#that's ti that's the post it's just me using john as my own personal dress up doll

[hellmastermiller]

hangry big baws. pouty big baws

#big boss #naked snake #metal gear solid #mgs #mgsv #mgsvtpp #metal gear #metal gear fanart #mgs fanart #that's ti that's the post it's just me using john as my own personal dress up doll #this is my dad's fave jacket n i wanted 2 slap some colour onto joghn bcuz like... cmawn man #black makes him look edgy n this man's not edgy he's just fucking soggy #soggy ass mofo

[nashibirne]

London Calling - 1

Yes, I'm still in my August phase and I'm not even sorry...I just can't stop thinking about the sexy mf and so this idea crossed my mind and turned into a storyline. I have to admit I'm even more nervous about posting this than usual because it's a little different from what I've written before and I really hope it's not going to bore the shit out of you. If you like this although the tension between August and my ofc builds slowly, please let me know. I appreciate every single comment, reblog and/or like! Thanks 💜

Pairing: Augut Walker x OFC (Lu Johnson)

Words: ~3.0 k

Summary and A/N: This story plays with the thought of "what if…" What if August Walker had taken another road? What if he had turned into John Lark for completely different reasons? What if he had found love before becoming a bitter, disillusioned man?So the events of "London Calling" take place about ten years prior to MI:Fallout and August Walker hasn't joined the CIA yet, he's an FBI Agent and his new mission in London that lies ahead of him is going to be a challenging one. Maybe it's even going to change his life.

Warnings: 18+! This story deals with the topic of a toxic/abusive relationship, gaslighting and problematic behavior of one of the protagonists in general. Please don't read if these topics trigger you or make you feel uncomfortable. Luckily I've never been in any kind of toxic or abusive relationship, so I lack personal experience but I hope still do this sensitive topic justice.

English is not my mother tongue but the lovely @sillyrabbit81 was so kind to be my very helpful and patient Beta! Thank you so, so much, bunny 🐇💜 You have no idea how much I appreciate your support, your encouragement, your help and the fact that you took the time to proofread this. (Edited by me, so there might still be mistakes and they're all mine)

📖 You can find my other fics on my Masterlist 📖

Credits: I don't own August Walker or anything related to MI:Fallout. Pics for the moodboard from pinterest, face claims: Lu - Hannah van der Westhuysen, Adam - Freddie Thorpe. FaceApp helped me with making August look a little younger

Taglist

@lunedelorient @inlovewithhisblueeyes @willkatfanfromasia @hell1129-blog @mis-lil-red @agniavateira @kebabgirl67 @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @summersong69 @taebfada @xxxkatxo @artandotherdelights @notabronte @littlefreya @luclittlepond @eldarwen333 @meowpurrbooks @marantha @liliumdream @enchantedbytomandhenry @greensleeves888 @witcherfanfics101 @margauxmargaux07 @radaofrivia @m07belzen @a-little-counter-esperanto @starstruckkittyangel @mary-ann84 @sillyrabbit81 @emelinelovesjc @wheretheriversrunintothesea @lam0ureuxq @kingliam2019 @pandaxnienke

So...now...off we go...story under the cut!

1

"London? Are you kidding me, Kyle?"

August Walker stopped pacing the room with an incredulous frown. He raised his eyebrows, his blue eyes fixed on the other man's face.

"Absolutely not," his superior and close friend of many years said slowly, drawling both words more than necessary to stress that he wasn't joking. "They want you in London."

"What about my promotion? You gave me your word. You wanted me to finish Operation Old Bridge and that's what I did. You wanted Tony Salerno's head on a silver platter, that's what you got."

August's voice was surprisingly calm, his expression blank but his gaze was blazing with anger and frustration. His hands were balled into fists and he only opened them to lean on Kyle's wooden desk, which was very tidy, except for the piles of case files that slowly grew larger than him.

"Damn, Kyle, I risked my life when I went undercover and joined this Mafia mob."

"I know, August, but unfortunately my hands are tied. Interpol wants our best undercover Agent and that's you. Just this last job and afterwards you can happily join the CIA." SSA Kyle Langdon leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his neck with a sigh and an apologetic shrug.

"That's exactly what you said last time. Do you expect me to believe you?"

"As I said, it's not my doing. Manchester contacted Bill because the NCB needs help, blue notice, August. You know that we cannot say no and that means...London calling, man," Kyle pointed out with a smile. "You should be grateful, it's a great opportunity. So just do your job there, return and get your promotion."

"Why don't you just send someone else and I get my promotion right now? We have many great undercover agents. Craig for example. He's crazy about British pussies. He'll love London." August straightened his tall body before crossing his arms in front of his broad chest that was forced into a white button down shirt and a black suit jacket.

"No, Craig cannot go because they want you in this operation. They asked explicitly for Agent August Walker. That's a huge appreciation of your work and a big compliment. You're only 27, August, not many FBI agents are this well known and respected at such a young age." Kyle sat up straight, mirroring August's body language.

"I don't give a shit about their respect and appreciation. I know my worth and I know I'm your best agent. I've worked very hard to get where I stand now... just one step away from becoming a CIA agent," August said angrily, his brows furrowed, his eyes dark. "Fuck, Kyle...why use an American agent in a purely British matter in the first place? They could easily…"

"Listen, August," Kyle cut in and he got up and walked around his desk to face his friend, "the thing is, I am not asking you to do this, okay? It's not a request, it's an order. There's no room to negotiate."

He gave him a friendly smile to temper his words before placing a hand on August's shoulder. "No hard feelings. It's…"

"It's the job. Yeah. I know." August took a step back and nodded his head slowly, curling his lip. He had heard his boss say these words so many times and he hated that line although he was perfectly aware that it was the truth. That was the way it worked. They got orders, they did the job, no matter what. He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes for a moment, feeling a bad headache brewing behind his forehead.

"I have already talked to Sloane about this. Erica seconds the motion by Interpol because she wants you to prove yourself in another operation abroad. If you are successful you will be part of her team. It's simple, Walker. Just don't fuck this up."

"I've never fucked anything up,” August snarled, clenching his teeth, his jaw grinding.

"See, that's exactly why they want you,” Kyle answered with a triumphant smile.

****

"Lu!" Adam Mayfield knocked impatiently on the bathroom door. "Get ready. We're going to be late." He glanced at his Rolex with an annoyed sigh before he straightened his tuxedo jacket and adjusted his bow tie for the umpteenth time. "God damn, this meeting is important." He banged his fist against the door again and rolled his eyes when he heard her muffled voice behind the bathroom walls. "Just a minute, Adam."

Although he was really a little angry that it took her so long to get ready, they weren't actually late, in fact there was more than enough time to meet up with his clients at The London Opera. He had just said that to make her hurry up. Lu had the tendency to dawdle around, she got easily distracted and it was his responsibility to help her with that bad habit and usually it worked well.

Compared to the woman she was when they had met at a party more than five years ago, she had improved her behavior a lot, thanks to his efforts and his strict education. She had been common as muck when they started dating, an ordinary working class girl, smart but not a bit sophisticated, pretty but with no sense of fashion or taste, ambitious but without any connections. He had changed that, he had moulded her into the beautiful, stylish, refined and cultured woman she was now. She was his work, his success, his pride...she was his.

When the door of the bathroom that was adjacent to the master bedroom finally swung open, the welcoming sight of his fiancee interrupted his thoughts and picked up his spirits immediately.

"Wow, this was worth the wait." He eyed her up and down with a smirk and leaned in for a kiss but she stopped him with her hands pressed against his narrow chest.

"No, you're gonna ruin my make-up, darling." Lu smiled at him and spinned around to present him her dress. The black, belted Burberry gown was elegant and classy. High-necked on the front but with a low back that showed off lots of her perfect, lightly tanned skin. Chaste and sexy at the same time, just the way Adam liked it.

"That dress is stunning, baby. You look wonderful." He grabbed her by her waist and pulled her close to leave a sensual kiss on her slim neck while his hands wandered to her ass where they rested for a moment before they squeezed her firm cheeks. "I really hope you're not wearing any panties."

Lu freed herself from his embrace with a frown and stepped in front of the large wall mirror opposite of their king-size bed to check her reflection one last time, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

"Of course I'm wearing panties. We're going to the opera with your VIP clients." She walked to her dressing table and took the diamond-encrusted, leaf-shaped brooch Adam had given her for their five years anniversary on New Year's Eve. "Would you help me with this?"

Adam took the piece of jewelry from her slim hand and pinned it carefully on her dress, right above her heart. He kissed her tenderly but his expression was stern when he spoke. "Strip it off."

Lu's eyes grew wide. "What?"

"You heard me. Get rid of your thong. I know you're wearing one of these slutty, tiny g-strings to make sure your look is flawless and your underwear doesn't show under your dress." His face hardened slightly, yet his voice remained soft and smooth.

"But…"

"Don't test me, Lu,” he said slowly, still smiling but screwing up his beautiful grey eyes. "I want you naked underneath that dress in case I want to have a little fun with you tonight. I mean, we both know Rigoletto is gonna be boring as fuck, we may need a little distraction." He gave her a lewd smirk and with a tiny frown and a raise of his brows he motioned her to be obedient. "You don't want anything to get in my way, do you? Not even a little piece of lace, right?"

"Of course not, Adam," she answered softly with a smile she had to force onto her lips. Lu reached under her dress with shaking hands and pulled down her panties till they hit the floor so she could step out of them carefully, making sure they wouldn't get tangled up in her stiletto heels.

"Good girl," Adam said with a wolfish grin and with a sly smile he added, "you know what, baby? I think I'm going to have a little fun with you just now. My clients can wait."

Lu didn't even try to argue with him, knowing exactly that she was in a no-win situation. She closed her eyes and turned around, lifting up her dress, when she heard him unzip his fly.

****

While Adam Mayfield was fucking his fiancee in front of a mirror in one of the most exclusive penthouses in London, August Walker was having a bad coffee, sitting at a table in the plain and pretty ugly meeting room of their FBI department at the J. Edgar Hoover Building in Washington DC, listening to the explanations of Kyle and the lead of 'Operation Brutus', Christine Carpenter. He didn't like her much but he respected her competence and her leadership qualities and most of all he trusted her with giving him the perfect fake identity for the job in London.

"So, what do you have for me, Chris?" August looked at her with a smile, but his eyes gave away that he'd rather be somewhere else.

"Well, let me just explain the background first, okay?"

She pressed a button on her laptop and the handsome face of a young man appeared on the screen behind her.

"This", she nodded at the picture, "is Adam Arthur Clive Mayfield, 27 years old, only son of Alfred Mayfair and his late wife Erica, heir of the immense family fortune and the private bank Mayfield & Holmes, that was established by his ancestors more than 200 years ago. He is one of the most eligible bachelors in the United Kingdom, and one of the richest, too. His father officially still runs the family business but he isn't in the best state of health, so in fact Mayfield junior is the one who's at the helm. Unlike his father he's not a man of integrity, he's been on the radar of the British authorities for years. From dealing drugs and other minor crimes in his college years to insider trading, investor fraud, misappropriation and money laundering nowadays. He is a big fish, has connections all over the world, drug rings, gun runners, human traffickers, you name it."

