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lgbtlunaverse · 3 months

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What kind of saber is baxia anyway?

I love my bloodthirsty princess of a cursed blade, and in my heart of hearts i am nothing but a sword nerd, so i've been extremely fascinated by Baxia and how we know frustratingly little about what she actually looks like!

I mean, look at bichen, right?

Bichen in the donghua:

Bichen in the drama:

They're clearly not exactly the same. The scabbards are different, and the guards have a different shape. But these are recognizably different iterations on one theme, right? Thin jian with a white grip silver guard, light blue tassel and silver mounting accents on the scabbard.

Now this is baxia in the donghua:

And baxia in the drama:

????????

THAT'S A COMPLTELY DIFFERENT WEAPON

it doesn't stop there either, the audio drama is kind enough to give us ANOTHER COMPLETELY DIFFERENT BAXIA

pretty! But how is that he same sword??

And when we go back to the novel, we get very little information on her appearance other than the fact that her blade is tinted red with all the blood she's absorbed. Which none of these designs incorporate.

This is not a dig on the designs itself, they're all quite gorgeous in their own right and i'm going to spend a while discussing all of them! Because isn't it fascinating how, since we know little about novel baxia beyond "saber" all of these designs ended up so different? What kinds of sabers are these, anyway?

So, a chinese aber, aka a "dao" (刀) just means a sword that has only one cutting side. As opposed to a jian, which has two.

You can see how that leaves a LOT of room for variaton.

I've actually seen some people get confused because Huaisang's saber in the untsmed is thin and quite straight, making it superficially resemble the jian more than drama!baxia, but it is still clearly a saber!

See? only one cutting blade!

This, to me looks a lot like a tang dynasty hengdao

credit to this blog for providing his image and being a great source for all this going forward.

TANGENT: during all this I found out the english wikipedia page for dao is WRONG! Ths is what they about the tang hengdao!

So that sounds like the hengdao was called that during the sui dynasty, but then, after that, started being called a peidao, right?

WRONG

I LOOKED AT THE SOURCE THEY USED AND IT SAYS THIS:

IT WAS CALLED THE PEIDOU UNTIL THE SUI DYNASTY, AT WHICH POINT IT WAS CALLED A HENGDAO. Which would carry over to the Tang dynasty. This was the source wikipedia linked! and it says something else than they say it does!

Anyone know how to edit a wikipedia article?

ANYWAY

BACK TO BAXIA

Since we're already at the drama, let's look at drama baxia: She's also straight! the general term for straight-backed saber is Zhibeidao, but that's a modern collector's term, and doesn't really say anything about which historical kind of saber baxia could be based on. Another meta i found on the drama nie sabers already went on some detail here.

I'm gonna expand on that a little: The kinds of historical straight-backed sabers we see resemble the hengdao a lot more than they do baxia. They don't go to their point as harsly as she does (she's basically a cleaver!) and they're all way skinnier.

No, my personal theory is that instead of being based on any kind of historical sword, drama!baxia is based on a Nandao.

I mean, come on, look at it!

Baxia!

The Nandao... isn't actually a historical sword. It was invented for Wushu forms. There's a really fascinating article about its conception, but that's why the swords in the images look a little thin and flimsy. Wushu swords are very flexible and light, they're dance props, not weapons to fight with. There are actual steel versions of Nandao, but they're recreations of the prop, not the other way around.

So That's one way in which Baxia differes from the Nandao: she's actually a real weapon. The other is that, as you can see above, the nandao has an S-shaped guard. Baxia doesn't. She's also much more elaborately decorated, of course. Because she's a princess.

Now: audio drama baxia!

This is much easier. with that flare at the tip?

Oh baby that's a niuweidao, all the way!

There are more sabers with that kind of curved handle, but the broad tip is really charcteristic of the niuweidao. The Niuweidao is also incredibly poplar in modern media, often portrayed as a historical sword, but it originated i nthe 19th century! And it was actually never used by the military!

That's right, the Niuweidao was pretty much exclusively a civilian weapon! That makes its use here anachronistic, but so is the nandao, and considering that the origin story of the Nie is that they use Dao intead of Jian because their ancestors were butchers, portraying them with a weapon historically reserved for rebels and common people instead of the imperial military is actually very on theme!

Finally, Donghua/Manhua baxia. These two designs are so similar I'm going to treat them as one and the same for now.

Unlike both previous baxias, The long handle makes it clear this baxia is a two-handed weapon, though Nie Mingjue is absolutely strong enough to wield her with one hand anyway. Normal rules don't count for cultivators.

Now, this is where things get tricky, because there are a lot of words for long two-handed sabers. And a lot of them are interchangable! This youtube video about the zhanmadao, one of the possible sabers this baxia could be based on, goes a little into just how confusing this can get. This kind of blade WAS actually in military use for many centuries, making it the most historically accurate of all the baxias. But because of that it also has several names and all of those names can also refer to different kinds of blades depending on what century we're in.

So here's our options: i'm going to dismiss the wodao and miandao, because these were explicitly based on japanese sword design, and as we can see manhua baxia has that very broad tip, so that won't work

(Example of a wodao. According to my sources Miaodao is really just the modern common term for the wodao, and the changdao, and certain kinds of zhanmadao... do you see how quickly this gets confusing?)

Next option: Zhanmadao.

Zhanmadao stands for "horse chopping saber" so... yeah they were anti-cavalry weapons. meant to be able to cut the legs and/or necks of horses. That definitely sounds like a weapon Nie Mingjue would wield. But if you watched that youtube video i linked above, you'll know the standardized Qing dinasty Zhanmadao looked very different from earlier versions. It was inspired by the japanese odachi, and more resembles the miandao than its ealrier heftier counteprarts.

Earlier Ming dynasty Zhanmadao on the other hand were... basically polearms. the great ming military blog spot, another wonderful source, says these are essentially a kind of podao/pudao (朴刀) which looked like this

Now that blade looks a lot like baxia, but the handle is honestly too long. Donghua!baxia straddles the line between sword an polearm a little, but while zhanmadao have been used to refer to both long-handled swords and polerarms, this was undeniably a polearm, not a sword.

If you want to know what researching this was like, I found a picture of this blade on pinterest-- labeled as a "two-handed scimitar"-- and the comment section was filled with people arguing about whether this was a Pudao, Wudao, Zhanmadao, Dadao, Guandao, or a japanese Nagita.

So... that's how it was going. This has kept me up until 2 AM multiple times.

However! Thanks to this article on the great ming military blog I found out there have historically been pudao blades with shorter handles!

Specifically, Ming dynasty military writer Cheng Ziyi created a modified version of the pudao to work with the Dan Fao Fa Xuan technixues-- aka technqiues for a two-handed saber, which would alter heavily influence Miaodao swordmanship-- thereby, as the article points out, essentially merging the cleaver-polearm type Zhanmadao with the later two-handed japanese-inspired design.

This is the illustration for the Wu Bei Yao Lue (武備要略) a Ming dynasty military manual

This blade shape in the illustration doesn't match Baxia exactly, but since it's a lengthened Pudao-like blade and we've seen above that those can match Donghua Baxia's shape, i'm gonna say that calling Baxia a Zhanmadao with a two-handed grip isn't all that innacurate!

However, because all of these terms are so intertwined, there are a dozen other things you could call her that would be about equally correct.

To show that, here's a lightning round of other potential Baxia candidates:

Dadao (大刀)

Which are generally one-handed and too short. However!

Another youtube video i found of someone training with a Zhanmadao that resembles baxia a little also calls it a "shuangshoudai dao" (雙手带刀) shuangshou means two-handed, and while 雙手带 seems to refer to a longer handled weapon, when looking for a shuangshou dao or shuangshou dadao (双手大刀) we find a lot more baxia-resembling blades like here and here

I also found that, while the cleaver-like Dadao is strictly a product of the 20th centuy, since dadao just means big sword or big knife, it has been used to refer to loads of different weapons! Some people could've called the zhanmadao and pudao "dadao" during the Ming dynasty as well.

Another potential baxia candidate that mandarin mansion classifies as similar to the later dadao (though longer, as seen in the illustration below) is the "Kuanren Piandao"

Which piqued my interest because this diagram classifying different tpye of Dao:

Claims that a Kuanrenbiandao (diferent spelling, same sword) is the same as a modern day Zhanmadao.

(So once again, all of these terms are interchangable)

Another opton Is the Chuanmeidao/Chuanweidao (船尾刀) below you can see a diagram, based on the Qing dynasty green standard army regulation, of blades all officially classified as types of "pudao"

The top middle is the Kuanren Piandao, and bottom left is the Chuanweidao.

Both of these have a lot of baxia-like qualities.

So there you go! live action baxia is based on a Nandao, audio drama baxia is based on a Niuweidao, and Manhua/donghua baxia is some kind of two-handed Zhanmadao/Pudao/Dadao depending on how you want to look at it.

I'm honestly surprised no one has made the creative decision to portray Baxia as a Jiuhuandao, aka 9 ringed broadsword yet.

I mean look at it! Incredibly imposing. Would make for a great Baxia imo. (@ upcoming mdzs manga and mobile game: take notes!)

#mdzs #mdzs meta #nie mingjue #baxia #cql #the untamed #long post #I HAVE SO MANY TABS OPEN. FEEL MY SUFFERING #I understand that asking a gigantic region with thousands of years of rich history and many different subcultures #to have one standard naming convention is basically impossible #But could they do it anyway? for me? 🥺#i also want to buy one of these... so bad #or even just a plastic trainer so i can practice the techniques #but i know that once i start buying swords i'm not gonna stop until my money runs out #Being a sword nerd is a very dangerous not phyisically but for your wallet

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angel-of-the-moons · 2 months

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Running With The Wolves

Wolfwalker!Moon Knight (Marc/Steven/Jake) x Fem!Reader

Summary:

You're on the verge of being labeled a witch, but can one handsome stranger (and his two "brothers") save you from the same cruel fate as your mother, who was labeled as one and burned at the stake?

Can you handle the truth about your heroes identities, despite it all? Would you find out who your masked savior truly was beneath his cloak?

Only you could answer that.

TW/CW: Witch hunts, violence, graphic violence, graphic death, blood, public execution, parental death, persecution, grief, depression, Wolfwalkers AU, Moon Knight AU, incorrect lore

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: I was watching Wolfwalkers and it gave me the idea for the boys. I did a little research into the lore, so some will be inaccurate (my pagan ancestors would frown upon me lmao) as well as historically inaccurate; so what is in this fic is largely based on the film. It will be especially inaccurate because y'know, Marc is American and Jake is Spanish and Steven is English etc, as well as Khonshu being around (but in the comics he's had a Viking Moon Knight so this isn't too far fetched he'd be in a place like Ireland) so please bear with me, my poor mind has been going through it lately and I wanted to write somethin' pointless, so enjoy this weird ass AU I came up with! (Header does not indicate the reader's race!)

Taglist: @enheduannasposts

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PT. 1

"I heard tha's the girl who lives on the outskirts." You heard a young woman whisper to her friend. Her accent was clearly not from Ireland. She sounded like one of the people from England. They'd been arriving slowly but surely, like a trickle from a leaky bucket, since you were a child.

Your skin prickled as you looked over the vegetables in the market stall, tended to by an old woman who was blind in one eye. Mary, her name was. Mary was probably one of the only around here who was kind to everyone, unless they gave her a reason not to. And those two English girls certainly gave her a reason...

"Aye, ye two hussies best be leav'n this girl be!" She spat, waving her old wooden stick around. "She 'ent done nothin' to ye!"

The two women jumped back with a yelp and scurried off, an armored guard eyeing you and Mary warily.

Your nose crinkled at him and you turned your nose up as you looked back at the crop Mary was selling.

"I'm sorry, lass. I don't like 'em either." Mary said, winking her blind eye at you.

You can't help but smile as you trade some herbs for the vegetables, placing the juicy morsels into your basket. "I just would like for things to go back to the way they were." You sighed.

"Like when I was a girl, before they came to our town. Things were fine, everything was in balance."

Mary leaned in, holding a finger to the sky as she spoke quietly to you.

"Aye, lass. But don't worry. The crimes these English folk are doin' to us? They'll be payin', mark my words! The land, the very sky itself is angry because we can't honor the promises we made so long ago." She grinned, half her teeth missing from old age. "Then, maybe we'll be forgiven."

"Aye, or maybe be consumed by the wolves and the forest while we're at it." You smile sadly. You remembered being safe in those woods as a girl, playing in the creeks, chasing birds and hares, the wolves singing on the breeze...

But the wolf attacks have become ever so common, now. None had been bitten, but their homes had been trashed, their livestock spirited away into the cover of night, wolf tracks everywhere. You were the only one whose homestead was spared. You often wondered why. The only thing different between your little plot and the rest of the homes that were driven empty was... wait.

They were all English.

You weren't. That house you lived in had belonged to your family for nearly half a century. The English farmsteads were placed on the grounds that were cleared by the King's woodcutters and soldiers, they were the ones being attacked. Not you.

But lately, you've heard other tales as well. A "devil in white" the King's men would ramble, their voices shrill with fear. A man in white armor who moved like a ghost, and fought like hell itself. You paid no mind, figuring it may be some hermetic hunter who called the forest home, who simply didn't want to have them invade his solitude.

Maybe--

"Lass, you should get home." Mary said, looking at you with worry as a small gaggle of women whispered and pointed at you. You were used to the stares, you'd been getting them as a child. But since the English arrived, those whispers became accusations.

"Witch."

Your mother had faced a similar accusation, given her odd habits and ways of whispering to the wind.

Some considered her addled, even moreso when she began raving of spirits and the voices she said came from the ground.

You remembered the night that she died, the horrible, evil way that she left this world.

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You were only twelve years old, gripped hard by the local men as the bishop to your village spoke from the Bible, quoting things about the crimes of witchcraft and how your mother could only be cleansed by fire.

You screamed, and kicked, and cried and cursed, but all that earned you was a punch to the gut as they lit the kindling beneath your mother's feet.

You'd heard tales of witch burnings, but you'd never ever thought such horrible deeds would come to your town; your safe, warm little home.

Your mother was strange, yes, but she taught you many things that had proven useful. The best herbs to cure the worst fever, the best tonics to drink to cure an ailing cough, how to track in the woods, how to trust the forest to show you the way home; but only if you respected it as a living being, and respected the souls who lived within.

She wasn't a "witch" to you.

She was your mother.

And she was right in front of you, burning.

"Mummy!" You screamed, your voice sounding as though you swallowed shards of pottery.

She looked at you, and smiled, crying and struggling against the ropes that bound her to the stake.

The fire crept up, up, until it reached her feet.

You could smell it--the acrid, disgusting stench of oil and burning flesh. You could see her skin blister, peel, and burn away as she screamed, begged for mercy. Mercy that the church was not willing to grant her.

You screamed and cried until your throat was raw and bloody, struggling until you broke free of the men's arms.

You didn't think twice on it--you leapt towards the pyre.

Your mother was dead. You knew this. But all you wanted was to hold her one last time, even if all that was left now was blackened, charred flesh.

Your soft, delicate hands burned, your dress beginning to catch aflame as you desperately tried to reach for what little remained of the woman you loved most in the world.

The pain was so blinding, so debilitating that your vision went white around the edges, and you saw the world begin to go dark.

"Damn it--put the girl out!" Was the last thing that you heard before you lost consciousness.

When you'd awoke, it had been two whole days since your mother's trial and burning. Two days since she plead to the "court" about how they were treating the land; that if they didn't change their ways they would all suffer for it.

The first face you saw was the bishop looking down at you with a solemn and sad expression, completely different from the way his eyes had gleamed maniacally as he cheered the death of your mother.

"I'm sorry, dear girl." He said kindly, resting a hand on your shoulder.

Your arms and hands were wrapped in clean linen--or, well, as clean as they could get it, anyway--your burns itching and painful.

You gritted your teeth, feeling hot tears burn as you glared at him, your throat still raw and aching.

"You killed her!" You meant to yell, but it only came out a hoarse croak.

"Aye, girl, I did. But I took no pleasure in it."

Liar. Filthy, disgusting liar! You wanted to shout, You smiled when she screamed!

"Your mother was bewitched by the devil, don't you see? The only way to ensure she could make it to heaven was if she was cleansed by fire." He told you, his wrinkled eyes looking at you with such gentleness you could almost scarcely believe this was your beloved mother's executioner.

"At least now, you know your mother made it to the gates of heaven. And hopefully God finds it in Him to grant your mother eternal peace." He continued, "After all, she loved you greatly, and there is nothing more pure than a mother's love. Even if it was the love of a witch."

You bite back bile that wanted to rise--partly from the pain, partly from disgust--and turned your head away, your tears heavy like chains that hung from your lashes and held your eyes closed.

"So hopefully, we can pray she found salvation and forgiveness in the fact she loved you so."

His hand brushed a lock of burnt hair from your face.

"Don't worry, girl... You can go home. But I must implore you not to give in to the teachings your mother no doubt gave you. None of that talking trees or animals nonsense, you hear?"

You wanted to kick him, to bite his disgusting fingers off and pluck out his eyes. But... all you did was nod, and say:

"I understand."

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Later that night, barring the English women's gossip, you'd had a fairly decent day. Your snare on the edge of the forest had gotten a nice hare; providing you with some nice soft fur and meat and bone.

You'd spent your days thereafter doing much of the same work you'd done since you returned to your empty home the week your mother died. You gardened, placed more snares, cleaned the house, worked the loom, began weaving a small tapestry.

One night, you were broken from your tedium by heavy hands on your door, making you yelp and prick yourself with a needle.

You stuck your bloody fingertip in your mouth and stuffed the tapestry into your heavy wooden chest, rushing to your front door to see what was the trouble.

When you opened it, there was the bishop, flanked by two men in heavy plate armor. You felt a shiver creep up your spine; the sight was eerily similar to the night your mother was taken away, only this time the bishop looked so ancient he looked like a piece of dried, brittle leather.

"Dear girl, thank God you're alright." The bishop breathed, reaching out to place a hand on your shoulder.

Your brow creased, and you opened your mouth to speak, only for him to cut you off.

"That... That man, that devil whom the townsfolk here and elsewhere have been seeing--he was here. Tonight! He killed four of the King's finest men!" He said, panicked, his touch cold and clammy.

"And earlier in the day... wolves. A pack of white wolves! I feared for you, girl. I know that you're alone and so far from town." He shuddered a breath. His lungs sounded awful, even to your ears. Honestly... If the man had allowed it, you could have fixed his long coughing illness. He's been suffering for years with it, sometimes to the point where his surmons had to be delivered by proxy.

He was suffering... but so had your mother, whom he murdered in the name of his god.

Your jaw was tight, and you nodded. "I... I see. I haven't been attacked yet, sir. B-but I will keep an eye out and alert you if I see anything strange."

You wouldn't.

"I don't want that devil to hurt anyone else."

You hoped he chased them all away.

He mistook your shaky voice for one of mutual fear for the man that haunted the nights, like the dreaded vampires back in England and the smaller towns and villages.

"Yes, dear girl." He put his hand to your cheek and smiled, his aged features twisting in agony. "A good girl. May God protect you."

"And He, you." You replied, the words tasting like rotten meat on your tongue.

"Such a good girl." He turned, coughing into his hand. "May God help civilise this land..."

Thunder boomed in the distance, almost as if the very sky itself was urging the cruel men on their way, to leave you be.

As soon as your door was closed, you grabbed a nearby cauldron and heaved it over to your hearth, hanging it from the iron hook and dumping the pail of water into it to boil.

You hastily stripped your clothes free and dumped them into the cauldron, rushing to find your small bottles of tonics.

When you'd found the ones you needed, you dumped them, alongside fresh herbs, into the pot with your soaking clothes.

You knew, based on your own observations, that those who coughed often spread it through touch or spit. And he had coughed into his hands and touched you; you simply don't want to take the risk.

You had to start selling your healing tonics "under the table" as Mary said, as cleaning agents for clothes and blankets just so you could pass it to the townsfolk with sick family. You hated doing that, but seeing a sickly child able to run around with her siblings again without fear of that wretched cough was worth the pain of lying.

You watched as the water bubbled, standing naked as you poked at the fabric with your long wooden spoon, swirling it around and around.

Once you deemed it hot enough, you carefully picked up the cauldron and set it on your stone slab at the mouth of your hearth, you scooped some of the herbal water into your wash bucket and began scrubbing at your clothes mercilessly to rid it of any possible sickness.

Once they were clean enough, you hung them near the fire to dry (but not close enough to catch fire while you were asleep).

You felt goosebumps chill your skin as the wind rattled your shutters, so you grabbed a heavy woolen blanket to wrap yourself up in while you dug around for a new linen dress to put on.

It was a small comfort, given how early in the year it was, and these certain storms always brought unseasonably cold weather in their shadow, but you accepted it nonetheless.

You walked over to your wooden chest and pulled out your half-finished tapestry. It was one your mother started when you were barely hip-height; your father, strong and large, next to your mother, petite and soft. Interconnecting between them was you, holding their larger hands in your tiny ones.

Much of it was unfinished, and only within the last year did your grief finally allow you to finish what she started, as this was the only thing left that you had of her. When the church took her away, your mother knew they were coming, so she hid certain things out in the woods for safekeeping, only telling you their whereabouts. Once the church lifted it's eye from you one autumn day, you finally ran out into the clearing your mother hid her things in.

Being able to have something to visually remember your parents by wrenched your heart in a bittersweet way, but it was all you had of them, other than their rings you wore, hidden and slung low beneath your bodice so nobody would see.

You knew if the bishop found out... He would have them all destroyed, burned like your mother; and he would likely have you thrown into the stocks and publicly lashed as punishment.

In a twisted way, the bishop cared for you. He saw you as an innocent, God-fearing girl who had been brainwashed by your witch mother, whom only acknowledged the paganistic "Old Ways".

You hated having to keep up the act, but you didn't want to die. You owed it to your mother and father, wherever their souls were together, to live on.

You blinked, and a heavy teardrop splashed down onto the tapestry.

Your body jolted with the clap of thunder. How long had you been crying? Had you been crying this whole time, but didn't realize it? Oh, you hated how often these crying fits would strike you.

All you wanted to do was think of the happy times with your family, but it always came back to the fact that they were dead and you were alone.

You dropped back onto your bed, the old, dried wood creaking beneath your weight, the smell of the straw mattress stuffed with dried flowers and clovers soothing to your senses.

Your eyes felt heavy, weighted down from your painful thoughts, and you turned your head to look at the wreath above your bed, shamrocks with dried berries carefully strung together; it was something your mother taught you. You couldn't remember the significance of the thing, but making them when you were bored became a mundane comfort.

You closed your eyes and sighed heavily.

You would need to check your snares in the morning.

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Your leather shoes squelched in the mud as you carefully made your way to the treeline early that next morning. You nervously chewed the inside of your cheek to check if the coast was clear before venturing into the bushes.

