#to be fair the reign of terror was a pretty fucked up time so like i can see the need for pimpernel... somewhat

[princekirijo]

Finally getting round to reading the Scarlet Pimpernel (free eBooks my beloved) and while I am really enjoying the story and everything is pretty easy to follow, the sheer royalist tones the book has is a lot

#i mean i knew that would be in here #given that pimpernel is a noble who rescued “innocent royals/rich people” from the guillotine during the reign of terror #and the book is set in england AND france #but its still a lot lol #its honestly nice so far #im managing two chapters a day which im really really proud of considering i cant remember the last time i read a book #well ok last one i read was beowulf but that wasn't too long (version i read anyway) #this book has like 29ish chapters? idr #its also worth noting the author herself was a baroness #and that her backstory involved her fleeing to england when she was 3 because the locals rebelled against her family and burnt down #the family home #which while im sure it was justified must have been terrifying for her #i cant lie either its interesting reading from this and seeing her perspective on things as much as i despise royalty i am very interested #in the whole system if that makes sense? its just fascinating to me #i think im gonna blame tlk for this one LMAO #but yeah good so far #also yeah im sure you guys know why im reading the book LMAO #if not well im sure you could probably guess 💀 #to be fair the reign of terror was a pretty fucked up time so like i can see the need for pimpernel... somewhat #also fun fact for anyone interested but this book is actually what started the whole hero with a secret identity #and pimpernel is said to have inspired the likes of zorro and batman! #idk i just thought that was pretty cool

[museswithinx]

"It's a full life you've all got here." These had to be the best cookies he'd ever had, homemade and still warm. He'd have to get the recipe before he left. "Yeah, I got that impression when she just accepted I was her brother without any questions. I thought she might freak out, think I was here to cause more pain or something, but she didn't. She never doubted. She's--the whole family, really--is very unexpected. I was raised in a cult that wanted to eradicate every species of supernatural being except for witches until I was about 7, so I knew where to look to get the information. Mom may have thought their methods was too cruel, but it didn't mean she stopped believing they were lesser right away. But I can't imagine learning about it now, I still had the understanding as a child."

"Yeah, Laura mentioned you were in the foster system, so I thought you might get that." He paused, looking down at the cookie in his hand, "I'm sure we'll keep in touch and have some kind of bond, but staying and having this great big family isn't in my cards." Shrugging, he said, "you weren't around for my father's reign of terror on this family. Everyone else looks at me and sees him. That's not fair to ask them to relive that constantly. I'll stay another week, then I'll be on to the next adventure. But cherish it. Your chance at a family, you're incredibly lucky to have these people. They're all very kind."

Starting on another cookie as he listened, it was a miracle he hadn't gained about 50 pounds since living here. "Laura's like that. She won't assume the worst unless she's given legitimate reason to. She has a pretty good read on people, I think." He said before shifting in his seat as he mentioned the cult. Shiloh had heard some about it and it was crazy to think there were large groups like that wanting to kill people like him for just existing. "Ellie's friend Meredith was raised in one too. My upbringing was filled with a lot of shitty people but I can't really imagine growing up in a fucking cult like that. The fact one like that even existed is kind of bonkers to me."

"I didn't really think a family was in my cards either, but here I am." He said with a slight smile. "But even if it isn't, you could always still drop in from time-to-time. You could still have that even if you're not always around." He shrugs, chewing thoughtfully. "Maybe, but I've heard some stories and I'm sure I'll hear more. They give me a little bit to process at a time because it's a hell of a lot. You're not him though, I think most people see that but I know some are... Difficult. I experienced similar distrust." Smiling a touch, he nods. "I know."

#ofstrengthisms #( shiloh burkhart ; ) #( shiloh & edmond tag ; ) #answered #// BIG FEELS

[themadlostgirl]

When It’s Cold (5)

*I had different, spicier, plans for this chapter and then the characters took off with the plot and had fluff instead.*

~~~

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!

I had been way louder than I meant to. My body was pleased with the after effects of masturbating but my mind was paying the price. I had been peacefully asleep until another naughty dream of Felix entered my subconscious. It was late so I figured he was asleep and I could get away with being a little loud if I got a tad overwhelmed but I had thrown caution to the wind right at the end when I screamed his name.

Hopefully he hadn’t heard but it did nothing to assuage my worries. I need to get a handle on these hormones. Maybe I would feel more in control if I got something. The store sold condoms. At the very least if it turns out that he does want to have sex one day I can be prepared. I set out early that morning before Felix woke up and grabbed a box of condoms as well as some feminine products. I had forgotten I even got a period until I came to Storybrooke and time started its toll on my body which meant my bloody, crampy, moody friend was back to wreak hell upon me.

Maybe that’s why I had been so horny lately. PMS can be a hell of a hormone tornado.

I got back to the house and was happily walking back to my room to drop off my purchase when I heard music coming from the kitchen. Damn. I didn’t think Felix would be awake yet. I tried to sneak past but he caught me halfway through.

“There you are,” Felix said, “I thought you were still in bed asleep. Where’d you go?”

“Quick run to the store,” I waved the plastic bag in my hand.

“I’m making eggs, do you want any?”

“Oh sure, I’m gonna go drop this stuff off in my room first.”

“Okay.” He shrugged, “Oh wait,” he gestured for me to come back.

“Yes?”

He pulled me in for a quick kiss. “Just wanted to do that.”

“Sap.” I tweaked his nose.

I raced up the stairs and dropped the condoms in the drawer of my bedside table and stuffed my feminine products under the bathroom sink. There. Now come period or play time I was ready!

I went back downstairs and sat down with Felix for breakfast. The snow outside had really piled up. On my trip into town I saw a lot of kids out in their lawns making snowmen. Felix and I have stayed cooped up inside this entire time. Maybe we should go have fun outside too. Our entire lives used to be spent outdoors before we came here after all.

I mentioned as much to Felix and he shrugged saying it sounded like fun. We got dressed in our winter attire and I raced out into the snow. “Felix, help me roll!”

“Roll what?” he asked.

“I’m trying to make a snowman. I’ll get started on the lower section, you get started on the middle.”

“Alright then,” Felix stooped down and started rolling a ball.

I got a pretty big base done and Felix came over with his slightly smaller ball to stack on top of it. Felix started rolling the head while I gathered some rocks and sticks to decorate it with. “Arm here, and here, rocks for eyes and a nice rocky smile and ta-da! Snowman! Isn’t he a handsome devil?”

“He’s a pile of snow and rocks, darling.”

“Well how about this,” I dug my finger into the face of the snowman and dragged it down. “There, now he looks like you.”

“You’re hilarious.” Felix rolled his eyes, “He’s a little too short to be me though.”

“Nope. He’s a perfect copy.”

“Well you know what this means.” Felix started backing up, “If there are two of me that means one of us has got to go.”

“Felix! Don’t you dare!” I yelled, “Don’t kill Felix Junior!

“There can only be one!” Felix ran and tackled the snowman breaking all our hard work in half. “I reign victorious!”

“You are a terror!” I grabbed a handful of snow and threw it at him. “I will avenge you Felix Junior!” The snowball hit him right in the head. He stood up and gawked at me.

“You really wanna have this fight, little girl?” He asked as he picked up the discarded head of Snowman Felix. “We’re gonna have this fight!”

“No!” I started running away as Felix raced after me. The severed head of our snowman held high above his own head. I felt the force of it hit me in the back and I went tumbling to the ground.

“Gotcha!” Felix was already forming another snowball.

“Oh no you don’t!” I quickly made another ball and hurled it nailing him in the face. “For Felix Junior!” I started making more snowballs as I got up and started pelting him.

I was laughing my head off as Felix and I dodged around one another throwing snowballs. I got too close once and he grabbed me shoving a clump of snow to my exposed neck! “No! No! Cold! Cold! Cold!”

I dropped to the ground and Felix fell with me. He was hovering over me, that wide smile that only I ever got to see, bright on his cold stung face. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. Our battle lay forgotten as we sunk into it. His face was cold but his mouth was hot as he kissed me back.

“Truce?” He asked.

“For now.” I shivered, the cold and wet of the snow starting to get to me.

“Cold?” Felix smirked.

“A tad.”

“Can’t have that, can we?” He stood up and helped pull me to my feet. “Let’s get back to the house where I can keep you warm.”

“I like the sound of that.” I held close to his arm as we made our way back to the mansion. I changed into my comfiest and warmest clothes and heated up some hot chocolate for Felix and I. We sat down in the living room where Felix already had a fire going. A bunch of cushions and blankets littered the ground.

I sat down and cuddled up next to Felix. We sipped our hot chocolate while the fire crackled and music from the record player played softly in the background. Outside the snow fell in delicate flakes. It was a moment of pure bliss.

“Did you ever think we’d be like this?” I asked.

“Like what?”

“Cuddled together like we’re old lovers.” I smiled, “I certainly didn’t when I first met you.”

“A lot has changed since then though, hasn’t it?” He matched my smile and planted a kiss to the crown of my head.

“Yes, a lot has changed.” I sighed, “It almost makes me not want to go back to Neverland. I’m just so happy being here...with you.”

“You don’t want to return to Neverland?” Felix really looked at me now. “But it’s our home.”

“I’m not saying that I never want to go back to Neverland I’m just saying that I am really enjoying this time where it’s just the two of us. No other loud boys getting in the way. No hunting for food or sleeping on the hard ground. No bathing in a pond. It’s comfy here. Safe.”

“The privacy is nice,” He traced his thumb along my cheek, “I like having you all to myself.”

“Home can be anywhere we make it. Why not make it here?”

“Is that what you’d want?” Felix said, “To stay here and grow up? We’d become boring adults. The one thing we hate more than anything.”

“I don’t think either of us could be considered boring, adult or not.” I chuckled. “I don’t like the idea of growing old and dying but if you’re there along with me getting wrinkles and grey hairs then I fear it a little less.”

“That’s a big change. A big commitment. Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready. I don’t think anyone is ever ready to grow up. It just sorta happens. It’s the passage of time.”

“Does this mean you’re done looking for a way back to Neverland?”

“We’ve been searching for weeks. We’re going on two months and we have made no progress. Absolutely none. I think it has to do with the fact that we’re happy here. We’re not looking as hard as we should because we have a good thing going already. Tell me, Felix, if we found a way back to Neverland tomorrow, would you want to take it?”

“Would you be coming with me?”

“That’s not fair. You’re asking that cause you know I would come with you regardless. I am asking if you would stay here regardless of if I was here or not.”

“Wherever you go I go. I know that’s not the question but that’s my answer. You want to go back to Neverland we go back to Neverland. You want to stay here and grow up then I’ll be right by your side for that too. We’re in this together now.”

“Felix, I--” my brain tried desperately to catch up to my heart. What was I feeling? Was this love? I don’t remember the last time I felt love. I can’t even be sure that what I’m feeling right now counts but it is the closest to love I know I have ever felt. That didn’t mean I was ready to say it out loud though. “I am so glad that I have you.”

“I’m glad I have you too.” He kissed me slowly.

The rest of our day passed in a warm haze of dreamy sighs and feather soft kisses. We barely moved from our spot in front of the fireplace. Felix got up to heat up some leftovers for dinner and came to sit back down. The night was growing late and I felt myself nodding off. I didn’t want to return to my lonely bed though. I wanted to remain right here.

I rested my head on Felix’s shoulder and shut my eyes.

~~~

Felix hadn’t meant to fall asleep in the living room. But he didn’t have much choice after you fell asleep on him. He hadn’t the heart to wake you up. Not that he would have dared move from that spot in the first place. It was such a stark contrast to the hormonal hours of makeouts you and he had engaged in over the past several days. Today was all soft touches and meaningful words.

He was surprised when you said you wanted to stay in Storybrooke but what was more surprising was that he wanted to stay here with you too. Wherever you went he would follow. If that meant staying here and growing old then he was proud to do it.

He played with your hair as you slept. You had cuddled up right next to him and next thing he knew you were fast asleep. He gently reclined so he was laying down as well. You curled into him even more. Your head resting over his heart like a pillow.

What he wouldn’t give to go to sleep like this every night. Maybe he could. From the way you talked and how easily you fell asleep next to him maybe you wouldn’t mind sharing his bed. He didn’t even think about how else that could be misconstrued. Sex was an afterthought to the peace that was having you next to him. Your face relaxed and soft snores escaped past your lips.

“I adore you.” he whispered to you as you slept. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head and fell into a dreamless sleep with you in his arms.

---

(Previous) (Next)

#felix imagine #felix x reader #ouat felix #ouat #neverland #peter pan ouat #roommate au

[need-a-fugue]

Trustworthy (Chapter 4)

Summary: You’ve spent the last three years teaming up with Santiago Garcia on every mission you had a hand in coordinating… and the past several months plotting with him to take down the biggest bad to hit your radar. But even all your time at the DEA and all your experience in the field couldn’t have prepared you for this.

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader (slow burn)

Warnings: Violence, language

Okay, yeah, sure, fine, you and Santi might not have been 100% honest about what you were planning in the jungle.

In fairness, neither of you ever actually said that this recon mission was at the behest of the CNP or Colombian military or any other government entity. You may have hinted at it. You may have neglected to correct the guys when they assumed. But you never actually told them that anyone had requested the raid on Lorea’s house.

What you had said was that there was a good chance this could turn into… something more. Something that might end up in a hefty pay day for all of you. You just never told the group of men that you and Garcia were actually banking on it.

You didn’t love the idea of lying to a bunch of strangers whom – if they agreed to everything – would end up holding your very life in their hands. Frankly, just the thought of doing so felt… sleezy. Especially considering that these men were Santi’s trusted friends. His brothers. But Santiago insisted that it needed to be played this way – They’ll never go for it if we tell them what we’re really up to. But I promise you, bonita, once they’re here, once they see… they’ll be all in.

He clearly knew his team because after just that single two-hour recce, a couple rounds of beers at a local bar, and a rather stirring, pointed speech, they were, in fact, all in.

And why not, really? The only one of them who had anything to lose – a family beyond those seen at the occasional holiday, wedding, or funeral – was Tom. And he’d been struggling so badly lately with impending alimony and child support and two kids’ worth of college tuitions – eight years minimum – that the money alone did all of their convincing for them.

It was illegal, yes. It was, as the captain said, “downright criminal.” But it wasn’t wrong. And as long as everything went according to plan, no one would know anything about any of it.

In the end, the world would be down at least one piece-of-shit, megalomaniacal drug lord murderer.

Some of the struggling people of Leticia – because you and Santi had promised each other and Yovanna that you’d drop a good chunk of the money into the hands of local charities – would have better lives.

Tom’s girls could go to college without having to worry about paying off student loans until they die.

Will could finally get rid of his old junker and buy a nice car – maybe not the Ferrari Ben was angling for, but a nice car all the same – to get him back and forth across the country for all those rousing speeches he insisted he would not stop giving.

Benny could invest in better training, at better gyms with better equipment… and real trainers. Or, hell, he could give all that shit up and quit getting his ass handed to him by kids ten years his junior, all in the hopes of capturing what was almost always one hell of a disappointing purse.

And Frankie? Well, Frankie wasn’t sure what he’d do with his share. But it sure would be nice to not have to worry so damn much. To not have to scramble to make the house payment every month. To not have to beg that dick who owns the local airfield to let him take on a few jobs just so he could settle into a cockpit for a bit. To maybe have the time – and funds – to take a woman on a date every now and then… not that he had a clue who that woman might be.

And you and Santi? Well, after years of accomplishing nothingin the fight against Lorea – the fight against the drug trade that had ruined and taken so many lives around the world – you two could finally say that you’d actually made a difference. Even if you couldn’t quite say it aloud for everyone to hear.

000

By the time you get to the compound early Sunday morning, rain’s already been falling for hours. The area’s nearly flooded, so your off-road path is basically a sprawling swampland. You barely slept, your hip is aching like crazy from an old injury, and the minute you step out of the SUV you damn near squeal like a stuck pig as you suddenly sink up to your calf in thick, sucking mud.

“Shit,” Frankie mutters under his breath – under a breathless laugh, you’re pretty sure – as he hops out and wraps a steadying arm around your waist. “Let me help,” he says, the words so soft, you can barely hear them over the unyielding pounding of the rain.

You try to balance, holding onto the door, one foot just barely sinking into the soft earth as Frankie leans down to pry the other from what feels like an utterly engulfing quicksand. He struggles, still holding you around the waist while his left hand works to grip your leg, your boot, your ankle… whatever he can wrap his fingers around. But it’s no use. The op has yet to even begin and already you’re stuck. In the disgusting mud. Deep in the endless jungle. With no hope of ever getting out.

You let out a painfully dramatic, completely despairing sigh and glance up only to see Benny laughing. Really laughing… not even trying to hide his utter, unabashed amusement at your awful predicament. You shoot him as threatening a glare as you can muster. But it only makes him laugh harder.

“Go get into position,” Tom orders, slapping him on the shoulder and shaking his head – once again in a seemingly all-too-practiced dadway – before he bends down to help Frankie out.

Finally, finally, the two men manage to free you. Shockingly, your boot leaves the earth as well, though you can feel the muck inside squelching beneath your instep and in between your toes. Your lip curls in disgust as you haphazardly wipe the boot – bottom, sides, and top – on the wheel well, a bit of mud getting squeezed out near your ankle as you do so. “I’m gonna get jungle rot,” you mutter bitterly as you continue to smear grime along the body of the SUV.

Tom swats your leg away. “Just be sure you don’t give away your location with all the squishing,” he says with a hint of a smile. Then, patting Frankie on the back, he finishes with a much more stern, “Let’s do this,” and takes off to find his position, face and shoulders both set as he easily drops into soldier mode.

“I’m still not sure if I like that guy,” you begin as you and Frankie head for the high ground, “or really freaking hate him.”

He bites out a quick laugh, turns to show off that too-damn-perfect smile, and replies with an easygoing, “Yup.”

Once you make it out of your drop-in point, everything else seems to be smooth sailing. The worst part is just waiting, especially with the rain. Waiting for Garcia’s informant to drop off the van. Waiting for the guards to leave for church, the family not so quickly following suit. Waiting for the guys to move in – Frankie shooting a quick wink alongside, “Watch my six,” as he heads out to join them. Waiting for the all-clear from Benny before you can finally enter the house yourself.

The house. Lorea’s house.

You’d been waiting for this for too damn long. Years of hunting the man had led to these last few months of building out this very plan with Santiago… and then to the last week of recon and final plans with these soldiers whom you barely even know. For all of the initial mistrust heaped upon you by them – and you honestly don’t blame them for any of it – the truth is, they know they have each other to depend on. You’re the odd man out here. You’re the one who should be questioning them… their dedication to this mission. Their loyalty to Santi, and by extension, to you. Their desire to end Lorea’s reign of terror.

You’re in this to take that man out. And if just one of these guys decides that’s not going to happen – for whatever reason – you’re shit out of luck. You should trust them only as far as you can throw them, which would be… not very far. But as you catch sight of Ben standing inside the front door, eagerly waving you in, and as you see the trail of blood leading into the kitchen, a voice over the coms calmly declaring, we had to shoot one of the guards in the leg, something inside of you shifts and settles and all of the worries about who may or may not be trustworthy simply flit away to nothing.

But other concerns quickly rise to take their place.

Watching the highly trained special ops team move about you – each man light-footed and fluid, so quiet that their breathing is nearly inaudible, even as one of them leans over your shoulder from his position behind – is nerve wracking enough to make your legs begin to tremble. You knew what you were getting into here. You knew that this would be dangerous, that it would require a certain level of skill and technique and training. But it isn’t until you actually see these men – these elite soldiers – in action that you realize how woefully inept and unprepared you are in comparison.

Self-doubt begins to seep from the cracks now forming in your carefully crafted façade. Uncertainty, insecurity, fear starts to build up and rise within you, burning like bile creeping up the back of your throat. By the time you and Santiago finish the second sweep of the downstairs and begin climbing the steps to the second-story landing, your entire body is vibrating with regretful apprehension.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you hear as you approach the study upstairs. It’s the room where your informant took the picture of the stacks of cash after her delivery, the holding area where all of Lorea’s blood money sat, just waiting to be counted. But when you enter, there’s no money to be found, just pissed-off-looking soldiers surrounded by the empty bags they had planned to fill with cash.

