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midnight1nk · 4 months ago

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So, this week's episode...

[spoilers below cut]

I KNEW IT!!! I knew that one of the two episodes left of the year had to be a holiday one aha!! *LE GASP* does that mean the last one will be sonic 3?

*nods* respect 👏

A Christmas special with TARI, oooh! and noticeably a shorter one too, huh. alright, let's-a GOOOOOOOO

(the following is my live reaction:)

aww, look at Tari being adorable (see that's how you get me, have my favorite characters do cute little hops and my life is yours)

bringing back the side characters LET'S GOOOO

CLENCH omg you're back I hope you can stay for the whole episode

ooooh tari's christmas list just dropped. hmmm let's see...

Saiko = KFC Theme Guitar (honestly slay) Mario = Spaghetti Necklace (whether he's going to wear or eat it, he'll enjoy it regardless) Kaizo = Scythe Polish Luigi = Gardening Kit SMG4 = Body Oder Spray (my man can't catch a break, "he stinks" canon) Belle = Nintendo Switch Case SMG3 = Dog Grooming Kit (for Eggdog awwww) Melony = How to draw Manga book (nice callback to "SMG4 and SMG3 Shop For Cursed Items" episode for Christmas shopping) Whimpu = Glasses Repair Kit Boopkins = Body Pillow Cleaning Kit (...) Bob = Karaoke Machine (that's actually sweet considering he is a rapper and the obvious choice would be a gun or smth, tari's a good friend) Rob = Corn Keychain

the cliche superhero transition *wheeze*

can I just say I love the fit Mario has on

1920's spaghetti?

i did not expect to see Sonic 06 (foreshadowing, eh?) and as a sonic fan, i gotta respect the hustle

now, i know it's supposed to be disgusting and you obviously have to put gross things here to convey that but... there's that eye imagery again.... *flashbacks ensue*

oooh Christmas party! I wanna see that!

aww tari did get clench a glove, maybe she didn't want to spoil the surprise too soon

also let's take a moment for that board in the bg:

"Random Text Here Shameless Advertising Happy Birthday smg4!" then something signed by a "Fan"

gotta love the small details

gonna be using this as a reaction pic for now on

Mario, don't you guys have a basement? pretty sure no one will grab the bag in there

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA OMG OMG THERE'S NO WAY THIS IS REAL THEY ACTUALLY USED CANTRO'S OUTFIT DESIGN FOR THIS EPISODE THAT'S AWESOME DUDE (am aware that the Team used the model before in a previous ep but it was only shown for a few seconds, this is BIG)

new merch, eh?

...i'll take your entire stock

Oh Tari, it's okay to say no. Four did ask if you had time

beautiful commercial....wha? Bob, da hell are you doing? oh the usual

charity? understandable, have a good day

PFFT HAHAHAHA that grenade bit somehow got me

oh Four somehow teleported outside, chair and all

*wheeze* the way they just latch on the back of the cop car like that

BOOPKINS? ...yeah I should've seen that coming. and he's on a toddler seat too

question for the people: is UNO a board game? if not, then boopkins, you got it wrong buddy

RIGHT NOW?! boopkins she's got her hands full

GEEZ even I'm getting stressed

gonna be real here: it was actually a good choice to have the plot at a faster pace just so we could feel Tari's stress rapidly building up

oh hey Meggy's matching with Mario (love that for the M&M siblings) but Saiko, girl, please get yourself a coat :( you're gonna freeze

OH GOD Tari, i need you to breathe please! all of this is stressing you out, it's okay to say no

...oh no

i can't look dude, i know Tari's technically fulfilling everyone's wishes but this isn't the way to go :(

C'MON TARI, HOPE YOU CAN MAKE IT IN TIME PLEASE

NO NO NO *flips table* oh poor Tari

OH NO CAN I GIVE HER A HUG PLEASE? *shakes my laptop screen* LET ME INNNNNNN

WTF NO SHE DOESN'T DESERVE THIS

TARI DON'T LISTEN TO THOSE VOICES IN YOUR MIND, YOU ARE A GOOD FRIEND

...three? let me turn the brightness up

yeah that's Four's model but for some reason has Three's voice and line.... huh... (I'll come back to this later)

dude, i literally had to pause and leave the room

fuck you got me tearing up. Team, is that what you wanted from me?

no tari, it wasn't your fault :( you didn't ruin anything

YES TELL HER, SAIKO

STAWP I'M THIS 🤏 CLOSE TO FULL-ON SOBBING WTF

FAMILY IS FOUND 👏👏👏

...wha? Three?

wait, this whole episode was you were retelling what happened to Tari, to Eggdog?

...that actually puts things in a whole new context (I'll talk about it later)

*gets hit by the book*

AY Congrats to Mango for your art being featured in the end credits! 🎉 what an awesome Christmas gift from the Team honestly

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

This was a fantastic Christmas special! This really punched me in the gut (but in a good way). Everything, as always, was amazing. Excellent job, Team!!! Too bad Clench couldn't be in the whole episode.

Oh Tari, my girl :( I felt the emotional rollercoaster along with her and I just wanted to give her a giant hug.

Me 🤝 Tari → people pleasers with a dose of abandonment issues

Tari, I've been there and I promise your friends aren't gonna leave you. What you can offer, what you're able to, that is worth something. It doesn't need to be material, just being a part of their lives is enough. No matter how big, because to them, it could mean a lot more than what you think.

It's what I've been struggling too, that the people who have approached me only wanted what I could offer, but not as a person. And it takes time to heal and open up again to people who are worth opening up to, but you'll get there.

So, to remind you (yes, the one behind the screen): you are enough. We are enough. What you do, means a lot more to other people than what you think. You'd be surprised how much a second of your presence means to people, and they value that. It's why it's okay to say no when you aren't able to, they'll understand if they truly do care for you. I promise, time will come around for you to find the good ones.

That's why I love this show. It isn't just a "silly meme show", it's so much more than that. Yes, it does have its funny moments but it can be emotional, dramatic, exciting. And even relatable. That's the point of stories. Like I said countless times before:

Every story, no matter how outlandish it seems, is grounded in reality.

That's why I'm glad this was one of the last episodes of the year, to bring it all back that it's a story that we all can relate to in some way. That we aren't alone. Grab each other by the hand and take one day at a time.

Oh boy, sorry for that emotional stuff. Just wanted to bring some comfort 💙 With that, I'm gonna bring back what was the most interesting of this episode: SMG3

It wasn't until the very end that we realized this whole episode was Three retelling Tari's story not only to Eggdog but also to Terrance.

(If I remember the layout correctly, right in the same nook above the fireplace is where Terrance's photo is placed)

So, yes, he is reading a bedtime story to both of his sons. (just gonna cry in the corner for a second) He's such a dad 🥺

Anyway, i shall put my theorist goggles on:

Back in the part when Tari was too late to buy the Crew presents and the voices in her head were bashing her for failing, we have SMG3 for some reason come in:

To be clear, that's Four's model (notice the lack of chip of the cap) but Three is the one saying: "And I thought I was evil..." Other than being the narrator, Three wasn't in the story, so the question is why?

The obvious would be that the Team simply made a mistake and forgot that they placed this in. Ok, sure, that's if it was on accident. But what if they did it on purpose?

As Three stated in the episode "Trash Friends", he truly believes he's "the worst version of SMG4"

Think about it: the basic roles for them are Four as the hero and Three as a villain.

If Three was ever in an episode all of a sudden is because he is the negative force of the story. Recall back to the episode "Meme Hunters" when Three was forced to be "the conflict" of the episode.

Now, it may seem harmless but to him, he was afraid to be perceived as nothing more than "SMG4's cheap and worst copy"

And also in "You Used to Be Cool", people have noticed when he does lay back a bit from the usual villain/rival role and bash him saying, "This isn't you."

Hero or villain, you're seen differently by everybody

Then there was the whole "moral of the story" part:

Ofc, it's a whole thing that Three refuses time after time that he's not friends with the Crew

Now with the context that we have, we just got a peek into Three's fears/insecurities. Basically: if he opens up and accepts that he has friends, they might try and take advantage of him. So, what should he do? Close himself off, be an asshole, and deny, deny, deny.

Despite risking literally everything, INCLUDING HIS OWN LIFE, for them, he's doing this to protect himself from emotional harm when he's the most vulnerable.

There's indeed a trope that villains, especially redeemed ones, would have a sense of empathy of some kind. They know what's like to hit rock bottom, it's why they can empathize with the people who least deserve it, like Tari. (Even with Four back in IGBP.) So yes, as much as this is a story about Tari, it also relates to Three.

How can you have what you want when you're the one holding yourself back?

Three: "I also need love, understanding, and tenderness." [IGBP movie, Spanish dub] Three: " I just want the USB in that spaghetti in your stomach so I can use it to gain fame and love that SMG4 has too much of, okay?!" Mario: "...Is that it? Silly SMG3, you could of just told Mario instead of suppressing your inner emotions and your fear of being forever forgotten." [Trash Friends]

I mean, look at the last episode, he was so happy to know he got fanart.

The pressure he has, the role he has to play, what he's perceived as. It all affects him. Sure, he doesn't care that he's not perceived as the standard definition of a villain but he is really as human as he can be, with fears and desires.

Another way to see the "failure" part of the episode is that Three could never see Four in a negative light. Sure, Four has made terrible mistakes but past the YouTube Arc, Three has never seen Four as a villain (again, the role of the hero thing). Four is flawed just as he is, but since he's the one telling Tari's story, he replaces Four with himself in the narrative.

It's not confirmed it's because he cares about Four in this instant but it's obvious he has done it on purpose. All because that's the role he plays, one he absolutely fears, "an evil and worst copy of Four".

(For all we know, he might've altered some other things in the story we haven't even known about.)

AND the fact that he's telling it like a bedtime story to his son(s) as a warning, so they don't go through what he went through when he was younger (his whole parenting of reminding them that they're loved and appreciated for even the smallest things)

So, long story short: me 🤝 Tari 🤝 SMG3 → underlining abandonment issues

I've been noticing that a lot of points from past episodes are starting to resurface again (like IGBP) and I do hope we get to bring back what's going on with Three. Then, we might get Three having the same conclusion that Tari went through: as much as he wants to deny it to protect himself, he'll realize that it's okay to be vulnerable and have friends.

And he'd be surprised how much of what he did was valuable to them. That what he seeks is already right in front of him. After all, he's already part of the Crew :)

He would just have to let himself avert his view and see the truth.

#smg4 #smg4 christmas special #smg4 spoilers #ink reviews #smg4 tari #smg4 smg3 #smg4 mario #smg4 bob #smg4 luigi #smg4 saiko #smg4 boopkins #smg4 theory #puzzlevision 2 #a snippet of why Three is one of my faves

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blurredcolour · 1 year ago

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We'll Meet Again

[One-shot]

Eugene Roe x Nurse!Female Reader

Nine hours is all it takes for Eugene Roe to realize that his hesitance to share his feelings for you was completely misguided.

Warnings: Language, Weapons, Canon Typical Violence, Smoking, Treatment of Wounds, Medical Procedures, Hospital Settings, Pining, Questionably Written Cajun Accent, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ ONLY

Author’s Note: The title of this fic is based off the song We'll Meet Again by Vera Lynn (I recommend the version where she is accompanied by Sailors, Soldiers & Airmen of His Majesty's Forces). This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the HBO series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 7578

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“Roe it’s not mine, I’m alright. Roe.” Eugene was vaguely aware of your voice as he pulled at your blood drenched field jacket, fingers fumbling slightly as he fought with the buttons before he was able to delve beneath, beginning to tug at your sweater and wool shirt, desperate to find where you were hit. “I’m fine, please…Eugene!” You grabbed his wrists forcefully, your blood-slicked fingers sliding against his skin, but it was enough to finally pull his attention to your face. “It’s not my blood, I’m alright.” You repeated gently as his eyes met yours and he exhaled at last.

He frowned anew as he lifted a hand to wipe at the splatter of arterial spray across your cheek, succeeding only in smudging the scarlet across your beautiful skin, marring it further. You sighed and gestured with your head to the SS officer laying on the table behind him, his now-unseeing eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling, the wound at his neck obviously the source of all the blood you wore.

You tugged at his left wrist, which you still held within your grasp, and he looked back to you quickly, following as you led him over to a bank of sinks at the back of the room. As you released him, he watched you grimace slightly at the sensation of the blood growing slightly tacky between your skin and his. You took both his hands in yours and gently began to wash them.