"And the Brits are not able to catch him without my help?" August couldn't help but smirk cockily.

"Don't be so full of yourself, Walker. The problem is, he is a damn genius. IQ score beyond 150, very clever, very cautious, a strategic mastermind, always ahead of the authorities. They tried to infiltrate his business a few times but they failed miserably, so now they want to concentrate on his private life."

"And this is gonna be my part?"

"Exactly," Kyle said, getting up to join Christine in front of the screen. "He has a few bodyguards he always hires from an American agency. They are known for their discretion and loyalty and the bodyguards they place with their clients are the best of the best. Unfortunately one of his bodyguards died in an accident a week ago and now he needs a new one. Luckily, we have the owner of the agency by the balls for several major crimes. He cooperates or he will end up behind bars for the rest of his life."

"To cut a long story short, he will place you with Mayfield and you can become part of his daily life. Your job consists of monitoring and collecting information and data. I will give you an exact briefing later," Christine finished Kyle's explanations.

"So I will just be his lapdog?"

"Not his," Kyle grinned, "hers."

The picture on the screen changed, now showing a young, blonde woman. The second he saw her, he judged her.

He could tell what she was like, just by her looks, by the way she jutted her chin in the picture, by her perfectly manicured fingers, by her flawless make up and the expensive clothes. He knew women like her, a walking stereotype, the blond, beautiful Trophy Wife Barbie that's always by Millionaire Ken's side. Pretty on the outside, boring on the inside. Lame bimbos that only lived for showing off their designer clothes and it-bags, tripping around in high heels that cost more than he earned in a month, finding self-fulfilment in stupid things like designing overpriced furniture, running a yoga studio or doing charity stuff. Useless, needless but still blueprints for millions of girls who would literally give the shirt off their backs to catch themselves a rockstar, a famous actor, a hyped football player or just a rich heir.

"This is Mayfield's fiancee," Kyle said, pointing at the photo, "you're gonna be her personal bodyguard."

"How am I supposed to monitor him, when I have to be on her heels all the time?"

"You're gonna live with them, there will be lots of opportunities. Just make her trust you, we need her to open up, get her to talk. They've been together for years, she should know what he's involved in," Chris explained and she made it sound easy when in fact it wasn't only hard to gain a stranger's trust, in this case it was even dangerous.

"Alright. Tell me about her."

"Her name is Lucretia Johnson, 24 years old," Kyle started reading the memo.

"Lucretia?" August let out an amused snort.

"Yeah," Kyle grinned, "her mother seems to have a preference for strange names, her younger sister's called Petronilla."

"What the fuck?" August laughed out loud. "Is she some kind of Latin professor or something?"

"Well, first of all she's dead," Christine took over with a serious look on her face, she was notorious for her lack of humour, "and secondly, no, she was not a professor. She was an alcoholic and a complete mess. An irresponsible, uncaring mother who spent too much time fucking around and too little time taking care of her daughters. Petronilla was taken away from her when she was 15 and was handed over to youth welfare. Lucretia was 18 at the time and lived on the campus of the Chelsea College of Art and Design."

"So she's an artist, huh?" August knew the ridicule in his voice wasn't very professional but he just couldn't help it.

"Maybe, at least she has a master degree in curating and owns a little gallery in Covent Garden. Well, actually Mayfield owns it, she just runs it."

"So, to sum it up, she's made it from the daughter of a drunkard to the fiancee of one of the richest heirs in the kingdom. She's fucked her way to the top. I guess that's all I need to know about her."

"Don't be so sure, August. She seems to be smart," Kyle threw in, "I think there's more to her than the pretty face. It's just a gut feeling but I guess you'll find out soon enough."

August took a deep breath, rolling his eyes at Kyle. "Sure. She's the saint that sleeps with the devil."

"That's not what I said, mate. But whatever she is, you'll have to deal with it."

"What's my cover, Christine?" August wanted to know.

"Well, your alias was born in 1981, just like you, but on the fifth of May. Born and raised in Portland, Maine. Only child, mother deceased, not on speaking terms with his father, a mechanic who still lives in Portland. You can find the details of your early life and your family tree in the memo," she waved the file above her head before she continued. "Careerwise...ex military, ex cop, had some problems following the rules and respecting the law. Single, no ex-wifes, no kids. We kept it plain and simple. They will not dig deep anyway. According to the agency boss, Mayfield expects his bodyguards to be disciplined, always on duty, quiet and discreet. There's three of you. Benjamin Garner is Mayfield's watchdog and his personal assistant, Edward Landow was Johnson's guard you're gonna replace, Andrew Brown is the back-up. You and Garner live with them, Brown lives nearby with his girlfriend. There's other staff of course, a housekeeper, a cook, cleaners. No chauffeur, no butler, no assistant, that's all part of your job."

"Great," August let out an annoyed snort, "so basically I'm gonna be her servant."

"Basically," Chris fixed her gaze on August, "you're not gonna leave her side unless you're told to. Just be professional, stay in the background, prick up your ears, listen closely and be careful. No obvious nosing around. Their penthouse is a high tech fortress, including video monitoring, so just…"

"I know how to work undercover," August cut in impatiently, "just gimme that fucking file and let me do my job."

Christine gave him a pissed look but she handed him the document with a shrug and without further comment. August grabbed it from her hands, staring at the data of his new life, his new name and the composite sketch of his new look. He would have to stop shaving.

*****

tbc

#henry cavill #cavillry #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #august walker #august walker fanfiction #august walker x ofc #slow burn

[maddiwrites]

Secret Lives (Part 3)

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Summary: You and JJ never got along so your friends trap the two of you on a boat in the middle of the marsh to work it out. Only it doesn’t go as planned. 

Note: Hey guys! Remember this little series I wrote? A lot of people asked for a part three and I truly had no plans to write one, but I came up with one for you if you if guys are even still interested, who knows. I don’t know how I feel about it. Kinda seems dramatic of me, but oh well. Its been in my drafts for forever so I’m finally posting it. Let me know!! If I tagged you, its because you were tagged in part 2 or asked to be tagged in part 3! 

Word count: 6k

Warnings: mentions of abuse, drugs, violence, and death

 Part 1   Part 2    Masterlist

The relationship you and JJ had transpired into something no one saw coming. Your friends thought your friendship was unsalvageable after what happened when they trapped you in the middle of the marsh with one another. You had reached your breaking point and they didn’t think you’d ever come back to them. But you did. Not only did you come back to them, but you came back to JJ. 

The two of you, once closed off around each other, were now inseparable. You spent almost every day together. You followed him around his work schedule and he snuck through your window any chance he got because he didn’t want to spend one night without you. Your family was surprisingly very accepting of JJ. Your mother was first worried, knowing how men on the Cut can grow into something/someone no parent would want for their daughter. And Andrew knew of Luke Maybank from word of mouth and was afraid JJ might be just like him. But the first night you invited him to dinner at your house, your parents welcomed him into your family. He was polite, mature, and personable throughout the whole meal. You remembered that night well. The morning of, he  called you panicking because he didn’t know what to wear. You told him to wear whatever he wanted, but he was afraid the Kildare County T shirt and cargo shorts wouldn’t send the right message. So you took him shopping on the mainland. Together you took the ferry and made him play dress up in stores you knew he couldn’t afford. He felt bad that you were paying for his new wardrobe, but you promised it was something you wanted to do because you would do anything to make him feel better about this night. That night he came to your door with a bouquet of flowers for your mother and a bottle of Scotch he told Andrew his dad bought for him for that night. Your little sister absolutely adored him, barely giving him enough time to kiss you hello or goodbye. 

You and JJ were more alike than either of you could even imagine. Your temper wasn’t as short as JJ’s, but you weren’t afraid of a fight when it presented itself to you. Your mother always said that’s what happens when you grow up on the Cut. You learn to fight for what you want and need. Most of the time JJ liked that about you. Seeing you standing up for yourself was a huge turn on to him and he felt prideful when onlookers would watch impressed because they didn’t expect a girl from Figure Eight to fight like that. He never let it get physical though even though he always thought it would be hot to see you in a cat fight with some rich bitch from your school. He cared too much about you to let you get hurt. 

You and JJ have another similarity no one outside of the Pogues know about. Although you hate it more than anything, you and JJ live through the trauma of having an abusive father. As if dealing with your father alone wasn’t stressful enough, he created a few fights between you and your boyfriend. JJ was constantly on your case when you were hiding a new bruise or silently frustrated from a previous conversation with your father. You tried not to find it overbearing because JJ was just concerned. You promised you’d stop seeing your father. It was easier for you than for JJ because you had another family to fall back on. A loving mother, a generous step father, and a boisterous little sister. The perfect family. Which is why you felt so guilty that they didn’t seem like enough. ‘Cause it didn’t matter how much money Andrew had, or if he said he loved you like his own, or that he promised you he would never hurt your mother on the day he proposed. He wasn’t your real dad. Your real dad was out there, living in filth and drugs. Without a second income, he couldn’t pay his bills or own a car to drive himself to work every day. He blamed that on you and your mother and you fell for his pity party every single time. 

JJ knew when you were lying. You’d wearing more clothes on the days you were hiding your skin and quieter on the days when you were thinking back to the hateful things your father yelled at you the day before. He hated that there was someone out there laying their hands on you and there was nothing he could do about it. JJ knew the kind of damage that could happen if he tried to physically intervene and it didn’t work. Every time he brought it up, it would only start a heated argument. You would bring up his own father and how JJ wouldn’t let you say anything to Luke, even on the days you two were face to face at Barry’s home with your own father. You hated that JJ thought he could come between you and your father, but you couldn’t do the same. It was hard to believe you two were using your own father’s against each other to prove a point.

Today was no different. It was sunny, cloudless day in the middle of the summer. Which meant the perfect boat day for you and your Pogues. John B was excited to fish, JJ and Pope were excited to swim, Kie to tan. And you? Well you weren’t excited all at. Because last night was a particularly bad night between you and your dad. 

He had taken you out to Barry’s again, forcing you to come inside so he could show you off like his own personal wallet. He drained you of another four hundred dollars after Barry threatened to shoot your father in the head if he didn’t get his money. And you hesitated. Not because you wanted your father to die, but because you had never had a gun pointed at another person in your vicinity. Ever. But that’s not how your dad took it. When you dropped him off, he had you come inside so he could give you his unpaid utility bills. When you least expected it, your dad shoved you hard into the countertop, the corner of it jabbing into your side. Even when you fell to the floor, your father didn’t stop kicking you in your stomach. He called you ungrateful and disloyal. He told you he wished you had never been born - how you ruin everything. You cried into the tiled floors until your dad tired himself out, grabbed a beer, and went to bed.