“Your girl burned us,” Frankie mutters blankly, eyes full of regret and annoyance as he leans heavily against one wall. His dark gaze collides with yours for just a fraction of a moment before he shakes his head and breathes out, “We gotta get outta here.”

Your brow crinkles in confusion, all of the insecurity bubbling through your body suddenly settling and getting replaced by a sort of righteous indignation. “Whoa, wait,” you spit out, sidestepping Santi and rushing to the center of the room. “We’re not leaving. We’re not done here.”

Will gives you an almost disappointed look and blankly mutters, “Nothing here, sweetheart,” before dropping heavily into a chair in the corner.

You shake your head, a pointed certainty to your words as you level him with a heated stare and say, “Lorea’s here. He’s always here. He does not leave.”

Tom scoffs. “Yeah, well, he left today,” he says, tone full of spite. “And he took the money with him.”

You spin to face him, “No,” pouring from your lips in a firm and unyielding tenor. “He’s here. And so is the money.”

“We did a full sweep,” Will breathes out.

“So we’ll do another,” Santiago chimes in, suddenly at your back.

You look around at all the forlorn faces and roll your eyes, realizing all at once that, for all their training in war, these men don’t have a freaking clue about the kinds of things you deal with in your job. They’re used to encountering soldiers – enemy combatants, trained mercenaries, militias… people who’s purpose is to fight. That’s not what Lorea is. That’s not what he does. He didn’t move deep into the jungle to fight, to wage war, to build an army. He came here to hide.

“You guys are fucking idiots,” you declare with a huff. “I once spent two hours tearing apart a houseboat before finding the guy we were after squatting in a hidden cutout near the bilge. A few years ago, we found fifty thousand dollars under a false bottom in a hot tub while serving a search warrant. Another raid ended with us tearing apart a kid’s tree house that had cash hidden under the floorboards. You think because Lorea isn’t sitting here behind his desk, counting his millions like fucking Scrooge McDuck that they’re not here? That he’s not here?”

“Didn’t McDuck swim in his money?” Benny inquires from behind, the question earning quick huff of a laugh from his brother.

You feel Santi step away from your side. “She’s right,” he says, his eyes dancing around the room, looking for… something. They land on a mostly empty can of paint, and he smiles, sniffing quickly at the air. “Fresh paint.”

Tom’s eyes widen and tick towards the wall to his left as his lips split and out pours what you had all along seen as being an obvious truth. “The house is the safe.”

000

When it rains, it pours. You’d been the one to say that, to inanely mutter the adage through the coms with a huff as Benny took off back inside the house – the safe – while you sat in the now heavily weighted van, so full of money that the suspension sags to the point of extremeconcern.

The guards are coming back, the sound of their SUV’s engine just barely chugging atop the steady beating of the downpour that had engulfed you all for the past few hours. They’re coming back, and everyone but you is still inside.

Call it greed. Call it vindictiveness. Call it whatever the fuck you want. But you all had agreed to get as much plata out of that house as possible, to fill the cars to the freaking brim with as much of that motherfucker’s money – his lifeblood, his love, his everything – before setting fire to the whole damn thing. You’d been in this business long enough to know that bringing down one cartel merely opens up a door for others to grow. But still, the idea of watching Lorea’s empire burn makes you wet in a way the torrential rain beating on the roof on the van never could.

You toss a glance back, over you shoulder at the mound of duffel bags, a child’s suitcase thrown into the pile as well, all filled to bursting with cash. It’s pretty unbelievable. Incredible. You’d never been the type to really worry about money, no more so than the average guy. But damn if being surrounded by millions of dollars doesn’t make you a little lightheaded. And the fact that it’s Lorea’s money?

Despite Santi’s little bullshit pep talk the other night about how all of you deserve this – for serving your country and fighting for what’s right… blah, blah, blah – you honestly don’t feel like you deserve this money any more than anyone else. But Lorea sure as shit doesn’t deserve it. And you trust yourself – and each of these men by your side – to put it to far better use than he ever would.

You can’t see the guards, can’t see the SUV carrying them from your vantage point in the van. But Benny had told you to stay put, he’d get the others and he wanted you ready to drive as soon as they came out. Still, you know now that the first car must’ve arrived at the compound because – aside from the steady pounding of the rain and the wild pulse of your heartbeat echoing in your ears – everything is suddenly silent. No more hum of an engine. No choppy callouts over the radio as Ben seeks out the guys. Everything is silent and still. Until… pop-pop, short and sudden, muffled by the thick walls of the house.

Over the coms you hear – in a calm, controlled tone – Two down in the entryway. Another sharp pop, followed by a voice you’ve come to easily recognize. That’s three.

There’s something in the way their words are uttered, something in the utterly placid tenor of each of their voices. Something also to the sparse shots – so unlike the rapid, automatic gunfire you’re used to being thrown into amid scared and untrained local police and inexperienced, foolhardy kids hired as cheap labor by the cartels. There’s something about the way they all rush suddenly into your line of sight – fast but calm, controlled – as they pour out of the house, a few racing past to find the guards’ SUV, the sounds of their footfalls and quick breaths nearly drowning out the whir of the engine as you turn the ignition. There’s something about it all that leaves you feeling – despite the fact that things did not go as planned and you can see that all-too-recognizable, pissed-off scowl tugging at Santiago’s features as he flies past your window – calm as well. Safe, even.

Frankie climbs quickly into the passenger side of the van just as you fire up the engine, Will slowly pulling himself into the seat behind him. “Shit,” you mutter, eyes widening as you take in the grimace on the man’s face, the blood on his hands and shirt. “What the hell happened?”

“S’fine,” he tells you, punctuating the statement with a nod, a directive to look forward. “Let’s move.”

You put the van in gear and hit the gas, maneuvering steadily through the compound and towards the front entrance. “Did you get shot?” you inquire again, your voice showing less concern and more simple curiosity.

“Yeah,” he groans, a thick breath hitching as you hit a particularly big bump in the road. “Your friend Lorea popped out of his little hidey hole and got me. Guess you called that.”

You whip around to face him, eyes now like damn saucers. “You got him?”

Frankie grabs your arm and gives a little tug to get you turn back towards the front, only speaking, answering for Will, once you do so, once you settle a still-wild stare on the path ahead, “Yeah. Pope took him out. He’s dead.”

You say nothing for a long moment, letting those words seat inside of you. He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead. How long have you wanted to hear those words? How long have you been gunning for that son of a bitch, waiting for someone to take him out… hoping that someone might be you? Santi doing it is the next best thing, you figure.

A sudden explosion lights up in front of you as you approach the gate and Benny blows past it, and past the van, angrily muttering to himself all the while. “He looks pissed,” you comment blithely, looking to Frankie for something akin to permission before flooring it and ramming through the gate like you’re just itching to do.

He gives a staunch nod forward. “Can’t blame him,” he says, capping it off with a softer, rather encouraging, “Go for it.”

You hit the gas, glancing in the rearview mirror and asking, “The others are in the SUV?” as the guards’ car pulls up behind you and waits for Ben to jump in.

Frankie nods – “Yeah.” – and his eyes suddenly tick your way, narrowing a bit as they rove your body before coming to rest on your hands as they tightly grip the wheel.

“What?” you ask, feeling his stare burn into you.

Will laughs from behind – a swift, stilted thing that tells you just how much pain he’s actually in – and lets out an amused, “Fish always drives.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you say, voice dripping with put-on sincerity as you continue down the unpaved road. “Do you want me to pull over?”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s no hiding the plainly obvious pout tugging at his lips when he looks over at you and mutters, “Just watch where you’re going.”

The first half or so of the long drive up to the airfield is spent in tense silence. You don’t fight it, don’t force any sort of conversation, don’t inquire about what exactly happened in that house. You can tell that these men need a long-ass moment to come down from everything. Hell, your own adrenaline still has your pulse thrumming endlessly through your ears. And you’d been safely ensconced inside this van for most of the action. It’s not like you had to fight your way out of there. It’s not like you got shot.

Your eyes bounce up to the rearview mirror, finding Will curled into himself in the backseat. “How you doing, Ironhead?” you ask, purposefully infusing the ridiculous name with a mocking intonation.

He looks up and catches your gleaming eyes in the mirror, notes your slight smirk, and gruffly replies, “Well, I’m not dead yet.”

“It’s just a flesh wound,” Frankie supplies from your right. He spins around to give his friend a quick once over. “He’s fine.”

“That’s awfully presumptuous,” you challenge, raising a brow. “Didn’t see you coming out of there with a new hole in your body.”

“Didn’t realize you were so focused on my body,” he returns with a bit of a lilt.

Will groans loudly from the back. “Don’t start flirting up there,” he practically orders before the no-argument tone slips into something softer, almost jovial. “I’m suffering enough back here as is.”

“You’re fine,” Frankie shoots back, turning bodily in his seat and craning his head towards his friend. “You act like you’ve never been shot before.”

“I’m retired,” he replies. “Think I forgot how much this sucks.”

You nod, almost to yourself, emitting a simple, assenting, “Yeah.”

Frankie leans back, still remaining sideways in the seat, his stare now wholly on you. You glance over and see his brow scrunch in… is it concern? Or merely curiosity? “You’ve been shot?” he asks, an odd edge to his voice.

Again, you nod. “I have. Didn’t care for it.”

“See, Fish,” Will mumbles from the back as he slips further down the seat in an effort to find some semblance of comfort. “Maybe you’ve been so busy flying around rich businessmen in the private sector that you’ve also forgotten how shitty this is.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” he mutters with a frown.

Will cocks his head at you – not that you can see it, eyes remaining trained on the road lest you get another watch where you’re goingevil stare from the man by your side. “What happened to you, sweetheart?”

You snort out a short laugh, glancing quickly at Frankie and saying softly – and more than a little bit condescendingly – “He likes to call me sweetheart.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the man in the back sighs out, waving a dismissive hand through the air. “Guess I’m just a run-of-the-mill chauvinist.”

You shrug. “I never said anything about you being run-of-the-mill.” And from your right, you hear a soft snicker. A gentle smile spreads across your face and your hands loosen their death grip on the steering wheel just a bit as you feel the air filling the van begin to lighten, tension seeming to slowly spill away. After a lingering – but not at all wrought – moment, you shift a bit in your seat and say, “Went on a raid just outside of Tijuana. My first down in Mexico. And I took a bullet in the hip.”

“Shit,” Will intones. “Hell of a bienvenido.”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, suddenly all-too conscious of the old ache in your joint that’s been plaguing you all day. “But on the plus side, I’m now always the first to know when it’s about to rain.”

Both men laugh. You laugh – despite the pain in your hip and the worry about the guy in back… and your terribly distracting infatuation with the wide smile now painted on Frankie’s face. You all sit in the van – on your way to flee the country after committing a terrible crime – and laugh about the fact that, despite each of you being a little bit broken, none of you are dead yet.

Taglist:

@tweedlydumbtweedlydoo @icanbeyourjedi @greeneyedblondie44 @mrscrain-x7 @kyjoraven@elephants-are-a-thing @nakhudanyx

#frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #triple frontier #frankie morales x reader #francisco catfish morales #pope garcia #santiago pope garcia #frankie morales x you #will ironhead miller #benny miller #triple frontier fic

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Soulmarks, Part 16

First part

Previous

~~~

Man, talking solely through text is really irritating when you’re running to go make sure your soulmate doesn’t ruin someone’s life.

Adrikins: Alya.

Timberly: Well why didn’t you just say that

Timberly: What was I supposed to do look up lady wifi in the phonebook

Adrien looked at his phone and rolled his eyes, then narrowly avoided running into a streetlamp.

Adrikins: Because you’ve only been in class for a day and Lady Wifi was the answer to the riddle. And stop being rude.

He sighed.

Timberly: Sorry I’m just a bit anxious about hurting her

Adrikins: *Hurting her for a second time.

Timberly: Shut up

Adrikins: Lol. And don’t be. She’ll be fine once the akuma is gone. We’re the ones who’re screwed.

Tim’s memories of the last akuma fight were pretty hazy. He vaguely remembered thinking that Marinette was capable and smart. It had been a good thing then... but now that they were about to fight her and she wasn’t going to be holding back to make sure they didn’t get too hurt.

Adrien was right. They were screwed.

They needed a plan, but…

Plans usually rely on information, and Inamovibi-Lady’s powers were mostly unknown. They knew for a fact that she had three items (the microphone, gavel, and yoyo), but there was nothing saying that they couldn’t mold them into other things.

Speaking of the microphone…

“Time for hearing number three!” The akuma’s voice echoed through the streets, and both of the heroes cringed.

He wanted a magical yoyo to swing through the streets. All he had were portals that he couldn’t even use because he needed them to get close to Inamovibi-Lady.

“I’m currently here with our favorite Ladyblogger, a good reporter for the most part… but!”

The apartment building finally came into view and he winced at the sight of a broken window. At least they knew which apartment to look into.

“Every good reporter needs their proof, don’t you think, Alya? And, god, do you ask for proof...”

“Marinette?”

“Inamovibi-Lady.”

Adrien sent a tiny wave and used his baton to vault through the window. The sound of the glass breaking was caught on the microphone, which was about as pleasant as you’d expect. Tim fought the urge to cover his ears as he started climbing a nearby drainpipe.

“Wow! I didn’t expect you to show up so soon, darling! You’re shockingly productive. Is Cheval coming?”

“Yep! He’s on his way up the wall right now.”

Tim winced. Really? He decides to speak and it’s only to sell him out?

Inamovibi-Lady laughed quietly. “C’mon, I know you’re a better partner than that, darling. Not able to work with him, huh? Too bad. I guess I can change up my order to give him more time…”

Oh. So Adrien was using their new curse against her. Nice.

“Cheval, darling, if you don’t get here in time I’m going to Master Fu’s next. He’s right where you dropped in from America the first time.”

“Wait, what did Master Fu do?” Asked Adrien, the frown evident in his voice.

Tim finally reached the window and slowly peeked his head over the sill. Adrien had moved to a spot that had Inamovibi-Lady facing away from the door, which Alya was slowly creeping towards.

The akuma giggled. “Like you don’t know. But for the rest of Paris, it’s a secret until his hearing… which I can’t get to until this one is over.”

Her microphone morphed into a yoyo and she tossed it over her shoulder at the door. Alya barely dodged it, but apparently that wasn’t what she was aiming for. The yoyo hooked around the doorknob and with a flick of her wrist the string cut through the brass like it was butter.

“There, with that temptation gone, let’s get back to the whole ‘you literally believed everything Lila said but apparently I need to give proof’ thing, yes?”

Adrien sighed. “Sorry about this, Nette, but… I can’t let you do this.”

The akuma tipped her head to the side as they seemed to consider this, before she shrugged and pulled her yoyo to her hand. “If you say so.”

The two ex-partners eyed each other warily. Adrien lengthened his baton and attempted to get a quick hit from a distance.

“Aw, scared, darling?” She teased as she ducked the blow.

He scoffed and ran at her.

Tim used the distraction to sneak through the room. He gave Alya a tiny smile and pressed a finger to his lips to tell her to stay quiet, then turned his attention to the knob and he cringed.

He grabbed a pencil off a nearby desk and started attempting to trigger the door mechanism. If worse came to worst, he could always break down the door, but he’d prefer to get Alya out without Inamovibi-Lady noticing.

He glanced back and winced.

Inamovibi-Lady had managed to hook her yoyo around Adrien’s baton, and now they were in an awkward game of tug-of-war. Their boots scuffed the wooden floors as they tried to pull the weapons out of their opponent’s grip.

The metal of the baton was, slowly but surely, crinkling. He winced and let go, sending both of them flying backwards.

Which would have been fine if Adrien hadn’t gone careening into Tim and Alya.

Inamovibi-Lady hit the opposite wall and her eyes narrowed in on the fact that Tim was attempting to open the door. He gave up on subtlety entirely and kicked the door down. He grabbed Alya and started making a run for it.

Man, why did akumas have to be so one-track minded? Now that she knew that her target was escaping, Inamovibi-Lady apparently couldn’t care less about Adrien chasing after her with a glorified stick.

And Tim? Tim had discovered that it was extremely hard to throw a boomerang, run, and carry a civilian all at the same time.

He knocked over things in the Césaire apartment as he ran around (he’d pay them back if he could later), desperate to put as much distance between himself and the akuma as he could, but she didn’t seem all that affected.

And then he came to a window. He pushed the curtain to the side and looked out over the streets. They were around five floors up… Fun. If he was alone it wouldn’t be much of a problem to jump out, but with Alya…

He cringed and set her down, pushing her behind him and bringing his hands up to fight.

Okay! Plan time!

He was just going to assume that she only had those three different weapon types. She probably would have used other things by now if she had the options.

The microphone was just a microphone…

The gavel seemed to be just for judgement…

So the only weapon she had really used was her yoyo. It was also the one she had the most practice with, which wasn’t great, but at least she didn’t really have any close-up attacks…

She stumbled out of the hall, Adrien on her back as he attempted to choke her out with his baton.

Oh, good. He’d noticed, too.

Tim looked around for a close-range weapon and pulled the curtain down. He brandished the curtain rod. It wasn’t quite his bo staff, but it would have to do.

She slammed back into a wall and Adrien hissed in pain, loosening his grip just enough for her to twist free. She grabbed her partner by the arm and threw him at Tim.

The two crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs and two sticks of metal that jutted out at annoying angles. The akuma looked at the two and then threw the curtain over them to add to the confused scrambling.

“Right! No more interruptions, if those two know what’s good for them!” Said the akuma, and Tim could tell from the volume that she was using her microphone again.

That would be great if Adrien would just.. fucking... get off! He elbowed him in the face and mumbled a “sorry” before starting to try and untangle himself.

“You opted to believe everyone but me without proof, but why should we let that stand? It’s unfair! So, how about you ask everyone for proof about everything from now on? Sound good?”

“No!” Said Alya, and from the sound of it she was trying to run away.

Tim managed to pull his head out just in time to watch light envelop the girl. He shielded his eyes and looked away, using the time to grab the curtain rod again.

When he could finally look again, he found the akuma leaning over him with a hand out to help him out properly.

He narrowed his eyes in slight suspicion, looking for her weapon. He found her yoyo fastened to her waist. Okay, so it probably wasn’t some sort of ploy.

“Oh, did you get hit with some of Alya’s sentence?” She joked quietly.

He slowly took her hand. She wouldn’t hurt him too badly, she needed him to go after Joker and Harley…

But he couldn’t let that happen. As much as they deserved it, he didn’t want to chance Marinette feeling bad about it when she got deakumatized.

Inamovibi-Lady pulled him out, only for her eyes to widen as he brought his makeshift staff up to bean her over the head.

She had to fall back to avoid it and he used her momentum to tackle her, his hands grabbing at her waist until he’d managed to pull the yoyo from her.

He tossed it over at Adrien, who was just now managing to get out, and he stared at it confusedly for a second before he seemed to understand what was going on.

“Cataclysm!”

The ashes fell to the floor and the heroes breathed a sigh of relief.

Sure, they’d failed to save Alya, but at least Inamovibi-Lady’s reign of terror was over.

Tim grinned and helped the akuma to her feet. He pointed at her earring. She knew she lost, but even if she did try to fight back he figured she’d be pretty helpless without her weapon. He’d fought her in hand to hand before. He could beat her, especially if he had Adrien’s help.

Now, to get rid of the akuma...

They watched her touch her earring and start to pull a weird substance from it. After a few seconds she’d pooled a good amount into her hand. Their mouths fell open as she molded what she had into a new yoyo.

Adrien threw his hands up in frustration. “OKAY HOW IS THAT FAIR?”

Tim didn’t even have time to complain before the yoyo had wrapped around him and pulled him to her side.

“Gotham. The Batcave, if you can. Please?” She chirped.

Tim considered this for a few seconds. At least they had some allies over there…

Well, if they were actually in the Batcave and not on patrols. But there had to be at least one person, right?

He gave the akuma a tense smile and opened a portal underneath them.

She smiled and gave him a tiny pat on the head, then carefully pulled her yoyo off of him.

Dick looked up from the computer and his eyebrows scrunched together. “Uh… what happened to Nette?”

“Akumatized,” said Tim, giving him a glare. “You know, that thing I told you about?”

Was it Dick’s fault that he hadn’t believed him? No. Was Tim still bitter? Absolutely.

Adrien stepped through as well and the portal closed behind him.

“So we’re in Gotham,” he said with a set of sarcastic jazz hands. “Amazing. Now what? Do you have a plan that you just decided not to use in the months we were looking for him or what?”

“Actually, yes!” Said Inamovibi-Lady brightly. She pointed to Bruce, who was just pulling his cowl over his head to prepare for patrols in an hour. “I need your help, good sir!”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed slightly. “With what?”

She winked and twirled her yoyo until it was a microphone. She fiddled with it for a few seconds and then pressed a tiny button on the handle. Her voice carried through the streets in perfect English:

“Citizens of Gotham! Ignore this message! It’s not for you, I’m specifically talking to Joker right now. Put in your headphones or something.”

She hummed for a few seconds, then nodded.

“Great, now that it’s just you and me: Hi! Fuck you! You’re the absolute worst and I hope to destroy everything you’ve ever cared about! Starting with your favorite bat. I’m dropping him off of Gotham Cathedral in five hours, it’ll be great. Come meet me properly, you can even bring your girlfriend… I want to chat!”

