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niragibitch · 3 years

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The Killer Girl - [ Niragi X Reader]

This is the first Niragi fanfic that I write, and my first smut, I hope you like it Perhaps there is an error of agreement or spelling, as it was initially written in Portuguese and passed to English late at night

Niragi X Reader

Warnings: Violence, weapons, blood, sadism

Number of words: 2k

It was a completely degrading situation for her, handcuffed in the bed of that complete crazy man. She of all the people in the world, a murderer.She had an organization just like a beach where she was a leader, the purposes were completely different though. She and a group of around 50 people where she was the leader closed a complex of buildings, got fast, luxury cars and supplies to stay alive, gathered weapons heavier than the beach and were just there to cause chaos and having fun with the games, almost none of those who were with her wanted to leave this world, people with empty lives and no hope in the real world were very well there, criminals and murderers just like her too.

A hired killer, eventually hired by governments to eliminate people or even torture them for answers, her life was reduced to death in the real world and would continue to be reduced to it in this one, she killed whoever she wanted and moved on, she didn't see much felt in normal life like the others, it all seemed very pathetic.His organization eventually became a mini city of troubled people who followed some rules of good coexistence and obeyed it, nothing more. Anyway going to the point where she was captured by the sniper's guy.

Hours before she was in a game where her entire group was extinguished, she herself had to kill some of them in order to stay alive but something she didn't count on was that her munition would end. At the end of the game she was alive but slightly injured, and a guy with black hair and piercings found her, intrigued by where she got weapons, cornered her with other militants and took her to the beach. She reminded him of someone he knew many years ago.

After the hatter's talk about answers and death to the traitors and things she didn't care about, she handed them her cards and tried to leave, but being unarmed and injured she was dragged by Niragi to where she was currently.He looked at her for a few moments with an teasing smile, showed his tongue with that tongue piercing that gleamed with the light in the room.

He was about to climb on top of her to do who knows what when someone appeared at the door and he had to leave taking his inseparable rifle.What was a lot of innocence on his part, in seconds as handcuffs were loose and she was walking around the room looking for something, she didn't know when he would come back and needed a plan, which soon came up when she found ammunition and a revolver in a drawer.

Now she had some options but she didn't know which one would be more viable, the injuries no longer bothered her, pain became tolerable and easy to ignore , the current problem would be to go through the armed guys without getting into trouble. She leans against the wall, but soon she sees the doorknob moving and has to think about something, hiding in the bathroom she expects some commotion in the room.

Just as, through it, the door opens and after that it closes, that is to say he did not notice that it is loose yet, he turns around.

''That damn bitch! '' he exclaims and she hears some steps, deducing that he took steps forward by the direction of the noise she silently appears behind him, she had a chance.

She hits him in the neck hard enough for him to fall to the ground, taking advantage of the fact that he dropped the gun.

She steals the rifle, fastens the revolver to his waist and points the gun at him, unlocking it and holding the trigger.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" - he says in an automatic tone and just receives an empty stare from her

"I don't advise you to make any sudden movements or I'll have to put a hole in that pretty face of yours, dear."

he puts his hands up and slowly gets up.

"You know that if you kill me now there are going to be armed militants out there, don't you?" - He smiles implicitly and a challenging face.

"But if I shoot you now, they'll think it's just you being a complete insane, and shooting me and not the other way around, I can buy time and run away in the crowd."

‘'well thought ‘'

He approaches and in a quick movement taking the rifle and aiming it at her neck, she pull the revolver and put it on his neck in response, and inevitably end up smiling, it was the first time in a long time that things started to be interesting, probably because her life was at stake.t

The feeling of adrenaline was something incredible to the girl, she felt like she under somo drug effect .

''You're smiling, it's the first non-empty expression you've made since I met you, why? ''

Niragi can't help feeling attracted to her, someone with the courage to face him that way

"I imagined your blood running down that pretty face of yours" and inevitably she looks at his mouthIt

Seemed crazy, but she couldn't help but think about his tongue piercing, and to be honest he looked attractive since when she first saw him, shooting like an insane in the game hours ago .

He looks at her a little longer and ends up kissing her, using his free arm to grab her waist, who in response uses his free hand to pull his hair. Neither wanted to be the first to surrender and be the first to drop the weapon. Both fight a fierce battle to control the situation until he pulls her in a sudden movement, placing her against the wall, listening to her moan in response, her head had hit the wall but she didn't seem to bother with it. He holds her wrist against the wall, pulling out of the gun's direction and calmly drops the rifle on the floor.

"Drop that gun," he says in a husky voice next to her face.

"Kick that rifle away and I'll drop the gun" - She says imposing and he surprisingly complies, she fulfills her promise by releasing the revolver that makes a loud noise when falling on the floor, but that doesn't bother them.

Now, without being a big risk to each other's lives, they kiss again. He remains holding her wrist tightly against the wall, and she continues to pull his hair to the point that it hurts, she wanted him to be in pain.

He pulls away from the kiss and starts kissing her neck.

"What do you want me to do with you?" He mumbles, but he doesn't get an answer making him irritate by biting. "You're a sick bitch, you're enjoying this, aren't you?”But again he doesn't have an answer, the grip against her wrist weakens and she takes the opportunity to loosen her arms and inverts her positions placing him against the wall this time, with one hand she scratches his neck and with the other she pulls his chin making him look at her and kiss him biting his lip hard enough to bleed. He is initially frightened by that, but she kisses him again, normally feeling the taste of his blood in her mouth.Glad to have made him bleed, she separates her lips from his .

"About your first question," she whispers in his ear. "I want to see you like this, hurt and in pain, with blood running down your beautiful face, and about the other I'm really loving it.”

He holds her thighs by pulling her towards him, she hugs his neck and curls her legs around his body, which carries her to the bed, where they both start to undress each other.

When they realized he was already making aggressive penetrating against her who tries to make his back and neck bleed as much as possible. He tried and failed miserably to hold his moans, the physical pain mixed with the pleasure of it, it was maddening, he was getting lost in her. eventually she put her hands against his neck hanging him until she felt he could not take it anymore, and he slapped her ass with no measure of strength and pulled her more closer making her hips as close as possible to his.

Both were lost in each other's reactions, their breathing changed, the blood and marks they had caused on each other, and in the midst of it they both reached ecstasy.

He fell on top of her, practically dead from fatigue after such an act and with no idea what would happen next.

"You still haven't told me your name, dear''

''Neither you said yours, we are even ‘' - she replies arrogantly making him roll his eyes but ends up answering- ''(Y / N) ..’’

"Huh?" He grumbles in a questioning way, he couldn't formulate coherent sentences at the moment

''That's my name, asshole''

"You are lucky that I am not close to my rifle right now," he replies slightly irritated.

''I say the same, or you would be dead now’'

"Niragi ... that's my name ..." he says in a sleepy voice and ends up erasing against her shoulder that despite knowing that he is a crazy and insane guy, she couldn't help but find him cute.

She could get up and shoot him right then and run. There was also the possibility of getting up wearing her clothes and just walking away, he didn't seem to sleep for some time and he probably wouldn't wake up. However she chose to leave to think about this problem the next day and soon fell asleep too.

[…]

The next day the girl was the first to wake up, getting up carefully so as not to wake her bedmate, while thinking about what to do. The easy answer was the handcuffs, the handcuffs were still on the headboard.The next day the girl was the first to wake up, getting up carefully so as not to wake her bedmate, while thinking about what to do.

The easy answer was the handcuffs, the handcuffs were still on the headboard.

She approaches him by carefully pulling his arms up, placing them against the cold metal of the handcuffs and adjusting them so that they are as tight as possible.

She couldn't help analyzing the bruises left on his body, his neck was a little red, some of the places she scratched looked more like they had been cut and could take a while to disappear due to the depth, not to mention the wound on his lower lip . In general nothing there was very drastic, with ointment and ice he would quickly be fine.Not that she was going to take care of his wounds or let him go for now.

Anyway, the calm expression he had while sleeping was cute, he looked so vulnerable.

She stops looking at him and starts to martyrize herself with her own thoughts and gets up wearing her clothes and walking to the bathroom.

It doesn't take long before he wakes up, a little sluggish from sleep he doesn't notice the situation until he notices his trapped wrists.He looks for her with his eyes, and not seeing her there irritated him completely.

He struggles to get of the cuffs, making her hear the sound of metal against the bed. And then she takes a deep breath, leaving the bathroom and facing him.

"If you don't let go of me now, you'll regret one day being born, when I'm released," he says in a menacing tone.

''What makes you think that someday you'll be released? I can kill you here and now, so be sensate and measure your words, ” retorts in a monotone voice

She leans against a wall with her mind racing, she needed a decision on what to do. A plan.

At no time did his eyes deviate from her, he analyzed her as if his life was at stake and in a way it was .

"What do you plan to do with me?" He says in a fake monotone voice, he wanted to stay calm as she was but it was difficult.He didn't like to feel vulnerable, and the situation at the moment left him on the fine line between frightened and angry.

''Sincerely? I have no idea, ”she says and smiles, approaching the bed and smiling sarcastically.“ What did you plan to do to me when I was handcuffed?''

"Do I really need to say it?” The smirk said it all, and as usual he sticks out his tongue with that piercing. "Are you blatantly staring at my mouth, if you're a good girl and let go we can repeat what we did yesterday’’ he tease

"Temptant" - she climbs on the bed, putting one leg over him, sitting on his belly ''but whoever is trapped is you and I can do whatever I want anyway ‘' She shrugs and can feel him shudder despite trying to control his emotions. reactions not wanting to appear helpless .''This situation is being really fun and stuff, but I think it's time to reach an agreement ... '' she passes her hand carefully over the marks on his neck '' I will give the cards and we will play from there, if you scream they will find you pathetic because of the current situation, you will lose your reputation ''he starts to get angry and that just amuses you even more ''So promise me that if I let you go, I can stay alive, with that gun and walk around freely .’'

"Do you think I'm stupid? You will definitely try to escape and I already saw that you are no amateur with guns ..''

"If you are afraid of dying, know that I have been able to kill you several times, including when you were sleeping, you need not be afraid of me, kitten. I do not bite most of the time .." she blinks. "Now give me a definite answer before I get piss ‘'

"Okay, I'll agree to your terms, though…”

"What?" She asks, starting to lose patience. "I'm starting to think that shooting you would have been a lot more practical.”

"You're going to live in that room with me" and after saying that he sees her expression change to something indecipherable "I'm going to need to keep my eyes on you so you don't do anything suspicious

"Was that it? Okay then, we have a deal" and so she gets off him by letting go of his wrists ''But know that dealing with me is something almost unbearable and that if you irritate me you might end up not surviving’’

He is relieved to have his mobility again, his wrists were marked and would be purple for a long time.

"I advise you to put an ice on your bruises." She kisses him on the cheek, picks up the gun and walks away towards the door."

Where do you think you're going?"

''Analyze the perimeter since I'm stuck here, go get dressed before worrying about my life, I'll see you around ‘' and she leaves slamming the door

Niragi stays there without knowing exactly what to do, she was an intriguing woman. She drew his attention by making him want to keep her close and shoot her head at the same time. It was only a matter of time before they trie to kill each other.

#niragi smut #niragi #niragi imagine #niragi imagines #niragi suguru #niragi x reader #niragi x reader smut #alice in borderland #alice in borderland imagine

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froog-water · 3 years

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howdy and hello

and thank you for finding this! If you enjoyed this madness that I have somehow managed into a story, then, please do not be afraid to interact! I am relatively new to the whole Apex scene and am, obviously, prone to make mistakes. If there is anything wrong, like spelling errors or something like that, just point it out and I will try to fix it :) This goes without saying but, apologies in advance if Bloodhound appears to be OOC or anything along those lines. As I said, I'm new to all this but I still wanted to try my luck with writing something so, yeah. Though the reader is written with the intention of being a female (she/her), there is really no specific mention of their gender (unless I missed it somewhere) so for now, the reader is greatly gender neutral :) Other than that, I hope whoever reads this likes it. This story is purely selfish and my response to the clear lack of good Bloodhound fics out there in the world

Upwards Over the Mountain (Bloodhound x Reader)

Chapter 1; next

From somewhere outside, beyond your stone walls, the world raged. The overhead night sky rumbled thick and dark with heavy rain clouds that every so often flashed with brilliant lightning and shook the ground with terrible thunder. Tonight was the last good storm of the year before winter set in to turn everything to ice and chill, and Mother Nature was holding nothing back.

The wind howled painfully and threatened to rip the bar's front door clean off its rusty, old hinges. Worriedly, you pass the rickety things a brief look, unsure if the storm would make due on its promise to ruin your night. Rain hammered endlessly on the ceiling and your lights gave a concerning flicker - there was still time yet.

As your hands busied themselves with the cleaning of the day's mess, wiping down tables, and stacking plates and glasses for washing, your mind wandered to the security of your late-evening patrons. You whisper to yourself, and whatever god was listening, a silent prayer for their safe journey home.

The town you had precariously made your home was a terribly small farming community nestled tightly to the base of a mountain, families here were numbered and small and people were old and simple-minded. At the center of this plain society sits your bar, the beating heart of all the people, where conversations were light and bubbled easily with the flow of alcohol and food. Your connection to this hub of activity, being its sole owner, meant that on a near-daily basis you had the privilege of intruding in on these strange people's lives, of which they were more than eager to allow you entry.

Though in the beginning, you tried to keep them all at a safe arms-length, smiling at their jokes only when necessary, they had a way of seeping under your skin. The country life was most infectious and her inhabitants, even more so. They were plain people plagued by simple problems and naively narrow mindsets and it was all so intriguing to you in a sort of enjoyable manner. Their ways of life, views on the world and politics, the way they treated each other, and, of course, their stories. Especially their stories. All this brought out of you a sense of interest, albeit a somewhat back-handed one. The imagination of these people, whether it be for the better or worse, always struck you as so strange and wonderful. The fishermen who strolled into your bar would regale you with the tales of their daily catches and how the ocean had favored them thanks to their abiding of some ancient traditions. The farmers would entertain you with wild gestures of their experiences in the fields, proclaiming with great conviction that they had seen something almost magical in the early rays of the dawn. Such simple things when compared to the true, harsh reality of the machine-driven world beyond your doorstep.

Having known nothing but bitter metal and concrete jungles for the majority of your early life, these seemingly insignificant worries of old entranced you and teased out a seemingly lost sense of childishness. Despite your heavy scrutiny, these people prevail and their stories linger long after your doors shut for the evening.

Your thoughts often drifted back to their many tales, replaying their absurdity like television in your head in times of quiet with gentle bemusement. It was always more preferable to occupy your time with fairytales than to dwell on more intrusive voices. Tonight, however, the usual whimsical wives' tales were instead replaced with ill tidings.

Again the front door pushes inwards as the wind picked up and the glass windows rattled in place. You exhale loudly in a desperate attempt to soothe your racing heart. This bar was old and stable, earning the title of being reliable after many years of resistance to this tortuous climate, and though it whined at the force of nature beckoning down on it, you had to trust that it would not fail you this time. Your night was not going to be ruined by faulty foundations.