Eugene’s heart throbbed tenderly as he watched the warm water sluice pink before your fingers thoroughly coated his skin with soap then rinsed it clean. Looking up to you with a soft smile, he was reminded of the state of your face and quickly swiped it clean with his wet thumb, lips stretching hopelessly wider at your warm grin.

“Nine hou’s.” He sighed, jaw clenching as his chest constricted painfully, the terror and anguish he’d been desperately trying to hold at bay all day flooding back to him.

“What?” You asked, confusion painting your face and he swallowed roughly, having to fight to focus while standing in your presence after so many months apart.

“Ya were missin’ – a hostage – fo’ nine hou’s.” He pressed his lips together, struggling to hold back the depth and breadth of his feelings on the matter.

He watched you swallow and put on that brave smile you wore for the sake of soothing your patients. “It was just like any other nine hours, except there were German patients and machine guns.”

“Please don’ give me tha’ smile.” He muttered sadly. “Are ya really alrigh’?” He pressed, eyeing you meaningfully.

Your brow twitched, mouth opening, looking about answer his question when the door to the room opened and you stepped back to grab a towel, handing it to him. “I’m just fine, Roe, thank you for asking. The rest of the SS patients are through that door there.” You gestured, nodding to the latest arrival, Webster, who quickly went through to secure the next room with Liebgott hot on his heels.

Roe watched as you assumed your professional mantle, leading him into the room where seven SS men, prisoners now, were being looked after by the rest of the nurses that had been in your hospital convoy when the 6th SS Mountain Division had decided to take you all hostage to provide them with medical care in this abandoned nursing home near Juchen. The women immediately flocked to you for direction and Eugene realized that you now wore a silver 1st Lieutenant’s insignia on your collar, promoted since he’d first met you that night in February of last year in Swindon.

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“These heels are killing me…” You muttered as you finally escaped the dancefloor to sit at the table next to Eugene’s, wedging yourself into the corner defensively.

He’d been watching you all night. Watching as trooper after trooper of the 506th from Able right through Item asked you to dance, barely giving you a moment to sit despite how tired you looked, behind that beautiful smile of yours, and how time and again you accepted, too polite to refuse.

“I’m surprised you didn’t wear your combat boots.” One of your tablemates teased.

A mischievous grin crossed your features and Eugene ducked his head as he found his lips twitching automatically in response to it. “Well, I would have except every time I upend the things, I still find sand from North Africa.”

A chorus of laughter flitted around the table and Eugene was convinced that yours was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard, finding himself thoroughly annoyed when it was extinguished by a couple of men sidling over to pull a few of your fellow nurses onto the dancefloor again.

“What was it like…over there…” A timid voice piped up as the band began to play that Vera Lynn song the Brits were crazy about and Eugene risked a glance at your face as you addressed a young woman, she could not be much older than twenty, only the two of you remaining at the table.

“Well, Barbara,” You paused thoughtfully, eyes focusing on some distant memory, the hints of fatigue he’d seen lurking beneath your smile coming to the fore for a brief moment before you turned to your colleague with a reassuring warmth. “It’s exactly like they say it’ll be.” You nodded firmly.

The girl’s shoulders relaxed as she smiled in relief, nodding in renewed confidence as you each took a sip of your drink. Eugene swallowed, wishing he could hear your real thoughts on North Africa, not just the canned propaganda reels put together to show before the pictures, but the firsthand account of a medical professional. There was only so much training could prepare them for, and they all knew as soon as the weather was right, they were headed for France.

Despite the longing he felt to do so, Eugene did not ask you to dance that night. He drank a few beers and smoked more than a few cigarettes as you forced yourself onto the dancefloor three additional times before you and the youngest of your companions decided to call it a night. Eugene felt that was a sensible idea – the number of buses back to Aldbourne was growing increasingly limited by the hour.

As dictated by the blackout, clumps of people were walking on either side of the road with their flashlights pointed downward, barely lighting their way as vehicles with their headlights reduced to mere slits wended their way through the crowd of inebriated celebrants. Eugene could not help but feel like it was a recipe for disaster, but your laughter, like the peal of bells, pulled his attention from across the darkened street.

“It’s snowing!” You declared with a wonder-filled gasp, and he blinked up at the sky to feel the kiss of melting snowflakes on his cheeks, his breath curling and hanging in the notably colder air.

The peace of the moment was shattered as an unruly group of men from Fox company bolted across the road, trying to reach the same bus stop he was heading for, a drunken straggler not seeing the delivery van and unfortunately the driver not seeing him either – until it was too late. There was a squealing of tires, a ‘crash’ as the load within the van was displaced, and a sickening ‘crunch’ followed by a wail of pain. Eugene lunged into the street, surprised to find you already kneeling beside the victim as you looked him over.

“What’s your name, trooper?” You were smiling warmly, your colleague hovering behind you nervously as the driver had begun pacing anxiously.

“Robert Boye, Ma’am.” He replied through clenched teeth.

Unlike the calm look on your face, your hands were a flurry of movement, honing in on the compound fracture on the man’s leg, lifting your fingers into the slim beams of light to reveal blood from where the bone had broken through his skin. Eugene was already undoing his belt when you turned to him, and you graced him with a brilliant smile that had his adrenaline-fueled heart skipping a few beats.

“I’m a medic, Ma’am. Tourniquet?”

“On his thigh, please, trooper.” You nodded, shrugging out of your overcoat to drape over Boye. “We’re going to get you to a hospital, alright Robert. Just hold on.” Standing quickly, you walked over to the delivery driver though Eugene wasn’t able to hear your conversation as he finished checking over the man in the road, confirming there were no other apparent injuries.

“You’e from Fox company, righ’?”

“Yeah, that’s right…Easy?” He replied, shaking from the cold or shock – or both, most likely.

Eugene nodded in reply, lifting his eyes as the delivery driver raised his voice at you, the sound of crates and empty milk jugs hitting the sidewalk filling the night air.

“Ya crazy Yankee cunt, what in god’s name d’ya think yer doin’?!”

By then quite a crowd had gathered in the road, and the slur hurled your way had more than just Eugene’s hackles up. Undeterred, you stepped forward, looking the rude and careless man directly in the eye. “You’ve struck an innocent pedestrian and now you’re going to make it right, sir. Your cargo will be right where you left it.”

He returned the look coldly but seemed increasingly aware of the looming threat in the darkness about you, eventually huffing in agreement. You provided directions to a hospital Eugene recognized as the nearest American hospital, surely that was where you were stationed, before sending several men to help him load Boye into the back.

“Medic, please come with me?” You looked to him as you climbed into the van and Eugene nodded quickly, jumping into the back with you as you looked to the wide-eyed young woman standing at the curb, watching you in awe.

“Barbara, go back inside and find Fran. Get her to walk you home.”

“Y..yes Ma’am!” She nodded quickly before hurrying back toward the dance hall as the back doors of the van were closed, leaving the three of you in darkness as the van lurched into motion.

“Medic…” You huffed and introduced yourself properly before asking him his name.

“Eugene Roe, Ma’am.” He replied quickly, turning on his flashlight. He was rewarded once again with one of your heart-stopping smiles.

“Wonderful, you have a flashlight. Thank you. How’re you holding up Robert?” You turned your attention back to the patient, checking his pulse at his wrist, pressing a hand to his forehead – most likely to assess for temperature and perspiration.

“Hurts an awful lot, Ma’am.” He grunted as the van hit a rut and you nodded sympathetically, kneeling on the floor beside him in your dress uniform, balancing easily as the van wove its way through the crowd outside the dancehall with more care this time.

“Thank you very much for being so brave for me. Where are you from?”

“Yakima, Washington.”

“Tell me, Robert. If I were to visit Yakima, Washington what is the food I absolutely must try?” You asked, bracing yourself against the roof as the driver took a wide turn.

“My momma’s cherry pie, without a doubt. My father grows bing cherries. Best in the state. And then my momma makes the best pie you will ever eat in your life.” Robert replied with relaxed smile, conversation taking his mind off the pain in his leg.

“Cherry pie – that sounds positively heavenly. So, you grew up on a cherry farm?” Your practiced smile and encouragement prompted the injured man to ramble on about his childhood playing amongst the cherry blossoms, gorging himself on ripe fruit, and skiing in the mountains whilst you the pair of you subtly kept an eye on his wound and vitals. Ever vigilant for a sudden change in demeanour that might signify a head injury or internal bleeding – your patient management was effortless, and Eugene could only feel his affection for you growing.

He was admittedly a little disappointed when the van came to a stop, the flustered driver opening the doors as a duty nurse came outside and gasped to find the three of you in the back of the unassuming vehicle.

“I’ll be right back with a stretcher!” She called out before dashing inside, returning promptly with two orderlies to help load the injured Boye so he might be carted inside.

The pair of you rushed behind into the temporary hospital in a building that looked like it had begun its life as a warehouse of some kind. The shift Doctor appeared from down the hall, and you quickly provided all pertinent information related to treatment.

“Well, you two had best inform the MPs as well, before that driver disappears on us.”

“Yes, sir.” You replied quickly, shooting Eugene an apologetic look before leading him to the MP office at the front of the hospital to make your report, pulling your garrison cap from your head, reminding him to do the same.

You’d barely started your tale when the MP told you both to ‘take a seat’ and dashed out of the office to try and stop the driver and you looked to him with even more pronounced regret. “I’m so sorry, Roe, I’m sure you were just trying to get back to your billet.”

Your use of his last name undoubtedly came from place of professional courtesy, however a part of him ached with the longing to hear how your mouth might form his first name.

“Not at all, Ma’am.” He gestured for you to take one of the empty chairs, only sitting once you had sunk into it with a soft sigh.

“Thank you very much for your help. I was feeling quite adrift with no supplies but then the universe sent me you.” You smiled warmly and he swallowed thickly.

“Ya did all tha work, Ma’am, I was jus’ there.”

Shaking your head stubbornly, he frowned a little as he watched a small shiver roll through you, belatedly realizing your coat had long since vanished with Boye. He started to pull at the jacket of his dress uniform, and you lay a hand on his arm.

“I’m alright, just tired. Based on your accent, I’d say you need your jacket more than me.” You smiled teasingly and he huffed a laugh, looking down at his shoes briefly as he straightened his uniform before lifting his eyes to meet yours quickly.

“It was impressive, Ma’am, how ya stood up ta tha’ man.”

You looked to him earnestly then, not sugar-coating your expression, or your answer, as you had for Barbara. “If we don’t stand up for our patients, Roe, no one will.” You spoke with breathtaking sincerity and all he could muster in response was a firm nod.

The door banged open as the MP hauled the very man in question into the office, his expression going livid as he once again came face to face with you.

“Goddamn Yankee cunt.” He spat at you, making Eugene surge to his feet to stand in front of you protectively, the scent of liquor potent on the man’s breath as he brushed by his rigid frame.

“I’ll be right back to take your statements, one moment.” The MP muttered, putting the uncooperative driver in a back room.

“Could this night get any longer…” You whispered and pinched the bridge of your nose, making Eugene turn back to you.

“How long ya been in England?” He asked, trying your own trick of distraction on you as he resumed his seat.

“Hmm? Oh, landed two weeks ago, I guess. Thought a break from the heat would be nice, hasn’t been quite as quaint as I was led to believe.” You laughed softly and shook your head. “You?”

“Las’ Septembah.”

“Well, I bet you know all the best spots by now then, hmm?” You smirked and he shook his head with rueful smile but did not have the chance to elaborate on his lack of free time as the MP returned to finally take your full statements.

It was nearly two in the morning once all the paperwork was done, the driver of the van turned over to the local police while the MP summoned a subordinate to return the pair of you to your billets.

“See you in a few hours.” The nurse who’d first greeted the pair of you poked her head out of the doorway to the treatment room.

You laughed without much energy. “For sure, Betty. Thanks for your help.”

“You work weekends?” Roe asked quietly, offering a hand to help you into the back of the jeep and you nodded as he settled next to you.

“My days off are Monday, Tuesday.” He must have frowned visibly as you shrugged with a weary smile. “It’s alright, I was the last to arrive here and someone needs to do it.”

As you hugged your arms around yourself tightly in the open back of the vehicle, overcoat still nowhere to be seen, he shifted to try and block the wind with his body. As you shuffled closer, huddling against him slightly, he swallowed thickly, his heart hammering against his ribs.

“You’re going to do great out there, Eugene Roe.” You smiled warmly, the vehicle pulling up outside a nearby shop with an apartment on the second floor.

“Thank ya, Ma’am.” He murmured quietly, taking a shaky breath as you climbed out of the jeep, pausing to wave at him from the curb.