~~~

Next part

And for my next trick I’m going to fail my econ test because I did this instead of studying :D

Taglist

@pawsitivelymiraculous @golden-promises @salty-fang @kitsunebell @sassakitty @octobitch @glastwime859 @miyla-lokidottir @onlyabatfan @ira-sairain @2confused-2doanything @ultimatetornshipper @ladybug-182 @laurcad123 @we-want-mini-mini @roguishredaxion @just-reblogs-by-h @futursworld @magic-miraculous @nathleigh @smolplantmum @vroomtaka  @emimar7 @toodaloo-kangaroo @charme-de-malchan @spicybelladonna @fusser90 @indecisive-mess-named-me @rosesgonerogue @celestialsiren @bluesimani @loysydark @trippingovermyfeet

#soulmarks #timinette #timari #marinette dupain cheng #tim drake #ladybug #red robin #maribat #adribat

[angelicamerlinbarnes]

TUA MEAN GIRLS AU

(please understand that by AU, I mean they share an incredibly small amount of things in common with the original source material which I barely remember BUT the “story” takes place in the setting of the film) (not to be misleading or anything :p)

(BEWARE: abuse, bribery, immoral deals, bullying, homophobia, outing, transphobia, violence, abortion, teen pregnancy, etc.)

(If you can handle watching Umbrella Academy, this will be fine for you.)

(Regina) Five is the king of this school, and he has no plans to give up that position. He needs it to protect his people, as few and far between as they are, and himself, if he’s honest - he’s a trans and ace-aro kid in platonic love with the health class mannequin who he calls Dolores. Ruling with fear is basically all he can do. While he’s mean, you’ll soon realize that everything he says is more of a blunt observation that will improve your life if you just heed his advice. He doesn’t respect almost anybody - not the jocks, theatre geeks, nerds, cheerleaders, band kids - no one. However, if he does respect you, you have his trust and protection. And as a thirteen-year-old genius who only takes advice from always-slightly-drunk art teacher Agnes, his protection is pretty damn valuable: the last person who tried to hurt one of his people will never walk again. Leonard Peabody - he assaulted Vanya, and he paid. Five beat him to the point of hospitalization without getting a single speck of blood or bruise on himself, and Leonard’s the one who walked away in handcuffs. Do not fuck with any of Five’s people, or you have to fuck with Five. And you do not want to fuck with Five.

(Gretchen) Vanya is quiet and subdued, to the point where people question how she’s a part of the school’s most popular trio. If you talk to her for long enough though, it becomes clear: she knows any and everybody’s secrets. She writes for the school paper, and is known to write the stories her subjects don’t want anyone else to find out about. Like Diego, who she outed as bisexual last year to throw people off the trail of her own secret relationship with Sissy, earning her an ex-girlfriend and an ex-friend. She’s been trying to win Diego’s forgiveness ever since, but he won’t talk to her, returning every single one of her letters and gifts. (He’s blocked her number and all of her socials, which she only created to talk to him anyway.) She doesn’t know why Five keeps her around - Klaus loves to gossip, but Five never seems to want any of her secrets. She’s pleasantly surprised to find out that he apparently actually enjoys her company. (What?)

(Karen) Klaus is a fucking mess. He plays the dumb blonde (well, brunette) despite being a genius in his own right, even if he’s not at Five’s level. (To be fair, he’s pretty sure no one is.) He’s a drag queen on the weekends, a hangover from his time in the mafia gang, which he joined with his boyfriend Dave for six months after running away from home. Dave died in a gunfight, and Klaus has been fucked up (well, more than usual) ever since. Anorexia, PTSD, anxiety, depression, self-harm, suicidal ideation, the works. But as lonely as he is, addicted to a fuckton of hard drugs and liquors to cope, he’s still an alluring, aloof, and bubbly popular girl, wearing pink skirts and glittery heels and leather corset crop tops to school every day. No matter how much his father Reginald beats him for it, he keeps being himself, because he’s brave and because even if Reginald hates him, someone far more important loves him… Diego. Diego, who Klaus has kissed under a million stars and in the lollipop shop down the road and on top of a cafeteria table. Diego, who Klaus has chased through the rain and into the street without rest or hesitation. Diego, whose words and promises and scribbles are immortalized on Klaus’ skin for all to see. Diego, who Klaus will love no matter how much bigotry they encounter or dickwads they’re beat up by or miles they put between them. Diego, Klaus’ ex-boyfriend.

(Cady) Allison is the new girl, and she has plans for the advantage being underestimated has brought her. She challenges Five on her first day there, earning his respect, and joins his group at the urgings of Klaus and Vanya, who like her company. A fashion queen, she acts as though she’s unfazed by any and everything, but nobody knows her true heartbreak - she still writes letters to a girl back home. Allison was expelled from her Christian private school for falling in love with a girl named Natalie, who she kissed in janitors’ closets and who she beat up racist and homophobic blondes for. She has no tolerance for bullies, and yet becomes one under Five’s guidance - until she upends his reign as queen bee and signs her death warrant. (Though she later finds out he was more angry at her for stealing Klaus and Vanya’s affection than his popularity.) Now her only hope for happiness in her final days is Ray, the Shakespeare-quoting nerd in her English class… or Luther, the quiet dork in the Star Trek t-shirts in her math class. Fuck, she misses Natalie.

(Aaron) Luther is the posterboard for toxic masculinity. He’s on the football team but hates it, preferring his math tutoring and fantasy books to tackling drills. His bisexuality is his deepest secret - he once slept with Diego when they were drunk at a party after a football game, and he can’t get it out of his head. He keeps thinking about what might happen if somebody found out - would he be shunned like Diego? Trapped like Vanya? Plastic like Klaus? He doesn’t know. All he can do is continue to be kind and hope Allison loves him enough to love every part of him, beyond his good lucks and British accent and fucking Ray. So Luther stands up to Five, and pays the price. He compliments Klaus on his skirts, and pays the price. (Diego seems to simultaneously love and hate him for it, it’s confusing.) He holds the door open for Ben, and pays the price. He’s big enough to be scary, kind enough to be overlooked - but after that incident with Vanya, everyone looks at him like he’s a monster to be locked up. And soon enough, “star student” Luther, “teacher’s pet” Luther, “completely under the principal’s thumb and completely friendless and completely terrified of the world around him” Luther might just break under all that pressure.

(Janis) Diego is the school’s resident outcast and rebel punk - he wears skirts and fishnets and whatever the fuck he wants because if Klaus taught him anything when they were dating it was that gender is a construct and he looks hot in leather. They broke up when Diego was outed and Klaus chose to stay quiet when people started shunning Diego for it, but despite it all, Diego still loves him. He misses when they used to paint their nails together, because he has to paint his own now. They used to stare up at the stars together and fall asleep in the grass, curled up in each other, on the nights that Klaus would run away in terror from his dad and Diego would breathe with him and let him press his hand against his heart until Klaus’ panic died down. His heart still flutters when he sees Klaus smile around a lollipop… but he won’t take him back. He won’t. He just can’t forgive him. So instead, he talks to his mom about everything. He plays soccer with his sister Eudora. He paints shit while smoking weed with his best friend Lila. He thinks of Luther being scared of him and laughs. You know, he was almost in Allison’s position freshman year - Five loved him, and so did Klaus and Vanya, but then Vanya outed him to the whole school for no reason like a day before he and Klaus were going to come out together. And now they’re all estranged, and Diego has the strangest feeling that he’s lost his family, even though his mom is the only real family he’s ever known. But maybe he’s wrong. Because Klaus keeps sending him “anonymous” letters, leaving them on the porch and spilling secrets Diego never even would’ve imagined him having. But forgiveness is still a question - that is, until one day Diego gets a letter in a different handwriting: Five’s, telling him to man the fuck up and love Klaus before he kills himself trying to tear the stars down for Diego’s own personal pleasure, and suddenly, Diego is crying on his porch in the rain, missing a slender, sassy skeleton in his arms and a pink, bruised but unbroken heart in his chest.

(Damien) Ben is everyone’s favorite, and the kindest person in the world. He used to be Klaus’ best friend, but that ended when Ben got into an accident (there was a bus involved, that’s all you need to know) that landed him in a wheelchair and Klaus couldn’t deal with the mental pain it caused him. They still stare at each other longingly from across the cafeteria, but never say a word to each other, not even in class. But beyond Klaus, Ben has never had any friends, though he has a million aquaintances: he’s the only student in the school that everyone loves and respects. Five holds the door for him, though Ben can tell without having to ask that Five would rather nobody know that. He hangs out with Diego because he knows Diego’s lonely, even if he never wants to admit it. He advises Allison not to let anyone control her, telling her he knows Natalie from summer camp and that the deaf girl still loves her and reads every single one of her letters. He gives Vanya his lunch when she skips to cry in the gym after Diego yells at her, even though a part of him might think she deserves it sometimes. He plays sports with Luther after school and offers him an ear and some jokes about his problems, and a few touchdowns when he’s feeling good. He acts as Ray’s student consultant, because he knows how hard Ray works to treat him like an equal. He tutors Eudora in basically everything, but cuts study sessions short to play video games when he can tell she’s too stressed to think. He’s ace and pan and proud about it; he runs the school’s GSA; he defends Diego and uses the right pronouns for Lila when they’re alone without Lila ever having to him he’s trans. He bugs Reginald’s office in one of their many meetings and records enough conversations to get him fired when he tries to expel Five. And finally, karma rewards him - Klaus shows up at his house with a box of brownies he baked himself, all covered in smiley faces, and shoves them into Ben’s hands, shaking his head when Ben assumes they’re for Diego. I miss you, Klaus tells him, and Ben tugs him down into a kiss, pulling away with a stammered apology. I’m sorry, he blushes, and Klaus beams, leaping into his lap and hugging him closer than ever, the two of them queerplatonic partners from then on, forever linked by their fingers in the hallway. Happy. Finally.

Lila is the shy artsy kid who carries around one of those leather brown satchels that looks threatening but is really just code for “I think I’m too cool for a backpack so I stuff all my incorrect homework and favorite comic books into this sack of knockoff pig skin instead”. He’s covered in paint most of the time, and wears Alice in Wonderland combat boots and Sharpie-doodle-covered jeans and big black hoodies and soft grey beanies; he’s trans and hacked off his own hair until an undercut with choppy slash bangs and there’s pink streaks in them, of course, to match the bubblegum he’s always chewing. His nails are bitten and black, and his skin is decorated with tattoos that are almost exclusively Bo Burnham quotes, with the exception of Diego’s name right over his heart. (Diego has Lila’s name over his too - and Klaus’ and Eudora’s, though he’d never tell them that.) He gives his skirts to Klaus and gets along well enough with Five, them both being trans and all, and everyone else knows him as that kid who’ll spread rumors and steal things for bribes. It’s not like he can get in more trouble than he’s already in - he lives with his bigoted and abusive bitch of a mom. But Diego is his best friend - the one he shoots and stabs things with, the one whose ex-boyfriend he talks to because Diego will never admit to himself that he misses Klaus like he would his own lungs if they were torn from his chest, the one whose sister he’s in love with. Wait. Fuck. Oops.

Eudora is Diego’s sister, and the captain of the soccer team. She wears her red jersey with the white numbers to school every day, and is covered in tattoos of magical creatures, because she believes in all of them. She wishes she was a werewolf, and has dressed up as one every year for Halloween since she was ten. (And she’s let anyone dressed a werewolf give her a hickey just in case that turned her. It’s good to have all your bases covered.) She has a broken down pick-up truck named Travis-Trevor-Thomas-literally-any-other-T-name that she loves beyond belief, and drives Diego to and from school in it, though he grumbles about it every day. She eats lunch with him even though he insists he’s fine eating alone and wants her to go away, because she knows he’s lying, and she hangs around the GSA with him sometimes too. She’s lab partners with her brother’s “secret” ex-boyfriend, and is concerned by how quiet he is - she’s seen enough documetaries to know that quiet never means anything good. But unfortunately, she has her own academic drama to deal with - Hazel and Cha-Cha hate her for helping Klaus, and she hates them right back, leading to failing grades in both English and history no matter how brilliant her work is. Mostly, though, Eudora tries to get to know Lila - the pretty, angry, sarcastic emo boy she shares half her classes with, and flirts with every day despite how he ignores her. (ONLY because Lila still smiles and laughs every time she flirts with him, and Eudora knows from Diego that Lila thinks Eudora only flirts with him because it’s some sort of game of “if you get the guy who’s hard to get you win the hundred dollar bet” deal. Otherwise she would’ve backed off immediately because not doing so would be harassment.) Eventually, though, Eudora runs off-field in the middle of a soccer game and over to the stands to ask Lila to prom. Finally, she gets a yes - and, most importantly, a real smile, curled against her own mouth like a Cupid’s bow of promise.

Sissy is Vanya’s ex-girlfriend, and Fuckwad Carl’s current girlfriend. She hooked up with him after breaking up with Vanya, too drunk to even speak, and now her belly’s ballooning and her parents are gonna kick her out unless she marries him like a good Christian woman. And she really didn’t expect herself to tell them to fuck off for this one, but apparently lesbianism makes you do crazy things - so here she is, standing on Ray’s porch in the pouring rain and hoping for the best. She’s depressed and shows that by reading the Bronte sisters; Klaus opens the door for her and brings her notes with doodles all over them which makes her cry; she misses Vanya but hates her for what she did to Diego. And yet Vanya’s there when she goes to the abortion clinic, smiling and joking and holding her hand like always. One day she’ll have a baby and she and Vanya will raise it right, but fuck - that baby sure as hell won’t be Carl’s. (Because fuck that guy.)

Ray is a humanitarian, so, naturally, he’s also the student council president. Five has never mistreated him, because everyone loves and respects Ray, even his critics. He nurtures Allison’s intelligence and encourages Vanya’s musical habits. He tutors Klaus in basically every subject but never talks down to him because he knows the kid’s a genius, just a bit spacey from all the drugs (and the ADHD, let’s be honest). He helps bring Luther out of his shell and takes Lila out shopping for boy clothes, all of which he pays for himself. He’s not scared or offended by Diego’s sarcasm or intensity, instead greeting him every day in class with a new dad joke. He treats Ben to intelligent conversation like an equal and doesn’t let Five be so harsh he’ll regret it later, though he still lets him say what he means and be himself. Everybody knows he’ll be the real President one day - even if for now he wears pajamas to school every day because, in his words, “Clothes are just too much fuckin’ work, man.” (There’s a possibility he may have still been high from hanging out with Klaus that day.)

The Handler is the evil physics teacher. (I don’t know why I said evil clearly all science teachers are evil.) (Yes this is coming from a place of aggression but hey at least I recognize that.) (Plus he deserves it. So fuck you.) (*sticks tongue out*) (Don’t you see how mature I am?) (I’m sorry I’m sorry back to your regularly scheduled programming -) She’s Lila’s mom, and continually and constantly misgenders him (and Five!) in class, not even because she hates trans people, just because she hates him (and Five!). Five always challenges her dictatorial rule, refusing to participate in solidarity with Klaus when she forces Klaus to sit out for wearing skirts. She keeps trying to flunk Ray too, the little bitch, but he just keeps doing so well that she can’t even come up with a falsely plausible reason to fail him! She’s been bribing Hazel and Cha-Cha to flunk certain students for years, unaware that Lila has been stealing from the Handler’s own purse to double those prices for those students to ace their classes. Everybody hates her, and for good reason. I hope she gets fired. (Shut up and let me project onto fictional characters, assholes.)

Reginald is the evil principal and Klaus’ abusive dad. He sends Klaus to school every day in a boys’ “uniform”, which Klaus has to change out of in the bathroom every day with borrowed clothes from Allison. (Anything he owns lives at her house; they have an agreement.) Once Klaus forgot to wash off his nail polish before Reginald came home and he broke all of Klaus’ fingers one by one. (Agnes wants to beat him into dust with a rolling pin.) Klaus stays at Diego’s house a lot, though Klaus refuses to come after they break up even though Diego makes it clear that his door will always be open. Five, therefore, is super protective of Klaus - every time he comes over, he’s super respectful when Klaus is in the room and then verbally rips Reginald to shreds as soon as he’s gone. He once stayed over for an impromptu sleepover when he noticed that Klaus was terrified-ly coming up with more and more ridiculous excuses for Five to stay and not leave him alone with Reginald, and as soon as Klaus was asleep, tiptoed around the house to set up bugs and cameras he got from Ben. He gives all of the evidence to Eudora to deliver to the police, who arrest Reginald and leave him to rot in a cement cell for the rest of his sorry fucking life while Klaus goes on to live Happily Ever After because fuck you and your stupid as shit traditionalism and inhumane experiments you lying scheming fuckwad of a psychopathic monster toad.

Hazel is the exhausted English teacher. His secret? He hates every book he teaches. Also he’s been taking bribes from the Handler and Lila because teachers don’t get paid enough in our society. Also his wife Agnes of twenty years divorced him a year ago for the whole bribery situation and he’s been sleeping in his car and using the school’s facilities to appear fine. Yeah, Hazel’s a mess. ANYWAY - Five is the only one who seems to know what’s going on, and Hazel would like to keep it that way. He knows Klaus is a genius with words but doesn’t know how to tell him that, and he knows Diego’s favorite book is Pride & Prejudice by Jane Austen and has agreed to take that secret to his grave. (What, it’s a good book!) His class is the only place Diego and Klaus dare to interact, and he’s noticed - they often pair up for assignments and take to the floor or beanbags in the corner, often cuddling up and giggling over whatever book or assignment they’ve been sent off to read or do. Hazel also has another hopeless couple he teaches, Lila and Eudora - eventually Hazel starts leaving Lila’s sappy poems about Eudora on Eudora’s desk when she comes in for her own class (separate from Lila’s) because there is no other way those two idiots are getting together, let’s be honest. There’s just too much communication. Mostly Hazel misses his own wife, Agnes - but he’s been out of luck since he cashed it in with the science department, hot cocoa whore that he is.

Cha-Cha is the history teacher, and she has all the sass and dry sarcasm required for that job. She will beat a bitch up for telling her she can’t teach critical race theory, and plays Drunk History and Overly Sarcastic Productions in her class basically every day. She doesn’t believe in tests because if she did she’d have to grade them, and she likes animated kids’ movies and TV shows, especially Paw Patrol and Sofia the First. (Yes, obviously she’s single. She’s also ace-aro, so who the fuck cares.) She takes the Handler and Lila’s bribes because she runs an underground wrestling ring and would like to continue feeding her pitbulls gourmet food. The only kid she’s truly on edge with is Five, who often challenges her in debates - she can’t decide if she’s impressed or enraged about it. Whatever. School’s out, bitches.