You fill your arms with dirty cutlery and take it back to the kitchen to be washed and packed away. While walking you pass the front window, a beautiful piece of stained glass gone yellow in its corners from age, and there you hear the noise again. Your mind immediately flickers back to the prominent story that had not left your consciousness since the first rumblings of the storm.

The caw of a raven.

A large part of you scoffed at yourself and your childish notions for even humoring the idea. It was absolutely, totally, 100% ridiculous. But, you muse to yourself, there was nothing else to listen to and your mind had a tendency to drift away.

You had heard this wild tale about the Winter ravens from a group of old ladies who had visited the bar in your early years of employment. They had occupied a large table in the corner of the room and blew tobacco smoke out their pipes whenever you approached them. Eventually, they eased into your sweet hospitality and offered you some advice, curling their elderly fingers in a motion for you to sit with them. Their ‘advice’, if you could be so generous with the word, was to never feed the ravens who arrived in winter. They foretold of a great danger to those who stupidly talked to these birds and of a stranger who followed them, whose eyes glowed in ominous moonlight and who was nothing like anyone had ever seen before. How vague a description but how fascinating it all was. It captivated you at the time, how entirely peculiar this story was and how it had entrapped the women in its grasp of fear and worry.

It was in their wrinkled, old eyes that you wondered if maybe there was such a person, if perhaps their story was somehow based on true events. But your rational mind was quick to corral your thoughts and you slipped back into unphased independence. It was just a fancy story made up by people who had nothing better to do than to smoke and spread rumors.

Even so, through all the talking down and condescending, the story still held a tight grip over you. And it did not help that over the storm you could hear the very ravens you had been so warned about. The previous winter was bizarrely devoid of these animals, drawing even some backward comments from the more normal of your patrons. It seems that this year, the birds were determined to make amends for their absence.

Over the clattering of glass and metal and the ever bellowing of the storm, you could still hear the birds calling. They scream loudly, their voices seeming to get closer to the front door with every passing utterance as if drawing in on your location. Despite everything, the corners of your mouth twitch upwards in a smile. How exciting it would be if such a wild story was true. Imagine the looks on the ladies' faces if you were to tell them you stole a look at their raven stranger or even, heavens forbid, you spoke with them. The bird outside caws again and, against all your better judgment, you stop your washing of the plates and quickly dash for the door. A soapy hand grasps the handle and before you could reason with yourself to stop being so ridiculous and easily persuaded, pulls it open to reveal a world wracked with night and storm.

Immediately, the biting cold of the rain stings your bare face and the wind pulls mercilessly at your clothes. A hand shoots up to cover your eyes and the other grasps the collar of your coat closed, a feeble attempt to remain steady in the torrent. In the darkness of the night, your eyes squint, darting up into the sky to find any sight of your midnight visitors. They sounded so close, as if sitting right on your front porch waiting for you to open and allow them inside. Unsurprisingly the ravens were nowhere to be seen, supposedly their black bodies giving them the advantage of hiding perfectly in the night. Surprisingly, however, when your eye level lowered to the empty street before you, you caught sight of the outline of a figure in the rain.

In the instant, all your whimsical fantasies and daydreams flee your head and are replaced instead with very real concern. That was a person.

“Hey!” Your voice hardly makes a dent over the orchestra of water and thunder and you swallow hard before trying again. “Hey!” You yelled, your free hand coming down from your eyes and cupping your mouth. This seems to have finally grabbed the attention of the troubled figure and they suddenly turn in your direction. The moment your eyes make contact, you barely manage to stifle a shocked gasp. Two reflective disks stare back at you, catching the light of the storm in an almost hypnotizing way - you were sure that had the moon been out, you could have mistaken them for glowing eyes. The story of the raven stranger starts afresh in your head but you quickly shake free of its grasp. Now was not the time to reminisce on fictitious gossip - right now there was a person who needed your help getting out of the storm.

You beckon the figure with urgent hand movements and a hasty side-step, revealing the warm glow of the bar inside as invitation. Your message was clear - please come inside. Luckily, the stranger was willing to follow your orders, reacting before you could even blink, and swiftly making their way towards you in powerful, strong strides. You hold the door open with your shoulder as they approach and it is only when they enter the doorway do you finally get your first good look at the figure.

Your first thought - they were much larger than they had appeared to be while standing in the darkness. Closing the door behind them you try your best to remain aloof and polite, casting your eyes to the floor so as not to stare. With the door closed the bar fell back into subtle stillness and you could finally come to bearing with your panicking mind. You had just invited a most odd-looking stranger into your bar, one who fits to the T the very weird description of an even weirder story and now, you were alone with such a stranger. A part of you, the one who scorned your carelessness, lashed at the back of your mind - this was a most stupid and potentially dangerous folly. But there was no going back now. It would be rude to turn possible patrons away especially in this sort of storm.

“Well,” You remark a little too breathlessly, shaking your wet head and walking behind the front bar. You reach underneath the long table and produce a towel with which you begin to pat dry your hair. “What horrible weather.” You offer the stranger your best winning smile - this would be easy, you try to convince yourself, you know how to deal with all manner of people and though this particular one, clad in heavy hunters gear and animal furs, was a little startling, they were just like anyone else who strolled in through your doors. You force your anxieties to leave your chest as you exhale and prepare to make light conversation.

“What an odd coincidence this all is.” Your voice carried around the bar without much-needed volume, the atmosphere somewhat lightening as you broke the quiet. The stranger remained motionless, their head turning ever so slightly to scan their surroundings. You push on. “I had no idea anyone was even out on such a night as this. Had I not looked out the door at that exact moment, who knows how long you would have been-”

“This is The Drunken Mule, is it not?” The stranger suddenly spoke, ripping the carpet right out from under your feet with how loud and potent their voice was. After a minute of composure, you nod even though they were not looking in your direction. Something about their tone made you narrow your eyes and set your warnings on high alert.

“Yes.” You answer strongly. “A most unfortunate name.” Out of nowhere the stranger rounds on you and steps forward, drawing you into their mesmerizing appearance with their illuminated lenses and towering physique.

“Vhere is the owner, Andante?” There it was again, unmistakable and oh so violent. Carried over their heavy accent and muffling mask, the anger in their voice was most noticeable. At the rising sense of threat, you drop nearly all of your trained mannerisms and you furrow your brow. Your thoughts momentarily flicker to where your gun was stashed and you shudder at the thought of retrieving it. Never have you had a fight occur before in this bar and tonight, you were not looking to make this encounter be your first.

“What business do you have with him?” You ask with professional coolness that only appeared to irk the stranger for their hand twitched and an annoyed scoff could be heard. You had to keep it cool despite their obvious rising temper and though your heart beat around your ribs like a wild rabbit caught in a cage, you knew better than to back down.

“That is of my own.” They shoot back with half-bitten venom.

“I am afraid not.” You replay placidly, swallowing your bubbling fear in favor of remaining in control, “Andante More died last spring. I am the sole inheritor of both his bar and his inn. So whatever business you have with him, you also have with me.” Thankfully, your voice did not betray how shaky your knees had become and you puff your chest out and glare in an effort to portray false courage.

There was a moment of tense quiet, neither one of you moving or speaking, all that could be heard was the constant drumming of rain on the roof. Then suddenly, movement from the stranger, and although you cannot see their face, you can most definitely feel contemplation slowly corrode their malice. This action, along with your revelation, made the stranger hesitate in their defense then deflate in an almost defeat, although it was hardly discernible under all that heavy clothing and armor.

“I ask again,” You pry further, your arms crossing over your chest and your trained eyes never once leaving their daunting outline. “What is your business here?” A moment of silence passes before the stranger manages to speak, their voice devoid of their previous hostility but not of mild irritation - you could tell that they were trying to rein in their heated emotions even if some residue still clung to their words.

“I had an arrangement vith Andante. I have a cabin out in the mountains, he vas to maintain it vhile I vas away. I vas kept busy last year and vas unable to visit until now. It vas not in my knowledge that Andante had passed.” They were certainly quieter now, their voice smoothing out into a relaxed and almost apologetic tone. News of the man's death must have struck a nerve with them and you could feel the room shrink as their fury did. You take in the stranger's words, rolling them over your tongue before deciding how best to answer.

“This is the first I have heard of such an arrangement. Had I known, I would have happily taken up Andante’s duties.” You admit plainly, allowing some sweetness to ooze back into your words and extend out to the stranger in a metaphorical olive branch. You were quick to forgive the grievances of this troubled stranger - a personal fault you had yet to decide was virtuous or not. You would have to wait and see. “Is there a problem with your cabin?” It was obvious what the answer was by the way the stranger had arrived in all their unfriendliness and from basic deduction, but you still asked the question with genuine concern.

“It has been left unchecked. The roof is torn and the rest is in disarray.” They replied after a moment of debate, unsure if they were allowed to speak to you after their appalling entrance. Suddenly the stranger lowers their head in a short bow, a gloved hand touching the brim of their helmet. “Please forgive me and my intrusion vith such reiði. I vill leave now.” In a blink of an eye, the stranger had moved to the front door and already had their hand around the handle.

“W-What? Wait!” You react off instinct, a hand reaching out to follow the retreating figure. It was so abrupt to have this person switch between such potential anger to this somehow polite and embarrassed individual that it took you at least a few seconds to gather your bearings. “Wait.” You say again, a tired laugh passing through your lips as they stretched back to their gentle smile, all your pent-up repentance bleeding away into comfort and ease. “I am afraid that I cannot let you leave. Not after all,” you make a motion with your hand, “This.” The stranger does not turn to face you completely, instead, they hover by the exit, offering you only their ear to listen to what you have to say. If they really wanted to, this person could just push their way into the night and you could do nothing to stop them - it was only courtesy that kept them in place long enough for you to speak.

“You say your cabin has a hole in its roof. And I imagine it would not be very pleasant to sleep in, especially on a night like this.” You step out from behind the bar and stride over to the door, moving close enough that you could start to make out the more fine details of their unusual outfit - a collar of thick fur, many odd pockets and bags covering their chest and hips, and a head hidden behind a most bizarre gas mask and goggles. Something about them strikes you as extremely familiar but you cannot remember ever meeting someone quite like this person before. “As I have said earlier, I own Andante’s Inn which, unsurprisingly, is empty this evening.” You manage to edge yourself into the stranger's field of view, successfully bringing their attention back to your face. You smile encouragingly under their unwavering gaze.

“Did you walk here?” Your curiosity gets the better of you and makes its presence known through the form of impertinent questions. The stranger does not answer, rather they slowly and deliberately tip their helmet downwards in a quiet yes. “Then I really cannot let you leave.” You boast, your arms once more folding proudly around your chest. “Please, I insist you stay the night here where, at least, you will not get wet.” They made no moves, showed no indication that they had even heard your request.

“If not for your sake, then for my own.” You add on, your tone gentle and beset with sincere worry, “I would not be able to sleep tonight knowing that I willingly allowed someone to brave this horrible storm alone.” This roused something in the stranger and after a few silent minutes, they nodded in reluctant agreement. Your smile doubled in size and you clapped your hands softly.

“Wonderful! Thank you so much for agreeing.” You bow your head slightly before darting back to the kitchen to secure the bar for the evening. After grabbing your coat and turning the lights off, you return to the waiting stranger and motion for them to follow. Over your shoulder you throw them a tease, winking in a terribly playful and scripted manner.

“Do not worry. Our boarding rates are quite manageable and I may even throw in a free breakfast.”

As the warm smell of sizzling bacon and fried eggs fills the small kitchen in the early hours of the morning, your mind wanders back to the events of the night before. You can not help but cringe pitifully and wrinkle your nose in disgust.

How idiotic you had behaved, how unnecessarily childish you had been - all with a complete stranger no less! It is the most common knowledge to be wary of strangers, especially ones who appear at night dressed as if ready to go to war. What had compelled you to be so reckless and to willingly invite such a danger into your abode? You had put yourself in jeopardy's way all in the name of some old promise of benevolent kindness. Always help people, Andante drilled into your head. Always. Perhaps your unwise behavior was the result of too many late nights or maybe a far too-convincing patron had indulged you in one too many beers. Whatever the cause was, you cursed it wholly.

Over the crescendoing noise of your own self-degradation, the sound of the kitchen doorway creaking brought your head up and towards the solid figure suddenly occupying its space.

“Ah!” You jump slightly, the spatula you have been using to cook the bacon flying up in a defensive position. It takes you only a heartbeat to relax, laughing airly and banishing your vile self-criticisms to be examined on a later date. “You scared me!” You say to the stranger, waving them over to the small, prepared table with a well-oiled smile. “Please,” You motion to the chair, “I woke up feeling rather generous this morning!” After a moment of consideration, the stranger silently slipped forward and took their place at the opposite end of the breakfast table. You afforded them their stoic silence, deciding rather to lead the conversation yourself than to try drag a word out of them. Clearly, the two of you were both still in equal shock over last night's events.

“I have not had the honor of sharing breakfast with someone in quite a long time so forgive if my culinary skills are,” you turn around and slide two pieces of bacon off the pan and onto toast, “lacking.” You lift your eyes to meet their emotionless mask, an unconscious and unwelcome shiver travelling up your spine as the thought of what lay beneath bites at your curiosity. Something was most certainly familiar about them but what exactly it was still eluded you. “Coffee or tea? Or, better yet, do you even want the bacon?”

“Coffee vill do. No sugar. And bacon is velcomed.” They finally speak and greet your ears with a much admired and amused delight - no longer were their words dipped red with unidentified anger but now, rested and offered food, were decent and alluring. Their accent is on full display to your interest and your keen ears lean in. You feel your painted smile shift more in favor of sincerity as you prepared your guest their meal.

“I must commend your sense of timing.” You push on the conversation much to the gratitude of the stranger who eased at your playful words, as did all your patrons. You were the master of teasing people, talking them up with trained comfort and care until eventually they paid you or offered you something more. You were a most tantalizing host. “It was just last week that I had helped old Carter on the hill rebuild his disheveled cattle shed. See, I have never done such a task before and had provided him with…” You pause, carrying over to the table the stranger's made-up breakfast and drink, “an overabundance of supplies.” The silence from the stranger wordlessly implored you to explain where exactly you were heading with this discussion.

“What I mean to say is, you have a roof with a hole in it. Correct?” They nod, the beads hanging from their odd helmet swaying with the motion. “And I have a heap of unused materials just laying around taking up space.” You plop down in your chair with a small huff, “Do you see where I am going with this?”

“You vish to help me?” They ask without missing a beat, taking up your offer with the grace and judgment of a butcher at a slaughterhouse. You blink in surprised confusion.

“Is that so wrong?”

“I know that service from people is not like air - it is not free. Vhat do you intend to gain from helping me?” Though their apprehension to your rather forward proposal was expected, you still felt a twinge of hurt at their words.