Your torso was covered in blue and purple bruises when you woke up. Even the warm water from you shower this morning felt like a million little needles pricking your skin.  You contemplated texting the Pogues, telling them you felt sick and that you couldn’t go today. But when you looked out the window and saw the perfect day, you didn’t want to miss out on the sun or a day out with your friends. Your father’s taken a lot from you, but you wouldn’t let him take this.

You wore a one piece bathing suit you had no intention of showing anyone today. JJ greeted you first when the Pogue pulled up to your dock. His arm wrapped around your waist, his hand lightly squeezing your side. You inevitably flinched but forced out a giggle to make it look like JJ had only tickled you. Not hurt you. No one thought anything of it. No one but JJ. He watched you with a narrowed gaze as you said your hellos to the others and popped a squat next to Kie and Sarah.

When John B docked the boat, everyone immediately undressed to get into the cool water.

“C’mon, babe. You’re my partner for Chicken,” JJ walked up to you, the two of you the only ones on the boat.

You looked up and admired his shirtless, toned body. His tan skin glowed against the North Carolina sun and you couldn’t understand how you got so lucky to call him yours.

Then you remembered your predicament and looked out towards your friends to avoid his stare. “I’m not feeling that great today, J.”

“What’s wrong?” JJ asked but he didn’t need to. He already knew what was wrong. He just wanted to see if you would lie about it again.

“Just nauseous,” you said, “I think I ate some bad eggs this morning or something.”

“Some bad eggs, huh?” JJ scoffed.

“JJ...” you sighed. You knew he didn’t buy your lame excuse. You wouldn’t either if it was the other way around.

“You went to see him again, didn’t you?” It wasn’t a question it was a statement.

“Can we not do this here? Please.” You practically begged. You knew this argument could get heated. It usually always did. Neither of you meant to get mad at one another. In the end, it was your dad who was in the wrong. But you guys didn’t like seeing the other one hurt. It was both frustrating and exhausting.

JJ rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He dove into the water head first and swam out towards his friends.

You dropped your head on the boat’s steering wheel, your forehead thumping against it. You wished cutting ties with your dad was as it easy as it sounds. But now you know that Barry would kill your dad if you didn’t show up for him with the money he owed. And you couldn’t let that happen. It would feel like murdering your own father.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

A week later, you found yourself at another boneyard party with your friends. You tried your best to enjoy the night despite your boyfriend giving you the cold shoulder. He was still mad about the incident on the boat. The two of you fought about it when you got back to the Chateau. He knew you were holding something back from him. And you were. You never mentioned Barry or the drugs or the gun to him. As far as JJ knew, you paid your dad’s bills and took him out to lunch every once in a while. And you wanted to keep it this way - afraid of what he might think knowing you were spending time with not only a notorious drug dealer, but his own father.

“I’m gonna get another drink,” you tell Kie as the two of you watched JJ and John B play beer pong against two Tourons.

She nodded and kept her eyes trained on the winning Pogues.

Before you reached the keg, a hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled you away from the crowd, towards the water. When you looked up at who it was, you ripped your hand away and glared at the blonde Kook.

“Y/N -“

“What the hell do you want, Rafe?” You could tell he was high. His eyes wouldn’t stop flickering back between yours, his balance was off, and his pupils were dilated.

“I - I screwed up. I don’t have the money - I didn’t make enough money for Barry’s blow. He’s gonna kill me.”

“Hey, hey. Calm down,” you looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping.

“You need to help me. You need to sell this -“ he tried shoving small baggies into your hands but you pulled yourself away like he was offering your a lit flame.

“Are you out of your mind. Put that away!”

“I wasn’t - wasn’t keeping track of how many people were using my shit. And then there was this girl -“

“Rafe, I can’t do this.”

“JJ can help. Yeah? His dad -“

“JJ stays out of this,” you took another step towards him so you were face to face with the Kook and he could see how serious you were, even through his high state of mind. “You hear me? JJ’s nothing like his dad and I swear to god I’ll kill you first if you say anything to him.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Rafe raised his voice, frustrated that he couldn’t come up with any other ideas of how he was supposed to get his money back.

“Hey!” You froze when another voice broke you and Rafe apart. JJ walked up from behind you and pointed his finger at the Kook. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Get away from her.”

You let JJ pull you behind him but kept your eyes on Rafe, trying to warn him from saying anything to your already fired up boyfriend.

Rafe sniffled and took a step back. “Nothing, dude. Relax. Okay?”

“Didn’t look like nothing.”

“Rafe was just leaving,” you said and kept your eyes on Rafe.

“Y/N, you don’t understand. Barry -“

“Rafe!”

JJ’s head snapped in your direction and his brows furrowed in confusion. He knew that name. His dad’s mentioned that name before. It’s usually followed by coke prices.

Rafe just glared at you. “If I die, it’s on you.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and looked down at the sand as Rafe walked away. JJ slowly turned to look at you as his brain scrambled to put the pieces together.

“Y/N...”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You said quickly.

“How do you know Barry?” JJ pushed. He didn’t care if you didn’t want to talk about it. He was tired of letting you push him away.

“He’s my dad’s dealer, J. We’ve been over this.” You tried walking away from him but he grabbed your wrist to make you look at him.

“You been to his house?” JJ asked. When you didn’t answer, he took a step back and looked at you incredulously. “You work for him now?”

You glared at him. “Of course not!”

“Then -“

“My dad makes me pay for his shit, okay? And I can’t stop or else Barry will kill him.” You snapped. Tears pricked at your waterline and threatened to fall.

“Barry won’t kill -“

“He pointed a gun at his head the other day! I was there! I had to scoff up hundreds of dollars to save his life.” You shook your head. “And that still wasn’t enough to save myself from a stupid beating. So please stop telling me how much easier it is for me to escape him. Stop telling me how lucky I am to have such a great family to rely on. Because I don’t! If I don’t help my dad out, I might as well sign his death warrant myself.”

JJ’s heart physically cracked in his chest at the sight of you. You were falling apart. Here at a boneyard party, where you should be having fun and forgetting about your problems. But instead he pushed you too far, and although he was relieved to finally hear the truth from you, he wished it had been in the privacy of your home or the Chateau. When he looked over your shoulder, he saw the worried looks of the Pogues looking at them. He didn’t know if he heard them, but he hoped they hadn’t. He still needed time to process this without the pestering questions from his friends. Even if they meant well.

“Okay,” JJ said softly. “Okay. I won’t say anything. I’m sorry. Can we just - “ he sighed. “Can we just go back to the Chateau? I just wanna hold you.”

You sniffled and meekly nodded your head. You were angry and frustrated. But not at him. At Rafe. At your own father. At the world. And you just wanted your boyfriend too.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

That night, you fell asleep pretty fast. From your sore body, to the sleepless nights thinking about Barry and his threats, and the warmth of JJ’s body held against you, your exhausted state quickly took over you. You felt like you could sleep for hours.

JJ, however, did not. He stared up at the blank ceiling with his forearm tucked under his head as his other arm stayed wrapped around you. He couldn’t stop picturing you at Barry’s home with a bunch of old low lifes, scared and innocent. He wondered if his dad was ever there - if he ever said anything to you.

He hated that there wasn’t anything he could do for you unless your dad was gone.

Gone.

And idea popped into his head like someone flicked a light switch on in his brain. He turned his head, back and forth, looking for your phone. When he found it charging on his night stand, he stretched his arm out for it, careful not to wake up your sleeping figure.

He secretly knew your passcode after subtly watching you type it in a couple weeks ago.

His fingers tapped against your screen until he found the app he was looking for. Glancing down at you one last time, he shared your location with his phone.

When you squirmed in his embrace, JJ quickly put the phone back where he found it and pretended to be asleep in case you peeked an eye open at him. He hoped you didn’t feel his heart racing against his rib cage or his uneven breaths. He knew if you found out what he was doing, you’d be pissed. But before he fell asleep, he promised he was going to do anything necessary to keep you safe.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

On the day JJ knew you were going to be busy all day babysitting your neighbor’s kids, he rode his bike to Kildare County’s police station. He stared at the entrance for a long couple of seconds, hating every second of being in near proximity to this place. Basically going against every natural instinct he had to stay away and not trust the police.

But he was doing this for you.

He walked in, ignoring the couple of looks from officers he’s encountered over the years. They were mostly surprised he wasn’t being forced through the doors with his hands cuffed behind his back.

“I need to see Sheriff Peterkin, please.” JJ says politely.

The older woman looked JJ up and down. “Do you have an appointment?”

“It’s the fucking police station. Since when do you have to make appointments? You assume people are just gonna know when an emergency is going to happen?”

“Look kid -“

“JJ.” JJ turned and relief washed over him when he saw Sheriff Peterkin in the hallway looking at him confused but also concerned.

“I need your help.” JJ admitted. He hated cops. Probably always will. But he trusted Sheriff Peterkin. She’s always tried to help John B through his DCS struggles. She actually cared about what he wanted and never took the easy way out just to make her work load lighter. She remembered why she took the oath every day.

Peterkin never really liked the Maybank kid in particular, but she was able to see something in him pretty much every cop couldn’t. She saw the loyalty and the determination his friends saw. She could tell he didn’t want to grow up to be like his father.

She led him into her office and shut the door behind them for privacy. She gestured towards the seat in front of her desk and asked him to explain what was going on.

JJ’s mouth moved a hundred miles per minute. He told her how your mother didn’t know you would sneak out to see your dad despite the custody agreement. He mentioned the bills he made you pay and the bruises he would leave you despite your efforts to help him. He teared up when he mentioned his own dad - and how his father and your father had the same dealer. How your dad would make you go inside Barry’s home and use you like a a community bank account. He even told her about the gun Barry threatened to use on your dad right in front of you.

“Why are you tell me all of this?” Peterkin says slowly. She studied the boy in front of her who was slowly falling apart and felt sympathetic for the young blonde. It didn’t take a genius to know why JJ was telling her this.

“Because...y/n... she has a heart of gold,” JJ sniffled. “She won’t leave her dad behind to be homeless or killed because that man is her blood. It doesn’t matter if he beats her black and blue. She always goes back because she thinks she owes him.” He sighs. “I want him gone. I don’t care what you do to him. Arrest him, kill him. I don’t really care. Although the second choice sounds more strategic -“

“JJ -“

“And I don’t want her getting in any sort of legal trouble because it’s not her fault. She doesn’t do drugs or deal them or anything like that. She just stands there and watches her dad blow his money on coke and who knows what else. And her mom? Her mom has no clue what’s going on but it’s not her fault. Y/n is really good at hiding her pain. She forces a smile every day and -“ JJ’s breath hitched in his throat when he thought about how you faked your happiness every single day and how a girl like you should never feel as worthless as you do. “Her mom’s a good mom. And I don’t want people blaming her or taking Y/n away from her because they think she can’t control her -“

“Hey, look at me,” Peterkin says softly. She wanted to reach over the desk and squeeze his hand to comfort him. “I understand.”

“You do?”