Agnes is the art teacher who knows everything about everybody. All of her art is of donuts. (Of course.) She’s a damn good cook, especially of pizza - and donuts. (Naturally.) She always has munchkins available for her students - and donuts! (She always saves the chocolate glazed and jelly ones for Five and Klaus.) She likes to rap explicit beats in her car and play her music so loud it shakes the ground and you can hear it from miles away. (Obnoxious.) So she doesn’t restrict her kids’ projects because that’s not what art is about. (And because it would make her a hypocrite, obviously.) Sure, she divorced Hazel, but hey - she’s living her best life, and eventually he’ll come to his senses and come crawling back to her at three a.m. to badly lipsync a Justin Bieber song about missing her, and she’ll leap out the window into his giant hairy arms and kiss him on his ginormous teddy bear face. Because Agnes, at heart, is a hippy. (And that’s love, bitch.)

Grace is Diego and Eudora’s (and everybody’s!) mom. She goes out for drinks with Agnes on the weekends and to clubs with Pogo every Friday (the librarian/unofficial therapist who acts as her mouthpiece when Diego does something stupid and won’t listen to her advice, the moron). She’s kind to everyone, but takes no one’s bullshit: you hurt her kids, you die. Important Notice: Everybody Is Her Kid. So be kind to everyone, dickwads. Well - except Reginald. And the Handler. Both of whom she bitchslaps for mistreating her precious babies. She then takes in Klaus because Diego loves him, and Ben because Klaus loves him, and Lila because both Diego ad Eudora love him. The only reason she didn’t take in Sissy was because Ray already had her taken care of. She’s a literal angel sent from heaven and we should all be worshipping her like the goddess she is I’m sorry I don’t know when this became Grace Appreciation Day™ but hey I’m here for it and I have no regrets.

#tua #the umbrella academy #mean girls #i don't even like that movie #i kinda hate it actually #i know i know i'm sorry #anyway #kliego #ralluther #klaus &x ben #vanya x sissy #five &x dolores #eudorla #the crack ship of allison x natalie portman because i'm tired okay #hazel x agnes #hazel & cha cha #the hargreeves #the hargreeves & friends #i don't know what this is #fuck you reginald #trans boy lila because i said so #trans five because it's canon #enjoy this mess fuckers #i have no idea what i'm doing #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves

[ladyinbooks]

So, in the spirit of ‘ficlet Fridays’, this little scenario wouldn’t leave me alone. I’m not really sure if it’s IB canon or not (in the sense I may eventually write it a little differently), but here, have some Hird/Venn fluff:

Title: The Queen of Fuck-Ups Marries the King of Mistakes Pairing: Hird/Venndred Warnings: Bad language, fluff

It's a strange feeling, being a free agent.

Archon Ssafyr has signed off on Hird's service; the Banshee is now officially registered under her name, and her crew have resigned en masse from the Air Force.

It's also a strange feeling, knowing she's the only one who can fuck it up now.

And she has no fucking clue what to do first.

“Elysium,” Steve says firmly, when Hird asks him. “Let's touch ground for a while, Kate. We can decide what to do from there.”

“And you're choosing Elysium – because?”

“Because if we dock in Idalion the fees are cheaper, and we can all crash in Kathikas.”

Hird rubs a hand across her jaw, considering. “You mean we can terrorise Lane and Samiel, until they let us stay in their property for free.”

Steve shrugs. “That too.”

“Those two idiots are going to be in their honeymoon phase,” Hird says dubiously. “I don't think they want to be descended on by twenty homeless troopers with nowhere else to go.”

“Then we'll find somewhere else,” Steve says firmly. “But the port fees are still cheaper, so we're going to Idalion.”

“And this is why I love you,” Hird says, leaning back in her chair and kicking her feet up onto a console as she watches him. “You always know how to cut costs.”

He rolls his eyes, but he also pats her ankle, which is Steve-speak for I love you too. “I'll just punch in the coordinates, shall I?”

“Please do.”

“And tell Subtle there's been a change of plans?”

“Steve, as soon as you punch in the coordinates he's going to know anyway.”

Steve shrugs. “But if I tell him, it gives him a chance to complain about it.”

“He'll do that anyway,” Hird says cheerfully. “But he won't complain too much, because at least you're doing the piloting and not Con.”

Steve mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, That's because Con couldn't pilot his way out of a paper bag. Hird graciously chooses to ignore him.

“Elysium,” she says instead. “Then we'll work out what the fuck to do.”

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

From what Hird can see out of the window, Idalion is bustling, dirty, and pretty much like any other port she's docked in during her extensive career.

“It's off the main track,” Steve points out, his hands flying over the consoles as he finalises the docking procedures. “Slightly less illustrious than some of the ones we've visited.”

“Still better than others.” Hird swings her feet down off the console and leans forward, squinting. “Oh look, they have casinos.”

“In the port?”

“As opposed to where?”

Steve considers this for a moment. “Fair point.”

Hird grins. “What do you think?” she asks, flexing her fingers at him. “Think we could get lucky and win our fortunes?”

“It depends on how fast you want to lose the Banshee.” At her look, Steve grins. “You've got a terrible poker-face, boss. We'd be ship-less inside an hour.”

“Fuck you!” Hird gasps in mock outrage. “I'm a fucking genius at cards.”

“And literally nothing else.”

There's a dull thud as the last of the docking clamps slots into place, and Steve slumps back in his chair with a heavy sigh. He flicks on the comms and announces, “Docking completed.”

There's a ragged cheer from the control room. Hird would lay good odds on it being Martell, Con or Subtle – or an unholy combination of all three. She grins at Steve and stands, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Good job.”

“Well, we're here in one piece.” He flicks another switch, and the soft hiss of decompression punctuates his movements. “You can go stretch your legs if you like. I'll be around for another couple of hours, before we have to work out what to do next.”

“Steve, you're a saint. What would I do without you?”

“Get lost on a regular basis,” he says dryly. “And end up in prison.”

He's not wrong. But, “I could bribe my way out of charges.”

“Not now you couldn't, boss.” He nudges her hip with his shoulder. “Go on, get out of my cockpit. I've lowered the ramp; go and sample some local cuisine. And don't,” he adds, as she turns to leave, “go near the casinos.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Hird waves a dismissive hand over her shoulder. “No gambling away our only means of living. Got it.”

There's no one else in the main command area as she wanders through. That means the rest of her team are either busy with their own duties, or they've already disembarked and are causing havoc around Idalion.

Hird sends up a quick prayer that Subtle, at least, will be able to reign Con in long enough for them to stay without getting a hit put on them. But she's not holding out much hope.

She punches in her access code. When the airlock slides open, she takes her first deep breath of Idalion.

It's fuel-filled, slightly smoggy, and she fucking loves it. There are spices on the air – the scent of Alloi food wafting from the nearest food stand – and it's enough to make her stomach rumble.

The crowds in the port are chaotic – people running for the nearest transport links, others just making their way home – and the noise is half deafening.

It's a place to get lost in; to wander. It could swallow her whole and she'd never be found.

She knows all about Elysium; about the darker side of its society, and the shadows that haunt it. But here, there is life. Here, there is sound and chaos, and everyone just rubbing elbows because they have to. It makes her grin.

The chaos is everywhere, and it eases the nagging worry under her ribs about how she's going to feed her fucking crew. Where there are so many people, someone will need something.

She takes her first steps down the docking ramp, then stops.

There's incessant movement, except in one small corner by the edge of the Banshee's ramp.

He's in a little pool of quiet on his own, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He's rocking back on his heels, his hair falling in his eyes as he grins at her. He's wearing human clothing – she has no fucking clue why – and looks like he should be buried in some mouldy old library, just going by the shirt he has on.

She takes five huge strides down the ramp, and he slides his hands out of his pockets in time to catch her.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Hird asks, and Venndred laughs.

He wraps his arms around her waist, crushing her so hard she can barely fucking breathe. His fingers dig into her sides, and he drops a kiss against her cheekbone, the curve of her ear, the line of her jaw.

“Evi,” he says, breathless. “Evi, it's been four months – ”

“I know, you fucking idiot,” she says, heart slamming against her ribs. “You think I don't know that?” She's holding him just as hard. “I mean why here? How the fuck did you – ”

It sinks in, then.

“Steve, the meddling fucking bastard.”

“It's my fault,” Venndred murmurs. “I asked him to bring you. I wanted to see you, and I promised Freya I'd – ”

“Sprout?” Hird rears back, craning to get a look over his shoulder. “Sprout's here? Where is she?”

“No, Evi, she's at home. I just promised I'd – ” He breaks off as she looks at him. The tips of his ears are turning pink.

“You promised what?” she asks, then pulls back further as the blush reaches his cheeks and throat. “What's going on?”

Venndred clears his throat. “This is coming out wrong.”

“It isn't coming out at all,” Hird points out.

“I know,” he says. “I know.” He lets go of her completely and takes a step back. He scrubs a hand over his mouth, looking slightly panicked.

A slow, sinking feeling of unease starts to unfold in Hird's stomach. “What is it? Has something happened?”

“No, I mean – yes, but –”

“Are you alright?” Hird grips his forearm. “Is Freya alright? Has anyone been hurt? What's –”

“Everyone's fine!” Venndred says. “I promise, it's nothing like – ” He breaks off, chewing on his lower lip. “I had a plan,” he says glumly, “and it really wasn't meant to go like this.”

“Venndred,” Hird says slowly, and her patience is beginning to fracture. “Start explaining yourself. Now.”

“Right.” He takes a deep breath, then another. “Explaining myself. Now. Right.”

Hird's heart is still thundering in her chest, but there are the first stirrings of annoyance underneath. He's come all this way, and he's not making any sense. She loves him, she does, but sometimes he can be such an –

He moves, ungraceful and awkward, and he's dropping to his knees in front of her.

“What the fuck –”

“I'm an idiot,” he says, because of course he can read her fucking mind. “I'm nothing special, but I'm just too stubborn to know when to give up. I don't deserve you, and I never will – ”

“That's not fucking true.”

He ignores her. “But I'll never be able to live without you.” He looks up at her, and his expression is achingly sincere. “You're my victory, Evi. My only one. I've never needed another, when I've been able to say that I have you.”

And oh, she's out of her depth here, swinging wildly between confusion, annoyance and a strange stirring of hope. This doesn't make sense. Shouldn't. But –

“Are you,” she says, then has to stop and clear her throat. “Are you actually fucking asking me to – ”

“I love you,” Venndred says simply. “I'm always going to. You nearly killed me, and you took every piece of my soul when you did.” He's got something in his hands – too large to be a ring; too small to be a necklace. It gleams, gold, between his fingers.

“Fucking hell,” Hird says blankly.

“Marry me?” Venndred asks.

For a moment, Hird gapes. She can't help it; shock and a kind of unholy terror at the sight of him, on his knees for her, asking this. Asking –

He wants to marry her.

He wants to fucking marry her.

Her. The Queen of fucking up every single thing in her life. The woman who fucking shot him, and he's forgiven her for it, and loves her anyway.

And now he wants to spend the rest of his life with her.

And even though she's known for a long time that he's it for her – that there's never going to be another like him – he could do so much better than a retired Wing Commander, with a bad attitude and a whole fucking heap of baggage.

“Evi,” Venndred says, and she flinches. “Please.”

It's the tone that does it: soft, terrified hope, and it cuts into her the way only he can.

She crashes to her knees in front of him, ignoring the way he startles as she cradles his stupid, wonderful face in her hands.

“For fuck's sake,” she says. “Yes, of course, yes.”

“Oh,” he breathes out. “Good, because I already booked the slot at the court, and I don't really know what I would have done if – ”

She cuts him off with a kiss, swift and hard. Then, when she draws back and he opens his mouth to keep talking, she kisses him again.

There are so many things to sort out; so much she is going to have to plan, and consider. She hadn't anticipated this. He's still the Psyke; still vital to Lenia, in ways she doesn't fully understand. He has his duty to his planet and his people, and once upon a time she would have said that was what he had dedicated himself to.

Except she knows better now, she does. Because in all the ways that matter, he belongs to her.

'Wing Commander' is a title. 'Psyke' is a title.

But 'husband' and 'wife' are going to be so much fucking better.

#Ficlet Fridays #Kate Hird #Venndred Liesen #Fluff

[darkarfs]

No, that Bayley + Jon ask was for you to answer. I got your other asks and I'm working my way through them.

A snafu on my part, but YES, let's play this game. Bayley

general opinion: fall in a hole and die | don’t like them | eh | they’re fine I guess | like them! | love them | actual love of my life  hotness level: get away from me | meh | neutral | theoretically hot but not my type | pretty hot | gorgeous! | 10/10 would bang (ARE YOU KIDDING ME) hogwarts house: gryffindor | slytherin | ravenclaw | hufflepuff best quality: Utter student of wrestling, massive, passionate nerd about it, so young, always, always improving, such a student that she was the best heel on Smackdown before her injury. An actual legend in the making, and that ain't blowing smoke, provided her time in WWE doesn't squash her love for it. worst quality: Making me talk mess about Bayley doesn't seem fair. I guess her moveset isn't super-exciting? But she's a heel, it doesn't need to be. She was never over as a face once they moved her to the main roster, but that wasn't her fault. Nah, Bayley's perfect, and always getting better. And almost literally anything that hasn't improved really hasn't been her fault. All her face feuds (on the main roster), the heels buried everloving Jesus out of her. ship them with: I have never seen her be more physically affectionate or more physically violent with anyone other than Sasha, and that just feels right. Becky on an outside chance. brotp them with: any of the Horsewomen needs to stay away from: ALEXA AND CHARLOTTE, aka the Go-Nowhere Burial Blondes. Nobody's stock has ever gone up feuding with them (Sasha with Charlotte in 2016 was pretty impressive, but that was a game of hot potato to give Charlotte some prestige reigns with the Raw title, and it ended terribly), the matches were (mostly) worthless, and Bayley never needs to go near them again for any reason (though I did just have a weird idea that face weird Alexa vs. heel terror Bayley could be FUN, but no idea why or how.) misc. thoughts: Wish she wasn't injured right when we're getting fans again. She would either get nuclear heat or be cheered the way heel Kevin was, no shit. She's THAT good. She didn't get a match at this year's Mania, and I wanted more than anything to see her Mania gear, because her gear choices are always great. As a face, she had the potential to see the female Cena in terms of booking and merch. As a heel, she could be the worst kind of Jericho. She's that creative and she's got an entire career ahead of her. I want her to be happy and creatively fulfilled, more than almost anyone else in wrestling.

Jon Moxley

general opinion: fall in a hole and die | don’t like them | eh | they’re fine I guess | like them! | love them | actual love of my life  hotness level: get away from me | meh | neutral | theoretically hot but not my type | pretty hot | gorgeous! | 10/10 would bang hogwarts house: gryffindor | slytherin | ravenclaw | hufflepuff best quality: He has a feral, terrifyingly magnetic charisma, and has a really engaging way of speaking and spinning himself into a frenzy that is a real joy to watch worst quality: His charisma is amazing in promo/speaking land, translates to matches I don't care about at all. Granted, I only saw him once he came to the Big Dubs, but it doesn't matter to me, because I'm truly not into deathmatch wrestling, which is granted only part of what he's about, but I never, ever cared about who is singles feuds were in WWE (he was easily the best part of the Shield breakup, promo-wise, but he was talking to a Roman who was NEVER ON TV due to being suspended, and a Seth that didn't know what to do - but other than that? Styles? Jericho? Rollins PART 2? zZIGGLER??), and in AEW, he's beaten all the top guys already (AND all the guys who've visited from other promotions.) His style doesn't thrill me and he's beaten everyone already. ship them with: Nah. That's literally the rest of Wrestling Tumblr's job, A), and B) I think he and Renee are cute together. brotp them with: Reigns in the WWE (I think he'd respect and yet completely hate that Head of the Table Reigns is a Heyman guy and secretly want to take his title) and Eddie Kingston in AEW. Genuinely strikes me as the kind of guy who only needs two friends. needs to stay away from: HANGMAN PAGE OR MIRO. There's no need for him to be anywhere near these guys, and if they were dumb enough to book them to even cross paths, Mox'd go over and I'd be mad about it (and like I said, he's already beaten every top guy in the company already.) And as I've discussed before, man does not need a belt to be over. Like the Undertaker or Shawn Michaels before him, he's on a path where he'll be over no matter what he does, he's well on his way to being an industry stalwart, and those never need belts to get over. Sometimes when they HAVE them, it works, but he doesn't need it. misc. thoughts: I think AEW's overall stock would go down if he decided to retire, but he just...never held my interest. Excellent, amazing talker...never had a singles match that reinforced it for me. OH! You know what? His Last Man Standing match with Kevin Owens at Royal Rumble 2016 was fan-fucking-tastic.

[birdlord]

Everything I Watched in 2020

We’ll start with movies. The number in parentheses is the year of release, asterisks denote a re-watch, and titles in bold are my favourite watches of the year. Here’s 2019’s list. 

01 Little Women (19)

02 The Post (17) 

03 Molly’s Game (17)

04 * Doctor No (62)

05 Groundhog Day (93)

06 *Star Trek IV - The Voyage Home (86)

07 Knives Out (19) My last theatre experience (sob)

08 Professor Marston and his Wonder Women (17)

09 Les Miserables (98)

10 Midsommar (19) I’m not sure how *good* it is, but it does stick in the ol’ brain

11 *Manhattan Murder Mystery (93)

12 Marriage Story (19)

13 Kramer vs Kramer (79)

14 Jojo Rabbit (19)

15 J’ai perdu mon corps (19) a cute animated film about a hand detached from its body!

16 1917 (19)

17 Married to the Mob (88)

18 Klaus (19)

19 Portrait of a Lady on Fire (19) If Little Women made me want to wear a scarf criss-crossed around my torso, this one made me want to wear a cloak

20 The Last Black Man in San Francisco (19)

21 *Lawrence of Arabia (62)

22 Gone With the Wind (39)

23 Kiss Me Deadly (55)

24 Dredd (12)

25 Heartburn (86) heard a bunch about this one in the Blank Check series on Nora Ephron, sadly after I’d watched it

26 The Long Shot (19)

27 Out of Africa (85)

28 King Kong (46)

29 *Johnny Mnemonic (95)

30 Knocked Up (07)

31 Collateral (04)

32 Bird on a Wire (90)

33 The Black Dahlia (05)

34 Long Time Running (17)

35 *Magic Mike (12)

36 Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead (07)

37 Cold War (18)

38 *Kramer Vs Kramer (79) yes I watched this a few months before! This was a pandemic friend group co-watch.

39 *Burn After Reading (08)

40 Last Holiday (50)

41 Fly Away Home (96)

42 *Moneyball (11) I’m sure I watch this every two years, at most??

43 Last Holiday (06) the Queen Latifah version of the 1950 movie above, lacking, of course, the brutal “poor people don’t deserve anything good” ending

44 *Safe (95)

45 Gimme Shelter (70)

46 The Daytrippers (96)

47 Experiment in Terror (62)

48 Tucker: The Man and His Dream (88)

49 My Brilliant Career (79) one of the salvations of 2020 was watching movies “with” friends. Our usual method was to video chat before the movie, sync our streaming services, and text-chat while the movie was on. 

50 Divorce Italian Style (61)

51 *Gosford Park (01) another classic comfort watch, fuck I love a G. Park

52 Hopscotch (80)

53 Brief Encounter (45)

54 Hud (63)

55 Ocean’s 8 (18)

56 *Beverly Hills Cop (84)

57 Blow the Man Down (19)

58 Constantine (05)

59 The Report (19) maddening!! How are people so consistently terrible to one another!

60 Everyday People (04)

61 Anatomy of a Murder (58)

62 Spiderman: Homecoming (17)

63 *To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar (95) Of the 90s drag road movies, Priscilla is more visually striking, but this has its moments.

