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lunarswritings · 2 years

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Inaccurate Random Tears of Themis Headcannons

I litterally don’t know what to write so if u wanna send an idea go for it, if you already sent one I didn’t get it so send it again! If u wanna use these headcannons for whatever just go for it

Warnings: small mentions of death and maybe ooc idk what I’m doing at this point, maybe angst?? Didn’t proof read as much as I should oops

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During the 8 years Luke was gone. While Luke would go to the grocery store and go to the candy isle and look at the candy and chips him and Rosa used to eat

Sometimes he would buy Rosa’s favorite candy when he’s feelin a little emotional :(

When Luke was free sometimes he would look at Rosa’s social media to check up on her and even search her up and look at the cases she’s taken

Okay little theory here but I feel like Luke knows the whereabouts of Rosa’s parents since he worked for the government and has A+ searching skills

What if they’re dead and he doesn’t want to tell Rosa omg

Okokok off topic anyway

He checks up on em (if they’re alive) and makes sure they’re ok bc yk family whooo

I don’t think it’s been canon on when Artem fell in love with Rosa but I think it would be super cute if he had a small lil crush before chapter 1

He probably didn’t know it was a crush and thought of it as admiration?

I bet he tried to start a small conversation with her and tried to give her a small compliment of her work and talk about something related to work because that’s totally relatable??

Poor Rosa did not get the message but she still admired him!!

Yk in that sr date Artem said he got a matching set of all his kitchen utensils

If he broke any of them or they worn out somehow I bet he bought the same set and has duplicates of everything just so he could replace that one tool so he has a small box for them

Artem would read the about page of every recipe because he thinks it’s important and is afraid he’ll miss something, even if it’s just a simple history of said meal he’s not taking any risks

As soon as Artem heard what Rosa’s favorite dish is, he searched up a recipe and kept making it until it was PERFECT, down to the seasoning

Bonus points if he knows your spice level

Ok so Idk what canon language Stellis has, maybe Stellis has its own language or maybe it’s Chinese or whatever dub y’all picked

But I feel like when Vyn first was learning the Stellis language he would use formal instead of causal for everything

Yk when ur taking your second language classes and there’s an informal and formal version for addressing people or yourself and other words

or maybe it depends on the language idk

As Vyn was learning the Stellis language he would almost never use informal words when he first learned it since he had his royal image and never used casual terms

I bet people thought his accent was either funny or cute but not in a bad way

Eventually he got better

But he gets really happy when a book he wants has it in the Svart language since he can read the book faster

Movies with Svart subtitles? He’s watching it

He probably takes longer to read documents in Stellis’s language but not like really long

“Wow he’s really taking up all the words and thoroughly checking!”

No he’s just trying to read the poor document

His speed improves tho dw

Vyn used to get a little bit self conscious since he stuck out a lot with his silver hair and he was a foreigner but he stopped thinking about it after a few months

Plus the fan club of Vyn maybe helped in some way?

If Vyn has a small idea of Rosa’s schedule or favorite places sometimes when he’s free he’ll visit or try to go to routes that match Rosa’s schedule

It’s like a “I’ll take a different hallway so I can see my crush for a few seconds” during school

There’s a 50% chance Giann did a “we’re going to Disneyland!” Prank where he’d wake child Marius at 4am to pack his bags and then tell him it was a lie

Marius def cried and went to his dad at like 4 am

Marius gives Disney kid vibes and he definetly loved Tangled

He loved Eugene

Omg what if Rosa and Marius did a rapunzel and Flynn rider costume for Halloween for funsies

Oh my god it’s perfect.

When Marius was in high school I bet at least once he got locked in the art room since he was glued in the art room and the teacher had to kick him out , imagine he couldn’t see him one time and he got locked in

He probably either

A: panicked and called his dad

B: texted his dad and fell asleep in there

Marius likes pineapple on his pizza idk why

Maybe he likes the idea of annoying people who hate it I suppose

Marius found out Rosa’s favorite lipstick/gloss shade and got the makeup department of PAX to make it so Rosa could get a PAX lipstick and for free

“It’s like you’re carrying a piece of me with you!”

Speaking of PAX

I wonder if Marius gives Rosa discounts

If she asked he’d do it anyway

Marius sometimes searches up Rosa online to see anything the news says about her

Maybe when they’re dating he double checks to see if there’s any article catching on their relationship

OH MY GOD

You know those edits people make of celebrities

What if people made edits of Rosa and Marius when their relationship was public

That’s so funny to think about

Marius would def look through that and look at the comments

Would def have beef with whatever news company said something bad about her

Rosa used to have a romance novel phase

Maybe in like middle school or high school since as a lawyer she doesn’t have time or think about romance

Until like a while after tho

Def would fangirl about them to Luke and get him to read said novel (which he did obviously)

She recites every piece of evidence before a trial and has planned out every possible response to anything the prosecution say the night before

sometimes teaches Vyn slang in Stellis language bc she finds it funny as Vyn contemplates the meaning of them

#tears of themis #tears of themis headcannon #tot #Marius von hagen #Artem wing #Rosa #Vyn richter #luke pearce

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artandhijinks · 10 months

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I'm going to kind of do a follow up post to this one and this one to address some issues that have been brought up in comments, tags and reblogs. I've also received quite a bit of hateful and abusive anonymous ask and they will be shut off until further noticed because the internet cannot be trusted.

Yes, the criticism that Claudia the female character of color has no agency of her own is valid. But here's a quick history lesson. Due to the time period she would be considered Louis's ward/property until she found a husband. Then she would be considered his ward/property. Because women weren't even allowed the right to vote until 1920 and in fact, in banks were legally allowed to deny unmarried women their own bank account until 1974. So women were still technically financially dependent on their husband until 1974. Now she probably could have got married even though she was 14. My own grandmother got married at 14 in 1959. But there is no way that's going to fly in a TV show in this day and age. And we have a book to follow plot wise and this is just the treatment of women. The treatment of people of color is even worse. So I get where this complaint is coming from? And it's even worse the further back in history you go. However I would like to add more diversity to this story. That's why I'm really rooting for a lot of race swapping when it makes historical sense. But I still think you guys are looking at this the wrong way. Here me out

The modern day part of the story is going to be the make or break point. Not what happens in the past. It's going to be the modern day. But we don't know what's going on in the modern day. As long as the characters of color now have agency can stand up to their abusive makers. That is what matters. Now for the Louis and Lestat relationship, if they were human that's an abusive relationship. Get out of there but they are vampires. They have eternity to work on themselves and to try to change and work this out. The same thing goes for Daniel and Armand. Do you think the devil's minion when Armand basically stalks Daniel all over the globe and gets him addicted to his blood is healthy. But again we don't fully know what's going on in the modern day.

But I can tell you to justify them staying together and being the end game ship even though they were toxic in the past in the modern day, both Louis and Lestat are going to have to have a relationship with healthy boundaries and Daniel and Armand are in the same boat. Now I love the devil's minion and I'm totally looking forward to this being explored in both the past and its full unhealthy crazy toxic form and the modern day in hopefully a healthier form. But old man Daniel is definitely going to have to lay down some boundaries otherwise they're going to go down the same road as Louis and Lestat did in the past. If they are not at that point yet they need to be at least working to that point. Where they can have healthy boundaries. This is going to be a learning curve for everyone involved.

And as for the changes to Marius's fledglings that I've mentioned earlier. Here is what I would like for them in the modern day.

Let's start with Pandora I would like her to be Indian. Living somewhere far away from Marius. In the books she refuses to be in the same room with him The only exception was when they had to take down Akasha. So this would include her blocking him in every form possible and never contacting him again completely ignoring his existence. She hasn't seen him since he stood her up and he she's never looked back. I ship her with Gabrielle. They've both survived abusive husbands that have treated them like property and an extension of themselves. They wouldn't try to control each other and would probably be living off somewhere in the woods. She wouldn't care that Gabrielle sleeps in the dirt every day and would occasionally just disappear for a little while but she'd always come back her. She would pick up hobbies related to Indian culture because she probably never really learned anything about it until Marius stood her up and she decided to never look back, even though that's the culture of her mother. I could see her getting really good at some of those Indian embroidery techniques where they use actual gold thread or glass/mirrors beads. That just seems like a vampire hobby. It's super detailed and requires a ridiculous amount of time and effort to master again. It seems like a vampire hobby

Then we have Bianca. I mentioned before Venice at the time of the Renaissance had a large African and ottoman Muslim population simply because it was one of the largest and busiest ports in the world at the time. Doesn't this sound a lot like a Renaissance New Orleans? I'm beginning to see some similarities here And it's mentioned somewhere that Marius might have made her because she looked a lot like Pandora. So there's the reason to go ottoman. I would prefer they go African. From what I can tell with my research, the African and ottoman population we're part of just about every social class. This did include slaves but also had indentured servants, the working class and some wealthy merchants. But I would want her to be living her best life somewhere in Africa. Maybe the Caribbean. Far away from Marius if she's African learning everything she can about whatever part of Africa she believes she's from. Again reclaiming that culture that was taken from her. Have her pick up a hobby we know Marius taught most of his fledglings how to paint in the traditional Renaissance style. I could see her being petty and now learning as many of the traditional African crafts to preserve them. Because she's immortal and some of these traditions are at risk of dying out, so they would be preserved with her all she has to do is find someone to teach every few decades. She would be slightly more hospitable if Marius calls asking for something but she still would have no problem telling him to go to go screw himself if she doesn't want to help him do whatever he needs help with

Then we have Armand. Not only does he have Marius to recover from, he also has the satanic cult and all that brainwashing recover from. And can someone correct me if I'm wrong but if I remember correctly didn't he believe if Marius was dead up until Queen of the Damned? He's the one that is going to struggle the most with boundaries when it comes to Marius thinking he was dead combined with severe Stockholm syndrome and all the grooming. But he also has Daniel if they can have a healthy relationship at that point. Daniel would have no problem advocating on his behalf when it comes to Marius. We know he has no problem telling very powerful vampires exactly what he thinks even if it might get him killed. If him and Daniel are not in a good place at this point. Louis would also have no problem helping Armand. They may not be an endgame ship, but they are still good friends

So yes, in the past these characters probably will have little agency in the past. That's just how history was women and people of color were treated as second class citizens at best more commonly they were treated as property. They're going to have to be very careful how they show the past abuse and mistreatment these characters go through. But as long as they have found their agency in the present day. I think we are in a good place.

But I do think this is the direction they're heading at least for Marius and his fledgling since I do think it's highly unlikely David is going to be in the show unless they want to make him a villain cuz I think that's the only way to do it. But that trigger the book purest worse than they already are. So some of his bad traits like the whole colonizer issue are going to Marius because it would be super easy to do it because he's the literal embodiment of western civilization as a Roman philosopher. That leaves the other non-problematic parts of his story going to Daniel they've already set this up by aging him up.

#my meta #iwtv meta #amc interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire #iwtv speculation #armand #pandora #louis de pointe du lac #lestat de lioncourt #devils minion #loustat #marius de romanus #daniel molloy

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ifwebefriends · 2 years

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Gravity Falls S2E17 Dipper and Mabel vs. The Future

Oh boy guys it’s time for shit to get real

This episode takes place on August 24th, exactly one week before the Twins’ 13th birthday (August 31st) which seems to be on a Friday

Dipper is a math nerd confirmed

Speed running the intro [Former WR any%]

Ford is dangerous and reckless but in his own unique and distinguished way

Mabel is a high school musical fan confirmed

Okay but Wendy’s speech about how much high school sucks kinda scared me when I was younger

In my experience, both Mabel and Wendy were kinda wrong about high school

“I’d give anything to be 12 again” you and literally no one else Wendy

Mabel’s fears about growing up and the future are coming to a head

Babe wake up new Gravity Falls town lore just dropped

Finally addressing the UFO-shaped cliffs

In the Disney+ captions, “Dipper” is changed to “Tipper” when Ford and Dipper are climbing into the UFO

Grunkle Ford looking fucking SICK as he spirals down that column that old man can get it

Grenda is still seeing Marius from the Northwest Mansion episode!!!! Good for her!!!

Dipper wants to start his own ghost-hunting show!!

Ford canonically has 12 PhDs

We can see Dipper’s birthmark several times through the end of this episode

Tyler is wearing a mayor’s badge now!

Dipper badass moments Dipper being the coolest motherfucker in the world for 3 minutes

Stanley (and therefore Stanford as well) is “pushing 70”

We’re back in sweatertown…

Bill Cipher jumpscare real

HERE WE GO GUYS THE FINAL STRETCH SHITS GETTING REAL

the background screams during the credits really sell the horror of the situation for me

Ok I know some people really hate Mabel for what she did in this episode but I think it’s totally understandable for her, especially at her age and the given the emotional state that she was in, she made a poor choice but for me, it makes sense and I don’t hate her for it

#bubbles rewatches gravity falls #gravity falls #dipper and Mabel vs the future

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imagines-to-quench-thirst · 3 years

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Visiting your hometown

What happens when you take your man to your home town? As your memories, people and places come together how will he react?

A small/long drabble to get me back into writing. Enjoy!

Victor Creed

This mutant never thought that he would walk in your hometown. He didn't expect to see cultures that morph together into one special town, your town. A place where you grew up. So keeping all that in mind he was cautious. Various not to offend someone or to say a rude word in your mother tongue. For the first time in his life, he is frazzled and nervous. he will keep in his front pocket a small leaflet some words he heard you say a few times that may be of some assistance. trying to woo you.

-that old hag showed me the middle finger. let's go.

Unfortunately, anything that he says wrong, will be your responsibility to amend it. so good luck.

Loki

you just know that Loki will have your mother tongue in his little finger (that sounds weird but let's carry on) but do not be fooled, he can not survive the morning wave of people in the farmers market. something that is pretty much normal for you. Loki doesn't know how to feel when he sees the local butcher wrapping the meat in todays' newspaper giving it to buyers or how people shove him to the side as his black suit with the green scarf is more than brought down in value. he will hear the near shouts of Famers that are trying to sell their livelihood to him as his head goes from one side to another in a split second. he will easily get reeled in by the old farmer who just smells the innocence on the Midgardian addressed god. you know the moment you grabs his hand he looks at you.

-how did you ever survive in this chaos?

-I thought you said that chaos is your middle name.

-it is however my kind of chaos is more dignified.

-survive just a little bit more, I need to go to that man in the corner.

-oh, no...

Thor

we all in the fandom know that thor is a ball of joy. but when he lands in your city, your territory he is stoic. he is here on a mission and no one should stand in his way. he will glue himself to your side and he will hold the dictionary book in his mighty right hand and your hand in his left. he will not stand for wasting a day on mundane stuff that you do with him back in the HQ so say goodbye to lazying around. when you go to the oceanic part of your country you are now almost ready to drown him in the ocean. or just leave him on the road, it is getting that heavy.

-thor, think it is time to stop.

-what do you mean?

-to be honest, I don't know anymore I am so tired.

-you are right... let us stop. for 2 minutes and then you can drive again.

-I will leave you here.