“Yes. I remember having to visit their home when Mrs. Y/L/N was still married to him. Y/N mother’s a good woman. I wouldn’t let anyone come between them.”

“What about her dad? I tried convincing her to never see him again but she won’t do it. She’s afraid Barry will kill him.”

“I can’t bust into Barry’s home without probable cause -“

JJ stood up. “That’s bullshit! You know -“

“Without probable cause or evidence that proves Barry is holding drugs or being violent, I can’t barge into that home.”

“That’s -“

“Here,” Peterkin writes her number down on a post it note and hands it to JJ. “Without probable cause, I can’t arrest Barry and the men who work or buy from him.” She stared at JJ, hoping the boy will understand her hidden message. She points at the post it in JJ’s hands. “Now. If you need anything from me. Call that number and I will find you.”

JJ looked down at the number and slowly nodded his head, understanding what he would have to do.

“And JJ -“ the blonde turned. “Be aware of where your father is when you call me. I dont want you ending up in the same situation as your friend John B if that’s not where you want to be.”

JJ nodded. “Thank you Sheriff Peterkin.”

Peterkin nodded and walked him out of the station.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Three days later, JJ met his friends at the Wreck for lunch. He slowed his pace when he noticed the seat next to Pope wasn’t occupied and neither was the one next to Kie. 

“Where’s Y/N?” He asked them.

Kie looked at the others with furrowed brows. They all got the same text. The one where Y/N apologetically told them that something came up and wouldn’t be able to hang out today. They thought JJ would have known that. 

“She said she couldn’t make it,” Kie says. “We thought you knew.”

“Did she say why?” 

Pope shrugged. “Just that something came up.”

JJ ripped his phone out of his back pocket and scrolled through his messages with you. You didn’t text him - you didn’t even answer his good morning text. He knew what this meant. You didn’t like to lie, so you’re way of dodging questions you didn’t want to answer honestly is to make sure no one can ask you them. By avoiding them all together. JJ knew that. It made sense to him. 

“JJ, what’s going on?” John B asked his friends, recognizing the look on his best friend’s face. He was furious but also anxious. His leg hasn’t stopped bouncing up and down since he asked where you were. 

JJ clicked on the app that showed your location and saw you were deep into the south side of the Cut. He recognized the area of his father’s drug dealer. 

“We gotta go,” JJ stood up and motioned for his friends to follow. “Now. JB, you bring the Twinkie?”

“Yeah, but...” John B stuttered as he grabbed his stuff off the table. “What’s going on?”

“We're saving my girl from that douche bag she calls a father,” JJ says. “For good.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

John B pulled the Twinkie to the curb outside of Barry’s house, making sure to use the trees to hide his vehicle. The Pogues immediately recognized your car parked in Barry’s driveway. Confusion bubbled through their heads, but rage ignited in JJ’s.

“Why is she here?” Kie asked. 

JJ didn’t answer. He picked up his phone and clicked on Peterkin’s name. “It’s JJ.” The Pogues paused as they listened to JJ to talk to the Sheriff. “I -” He stopped when the sound of a gun shot being fired silenced all of them into panic. 

“JJ -” Peterkin called for him but JJ didn’t answer. He dropped the phone so fast and sprinted out of the van, towards the house. He didn’t care what kind of danger he was running into. He just knew he had to get you out of it. 

JJ ignored the calls from his best friends behind him as he ripped open the screen door. He stopped, looking left, right, up, down - anywhere for you.

He heard the commotion coming from Barry’s living room along with shouting and glass smashing. The first person he saw was Barry holding a gun up to the ceiling, pointed at the hole he left above him only seconds ago. He was glaring in the direction of you and your father, barely taking notice of the new kid in his home. Luke Maybank was the first to notice his son and narrowed his eyes in his direction. JJ gulped nervously - he didn’t know if it was because he was afraid of the guy with the gun or his dad. But what he feared the most was you not being okay.

Your eyes grew wide with fear when you saw the new face. You looked between JJ and Barry nervously, not knowing how Barry would react to the new member in his house. He was already pissed as it is, threatening to shoot you in front of your dad because neither of you could fork over the money your dad owed Barry. He was getting tired of the same old bullshit, and Rafe didn’t help. He stood silently in the corner with his fingers racked through his hair.

“Who the fuck are you?” Barry pointed the gun at JJ when he finally noticed him. 

“Hey, hey, hey, he’s good!” Luke came closer to Barry and said, “That’s my son.”

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Barry asked him. 

Luke looked past Barry at JJ for an answer he couldn’t give him. JJ glanced from Barry, to his dad, to you and gulped again as he tried to come up with answer. That’s when you understood what was going on. He was following you. 

You didn’t know if you should be mad or not. All you could focus on was the gun in Barry’s hand that’s still pointed in JJ’s direction. 

“Look, kid,” Your dad said to Barry, gaining his attention all over again. “I’ll make it up to you.” He put his hand on your shoulder and shoved you slightly forward. “You want to have her for the night? She’s all yours.”

Your head snapped in your father’s direction with your mouth open agape. Did your dad seriously just try to pimp you out? You felt betrayed, vile, used, and worthless. This isn’t something you do when you love your kid.

JJ seethed and clenched his hands in fists, ready to rock the shit out of your dad. “You son of a bitch -”

Luke, however, caught him in time, holding him by the arm and pulling him away from your dad. JJ tried fighting him off to get to your dad or you - to get you out of this entire home. He saw the scared look on your face and it made him want to set the entire house on fire. He’d do anything to protect you - to keep you safe. And right now, he thought he was failing. 

Then, red and blue lights flashed through the open windows, followed by loud sirens. Barry crossed the room to stand next to you and your father and looked out the window. When he saw the cops, he immediately swiveled around to point his gun at your boyfriend. 

“You called the fucking cops?” Barry sneered. 

“Stop!” You yelled to try and get Barry’s attention and away from JJ. 

You dad tried to use Barry’s distraction to his advantage and snuck up behind him to try and reach for the gun. Barry spun around and tried pulling his wrist away from your dad’s grip. As they fought for the gun and an upper hand, you ran across the room for JJ who immediately wrapped his arms around your waist. He kissed the top of your head and motioned for the front door, mumbling about leaving.

You nodded and grasped his hand in yours. When he turned to lead you out of there, another shot rang out and you flinched closer to JJ as he ducked and pulled your head down with his arms and shields your body with his. 

You heard a thump and the floor vibrated under your feet. 

“Shit -”

“Fuck -”

“What did you do that for -”

“Jerry? Hey! Jerry!”

Everything kind of moved in slow motion after that. You turned around to see what had happened and that’s when you saw your dad laying on the floor with a puddle of blood growing around his body. Your feet moved faster than your brain did to get to your dad. 

JJ tried reaching for you but you swiveled out of his grip and dropped to your knees in front of your dad’s body. His eyes were closed and his mouth open. You placed your hands on top of the wound in his stomach to get it to stop bleeding. You cried. You didn’t know why you were crying but you did. Hard and heavy, barely able to get your own breaths in. You didn’t pay attention to Rafe fleeing from the backyard, or Barry being stopped by the cops who stormed into the house with guns raised. You barely felt JJ place his hands on your shoulders to try and coax you up. All you saw and could feel was your dad’s dead body and his blood on your hands. 

“Honey,” You felt another set of hands touch your back as they knelt down next to you. You didn’t look at her but recognized the familiar voice. “He’s gone. It’s over.”

“No -” You voice was barely above a whisper. 

“I’m sorry. Let’s get you cleaned up. Okay?” 

Sheriff Peterkin nodded at JJ to help you up and lead you out of the house. He was  finally able to pull you up from your knees and placed a comforting hand on your lower back. 

Your friends watched from the barricade the police set up around the house. When they saw you, all of them either started to panic or cry. They thought your were hurt until JJ nodded at them to tell them you were okay. But they could see in your face you were anything but okay.

Another cop lead you to the back of an ambulance. You don’t even look at Luke being handcuffed next to Barry or Rafe disappearing in the trees. All you can think about is your dad. 

The EMT did a quick check up on you after realizing the blood on your hands was in fact not yours. Then they took a quick look at JJ and asked if there was someone they could call for you.

“My mom -” You whispered. 

The EMT nodded. “Do you have a number?”

You told the EMT her number and waited patiently as she walked away to call her. When the two of you were alone, JJ turned to look at you and reached out for your hands and held them in his lap. He rubbed his thumb up and down over the back of your hand and waited for you to say something. He didn’t know if any words could make this right. He didn’t know how to comfort you after you just witnessed your dad died. It didn’t matter if you hated him or not. You literally watched him take his last breath. Your own flesh and blood. That shit’s traumatizing. 

“I’m sorry,” JJ said when he realized you were not going to say anything. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I just - I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“This is my fault.”

“No,” JJ shook his head. “No. It’s not your fault. It’s Barry’s. He was the one with the gun -”

“I should’ve walked away. From my dad. From all of this.” A single tear rolled down your cheek. “I enabled him. I allowed it to get this far.”

“You were doing what you thought was best for your dad.”

“I got him killed -”

“He did this to himself, Y/N. You were more than the perfect daughter. You literally couldn't be more perfect if you tried.” JJ wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer into his side and kissed the top of your head. “He didn’t deserve you. There’s nothing you could have done to prevent this.”

You cried into his shoulder, letting the sobs wrack through your body and your heart tear into millions of pieces. JJ held you tightly against him and whispered comforting words in your ears. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

JJ stood by you through your grieving process - through the good and the bad. He’s took your harsh words with a grain a salt when he noticed you were just trying to pick a fight, he held you when you cried into your pillow in the middle of the night, he was by your side for a hand to hold when you told your mother what happened and why you were at Barrys for the millionth time, and he was there to tell you he will always be there for you when you think he’s just going to up and leave like your dad did.

After your dad’s funeral, you stood in front of his tombstone with a solemn expression. Your dad was a piece of shit and didn’t deserve your love, money, and attention. You wished you could go back and time and never give it to him. At least that way you wouldn’t feel all these complicated emotions that made no sense. Love, hate, grief, relief. You didn’t know how to feel. 

Coming up behind you was JJ. He weaved his fingers with yours and kissed your temple. You couldn’t believe there was ever a day where JJ Maybank was your enemy. You didn’t think you’d be able to get through this without him.

“JJ,” You said and looked up at him. “Thank you.”

JJ nodded. “I love you.” He would never admit this, but he was glad you dad was dead. Because now he knew you were safe. 

“I love you more.”

JJ shook his head. “Impossible.”