It was early enough none had arisen yet to start the day, the sun was barely peeking over the horizon as you set off into the forest.

Yes, setting your traps beyond the treeline was dangerous, as they would tell you, but you knew the game in the woods was fat and ripe, perfectly full of meat. If you could hunt at all, you would try your aim at shooting one of those slovenly bucks with a bow and arrow.

But a hunter you were not. Trap-maker, yes. But no hunter.

Your tiny iron dagger was slung low on your hip, your mostly-empty wooden sack carrying fresh bait for any snares that were sprung, or if the bait had been snatched.

The first two traps hadn't been sprung, but picked clean, most likely by birds and quick-witted squirrels. No luck in catching anything.

But as you neared your final trap, you heard an odd noise. A wheezing sound, almost, followed by heavy pants and a whimper.

Your footsteps stopped as you peered around the thick trunk of an ancient tree, your breath catching in your throat as you looked at the sight in front of you.

It was your last snare, set up with some bread and berries to lure in a rabbit or squirrel (as was your typical game) but it seems that this time, somehow... you snagged a wolf.

And this was not a normal wolf; it was one with fur as white as the coldest snow, now muddied and stained from the soggy ground it flailed around in; your snare secured firmly around its neck and front paw, cinching the two together in a painful manner.

Your heart broke as you saw the creature struggle and wheeze, choking out quiet howls that couldn't be heard through the underbrush.

With your jaw set tight, you stepped out of the clearing, and the wolf turned to you, trying to limp away.

"Shhh, hush, now." You soothe the animal, your hands out in front of you as you got lower, trying to seem less threatening.

Yes, the townsfolk feared wolves, but you wouldn't just leave this beautiful creature to slowly strangle to death on one of your own traps; your soul wouldn't be able to handle the weight of guilt.

"I won't hurt you, sweetie." You say, your voice calm and soft as you reached out.

The wolf snapped tentatively at you, whimpering as the pain of the cord dug further into its throat and paw, red stains now blotching the white fur.

"It's all right. I won't hurt you..." You urge the panicked animal. Your own eyes locked with its dark brown ones, and you could almost hear its thoughts plead:

Help me. Please. It hurts. Please!

You wait for the wolf to still, and sit its haunches on the ground, those big, pained eyes staring right through to your very soul.

Once the wolf is calm, you hook your fingers through the snare, reaching for the part of it that looped around, and try to loosen it enough for it to slip free.

But to no avail, the amount of flailing the wolf had done had twisted and cinched it to the point you couldn't. Your brow pinched and you nervously chewed the inside of your cheek before unsheathing your dagger.

Upon seeing the glint of the blade, the wolf whimpered and panicked again, beginning to flail once more as you reached for it.

"No!" You say, frantically trying to calm the beast. "Stop! You're making it worse! Please--I'm not going to hurt you."

You grunt as you leap forward, crushing the wolf against you in a bear hug, trying to calm its thrashing body as you swing your sharpened blade through the cord, severing it from the branch it was tethered to.

You sliced your thumb in an attempt to cut the cord around its throat, but you somehow managed it, your blood leaving fresh streaks of red and pink through the wolf's surprisingly soft fur.

You drop your dagger and release the animal, falling back on your bum as you carefully crawl away as the canine heaved for uninhibited air, its barreled chest shaking with effort.

Once it had collected itself, it limped up to you, it cut paw hanging an inch or two above the ground as its wet, charcoal black nose sniffed at your wounded thumb.

Its pink tongue laved out and lapped up your blood, as if to say "sorry" for causing you to injure yourself for trying to aid it.

Your eyes however, were drawn to the cuts into the wolf's throat and paw, oozing small rivulets of blood as it stared at you.

"Oh... You poor..." You breathed, rising to kneel on your knees, dirtying your skirt even more.

"I... Those can get infected. Please. I... I can help you..."

You don't know why you were trying to bargain with an animal, but somehow it paid off. The wolf nosed its way into your lap, ears flattened up and eyes pleading up at you.

"Okay..." You murmur, scratching behind one of its ears. "Let's get you home, boy. I have stuff there that can help ya."

The wolf whimpered.

"Er... Well, I assume you're male?" You chuckle awkwardly, trying to think of how to carry this large and hefty animal back home without being seen.

"I'm not gonna violate you by takin' a peek or anything." You clear your throat when one of the wolf's ears flop as "he" tilts his head at you.

"Er. Okay. Let's go..."

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It was easier than you thought, getting him back home. As the sun crept higher, the fog and mist were your ally as you smuggled the "dangerous" animal back to the safety of your home.

You had to haul him over your shoulders and beat feet through the underbrush. Once you were safely inside, you had to (with great difficulty) maneuver the wolf down onto your bed.

You chuckled when he rolled over--and he was most definitely a "he"--and began rolling this way and that into your blankets, making small huffs and growls.

"Ah-ah..." You murmur, reaching out to brush your hand through his muddy fur. "You might make your injuries worse, 'kay, m'love?"

That seems to get the wolf's attention. You weren't sure if he could understand you, which honestly had you thinking you were crazy, but the way he sat up and stared at you, one ear flopping down as he looked up into your eyes sent a strange feeling through your body.

"Hmm..." You murmur, brushing your fingers tentatively around his wounded throat. From his muddy thrashing he'd accumulated a fair amount of dirt, and that would lead to infection.

You hike your skirts up and tie them around your waist, and you could almost swear you saw a look of modesty cross the wolf's eyes as his ears slicked back against his head and he buried his muzzle into your warm blankets.

You scratch the back of your head, a little confused at his reaction as you adjust your knickers and rush to gather your herbs you'd need, plucking dried leaves and roots that hung above your hearth.

You set the herbs down into your mortar and pestle and begin to grind them down, mixing them evenly into a dissolvable mass that would melt in the water once you'd boiled it.

You crack your knuckles and grab a pail, untying your skirts and smoothing them out, frowning at the mud stains as you reach for your door, making a "shush" gesture to the wolf.

"Stay quiet and don't go near the windows! It's dangerous if you're seen." You gently urge him before slipping outside into the morning light once again.

The trek to the well was always annoying, but your neighbors never minded you coming to fetch water, knowing how dangerous it could possibly be for you to hike to the creek at the edge of the forest just to get yourself some of the life-giving liquid.

You inwardly cringed when the Kenny's daughter, Aisling, was already at the well; her belly already round with her unborn child. Barely 19 years of age and she was already with a babe; she was often sickly as a child, this you remembered, so her family (namely her husband) was very concerned about her well-being and that of her impending birth.

Upon seeing you approach, Aisling smiled widely and waved at you, saying your name chipperly, almost like an excited morning bird.

You were really hoping not to have a conversation so early, afraid someone would know you were harboring a wolf inside your home...

"Hello, Aisling. Feeling well this morning?" You hum innocently at her as you tie your pail up, before cranking the wench and lowering it down to the water below.

"Yes, surprisingly!" She giggled, patting her belly with a soft smile. "M' little one decided it was a good day to let mummy keep food down."

"That's good! I still recommend broths if you feel nauseous, however..."

"I know, I know. My mum is constantly making sure of that." She sighed with a roll of her eyes, hooking her own two pails of water onto her yoke.

Your hairs raised and you reached out, the wench slipping from your hands and your bucket dropping all the way back down into the water below the earth.

"No! You mustn't lift something that heavy." You caution. "It's not good for your baby."

"Ohhh! You sound like my father." She sighs, frowning deeply, her hands on her hips. "I'm not helpless, y'know!"

"Yes, I'm aware, but--"

"Aisling!" Her husband panted, trotting up to the both of you. He was at least a decade or so older than she was, but nonetheless it was a good match; he seemed to love her greatly. He was English, and one of the few kind ones you've known, in fact. A gentle giant.

This fact was emphasized when his large bulky hand reached down to touch her belly, sighing with relief. "No, no, you know that you can't be out here alone! The wolves!"

"I 'ent seen no wolves!" Aisling pouted up at him.

"That doesn't mean no wolves see you, m'love." He sighed dejectedly at her. He gives you a kind smile and a nod, hoisting the yoke over his own shoulders, "Aye, lass. Glad to see someone else talking some sense into my pretty little wife, here..."

"Bah!" Aisling scoffed, throwing her arms in the air as she waddled back down to their house.

He shook his head with a chuckle, "I swear, if we have a girl and she turns out like her..."

"You'll have your hands full, alright." You sigh, cranking the wench again.

"Aye." He says, giving you a cautious look. "But, I must warn you, the same way I did Aisling... with these wolves about, it's dangerous..."

"I know." You smile. "I'll be fine."

"Alright..." He replies, giving you one last look before going back home to his wife and family.

You on the other hand, rushed back home with your water to your waiting furry companion...

You almost dropped the pail of water when you saw what he was doing. Somehow he managed to nose open up the chest containing your mother's things, and was insistently sniffing the tapestry.

"Ah! No, no, no!" You frantically say, setting the water down to rush over, gently shoving his snout to the side to close the chest.

"Gah..." You sigh in relief, and smile softly at the wolf, reaching out to pinch and squish his cheek. And surprisingly, he took it well, making a little "whurf!" as you do.

"Don't go through my stuff, it's not very polite after I risked my arse you take care of you." You chuckle, setting yourself to task of boiling the water with the ground herbs. You kneel next to the remaining bit of water on the floor, dipping a rag into the pail and making a clicking noise with your teeth.

The wolf tipped his head to the side, ears pricking up at the noise as he slowly moseyed over to you shyly.

"Oh relax, I won't poison ya." You chuckle, dabbing the soaked cloth onto his fur, cleaning him of the muck.

He of course, did not like this. He whimpered and tucked his tail between his legs, his gorgeous brown eyes pleading with you.

"Ah! That won't work on me, Mister... You need to be clean before I can clean your wounds!" You cluck at him, not falling for his cute little attempt.

Thankfully, he sits there and lets you gently massage the mud away, carefully cleaning around his wound sites before hastily grabbing the pot of boiling water and pouring some into a wooden bowl.

You scratch behind one of his ears and say softly, "Now... I'm going to take care of you, okay? Now... just let me..."

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"No! Down! Bad wolf!" You groan, watching as his tail wagged happily, one of your kirdles firmly in his jaws, daring you to come get it.

"Ooooh! I should have left you in the woods!"

His ears flatten back and his eyes get big, giving you the sweetest, saddest look you've ever seen...

And it definitely broke you.

"Ah... You little... mouth off my clothes!" You grunt, tugging the garment from between his teeth, groaning at the sight of tears from his fangs.

He dropped down onto his front paws, wagging his tail happily as he makes a playful whine and yip.

"Oi! Ya seem just fine now!" You scold the animal, shaking the torn kirdle in front of him.

It was true. In just one day, your furry companion seemed to have healed miraculously faster than what was natural. It concerned you... but you didn't feel threatened by the creature's playful antics.

If anything, having him around made you feel less... lonely.

Dinner was almost ready, a simple stew with vegetables and salted meats tossed in. You weren't sure if wolves could eat such a meal, but you would feel awful if you were eating and your new friend merely had to sit and watch.

You sigh and toss your clothes aside, watching with a snort as the wolf playfully dove for it, rolling around and kicking it with his feet as you used your ladle to scoop two bowls.

You curled your feet beneath you as you plopped a spoon into your bowl before placing the spare on the floor. Your wolf's ears perked up and he sniffed the air, licking his chops as he abandoned your torn-up kirdle in favor of investigating the food you placed for him.

You smiled around your mouthful as he accidentally dipped his nose too deep into the broth, whipping his head around with a heavy snort.

"Ah, that's not how you eat, by the way..." You hum innocently, and again, your wolf gives you an almost human reaction, flattening his ears back as he seems to glare at you for a moment, before lapping at the food, curling his tongue around to eat the bits of veggies and meat.

"Oh, I'd love to keep you, but you don't belong here, fella." You say, scratching his ear softly in an affectionate way. Your skin crawls when you hear a mournful howl travel from the forest, across the fields, and into your house.

Your wolf whimpers and looks at you.

"As soon as you're ready, I'll sneak you back out to the woods." You promise him.

"I won't let anyone hurt you."

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He looked out from the treeline, his glowing white eyes staring out from the darkness.

A large, fluffy animal--a gorgeous white wolf, fur stained with mud--sidled up next to him, ears flattened back.

"Still no sign of him?" He sighed, frustrated.

The wolf whimpered, his tail tucking and nose dipping towards the ground in a response that seemed to say "no".

"Damn it!" The man roared, his fists balling tight as he began to pace angrily.

"Still no sign of your third?" A deep voice rumbled from the trees.

He lifted his gaze to spot him in all his imposing glory--Khonshu; god of the night sky, the moon, justice and many things in-between. His lithe frame ominously perched on the limb of an ancient, thick tree. One of his legs dangled down while the other supported his arm, his dominant hand clutching his staff in a tight-fisted grip as he stared down at him.

But mostly, he was his fist of vengeance. He was dispensing justice against those who imposed their will on the weak; like the other Englishmen who oppressed the local populace with their threats of jail, execution...

He also had to deal with bandits. Bandits, constantly seemed to prey upon travelers trying to find better places to live, to eke out a livelihood to support their families.

But right now, he was on edge.

He was incomplete. He was missing a vital part of himself. Someone he would not be able to fully function without.

Finally, his tongue unglued itself from the roof of his mouth and allowed him to speak.

"No."

"He is alive. I can feel it." Khonshu sighed, almost sounding bored. "You and your wolves... Sometimes they are a gift... other times it is a curse."

It was true... there weren't many of his kind left, and they were useful as a commodity, but also a vast hindrance if they were separated. Very few were born after being hunted to near extinction, and even fewer still were bitten and turned.

He tipped his head to the side, "He will come back. But until then, we have work to do. There is a group of soldiers that have taken women and children from their homes. I'm sure you can deduce what it is that they intend to do to them. I want you to stop them and set their captives free." Khonshu tapped his staff against the thick bark of the tree, and in a sharp breeze, he vanished.

"Right..." He said, his throat tight; his body thrumming with anxiety, his hand shaking immensely at the strain of lacking such a vital part of himself. He wondered still, if he would be able to control himself, to hold himself back without him.

His wolf companion moved forward, nudging his snout into the palm of his hand, whimpering softly.

Sparing one last glance over the countryside, he made a hefty sigh.

"Where the hell are you?"

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Pt. 2: I will get to it eventually, I swear you guys

Extra super late author's note:

Yeah it's gonna be at least one or two more parts. I am gonna split it up to ease on the scrolling time for you guys! That and it feels neater than cramming so many lazy time skips into one post. I am going to get the rest of my drafts cleared (hopefully) and begin eating away some of those asks I have piled up in my inbox (that Tumblr didn't manage to delete by some miracle...)

My trip might be postponed, dealing with a lot at home, like me almost burning the house down today and almost passing out from the damn smoke because wooooo fire is bad

If I didn't have bad luck, I'd have none whatsoever!

#moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x you #wolfwalkers #wolfwalkers au

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pastrydragon · 1 year

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Accent, speech pattern and Voice headcanons for the Gotham Rogues.

Riddler

In casual settings, Eddie has a slight New Jersey accent and cusses with the frequency you would expect from that.

He almost always has perfect grammar and has a very impressive vocabulary.

But there are some situations where "Fuck" just does not have a suitable replacement.

When he's going against Batman, The Riddler adopts a more trans Atlantic accent since it goes with his gameshow aesthetic.

Also since a LOT of his schemes are publicly televised he doesn't want to cuss on camera or forget to project his voice.

So adopting a different accent helps his brain remember how to act on camera so he can always appear classy.

Edward's voice is a bit more high and nasally than average, but not to an annoying degree. It's not particularly unique either. So if he remembers so change his voice slightly then he can make a phone call to anywhere and they won't recognize him.

Emotional variations include his accent getting thicker when he's angry or exhausted.

Scarecrow

John has a very rural Georgian accent.

Scarecrow: The Master Of Fear has a rather dramatic way of speaking due to his love of classic literature and poetry.

His years in academia have also left him with a very intellectual and scientific vocabulary.

John speaks with a kind of intensity and eloquence that you'd expect on a stage rather than at the front of a classroom.

A smooth baritone only enhances the effect.

Had he not been a professor, he would have made a killing as a raidio star or television narrator.

John only breaks out Southernisms when he's embarrassed. "Well I never!" "Why I outta-" he also stammers when embarrassed. otherwise his speech patterns don't have noticeable emotional variation except the ones he puts there.

Mad Hatter

Jervis has a strong Bristol accent. Which is an English accent that strongly pronounces R's and tends to slap an L at the end of words that should end in a vowel.

The classic example is Opera'l instead of Opera.

His voice is naturally high and soft, often making him sound much more indulgent toward others than he's actually feeling.

Although he does quote the Alice books often, he does not quote longer passages exactly unless he's having an episode.

The rest of the time he'll change them to fit what's happening or merely reference them.

If he's feeling particularly lucid and cheery, you may not even hear mention of the books at all.

Stress will cause longer more accurate quotes and chip at his lucidity along the way.

His only other emotional variation comes out when he's feeling flirtatious.

Jervis's voice tends to get more breathy and cooing around people he likes. He also goes harder on his R's giving some words a purr like sound.

Harley Quinn

We all know and love our girl Harley's Brooklyn accent.

Honestly I can't make an improvement on the BTAS version so scroll down.

Poison Ivy

Pam has a Virginian accent. It's the kind of southern bell accent you'd associate with Blanche Devereux.

Pair that with a voice like a lounge singer and everything that comes out of her mouth sounds sexy.

Even when she doesn't want it to.

It's actually pretty annoying for her.

Unlike John she uses plenty of southernisms such as "I Reckon" "Over yonder" and of course the venom filled "Bless your heart."

Catwomen

The Miami accent is strong on this women, and it tells you exactly why she moved to Gotham.

You can't wear all black leather in the kind of weather Florida's got.

Miami heat isn't sweet to everyone.

Being a second generation Cuban immigrant, she speaks Spanish fluently and while she speaks both it and English seamlessly she has run into one glitch.

She will occasionally forget whether a turn of phrase was originally English or Spanish.

She called John a dancing skeleton once and no one has let it die. From Esqueleto rumbero- Literally: Dancing skeleton, Meaning: Very thin.

Her actual voice is a pretty standard alto. Like Ed, as long as she disguises her accent she can basically call wherever without being recognized.

Another rogue that hits their R's harder while flirting. But it's less a seductive purr and more an "Oh, I'm being HUNTED" kind of sound to hear.

Bane

Bane is directly from Venezuela and has the accent to match.

His English is phenomenal for someone who's only been speaking it a few years but it's not always perfect.

Whenever he doesn't know or forgets the word for something he'll describe it using other words until the other person figures it out for him.

For example, this interaction between him and Riddler: "I need the office knives." "... I'm sorry, what?" "The office knives, with the holes in the handle." "Hmmm, is the answer perhaps scissors?" "YES! I need the scissors!"

Edward is the grand champion of figuring out what Bane is saying if Catwomen or Music Meister isn't there to translate the word from Spanish.

Bane has a naturally loud and deep voice which can make him sound aggressive even when he's not trying to be. His size doesn't help.

But really he's a very calm and levelheaded person.

If he's actually angry, you'll know it from how quiet deliberate his speech becomes.

A quiet Bane is a dangerous Bane.

Joker

New York accent.

Drops occasional NY phrases but doesn’t mention anything culturally significant to New York unless someone else brings it up.

He doesn't remember what part of New York he's from but if asked he'll say Coney Island.

His jealousy over Eddie growing up in Wildwood is real.

Harley swears up and down he's from Staten Island and anyone familiar with the different New York accents would agree with her.

Joker has a pretty distinct reedy voice that all gothamites will recognize as soon as they hear it.

It gets even higher on the rare occasion he's scared or nervous.

Music Meister

SoCal (Southern California) accent.

This accent is also called Valley Girl.

He's originally from San Diego and spent his early twenties in LA so the accent is thick and locked in.

He moved to the east coast to attempt a Broadway career before turning to villainy and kind of regrets not moving back west first.

He's the first person to complain about cold weather and bad Mexican food when the chance pops up.

But he's gotten too fond of the other rogues to seriously consider leaving.

Even if the Scarecrow keeps smacking him with a newspaper every time he misuses the word "literally".

He automatically starts singing his words when he becomes frightened or incredibly nervous. Which made sense until he revealed he did that even before he got his powers.

Odd.

Killer Croc

Waylon has a thick cajun accent, that along with a naturally growly bass voice can make it difficult for others to understand him.

He prefers speaking French to English and will go out of his way to talk to people he thinks might speak his preferred language.

Jervis, Edward, Victor Fries and Joker speak with him in French when in a one on one conversation.

Yes Joker speaks French, no he doesn’t remember why or how. He honestly didn’t even know he could until he met Waylon.

Waylon is incredibly charming and personable once you figure out what he's saying, he's definitely the most well liked rogue among his peers next to Harley.

Emotional variants include getting even more growly when angry and speaking completely in French when distracted.

Penguin

A lot of people say he has an English accent, he doesn’t, never say this in front of him.

The man is WELSH, and he has ruined people’s lives over having his accent confused on particularly difficult days.

He takes great pride in his heritage and being accused of being “English” of all things is one of the quickest ways to sour his mood.

No offense to Mr. Tetch of course, it's the principle of the thing really.

He rarely speaks Welsh these days unless visiting extended family.

He does use the proverb “Deuparth gwaith yw ei ddechrau”(Two-thirds of work is starting), mostly to himself but he’ll use the proverb with others when appropriate.

Emotional variants include his voice getting squawk like when scared. He also laughs like a mad pelican.

Clayface

I forget who came up with this originally and I'm kicking myself for not remembering but I've adopted the head canon that Clayface was an "aging" K-pop/drama star that was on tour in the states when his manager coerced him into trying an experimental cosmetic treatment that turned him into Clayface.

So Clay has a very strong Korean accent and probably speaks the worst English out of all the rogues.

It's passable but he understandably just wasn't expecting to need it this much.

Despite his difficulties he still somehow gains control over the majority of his conversations and seems to exude likability.

He's trained for years to make his voice as soothing and pleasant as possible and he's not going to let being a mud monster ruin his hard work.

Until something triggers his traumatic memories and sends him into a frothing rage full of bubbling curses or a depressive meltdown where he becomes a pile of blubbering goo.

He's totally incomprehensible when he's having either kind of breakdown even to other Korean speakers, honestly HE doesn't even really know what he's saying.

Many of the rogues have hired him to put his acting skills to use in various schemes and Clayface is amazed at all the new voices he can do.

He's also been Music Meister's backup vocalist for a few of his schemes so you know he's legitimately good.

Bookworm

He has a rather general east coast accent.

Until he gets angry and starts cursing in Portuguese.

