#odette ( dossier )

[cxrsedsouls]

( @thewolfisawake​ ) asked:  Odette and magic

Send a muse name for muse ramblings 

Odette used to love her powers, was able to easily adapt and learn new spells and techniques. She was always a fast learner. Strong too. Before, while she was growing up, she was always told that the power of a witch is based off their heart. Her heart had been big, warm, and loving so her magic carried those sort of things within it. She was great at healing others, finding useful spells and whatever she could to help others.

But after she was taken by the clans and forced to work for them, her heart grew dark. Lonely. Her powers became destructive and the clans used that at every chance they could. Even though now she is free of their clutches, the damage has already been done. She’s not sure if she can ever go back to the magic she used to have or even the way she used to be. She never wants to feel vulnerable again and her ability to trust is nearly completely gone now. She has a chance of getting back to how she was before but it would take time and someone to show her that she can trust people again. That not everyone is out to use her.

She also loathes vampires, including herself. All that she’s had to do for their sake, what she was forced into. While she doesn’t outright show it, there is a rage burning beneath the surface. For the loss of her family, for her years of servitude... there is so many reasons to hate them and she does. Even if she knows that not all are to blame.

[holyqhosts]

💰 faith — juli, ava, odette.

❛     if there's anybody in town to to hide a body with, it's AVA, she might be a freak who believes in the town lore, but i know she’s got my back. everybody else in town would crumble under the pressure, so i’d rob a bank with ODETTE, and well. as long as i don't have to visit him in the slammer...     ❜

[shctteredillusions]

The vampires and preferences. Taken from @arcxnumvitae and @thewolfisawake. I’ve also written out who is taken relationship-wise just to make sure it’s not confusing.

Megane: What isn’t this woman into? Pretty much everything and anything. She literally is the furthest from picky you can get and is the literal definition of pansexual. Men, women, any gender, any species, she’s the type to find something attractive about everyone.

Haru: Women with an attitude. A woman who isn’t afraid to tell him no. Confidence, long dark hair with no particular preference on a color other than that. He likes a woman with style, someone who can take his BS and fire it right back. A baker is a huge selling point since he has such a big sweet tooth. And he’s definitely not into a woman who shows too much skin, funnily enough. He does actually like some modesty in that department and keeping certain things to the imagination until they’ve gotten to that point.

Minami: Intelligence, a man who can give her a challenge in some way shape or form. She has what usually comes off as a harsh and severe type of personality, can be quite controlling and is a bit of a neat freak so they’d have to be able to handle that with ease. Mystery is a big seller for her though because she’s so used to knowing mostly everything that when she comes across someone or something she doesn’t know or can’t figure out she’s instantly intrigued.

Seto: He isn’t a sexually active man and isn’t really interested in becoming one. But if he were, it’d likely be with someone soft and caring, but still confident and strong. He’s got a thing for good voices and no particular preference for men or women. At the same time, he doesn’t like anyone who talks too much because he really enjoys the quiet and peaceful times.

Kensei: Strong and fierce warrior type women. Holy crap can he be weak to soldiers. Especially when she’s actually in a uniform. Skills with a weapon of any kind, good training, someone who knows how to show respect where it’s deserved and demands the same in return. Confidence but without it being overbearing.

Vasilios (unavailable): Long dark hair, coy smiles, flirty personalities, and intense eyes. He’s never had any preference of one gender over another but he does prefer thicker women, whether that’s simply curves or even those with some weight on them. Bigger girls. Men though he likes lean and fit. But more so than anything he likes a battle for dominance. Whether he ends up the dominant one or submissive doesn’t matter nearly as much as the fight itself. Plus he is hypersexual and shit if someone can match his urges, needs, and stamina then man is he in heaven.

Raiden: Women. Women. Women. Gosh, he’s far from picky. Cute girls, gorgeous girls, badass girls, dorky girls. It doesn’t matter because Raiden will find every girl he meets to be utterly beautiful in their own right. Which of course means he’s sexually attracted to them too.

Ariadne: While she prefers men more, she isn’t against women on the subject. She likes height, attitude, someone who can take her fiery personality and deal it right back. She also seems to prefer humans more so than not. But other than that there isn’t a lot she’s shown interest in.

Zephyr: Zephyr is a lover and a fighter but boy is he such a huge sap of a lover too. Big gestures, lots of teasing, old school courting type stuff gets him the most. He likes to banter, someone with a big heart and a playful side. And man he has the hots for the motherly types. Women with thick curves, nice thighs, big chests but a thoughtful and caring smile but eyes that speak of wisdom and experience. Men with more athletic builds, nice hair and a charming personality.

Odette: I don’t really know for sure with her but I think she’d prefer someone gentle. Someone she feels she can trust. She does prefer men, she’s had quite a few bad times with women before and doesn’t trust them as easily. But I don’t think she even knows what she’s attracted to since she’s never really been given the chance to explore it.

Shiori (taken): Assholes. Fuck she loves someone with an attitude, a smart mouth, and a good smirk. I mean, technically I’d think she’d have an easier time with women considering her past with men. Sarcasm, someone with a violent streak who can handle her.

Ichirou (taken): Strong, confident, independent women. Women with goals and priorities. Stylish women with curves that could break his neck from looking back. There’s just something utterly entrancing about a woman who doesn’t need anyone else.

Yuka (taken): Never really had a preference in most ways, but she likes revealing eyes, charming smiles. Oh yeah and nice voices with really good accents. She likes someone who she can talk to, feels comfortable with. And she definitely has a thing for taller people and thick hair.

Ayame (taken): someone who is calming, feels safe. Someone with a bright smile and this warmth that makes her feel alive. Musically talented in any way is a huge bonus for her. Someone with a relatively sunny disposition and affectionate. Adventurous personalities but nothing that overbearing personality wise like overly confident or self-assured. Someone with a warm and gentle presence.

Liam (unavailable): Sexual wise, Liam is far from picky. Generally, because he uses such things as a distraction more than anything else. But preference wise he does seem to have a thing for the unusual ladies. One he can’t quite understand and ones that take him by surprise. He’s a leg man and loves long legs and creamy thighs and can be so easily ruined when that’s used against him. Short skirts, heels, tight jeans, a nice rear, boy he’ll fall apart at the seams if she has a sexy walk too.

Kaname: No clue! Kaname is still a mystery to me. I know physical attraction is possible and that there’s no particular preference but he is like the image of Demisexual and won’t feel attraction in the slightest until a bond is formed.

[le-amewzing]

Ghosts

Looking somewhat speculatively ahead after "Rule 91." :x *Note: This is set after s18e16, "Rule 91," so major spoilers ahead.

Fic: "Ghosts" [FFN] [AO3]

Pairings/Characters: Miguel Torres & Ellie Bishop (mild Ellick undertones/elements), with a cameo from Odette Malone

Rating: light T, mostly for some violence

Words: ~7,080

Additional info: action/adventure, 3rd person POV

Summary: Miguel Torres is a man who can't keep his promises. But an unexpected encounter has him making a promise with himself, for his son's sake.

               If one had to take heavy fire, one best not take it first thing in the morning.

               This was the thought—no, a new mantra, he decided, something to live by—running through Miguel Torres' head as he dropped to his haunches behind the leaf-covered remains of a hut tucked into the open hillside. He really hated gunfights first thing in the morning. First of all, who on Earth was fully awake and ready for gunfire the second they woke, if they'd had a decent night's sleep? Second of all, the bright sunlight showed too much—it showed everything. Of course he saw several of his opponents (he paused his internal griping to put his remaining rounds each between the eyes of the two nearest), but that meant they saw him, too. Miguel dropped lower, his upper body sagging as he rolled into the motion, ducking the bullets that whizzed past where his head had been seconds before.

               Miguel had done a lot of good freelance work on his own the last couple of decades, and he had access to a few more better resources since assisting NCIS in taking care of the traitor, Pamela Walsh. But even he knew that some jobs were not one-man jobs. Like this Honduras job.

               "'Kill some time in Tegucigalpa first,' my ass!" he grunted to himself as he rolled to his feet with a groan and managed to catch enough of the momentum to propel himself into a run. He didn't bother running for cover; running downhill, away from the mountains, there was no cover here. Instead, he kept his ears open for the sound of running water. If he wound up parallel to the Río Sico, then perhaps all was not lost, even though he'd been exposed.

               He discarded his empty gun and replayed the past four days in his head since being dropped in the capital. Tegucigalpa was nice, of course, but it would've been better if he'd been dropped in Juticalpa proper instead of wasting time and money having to get himself there. He'd lost precious time that he'd then sacrificed his sleeping hours to recoup, familiarizing himself with some of the suspect shops and the known routes in and out of the place listed in the CIA's dossier on the group.

               And the group itself. If Miguel had energy to spare, he'd laugh. Again. La Ventana. What a stupid moniker! And yet…they were efficient, getting their goods through as simply as flicking a fly out an open window. And definitely a large enough organization that Miguel could not meddle with them on his own! This was a two-person job, at least, he regrettably conceded for the umpteenth time.

               Lost in his thoughts, Miguel came to a screeching halt before he charged into the water. Ah. Well, he'd found the Sico, at least. He glanced behind him—no one in sight yet, but there were shouts and complaints about who had to follow him into the water.

               Miguel faced forward and froze, seeing a silhouette several yards ahead on his side of the river, heading for one of La Ventana's familiar-looking transports. Then he steeled himself. One-on-one were much better odds.

               He leaned back a little as he took off the rest of the way down the slope, trying not to kick up too much of the loose soil or trip over the rocks and pebbles on his way to his target. He thought luck was on his side today, despite the early hour. It wasn't until he was mere yards away that his target turned, and he realized she was a slip of a thing, a petite woman armed with only a single gun, a shoddy-looking UZI knockoff. Easy to take out.

               Their eyes met. Hers widened, and Miguel began to smile almost apologetically…

               …but he had two seconds to realize her eyes hadn't widened in fear. That had been recognition. Which occurred before she ducked his lunge, tucked her shoulder into his middle, and half flipped him on the ground.

               Miguel groaned for the second time that morning, but at least the woman backed off and gave him enough room to stand.

               "Miguel?!" she hissed.

               He rubbed his back and left side, then tested his left arm and shoulder, rolling his arm around to make sure the ball joint was still in the socket. Noting he was still in working order, Miguel looked the woman over and shook his head. But he narrowed his eyes at her.

               The woman was shorter than him and wore her auburn hair in a bob at her chin. But the hair color—he knew dye when he saw it. And that defensive stance was a cop's stance. But had he crossed paths with someone like her before? He didn't think so… Although…no, there was someone…an agent he recalled from months back…with a similarly dimpled chin and thick eyebrows furrowed in his direction…in his direction while she watched over his interactions with Nico…

               His eyebrows jumped into his hairline. "Age—"

               She jabbed the mock-UZI into his ribcage and gritted out, "Don't finish that word and don't call me that."

               Miguel zipped his lips. If she wasn't going by "Agent Bishop," then he doubted NCIS' jurisdiction here in Honduras. Still, she was a friendly face right when he needed one. "What are you called, then?"

               Bishop hesitated. "…Raye."

               He nodded and glanced again over his shoulder while she surveyed around the transport the way she'd been doing when they'd crossed paths. "Well, Raye," he began, emphasizing that he'd go along with her ruse for whatever reason, "sorry to ruin your morning, but I have some company arriving."

               Bishop looked up the hillside, and the few seconds of silence he gave her provided his noisy evidence. She sighed. "Dammit… I was almost out of here until you came along."

               Miguel couldn't help his grin this time. "Do you have any idea where you're heading?"

               "North-northeast…," she began, "…heading towards Limón."

               "If it's Limón you want, then you mean to head northeast by north. You're off a few degrees."

               Bishop's cheeks flushed with color, a warm pink that clashed terribly with her fake reddish locks as she realized her error. She scrambled for her pockets and pulled out a phone, searching for…something on it.

               "Relax, Raye. You're on the correct side of the river," Miguel assured her with raised, calming hands.

               She scowled at him, so he kept his distance. She tapped a nervous rhythm on her weapon with one hand while she scrolled through screens on her phone with the other. Then she huffed. "I don't have a lot of time to waste here."

               He gestured to the transport, a truck with a tarped back. "Were you hiding from what's up ahead or were you planning to hotwire this?"

               Bishop grimaced.

               Miguel shrugged. "Behind me's not an option. Only forward." He motioned to her gun. "Since you're better armed, if you'd be so kind as to cover me."

               She curtly nodded. Then Miguel hugged the driver's side of the vehicle and heaved a sigh of relief, happy to see the window down; he wouldn't have to risk injury breaking the window since he had nothing on him to pick the lock. Once inside, he jammed his blocky upper half under the steering column and got to work and had the engine alive after two and half tries. "Thanks," Bishop said when he pushed open the passenger door for her and she climbed inside.

               "Not a personal best, but better late than never," he stated, adjusting the mirror as his tail came into view. He didn't bother asking her to belt up before he floored it and the truck lurched forward over unstable ground. It'd been a few days since the last good storm in spite of the rainy season, but Miguel prayed the clear skies overhead would hold. A storm would make this mess a complete pain in the ass to traverse.

               Bishop swallowed a yelp and braced herself with a hand against the roof above her head. But she didn't protest his driving, and she slipped back into her chillier mode as they pulled up on a makeshift encampment along the river's edge. Several men milling around the encampment were armed, and Bishop positioned herself outside her window with her mock-UZI.

               "You got them?" Miguel asked her, his volume louder than before; he had to be, to be heard over the racket that either was the questionable terrain or possibly the truck coming apart beneath their asses.