Bucky Barnes

bucky loves to travel. he loves to see you in the role of a guide you tell him about the park where you cut your leg open and when you got to the hospital as a nun stood above you praying for your recovery. bucky loves to feel the fresh air going into his nose thinking to himself how this was the same air that you breathe in. he loves to see all the different parts of the city where you went to. even so much that he went to your former hairstylist.

-bucky, you don't have to do this.

-nonsense, doll. I want to experience it. just like you did.

-that was eons ago. and I wore super short hair, like a hedgehog.

-hedgehog?

-yeah, it was so short that I only put on gel and made small spikes.

- I will give everything I have and say that you looked beautiful.

-alright, your call.

Steve Rogers

steve cannot wait for enough for him to arrive in the city where you walked, ran, and laughed. he cannot wait to enter your old apartment and see all of the hidden pieces that he wants to know. he loves to help you clean the apartment and see a big box of your old photos. he will look with your through on the hard wooden floor with one arm around your shoulders as you talk about each photo. even showing him the photo of your sister.

-when will I meet her?

-I don't know.

-didn't you say that she lived here, still?

-yeah...

-I want to meet her. I think am ready for it.

-okay...

Bruce Wayne

you just know that when you told him to pack his bags to go with you he did his research. he knows when, how the city was built. he will try to memorize the tongue twisters and say them horribly wrong just to make you laugh. when he looks at your old apartment he tries to envision the day you left it all behind to go to Gotham and it breaks his heart to imagine you in tears.

-bruce.

you take his calloused hand feeling his fingers tighten the grip.

-sorry, I immediately imagined you when you moved out. I got sad.

-why?

-because, you surely cried.

-I did, a little, but this city didn't have that something.

-and what is that?

-you dumbass. now stop sulking we need to clean.

Clark Kent

as Clark arrived at the farm where your aunt lived he couldn't help feel but prepared. he saw the cows eating grabs and was ready in a split second to milk it just to show off his soft and delicate side. Clark heard the stories of your aunt, well one of them, and from what he concluded, for now, this aunt was the beginner level, nice one, the one who won't tear him a new one if he doesn't treat you right. as the door opened you greeted your aunt in your mother tongue and introduced your man. Clark shakingly trying to reply in the mother tongue feeling the few letters that stood together could fall more apart than from his mouth. your aunt laughed hugging him and roughly patted him on his back. almost like a punch if you will. you look at your aunt and Clark cannot help but stand behind you as he whispered.

-what did she say?

-she said that you seem stiffer than a goat's turd.

-you said that this aunt was nice.

-she is. but that is the way we express ourselves.

-with curse words???!!

-what better way.

Arthur curry

Arthur was relaxed when he arrived, he was laid back when he slept in your apartment but that all suicide jumped off a cliff as he shook hands with your mother. Your mom wasn't that intimating but he heard the stories of her standing to your abusive father and running away with just some change in her pocket and a used car. he knows that the woman in front of him is strong can make or break your relationship. so he held the coffee cup in his hands as if was the key to everything he needed to know how to make your mother happy. he saw how your eyes sparkled when you talked to her how your smile ever left for a second you take what seemed to him in complete gibberish but cute gibberish. your mother turns to him asking in English.

-so Arthur, can I call you by your first name?

-yes, madam. of course, you can.

-thank you. well, then Arthur what do you do for a living?

with a small nod from you, he tells the honest truth.

-I am a superhero. but minus the stupid cape. I am here to keep you and your daughter, of course, safe from all danger. and I hope you will like me!!!!

you turn to your mother with a small chuckle as you tell her in your mother tongue.

-he is helpless.

-he seems like it, good luck, Y/n.

Orm Marius

nothing can save his pulse from rising as he walked with the crowd of people in the town square only your hand which he held more than tightly enough. you stopped pointing at a big statue of a colonel on a horse placed in the middle of the square.

-he is a big deal.

-yes, I can imagine the poor people that had to lift it up to place it here.

-yes, but thanks to those people, people now in the present can always remember what they went through at that time.

he didn't find any specialness in the statute for him it lacked in far more than that he can count but when he saw your face looking at the statue he knew that whatever that stirred in you he wanted to see it every day. he only squeezed your hand placing a kiss on your knuckles.

-does this mean you want in your likeness?

-sure, but only if you will make it.

-oh, darling, that is a recipe for chaos.

The Joker

j never put effort into himself. he did in destruction, in chaos, in mayhem, and even in covering his white skin with some basic foundation as he meets your off the edge aunt. when you told him that every second sentence from her is a curse he was more than ready to meet her. because sometimes crazy people click with the people who like to curse. everyone knows that. so when he sat in the house of your crazy aunt he firstly observed, he watched you talked together and exchanged laughs, even more, when you ever brought to tears as you laughed off the curses she threw at you so playfully making even j smile. so when she turned to him it was game time. and you were the translator.

-my aunt asked what is that you do for a job?

-tell her I am the man of your dreams.

-I told her that.

-damn, then tell her-WHAT?!

you giggle at his shock as you heard the playful quote she told you when you were little and j wanted to know what she said.

-what did she say?

-she said "if a girl gives a man a hand, she will give him her ass"

-your aunt is a wise woman.

- I knew you would like her.

Duncan Vizla

Duncan likes to take walks and taking a walk with you next to him as you showed him around your old neighborhood and told him stores of the always pissed on metal slide and the always filled cafes that were always the pinpoints for some scammers he found in question why you like it so much. as you showed his around you stopped at your old elementary school. you showed him the main entrance was where everyone hurled in the morning hours and where you sat with your friends and talked about the horribly proffers that still to this day haunt you. something he heard you mumble in your sleep.

-she was that awful?

-yes, and people like here never get old it's like the evilness she has in her keeps her eligible for work.

-am i not the same?

he couldn't ask a stupider question. and for that, you punched him in the shoulder.

-don't compare yourself to her. you aren't evil.

-you are forgetting my job, darling.

-you kill for money, she kills for fun and to keep herself alive. a difference now let's go home I need to remind you just how good and attentive you can be.

-lead the way, dove.

hope you liked it. Tell me what you think❤️

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collecting-stories · 3 years

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Cardigan - Rafe Cameron

Request: heyy for the ts anthology, can u do one for cardigan with rafe? love ur writing🤍

TS Anthology Series | Outer Banks Masterlist

_ . ◦ ⭐︎:*.☾.*:⭐︎◦∙._

The summer you turned thirteen was the same summer your dad showed up again. Driving the same lemon of a car that he’d pulled out of the driveway in when you were six, he looked like he hadn’t aged. Or maybe you just didn’t remember him all that well because his face felt the same but you were different. When you missed your best friend’s birthday, a trip to the gymnastics gym on the mainland and a towering cake with fondant replicas of all her favorite things, she was rightly pissed.

Thirteen felt monumental, like the movie the two of you had snuck onto your mom’s Verizon bill, and you had both made a pact that you would be there for each other no matter what. That promise included birthdays and, more seriously, dads who showed up after seven years of radio silence because they didn’t want to “miss anything else”. But you didn’t mention your dad because hers was so great and you felt a little like you were floating on an island and no one could understand you enough to reach it. But then you missed her birthday and she swore not to speak to you and that felt more crushing than the dad thing until her brother stepped in. Always the one playing referee in when you fought, Rafe was a few years older and, in your mind, a lot smarter.

It felt pretty important that an older boy would make the time to talk to you, especially when he had to know that his sister was avoiding you at all costs. He’d just gotten his permit and, like any good brother, showed up in the car he wasn’t supposed to drive with a minor in the passenger seat, to take you around the island for the afternoon.

“My mom said she thinks we’re gonna move.” You mentioned, less casually than you would’ve hoped. The windows in the truck were rolled down and you had your legs up, feet placed precariously on the window ledge. There was a particularly nasty bruise on your knee from falling off your skateboard three days ago and a few short hairs you’d missed shaving. You were relatively new to both shaving and skateboarding so there were bound to be mistakes, you just wished they were less visible.

“Off the island?” Rafe asked, concern etched into his tone. You assumed the concern was for his sister, what would Sarah do if you moved? Who would put up with all her antics?

You shook your head, “to the cut.”

“Why?”

“She can’t afford the house on her own anymore and my dad has been lousy with child support.” You repeated back all the things she had said to you. Why she didn’t take him to court like the other kid in your grade with divorced parents was beyond you. Rose told her that it was the only way to ensure he paid what he was supposed to but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to hold him accountable.

Can’t believe you’re gonna be a pogue.” He said it like it meant something worse than you moving to the mainland.

“It’s not forever. My grandma’s house is there, we’re gonna stay with her until we can get back up on our feet.” You shrugged, “at least my dad’ll stay away then.”

But you dad wasn’t the only one who kept their distance. It felt like the distinction over your mother’s life choices held a greater impact on your friends than they had let on. A year into pogue life and Rafe seemed to disappear almost completely. It had always been an odd kind of friendship in the first place but you’d thought that it could’ve withstood a change in address.

Sarah kept in touch, unbothered by labels or mailing addresses. She’d been to your grandma’s a hundred times before you moved and she continued to go there to see you after. The two of you played in the backyard, doing tricks on the trampoline until gossiping about kids at school became more important than cartwheels. You’d lay there whispering as if someone might overhear, telling each other stories from the week that you were separated. Rafe always came to pick her up, staying in the car and honking the horn for her but never coming over to see you.

It felt a little lonely even though you technically retained most of your friends.

In tenth grade you got the role of Eponine in the teen camp production of Les Miserables that the local theatre was putting on. You were technically sharing the role with another girl your age but you couldn’t help being excited nonetheless. The boy playing Marius was in two of your classes, a senior who had lofty city dreams and a nice smile. He flirted almost constantly with you, brushing your hair back, telling you how pretty you were, inviting you out after practice. You told Sarah you were “pretty sure” you were on your way to having your first real boyfriend.

But maybe the ominous casting of Eponine over your life should’ve been hint enough that things weren’t destined to work out that way. The boy who played Marius had an actual girlfriend, home from vacationing with her family in time to watch her boyfriend on stage, and you were supposed to accept that he was just “connecting to the character” when he was with you. Either way, your On My Own struck a different chord in you and after the show was over you didn’t join the other cast members in the lobby to greet people.

“So when you get to New York...do I get to leak all those videos of you and Sarah doing your Genie in a Bottle routine?” Rafe asked, pulling a chair next to you at the makeup table. Yours was halfway off but you’d stopped scrubbing at your face to stare at yourself in the mirror. Self-pity was a powerful procrastinator.

“You’re supposed to be in the lobby.” You pointed out, ignoring his comment, “I look like a ghost raccoon that just climbed out of a dumpster.

“Now there’s an analogy.” He laughed and picked up the cotton pads you had sitting on the counter, soaking one in micellar water and turning your head to face him.

You bit your bottom lip as you tried to keep your composure. It’d been a while since you and Rafe had been alone and last time he was just your best friend’s cute older brother. Too old for you and way out of your league but you were fifteen now and seventeen didn’t feel so far away.

But Sarah was your best friend and she would be mortified if she found out that you had even entertained the idea of her brother, let alone had serious thoughts about it.

“I’m sorry,” you said as he swiped the cotton pad over your cheek.

“What for?”

“I know we’re all supposed to go out tonight for dinner but I kinda just wanna go home.” You replied.

“Sarah might’ve let it slip about-”

You groaned, “don’t even say his name.” You weren’t sure if it was embarrassment at having let yourself totally believe he liked you but hearing Rafe bring it up made you feel even worse.

“Hey, you’re so much better than that loser,” He insisted, “I’ll beat the crap outta him though, just say the word.”

It was that same year, just as school was ending, that you turned sixteen. A short stay in the cut at your grandma’s house had helped your mom get back on her feet. A new job, better than the one that let her go, afforded a moderately sized house back on Figure Eight and a birthday with all the friends that had left the two of you behind.

Sixteen felt a little more important than thirteen had, especially because, for two whole weeks, time suspended and you were technically only a year younger than Rafe. You still hadn’t told Sarah that you liked her brother, though she did seem a little suspicious when the crush on your co-star dissipated almost overnight. The boys of the past had no hold over your growing infatuation with Rafe. Maybe it was foolish but you couldn’t help thinking that maybe it wasn’t.

Especially not when he showed up at your house the same way he had when you were thirteen, though this time he had his actual license and not just a permit. He told you it was birthday drive around the island, that he was in charge of stalling you while Sarah set up a surprise party at your house.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to tell me that it’s a surprise.” You teased, sipping at the iced coffee that Rafe had brought you when he picked you up. You swished the ice around once before sipping again.

“It’s a party either way.” Rafe replied, shrugging his shoulder.

“So, we’re just driving around until she texts you?” You asked. Rafe turned into the Island Club, circling the parking lot once and then turning back around.

“I’m yours until Sarah says otherwise.” He said, the words erupting butterflies in your stomach. You could practically feel yourself heat up thinking about what those words could mean if he wasn’t just your best friend’s brother.

“Well...then do you wanna go to the beach?” You suggested, “Jaxon showed me this really cool spot on the south side that’s practically hidden.”

“Jaxon?” Rafe sounded judgmental when he said the other boy’s name, whether he meant to or not.

“Yea, we’ve been on a couple dates. You know him, he took me to prom,” you supplied, thinking of the way Rafe had sulked on the staircase while you and Sarah had gotten your pictures taken on the front lawn of Tanney Hill. The last picture in the bunch, despite his sulkiness, was of you and Rafe. You’d asked and he had obliged, coming down onto the porch to take a picture with you before everyone left for the dance.

It was your favorite picture, even more than the countless ones of you and Sarah or the few of you and Jaxon. He was just a place holder anyway, someone to take your mind off the thing you couldn’t have. Not that it was working, especially when you were driving around with Rafe at the moment.

“I remember him.” Rafe replied, “so this special part of the beach?”

“It’s so pretty.” You confirmed, “Sarah and I went there a couple weeks ago but she only ever wants to sunbathe.”

“Don’t say it like you’re surprised.” He said, pulling his car off to the side of the road when you told him to.

You were out of the car first, letting the door fall shut behind you as you headed up the wooden ramp to the beach. The drop off at the top was a little steeper here than anywhere else, the beach mostly desolate. You stopped at the top of the walkway, turning back to wait for Rafe. He was standing at the bottom of the ramp staring up at you.

“Are you coming up or what?” You called.

“Yeah,” he nodded, walking up the path to you.

“I know Sarah’s planning a big birthday for me, but I’d much rather have this...” you admitted, “just like, coming out to the beach with you...”

“Oh yeah?” He asked, grinning down at you.

“Don’t tell Sarah,” you joked, “she’ll be mad-”

“Why, cause I’m your favorite Cameron?”

Maybe it was being sixteen or maybe it was that you were feeling particularly bold, out here on the beach with just Rafe, no threat of prying eyes to interrupt you. Either way, you had been thinking about telling him for a while now and it felt like the time...even if getting rejected ran the risk of ruining your birthday.