“Nothing at all. What could I ever want from you?” You mockingly place a hand over your wounded heart, an attempt to break the blooming ice in the stranger's concerns. “If anything, you will be doing me a service and getting rid of my supplies. Plus, I might add, you technically have paid me already.” This draws a curious reaction from the raven stranger, their head cocking to one side. You stand quickly and from the counter, grab a piece of crumpled paper.

“For the longest time, ever since I first got my hands on the finance documents of this place, I wondered where the hell these quarterly sums of money were coming from. If perhaps, Gods forbid, Andante was involved in a more shady money-making scheme. But now I know.” You offer the paper to the stranger and they take it with a thick, gloved hand. As they scan over your business's finances, their thumb tracing over a particular underlined article, the very one you had spent all night pondering over. “It's from you, isn’t it? No name, no details. Just money.” You watch them for a reaction, shuffling over to your seat and taking it up once more. “Money you paid Andante to watch over your cabin in the mountains.”

“You are correct.” They answered after a minute, handing back the paper and sealing together the theory you had come up with. You sigh your relief.

“Then it is settled,” You announce, taking your fork and jamming it into your food, “We leave after breakfast.” The stranger waits in strained quiet, an uncomfortable atmosphere ebbing off their totally unreadable appearance. You wonder what could be ticking behind those moonlight lenses of theirs, what kind of person were they really. The same curiosity that compels you to store and maintain the stories of a fantasy people tugged at your chest - this stranger, as unpredictable and bizarre as they are, attracted you more than anything before.

“I eat alone.” They announced suddenly, snapping you violently from your daydream. You shake your head and return to your autopilot hospitality.

“Of course. Down the hall, second door on your left. There is the lounge. It is empty and you are welcome to close the door.” At your orders, they rise from their chair. “Oh and just one more thing.” They pause, training their unblinking mask on your face under which you did not cower. “As crazy as it sounds, I don’t remember asking for your name last night.” The raven stranger tenses at your request, almost as if taken aback by your lack of recognizing them, then lifts a hand to their chest.

“I am Blóth Houndr. You can call me BloodHound.” You tell them your name and they dip their head in acknowledgment. And with that, they collected their food and made their way to the other room.

The sun overhead gave little warmth as you stood in the field, dying blades of long grass coming up and raking across your pants like zombie fingers of the earth. Bloodhound had asked to visit Andante’s grave before departing to the mountains and you were more than willing to oblige. Typically graveyards were somber, cold places, filled with the forlorn memories of people no longer walking. But this place was the furthest thing from that plain description.

Sure, it housed many a sad memory but it certainly was not cold and somber. It occupied the top of a hill, overlooking both the town and neighboring mountains. The air up here was clean and always blew with the faintest hints of lemongrass. In a most unusual way, it was peaceful up here, light and alive as if untouched by time, people, and maybe even death. You hesitate to even call it a graveyard.

In the distance, you could see Bloodhound, their head lowered over the late man’s grave in some unimaginable prayer or curse - you were not sure which they had chosen to say. They were a most weird enigma and you found yourself inclining into them with every passing conversation. People who wore masks obviously had something to hide and you often prided yourself on not being too nosy and digging in on their private business. But with this raven stranger, you could not help but want to know more. No matter how much it pained you to have to admit it. You knew everyone else who lived, worked, or passed through this town but not this one. You pinch the bridge of your nose with your thumb and forefinger and whip yourself anew. You have to get out more often, have to meet new people, and be reminded of your own insignificance. These old town’s people were incredibly boring and were starting to make you act desperate.

Bloodhound shuffles and you assume their grievances to be over. With a hand full of freshly plucked wildflowers, the last growing of the season, you make your way over to them. Silently, you slip beside them, eyes downcast and focused on Andante’s headpiece. You kiss the tips of your fingers and touch the cold stone - a true sign of admiration.

“I know it is not proper to offer flowers such as these at a grave but,” You bend down and gently place your makeshift bouquet on the dirt floor, “They are so beautiful. And I know he would not have wanted it any other way.” You remain kneeling for longer than you had expected. Suddenly your chest feels tight and something made of iron drops heavy in your stomach. You had never been accompanied to his grave before and apparently being there with someone was enough to draw out of you, long-buried emotion.

“You must forgive him.” You whisper to the open air, your mind slowing and your tongue working off an unpracticed instinct. Your shoulders sag and your knees begin to ache. “Andante was not all there when he died. In his last few days, he could not even remember his own name.” Yellow grass tickles your hands as they follow the engravings of the man's name in stone. “You cannot blame him for forgetting.”

“I do not. I hold no biturð against Andante.'' Bloodhound answered next to you. That weight in your stomach lightens and you find the courage to stand up straight again. “My journey here vas long and left me unfocused. My reiði vas improper and unjustly pointed towards you. I am sorry.”

“Please do not apologize.” You murmur softly, shaking your head in a slow gesture, all the while with your eyes remaining fixed on the grave before you. “We all have our reasons for performing and yours was perfectly adequate.” You finally manage to tear your gaze away from the ground and towards Bloodhound. You are startled to find that they were already looking at you. “You are human under all that, right?” You joke, your signature playfulness sweeping back into control over your actions. Bloodhound curtly nods and you smile, charm gleaming off your eyes. “Then you don’t need to apologize. It is an occupational hazard.”

When Bloodhound had first told you that their cabin was up in the mountains, you had foolishly hoped that it would be a short drive to get to. This whole town was, by all technical reasoning, ‘up in the mountains’ so how much further out could their cabin be? It took you nearly an hour along a treacherous dirt road to finally reach their hidden paradise. By the time you stepped foot out of your dingy old truck, your back was aching and your legs whined to be stretched. The sun was right above your head in a gloriously mild midday. Clearly, your hopes for a short day were quickly going down the drain.

Their cabin was modest, but then again so was everything else here so how much of that was a virtue still hung in the air. You complimented it regardless. The small wooden house blended seamlessly in with the forest scenery, even as the greens turned to yellows and browns, so too did the wonderful dark wood of the house. The trees surrounding the building were tall and ancient which all stretched high above your head, standing tall and unphased by man's will. This was no ordinary house, you said to yourself as you stepped into its shadow, it did not claim itself different from the wild world. Instead, it sat in it all, watching as everything moved untouched around it. You pass a cheeky look at the raven stranger and contemplate if they shared their cabin's sense of independent aura. Bloodhound led you around to the side of their home and even from your viewpoint on the ground you could make out the extent of the damage. After a very minimal inspection, you nod your head, grab the ladder from your truck, and set to work removing the fallen tree branch.

It was a long and tedious job, your hands acquiring many new scraps and splinters and your muscles gaining a sort of stiffness you would regret in the morning. Bloodhound had offered you gloves but you politely declined, you did not wish to ask too much of the stranger and plus, they were doing all the heavy lifting. By the time the sun had started to dip behind the horizon, your work was thankfully nearly complete. With a triumphant and defeated puff, you land ungracefully on the forest floor. Exhaling loudly, you flex your red and sore fingers and watch as your knuckles acquire a purplish tint - it sure was getting colder now. Bloodhound approaches your resting position and sits across from you, a glass of water in their hands. They extend it to you and you gratefully take it.

“Your vork is done here. I vill handle the rest. I thank you again for your rich generosity.” They say, their signature head tilt making an appearance as a sign of unspoken, and unnecessary, gratitude. You scoff and brush them, and their charming words, off with tired bashfulness.

“Please, I had you do most of the hard work.” The water goes down with much praise from your tired body and you relish for a moment in the relaxing quiet of the forest. The air was cold and getting even more so as the sun’s warmth retracted behind trees and clouds. Around you, the world was at a complete silence save for the mere brushing of leaves and the odd call of a bird. You open your eyes at this sound and see before you a raven pretched surprisingly on Bloodhound's extended forearm. It looked at home on their arm and playfully nipped and pulled at the many beads dangling from their unusual helmet. With the back of their forefinger, they gently stoke the black bird's chest feathers, a forgein whisper escaping their masked mouth.

It was a marvelous sight indeed, something you had never seen before and you were certain to never see again, but you found yourself unable to truly relish in the scenery. Your internal confusion must have made its way to your face for Bloodhound cleared their throat.

“Clouds cover your mind. You look troubled. Something the matter?” They asked and you felt embarrassment well-up in your stomach.

“No, of course not!” You dismiss haphazardly, flicking your hand around your face as if trying to shoo away an annoying fly. When it became clear that your flimsy denial did not please the raven stranger, you relented slightly. “Well, it’s just that…” Never had your words betrayed you like this and you inwardly screamed at yourself for being easily moved to speechlessness. “You seem awfully familiar to me. I mean, I know I have never met you but ever since last night I have this nagging feeling that I have seen you somewhere before?” You frown and break eye-line with Bloodhound’s disk-like goggles, shaking your head slightly in befuddlement and apprehension. You were getting too comfortable with this stranger, going so far as to feel safe enough to share such personal and tripe worries with them as if they were more than but a most perfect and dangerous stranger. Bloodhound hums and sends their bird away with a jolting motion of their arm, rocking back onto their hunches and then into a crossed-legged position. They fold their arms firmly across their chest and watch you as you try to fruitless pluck an answer from your frazzled mind.

“Your intuition rewards you. I am the many seasons vinna of the Apex Games. Perhaps you have seen me on the television.” At this you snap your head around to them and stare with wide, unblinking eyes. Suddenly you laugh and run a hand through your damp hair.

“Oh my god, of course! That makes so much sense!” You practically shout, straightening your back and coming to life in a most comedic fashion. “Then that means,” You turn to Bloodhound again this time with awkwardness flickering in your eyes, “You’re like a celebrity.”

Bloodhound shakes their head in disagreement, “You’re flattery is misguided. I am merely a hunter for the Gods.”

“Still that's… wow.” You breathe, defeated by your own stupidity and reaction. This was the furthest thing from the cool persona you had worked so hard to create and maintain - you were speaking freely and from your own ass. Was it such a shock to your system to meet this wild and unfamiliar person that you could no longer remain in your aloof loft? You were crashing down to earth and embarrassment clawed at your corpse to claim it. You send out a silent prayer that maybe Bloodhound would not notice or take offense to your spontaneous giddiness.

“I must admit.” Bloodhound’s voice wafted to your ears as if through a dream. You turn to look at them, offering what little smile you could muster. “I have never had a reaction so adverse like yours before. Most people just cower.” Their teasing comment turns your smile from artificiale to one more earnest. “I did not think the people here vatched such programs.”

“They don’t.” You answer in between breaths of laughter, catching their amused tone and running with it - playing along with them much to the ease of your heart.

“I had my suspicions that you vere not of this place and now it is clear I am correct.” They admit.

“Oh really? What gave it away? Was I too rowdy? Or was my tongue too harsh, as I have been told many times?” Your face beams with reigniting vigor, the last of your energy seeming to only grow as Bloodhound spoke more with you. They shook their head.

“Nei. Your spirit is strong and velcoming even in the face of danger. And your tongue is quick. The people of this planet, however. They are more…” They hesitate, fingers drumming on their bicep as they rake their brain for the correct words to use.

“Old-fashioned?” You offer, leaning over in their direction. They shake their head again, this time rather absent-mindedly. “Suspicious? Sheltered? Inclined to gossip?”

“You speak such harsh words yet I detect no hostility in them.” Bloodhound gazes at you from behind their mask, eyes flickering over your form in search of any hint of malice. Your airy laugh only relaxes your shoulders and brings to life your weathered face. They notice this and observe with meek delight the way your face stretches with a genuine smile. It was wonderful to see, they had to admit.

“I don’t mean any. The people here are wonderful and kind. They gave me a home when no one else did.” Your heart thumps painfully in your chest and you quickly avert your eyes back to the grassy, forest floor. It was so easy to overshare with Bloodhound, whom you had to hotly remind yourself, was a complete stranger to you. You steady your mounting nerves by plucking yellow grass in your hand and crushing the blades in your fingers. “They do have their flaws however and often, that involves making up wild stories.”

Perhaps Bloodhound had sensed your apprehension for instead of questioning your previous comment or casting you away after your needless exposure, they simply continued on with the conversation. You appreciated that.

“I have had many stories made about myself.” They say, almost proud in their odd accomplishment. “Some say that I am half bat. Others that I am fabulously vealthy. None, I assure you, are true.”

“Are you sure?” You snicker, gathering the courage to once more look them in their moonlight lenses. “That bat one sound awfully convincing.” After your comment, the world falls back into blissfully silence. The air between you two feels somewhat lighter and you breathe deeper, taking into your lungs the smell of oak, of cold earth, and of the open wilderness all around. While you know you will kick yourself later for all that you have allowed yourself to get away with, in this moment you are relaxed and content - happy to simply sit and exist.

All too soon the wind blows, dragging its boney talons along your exposed skin and reminding you of the time. You shiver and hurriedly jump to your feet, eyes glancing to the setting sun. “I should get going now.” You turn towards Bloodhound and find that they too are standing, looking up at the sky. They lower their head to you and you hand back their glass. “I must go before it gets too dark. I hope you enjoy your time here now that everything has been set right.” You take a small step backwards, “Goodbye.”

“The Allfather goes with you.” Bloodhound responds, their body bending as they bowed stiffly. You offer them a smile once more before turning and walking your way back to your truck. Suddenly you stop and spin on your heels.

“You are more than welcome to come round to the bar again! Any time! I might even throw in another free breakfast!” Though you could not see it, Bloodhound chuckled at your offer. They did not answer, however, because before they could you had already jumped into your truck and sped off down the dirt road and into town, leaving behind nothing but dust.

#hell yeah baby #apex legends x reader #apex legends fic #apex legends bloodhound #bloodhound #bloodhound x reader #bloth houndr #lol yeah #i had way too much fun writing this #but man am i stupid #please forgive any mistakes #i am literally just vibing bro #also please interact!#uwu

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chick-from-nz · 4 years

Text

Paper, Scissors, Rank (Ch: 1)

CHARACTER/PAIRING: Modern!Carrillo x Army!OC (eventually)

WARNINGS: maybe some swearing, military slang, spelling and grammatical errors. Could be very OOC/AU for some.

AUTHORS NOTE: this is kind of just an establishing chapter to get the idea out there, Carrillo is barely in this chapter. Characters are younger than they should be for their ranks. Also so far there is no first names, that’ll come later

WORD COUNT: 1.6K

CHAPTER: 1 OF ?

TAG LIST: @girlpornparadise @1zashreena1 @xxidontwikeitxx @nicke0115

The sun was beginning to disappear behind the curve of the earth, painting the sky with a unique mixture of orange and dark violet. The distant sound of rumbling thunder is like persistent background music for the evening , powerful and uncanny. The impending storm instills a sense of relief within the thirty or so soon to be officers standing stock still in a neat formation.

The cadets have been standing at attention for what seems like an eternity, the warmth of the day slowly fading away into the brisk cold that is night. This day was the first of many long days to look forward to in the treacherous week ahead, a week full of drills, missions and courses set to make or break the cadets and be the decider on whether or not they will become the soldiers they so desperately wish to be.