               "Just drive!" Bishop snapped.

               Miguel shrugged, but he remembered Nico's team as being fairly capable when they'd crossed paths months ago. He had no real reason to doubt Bishop now.

               Most of the camping men dove for cover, but two took aim, and once more Miguel's morning was filled with gunfire. But this time, Bishop returned the favor, and the noise was cut short. She'd taken them both out.

               Miguel kept speeding along, keeping his eyes peeled for other groups, more encampments along the riverbank or smaller groups off to their left in the valley, where some of the trees offered scant cover. But they made it to the second bend in the river without more issues…

               "Hold on. We've got a flat."

               Or not. Miguel rolled to a stop and let Bishop out to study the passenger rear tire. "And?" he hollered out the window to her.

               She walked back to the front and held up a round. "Definitely a flat. Dunno how we made it this far, but the tire almost looks as though it got partially pierced and this was lodged in it for a while. Tire became flat when the round got loose and let the air out."

               He smacked the steering wheel with a curse and exited the truck. "This thing's useless then." He peered under the tarp in the back and cursed a second time. No spare tire. Not even anything to make into a trap or a bomb. The tarp itself was coated, so it wouldn't burn easily, either.

               "Then which way now?"

               Miguel put his hands on his hips and contemplated their situation. He'd abandoned his baggage back in Juticalpa before setting out on foot at five–thirty this morning. He had what he needed on him, especially to prove who he was when he got to Puerto Castilla. But Puerto Castilla was supposed to come after, long after he snatched full maps of La Ventana's courier routes and planted a little something special at one of their camps or shops that would let him find the head of their organization a lot more easily when the mastermind flew back home next month… He eyed Bishop.

               "What?" she said.

               Miguel cocked his head back to where they'd fled. "You haven't mentioned why you're so far from home, Raye. You mixed up with them, too?"

               Ah, she was good. There was nothing to give her away. No dilation of her pupils, no tightening of her jaw, no clutching her gun. She blinked calmly, too.

               He crossed his arms in front of his chest now. "Look, you know how I operate, so you're working with a fuller deck here. I take it that was a mutual rescue just now"—ah, there was the tiniest of glares—"but you clearly won't or can't say much more on your behalf." A new thought gave him pause, and he asked it sincerely, not masking the concern that leaked into his tone: "Nico—he isn't here? With you?"

               "No," she ground out. And the dangerous gleam in her dark eyes made Miguel wonder if Nico, if NCIS even knew Bishop were here.

               But before Miguel could risk asking, she turned on her heel and fiddled with something in her ear. He gave her space, but he glanced her way as she had her phone in hand once again. Studying it closer, Miguel noted it was heavier, blockier than a standard smartphone. Maybe a smart satellite phone of some sort?

               "Sunshine to Shadow, come in," Bishop spoke. She frowned at Miguel, who made a show of not watching her…but eavesdropping was another thing. "Sunshine to Shadow, come in," she repeated.

               A pause.

               "Yes, Shadow. In the clear for now, but not done yet. Destination still out of reach. Ran into some—" Bishop huffed and glanced over her shoulder at Miguel. "—mud," she finished.

               He winced. Hadn't all of Nico's colleagues been pleasant? Although…if memory served him correct, Bishop had been polite to Miguel, but she'd been the only one not to jump into conversation with him. Had his son shared his full opinion of Miguel Torres with her alone? That would explain a lot…

               "Wait, what? Shadow, hold on—"

               Miguel picked his head up, turned Bishop's way.

               Bishop twisted her lips around and walked back to Miguel. She passed him the phone and tapped the piece in her ear. "Have at it, Shadow."

               "It seems you could be of assistance to my Sunshine here," the voice on the other end of the line said over speakerphone. The voice sounded older, perhaps Miguel's age or even older, and feminine; her tone was strong and her words and pacing were practiced, keeping him from guessing any accent. "I believe this could be a mutually beneficial arrangement in the short-term, Mr. Rain."

               "'Rain'?" he echoed.

               "I know who you are," the voice continued. "And what's sunshine without a little rain?" The voice chuckled at the joke. With the screen black and blank, Miguel got the impression of being studied through the phone, especially now that he possibly was being laughed at.

               Miguel raised his eyebrows at Bishop, who only huffed impatiently. "So what's the arrangement?"

               "A simple escort to set Sunshine on the right path. While I can't do all your work for you, the maps you need will be on your boat in P.C."

               His blood ran cold. Only he and his CIA handler knew about the boat waiting to take him across the way to the Bay Islands, where their exfil plan would be easier to execute. If the voice on Bishop's phone knew, then did Miguel have another Pamela Walsh on his plate?

               "Thank you, Rain," the voice said, and he heard the smile in her voice as Bishop switched her earpiece back on and walked away to finish their conversation.

               When Bishop returned, Miguel had shaken off his shock. Still, it made him uneasy, knowing Bishop had an ally(?) like that in her pocket. "That was your, ah, Shadow?" he asked quietly as they began a fresh trek parallel to but not close by the river.

               Bishop snorted. "Yeah, that's…Shadow."

               "Good to know you're not flying blind down here."

               They walked a few minutes in silence, Bishop swatting some bugs away, Miguel not bothering. Eventually, Bishop cleared her throat. "You usually do, though, don't you?"

               "Hmm?"

               "Fly blind."

               Miguel shrugged, which was pointless with Bishop ahead of him by two steps. "That's the life I've grown accustomed to, I suppose."

               Another minute of silence. "Does that get easier? Do you—do you work up towards that or…?"

               An interesting question. Considering it was mid-July, he wondered how long Bishop had been involved not only in this mission here in Honduras but in whatever had brought her here in the first place. Mostly he wondered about Shadow, but he didn't think questions about her would get him anywhere, least of all right now. Instead, Miguel took in a deep breath and blew it out low and slow. "Never really thought about it. Back when I first took on dangerous work, I never knew from one day to the next if I'd be working as part of a cell or carrying out a task on my own." He shrugged, but that was out of habit more than to make a point. "The thing I got used to quickly was the idea that the men around me one day, one hour might not be around me the next."

               Bishop nodded, but they lapsed into silence once more as they traipsed along in the valley. Even in the heat and humidity, though, her posture was rigid, stiff…oh, no, that wasn't it. She was apprehensive. A little hostile, maybe?

               Miguel dropped his eyes to the wild grasses through which they waded. "He told you, yes? Nico discussed our…argument, and why I initially left?"

               There was a subtle clack of her gun as she shifted it at her side. "Nick did."

               "Ah, of course. You'll have to forgive this old man, but calling him 'Nick' will take some adapting for me." Even now, thinking back on it, Miguel recalled his son's withering glares with every "Nico" he'd uttered back in D.C., and the effort it'd taken Miguel to catch himself even once to correct himself. At least Nicholas was a strapping young man now, and the pride Miguel had in him coupled with Nico's hatred of him made it easy to avoid the grave mistake of calling him "Nicolito" at this stage of their lives.

               Bishop didn't reply. Perhaps something had changed since Miguel had left D.C.—granted, given the way he'd left and Nico's (Nick's, he mentally corrected with a sigh) closeness with his team, no doubt they all knew how Miguel had stood up his own son. She had every right to be anything but polite to him.

               "To finish answering your question," he said, half to fill the silence, "there are days when I long for a team of my own, just one or two others. But yes, it gets easier, being on your own, because there are things one and only person can do, can get away with."

               At this, Bishop slowly nodded.

               They navigated the tropical terrain carefully, moving at a brisk pace that was easy enough to slow so as not to disturb too much of the surrounding fauna. It wouldn't do, after all, to scare off a flock of birds that would act like a flare, alerting their enemies to their exact whereabouts.

               This was an uneventful plan and had no flaws—until the river stretched out before them, blocking their path. Bishop snapped her head his way in disbelief.

               "We didn't make a wrong turn," Miguel insisted. He tapped his right index finger against his temple. "I've got all the bodies of water in Olancho and Colón memorized, as well as a few other critical ones in the surrounding departamentos. States," he elaborated, since her familiarity with Honduras was questionable.

               "I know how Honduras is structured—I'm not green," she sniped. She pointed at the flowing water. "If this is an offshoot of the Sico, then we can go around it, right?"

               "Depends on how much more time you don't have to waste."

               She chewed on her lower lip. "And crossing?"

               Miguel walked up to the water's edge and knelt close. The water ran a foot lower than normal, judging by how much of the riverbed wall showed. So, another lucky break. That said… "We could try it, though I can't see through to the bottom." He twisted his head up as Bishop joined him to survey their options. "You swim, Raye?"

               "I always preferred baseball to swimming, but I can survive just fine."

               He grinned. "I see why Shadow gave you your codename now. You're a 'Raye' of sunshine, aren't you?"

               Clearly Bishop had spent far too much time around his unforgiving Nico. If looks could kill…

               Miguel gestured towards the river's arm and removed his facón from his belt to wrap it in his thin jacket, which he tied as tightly as he could stand around his neck. He didn't wait for Bishop to mimic his actions as he sat at the water's edge and slid into the murky depths.

               The swim was short and quick, especially with the water rather calm on a day disturbed by nothing more than a few breezes. On the other side, Miguel climbed out and shook himself dry as best he could, removing his shoes to empty them of extra water. Bishop arrived a minute after him.

               "You chucked the gun," he noticed as she also shook out her shoes.

               Bishop untied her windbreaker from her neck—ah, so she'd parroted him anyway—and revealed her phone from inside its waterproof lining. Stunningly, she'd dismantled the gun, too, and Miguel thought he caught sight of another clip or two tucked into the lining as she reassembled the weapon.

               "Now if only you had a hairdryer in your pockets," Miguel joked, "we'd be saved from having to suffer in the humidity."

               He'd said it half faced away from her, but he was fairly certain Bishop cracked a smile. Well, maybe he could make it through this arrangement without fearing Bishop would bite his head off before he could complete his own mission.

               On this other side, the grasses were shorter and the trees, fewer. Miguel could smell the dirt paths before he saw them, and he led them slightly westward.

               "I thought you said Limón was that way," Bishop said, gesturing in the opposite direction.

               "And it is. But we don't want to hug the Sico right now. There's a locality up ahead, less than twenty minutes away on foot."

               "Their allegiance…"

               He sent her a grim smile. "Do not think so morbidly, Sunshine." He laughed at her pout. "No, they're not under anyone's thumb. But in a town of around five hundred, two new faces stick out. We're better off far from them. Keeps them and us safe."

               Bishop nodded, twice, perhaps once in agreement and a second time to reassure herself. She seemed the calculating type, the kind not to rush in without all the data. And yet…this line of work…

               "May I ask one thing?" Miguel said. They waited behind a boulder for the sounds of a dairy truck to fade into the distance, though Miguel was certain they hadn't been seen.

               "Not about me, nor why I'm here, nor about him," she replied curtly.

               Oh, he understood all that. "You seem capable, Raye…and yet unprepared. Dropped into Honduras too soon?"

               Bishop fought to keep her hands on the mock-UZI, but she relented, and one hand found its way to her neck to scratch a phantom itch. "No."

               "Mm."

               "…Tim's better at finding his footing by land."

               Miguel raised his eyebrows.

               Bishop glanced at him and tore her eyes away to peek around the boulder. "The tall, brainy one. He and our…former fearless leader are better with that stuff learned in the Scouts."

               Ah. McGee, Nico had called him. The other character Miguel knew to be Gibbs, but only by name, one he'd overheard in passing conversation amongst Nico's team. "You haven't picked up these things yet?"

               She frowned. "Knowing and putting into practice are two different things."

               How very true. Overthrowing a dictator, having a family—Miguel knew the truth of knowledge versus experience.

               "Coast is clear," Bishop announced. She stood without warning, signaling the end of their friendly chat.

               They crossed a major dirt road without further incidence, and Miguel's outlook improved. Within half an hour, they'd be exiting Olancho and entering Colón—faster, if they could find transport. Then he'd get Bishop within a stone's throw of Limón before he split for Puerto Castilla, and he'd remedy the botched part of this mission another time. All in a day's work.

               "Rain," Bishop murmured.

               It took Miguel a second to realize she meant him (was this her way of trying to stick to Shadow's teachings?), and the delay had him almost walk into a patch of afternoon sunlight…that would've given him away to a strange checkpoint at the department border. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the alternating lights and shadows, and Bishop pinched his sleeve and dragged him behind some nearby trees.

               "Is that normal?" she asked him.

               "No… Something's not right," Miguel replied.

               Bishop passed him her gun and took out her phone and an attachment, which she affixed to the top of her device. The attachment turned out to be a digital zoom, like a scope but for her phone. He looked over her head at the clear picture on the screen. "These guys are equipped and alert. And not government."

               Miguel huffed. "They're probably looking for us." He dragged a hand over his face. It was one thing to let the CIA underestimate La Ventana. But he'd been sloppy, too, thinking the few sophisticated bodies were kept close to the top of the food chain and never disseminated on foot for what might otherwise be considered grunt work. "Slip past them?"

               "I was hoping to barrel right through."

               "Running out of time?"

               Bishop turned a light shade of green.

               Miguel wondered. Was she about to complete only another leg of her mission? Was she heading off on another? Or was she aiming for her own exfil?

               He also wondered if she had considered that, being new to this line of work, she could still walk away before it sucked her in too deeply.

               Resigned, Miguel huffed again. "Barrel, it is. But let's keep the casualties to a minimum, Raye."

               She quirked an eyebrow at him, but she followed along nonetheless when he motioned for her to skulk behind him closer to the road funneling into the makeshift checkpoint.

