophet's words, and seemed to decide to placate the doctor's paranoia, "I assure you Doctor Neon, we care for Deputy Omar's health as much as you do. God is looking out for your charge, and will protect her from the Collapse. You can trust me to keep her safe."

Kamski hummed, unconvinced. He really wanted to scoff and snarl at the man in front of him. Yeah, shooting, stabbing, almost drowning, torturing, drugging, sicking wolves on her, almost killing her in general, letting her starve and dehydrate while conditioning her to kill innocent people has been a wonderful method of tending to her health. He hated the serenity in Joseph's voice, how easy it was for him to lie to the Good Doctor's face. Does he really think me, a 58-year-old self-taught medic and doctor, that naive? Is he so focused on what he thinks God demands of him that he can't see this isn't what Silva needs or wants? How trapping her in another set of walls will do her more harm instead of less? "Care for her" my ass. Kamski doesn't exactly know what Joseph's game is, but the evidence points to possibilities that do nothing to decrease the disgust and contempt he felt toward the so-called prophet. He knew the last place Silva should be was near Joseph and the cursed prophecy that just continues to take so much from them. He hated the familiarity of the situation, hated how little control he had again, and despised himself for wishing Paul was there. At least Paul could protect her.

Kamski shooed away those thoughts. No! Remember what he took away from Silva. Be glad he's gone. Kamski exhaled a breathe and looked to Joseph. His siblings were still around, including Silva's unwanted suitor, but the doctor felt unconcerned by their presence. If they wanted Silva to join the family, despite how low of a chance that actually is, they would need him alive. Though Kamski wasn't unprepared to fight back should he need to. After all, he couldn't trust these Saints to keep their words. He stared through the yellow lens of Joseph's aviators. It nagged him, the certainty Joseph had that he could keep anyone, especially Silva, safe, when it was him who was the danger. Kamski knew from experience that at a moments notice, whether it was "God's Will" or his own, he could have Silva life end without hesitation. Even his own family wasn't safe. A reminder he chose now to address in his response.

"Just like you protected your daughter?"

[estrellami-1]

Steddie Week 2024

July 6th Prompt: Dizzy

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 7

@steddie-week

Steve stands up, and that’s where it all goes wrong.

His intent was to grab more drinks from the fridge, but when he stood, he blinked a few times. “Whoa,” he murmurs.

“Steve?” Robin asks. She sounds like she’s at the end of a long tunnel.

“Steve?” Eddie asks. He sounds closer, but not as close as he should.

“‘M fine,” he says, “jus’ dizzy.”

Then he’s waking up in the hospital. “What,” he asks, then doesn’t complete the thought because Robin and Eddie are both standing over him, one on each side, holding each of his hands, and he’d feel so much love if he could feel anything besides general panic because- “I can’t hear you,” he says, breathing picking up. “I can’t- please, I- I need-”

Eddie shuts up, staring at him with wide eyes, and after a second of hesitation, places Steve’s hand, palm down, on his chest. He takes deep, purposeful breaths, and Steve can feel his hand moving, feel the breaths, feel his heartbeat-

He takes a breath. Another. Another. By that time, Nancy had gotten a doctor.

Later, he’ll learn this is something they’d been watching for, but couldn’t be sure of until he woke up. Later, he’ll learn that Eddie lays awake at night, sometimes, hearing the sound Robin makes.

All he knows right now is how to keep breathing, how to keep holding Robin’s hand, how to believe he’ll be okay, because he has to.

He has to.

He stays with Eddie upon his release, because they’re together most days anyways, and it’s a certain kind of torture on Steve’s heart because Eddie’s started carrying around a notebook and a pen just to write to Steve whatever he was gonna say, and Steve doesn’t think he could love another person more than he did, but here’s the proof, apparently.

They’re sharing a bed, because Wayne had previously called their couch “older than Jesus,” and Steve lasted for all of an hour on it before slipping into Eddie’s room.

The good thing about sharing a room is it helps curb the nightmares for a time.

Eventually, though, they come back with a vengeance.

Steve’s laying in bed, like he does every night, when he rolls over to face Eddie. “Eddie?” He asks. Eddie’s always last to sleep, so Steve’s not hesitant about asking, except Eddie doesn’t answer.

“Eddie?” He asks again, jostling Eddie’s shoulder a bit.

Suddenly he shoots up in the air, and Steve bites back a yell.

Suddenly there’s a voice that sounds like it’s coming from everywhere and nowhere, reverberating off the corners of the room, echoing louder and louder. You took everything from me. Eddie’s arms snap, and Steve yells, scrambles up, music, except what’s his favorite song—that puppet one, metal, come on brain, think—but there’s nothing here but country, bluegrass, stuff Wayne likes, and Steve turns to watch the blood drain from Eddie’s face as another gristly crunch echoes, louder than anything so far. So I’ll take everything from you!

Something reaches out for him, grabs his shoulder, and he yells, twists around, pushes away, hard enough he falls on the ground. He opens his eyes to see Eddie on his bed, Steve sitting just off it, eyes wide and hand reaching to help, stalled halfway. Illuminated by the lamp, too, which wasn’t on half a second ago.