Tag List: @allycat449-blog​ @zarahsloves​ @redknight9​

#jj fic #jj x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank fic #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank x reader #outer banks imagine #outer banks fic #obx fic #obx imagine

[madmensideblog]

MAD MEN BOOK RECS

Happy pride/Don Draper’s fake birthday ❤️ Below the cut, I’ve listed info on my favorite Mad Men related books and a couple I haven’t read yet but I’m really looking forward to. Let me know if you check any of these out, or if you have any other recommendations! ❤️

Mad Men Carousel: The Complete Critical Companion by Matt Zoller Seitz

“Mad Men Carousel is an episode-by-episode guide to all seven seasons of AMC's Mad Men. This book collects TV and movie critic Matt Zoller Seitz’s celebrated Mad Men recaps—as featured on New York magazine's Vulture blog—for the first time, including never-before-published essays on the show’s first three seasons. Seitz’s writing digs deep into the show’s themes, performances, and filmmaking, examining complex and sometimes confounding aspects of the series. The complete series—all seven seasons and ninety-two episodes—is covered.

Each episode review also includes brief explanations of locations, events, consumer products, and scientific advancements that are important to the characters, such as P.J. Clarke’s restaurant and the old Penn Station; the inventions of the birth control pill, the Xerox machine, and the Apollo Lunar Module; the release of the Beatles’ Revolver and the Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds; and all the wars, protests, assassinations, and murders that cast a bloody pall over a chaotic decade.

Mad Men Carousel is named after an iconic moment from the show’s first-season finale, “The Wheel,” wherein Don delivers an unforgettable pitch for a new slide projector that’s centered on the idea of nostalgia: “the pain from an old wound.” This book will soothe the most ardent Mad Men fan’s nostalgia for the show. New viewers, who will want to binge-watch their way through one of the most popular TV shows in recent memory, will discover a spoiler-friendly companion to one of the most multilayered and mercurial TV shows of all time.”

A classic episode-by-episode look at the series from reviewer Matt Zoller Seitz.

The Legacy of Mad Men — Cultural History, Intermediality and American Television (Edited by Karen McNally, Jane Marcellus, Teresa Forde, and Kirsty Fairclough)

“For seven seasons, viewers worldwide watched as ad man Don Draper moved from adultery to self-discovery, secretary Peggy Olson became a take-no-prisoners businesswoman, object-of-the-gaze Joan Holloway developed a feminist consciousness, executive Roger Sterling tripped on LSD, and smarmy Pete Campbell became a surprisingly nice guy. Mad Men defined a pivotal moment for television, earning an enduring place in the medium’s history.

This edited collection examines the enduringly popular television series as Mad Men still captivates audiences and scholars in its nuanced depiction of a complex decade. This is the first book to offer an analysis of Mad Men in its entirety, exploring the cyclical and episodic structure of the long form series and investigating issues of representation, power and social change. The collection establishes the show’s legacy in televisual terms, and brings it up to date through an examination of its cultural importance in the Trump era. Aimed at scholars and interested general readers, the book illustrates the ways in which Mad Men has become a cultural marker for reflecting upon contemporary television and politics.”

This is a really beautiful collection. It was published in 2019. It’s rather expensive. (I found a used copy for much cheaper.) If you can afford it, I really, really recommend buying it. There is a pdf floating around if you know where to look though. But like I said, it’s really amazing work and the women who curated it deserve high praise and compensation.

A few favorite essays of mine include “Don Draper and the Enduring Appeal of Antonioni’s La Notte” by Emily Hoffman, “Mad Men’s Mid-Century Modern Times” by Zak Roman, “Mad Men and the Staging of Literature via Ken Cosgrove and His Problems” by Aaron Shapiro, and “What Jungian Psychology Can Tell Us About Don Draper’s Unexpected Embrace of Leonard in Mad Men’s Finale” by Marisa Carroll.

Mad Men and Philosophy: Nothing Is as It Seems (Edited by William Irwin, James B. South, and Rod Carveth)

“With its swirling cigarette smoke, martini lunches, skinny ties, and tight pencil skirts, Mad Men is unquestionably one of the most stylish, sexy, and irresistible shows on television. But the series becomes even more absorbing once you dig deeper into its portrayal of the changing social and political mores of 1960s America and explore the philosophical complexities of its key characters and themes. From Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle to John Kenneth Galbraith, Milton Friedman, and Ayn Rand, Mad Men and Philosophy brings the thinking of some of history's most powerful minds to bear on the world of Don Draper and the Sterling Cooper ad agency. You'll gain insights into a host of compelling Mad Men questions and issues, including happiness, freedom, authenticity, feminism, Don Draper's identity, and more.”

This collection was published just a month before the start of season 4, so it only concerns the first three seasons of the show. As such, it includes some assumptions that are proven false and a few strange misreadings that I’m sure would’ve been cleared up had they had the rest of the show at their disposal. But there are some great philosophical insights and analysis.

I haven’t yet read the whole collection, but my favorite essay of what I’ve read so far was “Pete, Peggy, Don, and the Dialectic of Remembering and Forgetting” by John Fritz.

The Fashion File: Advice, Tips, and Inspiration from the Costume Designer of Mad Men (by costume designer Janie Bryant)

From Joanie's Marilyn Monroe-esque pencil skirts to Betty's classic Grace Kelly cupcake dresses, the clothes worn by the characters of the phenomenal Mad Men have captivated fans everywhere. Now, women are trading in their khakis for couture and their pumas for pumps. Finally, it's hip to dress well again. Emmy-Award winning costume designer Janie Bryant offers readers a peek into the dressing room of Mad Men, revealing the design process behind the various characters' looks and showing every woman how to find her own leading lady style--whether it's vintage, modern, or bohemian. Bryant's book will peek into the dressing room of Mad Men and reveal the design process behind the various characters' looks. But it will also help women learn how fashion can help convey their personality. She will help them cultivate their style, including all the details that make a big difference. Bryant offers advice to ensure that a woman's clothes convey her personality. She covers everything from where to find incredible vintage clothing and accessories to how to pair those authentic pieces with modern shoes and jeans. Readers will learn how to find their perfect bra size, use color to convey a mood, and invest in the ten essentials every woman should own. And just so the ladies don't leave their men behind, there's even a section on making them look a little more Don Draper-dashing.

I recently ordered a used copy of this book and haven’t yet received it, but I’m very much looking forward to it. Like Mad Men and Philosophy listed above, it was published between season 3 and 4, so unfortunately does not cover the whole show. It sounds like it might just cover the women’s costume design, though I’m not sure. Janie Bryant is such a meticulous, genius costume designer that I can’t wait to read it. Relatedly, you should follow her incredible costume design instagram where she posts lots of her work from Mad Men and other shows with fascinating insight into her process.

The Universe is Indifferent: Theology, Philosophy, and Mad Men (Edited by Ann W. Duncan and Jacob L. Goodson)

Centered on the lives of the employees at a Manhattan advertising firm, the television series Mad Men touches on the advertising world's unique interests in consumerist culture, materialistic desire, and the role of deception in Western capitalism. While this essay collection has a decidedly socio-historical focus, the authors use this as the starting point for philosophical, religious, and theological reflection, showing how Mad Men reveals deep truths concerning the social trends of the 1960s and deserves a significant amount of scholarly consideration. Going beyond mere reflection, the authors make deeper inquiries into what these trends say about American cultural habits, the business world within Western capitalism, and the rapid social changes that occurred during this period. From the staid and conventional early seasons to the war, assassinations, riots, and counterculture of later seasons, The Universe is Indifferent shows how social change underpins the interpersonal dramas of the characters in Mad Men.

I only just found out about this collection, but I’m very interested in finding a copy. This was published in 2016. You can see the table of contents here. EDIT: This book is available to read on Scribd. They offer a 30 day free trial.

#mad men #books

[thewookieruns]

Falloutober Day 4: Cloud Nine

So... @darkwolf7-26 ​ asked me this question back in 2019 about this little story. I’m going to post this on AO3 as well, but this story gets it’s own post.

Here is @falloutober ​ Day 4: Cloud Nine

Erich Richardson cleared his throat nervously as he tried to finish adjusting his tie in the cracked mirror.

“Are you doing okay?” Nick Valentine asked. The Sole Survivor turned to the synthetic detective, who had changed out of his standard attire into a much nicer suit. However, his fedora was still comfortably perched on his bald, plastic head.. Erich chuckled nervously.

“I’m fine, just nervous as hell.” he sighed, swinging his arms back and forth to try and loosen the tension in his shoulders. “I mean… the last time I did this, it didn’t exactly end well.”

Nick snorted a laugh. “That’s one way of putting it, kid.” The synth stepped over to the younger man and helped him fix his tie. Erich felt his face flush with heat.

“Thanks.” he choked out. As Nick finally got the Sole Survivor’s tie straight, Erich cleared his throat again. “Listen, Nick… I just wanted to thank you.”

“For what?” the detective asked, one of his artificial eyebrows rising.

“Well… ever since I stumbled into Diamond City, you really took me under your wing. To be honest, you’ve really become a father figure to me. I want to live a life that would make you and dad proud. Thank you for that.”

Nick stood in silence, then wrapped the Sole Survivor in a bear hug, which was quickly reciprocated. “You’re a good man, kid. You follow that heart of yours, and you’ll never go wrong.” Nick said, his voice sounding choked with emotion. Several more seconds later, the two men broke their embrace. “Well, let’s get this show on the road. I’ve got other things to attend to.” Nick said with a smile after clearing his throat. Ruffling Erich’s hair with his right hand, the detective excused himself from the room.

Erich soon followed the detective, and was soon standing outside the home he and Nora had begun making their home before the Great War in the warm afternoon sun. He quickly followed the road down the cul-de-sac until he was standing in the clearing of a grove of trees near the bank of the river that ran along the outskirts of Sanctuary. Light filtered through the branches, giving the area a dappled look. A gazebo had been erected in the clearing, and a mishmash chair had been arranged around the structure. Codsworth, Erich’s faithful Mister Handy, was busy fussing and making sure everything was in order, a bowler hat perched atop his chassis.

“Are you ready for this?” A voice came from behind Erich. He turned to see Preston Garvey standing behind him. The Minuteman had washed and starched his uniform jacket and was wearing it over a nice pair of dress pants. Preston stood next to the Sole Survivor. “Don’t worry, man. You’re going to do great.”

“Garvey is right. You’ll do great, soldier.” Paladin Danse came up and stood on the other side. Surprisingly, he was out of his power armor and was dressed in a black suit and tie. Erich had to admit that both of his friends cleaned up really well.

“Well, then, we should get this celebration started!” Codsworth intoned from across the grove. “Guests are already beginning to arrive!” And indeed they were. John Hancock, the ghoul mayor of Goodneighbor walked into the grove, Cait on his arm. Hancock looked much the same, maybe a bit cleaner, but the three men were all mildly stunned at how well the former cage fighter had cleaned up. Her hair was tied back and was wearing a green dress. Other people were also filtering into the area. Sturges came into the area, pushing Mama Murphy in a wheelchair to a spot close to the gazebo. The handyman was wearing his standard attire, albeit with considerably fewer oil and grease stains. Curie had found a blue dress, and was sitting next to a man in a Minuteman uniform that Erich quickly realized was Deacon.  MacCready had even changed into a grubby, ill-fitting gray suit.