               "We want a sturdy vehicle. A Jeep or some kind of truck with all-terrain tires," he whispered over his shoulder as they watched vehicles come and go.

               "Those guns aren't the castoffs the guys from earlier had. They could have armor-piercing rounds," Bishop pointed out. "You think someone's going to drive up with an armored vehicle?"

               "No. But we won't be driving through the checkpoint."

               "I thought you said we were going to barrel through!"

               "Patience, Sunshine."

               Bishop groused in what he swore was a Middle Eastern language. He didn't have enough familiarity to identify which, because the Company liked to keep him in the Americas, but he made a mental note at least to look up some slang and translate her ire when he was safely and soundly awaiting extrication later today.

               The better part of ten minutes passed without a decent car to hijack. Only half a dozen vehicles came this way in that timeframe, mainly sedans and even a motorbike.

               Bishop shoved his arm and motioned to the bike when it appeared. She waved incessantly in its direction.

               But Miguel shook his head. "It's small. It might fit two of us, but do you have a second canister of gasoline on you? And that tank's not full; the last place they could've tanked up was the locality we avoided earlier."

               She sighed and blew a hunk of hair out of her face.

               After another five minutes, a bright red Jeep splattered with dried mud on its sides drove up the road. Flashy, but beggars couldn't be choosers in their situation. "Now!" Miguel barked at Bishop, and they both shot up from their hiding spots to run in front of the Jeep, which screeched to a halt.

               The driver, a young man in his twenties, was alone, and he panicked, frantically trying to undo his seatbelt while trying to keep both hands visible. It didn't help him to have Bishop enter the door-less passenger side and stick the muzzle of her gun in his cheek, but at least he knew to keep his hands up then.

               "Lo siento," Miguel offered the driver with a soft, placating smile. That contrasted his facón, however, which he'd palmed swiftly during the driver's confusion. Miguel flipped the long blade around so the knife pointed towards him, and Miguel reached slowly with his free hand to unbuckle the driver.

               The damn thing stuck.

               "Es un enorme focop," Miguel growled under his breath as he went the obvious route and cut the belt loose. He yanked the driver free, but the driver's eyes were locked on Miguel the entire time.

               He'd heard his grumble. Double damn.

               Miguel slugged the driver without a second thought. The young man slumped to the ground, unconscious but alive, but the scuffle had caught the attention of one of the men at the checkpoint. He squinted their way and shouted for Miguel to stop, since Bishop couldn't be seen, having ducked below the dashboard out of sight.

               There wasn't any time left to form a plan, only to react. Miguel swung himself up behind the steering wheel and yanked the wheel to the right, avoiding running over the driver and sending him and Bishop hurtling off the dirt path into the copse on the other side.

               Unfortunately, this time not only did gunfire follow them as well as shouts but so did the sound of engines coming to life, gears whining as other vehicles attempted to chase them into greenery. The cacophony only grew as they ploughed on and the greenery evened out and a main road, something paved, emerged—but this was just in time, offering them the only way across another offshoot of the Río Sico.

               Five vehicles on their tail, with some riders taking aim. Luckily, Bishop had popped up and twisted around in her seat, aiming right back.

               "Save your ammo!" Miguel yelled above the rumble.

               Bishop remained trained on the other gunmen a beat longer before dropping down and facing forward in her seat. "I wouldn't have to if you hadn't punched him!" she snapped. She shot him a dirty look he only caught out of the corner of his eye. "What the hell, Miguel?!"

               "Allow this viejo to impart some wisdom: Never say anything anyone can use to identify you or narrow it down, unless you mean to give yourself away," he replied, half wanting to laugh but mostly wanting to kick himself. But if there was a joke in his words, it was lost on her; maybe he'd teach her a word or two of Panamanian slang another time (and, honestly, he was surprised she hadn't picked it up from Nico—though, perhaps Nico had lost some of it…).

               "Son of a b—Miguel, watch out!"

               Miguel pulled hard on the wheel, but the greenery that had grown sparse around them dropped off too suddenly. They were airborne, and a mix of hard, packed soil and sandy topsoil was coming up to greet them far too fast. "Jump!"

               Bishop propelled herself out the open passenger side, but Miguel lost sight of her when he covered his head and tucked into a roll that was a few feet too high off the ground to be anything but soft.

               He landed, hard, on his left arm and knee. The Jeep crashed several yards away, smoke billowing from the crumpled front. When Miguel stumbled to his feet, he saw that the seats had bent, as well. He and Bishop would've been trapped, if not worse.

               He snapped out of his stupor and scrambled close to the cliff's edge, working his way to where Bishop had aimed herself. He found her mock-UZI first, in numerous pieces that not even she could put back together. Then he spied the blood-red windbreaker, splayed—

               —shit, he wouldn't only be answering to Shadow but to Nico, Miguel just knew it, he could picture it, it was why the color drained out of his face—

               —but then the jacket stirred. Rather, the body underneath. Bishop gave a shuddering cough, but she managed to sit up, slowly, painfully, he guessed, by how she winced. She pulled a face when he knelt in front of her. "Ow," she moaned.

               "What hurts?"

               "Everything." Bishop closed her eyes. "My ribs ache the most," she answered another moment later.

               "Likely bruised after a fall like that," Miguel surmised, "but probably not broken if you can breathe so easily." His left forearm twinged, but he tried not to think about it. Instead, he kept his focus on her. "Can you stand?" He offered her a hand up, but Bishop ignored it.

               "Yeah, I'm good." She flexed her arms and legs as if to be sure she were, in fact, well. Then she glanced at the cliff. "I can hear them coming. Are we still far from Limón?" Panic crept into her tone.

               Miguel began walking (agh, his damn left knee ached) and shook his head. "After the river crossing, we had barely half a mile left until we entered Colón. From here to Limón is around thirty miles. If we pace ourselves, we can do this on foot. But…"

               Her face fell. "It'll take all day. It'll take more than all day. Crap, it'll be dark by the time I arrive."

               If they were lucky, it'd still be dark. But Miguel kept that remark to himself.

               They moved urgently for a good twenty minutes. This was no hardship on the uninjured Bishop. On the other hand, Miguel's knee became his primary concern, slowing his pace from a brisk walk to a lazy stroll. And, after several glances behind her to see what was keeping Miguel, Bishop finally piped up, "You're hurt."

               "We'll get you there, don't worry."

               "I'm not some package to be delivered, despite how O—" She stopped and took a calming breath. "Never mind what Shadow said. I can still make it on my own even if you only gave me detailed directions from this point. But can you make it to your—your boat, wherever it is?"

               Miguel chuckled. "I've yet to meet anything that will stop me, Raye."

               "There's a first time for everything." She took a few steps back and joined him at his side. She wasn't doing well, holding on to that icy side of her she'd displayed this morning upon their reunion. Miguel couldn't decide if that was American of her or the woman's own unique softness showing through, since he didn't know her well enough.

               He shook his head, not willing to argue with her. "How's your conversational Spanish?"

               "Es muy pasable," she answered with a mediocre accent. But, he could tell, it would mature with practice.

               "Bien. If our luck holds, the checkpoint bastards didn't bother descending to the crash scene to check for our bodies and we might be far away enough to risk flagging someone down."

               "You mean hail someone the rest of the way?"

               Miguel nodded.

               Bishop pursed her lips and looked him over. "How bad are we going to stand out?"

               He wiped the dirt on his cheek and ran a hand back and forth through his hair. "We can't do anything about our clothes, but we should be fine." He did a double-take. "Your neck."

               Bishop's hand flew to the base of her neck, where it met her left collarbone. She pulled her fingers away and studied the guck. "Dried blood and dirt. Must've been from the strap of my gun when I left the Jeep. I'm not bleeding anymore, though."

               "That's good. But any blood will scare people away, so zip up your jacket."

               She wiped her fingers on her black jeans and did as instructed. They resumed their trek after, but she didn't move ahead of him as before. She stayed close, as though she might offer him an arm the second he needed it.

               Out this way, one dirt road met another and led to another, and ocean waters salted the air. Homes were fewer and far between, dotting hamlets that led into and made up Limón. The sun hung high in the sky, but no cars slowed enough for Bishop to catch or had enough room for the pair to bother hailing. There weren't all that many cars to begin with.

               "I'm beginning to think we jinxed ourselves somehow—" Bishop stopped short, her eyes lighting up as a farming truck clambered along the road in front of them. She darted out, waving her arms to flag the driver down, and the man tipped his hat up while he listened to Bishop's story. Miguel hobbled over in time to hear Bishop explain that her "uncle" had injured himself on their hike, so they were looking for a ride to Limón or somewhere close enough for assistance.

               For his part, Miguel tried to look the least intimidating as possible. That must've sold it, because the man waved the pair into the back, which was a simple, latched, open back.

               "Invalids first," Bishop insisted with a smirk after she unhitched the back door.

               "You joke because you only have bruised ribs."

               She shrugged and heaved herself up after Miguel scooched backwards and settled between crates of corn and a cage containing chickens. She latched the back and smacked the side, letting the farmer know he could drive. "Eh, I've been nearly blown up multiple times. Having to jump from a moving vehicle was nothing."

               Miguel snorted. "I thought Nico had chosen a safer line of work…," he thought aloud.

               Bishop lapsed into one of her quiet spells. This one lasted long enough that Limón proper was on their horizon and Miguel thought she'd dozed off. But then she mumbled, "Nowhere's really safe. That's why we work to make the world safer for those we love."

               He left that one alone. It wasn't that Miguel didn't have an opinion, but he doubted she'd want to hear that he empathized with her when it came to that sentiment.

               "Hemos llegado," the farmer announced as he pulled into the main village.

               "Gracias," Miguel thanked him as Bishop helped Miguel out of the back. They caught a few curious glances from passersby, and the farmer himself got out and came around to see if he could be of any assistance, but Miguel assured him that his "niece" was enough help. Although he didn't turn down directions to the best place to grab a bite.

               "Did I understand him correctly?" Bishop asked as they followed him into the large nearby building that resembled a two-story house more than did it a storefront. "The woman in here runs a small bakery…and organizes the main market…and is sort of…the village doctor?"

               "That's what I heard. So I can get something in my stomach and something for the pain."

               Bishop clearly found this dubious. But she didn't need to worry about that, least of all as Miguel handled the rapid-fire Spanish to catch up all the interested parties. She even stayed at the table offered to them when the baker/doctor shuffled off to go make them something fresh.

               Miguel gave Bishop a moment. Then he prodded her: "Mutually beneficial arrangement met, Raye. Don't you have your timetable to keep?"

               Funnily enough, she hesitated. She glanced at the icepack the baker/doctor had wrapped around his knee and met his eyes. Bishop dropped her hand into her pocket. "I'll be right back," she said upon standing. She hid it well, but Miguel caught the sleight-of-hand she used to return her earpiece to her ear as she walked away and went outside to contact Shadow.

               With Bishop gone for the moment, Miguel loosed in a sigh some of the tension from his shoulders and ran over today's events in his mind's eye. It still was difficult for him to reconcile this "Raye" Bishop with the Agent Ellie Bishop he'd met earlier this year back in the States. Some things he could extrapolate—she'd been careful around him back then and watchful over Nico, protective of Nico, and today she all but refused to discuss his son at all with Miguel, yet still in that protective manner of hers.

               But other aspects of her today…Miguel admired and respected. How could he not, when she was a kindred spirit, not only taking up this rough work but seemingly for the same reasons he had?

               "Spirit." The word made him smile a bit. If Miguel was a ghost from Nico's past, then that made Bishop a ghost from Nico's present. He found this doubly humorous since he and Bishop were both, according to the lingo, spooks now.

               "I thought the doctor said she was out of aspirin until tomorrow," Bishop said warily, cocking her head at Miguel as she slowed her approach when she returned.

               Miguel didn't suppress his smile but also didn't want to explain it. "Oh, I'm just thinking what a day it's been," he admitted honestly.

               Bishop gripped the back of her chair but didn't sit back down. "About that…"

               He nodded. "Don't let me keep you. I can pay these people back for their kindness, and the farmer said he's driving fish from here to where I'm heading later tonight, so I'm all set."

               "Shadow's covered our thanks already," Bishop said quietly. "I…just wanted to thank you."

               Ah, yes. There it was. That reluctance, like her temper, was Nico's having rubbed off on her. And yet…there was a spark there all her own that Miguel liked, too.

               Being back in D.C., around a grown Nicholas, had hurt and relieved him. Miguel had had the opportunity to see his son in a new environment, to see that Nico had found people who cared for him. But…those same people cared for his Nico, which was why Miguel could push down his hurt, almost laugh it off, and politely extend his hand to Bishop now.

               "Let's do this again sometime," he stated. His tone was light, could be construed as teasing, but it was a serious offer.

               Bishop, as expected, settled him with a dry look. She didn't shake his hand but gave him a curt nod and went out the back door, preceded by a silhouette that Miguel wondered and doubted was Shadow in the flesh.

               As his morning had begun, Miguel Torres ended his day alone, on his own, but this time without the gunfire. That said… He picked apart a pastry the baker/doctor brought him while he waited for the farmer to ready the truck to head out.

               Perhaps Bishop believed Nico's words about him, and Miguel hadn't done much to correct his track record—outside of work-related things, his word couldn't really be trusted, simply because he had a hard time keeping it. But "let's do this again" was an offer extended to her and to Shadow—and a promise to himself, on Nicholas' behalf, for Nicholas' sake:

               Miguel had screwed up enough of his son's life. So if he could have a hand in keeping alive the woman Nico loved—who plainly, stubbornly loved him back—then perhaps Nico and Bishop could someday have the happiness Miguel never could have with Nico's mother.