64 Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me (92)

65 *The Truman Show (98)

66 Mona Lisa (86)

67 The Blob (58)

68 The Guard (11)

69 *Waiting for Guffman (96) RIP Fred Willard

70 Rocketman (19)

71 Outside In (18)

72 The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (08) how strange to see a movie that you have known the premise for, but no details of, for over a decade

73 *Star Trek: The Undiscovered Country (91)

74 The Reader (08)

75 Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker (19) This was fine until it VERY MUCH WAS NOT FINE

76 The End of the Affair (99) you try to watch a fun little romp about infidelity during the Blitz, and Graham Greene can’t help but shoehorn in a friggin crisis of religious faith

77 Must Love Dogs (05) barely any dog content, where are the dogs at

78 The Rainmaker (97)

79 *Batman & Robin (97)

80 National Lampoon’s Vacation (83) Never seen any of the non-xmas Vacations, didn’t realize the children are totally different, not just actors but ages! Also, this one is blatantly racist!

81 *Mystic Pizza (88)

82 Funny Girl (68)

83 The Sons of Katie Elder (65)

84 *Knives Out (19) another re-watch within the same year!! How does this keep happening??

85 *Scott Pilgrim Vs The World (10) a real I-just-moved-away-from-Toronto nostalgia watch

86 Canadian Bacon (92) vividly recall this VHS at the video store, but I never saw it til 2020

87 *Blood Simple (85)

88 Brittany Runs a Marathon (19)

89 The Accidental Tourist (88)

90 August Osage County (13) MELO-DRAMA!!

91 Appaloosa (08)

92 The Firm (93) Feeling good about how many iconic 80s/90s video store stalwarts I watched in 2020

93 *Almost Famous (00)

94 Whisper of the Heart (95)

95 Da 5 Bloods (20)

96 Rain Man (88)

97 True Stories (86)

98 *Risky Business (83) It’s not about what you think it’s about! It never was!

99 *The Big Chill (83)

100 The Way We Were (73)

101 Safety Last (23) It’s getting so that I might have to add the first two digits to my dates...not that I watch THAT many movies from the 1920s...

102 Phantasm (79)

103 The Burrowers (08)

104 New Jack City (91)

105 The Vanishing (88)

106 Sisters (72)

107 Puberty Blues (81) Little Aussie cinema theme, here

108 Elevator to the Gallows (58)

109 Les Diaboliques (55)

110 House (77) haha WHAT no really W H A T

111 Death Line (72)

112 Cranes are Flying (57)

113 Holes (03)

114 *Lady Vengeance (05)

115 Long Weekend (78)

116 Body Double (84)

117 The Crazies (73) I love that Romero shows the utter confusion that would no doubt reign in the case of any kind of disaster. Things fall apart.

118 Waterlilies (07)

119 *You’re Next (11)

120 Event Horizon (97)

121 Venom (18) I liked it, guys, way more than most superhero fare. Has a real sense of place and the place ISN’T New York!

122 Under the Silver Lake (18) RIP Night Call

123 *Blade Runner (82)

124 *The Birds (62) interesting to see now that I’ve read the story it came from

125 *28 Days Later (02) hits REAL FUCKIN’ DIFFERENT in a pandemic

126 Life is Sweet (90)

127 *So I Married an Axe Murderer (93) find me a more 90s movie, I dare you (it’s not possible)

128 Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner (67)

129 The Pelican Brief (93) 90s thrillers continue!

130 Dick Johnston is Dead (20)

131 The Bridges of Madison County (95)

132 Earth Girls are Easy (88) Geena Davis and Jeff Goldblum are so hot in this movie, no wonder they got married 

133 Better Watch Out (16)

134 Drowning Mona (00) trying for something like the Coen bros and not getting there

135 Au Revoir Les Enfants (87)

136 *Chasing Amy (97) Affleck is the least alluring movie lead...ever? I also think I gave Joey Lauren Adams’ character short shrift in my memory of the movie. It’s not good, but she’s more complicated than I recalled. 

137 Blackkklansman (18)

138 Being Frank (19)

139 Kiki’s Delivery Service (89)

140 Uncle Frank (20) why so many FRANKS

141 *National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation (89) watching with pals (virtually) made it so much more fun than the usual yearly watch!

142 Half Baked (98) another, more secret Toronto nostalgia pic - RC Harris water filtration plant as a prison!

143 We’re the Millers (13)

144 All is Bright (13)

145 Defending Your Life (91)

146 Christmas Chronicles (18) I maintain that most new xmas movies are terrible, particularly now that Netflix churns them out like eggnog every year. 

147 Spiderman: Into the Spider-Verse (18)

148 Reindeer Games (00) what did I say about Affleck??!? WHAT DID I SAY

149 Palm Springs (20)

150 Happiest Season (20)

151 *Metropolitan (90) it’s definitely a Christmas movie

152 Black Christmas (74)

THEATRE:HOME - 2:150 (thanks pandemic)

I usually separate out docs and fiction, but I watched almost no documentaries this year (with the exception of Dick Johnston). Reality is real enough. 

TV Series

01 - BoJack Horseman (final season) - Pretty damned poignant finish to the show, replete with actual consequences for our reformed bad boy protagonist (which is more than you can say for most antiheroes of Peak TV).

02 - *Hello Ladies - I enjoy the pure awkwardness of seeing Stephen Merchant try to perform being a Regular Person, but ultimately this show tips him too far towards a nasty, Ricky Gervais-lite sort of persona. Perhaps he was always best as a cameo appearance, or lip synching with wild eyes while Chrissy Teigen giggles?

03 - Olive Kittredge - a rough watch by times. I read the book as well, later in the year. Frances Mcdormand was the best, possibly the only, casting option for the flinty lead. One episode tips into thriller territory, which is a shock. 

04 - *The Wire S3, S4, S5 - lockdown culture! It was interesting to rewatch this, then a few months later go through an enormous, culture-level reappraisal of cop-centred narratives. 

05 - Forever - a Maya Rudolph/Fred Armisen joint that coasts on the charm of its leads. The premise is OK, but I wasn’t left wanting any more at the end. 

06 - *Catastrophe - a rewatch when my partner decided he wanted to see it, too!

07 - Red Oak - resolutely “OK” steaming dramedy, relied heavily on some pretty obvious cues to get across its 1980s setting. 

08 - Little Fires Everywhere - gulped this one down while in 14-day isolation, delicious! Every 90s suburban mom had that SUV, but not all of them had the requisite **secrets**

09 - The Great - fun historical comedy/drama! Costumes: lush. Actors: amusing. Race-blind casting: refreshing!

10 - The Crown S4 - this is the season everyone lost their everloving shit for, since it’s finally recent enough history that a fair chunk of the viewing audience is liable to recall it happening. 

11 - Ted Lasso - we resisted this one for a while (thought I did enjoy the ad campaign for NBC sports (!!) that it was based on). My view is that its best point was the comfort that the men on the show have (or develop, throughout the season) with the acknowledgement and sharing of their own feelings. Masculinity redux. 

12 - Moonbase 8 - Goodnatured in a way that makes you certain they will be crushed. 

13 - The Good Lord Bird - Ethan Hawke is really aging into the character actor we always hoped he would be! 

14 - Hollywood - frothy wish-fulfillment alternate history. I think the show would have been improved immeasurably by skipping the final episode.

[donnerpartyofone]

A few years ago there was this moment where I got a ton of anonymous messages from some far right asshole about the usual shit--Hillary, the corrosive force of immigration, inherently evil ethnic and religious groups, etc. The messages were weird in that most of them seemed to be copied and pasted out of the middle of some article somewhere, but there was never a source mentioned, and there was never enough information for me to get the whole picture even if I really cared about all this "proof" that black and brown people should be kicked out of Sweden or whatever the point was supposed to be. Some of the messages were actually written by the sender, and they all sounded pretty stereotypically crazy: rude, vague, delirious references to conspiracies, pedophilia, brainwashing, etc on the left, or really just orbiting around Clinton. (This is totally tangential, but to this day I'm convinced that all these reactionary nutbags just want to fuck Hillary Clinton, I mean the enduring, overheated obsession with her has extended so far beyond the the sphere of her electoral campaign or any threat of her achieving greater power that there has to be a reason these freaks keep bringing her up, bringing up the fevered vision of a woman dominating them along with the entire country, a compelling reason, perhaps a BIOLOGICAL reason) I'm still embarrassed about this, but I engaged with this person, posting their inane drivel to try to vivisect it, to explain why it was so stupid and ineffectual. I wasn't that worried about giving them a platform, since the messaging was so primitive and hard to understand if you weren't already on his side, but that was exactly my point: When you make yourself sound like an escaped lunatic in a doomsday sandwich board sign, who is supposed to take anything you say seriously? How could it have any effect besides undermining whatever you're trying to support? That effect, and the strengthening of convictions held by lefties like me, who would naturally like to be as opposite of your raving inarticulate ass as possible? And besides all that, my blog had a pretty apolitical appearance at the time, so why was anon assuming I was this passionate Clinton shill? I mean, fuck him and his bigoted garbage, OF COURSE, but I couldn't figure out how he had targeted me personally for this treatment.

The point that I wish I had gotten then was, it didn't matter. It might have been the result of one of those things you hear about from time to time, about how supposedly a bunch of mean jerks from 4chan (or whatever the current iteration is) are going to conduct a "raid" on Tumblr, like they're going to seek and destroy liberal snowflakes and precious cinnamon rolls with their, uh...incredible verbal prowess I guess. Surely the point was just to get me all riled up so someone could say that they pwned me, although I don't know what the reward of this pwning was supposed to be besides the "made you look!" thrill of tricking me into talking to or about them. I'll never understand the perspective of the kind of person who thinks that you "win" something when someone blocks you online, as if blocking isn't just a way of saying "You are literally worthless." It's interesting how that line of troll thinking works, it seems to suggest something like, "Ah, you should have KNOWN that I was nothing but an insignificant piece of shit with nothing to say, but you treated me like I was worth talking to, so therefore I WIN!" I strongly suspect that all of troll culture (I mean, not LEGIT trolls who bait you with patently stupid decoy ideas, but these little garbage people who bait you with their real actual opinions) is predicated on an urge to masochism, that this kind of person is always a spineless perverted weakling who craves insults and punishment, who feels in their very bones that they deserve the worst, who is at all times secretly drooling to slurp on the delicious bootheel of Hillary Clinton, long after her rally balloons have been found deflated and dangling from the network of powerlines crisscrossing the Real America...

But that reminds me of another self-loathing lunatic of my acquaintance, my ex-boyfriend. Yes, really, but I swear to god this is going somewhere. He was an intelligent guy, a lit major who had graduated with honors from a reputable liberal arts school, an editor at a respected arts & culture publishing house who fancied himself a progressive thinker who stood up for the freedoms of others--and who, I slowly found out, used his enthusiasm for Obama and The Daily Show to mask the noxious brew of casual racism and virulent misogyny that made up his fuel for living. When we were dating, I thought that we had problems, and I thought dealing with problems was a normal part of adult relationships; I thought the opposite of constantly struggling for peace, honesty, and respect was "expecting life to be like a fairy tale", which I certainly did not want to be accused of. So I didn't get what was going on when he would choose some arbitrary trigger for an abusive episode, and I would try, and fail, to resolve whatever was bothering him. I bought in to the idea that we were both intelligent people with respect for one another's intelligence, and that it was possible for us to get at the heart of any trouble through calm and rational discussion. He often gave me plenty of breadcrumbs to follow, indicating that there were REASONS that he was angry with me, which led me to believe I could fix everything by clearing up misunderstandings, since I had never conspired to do anything to him but try to love him. (Although sometimes he wouldn't even tell me what I had supposedly done, intoning "You're a clever girl, you'll figure it out" in a sneering Joan Crawfordesque voice--I should have known then that he didn't need or even want a good reason to attack me) But, his debate style, if I can call it that, involved screaming, changing the subject, repeating whatever I said back to me in a "r*tard voice", impugning my character (or that of my family and friends) in ways that had nothing to do with the argument, and other tactics that ensured that his opportunity to hurt and terrorize me lasted for hours or days. I missed the fact that for him, the fight wasn't a resolvable interruption of our relationship, it was the entire point of the relationship.

The most brilliant thing he'd ever done--though I don't want to call it that, since this has more to do with base instincts than brains--was to use my intelligence against me. If I had placed more importance on my own feelings than I did on "being fair" and "making sense" of our conflicts, then I would have escaped before I had to develop this whole behavioral theory that I am delivering to you now. By producing "reasons" for his anger, he made me think there was a debate to be had, and that the person with the superior logic would win out. I was convinced that would be me, since I knew the Truth, and he was just confused by his inner demons (drugs and alcohol, his shitty friends who "made him" do bad things, his supposed trauma from the last relationship he deliberately destroyed, his inferior parents who made him look bad by being "visionless ant people", and whatever other excuses he surfaced whenever it benefited him to play the tragically injured good guy). What I know now is, all abuse is the same, and it doesn't need or want to justify itself. Its only aim is the free reign of violence. It has no interest in truth or justice of even the most deformed variety. Its goal is to give unfiltered vent to all forms of hatred. The fact that it disguises itself with a mask of rationality, made up of straw men, false equivalences, dubiously construed "facts" arranged into artificial patterns, and other distractingly logical-looking tactics, does not mean that what is inside operates on, or is vulnerable to, actual logic. It's all just id monster shit. Do not interact.

[vespertine-legacy]

[Raz: You had no business watching me.] [Watcher X: There’s no privacy in this work. At least I tell you when I’m watching.]

I’m sorry-not-sorry for the fact that I’m pretty much just an Agent spam blog now, since I’m so deep in Agent Hell, but I’m in a Watcher X rabbit hole at the moment. This bastard.

I’ve said several times before that I do think Watcher X is trying to warn the Agent about the things that Intelligence has done/is doing/is going to do to them, and I still think that’s true, but he’s still a manipulative bastard and the Agent absolutely should not trust a single word that he says. (and this interaction solidifies my Watcher X as space!Lecter headcanon so much). It’s such an innocent-sounding statement, so we’re-so-alike-you-and-I, so come on you can trust me (even though the first thing I told you was not to trust anyone, if you were paying attention). 

“At least I tell you when I’m watching,” no you don’t. Are you saying that Watcher Two doesn’t tell her? Watcher Two tells you pretty much from the outset that that’s what she’ll be doing, especially depending on your dialogue choices.

[Watcher Two: I analyze. I watch. I try to live up to my title.]

She tells you on Dromund Kaas that she’s got clearance to slice into just about any Imperial surveillance cameras, and that you should be grateful that you have someone watching over your shoulder in the field because it likely keeps you safer. In the pre-mission briefings, she almost always tells you what resources she has to watch you and at what points during the mission you’ll be on your own.

Watcher X, on the other hand, said nothing going into sending you on all of these errands about having the ability to slice into security footage from Shadow Town (and if he had, you probably would have been suspicious about the fact that security in Shadow Town was apparently lax enough that they had gotten comfortable enough with Watcher X to allow him enough HoloNet access for all of the things he does while you’re running errands for him, and you probably would have contacted Watcher Two at some point to say, “hey you mentioned that Watcher X is hella fucking dangerous, and he seems to have a lot more free reign down here than he ought to, should I be concerned?”). Instead, he just hopes you won’t say anything as he slowly reveals more and more what he is able to do from inside his cell, as he gains the ability to do more because there are things that you have to do to shut down the terror cell that so helpfully also increase his access to more resources.

But the Watcher-Agent relationship, and the one Watcher X tries to build with the Agent, is so like the quid pro quo, Clarice conversation (and I’m sure the Watchers are trained to do it). Watcher Two tells the Agent in their first conversation if you try to get to know her better, “I already know all about you, so if we talked and traded information, you’d be the only one learning from the exchange, and that’s hardly fair,” (I’m paraphrasing, I’m sure). It’s a tease to get the Agent wondering if she’s joking, to give the Agent the option to smarmily think “you don’t know everything about me,” but it also sets the tone of the relationship: I watch and observe, and if you want anything in exchange, you have to earn it. The difference though, is that Watcher Two has been upfront about it, and it’s her job. Watcher X has been manipulative about it. Sure, if you’ve been paying attention, he has as much as put it on a neon flashing sign above his head, but he’s not your Watcher.

“At least I tell you when I’m watching.” Saying so after the fact doesn’t count.

All of the warnings Watcher X drops are partially because fuck if he’s gonna just sit back and let Intelligence cage every promising operative but mostly they’re to see if the Agent will take the bait and trust him just enough, because if they do? Then he can make this partnership work and he can use them to get out. As he says, he doesn’t want to make an enemy of the Agent; he’s seen them work and he knows they’re competent (and hell, they entertain him).

I dunno, I just have a lot of Watcher X feelings, and I can’t fully articulate most of them, and I don’t know if I’m actually going to do anything with them.

[Watcher X: Your anger is understandable. Keep it in check.]

#swtor #swtor imperial agent #watcher x #watcher two #watcher two comparing herself to him hurts me but also i live for it #watcher x calls her his 'sister' and i think her entire skin would crawl off if she heard him say that #i am in agent hell and i do not want help crawling out thank you

[kuningannasansa]

A musketeers rewatch (that nobody asked for) 1x08

In which Richelieu almost gets his husband killed 

We start with Labarge (spl?) being escorted through the streets of Paris by musketeers. He is played by that guy who always plays violent brutes with few if any lines of dialogue. 

Red guards show up and demand that the prisoner is handed over to them. Then Labarge beats the crap out of them until the musketeers intervene. Not before a red guard is killed thou. By another red guard attempting to strike at Labarge.

The dead man is called Captain Trudeau. And the red guard who killed him blames the musketeers. 

Now they’re fighting each other! Male egos... 

Treville says Trudeau was given fair warning and it’s his own fault he’s dead. Kind of harsh. Richelieu retorts that Treville had no business arresting a regional intendant without coming to him first. I’m really struggling to see Labarge in the role of regional intendant, but I guess that’s the point. Treville shoots back that he’s a violent criminal who subjected Gascony to a reign of terror. And Richelieu says that the man exceeded his authority and he was in the process of calling him back before the musketeers intervened. I know I’m supposed to take the musketeers side here, but I really see no reason to doubt Richelieu.

Treville is mad and says any of his musketeers could defeat any of the red guards and Louis immediately makes a bet! So there we are, that’s the plot sorted out. I love their bickering thou xD

Richelieu looks so panicked, poor dear! He knows he doesn’t stand a chance but he can’t afford to back down. 

Constance and D’artagnan are being cute and domestic!

D’artagnan apologizes for the rent being overdue. Nice reference to the books! But in the books he doesn’t apologize, he is quite insulted that some commoner would even dare to bother him with such trivialities. Much more realistic to a noble of the era, but I guess not something a modern audience would sympathise with. 

Here Bonacieux actually tells him off thou and that’s too far in the other direction, kind of takes me out of the story. 

Treville is so excited about this contest! Bless!

The entry fee is 30 livres and our boys haven’t got it. It’s time to go womanizing! In the church. 

Aramis knows all the women there, of course. 

“It’s a requiem mass not a party at Madame Angel’s” - and then they cross themselves lol. 

Labarge has destroyed D’artagnan’s farm “as a warning to other local landowners” because Dart’s father was “greatly respected”. But Dart had done nothing to him and his father is long dead? I don’t get this. 

Porthos can’t lie for shit and Alice helps him out cause she fancies him! That’s cute!

Alice has put on a colourful dress and her maid is judging her. 

Porthos says it must be great for her to have all of her husband’s things to remember him by and I thought he was talking of his own lack of things to remember his mother by but Alice responded by giving him her husband’s solid gold candle snuffer! So was he fishing for that the whole time? It really comes across more like he wasn’t but then took the opportunity. 

D’artagnan proclaims he is ready and Athos just smiles. And proceeds to provoke him with tales of Labarge being comfortable in the Bastille with his “every whim attended to”. But we had a scene before of Labarge being fed disgusting prison food and talked down to by a guard, so not true lol.

Doesn’t stop D’art from barging into Richelieu’s office screaming thou.

Richelieu offers him patronage and D’art turns it down. This episode almost feels like the book.

“As a citizen of France I demand my rights” - you are a subject of the King. Shut up.

Milady overheard the whole thing!

“Your fascination with these musketeers seems inexhaustible.” - lol Armand, look who’s talking!  