“Well… Let’s get this started.” Erich said, feeling the tension return. He and Preston stepped onto the gazebo, with Preston standing in the center. Erich stood to his left.

Once the guests were all seated, Preston began speaking. “Thank you for joining us today. We all know why we’re here, so I won’t stand up here and talk your ears off.” There was a ripple of laughter from the crowd. As soon as the laughter died down, there was a cough from the edge of the grove. Preston gestured to the source of the cough, and heads swiveled towards the edge of the grove, including Erich’s.

There was a gasp from the crowd, including one from Erich. Nick Valentine was standing at the edge of the grove, Piper Wright on his right arm. She was wearing a very simple white, long-sleeved dress that reached to the floor of the grove. Her hair was done in a French braid, and a veil hung to her lower back. She held a bouquet of various rad-flowers in her left hand. But the thing Erich found most beautiful was the radiant smile on the reporter’s face.

As Nick and Piper began walking towards the gazebo, the guests to the wedding stood up, murmurs of wonder passing between them. Finally, Nick and Piper stepped on to the platform. Piper handed the bouquet to Nick, who in turn handed it to Codsworth. Piper reached out and took both of Erich’s hands after brushing some lint off of the lapel of his army fatigues.

“Hey, Blue.” She said softly, her eyes bright. “Come here often?” Erich chuckled, words failing him.

Preston cleared his throat and began talking once the crowd had sat back down. “Gathered friends and colleagues, we’re gathered here today for a very special occasion. We have come here to witness the union of two individuals who have found each other across the centuries. We are here to bear witness to the marriage of Piper Wright and Captain Erich Richardson.” Light applause came from the guests.

Preston continued. “Both parties here have written their own vows, and will share them now.” Preston took a small step back, and gestured to Erich. Erich briefly let go of Piper’s hands and opened the right breast pocket of his fatigues and withdrew a notecard.

“Piper,” he began, reading from the notecard. “When I crawled out of Vault 111 and stumbled into Diamond City, I had lost everything. My world, my family, my life. I’ve been out here in the Commonwealth for a while, and I’ve found everything I lost in the vault. The world I knew before will never come back, but I found someone who understands that my world is vastly different from what it was but helps me keep a hope for this new world. I haven’t found my son, but I’ve found family here in the Commonwealth in my friends who have helped me in that search. My life ended on the day the bombs fell, and somehow ended again when Nora was killed and Shaun was taken. I thought that there was nothing to live for except to find my son. But now I’ve found someone to live for. Piper Wright, I promise to hold you and to cherish you for the rest of the time I have left on this planet.” Finishing up, Erich replaced the card in his breast pocket. He looked up to see tears beginning to form in Piper’s eyes.

“Oh Blue.” she said, her voice choked with emotion. She swallowed, composing herself, then reached over and opened the left breast pocket of Erich’s fatigues, withdrawing another notecard. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to follow that,” she stated, and there was a ripple of laughter. Exhaling, she began reading from her card.

“Erich, I would describe you as a whirlwind. Traveling with you and getting to know and eventually falling in love with you has been nothing short of a force of nature. I’ve seen every facet of you; your courage, your kindness, your honor, and your wit. You have been by my side, pushing me to be a better person, and a rock when I’ve felt like I’m lost. We have had so many amazing things happen to us, good and bad, and I can’t wait for so many more as your wife. I know that by your side we can accomplish whatever we want. I know this sounds ridiculous, but you’ve made this reporter be at a loss for words, and I can’t wait to have that happen more for the rest of our lives.”

As she finished, Piper placed her card back in the pocket of Erich’s fatigues. Sniffles were heard from the crowd, and both lovers figured it was from people crying. Preston stepped forward again.

“That was beautiful.” he stated, his own voice choking with emotion. The Minuteman cleared his throat and laughed. “First, we have an exchange of rings. If the ring bearer could bring the rings forward?” There was a happy bark from the edge of the grove, causing everyone to turn towards the sound. Nat Wright was holding Dogmeat by his collar, which had a bowtie affixed to it. Nat released her grip on the dog’s collar, and the canine bent down and picked up a basket in his mouth before coming bounding towards the gazebo. Once on the gazebo, he trotted to the Minuteman before wheeling and sitting at Preston’s feet, facing the audience. There were coos of appreciation and laughs from the audience at the dog’s antics.

“There we go!” Preston laughed again. “If you two would take the rings, we can complete the ring exchange.” Piper and Erich both crouched down, laughing at the dog. Retrieving the ring, both stood up, not breaking eye contact.

“Now, Erich, If you’ll take Piper’s left hand and place her ring on her ring finger…” Preston instructed, and Erich followed the directions. “Now repeat after me; Piper Wright, with this ring, I wed thee, and take thee to be my wife, ‘til death do us part.” Erich did as instructed. Once he was done, Preston turned to Piper.

“Piper, if you’ll take Erich’s left hand and place his ring on his ring finger…” Once this was done, Preston continued. “Now repeat after me; Erich Richardson, with this ring, I wed thee, and take thee to be my husband, ‘til death do us part.” Piper parroted what Preston had instructed her to say.

“Erich and Piper, I now pronounce you husband and wife!” Preston said, his voice cracking with emotion. Turning to Erich, he stated simply “Kiss your bride!” 

Erich did. And in that moment, with Nora’s ring on Piper’s finger, every stress melted away, leaving the newly minted Richardsons on cloud nine.

#Falloutober 4 #Fallout #Fallout 4 #Fallout Fanfic #My Writing #Capt. Richardson #Nick Valentine #Codsworth #Paladin Danse #Preston Garvey #Piper Wright #FLUFF #SO MUCH FLUFF

[thewatsonbeekeepers]

The Wizard of Oz and tjlc - more thoughts

Edited to add in a link to this meta  by @bug-catcher-in-viridian-forest which inspired these thoughts - v wonderful eye for detail in these parallels and would definitely recommend reading it before this!

Entirely indebted to @bug-catcher-in-viridian-forest​, whose post made me think about this - I have no idea how recent this post is, because the time stamp says 2016 but it contains details from s4, which suggests a tumblr fuckup! But my 2c based off this -

I’m a big EMPer. And - as I mention in every meta I write, not just because it’s a hyperfixation but because it’s super important to tjlc - I’m a huge David Lynch fan. David Lynch is the guy who defined the dream-movie genre, who made it more than The Wizard of Oz and turned it into the most self-referential meta psychological thriller possible - and won huge critical plaudits for it. (Incidentally, except from Tarantino - his response to imo Lynch’s most underappreciated film, Fire Walk With Me, is hilarious. Look it up. But anyway.) Lynch is obsessed with The Wizard of Oz, and has stated it’s his favourite movie, and even went so far as to remake it as a very loosely adapted thriller in Wild at Heart. My meta on TAB (x) talks about how indebted Mofftiss are to David Lynch, and how making a dream based piece of media is basically impossible without using him as a reference point. Like a fool, I forgot Lynch’s own biggest reference point - The Wizard of Oz.

@bug-catcher-in-viridian-forest​ makes a lot of excellent parallels, but I want to pull on them in the light of EMP theory! The biggest one is that Eurus is Dorothy - red shoes, pigtails, blue and white dress. This is also, crucially, something Lynch does with his characters who are meant to parallel Dorothy - see Dorothy Vallens in Blue Velvet and her red shoes, for example.

Only the most iconic costume in the history of film. Anyway. Red shoes are also seen on the girl on the plane, although her costume is stripes, so not a perfect link - we do know, however, that they are the same person. Parallels with flying the plane and flying the house - lovely. Parallels with the name of the east wind - obviously this is derived from ACD canon, but it’s nevertheless lovely. However, where I want to jump in now is the plot of TWoO, because this is really important.

Everybody knows that Dorothy has a dog (making child!Eurus playing with Redbeard even more striking in resemblance) - but what is really important in TWoO is that her dog is going to die. That’s the reason she runs away from home, which is what leads to her getting knocked unconscious and having this mad dream. @sagestreet​ has pointed out exactly why dogs are connected with homosexuality, and I’ve elaborated in my EMP series on the idea that Sherlock realises he needs to wake up because John is suicidal without him. This ties in beyond well. Incidentally, the bit about TWoO that never works for me is that when Dorothy wakes up, Toto is still destined for death. Everybody just conveniently ignores it. What Sherlock has right - if we’re right (we may never tell, but I assure you guys that the series 5 I dreamed the other night was fantastic. is that reality shifting?*) - is that the dream can actually make a difference to the situation, because the dream is the difference between life and death. Think of If I Stay. Or something like that.

Okay. But here’s the deal. TWoO is all about home. When Dorothy is asked what she has learned from her dream (the knowledge that she needs to wake up), Dorothy says:

If I ever go looking for my heart's desire again, I won't look any further than my own backyard, because if it isn't there, I never really lost it to begin with.

If I may say, that is a terrible mantra. And I love that film. But anyway. (MGM movies are a hyperfixation - come and talk to me about them.) Mofftiss know that this is a fucked up end to a fantastic film, not least because it leaves Toto dying. In queer terms, this is a terrible end to the movie - queer film icon John Waters famously said:

So Mofftiss, with Gatiss being the good queer writer that he is, don’t take the backyard literally. Just a Dorothy’s heart’s desire was literally to be home on the farm, and that’s where she finds the impetus to wake up, what does Sherlock need to do to wake up?

I’m incapable of finding images on the web (my metas are so sparse in comparison to everyone else!) but it’s literally in his backyard, as he pushes down the fake wall to get into the garden where the answers are. And this time, home is much more complicated - the ancestry that is built up in Musgrave hall, which is metaphorically connected to the history of Sherlock Holmes as a character, is pushed down just like a wall in Sherlock’s mind, instead helping him to find an internal home, a unity with Eurus, the other part of himself. That’s the necessary home here, not the home-as-absolute-normality that TWoO seems to espouse, which is inevitably exclusive of queerness. And then we get that literal scene of Eurus waking up inside her bedroom from this nightmare scenario she has invented.

The original post also points out comparisons between John and the scarecrow and Sherlock and the tin man, but I think it’s more helpful to understand the theme linking the three friends of Dorothy (no pun intended ;) ). The idea here is that all of them are convinced that they lack something because of the way they are made, but of course they learn throughout the dream that they have it intrinsically. As I’ve mentioned above, Dorothy is where that logic falls down - it also doesn’t work as nicely thematically with the lion, because lions are not supposed to be cowardly - scarecrows, on the other hand, are supposed to be brainless, and tin men are supposed to lack hearts. The idea that you can go beyond the role assigned to you and still find the love you’re not allowed to have - that is peak EMP theory. Nothing better. And the fact that it ties back into the original dream movie - !!

I genuinely haven’t given this a huge amount of thought - these are cursory thoughts. I want to go and watch Wild at Heart and get back with more thoughts, because I’m pretty sure there will be a lot more parallels on overlaying TWoO onto a much darker story.