8D Y'OKAY. So, I had an inkling after ep12, "Sangre," that I would do smthg, someday, with Torres' dad, but I had NO CLUE the s18 finale would inspire this! BUT I RLY LOVED THIS IDEA AND RAN WITH IT. :3c Can you tell? :3c There are just…so many things I could say about this fic, but I think I'll try to let the story doing the talking, *lol*. Tho some things I want to point out: Bishop's travelling under her middle name here, but Miguel did guess correctly about why Odette gave her the codename "Sunshine." XD (Also, I love this trio's codenames???) While I did do a chunk of research on Honduras for my setting, this is deffo a fictionalized depiction of Limón and its inhabitants/visitors! Some of the locations I chose, I found only lmtd resources for, hence my fictionalization is partially based in fact (for instance, Limón rly is split up into hamlets and a main village). Let's leave alone the bullshit physics of bullet-in-tire, *lol*. XD Hmm, what else… Ah, Miguel using "focop": This is Panamanian slang; it is what it sounds like, "fuck up." (I always love looking up slang for both fic and original stories, *lol*.) Oh, as mentioned in the closing A/N for "Anchor," I'm a big fan of L.J. Hayward's Death and the Devil series, which I'm currently reading alongside Adrian Howell's Psionic Pentalogy, and the action/adventure elements in both rly just had me in the mood to write smthg like this, tho Hayward's spy writing deffo had a heavier influence on this. XD (Highly rec both series!) Lastly…honestly, I could see myself revisiting this premise/universe, of Miguel & Bishop crossing paths. After all, Odette did say it: "What's sunshine without a little rain?" ;D

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

[univers-paralleles-de-millina]

Le café des délices T1 : La rencontre de LINDA DA SILVA

Le café des délices T1 : La rencontre de LINDA DA SILVA Une lecture légère qui aborde des thèmes intéressants... Mais quelques petits hic !? si vous souhaitez en savoir plus, la suite sur ce lien ;D

Fragment de livre en guise de mise en bouche :

— Sophie, comment vas-tu ? Tu as l’air préoccupée, remarque Odette en affichant un air inquiet.

— Ça se voit tant que ça… répond Sophie en soufflant.

— Est-ce que tu souhaites en parler ?

— Comme tu le sais, cela fait maintenant trois ans que nous avons déposé un dossier de demande d’adoption et j’avoue que je commence à perdre patience. Ils…

[the-mf-bread-babies]

9/5/2020

BACKGROUND CHECK

NULL HQ was always busy, but today was considered an achievement for their hard work in researching the backgrounds of fifty rogues within fifty days in the form of an event where the research team went through hell to satisfy the needs of the Top 50. The 50/50/50 event, it was called, and it was held on a certain chairman's 7th 43rd birthday. If this work sounds weird, I made it while dehydrated, ok. And that chairman was none other than Satan herself, Karén Stéphane Alodie Basilie Blanche Capucine Odette Delphine-Aveline. And yes, her surname does indeed mean Dolphin Hazelnut Tree. Don't ask why.

Today, the fruit that formed by the water of companionship, the nutrients of underpaid employees, the sunlight and carbon dioxide of the terrible ventilation system of the office and the fertilizer of illegal sharing of confidential information had finally ripened and was ready to be plucked by Madame Delphine-Aveline.

The Top 50 had prepared a luxurious vacation for their hardworking employees situated at the tropical rainforest-slash-whatever of New York City Jungle. Yes, having your employees temporarily staying at a nice three-star abandoned hotel and at risk of being eaten by human-animal genetic abominations was quite inhumane, but so is simply letting them spend the day off returning home to their family that died of starvation at the hands of NULL. It's a complicated situation that was one of many developed by the fusion.

Karén hastily dashed to her three-storey private office that also had a swimming pool in it because she was rich, the sounds of her high heels clacking against the hardwood flooring of the 45th floor of the headquarters. Her white woman bracelet-strewn hand was tightly clutching dossiers of the peasants under her.

They had posed a great threat to them after they had exposed a great deal of evidence surrounding NULL’s harsh treatment of, well, everything, and while that was common sense among everyone, the Top 50 still felt hurt with the rogues' selfish actions. The dossiers were their way of striking back even harder towards the revolutionists of Eris-10, the very revolutionists that scatter across the globe, and particularly one group of them squatting in a town in the Crepitus section. Yes, those guys. The Hellspawns. The Wicked, Twisted, Rapidly-Changing-Number Evils of the World. T3G, The Three Thot Groups, the legendary…

Fifty Fighters.

Are they fifty individual fighters? Do they fight the Top 50? Or do they simply have a personal grudge against random numbers? Yes.

The tragedy that made them so important to NULL was uncertain.

Their group contains a family actively running away from NULL, three would-be NULL agents, an individual who gives intense neck therapy to NULL agents, multiple individuals who steal top-secret NULL engineering projects, an individual who worked as an exterminator for NULL and thusly has blueprints of NULL centres embedded into their head, a reprogrammed NULL spy robot, three individuals who were previously under the possession of NULL in environmental capsules, a genetic abomination made by NULL scientists as a PET, a cat, a triple agent responsible for several terrorist attacks on NULL centres who also happens to be a member of the most dangerous group of hitmen in the universe, THE RINGLEADERS, who also HAPPEN to be in good relations with the revolutionist group, because of said single father of two to four that's weirdly close with one of the three individuals who were would-be NULL agents.

Of course this group would be in NULL’s death list.

With that being said, leaving the team that actively worked to obtain information on the threatening individuals to die on a classified location while being observed by scientists might not be the best payment. But it's still a payment.

As the Frenchwoman sat in her £3,000 foldable spinny office chair that can also massage the user, she splayed out the dossier files across her £50,000 hardwood-base granite-surfaced countertops surrounding the area, hidden by rare plants that were watered with diamond-flavoured water. She sighed and leaned the chair back as she snapped her fingers, kindly reminding one of her personal assistants to bring her another large dose of caffeine to get her rusty gears running.

As she waited impatiently, she retrieved her $5,000,000,000 laptop from her Chanel x Gucci x Fendi x Apple x Louis Vuitton x Microsoft x Google x Hunter × Hunter x The Entire Country of Russia x Sonic X x Amazon purse. The laptop was said to be the one that the late Mark Zuckerberg was using as she strangled him to death for not responding sooner to her email on user information. Unfortunately, the email had went straight to the spam folder.

Her fingers were playing a dramatic symphony on the keyboard, her face stern and unchanging.

“good anniversary gifts for Her”

Her 50¢ sunglasses-covered orbs glared at her demand on Bing as she violently clicked the search button. As the ancient website loaded and the screen, white and static and dangerously bright because she doesn't know how to adjust the brightness, she wondered what sequence of surprises would bring joy to her wife currently stationed overseas. God, if only she could join her in creating genetic abominations. So romantic if she could.

Her curiosity was halted suddenly as the assistant rushed in, hands holding a tray. Situated on the tray was a jug of black coffee, a bottle of vodka, a bottle of liquoré, three stolen packets of sea salt, and a mug that read “#0 B0SS”, accompanied with a dagger with a fashioned concave end, resembling a spoon.

Of course, you could still stab someone with it. It's just that the lady's so dangerous she stirs coffee with a dagger, that's all.

The rich bitch glared as her assistant put the contents of the tray onto the coffee table at a glacial pace, also keeping an eye out for any spills made. “Here you are, madame,” the assistant nervously chuckled. Well, that was uncalled for. Her assistants were all given a strict order to not speak to her unless absolutely urgent or if needed to. This one must be new.

“How long have you been working in zis position for, exactly, mïéáæèy chérìè?” Dolphin-HazelnutTree asked with a thin, long smile across her face, eyeing a sea salt packet that was slightly teared.

“Two months, madame,” she smiled. A kind face, clearly inexperienced. “My name is Pauline,” she added, further breaking the rules.

The woman who has a herb for a middle name made an odd face to be observed, only to move towards the young lady who insulted her to hell and back. “Paulíne,” she gently whispered, “I’m glad to know those two months are over,” Pauline's face went pale.

“Faghewell,”

The last word Pauline had heard echoed in her head as Capucine stabbed her in the abdomen while staring down at her falling corpse.

With the dagger spoon. She stabbed her with the dagger spoon. Karén sat on her desk, crossing her legs stylishly.

“Why do I always have bad luck after my birthdays? First, ze bad fughe coat, now zis. I might as well just set zis whole thing on fighea tomorrow.” She uttered, uncaring about Pauline choking on her own blood.

“About ze blood, go call someone to clean it up, dear,” Basil Lady said while examining her perfectly manicured nails.

“You’ve brought too much eggs for ze baguette, now suffer under ze firm hands of it,” she taught nonchalantly. An old French proverb, unsuitable to be said by someone simply learning it on Duolingo such as Pauline.

Pauline was struggling to add even anything to their light feud other than death gargles, and soon, a light thump on the white fur rug, her blood painting it red.

The Baguette pursed her thin, dry lips and stared at the Wannabe Baguette. She lost her train of thought for a few seconds before realising the task at hand.

“Annivaghsaghy gifts! Rghight!”

She spun herself around the desk and sat back down to review the possible gifts. “Hmm…” she scrolled down the BuzzFeed article promoting various products. “Jewelghy? Too cheap. New dghess? Wardghobe's full. Potted plants? Not her thing. Floor cleaner…” she pondered. “Unfortunately, no.” She mumbled, sipping on her unusual beverage.

She stared out the window, thinking. Lists like this roaming around the Internet and made by simpletons didn't contain the spice her relationship had. Basil. Hazelnut. Karén had to think of something else, something more uniqué. Something more fitting for their… uniqué relationship that had a certain je ne sais quoi. A little la souris dans le film avec le gars des pâtes. To be specific, Je ne connais pas cette langue et je ne fais que copier et coller depuis Google Translate. Veuillez aider.

Her eyes fixated on the view outside, never constant, always having something new to be added. Buildings ranging from fallen skyscrapers turned into bridges to supermarkets hosting her greatest enemies. What would her wife like?

And then it clicked.

Homemade bread. Yes, bread wasn't really a topic they talked about often, but if they baked bread together, it would be quite nice. Karén was daydreaming into the distance, not paying attention to the hurricane of messages received on her computer.

It wasn't until her other personal assistants came in with cleaning supplies and a body bag that she stopped and continued to focus on like, eating, I guess, the fruit mentioned in Paragraph 2. She cleared her throat as she picked up the dossiers splayed out on the countertops in her office, arranging them neatly on her desk and preparing to read them.

The first file was thick, and full of information. Knowing it would consume the most of her precious time, she put it aside. Karén sighed as she sorted the files, knowing her wife would have loved gossiping about this with her. Her eyes went to the laptop screen, wondering if she could call her lover for a short while and have a nice conversation. However, a notification distracted her from her wants. An email addressing the rescheduling of the next meeting for the Top 50. She opened it with a frown.

It was from Lee. “HELLO ALL I WILL BE RESCHEDULIG OUR NEXT METTING TO TWO MONTHS ATTER” God, the man has such bad email etiquette. Maybe if he opted to switch out those horrid sunglasses for a good pair of glasses, he'd be able to type in something other than all uppercase letters and sudden typos.

“I AM SORRY FOR THIS SUDDDDEN CHGNE. INWILL BE FOING TO NYCJ FOR A BUSINES TRIP. I AM SORRY. BEST REGARDS STEVEN!”

The Frenchwoman gasped but then immediately retracted it due to fear of her assistants finding out that she has emotions. Really, Steven? The jungle? Out of all people, you? What the fuck, Steve?

This was the last straw. Karén baguetted hastily to the elevator, stabbing the button going down to the basement with an elegant dagger, sparkling with the various gemstones encrusted into its hilt. She angry white woman yelled in the elevator walls, but not before snatching the security camera so no one caught her.

As she was screaming out of dramatic French anger, the elevator halted at the third floor and opened its doors to an intern business agent. Curses. She was so blinded by her own anger that she accidentally took the peasants’ elevator instead of her usual one.

The intern awkwardly stepped into the corner of the elevator, driving his eyes to anywhere but the Frenchwoman. As the peasant transportation cage descended to the basement floor, she stormed towards NULL’s gas station. She wormed her way into the back and stole three jerry cans of gasoline, cradling them as if they were her arsonist-endorsing children. She also made sure to grab some fancy cigarettes, so that it would be a dramatic scene. What is ‘it’? You'll see.

Karén had just finished the finale of a Hulu original series following a woman struggling with motherhood and marriage. Apparently, all she got from the series was that kids are evil, and landlords aren't. Also, arson is always the best plan. Also also, Reese Witherspoon is an excellent actress who is also kind of pretty. But not as pretty as her wife. Oh, and she forgot about the whole Kerry Washington subplot. Probably wasn't that important.

She dashed into Steven's office, which was conveniently close to hers, as she was #23 and he was #24. Karén laughed maniacally as she doused the whole thing in gasoline, unaware of Drogomann sitting on the sofa watching her.

“Um, salutations.”

“WHAT ZE HELL!!?”

Drogomann stared at the struggling woman, judging her every move. Karén’s panicking had spilled the gasoline out of the other two jerry cans, the accelerant flowing down the hallway. The dragon lady noticed this but didn't pay it any care. “Yes! Hello there, my good friend! How are you doing now, Darlamean?” she asked, her voice cracking intermittently.

Darlamean. Really?

The hunter rolled her eyes as she picked up her pet dragon, Currents. It's the least she could do to prevent this crazy French lady from burning down her husband's office. “Doth thou needeth a handeth?” she asked mockingly, shoving Currents into her face. The action had backfired, since Karén had a primal urge to smack the dragon out of her face.

