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nukacola-reactions · 4 years ago

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Any chance of some FNV whump? Companion reacts to being lost and running out of food/water in the desert.

Arcade: You would think a followers doctor would know how to survive lost in the desert. Or at least know how to avoid getting lost in the first place. All logic in Arcade’s mind was driven out by panic, replaced by facts. He kept muttering the rule of threes to himself as he searched for someone... anyone. Knowing you can survive up to three hours in extreme climate, or that human cells start to die at 120 degrees wont do him any good now. He stumbled and tripped over himself, collapsing in the dirt. He didnt have the strength to get back up.

Boone: He never expected to die this way. Slugging his way through the vast emptiness of the southwest. The only landmarks were the dozens of mountains that never moved, fading into each other. He was trapped in a bowl of sand, never getting any closer to the edge. Boone was low on ammo. He had a broken leg and a sunburn that stung like the devil’s nails. After what felt like weeks, staying alive by drinking from the odd barrel cacti that he found, he saw a small group of NCR soldiers on the horizon. His life could be held onto for a little while longer.

Cass: Have you ever had a hangover while dehydrated and half starved in the middle of some god-forsaken desert? No? Lucky you. Alongside the dizzying illness that had overtaken her, Cass’s heart problems acted up. Her blood plasma levels were too low, it turned to sludge in her veins. Death’s embrace was a gift.

Christine: The solitude was nothing new. The never ending march was nothing new. The maze of invisible walls, turning you this way and that, was nothing new. The most alien feeling was being lost in the open. The desert was an unforgiving place, empty to anyone who didn’t know where to look. But Christine was a survivor. She didnt spend years in the Big Empty and Sierra Madre to die from thirst. Her mission wasnt over yet. Sunburnt and dehydrated, she refused to die.

Dean: Death was something Dean was good at avoiding. He had survived nuclear bombs, toxic gas, and shambling corpses looking to tear him apart. But it seemed like his luck had finally run out. He sneered. “Luck.” Ah yes, the luck of watching your world crumble around you. The good fortune of being trapped in a maze of crumbling buildings, once meant to house glorious festivities. Luck was never something he had. If anything, dying in this desert was luck. The damnation he had endured was finally over. He was free.

Dog and God: No food. No food. No food but the occasional mole rat. Not enough. Need more. Hey, hey we need to focus. No food... hungry. Hey, listen to me you idiot- Shut up. Excuse me? Shut up. I need food. Hungry. No, what we need is water and shelter from this sun. Food- Listen to me! Utobitha is north of here. We go there and we can get food. North... hungry... Yes, yes, food is north! Go! Go north...

Follows-Chalk: How ironic that a man named after his internal compass would be lost in the desert. He knew where he was going... he thought. He was going south. South to Nevada, to Vegas. He knew what he was doing. The cacti would tie him over for water, and digging under the sand to sleep would prevent sunburn and freezing to death. The desert got cold at night. He knew this. He knew what to do. Just keep going south.

Joshua: No town would offer him shelter and no man would give him water. Half covered in bandages covering long burnt and blistering skin, raw due to sunburns. He was dehydrated and overheated... his blood was running thick... Nowhere to go... Both the NCR and the Legion would take his head. The Legion especially.... The Legion.... His Legion.... The army he built from nothing, that threw him to the dogs. Did he deserve it? I dont... I dont know.... No, no they threw me out. They... I didnt... He collapsed in the dust.

Lily: The problem with being 10 feet tall is you needed more food and water to keep going. Unfortunately, the desert wasn’t the most generous supplier. The occasional bighorner would tie her over until she got home. Home to Jacobstown. Or was it the vault? “What was that, Leo? No, thats a bad idea.” Keep going. That was what she had to do. No sense in anything else when survival was the top priority. “Leo, please, stop...”

Raul: He had been staggering around this desert for so long that he ran out of snide comments. He was also dehydrated and had a headache that could put the courier’s to shame, but that wasn’t important. He had dodged death for so long... so many times he thought it would finally be over... but it never was. A town appeared on the horizon. Hope. He staggered towards it. But hope was full of raiders, and Raul collapsed in the dust to a stray bullet.

Ulysses: Out of everyone, Ulysses was the most suited to this environment. This was simple compared to the divide. He would kill mole rats for food and drank from any cacti he came across. Keep going was all he knew. Just pick a direction and start walking, keep walking. Keep going, kill a mole rat, keep going, drink from a cactus, keep going, keep going, keep going. It seemed to work. Before long, he found himself staring at a small dusty town.

Veronica: The world is a much bigger place than the bunkers of hidden valley. Its much more unforgiving. Scribe robes weren't built to withstand the harshness of the dessert. They weren’t built to keep out the heat or to protect from sand. Veronica knew a great deal about survival, but none of it was practical knowledge. She swore to herself that she’d never leave the valley without a full canteen of water ever again.

Vulpes: He had never noticed how hostile the mojave was towards Legionaries until he was stranded. Blending in was easy enough, but as soon as he spoke people turned away. He’d never known that the legion accent was recognizable. He was stranded, no food, no water, no weapon. Too tired to run from the NCR troopers approaching him.

Waking-Cloud: Lets be real, she wouldn’t get lost in the first place

#fallout #fallout new vegas #fnv #arcade gannon #boone #rose of sharon cassidy #christine royce #dean domino #dog/god #follows chalk #lily bowen #joshua graham #raul tejada #ulysses #veronica santangelo #vulpes inculta #waking cloud

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keingleichgewicht · 4 years ago

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WERE YOU KIDDING ABOUT THE ASK GAME if not i dont have any specific lyrics in mind but i always thought the lyrics to the mill were so cool and maybe you could get some thoughts out of them? :0

YEAH GOD OKAY LET’S TALK ABOUT THE MILL. LET’S TALK ABOUT UHHHHHHHHH [THROWS DARTBOARD]

this line. this MIGHT go on for a while so i will............ readmore

so the mill feels kind of notably different to the rest of the pafl songs, which tend to be unusually literal for lyric, either straightforward retellings of events (punch it, punk!) or character piece monologues set to plot visuals (strike 3) or both (all of them, but for instance particularly comfort zone, which is just dmitry’s horrible manifesto until it gets hijacked by a death sentence in the second verse.) the mill is a lot more like what we expect from poetry these days, which is to say it’s heavy on imagery, low on clarity, and fucking confusing!

I’ll draw a circle in the sand, drive myself around the bend in a desperate attempt to hold on to your battered hand Rocked to sleep beneath the snow, she is bathed in youthful glow ‘Strong enough to let it go,’ he says, but darling, I don’t know

a lot of the mill is about circles. this is in the name: a mill is something which turns. a waterwheel is a circle, a grindstone is a circle. it’s even in the melody: the chorus is a cyclic, pentatonic four-note riff that keeps going up and down and up its own ladder, chasing its own tail, not really reaching resolution. and then it’s also in, you know, the story:

the meat grinder!!!! everyone’s favorite fucking hellhole!!!! it is only semi-explicitly identified in the song but that’s because it’s a concept from the source material - both tarkovsky’s stalker and roadside picnic feature the meat-grinder, as a location nicknamed thus by stalkers because it is even more fucking deadly than the rest of the zone, all of which is already ridiculously fucking deadly, and if you’ve seen the movie:

it is more or less instantly recognizable in the mill as well. so here we have a circle! here we have a mill (the title has about seventy double meanings but this is certainly one of them,) and as it turns out, this mill at least will absolutely kill you. and horribly too. interestingly though, in roadside picnic (the book) the meat-grinder is not a tunnel, and it’s not round - it’s just a nondescript patch of ground which will wring you out like a dishcloth and kill you extremely dead if you walk into it. on the other hand what we have in the book in terms of circles is the golden ball, which is the equivalent of the movie’s the room, which is, well,

in short both stories ultimately hinge upon the idea that there is a something in the zone which can give you your heart’s desire. anything you want. everything you want. whatever you want. it is infinitely powerful; it is infinitely capable. the catch is that it will only give you what you want. the catch is that giving you what you want is not the same as giving you what you are asking for. the other catch is that in both cases you have to get through the meat-grinder first.

(so, by the way, what the fuck, right? does pafl’s zone have a wish-granting factory? is it also behind the grinder? where were the original trio going when they got themselves fucked up? and did they get there?)

but the point is: the golden ball, the wish-granting factory, is also a circle. it’s just sort of a sphere. it’s a big round fuckin yellow thing. you know, sorta like:

which is THE ONLY TIME yellow is used in occam’s razor not counting the full-colour shots, and it drives me CRAZY, but it is also me going full conspiracy board so let’s not even worry about it. THE POINT IS.

the circle is the death-machine and the wish-machine. neither of these things are really.... very good. the circle, or at least the arc, is also very closely associated with death:

(розовая дуга предрассветного, ‘rose arc of pre-dawn’. if i’ve fucked up that nominative please feel free to stone me to death!)

in the gdoc notes to message lost ferry briefly refers to the dawn as if it were a good thing, the dawn of hope, which is a usage that sort of agrees with the desolate and deathless hope of strike 3′s ‘everything will pass / a day will come,’ but on the other hand it really is very closely associated with dying. nikolai bites it; nikita bites it; sergei and olga left significant chunks of themselves behind. and the thing about ‘this too shall pass’ is that it’s always true, as is ‘everything ends’, but of course that’s ‘cause the thing that ends might be you. and as we know

dawn is an ending. so that seems concerning!

i think the circle, the arc, the bolt falling back to the ground, is not a good thing. i am getting a little conspiracy board here in general but forgive me, i cannot make you a wholesome answer, my wit’s diseased. i think the circle is an enclosed space. it’s an unbroken cycle. it’s the grindstone. it’s the mill. it’s about what pafl’s always been about: about being trapped, about having no chances, about being bordered upon. the circle’s the geometric figure of equidistance from a given point, and you can walk on it forever, and nothing will ever change; you will never get closer, you will never get further away, you will never get out! the sun rises, the sun sets, and you are no closer to anything you wanted. it’s worth noting that anya’s borderline city, the zone-edge port town she complains is trying to crush all her dreams, her mill

is a circle. (a cog in a machine! a grind-wheel! a cage!)

and yura, whose dreams have already been burned out of him, who starts the series already resigned to never getting out of here, calls it ‘this dire deja-vu’, i am specifically resisting putting the accent marks back onto that, which is to say, it’s a repetition that haunts him. it’s going round and round and getting nowhere.

so if we bring it back around: drawing a line in the sand, as the phrase is generally used, means setting a border, means saying this far and no further. often it’s yourself you’re setting the border for. you hit some divide you can’t abide crossing so you say this stops here, it may be too early or too late, but i say it stops here. so logically: drawing a circle in the sand means you’ve locked yourself in completely.

I’ll draw a circle in the sand, drive myself around the bend in a desperate attempt to hold your battered hand

the whole first half of this song, i think, is olga promising to grind herself down in a hundred ways if it means she won’t be left alone. how hard can it be to never let it overflow? she may feel lower than the low, she may wish she could just disappear out here, into the postindustrial rust, but though it gets harder all the time she will keep pretending. she isn’t going to burden sergei, or indeed anyone, with her problems, her fears, her scars. she is hurt, but she’s used to it, she’s gotten used to being haunted long ago. she keeps her bad eye covered. she stays within her circle she has drawn. she keeps going round and round. she will take the smallest sliver of human connection and be happy, she promises she will be happy, she promises she won’t ask for more, she will take just the ‘hello.’

but you knooooow it’s not true. you know it’s grinding her down, that she’ll be milled to nothing pretty soon, and really she knows it too.

i am perhaps seventy percent sure that this line is a reference to the windmills of your mind by michel legrande, which features such lines as

Like a tunnel that you follow to a tunnel of its own Down a hollow to a cavern where the sun has never shone Like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind

which on one hand seems sort of obscure to be a purposeful reference but on the other hand would be a hell of a coincidence if it wasn’t, wouldn’t it. either way it characterizes circles ambiguously, but definitely unsettlingly. going around in circles is chasing infinity, but what in god’s name would you do with it if you caught it? what are you even hoping to accomplish? and:

the second half of this song is bitterer, sharper - staring down the mouth of the meat-grinder she’s a little more willing to admit to herself that this is going nowhere. she is running out of cages to keep herself in. she is very tired. it’s easy to say why don’t you leave it all behind, it’s easy to say, she’s strong enough to let it go, it’s easy to say, too strong to die. it is a lot harder to actually live.

this is also where the flashbacks admit to us how badly hurt they really were - sergei with his whole side in shreds, she still hides her eye but at least we get to see it’s bleeding. this moral compass is forever misaligned, she says, so there is damage, and it is lasting. and she can’t settle for hello, she can’t live like this, she needs someone by her side. the trouble is whether she can believe she has any hope of getting that

as for who ‘her’ is, or the ‘she’ of ‘she is bathed in youthful glow’, i figure there’s two possibilities: either it’s nadya, who haunts olga too, because nikita’s abandonment of nadya represents exactly what she most fears for herself, or it’s olga’s younger, unbroken, binocular self - both of whom were so young, and so easily hurt, and are now unfindable.

and then there’s this conclusion: ‘the sun will rise, until then / i’ll be waiting for you on the other side.’ which maybe is a sort of hope after all? she’s reached no real conclusions in the zone - she knows there must be hope but she can only barely believe in it - she thinks she is destined to self-destruct. but on the other hand she still has that, a version of sergei’s own ‘a day will come’

you may be hurt, but if you can hold yourself together, you can hope for a dawn someday. an ending. a change. but the trouble’s that there’s more than one kind of ending. and there’s more than one meaning for other side. there are cages, and then there are cages. and you know what else looks like a tunnel, a circle?

staring down the barrel of the gun.