“I know I’m just Sarah’s best friend but...I really like you Rafe.” You said, “and I know it’s like a million to one that you like me back but I just felt like I would explode if I didn’t tell you.” You waited a beat for him to say something and when he didn’t you kept talking, “Sorry, I know this is so weird-”

“It’s not weird.” Rafe cut you off, “I’m just shocked that you seriously think I only see you as Sarah’s best friend.” His tone was teasing as he brushed a piece of hair behind your ear and cupped your cheek. “You’re so much more than that.”

It was Sarah who told you, days before your eighteenth birthday. She’d seen Rafe with someone else when her family took a weekend trip out to Chapel Hill to see a game. There was a girl there, hanging all over her brother. He swore she was just a friend, told Sarah not to tell you, but Sarah wasn’t dumb and she wouldn’t help her brother cover up an indiscretion. So she told you flat out that her brother was cheating on you.

When Sarah first found out that you and Rafe were dating, she had been as mad as her thirteenth birthday. How could you go behind her back and date her brother? The anger dissipated slowly, over the course of the summer it became clear that were not going to leave her in the dust for Rafe. She wasn’t wholly supportive of the relationship but she was supportive of you and if Rafe was who you wanted to be with than she’d be happy for you.

But if she had to choose, it would always be you over Rafe.

“I didn’t want to tell you, I really thought about not saying anything but...you deserve to know.” It was the justification she used as your face fell, all the giddiness from planning your eighteenth birthday fading in the blink of an eye.

“He cheated?” And it felt like a punch to the gut. “Are you sure?”

“He said she was just a friend but...I don’t hang on my friends like that.” Sarah remarked.

You fiddled with the phone in your lap, Sarah’s comments turning over in your head. You could refute them, tell her that you’d just talked to him the night before and he told you how excited he was to see you, how much he loved you. He’d used the word love...that had to mean something right? You could call him, ask him straight away if he was actually cheating, but you suspected that he would only lie to you. And if he wasn’t cheating, if he did tell the truth, would you believe him? Sarah was your best friend and once she had planted the seeds of doubt in you, they seemed to flourish there.

You didn’t say anything else about it to Sarah that night and when Rafe called to talk, like he always did, you pretended that everything was fine. But that could only last for so long. A week before your party, on the same special part of the beach that Rafe had first kissed you, things ended. Rafe had sworn to Sarah that the girl at school was just a friend but he couldn’t lie to you, and he didn’t try to either.

“It was a mistake,” he insisted, as if it was the type of thing you could brush off.

“But you still made it.” You replied.

“I didn’t mean to.” Rafe didn’t have any good reasons for why he had cheated on, only that he had and that, since you now knew, he was apologetic. “I don’t even talk to that girl anymore. She meant nothing to me.”

“Obviously she meant more than we did.”

Rafe had been it for you for a long time. He seemed so out of your league and you had thought a million times that you would’ve done anything for him. He was the ideal for everything that you wanted and for a while, when you had it, had him, it had felt like a dream. But now you were waking up to reality and it wasn’t a sunset on the beach.

“I love you.” He said it like it was something you were neglecting to remember.

“Not enough.”

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cinn-crose · 3 years

Text

Sway with me. [part 1]

As Rosa entered the ballroom, she expected her and Artem to have a great time; why would she be jealous this fast? [pairing: Artem + MC]

also psst psst a hint of sub artem + angst

When marimba rhythms start to play,

Dance with me, make me sway.

Rosa entered the ballroom, her gown swaying slowly. Hidden identities behind masquerade masks, yet she could easily recognize the people in the ball.

A man was taking photos; he wore a suit, and his hair is tinted a golden orange. "Luke, obviously," she whispered, sighing. "He still took his photography camera with him..."

Another man sipped from a glass of wine; his white, silky hair was rather messy. Rosa noticed the pair of glasses in his suit pocket. "You can't wear your glasses over your masquerade mask, obviously, Vyn." The image of Vyn wearing his glasses over a masquerade mask made her giggle softly.

Another man wearing a suit seemed to be teasing a group of people. His voice was rather loud, and he kept laughing loudly. "Marius, same as always.." she rolled her eyes, heading to the food bar.

She picked up a small plate filled with cheese of different types, paired with biscuits and chocolate. Rosa wasn't the type to crave expensive food, but this time, it was an exception.

"Madame." A deep voice spoke behind her, his warm breath against her skin. In surprise, she gasped, her eyes widening.

Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore,

Hold me close, sway me more.

"Artem!" Rosa said, her voice hinting that she is reprimanding him. "You just like surprising people, don't you." She knew how much Artem loved suddenly appearing behind her, making her jump, and sometimes even drop files she carried, or books she was reading.

"Rosa, you should.. wear this." Artem handed her a soft silk masquerade mask, a red feather sticking out of the left side. "It's a masquerade, afterall."

Artem wore an expensive retailed suit; He also wore a black masquerade mask, complimenting his dark suit. His tie clip looks polished and even more expensive. Artem adjusted his tie, looking away from her. "What? Is there something on my face?"

"Yes.." Rosa replied, getting closer to Artem's cheek.

Like a flower bending in the breeze,

Bend with me, sway with ease.

Now, Artem expected a kiss from the woman. He closed his eyes, smiling. As Rosa noticed such, she smirked. "Yes, there is something on your face." She pretended to wipe something off his face.

"Oh, ah—" Artem stuttered, a tint of pink on his cheeks; he seemed quite embarrassed. "Why, what were you expecting me to do?" Rosa spoke up, raising an eyebrow.

When we dance, you have a way with me,

Stay with me, sway with me.

"N-Nothing. Anyways," He sighed, fixing his tie. "I'd like to invite you to the wine section of this ball." Confused, Rosa looked at Artem. "But your alcohol toleration—?"

"No need to worry about that. Besides, a client is looking for us," Artem looked at his watch, holding out a hand for her.

"Shall we go, m'lady?"

MC graciously accepts his hand, allowing him to lead her to the other side of the ballroom.

"Let me introduce you to our client," Artem starts, stopping infront of a woman. She seemed young, an age or two younger than the attorney; she wore a dress that exaggerates her neck and shoulders, paired with high heels. "This is Selena, a representative from the Pax group." Rosa smiled at her, taking a wine glass from the table. "I am MC, a lawyer from the Themis Law Firm," she introduced herself, pouring a serving of wine for herself and Artem.

Other dancers may be on the floor,

Dear, but my eyes will see only you.

"I know you; you defended Marius Von Hagen on court, yes?" Selena asks, looking at Rosa, then at Artem; his attention was on the younger attorney. "..my alcohol tolerance is low," he whispered, fixing his tie. "I don-"

"MC!" Luke came running to the small group, giggling to himself. "They have a toast section! There are so many spreads and-"

"If you want to," Selena immediately said, clearing her throat; Luke and Rosa's attention diverted to the woman. "you two can go to the bread section, I have something to discuss with Artem."

"Oh?" Artem looked back at Selena, putting down the glass of wine Rosa gave him. "If so, my partner here needs to listen as well," he continued in a low, serious voice.

Selena could only sigh, crossing her arms. "It's a personal matter, Artem. Besides—"

"'Mr. Wing' would be a more appropriate way to address me," Artem cut her off, noticing something suspicious. "You're.. not even an acquaintance, Selena. If anything, you are our client." Artem forced himself to be cold, shocking both Luke and Rosa.

Only you have that magic technique;

When we sway, I go weak!

"..If you can excuse us, um-" Luke looked back at his friend, clearing his throat. "We're going to the bread section. Right, MC?" He smiled awkwardly, avoiding Artem's gaze.

The younger lawyer could only nod, looking back at Artem. "We- we have to go. Bye!" Rosa walked away fast, following Luke. "It.. seems like Artem and his client will argue, that's why I wanted to bring you away from the chaos," he whispered, heading to another section of the ballroom.

"Let's stay here for now," Luke said, fixing her masquerade mask. "Marius is busy with talking to some businessmen." To prove his statement, he pointed at Marius, who seemed bored as two men in suits spoke to him.

"Well, seems like he's bored," Rosa commented. "Marius isn't the type to talk about business matters, especially at balls like this."

As time went on, Luke and her danced together, ate snacks together, and participated in card games, yet they were careful on how much they would bet. This whole time, Rosa wished to have done all these activities with Artem; she watched the whole time as Artem and Selena talked, and Artem kept looking flushed, his cheeks constantly tinted with pink.

I can hear the sounds of violins,

Long before it begins.

Now, Rosa was getting jealous. She wanted to know what the two were talking about; afterall, that's her task as Artem's partner, to know any business consults Artem deals with.

She waited until Luke was distracted by Marius, listening to them as they debated on the best spread for toast. MC carefully walked over to Artem and Selena, trying not to make it seem obvious.

Make me thrill as only you know how,

Sway me smooth, sway me now.

"A- And, well, I deal with missing person cases," Artem stuttered, looking down. "Good boy. And your partner, what does she deal with?"

She realized that Artem was too focused on Selena and her little remarks, making him accidentally spill information related to the Themis Law Firm; she noticed how drawn he was to her compliments, as well as the little touches Selena would do.

He's drunk again, isn't he.. Rosa thought to herself, noticing how Artem acted sweet and dazed all of a sudden, resulting in him not collecting his thoughts properly.

Rosa cleared her voice, the two people looking back at her. Artem put his wine glass down, his cheeks quite red, now. "Oh- MC!" Selena laughed nervously, looking back at Artem. "I.. have to go, now-" Quickly, Selena walked away, walking towards a small group of men wearing black clothes.

"Artem, you're intoxicated," his partner says, sighing. "I heard your conversation with this.. 'client' of yours. Did you give out information?"

"I- I didn't!" Artem said in a hurry, frowning. Rosa could only raise her eyebrow in doubt. "Oh, really? Then why did Luke overhear Selena talking to a bunch of men who are apparently interested in milking out information from the Themis law firm?"

".." Artem could not respond; he fixed his tie, clearing his throat.

[time skip alleluia]

The ball is finally over. Marius agreed to take Luke home, while Vyn stayed longer, for he had to investigate a small matter.

"Why don't you stay at my apartment for tonight?" Artem approached Rosa who was sitting on a couch by herself. "Alright; but let's.. discuss certain matters."

The two attorneys finally reached Artem's home. Their voices were quite strained after hours of arguing; it was surprising, really, how Artem didn't crash the car.

"You didn't know she was flirting with you?!" She said loudly, yet she minded the tone of her voice. "Artem, you gave out information from the Stellis Law Firm!"

"Shut!" Artem yelled back, opening the door to his home, grumbling. "Besides, it's.. very late at night. There is no use to arguing."

Rosa changed to the clothes she had packed earlier before arriving at the ball; she asked Artem to keep the packed clothes in his car. In the meantime, Artem removed his vest and coat, still wearing the white long-sleeved polo, paired with a tie.

She sat down on Artem's bed, waiting for his arrival. The woman had to share the bed with Artem; afterall, he lived alone. She ran downstairs, heading to the kitchen. Rosa planned to wash her face first before heading to bed.

"Artem, do you have spare towels?" Rosa asked, peeking through the kitchen. She watched as Artem cut an apple and put it on a ceramic bowl. "On the very bottom drawer, Rosa," Artem replied, adjusting the heat of the stove.

She ran back upstairs, walking over to the bottom drawer of Artem's nightstand.

MC gasped— she realized she opened the wrong drawer. She should've opened the drawer of the bathroom, or perhaps the storage room. When she opened the bottom drawer of Artem's nightstand, Rosa found rather.. questionable items Artem owns.

part 2 here!

#tot artem #tears of themis artem #artem wing #tot mc #tot #zuo ran #part 2 is coming i promise sniff sniff sobs #tears of themis #angst #mc #atmospherics but rosa is the jealous one #fanfic

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sergeant-donny-donowitz · 4 years

Text

Making Friends: Basterds Imagine-Fem!Reader

Requested by @cass-danvers

@owba-chan @war-obsessed @inglourious-imagines @tealaquinn @struggling-bee @frozenhuntress67 @kwyloz @sodapop182 @marlenemarauders @what-the--curtains @taikawho @spookybearlandtaco Let me know if you wanna be added to the IB or OUATIH taglists! :)

___________ It was a cool Sunday evening. The basterds marched into an A-list, luxurious club in the middle of Paris, in the middle of the nazi occupation. It was a bold move. Some may even say stupid. But it was necessary. Besides, they were the basterds. Bolder still was something they'd come to see in a few moments. It was you. You, in your long, glamorous red evening gown, with a slit down your leg, and black gloves half way up your arm. And bolder still, the bright spotlight shining directly onto you with a loud click, just as the band began to play. The basterds had never seen you before...but the light that flowed onto the crowd immediately around you was quite revealing. They'd seen every single one of those spectators before. They were all high ranking, high profile, high-on-their-kill-list nazis. All of them were targets the basterds had been pursuing from the moment they landed in France a year before. And there they were, all in one place. Donny instinctively reached for a pistol hidden in his coat, but Hugo signaled him off, shaking his head slightly. If Donny did what all the basterds wanted to do, none of them would make it out alive. Aldo looked around at the basterds, with stark eyes indicating one word they often did not listen to: "Wait." Since it was an order, they had to do just that, while clenching their fists and jaws seeing their prime targets slip through their fingers. In order to fit in, they ordered a round of drinks, and lit up some cigarettes. They had no choice but to listen...and watch... your performance. "When they had the earthquake in San Francisco, back in 19-6..." You were singing put the Blame on Mame. It wasn't quite what they expected to hear, but, they weren't exactly complaining. And yet...

Aldo leaned into the table, and muttered low enough so no outsiders could hear, "Look for anyone that might be Y/n L/n. Got it?" Aldo rolled his eyes, seeing Hirschberg's eyes were glued to the stage. "Got it, Hirschberg?" "Uh huh..." Aldo muttered, "Damn it, Hirschberg," and glanced at the stage... He wasn't disappointed. The light from the chandeliers reflected off your eyes, beaming flares of danger and daring as you sang and swayed with the band, walking out toward the crowd, "Put the blame on Mame, boys..." The basterds scanned the room, looking for anyone that looked like a Y/N L/N. "Mame did a dance called the hoochy coo-" Hirschberg's elbow rested on the table, and his chin dug into the palm of his hand as he sighed, "Hm...she really did." Smitty rolled his eyes, nudging Hirschberg out of his day dream. "Look for L/N." "I'm lookin'..." "Not at the right-" With that, the song ended, and the announcer spoke in French while the crowd called out for an encore. The one thing all the basterds were able to pick out, even though they didn't speak French, was two words: Y/N L/N. Donny laughed in disbelief, "No fucken' way..." "This is crazy..." Omar shook his head,, watching as you blew kisses out to the crowd with a wide smile. "She's crazy..." Wicki muttered, lighting a cigarette that rested between his lips.