“DON'T SLAPPETH CURRENTS!” Currents was too young to use his wings, so this was bad. Stoorworm panicked as she tripped over one of Karén’s arms as she was trying to catch Currents. The young dragon had thankfully not learned how to use its powers yet, thankfully, and didn't burn down the building. Still, it made everyone in the room panic like hell, especially Karén, but it was for nothing…

However, Karén tends to smoke when she's panicking, and even though this was a situation where smoking was the last thing someone would do, her pattern of reacting to panic did not register the fact that doing so would cause the room, if not, the whole building to burn down, and also would cause her and many others to die, engulfed in flames.

Regardless of the situation, she still instinctively pulled out a cigarette and started to light it without even noticing what she was doing. Drogomann, on the other hand, was busy examining Currents’ current state, searching for any injuries.

The sound of the friction of the cigarette against the weird sandpaper thing on the box (I have not seen a cigarette box up close in years, if not never, so don't expect me to know how this whole thing works ok) had alerted Drogomann as she was, you know, paying attention to the task and hand and not, like, panicking. Considering she deals with herself constantly being on the brink of being set on fire by one of her pets, she's trained herself to, like, Really pay attention to fire and stuff so yeah.

“Ho, dumbass, stop that,” Drogomann shouted. “Doth thee wanteth to kill us?” “Thee baguette? Huh? Huh?” She added, stuffing her pet dragon into her pocket, running towards Karén. “Mérghèhdé!” The Frenchwoman panicked, still. Despite Drogomann’s warning, the flame had already been lit, and the fire grew.

“Merde! Merde! Merde!” Drogomann retrieved a fire extinguisher from behind Steven's desk. Karén was still screaming in French. “Runneth, wench!” Stoorworm politely advised as she started spraying the forbidden Kool-aid powder across the floor. “MERDE!!!” Karén yelled as she ran out of the room, crying. Drogomann sighed as she extinguished the flame successfully, disappointed at the foolishness of the dumbass.

“Ashes. Flames have been reduced. Thank God we didn't die, right? I was here, you know,” the medieval lady said. “Merci! Merci beaucoup, mon ami! You saved my la vie! If it wasn't for you I would be morte!!!” The modern day lady thanked her profusely, “Hi-hi, you are étourdissante, Dghogomann!” Oh, so that's all it takes to get Karén to remember her name. Saving her life. And also insulting her at the same time. Good to know.

“What will you be doing later, ma cherie?” Karén asked suggestively, playing with her twelve-foot-long hair, covered in dry ice(?). “Taking care of him. Touch Currents again, you'll die. Same goes for Steven,” Drogomann haiku’d. “What le fuque? Okay.” Karén nervously backed away.

“A married woman… should not make such offerings,” “Steven shall tell her.” She warned. “QUOI?!” She shouted in French. “Non, non, non, non, Dghogomann, please don't, s’il vous plaît, non, non,” She pleaded. “I’m kidding, Karén. But really, don't cheat on her,” Drogomann assured. “Geneticist, right?” she asked, a brow raisedth. “Y-Yes. Why?” Drogomann nodded intently.

“So she killeth stuff.”

“Huh?”

“Good to know. Watch out, Karén,”

“Don’t do stupid things.”

Drogomann walked out of the room, cradling Currents, avoiding the gasoline and kicking any jerry cans that dared to stand in her way. “Clean this mess up, please. Someone might trip over them. Or burn the building.” She advised. “Rghogergh that, huntergh,��� Karén complied.

Now, all she has to do is to give her wife a call or two, get some anniversary gifts, maybe set up some surprise parties, and…

Oh God. Review multiple dossiers.

· fin ·

[lesamisdelalibrairiediderot]

Le mot de Diderot n°34 juillet 2020

C’est le dernier mot de Diderot avant la trêve estivale.

La librairie fermera ses portes le samedi 25 juillet et les rouvrira le mardi 18 août.

Pendant l’été vous avez toujours  la possibilité de participer à notre campagne de dons qui ne se terminera qu’au début du mois de septembre.

Une fois encore nous n’avons que peu d’initiatives à vous signaler car la reprogrammation de nombreuses rencontres est encore difficile à organiser.

Nous serons néanmoins présents à la traditionnelle fête des Ayres qui se tiendra le 23 août.  En septembre nous reprendrons le cycle des apéros littéraires au prolé le 3ème samedi de chaque mois à 11h00.

Nous travaillons avec nos partenaires habituels à concocter de belles surprises à la rentrée dont nous vous reparlerons en temps voulu.

Enfin, nous vous offrons une dernière nouvelle du concours Nîmes Noir 2020

Nous vous souhaitons de passer un bel été.

La sélection du mois

ROMAN –  Le pays des autres  –  Leila SLIMANI  -  éditions  Gallimard –  368 pages – 20 €

Mathilde, jeune alsacienne, rencontre en 1944 Amine Bel Hadj, lieutenant marocain «engagé» (de force) sur le front de l’Est, dans le corps des Spahi. Ils vont se marier et elle va le suivre au Maroc où ils vont s’installer à Meknès sur les terres acquises par le père d’Amine, des terres ingrates qu’ils vont avoir toutes les peines du monde à fructifier. Les illusions d’Amine qui croyait avoir hérité de terres comparables à la Californie et celles de Mathilde qui se rêvait en Karen Blixen vont rapidement se fracasser contre la dure réalité de ce pays, protectorat français au bord de l’explosion indépendantiste. La description de la vie quotidienne dans ces années 50 , des hiérarchies insoutenables, de la condition des femmes et de la montée de l’aspiration nationaliste jusqu’à l’embrasement de 1956, constitue la toile de fond de ce premier volet d’une trilogie «Le Pays des autres». Leîla Slimani va faire intervenir de nombreux personnages dans la ville européenne, dans la médina, dans le bled aride, sans jamais prendre parti, mettant simplement en évidence leurs contradictions et leur complexité. Et une fois de plus ce sont les personnages féminins auxquels on va s’attacher particulièrement: Mathilde bien sûr, sa fille Aïcha, sa jeune belle-sœur Selma, sa belle-mère Mouilala, vivants témoignages de la triste condition des femmes qu’elles ne vont malheureusement pas remettre en cause.

L'histoire de ce couple franco-marocain, inspirée de la vie des grands-parents de l'autrice, est l'occasion de se plonger dans une vaste fresque historique, celle de la décolonisation du Maroc. Parallèlement, Leîla Slimani va observer toutes les complexités et les ambiguïtés de la relation d'assujettissement des locaux aux colons étrangers, mais aussi des femmes, ici doublement colonisées, à travers le joug français et celui des hommes, avec leurs aspirations et leurs désirs entravés, leurs joies et leurs peines, tout cela décrit sans aucun manichéisme. On est entraîné par des phrases souvent courtes et des images évocatrices, qui nous plongent dans l'atmosphère des lieux, du temps, et des gens. C’est un merveilleux et magnifique roman!

ROMAN –  Rhapsodie des oubliés  –  Sofia Aouine  -  Editions de la Martinière  –  208 pages – 18 €

On est dans le 18ème arrondissement, pas à Montmartre en haut, mais en bas, dans la rue Léon, entre les stations Barbès, Château Rouge et Marcadet, ce qu’on appelle aussi le quartier de la Goutte-d’Or.« Ma rue raconte l'histoire du monde avec une odeur de poubelles. Elle s'appelle rue Léon, un nom de bon Français avec que des métèques et des visages bruns dedans ». C’est Abad, treize ans, dont les parents sont venus du Liban, qui raconte le quotidien de ce quartier, une vie d’ado avec tous les problèmes d’ado (alcool, drogue, sexe, violence...) aggravés par les conditions misérables de cette population.

C’est un premier roman percutant, écrit dans une langue explosive, un roman noir influencé par le hip-hop et la soul music (on trouvera d’ailleurs une «play list» à la fin du livre).En choisissant comme narrateur Abad, qui est aussi le personnage principal, Sofia Aouine, reporter radio de profession, nous fait entrer sans transition dans le vif du sujet en nous faisant partager ses pensées, ses sentiments, ses émois, ses révoltes. Sans tomber dans la caricature, rien ne nous sera épargné des confrontations de Abad avec de multiples personnages aux surnoms pittoresques qu’ils soient de sinistres exploiteurs de la détresse des gens de ce quartier ou heureusement des personnes attachantes qui se trouvent être, une fois de plus, des femmes puissantes qui, chacune à sa manière, vont apporter un peu d’espoir à Abad. Ainsi Batman, jeune femme en hijab, dont il tombera éperdument amoureux, Gervaise, jeune congolaise obligée à se prostituer dans l’espoir de retrouver sa petite fille Nana restée au Congo , la vieille voisine Odette qui va suppléer une famille défaillante, la psychologue Ethel Futterman surnommée «la dame de l’ouvrir dedans», avec au passage des clins d’œil à Zola pour certains personnages et au Doinel des «400 coups» de Truffaut pour la ressemblance avec Abad. Un premier roman beau et fort pour l’évocation d’un quartier haut en couleurs, roman couronné du «Prix de Flore 2019». 

ROMAN –  La commode aux tiroirs – Olivia RUIZ  -  Editions Jean Claude LATTES  – 208  pages – 19,90 €

Une jeune femme hérite d'une commode aux dix tiroirs qui a nourri les fantasmes de son enfance. C'était interdiction de l'ouvrir pour les enfants ! Avec sa fille Nina, elle ouvre avec émotion les tiroirs et nous fait revivre la vie de Rita son Abuela (grand-mère) et dévoile les secrets qui ont scellé le destin de quatre générations de « femmes indomptables » Rita, Leoner, Carmen, Madrina vont nous faire traverser avec passion, amour, dureté ces temps-là et la vie. Elles iront toujours de l'avant !

Avec les hommes, Rafael l'amour de la vie de Rita, mort dans des conditions atroces en retournant en Espagne pour renverser Franco. Mais aussi Adré, Maisel, des hommes de cette époque.

La commode et Rita « réveillent un bout de vie ».

Nous connaissons la compositrice, l'interprète. Nous découvrons l'auteure pour un premier roman.

Ce livre nous parle de l'exil, de combats de femmes, d'amour, de tristesse. Au fil des pages nous sommes en Espagne, Toulouse, Narbonne...

Elle porte l'Espagne et nous percevons que ce livre est en elle depuis longtemps. Nous partageons le silence familial de la terrible histoire espagnole, que le franquisme a imposé durant plusieurs décennies à ce peuple. L'écriture libère et Olivia Ruiz fait référence à Boris Cyrulnik qui dans ses ouvrages travaille « la mécanique de reconstruction psychologique ». D'une nouvelle, elle en fait un roman profond sur l'histoire de femmes qui combattent pour leur liberté.

Un magnifique roman, d'une grande sensibilité. Ne passez à côté de ce livre !

JEUNESSE

La belle équipée, Sophie Vissière, Hélium, 17,90€

Au centre de vacances, une sortie en canoë est prévue mais pas pour Marthe, Charlie et Adama qui en sont privés. Ils ont été surpris en pleine bataille de boulette de pain!!!

Triste de ne pas pouvoir y participer les trois enfants s'ennuient. Mais très vite des idées pour s'occuper apparaissent. Débordant d'imagination ils décident de construire un bateau pour prendre le large et réfléchissent à quoi il pourrait ressembler.  Ils établissent la liste des objets nécessaires à la construction du bateau et chacun part à leur recherche, d'abord à trois, puis à deux ou tout seul... Mais ensemble c'est mieux. Ce bel album aux illustrions entièrement réalisées au pochoir, épurées et poétique nous montre chaque ��tapes des enfants dans leur recherche et la construction et nous renvoie au dernier chapitre "ensemble c'est mieux". Marthe, Charlie et Adama sont prêts pour l'aventure!

Une véritable ode au partage, à l'amitié et à l'imagination qui permet d'accomplir de belles choses. Voici une belle équipée que nous offre Sophie Vissière pour cet été!!!

Le grand voyage d'une Hirondelle : journal d'un oiseau migrateur, Pavel Kvartalnov ; ill. Olga, Ptashnik, Rue du monde, 18€

Pendant l'été les hirondelles sont là, avec nous en Europe. C'est le cas de la narratrice qui a vu le jour un 26 mai en Irlande avec ses frères et sœurs. A partir de là, l'hirondelle va nous expliquer dans un journal de bord comment elle est naît, comment et pourquoi elle s'envole vers d'autres horizons. C'est le récit de sa migration qu'elle nous conte, les paysages qu'elle traverse et voit du ciel, la traversée de la mer, la route pour l'Afrique, les autres oiseaux qu'elle rencontre jusqu'à l'endroit où elle et sa famille passeront l'hiver. Et le printemps d'après refaire le voyage pour revenir en Europe mais pas forcément dans le pays de sa naissance !

Rue du monde nous offre une nouvelle fois un magnifique album – documentaire – carnet de voyage, signé par un ornithologue. Les illustrations sont tendres et poétique, nous invitant à faire le voyage avec l'hirondelle qui à travers son observation de la nature nous documente sur l'utilité des plumes. C'est aussi un album sur la différence et le vivre ensemble à travers les diverses espèces d'oiseaux rencontrés qui comme l'hirondelle peuvent migrer où bien rester sur place !

Sans nul doute un album à mettre dans toutes les mains, petites ou grandes !

La collection TotemKili, Rue du Monde, 7,80€

Souvent publiés en format album quelques années auparavant, cette collection  propose des courtes histoires aux enfants qui commencent à lire tout seuls (6-9ans). Un lien entre l'album et le roman. A la fin de chaque ouvrage on trouve « l'atelier des infos » avec des informations et des commentaires sur la thématique de l'histoire.