The cadets had been informed of an up and coming role in a new task force that would be the highlight of one lucky future second lieutenant's career. A foreign Colonel was set to choose the most fitting recruit for his force to fight an enemy unknown to these youngsters. Only a cadet who scored within the top three of the company would be eligible for this role or at least that's what the platoon imagined.

The tension within the platoon was high, higher still with this opportunity hanging over their heads. Each cadet was now fighting tooth and nail to be at the top of the pack. Among this group was a young female recruit with everything against her. It seemed like all the instructors had a vendetta against her because of her last name, yet she was sitting top of the pack. The female cadets gossiped about her and the male cadets paid her no notice, she was hoping whoever this Colonel was that he at least would see her worth for what it was and not because of the last name attached to it.

When the thunder cracked and the rain came pouring down only then did the morale of the group start to drop, holding a pack above your head for what felt like 3 hours, and probably was, was being to take its toll on certain cadets. Almost half the platoon had forfeited points by dropping their packs, another five cadets were beginning to sway from the weight and would no doubt drop their packs within the hour. The test of strength and endurance was a tough one at that. Do you drop your pack and lose some points but not be exhausted for whatever discipline was thrown at you next, or did you power through and hope that this was the last task of the night.

As another hour or so passes there are all but 3 recruits standing out of the rain. Cadets Greyson, Calliope and Micheals were the remaining cadets out in the downpour with their packs hoisted above their heads. It was a power struggle now, Greyson and Micheals were but half a point apart for top cadet while Cadet Calliope was only a point behind them, these three were now not only competing for top cadet but for a chance to make it onto the Colonels “kill squad” as it had been nicknamed by the Cadets.

Calliope was the first to drop his pack, followed closely by Michaels. Cadet Greyson, like usual, was the last cadet standing, feeling incredibly proud of herself as she spun around to face her fellow cadets only to be greeted with distasteful looks and the occasional snarl on her opponents faces. At this point she thought she should be used to it, but each time it stung more and more. Was no one going to acknowledge the fact that she had proven herself yet again?

Greyson was given no time to dwell on her thoughts as the cadets were called to make formation and report to the Lieutenant in charge. Lieutenant O’Connor. The man was the only superior who Greyson felt appreciated by, he always took time to pull her aside and give her tips to improve on if she needed them, or congratulate her on her win. Since she dominated the event yet again Greyson was tasked with determining the route best fit to take to get back to their tents. With the help of Cadets Calliope and Michaels, whom she had chosen as her second and third in command respectively. The platoon made their way back to the campsite without a fuss.

Major Benn was perched on the hood of his jeep when the platoon reached camp. Ever one to be formal Cadet Greyson brought her squad to attention and popped off a salute to the aforementioned man. The major was quick to return the salute, a small smile gracing his lips.

“Cadet Greyson, congratulations on another win, dismiss your squad and everyone gather round the Jeep”

“Yes Sir!”

Greyson did as she was told, silently thanking the Major for the kind words, and gathered the squad around the jeep. She was hoping that they were going to be jagged in for the night, but just their luck the Major would have them up running parade drills for the next three hours.

“As you well know one of you will be chosen and given the opportunity of a lifetime, working alongside one of Colombia's most renowned Officers in the intelligence field. In two days he’ll be here to oversee the evolutions for the day and set challenges for you to complete. He will select who he thinks is right for his team, scores will not play a part in his decision. I suggest you all take this on board and do you best to impress. This opportunity will not come around again so I expect top performance from each and every one of you. You are dismissed”

At the order each cadet gave a salute and went off to their own tents, thankful for the opportunity for rest and each thinking of how they could impress the Officer and gain a place on his team.

As the night drew to a close and everyone was drifting off to sleep Cadet Greyson decided to wander away from the cadets campsite and unintentionally towards the instructors camp. It was only when the darkness gave way to the burning lights surrounding their camp did she slow her pace and hide in the shadows. She knew if she was caught here she’d be doing in a world of hell, but for some reason she just couldn't turn around and walk back to her tent.

She could hear voices coming from the camp, she could pinpoint all but one of them, and it sounded like they were deep in a very serious discussion. Greyson gathered her courage and began to creep closer to the voices, remembering her training she kept low to the ground and used the shadows to her advantage. She came to an abrupt halt when she heard her name being passed around between the men. Why would they be talking about me? Please don’t be ruining my name she thought to herself. She took a few steps more and placed herself behind one of the tents. The fourth voice was louder now, accented and strong. The kind of voice that makes you want to run towards it and away from it at the same time. Greyson wondered if it was possible to be attracted to a voice, and promptly decided it was, that voice, whoever it belonged to, was the most attractive voice she’d ever heard.

Deciding she’d pushed her luck too far, the cadet soundlessly turned and made her way back to the path at the edge of the camp, but instead of continuing towards her camp like any sane cadet would she turned to see if she could catch a glimpse of whoever the authoritative voice belonged to. What she managed to see nearly made her fall over breathless. He was gorgeous, even from a distance. A strong chiseled jaw that gave way to wide shoulders and what seemed to be the strongest most defined arms she’d ever seen. God if his arms look like that i can only imagine what he must look like under that uniform Greyson thought. He was standing in a stance that screamed power and experience, shoulders back, head tilted back in a way that made it look like he was looking down his nose at someone, except, he was staring right in her direction.

“Fuck!” Greyson whispered to herself, if he had spotted her she might have just compromised her points she earnt today and might have just dropped herself into the biggest punishment she’d ever receive. As to not draw attention to herself she slowly crept backwards further into the shadows, double checked that the coast was clear and bolted in the direction of the cadets camp. She reached the camp in record time, the fear of being caught fueling her the whole way back to the camp.

Greyson wasted no time kicking off her boots and climbing into her sleeping bag, if she’d been caught the platoon would get a rude awakening in a matter of minutes, if not she had maybe three hours to get as much sleep as she could. As the minutes ticked by and the night stayed silent it seemed as though she would get to sleep tonight, she could only hope that tomorrow would bring slightly better outcomes than the day before. As she drifted off she smiled to herself, the image of those wide shoulders and strong arms had her imagining some not so professional situations where she could use them to her advantage.

#horacio carrillo #horacio carrillo x oc #narcos fanfic #modern au #chapter 1 #paper scissors rank #horacio carrillo x reader

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theaurorfileshq · 3 years

Photo

L U C A C A R O / A U R O R S E R G E A N T

AGE: Forty

BADGE NUMBER: S62K91

BLOODSTATUS: Halfblood (No-Maj Born Father)

GENDER/PRONOUNS: Agender, They/Them

IDENTIFYING FEATURES: Bleached hair, various severing charm scars covering majority of body, stiff right pinkie and ring finger, numerous tattoos including: pair of dice with heart shaped snake eyes tattooed on neck, red rose with ‘jenny’ banner tattooed on left side of chest, skeleton virgin mary tattoo on right forearm, octopus tattooed on left hand.

STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES:

(+): Low-Grade Metamorphmagus, Combat Magic, Charismatic

(-): Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Impulsive, Arrogant, Cynical

BACKGROUND:

TW: Mentions of Torture

Before you ask them- no, “Lucky” wasn’t given to them as a nickname as a way to be ironic, although it seems pretty fucking ironic now. Lucky had instead been given to them as an infant, before they even had the concept of just what “Luck” was and why anyone would think they had enough of it to be named so. Just why it had been given to them, had more so to do with the nature of their birth. Born several weeks premature, Luca spent the first month of their life under constant surveillance by mediwixes at the hospital their mother gave birth to them in. The nickname would originate from their father, and quickly spread throughout their family, and stick with them into adulthood.

When Lucky turned seven their name took on a whole new meaning when it was discovered they’d inherited their father’s metamorphmagus ability. Much like their father though, their ability wouldn’t be a particularly strong one. They were able to do small cosmetic changes in appearances, such as coloring their hair, making their eyes blue instead of their usual nearly black hue. It was a parlor trick more than anything, nothing to the degree that a “high-grade” metamorphmagus could do, but they enjoyed every bit of it regardless, even if they couldn’t hold a morph any longer than an hour without getting a headache.

As a child, and as an adult even, Lucky was very much a rebellious youth, trouble often found them in some shape or form, until the point they learned how to talk themself out of it most of the time. This rang true when it came to their time at Ilvermorny, when the headmistress was no stranger to them, but somehow detention would be. They were a precocious child, but with a sharp wit and certain charm about them that they learned to use to their advantage. Despite the many various trips to the headmistress’s office though, they did do well and even succeed to some degree in their academics. Surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, transfigurations would not be their best subject, but rather the rough and tumble world of DADA. They were an adventure seeker first and foremost, and DADA provided them an outlet to explore the darker and more dangerous corners of the world. They’d known as a child that being an auror was something they wanted to be, but that dream was cemented for them as they learned more about the career path of those that spent their daily life constantly in motion and fighting off every manner of evil in the world.

When graduation came and went, they quickly joined the Salem Auror Academy. It would be in the academy’s halls where their strength in combat magic was finely tuned and developed, transforming them from the short and scrawny kid who could handle a wand well in a fight, and closer to the rapid fire and quick reflex dueler they are today. With their strong duelling skills, a position in one of MACUSA’s four auror squads could have been a goal well attainable for someone of Lucky’s caliber. Instead, their sharp tongue and habit for finding trouble would finally catch up to them, and instead of being cherry-picked by a squad chief after graduation, Lucky found themself applying to division after division until finally New York answered their call.

Although working in the division, initially as a beat-auror in New York City, didn’t exactly fulfill their dreams of one day being a squad auror, they learned how to better play the bureaucratic game of not pissing the wrong people off to get what they wanted. In their ten years on the NY Division, they would slowly rise from a low level recruit to finally a corporal, and began specializing in cases on organized crime in the New York City area. That would be where Lucky would finally find their niche within the division, and began to develop a reputation for an auror that could be relied on to take on the heavier undercover jobs, and cases that most aurors with families would shy away from. The dangerous cases were always the most fun for Lucky though, loving the rush of working along side some of the city’s most notorious criminals and finding a way to outsmart the lot of them. And for a couple years that was precisely what they did, jumping into undercover job after undercover job, until finally the case of the Starosta crime family fell on their desk.

The Starostas were a well known wixen crime organization in the city by that point, holding a monopoly on the wixen narcotics trade. It was the case that’d make their career if they were able to pull it off, plenty of aurors before them had tried to take down the infamous family, and while some were able to take down small pawns in the organization, no one had managed to infiltrate the higher circles. Which was precisely what they planned to do. Their partner on the case was a longtime friend of their’s, a fellow corporal by the name of Violet Wade. They and Vi had been working cases together since they were recruits, well matched in wit and their inability to take things too seriously until they were in a heat of a case. If anyone was going to manage to take down an important player out of the Starosta family it would be them and Vi.

When they first dived into the case, they focused on a Starosta grandson, someone they both felt they could easily manipulate and bend to their will in order to lure in a bigger fish. And for a time, it felt like they just may actually succeed in their goal. Nico Starosta was an easy target, and one that craved attention from others, which both Lucky and Vi were more than willing to help feed into. Two months into their case, they managed to become a part of Nico Starosta’s inner circle, a small group of wixes the young man would take with him every where he went. Eventually them and Vi began finding themselves being brought into Starosta hang-outs, and rubbing elbows with some of the family’s most prominent members. When they were finally introduced to one of Nico’s uncles, a high-ranking figure in the Starosta crime syndicate, they thought they’d finally found their fish to fry. And that as long as they kept playing their cards right, they’d get enough to put at least one major Starosta behind bars.

Just where they went wrong, and when they were found out still haunts Lucky to this day. Wherever they made their error though, it was three months into their investigation, and achingly close to finally building up a strong enough case on one of the Starosta sons, when suddenly the rug was pulled out from underneath them. Nico had told them he needed both them and Vi to pick up a shipment for him, which by that point wasn’t uncharacteristic of the grandson, who skirted any of his “family duties” by giving them to Vi and Lucky to handle. It was when they entered the warehouse though, and saw it was completely abandoned did they realize they’d been discovered.

The wandfire erupted soon afterward, and ended even sooner with Vi falling victim to a killing curse by their side, and them so distracted by their partner’s fall that they were unable to fend off the incoming binding spell. Laying on the cold concrete floor of that warehouse, bound up and laying next to Vi’s lifeless form, they waited for their own killing curse to come-

it never did though.

That was when they learned that death could be a blessing when living could be so much worse. Instead of killing both aurors the Starostas had discovered were living within their circle, they chose to only kill one of them, and let Lucky serve as the cautionary tale as to what would happen if anyone tried to take down the Starostas again. They spent what they would later learn was two months, but felt more like two lifetimes, in a small basement of a building they can still only guess was a home of one of the Starostas lackeys. What happened during those two months they still bare the scars (both physical and psychological) to this day.

After over two months, the Starostas either felt they’d made their message clear, or simply grew bored with Lucky, and eventually deposited them on the front steps to the NY auror division, a mangled and broken thing, and a clear warning as to the crime family’s true capabilities. As Lucky remained hospitalized, the division tried to build up a case at the very least against those who had tortured the auror, but with a mind scrambled both by magic and months worth of solitary confinement in a dark basement, Lucky had nothing to give them. And so the case would eventually find itself on the cold case files floor, where it remains to this day.

After a month in a hospital, and another three getting re-acclimated to life again, Lucky tried to go back to the NY Division. Which deep down they knew was a mistake, but perhaps it was some part of them that thought if they made some effort to return to their old life, they could find themself again. Because whoever this new person was they’d become in their months both during and after their imprisonment wasn’t someone they liked. They’d become a paranoid and frightened thing, someone who was a ghost of their former self. And so they tried to force themself to be the old Lucky again. They pushed their metamorphmagus abilities to their breaking point, morphing away the marks the Starostas had carved into their skin. They did not want to serve as their cautionary tale, as the crime family’s walking billboard displaying their cruel message for all too see.

But even as morphed into their former self, which involved them relying heavily on headache tonics to get through an entire work day keeping on a morph, they still learned their face had become too synonymous with the events of only a couple months prior. Even then, the office that’d once been their home, and the faces of their coworkers that’d once been their family, now brought with them only a new source of pain.

And so the decision was made, that if they wanted to find any semblance of peace for themself and be able to move on from an event that’d scar them for life, they would have to go somewhere else- start fresh, and find some way to be able to live their life in their new skin that would always bare the marks of violence on it. They found this new life in the form of an open position on the California Auror Division.

Leaving New York behind, and its numerous reminders of a life that’d been ripped from them, was an easy task. With New York behind them, they were finally able to figure out and come to better appreciate this new version of themself. Instead of suffering through days filled with migraines caused from having to keep on a morph, they lived the majority of their day in their new skin. Some of the worst marks left by the Starostas they cover up with a new wealth of tattoos to accompany those they’d already had before. Their hair, they decide, to bleach with a beauty potion, something they used to do as a teenager and missed the look of. They learned the new ticks and triggers they now had, as they began working within the California division, and even buck up the courage to see a therapist routinely.