Aldo shrugged, "Well shit..." He chuckled, and sighed, "Well best damn place to hide is right out in the open, some times." Hirschberg elbowed Smitty, remarking "Told ya I was lookin' the right fucken way." They sat through the encore, and the encore to the encore, and the roaring applause. They watched as you spent the night moving from enemy to enemy, spilling their drunken and careless secrets right into your ears. Eventually, the club was empty except for one of the bar tenders set to lock up, you, and a few disguised soldiers. "Des amis à vous?" He chuckled lightly as he wiped down a glass. "Friends of yours?" "J'espère" you sighed, as you took a drink for yourself, "Hopefully." The bartender, Marius, leaned over the counter and presented you with your purse. "Merci," you chuckled as you pulled out a folder. You made your way to the table in the back of the club where ten young men were sitting. You stopped at the edge of the table. Though the lights were fully on, there was still a sharp streak of intrigue and hazard cutting through your smile. You were one dangerous woman, any basterd could see that. You looked them over, barely half a moment studying each of their faces. You slid the folder onto the table, and it met the hands of the man at the very end of the table: Aldo Raine. A round of whiskey and packs of smokes were brought to the table as he briefly filed through the thick stack of bloodstained information. It was exactly what he was looking for...which was suspicious. Aldo sniffed some tobacco before looking up at you, "So uh, where does a pretty lil' parisian singer like you get information like this?" You spoke suddenly, in what could without a doubt be identified as a Brummie accent, "Get yourselves some friends, mate." Hirschberg smiled blankly with dreamy eyes as he nodded "So you're British..." Your accent changed suddenly, sounding like an equally dreamy California girl as you shrugged, "Depends who's asking." Aldo had his fair share of run ins with spies and double agents. He laughed, "Aw you tommy's don't know wh-" You suddenly mimicked his accent, "Tommy, huh? Ain't that nice." He was startled, but then smirked a little "Well I'll be damned..." You shrugged, now in your natural tone and accent, "Sometimes, darlings, the best informants are only great pretenders." Hirschberg could hardly contain his excitement, asking with a wide grin, "Who are you?" Smitty rolled his eyes, though he had to admit, "You do look familiar." "Oh," You shrugged, "I've been here and there." "Where?" Even Wicki was a little curious.

Seeing as you'd all be there for quite some time, a pot of coffee was brought over by Marius.

Hugo finally spoke up, "You make friends with the nazis?" "I make them think I do." You shrugged, taking a sip of coffee, with a sly grin. "Rub elbows with the higher-ups, get them piss-drunk. A few drinks loosens anyone up...And loose lips sink ships," you winked as you stirred your coffee. Something about the way you smirked told them you were one hell of a spy. You could tell your enemies the loveliest lies of all, and they'd believe you. You were dangerous... But to the basterds, you were now an ally and an advantage. Donny raised his eyebrow, remembering their briefing before finding you. It wasn't just a folder with names and rumors. You had indispensible, indisposable insight. This folder was only the tip of the iceberg. You had names, you knew faces, voices, wives, families, addresses, plans and plots, back alleys, back ups, and back stabbers, spies, and double-agents. You knew the worst of the worst, and they knew you. Just what the basterds needed. Not only that, but you were supposed to house the basterds in your apartment in the dead center of Paris while you helped them piece everything together and create a plan of attack. Donny asked, "They know where to find you?" "No one gets in without an invite. Every one of those damn animals stationed in France knows that," you smirked, "But, for the next few weeks, only you boys have an invite. No one gets in or out." The doorman, after all, was a friend of the resistance. He packed a gun. A knife. Not only that, he literally owed you his life. Marius vouched for that as you walked toward the stage. You'd left your keys backstage.

"So how do we know you won't double cross us?" Wicki wanted to trust someone, he really did... But that got harder to do as the war went on. You stopped by the stage, looking back at him, you lifted your leg onto the stage, your heel producing a powerful, echoing thud. The slit of your dress shifted, revealing a knife strapped to your thigh. "This knife belonged to-" you trailed off, knowing you'd never see his face again. You'd used that very knife to exact revenge on the nazi that took him from you. "Someone I used to know. Using it won't bring him back...but it does make the world a little brighter." Hirschberg sighed, resting his face on his palms, murmuring "Marry me..." You giggled, disappearing behind the stage's velvet curtains. You soon reappeared with the keys, then quietly led the basterds through Paris. Louis, the doorman, kind as ever, let you all in through a hidden back door. He familiarized himself with the basterds, taking note of their faces. They were the only ones to be allowed in to see you for the next few weeks. As the basterds followed you to the elevators, and you made sure no one saw them walking into your apartment. You quickly unlocked the door, and drew the curtains before turning on the lights, then welcomed them all in. For the next couple of weeks, this would be their headquarters. You showed them around. It was a big place. You had a few guest rooms, showers, and had stocked up the kitchen. The flat itself was about as luxurious as the club. "Nice place ya got here, kid." Donny smirked as he sat on the couch, which was the first couch he had sat on in well over a year. Aldo nodded, looking around, noting the thick walls and quiet area. "This'll do..." Wicki wasn't so sure. He stood behind you as you cleared things off the large dining room table, and began to set down files, maps, and photographs that they'd need for the mission. "The nazis know where you live, don't they? What if-" You shook your head. "I wouldn't bring you somewhere it was dangerous. Believe me, corporal. I want this war to end, too." You sighed, "Besides....it'd be rather ungentlemanly to just barge into a lady's home, knowing she lives alone. As a matter of fact, it's scandalous." "How can you be so sure?" You shrugged, as you organized some of the papers, "Would you rather these meeting be held somewhere more public?" Omar smirked, "She's got ya there, Wicki." You sighed, glancing at the clock on the wall. It was just past 2:30 in the morning. You welcomed them to make themselves at home. They slept in a warm, quiet place for once. Though it was safer than what they were used to, there was still a lingering fear that any moment, the sound of marching boots would echo in the hallway leading to your front door. They were soldiers, far behind enemy lines. There was always a chance of something going wrong. You weren't a soldier, but you were in no less danger. It was Wednesday now. You spent the first few days going through files, showing them what information and photographs you had about their targets before even starting to come up with a plan of attack. It was now nearing midnight, and you noticed Aldo was tense, snapping a bit at his men. He wasn't uneasy because of the information you were giving them, in fact, the things you gave them gave him the most peace of mind he'd had since he left Tennessee. You slipped away for a moment, and found Utivich in the kitchen, eating a pastry you'd left out for them. You noticed he had a bit of a sweet tooth, and made a point of saving a few extra treats for him (because Donny tended to eat way more than his fair share). "So your lieutenant's a little-" "On edge?" Smitty chuckled a little with a sigh, "Aren't we all, miss?" "Y/n." You smiled kindly as you sat by him, handing him another pastry. He smiled with bright, grateful eyes, "Thanks, Y/n." You nodded once, and after a moment you asked, "He a smoker?" You hadn't seen Aldo light up a cigarette, and wondered if he'd gone through his ration...and subsequently gone through a bit of a withdrawal Smitty shook his head, "Snorter, though. Man loves his snuff." "Ah," you nodded, understanding as you made your way to a cabinet. You pulled out five tins of snuff, or so, and Smitty watched in awe. "I told you, make friends to survive this," you winked as you walked back out to the main room. The rest of the basterds were calling it a day, and finding a place around the radio to sit. Aldo was standing by the window, looking across the street. There was an operahouse and a theater there, which was going to play a part in the big plan. "No one's going to talk. You're not the first man anyone's seen on this balcony," You chuckled as you pulled him out to the balcony for a breath of fresh air. He looked up at the stars. The big black canvas with an infinite splatter of stars, reminding him of the southern night sky. He smiled softly. You slipped the tins into his hands, and he turned to you "What's this for?" You shrugged, "A little birdy..." You glanced out at the sky, and the Parisian skyline. Sure it was bright...but this night didn't hold a candle to what you knew before the war. You smiled softly, nostalgia clouding your eyes. It was a familiar feeling, and you saw it in Aldo's eyes, picturing a sky an ocean away. You left him there, knowing soldiers like Aldo had a lot to think about, and a world on their shoulders. So you sat with the others by the radio for a while, looking at them once in a while, wondering where they'd be a year from then. Maybe they'd be home by then... At least, you hoped they would be.

Later that night, you woke to the sound of footsteps. Your eyes shot open, fearing the worst, as you reached for your knife. You snuck to your doorway, ready for anything... Except for what you saw. Sgt. Hugo Stiglitz pacing around, murmuring things to himself every so often. "Hugo." Your voice was soft...and that's what startled him most. You motioned for him to come in. He hestitated for a moment. He spoke lowly, "Sie könnten die falsche Idee bekommen ..." 'They might get the wrong idea...' How he knew you could speak German, you didn't know. He lingered outside of your bedroom, and you giggled, rolling your eyes as you pulled him in, "Schlimmeres kann über Menschen wie uns gesagt werden." 'Worse things can be said about people like us." He smiled briefly, though it was dark, you couldn't see it. You flipped a dim lamp on, and shuffled through a hidden drawer, till you pulled out a key. You smiled, hoping he'd be a bit patient with your system. You opened a jewelry box...though there was no jewelry in it. Just cartridges and bullets for guns Hugo hadn't seen around. He was a little impressed, though he'd only admit it to you years later on a visit. You pulled out another key, then pulled out a box, and unlocked it. Hugo wasn't a nosy person. But...seeing the lengths at which you'd gone in such a short time during the war, he was a little curious at just how much information you had hidden away for the allies. In that box, no more than two feet across, he saw carefully folded notes, clipped to photographs, sketches, seeming to never end. In the blink of an eye, you snapped the box shut, and handed Hugo a folded, handwritten note and a photograph. His eyes narrowed, and his knuckles went white as his eyes locked onto the photograph. "So I was right..." You sighed as you sat on the bed, "You know him." Hugo looked up at you, and nodded slightly. You handed over the other scrap of paper. It contained an address, a phone number, and a few other details Hugo may have deemed useful. The nazi in the photograph was the one responsible for torturing Hugo when he was detained. That same nazi happened to be transferred to Paris just after Hugo's escape... and he happened to make his way into the club...regularly, every Friday and Saturday night. He often bragged about being the one to capture and torture the great Hugo Stiglitz, to your face... He slowly smiled again... He was going to sneak out, without a doubt. You saw him to the door, and winked, "Habe Spaß," 'Have fun.' It was now Friday afternoon, and you had to go to the club to perform for the evening.

The basterds were a little reluctant in letting you go. What if someone followed you? Or what if- You immediately shut down all worries and disguised suspicions. "It'd be far more suspicious if I didn't show up, since I've been there every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday evening for the past four years, with no exceptions. That's how I've made it this far." Aldo nodded, then said, "Omar. Why don't you go with Y/n?" Omar nodded, "Yes, sir," while Hirschberg muttered "Are you fucking kidding me?!" After you slipped into a long black dress, satin gloves, and shimmering heels, Hirschberg lingered by the door. "How do you do it?" "Do what?" You asked passively, as you slipped a deep red shade of red lipstick over your lips. "Do this job. Talk to them nazi fucks, and not blow their brains out?" Your heels clicked over the wooden floor was you down the hall, "I wouldn't get very far if I did, now would I?" "Huh..." He shrugged chuckling, "Maybe not in those shoes." "Mm," You smiled, resting your gloved palm against his cheek, remarking quietly with a smirk "Don't wait up." His heart melted, he sighed deeply with parted lips, watching you walk out the door. Omar walked out with you, and followed you to the club. Not closely enough for there to be questions, but close enough to get a good seat...for..."safety measures." The truth was, you reminded Omar of his kid sister. He got a letter, just before leaving England for France with the newly formed team of basterds, a year earlier. She'd gotten married, and Omar never forgave himself for having to miss it. She was so much like you, it kind of hurt him. He didn't know much about you, and frankly, he didn't bother asking. It was a dangerous thing to do in these times. But it broke his heart, knowing you probably had a family waiting for you to come home, somewhere in the world, just like he did. Still, he tended to keep distant from you. For a moment, toward the end of your performance, there was a glimmer of a tear in the corner of his eye. For a moment, as you sang on that stage, you smiled just like his sister did, and it broke his heart. It was three AM by the time you were both back at your apartment, and he didn't say much. You didn't ask what was wrong. You knew soldiers, and you knew better. Besides, he seemed tired, and headed to bed right away. He didn't seem to notice the figure looming over the table with all the plans and information charted out. "Wilhelm?" You called out quietly, in case a few basterds had fallen asleep nearby. You set down your keys, and slipped off your heels with a breath of relief, and walked over to him, looking down at the plans, "What did we miss?" He shook his head, "Nothing..." He spoke sincerely, but you noted a twinge of worry in his voice. "You need some rest," you sat, resting the side of your face against your palm, and your elbow on the table. He shook his head again, "No matter how much we plan..." "You're basterds," you smiled a little, not understanding yet. "It'll work. It has to work." He spoke suddenly, which wasn't something he did often. "There used to be more of us," he sank into a chair beside you. "I see..." you looked at him, "Maybe I will never understand what it is to be a basterd. But...I understand what it feels to be scared of losing everything." He only raised an eyebrow, as he turned to look at you. You weren't just a singing spy in over her head. You had a story, as detailed, and mysterious as any of the basterds. In that moment, when he looked in your eyes, he felt as though he'd known you, at some time. And yet, you seemed distant. You smiled, "So the only thing we can do is raise the stakes." "What do you mean?" You shrugged, "I can make a few calls....figuratively." "To?" "A few Soviets. Andrei, Mikhail, Yura, Irina. They're all snipers. I can get some resistance fighters in, some rebels, some double-agents. I know people on the inside, that can get in with no suspicions. No questions asked." He smiled a little, beginning to feel a little relieved."You've already called them." He was half asking, half confirming. You smiled with a nod, "I was going to mention it in the morning." "Mention it?" He chuckled a little, "You really are the greatest agent I've never heard of." You laughed softly, "Goodnight, Wilhelm." "Goodnight," he smiled, as he found a place to sleep in one of the guest rooms. You were only halfway down the hall, when you heard an odd sound. You slowly pushed open one of the doors, and found Donny sharpening his knives He hadn't noticed you walk in. "Keep it up, and you'll whittle it down to nothing." He smirked, and you asked "What's troubling you Sergeant?" You shrugged a little, "Didn't think that was a possibility." "And I didn't think you'd be as good of an agent as you are." "Hm," you laughed as you sat across from him, "No one ever suspects pretty ones like you and me." He'd been called every name you could think of, but pretty...well, that was not a common one. He put the knife down and you saw how tense he looked about the upcoming mission. By dawn, the basterds would be leaving. "What do you drink?" "Whatever you have, kid." You came back shortly with some whiskey, and your glasses clinked. For once, Donny was silent. But, he was calm now. You finished your drink, and said good night. But, before you slipped out the door, he said your name. You lingered by the doorway and he said, "Thanks kid. For everything." You smiled softly, "My pleasure." as you shut the door.