#pafl #parties are for losers #it speaks #ask #in all fairness and in my defence when i made the joke i said i would write not less than one thousand words and by fuck #this has not been less than one thousand words!#jorgyjuice #THANK YOU FOR THE ASK ALSO THIS WAS REALLY FUN #and thank you VERY dearly to anyone who takes the time to read all this; you own my soul now; feel free to collect at any time #metatext

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constellaj · 4 years ago

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Please talk more about your reboot!

16: If you could change anything in the show, what would you change?

okay so how i would re-do CANON is completely different from how i would talk abt a reboot so im gonna touch on a couple things in both contexts! the reason for the difference is canon rewrites imply i can go back in time and introduce dp fresh and new, before anyone knows what it is; but for a reboot, id be working with an audience that has a better understanding of the source material, so i dont need to spend as much time explaining, but i also need to keep everything recognizable

Valerie

REWRITE: i would def make it more danny's fault that her dad lost his job, like danny was intentionally being reckless and shattered some security stuff, and he has a whole mini lesson about learning to not just run in guns blazing. i would probably remove the dating stuff with her and danny (and tuckers crush) too, I think them wanting to be good friends is good enough for freshman year

REBOOT: the fandom already knows valerie exists, so i would actually skip the whole shades-of-gray introductory episode and have her be present as the huntress from day 1-- probably even before danny got his powers. cujo is also HER dog, and her backstory-- we'd find out in like, season 1, that a natural ghost portal (maybe one wulf opened) ripped open on her dog and killed him, and since then shes had a vendetta against ghosts cause of how reckless they are and their disregard for life-- of course, cujo isnt actually dead. cujo is a halfa. a puby halfa. anyway instead of a hoverboard she actually rides cujo around cause he can fly and its big and epic. valerie has BEEN amity parks ghost-eradicating superhero for at least a year (tho shes been in the shadows abt it) and her hatred towards danny actually just becomes really petty, like them flying next to each other chasing skulker just going "I got this. no I got this. no I got this" and they just get in each others' way and its a mutual grudge.

BOTH: i am NOT keeping in vlad giving her the suit to watch danny under any circumstances. it was only utilized half assedly in canon (when vlad couldve just had an invisible duplicate watching him instead) anyway, and I dont have any reason to keep it in a reboot either. instead i want her tech to be a combination of half-stolen and half-gerryrigged stuff and she slowly slowly learns how to build her own.

I also dont want anyone knowing her secret identity, except maybe her dad, and sam or tucker. i think it works better if danny isnt privy to this magic info

Freakshow

REWRITE: i would honestly just remove him. the episodes hes in arent particularly interesting, theyre just generic "we need a plot about x" filler and he's not compelling enough a character (at least in writing) to carry a better plot that another antagonist couldnt. i'm serious

REBOOT: unfortunately in a reboot he's gonna have to pop up somewhere or else ppl will be like "where IS HE" so I'm going to stick with running some kind of ghost circus, maybe a few occult things, but cut out a lot of the spooky magical knowledge and mcguffin stuff. maybe i could make him like, someone from vlad/jack/maddies college who always felt pushed around by them and so he has a vendetta? and theyd be the only reason he even learned abt ghosts in the first place. idk in either way I want to force him into being irredeemable but also include LYDIA (the tattoo girl ghost) way more-- I want to give her an arc that ends in her tossing freakshow aside and running off to be a ghost vigilante.

BOTH: dear god the infinity gauntlet is stupid that needs to GO AWAY. especially for the reboot cause it would exist in a post-mcu world and way too many people would complain about it

Vlad

REWRITE: amp him up to a far more sinister and villainous character. the crushing on maddie isnt enough, I want to show him on-screen performing experiments on ghosts and himself, dismissing everyone else cause he thinks hes smarter than them. i want him to be actively sabotaging the fentons at every turn. i would also clarify that he doesnt actually want danny as a son, but as a trophy-- a line where danny says something along the lines of "you don't want a son. you want a slave". i want to make him a character who wants to destroy the entire planet and put it in the ghost zone so he can be the true ghost king and i want to make this all evident from day one. if i'm writing a series villain you can bet i'm going to write a GOOD one. less petty drama here and more actual stakes.

REBOOT: it seems silly but sense with reboot we have the benefit of hindsight and recognizing that vlad wasn't a big series villain, theres no way i'd actually go back and write him to be such. for starters, of course, theres the fact that anything he does would really be an exaggerated part of the original, and it would bore an audience to see the same story again-- theres also the fact that it doesnt seem right to take a character who was treated as a joke half the time and suddenly make them big and important. no, instead for my reboot i want to lean into the petty gay uncle vibe. he had a crush on jack and now just casually insults him. he moves mansions every now and again by just haunting the family who lives in the one he wants, and taking over-- i mean, who is gonna believe that an actual ghost haunted you. he dislikes danny not because he has some concept of 'evil' and 'good' but bc danny is just too damn active. of course he actually does care about danny and his safety deep down, it's just on the surface they have very conflicting motivations-- not to mention that danny has been raised on legends from his parents of the villainous Wisconsin Ghost, who has to be stopped at all costs.

BOTH: i want jack and maddie to KNOW he's a half ghost and to actively be hunting him down for it, maybe bc they think hes possessed, or been a ghost tricking them this whole time, or the victim of a tragic lab accident who needs to be put to rest, etc. whatever the case it will give vlad actual tangible reason to despise them and genuinely suspect they dont have dannys best interests at heart. i think it would be neat if vlad was cynical and every time danny hit him with the "I'll expose us both. at least theyll still love ME" vlad could be like in the back of his head "oh god theyre going to kill this child"

Dani

REWRITE: cut her out. we don't need her character at all. maybe replace her with a more ominous shadow duplicate / clone that actually looks like danny himself and doesnt really have a name? you could probably combine her and dark dans characters for their arcs

REBOOT: instead of a clone from vlad, she's a guys in white creation using some of dannys dna after he was captured (and vlad broke him out bc he was like "ugh i guess i have to save this child")

BOTH: vlad actually cares abt her (duh), shes nonbinary (double duh), she gets the funny dissolve into goo powers

i had more i thought i was gonna write but this post is already very long and also im running out of coherency for this LUL

#ask #danny phantom #long post #adpRewrite

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thepandalion · 4 years ago

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So........ Moon’s big.

(rant+alternate version under the cut. uhm, warning for eyestrain/neon colors?)

Yoooooooooooooooo I love how this turned out so much Im posting on main before rebloggin on the sideblog??

The gravity was So Fun to mess around with, and I also finally figured out my grian design!

I actually really, really like this piece?? Like, the lighting is super good, and the anatomy works and there’s this bit of depth because the mountain is shaded from behind???

the leaves are autumnal because its december and therefore almost winter but still autumn so. orange leaves.

both of them are dying of laughter... originally I wanted to fill the empty space with “hahaha”s but... idk. felt too busy.

now, unto details rant!

So as usual, my grian design has peregrine falcon wings. but now he also has funky bird feet prints at the soles of his shoes! love doing funky, animal-esque shoes... I also figured out his eye color for my art now, he’s gonna have brown eyes (despite his skin having black eyes and him being associated with either purple or red usually....)

his hair is unkempt and his shoes are untied... because sleep deprivation does that to a person. he and mumbo also have a bit of bags under their eyes, though theyre more of a shadow than anything...

speaking of mumbo, I entirely forgot his undershirt exists... mainly because these lines are also the lineart for the neon piece... his tie was so fun, I love flowy stuff in zero gravity :)

onto the neon piece... be prepared (and also eyestrain warning!!)

uh.

so, carrot mumbo is wearing a golden disco outfit. dont know why but that’s canon so.

these two are,,, very much trippin on sleep deprivation. hence the neon colors, the lack of sense and the.... rainbow?? sky??

in grian’s new hermitcraft video, he was hallucinating mumbo being a carrot and stuff- we all saw that. so.

I think they’re both a bit out of it.. so carrot mumbo and his friend, eldritch entity grian, whose sweater was... WAY too fun to draw. lil swirls of swirlliness.....

he also gets purple wings and skin, because my brain went “how make grian eldritch nightmare being?” and ended up going with watchers.. except not exactly, only. slightly there. I make the gray for his wings slightly purple as is, so its not a stretch to make them super purple when everything is so bright... everything else is more building on that color scheme, while trying to stay recognizably grian... which is literally just bird shoes and red sweater (the wrong shade btw, because of course).

and. I honestly dont know what possessed me when I made the background acid green and rainbow with stark contrasts, but it sure is trippy to look at...

#mumbo jumbo #Peregrine Falcon #grian #grain man #hermitcraft #hermitblr #hc8 #hermitcraft season eight #hermitcraft mumbo #grian fanart #winged grian #grian hermitcraft #watcher grian #art #Fanart #mcyt #mcyt fanart #digital art

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petewentzisblack1312 · 4 years ago

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okay so since you know more than sarah could u give more info?? because i love learning about pete and his blackness as its literally never talked about ANYWHERE else. like thank god for tumblr tbh. sarah is genuinely the only reason ive ever known anything about him in that way but its always been limited so thats why i sent her the ask. i didnt even know ur blog. sorry for sending to her instead of you!!!

oh its fine!! im pretty new on the scene technically. while sarah and i were in the fob fandom at the same time in 2015 ish, i actually left tumblr completely and recently came back!! but anyway, lets talk about petes melanin (my beloved <3)

theres a pretty pervasive narrative, not just around pete but around any black and especially biracial celebrities that theyre ashamed of their blackness or arent "really" black. theres like. a looooooooooong conversation to be had within the black community about this, but to tldr it, the assumption is if you dont look black, you arent black, which for a lot of reasons isnt exactly the case. with him in particular theres a lot of stuff that contributes to this.

most people do not associate the alternative scene and emo especially with black people, so its easy to overlook a lot if someone isnt SUPER obviously black. pete has other ethnic features, like his nose, and is recognizable visually as black except for his skin color. except thats because hes been artificially lightened in photoshoots due to editing and (ALLEGEDLY AND POSSIBLY) lighter foundations. further, he relaxed his hair, which takes away another ethnic feature of his.

there is another aspect to this, which is that black people tan, noticeably and by several shades. you will not notice it if youre like seeing them continuously throughout the year, but as someone who lives in the caribbean and has spent some time in the states, the difference is stark enough to be noticeable. a lightskinned black person may look MUCH paler in the winter compared to in the summer.

in addition, the wealthier you are, the less time you tend to spend in the sun, so ive noticed that black celebrities tend to get lighter as they gain notoriety just because they have like more resources. the reason people from the caribbean tend to become lighter when we go to the states isnt because of less sun, during the summer thats not at all the case, its because the US is more developed so you dont HAVE to spend as much time in the sun.