Milady: “I do everything for you.” Richelieu: “Permit me to doubt that.” - but in the last episode you trusted her to manage the Ninon thing even in the event of your death?

“There was a time I found your independence of spirit arousing. I must warn you, Milady, that time is now past.” - this line is gross and unnecessary. But also, what did she do between last episode and this one to change his opinion like that? I guess the writers just needed him to discard her for plot reasons, but it could have been better written.

Red guards arrest a protesting Bonacieux! This really is the book episode!

Bonacieux: “You want me to spy on him [D’art]?” Richelieu: “I can see you are a man of quick intelligence.”

Why is his office so huge and empty thou, with one little desk in it?

D’artagnan... steals a red guard uniform. And breaks into the Bastille. Wow, okay, totally forgot about that bit. 

And he does the whole “my name is D’artagnan of Lupiac in Gascony” thing again. And tries to force a confession out of Labarge.

And Labarge would have killed him if Athos had not shown up.

Athos: “What did I tell you about thinking before you act!” D’artagnan: “I can’t help it, I’m not like you!” Athos: “You are, more than you know.” - oh, you mean you also didn’t think before you strung up your wife from a tree? Yeah, i see that.

A milathos scene! Athos says he won’t attack a defenceless woman and Milady laughs as though at the idea that she is defenceless, but it breaks my heart cause dude, you very much did do just that.

“I have to make a living somehow, what better patron could I have?” Milady says of Richelieu and she is right!

“I’m a soldier, just like you.” - YES! SHE IS!

She tries to come on to him for casual sex and he rejects her. With difficulty, but still :(( 

She gives him “fair warning” to stay away from her.

Papa Treville looks so proud looking at Athos and D’art training!

Richelieu tells Labarge that he “overstepped his limits” and “ruled Gascony like a petty tyrant”. Lebarge says he just gave people the needed encouragement to pay their taxes and Richelieu replies: “Perhaps if more of the taxes you collected had reached the treasury, I’d be inclined to overlook your excesses.” LOL!

Constance sells her stuff to get D’art the money. And then Milady gives it to him before she can. And D’art doesn’t decline even thou all he knows of her is that she left him to take the the blame for her murder and lied about Ninon. He literally doesn’t give a fuck as long as he can enter this fight! 

Milady looks so pretty in this scene thou!

Porthos and Alice are getting on very well!

So Milady gave D’art some pendant with a flower on it together with the money as a “token of friendship” and now Bonacieux has nicked it.

D’art: “I found a patron of my own.” Aramis: “Wealthy widow?” D’art: “Not as far as I know.” - so like, with Milady telling her that her lover tried to kill her and Athos’s dead wife coming back from the dead to kill him and Athos clearly recognising the woman at Ninon’s trial, D’art still hasn’t had the penny drop? Or he has and just doesn’t want to tell Athos that he’s taking his wife’s money?

Aramis is the best shot, Porthos is the best at hand to hand combat and D’art does pretty well with the sword, but we don’t see Athos try that.

And Richelieu has commissioned Labarge! xD

Who beats the crap out of his other men. That can’t be good for morale! Like for real, what must the red guards be thinking? Richelieu has made a criminal who killed their captain the new captain! And mocks them publicly for not being as good as him in a fight! 

The pendant is also now in Richelieu’s hands.

Treville was spying on Richelieu! 

Bonacieux bought Constance a bracelet to celebrate his good luck of getting a contract. See, I love when the antagonists are not complete monsters and get human moments like this!

“Becoming a musketeer was the best thing that ever happened to me... until I met you.” - Oh Porthos! That was smooth! 

And Alice offers to support him if he leaves the musketeers.

D’art is looking for his pendant and doesn’t tell Constance about it when she asks if he’s lost something. He knows he’s doing wrong but the glory is beckoning so he can’t help it.

Constance runs after him to give him a goodbye kiss and Bonacieux sees them. That’s what you get for flaunting your affair in the open street. I mean, even if he hadn’t been there, these other people are all her neighbours, who would gossip.

Treville nominates himself and the musketeers are like “this is bullshit”. I don’t blame them. But Papa is just trying to protect them and he knows he’ll get their resentment as a reward! So sad! 

“Was your life so bad, Constance? Was I ever cruel to you, did I beat you?” - this is good writing. It would have been so boring if they had made him into a physically abusive brute. 

Threatening her with killing D’art isn’t cool thou!

Athos accuses Treville of having a midlife crisis and wanting “one last moment of glory”. And when he leaves, Treville just rubs his face and he looks so tired! 

And Constance breaks up with D’art! Meaning he loses the fight and her on the same day, I do feel bad for him.

Constance is right to point out that she has a lot more to lose here thou! 

Treville’s plain brown tunic looks really bad without the cape over it. But the tunic he’s looking at in preparation for the fight looks better at least.

There are only two little stands of courtiers, but it could be worse. 

“You only needed 30 livre, not a wife” - Aramis, you gentleman. 

Treville’s fighting outfit looks good, I was right. But he is getting his ass kicked. What must Richelieu be thinking! I don’t think he knew Treville would be the one to face Labarge. 

I went back to check and we don’t get his reaction to Treville’s name. But when Labarge is announced he doesn’t look particularly happy.

He also looks very distracted when the King addresses him during the fight.

Treville stops to grin at the King while Labarge is getting his breath back and Labarge attacks when his guard is down. He’s done for!

D’art steps in and in 30 seconds flat it becomes an all out brawl between the musketeers and red guards. 

Louis says that Labarge broke the rules and Treville may nominate a champion. So D’art gets his turn to shine. But what rules? Attacking when Treville was not looking? Stepping on Treville’s shoulder with his foot? I guess Louis can make up the rules as he goes along lol xD

I feel sorry for poor Treville, being utterly humiliated! 

And Labarge shouts that he did burn D’art’s farm down right in the middle of the fight. A confession in front of the King. He’d be dead even if he won!

D’art kills him and Louis declares the musketeers the winners. And takes the prize money for himself because “rules were broken and we do need to collect our taxes somehow.” 

“I admire loyalty, more than any other virtue” - that’s true I think? I think it holds up during the show, but I’m not a Louis expert lol.

At least he makes D’art a musketeer finally! And D’arts teary face and all the hugging is quite moving.

Milady in her pretty red dress gets told off by the cardinal. I love how he says “comtesse de la fere”, but he does ask an important question. Why did she give D’art money to compete? Because Richelieu threatened her at the beginning of the episode and she was looking for a new prospect? She tells him she wants to bring him over to “their side” but that doesn’t square with giving him money to win his musketeer commission lol. Well, Armand, that’s what you get for threatening your employees I guess.  

And Alice and Porthos break up because she can’t handle that much excitement and he can’t give up soldiering. 

Porthos and Aramis share a cute moment.

D’art moves out with some poisonous words for Constance. I can’t really blame him in the heath of the moment, but if memory serves he never really apologised while she did. 

And Constance sees him with Milady! And closes the curtain before she can see him tuning her down! Poor Constance!

And poor Milady! Her position with the Cardinal depends on this and he doesn’t give a fuck now he’s a musketeer. 

Overall this was a very good episode. Such a relief after last time. Next up, the stupid assassination attempt on the Queen. Oh joy!

Red guards killed: Captain Trudeau

Women killed: none! yay!

Best dressed: Milady and Richelieu! Look, they match!

#i wish i could get a clearer picture but this scene is moving all the time ughh #the musketeers #milady de winter #cardinal richelieu #trevilieu #captain treville #porthos #musketeers rewatch

[vagrantblvrd]

halo au (definitely inspired but laso) mavin. just gavin being cheeky fuck and saving the day (and michael, who won't admit it that he needs saving) and michael being michael

Ugh, yessss.

My knowledge of Halo lore is spotty at best (I’ve only played three of the games and not in any kind of order that makes sense + random bits of Halo-verse since then and stuff I’ve looked up on the various Halo wikis out there, but I love this so much? Like. Yes. The Halo universe is a deeply fucked up because wow, and super fascinating and incredible and One Day I will delve back into it, but I digress.)

Setting this sometime during the events of the first three games/Human-Covenant war era and doing a lot of handwaving/~artistic license on pretty much everything to do with things? (Because reasons.)

Anyway, anyway.

Everyone’s a Spartan-III and they’ve all been assigned to a special ops unit under Burnie’s command because reasons.

Newly formed after some incident or other that had the UNSC realizing they needed people properly trained to handle Shiny new, and he’s pulling people from other

They’re all Spartan-IIIs like Noble Team in Halo: Reach, right?

Hand-picked by Burnie and Geoff (and Jack) who have been given (nearly) free reign to fill the ranks and so on and go over thousands of reports they’ve been given clearance to read to select their people. Pull Spartans from other companies and all that and have them reassigned to their little corner of the galaxy for training and all that fun stuff.

Michael’s team is this anomaly in that things are a bit…weird as fuck.

Geoff’s the team leader with Jack as his second-in-command, and things get weird(er) from there with the addition of Ryan and Jeremy.

Which, fair, because Ryan and Jeremy, okay.

A.K.A. the “Battle Buddies”, whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean, and also there’s a rumor around base one of them is actually a Spartan-II? But neither of them will tell anyone which one of them it is, or if the rumor’s even true.

Geoff thinks it’s hilarious the way everyone on base tries to figure out this Great Mystery so of course he’s not talking. (And when he does it’s to sow confusion and chaos and generally be an asshole.)

There’s this glaring empty position because the last recruit for the team has been held up in transit.

Something about the ship he’s on getting caught up in a skirmish somewhere and just this whole series of improbable events that delay his arrival by a few months. Long after the rest of the team has trained together, gone on a few missions that had them forming bonds with one another that means they eye new faces a bit…warily/defensively?

Because, look.

That empty position being a liability on missions, so Trevor or Alfredo get tapped to fill in. (Lindsay and Fiona too, but those missions end in more chaos and confusion than anyone’s really comfortable with? So yeah. Lotta redacted sections in the reports.)

Anyway.

They become a close-knit team pretty fast, because war is hell and they’re all they have out there in enemy territory and other such cliches.

Michael and the others settle into life on base, get used to the way various teams get selected for what would be a suicide mission for any other bunch of assholes. (Luck and skill and a whole lot of who the fuck knows gets them through time and again even though there’s this knowledge it can’t last in the back of their minds, you know? Too many casualties in this war as it is, and the Covenant are relentless fuckers, but until then might as well give ‘em hell.)

And then!

The last member of the team finally, finally gets to base.

Michael and the rest are in the middle of a training exercise when he gets there and once they’re finished he gets back to the barracks first. Finds some asshole testing out the bunks like he’s Goldilocks and seeing it rubs Michael the wrong way because Jesus fucking Christ, okay. What asshole does something like that? (Not, as one would say, a great start.)

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?”

And Gavin – because of course it’s Gavin – is just :DDDDDDDDDDDD at him as he walks over to introduce himself.

Which goes about as well as you’d expect, because Michael is Not Happy?

But before he can get into it with Gavin (asshole doesn’t have the decency to be apologetic about being an asshole, no. Just grins at Michael like he finds all of this hilarious) the others arrive and there’s this whole Thing where Geoff’s like, “Oh, yeah, This is the asshole we’ve been waiting on,” and introductions all around?

Michael is like oh, Jesus fuck, no, but of course his life sucks just that much.

Cue montage scene of Gavin being a little menace all over the place, right?

Makes friends with Jeremy way too fucking fast – they’re horrible little goblins and should never have been allowed to meet, but again, war is hell.

Somehow doesn’t get murderized by Ryan, even after the Coin Incident, and the entire base learns to be wary of the two of them when they Plot and/or Scheme.

Geoff is horrifically amused by Gavin and Jack is like.

(Don’t ask, okay. Because those two are a goddamned nightmare and no one is safe and just. Don’t.)

Gavin also gets along alarmingly well with Trevor and Alfredo once someone makes the mistake of allowing the three of them within a hundred yard radius of each other. (If letting Trevor and Alfredo work together was a bad idea, letting them work with Gavin is catastrophically bad.)

Even worse, he gets along with Lindsay and Fiona and that’s like. At least as terrifying as him getting along with the Terror Twins.

He and Matt are just as bafflingly terrifying as Jack and Gavin and no one knows how that’s even possible. (Because Matt, mostly. But also Gavin.)

Through all of this Michael is just.

Annoyed with this little shit of a teammate, right?

Assumed Burnie or Geoff had made a mistake in picking him for their unit, the team. Thought he’d do something to fuck up and have him reassigned if not kicked out of the military entirely, but no, no.

He’s either some kind of savant or luck as fuck to have survived as long as he has given the kinds of combat he’s seen – Michael may have ~sweet talked Matt or someone else into letting him see Gavin’s files at some point because no way this little idiot got here with what Michael’s seen of him in training.

Sure, he squeaks by during training exercises and such, only just getting through/pass objectives/obstacles and looking like an idiot as he does. (And to Michael’s increasing annoyance/resentment the others don’t seem bothered by any of that? Like it won’t matter in the field on a mission with them relying on Gavin to watch their backs and so on, but fine. Whatever.)

Anyway.

Gavin is :DDDDDDDDDDDDDDD at Michael this whole time while Michael is >:(((((((((((((((((((((((((( and everyone else is either oblivious or amused at the two of them.

Gavin forever trying to get on Michael’s good side while Michael takes every opportunity to avoid him and all the shenanigans that entails.

AND THEN.

The team gets deployed for a Very Sekrit Hush-Hush Mission Of Utmost Importance somewhere.

(Because reasons.)

Get sent out to secure a McGuffin that was on a Pelican that went down in enemy territory and because reasons and shit goes wrong. (Of course it does.)

A hell of a fight to the damn thing to start with, this fucking Elite with a plasma sword making their mission a fucking nightmare.

Manages to get the drop on Geoff just as they get to the rendezvous point where their Pelican is waiting. Serious enough they loaded him on board with the McGuffin and Jack, but before the rest of them could get on the Covenant forces who have been on their asses this whole time catches up to them and the shooting starts. (Again.)

Odds stacked against them and the McGuffin too important to risk falling into enemy hands, so they have no choice but to get it the hell out of there.

Not quite a Last Stand for the rest of the team because Jack left them with an ammo crate before the Pelican lifted off and anyway, they manage to kill the fuckers who tried to kill them.

(Well, most of them before that fucking Elite calls a retreat and they’re left licking their wounds as they regroup.)

From there it’s going to be a long slog out of enemy territory, but Ryan who’s next in the chain of command goes all unsettling cheerful the way he’s wont to do sometimes and gives a rousing speech that mainly consists of  “Well, shit,” and “I think it’s that way?” (referring to safe territory), and “Let’s go boys,” which.

Yeah.

Michael is Not Impressed, but things could be worse, and anyway, anyway, they had to die sometime, right? (Why not now.)

Things go about as you’d expect for the first few miles, and then Gavin gets bored and starts in on his Questions.

Hypothetical nonsense that – for whatever reason – the others indulge him on.

Ryan and Jeremy have no problem arguing with Gavin over some dumb thing or another for a mile, then two before they switch to another idiotic Question and the whole time Michael is Annoyed.

They have to set up camp when it gets dark. (Could have pushed on through it with their armor’s capabilities, but it’s been a hell of a day and Ryan insists. Doesn’t want them making stupid mistakes that will get them killed because they didn’t stop to rest.)

It’s an uneasy night for all of them, worrying about Geoff and Jack more than their own predicament, which. Yeah.

Gavin seems unperturbed by it all the way he always does, and that irritates Michael who’s already tired and annoyed and that worry for Geoff and Jack not making things better? All of it making him shorter, sharper with Gavin to the point he gets looks from Ryan and Jeremy and ends up volunteering to take first watch to cool off.

Things aren’t exactly better the next day, but Gavin seems to have picked up on Michael’s mood or maybe the whole shitty mission is catching up to him because he’s quieter. Doesn’t stick as close to Michael as he usually does, which has Michael feeling guilty about being an asshole, you know.

(Gavin isn’t Michael’s favorite person, but he’s not the worst human being he’s ever met. That honor goes to Ryan, because have you met the man? Absolutely horrible.) Also, the others like him so he can’t be all bad?)

They trudge on for a few hours, Michael’s guilt about being a bastard to Gavin getting to him – along with the looks he’s getting from Ryan and Jeremy – and just as he decides to suck it up and apologize to him they get ambushed by Covenant forces lead by that same fucking Elite from before.

It happens when they’ve reached some kind of outpost, long abandoned because of the war. Damage and such around that looks like more than one battle’s taken place here and the odds of finding any supplies to help them get back out of there are pretty slim?

But they need a break and maybe there’s stuff here that’s been overlooked by other scavengers. (Or something.)

So of course that’s when the Covenant attack, and then the firefight with the shooting and killing (and explosions and ALL the fire?) and the four of them get separated, because of course.

Gavin knocking Michael out of the way of the Elite with a plasma sword, but in the process they fall into a storage area and it’s just.

A fucking nightmare down there fighting the bastard off before he can get either of them with his plasma sword. Gavin manages to stick it with a plasma grenade he got off a dead Grunt earlier in the fight, and it’s enough to send it packing.

Clawing its way out of the storage area and leaving behind a (convenient) exit route for them too, since there’s no way they’d be able to climb back out the way they came in.

By the time they make it back to the surface Ryan and Jeremy are gone, forced to make a run for it from the looks of things, and there are signs they’re being pursued by the rest of the Covenant forces that ambushed them. (Also, a trail of blood and whatnot most likely from the Elite headed in the same direction.)

And it’s.

Michael knows the Battle Buddies are more than capable of looking out for themselves, that even in the worst situation – which this is looking more and more like one – they’ll be able to handle whatever is left of the group chasing them, but.

Team, and Worry, and Jesus fucking Christ, how could the day get any worse?

(Murphy’s Law looks like it’s in action so best not to ask in case the universe decides to demonstrate.)

The whole thing is annoying as shit because Gavin’s armor is fucked from when he tackled Michael out of the way of the Elite’s attack.

Long, horrible rent in the back of his armor cutting across his shoulders and down to his hip. Didn’t make it through the plating, but it was damn close and the Elite managed to nick the power supply control unit (just missed the fusion reactor, which is good because obvious reasons?) and other important bits of Gavin’s armor in the process.

They don’t have much time/proper tools to fuck around with it because Ryan and Jeremy and them being hunted and all?

But Gavin doesn’t seem to care about getting it fully functional again.

As long as he can still move and the filtration systems work he’s good.

Really.

Sure, his HUD’s dead and there are other things drastically wrong, but the people who designed the armor knew what they were doing and it should keep him alive long to get the job done. (Whatever that is, so yeah.)

Gavin doesn’t say a damn thing about that stupid move of his, which is even more irritating, because Michael had things handled okay. Didn’t need Gavin playing hero or whatever he thought he was doing and he stews over the incident as they follow the trail Ryan and Jeremy (and their pursuers) left behind.

They continue on their merry little way, Michael taking the lead and shooting Gavin these looks when he lags behind.

And okay, Michael doesn’t hate him, no matter what some people might think, right? That initial…irritation/dislike/whatever the hell from their first meeting giving way to this general sort of irritation because Gavin -

Look.

Everyone in the unit has a Tragic Backstory, it’s the whole goddamned reason they exist, you know? Snatched up for the Spartan-III program when they passed whatever checklist they had for it, all these war orphans who wanted payback for what the Covenant did to them and theirs.

And Michael’s fine with that most days, living and working with people who understand what being a Spartan-III means. (Cannon fodder, mostly, even if no one says as much. But also the chance to get a little of their own back before they bite it, so yes.)

But then in comes Gavin who doesn’t seem to take it as seriously as he should. Fucks around in training and acts like it’s a joke.

Different from the shit the others get up to, stupid shit they pull when they’re off-duty or just being the idiots they are. Something that gets under Michael’s skin the way the others never did.

Only that’s not quite right, is it? Because Gavin’s an an idiot sure, but not that kind of idiot? Couldn’t be, if the others have taken to him the way they have. If Ryan and Jeremy haven’t done their best to chase/scare him off they way they have others in the past. (If Geoff hasn’t booted him out by now.)