You'd never guess because he's an ashy fucker and his skin never sees the sun since he spends all his time reading inside, but the guy is mainly indigenous Brazilian.

You might be able to get a clue from his facial features if he wasn't wearing the world's thickest glasses and a hat.

He has near permanent "Library voice" so people often struggle to hear him above everything else that might be going on.

His voice is surprisingly sonorous and captivating when he can be well heard.

Since Arkham doesn't often get new books, fresh literature was fought over until Joker suggested "AudioBookworm" which is just Bookworm reading the new book aloud for everyone.

Until his little used voice gives out a bit at which point Scarecrow or Mad Hatter will step in until the end of the chapter.

Mr. Freeze

Victor has a moderate Icelandic accent.

Riddler and Joker have a competition going to see how many lines from Skyrim they can trick him into saying.

Victor figured it out immediately but plays dumb to this day in order to fuck with them.

He said "Hey, you. You're finally awake." to Edward after he woke up from a nap in the rec room once and Victor will treasure the face that nerd made forever.

Victor has a bit of a "resting bitch voice" he always sounds annoyed.

Unless he's talking to Nora, then he just sounds like a simp.

Not really a voice head canon but he gets hiccups very easily from laughing.

BONUS Nora

Nora is from Belarus so she often got mistaken for having a Russian accent.

But unlike Oswald she rarely cares enough to correct people much less get angry over it.

Nora speaks with great confidence and authority, even when she doesn't necessarily have either.

Her voice definitely broadcasts "Don't even fucking THINK about arguing with me."

The personality and accent get her the nickname "Ice queen" wherever she works.

Which is very unfair, she's a kind and compassionate women!

She's just also right and she should say it.

Nora's voice becomes utterly saccharine around Victor, they're absolutely obnoxious to listen to together.

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the-cat-and-the-birdie · 7 months

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Has anyone written a guide on

How to write New York AAVE - for Miles & Miles!42

?? If so let me reblog it but if not I might write something. I don't really read for them but there are a lot of New York specific terms I can drop if anyone wants. Some of them I use in my posts (like saying 'I'm weak' in place of 'I'm laughing really hard).

Follow up question:

Do you notice any AAVE in my posts? Do any of my sayings or terms confuse you? I'm so curious cause EVERYONE IRL around me speaks fluent AAVE 24/7 unless they're in an office setting.

Every person in my school spoke it. Because it's our default way of speaking and we switch out of it, I don't notice the large differences sometimes.

[One time I was overseas and I was speaking and a British dude (granted drunkness was happening) was like 'OH you're from Texas right :) I can hear the twang' and I was like ?????????????? Absolutely not my friend now take it back ??????????

The Midwestern girls next to me was like 'ummmm he sounds extremely New Yorker, like it's not even funny'

I realized he probably thought I was Texan because I say 'y'all' A LOT. I use it 100% of the time. Saying 'you guys' here is seen as really formal. But at the time because I didn't realize I was saying y'all and speaking AAVE in front of foreigners, and since it isn't really spoken in movies or on TV - it sounded foreign and very very thick in front of them]

That's why I try to write in AAVE when I can. It's quicker, has a lot of fun sayings, and it's a legitimate writing and speech pattern with it's own words, some words having changed meanings in AAVE (like feigning or scary), and lots of other small things.

But if someone has already written it let me share it cause I wanna read

BUT IF I DO WRITE THE POST I WOULD LIKE TO DO A SOCIAL EXPERIMENT -

[It takes less than five minutes of your time and involves listening to a song]

If you've read this far and you wanna see the post, I'd love to try a little experient.

I'm really curious how knowledgeable everyone is in AAVE, and how much if it is completely lost in translation. So idea:

Act Up by City Girls is a popular rap song written completely in New York AAVE.

It's 2:30 minutes long. Can you do me a favor and go listen to it? (If English is your second language, I'd love to hear your thoughts too!) And just notice:

How much you do understand their accent, as in are you making words out of it, even if the sentences sound confusing?

How much of the lines you feel like you comprehend or get the joke?

And for fun, are there any words you either don't know at all, or words you know being used in a weird way?

WARNING: THE SONG IS VERY SEXUALLY EXPLICIT AND THEY BE CURSIN

FOR EXAMPLE of AAVE -

Like in the song Yung Miami - her name itself being AAVE for 'Young' Miami - says the lyric

'Hood bitch, good pussy

I ain't average

He can't come around with that cabbage

Pop a pussy bitch quick like a bubble gum'

Did you understand that the first time she meant a literal pussy, and the second she meant it as 'someone who isn't about their word'. Meaning she'll punch the hell out of a girl who she thinks is asking for it.

Or that cabbage is supposed to mean money?

These are just some of the lighter lines. But if you have the time, like 3-4 minutes, please check out the song and let me know your thoughts!

Also do you already know the song or City Girls?

I'm just really curious about how much AAVE people know and how in depth to go if I do write it. I'm SO SO CURIOUS.

Bye.

#just an interesting thought #spiderman #atsv #marvel #spider man #across the spiderverse #miles morales #miles 42 #miles g #Earth 42 miles #Wiles #across the spider verse

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ladyandthewalrus · 1 year

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IDV Characters and Their Birthplaces

A reasonable number of people seem to have liked my previous chart of IDV characters and their social classes/income levels, so I thought I’d whip up another charting where the characters were born.

This chart operates on a combination of canon information and reasonable speculation including historical precedent and additional info from characters’ birthday art and the real people they are based on. It is not meant to crap on headcanons in any way, just chart the likely makeup of the cast as written (also! The United Kingdom and especially England and Scotland have lots of immigrant populations from across the world, but especially other parts of Europe, Asia and Africa).

Feel free to consult the list of everyone’s class backgrounds here, keeping in mind that we are taking for granted travel across the Atlantic was out of reach for members of the lower class and we are assuming that while IDV does have fantastical elements, given the heavy focus on class differences, money (and the need/desire for it) and the desperation created by poverty in many characters’ backstories, it is taking into consideration how expensive it would be for characters to get around. So we see more characters from North America and continental Europe who are from middle and upper classes make it to the manor, with a few exceptions like, Helena.

Also important is that on a grand scale, a lot of the events in IDV intertwine extremely closely. It is a small world full of fuckery, bad science, and occultism that seems to mostly be happening centered in one area, with Oletus Manor, Lakeside, White Sand Street Asylum, the Arms Factory, and Scared Heart Hospital all located within the bounds of one unnamed county/shire in England. Baron DeRoss definitely has an extensive information network that spans continents, but plenty of the characters in the story are locally sourced, as it were.

Let’s get going!

Born in England:

♡Margaretha/Natalie/Natasha: Likely born in England. She was raised in Lakeside Village, which is a stone’s throw from Oletus Manor based on this map from one of the art books. Although here referred to as LakeView, I think it is very fair to assume the name was changed in translation or slightly altered, but is meant to be understood as the same place, as many important in-game locations are in close proximity to each other and the water from Lakeside has unusual properties used in experiments by various parties at other lore-significant locations. Her uncle’s family is poor, so she was probably not born far from Lakeside. In terms of her ethnic background, her deductions mention her family eating borscht, so they probably hail from Eastern Europe originally. Her uncle’s surname, Hayward is English, and her adopted surname Zelle is Dutch and German.

♡Freddy: Freddy was present at Emma/Lisa’s first birthday party, suggesting a long friendship with Leo and having lived in the unnamed shire/town a long time too. He also makes several classist and xenophobic comments throughout the diaries of his manor group and is noted by the experimenters in his recent birthday letter to buy into Victorian England’s stratified class system and contempt for the poor. The Riley surname originates specifically from Yorkshire and Lancashire in England.

♡Memory/ Alice: Born in England to a noble father. Although the accents of the characters as portrayed by voice actors in English are really inconsistent, with the English Emma having an American accent, it is worth noting that both Memory’s narration in the Season 19, Essence 1 trailer, Alice’s words to Orpheus in Time of Reunion, and the off-screen voice of her mother in-game during Time of Reunion all make use of upper-class English accents. The surname DeRoss is an anglicized version of a Dutch surname.

♡Emily/Lydia: Emily is partially based on the English serial killer of infants, Amelia Dyer. She also worked early in her career at several locations on the map attached above, making it likely she was born somewhere not too far away. Her family is middle class, meaning she could reasonably be from anywhere in the United Kingdom as members of the middle class could move around within adjoining countries with relative ease. The surnames Jones and Dyer are both English.

♡Robbie: As an orphan taken to what became White Sand Asylum, he would have been from the surrounding area. His surname White is either English, Scottish, or Irish in origin.

♡Emma/Lisa+Leo: Leo’s ill-fated factory was located in the town directly by Oletus Manor. Given the timeline of events, with him burning the factory down when Emma was 10-11, Emma at least was probably born in this English town. The Beck surname is common in English and Slavic-speaking countries, and Woods is an English surname.

♡William: he is based off the real life Englishman William Ellis who is credited, perhaps erroneously, with creating Rugby, which did at least originate in England in 1845. The surname Ellis is Welsh and English.

♡Kreacher: as an impoverished orphan, Kreacher would not have traveled much, and there is almost no way he was born somewhere other than the contagious United Kingdom in terms of logistics. His surname Pierson is also English.

♡Tracy: If her father Mark’s clock shop being included/ referenced in the Chinatown map is anything to go off of, Tracy was probably born in England, as many major cities in the United Kingdom have Chinatowns but most are in England. Her surname, Reznik is Czech.

♡Grace: She's a foundling that washed into Lakeside, so must have originated in the surrounding area to an extent. Her surname is unknown, both in terms of her birth and adoptive parents.

♡Kurt: Explicitly stated to have been born in Yorkshire, England. Frank is a German surname.

Born in Scotland:

♡Norton: Campbell is one of the most common surnames in Scotland, originating in the borderlands between England and Scotland. Two interesting things of note about the name 1) it means crooked-mouth, and Norton’s official art features him with a half-smile, half-frown, and 2) Clan Campbell is, to this day, not well thought of and considered to be full of violent backstabbers, which is also apt seeing as he is willing to resort to violence and trickery to get ahead in life. Norton’s skin Stray Poet/Troubadour also has him sporting the Clan Campbell Tartan (thank you @tallemy in the IDV lore discord for pointing that out). His birthday art from 2022 also features a map of the Scottish Highlands, and Scotland is known to be rich in mineral wealth, and thus, mining operations.

♡Percy: based on the character of Victor Frankenstein, who while Swiss in the novel, was based on the real-life Scottish scientists Andrew Ure and James Lind. For Percy to be getting corpses from Andrew, who is snatching them from an United Kingdom cemetery, it’s reasonable to think he is in the United Kingdom too, and he is a colleague of Burke, who is has been woking in England for decades..

Born in Wales:

♡Eli: His deductions and letters mention the character of Brooke Rose, a mistranslation of the name Blodeuwedd, a famous character from Welsh mythology, which tends to be fairly obscure. His surname, Clark, is generic and found throughout the United Kingdom.

Born in Ireland:

♡Keigan: The Clerk is partially based on the unpopular Irish judge and politician William Keogh. Again, although the accents employed in video materials are inconsistent, she clearly has an Irish accent in her English character trailer. Her surname Keogh is Irish through and through.

Born somewhere in the United Kingdom or British Isles:

♡Martha: Or at least “Martha” is passing herself off as the British Martha. The ideal of the “angel in the house” and Victorian womanhood Martha Behamfil fought against is inexorably tied to British class and gender values. Behamfil is likely a bastardization of Beham, which is an English surname by way of the Normans.

♡Fiona: Very little is known about Fiona’s background, but her given name is Celtic. The surname Gilman is also English with Norman origins.

♡Melly: She stared as a domestic servant at a manor, likely somewhere in the United Kingdom. As such, she was probably born in the United Kingdom, as the pitifully low wages of housemaids would make international travel legitimately impossible. Her surname before marriage, Ndlovu, suggests her father’s family hails from South Africa or Zimbabwe.

♡ Ann: she comes from a wealthy family that falls within the geographical range of influence of the cat cult. Her family own pastoral land where sheep graze, and sheep are in many ways the stereotypical livestock of the United Kingdom. Her surname is not known.

♡Bane: if he's working as a gamekeeper, he’s likely from the area around Oletus and knows the land well. Perez is a Spanish surname extremely common in the United States and Mexico, but also sometimes in Peru and even France.

♡Mike: A circus foundling and adoptee, he was probably locally sourced by Bernard. Morton is an English and Scottish surname.

♡Emil: Another character who would not have ranged far due to his extreme poverty, who was found near White Sand Asylum in a delirious state. His family surname is unknown, and the name Emil itself is popular broadly across continental Europe, and offers no clues.

♡Violetta: a circus foundling, based on a German performer, Violetta Wagner but probably abandoned somewhere in the United Kingdom unless the Hullabaloo and her prior employer/foster father/owner Max had international reach. The actual historical Violetta had living relatives and traveled with them.

♡Aesop: His given name is Greek (and honestly a very unique choice on the part of his mum). His Once skin previously including the Italian word for shame/disgrace, vergogna, is probably a reference to him going to an elite academy in that timeline, as many upper-class British boy’s schools included Latin, Italian, Greek etc in their curriculums. His letters to his teammates during his manor game are impeccably written, suggesting English is his first language. The surname of his foster father, Carl, is German, but the surnames of his birth parents are unknown.

♡Andrew: Scottish Andrew theory here, and more broadly, Laz/Luz/Lutz Cemetery is within train ride distance from Oletus Manor, making it in England, Scotland or Wales. Given his childhood landlord is buried in that cemetery, he has to have been born in one of these countries too. His German surname, Kreiss, makes plenty of sense, as Germans are one of the largest ethnic groups in the United Kingdom.

♡Orpheus: His parents were park rangers/ groundskeepers employed by the English DeRoss family. We do no know his given name and surname, as Orpheus is a nickname/alias.

♡Ada: Ada and her father are based on the German doctor and scientist Franz Mesmer. It is highly likely Ada was born in England, given her father practiced there, and she came across Emil begging on the street when they were both children in the vicinity of the unarmed town so discussed in this post. The surname Mesmer is German.

♡Murro: A circus foundling and adoptee, he was probably locally sourced by Bernard. Morton is an English and Scottish surname.

♡Luca: 100% ethnically Serbian, based on his being heavily based on Nikola Tesla, and his favorite dish, ajvar, coming from the Balkans. Active in the United Kingdom during his time working with Alva, who in turn knew his father as a young man, since the cat cult is linked to the events around the manor, Lakeside, and Golden Cave, all of which are in England. His surname, which is translated as Balsa but probably meant to be Balzer or Balzac, is Austrian.

♡Weepy/Joker: another circus foundling. He has no known surname and no proper first name either.

♡Alva: based on Thomas Alva Edison, an American with Dutch heritage. Alva and Herman, and then Luca, were working on their invention somewhere in the United Kingdom given that the cat cult got their hands so easily on Alva’s corpse. Lorenz is a German, Dutch and Spanish surname.

♡Will Brothers: orphans and circus foundlings. Their surname is German, and they don't possess given first names.

♡Luchino: fluent enough in English to conduct lectures at a college in England, and able to get to the manor by train. The surname Diruse is a nonsense name like Behamfil, but is probably a corruption of DeRossi, which, like his given name, is Italian. It is a given thing in IDV that to be Italian is to be cursed by a supernatural entity.

♡Burke: I think I’ve heard speculation that Burke is based on the Canadian architect Edmund Burke, but there aren’t many definitive pieces of evidence pointing to this besides the name Burke and a connection with architecture; the connection is a lot weaker than with other characters inspires by real people. Lapadura is allegedly (?) Sicilian, but a very rare surname.

♡Victor: His family seems to have been poor based on his dialogue in the Autumn Letter event. His favorite dish (and Luchino’s too) is Steak Diane, which was invented in London anachronistically in the 1930s. Grantz is a German surname

♡Edgar: One of the few characters I can only tentatively guess about, falling into this category simply because so many of the characters are British. One of the artists Edgar is based on, Edouard Manet, was French. The surname Valden is apparently Russian, though very rare. Perhaps, perhaps, he is indeed French, and as none of the other participants of his game (José, Vera, Kevin, and Patricia) are British, they’d all be outsiders, in a sense.

♡Lucky: he is just some poor guy dressed like a 90′s kids sitcom character. I don't know. Also probably from Britain because almost everyone is.

♡BonBon: honorary inclusion. He is whatever his dad Burke is. A little Sicilian-British robot?

♡Galatea: Galatea is partially based on Camille Claudel, who was French, but she was likely born in Britain. She and her family are in the same social circles as the British Baron DeRoss, and she is mentioned to be considering traveling to Florence and Paris, which would be viable given her family’s wealth and not worthy of note if she did live in France already.

Born in Belgium:

♡Servais: Based on the real magician Servais LeRoy, who did spend a good part of his career in Britain. LeRoy is a surname specifically from northern France.

Born in Spain:

♡José Baden: He has a surpassingly common Spanish name and his favorite food is Paella. His family’s shipping activities saw them sailing frequently through the Mediterranean Sea. The surname Baden has Danish origins.

Born in Germany:

♡Jack: IDV’s version of Jack is heavily based on one of the candidates for Jack the Ripper’s identity, the artist Walter Sickert, who was born in Germany but grew up in England from the age of 8 onwards. Sickert is a fairly uncommon German surname.

Born in Austria:

♡Frederick: A HUGE number of composers and musicians were active in Austria, and specifically Vienna, in the 19th century. Frederick is mentioned in his deceptions as departing from Vienna for Paris, making it likely he and his family lived there, given his father was a famous musician. Many of them were from Polish or Hungarian families. Kreiberg appears to be German, as there’s a very similar German surname Kreisberg.

♡Marie Antoinette/Maria Antonia/Mary: This applies more to the historical Marie, as canon material suggests Hunter Mary is a woman experiencing delusions of being Marie Antoinette. Although Queen of France, she was born in Austria and lived there for the first 14 years of her life.

Born in France:

♡Joseph: fled France with his family. Joseph is confirmed to be largely based on the French inventor Joseph Nicéphore Niépce, who even had a brother named Claude. Desauliners is a French surname that is much more common in Canada than France.

♡Vera/Chloe: Vera hails from the French town of Grasse, a hotspot in the perfume industry. Nair is apparently (?) a Scottish surname, of all things.

♡Philippe: he is based on Philippe Curtis, a surgeon and wax artist. In his debut trailer, the map projected behind his sister shows his voyage beginning in what is either Eastern France or the Western edge of Switzerland. Surname unknown.

Born in Italy:

♡Antonio: he is based on the Italian violinist Niccolò Paganini. A celebrity musician would be internationally mobile and welcome at courts across Europe. His 2022 letter speaks of his lover, Andrea, who also has an Italian given name. His actual surname is unknown, as he is never referred to as Paganini in canon materials.

Born in Czechoslovakia/ The Czech Republic:

♡Annie: her mother was a British socialite, and her father a Czech painter. Her favoring of unconventional traditional dress despite being part of the upper class indicates she feels closer to her Czech, rather than British heritage, and as such likely grew up in proximity to other ethnically Czech people, as I doubt she would have access to that side of her culture as much had she grown up in the United Kingdom. Her 2022 birthday letter also lists her inheritance from her mother in British pounds, which would be odd to do when writing to someone who was also in Britain, as it could be assumed that was the currency in question. Her favorite food is Czech sausage. Lester is an English, not Czech surname, and it’s possible Annie identifies by her mother’s maiden name as a fuck you to her dreadful father.

Born in the United States:

♡Helena Adams: Based on the American activist and scholar Helen Keller. Her international travel was likely facilitated by Sullivan, as her family is not wealthy. The Adams surname is Scottish and English.

♡Patricia: abandoned as a baby in New Orleans, Patricia was technically born at sea and could count as being from Haiti as much as the United States. She is very loosely inspired by Voodoo practitioner and herbalist Marie Laveau, who was of French, Black and Native American heritage. The surname she shares with her adoptive mother, Dorval, is French.

♡Kevin: his friend childhood Angelica was a member of the Great Sioux Nation, who since the 19th century have lived for the most part in the Midwestern states of North and South Dakota, Wyoming, Montana and Nebraska. His Spanish surname indicates Spanish and possibly Mexican heritage as well, given many cowboys and farmers were mestizo.

♡Demi: Demi’s birthday materials include a ferry ticket for a vessel traveling from New York, suggesting she lives in the United States. In terms of gameplay, she doesn't give drinks to underage characters due to strict censorship, but as a lore explanation, it would make sense that (although anachronistic by a good few decades) a European would not have any problem with giving someone under the age of 21 alcohol, but an American character may be stricter about drinking age. The surname Bourbon is French.

Born in India:

♡Ganji: explicitly confirmed to have been born in India. The Gupta surname comes from Northern India.

Born in Nepal:

♡Naib: again, explicitly confirmed. The great question is how a mercenary from the Himalayas wound up in England carrying out assassinations. We only know him by his alias, and have no idea what his given and family names might be.

Born in China:

♡ Shiyi/Yao: the daughter of a Chinese noble. Given that Shiyi came to Oletus to find her partner, Si, I also wonder how Si wound up involved in the dealings of an English manor in the first place and how the pair came to Baron DeRoss’ attention given the vast distance. The Xiao surname is ancient, originating between 770 to 476 BC, and is very common today in China.

♡ Bi’an + Wujiu: based on Heibai Wuchang, Chinese folk deities. Their in-game lore has them as two former government officers. Fan is a very common surname in China and Vietnam, and Xie ie even more common.

Born in Japan:

♡Michiko: Born in Japan, and moved to England with Miles Donnelly. His surname is Irish, but given that Michiko’s corpse was disposed of by the Female Dancer’s uncle Eugene Hayward at Lakeside, she must have lived nearby with Miles.

🌙🌙They Came from Space 🌙🌙

♡Yidhra: an Outer God, a being in the Lovecraftian mythos defined as originating from outside our solar system. She has been on earth a long, long time, however.

♡Hastur: a Great Old One, a deity that is based on Earth but, according to his original lore, has been active on other plantets, as the work he is most closely associated with, the King in Yellow, features mentions of the city Carcosa, an extraterrestrial location associated with Hastur.

TLDR: almost everything is happening in one little area! Almost all of these people got rained on a lot and are serious about tea time. I regret using the heart symbol as a bullet point because truly there are some characters on this list I would not piss on if they were on fire, but I value aesthetic consistency and there are a few individuals on this list I would cook a four-course meal for (It’s Andrew. I want to feed him. I want him to eat a lot and then take a really quality nap). I hope all my links work. Thank you for taking the time to read this far. ♡♡♡

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iamthenerdqueen · 9 months

Text

The Red String of Faith - Chapter II

Idol!AteezXOCs Soulmates!ot8AteezXOCs OCXOC

slight twigger warnings: Polyamory, group of 10, two OC's -feel free to replace one OC with yourself if you'd like- ,eventual smut, listen this is an idea me and my best friend had and is something for fun read at own risk, not edited as always

Chapter I , Next

Lia was absolutely positive she was having a panic attack. She hadn’t felt this way since high school, it was the same anxious sickly feeling she had when she realized Lyra was her soulmate. Every happy feeling that people talk about after they find their soulmate is absolutely bullshit.