Anyway! @sagestreet​ @sarahthecoat​ @lukessense​ @therealsaintscully​ @possiblyimbiassed​ @ebaeschnbliah​ @raggedyblue​ @helloliriels​ if you’re interested!

#the wizard of oz #tjlc #meta #mine #johnlock #bbc sherlock #david lynch

[consumedkings-archive]

ancient names, part x

ancient names, pt. x

A John Seed/Original Female Character Fanfic

Ancient Names, pt x: how large the teeth

Masterlink Post

Word Count: ~7.2k (yes I am a clown)

Rating: M for now, rating will change in later chapters as things develop.

Warnings: Gore/violence, forced used of psychotropic drugs to induce hallucinations, spooky scaries (hi October!), implications of sexual assault though nothing specific, and uhhhhhhh liberal use of a shotgun. And you know, the usual things that come with Far Cry 5. Also, proofreader? I hardly know her.

Notes: So this chapter took quite a while to get around (thank you, writer's block), but it's here! And a spooky update, just in time for October, too! Yes, Elliot is hallucinating basically this entire chapter. What's real?? What isn't??? The world may never know.

I pulled a lot of inspiration from a LOT of medias/myths, so if you think you know what it is I would LOVE to hear from you and see if any of it comes through in my writing the way I want it to!

Special thanks to my lovely @starcrier, who has been a true homie throughout my wrestling with this chapter, and all of the lovelies here on tumblr and on AO3 who have sent in their feedback, chatted with me, and just all in all provided me with the support and inspiration I really needed to get this chapter done! I probably sound like a broken record by now, but the fact that I have managed to write this many chapters at all after finishing my first chaptered fic in a VERY long time just a few months ago is insane to me and certainly would not have happened without y'all.

Okay, sappy notes over. Enjoy! Thank y'all so much again!

She is twenty-four, and she cries under the tent of blankets that Joey has made for them.

It feels like she is seventeen, again, in a little fort that they make, but there are key differences: they are in Elliot’s apartment in the city, and Joey’s face is somber, and in the dark Elliot can feel the guttural, gut-wrenching grief sounds shaking her down to her skeleton.

Blanket tents were never for crying in, before. They were never a place to say, between gasping breaths, that she didn’t know why she let a man that she trusted touch her even when she didn’t want him to. How can she? If someone has never experienced the paralyzing fear of being completely out of control, of being helpless, how could it ever make sense?

Elliot knows that it doesn’t. She knows that Joey doesn’t understand completely, not really, and that it hurts her feelings that Elliot flinches when she moves too quickly, and that it stings to say the name of the man she had been dating—that his name tastes sour, like a venom, on her tongue now—and that when Joey tells her that she needs to tell someone what he did, it draws a noise of agony out of her not unlike the way an animal trapped sounds.

She does not sleep that night, or the next night, or the next, and finally when she is tired enough to be worn down she goes to a therapist. She has to, Joey says, or she will never get a job working with the law in Hope County, and Elliot knows she’s right so she does.

There are a lot of things that the therapist says. Trauma hits her the hardest. It blinks, a neon sign above her head, assigned to her so that all will know: that she is Trauma, that she has it, that it sits in her bones and makes a home out of her. Is that all I will ever be? She wonders. Trauma? Is that all that I have, now?

Each day is a series of motions, one after the other: waking up, getting up, standing and walking and breathing and existing, all the time. Each of those motions exhausts her. She files a restraining order; she goes to therapy; she takes the sleep medication but that is all she wants to take because otherwise she will feel too much unlike herself. She finishes her training with a clean bill of health from the doctor and her therapist and she packs her apartment, which hurts worse than maybe anything else, because each book and blanket and trinket packed away is a constant reminder of the person who had been there, who had stolen her safety from her in the very place that she was supposed to always feel safe.

But Hope County is waiting for her, and that is what she will take comfort in: that there is always a place for her, there.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was the worst-case scenario. In any other universe, in any other life, she would not have let herself be convinced to approach an enemy unarmed. Not even John’s flippant confidence that she could make a weapon out of anything instilled in her the idea that things would be alright, in the end.

That had been the only thought that could keep her going. Once I get Joey and get the hell out of Dodge, everything will be okay, her brain would say. Get Joey, get out. That’s all there is to it.

But that wasn’t all there was to it, anymore, and she knew that; she knew it while her heart hammered in her chest, while her skin itched and burned where the redhead had touched her like he was dripping in acid, while the blood rushed through her head in a violent tidal wave that made her feel like she was going to puke. They had stuffed a wet cloth into her mouth and hauled her away, out of sight of the Seeds, and now she sat—alone, tied, the cloth spit out onto the floor of the cabin they had left her in.

She was somehow both unaware of how much time was actually passing and fully confident that it had only been a half an hour; if she moved her head too fast (which was to say, at all) the world wobbled and swam around her. Elliot finally relented to burying her face into her knees and closing her eyes to try and stop the swimming nausea.

The door clicked open. She saw Ase, first, and behind her loomed the redhead. The woman was taller up close than Elliot would have thought—probably bridging five foot ten—which made the redhead much taller than she had thought, too.

I could kill her, she thought furiously, through the strange haze that had fallen over her. If I got my hands on her, I could.

“Hello, mor,” Ase said. Elliot saw the warmth blooming in her voice, like an aura welling up out of her, red and searing; the realization that they had certainly dipped the cloth in something that would ultimately be worse than just dying-by-chemical-ingestion hit her hard, sending her heart fluttering in a panic. It was the same brand of panic she had felt when John had found her in the field; wildly out of her control, as if she were being puppeted by something else, something larger than her.

The redhead closed the door behind them, and Ase closed what little distance that remained between the two of them, crouching in front of her. Elliot tried her best to muddle through the panic and muster up some hostility, but it was hard, when it felt like the floor was both sturdy and melting underneath her.

“Fuck you,” Elliot managed out, her mouth feeling like it was full of cotton balls. It didn’t seem as though her words had any effect on the blonde, and for a second she panicked, wondering if she had even said anything at all in the first place or if it had just been in her imagination.

“You left Kian with a few nasty bites, didn’t you?” Ase asked, her voice welling with amusement. “I did not want to stuff a tea-soaked washcloth into your mouth, but we couldn’t have you drawing any more blood.”

Elliot’s gaze slid to the redhead—Kian, she thought venomously—and the movement of her eyeballs felt like they were hitching unsteadily in her skull. So they had drugged her, again. What the fuck was it with cults and drugging people?

The woman reached for her, and instinctively, Elliot flinched. The gesture came a few seconds too late; the drug in her system, whatever it was they had soaked the cloth in, was already starting to wear her down.

“You shouldn’t do that,” Elliot said, as Ase untied the rope around her feet and then her hands, “if you want me to stop biting people.”

“I am not worried,” Ase replied sweetly. “You’re already looking more docile by the minute, mor.”

Elliot swallowed thickly; to do so took concentrated effort. “That isn’t my name.”

“It isn’t a name at all,” the blonde agreed unhelpfully, tossing the ropes to the side and coming to a stand. She smoothed her hands across the dark fabric of her dress, and then extended a long, elegant hand. “Now, do you want to see your friend?”

She felt her heart stutter painfully in her chest at the woman’s words. After having been tricked and toyed with by John, it was strange to think she was finally in the home stretch that she had been trying to reach these last few days; that finally, finally, all of her toil and trouble was bringing her back to Joey.

Briefly, the idea that she could take Joey and run--leave the Seeds to their own devices--fluttered through her brain. Leave the Seeds to clean up this mess on their own. Hopefully, the Resistance had already bolted out of Hope County and were well on their way elsewhere. If she grabbed Joey and got out--if she could get in touch with law enforcement outside of Hope County--

Elliot stared at the Swede's hand and tried to gather her thoughts up in one place. It felt too much like they had become marbles, spilling out of her hands every time she tried to focus. She took a breath and then forced herself to a stand, blatantly ignoring Ase's outstretched hand. Just the act of using her legs to stand felt a little like being on stilts; the world lurched and ground to a watery stop around her, and only confirmed, infuriatingly, what Ase had said--that she was in no shape to bolt, or fight for that matter.

"Come along, then," Ase said pleasantly, taking a few steps away from her. Those few steps made it look as though the ground stretched out for miles between them, and her stomach twisted. The blonde looked at her over her shoulder and smiled.

"Kian, help our friend," she murmured. The redhead stepped forward and reached for her, ever obedient to his master, and Elliot immediately gritted her teeth and took an unsteady step backward.

"Kian, don’t," she bit out, mimicking Ase’s honeyed tone as much as she could. And then, less sweet: "If you touch me again, you'll walk away with a lot more than a bite mark, fuckhead."

Kian flashed a smile that felt like a snake against her skin and gestured for her to go on ahead. "Go on, then."

Just being in his proximity again made her skin crawl; it felt still like his hand was around her throat, the heat of his breath against the shell of her ear. Even in the dizzying haze that had settled over her, she felt her heart leap uneasily into her throat at the memory.

Before she realized what was happening, Elliot's feet had carried her out around Kian and out of the cabin, trailing the beacon that Ase had become, a strange green aura undulating around her. I hate this, she thought, watching the way the trees around her shifted and bled into the night sky.

"How—how long was I in there?" She asked, falling into an uneasy pace next to Ase.

"A few hours," she replied, looking over at her. "Felt shorter?"

Yes, Elliot thought, but the word didn't come to her mouth. The ground slid under her feet; the world around her pulsed in time with her breaths, stretching and cinching in equal parts until she found herself standing in front of another of the cabins. In the distance, the sound of the lake water lapping at the shore echoed over and over in her head.

Ase pushed the door to the cabin open, and inside sat Joey Hudson.

She looked tired, days of exhaustion sitting heavy on her face, a dark shadow of sleeplessness and makeup both ringing her eyes. Joey had always been pretty, and now was no exception; the brunette, though her clothes were dirty and her eyes fluttered with tiredness, was just as lovely as she always was. The sight of her had Elliot’s head and heart swimming with emotion, rising up thick and high in her throat until she thought she might come unglued right there, in front of a psychotic woman.

But with the feeling of being on a seesaw unseating her nonstop, and the desperate, aching reminder of the person she had been missing all along, Elliot didn’t think almost anything about Ase. As far as she was concerned, in that moment, the woman ceased to exist; the same choking feeling that she’d felt when Jerome had said, you can tell me if it’s not okay. A relinquishing. A lifting of her burden. You don’t have to Atlas this thing alone.

“Joey,” Elliot said, the woman’s name coming out of her mouth hoarse and heavy. Joey’s eyes fluttered tiredly and she mustered up the closest thing to a smile.

“Hey, El,” Joey replied. As Elliot crossed the space between them and immediately crouched to kneel in front of her, the smile warmed into something more genuine. In an effort of lightness, the brunette said, “You should have called, I would have cleaned up.”

Elliot felt the soft, wrecked little sound, so close to a sob, more than she heard it; it was a choked almost-laugh, her hands fluttering absently as though unsure of where to land. “I tried,” she managed out, as thinking and speaking became harder, her jaw stiff and unyielding. “I tried, Joey—”

Joey nodded and said, “I know.”