Before they knew it, life became livable again. It was not an easy thing to do, but with enough hard work and paying better attention to themself than they normally had before, they were able to no longer wince every time they looked in the mirror, or have to divert their gaze completely when they changed or showered. They still morphed when it felt necessary, such as when they had to interview witnesses, so to make themself less noticeable, or during the occasional (or not so occasional) hook-up, just for their own comfort.

Somehow in all of this they managed to impress the right person somewhere, and without even trying, they are offered the position they’d dreamed of since they were a child- that of a squad auror with MACUSA’s Pacific Squad. Time seemed to shift back into its usual pace at that point. Things became scarily normal again, sure their face would never make things completely normal. Even after working on the Pacific Squad for now five years, they still have to deal with the occasional stare or question they’d much rather not answer. But now instead of blowing them off, or getting irritated when someone asks about their scars, they rattle off a story that’s clearly not true, such as they lost a fight with a weedwacker, or fucked Edward Scissorhands, and move on from there.

They’re forty now, which is both scary and oddly comforting all at the same time. The small chapter of their life that marked them forever is behind them, although they continue to battle with the psychological trauma it left them with. Over ten years have passed since them and Vi first walked into that warehouse, and while a piece of them will always be there, they’ve learned to live with what pieces remain and live what they’d consider a pretty decent life for themself regardless.

#auror #written by shannon #lucky caro

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couchpatch2 · 3 years

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Just How Much Does It Cost For A Solicitor To Write Your Will?

Will Writing Solutions

Content

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Frequently Asked Will Composing Questions.

Do I Get Approved For Company Residential Or Commercial Property Alleviation?

Will Composing Solicitors.

If you are replacing an old will, you also need to state on your brand-new one that it replaces all previous versions, which ought to be ruined. Be as certain as you can around what you intend to take place as well as see to it that there are no spelling errors, specifically for any kind of recipients. last will and testament manchester follow general rules in the criterion of writing and framework in order to reduce unpredictability.

To learn more about the phrasing to use and also how to make your will legitimately legitimate, take a look at the gov.uk web site. Any person aged 18 or above can be an executor of your will, even those called as beneficiaries. Given that the task of an administrator is to carry out your desires after you have actually passed away, it is best to choose a person capable of the role but likewise someone that you trust fund. For that reason, it is common for individuals to select a partner or developed youngster. You can select one member of the family as well as one specialist, such as a lawyer or accounting professional, yet bear in mind that expert executors are most likely to charge a fee. Look around and consider whether it is worth having a person independent with expert knowledge.

As an example, several on-line services advise Mirror Wills which in our sight, are simply not suitable for the vast bulk of couples.

Once more, choosing a company whose attorneys have a more comprehensive knowledge than the straightforward matching of an A-level can aid guarantee the guidance you obtain is contextual, taking complete account of all of your circumstances.

We spoke to numerous of one of the most prominent solutions as well as none can assure that their 'certified individual' would certainly in fact be a solicitor.

It is just difficult to write a comprehensive set of inquiries that will cover each and every single scenario and after that produce a customized Will at the end.

Additionally, the term 'qualified person' used by a lot of online solutions is extremely loosened.

Using a solicitor may be less expensive than you may believe, and it indicates that you have the comfort of understanding it's been done properly. You should most definitely take into consideration using a solicitor if your household position is complicated. The person that figure out your residential or commercial property when you pass away as well as performs the guidelines in your Will is called your administrator. It can be a difficult task even if your instructions as well as your home are quite basic-- it's not uncommon for the process to take several months and the task of an executor is sometimes hard. As an example, they could have to choose when to sell your property to make sure that individuals that inherit the money from its sale get the most money. Think about exactly how you want to divide your assets between the people you've provided. You might find it useful to consider what is essential to you.

Although no-one suches as to consider dying, it can occur suddenly to any of us and in this case, not having a will may indicate that your enjoyed ones don't get the benefits from your estate. You might also have certain sentimental products that you would love to go to certain individuals, but without a will these dreams may not be recognized. Would you like to learn even more regarding our Will creating solution? Call us on or call us onlineto arrange a telephone call with our Will experts. Making a Will guarantees that when you pass away, your estate as well as affairs are managed according to your wishes.

Money

Intestacy, which is the condition of the estate of a person that passes away without having actually made a legitimate will, complies with a set of regulations put down by legislation which state exactly how the estate is to be provided if there is no will. Ensure you seek professional suggestions when composing a will, and that every one of the proper actions are taken, including having actually the will seen. For instance, if you wish to leave among your kids the "black BMW" however you later sell this car after the will has been signed, it can lead to complication and possible disputes. If you have step-children with a companion, merely stating "my kids" in your will may lead to complication and also will not automatically cover them.

Your youngsters can not assert your estate so you must consider making monetary setups-- placing inheritance in trust, for instance. You need to select trustees that will manage the trust fund in support of your children-- these could likewise be your executors. And also you will need full names as well as addresses of legal guardians and also trustees. People normally provide their partner or partner as major recipient however you need to specify who ought to obtain your estate if she or he were to pass away prior to you-- your children or grandchildren, as an example. Nevertheless, these stages can show incredibly challenging and taxing if you do not have experienced assistance. Even if your estate is small and also your will is incredibly basic, we advise looking for expert recommendations to see to it that it is lawfully binding.

It is ideal not to make use of close family members, youngsters, those that have visual issues or those that aren't with the ability of recognizing what they are experiencing. It is also vital to remember that witnesses can't be beneficiaries or companions of recipients. Typically, your estate will cover any estate tax owing to HM Revenue & Customs, however you can stipulate in your will that whoever you are leaving a property or residential property to must be in charge of paying. Below at Perrys, we have a highly-qualified as well as recognized group of accountants with a lot of experience in probate and also estate tax problems. If you're thinking about creating a will, please do not wait to contact us. We'll schedule a casual, confidential preliminary conversation with a professional from one of our 7 branches in Kent or main London. Come and talk to our will lawyers in Epsom if you want to produce your will this year.

There utilized to be tax obligation benefits to making use of an optional trust as well as placing properties valued approximately the value of the nil-rate band into it. Those tax benefits are no longer so advantageous, however making use of an optional count on can protect your estate from claims by creditors or in separation negotiations or if your hubby or partner remarries. You can create a trust fund purposefully or by operation of legislation such as when you leave a present to small kids under 18 years of ages. You must consider making a Will whether you are young or old, if you have a family to care for, or if you have a property or other useful properties. This totally free layout develops a last will and also testimony where the testator leaves all his/her assets to one person after making certain gifts of money and ownerships. The formal demands for wills are set down in the lawful statute Section 9 of the Wills Act 1837, as amended by Area 17 of the Management of Justice Act 1982.

Is a post office will kit legal?

You may be tempted to try and save money by picking up a Will Kit from the Post Office. But be warned – there is a risk that a will made using a standard Will Kit may be found to be invalid. In this case, a husband and wife had both made wills using Post Office Will Kits.

Once finished, you can send this to us, or bring it with you when you meet one of our solicitors. Spouses and also children have particular entitlements from the estate of their spouses/parents.

Often Asked Will Creating Questions.

Our totally free design templates are most appropriate for less complicated estates that are valued below the IHT nil price band. One of the Internet Lawman free choice design templates should appropriate, we approximate, for around 60% of the UK population. You do not need a solicitor or Will writer to evaluate or to authorize your Will for it to be lawfully binding. The record becomes binding as an outcome of the process of authorizing it in front of 2 witnesses, not due to any kind of involvement of a lawyer.

The regulation divides the estate of a deceased right into 3 parts - the prior civil liberties; the legal civil liberties, as well as the cost-free estate. You can partially disinherit a spouse or kids, but the law places a limitation on that particular. Spouses and civil companions have the right of ius relicti or ius relictae as well as children have the right of legitim. You need to designate guardians that 'd deal with kids under 18 if both parents were to die.

Do I Qualify For Business Building Relief?

Fatality and also passing away Planning for the future Why leave a gift to Sue Ryder in your Will? Around a 3rd of our fundraised revenue comes from presents in Wills delegated us by our generous supporters. Gifts in Wills imply that even more individuals can be sustained through their most challenging times, as well as assisted to live the very best life they perhaps can.

Because of this, lots of people would be smart to choose an administrator with the suitable level of experience along with insurance coverage to protect them. Take into consideration whether you have control over where these assets will pass, or whether that is pre-determined incidentally in which you own them. Collectively owned residential property as well as checking account, for example, automatically pass to a making it through co-owner. It's critical to comprehend what you have actually obtained as well as who you wish to pass it to before you write your will. Think home, bank accounts, financial investments, shares, life policies and whether you have any kind of unique things you wish to pass anywhere particular. We will send you a letter, or if appropriate, a detailed report on your details conditions and also draft wills for you to think about, together with suggestions for adjustments where suitable. As soon as you enjoy with your wills, we will publish and send you bound copies with guidelines on how to authorize them.

For example, it might be things like seeing to it that your partner is provided for, or ensuring that your grandchildren obtain the most effective education. Things like your financial savings, any kind of home you have and any type of beneficial items - and an approximation of what they deserve. You should additionally consider any nostalgic items that you might desire certain individuals to have.

How do I make a simple will?

Writing Your Will 1. Create the initial document. Start by titling the document “Last Will and Testament" and including your full legal name and address. 2. Designate an executor. 3. Appoint a guardian. 4. Name the beneficiaries. 5. Designate the assets. 6. Ask witnesses to sign your will. 7. Store your will in a safe place.

This way when you're gone there can be no confusion or misunderstanding regarding how your estate is to be split up as well as your will carried out. You'll additionally need to select an administrator or executors of your last will and testament.

Will Creating Lawyers.

If you desire your step-children to be consisted of in your will, make certain you clearly discuss them. If you have little ones, it is necessary to think of that you wish to take care of them after you die. If you are the only enduring parent as well as you do not choose a guardian for your kids in your will, this decision could potentially go to the family members courts. Ensure this headache does not occur by naming the guardian in your will. When noting down the properties to pass onto enjoyed ones, lots of people keep in mind the substantial possessions; the automobile, your home, the watch. Very frequently, nonetheless, they neglect some of the a lot more abstract assets. Administrators bring a lawful obligation to do the work effectively, as well as can be accountable for any kind of loss arising from their failure to do so.

Basically, a will is the only certain way to make certain that your desires are fulfilled after you pass away. With a legitimate will, you can provide your money, home, ownerships as well as investments to individuals, organisations as well as triggers you value most. Heritage Wills & Estate Preparation Limited Registered in England as well as Wales No. at sixth Flooring, St Georges Home, St Georges Means, Leicester, LE1 1SH. BARREL Enrollment No. Heritage Wills & Estate Planning Limited is authorized and also controlled by the Financial Conduct Authority for credit report broking activities just (see FCA Register at FCA Number ). The Financial Conduct Authority does not regulate will creating or estate preparation services. By writing your own Will, you make the procedure of resolving your estate less expensive and also much faster. By reducing the quantity spent on legal fees, you can shield the value of your estate that is to be passed on to your beneficiaries.

Whilst the legislation bordering Wills as well as inheritance may be complex, the procedure of completing a Will shouldn't be. Heritage Wills & Estate Planning have a range of ways to make contact with us, either by email, message or telephone, and in some situations we even supply the solution of seeing you in your own house. As soon as you have actually given all the info we need, we will draft your Will, leaving you to simply check over the file and also indication. This guide would certainly reveal you just how to choose them, produce a checklist as well as write a Will. In In The Event Of Death, you additionally discover what to do in different situations - the in-depth treatments for each circumstance of death. In the last phase, you have an exceptional resource overview on the kinds available for various estate planning as well as Wills functions. You can leave it with a professional will storage space firm (Beyond includes will storage space with our ₤ 10 membership strategy), or with a close friend or member of the family.

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Without a Will, your properties will be controlled by the state as well as may not be passed on just how you would have wanted. Once you have actually taken into consideration issues, you might locate the connected set of questions form valuable to set out your wishes.

These are individuals that will guarantee your wishes, as written in your will, are carried out. This can be a great deal of work, so make sure they comprehend the duty they're taking on or consider making use of a specialist executor, such as a solicitor or Beyond's administrator service. These have the benefit of being less costly (a solicitor will charge ₤ 200- ₤ 600 for a single will, compared to ₤ 90 for a will on Beyond), however not all will creating services are developed equivalent. On Beyond, we offer real-time assistance and also examine every will that is developed through us, so we can assist you avoid making any type of blunders that might make your will invalid. Planning ahead for your funeral service Thinking of and also intending your funeral can really feel extremely hard, and also some individuals choose not to review it.

As an example, Carbon monoxide op lawful services deals will creating solutions from ₤ 90 for a Living Will, from ₤ 150 for a Solitary Will, ₤ 245 for Mirror Wills and also a taken care of charge Lasting Power of Lawyer starts from ₤ 270. Keep in mind that our cost-free design templates do not consist of provisions that seek to minimise tax obligation. If this is necessary to you, you should take a look at the various other Web Lawman last Will and also testament layouts, a number of which cover standard IHT planning. If the worth of your estate can go beyond the nil rate band (₤ 325,000 for a private in 2020/21), then we suggest that you seek advice from a qualified tax obligation specialist before signing your Will. The reason that most people don't compose a Will is the financial price of doing so.

Few Will authors are totally legally certified, so if you do use a Will-writing solution, it is best to inspect that they belong to the Institute of Professional Willwriters or Society of Willwriters. The even more complicated your financial events, the much more reasonable it is to listen from a solicitor.

When Should You Use A Solicitor To Prepare A Will?

Getting proper legal advice can set you back a number of hundred extra pounds, yet it does suggest that you can be fairly certain your will stands as well as the people you wish to profit do. Financial institutions as well as several lawful companies also provide guidance and also will-writing solutions. Expert will writers as well as solicitors can all help, however typically expense. Your will is a legal paper which lets you decide what occurs to your cash, home and possessions after your death. The very name Will assumes the person making and signing it is doing so by their own intentional as well as considered choice. Hence, if that can be shown not to be so, after that the will can be struck down. However if 30-day trial aggrieved family member intends to challenge, he should do so in court, and verify by clear proof that the will is not legitimate, and that is a high hillside to climb up.

#how to write a will #free will writing #best will writing service #will writing in uk #will writing in united kingdom #how to make a will #make a will in UK

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michelles-garden-of-evil · 4 years

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Episode 30 Review: The Executive Meddling Begins?