Steve blinks at him, looks at the room. No floating Eddie in the middle of it.

“Dream?” He asks. Eddie nods. He stifles the sob and practically launches himself onto the bed, into Eddie’s arms, lets himself shake apart because he can.

Eventually he feels reverberating in Eddie’s chest that he knows means words, means speaking, so he looks up at Eddie, who’s looking at the door.

He turns to look, too, and sees Wayne. “S-sorry,” he tries, still sniffling.

Wayne shakes his head at him, walks into the room, sits on the edge of the bed. Offers his arms out in a hug.

Steve thought he was done crying. Trust Wayne to prove him wrong, because he’s tearing up all over again as he leans into Wayne.

His new position means he can see Eddie, who points at him, makes a talking motion with his hand, then points at himself and Wayne. Steve frowns. “You… want me to tell you?”

Eddie points at Steve again, insistently, and Steve understands: your choice.

“I can,” he agrees. “We were in bed and I was tryin’a talk to you, but you didn’t answer, and I kept trying to get your attention, but suddenly you- you were up in the air, and your arms and legs broke, and a voice—it was Vecna, I didn’t recognize it in the dream—said I’d taken everything from him so he was gonna take everything from me. And I was trying to find music, but I couldn’t remember the name of your favorite song, and the only stuff in here was Wayne’s stuff, country and bluegrass and stuff like that, and…” he sighs out a broken sob. “I couldn’t save you.”

Eddie reaches for his hand, but suddenly that’s not enough, he needs to be able to feel his heartbeat, have his breathing move Steve’s hand, so he tips over into Eddie again, gets his hand on his chest and his face in the side of his neck.

Eddie says something, but before Steve can move Wayne’s got a comforting hand on his back. He removes it after a minute, and Steve can feel the shift in the bed of him getting up, but before he can mourn the loss, Eddie’s got his arms wrapped around Steve as he carefully lowers them back down. He rubs a hand up and down Steve’s spine, slips the other into Steve’s hair.

Steve falls asleep like that.

He wakes up in almost the same position. He tries to apologize, but Eddie waves him off, hands him some clothes and points to the bathroom before pointing to himself and miming cooking.

Steve’s heart clenches at the thought. “Okay,” he whispers.

Robin comes over later, and they sit on the front steps as he recounts what had happened. “He’s just so sweet,” he sighs. “And I’m an idiot who’s letting my heart get involved.”

Robin wraps an arm around his shoulders and kisses his temple. It doesn’t help as much as he’d hoped it would, but he appreciates the gesture anyways.

Later she leaves, and Eddie pulls out his dedicated Steve Notebook.

I’ve got a friend in Indy who knows sign language. I could give her a call, if you want? He writes, and again Steve’s all but overcome with love for this man.

Instead of anything he wants to do, he just nods. Eddie grins and hops up to use the phone.

He’s back in a couple of minutes, collapses onto the couch with the notebook before furiously scribbling and handing it to Steve.

I spoke to my friend. She says sorry and it sucks, first of all. Steve snorts and nods. She’s willing to talk to you, get you started, maybe even get you some books. Does tomorrow work?

Steve gapes up at Eddie. “Tomorrow?”

Eddie nods and grins, then points at Steve in a gesture Steve knows has come to mean you decide.

“That would be great,” he says. “Seriously, I- thank you, Eddie.”

Eddie waves him off, but Steve can see the happy little blush on his cheeks.

They head out the next day. It’s probably twenty minutes into the drive, and even with Eddie sitting next to him in the driver’s seat, it feels lonely. He never realized how much he’d miss the sound of tires on asphalt. He wasn’t ever truly into music, like Eddie is, but he misses the radio. He misses the wind rushing past, the silence that’s possible to share when both people can hear-

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Eddie’s pulled over, a hand on his cheek and a concerned expression on his face. “Sorry,” he tries. Eddie shakes his head, presses his palm more firmly to Steve’s cheek. “Fuck,” he mutters. “‘S stupid. Just… felt alone. I dunno. There’s, like, a million little things you hear every day that you don’t think about, like the way your hands tap the steering wheel when you turn, or the way your clothes shift and rub against each other, and it’s all silent now, and there’s not even music, and-” he takes a deep, shaky breath. Lets it out as evenly as he can. “I just… felt really alone all of a sudden.”

Eddie brushes his thumb along Steve’s cheekbone as he thinks. Suddenly, he grins and moves his hand, shoving a tape into the deck and cranking the sound. He demonstratively puts his hand on the door. Steve laughs and does the same, gasping when he feels the vibrations of the song move through him. He can’t tell notes, but it’s something, and then Eddie carefully reaches for his hand, keeps his grip relaxed until Steve smiles at him and tightens his own fingers around Eddie’s. “Thank you,” he whispers.

Eddie smiles, nods, and gets back on the road.