He ought to ask to see you again, to write to you, something, but a part of him was reluctant to start anything he might not be able to see through with his future so very uncertain. He lifted his hand in return as the MP pulled out to drive him back to Aldbourne, regret immediately settling into his gut, leaving a sour aftertaste in his mouth.

Eugene was surprised when his belt arrived at his billet the following Thursday along with a note from you, once again thanking him for his assistance with Robert Boye’s care. You also assured him the patient was doing well and would be ‘fighting fit’ within a few months. He was impressed to see not a trace of blood on the woven fabric, indicating that you had obviously taken the time to clean it for him. Unable to stop the fond smile from unfurling on his features, he quickly hid the note in the pocket of his ODs as he heard Spina’s footsteps on the stairs.

“You coming to London this weekend, Gene?” He asked, sitting heavily on his bed in the corner and Eugene found himself shaking his head in return.

“Too much to do.” He replied vaguely, recalling one of the posters from the hospital hallway calling for blood donations.

“You’re missing out.” Spina teased in a sing-song voice, laying back on his bed once he’d taken off his boots.

The smile you greeted him with Saturday morning when he arrived to donate blood thoroughly convinced him otherwise.

“That’s very generous of you Roe, follow me, I’ll get you set up.” You turned to lead him past a few of the occupied beds and he nodded warmly to Boye as he looked up from a letter he was reading. “If you could take off your jacket and roll up your sleeve please, I’ll be right back with the supplies.” You said as you gestured to a cot, unfolding a privacy screen before turning to fetch the necessities.

Eugene complied, swallowing thickly as he watched the way your hospital dress swished around your hips as you walked away, quite frankly preferring this outfit to your dress uniform. Returning with a collection bottle, needle, and some tubing, you lifted his arm to search for a vein. He swallowed thickly at the goosebumps that rippled across his skin, able to smell the scent of soap lingering on you, the proximity nearly killing him.

“I never did ask, Roe, where are you from?” You glanced at him with your professional smile, fingers settling over their target in the inside of his elbow.

“Loosiana, Ma’am.” He murmured softly, watching you insert the needle so smoothly he barely felt more than a pinch before his blood began to fill the bottle in your hands.

“Louisiana.” You repeated warmly, eyes flicking between the bottle and his face, listening while monitoring the volume you were collecting. “Famous for Mardi Gras, yes?”

He nodded quickly. “Tha’s righ’, yes.”

“A lot warmer than England, hmm?” You chuckled and shook your head.

“Did ya get you’ jacket back?” He tilted his head. “Thank ya fo’ returnin’ ma belt.”

“I did, yes. And again, it was the least I could do.” Your eyes crinkled at the corners as you smiled this time, his heart swelling as he was becoming more skilled at discerning your real versus polite expressions. You pressed a piece of gauze over the needle before pulling it from his arm, the bottle now filled with the crimson fluid from his veins. “Could you apply pressure to that for me please?”

He nodded, fingertips brushing against yours as he took over, a jolt of electricity sizzling through him. Your eyes met his briefly before you turned back to the task at hand, and he could not help but wonder if you had felt it too. As you lay your fingers over his to lift the gauze and take a peek at the puncture in his skin, Eugene bit the inside of his cheek trying to maintain his composure. Replacing it with an adhesive bandage, you handed him a cookie to eat as you jotted down his information on the label on the bottle.

“Thank you aga–” Your gratitude was cut short by a loud crash over by the nurses’ station that had Eugene quickly on his feet though he noticed you barely reacted. “Sorry about that.” You sighed and urged him to sit back down with the gentle pressure of your palm on his shoulder. “I keep trying to fix that darn shelf, but the screws won’t stay in the wall.”

“Sorry!” Called a timid voice Eugene recognized as Barbara from last Friday’s dance and he looked up to you.

“I’d be happy ta take a look at it fo’ ya.”

You eyed him a moment, clearly weighing your desire to impose on him further. “Eat your cookie and then we’ll talk.” You ultimately said and he nearly inhaled the thing.

“I like fixin’ things.” He murmured once he’d swallowed, rolling down his sleeve and following you over to inspect the carnage Barbara had unleashed.

You helped her stack the last of the clipboards and manuals that were scattered across the floor onto the edge of the desk as Eugene looked over the shelf before eyeing the screws and finally the holes in the wall.

“You’ screws are stripped. Needs some new ones an’ maybe a few anchors.” He added as he eyed the weight of what you intended to store up there.

You worried your lip between your teeth for a moment before grabbing a key from the desk. “Maintenance room is this way, shall we see if they have what we need?”

He followed you down the hall and around the corner to a room that was no more than a glorified cupboard. You pulled the cord on the lightbulb dangling from the ceiling and he began rooting around, collecting tools in an empty toolbox before nodding to you to signal that he’d secured everything necessary.

“Don’t carry that with the arm I just took blood from please.” You reminded gently and he nodded again, walking back with you. “How can I help?” You tilted your head, nurse’s cap barely hanging on by the pins in your hair, presenting quite possibly the most adorable sight Eugene had ever seen.

“Could you an’ Miss Barbara hold tha shelf up fo’ me, please? Show me where ya’d like it?” He set the toolbox on the ground, grabbing the pencil he’d prepared as the pair of you positioned the shelf on the wall. He made a series of marks beneath it where he would drill new holes and marked the end placements. “Thank ya both, kindly.” He nodded and you set it down with a smile.

The sound of the door opening signalled the arrival of the doctor to do his midday rounds and you glanced at him, looking ready to apologize but he shook his head. “Don’ worry ‘bout me, you’ workin’. I’ll get this fixed an’ get outta you’ hair.”

“Thank you, Roe.” You nodded warmly before grabbing the clipboards from the desk and hurrying over with Barbara in tow.

Eugene did a thorough job of re-installing that shelf for you – putting new holes in the studs with the hand drill before tapping in a set of anchors to ensure it would never let you down again. It may have taken him a little longer than necessary due to the numerous glances he stole at you over his shoulder, but when his eyes met yours around the fifth glance, he turned back to his work quickly, cheeks burning, and did not risk another.

Once he was satisfied in the shelf’s structural stability, he began to place the manuals back onto it, hazarding a guess that you would want them in alphabetical order, glancing at you as you stashed the clipboards – now neatly back in their rack – beside them, rounds clearly complete.

“This looks amazing, Roe, I am once again in your debt.”

“It should hold alrigh’, even if ya get mo’e manuals.” He nodded humbly. “It was ma pleasu’e.”

“Well, I assure you we are extremely grateful.” You nodded firmly and he was unable to stop the slight smile that snuck onto his lips, watching as your own grew brightly in return. “Now I’m sure there’s somewhere you’d much rather spend your days off than our boring little hospital.”

He swallowed tightly, quite convinced that was utterly untrue but was unable to verbally disagree. “I’ll leave ya to it then, Ma’am.” He nodded, putting the tools away before shrugging into his uniform jacket once more and heading out into the drizzly afternoon.

It became a habit, spending his Saturdays at your hospital, fixing up little things that were broken but not priorities for the regular handyman. Donating blood every few weeks when you’d let him. It was, of course, all a thinly veiled excuse to see you – not that he would ever reveal that to you. As winter melted into spring, training and preparation for what was to come only intensified, and the potential outcomes remained at the forefront of his mind. If he were to speak honestly, Eugene, like many men, did not expect to survive the assault on France. Hitler had been there too long, had had too much time to get dug in snug as a tick. What they were planning to attempt was nearly impossible – just like his chances of survival.

You deserved better than that. Better than to open your heart to a man like him, if you even cared to, only to have him wiped from the earth by some piece of artillery or some such horrific ending. Eugene had a sense you’d seen enough horror first-hand in North Africa and he wanted no part in inflicting more upon you. So, he remained cordial, friendly, holding his breath and biting his tongue when your hands would brush, when you’d gently fix his tie after he’d gotten it crooked under the sink and when you’d swipe the sawdust from his shoulders before he put his uniform jacket back on.

The domesticity of your care and concern for him made his heart ache something fierce but he bore it stoically, silently, repeatedly like some kind of martyr. A smarter man might have stayed away but Eugene needed those few hours with you every week as badly as he needed the comforting nicotine of his Lucky Strikes. The news that they were shipping out to Upottery in late May was thus a rude reminder that his time, his life, was no longer his own.

The entire time he was packing, Eugene debated with himself before ultimately deciding to jot off a quick note of apology explaining his absence for that coming weekend and wishing you well until ‘next time.’ What a terrible expression it was. Forcing himself to take it to the post office, he sent it to the hospital where you worked before boarding the transit truck to move out. The days passed in almost a blur, the frenetic pace of preparation and practice jumps all leading up to the inevitable.

Eugene was dressed in full gear, having just secured his leg bag when he heard Vest call out his name, waving a letter addressed to him. Settling back down on the tarmac to open it, his brows furrowed in confusion at the unfamiliar handwriting.

Eugene was so taken aback he nearly missed Meehan’s announcement that the jump was off due to bad weather that night, spending several hours re-reading your letter, thinking about the things he wished to write to you in reply. Vowing to put them on paper if he ever saw the end of this thing. By the time he made it back to Aldbourne in July, he made a visit to the hospital where you had been stationed only to be informed by Barbara that you’d left for France with the 47th Field Hospital five days earlier.

He swallowed his bitter chuckle while Barbara kindly scrawled your post address now that you were deployed. “If you’d like to write to her.” She murmured timidly and he took it with a soft thanks before heading back to his billet.

It made perfect sense that you had been sent to France; nurses with field experience were hard to come by and you were obviously too talented to loiter in England. Thus, he had taken the time to reply to you, a proper letter this time, though still withholding his true feelings now that his eyes were well and truly opened to the rapidity with which a man’s fortunes could change.

Mail was slow, your replies taking a frustrating amount of time to reach him, and Eugene was certain you felt the same, especially as it became increasingly apparent that your paths through Europe were remarkably similar and yet did not cross again. Not until Easter Sunday of 1945.

2nd Battalion had left Belgium that morning, crossing the border into Germany in the grey light of dawn. It had been deeply unsettling to pass so close by their former positions in Bastogne, Foy, and Rachamps the day before. Memories, thick as winter fog, had put a damper on the mood of excitement amongst the men at being on the move again, a hush that persisted into the morning. It was a quiet that allowed them all to hear the frantic honking of a jeep horn, many of them, including Eugene, sitting higher in their transports to see a vehicle painted with the Geneva cross pull up beside that occupied by Winters, Nixon, Speirs and Welsh, bringing the entire convoy to a halt.

Craning his neck, Eugene strained to hear the conversation, but his attempts were futile as they were simply too far away. His brow furrowed as the rest of the batallion’s Lieutenants were called up by Speirs, a map was then unfurled on the hood of the jeep, intense conversation occurring amongst the huddled officers. Like some kind of silent movie without the title cards.

“What the hell do you think that’s all about?” Heffron griped beside him, and Eugene shook his head, completely at a loss.

It wasn’t until Lipton returned to the back of their transport, hauled up with the assistance of Luz’s friendly hand, that Eugene understood the gravity of the situation.

“Hospital convoy has gone missing, boys. Left Aachen over four hours ago and should have arrived in Juchen by now. There’s no trace of them.” He began putting on his gear, a silent signal for everyone to do the same.

“Nobody just vanishes in Germany, Lieutenant.” Heffron muttered grimly, securing his webbing.

“Major Winters’ thoughts exactly. We have eleven nurses and four ambulances unaccounted for somewhere between here and Juchen. So, we’re going to find ‘em.”

“What hospital, sir?” Eugene piped up as he secured his satchel around his body, the men glancing at him, reminding him that he rarely spoke.

“Uh, the 47th Field Hospital I think, Doc.” Lipton replied before getting the men off the truck to begin combing the roadside for clues.

The 47th Field Hospital. Your 47th. He stood rooted to the spot, blind to all that moved in front of him, sound muffled as he felt like the only thing he could be sure of – your safety – came crashing down around him.

“Hey Doc, you coming or what?” Heffron called up to him and Eugene blinked rapidly before hopping out of the back of the transport to follow quickly.

Eleven nurses missing. Field Hospitals had roughly eighteen nurses, if fully staffed, meaning there was more than a fifty-fifty chance you were among the missing. He shoved his balled fists into his pockets and began searching. Searching for what, he had no idea. The infuriating feeling of helplessness rose within him like the tide, relentless and uncontrollable.