besides that, hes like genuinely very loud and proud about being black, but all of those attempts are met with backlash. there was the reaction to his natural hair, the reaction to him with cornrows, and the reaction to his very emotional rant about the murder of george floyd. it happens in fobs music too!! ioh for example draws a lot of influence from choral and hymnal arrangements and soul music, not to mention jay-z and babyface working on the album itself, which led to them being labelled sell outs. they also just generally work with rappers more, with lil wayne on tiffany blews and big sean on srar, both of which also led to them being called sell outs. ab/ap as an album draws influence from rap/trap and mixtape culture in the way it was written (thats why its got so many samples), and subsequently got remixed. remember what happened next? mania draws a lot of influence from calypso and dancehall music and features burna boy singing in yoruba patois. that one led to the featured artist getting harassed en masse and multiple (worse) edits of the song without him on it. i dont like it here 💞.

that last point brings me to the fact that while pete definitely loves hardcore and metal, he also has always loved reggae and dancehall. hes half jamaican, spent time in jamaica as a child and listened to his grandparents records, which were. well. reggae and calypso and a little dancehall. if anyone ASKS him about it, hell talk about it willingly and candidly, theres an entire interview from during the hiatus (which i can no longer find rip) where hes asked about and talks about going natural and spending time in jamaica and listening to reggae, which heavily influenced black cards. he visited jamaica during the hiatus! although its unclear if he visited family since literally every news outlet that mentioned it was like "oh tropical getaway <3" unaware that thats where his folks are from

also heres that interview snippet sarah mentioned! i have the full page, its about the early days which is funny bc its just before futct.

theres also some poetry on sarahs blog that she found years ago thats VERY black. i dont like making it easy to find for nonblack people simply because the first time it was unearthed mostly white people were talking about it and the meaning of it went way over everyone elses head so i try to make sure that if people start talking about it they know going in that its about being black and biracial specifically and so that black fans dont feel the way i did when it first surfaced lol

all of this emphatically points to pete genuinely loving his blackness and not trying to hide it and it being something that majorly shaped his life, but genuinely being unable to talk about it bc of public perception.

sorry for talking your ear off!! if you have any specific qs i almost certainly have answers!!

#dils declares #i just kept going.#i just KEPT. GOING.

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alicedrawslesmis · 4 years ago

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okay i totally agree that marius is written very weird and only focuses on being awkward and funny in fanfic and honestly all fandom content. but i dont really know how to write him better? tbh i dont actually write him at all really and just ignore him cause hes weird and idk how to write it. do you have any ideas on how to make him more canon accurate?

ok a little aside before I get this train going: contrary to what it may seem I'm not actually against having Marius be the awkward funny side character, the fandom created a whole universe of characters that are semi-canon but recognizable but I do wish Bossuet was the funny side character because that's his whole thing and it's great and I say fandom is not supposed to be a Chore, you don't have to write characters the brick way just cause Alice from tumblr said so

BUT let's say you did want to write Marius as more brick-like without him becoming the big Red Flag that he was written as, here are some things we know abt him:

1. Marius is v book smart, he reads fast, he learns fast, he was able to finish law school, learn german and english all while starving (see: last point of this list)

2. He is very concerned with looking presentable, even tho he owns like three shirts. This is a big deal to him. Also he only wears black for Symbolic purposes

EDIT: 2.b. He wears black because of his father and is very attached to his father's legacy! Family is also a big deal to him

3. Marius is apparently hot. At least noticeably good-looking. Idk if you need to keep that in, but it's canon lol

4. He walks randomly through empty places cause he likes to daydream. It's not unusual to run into him in weird places (and by run into I mean people see him but he doesn't notice them)

5. He's lazy. He'll work enough to live but Not A Single Second More

6. He is really judgy

7. He hates the idea of debt. He will go out of his way to avoid going into debt. He'll starve rather than borrow money

8. Lastly, and the most important: He has these waves of obsessions. He will fixate on something and think about nothing else for months. It takes over his work and his social life. Like, say, infodumping about Napoleon to a bunch of radical republicans and getting his butt whooped. He can't help himself, dissociation and hyperfocus are Marius's biggest traits. So much of his flaws go back to his inability to have a healthy fixation on anything

My personal interpretation is that Marius is neurodivergent from the way he's written. So there's just this big gaping problem that is his obviously atypical behaviour that everyone who reads the book can pick up on (usually people don't even realise it's that, they just comment on how awkward/weird he is. Which, yeah, that's why it's called atypical) and it just lays there, unaddressed, to frustrate me in specific

#long post

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witchcraft-in-wonderland · 5 years ago

Text

Logan's Birthday (1/7)

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

Logan was a smart man, he always had been, top of his class since he was little. But being smart only got you so far, there always came a time when you just werent smart enough.

For Logan, that time was adulthood. So many years worth of studying, gone at the slightest notion that someone else was- better. And of course, Logan knew exactly what made his competitors better, but saying it out loud, that was paramount to insulting the company.

So here he was, twenty-two years of age and stuck in an apartment, sifting through job applications and bills, as if he'd ever have enough to pay them off.

"Oh yes Logan go on take only honors and AP classes for the rest of your life, I'm sure it'll all turn out fine," Logan muttered bitterly.

He let out a groan of annoyance as the tv flickered through one of his least favorite commercials.

He'd always despised fashion and makeup companies, but the Kingsley company was another story on it's own. He couldnt explain it, for all he knew it was some odd combination of self hatred and toxic societal expectations, he just couldn't stand those twins, with their overly wide smiles and stupid overzealous compliments. But of course, most other people bought it. So Logan always assumed there was something wrong with him.

Eventually Logan finished with the papers, setting them aside and walking to the kitchen.

"Like anyone would pay thirty bucks for a makeup set that's going to fall apart two days afterward," Logan muttered, glaring at the tv. He walked over to the coffee machine and got started on his fourth cup for that day. It wasnt healthy, Logan knew that, he'd done an entire report on it in sixth grade, but it was the only way he could seem to stay up without having a breakdown.

Logan looked over at his to-do list for that day, he never seemed to finish them, so he had no idea why he bothered. He checked off the section labelled "bills and applications" before walking back to the coffee machine and picking up the mug. He watched the sunrise outside the window, he always liked sunrises more in the colder months, they were much brighter.

Logan finished his coffee and set the cup in the sink, checking his watch. His mother had set up a job interview for him, but all she'd given him was an address and a time, he certainly didnt want to be late. He walked to his closet and pulled out a blue sweater, black vest, black pants, and dress shoes.

"5629, Ridgeport Avenue, should be interesting," Logan muttered as he fixed his tie. He'd never exactly liked Ridgeport, it was a rich people and idiots thinking they could make it big on stupid ideas.

But what awaited Logan when he reached the location was far worse than what he was expecting.

"Mother I told you I dont want anything to do with this company!" Logan hissed over the phone, currently hiding out in the bathroom, he may have hated the Kingsley company, but he wasmt stupid enough to insult them where someone might hear.

"Its good pay! You can suck up your pride for once in your life cant you?" His mother replied.

"Me, a secretary for those- those-" Logan couldnt seem to find the right words for it, all he cod think was 'Ew' and 'Not in a million years'.

"I'll call you back after the interview," Logan said, hanging up and stuffing the phone back in his pocket. He fixed his hair in the mirror before rushing back out, after all, he did have a meeting in thirty minutes.

"Logan Sanders," The intercom sounded, the voice of Remus Kingsley flooded the room. Logan felt his stomach lurch as he stood up. He trudged down the hall, fiddling with his tie. He finally reached the door to Remus' office, and knocked twice.

"I'm not naked if that's what you're thinking," Logan held back the urge to vomit as he processed the sentence, and then he opened the door.

Remus Kingsley was a tall man, with a white striped birthmark in his hair, and a mustache that gave him the impression of a man who'd gorged himself on mud. His clothes didnt help much, a ripped jacket paired with a green shirt and twice as torn black jeans, his feet were even propped up on the desk for gods sakes.

"I'm here for the secretary position," Logan said as he closed the door.

"Well secretaries arent supposed to stand are they?" Remus said, moving his feet and gesturing toward the chair in front of the desk. Logan took a seat and finally let go of his tie.

"So what sparked your interest in the position?" Remus said, very obviously reading off notecards.

Logan bit back the urge to say 'brute force and a ransom note'.

"I've seen a lot of your commercials, the name was recognizable," Logan said.

"Oh so you've heard of us?" Remus said, now checking his nails. Logan was getting more annoyed by the minute.

"Yes, I have," Logan replied, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from growling.

"Great! You're hired! You can start tomorrow," Remus said with a grin, Logan noticed he was missing one of his front teeth. He slid a sheet of paper across the desk, Logan looked it over and pocketed it before getting up.

"Very well, I suppose I'll see you tomorrow," Logan said as he walked out.

"I could get used to seeing that face every day," Remus said, Logan felt his face heat up slightly, though he could scarcely tell if it was from rage, or from something else. He merely nodded and closed the door behind him on his way out, rushing through the lobby and out into the streets of Ridgeport.

"This is it- my life is over, this is how I die," Logan had decided to meet up for coffee with his friend Remy, and the conversation had turned very quickly to Remus' comment at the end of the meeting.

"I mean it could be worse, at least you're both in the same age-range," Remy replied, taking a sip from his iced coffee.

"I dont know how you're drinking that when its 27 degrees out," Logan said with a laugh.

"Nothing will ever be as cold as my heart," Remy said, grinning.

"Oh? Cold-hearted are we? Then please, do tell me where all those photos of Emile huddled up under your arm with his head buried in your chest came from,"Logan said sarcastically.

"Oh Em, the only person warm enough to melt my poor icy cold heart," Remy said, bringing a hand to his forehead and falling back slightly.

"Gods you're so cheesy," Logan said, rolling his eyes.

"You're just mad because you dont have a queerplatonic partner to give you forehead kisses every night before you go to sleep," Remy said.

"I dont need a partner of any kind, I'm fine on my own," Logan replied.

"Sure you are bud, sure you are," Remy said.

And that stuck with Logan the rest of the week. He had a lot more interactions with Remus than he'd expected to, sometimes they felt- planned. But Logan could swear up and down he was imagining things, there was no way someone as influential, nor as self-absorbed, as a Kingsley would've spared him a second glance.

And he carried this thought process with him, that is, until he found a letter on his desk. A letter, inviting him to the company Christmas party, from Remus.

"Did you get my letter?" Remus leaned on Logan's desk, that same grin he always wore plastered on his face.

"Yes, though I dont think you specified the office you want it delivered to?" Logan replied.

"Oh! My bad, I think it was right abooouuuuttt- here," Remus pressed a finger to Logan's nose, Logan tensed slightly, his cheeks flushed red.

"You turn a very pretty red when you're nervous," Remus purred, resting his head on his arms, which were now crossed over Logan's desk wall.

"I-" Logan wasnt sure what to say, here was all the evidence, right in front of his face, and yet he still didnt dare believe it.

And he didnt believe it, not until the day of the Christmas party, where he arrived in a limousine, hand in hand with the man, to a cruise ship of all places, wearing, for the first time in his life, a stunning midnight blue dress, that made him feel like he was worth a glance.

Though of course, no amount of party dresses could top that which he wore on his wedding night, a floor length gown of Remus' own design, studded with pearls and sequins, reflecting blue lights everywhere he walked.

"Remember how I said I wouldnt mind seeing a face like yours every day?" Remus said, smiling as he moved Logan's veil.

"Well, you wont have to worry about that now, will you?" Logan said, smiling, and he relished in the kiss that Remus placed on his lips, Remus' arm pulling Logan closer and closer by the waist, until the space between them was so thin that they were almost attached.