{ YouTube: 1 | 2 }

{ Full Synopses/Recaps: Debby Graham | Bryan Gruszka }

{ Screencaps }

Welcome to my Garden of Evil, where today we end one era of the history of Strange Paradise and begin a new one: the period of the “Lost Episode” summaries, when the soap opera’s producers forced headwriter Ian Martin to rewrite much of his original story, discarding many subplots and planned plot twists and negating the original episode synopses that had already been sent to newspapers throughout North America. The known published synopses for this episode are as follows:

"Vangie, the voodoo priestess, uses her conjurer's powers to weaken the evil spell which possesses Jean Paul and to plant the suggestion that she come to his private island."[1]

"A secret potion draws Jean Paul to a voodoo priestess."[2]

According to Curt Ladnier’s blog, this is the first episode known to have been altered after the synopses were sent out, but, before starting this review, I had my doubts. Certainly, comparison between the summaries and the aired episodes show clear evidence of script changes by Episode 32, but there was enough ambiguity in certain events in this episode for me to question if this one was even rewritten in the first place. So, without further ado, let’s run a fine-toothed comb through the aired version of Episode 30 and see if we can find conclusive evidence of rewriting.

The episode begins with Holly being pushed down the staircase in the Great Hall. She screams loudly and Jean Paul and Reverend Matt Dawson come rushing to her aid. While they help her over to the couch, she turns to Matt and accuses him of deliberately pushing her. Jean Paul (who is wearing an unusual but fetching ensemble with a dark blazer and off-white pants) is also suspicious of him, because, according to him, the Reverend was there when she got pushed. Handsome devil Jacques, of course, comments:

An indication that Jacques did it, or just commenting on the situation?

For some reason, Jean Paul doesn’t blame Jacques this time, but instead Matt, who was there (as was Jacques, most likely) and who has the possible motive of revenge for rejecting his romantic advances (not applicable, but Jacques does have the motive of liking murder). Here is the conversation between them and my commentary:

Matt: "Mr. Desmond, I resent your insinuation. Why should I want to harm Holly?" Jean Paul: "Or kill her?" Matt: "You can't be serious." Holly: "Whoever pushed me was." Matt: "But I followed you down here to help you, not to hurt you." Jean Paul: "Or to have her." [Is he implying that he thinks Matt wants to take advantage of her?] Matt: "Are you serious?" Jean Paul: "Your adoration is about as obvious as her pretty face." [And your pretty...everything.]

Matt: *getting pissed at Jean Paul* "I have had about all the insinuations I can take! All right, I do care about her--deeply."

Matt: *to Holly* "Now, can't you believe that I'm the last one who would want to harm you?" Holly: "You're the first, because I don't care for you!"

Jean Paul tells Reverend Stalker to leave Holly alone "or you'll have me to answer to," so the disgruntled padre flounces. But on his way out, he has some accusations of his own:

ROFL at Matt’s delivery of this line.

Matt reveals that he still hasn’t grasped the concept of the detained guest.

So now you believe in demons? What made you change your mind?

The dialogue in this episode so far is heavy with exposition as usual, but it feels different this time. Usually, the exposition takes the form of one character telling another directly about the events and revelations from past episodes, but this time it's structured differently, as a two-way expository dialogue rather than a speech with questions and reactions from the listener. It still doesn't feel entirely natural--it still has the feel of exposition dialogue--but it's a different format.

I should also note that, according to Bryan Gruszka of StrangeParadise.net, the script reveals that neither Matt nor Jacques pushed her. The attacker’s name is a spoiler in spite of the fact that Martin never got to reveal that they were responsible, so I shall link to the Week 6 trivia page here for anyone who is interested.

Jean Paul has a possession headache, but no funny headache faces this time.

Jacques leaves the portrait (which decided to disappear this episode) and mocks Matt for believing in him--which, I should note, is a change from last episode, where the Reverend firmly denied believing in devils and called them superstition. He calls Matt's belief in him "a sad testimony to the belief in which he was schooled"--again, even though Matt actually didn't believe in devils until apparently the beginning of this episode. Already this is a break in continuity, which does not necessarily indicate someone tampering with the established canon, but is suggestive of it nonetheless. Of course, that’s assuming that it isn’t just an error, which it might be. (Remember that Martin can’t decide whether or not Raxl knows Jean Paul is possessed!)

What's with this lighting effect? Did the director decide that Jacques looked too sexy under normal lighting, so they decided to use underlighting to make him look scarier and less hot? Because the effect is not scary. It makes him look like a Muppet, and Muppets are not scary.

Jacques is getting better at impersonating Jean Paul, as evidenced by this deeply ironic part where he comforts Holly. “Have no fear, cherie,” he says, “I will protect you.”

Meanwhile in the Not-So-Hidden Temple, Vangie gives Raxl a bottle of some potion to slip Jean Paul, which she tells her "is not to kill, but to prevent more killing. It is a Conjure brew to free his mind to make it more responsive to mine." This must be what the Lost Episode summaries are referring to! She doesn’t outright state in this scene that she wants Jean Paul to bring her to Maljardin by boat, but she says that’s what she wants in the episode before this one, so anyone who has seen Episode 29 would already know that.

An interesting detail not mentioned on the trivia page: before parting, Vangie asks Raxl, daughter of the Priestess of the Serpent, to pray to her mother.

Vangie teleports/floats back to the main island, which frightens Quito until Raxl assures him that “the Conjure Woman has found her way home.” They leave the temple and begin traveling down the long tunnel back to the crypt. Unbeknownst to them, Reverend Dawson is there, searching the crypt wall for the Not-So-Hidden Door:

Come on, Matt! It’s not at all hard to find!

He finds it and pushes on the door just as Quito starts pulling it open. When Quito grabs him, both of their expressions are priceless:

I can’t decide whose expression is funnier.

“I was not trespassing in your sacred temple, Raxl!” he cries, then insists that he was only down there “to find a means of saving your master.”

“You knew of the temple because I showed you, a man of your-”

“I have not betrayed its sanctity,” he interrupts, even though he was clearly trying to find it so he could search it for the poison. The implication is that, if he visited without Raxl and Quito’s permission, he would betray the temple’s sanctity. He tells her about the missing cyanide, she tells him about the missing conjure doll and silver pin, and then she assures him that neither Jean Paul nor Jacques could have hidden either in the temple because neither know about it.

Up in the Great Hall, THE DEVIL JACQUES ELOI DES MONDES is relaxing pompously when Raxl and Quito enter. He orders Quito to prepare to sail to the main island, which leads Raxl to declare, perhaps over-confidently, “The Conjure Woman got to him even without [the potion]!” This negates the second summary which explicitly indicates the potion as the means of “draw[ing] Jean Paul to [Vangie],” but not the first. Also, what makes Raxl think that this is evidence of Vangie’s influence over him? Apparently Jacques choosing to go to the island out of his own free will isn’t a possibility.

Matt asks if he can return to the main island, but Jacques refuses, declaring that “today is a rather special trip for a lady and myself,” referring to his deliciously evil girlfriend Elizabeth Marshall. The Reverend responds by asking if he trusts her not to reveal the secret of Erica’s death, which Jacques uses as yet another opportunity to make Jean Paul look like a murderer by saying, “There is no one dead here--that I don’t pronounce!” And then he threatens him again:

Someone’s on Jacques’ list of people to kill!

We next see Jacques strutting into the French Leave Café wearing a pair of huge round sunglasses over his eyes. Ironically, the demon who is normally so fond of black clothing has changed into Jean Paul’s off-white suit jacket, although he retains the same red shirt and red-and-black striped tie. I’m thinking that Jacques picked out both outfits and changed before heading out because he just felt like playing dress-up that day. Typical 17th-century fop, just with more modern clothes.

Jacques’ new outfit.

Gold-digger Elizabeth clinging to Jacques as though she’s worried that Vangie will try stealing him from her. Makes me wonder what her 17th-century counterpart’s relationship was to Vangie.

What, no joke about how you “still can’t stand the heat?” I’m shocked!

Even on a date in a public place, he tries to make Jean Paul appear interested in committing murder. He asks Elizabeth how much her daughter’s inheritance is, in case she dies, and then gleefully reminds her of her accident earlier that day!

Back on Maljardin, Quito returns from the main island by himself. While Holly is sipping some of Raxl’s tea (in the literal sense only, unfortunately), he walks up to her holding a shiny stone and offers it to her. She takes it only reluctantly, which reminds me of another Lost Episode summary, this one for Episode 33:

Source: Cleveland Plain Dealer (October 24, 1969).

Quito doesn’t show any signs in this episode of being undead, but he does give Holly a sparkling stone, with little reaction from her. Later in this episode (not in the aired version of Episode 33), Holly gives the stone back to Quito despite his insistence that she keep it, which brings him to tears when he is alone with Raxl towards the end. These events suggest a rewrite more strongly than the original summaries at the top of this page do, because the newspaper summary for Episode 33 clearly indicates that these events were originally slated to happen three episodes later, but moved to this one during rewrites.

What about Quito? It certainly appears that Holly’s won Quito’s heart.

Meanwhile at the French Leave Café, Vangie approaches Jacques and Elizabeth and insists on reading their fortunes, although Elizabeth does not want to hear it. She lays the “King of Scepters” (or, rather, the King of Swords--see the screencap at the beginning of this entry) on their table and Jacques freaks out, enough apparently to de-possess Jean Paul:

Hooray! A headache face!

So did Vangie’s Tarot card make Jacques de-possess him? Or was it something else?

At the end of the episode, Jean Paul invites Vangie to Maljardin himself out of a desire to contact Erica. Much like Jacques’ decision to visit the main island earlier this episode, it comes across as something Jean Paul would decide to do of his own accord, without magical influences. Therefore, I think that we can say that Ian Martin’s original idea for Vangie to use her powers to convince him to take her to the island was indeed scrapped--and that was probably a good thing, because this feels more natural.

The episode ends ominously, with Jean Paul willingly putting everyone’s life on the line to contact Erica’s spirit. Not so different from Jacques wanting to kill everyone.

In conclusion, Episode 30 shows distinct signs of having been rewritten since the release of the Lost Episode summaries. Not only did Vangie’s means of allegedly convincing Jacques to visit the main island and Jean Paul’s motivation for bringing Vangie to Maljardin change, but events originally planned for Episode 33 were moved to this one. There are other minor details that, too, suggest a rewrite: the different mode of exposition and Jacques’ lack of devil/Hell jokes where Martin would have likely inserted them just a week ago. The episode feels different from the earlier Week 6 episodes, but not enough to suggest a new writer.

Coming up next: The last Bad Subtitle Special until the end of Week 8, followed by a review of Episode 31. A mysterious force is tampering with the cryonics capsule, while Alison uncovers even more clues to the mysteries surrounding Erica.

{ <- Previous: Episode 29 || Next: Episode 31 -> }

Notes

[1] Fitchburg Sentinel, October 24, 1969.

[2] San Mateo Times, October 17, 1969.

2 notes · View notes

365footballorg-blog · 6 years

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Wiebe: Why your (playoff) team will lift the 2018 MLS Cup

October 31, 20182:34PM EDT

Can your team win MLS Cup? Sure, why not? It could happen. It probably won’t, though – better to get that out of the way now.

That’s how I started this column back in March, in which I did my best to make a case for all 23 teams to win MLS Cup. Let’s just say there were some serious logical fallacies in there. Looking at you Colorado Rapids, San Jose Earthquakes, Orlando City and eight other clubs for whom the dream is dead. Better luck next year.

For the 12 who qualified for the Audi 2018 MLS Cup Playoffs – in my book, the bare minimum it takes to call the league season a success – there’s another case to be made for lifting the Phillip F. Anschutz trophy on December 8. There’s also a chorus of haters waiting to bring everyone down.

Here we go, from No. 12 to No. 1 in the Supporters’ Shield standings, all in 280 characters or less because we’re all addicted to Twitter and nobody’s got time for 5,000 words on a Wednesday gameday. Don’t forget to get your Audi 2018 MLS Cup Playoffs Bracket Challenge set and join the ExtraTime Radio league.

Real Salt Lake

Thanks to the LA Galaxy’s improbable defeat on Sunday, RSL veterans Nick Rimando, left, and Kyle Beckerman have one more shot at playoff glory | USA Today Sports Images

They’ll Win Because they’ve done it before. Remember ’09? RSL eked into the final playoff spot and won it all. Rusnak = Javi, Savarino = Espindola, Beckerman/Rimando = Beckerman/Rimando and … there is no Saborio equivalent. If they can get past the KO Round and get a home game, they’ve got a shot.

Haters Will Say Those “1 in a million” odds aren’t going to go their way twice, and LAFC already dropped five on them earlier this season at the RioT, and won 2-0 in Los Angeles. No playoff team has taken more road Ls (11) than RSL. Rested or not, Knockout Round is the logical end of the road.

Philadelphia Union

Jim Curtin, left, said Ilsinho, right, will play a key role in Wednesday’s Knockout Round game at New York City FC | USA Today Sorts Images

They’ll Win Because Corey Burke and Fafa Picault get stupid hot, and whoever pairs in central defense (pick from Auston Trusty, Mark McKenzie, Jack Elliott) goes full Maldini. The Union can draw on their USOC run. That will give them the drive (and necessary pragmatism) to grind out an MLS Cup shocker.

Haters Will Say it’s a step too far. If Philly couldn’t finish the Open Cup job in Houston after a raft of home games, what makes anyone think they can get past NYCFC at Yankee Stadium then the Shield-winning Red Bulls then likely ATLUTD or D.C. United and finally MLS Cup on the road? Dream on.

Columbus Crew SC

Gyasi Zardes, left, has made a strong bid for comeback player of the year with 19 goals this season | USA Today Sports Images

They’ll Win Because It’s fate. After the toughest year in club history off the field, Gregg Berhalter and the boys cook up the perfect reward for Crew SC supporters. Justin Meram, Pipa Higuain and Pedro Santos turn the clock back to 2017, and 3G cooks up the perfect tactical plan round after round.

Haters Will Say no team scored fewer road goals this season than Columbus (11), and you think they’re going to Audi Field and knocking LuchoRoo and D.C. United off their perch as league darlings? Please. Ain’t gonna happen. Their season ends on Thursday night.

D.C. United

Ben Olsen, right, is having his most enjoyable stretch as a head coach. Wayne Rooney, left, is a big reason why. | USA Today Sports Images

They’ll Win Because The Law Firm of Rooney, Acosta, Canouse & Hamid has quality, momentum and home-field advantage on their side. Check out the matchups. Semifinals against Red Bulls? You can’t hold them back, c’mon. Next up Atlanta? Benny vs. Tata = W. Bring the raccoons to the parade. They’ve earned it.

Haters Will Say They’ve won just once away all year. Red Bull Arena and Mercedes-Benz Stadium don’t have the same juju as Audi Field. Rooney’s magic has to fade at some point, right? You can get to Lucho Acosta by kicking him, which will happen a lot in the playoffs. Their luck will run out.

Portland Timbers

Can the Timbers surprise folks this postseason under first-year coach Giovanni Savarese | USA Today Sports Images

They’ll Win Because Diego Valeri is healthy this year, Sebastian Blanco can win a game singlehandedly and Diego Chara lives to smother your happiness, assuming you aren’t a Timbers fan. Gio’s got titles. He knows there’s no need to overcomplicate things. Solid defensive block and counter … all the way to MLS Cup.