It’s downright terrifying and now Lia was face to face with not just one more soulmate, but 8 of them.

“Hello! We are Ateez!” The group quickly introduced themselves before becoming slightly less formal in the situation and spreading throughout the room.

Lia felt an overwhelming urge to disassociate and to ignore the situation at hand, but it was interrupted by the voices of Taylor and subsequently the members of Ateez. The members of Ateez who are also her soulmates.

Her soulmates Ateez? Lyra and her soulmates were part of the international boy group Ateez?

“Lia! Come say hi,” Taylor gestured over to the empty seat at the end of the small sofa.

“Yeah, sorry! Got lost in my own head for a minute,” Lia answered jokingly trying to play it off as she walked toward Taylor. To Lia’s surprise, the end of the sofa she was currently aiming to sit in was placed right next to a soft looking chair that was currently occupied by Hongjoong.

As she took the seat, she quickly glanced at Hongjoong who was softly smiling at her. When their eyes met, that gross anxious pit in her stomach significantly eased up. There was something reassuring in his gaze, it made her feel like everything was going to be okay.

It was obvious that the other members of this newly formed soulgroup were also aware of this new development. Lia could tell they were also trying to wrap their heads around the situation, glancing around the room she could see the different members spread around the room.

Hongjoong was next to her currently making small talk with Taylor, across from them was Vivian and Lyra on the other sofa chatting with each other and with an energetic Wooyoung. Seongwha, San, and Jongho were occupying the other chairs around the seating area seemingly going back and forth between listening to the conversations happening on either side of them.

Yunho, Yeosang, and Mingi were lingering near the food to the side of the room. It made sense to Lia, from the content she had watched and absorbed about the group Yeosang had a harder time with stingers very much like Lyra. It also made sense that a couple of his soulmates would stay closer to him to make him as comfortable as possible.

Looking around, seeing all of them there and together made the rest of the anxiety in Lia’s stomach dissipate. She was never one to freak and did her best to avoid getting so worked up over things, but her soulmate or now soulmates was the one thing that always sent her into overdrive.

“Did you enjoy the show Miss Lia?” The question from Hongjoong caused Lia to blush

“It was fantastic! We’ve been looking forward to this since 2020 and you all blew us out of the water!” Her southern accent became a little heavier as she spoke excitedly to the man beside her.

“I am glad you…” Hongjoong paused, obviously trying to think of the English word he was looking for, “decided to still come and see us, Miss Lia.”

“Please, just call me Lia,” her blush intensified as she dropped the formality, “besides, we would have waited as long as it took to see you all.”

In context her answer made sense, but it had a second meaning as well. The tension shifted again amongst the group slightly, Lia was more than aware that everyone had been quiet when she answered him. Everyone in their newly formed soulgroup had heard the unspoken meaning of her words.

Hongjoong smiled brightly before addressing Taylor to bring her actively into the conversation, across from them Wooyoung let out a loud laugh as he animatedly talked to Vivian.

Lyra couldn’t help but retreat into herself a bit in the room and the conversation at hand with the idols and their new concert friends. She was much more of an observer and seeing Lia this anxious only made it worse.

Lia was the outgoing one and she was who Lyra looked for to make situations like this more comfortable. It wasn’t until Lia began chatting easily with Hongjoong, Taylor , and the few seated off to the side that Lyra realized the situation wasn’t as tense as she first had assumed.

Wooyoung was an incredibly smiley person was the only observation Lyra had made thus far, and that he was trying incredibly hard to get to join the conversation more. Her small and one word responses were obviously a little less than satisfying to him.

“So, Lyra? Do you have a bias? Will you tell us who your favorite is?” Wooyoung asked in a joking manner, obviously trying to get Lyra to feel more comfortable and finally catching her eye and making solid eye contact. Like most soulmates, fate had a funny way of making sure everyone felt good around each other much like Lia before her with Hongjoong, Wooyoung’s eye brought her peace in this new situation.

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t,” Lyra answered playfully and with more than one or two words for the first time since coming into the green room. Her new reply caused both Wooyoung and the ever watchful Vivian to giggle in response.

Just like that everyone seemed to be comfortable during the meet and greet, after a few more minutes even Yeosang became comfortable and went out of his way to come interact as much as he could before their short time was up.

Standing in a line, shoulder to shoulder with slightly melancholic smiles, Ateez prepared for the meet and greet to end.

“Thank you all so much for coming and spending time with us after the show,” started Mingi, his words were obviously well rehearsed and it made both Lia and Lyra smile at the effort he and all the boys had put into their English throughout the night.

“We are so happy that we get to see Atiny again and are working hard to spend more time with them,” continued Jongho from the other end of the group, he had been rather quiet during the short meet up but had made a point of actively listening to their guests. He and Yeosang reminded Lyra of herself, the more observant type waiting to fully get comfortable with those around them to show their true personality.

“Atiny are the reason we do everything, Atiny makes all the hard work worth it,” San stated with a bit of a bounce to his voice and body as he rocked back and forth. It was clear that he was exhausted after the concert, he too had done his best to engage with everyone. He had been cracking jokes every now and then to keep the mood light with Yunho.

“You were all so wonderful to get to know, even if you wont tell me who your favorite is,” Wooyung chimed in playful and quickly stuck his tongue out to tease Lyra. Much like Lia had when she and Lyra first got to know each other, Wooyoung had made it his mission that night to try and get the brunette to come out of her shell more and more.

“It made our evening even better getting to see you and get to know you a little better,” Yeosang spoke politely from his spot, keeping it short and sweet but a genuine smile graced his face.

“This means we are one step closer to normal or a new normal, you all were fantastic to get to know. Thank You for coming to see us,” Yunho came next echoing the same sentiments as his bandmates (and soulmates apparently, but Lia was still reeling about the night's revelations in the back of her mind) offering a small bow in thanks to the group of fans across from the group.

“You all have given us a remarkable night! The concert was one of my favorites on this tour and getting to see some Atiny this way made my heart very happy,” Seonghwa was smiling brightly as he spoke, he had driven a larger group conversation through the meet and greet once everyone came together, taking some of the pressure off of Hongjoong and helping to create the lighter atmosphere despite the looming revelation.

“Yes, Seonghwa is right. Everything my members have said is very true! It has been one of the greatest nights of our lives and truly a turning point for us,” Hongjoong started speaking quickly, glancing at his members and making almost pointed eye contact with Lia and Lyra. It didn’t take much for the two to understand that his words had an underlying meaning. He started to speak again with the same deeper meaning to his words, “We have been looking forward to this longer than I think anyone may realize. When we are all together things just make more sense to us. Atiny makes everything worth it and you make things make more sense.”

Taylor and her mother were blown away at Hongjoong’s words, seeing them as top tier fanservice, which on a surface level was beyond imaginable fanservice. But for Lyra and Lia, it was something much more.

It’s like they had known that there was something more out there, waiting to join them. To Lia, it made all of her worries disappear. She had become incredibly comfortable with all of them in the short time they had been chatting during the meet and greet. It was one of her super powers in Lyra's mind, to be able to come to terms with things quickly. It didn’t always work out in some situations, but as far as in relation to choices and things regarding her connection with Lyra she had never been wrong in her trust.

Lyra, on the other hand, was once again letting her anxiety take over. When faced with a fight, flight, freeze, or fawn situation, Lyra would always choose flight. If she could get away from something she could think about it and process or avoid it. What was causing her the most panic was the fact she knew that she couldn’t avoid this situation. If they were apart too long someone was bound to become soul sick. It was almost guaranteed with 10 people being a part of the tether.

The others who made up the group of fans started saying their thanks and how much they enjoyed the evening, but Lyra was still trapped by her panic only managing to smile and say a meek thank you. It was Wooyoung who picked up on it almost instantly, his happy expression faltering only for a second before he made sure no one else could tell he noticed. Instead, he made sure to keep a close eye on the shyer of his two new soulmates wanting to make sure that nothing happened to her or any of the other tethers.

“If we could take you in groups of two, since you didn’t travel together. It is a downpour outside and we want to ensure everyone makes it back to the parking garage and vehicle safely,” A manager said with two security guards who were there to help get everyone where they needed to go.

“You guys go first, we wouldn’t feel comfortable if we didn’t know you had made it out safely,” Lia said looking at Taylor and Vivian.

“Are you sure, it’s okay if you go first?” Vivian began, her motherly instincts obviously having set in for the two other girls as well.

“It’s okay, please it’ll make us both feel more comfortable knowing you guys were all good.” Lia assured both Taylor and Vivian as Lyra confirmed her words with a warm smile and nod of her head, still not feeling up to words.

Taylor came up to Lia and warped her in a tight hug, the two exchanged some heartfelt words no longer as fan and entertainer, but as something closer, a mentor and mentee. It was rare that Lia got to spend so much time with bunnies who she didn’t already know. She didn’t partake in many panels or go to events hosted for streamers, so to Lia this was something incredibly special.

The mother and daughter duo were then escorted out by the security team, who carried umbrellas with them and headed toward a back entrance that was closer to the parking garage than the main entrance.

The two girls expected Ateez to be ushered out quickly by management, but it had yet to happen instead the members were still in their lineup. Looking at them, their hands, and the red string connecting all of them together.

There was a full minute of silence as they all looked at each other, trying to figure out what to do with their new situation. Lia, unsure of what else to do began to address the situation

“Um-”

“We-”

Lia and Hongjoong started to speak at the same time, both quickly stopping and looking at each other.

Hongjoong had this almost nervous look on his face, which made Lia giggle. She was so used to seeing him in the acting role as captain and being in control of most situations from the content the group put out, it was cute to see him nervous.

“You go first, please. I was just going to start talking until something made sense,” Lia laughed a little as she gestured for Hongjoong to speak instead of her

“Ah, Okay… We would like to speak with you both some more,” he paused looking at the other members and back to the two females in front of him, “about the tether and what this means now. We noticed during the concert and got lucky that you were a part of the meet and greet, but we alerted our managers to the situation and would like to invite you to our hotel.” He finally paused taking a breath, his words had been faster than usual and his english was slightly slurred due to the speed of his speech

Lia playfully raised an eyebrow at his unintentionally suggestive words, and before she could say anything Hongjoong started again

“Ah! I mean to talk and hopefully get to know you both better and… I’m sorry. I-”

“It’s okay. We understand what you were trying to say, Lia is just teasing you. We will absolutely go and continue talking about the situation. This is all very overwhelming, we didn’t know there were more parts to our tether or that we were in a soulgroup.” Lyra surprised everyone else in the room with her calm words, her face had morphed from the panic of before into a mask that Lia recognised as her ‘work mode’ face.

“Lyra is right, we will join you all, if you are all comfortable with this,” Lia confirmed Lyra’s words and emphasized ‘all’ as she needed to know that everyone was on the same page and wanted this. Especially, after the exhausting day the boys had obviously had.

In a matter of minutes, the boys were off, probably going to finally change out of stage clothes and the girls were in the presence of the same manager and security team that had escorted Taylor and Vivian out to their car.

“I am Lee Hajoon, Ateez’s main manager, it is nice to meet you both. The boys were very excited to find you tonight. I hope this is a good start to something wonderful,” Hajoon was a very tall man with a deep voice that gave Mingi a run for his money, but he seemed very friendly and understanding of the situation.

“Thank you, this is a lot honestly, we aren’t sure exactly what's going to happen and it’s just a lot,” Lia said as they entered the elevator of the parking garage heading toward the third level.

“Korea is very different to the United States on how they view soulmates and tethers generally. It is something that has the utmost respect among the country, even soulgroups, which is surprising considering the more conservative nature of the country.” Hajoon explained briefly as they reached their vehicle which was embarrassingly the last one on the level as most fans had already left due to the later hour.

“Ateez do not hide their relationship and soulmate connection, they are just private people and do not publicize it as to feel like they have something to themselves. I think this will be a good thing for them, they have been looking for their final two tethers since they found each other.” Hajoon finished his explanation and handed Lia a card with the hotel information on the back and quickly said that he would meet the pair in the lobby to make things easier.

Both girls sat in the car, Lyra once again staring off into space trying to process everything and Lia looking at Lyra as if to gauge her genuine reaction.

“So…” Lia said as she started the car ready to make the 20 minute drive from Duluth to the hotel address they had been given by Hajoon

“So…” Lyra copied Lia both knowing where the conversation was heading.

“What are your actual thoughts on this Ly? I could tell what you did back there. You went into work mode and just took your real feelings out of it to defuse the situation.” Lia wasn’t in the mood to dance around the subject and her tone said it all.

“Okay, well first of all, don’t call out my poor coping skills right now. I am very overwhelmed and seriously cannot wrap my head around any of this.” Lyra went quiet for a second, long enough for Lia to glance over at her and grab her hand in a comforting way when she turned her eyes back to the interstate.

“I am not the type of person who is put in these situations. Neither of my parents ever found their soulmates and their relationship was awful, I was the first person in my family on either side to find their soulmate in two generations.” Lyra had tears in her eyes as she continued. “I’m not confident like you or social and I-” a sob broke out from Lyra’s throat and tears rolled freely down her face now.

“What will we do? I don’t want anyone getting soul sick. But our native languages are totally different, they live on the opposite side of the world, Lia. Are we just going to up and leave our entire families so we can be close to them… What if it’s all too much and it doesn’t work. What if I get left behind again?”

There it was the real problem, fear. A visceral fear of abandonment, something both Lia and Lyra shared. Both had experienced their parents abandoning them in some way.

For Lia, her father had chosen drugs over his own child and hadn’t been in her life since she was thirteen. She had grown a thick skin after that, and if she wanted something or someone around she would do everything in her power to make them stay. She was a fighter in this life.

For Lyra, her mother had chosen another man breaking her family apart right as her father became terminally ill. Her father was a whole different issue as his illness had been a struggle for Lyra as she had been with him through the entire thing. She didn’t have the same thick skin as Lia about these things. She wasn’t a fighter.

“We are not our parents. I have never and will never leave you behind. You are my soulmate, my twin flame. Not just because fate put us together, you were the other half of me from the moment we became friends. If those 8 boys feel anything from our tethers that is even a fraction as strong as what we feel for each other and how I feel about them after just a few hours near them. They would never hurt us or decide to leave us behind forever, what do you feel when you’re around them Lyra?”

Lia squeezed Lyra’s hand as if to remind her that she was there and that they were together in this experience.

“I just kept looking around that room and thinking how happy I was. Even despite my anxiety, you all there made it okay. Like nothing bad could happen when we’re all together.”

“Exactly, Ly. We all had to feel that way, it’s fate design you know.” Lia stopped speaking and briefly let go of Lyra’s hand to place the car in park. The two of them now sat outside the nice looking hotel.

“Lyra, this will work one way or another. Even if I have to fly us back and forth from South Korea every weekend from now until we die, I will make this work. But, if you don’t want this we can turn back right now. Go home and start trying to find a doctor who will help us with soul sickness. If-”

“I want this to work. Or at least to try.” Lyra surprised Lia when she cut her off with words of confirmation. Lia had prepared herself to leave, to make sure Lyra was okay.

“Alright, then I guess all that is left is to go meet Hajoon.”

The two made their way to the lobby, where just as he had promised Hajoon was waiting for them.

“Hello again! The boys just beat you here, they’re waiting for you in their suite and have asked to see if you two had already eaten?” Hajoon was polite as ever

“Oh no, we haven’t eaten dinner yet. Our plan was to go after the show, but y’a know” Lia answered while the two of them followed the manager through the hotel

“Wonderful, the members have yet to eat and wanted to eat with you. They said they would eat whatever, so it’s your choice.”

“Oh! They didn’t have to wait on us, really” Lyra started to say feeling a little guilty that the boys hadn’t eaten yet and had worked so hard at the show

“They have insisted, and are very flexible in their food choice. Really anything you two would like,”

The conversation lasted through the short elevator ride and through several hallways and past a very buff looking security guard as the two girls argued with Hajoon about buying them food.

“Please ladies, they’ll be upset if I don’t talk you into this. They want to treat the two of you tonight.” Hajoon looked as exhausted as the girls felt from the stubbornness the two had just exhibited.

“Fine, but just know we will never get used to someone trying to spoil us. Got it?” Lia said half- joking half-serious

“Okay”

“And our original plan was to get Korean BBQ tonight, so” Lia dais giving the man a shrug as he prepared to open the door to the suite.

“That works, what would you two like?” He said hand ready to open the door and his playful message was clear. Give him their order before he would open the door, it also dawned on Lyra that he probably had the members' orders memorized.

“Spicy rice cakes, please” was the only request Lyra put in, with a slight pout to her lips which combined with her puffy eyes from crying reminded Lia of how a pouting child looks. It was cute, but in a way that made Lia want to squeeze Lyra’s cheeks until they were bright red.

Hajoon looked like he was about to try and get her to add to her order when Lia began to speak, “She craves carbs when she's tired or stressed, and in the case she's both so don’t question it. I’ll take some beef bulgolgi, and some gyoza, we’ll share so she’ll get something a little more filling.”

Lia stopped as if she was double checking she had said everything, “Oh, and would you mind getting me a diet coke and her a regular coke?”

With that, Hajoon nodded signaling that he had their order and proceeded to open the door. To some surprise, Yeosang and Mingi seemed to be on the other side of the door listening to the conversation that had been going on outside the door and were trying to play it casually.

“Hello” and “Hi” came from the two boys who had been waiting at the door as they saw the two girls with their manager.

“Hi” said Lyra, her greeting quickly echoed by Lia as they slowly made their way into the hotel suite. Mingi and Yeosang seemed to guide them from the entrance to a large living area which seemed to connect two rooms with two King sized beds in each from the quick glance Lia had when passing the adjoining doors.

She also noticed the boys had changed into normal loungewear, as the other six came into view she noted that they all were in a range of gray or black t-shirts with either sweatpants or pajama bottoms. She greatly appreciated the bright yellow striped bottoms Yunho had on. Lia felt a tug on her bag, looking to see Lyra looking at her.

In that moment it was like the two girls could read each others minds, they now felt overdressed as they were still in their concert outfits. But, true to form Lia just raised her left eyebrow as if to say, ‘We look hot. Let’s act like we look hot’ before confidently walking toward where the boys were sprawled out across a couple chairs and similarly to the green room, two couches.

“Lia, come sit here,” Yeosang surprised Lia and Lyra both by making the gesture for her to come occupy the other half other large chair he was sitting in. It was a very intimate seating situation, but Lia wasn’t one to question it.

Before Lyra even had the chance to awkwardly look around for somewhere to sit, Wooyoung started making a grabby hand gesture toward her and San moved to his right to make room for her to come sit between him. With some hesitation, Lyra went to sit between the two boys on the couch.

Its room had a relaxed air to it, all the tension and anxiety from their early interactions seemed to have been left at the arena or in the girl's case in the car.

“Thank you for coming, we got worried for a few minutes when we beat you here,” Hongjoon started to speak from one of the other chairs in the room.

“I’m not going to lie to y’all, I freaked out in the car. Cried a good bit and contemplated disappearing into thin air, but it’s all good. The nerves are gone for now,” Lyra said, trying to be humorous, but her words only seemed to put the boys on edge. Before she realized anything both Wooyoung and San slipped their hands into hers,

“You want to be here, right?” San asked quietly beside her. He was looking so intensely at her face, as if she would crumble under the weight of his grip on her hand and his eyes looked into hers like she had hung every star in the sky that very night just for him. It was a look Lyra recognized from him, fans had caught him countless times giving the same look to his members, namely Wooyoung.

“I want to be here,” Lyra confirmed, smiling at San softly and gaining a bright dimpled smile in return.

“We had a long talk in the car about this, we’ve been through a lot and this is super overwhelming, like we said before. We want to be here and get to know all of you more and to know what your views on the situation are. How you all would like to proceed.” Lia confirmed for the whole room, she had curled up into the large chair with Yeosang doing the same beside her. They were pressed against each other comfortably, as if they had known each other much longer than a few hours.

“We have been waiting on you both for a while, we all came together before we debuted and together is good. But not whole.” Yunho spoke looking at every person in the room, most of the boys in the room nodding to his words.

“How did you guys know? We had no idea that our tether was larger than just the two of us?” Lyra was obviously confused, she didn’t know the in’s and out’s of all of this. Her family wasn’t very into the whole soulmate stuff and the town she and Lia had grown up in was borderline against soulmates if it wasn’t a heterosexual monogamous tether.

“In Korea, when there is a larger tether they can run a test to see exactly how many there are in the soulgroup in efforts to make the search easier. Korea views the tether and soulmate connection as sacred, making large efforts to connect people and keep them together.”

Hongjoong’s words were a surprise to both the girls, they didn’t expect that type of devotion from Korea as it was known to have its own problems with non-straight relationships and was thought of to be a more conservative place.

Their thoughts must have been clear as Seonghwa chimed in from his place next to the captain of the group, “Not everyone in the country sees it this way, but enough to make it manageable for soulgroups and give us a sense of security.”

“You asked us what we want from this, and I will be truthful, “ Jongho said from next to San on the couch, “We have always talked about when we find you both and how we would take good care of you. Love you in whichever way you want. Protect you, to be with you and you to be with us in the ways that most soulmates are.”

The rest of the boys confirmed his words with head nods or vocally confirming their agreement. It touched Lyra and made her heart warm, she always struggled with accepting the fact that Lia was her soulmate, and even while they were a platonic pair she still cared for her in a way Lyra found unbelievable. Hearing this come from eight more people brought tears to her eyes again. A few slipped down her checks before she could stop them altering the Wooyoung to her upset nature, gently he pulled her head into his shoulder to comfort her,.

“Y’all are gonna think I’m a big cry baby, which I am sometimes, but still. I just- we-” It was hard for Lyra to continue as she seemed a loss for words,

“We want that too.” Lia confirmed for both her and Lyra making it easier on everyone in the room.

“Would you both be okay, in exploring a romantic relationship? We know you are currently platonic soulmates from your streaming channel.” Mingi said from his seat, breaching the question in a very nonchalant way.

“Um let’s start with the fact that you guys watch my streams, that kinda fucking embrassing. I have said a lot and i mean a lot of stupid, embarrassing things on their about my affection for your music and Ateez as a group and now i feel stupid cause i never thought that-” Lia started getting faster and faster as she spoke obviously going to fast for the non native english speakers in the room

“Woah!” Hongjoong stopped the near ranting twitch streamer, “Too fast, too fast and you’re cute on stream. Talking about us and how much you like being an Atiny.” Hongjoong was very smug in his words, purposefully ignoring the fact that Lia also talks about other Kpop groups from time to time while playing the Sims, his slight possessive side peaking through.