And then there are the training exercises/tests and Gavin barely squeaks by those, sure, but the whole thing where he gets through them anyway. (What Michael’s seen of his files, different battles and other shit he’s survived this long.)

The way he’s kept up with the rest of them, carried his own weight. (This disaster of a mission.)

Not useless, like others Michael’s served with. Knows what he’s doing with that sniper rifle he carries, and none of the others seem to have a problem with him.

ANYWAY.

Michael looks at the idiot, sees Gavin gamely keeping up with him even with his damaged armor slowing him down and is just.

“I don’t get you,” which is mostly the truth.

Gavin confuses the hell out of him.

Most people get the hint when Michael scowls at them whenever he sees them, stop trying to make friends or whatever the fuck Gavin’s been up to all this time. (Most people though, Michael’s realizing, aren’t Gavin, so.)

Gavin, for his part, seems just as confused when he looks Michael’s way because what is he talking about?

They’re teammates, and while Michael’s an unfriendly bastard he’s Team? Growlier than the others, sure, but not unbearably awful and anyway, Gavin thinks he’s hilarious.

And then the slow, cautious Getting To Know Each Other bit where they actually talk? Like. A way to keep their minds off what they might find when they catch up to Ryan and Jeremy and the bastards chasing them and just.

Seems like the thing to do, what with the odds of them getting out of this being what they are.

They ~bond, and some part of Michael is annoyed at that because the principle of the thing or something? (OR maybe he’s annoyed at how easily he starts to like Gavin or just. Something. Whatever his deal is, he’s annoyed about it. Gavin notices, of course, and finds it funny as hell which is also annoying and it’s just. This vicious cycle of annoying.)

Around nightfall they come across this little canyon/gorge where Ryan and Jeremy have been forced into. Some kind of caves or other shelter they’re hiding in with the remaining Covenant forces facing them and doing their best to drive them out into the open to kill them?

Also, that fucking Elite.

Looks like he’s been through hell, part of his armor twisted and melted – from Gavin’s lucky plasma grenade and everything else they’ve thrown at him and all that – and some missing altogether, but still standing.

Barking out orders and clearly furious that humans did this to him and his troops and it’s beyond personal now.

(Mutual feeling, really.)

Conveniently (or not so conveniently) Michael’s comms are busted – took a bad hit during the initial attack at the rendezvous point – and Gavin’s has been busted since he saved Michael’s life in the ambush so they can’t contact Ryan and Jeremy to come up with a battle plan.

Not, you know, that they need anything too complicated?

About a dozen Covies between them and the Battle Buddies and a nice little spot for a sniper to get cozy for a bit, do some damage before things really kick off.

Gavin still has ammo for his sniper rifle – not a lot, but enough to give them a fighting chance here. Take out the Jackals along the ridge facing the caves, take out the threat they pose and leaving the rest to deal with later once he runs out.

They’re not doing great on the weapons front, Michael’s assault rifle and shotgun, and Gavin’s only other weapon is the Magnum pistol Gavin picked up off the ground after the ambush at the outpost after he lost his DMR in the scuffle with the Elite. (Used it to block an attack from the bastard’s  plasma sword and it didn’t survive, but better it than Gavin, so, again. Yes.)

Anyway, anyway.

Michael’s forte isn’t stealth, but even he can make his way close to the Covenant forces while Gavin picks off the snipers, take out a few grunts before they realize what’s happening and it turns into a free-for-all.

And he does get there because Gavin’s got his - their backs covered and it’s impressive as hell, really, considering he doesn’t even have a working HUD.

Michael feels this vicious little satisfaction when he hears the first shot from Gavin’s sniper rifle, sees the Jackal drop. Doesn’t bother to watch the others fall because there’s a Grunt in front of him and it’s muscle memory from there.

He gets two of them from behind before they know what’s going on, and goes for his shotgun when the third startles and whirls around on him, plasma pistol swinging in his direction.

Things get hectic after that, Ryan and Jeremy realizing the cavalry’s (such as it is) is there to save their asses and a whole lot of dying going on.

Somewhere in there Gavin makes his way down into the fray, Michael catching sight of his armor here and there before losing sight of him as the fight wages on.

There’s this moment – that slo-mo kind of moment – where the smoke clears and the crowd parts and all that Dramatic Moment shit and the damned Elite shows up.

Furious as fuck and bearing down on Michael who brings his shotgun to bear – assault rifle lost somewhere after he ran out of ammo and used it to melee a Grunt and couldn’t be bothered to retrieve it with a suicide Grunt running at him.

He fires, but there’s that godawful click because he used the last of his ammo on another Covie and Christ, what a shitty way to go out, right?

But then there’s Gavin again, the stupid fucker.

This wild yell and flash of blue from behind the Elite as he leaps over a dead body and onto the fucker’s back. Combat knife sinking into the unprotected back (took his chest piece off because it was so badly damaged before and useless) and then he’s grabbing the bastard’s head and twists, the Elite making this surprised noise before it goes down, finally, finally fucking dead as shit.

Michael stares because Jesus Christ, what the hell, and Gavin looks up to catch his eye. Breathing hard and kind of desperate in the way he looks Michael over because wow, adrenaline, huh?

Another Moment where they’re just holy fuck because what a situation and also a rescue – risky as fuck because if the Elite had turned when Gavin made that jump he would have killed Gavin while Michael watched and just.

A whole lot going on between them before some asshole Grunt fires off a shot way too fucking close to them to snap them out of it, remind them the fight’s not over yet, so maybe save it for later?

Gavin yanks his combat knife out of the Elite’s back and Michael takes his plasma sword to use while Gavin plucks up an abandoned plasma pistol from a dead Grunt nearby and they get back to it.

Cut down the rest of the Covies with Ryan and Jeremy until they’re the only ones left standing and then it’s “What took you guys so long,” and “We had everything perfectly under control,” and “Hey, assholes,” and so on.

Scavenging (looting) weapons and the long walk to safe territory.

And, like.

Michael still getting looks from Ryan and Jeremy, but this time it’s because Michael’s being friendly towards Gavin who is :DDDDD about it and things kind of go from there.

Once they get back to base the whole Play Pals thing happens – or the equivalent -  to counterbalance the Battle Buddies and Geoff hates these assholes, he really does. And then other shit happens, like Michael experiencing an accelerated case of Pining for Gavin who is amused as fuck once he realizes what’s going on? (Not like he didn’t have his own case of Pining, but that’s old news by now that pretty much the entire base knew about before he did? But Michael’s so damn surly about his own affliction.)

More missions and close calls – a few presumed dead scenarios and Hard Truths and Shocked Realizations and then the Smoochening.

Also.

Almost literally everyone else on the entire base being in on the betting pool regarding the two of them to Michael’s >:(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((( because assholes.

~*The End*~

(Also, though. Gavin or Jeremy – or both – pick up a stray kitten on a mission somewhere and bring it back to base where it becomes a mascot and makes Michael’s life a misery because it can? Meanwhile Gavin laughing his ass off while Michael bitches about this tiny cat that has some kind of vendetta against him and Michael, Michael, please.)

EDIT: Also, turns out Jeremy’s the Spartan-II, something they all find out on a later mission where he saves the day via Spartan-II awesomeness involving like. A tank or something he punches to death. (Because that’s a thing you can do in Halo and it’s awesome as fuck and also fun.)

#ragehappy #mavin #implied jeremwood #halo au #technically not a fic #vagrant fic #anon i love your brain #also i went a bit overboard with this #¯\_(ツ)_/¯ #Anonymous

[sebastianshaw]

📖 Pirate AU!!! ATLA AU :)

I unfortunately have never seen ATLA (though he strikes me as a firebender, even if normally I’d say his “element” is earth) but I did get asked for a 1700s pirate AU a couple years ago and I still have it! - The 1700s is smack dab in the middle of when piracy was at its height in the Caribbean. So he’d be…a pirate of the Caribbean. Yup. - He was born in Pennsylvania, as in his standard verse, though it was of course VERY different then. His family were Anglicans, in contrast to the Quaker majority, but Shaw’s faith lay in commerce. After his father’s death from tuberculosis or cholera or something like that, there was nothing left to attach Shaw to his home. He traveled from his tiny settlement to Philadelphia, which had already become one of the most important centers in the colonies for the conduct of foreign trade and the commercial metropolis. From there he got a job as a ship hand on a ship exporting iron ore and iron products (plows, kettles, nails, etc.) to England. They were attacked en route by pirates. Shaw had no desire to die for the sake of goods that he didn’t even own nor would see profit for, and joined the pirates instead. They accept him on due both to his unusual burliness, and his frank practicality about the whole thing. - Shaw was a good pirate—too good, it turned out, when he mutinied against his former captain and overtook his crew. He redubbed them the Hellfire Kings, and began a reign of maritime terror that earned him the nickname The Black King, placing him in the company of the likes of Blackbeard and Black Bart. - Shinobi’s mother was a descendant of the Japanese who were brought to Portugal as slaves in the 1500. Lourdes was the daughter of a wealthy Spanish landowner in one of Spain’s Caribbean colonies of the time; Panama, perhaps, or Tortuga. Naturally, the love affair between a pirate king and a noblewoman was just as dramatic and romantic as any harlequin novel would make it out to be—but ended just as tragically, with Lourdes perishing at the hands of an enemy buccaneer as a strike against Shaw in a feud. - Shaw was notable for allowing women openly on his crew. While it would perhaps be incorrect to call him an early feminist of any sort, he did recognize that the female of the species is at least as deadly as the male. Famous female pirates Diamond Em and Selina the Dark are often misquoted as having been among his crew, but this is false; they were captains of their own respective crews. Diamond Em merely allied herself with Shaw when convenient (and is largely held to have been the superior plunderer and captain) whereas Selina the Dark was simply his enemy and rival, pure and simple, as she was to Diamond Em. A lesser-known woman, whose name is only recorded as “Tessa” in any documentation, seems to have been his consistent first mate, though it’s unclear where she came from—only that she would eventually turn on him, as he had his original captain. NEW ADDITIONS JUST 4 YOU - Very hands-on captain! He spends an equal time doing the whole “brooding in the cabin” thing as well as just...fuck what are physical things pirates do on ships? I don’t know, pulling up masts and shit. He’s just out there with no shirt doing a ton of physical labor and YELLING AT EVERYBODY ELSE FOR BEING LAZY. - Frankly not that good at swordfighting or at pistols. He really prefers to just punch. Has definitely punched a hole IN THE HULL OF A SHIP at least once. - He knows if he doesn’t give a fair cut to his crew, mutiny will happen...but oh god it’s so hard to fight his own greed. - Eventually gets taken down by his own son, just as he’s starting to slow down. It’s not really Shinobi that catches up with him so much as his age, really. But it ends up a pretty grand going out, involving a massive explosion that Shinobi survives...and Shaw does not. Down with the ship indeed!

#pirate au

[izzy-b-hands]

London By Night, Chapter Five

Y/N’s mother continues her reign of terror, and we get some NSFW with Freddie and the reader in this one (because jesus, who wouldn’t need some form of stress relief after the last chapter. I should know, I wrote it!) It is pretty explicit though, so if that isn’t your thing, just a warning! 

This: https://www.milestonehotel.com/location is the hotel I’m using for the fic; as far as I can tell via some basic research it appears that it would have been operational in the late seventies as a hotel? 

tw for more of the usual near-misgendering and full out misgendering from the Reader’s mum. Also for some shit-talking re: top surgery scars (aka guess what my own mum has said she doesn’t want to see once I finally get surgery done!) 

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

It seemed all too long for Freddie to clean up and make sure your mother was settled, and you nearly leapt into his arms when he finally came into the bedroom.

“Thank you,” you murmured. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, I’ll never be able to thank you enough for all of this. You shouldn’t even be having to deal with her. I’m so sorry.” 

He hushed you. “She’s on the couch now, resting. Probably not asleep yet, but quiet, at least.” 

You giggled. “It’s a miracle.” 

“It is!” 

“I owe Rog one,” you sighed. “A big one. If he’s ever in mortal danger, maybe I could come close to paying him back.” 

“You know he didn’t mind helping, or he wouldn’t have stayed,” Freddie said, quiet, mindful of your mother being so close. “And I’m willing to bet he will have his mother call here to speak to her tomorrow, so that should be interesting. We’ll have to make popcorn for that show.” 

“Oh god,” you muttered, and flopped back on the bed while he undressed. “She’s radioactive or something. She gets near, and it spreads to everyone. Why?” 

“Misery loves company,” he said. “I’m going to go get ready. You alright in here, alone?” 

“You think she might try and sneak in or something?” 

He shrugged. “I wouldn’t put it past her.” 

You groaned, and turned over onto your stomach to mutter wordlessly into the mattress. 

“I’ll be right back,” he whispered, and you tried to relax as he left. 

There were at least the sounds to focus on. His soft footfalls in the hall, the sound of the faucet in the bathroom. The little bits of humming that floated on the air, sometimes from current Queen songs, other things that you didn’t recognize but figured you might hear on the next album.

You weren’t exactly sleepy by the time he got back, but you were relaxed enough to be breathing normally. 

He joined you on the bed, a hand resting gently on your back. “You want to go get ready? I’ll be ready to jump out there, in case she tries to ambush you.” 

“How on earth did this turn into a war?” you sighed. “Or was it always one?” 

“She seems to make a lot of things feel like one,” Freddie replied. “I mean, going off my two experiences with her so far, and what you’d told me about her before. First impressions aren’t always accurate, of course, but this one seems to be.” 

 You nodded. “I need to brush my teeth.” 

“Dash out there, get it done, and dash back,” Freddie advised. “I’ll catch her if she gets up and tries to bother you. Ready?” 

You giggled despite yourself. He had a way of making it almost fun. “Ready.”

You did just as he said, and quietly darted down the hall to the bathroom. It was difficult, but you tried to listen for any sounds of movement over the sound of the faucet as you readied yourself for bed. Just as you thought it was safe, you heard a creak from the sofa.

You opened the door to find her standing there, but Freddie was already out of the bedroom, in a pair of lounge sweatpants and his satin robe, untied and fluttering as he moved. 

“Is there something you need? We can get it for you, whatever it is,” he said. “Glass of water, midnight snack-” 

“No,” she interrupted. “I just...wanted to make a request.” 

“Oh,” he said. “Well then. What can we help you with?” 

“I ask only that, if you two...do anything...in bed tonight, that you be mindful of the noise,” she replied to him, but her eyes were locked on yours. “When you were back at home, it occasionally got...well. Creaks of the bed, and things like that. No one wants to hear that.” 

You watched Freddie’s Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed, his lips pursed. You had a feeling you knew what he wanted to say, that this was his damned flat and he’d make all the damned noise in bed he wanted (an opinion you agreed with completely), but instead, he sighed. 

“We’ll be mindful. As we tried to be then, as well.” 

“Practice makes perfect, I suppose,” she tutted. “Just so long as it doesn’t wake me up.” 

You could see in Freddie’s eyes the plan he wanted to enact, and that frankly, you wanted to as well. To fuck as hard and as loudly as you could, so that you’d wake not just her, but the neighbors and half the block as well if you did it right. 

But again, he showed restraint. “We wouldn’t want that. Sleep well. Y/N, shall we away?” 

You eagerly took his hand and walked with him to the bedroom, shutting the door to it behind you, and locking it. 

You both dropped to the bed with exasperated sighs. 

“She is...so tiring,” Freddie muttered, covering his face with his hands. “How on earth have you lived with her your entire life, without help to deal with her?” 

“I don’t know, I guess,” you admitted. “You can get used to anything, if you never know any different.” 

“Well, you know different now,” Freddie said. “And if I have my way, you will never have to get used to that, to her, ever again.” 

“Tomorrow, we get her to a hotel,” you said.

“Exactly,” he nodded. “I cannot believe I’m saying this, but I’m almost too tired to fuck.” 

“Aww,” you said softly. “That’s a shame. I was hoping to fuck you into the bed, hard enough that we both forget tonight even happened.” 

“I said almost,” Freddie grinned, and carefully rolled over on top of you, moving to pull off and toss aside his robe. “Oh, but we mustn’t wake her.” 

You giggled at his sarcasm. “Oh, we absolutely can’t. We’re only fucking in our flat, after all.” 

He smiled so warmly at you then, that it melted you delightfully, his head resting against your chest, deep brown eyes staring happily into yours. “We are. Does that mean...I mean, should I tell John-” 

“To let the other tenants do whatever they want, because I’ve already got a flat to stay in?” you interrupted softly. “Yeah. If you’ll have me, I want to be here, with you.” 

You could feel his joy in his kiss, in the grinding of his hips against yours, how his hands traced their way around your body. 

“Is that a yes?” you laughed when he stopped for a breath. 

“Of course it is,” he smiled. “Bonus, you know she’ll just die when she finds this out.” 

“God, she really will,” you said. “Is it wrong that I’m enjoying that?” 

“Not at all,” Freddie said. “You should enjoy this too.” 

He slipped down between your legs, and tapped the waistband of the pajama trousers you wore. “These need to go.” 

“Permanently?” 

“I wouldn’t mind that,” Freddie said, and carefully yanked them off of you as you lifted your hips for him. “Those too.” 

You helped him yank off your pants as well, then gestured to his sweatpants. “And those?” 

“Will be off when they need to be,” Freddie replied. “We’ve got you to take care of first.” 

You knew exactly what he could do with that mouth, his lips and tongue working in tandem with his fingers on your dick and cunt, but it still made you gasp as he set to work, and you slapped a hand over your mouth. 

He lifted his head up, and grinned. “There’s just no keeping you quiet, is there?” 

“You’ll have to keep doing this until I learn,” you replied. “I don’t know how else I might finally get it down.” 

“Practice makes perfect,” he said, mimicking your mother, and you bit back a laugh. 

“God! Not that, not here! Do not bring her in here, this is a sacred place!” 

“It is,” he murmured, and dipped his head back down, his tongue again in your folds, and you sighed. 

He kept you just on the edge, never letting you fall all the way over, and that made it slightly easier to keep quiet, if only because you bit down on your fist each time you got close. 

Finally, it was too much to take, and you tapped his shoulder furiously. 

“Hold on. I want you inside when I come,” you said raggedly. He was, thus far, the only man who could make that happen for you. Not that you’d been with that many men to begin with, but there was something about the chemistry you had with Freddie, the attention he paid to you and your body, that made it better than anyone from before. 

He nodded, and stood to finish undressing. “How do you want it?” 

“Can I turn over, and just lay prone? I don’t think that’ll make too much noise with the bed,” you replied.

“And you love it that way,” Freddie teased.

“That too,” you admitted. “But I also really don’t want her knocking on the door while we’re in the middle of this.” 

“Fair enough,” Freddie said. “I don’t either.” 

“Condoms are in my bag,” you said as you rolled onto your stomach, shoving a pillow under your hips for decent leverage. 

“Got it,” Freddie said, and you heard him rustling through your still not-totally-unpacked luggage until he found them. 

There was a sound outside the bedroom door, and you both froze.

“I love you, but I swear to god, if your mother is listening to us fuck,” Freddie whispered.

“I know,” you whispered back, turning to watch the door so he could focus on putting on the condom. “I think we’re okay though. If she’s out there, at least she isn’t trying to get in.” 

“Darling, you really need to raise your standards there,” Freddie said, and gestured for you to turn back again. 

It was a comforting ritual by now, the feeling of him lubed up, slipping inside of you, and found yourself biting your fist again to contain the very happy sigh and moan it elicited. 

“How much money do you think I’d have to make before we could just do this every day?” Freddie whispered as he slowly thrust, his skin warm against yours.

“To what? Spend all day fucking whenever we want, and doing whatever else we want in between?” 

He nodded against your shoulder, biting it gently to soften a moan. 

“What about the band?” 

“We’d make enough so they could retire and do this too, with their spouses, girlfriends, whoever they end up with,” he replied after a moment. 

You caught his rhythm, your hips moving in time with his. “I think that would be okay then. But I have no idea how much you’d need to make.” 