Though you weren't going with them, you found yourself as equally sleepless. If something went wrong, you knew you'd never forgive yourself. You'd hardly have time anyway. If something went wrong, you'd definitely be found out and executed. It wasn't long before you heard birds chirping outside. The basterds scrambled to get their things ready, go over the plan one last time, and say their thanks and goodbye. They slipped out the door silently, separately, and slowly, as to not alert any neighbors. The very last basterd to leave was Smitty. He lingered by the door, and seemed worried. "What's wrong?" "What if they find out about you?" You smiled softly, "Oh, don't you worry about me." "If they find this," he gestured to all the files you had laid out, "If they know you helped us...they'll kill you... Or worse. I mean, what if-" "Well," you sighed, as you lit a cigarette with a peaceful sigh, "That's just the way it goes, sometimes." You'd come to that conclusion the night before. "But," he shook his head, almost as though refusing to say goodbye. "Oh..." You hugged him "Don't you worry about me, love." You smirked a little, "I have friends that'll take care of me." "But...what...how can you be so sure? How can you be so calm?!" "Like I said before," you shrugged, "If you want to survive this war, make yourself some friends." He nodded, with a half-hearted smile as he left. Before you closed the door, he turned back and asked softly "Are we...friends?" "You know where to find me," you smiled, letting him know you were the kind of friend that would get them through the war. As a matter of fact, they'd meet other contacts, rebels, and informants over the next few years. And every once in a while...just when they least expected it, that new 'friend' would tell them you said hello. Far from the skyline of Paris, and any luxurious club, wandering the bloodstained wilderness, Aldo would always respond the same, but genuine way. He'd smile, and hold one of tin boxes of snuff you'd given him, and chuckle, "Well I'll be damned..." It wasn't until the war ended that you got to say hello yourself. It was a Saturday night. Paris was free. And it was your last night performing in that club. It was time you went home you thought... You looked out at the crowd, studying the faces of French, and other allied soldiers. You saw friends of yours, finally allowed to be at ease. You saw a face you hadn't seen since before the war. He'd written a review of a movie of yours, an undiscovered gem, he called it. His name was Archie Hicox. Lieutenant, now. And, you were thrilled to see a few more familiar faces by him. Bridget von Hammersmarck, of all people. And, of course, the basterds. You addressed the crowd, spoke in French, but didn't say goodbye. This was not a time to say goodbyes. All you said was that this next song was one near and dear to your heart. You sang Put the Blame on Mame, just as you had the night you met the basterds. You couldn’t stop smiling as you sang that old familiar song. That night, it felt as though you’d never sang it before. You felt free, you felt more alive than you had before. And seeing those basterds again did it. They couldn’t believe a spy with so much to lose like you could make it this far...but then again, basterds like them had made it to the end. In a way, they owed it to you. At the end of your performance, the loudest cheers and claps and demands for an encore came from a table of basterds. What are friends for, after all?

#Inglourious Basterds #aldo raine #aldo the apache #Donny Donowitz #the bear jew #smithson utivich #Omar Ulmer #gerold hirschberg #Hirschberg #hugo stiglitz #Wilhelm Wicki

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365days365movies · 3 years

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May 1: The Prestige (2006) (Recap: Part Two)

Now, where were we? Oh, right!

Wolverine’s trying to take down Batman for killing his wife and ruining his life, but can’t do it, even with the help of Black Widow and Alfred Pennyworth. So, he goes to the United States to meet Gollum, who’s working for Nicola Tesla.

That sound about right, Nick Jonas of the Jonas Brothers: Living the Dream?

Awesome! Thanks, man; thought you were underrated as Marius in Les Mis. Anyway, let’s get back to it!

Part One is right here!

Recap (2/2)

We flash forward AGAIN to Borden in prison, who’s agreed to sell almost all of his tricks to the representative from before. However, he will only sell the last trick (the Transported Man), if Caldolw comes there himself, with his daughter (whom he agreed to keep out of the workhouses). Meanwhile, he plays a magic trick on a guard, in a fashion that’s genuinely funny and well-done.

The builder of the machine, who is once again friggin’ Nicola Tesla, appears to speak with Angier. Oh, and by the way, Nicola Tesla is FUCKING DAVID BOWIE OH MY GOD!! After showing him a lightbulb powered by bioelectricity, the two sit down for a meal. Tesla speaks on how his visionary status is less-than-appreciated at this point. Still, he offers to make the machine for Angier, but also asks if he’s considered the cost. And not just the monetary one.

While Tesla recommends against Angier’s passions, recognizing it as an obsession, he does agree to build it, recognizing that he will not stop these obsessions. From there, we flashback AGAIN and see Angier backstage, shortly after his failure (and Borden’s sabotage). Still angered at Borden’s new life and success, he goes to his show to observe a new trick he’s debuting, called “The Transported Man.”

Consorting with Olivia, he gets a better disguise to look in on Borden’s act. And when he does...he sees the greatest trick he’s ever seen. Borden goes in through one door, then comes out of another. When he tells Cutter about the trick, Cutter insists that it’s a double. But both Olivia and Angier agree that it wasn’t a double, given that both had the missing fingers from Angier’s shooting attempt. Still, they don’t know HOW Borden does it. So, with Cutter’s advice, they find a double to sit in for Angier for their own version of the trick. This double is drunk and unemployed actor Gerald Root (Hugh Jackman), who is...kind of a dick. Still, the two do look alike (obviously).

With more pizzazz and showmanship than Borden displayed, Angier’s version of the Transported Man is a big success, and Angier is a success as a result. However, there’s a drawback; because he’s switching places with Root, he’s underneath the stage, rather than on top of it. Because of this, he can’t actually appreciate the applause of the audience first hand. Which means quite a lot to him for some reason. And so, he STILL needs to figure out how Borden’s act work. To do so, he asks Olivia (with whom he’s in a new relationship) to spy on Borden by pretending to defect to his side. Which angers Olivia, but she agrees.

Flash forward to Colorado, and to the first experiment of the machine that Tesla’s built. He believes that the machine should be able to transport a person or object from one place to another. They use Angier’s top hat for the demonstration, watching electricity arc around it, and...nothing happens. The hat’s still there. The experiment is a failure, but Tesla will keep at it (for Angier’s money, of course).

Back to the past, where it’s revealed that Olivia is...really fucking pissed at Angier, it turns out. See, she actually did LOVE him, and he cast her away like little more than hired help in order to succeed in his rivalry with Borden, basically telling her that she means little to him, as compared to the feud. So, she betrays Angier by telling Borden about Root. Borden tells Root that he holds power over Angier, convincing him to blackmail him. A drunken Root agrees, but this is also part of Borden’s plan.

See, Borden shows up at the show, and takes away a pad under the trap door through which Angier falls for the trick, causing him to hit the floor badly, and permanently hobbling him. Now under the stage, the asshole Borden takes Root’s place, and Angier’s spotlight, humiliating his rival to LITERALLY add insult to injury. Fuck Borden, he’s a dick.

An understandably enraged Angier goes to Olivia to find out, y’know...what the FUCK? But, after she angrily confronts her, she gives him Borden’s journal, which she’s pinched. However, the journal is written with a cipher in order to prevent any looky-loos from figuring out his secrets. To get the cipher’s key, Angier crosses YET ANOTHER line, and kidnaps Fallon, Borden’s stage engineer. Reluctantly, Borden gives Angier the key to the cipher: TESLA. That leads him to Tesla, and back to America, where Angier is from. But Cutter’s done; he’s not coming along this time. Angier’s obsession with Borden is just that: Angier’s obsession, not his. So, Angier’s on his own.

That night, with Olivia, Fallon, and his wife Sarah, Borden celebrates at dinner! However, Sarah’s not happy, AT ALL, it turns out. I haven’t mentioned this yet, but Borden’s relationship with Sarah is tumultuous as hell. As she describes it, some days he’s all into their marriage and their relationship, and he truly seems to love her. But some days...he isn’t. Some days, he’s into magic whole-heartedly, and into his secrets, which she HATES. This comes up at dinner, where it’s also fairly apparent that Borden is cheating on her with Olivia. YIKES.

As the marriage is falling apart, we go back to Colorado Springs, where Angier is once more reading Borden’s diary. He’s had it the whole time he’s been in Colorado, by the way, but we only now found out where he got it. As he reads it, he’s shocked to see that the diary is now...directly addressing him. Oh...fuck.

Turns out Olivia was REALLY FUCKING PISSED at Angier, and has COMPLETELY betrayed him for Borden, with whom she’s fallen in love. Yeah, fuck. Borden told her to give Angier the diary, knowing that it would send him back to his home country of America on a wild goose chase, as he actually NEVER went to Tesla for the key to his trick. Which means that Angier is there for absolutely no reason.

So, uh...Angier’s gonna punch a genius right now, because he’s now ALSO FUCKING PISSED (which pleases Borden greatly as he reads this in the diary). Convinced that Tesla was stealing his money for a fraudulent cause, he storms there immediately. The lab’s been burned out by Edison’s men, but Tesla and Alley are still there, and they actually don’t know why the experiment didn’t work. They give it one more shot, with Alley’s cat this time. And...

Nothin’. Just an electrified cat. Alive, but probably all static-y now. Anyway, Tesla apologizes, and a frustrated Angier leaves the facility, followed by the understandably freaked out cat. And the other cat is also freaked out. And...oh. OH.

Turns out - TURNS FUCKING OUT - that the machine isn’t a teleporter; it’s a cloning machine! YEAH! And as soon as the cloning is revealed...I figure the whole movie out. I mean it. I figured out the twist! Here, lemme try it on for size. First of all, Angier isn’t dead. His double from the experiment died, in order to frame Borden for his murder and ruin him. Secondly, the person who’s aiming to buy Borden’s trick? It’s him. He’s the “mysterious collector.” 100%, I goddamn guarantee it. Oh, and while we’re at it, I know who Fallon is! Fallon is Borden’s double, because Borden’s only performed the experiment successfully ONCE! When he did, he made a double of himself, and that double is the silent and mysterious Fallon, who seems to care for Borden’s daughter greatly. That’s it! I figured out the goddamn movie! BET. FUCKING BET

Well, I’ll find out soon, I’m sure. Tesla’s forced out of town the next day, but he’s left Angier the box, containing the cloning machine that would be his end. He tests it...but we don’t see whether or not it works. Hmm. Borden’s as interested as I am in this...and then reads on as the diary starts addressing HIM. FUCK. Angier did in fact frame Borden for his death. And with that knowledge...Borden’s done. Both because he’s been fooled, and because...well, that’s not all that’s happened to him recently.

Back in time again, and Sarah and Borden’s marriage is FALLING APART ENTIRELY. Sarah is done with Borden’s flip-flopping mentalities, realizing even now that he’s not currently in love with her. She’s not OK. And unfortunately...she hangs herself shortly afterwards. Yeah. It’s terrible, and Borden drove her FUCKING CRAZY. I DO NOT LIKE THIS ASSHOLE. Poor, poor Sarah. Sucks.

That’s led, of course, to their child being without a mother, which is why Borden agrees to allow the mysterious Lord Caldlow to look after her. And once he arrives at the prison to collect Borden’s final trick as agreed...yup.

Alive, well, and now ABSOLUTELY AN ASSHOLE TOO, Angier has taken on his ACTUAL identity: Robert Caldlow, British nobleman! Holy shit. HOLY SHIT I WAS RIGHT. Now realizing how...FUCKING CRAZY this whole thing is, Borden’s fucked. At the same time, Cutter is to deliver the Box to the estate. Although Caldlow tries to avoid the interaction, the interaction happens, and Cutter is also ABSOLUTELY FUCKING ENRAGED!!! A lot of anger in this movie.

Anyway, yeah! Angier was fucking dead! And now, Borden’s life is absolutely ruined for something that, to be fair, he didn’t actually do! But there’s a question...how the fuck is this possible? I mean, we know a lot of the details. but not everything. It is at this point, though, that we flashback to the night in question.

First things first, Olivia is tried of this bullshit. She’s leaving before it’s too late, because their obsessions with each other is too fucking much. With Angier about to debut a new trick, a new version of the “Transported Man”, Borden goes to the show night-after-night, despite the fact that his wife is dead, kinda because of him. But whatever, amirite? MAGIC RULES ALL

Borden attends the show multiple times, and night after night, Angier enters the machine, and his double appears above the audience seconds later, which astounds and amazes. Finally, Borden’s fed up, and he makes his way backstage to figure out what the FUCK is happening. And that’s when we get back to the beginning. The clone of Angier dies in the water tank, and Borden’s framed for the crime. And it worked.

Realizing now that he’s fucked, Borden in the modern day says his tearful goodbyes to the always silent Fallon, admitting his faults, and apologizing to him for what happened with Sarah? Huh. But a part of me wonders whether or not Borden can escape. I mean, he’s an escape artist and a magician, right?

No. Borden is brought to the gallows to be done. And when they ask if he has anything more to say...he does.

...Holy shit.

After this, we go back to Caldlow/Angier. He brings the machine to the theatre with the help of Cutter. There, he prepares to burn the theatre and the box, and a water tank also in the cellar. And then, he’s shot. Wait, wait, he’s fucking SHOT? By...oh. OHHHHHH.

Fallon. FALLON shoots Caldlow/Angier. But it’s not Fallon really. No, no. This is THE OTHER Alfred Borden, who’s been disguised as Fallon the whole time. But wait! There’s FUCKING MORE! As Angier/Caldlow dies (YES DIES), we learn the truth from both sides. Let’s start with Borden.

See, this entire time, through all the BULLSHIT that Angier went through to make this goddamn stupid fucking trick work...Cutter was right. THE ENTIRE TIME. But how did Borden to the Transported Man? Easy: he has a twin brother. HE HAS A FUCKING TWIN BROTHER!!! I was wrong! The real trick is that the brothers sacrificed their individuality in order to play the same person! This whole goddamn time! HOLY SHIT! That’s also why Sarah noted that Borden seemed like two people at once sometimes! In fact, one brother loved Sarah, and the other loved Olivia! Holy fucking SHIT! But what about the hands, you ask? Easy! To commit to the bit, the other brother CUT HIS FUCKING FINGERS OFF!!! WHAT IN THE EVERLOVING FUCK?!?

Now THAT is a fucking twist! And Angier’s equally as impressed. But OK...how did Angier do his trick? Simple; by killing his clones EVERY SINGLE FUCKING NIGHT WITH THE WATER TANK! Which is just SUPER FUCKED when you think about it! He’s killing himself every night, because when he steps in to the machine, he never knows if he’s the man in the water or on the stage! He’s literally drowning himself every night, in the same way that his wife died! And you know the REALLY FUCKED UP THING?

HE ALREADY TRIED TO DO THE EXACT SAME THING EARLIER

Yeah! That’s from before, shortly after his wife died! And he did that every night, WAITING for the right moment to get his revenge on Borden to frame him for murder! ISN’T THAT ABSOLUTELY FUCKED?!? I LOVE IT!

So, yeah, that’s all well and good, but for the love of God, WHY? Angier got his revenge already with the better showmanship from his first revision of Borden’s trick, so why do it like this now? Well, Angier’s reply is that he did it to see the magic on people’s faces when they realized the trick in front of them. I mean...you’re fuckin’ CRAZY dude, but I respect your devotion to the craft?

Angier dies, and the lantern falls on the ground, causing everything to start burning. And as Borden walks away from this mess, we hear Caine’s narration come in again, and go back to that first scene with him and the little girl, whom we now know is Borden’s daughter. And luckily for her, her ACTUAL FATHER, the right Borden, is the one who’s still alive. He comes for her, with Cutter’s blessings, and his narration continues. And as it does, Borden in the fast, in the theatre, looks back at the scene around him. And he realizes what he’s looking at.