“Okay, fine. But while we are platonic, we didn’t start that way. We tried a romantic relationship and it just worked better for us to be best friends like we had before we found out we were tethered. So, I am okay with trying out a romantic relationship if we all agree that if friendship is better that's okay. “ Lia said after side eyeing the leader playfully.

“She’s right, that is how we started and I am okay with that too.” Lyra said from her place in Wooyoung’s neck.

For a few minutes, no one said anything, just sat in each other's company. A few of the eyes in the room would look to the red string that connected each and everyone of them to every person in the room. Then someone, it’s unclear exactly who started laughing. A clear and easy laugh that was contagious then suddenly the room had devolved into nothing but laughed. Loudly and happily, together.

It was interrupted by a ding from Hongjoong’s phone,”Hajoon is on his way back with food, he just stepped into the elevator”

“Oh yeah, what did you guys decide for food?” Yunho asked, whipping some tears from his face that had come with his laughing fit.

“Korean BBQ? I hope that's okay, it was are original dinner plans,” Lyra explained to the group before getting pulled into Sans side as he aggressively cuddled her.

“You two really are amazing, not only hot but you guys got them to bring us meat!” San almost yelled in happiness at the thought of meat.

“Hot, you think we’re hot? I mean, I think we are but we're not exactly the Korean beauty standard?” Lia was brutally honest sometimes with her words and this was one of those times. Her and Lyra weren’t what Korea would consider beautiful, both were curvy girls and while they both had tattoos and scars, at the moment, Lyra had smudged eyeliner all around her eyes.

“Duh,” began Wooyoung as he and Jongho got up to help Hajoon bring in the food, “When we spotted you two from the stage, I thought I might start drooling. Have you seen yourselves? It’s like someone looked into all of our brains and made you two.”

His words sent Lia into a giggling fit and made Lyra get shy as she hid her face in her hands. As the food was passed out everyone shifted slightly, Lyra and Lia now sat next to each other on the floor at the table to share their food with each other, most of the boys had also sat on the floor to eat at the coffee table where the food sat. Only Jongho and Mingi remained on the couch seatinging themselves right behind the two girls.

“What exactly are you so impressed with, huh?” Lia, ever the flirt, egged the boys on, both curious and wanting to tease them.

“You are both short and cute and when you smile, I can’t not smile,” started Hongjoong.

“Passionate, I could see you two screaming along during the concert and I like that,” Yunho joined in telling what he found attractive.

“Your hair, Lia caught my eye first. I like the black and white hair. And Lyra your eyes, I was trying to make eye contact on stage, green eyes are very pretty, “ Seonghwa was next in his confessions, his blush made the two girls smile.

It was San who began to speak next, his exhaustion was back and with that his filter seemed to disappear, “You both have… very nice,” he paused trying to carefully word his next sentence before his eye darted to Lyra’s now more exposed cleavage as she want bent over bringing a rice cake from the container to her mouth. His face went bright red as he continued, “everything. Very nice everything.”

Hongjoong lightly slapped the blushing boy on the back of the head as if to say that he hadn’t covered his tracks at all.

“Tattoos,” came from Jongho behind Lyra. “I could see them and now I want to see them all, and color them in,”

It dawned on Lyra that they could only see part of her leg sleeve, the parts without any color.

“I have one with color. I have a sunflower in one of my tattoos that is bright yellow.” Lyra chimed in, tilting her head back to look at Jongho. It was also at this point she yawned loudly and began to rub her eyes, messing up her make up further. She felt like she looked like a raccoon with how smudge her eye makeup had become.

“It’s late, guys, I'm sorry but we’ll probably have to go in the next couple minutes. We have a four hour drive.” Lia said finally realizing how late it had become nearly midnight now, it would be around four in the morning when they made it back to Columbia.

“Stay, that’s very far and dangerous at this hour,” Seonghwa said looking around for any rebuttal to his offer

“We couldn’t do that, you’ve already fed us and been so kind. We’ll be okay, and we can figure out a way to come see you all again in a couple days so we don’t interrupt your schedules.” Lia said in protest to the kind offer, not wanting to overstay their welcome.

“We said we want to take care of you, please let us,” Yeosang retorted, catching Lia’s eye and smiling at her.

With a little more convincing the two girls agreed to stay, deciding to sleep on the two couches and reluctantly accepting some t-shirts from the boys, (to be read, a long game of rock, paper, scissors between the boys to decide who got to offer them shirts… Jongho gave one to Lyra and San gave one to Lia.)

After the girls changed and took off their makeup, the entire group sat in the living room trying to make the most of their night together, still not sure what would come next. Before long, Lyra had fallen asleep on San’s shoulder, lightly snoring.

“I’ll take her to our bed,” San said as he shifted, getting ready to pick up the girl. Wooyoung nodded his head before standing to go to bed with them, tired himself.

“Wait, we said we’re fine with taking the couches, we really don’t want to put anyone out of their beds.” Lia said, not wanting anyone to be put out by their presence.

“We were never going to let you all, and if you’re comfortable with it and think Lyra would be, we can just share with you instead of anyone having to sleep out here all the beds are King sized and could easily fit up to three,” Hongjoong said from his spot next to Lia.

Lia let out a long sigh, “I think that will be fine, but please tell me you wont play rock, paper scissors again to figure out who I’ll be sleeping with tonight?”

“No, just go choose a bed and whoever already had claim to that bed is who you’ll sleep with tonight” Mingi explained as though they had already spoken about this – they had while the girls were taking their makeup off.

So, without hesitation, Lia wandered to the opposite room from where Wooyoung and San had taken Lyra to bed after she had answered Hongjoong, and plopped on to the one nearest to the bathroom.

Then a much too smug Hongjoong and Seonghwa came in behind her and sat on either side of her, letting her know that this was their shared bed for the night. After them Mingi and Yunho came to the other bed, flicking off the lights.

In a matter of minutes, everyone in the hotel suite had fallen asleep cuddled up with at least one of their soulmates next to them. Hongjoong was sure he was the last one fighting the pull of sleep, he could hear everyone’s deep breaths in the room and let his eyes close with a grin on his face.

For all of them it was the most restful sleep they could remember in a long time. Each felt safe and secure knowing that they were all together finally. They didn’t know what the next day would bring or how the small details would work themselves out, but that was a problem for the next day. In this moment the only thing that mattered was being together.

A/N: Sup? New part coming at you at 1 AM. This isn't edited, but I never edit so are we suprised??? Also, for some context this is taking place circa Januarary 2022. This really is just a fun thing for me and my best friend, but the love is very much apperiated and I hope you all enjoy. We will start looking into some heavier topics as we go, so be prepared.

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chickensarentcheap · 7 months

Text

Lost and Found- Chapter Twenty

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake and Esme Drummond (OFC. But you do not have to read the others in the series to understand this fic.)

Warnings: some profanity.

*Includes Extraction 2 canon mentions

Tagging: @youflickedtooharddamnit @munstysmind @tragiclyhip @secretaryunpaid @theesirenteller @asirensrage @residentdormouse @ninjasawakenedmystar @ocappreciationtag @arrthurpendragon @occommunity @thebejeweledwatercat @kmc1989 @karimac @themaradwrites @alisbackalleybbq

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43179357/chapters/127894162

My tag list is open!! Please just let me know if you'd like to be added :)

Chapter Summary: Tyler Rake, John Wick, and Alcott walk into a bar...

*****

They make quite the threesome in The Continental lounge. Wick with his American drawl, infamous slicked-back hair, and all-black attire, Alcott with his crisp English accent, neatly tailored pants, and cashmere sweater, and Tyler in his ‘casual best’. A simple black Henley shirt and well-worn and faded, olive green cargo pants he’s had for years; tattered around the cuffs and sporting holes in the side pockets.

Three entirely different yet somehow similar men; a combination of unique backgrounds yet familiar circumstances. Their lives filled with loss and heartbreak, and their hands drenched in the blood of many.

And their bank accounts much fuller because of it.

“Now explain this to me again,” Alcott implores from his middle seat at the bar, nursing the remains of his drink. “Like I’m a three-year-old. Because the information is just not getting through. You’re not telling her WHY?”

Sighing, Tyler takes a sip of water. “It’s not that we’re NEVER going to tell her. It’s just that we’re waiting.”

“Waiting for what? Hell to freeze over? Pigs to fly? Just what are you waiting for?”

“For the right time.”

“And just what constitutes the ‘right time’? The child’s existed for nearly five years. She’s been asking about her father for almost a full two of those. If you ask me, there’s no time like the present. She already admitted to loving you. What more do you need?”

“It doesn’t matter if she already loves me or not. Esme and I agreed; that we'd hold off on saying anything.”

“But why? If the little one is already this attached to you and you…by my brief albeit brilliant observation… are already attached to her…”

“She’s been through enough. I mean, it’s been a hell of a four days for US and we’re grown-ass adults. She’s not even five. A baby still.”

“Baby or not, she’s resilient as hell and stronger than either of you are giving her credit for. You don’t think it would be a welcome surprise? In the midst of all the bullshit? Don’t you think it wouldn’t give her something to smile about? To learn you’re her dad?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think.”

“It matters a hell of a lot. It’s your damn swimmers that helped make the child. You’ve got more of a say in this than you realize. Don’t be a pussy, Rake. I know you love the woman, but stand up for yourself. Tell her to shit or get off the pot.”

Smirking, Tyler sips at his water. “You saying something bad about Esme? Of all people?

“I’m not saying anything bad about her. I’m simply saying she’s being foolish. That this is all just a bunch of horseshit. There’s no reason to keep it from her. It’s not like it’s horrible news. For either of you.”

“You gonna say all that to Esme’s face? Tell her she’s making a mistake? Being foolish?”

“No. And you’re not going to tell her I said it, either. I’d prefer to keep my balls exactly where they are, thank you very much. And you…” He nudges Wick with his elbow. “...does any of this make sense to you?”

In response, Wick bobs his head from side to side, then shrugs his shoulders.

“What the hell is that…” Alcott mimics the gesture. “... supposed to mean?”

“It means I don’t have a horse in this race. I’m just here to listen. To support. Not throw my two cents in.”

“How very diplomatic of you. I hope you’re not going to be like this when we get out onto the street. All passive and shit. I can barely carry my own weight most days, I don’t need to be carrying yours as well.”

“Job me and ‘real life me’ are two totally different people.”

“You must have an opinion. One way or another. Does it make sense to you, or is it just the stupidest damn thing you’ve ever heard of?”

“My opinion means nothing. I’m not taking sides in this. I’m not a father. I don’t have kids.”

“What does that matter?”

“It matters a lot. It means I don’t have a leg to stand on when it comes to telling other people what to do with their children.”

“I don’t have any either…”

“That you know of,” Tyler mutters.

“...but I know when something is purely idiotic. And this is about as idiotic as it gets. Tell us. Come on. How do you feel about all this? What do you THINK about it?”

“I think…” Wick downs his bourbon and then waves the empty glass at the bartender. “...I need another drink.”

“You alright, mate? Do you need to talk about it? Whatever you’ve got going on? ‘Cause there’s a couch over there…” Alcott nods in the direction of the lounge. “...and you can lie on it and I’ll sit next to you and you can talk to me like I’m a therapist. Gonna cost you, though. One sixty-five an hour.”

“And would that be in US dollars or pounds?”

Sighing in exasperation, Alcott turns back to Tyler. “You realize this is a stupid idea, yeah? Keeping it from her? That little girl is smarter than any of you are giving her credit for. And she’s been wanting a dad in her life since she’s practically been old enough to talk. I know you think you’re protecting her, but…”

“That’s exactly what we’re trying to do. Protect her. She’s been through enough. More than any kid should have to go through. So we’re just giving her a little bit of a break and…”

“Hearing that you’re her father IS the break. That bit of good news in the midst of all the bullshit. Don’t you think it’ll lift her spirits? Especially after what happened this morning? That incident scared her to bits; she needs some kind of assurance that her entire world isn’t going straight to hell. That she’s safe and secure and no one else is going to hurt her.”

“And I can give her all of that. I can keep her safe. I can stop anyone from getting to her. She doesn’t need to know I’m her dad for all of that to happen.”

Wick speaks up. “If I may be so bold…”

“Oh, now you have something to say,” Alcott chides. “After you get a fourth one into ya. Need the booze to loosen your lips and tongue, do you mate?”

Tyler nods, signifying for him to go ahead.

“I can’t believe I’m going to say anything because I’m trying not to put myself right in the middle of your personal life. But…”

Tyler scowls. “Mate, you’ve been in it for years. Since you kept Esme’s whereabouts a secret. And then didn’t bother telling me about my kid. You have been knee-deep in my personal life for a while.”

“I did what was asked of me,” Wick defends himself. “Esme’s my friend. She needed my help. I gave it to her. And I wasn’t going to betray her confidence. For anyone. And I’m sorry; if that puts me on your shit list permanently. But I did what I had to do.”

“It wasn’t up to any of us to tell you where she was or that you had a kid,” Alcott adds. “None of that was ours to tell. She asked for our help, we gave it. It wasn’t anything personal against you. Although I still think she could have done a hell of a lot better than a two brain cell having, knuckle-dragging, nappy-headed bastard from Queensland.”

“I think it would do Millie a world of good to hear that you’re her dad,” Wick continues. “She needs something to hold onto, some kind of bright spot in all of this. She’s a little kid, and little kids need to know that everything is going to be okay. Hell, even us adults need to know that from time to time. She’s been asking about her dad for a while; who he is, where he is, why hasn’t she met him? And she doesn’t just get on her mom about it. She’s asked me. More than once.”

“She’s asked me several times,” Alcott admits. “She even once asked if I was her dad. I said to look at me and look at herself in the mirror. That alone should tell her I’m not the one that put the bun in her mother’s oven.”

“I just think that this is something that could undo some of the damage done this morning,” Wick says. “We all see how much she adores you. And vice versa. If she’s already head over heels and doesn’t know, imagine how she’ll be when she finds out. And I just can’t help but believe it’s better if you do it sooner than later.”

“Listen to him,” Alcott addresses Tyler. “That’s a man that knows what he’s talking about.”

“Ten minutes ago, you were worried he was going to get you killed out on the street. Now you’re kissing his ass?”

“We’re on the same page. Both of us feel it’s best for Millie if…”

“What do you either of you know what’s best for Millie? For MY daughter? She doesn’t belong to either of you.”

“Maybe not, but we’ve known her longer,” Alcott points out. “As much as I’m sure that hurts to hear.”

“Not my most favourite thing to think about, no.”

“The truth is, we’ve been in her life from the start,” Wick says. “When she was still inside her mother’s belly. Both of us have changed her diapers, fed her bottles, read her bedtime stories, tucked her in…”

“She’s puked on me more times than I care to remember,” Alcott adds. “And believe me, her mother will eventually get my cleaning bill.”

“Why would you think I want to hear this? You’re not making things any better, mate. I’m already pissed off enough. Bringing things like THAT up? Are you trying to get her ass handed to you or…”

“No one is trying to rub salt in the wound,” Alcott assures him. “But the fact of the matter is that we do know Millie better than you do. For now, anyway. I mean, I let her call me Uncle Duey, for fuck sake.”

Wick swigs his bourbon. “I’m Uncle John-John. Killer by night, Uncle John-John by day. My, how the mighty have fallen.”

“She’s a damn good kid,” Alcott continues. “Her mother has done an amazing job with her. And you should consider yourself lucky; you didn’t manage to knock up someone who would have gotten rid of your spawn the second they found out about it. This isn’t exactly the life we strive to bring kids into, is it? Give them dads who kill people for money?”

Tyler frowns; brow furrowed as he drums his fingertips against his glass. “That’s not all we do.”

“Aww mate…” Alcott chuckles and slaps a hand down onto his shoulder. “...don’t sugar coat it. Don’t romanticize it. That’s EXACTLY what we do. And one day, that little girl is going to grow up and she’s going to find out what her daddy really does for a living and…”

“What I DID for a living,” Tyler corrects him. “Past tense. By the time she’s old enough to understand it, I’ll have been out of the game for a few years.”

Alcott waves down the bartender. “The fact of the matter is that she WILL find out. Right now, you’re just the cool friend of her mother’s who can kick ass and take names. That’s how she sees it; you’re big and you’re strong and you’re here to keep her safe from the bad guys. But once she’s older…”

“I just think it’s better if she knows about you being about her dad before THAT happens,” Wick pipes up. “That’s my opinion. Take it with a grain of salt. But…”

“You must want her to know,” Alcott says. “That you’re her father. How could you NOT want her to know?”

“Of course I want her to know. You think I like this fucking game we’re playing with her? You think it doesn’t burn my ass every time she calls me by my first name? Or ‘this is my mum’s boyfriend. Do you really think it doesn’t bother me?”

“I think you’ve got a lot of anger stored up,” Wick says. “And I think the more you lie to Millie, the worse that anger is going to get and then you’re going to snap one day and say some shit you’ll regret. And then both her and her mother will be out of there.”

Grinning, Alcott nudges Wick with his elbow. “Now who’s the therapist?”

“I have my moments.”

Alcott addresses Tyler once more. “Isn’t five years enough? Wasn’t that enough time apart? Do you really want to let this shit fester and a year or two down the road, let it completely ruin things? For good?”

“That’s the last thing I want.”

“If Millie is anything like her mother…” The Brit tosses a wad of cash down on the bar when one of the tenders sets down a tray of shots. “...which we already know she is, she is going to be the type to hold one hell of a grudge when she’s older. So you can imagine what that’ll be like? If you keep up this bullshit? The more time that drags on, the more she’s going to resent both of you for not telling her the truth sooner. And the next thing you know, you gotta teenager who can’t stand being in the same room as you and would sooner spit in your face than look at you.”

Wick side-eyes him, then helps himself to a shot. “Are you SURE you don’t have kids?

“I don’t have kids. But I do have brothers and sisters. And I know how lies…even told with the best of intentions…can tear a family apart. Why would he want that to happen when he just got his family together?”

“HE is sitting right beside you,” Tyler reminds him. “HE can hear you.”

“Mate, in the long run, it’s your life. And from what I understand, that life has been quite shit the past few years. Now, you’ve managed to get her back; the woman that you love more than anything in this world. The person you’d gladly give up your own life for. Do you really want to hold onto this shit you’ve got bottled up and risk losing her? AGAIN?”

“It wasn’t my fault. I wasn’t the reason Esme left.”

“You were and you weren’t. You didn’t do anything wrong. We all know that. But she did leave BECAUSE of you. To protect you. And I’m not going to judge that decision and we’re not going to debate whether she was right or wrong. And I’m certainly not going to pretend I understand anything about the situation she was put in…”

“But…”

“Enough lies have been told. Enough secrets have been kept. I think it’s high time that all of that shit stops. For you, for her, for Millie. For all of you as a family. You’re that little girl’s father. Whether you’re ready to be it or not.”

“I was ready to be ‘it’ the second I saw her and knew she was mine.”

“Then do your first good thing as a dad, and don’t lie to her. No more than you already have. She’s smart and she’s resilient and doesn’t have a hateful bone in her body. Not yet. But the older she gets…”

“What we’re trying to say is that you’re going to just fuck things up more,” Wick says. “Or at least that’s what I’M trying to say. I don’t know what the fuck he’s talking about half the time.”

“I was ready to tell Millie the first day. That I was her dad. But it’s not my decision to make. It’s not…”

“Not alone, it isn’t,” Alcott downs his shot and the winces at the immediate burn. “But it’s half yours. Now I know it’s been a while since I’ve indulged in any extracurricular activities of the sort, but I’m pretty sure it takes two people to make a baby. Unless times and technology have changed since the last time I…”

Wick frowns. “Jesus, how long has it been?”

“Way too long, mate. Way too damn long.”

“But aren’t you…you know…with his ex-wife?”

“On and off. And without giving too much away and completely disrespecting her, I’m sure the big-headed, big-eared Australian and I can agree on the fact that she isn’t the most…what’s the word… affectionate…of people.”

“It’s like fucking a couch,” Tyler grumbles as he slides off his bar stool, then pulls his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans. “Three or four times every six months.”

Alcott smirks. “Now THAT’S not nice. It’s true, but it’s NOT nice. At all.”

Wick nods in the Australian’s direction. “Where are you going?”

Tyler tosses a handful of bills down onto the top of the bar. “I’m not going to name names, but unlike certain individuals, I have a woman to get back to.”

“That’s right,” Alcott scoffs. “Just rub it in, you prick.”

“I’ll be rubbing it in while you’re rubbing it out.”

“You know, it’s moments like these where I don’t like you very much. Are you the one still holding a grudge? Because I drank all your milk?”

“You’re just damn lucky I hit that coffee cup. ‘Cause the meds had me pretty shaky that day. Be glad you still have your hand. Is that your favourite one? The one gets the most use?”

“I really do hate you sometimes, you know that, yeah?”

“You’d miss me, though. If I wasn’t around anymore.”

“In your wildest and wettest.”

“Last thing I want to do is sit around here, watching you two get shit-faced. Not when I’ve got a warm body waiting for me.”

“I don’t know what she sees in you. You’re certainly not the best catch on the planet. Not even close to it. She can definitely do better.”

“It’s okay to be jealous, mate.” He clamps both hands down on Alcott’s shoulders.. “ Especially when you’re not even on her short OR long list.”

“Now that’s just rude. Those are just fighting words. Give her a kiss, would ya? From both of us.”

“Don’t bring me into this,” Wick grumbles. “I prefer all my limbs attached to my body.”

“Get your beauty sleep, Australian,” Alcott calls to him as he heads through the room. “Good knows you need about ten years of it to look good even in your mother’s eyes.”

Tyler smirks. “That’s okay. Your mother thinks I’m perfect just the way I am.”

“You fucking asshole. You regular fucking muppet. I oughta come over there and rearrange your ugly face.”

Chuckling, Tyler steps out of the bar. “I’d like to see you try.”

******

He’s rougher than he needs to be. Using his considerable size and strength difference to punish her; able to convincingly hide the hurt, anger and bitterness under layers of voracious want and need. And she willingly takes everything he dishes out; her body eagerly responding to the tight grip around her throat, the yanking of her hair, and the brutally hard thrusts that have her crying out in a mixture of pleasure and pain.

It had always been her favourite; that tiny body able to withstand enormous amounts of torment in the name of sexual gratification. Something he’d both discovered and marvelled at five years ago; amazed at not only the things she allowed him to do but so openly -and boldly- requested of him. And it remains all this time later, despite their absence from each other’s lives; the awe and the adoration and that powerful, all-consuming mixture of lust and love that nothing -or no one- else could ever come close to measuring up to.