It took a further three hours of driving, stopping, searching, until finally a farmer reported having heard machine gun fire earlier that morning near Titz. A yawning pit of dread opened deep within his stomach as all manner of possible scenarios played out in his mind. The three companies split up then, with Easy heading into the town of Titz while Dog continued on the road to Juchen and Fox turned towards Gevelsdorf.

He was not able to lay eyes upon you for another two hours, and to find you soaked in blood had sent him immediately into a frenzied state of triage, desperate to keep you alive after finding you at last. Calmed only by the proof that you were unhurt, at the reasonable explanation for the state of your clothes lying dead behind him, Eugene had never been more annoyed with Webster and Liebgott than when they had interrupted his chance to speak with you.

The rest of 2nd Battalion arrived, taking over the building for the night and securing the prisoners until MPs could arrive the next day to take them to a nearby prison camp. Winters had ensured a wing was reserved exclusively for the nurses, though you had assured him a guard would not be necessary. Eugene had offered himself and the other Battalion medics to help with the schedule you were drawing up to watch over the patients, but you politely refused, insisting he had done enough. Eugene certainly did not feel that way.

Finding himself unable to sleep that night, he slipped out of the room he shared with Spina, Heffron, and Ramirez, making his way down to the makeshift treatment space you had set up to see if he could be of any use. He stopped at top of the stairs as he nearly ran into you, making your way up to the nurses’ wing with your wet field jacket in your hands.

“Roe!” You breathed, startled, before smiling at him tiredly. “Can’t sleep?”

He shook his head. “Ya neithah?”

“Wanted to try and get this somewhat clean for tomorrow.” You murmured, gesturing to your jacket before glancing at him. “But no, not really.” You admitted softly.

He motioned with his head for you to follow him to sit on the ledge beneath a large bay window opposite the staircase. You draped your damp jacket over the back of a wooden chair that had seen better days, turning to look out over the landscape as raindrops began to patter against the glass. He slid a cigarette from the pack in his breast pocket, offering it you and only once you had declined with a shake of your head and kind smile, lit it for himself.

“Nine hours isn’t a long time considering the years I’ve spent away from home.” Your hushed voice, a continuation of your conversation from hours previous, broke through the sound of the rain hitting the windowpane.

Eugene exhaled slowly, smoke curling from his lips. “It only takes seconds ta die…”

You eyed him sharply in the dim light, shaking your head. “You of all people know how little control we have over that.”

Swallowing tightly, as you did have a point, he nodded. “Sorry Ma’am.”

You huffed a little. “Eugene, every time you call me Ma’am I feel like my mother.”

“But ya outrank me, even mo’e so now 1st Lieutenan’.” His nose crinkled in confusion.

You hummed noncommittally, an uneasy silence falling over the pair of you as Eugene finished his cigarette, stubbing it out against the windowsill behind him. Neither of you seemed certain of what to say or do next. Of what you were anymore – no longer just acquaintances, colleagues, or pen pals. Despite his best efforts, Eugene was terrifyingly convinced you were a great deal more.

“What’s something you wish you had done before you came over here?” Your voice broke through his thoughts, and he inhaled sharply before giving you his answer without hesitation.

“Shoulda asked ya ta dance tha’ nigh’.”

He heard your breath leave your lips with a shudder, watching you stand with the sinking feeling that he’d misjudged the entirety of your relationship. It was only when you turned back to him with your hand outstretched that he remembered how to breathe.

“Dance with me now, Eugene.”

His eyes widened, confusion surely evident on his face even as he set his worn and battered hand in yours. “But there’s no music.”

Your fingers closed around his, tugging him to his feet as you began to hum that Vera Lynn song, bringing a smile to his face as he set his other hand on your waist to begin dancing with you in earnest. Your fingers laced through his, a shiver running through him as you wrapped your arm around his shoulder before laying your head against his collarbone.

“Cold?” You whispered and he shook his head.

“It’s nice.” He replied as you started humming again, the repetitive nature of the song making him grin slightly. “Finally got ta dance in you’ comba’ boots.” He murmured, discreetly inhaling the scent of you.

You giggled softly against him, leaning back to look over his features in the low light. “Why didn’t you ask me to dance, Eugene?”

He swallowed roughly. “Ya looked tired, Ma’am. Didn’t want ta make ya suffah any mo’e.”

“Dancing with you is not a hardship.” You whispered, the pair of you still moving to the ghost of the song in the now silent hallway. “I would have said yes with one of those smiles you like.”

He laugh softly, squeezing your hand slightly. “I was worried, too. Worried I’d do somethin’ stupid like make ya care ‘bout me an’ then get myself killed. But then I thought I’d lost ya today…did lose ya fo’ nine hou’s…” His throat clenched with emotion, sealing off his ability to say anything further.

Your feet came to a stop as you eyed him intensely. “Eugene Roe, you have no control over that either.” You admonished gently. “I do care about you, whether you like it or not.”

The sound of his heart frantically pumping blood through his body filled his ears as he stared at you in wonder, awestruck by your fierce determination to bear affection for him despite the risks.

“M..may I…” He struggled to speak through the overwhelming adoration he felt for you, and you sighed fondly, leaning in to press your lips to his.

His grip tightened on your waist as his eyes fluttered shut, your soft mouth feeling like the finest silk brushing against his. He sighed dreamily as your fingers abandoned his shoulder to wend their way into his hair, drawing him tighter to you. He indulged in the impulse to slide his hand up your spine to rest between your shoulder blades, the feeling of your back arching in response headier than any liquor he’d ever tasted.

Your fingers gently unlaced from his, hand shifting to cup his jaw as you pulled back to press featherlight kisses across his brow and down his nose. “You didn’t lose me, Eugene.” You sighed against his skin, lips traveling across his left cheek. “I’m just fine.”

As you made your way along his jaw, he turned his head to kiss you fiercely, tongue darting past your startled lips to communicate all the things he could not seem to be able to say, holding your body so tightly against his as though he wished he could absorb you into his very being. You clung to him, matching the ferocity of his embrace with a reassuring tenderness of your own that had him melting against you, face burrowing against your neck.

“Thank ya, Ma’am.” He sighed with a bone deep weariness and felt your body shake against his as you laughed softly.

“Call me something better, Eugene.” You chided sweetly, kissing his temple. “Especially if you’re going to kiss me like that.”

He smirked before pressing his lips to the column of your throat, trailing kisses up towards your jaw, reveling in the way your breath hitched in your throat in response. “Alrigh’ cher.” He smiled warmly before kissing you gently.

“Cher.” You repeated softly once he released your lips.

“Cajun for darlin’.”

He watched your teeth sink into your lower lip, a grin stretching over your face as you looked to him through your lashes making the muscles of his abdomen clench.

“That will do quite nicely, Eugene.” You sighed before your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him in to kiss him deeply.

You were both short of breath by the time you pulled back, hand caressing his face as your features contracted apologetically. “I should go before someone finds us.”

Eugene nodded begrudgingly as you were once again speaking the truth. “Goodnigh’, cher.” He said softly, loosening his hold on you.

“We’ll meet again, Eugene.” You smiled, eyes twinkling with mirth in the not-so-dark hallway as the light of pre-dawn began to seep through the tracks of rain cascading down the window, and his eyes widened as he realized that was the name of that damn song.

“You’d bettah not be covered in blood nex’ time, cher.” He admonished playfully, freshly addicted to the way your lips ticked up at the corners every time he said it.

“Likewise, Eugene.” You laughed and blew him a kiss before grabbing your surely still-damp field jacket, walking backwards as far as you could until you absolutely had to turn around.

He stood on the porch the next morning, hiding from the rain as he watched you load the nurses in your charge into newly arrived ambulances to complete your journey to the field hospital in Juchen. He barely looked up as he heard the scuff of jump boots on the worn brick beside him, Heffron leaning against the wall to light a cigarette, trying to soak in every last moment of your presence before you were inevitably parted once again. It was a great comfort to know you’d be just twenty-five kilometres behind him, perhaps a sign of kinder times ahead.

“So, you get your hands on some tits in Titz?” Heffron asked with a sly grin, making Eugene turn to him sharply.

“Heffron, watch you’ damn mouth.” He snapped at him brusquely, making the redhead’s eyes widen.

“Sheesh, Doc, she must be somethin’ special. Sorry.” He squawked and pointed at the road. “She’s looking this way.”

Eugene looked back quickly to see you, drenched by rain, waving at him with a bright smile he could still see despite your helmet, and he waved back, cheeks aching a little as his expression automatically mirrored yours.

“You’d bettah keep this to you’self, Heffron.” Eugene rounded on him with a serious look that he hoped was intimidating as soon as you pulled the backdoor of the vehicle shut behind you.

“Your secret is safe with me, lover boy.” Heffron winked, and Eugene did not believe him for a second.

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

Read the Sequel - Born To Be Yours

Band of Brothers Masterlist

Tag list: @bcon24 , @ronsparky, @fuckoffthanos

#eugene roe x reader #eugene roe imagines #eugene roe imagine #eugene roe #doc roe #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers

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gaslightgatekeepgirlbosscombat · 1 year ago

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Group G, Round 2, Poll 8:

Propaganda under the cut

Taylor Hebert / Skitter

Gaslight: She’s constantly gaslighting herself, like seriously all the time. Mainly because she couldn’t properly process her own emotions to save her life. ‘I’m totally fine after doing [fucked up thing]. Totally fine. It was my only option, and definitely not a result of my own deep-seated trauma affecting the way I perceive and interact with the world around me. Plus it’s not like it was even *that* fucked up. Actually, it was definitely the most moral choice in that situation. I had no other option. They forced my hand’. No they fucking didn’t Taylor. You had tons of other options, you’re just too much of a traumatized mess to recognize them. And *Worm* is well-written enough that, because we’re constantly seeing things from her fucked up point of view, we believe her. Especially when she describes events slightly yet very significantly differently from how they actually *textually* occurred previously in the text, but not so obviously that the readers notice without it being pointed out to them. It’s only during interludes from the POVs of other characters that we get a view of her without that lens of self-delusion. Gatekeep: Probably the weakest of the three for her, but somebody else could probably tell you more. Girlboss: She has the power to control bugs, with perfect coordination, infinite multitasking, and even proprioception. What does she do with that (in no particular order)? Rot somebodies dick off. Stick flies up his urethra. Eat his eyes with your bugs after he’s already disabled. Stick bullets ant up somebodies anus. Have bugs clean off the sweat and other material immediately after losing your virginity. Use your bugs to to drive a car through a city post-disaster while blind, without anybody else realizing you’ve been blinded. Get stabbed in the shoulder through bone, and proceed to monologue to the stabbed without showing any signs of pain. Line up bugs on people your shooting at with bugs on your gun to give you pinpoint accuracy. Hide massive amounts of bugs in the folds and crevices of your body, as well as in in your hair. Join a gang of supervillains. Carve out somebodies eyes. Turn butterflies into an instrument of terror. Kill a baby. You know, just completely normal things for a barely 16 (pre-timeskip) / not-quite 18 (post-timeskip) year old girl to do (most of these were pre-timeskip).

[copied from @lakesbian so credit to them]

*rotting a guy's dick off with brown recluses. on accident. *realizing due to her accident that it's actually pretty effective to put bugs on genitals and starting to threaten people with putting tapeworms up their asses on purpose. and also putting bugs up asses and peeholes on purpose. really if theres an orifice she puts bugs up there on purpose *dips her bugs in capsaicin before putting bugs up orifices on purpose so it hurts more. [skitter voice]i just dipped every tarantula hawk wasp in my villainous lair in liquid pepper spray so nows not the time to get stupid with my ass *using spider silk to create rube-goldberg machines of suffering i.e hauling a dude 3 stories up into the air and then dropping him, shattering all of his limbs on impact. all while casually holding a conversation w/ someone else *using centipedes to hollow another villain's eyes out and then putting maggots inside and just Leaving Them There with the intent of the heroes she hands the villain over to finding the maggots later and being scared of her *killed parahumans' wonder woman equivalent by putting bugs in her lungs and then using those bugs to make silk in her lungs to block out airflow. while monotone-quoting something wonder woman had said to threaten her earlier back at her as she died. wonder woman wasn't even in the room to hear it she just did it anyway. *only time she has ever successfully been jailed is when she turned herself in on purpose *made a phone call using bugs once. not villainous but very funny and iconic *used bugs to swang around a disintegration knife on a massive length of silk, killing like 50 people instantly, because she wanted one (1) person in the room dead and was willing to just shotgun that shit until it worked out for her. and then immediately after proceeded to think of herself as "not much of a fighter." because she has psychological issues. *mind-control kidnapped several thousand people once *literally made fun of god's dead girlfriend until he got suicidal and died about it *drove a car. blind. using bugs. no one realized she was blind for like 12 hours because she's a bug freak superorganism of a girl who walked around using bugs to triangulate perfectly w/o vision. also not villainous but still iconic *wanted to put 10000 black widow spiders in a shared villainous base to make costumes out of spider silk w/ and when the other dude who lived there was like "wtf can we not??" she was like "huh that's surprising. you don't want 10000 black widow spiders in your home? why? are you arachnophobic or something?" because she's a freak. *fucked, got up, and immediately made several hundred bugs crawl across her naked ass body to clean her off. because she's a freak. her boyfriend has had spiders on his dick he's just going to have to live with this *literally psychologically cannot refrain from putting bugs in the hair and clothing of everyone within a several block radius to keep track of them at all times because she's a panopticonic freak. like i'm talking "her friends occasionally talk to bugs they see under the assumption that it's her spying on them, and they're Right" level panopticonic freak. she rocks. *did i mention she's 15. world's most autistic freak 15yo dissociates hard enough to kill god more at 7

Regina George

Mean Girls became a template for high school drama movies, Regina being the meanest of the titular "mean girls"

#round 2 #group g #worm #parahumans #taylor hebert #skitter #Regina George #Mean Girls

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misfitwashere · 3 months ago

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Here's how Trump's vengeance machine works

He's the mob boss who keeps his hands clean while others do his dirty work.