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

Tag list:

@thefivecalls

@willowaudreykeyes

@pricklyfish777

@the-sad-strawberry

@private-snippers

@extercs-experiences

@theonetruebeepboop

@mycatshuman

@teamplutoforlife

@melodiread

@meowthefluffy

@frawkeye

@cemmy

@nerosdayinhell

@thecolorfulolive

@frog-candy-bee

#cori writes #long post #birthday fics #intrulogical #romantic intrulogical #remile #queerplatonic remile #ts logan #ts remus #ts roman #ts remy #ts emile

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actualbird · 3 years ago

Text

luke drives a motorbike in canon and it's a crime we havent seen it yet but also i cant decide which among these two motorbikes i want him to have most

wc: 1k

at the end of main story 2 when mc is escaping from the many media people tryna talk to her after her first big High Profile case, luke swoops in on a motorcycle, tosses mc a helmet, and whisks her off to safety

main story 2. thats so early in canon we were given the info that luke drives a motorbike

and we

have not

SEEN IT

frankly i dont think thats fair cuz //gestures at artem and vyn and marius. artem really likes driving and hes got two illustrations already of him driving fast (SSR Entwined Fate, SSR Wandering heart). vyn likes horseback riding and hes got SR Gentleman's Game with polo as a premise along with all card evolution images wheres hes riding the horse. AND while i dont have this card, marius in SR A Dance In The Clouds has him in the first evolution image as behind the "wheel" of an AIRCRAFT HE KNOWS HOW TO PILOT

(sidenote: marius, youre 21 years old. recently for work ive had to research aviation schools n timelines and. it takes many years. how the FUCK did marius von hagen have the time in his busy busy short life to get a pilot's license. what. how. it's hilarious but also HOW)

POINT IS, all the boys have been shown driving a vehicle (horse counts as a vehicle) of their specialty

except

LUKE!!!

PEARCE!!!!!!!

thats why this is a crime but i'll move on now, just had to get that off my chest

before i go into this i gotta tell ya, i know nothing about motorbike or motorcyle stats. i dont even know the difference between those two terms so i dont know what constitutes as a Good Motorbike. im going off of vibes

and one vibe from luke that both these options go into is his love for old stuff and antiques. stellis in the year 2030 has shown vehicles being slightly more futuristic (see: interior of car where theres no recognizable steering wheel, drives me NUTS) than what weve got now. but i dont think luke would go for an advanced looking model, i think he'd be drawn to more old style models liiike

option 1: classic harley davidson

my reasons for this are the following

it's old school so it fits with luke's affinity for things styled in the sensibility of past eras and also it's COOL. IT'S A COOL GUY MOTORCYLE. and i hate to admit this cuz it infuriates me sometimes, but luke is a cool person

i dont have to enumerate his coolness just //gestures to his long grocery list of skills that are cool and also dashingly masculine

the masculinity is also a factor bc while luke isnt tryna be Manly Man or anything (imo none of the boys are, thankfully) and is shown to not a give a shit about what ppl past his circle of loved ones think of him so yes he will spend a whole afternoon enraptured by a stray cat, his skills r still pretty skewed to societally seen Dude Activities. buncha sports, being the most physically strong person in stellis maybe, shooting, THE LIST GOES ON. so it wouldnt be outta place for luke to gravitate to whats societally seen as a Dude Motorcycle

so this fits imo and my last justification is the simple self indulgence: luke would look so frigging hot driving something like this. and im a simple luke stan, ok

show me luke pearce being hot on a cool guy motorcycle

option 2: a vespa

HUGE SWERVE IN VIBES I KNOW BUT HEAR ME OUT

for all that luke pearce is Cool (infuriating) he is also DORK (AFFECTIONATE, LOVINGLY, I AM LOOKING INTO HIS EYES WITH HEARTS IN MY OWN EYES)

the catalog of his dorktitude is as endless as his grocery list of coolness. a tinker and inventor, collector and enthusiast of antiques, was apparently so smart he went off to a top university at 16 yrs old which was earlier for everybody else in his age bracket, viddy games, and on and on and on. hes a nerd and it is delightful because enthusiasm is always so beautiful but im especially happy to see enthusiasm in things that arent always seen as "cool"

delightful but not "cool" is, i think, the unofficial tagline for a vespa

it's a WONDERFUL MOTORCYCLE. classic as well so it fits with what i mentioned earlier. and also it's reminiscent of movies where characters drive through quieter provinces and theres no action in the movie at all, the film is more focused on this vibe of like, enjoying the sunlight and grass and stuff

//points at luke pearce. for all that hes a literal action hero, he shines so brightly in moments where he enjoys the little things in life. the vespa, in my humble opinion, is the perfect motorbike to do this with

also he'd just look so cute driving it. //puts my face into my hands

in conclusion

im torn. i cannot decide. i want luke pearce cutting through stellis traffic on a harley davidson looking like the coolest person in the entire city. but i also want luke pearce stuck in stellis traffic on a vespa and everybody who sees him---sunshine boy on a sunshine motorcycle---finds a smile pulling at their lips

maybe he could have both? maybe theres garage space somewhere in that building he owns? why must i choose?

oh also, whatever motorcycle luke has, hes deffo modded to be Better, to be Optimized

so no matter what, there will be scenes where luke is doing infuriatingly attractive mechanic stuff. yknow, with the towel over shoulder, tank top outfit, expression of deep concentration and when mc calls out for him and shakes him outta The Zone he turns to her hes got a streak of grease on his face he didnt notice and mc will HAVE to come over and wipe it off and feel extremely flustered doing so

im not sure i made a point in this whole post. mhy, i want to see his motorcycle please

#tears of themis #luke pearce #tot luke #tears of themis headcanons #xia yan

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foulserpent · 5 years ago

Text

chap1

4000 words - xikeel and ned enter a gate to oblivion, and find it already occupied by some troubled new owners. ned meets an old friend. xikeel flirts with someone who just threatened to throw her into lava. wat will happen next

"This is... Different." Ned stated needlessly.

Xikeel blinked. "Yes, a bit."

They stood just inside a gate to the Deadlands, the volcanic plane of Mehrunes Dagon. This was hardly unusual for the two of them. They had been named the "Heroes of Kvatch" after all, and could barely go anywhere together without the town guard recognizing them and demanding their assistence. As a team, the argonian and bosmer had an almost preternatural talent for navigating this realm while skillfully not dying. It had been a few months since the sack of Kvatch, and this alien plane had already lost its novelty.

What was unusual was the lifelessness of this island . And the piles of dead dremora soldiers placed in methodical stacks on the rocks nearby, all of their heads severed and dripping black blood down the stakes that ran through their mouths. And the fact that Xikeel and Ned two were standing waist deep in lily pad laden swamp water.

Before finding themselves in an unexpected wetland, the “Heroes of Kvatch” had been on their way back to Bruma from a stressful and ultimately fruitless weeklong errand to the Imperial City. Xikeel had been taking on her morning chore of feeding Shadowmere scraps of meat that the lazy horse had grown too spoiled to scavenge for herself. She had last seen Ned lying in a patch of sun, smoking something that left a pleasant, earthy scent on the nose, and just the slightest hint of sweet burned meat on the tongue.

She didn't rush him. In fact, she meant to join his basking as soon as she finished packing. It would be another three day's ride to Bruma, and the two were in no particular hurry to return to their friend with tidings of "the Mages Guild's library and every book seller in the city was cleaned out of most books on Daedric ritual runes, the only ones we got from your list were Glories and Laments and that one on alchemical uses for every organ in a clannfear, which we're guessing was more for light reading than anything else. Ned got a new sword though!"

Xikeel had just returned the sack of meat into Shadowmere's saddlebag when she found herself frozen. The background melody of insects and frogs had ceased as if they'd been wiped out of existence in the space of a heartbeat. She dimly processed that something was deeply wrong just as air then closed a heavy hand around her, hot and thick in a manner alien from the already oppressive humidity of central Cyrodiil’s jungle. Each breath was a gulp of something horrid that dripped into her lungs with an overwhelming taste of blood and ozone. She felt herself lagging a few inches behind her body. She felt each moment as an age.

The world seemed to take a breath. Tensed itself. Then, something instinctive in Xikeel became aware that time had resumed its normal function, just as the air split with a thunderous crack. A blast of energy knocked her off her feet and into the bush, leaving her stunned and gasping for breath, only dimly registering the colossal splashing noise that followed.

A high pitched whine filled the air. The soft morning light bled red. A gate to oblivion had just opened almost directly on top of their camp.

"Holy FUCK!" Ned yelled.

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

Now, they stood just within the gate, soaked and half coated in pond-scum. The water and the corpses of the realms inhabitants were unusual, but now that Xikeel had time to look at this island, so was its layout. They were in a great chasm between two parallel rows of towers, all connected by bridges and almost entirely shattered. At the center was a recognizable sigil keep, but it keeled to the side at an angle that should not have been possible to sustain. Rubble hung suspended mid-fall. Most strangely of all, its top was cleaved off entirely, with the sigil stone and its column of fire visible even at this great distance.

"You think we should even do this?" Ned sniffed. "I mean, what the hell even happened here?"

Xikeel scented the air. Blood, ozone, the smell of dead immortals, swamp. And underneath it all- "Ned, there were argonians here. I am smelling us everywhere!" She looked around in excitement. She began to sniff the air furiously, taking several steps forward.

"Hang on ‘Eel, this isn't right." Ned splashed up behind her.

"Well I am not smelling the smell of hostility, so I'm going to-" the words caught in her throat as her bare foot came down on something fleshy. Something that gave a start. Something that turned on a dime and plowed away through the water with just one swing of a massive tail.

"Ah. Someone is here." Xikeel said simply. The bosmer groaned behind her, beginning to draw his sword as Xikeel continued to stare ahead excitedly.

All was still for a moment. Subtly, the tip of a snout broke the dark water, followed by a pair of hooked horns. Two eyes blinked up at them, glowing dimly with reflective light. No one moved.

The water surged away as a massive form hoisted itself from beneath. A bulky, green argonian man now loomed before the two of them, squinting through the dim light as he set down an equally hefty spear in the muck. He had wide red eyes, crowned with a rather small pair of horns resembling those of a bull. He flicked his forked tongue at the pair. Xikeel flicked back. He was not difficult to read. Big, but out of his element. Perhaps even scared- his gills flared outwards and eyes were held wide. He held the spear in an unpracticed grip, rather like one would hold a fighting staff. Oh!- she thought. He's just as confused as I am.

The strange man began to form the sound of speech deep in his throat, when his eyes narrowed on Xikeel's companion. He froze. A lily pad dropped from his shoulder into the murk with a fat plop. She heard Ned inhale sharply, before feeling his hand clumsily grasp at her shoulder and then lean as if he'd lost his balance. She stumbled under his weight, shooting him a questioning look, but his gaze was locked tightly ahead. Ned had the unmistakable look of a man seeing a ghost. Well, Xikeel had questions and no time for concerns of this man's corporeality.

"Hello, why are you h-"

Before Xikeel could speak another word, the water boiled and surged all around them. Dozens of argonians were rising from the murk and bearing down on the interlopers. The alien waters of the deadlands had been hiding an entire troupe of armed soldiers.

Every one of them appeared to hail from more deep-marsh tribes than Xikeel could count. They were scaled, scaleless, even feathered, all wearing little armor and many fresh wounds. The foremost soldiers crowded in, spear-tips lowered towards the interlopers. There was great murmuring, yet no one moved, as the troop seemed to await a signal.

How could she have been so stupid? This was a textbook ambush setup. They had probably walked directly over the hidden soldiers, staying perfectly still at the bottom of the water until their prey was surrounded. To be fair - she supposed, the deadlands of Mehrunes Dagon were not a textbook ambush location for a group of deep-marsh argonian soldiers. She stayed quiet as she observed, ignoring Ned's hand dug tightly into her shoulder. Something was off. Most of them bore the same look of confusion that had tugged at the first man's features. Their hands shook and their feet shifted. She sniffed. These were not trained soldiers.

The mass of soldiers rippled and awkwardly parted with sheepish expressions as a muscular and substantially smaller woman pushed through the front line. She was an unusual looking sarpa. And, Xikeel noted, she really was quite handsome. Her iridescent black feathers shed water like those of a waterfowl, yet she possessed the same fishlike gills as Xikeel's more reptilian stock. Unlike the other soldiers, she was fully armored in what appeared to be wamasu hide, treated for water and embroidered with beads. Even more unlike the other soldiers, her entire body radiated poise. Her feathery crest flagged erect, held almost as high as her spiked chin. With a grunt, she thrust her spear into the muck, and strode forward. The claws on her left hand were filed to the quick, hovering over a cruel looking dagger.

The green argonian saw this and let out a distressed chirp, drawing stares from those around him. A spiky companion glared and elbowed him, but the man let out a sharp hiss and stepped out of line towards his superior. She turned to glare at him. expectantly. He grasped at words, opening and closing his wide jaw soundlessly until they caught on his tongue and sputtered out.

“(General, Ma’am, this - I know the bosmer. Uh, respectfully, he's not a, um. He's-")

His superior's eyes narrowed in annoyance.