The self-loathing makes a quick appearance; feeling the utmost disgust in himself as he lays in bed beside her. Listening to her soft rhythmic breathing as she sleeps soundly; her back presented to him, yet her head resting in the crook of his elbow, those long, dark tresses fanned out across his arm and the sheets below. He hates himself; for both manhandling her and continuing to harbour such resentment. And while it will be ever strong enough to undo the love and the adoration and pure, unadulterated worship that he’s carried for years, it is enough to slightly tarnish them. To make him feel sick to his stomach and despise himself for ever thinking such negative and hateful ways towards her.

Sighing heavily, he drapes a forearm across his brow and takes in slow, deep breaths; a somewhat successful attempt to chase away the ugliness that festers inside his brain. His own body bearing the effects of just how rough and unhinged things had been between them just two short hours before; deep and painful fingernail trails that crisscross his back and his ribs, bite marks that decorate his collarbone, shoulders, and even the inside of his thighs, a tingling scalp where having his hair twisted and yanked. Incredibly enjoyable at the time; her enthusiasm and her ability to ‘dish it out’ encouraging his intensity even more. But now he feels like shit; the conversations in the bar replaying in his head and his anger -towards both her and the situation that had seen her make the decisions she had- simmering just below the surface.

He’s teetering on the edge of sleep when he feels her stir; the slight shifting of the mattress under her tiny body, the absence of the weight of her head upon his arm as she changes positions. Rolling over under her side and sliding closer to him; a hand coming to rest on his stomach as she nuzzles his ear with the tip of her before pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek.

“Why are you awake?”

He lays a palm on the back of her head; fingertips pushing through her hair to lightly and affectionately knead at her scalp. “I was just going to ask you the same thing.”

“I had the weirdest yet mostly satisfying dream. About taking you and Millie to Colorado to meet the fam. My mom picked us up at the airport, called you Crocodile Dundee and insulted your haircut.”

“That’s oddly specific. What happened next?”

“You gave her very detailed instructions on how to fuck off and stay fucked off. I didn’t get right to the end, but I like to think you wrapped things up by slapping the shit out of her.”

“I don’t hit women.”

“Never? Ever? You’ve never hit a woman?”

“What kind of asshole do you think I am?”

“I don’t mean in your personal life. I know you’re not the type. I mean on the job. You’ve never had to resort to it?”

“Just once.”

“Was she a mark or…?”

“Another merc. Working FOR the mark. We got into it. Blood was shed. Only one of us walked away.”

“Well, I obviously don’t need to ask WHO.”

“Yaz got his ass handed to him by one. In Vienna. She absolutely wrecked him. And he’s tough; for such a small guy. But believe me; he couldn’t walk or piss right for a month afterwards.”

“You like to keep up with your friends’ urinating habits, do you?”

“Anyone ever tell you? That you’re a smart ass?”

“You used to tell me ALL the time. Makes me happy to hear it again; means we're getting back to the basics. The good ol’ days. And as for your future monster in law…”

He arches a brow.

“You wouldn’t even backhand her in dreamland? The Wicked Witch of the Midwest? The one who said you kidnapped her only girl and…I quote…’kept her captive in your den of blood and danger and kinky sex’?”

“I mean, she WAS right. About the sex thing.”

“She also called you Ty.”

“Now THAT’S a fighting word. Because of that? I suppose I could make an exception. Knock her out.”

“And here I was, thinking the selling point would be the decades spent making my life a living hell. I thought for sure you’d want to defend my honour. Seriously though…” She lightly runs her fingernails across his stomach. “....why ARE you awake?”

“It’s two thirty in the morning. Why are YOU so chatty?”

“It’s a gift. Answer my question.”

“I’ve always had trouble sleeping. Even back in Dhaka. And especially when we were living together. Come to think of it, I’m starting to see a pattern. The one thing all these places have in common.”

“Maybe it’s better you don’t sleep. Because I might kill you. Smother you with your pillow.”

Chuckling, he wraps an arm around her and pulls her tightly into his side. Lips meeting her brow before resting his chin on the top of her head. “Just got a lot on my mind.”

“When it comes to the job?”

“Are we even calling it that anymore?”

“I mean, you WERE hired. You did show up. And you ARE doing what I employed you for.”

“But? I sense a ‘but’ coming on.”

“Well, there’s nothing really ‘normal’ about it. And Millie and I are definitely not ‘normal’ customers.”

“Everything about this is as far from normal as you can get. It’s personal. Way too close to home. I’m never THIS attached to who I’m looking out for.”

“You looked out for Mia’s sister and her kids. That’s pretty personal.”

“She was my ex-sister-in-law. And it was a job out of pure fucking guilt. Because I felt I owed it to Mia. After everything I had done to hurt her, I figured it was the least I could do.”

“What if you’d died doing it? Was giving up your life the ‘least’ of it, or…”

“At that time? Without you around? I didn’t give a fuck if I was alive or dead. So it wouldn’t have mattered much.”

“It would have mattered to me; if Nik or Yaz or even Alcott got a hold of me and said something happened to you. I wouldn’t have been able to handle that. The fact that I never got to say I was sorry or tell you that I still loved you or to bring Millie to you. So for what it’s worth, I’m glad that never happened. Because I may not have been in the picture, but I would have missed you for the rest of my life.”

Emotion chokes at him, and he places a hand on her hip and gives a tight, affectionate squeeze.

“I was going to come and see you. In Austria. At the prison.”

“Alcott told you I was there?”

Esme nods.

“Why didn’t you show up?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. “I guess I was scared. About how you’d react. It had been almost three years since I’d just disappeared. And you would have had every right to be pissed off enough to have me thrown out of there.”

“I was never THAT pissed off.”

“I also didn’t want it to happen there; the first time we saw each other again. Not exactly the ideal place for a reunion. I don’t think you would have wanted to find out about Millie while you were locked up. Me showing up would have been enough of a shock, never mind THAT.”

“It would have been a hell of a surprise. But I wouldn’t have been pissed off. I would have been relieved more than anything; to see that you were okay and to know that you even gave a shit what was going on with me.”

“I never stopped ‘giving a shit’ about you, Tyler. I worried about you all the time; practically every second of every day. But had I shown up there…”

“You could have been convinced to be a repeat visitor. I could have talked my way into conjugal visits.”

“I probably would have gone along with it. I bet you looked hot in that orange jumpsuit.”

“There is something seriously wrong with you.”

He remains quiet for several minutes, knuckles repeatedly grazing up and down and her spine, her nose pressed against the side of his neck.

“I wrote to you,” she confesses. “Every week for about a year.”

He frowns. “I never got anything.”

“I never sent any of the letters. I just sat down and poured my heart out and then got cold feet about mailing them. So I just put them in a box and tucked them away. They’re actually still in the back of my closet.”

“You kept them all this time?”

“Everything I wish I’d said and everything I should have done differently is in those letters. Even every apology I wish I’d made. There was always unfinished business. An open chapter. And if I got rid of the letters, it meant I was also getting rid of you. And I know I left, and it seemed like I didn’t want you anymore, but I wasn’t ready for it…for US…to be done. I don’t think I ever would have been.”

“Come here,” he beckons and wraps her in both of his arms; enjoying the scent that clings to skin and hair and the warmth that radiates from her naked body.

God, he’d missed it. He’d missed HER. The touch of her hands and the taste of her kiss. The sound of her voice and her laugh. And that smile that’s reserved solely for him; curving her lips and further softening her features and causing her eyes to sparkle and dance. And for several minutes, they lay in silence; the tension and the sadness eased by the familiar weight of her head upon his chest as a large, callused palm continuously strokes her hair.

“Maybe one day you’ll let me read them. You might have chickened out sending them when you wrote them, but…”

“Whenever you’re ready to see them, they’ll be there. And I think it might be good for both of us; if you look at them. Kinda like shutting the door on that part of our lives. Permanently.”

“I don’t think I’m ready right now. I don’t think I’m quite there yet.”

“Take your time. They’re not going anywhere. There’s no rush. I know there’s a lot going on right now; I’ve dumped enough on you in the past four days to last a lifetime. And I never intended to. I never…”

“You haven’t ‘dumped’ anything on me. Using that word makes it something there’s been nothing good. And believe me, Millie is worth more than any of the bad shit. I’d take a bullet to the neck a thousand times over if it meant she’d exist.”

“I just wish things had been different. When it comes to how I handled things. I had the best of intentions. I REALLY did. I panicked; I knew you wouldn’t stand a chance against The High Table, and I had to protect you. If anything had happened to you…”

“I can wrap my head around THAT. What I can’t get past is afterwards. When things went back to normal and they weren’t a threat anymore. That’s what I’m having a hard time getting past.”

“I already explained. I already…”

“I don’t want to be angry.”

“At me?”

He nods.

“You have every right to be, Tyler. I did a horrible thing to you. More than one, actually. And I can justify leaving; I feel I did the right thing when it came to protecting you. But staying under the radar for years and not telling you about Millie…”

“It’s the entire situation I want to be angry at. That I NEED to be angry at. If The High Table never showed up, everything else wouldn’t have happened. You didn’t know they were going to come for you. You thought you were in the free and clear and done with them. And when they came looking for you, you weren’t given much of a choice. It’s them I should be pissed with. Not you.”

“But…”

Firmly gripping the back of her head, he presses a kiss to her temple and then begins to uncoil her from his embrace; hating the absence of contact when he sits up against and leans against the headboard. One leg bent at the knee, he sighs heavily and rakes a hand through his hair and then runs both palms over his weary face.

“Do you think we can actually TALK about this? Without hurting feelings?”

Gathering the quilt around her naked body, Esme sits up as well. “I think feelings are already hurt, don’t you?”

“Without hurting them even more, then? Because I don’t want to fight, Esme. That’s the last thing I want. There’s enough bullshit going on without adding that to the list.”

“I don’t want that either. And I don’t want to fight about this, especially. But if talking is what you want to do…”

“Like rational, reasonable adults.”

She nods in agreement.

“First thing’s first. I need to ask you something. And you gotta promise me it won’t piss you off.”

“How bad is what you’re going to ask that you need a promise like that?”

“It’s not that it’s bad. It’s just…I don’t know…you might think I’m stupid for even thinking about it, let alone asking.”

“And you accuse me of being that one that talks in riddles? What…?”

“Did you and Alcott have something going?”

She can’t help but laugh. “What?”

“Did you ever have anything going with him? Relationship wise?”

“No. No. Omg, no. Never.”

“I mean, a relationship of ANY kind. Maybe you never boyfriend and girlfriend thing, but…”

“There’s no ‘but’. There has NEVER been anything between us other than friendship.”

“Did he ever want there to be?”

“Not that he’s ever told me. Or acted on. Colleagues and buddies, that’s it.”

“What about you? Anything YOU wanted? Or acted on? Or…”

“Tyler, men and women ARE capable of being just friends.”

“You and I weren’t.”

“You and I are in an entirely different league. We always have been. From pretty much the second we met. You never denied it; feeling ‘something’ right away.”

“Lust. It’s called lust. You know how there’s ‘love at first sight’? Well, that was lust at first sight.”

“Yeah, there was a lot of lust. But it was more than that and you know it.”

“Did you feel anything like that for him or…?”

“I have never felt anything for Russell. Other than platonic love. And maybe wanting to smack the shit out of him from time to time.”

Tyler smirks. “Russell. That’s kinda personal, don’t you think?”

“It’s his first name. What else am I supposed to call him?”

“Everyone calls him Alcott. EVERYONE.”

“Probably because they don’t know his actual name IS Russell. I like to call people by their first names. Especially my friends. You’ve always been a little uptight about these kinds of things; you’ve always hated the idea of anyone else being in my life. You don’t even like the fact I was married before we met.”

“What I hate is WHO you were married to. And the shit he did. That’s what I hate.”

“Admit it, you can’t handle the thought of me with anyone else. I bet you stressed about it constantly during the last five years.”

“No.”

She stares at him pointedly.

“Sometimes.”

“I have a history. I have exes. So do you. You were married before me. You don’t see me obsessing over it. I mean, I don’t particularly like the idea of hearing about your slutty bachelor days, but I realize back then you had commitment issues. You’re a red-blooded male with needs and…”

“And you’re a red-blooded female. With needs.”

“Needs I was more than happy to tend to on my own. You’re the type that prefers having a participant with those things. Me…”

“I am more than capable of handling things on my own. Figuratively AND literally…”

“...I don’t need sex. I have gone YEARS without it. I’m capable of surviving without it.”

“That makes me feel great. Thanks for that.”

“If it’s already not glaringly obvious, I enjoy sex with you. I love having it with you. I could have sex with you all day, every day. For the rest of my life. But the fact is, I never gave a shit about it until YOU. It wasn’t a necessity. I’d never been with someone who could get the job done, know what I mean? I always relied on myself for getting there.”

“You have dated some real fucking winners, haven’t you.”

“I may not need sex, but I WANT sex. And I want it with you. Only you. No one else. And seeing as we haven’t seen each other in five years…”

“What about Alessio? You slept with him. You were going to marry the guy.”

“This isn’t about Alessio. Who was a job.”

“I’ve never had a job that required me to fuck someone.”

“I was his fiancee. I was playing a part. If I didn’t do THAT? He would have known something was up. And maybe it was drastic; going to those extremes. But I did. I allowed myself to feel beautiful. And wanted.”

“I wanted you.”

“And I fucked that up. I know that. But other than him? And this playing pretend? There’s never been anyone else. I haven’t wanted to be with anyone but you. And I tried. Not the sex thing, but the dating and the relationship stuff. I met people. Men, women. I went out a few times. And you know what? Every time they tried to take things further? All I did was compare them to you.”

Tyler blinks at her honesty.

“I have never wanted anyone else. I’m not afraid to admit that. And there’s never been a damn thing between Russell and I. He kept me updated on things you were doing; he contacted me about Georgia and Mia and her sister and all of that. And told me about you going to prison. Other than Millie, he was the strongest connection I had to you.”

“And Nik. And Yaz. All these people that knew you were okay.”

“All people I swore to secrecy and hated every second of it. They didn’t want to lie to you. I especially didn’t want to. And I don’t get your hang-up with Russell and me. You don’t ever question my friendship with Yaz.”

“That’s because he’s Yaz. He may have a huge hard-on for you…”

“He has a hard-on for me? What? He told you that?”

“...but I know you wouldn’t give him the time of day. Not like that. I know you see him like a little brother. But Alcott..”

“It’s because Alcott’s like you, right? He reminds you of yourself. And because I lusted you immediately and fell in love with you so quickly, it must mean it happened with him too.”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t know why it bothers me. How close the two of you are.”

“All I can do is tell you the truth. And reassure you. As many times as you need it. There has never been anything between us. On either of our parts. Nothing has even come remotely close to crossing a line. I know I hurt you and I betrayed you and you don’t exactly trust me right now…”

“I trust you. With my life. With my daughter’s life.” ‘ “...but I wouldn’t lie about this. I don’t see him in that way. I don’t see anyone in that way. It’s just you, Tyler. That I’ve wanted. It’s always been you. It will always be ONLY you.”

“You’d tell me, yeah? If there’d been anyone else? During the last five years? OTHER than that dick head, Alessio.”

“You were honest with me; about sowing your wild oats all over Australia and many parts of Europe. Why would I not tell you the truth? There hasn’t been anyone else. And there especially hasn’t been anything with Alcott. And there never will be.”

He nods slowly as he considers her words.

“On a side note, he’s banging your ex-wife, you know.”

“I don’t care what he’s doing to my ex. She’s my ex for a reason. She stopped being any of my concern a long time ago.”

“You were concerned enough to help her. To take the job. Put your life on the line to get her sister and her kids the hell out of Georgia.”

“It was a job. I was being paid.”

“Maybe. But there’s a history there. You were married to the woman. You had a child with her. I know the kind of guilt and regret you carry around. You can’t tell me those didn’t play a part.”

“How did we go from talking about us to talking about her? How…?”

“You want to talk. So let’s talk. Let’s get it all out there. Say the things we need to say. You’re not the only one who’s been holding onto some shit.”

“And now who’s worried about someone else’s history?”

“I don’t care about your history. I care about YOU. And when I heard about that job…”

“You left. I wasn’t the one who took off. You were. So I stopped being of any concern to you. Second you walk out that door…”

“No. It never stopped. I never stopped worrying about you. I didn’t leave because of something you did. Or didn’t do. I never took off because I didn’t love you. I took off because I did.”

“You know how you always say ‘opposites attract’? When it comes to us? Maybe most of the time, that’s true. But it’s not with this. You left, Esme. You left ME. Just like I left my boy. So we have THAT in common, don’t we.”

“I never blamed you for leaving your son. I said it was a stupid thing to do. I still think it was. But I also told you I understood why you did it. I sympathized with you. I still do. It was a horrible, horrible thing to go through; seeing your child sick and wasting away. And you’d never been taught coping skills and you had all that toxic masculinity and you…”

“Why did you leave?”

“I told you. I left to protect you”

“We could have found a way. To fight back. So tell me, why didn’t you stay?”

“I was scared and I was worried and I didn’t want anything to happen to you. I…”

“Esme…” His voice becomes more forceful. Demanding. “Why didn’t you stay?”

“Because I fucked up. Because I brought them to you. And I didn’t know what else to do. So I left. Because I didn’t know how to fix it.”

Silence descends on the room. An eerily still quiet that remains until she sniffles loudly; wiping at errant tears with the back of her hand.

“I couldn’t fix it. I couldn’t fucking fix it”

“Why do you think I left my boy?”

“It’s not the same thing. It’s not…”

“It is. It IS the same thing. We left for the same reasons. And what happened because of it? We took off. And we hurt the only person that ever really gave a fuck about us.”

“I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t know how to get away from them. I didn’t want them coming back. Not when you were there. I didn’t want them hurting you. Or worse.”

“We would have had time. To get the fuck out of there. We could have found a place to hide out. We could have flown under the radar and let Nik and John and even Alcott deal with The High Table. You didn’t have to leave.”

“I didn’t think of that. I was scared. You were still healing from Dhaka. And even if you’d been a hundred percent, you’re not invincible. You wouldn’t have beaten them, Tyler. Not on your own. Not even with a small army. They would have found us. No matter where we were hiding.”

“Don’t underestimate Nik. She would have put us far underground. No one would have been able to track us.”

“I didn’t even consider it. It didn’t even cross my mind.”

“Like you said; you were scared and you were worried. Kinda hard to think right under those circumstances. But Nik? She has no excuse for not coming up with a solution like that.”

“I’m sorry, Tyler. That I didn’t think of those. That I didn’t stay. I wanted to. I wanted to be with you. I never wanted to leave.”

Reaching out, calloused fingertips push strands of hair off her forehead and tuck others behind her ears. “I know you didn’t.”

“We both fucked up. In the past. Only my fuck up lasted five years. And I not only hurt you, but I hurt Millie, too.”

“You didn’t hurt her. Not in the slightest.”

“I kept her away from her dad. For selfish fucking reasons. All because I was worried about rejection. Because I was scared you’d turn me away. That you’d turn US away.”

“I wouldn’t have. I’ve spent the last five years wondering where you were. HOW you were. Wanting you.”

“I’m a horrible person.”

“No. You’re not. You’re a good person who made a bad decision.”

“I remember saying those exact words to you. In Dhaka.”

“And you didn’t hurt Millie. Look how amazing she is. She’s healthy and happy and she’s so fucking smart, Me. And she’s beautiful and she’s perfect and she’s everything that’s great inside both of us all into one. You didn’t hurt her. And you definitely didn’t fail her. You’ve done an awesome job with her. And I’m lucky. Of all the people that are the mother to my kid, it’s you. Because a lot of other women never would have gone through with having her.”

“There was no way I was giving her up. Not while I was pregnant and definitely not after. And I needed to hear that from you. That I haven’t fucked her up. That I’ve done good with her. And BY her.”

“You’ve done more than good, believe me.”

“I am so sorry. That I screwed up so badly. That I left instead of trying to fix things. I really did do it because I didn’t think I had another choice. Because I was scared and worried and wanted to keep you safe.”

“I can accept that. I HAVE accepted it. But when everything was gone and you still stayed away? That’s what I’m having a hard time with. That I just can’t get past. And I want to; get past it.”

“Tell me what I need to do. Tell me what I need to say. I’ll do it. I’ll do anything to make this better. To make it right.”

“There’s nothing you can say. Or do. You’ve already done it all. It’s just me. It’s me needing time to process and accept it and move on from it.”

“So what does that mean for us? You don’t want there to be an us? Until you’ve done all that?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. At all. Of course, I want there to be an us. Did you not ask me to marry you?”

“Not in so many words, but…”

“And did I not say okay?”

She nods.

“I want you. I want US. I want to raise our daughter together. I want to get married and have more kids. I mean, if that’s what you want. More.”

She manages a weak, shaly smile. “A couple more wouldn’t hurt.”

“I’m actually looking forward to; finding out we’re having another one and seeing you pregnant. That’s one of the things I AM pissed about; that I didn’t get to see you like that. All cute and round, and the baby…MY baby…just growing and thriving in there.”

“I carried HUGE with Milile. People were always asking if there was more than one because of just how huge I was. I told them, ‘This is what happens when you procreate with a giant.’”

“I hope you know I’m going to be one of those insanely protective dads-to-be.”

“More protective than you already are with me? Is that even possible?”

“Don’t challenge me, Esme. You’d be surprised how far I can go with it. And I’ll deal with my shit; all the issues I’ve got going on because of what happened. But I’ll do it WHILE we’re together. I’m not worried about that; it causing problems between us or with our family. I just thought you needed to know that I AM still struggling with all of this; you staying away and keeping Millie from me. And I don’t know how long I’ll actually fight with it, but I will get over it. Eventually.”

“And you’ll still love me? Even when things seem extra hard?”

“I love you no matter what. I never stopped. Not once in those five years. I’ve always loved you. I always will.”

As he leans in to peck his lips, her fingers aggressively push through his hair. A long, trembling sigh escaping her when the hand on the nape of her neck tightens its grip; holding her firmly against him as he prolongs and deepens the kiss. Long, sinuous movements of lips and tongue, accompanied by naked limbs that glide and rub against each other as they once more sprawl out across the bed. And when air becomes a necessity, he pulls away and braces himself on both arms above her; a smile curving her lips as she reaches up to trace the line of his jaw.

“Can I ask YOU something now?”

“As long it’s not about my ex-wife, what happened between you and me five years ago, or what’s going to happen in less thirty-six hours.”

“It’s not about any of those things.”

“What do you want to ask me?”

“Is it true? That Yaz has a hard-on for me?”

Chuckling, Tyler leans down and nips at the side of her neck. “You’re a brat.”

“Did he actually tell you that? That he’s packing a woody for me?”

“I can’t give away all his secrets. I’ve said enough.”

“Did you threaten to rip from limb to limb if he even tried anything?”

“No.” He presses a series of warm, soft kisses across her collarbone, his beard scraping the pale, delicate skin. “I told him YOU would.”