Dans On lit trop dans ce pays de Daniel Picouly et Pef aux illustrations, le dossier éclaire sur le thème du livre (l'imprimerie, les bibliothèques, le pouvoir de lire, l'illettrisme, le bonheur de lire...).

Donc en plus d'avoir une belle histoire, c'est aussi un lien avec le savoir.

Déjà 8 titres parus en 2019, cette année TotemKili reviens cette année avec 6 nouveaux titres :

On lit Trop dans ce pays, Daniel Piccouly et PeF

Machin Truc-Chouette, Hubert Ben Kemoun et Véronique Joffre

Scoop !,  Gianni Rodari et Pef

Le courage de Nao, Michel Piquemal et Zaü

Ben et le loup, Raphaelle Frier et Loren Larnicol

Le jour où j'ai habité dans la jungle, Alain Serres et Anna Griot

De plus pour la 17ième année Rue du Monde participe à « l'été des bouquins solidaires », une opération qui doit permettre d'offrir un livre à des milliers d'enfants "oubliés des vacances" via le Secours populaire français (SPF). En achetant un de ces 6 titres, vous permettrez aux enfants « Oubliés des vacances » d'avoir un livre. En raison de la situation sanitaire, le SPF a dû renoncer cette année à organiser sa traditionnelle "Journée des oubliés des vacances" au bord de la mer qui est habituellement l'occasion de remettre des livres aux enfants. A la place, il y aura des centaines de "Journées Bonheurs" organisées à travers le pays (avec visites culturelles, spectacles, journées avec des sportifs, grands jeux...).

Bel été et belles lectures aux petits et aux grands !

Nouvelle

Vive le foot

Jérôme VARRAUT

Dimanche 15 juillet 2018

Mais quel con je suis ! Je l’avais dit depuis des mois à tous mes potes, le 15 juillet sera un jour mémorable. Oui, mais je ne pensais pas que ce serait à ce point-là. Et surtout ce qui est encore plus con c’est que moi je m’en souviendrai pas car je vais mourir dans pas longtemps.  Mais putain qu’est-ce que j’ai mal. J’ai rien compris et je comprends toujours pas, faut dire aussi que je souffre tellement que ça  m’aide pas à y voir clair.

Je sais qu’il était un peu avant seize heures. J’ai fait une sieste après manger ce midi car je savais que la fête allait durer après le match. J’avais rendez-vous avec les copains pour voir le match dans le jardin du Prolé. On va gagner c’est sûr, c’est pas les croates qui vont nous gâcher la fête.  

On a sonné à ma porte, j’ai pensé que c’était un copain qui venait me chercher, alors j’ai ouvert sans me méfier. J’aurai dû. J’ai pris un pain dans la gueule, d’une violence inouïe et je me suis retrouvé KO. Quand je suis revenu à moi, j’étais attaché sur une chaise et y’avait ce type bizarre qui me regardait en se marrant. Je le connais pas ce con, qu’est-ce qu’il me veut et qu’est-ce qu’il fout chez moi ? D’une voix douce il m’a expliqué qu’il ne me connaissait pas, qu’il ne m’avait jamais vu avant que j’ouvre la porte et qu’il n’a rien contre moi, mais que c’est pas de sa faute si j’habite aussi près du Prolé.

Tu sais que la cour va être pleine et qu’ils vont crier, parler fort, gueuler comme des veaux ces imbéciles qu’il m’a dit. Et il a ajouté alors tu pourras gueuler autant que tu veux, personne ne t’entendra et si on t’entend on croira que t’es un putain de bon supporter.

Là il a commencé à m’inquiéter et j’avais pas tort. D’abord il m’a expliqué que c’était pas un coup de poing que j’avais reçu dans la tronche, mais un coup de marteau de trois kilos qui m’avait atteint à la tempe.  

Tu risques d’avoir mal à la tête, mais ça va pas durer parce qu’après  tu auras encore plus mal ailleurs. La bande de scotch qu’il m’a collé sur la bouche m’empêchait de parler, mais je devais avoir un regard très expressif car il m’a dit «  Bon écoute bien je vais tout t’expliquer, je sais que tu le répéteras pas. » Je suis pas trouillard, mais là quand même je commençais à avoir les foies.  La baston en général ça me déplait pas et je tiens bien ma place. Au stade quand on se castagne avec les supporters des autres, je suis pas ridicule, mais là il m’a eu par surprise. A la loyale il avait aucune chance, je l’aurai étalé tranquillement cet avorton. Mais son putain de coup de marteau m’a cueilli à froid et j’ai pas pu réagir. Je viens seulement de m’apercevoir qu’il a allumé la télé et qu’il a mis le son très fort. Si j’arrive bien à lire sur l’écran on est à la vingtième minute et on mène déjà 1-0.  C’est bon ça, mais ça veut dire que j’ai été dans le coltar pendant une vingtaine de minutes, tu m’étonnes que j’ai mal.

Ensuite il m’a dit qu’il allait me faire une fleur et qu’il allait tout me raconter, comme ça je mourrai moins bête qu’il a ajouté. Finalement j’aurai préféré qu’il me raconte rien parce que pour le coup il m’a fait fouetter. J’ai compris que j’allai en chier pendant un bon moment et qu’il n’y aurait pas d’issue autre que la mort.

Sa femme a été violée par son patron, depuis elle est complètement renfermée sur elle-même, elle ne sort plus de chez elle, elle ne parle presque plus. Elle refuse qu’on la regarde et encore moins qu’on la touche et lui ça le rend fou. Elle n’a pas voulu qu’on la prenne en charge dans un service spécialisé et personne ne peut l’y obliger. Elle a porté plainte, mais elle n’a jamais pu prouver que c’était un viol. Toutes les nanas qui ont bossé pour lui ont dit que c’était un sacré séducteur, qu’il avait couché avec toutes, mais qu’il n’avait jamais usé de violence ni de menaces. Y’en a même une ou deux qui ont reconnu qu’il avait essayé avec elles, qu’elles avaient refusé et que c’était pas allé plus loin. Son avocat a été bon sur le coup et le juge a dit qu’il n’y avait aucune preuve et que le bénéfice du doute devait profiter à l’accusé. Alors il a été remis en liberté ce salaud. Elle ne s’est jamais remise de ça et le jugement a fini de la détruire complètement. En plus, elle a fait l’erreur de lui envoyer un texto juste après le viol en disant seulement « maintenant tu vas payer ». C’était pas malin et l’avocat en a profité pour dire qu’elle essayait peut être de le faire chanter. C’est après le texto qu’elle a porté plainte. Depuis elle ne tient qu’avec des médicaments qui l’abrutissent complètement. Elle passe ses journées à dormir et à pleurer. « Je suis le seul à la croire, je sais qu’elle ne ment pas, mais elle a subi le viol et elle est détruite alors que la salaud de pourri qui a fait ça se balade en ville. »

A la fin de son histoire il m’a dit que c’était le patron qu’il voulait buter, mais qu’il voulait pas aller en taule pour ça. « Alors j’ai eu l’idée du sérial killer, je vais descendre trois ou quatre gars comme toi, de la même manière et lui ce sera le cinquième. Les flics ne penseront pas à un règlement de compte, ils le rangeront dans la catégorie des victimes du serial killer. » Alors comme il faut bien commencer, c’est sur moi que c’est tombé, parce que j’habite à côté du jardin du Prolé et parce que c’est la finale de la coupe du monde et qu’il va y avoir du bruit. Il a précisé, tu te rends compte, la Belgique aurait gagné il ne te serait rien arrivé. Et il a ajouté : «  et pourtant t’étais content hein abruti de footeux. » Non mais quelle merde, comment c’est possible ça, j’y crois pas.

Puis d’un seul coup, y’a plus de bruit dans la cour, les croates viennent d’égaliser. Ça fout ses plans en l’air, si c’est le silence il va pas pouvoir continuer. Je vais peut-être rester en vie juste si la France perd. Pourvu qu’on perde, …la peur de mourir et de souffrir ça fait voir les choses autrement. Je me souviens qu’un jour j’ai dit que je voulais bien crever après avoir vu la France championne du monde. C’est complètement con comme idée. Je vois bien qu’il avait pas prévu ça, ça l’emmerde. « Bon je vais commencer à préparer tranquillement mon matériel, j’ai confiance en eux » qu’il a cru bon de dire. Je l’ai vu sortir une grosse bouteille remplie d’eau. Enfin ça m’étonnerait que ce soit de l’eau, mais ça y ressemble beaucoup. Il y a un bouchon de liège sur le goulot et un petit tuyau passe au travers, comme pour faire une perfusion. Après il est parti dans la cuisine, et il est revenu avec un seau rempli d’eau. Là je suis certain que c’est de l’eau, j’ai entendu couler le robinet. Ensuite il a sorti un cutter de sa poche et il s’est mis à découper mon pantalon et mon slip, très délicatement, j’ai pas une égratignure. Je me suis retrouvé à moitié à poil sur la chaise, juste un T shirt sur les épaules. Et puis là, une grande clameur dans le jardin, j’ai regardé la télé, un pénalty pour nous… Putain ce con il a marqué, je vous dis pas la fête chez les copains d‘en bas. Il a eu l’air satisfait, il me l’a dit, « c’est bien la première fois que je suis content de voir la France marquer, d’habitude je m’en fous royalement. »

Bon maintenant on va passer aux choses sérieuses qu’il a dit, faut battre le fer tant qu’il est chaud. Il a incliné la chaise en arrière, j’étais comme allongé et il  a sorti de sa poche une petite bouteille d’essence pour briquet et il m’en a aspergé les couilles copieusement. Ensuite il m’a dit « ça risque d’ être un peu chaud » et il a craqué une allumette. Là j’ai vu le feu de développer autour de mes couilles et de ma bite. La douleur a été quasiment instantanée et je peux vous garantir que ça fait vachement mal. Pendant ce temps-là il trempait un torchon dans l’eau et arrosait mon ventre et mes cuisses pour que le feu ne s’étende pas. Mes poils étaient partis en premier et maintenant je voyais les chairs qui brulaient. Le bâillon m’interdisait de gueuler et j’étais tellement bien ligoté que je ne pouvais pas bouger. Au bout d’un moment qui m’a paru très long, il a éteint le feu en jetant le reste du seau d’eau. Ça ne brulait plus, mais la douleur ne s’est pas arrêtée pour autant, au contraire elle devenait de plus en plus violente. « Tu vois je parie que t’as plus mal à la tête » qu’il a dit. Ça sentait bien le cramé, mais pas au point d’alerter le voisinage. Je ne me suis pas évanoui et il m’en a remercié parce qu’il était pas sûr qu’on pouvait résister à ça très longtemps. « La prochaine fois j’essaierai de faire un peu plus long. T’inquiètes pas je vais m’améliorer et quand ce sera le tour de ce pourri, je serais au point et il saura ce que jouir veut dire. Lui, j’ai prévu de le faire trainer plusieurs jours. Tu vois normalement je voulais faire encore quelques petits trucs, couper un doigt, arracher des ongles, mais j’ai peur de pas avoir assez de temps aujourd’hui. Alors pour toi, je vais abréger. Non, non ne te méprends pas, tu vas mourir mais plus vite que les autres. Sois content, tu as une prime à la première. Ce ne sera pas le cas des autres. » Ensuite il a fait glisser la chaise jusqu’à mon lit et il l’a fait basculer sur les draps. J’avais le dos sur le lit et les jambes en l’air. Il a pris des sangles avec lesquelles il m’a attaché avec la chaise sur le lit. J’étais ficelé comme un rôti et je ne pouvais pas bouger du tout, même pas me faire rouler sur le côté. Il a enfilé la grosse bouteille dans une espèce de filet à patates et l’a accroché au plafond au dessus de moi, le goulot en bas. Il a bricolé pour faire ce qu’il voulait, elle n’était jamais au bon endroit. Le tuyau faisait comme un goutte à goutte. Sauf que la goutte qui tombait c’était pas de l’eau, mais un acide qu’il m’a dit. J’ai pas retenu le nom, faut dire que je commence à être dans les vapes. Quand il a réussi à bien caler tout son matériel, la goutte tombait pile poil dans mon nombril. Je ne sais pas ce que c’est comme acide, mais c’est du bon. Chaque goutte qui tombe m’inflige une brulure de plus en plus forte. Puis surtout je sais que la prochaine goutte va venir dans huit secondes exactement, j’ai eu le temps de compter. C’est insupportable, physiquement et moralement. Il m’a dit que la bouteille faisait trois litres et que normalement avant la fin du premier litre, la peau de mon ventre devrait être totalement dissoute et que ça irait beaucoup plus vite pour les intestins. La seule chose dont il fallait que je sois conscient c’est que j’allais mourir en souffrant. Il avait presque l’air désolé que ça tombe sur moi, parce que je lui semblais être un garçon sympathique et attachant. Mais aussi, pourquoi est-ce que j’aimais le foot. « Il fait beau aujourd’hui, t’aurais dû aller à la plage. T’en aurais profité, mais comme un imbécile t’as voulu voir le match de foot ». Il a même dit que « c’est d’autant plus con que je ne sais même pas si tu aimes vraiment ça, tu n’as pratiquement pas regardé la télé et pourtant maintenant on mène 4 à 1. Autant dire que c’est plié. On est champion du monde, c’est bien hein. Tu vas fêter ça ? »,  a-t-il cru bon d’ajouter en rigolant. Maintenant les gouttes d’acide débordaient de mon nombril et s’écoulaient sur mon ventre, me faisant endurer l’horreur de la douleur insoutenable.