ROBERT REICH

JAN 24

Friends,

Sorry to intrude on you again today, but now that we have come to the end of the first week of Trump II, there’s much to say about the new regime.

For one thing, Trump’s vengeance machine is even more dangerous than it was before.

The Biden administration had given security protection to Trump’s former secretary of state, Mike Pompeo, his former top aide, Brian Hook, and Trump’s former national security advisor, John Bolton. That was because of credible intelligence showing all three in danger of being killed by agents of Iran. During the first Trump administration, they had authorized the drone strike that killed the powerful Iranian general Oassim Suleimani in early 2020, and Iran is out to get them.

The outgoing Biden administration privately told the incoming Trump administration that the threat against the three continued. “As recently as the end of last week, two separate government representatives, two separate government agencies called,” Bolton told The New York Times. “They said our current assessment is that the threat level remains the same.”

But on Tuesday, with no explanation, Tump revoked their security protection. They are now at the mercy of Iranian agents in America.

What had they done to deserve this treatment by Trump? They had committed the sin (in Trump’s mind) of being more loyal to America than to him.

Pompeo had warned Republicans at the Conservative Political Action Conference in 2023 not to look to "celebrity leaders" with "fragile egos. Hook was part of the old Republican foreign-policy establishment (Trump fired Hook on Monday). Bolton had become an outspoken critic Trump.

If you think Trump’s nominee for FBI director, Kash Patel, will protect them from violence, think again. All three are on Patel’s enemies list, which is basically Trump’s enemies list. (I’ll have more to say about Patel next week when he’s up for senate hearings.)

This is how the Trump vengeance machine works. Trump is the mob boss who keeps his hands clean while others do his dirty work.

Who else is likely to do Trump’s dirty work?

Trump has pardoned all the men who attacked the U.S. Capitol on his behalf on January 6, 2021. Trump says they were not violent and did not have weapons — but the world saw their violence; they were also caught on video. Nearly 175 used dangerous or deadly weapons, according to prosecutors.

They also threw Nazi salutes, posted they intended to start a civil war, vowed “there will be blood,” and called for the lynching of Democratic lawmakers.

They attacked police with flag poles, bear spray, and a metal whip. They choked officers with their bare hands. They were convicted for, among other things, “hurling officers down a flight of stairs and plotting to kill FBI agents investigating the attacks.”

A video shows them attacking Officer Michael Fanone, who suffered a heart attack and traumatic brain injury that day. Later he and his family received death threats after he testified in Congress on the incident. They beat Police Officer Daniel Hodges and crushed him in a door, his mouth filled with blood while he cried out for help.

Now, courtesy of Trump, all these thugs are back on the street. Does anyone really think they will live out the rest of their lives peacefully?

Some of the police officers, including those who testified in January 6 cases, have said they fear for their safety now that the insurrectionists have been released.

“I JUST GOT THE NEWS FROM MY LAWYER… I GOT A PARDON BABY! THANK YOU PRESIDENT TRUMP!!!” Jacob Chansley, dubbed the QAnon shaman as a reflection of his horned-animal headdress and body paint that day, posted on X. “NOW I AM GONNA BY SOME MOTHA FU*KIN GUNS!!! I LOVE THIS COUNTRY!!! GOD BLESS AMERICA!!!!”

Jackson Reffitt, who reported his father Guy’s participation in the January 6 riot and was a key witness against him, told reporters he fears for his life now that his father is free.

When Stewart Rhodes, leader of the Oath Keepers, was sentenced to 18 years in prison for his role in the riot, the judge said: “You are smart, you are charismatic and compelling and frankly that’s what makes you dangerous. The moment you are released, whenever that may be, you will be ready to take up arms against your government.” And, presumably, arms against Trump’s enemies.

How many nut-jobs does it take to physically attack someone whom Trump has deemed an enemy? Just ask Paul Pelosi.

Trump doesn’t deliver violence himself. He just says awful things about a person who has crossed him, like Nancy Pelosi, knowing this will be enough to trigger threats or actual violence by one of his followers.

Ask the judges and prosecutors who have tried to hold him responsible.

It doesn’t matter if the awful things Trump says about them are outright lies. In 2018, Trump tweeted a video of Rep. Ilhan Omar that falsely claimed she was dancing on the anniversary of 9/11. She received death threats.

Trump directs his mob with winks and nods. “You had some very fine people on both sides,” he says, reassuring violent bigots where his sympathies lie.

“Stand back and stand by,” he says, teeing up the thugs, and then: "Big protest in D.C. on January 6th Be there, will be wild!"

His henchman Elon Musk gives a Nazi salute and then denies that’s what he meant, but the neo-Nazis get the message.

Trump’s vengeance machine isn’t only about retribution. It’s also intended to intimidate Trump critics — force them to think twice before sounding any alarms, and chill public knowledge or debate about what Trump is doing.

Be warned. Be safe. And to the extent you can, protect people Trump slams.

#robert reich

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sudriantraveler · 6 months ago

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Traintober 2024 Day 30: Oncoming Storm

1943

Storm clouds swirled and darkened the sky, as an engine and its train puffed slowly through the English countryside.

The engine was a strange, boxy sort. One of Oliver Bulleid’s Q1 goods engines built with austerity in mind.

Despite being barely a year old, wartime service had taken a toll on him. His matte black paint, hardly a handsome look even when new, was covered in soot and grime, and a hoarse, tired panting sound emerged from his funnel.

The rain pelted down, and a distant roar of thunder shook the air.

The engine shuddered, and glanced nervously up at the angry sky.

Air-raids were an ever-present danger, which might loom behind every cloud.

"But surely..." the engine thought, "No aircraft, friend or enemy, would dare to fly in this stuff".

So despite the weather, he almost allowed himself to feel relieved.

At least there would be nothing more than rain.

That relief was soon gone however.

A chill ran through the engine's boiler, as through the storm the unmistakable drone of an aircraft rumbled overhead.

Its yellow nose emerged from the clouds, followed by a sinister gray body.

The black crosses on its wings boldly marked it an agent of death.

The engine saw it circle overhead, buffeted by wind and rain as it did so.

Slowly, painfully slowly, like a predator stalking its prey, it turned.

Then, it dipped its wings and dived towards the train.

The engine roared in fright, smoke poured from his funnel as he dragged the heavy train faster and faster.

He wanted to break the couplings all together, drop the train and run. But the couplings held, the rails curved up a steep hill, and his escape was painfully slow.

The aircraft's guns pointed out from its yellow nose, its sights aimed directly at the fleeing engine.

With great relief the engine crested the top of the hill.

The trucks, equally terrified at the prospect of being left behind, pushed forward, and with their surging weight the train rocketed down the hill, just as the aircraft guns flashed into life.

The crew ducked for cover as tracers blazed past their engine's boiler, burying into the ground and ricocheting off the rails.

Too close, Too Close, TOO CLOSE!

The engine whistled in terror as the winged beast zoomed overhead.

He could only watch, horrified, as it pulled up into a climbing turn, readying itself for another shot.

It was like it was toying with him.

Whistling fit to bust, the train raced down the line. Green fields gave way to houses, and air-raid sirens blared as the nearby town awoke to the ongoing attack.

The engine screamed through the station, feeling little relief even as searchlights and flak burst pierced the stormy sky.

The plane flew doggedly on, dodging ground-fire with almost unnatural swiftness and ease.

Diving in for another pass, it fired again. Metal punctured and tore, and the engine yelped as red hot pain reverberated through his side.

Cold wind blew through the newly opened gaps in his boiler cladding, and steam hissed from the bullet holes piercing his cylinder block.

He desperately tried to fight the pain and keep going. But his vision blurred, and his speed grew slower and slower.

He was a sitting duck.

Again the aircraft rose up, climbing and turning into position for what would surely be the final time.

The engine watched as the plane flew in towards him again, head on.

Its yellow nose grew larger and larger, the cannon mounted in its center bloomed as a black flower of death.

For both machines, the world narrowed into that single weapon.

The aircraft had just put its sights on target, when a searchlight beamed directly onto it.

It fired blindly, only barely missing its mark, as the dazzling light was followed by a flak burst striking clean into its cockpit.

The aircraft shook violently from the impact. Blood and oil sprayed out into its prop-wash, trailing behind in a fine mist which fell down over its would-be victim as it roared mere feet overhead.

Out of control, its dead pilot's hands limp on the stick, the wounded bird slowly pulled away into an unsteady climb.

Searchlights and ground-fire pursued it all the while, until it disappeared back into the storm clouds, and in a flash of lightning it vanished from the world of the living.

The rain continued to pour down, as back on the ground the engine and its train wheezed slowly to a halt.

His crew jumped down from the cab to inspect the damage, as he groaned and cried through escaping steam.

As the engine faded in and out of consciousness, fighting exhaustion and pain, he could only barely register that he was somehow still alive.

#ttte #rws #thomas the tank engine #the railway series #ttte art #ttte fic #ttte neville #ttte traintober #traintober 2024 #traintober #tw: war #tw: guns #tw: violence #tw: mentions of blood #tw: mentions of death

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rederiswrites · 1 month ago

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Ran around and got the chili started and seeds planted and jerky sliced and marinated and chickens taken care of and made sure the boy took hay to the sheep and...sort of cleaned the kitchen. Ish. And then threw myself into my seat and opened up the Zoom link at 6:03 and I'd already missed the intro and showed up to a machine gun spray of botany terms. And suddenly and all at once I was Extremely Cranky.

Monocot! Dicot! Stolon! Pinnate! Palmate! Terminal bud! Zylem! Phloem! If I wasn't at least passingly familiar with these terms to begin with I think I'd be totally lost.

And then she alternates that with folk etymologies that I am pretty sure are bullshit, and also I am FULLY aware that this is unreasonable but I will chew on glass if she says "adventitious" as "advantageous" again.

If I don't calm down, here, this is gonna be a long three hours.

Jacob watched me twitch violently the sixth time she pronounced foliage as "folage" and brought me chocolate.

#this is ridiculous

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sentientcave · 2 months ago

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Sparrow

Chapter 1 - Two Birds, One Stone

Read on AO3

Contains: Canon typical violence and death

Chapter Index - Next Chapter >

~1.1k - MDNI - 18+

It begins, as it so often does, with a deal gone wrong.

Morgan hears it, rather than sees it. The crack of gunfire, her mother’s shout. She doesn’t do as she was told to do, which is start the engine and run. She takes the big scoped rifle and loads it, and jumps out of the plane. There’s a snow drift nearby. She runs across and sets up the rifle. Five shots. Six men.

They’re laughing, jostling each other, pleased as punch that they have their weapons, and the North Wind, and kept their money. Morgan understands enough Russian to hear that her mother isn’t dead, not yet, but what else they’re saying, the way they’re saying it, makes her feel sick with anger.

She lines up her first shot. Two ugly birds, one bullet. She’s done this a thousand times, but never with a human target. A deep breath. Hold. Squeeze the trigger.

Their heads explode into a fine red mist.

She pulls back the bolt, and the spent case pops out into the snow with a sizzle. Another breath, another squeeze, before they have time to figure out where the shot comes from. Another man down. They’re panicking now. Shouting. She pulls back the bolt, and another spent case pops free. The next shot blows through a man’s shoulder. He falls, but Morgan doesn’t think he’s dead. Two men start coming her way. Another shot, this one through the gut of the first man.