Every magic trick consists of 3 parts, or "acts." The first part is called "the Pledge." The magician shows you something ordinary. The second act is called "the Turn." The magician takes the ordinary something, and makes it into something extraordinary. But, you wouldn't clap yet, because making something disappear isn't enough... you have to bring it BACK. Now, you're looking for the secret. But you won't find it, because, of course, you're not really looking. You don't really want to work it out. You want to be... FOOLED.

That’s The Prestige, and uh...holy fucking SHIT. See you in the Review.

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ifeveristoday · 4 years

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new boss same as the old boss

well, not exactly (to be fair)

Spoilers and reactions for Angel #14 underneath the cut. We move from Batman to Undead Dick Tracy, emphasis on ....Dick. 🍆

Oh Angel, square of jaw, dumb of ass, and heart full of...what?

This issue signals the new creative team for Angel and my first reaction after reading it is that it’s definitely funnier. Zac Thompson injects some much needed humor, lightening up the Darqueness that has infiltrated the previous run, but mostly by using Spike as the undead voice of reason/den mother. Everyone else is too stressed to be flippant and pragmatic about the dire circumstances they’re dealing with: Gunn’s need for revenge, Fred’s missing and under Wolfram & Hart’s control after being possessed by Baphomet. Because that trend of violating women with unholy demons is something that really needed to crossover from the show, I guess.

Angel is trying to keep his crew together, especially now that there seems to be a new big bad running loose in LA, leaving pools of blood and corpses behind. But he’s also getting ominous magic 8 ball advice from Lillith, telling him this latest serial killer is going to be the final walk toward redemption, as opposed to all the other times Angel has slouched toward redemption. She also brings up the concept of the Dreamsea, which is something new (unless it isn’t, so I’ll have to re-read and edit this opinion accordingly) and that Angel will need to cleanse the sins of the past and absolve himself.

Except nothing like that is easy for Angel, who opens and narrates in peak hardboiled-esque meets the worst of his brooding soliloquies. It almost comes off as self-parody at a point? But that’s probably due to me being tired of the Darkque™ tone. I’m not discounting Angel’s tragic past and I believe that his journey toward redemption is noble and more interesting than just being a straight up evil torture-them type of villain with no nuance. But the way the writers have chosen to address that makes Angel completely humorless and drifts him away from what makes him human: his connection to his ‘friends.’(I much prefer Jordie Bellaire and Jeremy Lambert’s characterization of him.)

Except Angel’s now distracted by the Mysterious Blonde Bombshell - Kate, who now is remembering past memories of her previous life as Mara/Marius, Angelus’ bloody right hand. When they discover the source of all the killings: a massive werewolf and after Spike dispatches it (by crushing a cellphone and throwing it into the werewolf’s mouth...okay? Did it lodge it in his windpipe, choking him out?) Angel and Kate seemingly kiss/look at each other meaningfully from the perspective of an upside down Spike, who eyerolls and groans. “I’ve seen that glint in Ol’ Angelus’ eyes before. This ain’t good.”

I agree, Spike.

This issue deals with obsession/possession on several levels - Gunn’s obsession for justice and enacting his revenge ultimately sways him from what’s really important, Fred’s literal possession by Baphomet and loss of free will for unlimited explodey death hand power, Kate coming into possession of her past memories, and Angel’s various obsessions: Mara/doing the right thing and forcing his morals upon others - great self-awareness there, dude! Now go do something besides looking suitably tragic by the shadows of venetian blinds. And he brings up Buffy suddenly for no apparent reason - what does the opinion of a girl he’s barely met register now, weeks? months? time is meaningless - unless it’s in her capacity as The Slayer. So she thinks you’re a monster...you also think you’re a monster.

I don’t want the creative team anywhere near Buffy the character frankly - because 1) obviously they have to follow the Mara storyline to a conclusion where Angel has to kill her or let her go to live as Kate (and we still don’t know if his origin with Darla is still the same) 2) the women characters in the Angel verse haven’t had a lot to do on their own, except as plot points for Angel’s angst or forbidden lusts - Fred is possessed/also a damsel in distress post the issue where she helped Angel with the social media killer, Lillith as ominous sexy magic 8 ball that tells Angel what his next choices should be, Kate not her own person but the reincarnation of Angel’s ex, Lilah who is there to lead Fred/Baphomet around and wear the fuck out of a suit, and a past prophecy that deals with Buffy --- but with this Kate/Mara development will definitely be back burnered. Which, good.

Any other women in Angel’s orbit have died horribly, or are forgotten. So, no thanks. Leave Buffy Summers alone, she has enough on her plate.

Oh, and I almost forgot. The werewolf is Oz. As happy as I am to see another familiar face, I don’t see how adding yet another dude into the mix when the main characters still haven’t been properly fleshed out (with the exception of maybe Spike, who does love his counterculture/pop culture and brings up the fluid nature of vampire sexuality. Minus the whole dismal handling of his break up with Dru, Spike has fared pretty well as a character in the comics.)

Final verdict: Eh, could have been much worse. Funnier, but same character problems. I’m okay with passing on catching on new release and waiting for the collections.

MVP: Spike

MSP: (Most sensible Player) Gunn, who’s had enough of Angel’s shit and looks to be the one that calls him out regularly, which should be happening.

This might as well happen: Kate/Mara/Angel

Oh, and Lilah is apparently now a woman of color, which is a departure from her previous drawn appearances.

#angel in boom! land #spoilers and reactions #angel comics #boom! studios #boom! verse

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alicedrawslesmis · 4 years

Text

Sketching Les Mis Chapter 4.2.4 - An Apparition To Marius

So, Marius is depressed. That's not even an exaggeration he can't bring himself to work, his thoughts just don't connect, he lost the hope to find Cosette, he went in debt and is digging himself deeper into this rutt hole that he can't seem to find the willpower to get out of. It's said that he is lost in his reverie, basically his daydreaming is taking up all the space in his mind and he can't articulate a string of thoughts together.

He spends his days at the Field of the Lark where he sits and sits and sits and sits, and that's what makes a gumbie cat by "the seventh tree", that's his new address, which is a funny detail.

Then he hears a voice. It's the older Thénardier girl. She looks worse than last time. Her rags are two months older, she's barefoot. It's cold. She'd skinnier and she has straw on her hair from sleeping on the ground. She does have a tendency to babble, but she notices Marius is sad so she, despite herself, tells him that she has the Young Lady's address. Marius is thrilled! He makes her promise never to tell her father about it. She agrees to take him there right then, but asks that he follow from afar because a man like him shouldn't be seen with "a woman like her".

This is honestly so sad. It fits with her image of him tho, she still thinks he's rich and maybe she has this idea that if she was with him her life would be like Cosette's. Really what she wants is to be able to live in a house, have dresses and shoes that fit, be able to be charitable to others and not be pitied, and she thinks he is the way to go. But also he is simultaneously her salvation but too far out of her reach, the idea of him is more important for her than the reality of him. So she watches from afar mostly. Like he did with Cosette earlier. The two stalkish kids. Honestly? Maybe if the situation was different Marius and Éponine could be good friends, they'd talk about love and daydream about stuff. Well she would babble and he'd be daydreaming but I think they could make that friendship work! And Montparnasse could show up sometimes to bond with Marius and Éponine about shoes because apparently that's something they all like? Idk I just want Éponine to have friends

Btw Éponine mentioned how she is about to come of age, meaning she is probably gonna be eighteen soon I think? just something y'all should know. (EDIT: in French it says she's going on 16 apparently)

Anyway she reminds Marius how he owes her a favour and he tries to give her the 5 francs he borrowed from Courfeyrac. She drops the coin saying "no I don't want your money", and they carry on their way.

#232/365 #eponine #marius #les mis #les miserables #4-2-4 #23/01/20 #a year of les mis #2020 #my art

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lesmisscraper · 4 years

Text

Brick... with animation!

55. Second Parting

"Go away with you! Are you mad? Why, I should have to have money, and I have none! Go to England? But I am in debt now, I owe, I don't know how much, more than ten louis to Courfeyrac, one of my friends with whom you are not acquainted! I have an old hat which is not worth three francs, I have a coat which lacks buttons in front, my shirt is all ragged, my elbows are torn, my boots let in the water; for the last six weeks I have not thought about it, and I have not told you about it. You only see me at night, and you give me your love; if you were to see me in the daytime, you would give me a sou! Go to England! Eh! I haven't enough to pay for a passport!" He threw himself against a tree which was close at hand, erect, his brow pressed close to the bark, feeling neither the wood which flayed his skin, nor the fever which was throbbing in his temples, and there he stood motionless, on the point of falling, like the statue of despair. He remained a long time thus. One could remain for eternity in such abysses. At last he turned round. He heard behind him a faint stifled noise, which was sweet yet sad. It was Cosette sobbing. She had been weeping for more than two hours beside Marius as he meditated. - Vol 4, book 8, chapter 6

While Eponine fought Thenardier with his gangs and made them run away, Marius and Cosette were still in the garden of Rue Plumet. But that night's atmosphere was different. Cosette's face looked sad, and she was weeping with tears in her reddened eyes.

Marius asked what made her so sad. Cosette told him she was going to move to England with her father after one week later. She didn't know when they leave and return.

Marius' dream and heaven was broken soon after hearing this. Cosette suggested Marius to go with her, but Marius couldn't.

He did not have that much money to make a passport or buy a ticket to England. He threw himself on a tree to blame his situation.

When he turned around, he found Cosette was sobbing too. She had been weeping for more than two hours beside Marius as he meditated. She was still crying when Marius told her that he still loved her and gave his most sacred word of honor, that if she went away, he should die.

Cosette stopped sobbing, because Marius' words had a true and gloomy thing.

He told her to give him a time for a day, and meet him day after tomorrow. He wanted to meet his grandfather to made a permission to be with his lover.

He left his address on a wall, and went to Gillenormand's manor to get money or permission to marry with her.

#Les miserables #les mis #My post #Il cuore di Cosette #Heart of Cosette #....is sad now...#Rue Plumet #Cosette #Marius #Lark and Booby #MARIUS THE BOOBY #The brick with animation #animation

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lightsburnbrite · 5 years

Text

The Devil is in the Details: Part 1

After plugging the address in to her GPS, Karina drove off towards the center of the self proclaimed modern art district, just past the Kunstareal.

You have arrived at your destination.

With a frown, Karina drove on in hopes of finding a parking spot. She switched the map app on her phone to walking directions and soon found her way to the empty storefront. Finding the door locked, Karina stepped off to the side and chose to examine the chipped portions of her manicure. Soon she wouldn’t be able to resist picking at the missing sections of polish until she had peeled the entire nail clean.

“Miss Müller!”

Looking up, Karina saw a middle aged woman in a camel colored suit hurrying towards her and extending her hand.

“Sorry I’m late, traffic was terrible!” After shaking Karina’s hand, the woman then took the same hand and smoothed out her ivory blouse. “Fredericka Schmidt. It’s so nice to meet you in person, Ekaterina.”

Karina immediately formed the impression that the woman was a little scattered and in over her head. Even though she was late, she shouldn’t have acknowledged it or apologized. That would have given her the upper hand. Instead, Karina now held that position as the one being inconvenienced. At least, that was what Marwin had always told her. Giving her head an almost imperceivable shake as if to get the thought to leave, she smiled. “Karina will be fine, thank you.”

“Wonderful.” Schmidt pulled out a ring of color coded keys and flipped through them until she came to a bright green one. “Now, most of the commercial spaces on this street are either occupied by stores or we have a handful of artists that use them as their own personal galleries.”

Once the door was unlocked, they stepped into the bright and completely open space. “I’m interested in setting up a gallery of sorts,” Karina walked around the perimeter before turning her attention back to the real estate agent. “I inherited a large collection and while I’ve donated a lot, there were several pieces that I don’t want to part with so I figured that would be my best option. I have a few of my favorite pieces in my house but my husband isn’t a huge fan of having the entire place filled.”

“You have the Strohmann estate!” Schmidt’s eyes widened when she realized who she was dealing with. “I have larger properties-”

Karina gave her head a little shake. “No, this size is fine. I only have a handful that I want as permanent installations. Aside from that I plan to feature emerging artists that might otherwise not have a platform.”

“Yes, of course. How noble.”

Right then, Karina had to fight back the urge to roll her eyes. She never made it a habit of tying herself to Marwin Strohmann but her name was now well known in the artistic and philanthropic circles as the inheritor of his estate. It didn’t help her desire for anonymity when Focus published an article profiling the ten wealthiest “under 30’s” in the region. Karina had refused an interview and wouldn’t provide a headshot so the magazine must have searched for a useable picture elsewhere. The photograph that ran with the profile showed she and Leon both dressed in all black with sunglasses on, Karina with her arm looped around Leon’s, attending the memorial service for Marwin. If she was looking for a silver lining to it all, they made a very attractive couple.

“I’d like to sign the lease today if possible.” Karina turned back towards Fredericka Schmidt and punctuated her statement with a smile.

As part of her ongoing therapy, she worked with a body language coach. The initial idea was to help her feel more in control of her own surroundings but Karina was also aware that it just helped her become more assertive in general. The only difference was now that she didn’t care if people called her a bitch.

“Yes, yes, of course!” That request seemed to have flustered Schmidt somewhat but Karina just waited patiently as all of the paperwork was gathered.

When she got back into her car, Karina made a few taps on the in dash monitor and waited for the phone to ring. She wasn’t sure he’d pick up but she figured leaving a message would be fine also. After a few more rings, it clicked over.

“Hey Mausi!”

It always made Karina’s heart flutter when he called her that.

“Hi Leon.” She smiled and waited to see if he was feeling chatty or if she’d get to go first. When there was a slight pause, she continued. “I got it.”

“You rented the space? Shit, that’s great!”

“Yeah,” She laughed, feeling excited herself. “I looked around inside and it’s perfect so I signed a year’s lease right then.”

“I’m so proud of you, Maus.”

Karina could hear some commotion in the background then finally a voice she recognized yelled out.

Who’s on the phone?

She laughed when she heard Leon answer back: Angela Merkel!

“Hey, babe, I miss you like crazy but we’re out on a boat and the reception bad. Can I call you back tonight? Like right before bed when I’m by myself?”

She smirked now, knowing exactly what he had in mind and knowing that she could use that as well. “Yeah, of course. I love you, sir. And tell my brother I said hello.”

“I love you too, Maus.”

With a sigh and a smile, Karina switched the audio over to music and began the drive back to their place.

When Leon strode back out of the cabin, the guys started to tease him.

“Was that the wife checking in on you?” Lucca called out over from the other side.

Leon cocked his head to the side and smiled. “That was the wife giving me some good news about a project she’s been working on. Your sister says hello, by the way.” He had turned towards Marius at the end who just rolled his eyes, much in the same way his sister did.

“How did you manage to sneak away for a whole week?” Marius made a little jab at Karina’s expense.

Leon just shrugged now. He easily could have taken the credit for taking a guys only holiday, but he never missed an opportunity to point out how understanding and, at the root of it, reasonable Karina really was. “I told Karina what was planned, when I’d be leaving and when I’d be back.”