("Go on, soldier.") ("Sorry, he's- Please don’t hurt him).” He finally spat out in increasing panic.

They were speaking Jel! Xikeel was not sure why this surprised her. Had it been that long since she'd even heard her native tongue?

The handsome woman turned, crest low to her nape, and spoke in a deep voice.

“(You know them?)” She jerked the corner of her snout towards the two, eyes narrow. This man far outclassed her in bulk, but looked tiny under her piercing red gaze.

“(The… the bosmer is a friend of mine. He kept me safe, when I was in the imperial’s arena. I don’t know why he’s here, but he can be trusted.)” He replied, using the familiar “he” pronoun to drive in his point.

“(And the saxhleel?)” The man with quill-like spines growled.

“(Ah... yeah, I... dont know her. But please...)” He trailed off.

“(I see.)” The woman’s slick feathers glimmered in the red light as she turned to stare the two interlopers down. “(But you don't give the orders here, Shap-Mota. I have half a mind to throw this mammal-licker and dryskin into the lava.)”

Shap-Mota let out another fearful chirp, looking between the woman and Ned in horror. His teeth were bared, gills held out far enough to show the pink flesh underneath. The general returned the gesture, half his size but bearing down with a practiced confidence that would have said otherwise. The crowd awkwardly waded back away from the two argonians. There would be a fight. Or, judging by how terrified Shap-Mota looked, a thrashing.

Xikeel barely noticed the drama escalating around her, or the heavy breathing of her friend in the midst of an episode, and had instead been listening in silence and bristling with insult. These people had wrongly clocked her as an ojel, an outsider. Assimilated and incapable of understanding the language.

“(Ah, excuse me. But you’re speaking my birth tongue, marsh-sister)” Xikeel interjected.

Shap-Mota and the general both whirled around, aggression nipped at the roots. The woman’s twitching crest betrayed a moment of surprise.

“(Interesting. It’s very rare to see a true egg-sibling in Imperial country.)” She mused. Some of the tension drained out of her taut frame, but her fingers still kissed the edge of her dagger. She paced back towards Xikeel and Ned. “(What is your business here?)”

Xikeel hesitated. Telling this woman that she was a shadowscale would easily have her rank most of the argonians present, perhaps even this general herself. However, if her story was later investigated and it was found that Xikeel the shadowscale was alive - and therefore had abandoned her order- the results would be catastrophic. Scales couldn't kill other scales, but deserters almost always wound up dead one way or another.

“(I am on an assignment of absolute secrecy,)” Xikeel bullshitted. "(I close these gates on this assignment, and this one just has appeared before me, as if fated...)" She paused for effect, and began to pace around, dragging Ned limply behind her. "(Yes, it pains me to say, but I cannot give more information, or the consequences may be dire. But I swear on the Hist of my birth that we are on the same side.")

A larger woman with a fishlike face snorted and flared her gills. “(Oh that's just rich. An ‘assignment of absolute secrecy?’ with that?”) She tossed her snout in Ned’s direction. Xikeel dared a nervous glance back at her friend. He still stood with the same dazed expression, eyes glazed and breathing slightly ragged. He was somewhere far away from here. Perfect.

Xikeel hissed dismissively. “(Please. In my field, having dumb muscle around cannot hurt)” she said with a practiced poker face. This seemed to satisfy most of the crowd. However, the large green man glared at Xikeel with a gaze that said he wanted to rip her in half, and a physique that said he very much could.

He opened his mouth and took a step towards Xikeel. "(You-)"

“(ENOUGH about the stupid elf! And get back to your fucking position!)" The dark-feathered woman took a frustrated swing in his direction him, feathers raised in irritation. He bowed back, continuing to glare from under his horns.

The general let out a groan of frustration and closed the gap between herself and Xikeel. She hooking a claw from her untrimmed right hand under Xikeel's chin, tilting it up slightly.

"(If you are on our side, your business is not secret from a general of the An-Xileel.)”

Xikeel swallowed and flared her gills. “(Fine.)” She did not look at Ned, but prayed his attention would be captured enough to pick up on the ruse. “My name is Thux-Ha” Xikeel announced to the crowd in Cyrodiilic, then in Jel. She stretched out her neck and stood tall, as if to give credence to the name "Snake-Throat". She leaned towards the general, speaking quietly now.

"(I am under service of the King of the Black Marsh.)" she spoke in the old innuendo. "(I assume that will suffice.)"

The argonians close enough to hear rippled in surprise. Most outsiders still lingered under the assumption that the Black Marsh had a king, as if one saxhleel could ever represent the rainbow myriad of tribes that populated the land. To "Serve under the king" was merely to serve Sithis as Its scales, and Its scales were to be respected.

The general's eyes narrowed. She flicked her tongue. Xikeel flicked back. The larger woman huffed, leaning in until their muzzles nearly touched as the two took each other's scent in rapid succession.

Satisfied that "Thux-Ha" did not have the scent of a liar, the general leaned back.

"(She speaks truth)" She announced to the crowd. "(This is a kinsman. You will treat her with the same respect as myself. Believe it or not, this little snake ranks all of you)". She pulled her spear out of the murk, gesturing broadly.

"(Return to your positions. I'll finish dealing with our guests.)"

The crowd muttered amongst themselves, glancing back at the small argonian and elf in their midst, but did not object. They lowered themselves into the water, and began to kick off towards their separate posts. Xikeel counted the tails churning the algae. About fifteen to twenty saxhleel in total. Not counting herself, the general, and this "Shap-Mota" who remained staring at her friend with his hands clenched tight around his spear.

"(You too, soldier.)" The general addressed Shap-Mota. He gave a rather pathetic look at the still dazed bosmer before awkwardly flopping back into the murk.

The general remained standing before Xikeel, watching with narrowed eyes and a wrinkled nose as her troupe finished melting back into the water. Once it looked like they were never there, her piercing eyes returned to Xikeel.

"(Thux-Ha.)" She said, an odd quaver pulling at the edge of her voice.

"(Yeah?)"

The general looked around again, rotating her neck to scan the full perimeter. Then whipped back and dropped her face to Xikeel's level. In one moment, all of her previous poise rolled from her feathers like water.

"(We need help. Badly. Do you have a couple days?)"

Xikeel could barely keep herself from startling. She played off the motion into a shift of the feet, squinting in a smile.

"(Ahh, as I said, I have an assignment of great importance. I am unsure I can make time in my schedule... What is it you need?)"

The general drooped even lower, crest held tight against her neck.

"(Every. Single. Person alive here is a civilian soldier. The other two troupes all got FRIED by the damned stupid sigil rock, and I am the only damned STUPID fucking ranking soldier left!)"

"(Oh, wow, that's-)"

"(We have one of our mages left trying to get us back to the marsh, and now that it's just me and my fucking auxiliary troupe of unpracticed nobodies left, we've got the GODDAMN dremora harassing us every other day and she can't get anything done!)" The general raved.

Xikeel searched for a response, but was distracted by the sound of splashing. Ned had wandered a few meters away, searching the water where the green argonian had been. He hissed a name. She shook her head and returned her attention to the general.

"(Uh, the gate is right there? You could always leave. Y-")

"(No the hell we can't! This is life or death for more people than you can possibly imagine!)". The general threw out her arms in exasperation, a few downy feathers flying like confetti. She remained in that position, eyes begging the woman's response.

"Shap? Shap-Mota?" Ned was several feet away, whispering at the water. The two argonian's eyes flicked to him, then back to each other. "(Well, what exactly are you wanting me to do? Because I am not sure what you are wanting from me.)" Xikeel said, putting her hands on her hips.

"(Just- Just come have a look at the sigil stone thing. See if you can help our mage. I know you came here to take it, shadowscale, but I believe our assignments here differ.)"

"Frog?" Ned called louder, flapping his hand around in the water as if to summon the man. The general whipped her neck towards him, then back at Xikeel. Her red eyes narrowed in exasperation as she brought her claws to her face yet again.

"(Can you PLEASE tell your elf to shut up?)"

"Ned, the general wants you to please shut up." Xikeel called over her shoulder.

Ned spun around and gestured wildly at her, mouthing something that was probably a curse. Xikeel smiled back at him, winking and giving the "okay" signal.

Xikeel turned away before she could see his response. "(I've told him. But I will need to confer with him first, let him know what is going on, yes)?"

The general's body melted with her sigh. "(So you will help?)"

"(I will see what I can do.)" Xikeel said casually, checking at her filed claws. "(Though, I would feel much better about taking this time off my assignment if I were to know your name, friend.)"

The general startled slightly, looking a little sheepish.

"(Ah, yes I - Ah - suppose we're of the same rank. It's Kot-Veesk.)"

"(Pleased to be working with you, Kot-Veesk.)" Xikeel smiled.

Kot-Veesk stiffened back into her military poise, hands clasped behind her back.

“(You'll be doing a great service to me, and to the Marsh. Meet me by the spire as soon as you're finished)” The general said. Without another word, she strode collected her spear and vanished into the water.

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

Ned finally seemed to have come back to reality as he cautiously approached. "Um, hey Thux-Ha." he said quietly. "Could you tell me what's going on?"

"The general here requests our assistance, and it’s probably pretty much what we were here to do anyway. Maybe. And I expect you to be polite and careful with what you say. A lot of these saxhleel likely understand your tongue and we do not need you insulting them, or compromising our assignment."

"Right." He said plainly, looking awkward.

The fact that Ned did not sass back seemed to indicate his understanding of the underlying message - "I had to lie to them, we’re probably still surrounded, please in Sithis' name do not say ANYTHING that could come back to bite us"

"Listen, where did that one we saw first go? He was-he was just here a second ago."

"Ah, the green one? He said to them that he knew you. Who-"

They were interrupted by the man himself emerging yet again from the murk, looking around nervously as if he expected the general to descend upon him with the wrath of a god at any moment. Satisfied at her absence, he turned his gaze to Ned with an intensity that burned the air between them more than the open flame of the deadlands already had. Finally, he spoke in near-perfect Cyrodiilic.

“Nedirael? That is you, isn’t it?"

Xikeel turned to her friend in a whole new type of confusion, dropping her arms into the universal gesture for "what the hell is going on?". It was to no avail, as Ned continued to stare past her with a face twisted into a crossroads of relief and absolute agony.

"Hi, Frog.” He responded in a wavering voice.

“’Nedirael’???” Xikeel hissed.

‘Frog’ dropped his spear and practically lunged for the shell-shocked bosmer. Xikeel instinctively reached for her knife, only to be stopped by a sight more unexpected than some long delayed enactment of revenge.

Shap-Mota had bent down and pulled the bosmer into a gentle embrace, emitting a pleased rumble as he eagerly pressed his forehead against Ned’s. He then rubbed the bridge of his snout against the other man's face, slow and savoring, in a gesture Xikeel knew well as an affectionate greeting. A very, very affectionate greeting. Ned seemed to know this as well, as he shakily returned the gesture, eyes still wide. The only sound was the two men’s horns awkwardly clacking against each other.

Shap-Mota finally pulled back, still holding a slightly limp Ned by his shoulders.

“It is so good to see you, old friend!"

"It's. Yeah it's.." Ned trailed off, his yellow eyes starting to look bloodshot.

"Are.. you okay?" Frog cocked his head. Ned had suddenly become very interested in the murky water still lapping at his own legs. His eyes locked downward, lips trembling.

“I thought you died.” Ned said flatly.

Shap-Mota recoiled slightly, hissing faintly in confusion.

"Wha- How?"

"Are you kidd-You were being dragged off the killing floor the last time I saw you, I-" Ned's voice caught in his throat. Shap waved at the air with his hands as if grasping for words. "I... I was released! They carried me out after that... I, ah, know I was not allowed to say goodbye, but I figured at least one of the guards might have told you?"

Ned shook his head, looking like he'd just been kicked in the stomach. He laughed without humor. "Uh, no. I asked for you and they always just said they didn't know, didn't care. You... You know how they were."

The argonian was silent for a moment.

“They just released me after my last match. Said my sentence was up. I wanted to stay and wait for you, but... Well, I'm sure your argonian friend has told you about how the Hist started calling our people back." He spat the word 'friend' like venom, glaring at Xikeel. She was about to say something, when he shook his head and continued. "I... I'm so glad they freed you, too. I wish I could have stayed to see it.”