The second one sees her. Morgan hugs the rifle and rolls down the snowbank in time to avoid the spray of bullets from his machine gun. She rolls to her feet and runs, circling around towards where the others fell. They have vehicles that can give her some cover. She rolls underneath one truck and pulls back the bolt.

He drops down to look under the first vehicle. Morgan fires. He doesn’t get back up.

A hand grabs her ankle and pulls her out while she kicks wildly. She manages to connect, but it’s a glancing blow, not enough to make the man let go. He’s dripping blood from the hole in his shoulder, and snarling like a wild animal. His expression doesn’t soften when he sees how young she is, he just rips the rifle from her hands and tosses it to the side. Points his own gun at her chest.

Morgan closes her eyes, waiting for him to pull the trigger. Four shots. One line of fire through her arm. She opens her eyes.

The man keels to the side, his head a mess of blood and bone and brain. She looks over, and her mother, Helena, is leaning heavily on the crates, her pistol in her hands. “Good job, baby,” she says. “Lets get this cleaned up.”

They patch themselves up first, and collect the bags of cash. They leave the guns, so that whenever someone higher up comes along to check on the dead men, they’ll see that they had kept up their end of the bargain.

Helena hands Morgan the pistol. She’s panting, pale, trembling from the effort of holding herself together. “Go check the bodies. Make sure they’re dead, Morgan. You can’t leave a live enemy behind.”

Morgan shakes too, gripping the gun with both hands. Three of them are clearly dead, just a mess of brain and fragmented skull where they used to have faces. One dead in a pool of stark red blood, his head barely attached to his body. The one by the trucks isn’t moving either, the bullet ripped through his whole chest on an angle and lodged itself in the tire of the heavy truck. She loses the war with her stomach, and throws up in the snow. She’s trembling even harder when she walks up to the last body, the one she shot in the gut. He’s still breathing, shallow and weak. He’s sweating, despite the cold weather.

His eyes fly open when she approaches. He looks young, not all that much older than she is, only in his early twenties, if that. Close to her brother’s age. His brown eyes lock on hers. She raises the gun.

“P—Please,” he says weakly.

Morgan’s hands shake.

“You’re no killer,” he spits out. “Not like this.” He says something else, but there’s not enough breath in his lungs to give the words form. It’s shaped like a prayer. His eyes don’t leave hers.

She fires twice, into the snow bank behind him. He exhales, closes his eyes.

“Don’t make me regret it,” she hisses at him. She doesn’t know if he understands her. Doesn’t know if he can hear her, if he’s dead anyway.

She runs for the plane.

They don’t have enough time to get to their usual stopover, with Helena in the shape she’s in, so she directs Morgan to fly somewhere closer. They fly low over the countryside to avoid radar. Morgan has never flown the plane like this before, so close to the beckoning ground, but her mother is in no shape to pilot, and only getting worse. There can be no mistakes, so she makes none, even though it’s hard to think over the pain in her arm and the worry that wraps itself around her heart and squeezes tight. They make it to a rural property, and a familiar man comes out to greet them carrying a gun, an automatic rifle just like the other men had. As soon as he sees who they are, the shape that they’re in, he tosses the gun away and runs to them, worry creasing new lines into his face. He carries Helena inside, makes a worried phone call in rapid Russian.

A doctor comes, or maybe a vet. But it’s already too late.

They bury Helena in Nikolai’s backyard, many miles away from home, in a place that’s so familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, just pine forests and empty fields and ice. Snow falls, and Morgan stays outside, sitting by her mother’s grave, watching white, powdery snow smooth over the bumpy, disturbed earth, burying Helena for a second time that day. There is no grave marker, just a stone, and soon that’s buried too.

Morgan wonders if this is for her. She’s not sure if it could be worth such a heavy cost, the risk, the violence. But it seems set. She’s only fourteen, and she’s killed four men, and left a fifth to bleed out in the snow. What other life could she have now? She thinks she’ll never find freedom anywhere but aboard the North Wind, and it doesn’t matter if she’s wrong. She can choose this, the wind whistling through the thin aluminum beneath her feet, the rifle in her hands, the risk, the reward. Step into the role that her mother had been training her for since she was just a child. She can’t think of herself as a child any longer, not with blood on her hands that will never fully wash away.

The North Wind carries her home through calm skies, a different girl than she was when she left.

#Cave writing #Sparrow #OC: Morgan Renard #OC: Helena Doyle #Nikolai #I wrote this over a year ago lmao I'm finally posting it #Yeehaw #This is Morgan's actual story I just love to put her in situations

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wet-and-wedgied · 2 years ago

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Drew’s Diarrhea

True Story about one of my friends (with added details)

Drew smiled as he took a piece of brownie from the tray that had been set up for the college cultural festival by one of his fellow students. Drew is an average guy, about average height and build, a little on the thin side. He has really thick black curls. He was wearing an orange polo shirt with cream colored pants and a braided belt.

He snacked on the brownie as he listened to the baker explain that it was their first time baking, and they hoped that they turned out great, since they hadn’t followed any recipes or instructions. Drew assured them they were delicious as he finished up the treat, taking another and enjoying it as he headed on to his job, leaving campus.

About a half an hour later, Drew was at work when he felt his stomach churn. He bent at his desk, clutching his abdomen as it felt like his guts had turned into a boiling melting pot. He let out a low groan, then felt his stomach drop and a river of shit drop down his small intestine. Drew squeaked, clenching his ass and putting a hand underneath himself, just barely stoping his bowels from emptying themselves.

Oh fuck Drew thought. I’ve got the shits

“I’ll be right back,” Drew told one of his co-workers as he hustled to the staff bathroom and ran into the first stall.

“oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” Drew cursed to himself as he squirmed and desperately undid his belt. He yanked down his pants and his boxers, pooling around his ankles and sat down.

BBBBRBBBPPRRTT! A fat hot fart escape him, but did nothing to elevate the pressure in his gut. Another fart. Then two more PPPRBBFFFTTT! PppRBBRRT!

Drew held his stomach as his asshole opened up and a mushy column of shit blasted out of him onto the toilet. A cascade of muddy diarrhea followed, spraying the porcelain bowl as his bowels evacuated themselves. “Ahhh! Ahh!” Drew moaned as he bent, arms around his stomach as an other shitty eruption left his ass. Diarrhea poured out of him, emptying him out still he was left drenched in sweat.

Drew wiped himself and pulled up his trousers and washed his hands, going back to work.

… to come running back into the bathroom ten minutes later, slamming his ass against the toilet seat just in time as

BBBRRBBPPRT!

SLLESSURPRPPBBRRT!

“oh shit!” Drew called out as a cascade of bubbling diarrhea like a waterfall shot out of his ass. “What the hell is wrong with me—AHH!”

Another wave of diarrhea, thicker than before blasted out of Drew’s ass in an uncontrollable splattering against the soiled water. Squishy chunks of shit shot out rapid fire. Farts like machine guns were squeezed out, rapid fire one after another. He was then suddenly given a reprieve from his diarrhea. Drew’s eyes crossed and he extended his legs as a new thick log of shit hit his hole, stretching it out as it slowly pushed out of him, it was pleasurable and painful at the same time and then another cramp hit his gut and the massive log broke free, morphing from solid back into muddy and then watery diarrhea once again.

Again he was able to clean up and go back to work. And again he was back in the restroom not long after, his ass exploding with diarrhea.

It was Drew’s fourth trip to the restroom when things got dicey. As he entered the bathroom, he saw that the stalls were all occupied. It seemed he wasn’t the only one with an upset stomach. He doubled over as his guys twisted and he forced out a fat wet fart. He winced as it blasted out of him. Oh man, another round of the shits was coming and it was coming fast! He held his stomach, looking around, clenching his ass as he tried to make sure he didn’t shit himself. The stalls were occupied and none of them sounded like they’d be done anytime soon. But his dump was not waiting. The urinal! He winced as another fart boomed out of him PPPBBBPPPPRRRDTTTPT!

“oh man, I’m sorry, I can’t hold, I gotta—“ Drew said exasperated as he fumbled with his belt and rushed to the urinal. He turned around, dropping his trousers and yanking his underwear down around his knees as he bent ass first into the urinal, bracing himself.

PPPOLPPOSSSRRRPPERRT!

Drew gasped, his eyes crossing as a fire hose of diarrhea bursted out of him , arcing through the air and splattered against the back of the urinal. It came out as a relentless torrent of muddy shits, quickly filling the urinal as Drew’s lost complete control over his bowels.

Drew farted and moaned as he expelled the last of his waste, overfilling the urinal and sending the mess splattering against the bathroom floor. He nervously pulled up his pants, wiping himself with some torn papertowels and hurrying out of the bathroom before anyone could find the mess he had made with his bout of explosive diarrhea.

#diarrhea #malediarrhea #toilet #the shits #malepoop

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walcom-australia · 1 year ago

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pencil-peach · 2 years ago

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G Witch Onscreen Text: Episode 4

This is part FIVE in an ongoing series where i transcribe and discuss the text on monitors and screens in G Witch ! Because I just LOVE words ! We are on episode 4, "Unseen Trap"

<< Click here to go back to Episode 3!

(You reading this post rn) Join me....Under....The Cut....

This seems like a good a time as any to mention that in the Shukufuku opening, Suletta and Miorine are calling each other on the phone.

This gives us a good look at how the current Holder has a Golden Asticassia emblem on their notebook compared to the standard dark blue (compare Suletta's phone to Miorine's) and looking at Miorine's phone shows us that the Holder's first name is rendered in gold as well.

The interface of the online meeting program Vim is using to talk to his investors. We see this same program without changes used 21 years ago in the prologue. It seems that even in the future we never escape the twisted machinations of Zoom meetings....truly this too, is hell.

TEXT: (Left Image, Top Left) THREAT DETECTION EXERCISE EXERCISE PLAN: SEARCH SUPPORT IN MINE AREA

(Right Image, AREA MAP) SIMULATED MINE NO DETECTION MINE DETECTION MODE

The interface of the Threat Detection Exercise as well as the area map, used by the Spotter in the exercise.

TEXT: (Top Left) WEAPONS EXCHANGE AND UPGRADE CONTROL CONNECTIVITY TEST DEMI TRAINER MSJ-121 (Center) WEAPONS EXCHANGE MODE LINK CONNECTION: 72% CONNECTIVITY TEST

This is the screen seen by the Mechanic in the exercise, when the Demi Trainer swaps out its hand for the test gun to use in the second half of the exercise

TEXT: (Top Left) PASSIVE RADAR: UNAVAILABLE ACTIVE RADAR: UNAVAILABLE INTEGRATED COMMUNICATION SYSTEM: AVAILABLE

(Center) EXERCISE MODE EMISSION CONTROL SYSTEM

The screen inside the Demi Trainer, showing the mode its set to. A neat detail is that, in the top left, we can see that the passive and active radars are unavailable, which makes sense as that's the point of the exercise.

Not text, but did you notice that Chuchu is allowed to use her own custom Demi Trainer in the exercise? That's neat !

TEXT: Goat Noise

Analysis: This is a goat, I think

TEXT: GAY PEOPLE

Analysis: hehehe....eehehehehuhuhuuu....teehee! Teeheheeeehheee...uwaaaaa..!

TEXT: (Top Image, From top to bottom) THREAT DETECTION EXERCISE EXERCISE PLAN

PARTICIPANT TEAMS: Student teams made up of Pilots, Mechanics, and Spotters [data analyst]

EXERCISE ELEMENTS: DETECTION: Investigate MS threat using simulated mines. SNIPING: Respond to MS threat by shooting targets.

TEAM OBJECTIVES: Harmonize MS threat response capabilities with task requirements Enhance cooperation between Pilot, Mechanic, and Spotter with a strengthened inter-team approach. Continue to assess cross-functional MS threat response in hostile environments, operating under new concepts.

EXERCISE ELEMENTS FOR STUDENTS:

Pilot: Manual operation via direct visual recognition. Traverse mine area. Exchange weapons. Target sniping in shooting area.

Mechanic: Preliminary Maintenance. Support weapon exchange. Mid exercise repairs and adjustments.

Spotter: Search support in mine area. Search support in shooting area.

For details, please see >>HERE

EXERCISE SUPERVISION MS Threat Response Center

EXERCISE PLANNING TEAM MS Threat Response Center : 4th planning team

(Bottom Image) Reading Completed. You will receive a confirmation message once you have read this EXERCISE PLAN.