When that got some incredulity from the rest of the crew he laughed. “Plus she hates Mallorca and I’m taking her to the Maldives for our honeymoon over the winter break.”

Even though Karina had been a sore spot between Leon and Marius initially, Marius did give eventually but there was an unspoken understanding that Leon wouldn’t necessarily rub it in that he had married his best friend’s little sister. Every now and then, however, Marius would check in to make sure things were ok with Karina.

“Is she still seeing her therapist? The good one?” Marius dug through the cooler and found one of the ciders that Leon liked after getting a beer for himself.

With a nod of appreciation, Leon took a sip and then nodded again. “Yeah. She’s actually been able to cut down to twice a month now and, um, she’s doing really well. I’ve got my Maus back.”

“Good.” Marius nodded as well. “That’s good.”

Once Karina made it home, she immediately went to the spare room that she had set up as a work space and stood in front of her design board. “I’ll need to take pictures of the layout. Then I can figure out where I want everything to go and what area will be open for other artists.”

She turned to look at Elsa, her Bernese Mountain Dog, who seemed entirely disinterested.

“Of course,” She scratched Elsa behind her ear, “There’s an office so I’ll need to get you another bed to keep there. Sound good?”

That at least elicited a groan in response.

“I know.” Karina at down on the floor next to Elsa and wrapped her arms around the dog. “I miss him too. He said he’ll be home soon so maybe we can both stop moping around then.”

Karina could’t decide if she felt like cooking or if she even wanted some sort of takeout. After walking out on the terrace, she realized that the temperature had settled down to something a lot more comfortable. Grabbing Elsa’s leash, Karina looked to see what vendors were at the market today. Sometimes she could find a whole meal there and right now, that seemed like a better idea than anything else.

After dinner, Karina sat down and worked on compiling the history of the various pieces of art that she was donating to the museum. Occasionally, she’d glance at her phone but when she began nodding off at the table, Karina decided it was time to call it a night. She kept her phone next to her as she washed her face and brushed her teeth but it remained silent. Finally, she put a movie on and got into bed.

When Karina woke up, the first thing she did was to check her phone but there were only a few updates from various apps, no missed calls. Flopping back down, she rolled over on her side and stroke Elsa’s head. Elsa had made herself at home on Leon’s side of the bed whenever he was away.

“I know I’m being ridiculous,” She gently smoothed out Elsa’s ear now, “but he said he’d call.”

Karina frowned as she stared up at the ceiling but Elsa’s paw on her forearm brought her mind back. “Ok,” she sat up and yawned. “Ok, I’m getting up.”

The hardest part of her day had become figuring out what to wear to work. There was a professional dress code she needed to adhere to, the weather outside had been stifling hot recently yet the museum was always frigid, and there were some days where she was in the archives moving things around. Fortunately today, Karina knew she’d only be working at her desk so a simple shirt dress would suffice.

Coffee in hand, Karina made her way to the shared space where her desk was, greeting her coworkers along the way.

“Oh, Karina?”

She turned to see her boss, Nena, walking towards her carrying a leather folio. “Yes?”

“I was hoping you could help me out and train Daniel and Sara on conducting tours today.” Nena’s voice had a touch of pleading to it. “Julia has been working with them but she needed to call out sick today. Do you have time?”

Karina smiled and nodded. “Sure. Let me just put my stuff away and I’ll meet you out front.”

Daniel and Sara were two college students who were interning, much like she had at one point, so she felt a sort of obligation to help them out. They had never been introduced but Karina figured couldn’t have been any more than a year or two older than them which usually went over better than if she needed to tell someone older than her what to do.

“Daniel, Sara,” Nena turned to Karina once she had walked back to the main entrance. “This is Karina Müller, she’s one of our curators and actually wrote the script that you’ve been working from. She’ll be helping you out today.”

After spending a few hours with the two of them, Karina didn’t mind Daniel, but Sara had a little bit of snark to her that just rubbed Karina the wrong way. Still, Karina was grateful when their training portion of the day was finished and she could go back to cataloging the newest collection that had arrived.

She stopped around lunch time and went for a walk before returning to the break room. Sitting at the table with her salad, Karina still had her ear buds in when she realized someone was in the room with her.

“Hmm?” Karina had registered that it was Daniel who was speaking to her but she didn’t actually hear his question.

Daniel let out a little laugh. “I just said thank you for this morning. That’s one of the more useful training sessions I’ve had”

With a nod, Karina offered a polite smile. “Oh, thanks. I’m glad it was helpful.”

“It’s easy to tell this is something you’re really passionate about.” His smile broadened. “Listen, a few of us are going to catch a movie after work. Want to tag along?”

“Thanks for the offer but…” Karina then thought about what her evening would look like otherwise - taking work home and then moping around waiting to see if Leon would call. “Let me think about it, ok?”

Daniel offered a very satisfied grin in response. “Sure.”

#Leon Goretzka #the devil is in the details

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coelenterata · 5 years

Note

For the Eponine prompt: Eponine is reading a book but gets interrupted by Azelma who laughs about Gavroche. He drank milk/hot chocolate and is now sporting a milk mustache. Eponine is happy. I do not know if it is possible to write something like that in canon era. I also do not know if this is something you would want to write about. If not, maybe it still made you smile, because this chapter was so so so horrible. Have a nice day!

It definitely made me smile, oh my god, this is such a good mental image, and I hope this is at least sort of what you wanted? I got a little distracted trying to explain the AU leading up to that moment, oops.

—

There were things, it turned out, that were so nice that she could not have imagined them if she had tried – novels, chiefly. She had known to imagine, though never really hope for anymore, being warm and safe, dressed and well-fed, but she had not thought to imagine books bought with her own money and only for her, with only her wishes in mind, for her to read by the window while her feet were warm.

And now she didn’t have to imagine, because it was a real thing that was really, truly, happening to her, was still happening to her even if she pinched herself, and all of it only because she had been distracted that day last winter, after she had talked to M. Marius, when she had had the letters back and was carrying them to their recipients after all.

Her father hadn’t ever put return addresses on that sort of letters, because that would have been stupid, and so Éponine had had to wait, always, for the letter to be read and for someone to give her something or send her away or demand things of her. And that time, with the letter given to someone at the Marquise’s house, and her thoughts all occupied with M. Marius and how kind he had looked at her and how he had blushed and not touched her, she had looked down at the bundle of letters she still held and realized, sinkingly, horrifiedly, that she had handed over the wrong letter.

She had waited, still, just a second too long, until the maid she had given the letter to had reappeared, and she had looked angry, and Éponine had felt herself shaking and had scrambled to get away, and the maid had caught her arm and stopped her, strangely gentle.

“Wait, would you wait you little– this man who this letter says is your father, he sends you to men? He sends you like this to strange men, alone?”

And that was the problem with giving people letters that were not meant for them: they ended up knowing things.

Éponine had shrugged, jostled her rags off her shoulder, pulled them back up.

She had felt looked at, seen, in a way that she hadn’t liked one bit, all because she had mixed up the letters, and now some woman she didn’t know thought she knew all about Éponine, and worst of all she probably did.

“Not much of a choice. Have to eat, don’t we?”

The woman had bristled and taken a breath like she meant to yell, and looked at the bruises on Éponine’s arms and taken another breath, slower; and then she had offered, still gently, carefully, soothingly, that Éponine could come in, and that they needed someone else to help in the house, to wash the dishes and carry the laundry and do all those other tasks that a Marquise’s household had to do, and really would she like to come in and have some food and at least borrow a shawl and sit down and warm her hands, and someone would get the housekeeper and talk to her about this.

Éponine had thought it easier to just follow. And then…

“Well,” the housekeeper had said, when the situation had been explained to her while Éponine was quiet and looked at her own hands lying red in her lap on her ragged skirt, and hoped, and dared not hope, and feared, and tried not to fear. “Well, if you can work, you can work here, and we can find a place for you to sleep, and you won’t ever have to go back there.”

And Éponine had accepted the work, because it was money, wasn’t it, and it turned out it was also new clothes, or at least proper ones, borrowed from someone else, and she had accepted those too, gladly, and done her work as best she could, but she had gone back to her parents the next day.

It had been strange, and even worse than before now that she had known she could know a better life maybe. They had been as they always had, and it had been terrible, except she had gotten to flee back to work and safety, away from it all, and she had been relieved and then she had felt guilty, and then she had cried all through the dishes because she couldn’t stop thinking about Azelma’s face, and the cook had asked her what was wrong, as if that was a question people asked someone like Éponine, and she had stammered, about Azelma, had made a flood of unpolished words hiccup and cough out of her, and at the end the housekeeper was called again, and then the next day someone went with her to get Azelma, and that had been that.

That was that, and they both got real skirts and real shoes, and food every day, and they didn’t go back to their parents.

Éponine was… she was warm now and safe and fed, and with Azelma, and she washed the dishes and helped with the laundry and dusted when it was necessary, which was often, and fed the Marquise’s bird when it was being horrid and helped Azelma find the Marquise’s favourite slippers when the cat had put them lord knows where again, and.

Her stomach had been full every day for weeks now, and she had her sister and she had work, and because Éponine had a blouse and a skirt and an apron now and her hair was tidy and she did not dawdle because she was still a little afraid, because Éponine was a girl now almost like other girls, people smiled at her like they didn’t mean something else. And there was only the old fancy lady to serve, who did not sneer, and because there wasn’t a man to serve there was noone who grabbed her, and she thought she might get to be happy after all, like real people did.

She thought so not just once, fleetingly, like she had sometimes before; she thought so always, every day, without feeling stupid about it at all, because it wasn’t a dream now, was it. It was a life. For her, and for Azelma.

Gavroche too was there sometimes, appeared, as he did, for no particular reason and with no intention of staying, every so often, and the cook swatted at him and called him a rascal, but she knew that he belonged with Éponine and Zelma, and he had sworn not to touch anything with his dirty hands, and she had squinted at him and proceeded to make him wash them anyway every time, and he got to sit with them when they were done working and he was done being underfoot, and he could have work, he had been told, if he wanted it, and the cook gave him food, even if she grumbled as if someone were forcing her to, and Éponine had a home here maybe, and her family still.

And then there were the books.

There were books, because the maid and the cook liked to read novels for themselves and to each other, and Éponine had listened wide-eyed the first time and the cook had noticed, and she had let Éponine have the book when they were done with it, and Éponine had read it, had devoured it like she hadn’t known one could devour books, and she had read it to Azelma, quietly, overcome with some feeling she hadn’t known the name for and still didn’t.

And she had borrowed another book and another, and devoured those too.

And then she had decided to buy books for herself.

She couldn’t afford many, of course, but she saved up, and she had the cook accompany her to a bookshop and help her choose a book all for herself, bought with her own money earned in the proper way, and she payed for it with shaking hands and clutched the book to her chest all the way back, and then she sat down in the corner she always sat in, to open it, reverently, and to start reading.

It was a good book.

Maybe she thought so only because she had bought it herself, but it was the best book she had read yet; she hardly noticed when Gavroche came in, talking loudly, waving his arms, doing an impression of someone to a laughing Azelma. She continued reading through the talking and the laughing, and she continued reading through Gavroche bothering the cook, and she continued reading and fell further and further into the story, and she didn’t notice what was going on around her at all anymore, until Azelma laughed again, laughed so hard that she shrieked, and then Éponine looked up, a little disoriented.

The sight that greeted her did not serve to make her less so.

There was something on Gavroche’s face like a mustache, like the kind of mustache-shaped thing Éponine had seen on people before when they drank things too hastily, but Gavroche’s was of a size that most actual mustaches could not even hope to achieve, and Éponine could not for anything in the world say what kind of drink would leave a mustache of that colour.

Azelma was pointing and laughing, breathless with it.

Éponine smiled, too.

With utmost sincerity and care, Gavroche toasted them both with his mug and lifted it to his mouth again, but there was no explanation forthcoming, so Éponine closed her book and leaned forward a little and squinted at her brother.

“What is that? Where’d you get it?”

Gavroche took his time swallowing his mouthful of his drink.

“Cook gave it to me. ‘S chocolate. Want some?”

He held the mug out to her, and she reached for it, a bit suspicious.

It smelled heavenly, it wasn’t that; she just didn’t trust her brother to not pour it on her shirt, or otherwise make a fool of her. But then, she didn’t think he would risk wasting chocolate.

She took the mug from him, and she took a sip, and she saw her brother watch attentively either for her reaction or, more likely, that she didn’t steal too much of his chocolate.

It was even better than she had thought it would be, all sweet and warm and wonderful, and the small sip was more than enough, that and getting to watch her sister take a sip too and close her eyes to savour the taste, and getting to see her brother be spoiled like this, and having her book and her siblings and her safety and a future, a future in which she didn’t have to be afraid anymore, a future carrying the possibility of happiness, a future, stretching out in front of her.

#melle93 #replies tag #my fic #this got very long and now i have to go play a tabletop roleplaying game so i will get to gardening-related fic tomorrow!!

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annachronistic · 5 years

Text

Smoke Stalked

29 May, 1832

It was around 7 o'clock in the morning when the residents of 187 Rue de Normandy noticed that something was off. At this time of day, one would typically hear birds tweeting and fluttering in the trees. But in this case Bossuet, Joly, and Musichetta were hearing faint noises that may or may not have been words. They could not discern from where they were originated.

"I think our house is haunted," Bossuet said, followed again by the strange unintelligible sound. "Why must you ghosts have to be early risers?"

"Perhaps it is just a cat outside?" Joly said.

"Or a cat's ghost?" Musichetta said, her voice hoarse, for she had contracted a cold recently. She was a very easygoing woman though, not one to complain of illnesses.

"Then I guess it would be a purr-tergeist," Bossuet joked.

"Our neighbor's house has been abandoned for years. I might go over there to see how many cats have inhabited that place and are holding séances," Musichetta said and then sneezed.

"Are you sure you want to go outside this early? I'm afraid you've caught a cold," said Joly.

"I'm fine," Musichetta said. "I was probably going to get up soon anyway."

"Alright, then. I'll light a fire and make some tea," Joly said.

Joly went into the living room where the fireplace was. Upon getting closer, the faint cries became more discernible: a frightened tenor voice saying "Help! Help!". Joly exchanged confused glances with Musichetta, confirming that she had indeed heard what he had just heard.

"Did someone say something?" Joly asked, making sure he was not going crazy.

"Yes," the voice replied.

"I don't see you. Where are you?"

"In the chimney," said the voice.

At the word "chimney", Bossuet just held his face in his palm and shook his head in a way a parent might do to a stupid teenager. Joly, more concerned, rushed towards the chimney. It was fortunate that Joly did not actually light a fire in the fireplace. How someone would wind up in a chimney was beyond him, but Joly did not have the time nor think it was appropriate to ask how this person got there.

"How long have you been there?" Joly asked what he thought was a more relevant question. Nevertheless, this person managed to divulge his entire backstory.