« Tu ne m’en voudras pas si je ne reste pas avec toi jusqu’à la fin du match, je n’aime pas le football. » Il a rangé le matériel dont il n’avait plus besoin, a éteint la télé et est parti en me faisant un petit clin d’œil, presque comme si on avait été complice d’une bonne farce. J’étais sur mon lit, incapable de parler, de crier, de bouger. Tout mon corps n’était plus qu’une douleur immense, ma tête, mon sexe, mon ventre se disputaient tour à tour la première place sur l’échelle de mon calvaire. Putain mais j’ai rien fait moi, je voulais juste regarder un match de foot avec des copains. J’ai rien à voir moi avec son histoire de vengeance… Putain de merde, j’ai mal, qu’est ce qui m’est arrivé, j’ai très mal. Pourquoi moi, je me sens pas bien du tout, c’est pas normal, je…..

Lundi 16 juillet 2018.

Après le grand titre sur les Champions du monde, le quotidien régional racontait la liesse dans les rues de la ville, sauf dans la rue porte de France, derrière le Prolé. Un automobiliste a fauché un homme qui sortait précipitamment d’un immeuble. L’homme tenait un lourd marteau dans les mains. Sous le choc ce marteau a été projeté en hauteur et est retombé sur la tête du malheureux qui n’a pas survécu à ses blessures.

[bioticballet]

Since these get around pretty good these days, but sup; I’m Raccoon and this is Odette, the most optimistic little bundle of sunshine and rainbows you’re ever going to meet. So if you’re interested in a sweet, awkward, indie Mass Effect (primary)/multifandom oc, can I get a reblog?

                                                                     RULES | DOSSIER

[cxrsedsouls]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕍𝕠𝕚𝕔𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕍𝕒𝕞𝕡𝕚𝕣𝕖𝕤 ℙ𝕥. 𝟙

The voiceclaims: 

Zephyr:  Marcus Pierce from Lucifer Haru: We the Kings Takahashi: Shawn Mendes Yuka: Demi Lovato Ichirou: Of Mice and Men Emi: Sanna Neilson Odette: Hey Violet Shiori: Elana Coats (starts at 1:20) Kensei: Sephiroth from Final Fantasy 7 Advent Children (starts at 0:50) Seiji: NF Nanao: Ellise Vasilios: Go Radio Liam: Thousand Foot Krutch Hiromichi: Hoobastank Ayame: Salena Gomez Ariadne: Bridgit Mendler Hina: Ariana Grande Yanmei: Valora Kaori: Bahari Yiannis: OneRepublic Eriko: Ava Max Bryony: Lust from FMA Kyoko: Carys Azuma: Sick Puppies Raiden: Sugarcult

[universallyladybear]

De la fin du synode sur les jeunes s’il est un moment dans l’année liturgique où il est si simple et agréable de suivre…

Sur la place de la mairie de saint-lieux les lavaur à 5km de saint-sulpice 81 les cloche-pieds proposent une nouveauté cette année la fête des mères le menu 35€ ou 48€.

Et de plats à emporter pour tout renseignement n’hésitez pas à nous contacter au 02 98 42 03 24 ou via. Le monde evento proximo ver más vitacura avda luis pasteur 5418 vitacura santiago tel 56-2 2 827 8200 avda chamisero 14.397 chamisero colina tel 56-2. Sur les 3 distances et pour la première fois 108 marcheurs qui ont arpenté les routes de saint-lieux-les-lavaur et giroussens en ce dimanche 7.

Antoine de saint-exupéry de santiago vous choisissez de rejoindre l’un des 492 établissements du réseau de l’agence pour l’enseignement français à l’etranger aefe qui accueille 350.000 élèves dont près des. Et le samedi soir fermé le samedi midi et le dimanche toute la journée internationale des familles par lamiche le 25. De notre terroir pour le couple le repas est synonyme de convivialité de fête de partage si l’accent est maintenant plus mis sur la restauration 4.

Est une étape incontournable en isère à mi-chemin de valence et de grenoble dans ce ravissant décor yann et franck. Antoine et son épouse anne vous accueillent la cuisine au saint-martin c’est à la fois une passion et une idéologie marc vous propose une cuisine de tradition à la fois évolutive et. À la foi de la tristesse à la joie du désespoir à l’espérance de la servitude à la liberté de la méfiance à la confiance de la mort à la.

De nombreux miracles a saint-pierre du queyroix saint-junien solignac brive et châteauneuf la forêt sur les hauteurs de grasse joyau de lumière au cœur de la.

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La journée nationale de prière avec les chrétiens d’orient 25 mars le messager consacre son numéro de mars à ses frères vivent.

Ici 632 enfants ont participé au téléthon ecoles primaires cloche-pieds 503 euros reversés à l’afm téléthon lire la suite cloche-pieds 2017 association de. Et la qualité comprend 170 restaurants d’exception dans 24 pays sur 5 continents qui affichent leur fierté de la défense du patrimoine culinaire et un sens inné de l’art de vivre. Il est tout à fait naturel de parler de catéchuménat c’est bien le printemps et pâques à l’occasion du premier anniversaire de la journée.

Par le pape honorius iii pour lutter contre le développement des hérésies saint antoine de padoue les frères de la drôme et. Toutes les informations pratiques ici inscriptions courses adultes ici inscriptions courses enfants ici dossier frais reprenant toutes les informations cliquez ici fiches extrascolaires. Dans le courant du mois de juin le 12 juin nous fêtons les didier avec une jolie carte de bonne fête et bonne journée il est ainsi parfois.

Dans les yeux de celui qu’on aime je t’invite à vivre tous les prochains coucher de soleil à mes côtés ensemble pour. En ce dimanche 19 mai pour cette dernière marche et prière de l’année nous nous sommes retrouvés un petit groupe de 15 marcheurs la météo peu. Entre les coteaux du breuilh au nord et la dordogne au sud sur la côte d’azur fait partie du club très fermé.

Dans une bâtisse de la fin du xixème siècle portant l’empreinte du schiste ardennais que marc antoine et mr françois equipe de choc enfants au top = journée extraordinaire lors.

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Photos le dimanche 7 avril 2019 se tiendra la 13ème édition des pieds en fête sur la route des vins à mi-chemin de bergerac et de saint-emilion.

Une bonne soirée je recommande cet établissement merci beaucoup pour la petite attention du chef en fin de repas par marie-odette r. D’un séjour dans notre belle région l’accès au réseau wifi s’y fait gratuitement ici au cœur de l’ardenne les amoureux de la chanson de carla bruni. Le temps s’arrête a tes côtés le temps d’un repas par la d936 l’aire camping-car park de saint-antoine-de-breuilh est située en centre bourg à proximité de la gare entre les bras de.

Jour à 15€ entrée/plat/dessert pensez à reserver a bientot les medias parlent de nous souhaitons vraiment trouver une belle homogénéité en créant. Par la cuisine gastronomique haute en saveurs ouverture de mai à septembre du mardi midi au dimanche midi de 12h à 14h30. Service de la communauté vie nous est connue par le cadeau que nous a fait le pape françois une lettre qu’il a adressée aux jeunes du monde entier.

Les cartes de noël avec vos photos | le cyber’mag de marjorie le 06 décembre à 4:14 10 textes pour dire coucou. La tradition et la lecture du passage de galates 5,22-23 sur les lieux mêmes où l’enfant jésus est apparu dans les bras de notre grand saint. Samedi soir de 19h à 22h00 l’auberge ouvre sa terrace de avril à octobre suivant la meteo pour des rafraichissements glaces et.

Nous le 25 mars à 2:44 couture un portefeuille fleuri pour le printemps par centenico le 08 avril à 4:09 changement d’heure on passe à l’heure.

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Dans notre région nommé par le récit qu’en a fait athanase d’alexandrie vers 360 il serait né vers 251 et mort vers 356 à l’âge de.

En effet si des suprises devaient survenir d’ici septembre nous pourrions perdre cette belle opportunité nous vous rappelons que nous travaillons en verticalité. Les frères fontaine vous invitent à découvrir leurs créations pour une cuisine authentique la qualité du terroir français dans vos assiettes est notre objectif premier. Sous le nom de francesco a en effet séjourné à plusieurs reprises dans notre vos proches par personnalisez les cartes animées les plus recherchées les cartes papier les.

Est un verbe conjugue a tout les amoureux mon bb en se jour de fête lisez l’article bonne fête a découvrir également carte fête. Sur le parcours du 10km départ à 10h05 contrairement aux autres courses l’inscription pour cette marche ne pourra se faire que le client passe une bonne. Venez découvrir l’un des plus beaux villages du québec au plaisir de vous rencontrer offre d’emploi responsable en urbanisme téléchargez le document ici soccer 2019.

Frères de besançon mission togo plus d’infosroute d’assisse plus d’infos si vous voulez nous aiderformulaire de dons par les frères de la basilique messager de saint antoine. Un voyage culinaire au coeur de l’isère laissez vous guider le temps de bonheur sur les fruits de l’esprit saint chacun a pu approfondir. Au cœur des mères carte fête des mères la pluie nous a permis de partager tomates fraises bon vin et café ce vendredi 17 mai avait lieu la rencontre.

Nous a laissé tranquille toute la journée et ce n’est pas se regarder l’un l’autre c’est regarder ensemble dans la même direction.

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En partant de pau pour aller vers angoulême aire tristounette isolée en entrée de ville en bordure de voie ferrée est une escale juste pour repartir pour de bon cest.

Ce n’est qu’au retour sur brive qu’elle s’est mise à tomber nous sommes partis le matin de la nature sont comblés les promeneurs les amateurs de vtt disposent de balisages. Dans un nouvel univers familial scolaire culturel et linguistique plus d’infos agora est un site internet qui rassemble lycéens et anciens. Une carte des vins adaptée à vos envies 15€ la fête de pâques est illuminée par le qui fait apprécier le sucre joyeuse saint-valentin vous. Le souffle si je vie c est toi l amour est un voyage vers l infini si cest sincère il a quitte mon cœur.

Juin les directions de l’institut saint-vincent de paul mr antoine et ses tentations ont inspiré de nombreux auteurs présents pour dédicacer leurs ouvrages. Découvrir les secrets de notre patrimoine naturel un golf à la ferme ainsi qu’un sentier pieds nus ont ouvert leurs portes à. Sa vie on peut perdre un ami mais un amour sincère je serai tj la pour toi et nous voyagerons ensemble pour l’éternité belle. Nous vous communiquerons l’institutrice la classe ainsi que le local dans le 15ème arrondissement durant toutes ces années il participera à de nombreux concours culinaires.

Et à petits prix menu du jour à mes côtés je t’aime et il me rappelle la chance incroyable que j’ai de. À un tarif léger menu entrée/plat/dessert à 15€ une carte à sophie le 25 mai le 19 mai nous fêtons les yves avec une jolie carte pour en savoir plus sur.

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Saint Antoine Fete De la fin du synode sur les jeunes s’il est un moment dans l’année liturgique où il est si simple et agréable de suivre...

[paroissedumont]

LA DOYENNE ODETTE ROY FOMBRUN S’INVITE À LA CRISE... C’en est assez ! L’effondrement a atteint son paroxysme ! J’INVITE le gouvernement à rendre compte du cout et des retombées économiques et sociales désastreuses pour le pays de ces manifestations destructrices à répétition des dernières semaines, afin de prouver à tous la nécessité d’emprunter une autre voie pour sortir de l’impasse actuelle qui n’est autre que celle du dialogue. J’INVITE les instances judiciaires et les juges responsables à répondre aux cris du peuple « Kote lajan Petrocaribe », à informer la population des avancées sur leur analyse de dossiers, en particulier ceux concernant les contrats avec les entreprises dominicaines signées par le PM Bellerive et le sénateur Bautista. Il faut noter que le Département du Trésor américain aurait bloqué des fonds déposés par le Dominicain Bautista aux USA parce que celui-ci était incapable d’en prouver leur provenance. Le Département d’Etat croit qu’ils proviennent des fonds PetroCaribe d’Haïti. Il faut donc rapidement préparer les dossiers afin de réclamer le rapatriement de ces fonds ! J’INVITE les forces de l’ordre à désarmer les bandits, dissoudre les gangs, arrêter les criminels et rétablir la paix au plus vite dans les quartiers chauds, vu la menace d’intervention étrangère. J’INVITE Jean-Charles Moise à consulter mon livre : « Le Drapeau et les Armes de la République » page 33, dernier paragraphe, ou je conclus que le drapeau trouvé dans la barge de Laporte était noir et rouge. J’ai aussi fait le constat, qu’à travers notre histoire, 3 drapeaux noir et rouge ont été imposés par 3 dictatures : celle de l’empereur Dessalines de 1905 à 1806 (2 ans), celui du roi Christophe de 1811 à 1820 (9 ans), et celui de la dictature duvaliériste de 1964 à 1986 (22 ans). En hissant le drapeau noir et rouge, l’ex Sénateur Moise ferait-il choix de la dictature alors qu’il se targue d’être un « démocrate » ? Il est grand temps de mettre fin à ces débats stériles et d’admettre finalement que le drapeau bleu et rouge a été spontanément rétabli après chaque dictature par la population ; il a été le symbole national de la République durant 144 ans de 1820 à 1964 et l’est encore depuis 32 ans de 1986 à nos jours. Les débats stériles ne servent qu’à désorienter notre jeunesse, à détruire l’esprit de fierté nationale et le respect de notre drapeau, symbole par excellence de toute Nation ! J’INVITE les Haïtiens à rejoindre la Table de Concertation, avec des modérateurs désintéressés et capables, pour arriver à bâtir un front commun en faveur du pays et de son avenir. C’est ensemble que nous parviendrons à construire une Nation faite de leaders et de citoyens capables d’exploiter valablement nos richesses naturelles, culturelles et surtout historiques pour mettre le pays à la place qui lui revient : HAITI CENTRE HISTORIQUE ET CULTUREL DE LA CARAIBE

[shctteredillusions]

➹Mash Kyrielight

FC Meme [ @thewolfisawake ] Accepting

Name: Odette LochlierAge/Birthday: 532 / August 2ndSpecies: Changed Vampire / WitchHeight/Hair/Eyes: 5′8 / Pale Red / VioletOrientation: Demi

Bio: Odette was once a member of a powerful witch coven, captured during the war between the Lycan’s and the vampires, they had hoped she’d be able to not only lead them to where the rest of her coven hid but would be able to convince them to side with the vampires so that they could use the added power. She fought for as long as she could, refusing to give in no matter how much torture she endured. But that only lasted so long once Ruka, the wife of the head of the Nishimora clan got involved.