“I’m going to find out,” he said, his voice dropping deeper as his hips moved faster, slightly harder against you. “And then as soon as I’ve got enough, we’re moving elsewhere. Or at least, keeping a house here, but living elsewhere more often. Montreux maybe, or Ibiza.” 

“As long as I’m there with you, I don’t care where we end up,” you sighed.

“Your hometown?” he giggled, matching it with a snap of his hips and a thrust that made you moan into the mattress. 

“Not there,” you laughed quietly. “Anywhere but there.” 

There was a sound again outside of the door, and he grumbled. 

“I swear, she’s out there. She’s listening for us! Go to bed, for fuck’s sake!” 

“Let’s give her something to hear then,” you said, as the sound of footsteps near the door came through it clearly, again. 

He slipped out of you, and you whined the feeling, but quickly stood and tossed the pillow to the floor so he could lay back on the bed, even though your legs were jelly. 

You slipped him back inside of you carefully as you straddled him, and smirked as the mattress creaked with the motion.

“This is a little bit evil, you know that?” he grinned. 

“It is, but so is purposefully listening to your kid fuck,” you said, working your hips slowly as Freddie’s hand toyed with your dick, just the way you liked. 

The mattress let out a groan of its own, and you fought back a laugh as the footsteps outside the door pattered quickly away.

Freddie moved carefully but quickly, adjusting so he was sat up against the bed frame, you in his lap. He could thrust, and you could meet him perfectly, and the mattress seemed to hate that position even more with the sounds it made. 

You were both a wonderful wreck, caught in between fevered moans and laughter at each creak of the bed. 

“I’d love to torment her more, but I’m not going to last much longer,” you sighed. 

He nodded, his eyes closed, lips pressing kisses to your neck, your chest, your face, anywhere he could reach, and that was answer enough to know that he was close too. 

You struggled to keep quiet as you came, grinding against him as hard as you could without risk of hurting him (though you still had a feeling you might leave a bruise or two on his hip bones.) He did his best as well, kissing you and moaning into your mouth as he shuddered, his cock pulsating inside of you. 

You both rested for a moment like that, kissing hard as you came back down. 

Suddenly, from just outside the bedroom door you heard it: a scandalized “Oh goodness!” and footsteps running away again.

“I didn’t even hear her come back over,” you whispered.

“You were busy with more important things,” Freddie smiled, pressing another kiss to your lips before he let you move off of him, groaning as he slipped out of you. “I hate that she’s here, but I love fucking like that.” 

“Spite fucking?” 

“I don’t know if that’s the exact right thing to call it, but sure, let’s go with that for now,” he replied. “Do we have a towel in here? I don’t want to have to walk past her to clean up.” 

“We do, thankfully,” you said, and tossed it over to him. “You first, then me.” 

After you were both cleaned up, the condom tossed away, you flopped back into bed, boneless.

“Maybe she’ll be gone when we wake up,” you pondered. “That would be too good to be true though, wouldn’t it?” 

He snuggled against you. “Probably. But we can always hope. And if she isn’t, she will be after we set her up with a hotel.” 

“And then we can fuck as loudly as we want,” you yawned. 

He nodded, his breathing slowed, and you could tell he was already essentially asleep. 

That was one other thing you could spitefully enjoy too. You and Freddie sleeping deeply and happily together, while she slept fitfully on the couch, likely horrified at the fact that you had dared to let your ‘bedroom activities’ make any noise at all.

---

You woke to the rapping of a fist on the bedroom door, and sighed. 

“Hi, Mum. We’ll be up in a minute!” 

“It’s nearly noon!” she shouted through the door. “If you hadn’t stayed up so late...” 

Freddie grumbled as he woke, rubbing at his eyes. “Did she seriously just admit to hearing us fuck, and being awake for all that?” 

“I think she did,” you groaned. “Jesus.” 

“Maybe she’ll volunteer to go to a hotel,” Freddie said, yawning as he rolled out of bed. 

“I hope so,” you said. “You would think, after last night...” 

You pulled on your pajama pants, and stumbled out of the room with a yawn.

“Oh! Y/N! A shirt, for goodness’ sake!” your mother nearly shouted. 

“Why?” Freddie asked as he popped around you, his own chest bare, the sweatpants from last night slung low on his hips. You could see just a hint of the bruises at his hip bones, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the sight. 

“This isn’t funny!” your mother whined. “You know I don’t like...looking at them. Put on a shirt, please.” 

Freddie frowned, and turned to look at your bare chest. “I’m missing something.” 

Your mother rolled her eyes, and pointed as exaggeratedly as it seemed she could manage. “Those...scars.” 

“Oh, these?” Freddie said, and came back up behind you, wrapping you in a hug, his fingers tracing your scars delicately. “I don’t see anything wrong with them. They’ve healed well, and even if they hadn’t, who cares? Y/N is gorgeous no matter what.” 

She seemed shocked into silence, and picked up her travel bag of toiletries from her suitcase before stomping off into the bathroom. 

“Good start to the day,” you sighed. 

“Could have been worse,” Freddie said, gently kissing your neck before leading you into the kitchen. “Breakfast?” 

“I don’t think I can stomach anything,” you muttered. 

“You should eat something,” Freddie said. “Anything.” 

“Thank you, darling,” you replied. “But I really don’t think I can.” 

He nodded. “Later, maybe. After-” 

The door to the bathroom opened, and he leaned close to you and whispered. “After we’ve dropped her off at a hotel.” 

“Well,” your mother said as she started to fuss through her luggage for a change of clothes. “What are we going to do today?” 

Before either of you could answer, the phone rang. 

Freddie jumped to answer it, only to lean back out of the bedroom as soon as he had. “Y/N, we’re needed. Something quite serious.” 

His tone was worried, but that worry on his face didn’t quite reach his eyes. Something was up. 

He darted back in to finish the call, and was back out a moment later, all in a rush towards your mother. “We’ll need to get ready, straight away. We’ll have just enough time to drop you off at a hotel; there’s one only ten minutes from us.” 

“I-” 

“You understand,” he interrupted her. “Tour preparation problems, the whole thing could be shot if we don’t get over there and help.” 

In her eyes, you could see an argument brewing, but instead she started to rifle though through her clothes, apparently to dress. 

You wanted desperately to ask him exactly what was going on, but knew that to let on that this was at all unusual might break whatever plan was in place. And this had to be a scheme of some sort; you suspected Roger. 

But it worked. She packed in a panicked rush, and let you and Freddie shepherd her out of the flat after you were both dressed and ready yourselves. 

“This is nicer than his apartment,” your mother remarked as you watched Freddie check her in, handing over the money for at least a week-long stay as if it were nothing. 

You had a hundred and one angry responses to that, but held them back. “...I’m just glad you like it, Mum. You’ll be able to rest, figure out if you want to explore the city some while we’re fixing  whatever’s gone wrong.” 

“And then you’ll come back to spend the evening with me,” she said, a fact, not a question or request. 

Before you could reply, Freddie was back. “Here’s your key. You go on and settle in, and of course, you can call us later if you need anything.” 

“Well, actually-” 

“We’ll call you later if you don’t call us, to check up on you,” Freddie said cheerfully as he led you to the door of the hotel. Under his breath, he whispered, “Come on, Y/N, don’t give her another moment, or we’ll never get away!” 

“Do I get to know what’s wrong now?” you asked as you left the hotel, breaking into a light jog to catch up to him as he hailed a cab. 

“You’ll see,” he replied. “But I can tell you where we’re going.” 

“The studio, or some sort of headquarters?” 

He shook his head. “Brian’s.” 

“You know that doesn’t clear this up in the slightest, right?” 

“I know,” he grinned. “But does it matter right now?” 

“You know...it doesn’t,” you found yourself smiling. “It’s a break from her, and that sounds wonderful.” 

#text post #LeeH writes #queen band fic #freddie mercury x reader #freddie mercury x male reader

[keeroo92]

Nico In Trouble

Hi everyone! Here is my submission for @whumptober2019 for day 5 with the prompt “Gunpoint” featuring everyone’s favorite mechanic, Nico. This one starts a little slow, but I think it came out well. Enjoy!

Word count - 2,489

_____________________________

Nico would never forget the first time she held a gun. It was a Heckler and Koch HK45, not one of her grandmother’s custom builds but a basic and bland model. Nothing fancy, just what her uncle kept in his nightstand for protection.

A beautiful piece.

She hadn’t been looking for it. Before that day, she never imagined he owned a firearm. All she needed was a battery to replace the dead one in the tv remote. She’d checked every drawer in the kitchen, every nook and cranny of the living room and office. This was her last hope, or she’d have to change the channel manually.

Gross.

Yet the sight of the polished metal derailed her plans. It called to her, begging for her touch. Something about the weapon resonated with her very soul and she lacked the will power to ignore it. The battery could keep for a while.

Trembling fingertips slid over the device, feeling its weight and structure. It sent chills up her spine and she couldn’t help the soft smile from crossing her lips as she lifted it, angling the barrel to catch the dim light from above. It glinted and flashed, as if it were celebrating her presence.

She was eight years old.

Guns weren’t unfamiliar to her, not with her family. Papa Rock loved telling stories about Granny Nell and her smithing days, speaking with reverence and pride of her accomplishments. It made Nico jealous sometimes; she wanted Papa to talk about her that way, too. Not to say he didn’t already, not even close.

But it always rang with the tone of an adult talking to a child. Over-exaggerated, encouraging and supportive but not truly impressed. Not false, just… something.

Her hands shifted on the grip. It wasn’t too heavy, but she struggled to maintain a solid grasp even with the finger grooves. Someday, it would fit in her palms with ease.

She couldn’t wait.

That was four years ago.

Uncle Terry’s shouts of alarm when he found her with his loaded gun still made her roll her eyes. Punishment was harsh; she knew better than to play with guns, what was she thinking? Blah, blah, blah. Whatever, as long as she got to touch it again.

But Papa Rock was ruthless. Not once since that day had he allowed her to handle a weapon. It was killing her, especially when he tried to placate her misery with a damned air rifle.

Ridiculous.

He encouraged her other interests, but nothing could quench her thirst to tinker with whatever pistol was available. She begged and pleaded and promised, yet his resolve never wavered. Not until she was ready, he said. A few more years, he swore. How was he supposed to know when she was ready, anyway? Why did he get to make that call?

I’ve been ready for years!

Nico growled and spat out her toothpaste. She wasn’t doing herself any favors by dwelling on it; better to think about something else. As much as it sucked, it was out of her hands. Papa Rock wasn’t one to change his mind, especially not when she whined about it. Either he’d let her near a gun or she’d turn eighteen and no longer need permission.

She rinsed away the dregs and grinned at the mirror, checking for any glaring scuzz on her teeth in between her braces. Another thing she couldn’t wait to grow out of…

Satisfied, she headed to bed.

Well, it was more of a sofa, but that wasn’t the point.

“G’night, Uncle Terry!” she called as she passed his closed bedroom door. A grunted response was all she received, but that was normal.

Whenever Papa Rock left town for work, she stayed with him. He kept his bedroom locked now, probably on Papa’s orders otherwise she would’ve been in his nightstand faster than a knife fight in a phone booth. Besides that, he pretty much gave her free reign.

She moved the disemboweled toaster she’d been working on earlier to the floor and slid between the sheets with a yawn. It was black as pitch outside and insects chirped through the open window, the still-humid air only just starting to be bearable. A typical summer evening, all things considered.

Then the front door exploded.

Nico jumped, her eyes shooting wide as a figure strode through the void. She couldn’t see much in the dark, but the unmistakable clack of a shotgun being loaded echoed in the heavy air.

“TERRY!”

What in the hell is going on?

The figure stepped forward and Nico held her breath. Whoever it was seemed to know their way around the small home, easily avoiding the furniture as they approached her uncle’s bedroom. Terror flooded her mind as she watched the intruder level the gun.

“GIT YOUR SORRY ASS OUT HERE!”

The snarling sounded female. Who was this, and why did she wanna shoot her uncle? It made no sense; he’d never mentioned a pissed off lady. What the hell did he do?

His door cracked open to reveal the barrel of that same Heckler and Koch from so long ago. She recognized it easily as the slide drew back, bringing a round into the chamber. The regular grumble of his voice was replaced with resigned exhaustion as he spoke.

“What the hell d’you want, Tara?”

Now was her chance, while the woman was distracted. She swallowed her fear and forced her body to move, trying to minimize the noise she made but the sheets still betrayed her as she moved to the floor. She cursed internally and prayed, but it was too late. The woman turned.

“Who’s there!? Show yourself!”

A pair of barrels leveled at roughly her position. Her heart beat faster than a hummingbird’s wings, her palms as slick as a greased hog. What should she do? Stay hidden and hope nothing hit her? Reveal herself and risk this stranger’s wrath? Either way, it was a risk.

I might die tonight.

The column of her throat twitched at the realization. If only she had a gun of her own! She’d cut the stranger’s tail for sure! Damn Papa Rock, damn him and his stupid rules!

“Ya got till the count of three! One…”

Her lungs refused to inflate and her legs stubbornly locked tight. Was there anything in between her and the shotgun? Could she duck behind the couch in time? She’d never been the fastest, but maybe just this once…

“Two…”

A click. She was running out of time. Her head spun and her vision swam as she slowly inhaled.

“Thr-“

Her hands flew into the air, palms open and submissive. They trembled as she licked her lips. “Okay, okay! I’m comin’ out!”

The stranger hummed and lowered the shotgun, but not by much. Drops of sweat slid from Nico’s brow and under her arms. She closed her eyes and ordered her body to rise, bracing for the worst.

“Who the fuck are you? Hit the damned light, will ya?”

A moment later, she cringed as rays of illumination flooded the room. Her eyes flew to the floor to avoid the worst of it.

“I’m N- Nicoletta Goldstein, Terry’s niece.”

A sharp clatter. Nico’s eyes stole a peek at the woman to see the shotgun raised once more, pointed right at her face. The hands gripping the weapon were solid, not a shake to be seen as if to contrast her own trembling.

A warm puddle leaked from between her legs to stain her pajamas.

I’m gonna die! Oh my god, I’m actually gonna die!

Enraged eyes locked with her terrified gaze. Her vision blurred, the first tear spilling free as she choked on a sob.

“P- please! I’m just a kid!” she begged. The admission of her youth sent daggers into Nico’s belly.

Why doesn’t Terry stop her!? Aren’t grown ups supposed to do that kind of thing?

“Well, Nicoletta Goldstein, you better hope your pig of an uncle’s got some damn good explanations!”

A thin hand left the shotgun to push hair from the woman’s eyes. Her features weren’t unpleasant, even with rage twisting them. What could she possibly want to kill Uncle Terry for?

“Leave her outta this! Our shit’s between you and me, she’s got nothing to do with it!” his voice cried.

“Don’t you dare tell me what to do, shit brain! All I wanna hear from you is a damned apology!”

Blood pounded in Nico’s ears. She couldn’t hear the cicada’s anymore, only the sound of wind. Her chest heaved as she choked on dread, a metallic tang rising in her throat. What she wouldn’t give to have  more time.

There’s still so much I haven’t done!

It wasn’t fair! She hadn’t done anything wrong, why did she have to pay the price for her uncle? If there was any justice in the world, their positions would be switched. She’d have the gun and he’d be out here soaked in his own piss and drowning in terror. By all rights, he deserved it!

“Here’s my apology, you skanky bitch.”

A sound like thunder split the air as Terry pulled the trigger. With a flash and a smell of gunpowder, his shot struck home in the woman’s shoulder. She grunted and angled her shotgun at the bedroom door, squeezing the trigger and staggering back from the recoil. Pellets blasted into the wood, ripping holes in some places on their path of death.

Shit, shit, shit! What the fuck! I gotta move!

Nico didn’t hesitate, ducking low and darting behind the massive bookcase against the wall. It was a deep one, enough so that she was mostly shielded if she pressed into the wall hard enough. Hopefully, it would be enough.

Another thunderous crack; the .45. Terry was still alive, still fighting.

She closed her eyes and let the tears flow as the shotgun fired, flinching at the impact of pellets on wood. If this went on much longer, she’d learn what it sounded like when they struck flesh.

A string of violent expletives came from the woman as she ducked behind the couch to reload. Nico had mere seconds to make her move and she growled, sending every ounce of pent up rage and frustration to her legs, but they refused to move. Her body was in open rebellion. It wouldn’t let her leave the safety of her nook, no matter how much she wanted to.

Damnit, come on! You coward, Nico!

It was too late. The woman stood tall and aimed once again at what remained of Terry’s bedroom door, cackling as she fired. A massive section of wood splintered away and she advanced, preparing her next shot to spray through the gap.

“DIE, YOU BASTA-“

The .45 fired. Gurgles replaced words and a heavy thud marked the woman falling to her knees, mere inches from the door. Her muddy eyes met Nico’s and blood leaked from the fresh hole in her neck, a steady river too powerful to overcome. She shifted her shotgun and aimed, determined to get what she came for.

Just die, won’t ya?! Haven’t you done enough!?

Her hand squeezed and another round of pellets sprayed forth to decorate the door. Several went straight through and lodged into whatever waited beyond.

The shotgun clattered to the floor, followed shortly by the woman. Her head landed sideways, and Nico watched in stupefied horror as the light in her eyes flickered out. The rage seeped away as her features went slack, a soft exhalation stirring the still pooling blood beneath her.

It’s over.

Nico’s knees struck the hardwood as she collapsed. She couldn’t look away from the woman’s face as she broke down, staring at death as her body recovered from the cocktail of terror and shifted to exhausted relief. Never had she been more thankful to breathe, to be able to sob and shake with sweet, sweet life.

“Nico…”

Shit, I forgot about Terry!

She scrambled to her feet and peered through the gap made from the shotgun blasts. All that met her gaze was the bedspread, dotted with splinters and torn to shreds.

“Is she… is she dead?”

She hiccupped and glanced back to check, just in case. “Yeah, I- I think so.”

A pained grunt and the door opened. There stood Terry, covered in small cuts and scraps of wood, a scarlet stain growing on his calf, but alive.

“You all right, string bean?”

She choked on a laugh. No, she was not all right. Some lady just died in front of her after pointing a gun at her face and shooting the shit out of her uncle’s house.

But she wasn’t injured, so instead she nodded.

A warm hand pulled her into a hug. “You did good.”

This time she couldn’t hold back her manic snort. “I didn’t do anything, I just stood there and hid!”

“Yeah, I know. You didn’t get yourself killed, so… you did good.”

She wiped away hysterical tears and sniffled. Her mind already whirled with questions, but she was too tired to ask a single one. It’d keep.

She helped Terry to the couch just as the first flashing lights lit the room in red and blue. He grimaced as a voice outside demanded he open the door and surrender, an apology in his familiar eyes as he hollered back the basics of what happened.

“Hands on the windowsill! Both of you!”

Are you kidding me? I just wanna sleep! Can’t it keep?

Apparently not. The questions didn’t stop for what felt like years. Nico stopped paying attention after a while, too dazed to care anymore. She stared at the body as someone checked her for wounds. Vacant eyes were all that remained of the woman who made her piss herself in terror. Was that really all that got left behind when you died?

“Nico! Nicoletta Goldstein!”

She snapped to attention. A young man in blue held out a phone with a kind smile; no danger.

“We got a hold of your daddy, he wants to talk to ya.”

Papa Rock… I wish he was here.

“Hello?”

“Nico! Are you all right? Tell me what happened.”

She shifted her weight and pulled at the edges of a blanket someone left over her shoulders. “I’m fine. Just tired. Can I tell ya later? I’m…”

“Sure, sure… later. I’m coming back, I’ll be there in a few hours.”

A long pause. She didn’t have the energy to break the silence.

“Once you’re feeling up to it, I think it’s time. You’re ready.”

She stifled a yawn. “For what?”

“To learn to shoot. When you feel up to it, that is.”

She almost laughed. If he’d said those words a few short hours ago, she would’ve screamed with joy and excitement. Now, she felt nothing. That probably wasn’t a good thing, but she didn’t care. For now, it was enough to be alive. The rest?

It’d keep.

#my writing #fanfic #whumptober2019 #no. 5 #gunpoint #dmc nico #home invasion #violence #cursing #dmc #devil may cry