"I have been here since after midnight. I came for my future wife Cosette. However, her father is quite wary of me and doesn't want her seeing me, so I decided to enter the house in a more discreet manner. This is the address that a girl told me where she lived. Thank God someone is actually in this house; I've been waiting for hours. You must be the servant," the voice said, muffled from the wall of bricks.

"I am no servant," replied Joly, recognizing him as someone who apparently wanted a mistress really badly.

"Whoever you may be, please do not tell Cosette's father that I am in here."

"I do not even know who Cosette is, so I assure you that will not happen. Whoever you are, we will get you out as soon as possible, rest assured. Inhaling that much chimney soot cannot be good for the lungs. You sound vaguely familiar though. Would you mind identifying yourself?"

"That is of no importance now," the voice replied curtly.

Joly and Musichetta were rightfully confused while Bossuet was failing to keep a straight face, for he knew with certainty to whom the voice belonged.

"I believe you have the wrong address, Marius!" Bossuet said loudly, positively identifying the mysterious voice from the chimney.

"Oh shit! Is that you, Lesgles?" the man confirmed to be Marius said. "Please, Bossuet, do not tell anyone about this."

"I live here with two other people, so they already know now," Bossuet said.

"I'm Musichetta," Bossuet's and Joly's mistress introduced herself.

"And I'm Joly. We've met before a few times."

"Oh, Joly. Now I remember you," Marius recalled. "You're the short one with the horrid laugh."

"I can't believe that's the thing that people remember about me," Joly smiled.

"Yes, that is one of the more distinctive things about you, Jolllly," Musichetta said and kissed him.

"Well I guess the three of us can pull you out. Then you'll be kissing this Cosette in no time," Bossuet said.

"Are you sure you can? I am stuck in the flue," Marius said.

"Oh no, he has the flu!" Joly said, concerned, possibly mishearing what Marius had said.

"I mean flue as in the flue of a chimney, not flu as in influenza," Marius corrected.

"You should seek medical treatment as soon as you get out of here, as influenza combined with smoke inhalation could turn into pneumonia," Joly said, completely ignoring the homophone that Marius had pointed out.

"He's just worried about illnesses as of late because I've caught a little cold," Musichetta explained. Musichetta crawled into the fireplace and spied a foot just below the smoke shelf of the chimney. She examined the width of the distance between the smoke shelf and the lower part of the chimney.

"I could pull your ankle down, but that would make you even more stuck, as the throat of the chimney is far too narrow for you to fit through. You're so close, yet so far," she said.

"I must say, the chimney looked rather large from the outside, yet I am completely stuck now. I guess this means I'm fat," Marius complained.

"You're not fat," Bossuet assured him. "Only small children can fit through chimneys."

"If that is true, then I could have gotten a chimney sweeper boy to enter Cosette's house via the chimney and then unlock the door for me."

The trio outside the chimney cringed at Marius' alternative 'plan'.

"Then you would get caught and the servant would be blamed for letting strangers break in and get fired after the fact," Musichetta added.

"Shit, I don't want that to happen," said Marius. "By the way, I am sorry for mistaking you for a servant, Joly."

"That is okay, Marius. I initially mistook your voice for a cat."

"Really? I hate cats. They don't love you, and they knock things off of counters for no good reason. Such spiteful creatures."

"You're kicked out of les amis de l'abaisse," Joly said.

"But I am not even in that group," Marius pointed out.

"Well congratulations, monsieur Pontmercy. You have now officially been inducted into les amis de l'abaisse," Joly declared.

"Thanks, Joly?" the Bonapartist was unsure of how to take up that offer.

"Now you're kicked out," said Joly.

"Drat," said Marius.

"That was the most genius yet petty maneuvers ever," Musichetta said to Joly, impressed, before she blew her nose into a handkerchief.

"It was related to a discussion about cats, so I guess it was pet-ty." Joly and Musichetta laughed and shared another kiss. "But as minute as our differences are, he cannot remain in that chimney much longer!"

"I have an idea!" Bossuet declared.

"Do you know the book Rapunzel, where the titular character lets down her hair so that the prince can climb up the castle? Well just like Rapunzel, we can get on the roof and throw something down the chimney and pull you up. But instead of using hair, we'll use a long rope that we have for drawing water out of the well."

"Splendid idea," said Joly. "It will be as if we're fishing and our goal is to catch a Marius fish."

Bossuet, Joly, and Musichetta climbed up the tree adjacent to their house in order to access the rooftop. Bossuet cast the rope down the chimney whose length was more than long enough to reach the bottom. As Joly and Musichetta peered down the chimney to see if they could spot Marius (they couldn't; it was too dark), Joly noticed that Musichetta was barefoot.

"Why are you not wearing any shoes? It is still early in the morning and rather cold," Joly said.

"Pinet heels are uncomfortable and difficult to climb a tree with, so I took off my shoes," Musichetta explained.

"I do not want your cold to get worse. Here, you can take mine," Joly offered.

"Why thank you, ma chéri," Musichetta said and kissed Joly.

"The rope is down there now, Marius. Did you find it yet?" Bossuet asked, practically having to yell down the chimney to communicate with Marius, as he was quite a distance away.

"I cannot see anything at all!" Marius replied.

"Then feel around for it," Joly advised. The rope that Bossuet was holding onto stirred a bit.

"I got it!" said Marius. Musichetta and Joly got behind Bossuet and joined him in pulling the rope. They walked backwards, rope in their hands, and came to a dead stop. The three of them pulled in sync to maximize their effort in dislodging Marius from the flue. The rope stretched slightly, but alas, they were getting nowhere. They were at it for fifteen minutes, and all efforts they made in pulling him up were futile. The only displacements in the rope came from Marius losing his grip.

"Ugh, my hands hurt and I am really hot," Marius complained.

"Can you tie the rope around your arm instead?" Bossuet asked.

"Do you have a fever?" Joly asked.

"No and no," Marius responded.

"This isn't working," said Musichetta. "We might need to contact the police to rescue him."

"Please, no!" Marius begged. "I do not want to get the police involved because what I did was technically illegal. Police and prosecutors will look for any reason to press charges on a citizen. I know this because I am studying to be a defense attorney. In addition, if I go to jail then I cannot see Cosette. She could forget about me or think that I'm a con and not like me anymore."

"Okay, we'll find someone else who can help who is not a police officer," Musichetta assured him.

"Grantaire is the nearest person we know of. He is rather creative and might have a chance at solving this," said Joly.

"Let's pray that he is not drunk and in a coma right now," said Bossuet.

"Oh I'm sure he'll be happy to see you," Joly laughed.

"Why do I have to get him?" Bossuet asked.

"Because you are much faster than Musichetta or myself," Joly said.

"But I am exceptionally bad at navigation. The place could be right around the corner and I'll be 45 minutes late."

"The directions to his house from here are so simple that no one could falter them. It is ten minutes away at most. You'll head west on—"

"You cannot just give me compass directions like I am Lewis and Clark, Jolllly," Bossuet laughed. "I've no idea where the hell west is."

"West is that way," Joly said, pointing west.

"You always know where the compass directions are because because of your interest in the Earth's magnetic field," Bossuet remarked.

"Go west, turn left at the end of the block, then turn right at the end of the following block. Grantaire's house will be the third one on the right"

"Go west, turn left, turn right" Bossuet repeated to himself. "I'll hurry and be back soon." Bossuet then proceeded to jump directly from the roof to the pavement and head west at a jog's pace.

"That hurt my knees just watching you do that," Joly cringed. "We'll see you and Grantaire in twenty minutes!"

After Bossuet had disappeared, Joly got off the roof by climbing back down the tree, while Musichetta took Bossuet's expedited method of jumping off the roof that Joly was not really a fan of. The two then tasked themselves with keeping Marius company in the meantime.

"So who is this Cosette you were planning to meet?" Musichetta asked Marius out of curiosity.

"A stunningly beautiful bourgeoise girl who I hope to be my wife someday. She's slender and pale with curly brown hair and vivid blue eyes. I have spoken to her only a few times, but it feels as if I've known her for years. I am awestruck by how intelligent and kind-hearted she is. She is also a fun girl: interested in fashion wants to be a musician. Did I mention she's gorgeous?"

"Well you won't look so gorgeous unless you change out those ashy chimney clothes of yours," Joly joked.

"Ugh, this is all Éponine's fault," Marius spat. "That dumb gamine wrote down the wrong address."

"But even if you went to the right address, you would still get stuck in the chimney," Joly pointed out.

"Fair enough," Marius said.

"Perhaps she gave you the wrong address on purpose?" Musichetta suggested.

"I think not," said Marius. "Éponine is dim and illiterate; it is probably just pure incompetence on her part. I do not know why I trusted her with favors like this. She looks like someone who would murder you in your sleep."

"Grantaire looks like someone who would murder you in broad daylight, yet he is one of the most insightful people I know," Joly pointed out.

"You ought not to make assumptions about a woman based on what she looks like," Musichetta said before sneezing into her handkerchief. "If she were actually illiterate, she wouldn't be able to just make up the word 'Normandy'."

"Shit, you're right. She can read. That is even worse! That bitch intentionally mislead me, and for what damned reason?!" Marius was growing angry.

"I'm guessing she is being passive-aggressive," said Musichetta. "Perhaps she wants you to be a man and talk to Cosette's father yourself. Or just to be patient and wait until she moves out of her father's house."

"It'll be okay, Marius," Joly tried to de-escalate the situation. "Chetta has been out of her parents' house since she was twenty. Now she is planning to be married this August. I am very sure that things will go well for you in the future."

"That is all fine, but you must note that she is of a very wealthy family, possibly a millionaire, which means that she probably will not leave her parents' house until she is married. Now that I think about it, I should have known that this place was not her house," said Marius.

"Are you calling us impecunious, consul Gaius Marius?" Joly said dramatically, trying to be funny.

"That is not what I meant to convey!" Marius said, and if his face wasn't already red from the heat of the chimney, he would have blushed.

"Once you see Cosette, will you ever tell her the story about this...incident?" Musichetta asked.

"Absolutely not," said Marius.

"On your tenth wedding anniversary?

"There is no way."

"On your twentieth anniversary?

"Never."

"Your 500th anniversary?"

"Perhaps. Hopefully I'll be dead by then."

"Shit, it'll probably be your 500th anniversary before Bossuet and Grantaire get here. What is taking them so long?" Joly wondered.

"I don't know," said Musichetta. "Hopefully they'll be here soon."

__________________________________________________________________

one hour and forty-five minutes later

While Rue de Normandy had been quite an uneventful location for the past few hours, that was going to change soon. Approaching in the distance were two tall men, each carrying one axe in each hand. Joly and Musichetta greeted them with much anticipation.

"Where on Earth have you been?" Musichetta asked.

"I got lost," Bossuet sighed.

"And it took a while for me to find these axes," Grantaire said.

"Axes, you say? I believe I already know where this is going," Joly smirked as Grantaire handed him an axe.

"Yes indeed. The outside of your house will soon become a demolition site. The landlord is going to hate you, but this is the only way to free Marius from that blasted chimney."

The four of them approached the chimney, axes in hand. It looked old but well-built, like it might take a few hours to destroy.

"All the houses in this neighborhood are rather subpar," said Grantaire. "This shit was probably built in the 1600s. The mortar between the bricks is made of lime so it is quite flimsy. Come on and give it a try."

Musichetta took a swing of the axe and aimed for the mortar. It crumbled a bit, leaving a space from where the bricks were wedged together. Bossuet and Joly went at it as well, warning Marius when the axes were being swung so as not to frighten him. Grantaire was to join in on the demolition, but not before he annihilated Marius first, for Bossuet had told Grantaire all about Marius breaking into the wrong house via chimney in a failed scheme to meet his lover.

"I really thought you were smart, Marius," Grantaire chuckled. "You know all these languages, yet you are stupid enough to climb through a chimney as a grown adult and possibly get lit on fire for a girl you have only met a few times."

"I am not stupid, I am crazy," Marius stated plainly.

"Where did you get this idea from? Saint Nicholas?"

"Yes," Marius whined. "Ah!"

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! The blows from the axes felt like they were getting closer to Marius. After a while, Bossuet was able to damage the mortar enough to remove a few bricks from the chimney. Now part of Marius' back was visible. Joly swung his axe below the damaged bricks repeatedly.

"Damn, this thing is well-built!" he said.

"But contrary to saint Nicholas, your scheme is very illegal and very unsettling," Grantaire continued his conversation with Marius. "But you're handsome, so you get away with it. If someone ugly like me tried to contact Cosette like you did, she would call the police, no question!" Grantaire swung the axe a bit harder than he had previously.

"I suppose that is a double standard," Marius admitted. "I can see how unsettling I might look to others. It would be a lot easier, however, if I could understand women. Then I might know Éponine's reason for giving me the wrong address."

"You mead something like bind reading?" Musichetta asked. "That would be a useful power in many scenarios."

"Oh please," said Grantaire. "If it were possible to read minds, Joly would be in a mental hospital, I would be in prison, and Marius would be in a mental hospital and prison."

"That is fairly ironic coming from someone who has four axes just laying about in their apartment," Marius countered.

"You got me there, Marius," Grantaire laughed.

The demolition of the chimney took all of two hours to complete. Grantaire, Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta were rightfully tired after the fact (initially, Joly thought that he hadn't the endurance to even complete this task). Marius emerged sweating, covered in ash and coughing, his voice shot from inhaling chimney soot and yelling to communicate through the brick walls. Joly promptly offered him some water.

"My spying-on-Cosette outfit is ruined!" Marius whined. "I look like a miner."

"If this outfit is for spying, then she isn't supposed to see you, so it wouldn't matter what the outfit looked like," Musichetta pointed out.

"You should be a lawyer," Marius said.

"Yes, and testify against our landlord," Bossuet added. "He is probably going to kill us if he finds out what we did."

"We'll worry about fixing the chimney later," said Joly. "The good thing is that we are all safe. Granted, we all looked like idiots, but we are okay nonetheless."

"And how," said Marius. "You had to destroy the chimney to get me out. I hate this. It makes me seem fat."

"No, you're not even close to being fat. I actually am fat," said Grantaire.

"Plus, if you use English pounds to measure your weight, then everyone seems fat!" Joly said. "A pound is a little less than half of a kilogram, so using English units makes it look like you weigh about twice as much. I'm 102 by the way."

"Damn, king Henry VIII!" Grantaire quipped.

"So the English have a complicated language and a strange measurement system," Marius rolled his eyes.

"Now that you're out, how many women do we have to free who are chained up in your basement?" Grantaire joked.

"None. I don't have a basement."

"That was the wrong answer," Grantaire laughed.

"I must say, this is not one of my proudest moments," said Marius. "This is even worse than the handkerchief incident."

"Wait, when was that?" Bossuet prompted.

"I've said too much!" Marius panicked, embarrassed.

"Oh no. It looks like Pontmercy has another story that is in dire need of context," Joly said in a singsong voice and laughed his strange-sounding laugh.

"Honestly, I am done," Marius said, his face held in his palm. "I swear, I will walk into those woods and I will never come out."

#les miserables #fanfiction #fanfic #marius #joly #bossuet #musichetta #bini #comedy #also on ao3

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