"Yeah, uh. So do I." Ned murmured, half to himself.

The two stood in a morose silence, bridged by Shap-Mota's now limp arms still grasping Ned's shoulders. Ned finally stepped back out of the man's grip, rubbing at his eyes a little too hard. His knuckles were coming away wet.

Xikeel made up her mind as his breathing began to hitch. This was probably none of her business.

"Stay where I can find you, old man." She said to Ned, walking off towards the spire and not waiting for a response.

#my stuff #my writing #well here you go

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varian-the-unstable-alchemist · 4 years ago

Text

Dont ask for context. I just wanted to post this so its in one place to share-

Regular text was written by me, and italicized text was written by @purple-steven ‘s mun

---

Varian groaned, his mouth was dry and it felt as though his head was splitting open. He went to rub his eyes before he realized.... right. He was tied to a chair. At least it was a chair this time. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but it was better than being hung from the ceiling by his wrists, which was what he had woken up to last time. He didn't try to struggle. He knew it wouldn't help. He held his eyes closed, mentally assessing his body. He was mildly disappointed to find he still only had on a thin tank top that was far too big for him, the same worn trousers, and a small tight-fitting metal collar. Everything else had been taken from him. His gloves, his boots, his goggles, even his binder. Gone. He didn't know how long he's been here, but by how long his once sleek, but now matted and tangled hair had grown he could tell it had been at least two months. Anger had long since bled into despair and he held little hopes that he would ever be released. That he would ever see his friends again. His brothers and sister. He should just forget them, he wasn't going to see them again. He only hoped they weren't still looking for him.

Everything ached, but the lack of open wounds was proof enough that he had died again. After a few moments of deep breaths, which felt like he was inhaling shards of glass, he opened his eyes. He was met with the same dark stone room that his eyes had long since become accustomed to the light level of. Andrew was sitting in the corner of the room. His emerald eyes shining in the darkness. a smile slipped onto his face when he saw the ravenette was awake. Varian had no energy to react at all, so he just gazed at him with empty eyes. Eyes that had been glazed over with hopelessness since he realized there was nothing he could do or say to make Andrew let him go.

"Good morning sleeping beauty" Andrew whispered as he steadily made his way towards the bound alchemist. Time had no meaning anymore. It could be morning, it could be night, he didn't know.

"What should we do with you today?" Andrew continued when Varian gave no reaction. "Maybe I could give you a treat and take you outside...? Leaving you in the ocean to drown a couple times could be fun..."

Varian knew Andrew was only playing with him. He already knew exactly what he was going to do with him. He always did. Andrew reached up and took his face in his palm with a gentleness that didn't fit the situation. Varian instinctively tensed at his touch but resisted the urge to jerk away, knowing it would only result in pain. "I think we're going to do something a little different today... Im sure you miss your friends, right?"

Varian didnt respond, but he repressed a whimper of pain as Andrew's grip started to tighten.

"Right?"

" ...y-yes..." Varian rasped.

Andrew smirked, releasing him and starting to walk towards the door on the far side of the room. "Well, how about we send them a message?"

Varian looked after him and he entered it and came out with a video camera. Varian's breath caught as he started setting it up in front of him and he realized what he was planning, a look of fear breaking through the wall that had been built to protect himself. The video camera was old, the kind that used a VHS tape. Well, to him it was new, as he was from the past, but it was old compared to the kind of technology this current time period has. He shook himself out of that train of thought. He needed to get himself out of the habit of analyzing everything he sees. Alarms went off in his head as soon as Andrew turned it on, setting it on top of something that was about on his head level.

---

There was a package left outside the library. Nothing special, just a brown cardboard box with a red ribbon wrapped around it. There didnt seem to be anyone around, and it was probably left there sometime that night

Lav was still searching for Varian, he's so worried, he hasn't been able to catch any leads or anything... He hasn't even been sleeping well, he was going out for fresh air. But he noticed the package. He grabbed it, opening it quickly, he's got a bad feeling. Mysterious packaging is always a bad sign.

Inside was a folded piece of blue clothing, after further inspection, it was obvious that this was varian's hoodie. It was ripped in places and bloodstained. Underneath the hoodie was what looked like a cassette tape, where there's supposed to be a label, there was just a smiley face that looked like it had been drawn with blood by a finger.

Lav was... Staring at it, shaking, racing to the living room and pushing in the tape, turning it on. He needed to know what had happened, he needed to know where they were.

The video started, and a dark room flickered into view. In the center was Varian, tied to a wooden chair with thick ropes that look old and worn. He was pale and dangerously thin, his once beautiful blue eyes were clouded over and he was trembling visibly, despite the low quality of the recording. He was wearing a black collar around his neck, there were dark purple bruises blossoming on his wrists where he was tied too tight than necessary and his hair was quite a bit longer and hung in clumps around his face. The tank top he was wearing was thin and far too big for him. He looked cold. He gazed at the camera with a look of despair and fear, tears starting to form in the corner of his eyes.

Lav was shocked at the sight, he wasn't sure how to react. He was mad, he was sad, he was feeling the weight of guilt. He had let this happen. He had died, and he didn't stop Andrew. He was close to the TV, far too close than he should've been, and he was scared. Scared for what was to come.

"Something wrong?" Someone out of frame asked, and varian's eyes flicked from the camera to a point slightly above and to the left. "I thought you would be happy to be given a chance to talk to your friends again... hmm... that reminds me. who should I give this to? What about the hybrid you call your "older brother"? I bet he would love a chance to hear from you again..." It was obvious that whoever it was was smirking, just from his tone.

Varian opened his mouth for a moment before he hoarsely whispered, "...lav..." at a volume so low it was only barely picked up on the tape, his eyes going out of focus for a moment.

"VARIAN!" He was shouting, banging at the TV. God, what was he doing? He knew he couldn't get to him, he was too late, he needed to search for something, anything that would help him get there. But he couldn't look away from the sight. He felt sick, watching what he felt was a younger brother of his being this bruised and battered. He wanted to help. He needed to help, he's let this happen for so long...

The voice chuckled and stepped into view, walking over to stand sightly to the side and behind varian. He was immediately recognizable as Andrew. He twirled a dagger between his fingers as varian started at the camera in fear, frozen, not knowing what to do. Andrew leaned down next to varian's ear at the same time he raised the dagger to varian's neck, pressing the cold blade against his pale skin and whispering just loud enough for it to pick up on tape.

"Nothing to say? Not even a hello? Come now, dont be rude...."

Varian visibly swallowed before repressing a sob and choking out, ".. H-hello lav..." His voice was raspy and hoarse.

Lav was shaking the TV, unaware of the tears that were streaming down his face, coughing with the tears choking him. He could only watch, trembling with anger towards Andrew.

Andrew smiled in satisfaction and drew the knife away. Only to drive it into the flesh on his right lower arm, smiling wider as varian let out a strangled scream, tears streaming down his face as he instinctively tried to jerk away. Anderw gripped his upper right arm in one hand and his jaw with the other, forcing him to look at the camera. "Go on, ask for help. Beg for him to find you, tell him where you are so he can come to your rescue. You know this is the only way he'll hear you. I'll reward you with a quick death this time...."

"Varian, please, hang on, please... Tell me, tell me..." Lav was desperate, looking at him in the eye, trembling more the more he stared. He could see the pain in his eyes, he could see the tears well up, he let this happen...

Varian was trembling harder now, the dagger still protruding from his arm and the hopelessness and despair visible in his eyes. He closed his eyes and shook his head to the best of his ability, but cried out again when Andrew tightened his grip. Starting to yell what andrew wanted, just for a bit of relief "aAAAAHH! I-I dont know where I am! L-Lav.. im scared..." he choked on his words. "p-please.. p-please help me, please I-"

Andrew drew the knife out of his arm and plunged the bloody dagger into varian's gut. Varian's eyes widened for a few seconds before he gagged, doubling over in pain as tears streaked down his face, his body shaking feebly. Blood dripped from his mouth as he looked up at the camera one last time with an expression of agony. "...l-lav... please... help me...."

Lav didn't know how, he didn't know, he had to find him. But there was nothing, only darkness and a chair, a bloody one too. He needed to find him, he had to do something, he needed to find him at any cost. And he needed to kill Andrew. He had to, otherwise he'd be doing this forever. He just stared, he felt overwhelmed with guilt and anger, his hands clenched in to fists as his eyes stayed fixated on the sight. God, he felt sick.

The broken alchemist let out one last sob before his energy drained and he slumped forward against the ropes. After a few seconds, his ragged breaths followed. Andrew slowly pulled the knife from varian's body, brushing his hair out of his eyes and smearing varian's blood on his face. He stepped towards the camera, obscuring varian from view.

"You wont find him. This I can guarantee" He whispered before the screen flickered to black.

Lav just... Stared. He's not sure what to feel. Andrew... god, he... he should've been stronger, he shouldn't have let this happen. Now, he had to make this right. It's his fault after all. He knew was he had to find him. No matter what it takes.

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sergeant-donny-donowitz · 6 years ago

Text

The Makeshift Medic

Donny Donowitz x Fem!Reader

Requested by @svonschroeder

(Sorry it took a few more days than I thought :/ )

Let me know if you guys wanna be tagged in these! :)

@owba-chan

*******************************************

"TEN HUT." Donny's voice echoed through the trees.

The Basterds scrambled into a line. The sun's harsh red rays were barely breaking through the horizon, boring through the branches, but they could already feel the heavy humidity sinking in around them.

Aldo was about to run his men through their mission. It was a big one. There was a cabin in the southeast side of the forest, and a few off duty nazi officers were holding a party there. They were high ranking. And they were major targets.

Aldo stopped mid-breath, before his first word.

You weren't there...

You were always there... in fact, you were usually the first one out.

Aldo narrowed his eyes, and turned to the privates. "Hirschberg. Omar."

The two stepped forward, "SIR Y-"

Aldo sighed, "At ease. At ease. Where in hell is y/n?"

Omar narrowed his eyes, "I uh... I don't know..."

Hirscherg turned around, back to the hideout, "She was right behind us."

Aldo muttered southern atrocities under his breath, as he rubbed the inner corners of his eyes, "Of all the goddamn days to fucken-"

He looked up and somehow you appeared in the line up.

Normally, it would've merited a chewing out, but...it was an important mission, there was no time. He narrowed his eyes again when he realized you were wearing a jacket...over a sweater...over a few other layers.

He quickly glanced around at the others. Donny was wearing his white tank top... everyone was wearing a single layer, mostly short sleeves.

He really didn't have time to question you. You were a smart enough private...smart enough for the OSS. You never steered them wrong, why question you now?

Donny didn't quite notice. He was too fired up for the mission, "EYES FORWARD."

All of the basterds stood at attention, their backs straight, hearts pumping adrenaline, eyes definitely forward.

All of them, except for you.

Your eyes hurt, like everything else, your spine was tired, hardly able to hold you up. As Aldo went through the mission, you felt more and more spaced out. Every word seemed further and further away as you felt as if there was mounting pressure around your head.

You were aching, hardly able to hold up your head, struggling to stand, your knees were shaking. You weren't scared. Aldo was the only one that noticed, but he also knew that. It just wasn't like you.

"Y/n..."

You lifted your eyes to meet his. He saw the dark circles under your sunken eyes, "You're pale." He didn't waste an instant. He looked back to the closest thing they had to a medic, aside from you "Wicki!"

You stepped back, simultaneously balancing yourself, "I'm fine, Aldo."

Aldo sighed. You weren't really a liar. Everyone had been overworked lately. He knew you took missions seriously and decided you must be a mess from stress. It happened to the best of them...

... Aside from that, you were the only basterd that spoke French. The only that could get them through without blowing the act.

You all moved out, toward your target.

Most of you...

Aldo couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. He turned around and did a quick head count.

Ten basterds total.

You were missing.

"Y/N?!"

Donny's heart stopped. Without a moment to lose, he bolted back the way you all came. He didn't run too far when he found you resting on one knee as you grappled onto a tree, vomiting.

"Oh fuck!" He ran toward you, though he hesitated for a split second when he reached you. Donny...wasn't particularly good at taking care of others. Not unless by 'taking care' you mean bashing a baseball bat into their brains. He loved you, and wanted more than anything to take care of you, but he didn't know his own strength at times, especially when he was scared.