They arrive at his friend’s apartment in no time, and Steve would be jealous at the length of the hug if Eddie didn’t immediately step back to grab Steve’s hand again. Based on his hand motions, he’s introducing Steve.

She asks Eddie something, and he turns bright red, pulling a strand of hair across his face as he glances at Steve before looking back at her and answering.

She invites them in, scribbles on a little chalkboard, and hands it to Steve with a smile. Hi, Steve! My name is Nicole. It’s nice to meet you.

He grins up at her. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

She takes the chalkboard back, scribbles something else. Eddie tells me you recently lost your hearing. Do you mind me asking about that?

“Not at all,” Steve says, then frowns, somehow just now realizing he doesn’t know the full extent of what happened. “Honestly, all I know is I stood up and got really dizzy, and then I was waking up in the hospital.” He shrugs. “I’ve had a couple of pretty bad concussions, and I guess whatever made me pass out also just… took my hearing.” He shrugs.

Eddie shakes his head, grabs for the chalkboard. Almost. He bites his lip. You passed out, and I wasn’t fast enough. You hit your head on the floor. He looks away, takes a deep breath. I’m sorry.

“That is not your fault, Eds,” Steve tells him firmly. Eddie won’t look him in the eyes, so Steve grabs his chin. “Hey, look at me. Not your fault. I don’t blame you. Okay?”

Eddie shrugs, pointing to himself with a self-deprecating smile, and Steve knows what he’s trying to say. I do.

“Well I don’t,” Steve says. “But if- if you need to hear it. I forgive you, okay?”

Eddie nods, eyes big and wet, and Steve pulls him into a hug.

Eddie suddenly laughs, pulling away to wipe his eyes before saying something to Nicole.

Right. They’re not alone. “Sorry,” he tells her, but she waves him off, handing over the chalkboard again. I think we’ll start on the alphabet today. That way you can at least finger spell what you need, even if it’s slow.

“Sounds good,” he says, and she nods, talking the chalkboard to write the alphabet.

Slowly but surely, she teaches Steve and Eddie the alphabet. They get a little tripped up on some of the letters, most noticeably p and q, until Nicole takes pity on them and makes a p. She uses her other hand to draw a line down both her extended fingers, then tracing her own legs. She taps her thumb, peeking out between the two, and with a mischievous grin, points between Steve and Eddie’s legs.

They share a look and burst out laughing, but they don’t forget those letters again.

By the end of the day, they’ve gotten through the alphabet with enough regularity that Nicole feels they can practice on each other.

Steve pauses before they leave. T-h-a-n-k, then a pause, then y-o-u.

Nicole smiles, presses her fingertips to her lips, then brings her hand down to chest height, palm up. She does the motion again, and Steve copies her, grinning when she nods excitedly.

“Thank you,” he signs and says, grinning even wider when she pulls him into a quick hug before waving at him and Eddie.

They wave back and pile into the van, Steve’s hand in Eddie’s before Steve can practically blink. He smiles, unbearably fond, and squeezes to get his attention before signing, “Thank you.”

Eddie just smiles back, throws the van into reverse, and starts home. 

They practice more while they make dinner, throwing words like spatula and stir and chop around, and Steve didn’t realize learning could be this fun.

He’s watching Eddie stir the broth, hips moving in a little dance to a song only Eddie knows, and his heart is so full, he has to say something before his heart bursts. “I’m gonna say something that’s gonna sound incredibly sappy,” he says. “But just… please just listen until the end? And try not to tease me too much.”

Eddie just smiles, grabs his hand and squeezes, and Steve takes a breath before starting.

“I’m glad it’s you. I’m glad you were there that day, I’m glad you were there when I woke up at the hospital, I’m glad you were there when I realized going home meant being completely alone. I’m glad you made a complete fool of yourself in the hospital lobby, doing charades to let me know I could stay here.” He takes a breath. “I’m glad you have Nicole, because it lets me talk with you easier. I’m glad you never once let me feel like I’m alone, or like I’m going through this alone. I’m glad you’re learning with me. I’m glad you’re making this fun. I didn’t know learning could be fun, but it is with you, and I-” he takes a breath, swallows the three words that want to come out. “I’m glad it’s you,” Steve whispers, “here, at the end of all things.”

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Eddie’s hands are cradling his cheeks, wiping away tears. Eddie’s just as teary-eyed, though, and he pulls away, looking for the notebook. Please don’t punch me.

Steve looks up, brows furrowed, to watch Eddie spell something. I l-o-v-

That’s as far as he gets before Steve gasps, understanding, or hoping he understands, and pulls Eddie into a kiss.

He pulls back almost immediately to check that’s correct, that that is what Eddie was trying to say, when Eddie pulls him back in, dinner be damned, crowding him in against the counter and doing his best to lick into Steve’s mouth.

Steve lets him, pulling away for a sharp inhale before diving right back in, fingers tight in Eddie’s hair and the back of his shirt, and there’s a sudden vibration that he just knows means Eddie moans, and suddenly he’s dizzy again, but this time he welcomes it, because this time he’s not passing out; this time, he’s dizzy because he’s drunk on love.