Haters Will Say You can’t play Real Salt Lake every game. Since winning 3-2 at Seattle back on June 30, the Timbers’ only wins against playoff teams are the Union and Crew SC at home and the recent double vs. RSL. That’s two No. 6 seeds and a No. 5. Same period, other playoff teams: 0-3-2.

New York City FC

Will the return of Yangel Herrera, pictured, and Maxi Moralez spark NYCFC to a playoff run? | USA Today Sports Images

They’ll Win Because They’re finally healthy (ish). Did you read what David Villa said about Yangel Herrera? You should. NYCFC were already nails at Yankee Stadium. Now they’ve got their most influential player back in the nick of time. Jesus Medina is back, too. And everyone is doubting them. Good mix and a good read on it to boot.

HATERS WILL SAY Dome hasn’t found the answers, Villa isn’t the Villa of old and 2 wins in 10 (against Chicago and Philly … at home) aren’t indicative of postseason success. It’s too much to ask of Herrera to dominate games. Medina will be rusty. Same old, same old for the blue side of New York, which is to say … playoff flame out.

FC Dallas

Reggie Cannon has been a key part of Dallas’ steady back line | USA Today Sports Images

They’ll Win Because They’re consistent, if unspectacular. The backline isn’t gonna make boneheaded errors, and Maxi Urruti and Michael Barrios go HAM. Dated reference? Fair, but you could say the same about Urruti the goalscorer. May is a long time ago. Basically, Dallas find a way to score, and that sluggish second half doesn’t matter.

Haters Will Say Dallas can’t score and that sluggish second half matters. Forget MLS Cup, the Timbers are going to win in the Knockout Round because they have better attacking players and won’t give Dallas space to break into on the counter. Even if Dallas win, they’re not on the same level as Sporting, Seattle or LAFC.

LAFC

LAFC part-owner Will Ferrell is hoping his club’s inaugural season has a Hollywood ending | USA Today Sports Images

They’ll Win Because That’s what Bob Bradley does in expansion seasons. Coaching matters, and Bradley’s gonna gameplan like there is no tomorrow. Also, they’ve got the best collection of top-end attacking talent in the Western Conference. Vela, Rossi, Diomande and a couple former MVP candidates in the midfield.

Haters Will Say The backline can be shaky, and they can’t hold leads. And when you can’t hold leads, particularly at home, you lose in the playoffs. That could apply to the Knockout Round, but it most definitely applies to home-and-home series in which road goals matter a whole hell of a lot.

Seattle Sounders

Raul Ruidiaz celebrates his game-winning goal in Seattle’s win over San Jose on Sunday | USA Today Sports Images

They’ll Win Because they’ve had the best half-season in MLS history, they know exactly what it takes to get to MLS Cup and they have Stefan Frei, Chad Marshall, Ozzie Alonso, Cristian Roldan, Nico Lodeiro and Raul Ruidiaz up the gut. That’s a #squad. Roll the balls out, let these guys do their thing and have a parade at the end.

Haters Will Say What are they even good at? Do they have an identity? Whoops, that was Bobby Warshaw circa four months ago. Don’t worry, he’s come around.

They’ll be eliminated because they come up against a team as good or better (Sporting? LAFC? East top two?) and just can’t get it done on the day. The Sounders have weaknesses – every single team in MLS does – but I find it near impossible to pick against them in the playoffs.

Sporting KC

Sporting Kansas City clinched the top spot in the Western Conference with their victory over LAFC on Sunday | USA Today Sports Images

They’ll Win Because They’re balanced. No more defense and timely goals win championships … or perhaps more accurately, get you eliminated in the Knockout Round. Bad jokes aside, this version of Sporting can shut you out and blow you out. They’ve got loads more attacking quality and they’re deeper than ever before, plus the back six and Tim Melia are rock solid.

Haters Will Say Seth Sinovic is the key to everything and he’s missing the first leg of the conference semis. I’m only partially kidding. Dude only scores in the playoffs. Look it up. Haters will say that they still don’t have a primary goalscorer. It’s true. They’ve got a whole bunch of sporadic scorers, and that’s been more than enough. But in the playoffs when there’s no room for a dry spell?

Atlanta United

Striker Josef Martinez scored an MLS record 31 goals during the 2018 regular season | USA Today Sports Images

They’ll Win Because they’re the most talented team in MLS, and they keep things tight in the first leg of the Conference Semifinals to buy time for Miguel Almiron. He helps finish off either NYCFC or D.C. United, then Atlanta get two weeks to rest up and recover for the Red Bulls, who bottle it like usual. MLS Cup at MBS? That’s a win.

Haters Will Say “Hahahahahahaha [deep breath] Hahahahahahaha”

That’s literally what they’ll say on Reddit and Twitter. They’ll say it because Miguel Almiron wasn’t ready to be Miguel Almiron again, Josef Martinez’s historic season sputtered at exactly the wrong time and Tata said adios before the job was done. Don’t worry Five Stripes faithful, you’ll be fine.

New York Red Bulls

A young Red Bulls fan celebrates the club capturing its third Supporters’ Shield on Sunday | USA Today Sports Images

They’ll Win Because they’re MLS’s best team. Most points ever, and nobody understands their collective ethos/identity better than these Red Bulls. That goes a long way in the playoffs, when the games get more physical and the margins narrow. Then there’s the legacy aspect. This club isn’t lacking for motivation or pressure.

Haters Will Say “That’s so Metro.”

Need I say more?

Series:

Topics:

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Wiebe: Why your (playoff) team will lift the 2018 MLS Cup was originally published on 365 Football

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airmidtheawakened · 6 years

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Sharp, Pointy Things, Part 3

Welcome back to the clusterfuck! Now that I’ve had that drink I promised myself (well, several drinks. It’s been a bit) we can get back to what is probably one of the worst jobs my cabal as ever worked. We didn’t stay at the bar long; Abraham came to pick us up before the police got there. We all went back to his place, Dave in tow, to try and figure out just what the hell was going on.

I tried getting information out of Dave. He kept talking about wanted to talk to a “Matthew.” He said that “Matthew would fix this. Matthew would protect him.” Whoever this Matthew guy was seemed like he must have been in charge of the meth thing, and thus a good candidate for having offed Dead Big Bro. Here I was hoping this would just be a normal, mundane, non-supernatural druggie dispute. But then we saw a tattoo on Dave’s back that proved otherwise. It was some sort of insignia that belonged to a vampire… group, I guess? Some sort of social club or whatever.

At that point I was absolutely done. Fisher and Aces showed up, so I left the rest of the interrogation to them while I went outside for some air.

I felt so… so helpless. I’d worked my entire life to be the strong one. The one who works hard, takes care of herself, doesn’t need help from anyone. And all that meant jack when it came to keeping Saki safe. I should have been keeping a better eye on him. We should have stuck together.

Lipsy came out a few minutes later. I don’t like people seeing me when I’m upset. I tried to pull myself together but it didn’t work. I ended up sobbing into his shoulder for a good five minutes. It was nice. I mean the situation sucked, but having someone there for me when I’m an absolute wreck is something I wouldn’t trade for anything.

Of course the moment was ruined when Fisher came storming out of Abe’s shop, murder written all over his face, Aces and SiSi hot on his heels. Fisher took off in En’s car. Aces was shouting in our heads that he was gonna kill En. I was so confused. Before I knew it I was being dragged into Abe’s car, then we were speeding out of Quincey towards En’s place… Really the whole night was a blur after that. I’ll try to remember as best I can but we were all so caught up in everything going on that nothing really stuck, you know? Your brain can’t commit anything to memory if it doesn’t have time to actually process what’s going on.

We got to En’s place just after Fisher, who had our dear professor pinned against a wall and was shouting at him. Lipsy and I tried to get him off and failed miserably. I don’t know what spell he threw at us but it made our limbs stopped listening to our brains. SiSi seemed to know what was going on and told us to back off, but we just wanted to find Saki and the whole situation was NOT helping us find Saki. Aces was having a breakdown on the sidelines, I was shouting at Fisher, Lipsy was… you know what I don’t remember what Lipsy was doing. Probably still being discombobulated from whatever spell Fisher used to keep us off of him. And then somehow another lady showed up to take En away to the Consilium. I think Fisher summoned her out of a book? Like I said, it’s all kind of blurry.

It was at this point that Fisher agreed to help us look for Saki. Finally. So off we trot (well, drive, actually) to Dreamboat Vampire’s club because we’re convinced he knows who took Saki. Fisher explained what was going on with En on the way there. Here’s the cliffnotes version:

1. En was like, hot shit it his youth. A bonafide magical genius from a long line of magical badasses.

2. En got cocky and tried to become an archmage. A word which here means “force your way through the Abyss until you kick in the gates of the Supernal Realms and make reality your bitch.” The Consilium tried to forbid him from doing that cuz it’s suuuuuper dangerous but he went ahead and did it anyway. In a theater. With witnesses.

I’m going to take a moment here to ask why the fuck didn’t the Consilium actually stop him? Like, it’s gotta be within their power to do so. It’d be one thing if En did it in secret but COME ON. He made a damn spectacle of the thing! There were some serious levels of incompetence going on there, if you ask me.

(Also let’s just keep that little aside between us, okay? My master would have my head if he heard me talking like that. Who’s my master? You’ll find out soon enough, darlings, so sit tight.)

Anyways, cliffnotes:

3. Predictably, En fails. He becomes an magical monster fueled by Abyss and Hatred. Slaughters almost everyone in the theater. 80 people in total.

4. Unpredictably, the part of him that was still En beat back the Abyss and un-abominationed himself. Which has like, never happened in the history of magic ever. Color everyone who was not dead super surprised.

5. Instead of killing him for fucking up so hard, the Consilium decided to put En under house arrest instead. They assigned Fisher to be a glorified babysitter and make sure he didn’t fuck up any harder. Oh yeah, Fisher’s a sentinel by the way. That’s gonna be important later.

6. En spent his remaining days helping wee babby mages like me and my cabal find our place in the world, hoping to make up for all the people he killed.

Which brings us to Sam. That poor, vengeful, lost little soul who just wanted to find out what happened to his brother. See, En wanted to help the kid, but he couldn’t do so directly without violating the terms of his house arrest. So he went and made a psychic manifestation of Sam’s desire for vengeance so the kid could get results himself.

Talk about stupid.

So yeah, Sam was the one who killed his brother’s friend and attempted to kill Dave. At the tender young age of… eleven? Twelve? Whatever. He was in middle school at best, and sending a mental projection called an Esoteric to take the shape of his victims’ worst fears as it killed them.

But we’ll get back to that later. We’ve got to finish up with the vampires first.

We weren’t sure how we’d get Dreamboat Vampire to talk to us again, let alone in a situation where we’d have the advantage. I volunteered to lure him out with my feminine wiles. SiSi and Lipsy weren’t too keen on the idea, but neither had anything better. So we’re sitting there for like… three or four minutes trying to hash this out when Fisher decides to make a suggestion. He gave us a token of parley that Sentinels use with other supernatural types. Lipsy asked why he didn’t suggest that to start. And what does Fisher say? What does he say?

That he wanted to see how far I’d go with my “slutty” routine.

What. A. Dick.

I responded by jamming my knee into his groin. Was it smart? No. No it wasn’t. But was it satisfying? Hell. Fucking. Yes.

While Fisher was on the ground nursing his injured manhood, SiSi and Lipsy and I made our way into the club. It was clear pretty early on that we weren’t getting past the bouncer – Dreamboat Vampire had told him we weren’t allowed upstairs. Fortunately, there’s one of us who doesn’t need permission to get from one place to another.

Edgar’s such a good doggo.

We decided it would be best if we skedaddled outside once we heard the screaming and barking coming from upstairs. After a few minutes, Dreamboat Vampire came down looking considerably unhappy but willing to parlay. He and Fisher exchanged the formalities and we showed him the picture from Dave’s back, telling him that we needed to find Matthew.

Oh, also, turns out Dreamboat Vampire totally wears these old silver-rimmed glasses to read. Ugh.

Anyway, long and the short of it is Dreamboat Vampire was willing to take us to Matthew, who he already had in custody. He was being kept under the same fucking club we were in the first night we went looking for answers. Matthew was about as freaky a dude as you might expect. He looked almost feral and acted the same way. We asked him about Sam’s brother and he told us the truth: he was the head of the meth ring and recruited this group of morons to help him push it. Turns out, Sam’s brother got a taste for the junk and Matthew went over to his place to straighten him out. The brother got enraged and charged him and Matthew grabbed the first thing he could to defend himself with.

And what was that thing, you ask? A barbecue fork. A fucking. Barbecue fork. So it turns out Sam was right: a vampire really did kill his brother. But these particular sharp, pointy things just so happened to be attached to something that anybody could have used. After the brother died and was bleeding all over the place, Matthew drank from him, I guess not to let things go to waste. We left, pretty disgusted, and Dreamboat Vampire told us that Matthew was going to be taken care of and that we were, under no circumstances, ever to go to his bar ever again.

So now we had two problems. Saki was still missing, but we also had to deal with Sam, who had all these really intense powers and was still trying to off all his brother’s friends. It turns out earlier while I was questioning Dave, SiSi and Lipsy talked to Abraham about the tarot card Saki left behind, asking if it was possible to use that card to track down the rest of the deck, which presumably would lead us to Saki. Abraham said that it conceivably could be possible: the card was one of a deck and the deck wanted to be together, so we might be able to trace it to the origin.

The problem became how to figure out what we needed to do to actually make that tracking possible. The deck wasn’t actually alive, but it wasn’t really dead either. To top it off, we had to figure out what we needed to do to locate the rest of the deck. After some trial and error, we came up with something that worked. So sit back for a second while I learn you a thing. When you start to understand the very basics of a certain arcana, you learn how to see the world in a way that filters other things out and just focuses on that particular form of magic. As you advance, you gain the ability to grant that sight to others. I was able to use my Spirit sight to see the spiritual energy of the cards, so then I had to grant that ability to SiSi. Once she had it (“This is really weird,” she said. Hmph.) she was able to use her Space magic to scry and figure out where the trail was leading. She figured out it was somewhere in Quincy, which meant Saki wasn’t too far away.

Pretty cool, huh?

Lipsy wanted to drop everything and go find Saki. He was really anxious the whole time about Saki – we all were, but he really was. The problem was it was getting really, really late and a couple of us had been without sleep for close to 48 hours at that point. As much as I wanted to go find Saki, I knew if it was a dangerous situation we had to be completely at the ready, and if we went in half-cocked, we might end up just making things worse. Lipsy didn’t really want to hear it, but eventually he agreed that we should get at least a little sleep before we try to find Saki.

We got back to En’s house, where Aces had managed to calm down a bit. She’d been doing some research herself and found out about how to deal with the Esoteric. The first thing we had to do was somehow get Sam to get near us and destroy this form of the Esoteric. Physical damage, like what I did to the mummy in the bar, would be totally fine. Then we had to knock Sam out before he could summon it again, and then we had one of two bad options.