So, there's a lot here...lot of words. But there are 2 main takeaways I think, one more important than the other.

The first is that if you look under the Mechanic's responsibilities, you can actually see that "Preliminary Maintenance" is one of their duties, so while the teacher for the exercise was definitely being harsh when he wouldn't let Miorine suspend the exam to clean the spray off their Demi Trainer, he wasn't lying when he said that it WAS a part of the assignment.

The second is that this is a BIG manual, and Miorine somehow had it completely memorized (and able to put it into practice) by only reading through it one time. This is meant to demonstrate that she's very smart, obviously, but I think it's also implying that she has a photographic memory. (Which is how she had the entire genome sequence of her mother's tomatoes just at the tip of her fingers)

TEXT: (NOTE: For the sake of legibility, Suletta's correct answers will have an OK, and her incorrect answers will have an X) (Top to bottom) PILOTING DEPARTMENT ID No: LP041 NAME: SULETTA MERCURY

TEST: MOBILE HEAVY MACHINERY ENGINEERING PRINCIPLES ANSWER THE QUESTIONS BELOW >> 50 MIN.

QUESTION: 1. WHAT ARE THE FIRST FOUR STEPS IN THE MOBILE SUIT AND MOBILE CRAFT DESIGN PROCESS?

OK: PLAN. TEST. EVALUATE. IMPROVE.

2. WHICH OF THE FOLLOWING WOULD NOT BE A CONSIDERATION IN MS DESIGN?

X: LEGAL RESTRICTIONS FOR CIVILIAN MOBILE CRAFT.

3. WHAT IS THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN MS AND MC?

X: MS ARE MORE DIFFICULT TO OPERATE.

4. WHAT ARE THE BENEFITS OF PERMET-LINKED MS AND MC?

OK: SIMPLIFIED CONTROL MANAGEMENT. IMPROVED USABILITY.

5. WHO CREATES THE PROCESSES TO MASS PRODUCE NEW MS AND MC FOR CONSUMERS

X: FACTORY PERSONEL .

6. WHY IS IT IMPORTANT TO WORK TO A DETAILED SPECIFICATION WHEN ASSEMBLING MS FOR USE?

X: FOR WORK SAFETY.

Number 7 can't be made out. It has the word "LINK" in it though.

So, as we can see here, Suletta is not doing very well in her class. Out of the 6 questions we can see, she only got 2 right. You can't really blame her too much though, she's never been to a school before...

I think my favorite of her incorrect answers is Number 5. You can just see her reading that question, tapping her tablet pen on her lip before going, Oh! The people in the factories make the mobile suits, it has to be them!

Do your best Suletta...!

(The Asticassia emblem is also golden on her tests too. They REALLY will not let you forget that ur holding.)

TEXT: (From left to right) JUSTICE AND PEACE FOR EARTHIANS WE ARE SUFFERING! EARTHIAN RIGHTS WORK OR RESIST! DOWN WITH SPACIAN OPPRESSION SPACIAN CAPITALISM KILLS!

TEXT: BREAKING NEWS: DEMONSTRATORS TURN VIOLENT INSIDE EARTH FACILITY! EARTHIAN EXTREMISM RISING

If you aren't paying attention to the news report, the utter dissonance of the actual incident we just saw of Mobile Suits and gas canisters big enough to leave dents in the street being used against unarmed civilians running for their lives being reported on as the demonstrators themselves being violent extremists could be lost on you.

The actual words the news anchor uses here, "Business administrative laws" being enforced on "an illegal occupation" also serves to remove agency from spacian corporations and push blame onto the earthians. (You can also see this in the prologue)

It's like Martin says, the major media companies (like INN) rely on Spacian Capital, and their reporting on these topics will always be inherently biased towards the people keeping their lights on.

Not text, but Chuchu's family at home seem to primarily be mobile craft operators. (This is probably why in the epilogue, she appears to be working AS a mobile craft operator with Rouji)

Not much here, but I figure it important to mention that in the bottom left, you can see that the Demi Trainer ALSO has a Cockpit Voice Recorder. I had assumed it was strange for Aerial to have one, but perhaps it's standard for all MS units?

Regardless, I wouldn't put it past Prospera to use such a thing for her own ambition...

And that's all four episode 4 !! Not as much text this time, but there was still a lot to talk about!

And of course, as thanks for once again reaching the end, I have a gift for you...come closer....

...

.....

...

ONE THOUSAND KILLING BLOWS TECHNIQUE 👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊

DIE ONE MILLION DEATHS

If you aren't dead, click here to go to Episode 5! >>

If you aren't dead but hate chronological order, click here to go to the Masterpost!

#g witch #gundam the witch from mercury

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princesspastel8 · 8 months ago

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Chapter 64

TW: Heavy Gore

Third POV

Jeff pulls out of Eboni after finally catching his breath. "Fuck...that was good.." he sighs, looking down at the girl still in his arms.

He tilts his head, grinning. "Why you looking at me like that?"

Eboni pouts, "waiting for...instructions."

Jeff's eyes widen slightly, placing a hand over his mouth. It takes everything in him to keep his dick from springing back to life. This new Eboni is going to take getting used to, but it's what he wanted. So he stands, moving to grab Eboni and carry her back to the bathroom.

The killer goes to the walk-in shower, turning the water to warm. He gently places Eboni onto the stool attached to the shower wall. When the water is warm enough, he removes the shower head and sprays the water over Eboni.

"First, we're gonna get clean. Next we're gonna steal whatever money these fuckers have laying around. Then we're gonna high tail it the fuck out of here. Understand?"

"Yes, Jeff.", she smiles softly- closing her eyes as the killer begins washing her hair and body.

As Jeff washes her hair, he'll lean down and plant kisses to her cheeks and forhead- making Eboni giggle. When done with her hair, he starts washing her up- smirking at the bruises and hickeys littering her body. Once Jeff deems her clean, he washes himself rather quickly- turning off the water and steps out. He grabs a towel, drying Eboni first before himself. Jeff searches around to try to find a blow dryer to no success.

"Tch. Rich bitch doesn'town a fucking blow dryer? Tch- Your hair can handle air drying, right?"

"Yeah, it'll just be a bitch to detangle."

"I'll fix it up later. Can you walk?"

"Yes... just a bit." Eboni said, grabbing Jeff's hand that he extends to her.

He smirks, picking her up - Eboni wrapping her arms & legs around him. He takes the elevator to the first floor and walks into her room. He places her on the bed and grabs her bag. He tilts his head, pulling out a black crop top that ties in the front, a leather jacket, and black leggings - as well as a lace bra and panties set.

"Put those on princess."

Eboni puts everything on, putting her hair in a messy bun since it'll take a while to dry and prefers to not have it sticking to her face or clothes. During that, Jeff leaves the room to the second floor- searching for anything to wear. He finds a clean pair of still packaged boxers, a black t-shirt that's a bit tight, and a bargany jacket. The killer notices a few chains and rings on the dresser. He isn't one for jewelry but is curious to see Eboni's reaction. So he puts on the chain and a few random rings on his fingers. The jewelry feels heavy on him - he doesn't care that it may be real sliver.

Jeff takes the elevator back to the first floor and walks into Eboni's room. The girl turns to look at Jeff, and her eyes widen. She's never seen him dress like that. It's not his style, but it fits him well. The killer notices her stunned state and moves closer. He cages her, leaning down to her height since Eboni is sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Aren't I beautiful?"

Eboni gulps, squeezing and rubbing her legs together. If she wasn't so sore, she'd beg him to take her again right here right now. She wonders how his hand with those rings would look around her throat -

"You...look different." She whispers, reaching to tug on the hem of his jacket.

Jeff chuckles, leaning in closer - his lips ghosting hers. "Didn't know you were...into styles like this princess. Guess I'll have to dress like this often." He hums, pecking her lips before pulling away. "Pack your shit. Time to go."

Eboni whines, "Daddyyyy." She begs, wanting more.

"Later. The gun you used wasn't quiet. I'm sure the cops are -"

BEN appears in the room, picking in his ear. "Yeah. Cops are pretty close. They'll be here in twenty - damn let me get all dressed up then." The demon said, disappearing to the second floor to find a change of clothes.

Eboni luckily had everything already packed, so Jeff gabs her bag and slings it over his shoulder. She grabs her gun and stuffed bunny that holds extra bullets. She sticks her gun behind her leggings and places her knife in the pocket of her leggings. The killers walk out, hand in hand - Jeff leading the way.

When in the front yard, Eboni looks over at the horses - a grin on her face. "Alright, princess, there's a trail I found in the woods. We're pretty fair out, but we should be able to -"

"Why not take the horses?" The girl randomly asks, pulling Jeff towards the horses. She smiles at the white one, reaching up and rubs its mane.

"....uh.." Jeff hesitates, eyeing the horse since he's never ridden one before. Liu was more into that shit than him.

Eboni looks at him, giggling. "It's ok, Jeff, it's not that hard. They already have their saddle & bridles on. The black one likes you!"

The black horse is already in front of Jeff, sniffing him and rubbing its head against his shoulder. Jeff stands their, extremely tense. No way in hell is he getting on this car for legs. Eboni giggles some more as she mounts onto the horse, grabbing the bridle.

"See? A piece of cake!"

Jeff huffs, struggling to mount the horse. The animal thought I'll be funny to sway, knocking Jeff to the ground- landing on his head. It takes everything in Eboni to keep from laughing. The killer glares at the girl, standing up and dusting himself off. "Laugh and it's your ass-"

BEN was there the whole time, bursting into a fit of laughter. He's dresses in a white collared polo shirt with an off yellow sweater over it and faded blue jeans. "Holy shit that was funny!"

Jeff moves about to punch him, but BEN zaps in front of the gates, opening them. "You guys have fifteen minutes to book it!"

The smiling killer clicks his tongue, glaring at the horse. "Look, you fat fuck- don't move!" He shouts, finally mounting the horse which replies to his insults with a huff and a stomp of its hooves. He grabs the bridle and turns to Eboni, grinning yet looks extremely nervous - but doesn't want to show it.

Jeff surprisingly steers the horse through the gates, Eboni smiling and following behind. BEN lingers back, giving the two their space but would zap from tree to tree - continuing to be their lookout. It didn't take long for Eboni to suddenly take the lead, the cold crips air of winter hitting her face like prickling needles - but she's enjoying every second of this.

She remembers the trips her parents would take her to Texas. Riding horses into the sunset - it's a memory she'll never forget. Finally avenging them. Her bun comes loose, hair flowing along with the wind - laughing loudly at the lightness of her heart. Feeling so free.

Memorizing. Her smile, the joy in her laugh - his heart can't help but skip & his stomach fill with those disgusting butterflies. This girl truly has his heart- and for once, he's proud to admit it.

After some time riding, Jeff recognizes the surroundings. He'll admit that he has been stalking this area for quite some time, thanks to a certain blonde that thought he could touch what's his - even try to break her. He's been itching to pay this piece of shit a visit.

"BEN!"

The link wanna be appears behind Jeff, tilting his head with a grin. "Yeerrr-"

"How far out are the cops?"

"A good hour. They just made it to the mansion. I'm sure it'll take them a while to figure out where to start their search."

"Good. Hey princess! Slow down a sec!"

Eboni pulls at the bridle, slowing her white horse down to match Jeff's speed. "Yes, Daddy?"

"Take a right. There's a house I wanna take a look at."

Eboni smiles brightly, nodding her head, and takes a right down the trail as told. Jeff can't help the hard on he gets from his girl being so obedient. She deserves this reward. After everything she's accomplished today- this will be his Christmas gift to her.

After riding for a few more minutes, Jeff beckons Eboni to a stop, a few feet from the house. The killer climbs down the horse, ordering it to stay put so it moves to lay on the ground - playing dead. Jeff laughs a bit. Maybe horses aren't so bad.

Eboni dismounts her, walking to the killer a bit confused. "Why this place? Someone on your hit list?"

"You could say that, princess. BEN!"

"Yeeerrrr-"

"Cut the meme-ing shit. Scout the house. Tell me who's all in there."

BEN nods, disappearing for a few seconds. When back, he grins - the look in his eyes sinister. "Just him and some chick."

The smiling killer chuckles darkly, guiding his girl to the back door. Jeff turns the nob, almost breaking out into a fit of laughter. The door's unlock - to think this waste of space is just as stupid as Spencer.

"Jeff, why are we -"

"Shhhh, just follow me." He whispers into her ear.