Then he realized how helpless you looked. He crouched by you, pulled your hair away from your face and did what he vaguely remembered his mother doing when he was a kid. He tried rubbing your back, didn't know if it was helping or not. He just tried his best. "You...you don't look too good, kid."

You knew how important the mission was for him, for Aldo, for everyone...hell, for you. You struggled, your knees shook and you pulled yourself together and stood back up.

Donny knew how stubborn and proud you could be. You were somewhere in the same league as Hugo sometimes...that was a story for another day....

But, he swiftly held on to you, seeing you were already swaying, and on the verge of collapsing. "Hey, hey. Whoa...its ok," he looked down at you, observed the beads of sweat rolling down your face, your strained red, tired eyes, and your pale, scalding skin. He cursed himself for not noticing earlier as he turned back, his heart racing. "WICKI GET THE FUCK OVER HERE."

Wicki had a scant amount of medical training... his sister was a vet...but he was useful enough for the basterds, until you came along. Most of what he knew he got from you. But you were known to be something of a hypocrite, and tended to not take care of yourself half as well as you took care of your basterds.

Not even a fraction as well as you took care of Sergeant Donny Donowitz.... Sometimes he acted out a little, just to get your attention. Not that you had a problem with that...

He felt almost as helpless as you as he looked down at you, a feverish, limp heap. "Y/n..."

Wicki rushed through the bushes, followed closely by the rest of the basterds.

He didn't take much time, or even a genius for him to know that "There's no way she can go."

Somehow, beyond Donny's reason, you managed to shift out of his arms, and stumble, "I can go... I can-"

Donny caught you once more as Aldo shook his head, "No you ain't, soldier. You'sa stayin." Aldo was at a crossroad. Wicki was the medic, but they also needed him because he spoke German. Hugo was too recognizable to some of their targets.

Aldo hesitated, and thought on calling it all off.

As bad as you looked, you still had eyes, and you still knew your lieutenant well. "At least go without me. I can take care of myself. Go."

Wicki shook his head, "Aldo, look at the state she's in. We can't leave her alone. Not like that."

Hugo sputtered "Wicki's right." As much as he held a facade, and made it seem like he could barely tolerate you, you were the only one that knew how to carry out a good, sound argument... in German no less. (Of course, Wicki spoke German, but he lost his head quickly with Hugo's ridiculous claims. ) Hugo respected you.

He'd never admit it, but even he cared about you.

Still, not like Donny did. And Omar knew it. It was mostly a joke, but he suggested, "Ya know, lieutenant... no one's going to take better care of her than Donny."

Wicki and Donny both turned to him, "What?!"

Aldo pondered on it for a second, reasoning that would mean Wicki would be able to go. And...Omar had a point.

Donny held on to you as he also thought about it. He didn't know much about taking care of people... but he had watched you intently every time you took care of an injured basterd.... every time you took care of him. You did more than that for him...

He wanted to take care of you, for once. He'd figure it out.

Aldo nodded, "Ok. Wicki you're comin' with us. Donny, you'll be takin care of her till we get back."

"But I..."

Aldo couldn't help but grin a little. He knew very well how much Donny loved you. Donny once almost drunkenly fought him over you after knowing you for less than a week. "That's an order."

Wicki turned to Donny, "You know where everything is, Donny?"

Donny nodded, and sounded almost disinterested in them, as he looked down at you, "Yeah, yeah, have fun..."

There was an exchange of smirks and mischievous glances between the other basterds as they marched on.

Donny picked you up bridal style. As weak as you were, you managed to mumble a protest. "Don, no, I can w-walk. "

"Don't lie to your sergeant." He grinned a little, expecting you to fire something back. He admired you for your sharp tongue and quick wit.

He was met with silence.

"Y/n?"

He glanced down, and realized you seemed to be drifting off. He usually loved holding on to you when you fell asleep. Sleeping by you was so calming to him... but right now, it worried him. It wasn't like you. He'd never seen you so sick. He noticed you were holding onto your stomach.

"How long you been like this, doll?"

His voice was almost pleading. He knew you well, and knew you wouldn't fess up easily.

"I woke up like this..."

He caught you chattering your teeth before you clenched your jaw so you wouldn't worry him.

"You're a terrible liar, ya know that?" He smirked a little as your eyes met his.

"I know..." You managed to flash a weak smile at him, as you gave up and rested your pounding head against his strong, protective arm.

"So...how long's it been, doll?"

"Dont..." You shook your head trying to pull yourself together, "Don't worry about me."

"You can ask anything. Anything in the world from me, doll, except for that."

You lifted your eyes and spoofed, "Yeah?"

"Don't ask me to let go of you either."

"You know me too well." Your voice was weak, and you broke out into a cough.

He groaned in frustration.

He thought he heard a few muffled, stifled, quiet coughs late in the night. He muttered, "God damn it, Y/n..." He sighed "You feel like shit, don't you?"

"....no..."

"I swear to God, Y/n-"

You were interrupted by a lone, wandering, possibly lost nazi. He screamed something, but his words whisped through your pounding head

Donny wasn't having it. He needed you to get better, he needed to see you smile, and hear you laugh again.

"Fuck off." Donny let go of you, and raised his gun in one movement, and took a shot through the nazi's forehead.

Donny quickly put his gun back, and balanced you in his arms again.

He wanted to take the scalp, but he wanted you to rest more.

"Fuck that guy, right Y/n?" He didn't get an answer, "Y/n?" He looked down and realized you pained face, and you were shivering. He frowned, and started to pick up the pace, "We're almost there, doll, hold on."

By the time he set you down in your bunk in the abandoned inn you all inhabited, he was worried. It wasn't easy to worry The Bear Jew. But you... well... It took quite some time for him to actually admit he cared about you, even if it was clear to everyone from the moment you met. After that, he let no one near you, not without a fight. He loved you, and only you. He couldn't bear to see you in any kind of pain.

"Sh... it's ok doll." He pulled some covers over you, "I..." He looked back, knowing he needed to get the medicine, but not wanting to you leave you alone. "I'm here. I will be.... I...I gotta go get some stuff, but you, you know what I mean."

He sounded distant and muffled, but you could tell he was flustered. It was rare, but when he got like that it was unbelievably adorable to you.

After what seemed like the blink of an aching eye to you, and a lifetime to him, he came back. He sat by you, and you heard the rattling of pill bottles. You opened your eyes and saw a hazey, blurry face over yours... no matter how sick you were, you knew how hard he was trying.

"You're still shivering..." He brushed some hair behind your ear and you mumbled, "It's cold..."

"Cold?! Its..." He was in a tank top and sweating. He eyed all the layers you'd thrown on, "Fuck, y/n, you're gonna suffocate like that!" He pulled the covers off you, "I know you feel cold, but it's hot out, I don't want you to overheat later." He helped you take off a jacket...then another one, and a sweater, and left you with a blouse on. He took your boots off, and though he knew you normally hated sleeping with socks on, he let you keep them on. He helped you back into bed, and pulled the covers back over you.

He sighed, a little content with himself, and sat by you. He couldn't find a thermometer, so he rested the back of his hand on your forehead. Your face was scalding, sweat was rolling down your forehead, and you were shivering. "Y/n..." He got up, and disappeared from your line if sight. Half delirious, and perpetually worried about Donny, you propped yourself up on your shaking arms, "Donny... Donny?"

"Hey, hey... sh, it's ok, I'm here, doll." You felt his warm arms wrap around you as he sank by you. He gently pulled you back down to bed (though... He normally wasn't gentle when that happened...)

"I gotcha some tea, doll. And here..." He put a few pills on your hand, after having read and reread the labels to make sure you were getting what you needed.

He drank some tea himself. He wanted to keep himself healthy enough to take care of you as long as you needed. As the basterds' medic, you did enough for them... and went above and beyond for him.

He wanted you to know how much you meant to him, even if you might've been delirious and may not remember a word he said, he said it anyway. "You don't know much I fucking love you, doll. I need you to get better."

"I'm sorry..."

His heart broke, even if you didn't know what world you were in, he knew your heart was always in the right place. "Hey, don't do that right now. You're sick, kid, you-"

"You should be out there with the boys... You really wanted to go, I-"

"I really wanna take care of you."

"But you've talked about it for so long..."

He sighed a little, and took the empty cup from your hand and set it down. "Yeah, but I think about you all the time. The mission was important, but you mean everything to me, doll. Don't be sorry. You do everything for us, for me. Lemme take care of you, just this once."

You laid back silently, almost as if you'd given in. You didn't have much of a choice to begin with...

"You feel any better, kid?"

You were silent. Even when you were half out of your mind with feverishness, you refused to let your guard down.

"Y/n, come on..."

But when you looked at Donny's worried eyes, you knew he meant it.

"I'm... I'm cold..."

He really didn't know what else to do, so he did the only thing he could think of.

He slipped under the cover with you, and wrapped his arms around you.

"No, I...I don't want you to get sick."

"So you admit it?" He smirked a little and you still protested, "Donny."

"It's ok, doll." You knew there was no way you were going to move him. You finally gave in. He smiled a little as you snuggled your head against his chest. He held you tight, resting his chin over the top of your head.

Some time passed, and you were beginning to drift to sleep when you heard his voice.

"You still cold, doll?"

You didn't have much of a voice left, and you were half asleep, so you simply smiled.

He peered over a little, and saw that smile, and your soft expression. He knew you weren't hurting as much anymore. You weren't sweating. He let you sleep. He was relieved. But even if you were feeling a bit better, he still held on to you. You were his everything, and even if it wasn't much, he did whatever he could if it made you feel better. He planted a kiss on your forehead, and closed his eyes, with a sigh. He could hear the basterds laughing and joking in the distance.

He would've loved to have been part of the mission, and have a couple more scalps around his belt, holding on to his bloody bat.

But there was nothing that he loved more than you, and nothing else he'd rather be holding on to than you.

#inglourious basterds #movies #quentin tarantino #donny donowitz #donny donowitz x reader #hugo stiglitz #smithson utivich #wilhelm wicki #aldo raine #omar ulmer

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terriblygrimm · 5 years ago

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you know i really like how in tlok aang didn’t seem that happy. obviously he still obtained recognizable aang traits (like the silly sushi portrait) but i like that he generally seemed very weighed down and serious - at least that’s the vibe he gave off in those action sequences in book 1.

it’s contrary to crybaby fandom, but i appreciate the approach they took to growing these characters up in lok. it was a REALISTIC take on children who grew up fighting for their lives in a war. children who witnessed catastophe and evil at every turn, crushing pressure and a shifting tide. toph, the chaotic rebel became a COP.. it’s just so fucking poignant. the understanding and crushing realism she mustve contended with as she got older. war made her hard, unforgiving, but ultimately (and to the most extreme extent) only seeking to protect and serve. it’s just like for most, the loss of innocence takes hold, and that carefree childhood attitude usually (and unfortunately) dies at the hands of “real life” as one gets older. and same with aang! he was obviously still aang, but he clearly suffered at the hands of being the avatar. it wasn’t this fun walk in the park. and that was reflected in his personal life. he grew tired, understandably & naturally exhausted with seeing so much ongoing battle in the world. i mean he dies at 66 (which is sooo sad/cool) so of course he’s gonna seem tired & run down at 40.

and that goes for all of them really- sokka becoming a judge, an arguably “adult” take on “sokka holmes” and enacting justice in its final form. but still, on the flipside, possessive and damaged enough to think he knows best. katara with her healing inside of her home, a shut-in, too tired to take action anymore. she has just taken to healing instead of fighting those battles. and zuko god bless him, continued on to be his best gay self with a mf dragon, but even still, the first chance he got he left the world leaders to go make sure his daughter was safe, knowing it was more important than anything, more important than the safety of the world, contrary to young zuko who put all of his honor in action.

and at the same time, it still had them all linked together. friends made in war will last forever. their allegiances were to each other above all else.

and don’t get me started on the amazing interpretation of their children harboring resentment towards them!!!!!! i loved that. i’m not an active part of the fandom and i never will be, but it SEEMS like the general consensus was disappointment bc ppl believed everything was gonna be happily ever after? but that’s not what war does to ppl. their entire growing psyches were formed under pressure, in fear and impending doom. that is going to be reflected in their later life! they weren’t great parents, they weren’t great partners or never ended up with someone. they made mistakes because they’re fully realized ppl- and their kids suffered in part because of it. that’s the cylcle of war. they did the best they could and mf they did a good job, but as we saw in lok there was still so much to do as a fallout. (sidenote i thought lok was overall meh, but i can still appreciate what it was trying to do & loved seeing an extension of the atla universe regardless!!)

so basically it was just CHEF’S KISS. and keep in mind i havent read any comics or anything so i dont know ~the full story, but based off what could be interpreted from tlok alone, it said so much on the original gang and i loved it.