The first option was to kill Sam. It was certainly the simpler option, but all three of us felt sick at doing it. No matter how much trouble he’d been causing, he was still a kid trying to avenge his brother’s death. The second, much more complicated option, was for us to enter a trance state and actually proceed through some magical realms. Once we did that, we’d be able to properly destroy the Esoteric and stop Sam from summoning it in the future.

I’ll be the first to admit I know jack about meditation. Even if I’ve done it several times by now I can never remember the way the astral realms work. We had to go like, three or four levels deep or something? To the collective dreaming consciousness of the world.

At any rate, we were just completely spent and weren’t in any shape to go diving into it that night. Aces said that if we wanted to try the second option, the meditation room in the house would be the best spot to do it. That meant we had to lure Sam to En’s house no matter what, and then, because none of us felt like murdering a sixth grader, knock him out and try to banish the Esoteric, and then wake up and find Saki.

No problem. Noooooooooo problem.

We got a few fitful hours sleep and in the morning (Lipsy wanted this done fast – “We’re done with this by lunch and then we find Saki”) we decided to try and get it taken care of. I called Sam at the number we had for him. It took a few rings before someone picked up and I didn’t hear someone on the other end. I tried talking anyway and he asked me what I wanted. I told him that we had some information about who killed his brother and that we wanted to talk to him. He asked where we were and I told him En’s house. He hung up right away and we tried to get ready. We didn’t know what was going to happen.

Turns out, none of us could have quite prepared for it. About 15 minutes after the phone call, we heard the sound of breaking glass. But it wasn’t Sam. It was this tall, creepy dude with black, black hair, a white, white suit, and the blankest, creepiest expression I’d ever seen in my entire life. The same one Sisi saw raising a knife over an unconscious Saki when she was scrying in the sports bar. We’d met the Esoteric.

Lipsy sent Edgar after it, and because he’s a good Doggo, Edgar fucking demolished the stupid thing. He charged, sank his teeth into it, and before you know it the Esoteric went *poof!* and started fading back into the Astral Plane.

As he disappeared, however, the Esoteric turned to us and said something that chilled us all, “If you want your friend, come find me.” We didn’t know what to do – did he have Saki? Was he responsible for Saki disappearing? Was Saki dead and he knew where his body was? We didn’t know, but it made the knot in my stomach even tighter.

After we dispatched the Esoteric, we heard someone screaming, “NO! WHAT DID YOU DO?!” We turned and there was Sam. By this point, we’d all had our fill of that little shit, so we quickly turned to him and pinned him down. He was raging at us and let slip that he sent the Esoteric to kill Saki because he thought we were double-crossing him. He’d been following us the whole time we were trying to help him and thought that since we were meeting with the vampires and his brother’s friends that we were going to betray him. Saki could have been dead and it would have been his fault.

So the next part, I took particular pleasure in. I hit him in the head as hard as I could and used my Life magic to explode melatonin in his brain while I yelled, “Sleep!” It took a couple tries, but eventually worked. I got a little magic blowback – the universe doesn’t like it when you use obvious magic in front of Sleepers – but it was well worth it to knock out that stupid little twerp.

The only thing to do at this point was finish it: go meditate, find the Esoteric, and finish him off. But I’m starting to feel a little too sober right now, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to get another drink and then when I get back, we’ll finish this. Next time, you’ll find out just what happened to Saki, but I’m warning you: just like we weren’t happy when we found out, you’re not going to be happy either.

Airmid, out.

(I’d like to extend a heartfelt “Thank you!” to Saki’s player for helping me with the recaps for this chapter. Give him a hand, will you?)

#IC #Session recap #Mage: the Awakening #Mage the Awakening #Onyx Path #Word of Darkness #NWoD

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celticnoise · 7 years

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I’ll tell you what, I was thinking last night about the darkest days we’ve ever had as Celtic supporters, those days when it seemed like everything was up in the air, when the situation our club faced was at its running worst. Through all of them, there was hope. Faint hope, perhaps, but hope nonetheless. And that hope carried us through.

But it wasn’t only luck, you see. We know that now.

As crazy as this might sound to some folk, the darkest period for me didn’t come during Rangers’ nine in a row. Through much of that time we were run by an incompetent board which didn’t have a clue. There was always a chance that New Celtic would stop them. It was in the wind in the Tommy Burns years; we were so close. Wim didn’t seem like the answer when he came but he put the finishing touches to what Tommy had started.

To me, the real darkness saved itself for the two shambolic, chaotic, years between 1998 and 2000. Those were the hard ones, the tough ones. Our club had been rebuilt but it still lacked something, it still lacked that spark we needed to move forward. It was around that time Murray started to taunt us about life after Fergus; he said that whoever took over next would need to have “very deep pockets” and that for every fiver we spent he would spend ten.

And back then, in those days, before facts were freely available online, back when there were no Internet Bampots and no wide audience to get their findings out to, even if there were, when you had to rely on the press manning up – and this was the succulent lamb era – and giving them to you, you lived in total ignorance.

We had no idea, back then, what Murray International was built on, and even if we had known the basics, there was no way to tell if it was ever going to come crashing down. Banks might have carried on lending that guy money indefinitely. Who knew when it would end?

Who knew if it would end?

Being there at the time – especially in that dire second season when Rangers won the league by 21 points – you didn’t see the light.

You could look into the future and easily imagine another long spell of dominance, but this time without the hope of a saviour.

Those were the years of darkness in which our club was almost hollowed out. We saw one manager leave under a cloud. We saw another arrive in a blaze of negative publicity. He was soon gone. John Barnes was next, and what a disaster that was.

A brief period of Kenny Dalglish followed, the one highlight being a League Cup and seeing Hugh Keevins physically launched out of the Celtic Club when King Kenny took his press conferences on the road, sick of the media twisting every single word he said.

Towards the latter part of that horror spell, I went to Ibrox and saw us utterly destroyed 4-0. Emerging from the ground that day, shell-shocked, in despair, I sat on the roundabout waiting for my mate and had a good cry about how dreadful it looked. He came along and I told him straight; I couldn’t see how things were going to get better. There was no end in sight. If Murray could keep spending the pain looked likely to go on and on and on.

A year later, we were back there, swaggering conquerors.

We had already won the league and the League Cup, and were heading for the treble. Henrik Larsson and Lubo Moravcik were peerless that afternoon.

The 3-0 score line flattered them.

We played them off the park.

The darkness lifted. Oh there were more bad days to come – and the diabolical laxity of our board in allowing three final titles to be won at Ibrox between 2008-11 – but it never got that bad again. You always felt there was something just around the corner. When our club fell into the dark hole it did last season you knew a change of manager was the main thing. A fresh approach to get more out of the good players at Celtic Park. Brendan proved it.

Likewise, for all three of those years you knew that individual errors and acts of self harm had done for us. The decision not to back Gordon Strachan by signing a striker in the “Wilo Flood Window” was a disaster. The appointment of Tony Mowbray the following year was a catastrophe. I still believe that naming Neil Lennon his successor was the wrong move and it cost us a championship and the chance to bury them a year before they collapsed and died.

Those were blunders at the strategic level; they were not indicative of a club that was structurally weak or in crisis.

They were mistakes.

Giant mistakes, but that’s all.

Sevco fans will look at the dire state of Celtic before Fergus and think their club could be saved like ours was then. They can look at the year 1997-98 when we stopped the ten and think on how the right blend can elevate a poor team to greater heights than it should reach.

They might look at what O’Neill did and what he was allowed to spend, and conclude that it’s all their club needs to do. They may look at Strachan, who downsized the O’Neill era and still won three titles in a row, and make the deduction that something similar could happen there.

And I know, for sure, they look at the Brendan Rodgers revolution and tell themselves that all it’s going to take is the right man and a modest investment and it will all turn around.

And none of that is true at all. They are kidding themselves on. If the last 12 months has taught them anything at all it should be that they are labouring under a delusion. The world doesn’t work that way, and you know what? It never really did.

The simple truth is that I didn’t get it back then, in the years 1998-2000. I didn’t see the true genius in what Fergus had done, and I wouldn’t get it for at least five more years, even after watching the O’Neill era and the things it brought us. I didn’t understand that what we’d done in those years, in the background, was consolidated and expanded.

The stadium was first; by the time it was finished it was the second biggest in the UK. The long-term – the permanent – structural advantage that gave us over their club was, and it remains, enormous, equating to somewhere between £4 million and £6 million every single year.

It’s been nearly twenty years now; think about what that means.

Fergus knew that when he designed the thing. It’s why he proceeded with the plans when some of the hacks, like McNee – who on his first tour of the North Stand penned a sarcastic, bitchy article saying the best thing about the seat was that you could see Ibrox in the distance – were sneering at him for over-reaching. Fergus had it sussed.

Next was the scouting side. Jo Venglos, who Fergus appointed manager after Wim, didn’t last long in that job, but he didn’t leave the club’s employ. He was put in charge of re-evaluating and reworking the entire scouting system and he put in place the framework which pays such startling dividends for us today. It was a moment of brilliance, and foresight, which makes even the stadium plan look pale in comparison. It transformed our future.

The one area where they might – just might – have had an edge was with Murray Park, but we solved that one when we constructed our own training complex and youth academy at Lennoxtown and over the years, as they’ve made savage cuts to their youth system to keep up with the pace of downsizing, we’ve ramped up our own and constantly built on it. That’s no small thing, and for years to come it will give us a further advantage over them.

Don’t underestimate the fact that we currently operate seven Celtic Stores, as well as having a strong presence in the high-street retailers and a very decent online shop. When Rangers sold off their stores, remember we were told how good that idea was? Their partnership with JJB? How’d that one turn out? JJB was in the toilet before Rangers was and Sevco was no longer bound by the contract. But with no retail outlet willing to bulk-stock their goods, and with them needing that expanded presence, they were forced into going with Sports Direct. Remind me again, how did that particular decision pan out?

See, people always pan Green for that as if it was a cheat. But what other option was there? What choice did he really have? If that deal was one sided that’s because nobody else was interested in signing one. Better a little money from shirt sales than none.

When the Sports Direct deal finally closes out, Sevco fans seem to think that’ll give them back the kind of earnings Rangers made in retailing. They couldn’t be more wrong. They have no sales infrastructure to speak of, which means a contractual agreement with another retail partner is a certainty, and what kind of terms will they get? What kind of terms would you give to them, knowing they were desperate and couldn’t sell their stuff otherwise?

Celtic was able to spend money during the O’Neill era, but that was because we had acquired a good reputation for fiscal probity and had a good relationship with a bank. We went heavily into debt during that time; Gordon Strachan had to made radical cuts to make up for that. But the fundamentals were right, so even as he was cutting back we were able to go out and sign players like Nakamura, and assured more titles.

Everything changed, as we all know, in 2007 and in 2008.

Clubs can’t do that anymore, and especially not in Scotland. The transfer market in England has gone insane. Banks and lending companies will only grant over-draft facilities if clubs are able to meet their responsibilities as they come due. A club borrowing money from its directors to keep the lights on isn’t going to get bank funding; it’s as simple as that. They will not entertain an application from Sevco on that basis … or on any other.

We now know that during those dark years of the 1998-2000 that Murray was spending the bank’s money, not his own. We know that he had already embarked on the suicidal policy of tax avoidance. We know now that the ship was holed below the waterline, that he was fudging it, that the club was artificially supported. We know too that they were a liquidation certainty the moment the banks stopped playing ball. Back then it just looked like they were uncatchable.

The difference is that our success, and the gap between the two clubs, can be maintained. There are no secrets anymore. No great scandal or revelation lies out there waiting to sweep over the horizon and wash our club away. There are no secret loans, no hidden debt. We’ve never had a sugar-daddy owner nor will we ever. Frivolous, hopeful nonsense which sparked European Commission investigations and years of fevered fantasises proved to be worth nothing.

They have no money for the kind of infrastructure spending that would even start to bridge the gap. Rangers sold it all in the last years of Murray, flogging off everything that wasn’t nailed down. When they went under much of the rest was swept away. Green bought a shell. He never rebuilt any of it. Even if increasing the capactiy at Ibrox was possible, and affordable, the structural problems with the roof and elsewhere would make it a non-starter.

So if you conclude that we’re on safe ground and that nothing will eradicate our structural and financial advantage over them what does it leave?

It leaves a saviour. Someone willing to come in and spend.

That’s what they are pinning their hopes on, all their hopes.

Red Bull, someone, anyone, and in their desperation they no longer care what their “saviours” look like or from where they come.

Which leaves them in a dangerous place, exposed to exactly the sort of chancers who’ve been at Ibrox before and who got their claws into clubs like Coventry.

The myth of Real Rangers Money with pots of money has been proven to be just that. There’s no chance of someone buying the club as “investment” because Ibrox is a black hole. You could pour ten, twenty, thirty million down there and never seen a fraction of.

The £4 million profit they made in 2009-10 was solely from Champions League participation, a season before Scottish clubs saw their Champions League quota cut to one team and had their automatic place in the Groups rescinded. We’d had it the year before, and they had posted losses of over £12 million.

When qualification became required, they were dicing with death.

Had Celtic won any of Rangers’ last three titles the party would have been over before Craig Whyte got his hands on the keys to Ibrox in the first place.

Do not listen to a word their fans say; their club was never financially viable.

Sevco could be financially viable. What you are seeingat the moment – that wreckage of a team – is actually what overinvestment looks like.

They are running at losses at the moment year in year out and that can’t go on indefinitely.

But if they make cuts, and adapt, and accept a long period without being competitive, yes it can be done.

They pin their hopes on a new boss, perhaps, but the current level of their squad is so abysmal that nothing will drag it up to the required standard. Brendan Rodgers himself couldn’t go into that dressing room and make good players out of what’s there.

So replace the manager and that’s just the start.

Then you have to replace the squad.

With what? Where’s the money to do it coming from? Nobody on the current board has it, and any “investor” who was being asked to come in – and there’s nobody out there; do not let people kid you on about that – would know he was being asked to pour money down the drain.

There is no infrastructure work taking place at Ibrox. No investment in key areas. No turnaround plan. No business plan, in fact, to speak of short of “Europe will make everything alright.”

If they get there.

If UEFA grants them a license, in spite of their failure to qualify for one.

If other clubs don’t raise a stink.

If they can negotiate qualifiers.

Things are still not being done which should be; the stadium faces a closure at some point in the not too distant future and that’s a problem their board can’t even begin to deal with.

This is their dark period, and there are no aces up anyone’s sleeves. There is literally no end in sight here and short of a collapse of the English league system and Sky giving every penny to Scotland – as likely as Donald Trump winning a Nobel Peace Prize – there’s not even a speculative scenario, a cosmic “what if?” for them to cling to for hope. Because without that, no outside investor is going to touch the game here with a twenty foot pole.

This is what their future looks like; last night at Tynecastle.

They can adapt to that or they can die fighting that reality, but those are their choices and there are no others.

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