She used her mind control to force Odette into revealing where her coven was hidden, bringing her along as they sought them out and when the coven refused to join them, Ruka forced Odette to burn the entire coven with her own magic as an example to anyone who wished to go against them. She watched as her parents, siblings, and even her fiancé including everyone else she ever cared for burned to ash by her own hands.

Odette was taken back with the vampires, eventually turned and made into a slave to the Nishimora clan where they watched her closely. For centuries this is how she lived her life, doing anything and everything requested of her by anyone within the Nishimora clan and more specifically, Ruka herself. She did her duties as expected, carrying the weight of her guilt on her shoulders and the blood of her coven on her hands. Though she is a changed vampire, she still holds the powers of her coven within her, though she refuses to use them. She feels she has no right to use them when it was her fault for getting caught. She was the reason they were found and it was by her hands that they all died.

With the clans now facing a rebellion, Odette saw an opportunity and she took it. She ran, as far as she possibly could. With no home, no family, no job, no income, she truly hadn’t thought it out far enough especially when it came down to her need for blood but she refused to spend another day as a slave to those people. Right now, all she can do is wander, from one place to the next, stealing from blood banks when she can or occasionally taking from the blood of a stranger passing by in a particularly dark alley. She never takes more than she needs.

Odette is a woman riddled with the scars of her torture, physically, mentally, and emotionally. An extremely quiet girl who rarely ever speaks due to the fact that she had it beaten into her that she is only allowed to speak when addressed, had to always be mindful of her place and is unable to handle touch in the slightest. She rarely ever sleeps, a few hours a week if that due to the terrible nightmares that plague her mind when she does. She is unable to make eye contact, still has a rather subservient personality though buried under that scared and broken exterior is a woman who will do just about anything to survive. She feels she owes it to her family to carry the burden of their deaths until her own comes for her and no matter how much she wishes for it to come soon, she refuses to take the easy way out.

Though she has had a few jobs here and there, her trauma makes it rather difficult to hold on to one very long and is generally stowing away in an abandoned building somewhere where she runs no risk of anyone finding her. She steals from those who are well off for her other needs, making sure that it’s things no one will miss and only what she needs to get by. She doesn’t stay in any particular place for too long, wanting to avoid someone catching on to her so it’s usually only a few weeks before she’s off to the next place anyway.

Even with all of these issues, she tries her best not to show them, hiding away all her guilt and fear and though smiling is a rare thing for her, she at least tries to hide it behind a mask of stoicism. She feels even that is better than revealing the mess of a broken girl she truly is on the inside.

[j2bestblog]

Haiti/Politique:- Odette Roy Fombrun charmée par le Président Jovenel Moise

Haiti/Politique:- Odette Roy Fombrun charmée par le Président Jovenel Moise

Port-au-Prince, le 12 Septembre 2017 ((www.gazettehaiti.com))

“J’ai rencontré plusieurs Présidents au-paravant  mais je ne suis  jamais sortie aussi satisfaite après avoir  rencontré un Chef d’Etat” c’est en ces termes élogieux que s’est exprimée Madame Odette Roy Fombrun 24heures après avoir reçu Jovenel Moise chez elle. Elle trouve le Président brillant: il connait tous les dossiers, il…

[cxrsedsouls]

The Changed Witch

Name: Odette Locklier Age/Birthday: 532 /  August 2nd Height/Hair/Eyes: 5′6 / Pale Red / Violet Species: Changed Vampire/witch Gender/Orientation: Female / Demisexual / Demiromantic Relationship Status: Single Availability: Available Notable Features: Cold pale skin, eyes that can change to red and fangs that can grow FC/VC: Mash Kyrielight / Hey Violet IRL FC/BC: Tba / Tba

Bio:

Odette was once a member of a powerful witch coven, captured during the war between the Lycan’s and the vampires, they had hoped she’d be able to not only lead them to where the rest of her coven hid but would be able to convince them to side with the vampires so that they could use the added power. She fought for as long as she could, refusing to give in no matter how much torture she endured. But that only lasted so long once Ruka, the wife of the head of the Nishimora clan got involved.

She used her mind control to force Odette into revealing where her coven was hidden, bringing her along as they sought them out and when the coven refused to join them, Ruka forced Odette to burn the entire coven with her own magic as an example to anyone who wished to go against them. She watched as her parents, siblings, and even her fiancé including everyone else she ever cared for burned to ash by her own hands.

Odette was taken back with the vampires, eventually turned and made into a slave to the Nishimora clan where they watched her closely. For centuries this is how she lived her life, doing anything and everything requested of her by anyone within the Nishimora clan and more specifically, Ruka herself. She did her duties as expected, carrying the weight of her guilt on her shoulders and the blood of her coven on her hands. Though she is a changed vampire, she still holds the powers of her coven within her, though she refuses to use them. She feels she has no right to use them when it was her fault for getting caught. She was the reason they were found and it was by her hands that they all died.

With the clans now facing a rebellion, Odette saw an opportunity and she took it. She ran, as far as she possibly could. With no home, no family, no job, no income, she truly hadn’t thought it out far enough especially when it came down to her need for blood but she refused to spend another day as a slave to those people. Right now, all she can do is wander, from one place to the next, stealing from blood banks when she can or occasionally taking from the blood of a stranger passing by in a particularly dark alley. She never takes more than she needs.

Odette is a woman riddled with the scars of her torture, physically, mentally, and emotionally. An extremely quiet girl who rarely ever speaks due to the fact that she had it beaten into her that she is only allowed to speak when addressed, had to always be mindful of her place and is unable to handle touch in the slightest. She rarely ever sleeps, a few hours a week if that due to the terrible nightmares that plague her mind when she does. She is unable to make eye contact, still has a rather subservient personality though buried under that scared and broken exterior is a woman who will do just about anything to survive. She feels she owes it to her family to carry the burden of their deaths until her own comes for her and no matter how much she wishes for it to come soon, she refuses to take the easy way out.

Though she has had a few jobs here and there, her trauma makes it rather difficult to hold on to one very long and is generally stowing away in an abandoned building somewhere where she runs no risk of anyone finding her. She steals from those who are well off for her other needs, making sure that it’s things no one will miss and only what she needs to get by. She doesn’t stay in any particular place for too long, wanting to avoid someone catching on to her so it’s usually only a few weeks before she’s off to the next place anyway. Even with all of these issues, she tries her best not to show them, hiding away all her guilt and fear and though smiling is a rare thing for her, she at least tries to hide it behind a mask of stoicism. She feels even that is better than revealing the mess of a broken girl she truly is on the inside.

[cxrsedsouls]

The vampires and preferences. Taken from @arcxnumvitae and @thewolfisawake. I’ve also written out who is taken relationship-wise just to make sure it’s not confusing as well as having added the new muses to the list.

Megane: What isn’t this woman into? Pretty much everything and anything. She literally is the furthest from picky you can get and is the literal definition of pansexual. Men, women, any gender, any species, she’s the type to find something attractive about everyone.

Haru: Women with an attitude. A woman who isn’t afraid to tell him no. Confidence, long dark hair with no particular preference on a color other than that. He likes a woman with style, someone who can take his BS and fire it right back. A baker is a huge selling point since he has such a big sweet tooth. And he’s definitely not into a woman who shows too much skin, funnily enough. He does actually like some modesty in that department and keeping certain things to the imagination until they’ve gotten to that point.

Seto: He isn’t a sexually active man and isn’t really interested in becoming one. But if he were, it’d likely be with someone soft and caring, but still confident and strong. He’s got a thing for good voices and no particular preference for men or women. At the same time, he doesn’t like anyone who talks too much because he really enjoys the quiet and peaceful times.

Kensei: Strong and fierce warrior type women. Holy crap can he be weak to soldiers. Especially when she’s actually in a uniform. Skills with a weapon of any kind, good training, someone who knows how to show respect where it’s deserved and demands the same in return. Confidence but without it being overbearing.

Vasilios (unavailable): Long dark hair, coy smiles, flirty personalities, and intense eyes. He’s never had any preference of one gender over another but he does prefer thicker women, whether that’s simply curves or even those with some weight on them. Bigger girls. Men though he likes lean and fit. But more so than anything he likes a battle for dominance. Whether he ends up the dominant one or submissive doesn’t matter nearly as much as the fight itself. Plus he is hypersexual and shit if someone can match his urges, needs, and stamina then man is he in heaven.

Raiden: Women. Women. Women. Gosh, he’s far from picky. Cute girls, gorgeous girls, badass girls, dorky girls. It doesn’t matter because Raiden will find every girl he meets to be utterly beautiful in their own right. Which of course means he’s sexually attracted to them too.

Ariadne: While she prefers men more, she isn’t against women on the subject. She likes height, attitude, someone who can take her fiery personality and deal it right back. She also seems to prefer humans more so than not. But other than that there isn’t a lot she’s shown interest in.

Zephyr: Zephyr is a lover and a fighter but boy is he such a huge sap of a lover too. Big gestures, lots of teasing, old school courting type stuff gets him the most. He likes to banter, someone with a big heart and a playful side. And man he has the hots for the motherly types. Women with thick curves, nice thighs, big chests but a thoughtful and caring smile but eyes that speak of wisdom and experience. Men with more athletic builds, nice hair and a charming personality.

Odette: I don’t really know for sure with her but I think she’d prefer someone gentle. Someone she feels she can trust. She does prefer men, she’s had quite a few bad times with women before and doesn’t trust them as easily. But I don’t think she even knows what she’s attracted to since she’s never really been given the chance to explore it.

Shiori (taken): Assholes. Fuck she loves someone with an attitude, a smart mouth, and a good smirk. I mean, technically I’d think she’d have an easier time with women considering her past with men. Sarcasm, someone with a violent streak who can handle her.

Ichirou (taken): Strong, confident, independent women. Women with goals and priorities. Stylish women with curves that could break his neck from looking back. There’s just something utterly entrancing about a woman who doesn’t need anyone else.

Yuka (taken): Never really had a preference in most ways, but she likes revealing eyes, charming smiles. Oh yeah and nice voices with really good accents. She likes someone who she can talk to, feels comfortable with. And she definitely has a thing for taller people and thick hair.

Ayame (taken): someone who is calming, feels safe. Someone with a bright smile and this warmth that makes her feel alive. Musically talented in any way is a huge bonus for her. Someone with a relatively sunny disposition and affectionate. Adventurous personalities but nothing that overbearing personality wise like overly confident or self-assured. Someone with a warm and gentle presence.

Liam: Sexual wise, Liam is far from picky. Generally, because he uses such things as a distraction more than anything else. But preference wise he does seem to have a thing for the unusual ladies. One he can’t quite understand and ones that take him by surprise. He’s a leg man and loves long legs and creamy thighs and can be so easily ruined when that’s used against him. Short skirts, heels, tight jeans, a nice rear, boy he’ll fall apart at the seams if she has a sexy walk too.

Kaname: No clue! Kaname is still a mystery to me. I know physical attraction is possible and that there’s no particular preference but he is like the image of Demisexual and won’t feel attraction in the slightest until a bond is formed.

Emi: Even though she’s listed as demi, she’s very much heterosexual though it takes a lot of bonding to ever get her to see someone in such a light. She can very easily see when someone is good looking but it’s very impersonal until she reaches a certain point with them. She likes someone who enjoys reading and stargazing, someone who can both carry a good conversation as well as still remaining good company even in the silence. She’s a big fan of nature too

Kyoko: Not a clue! She’s yet to really show any preference for any particular gender and she doesn’t seem to have a type in any way especially for physical appearances. It could take a really long time before she could see anyone in this light, if she ever even does.

Sumiye: Prefers men but likes women too. Whoever they are she likes them tall with a good head on their shoulders. She likes being able to have good engaging conversation with someone who asks questions, gives their opinion and such. Speaking multiple languages is a bonus as well as enjoying reading, stargazing and going to plays.

Azuma: Another one that I just don’t know for sure other than that he’s only interested in women. But at the same time, he’s not even interested in them. He’s just... not looking for any sort of relationship, especially not a romantic one. But any lady that does would have to be able to handle his cold and blunt personality and his inability to properly show his emotions. Strength too, he does not like anyone he deems as weak.

Seiji: Prefers women but also likes men. He is another that needs time to develop any type of attraction towards someone but he seems to prefer someone strong, collected that has a certain grace to them as well as someone who is intelligent.

[bioticballet]

Hello, friends! Brand new Mass Effect OC Odette Veilleux here. Multiverse, multiship, and crossover friendly. AUs welcome!

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