#uhh i dont think im gonna tag this bc i just fundamentally cannot stand fandom discourse #just wanted to get my thoughts out #but i am tagging:#atla #for my own blog’s tagging system

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nie7027 · 5 years ago

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"And then what happened?" Hatori asked completely invested in the story

"Minegishi dragged me all around the building knocking on every godamn door" Shimazaki simply said

"Was he able to convince them?" Hatori asked unable to keep the curiosity from his voice. Then again Shibata was equally eager to know.

Shimazaki shrugged

"He made me wait in the hall outside while he was inside"

It was 2 days after they have played the prank on Shimazaki and he was telling them about Minegishi's landlord's apparent outburst the previous day while they were in one of their now usual dog sightseeing walks.

Shibata hummed "At least now we know why Minegishi suddenly decided to work the afternoon shift"

"And why we ended up having to babysit this bastard" Hatori couldnt stop himself from adding.

Shibata rolled his eyes ignoring Shimazakis subsequent replies and muttering a quiet 'Here we go again' to himself

Even if he was already used to Hatoris and Shimazakis continous bickering that didnt mean he couldnt get tired from it.

He let them keep going at it while he did some quick maths in his head and intervened once they were in the middle of a who-flipped-the-bird-more-at-the-other contest.

"Guys this isnt the time for fighting. " he said forcing down both Shimazakis and Hatoris hands "Minegishi needs our help"

"And how are we supossed to help him? We arent exactly rich and some of us have future expenses like buying a new phone" Hatori complained fighting off Shibatas hold to show Shimazaki his middle finger one last time

"If you didnt want me to break it you shouldnt have used it to attack me" Shimazaki retorted not bothering to acknowledge Hatoris antics.

"FOR THE LAST TIME WE WERENT-"

"GUYS" Shibata snapped "Hatori you knew very well how risky it was to use your own phone"

"You used yours as well!" Hatori whined while Shimazaki mockingly laughed at him.

"AND SHIMAZAKI" To Shibatas surprise said man actually shutted up and turned to him "Violence shouldn't be your first response. No if you want to be a respectable member of society"

"Whatever" the man huffed stuffing his hands in his jackets pockets and quickening his pace to walk ahead of them.

Shibata shaked his head.

He wanted to believe there was hope for their friend, specially after Hatori told him what him and Minegishi had seen while he was unconcious, but the point of the matter was... it had been Shimazaki who had knocked him unconcious in the first place.

He was still too prone to violence.

"So...what are we doing with Minegishi? How are we going to help him?" Hatori whispered at his side

"I honestly don't know. We could lend him some money to alleviate some of the load" Shibata proposed "I did some quick calculations and I dont think he was sued. If he was he would have taken the night shift too. The pay is better."

"He starts it tomorrow" Shimazaki interjected effectively killing any of Shibatas hope for Minegishis financial future.

"Fuck. At this pace he is going to work himself to the bone" Hatori lamented "Why do a flower shop even needs a night shift?"

"Funerals" Shibata and Shimazaki responded at the same time.

"Oh yeah. I forgot those...Aw man Minegishis landlord sucks."

Shibata shrugged "I dont even think he had the right to demand all of that from Minegishi"

"Why does he even keep living there? That jerk doesnt even do the mandated buildings maintenance!" Hatori grumbled "Now he is going to blame everything on Minegishi"

"You know very well why" Shibata sighed tiredly.

"Why?"

It was Shimazaki. He had stopped walking and stood in front of them, waiting for them catch up and give him an answer.

"Uuuh..." Hatori eloquently said. "Because he was part of a terrorist organization that wanted to take over Japan?"

"So?"

"People dont let that pass so easily" Shibata slowly explained "it was televised"

Shimazaki shaked his head "You were there too and you dont have funny men screaming at you"

"Oh" Hatori exclaimed happy for the opportunity to make fun of Shibata "Big boy here was unconcious in a dumpster for most of the whole ordeal thanks to some 14 year old"

It was Shibatas turn to make fun of Hatori.

"Yeahb and this nerd here" he said pointing at Hatori with his thumb "Nobody recognizes his lanky ass as one of the feared terrorists even when he was the one who hijacked their signals"

"Perks of being a good looking beanpole" Hatori said grinning. And it was true, aside from governments officials, nobody ever thought of him something more than a weakass guy.

"But Minegishi...he was at the front of our forces taking control of the city so he was captured in footage several times"

"It doesnt help that he was present at the other incident too...or that he is eaisly recognizable, you know, with his lack of eyebrows"

"Minegishi doesnt have eyebrows?" Shimazaki asked genuinely surprised making Shibata and Hator burst out laughing.

Of all the things they said that was what Shimazaki had decided to latch on.

"No he doesnt" Shibata finally answered after taking a deep breath to recover "But basically thanks to all of that it was harder for him to get his own place. Not many people wanted to rent him and he couldnt afford most of those who did"

"Yeah, except for Seri most of us couldnt immediately get a job." Hatori said and Shibata could notice the way Shimazaki perked up at the mention of Serizawa but didmt have time to dwell on that because Hatori sudenly exclaimed

"WHAT ABOUT SERI?"

"What about him?" Shibata carefully asked.

"He started working before us. He should have more money saved!" Hatori simply answered as if that was the answer to all their problems

"You know Serizawas income is more err- variable than us. And besides he also has to pay for school"

"Serizawa goes to school?" Shimazaki asked confused "Why?"

Hatori shrugged "He considered that was the the best way to better himself? Personally I think that decision was whack"

"You say that because you actually have a college degree"

"A college degree that has been useless so far. I mean, look at this!" Hatori stopped pointing at a poster that was glued to the wall. It was a lost dog poster "They are paying more money for finding this dog than what they pay me in a week!"

"Holy shit" Shibata exclaimed after examining the poster. They were in fact paying a big sum of money to whoever returned the dog "They really must miss him a lot"

"Or maybe they are just filthy rich"

"My point still stands. Even if they are rich they still went and put up posters-"

"Is it a lot of money?" Shimazaki suddenly asked.

"i just said its more than my salary" Hatori deadpanned

Shimazaki made a face "That doesnt tell me anything"

"You little-"

"Yes, it is a lot of money" Shibata intervened before they could start fighting again

Shimazaki smirked "It says where?"

Shibata was confused "Where what?"

"Where did it get lost?" Shimazaki asked frowming as if that was the most obvious answer in the world

"Here says it was lost at" Hatori picked the poster to read the name of the district written in smaller letters "Ha! See? I told you they were rich. They probably-"

Hatori couldnt finish his jab. Out of nowhere Shimazaki grabbed both his and Shibatas shoulder and the old familiar and nauseating sensation of teletransportation engulfed them.

Hatori stumbled forward the moment he felt his feet made contact with earth again.

"Oh god...I had forgotten how much I hated that" he said sitting on the floor squeezing his sides

Shibata wasnt in a better shape leaning agains the wall that thankfully had materialized behind him "Buddy...a warning would have been nice"

"Crybabies" Shimazki huffed. Even that brat had held it together better than them.

Hatori, still on the floor hunched over, glared at him "You are used to it!"

Shimazaki waved him off and started to walk out the alley they had been telatransported to "You are just a weak-"

"Shimazaki..." Shibata called out taking a step away from the wall and offering his hand to help Hatori stand up. His stomach was almost settled and he could breathe better "Why did you brought us here?"

"Where are we even?" Hatori asked taking Shibatas hand and letting himself be pulled by the bigger man.

Shimazaki turned to look over his shoulder at the two of them "Didnt you say Minegishi needs money? We better find it before someone else does it. Besides there must be more lost dogs with owners willing to pay us- "

"ARE YOU SERIOUS?" Hatori exclaimed

Shibata and Hatori both turned to look at eachother gasping. None of them could believe what they were hearing.

"Shimazaki..." Shibata breathed out in disbelief while the corned of his mouth were strating to pull into a big grin "You really are becoming a better-"

"Are you going to help or not?!" Shimazaki yelled exasperated before Shibata could continue with his corny speach. He really really didnt want to hear it and was willing to abandon them there if they tried to force him.

Luckily they didnt.

"Of course well help you" Shibata happily replied walking towards the end of the alley where Shimazaki was, dragging Hatori with him. "Thats what friends are for!"

"What the big guy here said" Hatori grinned adjusting his skewed glasses "Except how are we even going to search for it?"

Shimazaki turned to look to Hatoris left hand where he was still holding the lost dog poster "Does it says something about the dogs size?"

"What? Why do you-" Shibata asked confused when realization dawned on him "Of course! Mental eye!"

"Duh!"

Hatori quickly turned the paper around and scanned it for a description letting out a Bingo once he found it

"Here. Medium sized Golden Retriever dog..."

He kept reading, Both him and Shibata explaining as best as they could how it looked like while Shimazaki nodded. Once it seemed like he understood he closed his eyes and focused for 1 minute until a smirk appeared on his face.

“I got 27 in the zone.”

Hatori and Shibata pumped their fists on the air”

“Ok. So well stay here lookin around while you go with them. Go! And make sure they are stray dogs and not inside houses!” Shibata cheered as Shimazaki teletransported away.

It didnt take more than 5 minutes for him to return carrying a happy dog in his arms. It turned to be the wrong breed but it didnt matter because as soon as Shimazaki went he returned to the place he found it and immediately went to look for another one.

That’s how the three of them spend their night with Shimazaki going and coming carrying a different dog each time. They eventually had to move another neighbourhood but it the end they found the correct dog matching the posters description and quickly made their way to the address on the poster.

When Minegishi came home late at night all he wanted to do was to drop dead on his bed and never wake up again.

But he couldnt.

There was a big pile of dishes waiting for him at the kitchens sink and it wasnt going to be long before the smell became unbearable.

Even with Shimazaki staying at Shibatas and Hatoris place dishes, that Minegishi hadnt been able to wash what with him working at least 2 shifts most days, had kept accumulating to the point the stink was becoming unbearable.

He considered using his powers to do the dirty work but god he was so tired he didnt even have enough energy in him to lift a single leaf much less manipulate the necessary amount of vines to do that chore.

Who would have thought working a double shift at the flower shop could be so tiring? Not him even though he already worked there.

He clearly had understimated the strain customer service would put on him after 10 hours of dealing with it. Not to mention the physical extenuation from hauling all those dirt sacks.

Minegishi was too tired but he couldnt go to sleep yet.

Still.

That didnt mean he couldnt take a small break and sit down for a moment.

He had been on his feet all day. He deserved this.

Those were Minegishi last thoughts because the moment he sat down on hia couch in the living room and his head felt the support of the headrest he fell sound asleep.

He woke up to the feeling of something being dropped on his lap.

When he opened his eyes the room was dark and he couldnt see a thing but he could feel the strong presence of someone else in the room and with quick practiced motions he stood up ready to fight at the same he commanded his planta to turn on the light switch.

Light came and with it the sight of a very amused Shimazaki staring back at him.

"You are finally goinfmg to fight me?" the blind man asked with a smirk on his face.

"Keep wishing" Minegishi huffed dragging a hand along his face. "Ugggh. What time is it?"

He wasnt really expecting an answer from Shimazaki so he was suprised when the man replied.

"3am"

"Huh? That late?" Minegishi said rubbing his eyes. "Must have fallen asleep" he muttered. He remembered cheking his phone when he arrived home and it had only been 10 pm.

"Werent you supposed to work the night shift today?" Shimazaki asked surprising Minegishi for the second time that night. He hadnt thought Shimazaki cared enough to remember his schedule. Lucky guees, perhaps?

"Yeah...but I was sent home." Minegishi simply said. He didnt feel like explaining the concern his boss had expressed at Minegishis apparently terrible state.

Shimazaki then made a face Minegishi had never seen on him making him a little wary of the man. His sides still hurt from prank they had pulled on him.

#nie's writing

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