#Tyler and Esme series #Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fanfic #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction #Extraction 2 #Extraction fan fic #Extraction fan fiction #Extraction/John Wick cross over #Tyler Rake x OFC #Chris Hemsworth #Rake Lives #Esme Drummond #Esme Rake

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libras-interactives · 3 months

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Because i didn't find anything related to voices, i wanted to ask what the casts voices sound like?

Is this a way of trying to figure out where flynn comes from...nooooo

hmmm i dont know if im the best at describing voices but I tried! This got away from me so I put a cut ^^;

Marius - He has a very charming and silky sort of voice, that's pleasant to listen to. My man could do ASMR and audiobooks. It's even pleasanter when he speaks his native tongue, in English sometimes he has to halt around unfamiliar words... or he just barrels forward and says it wrong. Oh well.

Jack - Deeper than most people would expect (or maybe they'd expect that?) Compared to the others, he speaks slowly, and with his low drawl. He trails off sometimes and mutters when annoyed or unsure. He doesn't enunciate very well and fumbles nervously with big words, so he tries to avoid them.

Eveline - Soft enough that you may have to lean in to hear better, enunciates well around English words and has a sort of breathy way of speaking. She speaks faster in French. In English she has to maintain an image. It takes a lot to get her to raise her voice, and it's often frantic, and her accent slips out more. Her singing voice is the polar opposite, loud and operatic. She's a soprano.

Lottie - Higher pitched than Eveline, though she likes to go up and down to emphasize points or be silly. She has traces of a New Jersey accent and generally speaks lots of slang. Her singing voice is bombastic and theatric; she's not afraid of making weird faces or exaggerating her voice to put more 'oomf' into the performance. She's a mezzo-soprano.

Máire - She has a deep, smooth voice with a thick, lilting Irish accent that she refuses to modify. She speaks slower than most, but she'll absolutely raise her voice and snap at someone annoying her. She's an alto. When Máire starts speaking lowly and that accent gets thicker ... You Are In Trouble.

Malwina - A higher-pitched voice, which isn't too surprising, with a Polish accent that she's been trying to curb. It's tough when she's excited or upset, though. Some English words give her a lot of trouble, so she talks slower around them. Her singing voice is a soprano, and is very pleasant and airy. Her voice cracks when she's upset.

Slyvester - His tone is fairly normal (not too deep or too high) and he has a strong New Yorker accent, but notably not a posh one. It's like he's trying hard to not sound lower-class, but doesn't have the proper vocabulary or tone of the upper-crust. His Italian has a strong American accent when he speaks it, and he can't quite get the cadence right, but it's comprehensible. Because of his wife and her family, sometimes he uses the Italian word for something.

Little Lottie - She speaks quietly and haltingly. The pitch isn't too different from a typical little girl, maybe a bit flat, and it's hard to find any kind of accent in it. She stumbles over words when she's excited and pronounces them wrong.

Flynn - He speaks with a crisp, upper-crust sort of accent that doesn't have too many airs. Flynn enunciates himself clearly, and when he starts talking slower, that's when you need to listen. His tone is on the lower register, moreso when he's upset. In the courtroom he intones and adjusts and enunciates just so in order to get his point across. He really has a talent for it. When truly angry, bits of an accent will slip out, though it's hard to place it in the moment. Those who've heard him swear in a different tongue don't live to tell about it.

Cora - A crisp, learned mid-Atlantic accent that's as inoffensive as possible. She's always spoken quickly and enunciates each word as she rambles. It's kind of impressive.

Roxie has a nasally, high-pitched voice with such over-the-top slang and weird enunciation, no one really believes it's her real voice. She alternates between speaking rapidly or dragging out every word, mostly to annoy. When speaking to strangers, Ezra's voice is noticeably lower than when he's with friends. He has a slight Southern drawl to it and speaks on the slower side. Krooks has a mishmash of Gerglish/Engman (?) and it's a mess to listen to regardless which language you speak. He can speak English or German fully, but most of the time (esp when drunk or tired) he just mixes them together chaotically.

Paulie speaks very differently from Polly; the former is smooth and deep and charming, the latter is more giggly, higher-pitched and leans more into a Chicago accent. Singing as Polly is more comfortable and fun than singing as Paulie. Italian Mary/Mariana has been trying to rid herself of her Italian accent, but it keeps slipping in when she's upset, and there's no faking she's from Brooklyn. Louisa Faye has a well-polished Southern accent, allowing her to sound dainty and distinguished rather than low-class. You'd never guess she's from deep rural Alabama. Gertrude/Gigi has been steadily chipping away her German accent, and speaks fairly "neutrally" on purpose. Ruthie has a distinct Yiddish accent to her speech, and completely changes to something "neutral" when with customers. When she's drunk ask her to imitate someone, and she can do it near perfectly, it's great. Drives Mariana insane.

#hint hint. certain combinations will have MC listen to flynn being that mad :^)#in the current chapter #hoohoohoo #the last paragraph is the La Lune ladies btw!! They'll be a little more relevant in Ch3 #also this got away from me I hope this is what you asked ....#libra says #if:devil's moon

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hannahssimblr · 2 months

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Chapter Twenty-One (Part 2)

Thanks to the sharp, bright light outside, it takes my eyes several seconds to adjust to the little room. It’s like I imagined it to be for the most part. Rich red velvet curtains, mahogany shelves heaving with dusty books, weeping candles on every surface, most certainly set up this way for the benefit of guileless tourists like me, but I am caught by surprise by the person in the centre of it all. A very ordinary looking man in a red linen shirt, dark wavy hair down to his shoulders. He gives me a thin smile and signals to the empty chair across from him.

“Kalimera.”

“Oh shit, um, sorry I don’t speak any Greek, I should’ve-”

“It’s alright,” His accent is perfectly British. “I speak English.”

“Oh right.” I pull out the chair and sit into it, feeling more nervous than I expected to, and it’s not specifically because I think he’s going to predict something especially terrible for me, like sudden death by falling from a tower, but it’s more because I have no idea what to expect at all. Are there things I’m supposed to know to do? A specific way of speaking or behaving during a tarot reading? I don’t want to do anything that’s considered unacceptable.

“Do you have a specific question you’d like to ask?” The reader wants to know, and I stop short. “Oh, um, no I don’t, was I meant to?”

“You don’t have to. I can do a general reading if you’d like.”

“Okay, yeah, can you do that?”

“Yes.” He passes the deck to me and asks me to shuffle, and I try to do it with the correct amount of reverence I imagine that I should, as though the cards would somehow know that I was shuffling them carelessly and punish me accordingly with a vicious set of predictions. When I’m done I place them carefully down onto the space between us. He splits the deck into three piles and asks me to choose one.

“How do I know which is the right one?” A stupid question.

“Whichever feels right.” I pick the left and he lays out about a dozen cards, and I’m surprised to see that they aren’t what I thought they were. Where are the grim reapers riding horses and the naked woman standing in explosive rays of sunshine? There are swords and cups and wands, like playing cards only with different suits.

The reader shuts his eyes for a moment, “I’m just tuning in.”

I shift in my seat, “yeah, alright.” He’s quiet for a bit too long, and I start feeling restless and glancing around us until he suddenly puts his hands down on the cards and stares right at me. “You have a nice energy,” he states, “I’m getting this real sense of creativity, sensitivity, a person who is very good at the things she does.”

“Oh right.”

“Are you an artist?”

“Yeah.”

“Mm,” He looks at the cards, “I’m just getting this image right now of a woman, you, I assume, only she’s older than you are now and she’s kind of surrounded by her art, she’s living in a big, lively place and she’s doing quite well for herself. Lots of people think very highly of the things that she creates and she’s feeling very fulfilled.” He pulls a card from the deck, I recognise it. The Sun. He leans back in his seat looking amused, “Ah, okay, only good things are coming for you. I’m seeing pure optimism, joy, fun, you can have almost anything that you have, the universe has laid it all out for you, all you need to do is to act. To take the leap.”

“Are you sure that’s right?”

“Those are the messages I’m getting, yeah.” He prods his finger onto one of the number cards, “You’re not at that point yet though, you have some inner work to do, I can see that maybe you’ve been held back by something. Confidence, maybe?”

“Maybe.”

“I don’t think that things have been easy for you in the past, I’m just getting this real sense of struggle, of things not going quite the way that you expected to. Really, I’m seeing a girl with a lot of lovely ideas for her life, and ultimate disappointment and disillusionment that things haven’t turned out the way that she hoped they would. Does that ring true for you?”

“Yeah, actually, it really does. You know, when I was a child I had a load of ideas about a really perfect life, or something. Like I was obsessed with fairytales and love stories, and I always assumed that I’d be the kind of girl that got everything she wished for just because I was so special,” I don’t know why I’m saying this to a stranger, but he seems open enough to it so that it doesn’t really feel that awkward to share it. I understand why people confess their darkest secrets to people on the train or on a bench at some park when they know they’ll never see them again. It’s a consequence-free way to get something heavy off one’s psyche, and I already feel slightly less weight upon me. “But yeah, I mean, it never really turned out that way. I suppose if anything it made me blind to the real world and completely open and vulnerable to people who wanted to hurt me.”

“Your father wasn’t around a lot.”

I laugh in surprise, “How do you know these things?”

“Because I am psychic.”

“Oh right, yeah.”

“Just reading these cards here, I just sense disappointment in your father figure, as in, perhaps he wasn’t physically around at home, or instead he wasn’t emotionally available to you, hence an innate yearning for male connection in other places.”

“Do the cards say anything about love?” I say.

He pulls more from the deck. “I’m just seeing there’s a connection here, the element of water is prominent. A strong personality, perhaps,” He frowns a bit, “I’m seeing something old, yet at the same time something that’s just kind of begun.”

“We’ve known eachother years, but we’re just kind of, you know, getting something romantic started now. Are they saying anything else about him?”

The tarot reader smiles, “He idolises you, this person thinks very very highly of you, but…” another card. “You’re unable to commit.” He draws his finger along the table to point to an earlier card, which upon inspection is not a very friendly looking one. It depicts a woman blindfolded and bound by rope, trapped in a prison of swords that spear the ground around her. I can’t help but draw in a breath when I look at it. “There’s a thread that connects you to a past relationship, something that makes it so that you’re unable to fully move on. Yeah, I can see that really strongly, this image of you with a thread that comes from your heart and connects to another person,” another card from the deck. “Possibly a man with dark hair?”

I start to feel chilly.

“I think that the message for you here is that you will never be able to fully immerse yourself in something new unless you let go of the old. I don’t know the nature of this past relationship but I’m really feeling as though there was some element of, well, I’m not sure, some sort of imbalance in power, a need to fix a person who was unwilling to be fixed. I think that comes from the relationship with the father, a need to be seen, a need to be important, and mostly a need to heal another person when you really can’t. Oh,” He tuts. “It’s not been easy, has it? A lot of hurt has settled, and it’s left you quite vulnerable and fearful of moving on to something better and new.”

My stomach starts churning a bit and I start wishing that he’d wrap it up. “Well-” My voice is a bit croaky. I clear my throat. “Well I don’t know about all that, really.”

“Is it off the mark?” He looks over the cards again, “Are you sure? It’s a strong message for me, in fact, I’m tingling all over when I say that. Someone wants you to know that you’re safe now, and you’re going to be alright, but you have to face the past before you can be rewarded in the future.”

“Oh, okay well maybe that’s right then. I don’t know.”

He begins to sweep the cards from the table and pile them back into the deck again. “You know that tarot is just to help you to gain insight and get a bit of perspective. You have the power to shape your own destiny, and create a future that aligns with your true self. Nothing is set in stone.”

“I understand, thanks,” I say, and quickly dig through my bag to give him a tenner.

“I hope you found this helpful,” He says to me, and I don’t answer, because I’m already halfway out the door.

“Oh, you’re done,” Claire says when I practically collide with her on the other side. “How did it go?”

“Yeah it was alright,” I say, “I dunno how accurate it was or anything. I think you were right about it being a scam.”

“Oh no! I mean, I did warn you but it’s still shite to have your money wasted like that. Did she say anything interesting at all?”

“It was a man, weirdly, and no, not really, just really generic kind of stuff that could have applied to anybody.”

“Ugh, so classic,” She looks at me and gently takes my arm, “Are you feeling alright though? You’re looking a bit pale at the minute.”

“Oh yeah, I’m good.”

“You sure? We don’t have to do anything else if you’re not feeling up to it, I know the sun is getting a bit hot now and you’re not all that great with it, you know with the sunburn and-”

“I’m fine,” I insist, “Let’s just get out of this market, maybe. The crowds are making me anxious.”

“Yeah, definitely. Okay,” She plasters a smile on her face, “I had two other options in mind for the afternoon. Either we can go for a swim or we can taxi up to a vineyard in the hills. They do wine tasting and it’s really good, I did it with my mam before and-”

“Yeah let’s do that.”

“The swim or the wine?”

“The wine, that sounds really good.” I’m feeling so tetchy. My fingers are twitching and clenching of their own accord now and my shoulders tense and creep up towards my ears. I desperately want something to take my mind off the discomfort inside me because now I’m afraid I’ll careen directly into a full blown, white-out, heaving-breath panic attack if I don’t leave.

She shrugs, and I know that she can tell that I’m not really okay, but she doesn’t push it. Instead she clasps my hand and takes me back through the market, past the clothing stalls and the vendors who call out to us, swerving back through the people, the linens and the lace, the pots and the rugs until we turn a corner away from the noise and the chaos. “Don’t worry Evie,” She says. “We’ll be out of here soon.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky girl part 3

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scarlet--wiccan · 8 months

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what do you imagine the maximoff's accent's to sound like? they're usually made to sound romanian which i like but assuming they grew up speaking romany would their english sound any different?

In this context, I'd suggest spelling it "Romani" with an "i".

I tend to read Wanda and Pietro's dialogue with mostly hard consonants, long vowels, and "i"s pronounced like "ee"s. Don't really know where I got that from. I can tell you, based on what research I have done, that I'm pretty sure "Wanda" and "Wundagore" should be pronounced with a "V" sound-- so that's "Von-dah," which has been used a couple times in comics. The Maximoffs don't usually get phonetic accents the way other characters do, which is probably for the best, but it is making hard to answer this question.

Usually, if Wanda's accent is addressed, it is by characters expressing confusion. Nobody can really place it correctly. Jean thinks she sounds Russian. Clint thinks she sounds Lithuanian. Those are two very different things. I can tell you from experience that my grandmother was the same way-- she had a lot of different linguistic influences, so her accent was unique and very hard to place when she spoke English. That's not a specifically Romani thing, it's just something that can happen when you've moved around a lot and learned languages through immersion, rather than formal education.

On the other hand, we know that Wanda and Pietro are both polyglots. I would believe at this point that they are able to speak flat, unaccented American English, but I do not choose to assume that, because it's boring.

Unfortunately, though, all of this is outside my scope of expertise. My family is not from that part of Europe, and the Calo dialect, in my experience, sounds pretty different from the ones you might hear in that region. Generally speaking, I do think most people or communities have regional accents that are influenced by the majority culture. So, yeah, it is a perfectly safe bet to say that Wanda and Pietro have "Transian" accents-- which would be very similar to Romanian or Bulgarian, as those are the real-world countries that Transia is analogous to.

Again, I'm not familiar enough with that area or those languages to distinguish a generic Romanian accent from anything else. Y'all know I'm a huge fan of Mihaela Dragan, and I believe she's from Bucharest, so her speaking voice in English might be a good place to start. I have her interview from Romanistan linked here.

#For reference I mostly learned French from my relatives and I my accent in that language is also super weird.#I sound simultaneously like I am from the northeaster france and the american south with random arabic inflections and bizarrely soft 't's #wanda maximoff #pietro maximoff #accent

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factorialsotherfandoms · 5 months

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blip bloop bitching below. keeping this out of the tags as I need to scream but don't want it to travel.

I hate so much that I genuinely dread days when Philza and Tubbo interact. Because they're friends and should be able to just hang and stuff! And it can be fun to watch! But it seems every time they even go near each other the Philza tag becomes full of crap, then people kicking back, and its /worst/ now Sunny is here (I love her, mostly, but it makes it so much worse). The post about Sunny being scared of Philza with the screenshots was at the top of the Philza Tag (by how I access them at least) for 3 days. It always defaults to top before I flip it to most recent. It wasn't tagged as discourse or neg or anything - it was just screenshots after all - but the bitching which came out of that was so much, and every time I saw them it bought the bitching to mind, and half of that wasn't tagged either (on the original posts, in the tags, where I like looking for fic and meta and fanart and check my top 4 tags each morning).

And, yeah, a 30-off year old streamer probably not even on tumblr doesn't need defending online. BUT the shit and the way those posts talk and the things they shit on him for... a) its very much cc!Phil not q!Phil no matter what people say, because he talks in the same way even on the fucking pumpkin carving stream and more importantly b) mirrors very real bullying, discrimination and hate I and a lot of other English people have experienced. (yes of course its worse if you're an ethnic minority or have a Scottish accent or any number of other things, but just because other people have it worse doesn't mean it isn't a genuine axis of discrimination).

And sometimes I need to fucking defend not him but myself, because I feel like I'm going mad.

You might not see it, you might not even know about the north-south divide and English class politics, but its embedded into near every fantasy movie you've watched, accent wise at least!

Just personal shit... I have a southern parent and a northern parent. I grew up in the south-east. As a kid I could switch accents at will. Using my mother's northern accent (slightly more natural to me, as she was home more often) I would get marked down in class for being aggressive and argumentative and other kids would think I was angry with them. My father genuinely suggested I switch which I spoke with, and it was effort but doable, and guess what? My marks went up and I was seen as friendlier than the other children. It still wasn't the accent for the region - where I grew up has a very distinct one even for the south - and yet I was treated better for it.

Which. Could have seriously messed up my future if my grades kept being marked down and I kept getting into trouble for behaviour over stuff in another accent nobody bat an eyelid to.

[I had a section here too about different treatment while getting bra fittings, but given it involved members of staff literally hurting me as a literal child only when speaking one of the two accents, I removed it. Minor hurt, but hurt.]

And that was just personal experience! Of being read as aggressive or scary or like I didn't care for sounding northern.

And of fucking course this is only ever about fucking Tubbo, the southern who logs in regularly, this shit always starts. The southerner, whose accent is on the respectable side of this not-quite-a-class-divide.

And you know how deeply routed the north-south divide is? Sociologists generally date it back to /1066/ and the north being massacred for causing trouble for the new king. Economically and in terms of reputation, the north has never actually recovered from that. Even when it was major industry, even when major ports, its /always/ been behind the south.

Not just in terms of money going around, but things like life expectancy and education expectations. Rich northerners still have a harder time than their southern peers.

(Honestly, Sunny having 'verbalised' being scared of him for his tone of voice and not other adults who treat them older than they are [because yk its impossible to tell with an egg model] also kinda rubs me the wrong way, because of that sort of treatment of me as a kid. If I was aware of more fear towards other adults she doesn't know as well it'd be easier. Yeah he's a bit intense, and he should maybe be more delicate with a kid, but heaven knows he's not the only character that is. Maybe as more people drift back we'll see it more, I don't know, the admin probably isn't English either, but dear god. The daughter of a southerner telling her daddy that the northerner is scary is such a fucking classist trope. And a really offensive one at that. And shit which actually happens irl, which sometimes leads to the police getting involved.)

#fandom neg #discourse #keeping this out of the tags as I need to scream but don't want it to travel

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plscallmeeren · 3 months

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C I T I Z E N S O F W E S T V I E W P T 3

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Request: Dragonsw

Summary: part 3 ig (there is smut but I have marked before and after in case u just wanna read the story)

Warnings: Swearing; piv smut; anatomy lol; very pushy romantic old people; unedited bs

Word Count: 3K+

You watched Wanda cheerfully as she went on about her favourite milk-bar in Sokovia and the friendly couple who owned it. Two large bags full of books from the secondhand bookshop pulled at your arms as you followed her into the cafe, setting them down and ordering your favourite types of coffee while she continued.

She gestured around wildly in an attempt to bring more life into her story, your gaze slipping to the black woollen blazer she had stolen from you some time ago now. You might never forget her glare when you asked if you could have it back.

Her retelling came in swings of heavy accent and moments of delighted height down to suspenseful quiet. You listened intently.

She had been living with you for a while, slowly marking her territory with various ornaments and efforts, steadily ending an era of bleakly scarce cutlery and naked walls. You hadn't felt like you were missing anything before - it just didn't matter enough, and you barely had company over, anyway - but now you wondered whether you could survive without it all. Without the brass plates, the frilly curtains, her.

Her inner evolution hadn't gone unnoticed, either, although it too crawled so slowly it took looking back to realise how far she had come, how much had changed. Originally, although kind and occasionally talkative, she had been more of a stranger, a foreign house-guest who had landed with you on accident. You didn't mind back then, but again, you couldn't take it back. It wouldn't be enough.

Now, she had a favourite cafe, a favourite couch, a favourite neighbour. Her past seemed to slip away slowly, carefully ripping away any reserve or depression. It was still there. You saw it, every day, in little ways - but it was more like a passing thought, something that could be triggered with the wrong word or look. Back then it had enveloped her, fed her its own poison and blinded her from its weak points.

She was regaining a home where her previous one had been brutally destroyed. Not stolen, not tampered with, but wholly and utterly destroyed.

However, you did not know this. You knew precisely nothing, and as much as she was enough - she always would be - curiosity sometimes reared its unkind head, suggesting you say things in conversation, sometimes rendering you entirely incapable of speech. She knew about your history, why not hers? You knew why it truly bothered you, of course. There was only feeble denial of the twist in your stomach when she pronounced something wrong (judging by the average English-speaker) or the way heat coursed through you when one side of your t-shirt slipped down her shoulder.

You were falling for her, whether you'd allow yourself to word it that way or not. Perhaps that was why you clung to the most unlikely part of her story, namely the mention of romance, and telepathically directed the conversation in another direction.

"You know, I have a friend in Los Angelos who... well, he wasn't so different from me, just... ice powers-"

"And you think ice powers are as cool as telepathy and stuff?"

"And stuff? Really? Stuff?"

"Mhm. Ice powers are much cooler."

"Good to know. What I was trying to say, is that I'm happy he found peace and love. All our kind - us warriors - never believed that was a viable life for us, even something to think about. But life has a way of proving you wrong, and I'm happy for him."

She stared at you for a moment, the two of you basking in the ethereal glow of the other, lost in translation of thoughts and other things you missed. She cocked her head, smiling faintly: "Why are you thinking of romance, dušica? Do you have someone in mind?"

"Maybe I do."

Some weeks ago you might have startled at such a raw display of trust, considering how badly you felt you were hiding your feelings. You wondered at her; whether some minuscule part of your emotion for her was mirrored within her, strong enough to make her stay.