Jeff grabs her hand, interlocking their fingers together as he slowly walks up the stairs. It isn't until Eboni notices the family photos along the wall who house their in. She gulps, feeling her nerves get the best of her. Can she face him? She's been avoiding the trauma, thinking she overcame it when she opened herself to Jeff again. But being in his home, going to his room - where it all happened...

"I-I don't think I can -"

"What's the difference between then & now?"

Eboni looks at Jeff, who turns his head to glance down at her. He reaches up, cupping her cheek. Eboni knows the answer. "....you?"

"That's right - me." He said before kicking the door open.

Jeff frowns, eyeing Alex on top of a random girl who screams at the sudden intrusion. She quickly covers herself up, about to scream again. Jeff sighs heavily, pulling out his knife and aims it at them.

"If she screams again, I'm slitting her throat."

Alex smiles, grabbing the girl and using her as a shield. "You think I give a shit about some random fuck?!"

"I don't know, man - you seemed to have moved on... rather quickly. She's the third one you've done this week."

"....I knew you were stalking me -"

"And yet you left the back door unlock. You might think you're all brain and borns, when really you're nothing but a desperate loser that stooped so low....that you had to drug my girl to have her!" Jeff roars, close to losing his temper.

Eboni places a hand on Jeff's shoulder, relieving herself to the both of him. Alex's eyes widen, tossing the random girl back on the bed. He crawls to the edge of his bed, eyes sparkling in adoration.

"Ebs...oh Ebs- it's been so long. I've missed you so mu-"

"Don't call me that! THAT'S NOT MY NAME!" Eboni screams. "It's Eboni! E-B-O-N-I! how hard is it to say!?"

"But...but Ebs I've always called -"

Jeff has had enough, at this point, slashing his blade across the blonde's face. Alex cries out, falling at Jeff's feet. "FUCK- you son of a-"

"Alex! Oh my gosh, ALEX!" The girl screeches.

Eboni pauses, looking at the girl. She moves closer, recognizing that snarky voice - a voice Eboni vowed to never forget. The girl laughs, snatching her by her hair.

"You're the bitch...that shoved my head down the toilet."

"No! N-No I'm not! Please let me go!"

"Why? There's a certain sound I wanna hear you make -"

"Murderer! Stay away from me! Alex, please save -"

Eboni reaches for her pocket knife, flicking the blade out and slits the girl's throat. She tosses her to the ground, watching her convulse. The girl lower herself down, smirking. She's right. She is a murderer now. A murderer with cause. She would've never turned out this way if life didn't deal her these cards the play. She could've been a normal girl, graduated from high school, went to college, got married, and possibly have a family of her own. But now, that path will never be an option based on the hardship she endured and a certain someone she's grown to love. Her life was only ever going to play out just like this.

"That must be what you sound like choking on his cock." Eboni mocks, using the girl's words back at her.

"Eboni....any idea what you just -"

"Yeah. I killed her. Just like I did my family. I might spare you if you answer this question honestly."

Alex gulps, feeling his body tremble. To think he's showing weakness in front of the very man that took his Ebs away from him - its distasteful. Eboni steps forward, itching her face closer to Alex before asking -

"Did you rape me?"

The blonde grins, his eyes sick - pupils dilated. "No... no Ebs, I didn't! It was the only way to make you mine. You would've learned to love it. I promise you would have! So just dump this wanna be Joker and come back to me! My parents have enough money to wipe this all under the rug! So you can -"

Eboni's face remains blank as she pulls away, that pain, fear, disgust, and humiliation dissipate. She moves to lean against the wall, her eyes never leaving Alex's. She can't bring herself to kill him, but her man can - and from how silent he's been, she knows he's just itching to do it.

".....kill him daddy....please."

Jeff doesn't waste another second and lunges at him. He raises his knife, but Alex kicks him off, knocking Jeff to the ground. The blonde jumps from the bed, reaching towards Eboni- making her tense. Jeff grabs Alex's ankle, pulling him to the ground. The two wrestle around for a bit until Jeff finally gains the upper hand and slashes him across his chest.

"You think you're better than me? ME!? she never wanted you - even when you were kids. What made you think that'll change? You're just a pile of horse shit!"

Stab

"You made her suffer -"

Stab

"She cried. Every fucking night because of you!"

Stab

"Those texts. She told me everything. And I wasn't there....you took advantage of her!"

Stab. Stab. STAB.

"She trembled every time I touched her, Shook at the mere sight of me, pushed herself to fuck- thinking I'd abandon her again. She almost killed herself! I...I almost lost my girl - BECAUSE OF YOU!"

STAB STAB STAB- SLIT

Alex laid limp, crying out in pain from each stab wound until Jeff slits his throat. He places a hand over his mouth, his smile returning. "Choke. Fucking CHOKE ON IT!" he shouts in his face.

But this isn't enough. Not enough blood. He needs to spill more. This fucker deserves the worse death imaginable for touching, tormenting, & damaging his girl. He continues to stab at his stomach, the wounds becoming so close together that his stomach tears open - guts spilling out. The smiling killer laughs loudly, slipping into a manic episode. He watches the life drain from his eyes, eyes holding so much pain and tears - face frozen in that state. Yet it still isn't enough.

So he takes his knife and begins hacking at his throat until his head separates from the body. He grabs his head by his hair and a handful of Alex's guts. He walks out of the room, a blood trail following in his wake. He makes it down the stairs and into the living room. Jeff's smile stretches at the sight of the Christmas tree.

He drapes the guts around the tree, humming to himself as he feels the manic start to calm. When done, he looks at the head and then around the room, noticing Eboni didn't follow him.

"Princess! Get down here... help me decorate."

Eboni hesitates, staring at what was once Alex. He's gone. He's finally gone. Eboni looks at his exposed midsection and gags. To think he was hard this whole time. The sight of his length is enough to trigger her rage. She grips the handle of her blade, marching towards his corpse. She lowers herself down, gripping his length and slices it off - blood gusts over her chest and a bit on her face.

She straightens herself up, spitting on the body before leaving the room with his length in hand. She moves to Jeff's side, tilting her head at the tree. "Oh wow...though, it's missing something."

Just as Eboni holds up the length, Jeff holds up the head. The two laugh, Eboni moving to shove the length into the head's gaping mouth. Jeff grabs Eboni and places her on his shoulders. She places the head on top of the tree, completing the horrific look.

Jeff places Eboni back down, one hand on her hip and the other linking their hands together. He pulls her close, staring into her honey brown eyes. "I..meant what I said."

"Hm?"

"I'm never gonna leave you again, princess. That was the first and last mistake. You rely on me now...for everything- I'll never hurt you like that fucker did. You belong-"

"To you. You and only you." She whispers, standing on her toes to lock their lips together.

Jeff groans into the kiss, moving both hands to cup her cheeks and deepen the kiss. He licks her lips, Eboni parting her lips for his tongue to enter. Their tongues lock together in sync, moving in passion. This is all they need, each other. Jeff will hold the power over everything, and Eboni will follow, helping him in anything he needs - doing as he says, obeying him.

BEN, of course, zaps back inside, ruining the moment. "Uh, the cops are - damn y'all had fun."

Jeff breaks the kiss, cursing under his breath. "Spit it out. The cops are what?"

"Thirty minutes out. Unless there's anywhere else you two have to go, we need to leave - like now."

"Alright. Let's go prin-"

"Tiffany's house."

"What?"

"I need to go see Tiffiany. And grab a few things."

Jeff sighs heavily, running his bloddy hands through his hair. "Yeah, yeah, get to moving then."

Eboni nods, the three of them leaving out the back door. They both mount their horses, riding the trail at a decent speed. It doesn't take long for the two to make it to Eboni's home. They both jump from their horses, Jeff gently helping the girl to climb into her window - him following behind.

Once in her room, Eboni grabs a few bags - packing up all of her important things, which isn't much. Jeff is a bit confused by this, not bothering to help her since he's putting two and two together.

"We're not going back to the slender mansion." He states.

"Then where can we go? I know you hate him, but you and I both know this was his plan. He had his eyes on me since I've moved here. I get you're used to living on the run, but daddy, this girl is not. I enjoy my beauty sleep, just like your many victims."

"Be real, Eboni. No one enjoys being forced to sleep by me."

"I don't know, after today - a nice long hot shower, some more clothes, and your chest sounds like a good combination for slumber."

He rolls his eyes. "Princess, I just don't want -"

"I don't & won't listen to anyone else but you. I won't become just another one of his mindless killing puppets. I'm yours - not his. And I'll be proud to say this to his shitty faceless face!" She huffs.

Jeff once again feels himself getting hard. He runs his hands down his face, sighing heavily. "Fuuuuuuuuck. The things you do to me. Hurry up and kill those idiots before I fuck you."

Eboni giggles, pushing the door open to her room. "Why say it like a threat? Just say the word, and my legs will spread for you."

The killer is blushing at this point, a bit taken aback by her boldness. "When did you get so -"

"Tick tock you too. They're fifteen minutes away now."

"Let's go. I just need to ask Tiffany something, and maybe...get her to do something for me."

The three of them rush out of Eboni's room, Jeff, kicking the door open to Daniel's and Tiffany's room. The two jump from their sleep, the middle age woman about to scream until her eyes land on Eboni. Stunned but no longer scared, she pulls away from Daniel, moving towards the edge of her bed.

"Eboni...my god Eboni, what did you do!?"

"I don't have much time. Just answer two questions for me- How long have you've known my parents? And why didn't you take me in when they died?"

Tiffany lowers her head in shame. "I've known your father since we were kids. We were childhood friends, but his mother couldn't stand me. She thought I wasn't good enough to be around her family. In truth, my family wasn't rich enough. We were middle class compared to them. So I tried hard to impress his mother, I just couldn't bare to lose him...I...I just -"

"You loved him...didn't you?"

"I...I did. But he met Amara and fell for her. Compared to her, I was only half the woman he needed. She did something that I could never do. She broke the hold his wicked family had on him. When they got married, I kept my distance. It was for the best, for me at least. But then... I found out he died. I went to the funeral and the will hearing. I wanted to take you then but...b-but."

"Veronika threatened to kill her." Daniel speaks up, moving closer to his wife to comfort her. "She hired someone to watch her every move. We were engaged when she heard what happened to your parents....we were excepting a baby...our son."

Tiffany begins breaking down into tears, Jeff & BEN sharing an odd look. The middle-aged woman places a hand over her lower abdomen, clinging onto Daniel tightly. Even after so many years, the pain still feels so fresh.

".....what did Veronika do?" Eboni questions hesitantly, a bit surprised that Daniel is actually talking.

"Tiffany was pregnant. Two months along. The foster family that had you at the time placed you back in an orphanage. We flew down and were ready to take you in. But the man that woman hired....shot my wife. She almost died. The baby had no chance of making it."

"I-It wasn't a kill shot. It was a warning." Tiffany lifts her shirt just a bit, showing Eboni the gunshot wound on her lower abdomen. "She took my baby...and any chance I had at having any more children. We still weren't rich enough to fight back. But when we finally were, you had moved here. That... Jeff killed them, your previous foster family. I had to follow through with your father's wishes. So I took you in...Eboni...I'm sorry I couldn't protect you from the Wilsons. Th-They threatened me again. And I just...I-I just couldn't let them hurt you -"

"So....you had no choice but to send me over there into the mouth of wolves!?"

"I knew you would find out the truth! I knew you would have the strength to do what I could never....just like your mother." Tiffany looks at Jeff, smiling a bit. "With help, of course."

Eboni's eyes widen. "Wait, you knew about -"

"I never knew who dear, but I knew someone was protecting you. I'm not sure why you trust him, but he saved you that day. So for that, I'm grateful." She smiles, drying her tears.

Eboni sighs, reaching into her bag and grabs duck tap. "The police will be here in a few. If you claim to love me so much, then I'm gonna need you to wire me ten thousand dollars every month to the card you gave me."

"Huh? But dear, how can you -"

Eboni places the knife to Tiffany's throat. "Don't worry about that. You can say I have...a hacking pro on my side. Hold your end of the deal, and I won't come back to kill you. Got it?"

Tiffany slowly nods her head, allowing Eboni to tie her up, as did Daniel. "Take care of the horses. We've grown fond of them."

Eboni pulls away after tapping their mouths. She begins following Jeff & BEN out of the room but pauses at the doorway. She turns her head, giving them a look full of gratitude. "Thank you...and I'm sorry for the stress I put you two through....and for being disrespectful.....I still meant what I said. If you don't do what I asked, I'll come back and kill you."

Tiffany can't help but laugh. She still didn't give the full story to Eboni. She has a feeling the girl will learn more sooner or later.

Eboni Brown is much like her mother in more ways than one.