You held her gaze, breathing in the scent of hot coffee as it entered your world without realising someone must have brought it.

Every spell had to break at some point, though.

"Why, hello, dears! I haven't seen you around in at least a week, am I right? Any good books?"

Mrs. Hill. Again. You loved her, truly, but she was more set on getting you and Wanda together than she was on keeping up her marriage. Or at least, her marriage may have suffered, had Mr. Hill not been just as in on the gossip.

"Yes, some classics today. Mainly cozy things," Wanda replied for you.

"Oh, yes, I assume you two will be cozying up all the way til spring, right, dears?" She winked at you in a way you imagined was supposed to be subtle, but was effectively more in Wanda's direction than in yours.

"I'm sure they'll be extremely cozy, darling. Although getting exercise in the cold times is important, too, you know," her husband caught on as he appeared around the corner. This particular ambush almost always came in double at once. You pretended not to hear the implications of exercise. Wanda snorted.

"I'm sure we'll be fine."

"And are you sharing a room?" Mrs. Hill asked, practically chirping.

"No, Mrs. Hill, I have a guest room, luckily."

"Oh. Well. I didn't realise."

"We're just heading out to our date night," Mr. Hill said in a last attempt, winking in much the same way as his wife.

"Well, you have fun, love birds," Wanda answered graciously, the two of you waving them off as they approached the counter. She broke into fits of giggles, clamping her hand over her mouth until they left.

"Oh, stop it," you muttered, sipping at your coffee as she cackled.

"Ha! Date night? Cozying up? Sharing a room? Exercise?"

"Oh, you caught that, did you?" you said sarcastically, laying your head on one side, unimpressed.

"Oh, I caught that. I caught it and I'm never letting go."

•••

Wanda

Wanda put her book down, leaning back into your bed with a sigh. She hadn't taken in any of the content. She had been thinking about you - the way your scent was ingrained in your pillows, the faint curve of your body where you always slept. This bed was bigger, more comfortable, so you had offered it while you practiced. She regretted it now.

She knew what was wrong with her; why you were so distracting. She knew exactly why she blushed when you called her 'love' or 'darling' or why there was a throb between her legs when you practiced your martial arts, muscles flexing with unequalled precision.

It drove her insane. She wanted to open up, but she never wanted to speak his name again. She wanted to love you without guilt, but she couldn't betray Vision that way. She wanted to ravish you and feel you, but how dare she?

In the end, however, she knew what the right answer was. Or maybe not right, but right for her. She had to tell you. Everything. Starting with Vision, and if she had the strength, about you.

Wanda stood up gingerly, tense and weak at the same time. She perched behind the doorframe, watching as you moved in the coated space of the living room; the swift cut of an arm, the careful lift of a foot, back arching perfectly as you leaned back. You had even tried to reach her some for when she couldn't rely on her powers. Hypnotising. Then again, you always were.

Vision would want this, she thought, but doubt still crept in at the edges, the loose hems of her mind, whispering in convincing voices that sounded like him but were only an echo of herself. Vision would want this.

Now it was you and your katana, a revelry of broad sways and wicked stabs at innocent air, your eyes closed, not sensing her because of complete concentration.

Beautiful.

You had done so much for her and she felt like she had never given anything back - you certainly hadn't asked. You were sweet, caring, polite, warm - oh, you were so warm. She had hugged you once or twice and who knew whether she was getting warmer from happiness or safety or the pure heat you radiated at all times. She had been safe in those arms, the stray anchor of a slow heartbeat, the murmur of what you had picked up casually of her native language.

She loved Vision, she always would, but even he couldn't compare to you. The thought clutched at her stomach and crushed it, replaced her belly with fear. What if she ruined this, too?

She was so afraid. She was out of her mind with fear.

You opened your eyes. She knew your routine. This is the point where you would sit down on your shambled carpet and meditate, but instead you smiled at her.

She hadn't realised she had abandoned her hiding spot behind the door.

"Hello, Wanda. I hope I didn't make you wait too long?"

Maybe it was the gentle tone of your voice, or the sound of her name when you said it, like it was the most delicate thing in the world - maybe it was the proof that she mattered so much, that there could be peace in apology, but she burst into tears.

Your approach wasn't rushed, but you were beside her in seconds, embracing her. Maybe that was why she had started sobbing; any excuse to feel your arms around her. Your heartbeat. Your warmth.

It was all possible here. From this vantage point, she could surely do anything.

She sniffed a few times, pulling back. You looked down at her, visibly concerned but not belittling.

"I- I'm fine. Can we talk? On the couch. I need- I need to tell you."

"Tell me what?"

"Everything."

There was no point in you arguing, saying you didn't need to know. Instead, at her request, you made a batch of coffee as she settled down, joining her once you had filled two mugs and found a tissue box.

She sniffed some more, but finally she was ready. She could do this. She could do anything if it meant you might hug her again, even kiss her. Oh, how she longed to kiss you.

You didn't even look at her expectantly, instead taking her hand, watching them intertwine as if it were the most miraculous thing in this world.

"It started when I demonstrated for Sokovia. For my freedom."

Her tears ran freely again, but she didn't stop.

•••

You

She didn't stop. You said nothing, only holding her hand.

She told you about Hydra, about a man(?) called Vision, about all she had lost, the end of the Avengers as she knew them, so many things in between.

"And now, Vision has every right to hate me for this, but I think..."

She looked you in the eye, steady, as if this were the final hurdle, the last thing to cross off a list of horror stories.

"I think I love you, just like I love this town. I've tried not to, but what's the point? I can't leave here without having tried. For myself, I suppose."

She looked at you, face tear-streaked but lovely, expecting something. Some grand reaction, another horror story to add. You refused. You were burning with love for her.

"Darling," you started slowly, taking her other hand into yours as well, "the day that we met... I had no idea what I was doing. I walked up to you, as you may recall, out of nowhere. A complete stranger. I just knew you needed something. I guess I did too, I just didn't realise it yet. I never could've felt this strongly. Anything. It's all you. You have made my life more lively and I honestly don't fucking care anymore that I'm selfish to want you. I don't want you to leave. Ever."

You didn't know who leaned in first, although later you both claimed it was the other. First, your lips barely brushed against each other, careful, cautious. Then it was over, your lips meeting forcefully, gripping for the other like there would never be another chance.

Something tore through your stomach, a rush of blood perhaps, but it fell like a tidal wave coursing, too big to fit. Nothing did. Nothing fit, but it was good. The way your heart felt like it would burst, like it was straining against confinements - that was good. Only now. Only with her. It was good.

She pulled back gently, and while you were entirely blown away and shocked and ecstatic and on adrenaline, Wanda looked calm, a steady thing in an ocean of unsureness. Her right hand clasped with yours, a delicate gesture for a delicate thing, carefully pulling you off the couch and towards your room.

SMUT STARTS HERE

"Are you sure?" you asked feebly as she closed the door behind her, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"Yes. I have waited long enough." You watched as she dragged the auburn skirt and black tights down her legs, fighting with the feet before dismantling all clothes on her upper half.

Wanda was perfect. She always had been, yet there was something about seeing her now, ironically pure, more exposed. Emotionally and physically. There was so much more of her than you could have anticipated, and there would be so much more to come.

She smiled, cheeky and expectant, biting her lip playfully as you dragged off your own pants and boxers, not bothering with the loose t-shirt. She was only wearing panties and a bra - red and lacy.

You crooned forward, laying your hands down on either side of her and leaning in, pushing her down on the bed. Your hands roamed - there was no helping yourself - along the smooth skin of her thighs, the dip of her waist and the roll of her belly. Her breasts spilled out of your hands when you groped them, her hair splaying out over the covers and herself in a way that made her look like a mythological beauty. She might as well have been.

"Wanda," you murmured, not aware of what you exactly you wanted as your colliding lips parted.

"Shh," she answered, unclasping her bra behind her back and running her hands over your chest, below the shirt, eventually pulling you back down by the nape of your neck, out of your hypnosis.

You played with the hem of her panties for a moment, dragging them down to her ankles before throwing them elsewhere. She reciprocated by removing your last bit of clothing, too.

You turned abruptly, pulling her along with your hands on her ass, to lean against the headboard, sitting slanted, with her on your lap. You sent her a questioning look. She lowered herself onto you with something close to rolling her eyes.

Wanda's mouth formed an 'o' shape, and only then did you realise you weren't using any protection. You began to rise, but she held up a finger to stop you, as if she had read your mind.

"I want this."

Maybe you should have insisted or argued, but you didn't. She began rising and falling on your lap, panting as you toyed with her breasts, occasionally pinching or biting her nipples, earning a gasp. Your mouth focused on her neck, her collarbone, her neck again, behind her ear, her cleavage - an unimaginable feast. You ravished her with such concentration it reminded her of your practice.

Her fingers tangled in your hair, gripping tightly as her belly pressed against your abdomen. You pressed your hand there and she moaned so loudly, you were sure the neighbours could hear. Well, at least the town would be getting the romance they wanted.

"Oh, God, (y/n), I'm coming! This is- You're-"

You silence her with a kiss, hoping that would say anything that needed to be said as she came, juices spilling out onto the sheets.

"Wanda, I-"

"Do it."

You came as well, filling Wanda to the brim, and while you knew you were supposed to feel regret, none arrived.

SMUT ENDS HERE

She smiled broadly, leaning forwards to conjoin your sweating bodies, her head on your chest. You weren't sure what inspired her smile to grow bigger and bigger, didn't know the importance of a steady heartbeat and deep breaths.

"Is this real?" Wanda whispered, barely audible. Your heart ached.

"Yes. Fuck yes. And I will never let you lose me, unless you want to. It can always be real. As long as you like."

"Thank you."

The silence encompassed you once more, feeding on your thoughts and worries until you were both drowsy and blissed out.

"Wanda?"

"Yeah?"

"Why didn't you stop me?"

She manoeuvred her head to look at you, saw the worry in your eyes, only smiled again.

Wanda took your hand, placing it on her abdomen. "This," she emphasised, "is not something I am afraid of, dušica. There is nothing I want as much as children - well, maybe you - and I fear only that I will have them too late."

"Because of you? Us? The dangers?"

She nodded grimly. "We can't expect to live as long as anyone else. Others..." She stared, but at something else, someone far away, and you desperately wanted her back.

"I wonder whose language they'll pick up first. Or maybe they'll just be boring Americans. Wouldn't be too bad."

She laughed, and there she was again, all yours, the past only something passing by.

"I don't know what I want," she whispered once more.

"Neither do I. We'll figure it out, though. All in due time," you promised.

You chuckled just as a bright and suspiciously watery laugh escaped her. "I just thought of Mr. Hill telling us to get exercised," she confessed, giggling, bringing your lips to hers precariously.

This was right. Now. With her. This was right.

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leclerced · 5 months

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Okay so I thought about boys and the girlfriend’s family. And I came up with:

Lando who everyone knows how he is. Goofy, sassy, playful, sometimes mean, he has his strengths and faults. But not with his girl’s family. He just wants then to see him as the perfect match for her so he’s always on his best behaviour and actually loves spending time with them because he knows how important it is for her. He charms the mom and even learns the language (sorry but I thought about someone that’s from not-English speaking country) so he can communicate with them and it makes his girl’s heart melt because it’s the sweetest thing ever.

Oscar is just a cutie pie with the family. Everyone loves him and loves to dote on him. He’s always a gentleman and wants to help the best he can. (This will be self indulgent) I think my mom would absolutely adore him and I can totally see her wanting to feed him and then when he says (with the saddest eyes ever) he can’t eat sth because of his diet she’d find the best recipes he can eat and make his faves for him😭✋

I don’t think I write Max well so I’m gonna leave him to you sweetie

Charles would be so nervous for the first time but he’d win everyone’s hearts right away. Because how can you not love Charles’s mess of a hair, French accent and squishy cheeks. Also he would always come with gifts (no matter how long he’d know the family) because he thinks it’s rude to come with bare hands.

hi im working so this is super rushed and messy im sorry

lando is definitely on his best behavior when he’s around his girl’s family. he learns her language as soon as they get together because he knows he wants to be with her forever, so he’s downloading duolingo and trying to do it in secret to surprise her with it until she somehow catches him and starts teaching him instead. he brings gifts for everyone, and greets them in their native language which surprises them alll so much, especially the grandparents who don’t speak english.

i think oscar would break his diet for his girl’s fam. i think he likes food and one meal isn’t gonna throw him off. im gonna be self indulgent because i love to bake and cook, and when my family gets together there is soooo much food. it’s different on my mom and dad’s side bc i have separated parents. my mom’s side are all country folk who hang out in the shop, the men drink beer and watch nascar or football, whatever is on the tv, and the ladies gossip. they fry foods in the shop or grill outside the shop, and it’s fish they caught or game they hunted, which i feel like would make some drivers wary, i think they’re used to fancy dinners in expensive cities, not something that was shot and processed by the people cooking and eating it. but oscar is up for trying new things and even though he’s never really had deer, he likes the gamey taste it has. the women would love him bc he does everything for his girl, always getting her drinks or just massaging her shoulders for her and little things like that.

i think max is so good natured he’d fit in anywhere, he’s very smart and knows how to talk to people. i think it’s hard not to like him. my family all have adhd and will listen to people talk about anything. my uncle loves to indulge people and bullshit, so like over thanksgiving my sister in law was talking about her family’s business and my uncle pretended to go onto their website and order twenty thousand dollars worth of leather. she was freaking out while everyone else is laughing because we knew it was a joke, until my aunt was like “excuse my husband, he’s a liar.” and i can imagine my family doing that with max but he’d bullshit back and egg them on. he’d get along really well with the men simplyn because they can bond over cars if nothing else. he’d get along well w all of them we’re all very laid back tbh. i think he’d never been happier as when he plays tag or hide and seek with all the little ones. he’d eventually make his way back over to his girlfriend when he needs a drink or to catch his breath after being it, but it’s never long before one of the kiddos is finding him and pulling him away again.

charles brings immaculate personalized gifts and a dessert he had flown in from some fancy bakery he’s obsessed with just to impress them. he shows up with a suitcase full of gifts, he would have memorized everything she mentioned about her family so he could get everyone a perfectly tailored gift. the first time they meet him they tease about him trying to buy their love and gf is just like “no, he just does this. he will do this every time.” and he totally does. they love him so much he’s their baby boy by the time the first meeting is over, her mom is telling him to call him maman and he’s on a first name basis with her dad.

#ask #lifeboredme

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prairiesongserial · 7 months

Text

21.4

John felt the train begin to slow underneath them. Cody had been staring out the window with a glazed look on his face, but he blinked to attention at the change.

“Gonna find Friday and get our stuff,” Cody said. He got up and opened the door to their compartment, exiting onto the rest of the carriage. John got his cane under him and started to follow. His head felt heavy from the champagne.

He and Cody weren’t the only ones moving around. Other passengers crowded the aisle as they got their luggage together. Parents chased their children with coats and gloves, but the children were more interested in running from one window to the next, eager to see the city. Over the racket, Cody still managed to hear the sound of John’s cane; he waited between train cars for John to catch up.

By the time they found Friday and Val, the train had come to a stop. The other passengers all seemed to know where to go, streaming past John and Cody up the aisle.

Cody grabbed three bags, leaving one for John and two each for Val and Friday. For the first time, John realized Cody was missing his guitar. He had no idea when Cody had lost it. Their luggage in hand, the four of them joined the stream of people making their way to the front of the train. Eventually, the stream of people became a line to disembark. They waited behind a wealthy family whose bags were being carried for them by uniformed servants.

“Val, ask them what they’re holding. What are those?” said Friday.

She pointed at the small, red books clutched in each family member’s hand–even the youngest child, who was probably only two or three.

Val leaned forward, looking very uncomfortable as he asked “Excusez-moi…c'est quoi ce livre?”

The woman corralling the children turned to look at him. She wasn’t dressed as nicely as the rest of the family, but she didn’t wear a servant’s uniform either.

“Oh, dear,” she said in English, though her accent was French. “You aren’t going to get very far, are you?”

John didn’t like the sound of that. The line moved, and the family was escorted off the train by uniformed guards. John peered down at the platform from the window. One at a time, the guards checked the books each family member held.

“Let me go first with the letter,” Friday said, squeezing past him.

John wished that he hadn’t been drinking. The guard posted at the train door stared at them expressionlessly. The air was cold, like it was early winter here instead of early autumn. John already felt uncomfortable, and he wasn’t even outside yet.

John continued to watch the family and their servants as they were cleared one by one. The youngest child was crying–his glove was on wrong, two fingers shoved in the same hole, and none of the adults on his side of the checkpoint seemed to notice.

Friday chatted with the guard one-sidedly, coming at him with a dozen different comments and questions, trying to get a response. He didn’t reply until it was their turn to go ahead, at which point all he said was “Produce your passport and stop at the checkpoint.”

Friday marched up to the next guard with a smile.

“Good evening,” she said. “We have a letter of introduction from the Dauphin–we’re here to meet with the regent.” She produced the letter and continued to talk as the guard broke the seal and scanned its contents. “Our boat was hijacked–that’s a long story–and we need to get back across the Atlantic as soon as possible.”

“Passports?” the guard said finally.

“Oh, not us. The Dauphin signed this letter personally.”

John watched as the guard’s shoulders squared. The guard tapped something in his ear, and it unexpectedly lit up blue.

“I need an escort up here,” he said. “T-004. No passports.”

“Thank you,” Friday said, smiling easily. She wasn’t stupid–she must also understand that the guard wasn’t letting them through, and that an escort could mean a lot of things. “When can we expect to meet the regent? I understand he can’t be pulled away for just any letter from the leader of a neighboring nation–can I assume we’ll be put up in the meantime? Or will we have to make our own arrangements?”

A group of seven guards approached. John’s grip tightened on his cane. At a nod from the guard holding the letter of introduction, the guards ordered the four of them to put down everything they were carrying and put their hands in the air.

“The regent has a place for us to stay,” Val said placidly. “How thoughtful.”

Next to him, Friday shook her head, at least acting like she wasn’t concerned about being arrested. Her hands were pulled down behind her back and cuffed. John stared at the metal rings pressed into her skin.

Beside him, Cody was arguing with the guards, one hand resting casually on the gunbelt.

“He needs the cane to walk. You can’t cuff him unless you want to carry him.”

Cody was cuffed next, as another pair of guards did Val. John waited, watching Cody’s calm expression. Cody even smiled at him and gave him a little wink when he noticed John watching.

“Are you drunk?” John asked, keeping his voice low enough that the guards wouldn’t hear.

“Are you?”

“Don’t do anything stupid,” John said. “Let’s just get arrested.”

One of John’s arms was pulled down behind his back, and he grit his teeth against the feeling he knew was coming.

“Sacha didn’t say anything about passports,” Friday complained. For lack of places to sit in the jail cell, she squatted on the ground.

“We shouldn’t have trusted him,” said Cody. “That letter could say anything.”

Friday groaned. “I don’t get it. There were plenty of jails in France. Why send us here just to fuck us over?”

John massaged his leg while they talked. The guards had made him limp the distance to and from the transport van, and he also thought the cold weather here might be affecting his knee. He felt more stiffness and pain than he was used to.

“You okay?” Cody asked.

“Fine.” John grimaced down at his leg.

Val took over Cody’s part in the conversation with Friday.

“Is it a coincidence that Canada and England both need papers to enter?” he asked. “France didn’t have anything like that.”

“Canada clearly–I mean, with those flying things–” Friday gestured with a wave of her arm around her head. “–they want to control who gets in. So why is it the same here? What’s so good about England?” She sighed. “Sacha should have warned us.”

“It might not be about England,” John said, thinking about the wealthy family on the train and their team of servants. They wouldn’t have brought so much with them unless they’d planned to stay for a long time. “Maybe they want to leave France.”

Friday snapped her fingers. “I wonder…”

“Good evening,” came a firm, cheerful voice–accompanied by the slam of the door that led into the cell block. A woman approached under the buzzing electric lights. She was in a different color uniform, this one a deeper shade of blue than the uniforms they’d seen in England so far. It was decorated with silver fringe at the shoulders and a bright pink sash. John guessed she was more important than the other guards. She took off her hat, which was too tall for the low-ceilinged jail, and smiled at the four of them.

“My name is Claire Liang, Palace Guard, Junior Officer. I’ve been assigned to your transport.” She hit them all with a friendly smile. “What an unusual situation, huh?” she said as another guard came to unlock the cell door. “Not to worry, that letter of yours went straight to the Queen–well, from the captain of the Palace Guard to the Queen.”

The guard who had unlocked the door leaned in to whisper in Officer Liang’s ear.

“Huh? Yes, give his cane back. What’s he going to do with it? Hit me? So what? And their luggage should be forwarded to the palace. For the weapons…transport them in lockboxes with the luggage? Ah, that’s tough.” She scrunched up her nose, looking almost apologetically at the four of them. “They’re American, even if they are here on the Dauphin’s seal. I don’t want to be insensitive. You know, diplomatically.”

“I need that gun-belt,” Cody said, raising his eyebrows at her. “Though I don’t see what that has to do with…”

Officer Liang waved her hand a few times at the other guard. “Okay, okay, yes, return the man’s gun.” She turned and pointed at Cody. “But you can’t bring it with you to see the Queen tomorrow.”

“Sounds fair,” he said. He shared a look with John as Officer Liang motioned impatiently for him to come forward, out of the cell. The four of them started filing out of the cell to collect what belongings weren’t being forwarded ahead of them to the palace.

“So what’s with throwing us in jail?” Friday asked.

“Oh, uh. That’s a little above me,” Officer Liang said.

“The Dauphin didn’t say anything about passports. Is that new?”

“Well, that’s…a security measure. With all the political issues going on. But that’s also above me, sorry.”

“What political issues?” Friday asked. She clearly sensed weakness, and continued to question Officer Liang as they were escorted to a car outside. Now that night had fallen, it was freezing. John had thought the cell had been cold, but that was nothing compared to the open air.

“Well, I really can’t say,” Officer Liang said, laughing nervously.

“Is it about getting in or getting out?” John asked. He was the last to enter the car, and only he and Officer Liang still stood outside.

“Pardon?” she asked. Her grip tightened around her hat, but her smile remained.

“The passports,” John said. “The security. Is it about getting in or getting out?”

Finally, her smile faltered. She crossed her arms over her chest.

“Man, you guys are really rude,” she said. “Would you get in the car?”

She stared John down. John stared back. His wrists still stung from the handcuffs.

“John, it’s freezing with the door open,” Friday called from inside the car. “Get in already.”

John passed his cane to Cody, then climbed into the car to sit beside him. Officer Liang closed the door with a little more than the necessary force. “This is why I don’t get promoted,” Officer Liang muttered, climbing into the passenger seat. The driver put the car in gear. “I even have foreign diplomats mouthing off to me.”

21.3 || 21.2

#story

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