“I will leave you,” Ase said lightly from the door, “but, Elliot? You only have a short time before you become fully open to the influence. I would drink some water.”

The blonde turned, leaving and closing the door behind her, leaving just the two of them there. By then, even while the world swam around her, and she thought she could see little sparks of orange light flying off of Joey, she threw her arms around the brunette and hugged her tightly. It took a minute for her to realize that she was crying--happy, relieved tears, the kind that came suddenly and without warning.

“I was so worried about you,” Elliot murmured between sniffles, pulling back and immediately searching for restraints. There were none. Unlike John Seed’s version of Joey’s captivity, no duct tape covered her mouth, nothing bound her hands together; she was just sitting in there—probably knowing well enough that running would have been a worse idea. “I thought John had you, and then he got me, and then he said he’d pawned you off to Faith, and—”

“Slow down,” Joey laughed, the sound not quite reaching deep enough in the cavity of her chest to be a real one. “You have crazy eyes, El.”

“They gave me something,” she explained, pressing the heel of her palm against her eye. “They did it once before, but it was stronger then.”

Joey handed her the bottle of water she had been nursing, uncapping it for her. “They gave it to me too, once,” she replied. “But not again. Maybe I didn’t give them the response they were looking for. Elliot, these people are--there’s something really wrong here. They keep talking about this thing in the woods, asking if I’ve seen it...”

Elliot took a big swallow of the water, shifting on her knees and then taking another. She felt absolutely parched—the water tasted a little funny, but she wasn’t sure if she trusted her own sense of taste right in that moment anyway. “We have to get out,” she said. Whatever the cult believed in or practiced didn’t matter; what mattered was getting the fuck away from them.

She was certain she could hear Ase’s voice just outside. She lowered her voice, trying her hardest to make sure she was whispering, “We were hoping to—I mean, I was hoping to—the plan went wrong, Joey, I’m sorry. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. But we can still get out.”

“Where’s everyone else?” Joey asked. “Sheriff Whitehorse, and Burke, and…”

Her voice trailed off absently, and Elliot could feel the brunette’s eyes on her. She hesitated, taking Joey’s hands in her own before she replied, “I don’t know.”

“Then who is ‘we’? Jerome and the others?”

“No, Jo, it’s--”

The door clicked open behind them, echoing once, twice, three times in Elliot’s head before she turned to see Ase looming in the doorway. Long, dark, the sharp angle of her jawline and the high slope of her cheeks making her look more severe, more beautiful than before.

“It is time for you to see,” she said, her voice light. “You will have time with your friend later.”

“What about Faith?” Elliot asked, struggling to her feet. “I want to see that Faith is okay too. That you haven’t—”

“After,” Ase replied, her voice startlingly ironclad.

“Joey comes with me.” She tried again, tried to force her voice to firmness, to assertion. But Ase only smiled, tranquil now despite the hardness of her voice. She crossed the small space between them, looming in Elliot’s vision--eclipsing all other light, taking away all sense of anything else outside of her.

“She stays,” Ase replied, not unkindly. “This is only for you to see.”

She crossed the distance of the cabin between them and reached for Elliot, taking her hand. The contact made Elliot’s skin buzz. She was so tired--so tired of this stretching and pulling of herself, so tired of the way their drugs made everything somehow more than what she could handle and forced her to handle it anyway.

“Joey—”

Elliot turned back to look at the brunette, reaching for her as Ase pulled her along; Joey had pulled herself to a stand and was trying to follow after them, saying something like, it’s okay, I don’t mind coming, really, more practiced at polite coercion than Elliot was. Before Joey could reach the door after them, Elliot saw the broad, tall form of Kian blocking out the doorway, saying something to Joey in Swedish.

“Hey! Leave her alone, you fuck—”

Ase pulled on her hand, hard, yanking her until she was stumbling after her sleek figure. Out in the night, where the air was chilly with an early-Autumn coldness and Elliot could see her breath floating out of her mouth, she almost felt at peace for a second. Everything was still. Incredibly still, the way the surface of a pond was before a stone landed.

One step at a time, she walked her to the edge of the campground. They broke the treeline, hand-in-hand, until they could see Sacred Skies Lake stretched out below them. Elliot craned her neck to try and see the cabin where they were keeping Joey, but the trees blocked most of her vision of the campground.

“Look, there,” Ase said, interrupting her thoughts. She gestured down at the far treeline. When Elliot turned to look, she saw nothing; only darkness in the still woods. Too still, she thought now—still in the way the forest was when a predator had arrived and all the prey had fled.

The lake rippled below them, and then smoothed out, dark and clear as glass. She tried desperately to see--really see, not just what the drugs were making her see, as though she could brute force her way through the barrage of sensations overwhelming her.

And then: “Hey!”

It was a woman’s voice, thrown from somewhere down by the lake. Elliot felt apprehension crawling across her skin. She didn’t know why it was making her nervous, but she strained to listen for it again all the same.

The voice said again, “Hey, Elli!” and she felt her stomach drop. It was her mother’s voice, the sweet Georgia drawl that her mother had always sported, calling to her from the woods. Calling for her.

“Mama?” Elliot managed out, her voice thick and hoarse and bubbling before it even left her mouth. She felt Ase’s eyes on her, inquisitive, but all she could think about was I have to get her out of here, what is she doing here? Why isn’t she with the others?, so louder this time, she went, “Mama, I’m here!”

She took a step forward. It was Ase’s hand that stopped her, a gentle shake of her head. Elliot looked back at the woman for some kind of answer, but her expression was empty of anything that might have been helpful; on it was only the serene, delicate smile of a woman enthralled.

There was a stretch of silence. Something dark shifted in the trees. Something big, rippling leaves and branches as it moved. 

And then: “Mama?”

It was her voice.

It called, again, “Mama, I’m here?”, and the pitch and timbre felt the same as her own voice, like she’d shouted into an echoed canyon, but it was wrong. It was all wrong. It sounded like something trying her out, feeling out the way she sounded. Practicing.

The air bubbled around her with some kind of emotion. It popped, pulled tight, stretching over her vision like saran wrap, until it hurt to keep her eyes open, until she thought desperately that all she wanted to do was close her eyes—but she couldn’t. She had to stay awake, stay clear, stay conscious. For herself, for Joey and Boomer and for—

(Whether you like it or not, you and I are on the same side.)

It called, from deep in the treeline beyond the lake, again. “I’m here!” The voice pitched and pulled between words, like whatever it was kept trying to get the exact cadence of her words—trying her out, tasting. Sliding beneath her skin.

“What the fuck is that?” Elliot whispered. Ase smiled serenely at her, and gave her hand a squeeze.

“Look harder,” Ase murmured. “You will see It.”

She took a step forward, her heart thundering in her chest, trying to see beyond the utter stillness of the forest. Nothing moved; nothing breathed in time with her, anymore; where the drumbeat of the world had once felt it was intrinsically tied to her, she was now cut off from it, in a cold, dead space somewhere beyond.

Something in the trees shifted again, and rumbled.

“It has been waiting for you,” Ase murmured, coming up behind Elliot. Her voice was silky, warm, spinning a web around and around her until it made her feel—

Safe.

“What has?” Elliot managed out, swallowing thickly.

“We call it the Father,” she said. “It talks to us, when we are open to it. In voices we recognize, in the voices of our loved ones, so that it does not scare us.”

Her hands were on Elliot’s shoulders, gently squeezing, and she thought she was going to throw up. The trees in the distance warped and bent, swallowed up by something big and dark and humming, the vibration of it melting around her thrumming beneath her skin.

“It tells us, Elliot, that the end of the world is here. Your own Eden’s Gate knows it, do they not?” Ase’s voice was more urgent now; Elliot didn’t have time to think about how she said your own Eden’s Gate before she was plunging on. “They know it. The only difference between us and them is that we serve It, that we help to usher it in. Just as we once took, so do we give back to It—life, cyclic and infinite. You know it. You understood the words, in the flowers, didn’t you?”

My heart aches for you.

Be gentle with me.

I come soon.

“You’re fucking crazy,” she said, the words coming out slick with panic, spilling out of her before she could stop them. Her shoulders scrunched up to her jaw to try and brush Ase’s hands off of her. “You’re insane. You—crazy bitch—”

They were John’s words, not her own, but it was all she could muster up; the woman’s face remained light and serene, turning Elliot to look at her now.

“It waits for you,” she insisted, her voice wobbling around Elliot like the reverb of a bass drum. “I told you that you would always come back to us. I knew when I saw your color.” Her gaze swept over Elliot, almost affectionate. “White, in perfect balance.”

“Stop touching me,” Elliot managed out, pushing Ase’s hands weakly off of her. The strange thrumming persisted under her skin, a violent cacophony as she tried to block out the sound of her own voice beckoning her from the woods. Hey! Mama, I’m here! It said, begging her to follow, begging her to investigate.

Breathing became harder. It felt like she was gulping in lungfuls of water, eeking out whatever oxygen she could, but no matter where she looked to try and get Ase out of her mind she only saw dark trees; bending and curling and pulsing in time with her heartbeat.

“Mor,” Ase said, taking Elliot’s face in her hands like a lover would, “Mother, that’s what you are. For us, to us, while we serve It.”

“Fuck you,” she spit out, but her voice cracked instead, the fear welling up inside of her like a tidal wave. “I’ll—”

Ase shook her head. “I told you, it is a cycle,” she whispered, pressing their foreheads together. “Wherever you go, wherever you run, It will wait for you. It waits for us all, Elliot, and it will have you. As It gives, so too, does it take.”

She opened her mouth to respond when the loud crack of a gunshot echoed just a few feet away. Ase’s head snapped around viciously, her hand still gripping Elliot’s face with a firm, unforgiving hold; even in the dark, even with the drug wreaking havoc on her system, Elliot recognized the filthy backwater whooping of Peggies.

The flash of headlights through the trees suddenly brought everything back to life, the sound roaring in through Elliot’s head like someone had flicked the mute button back off again.

She turned to look back at the lake. Whatever had been lurking there was gone, now. The sound of feet hitting the dirt, shouted words in a foreign language, and the sweeping realization that they might yet still get out of here sent her heart hammering.

Ase pulled on her, hard, until she was stumbling after her. She craned her neck to try and see if she recognized anyone, to see if she could see one familiar face, but where the gunshots were echoing was already far enough that she could only see the brief flicker of headlights.

The door to the cabin opened. Warm light flooded her vision, splintering behind her eyelids as Ase pushed her inside and said, with a sudden and violent amount of poison, “Stay.”

Everything felt like she was swimming in molasses; each movement harder than the last, each breath taking more and more of her concentration. The door slammed shut. In the time it had taken Elliot to will her venom into existence, Ase had released her hand and swept out of the cabin, leaving her alone with Joey. Through the curtains, she could see dark shapes shifting and melting, one into another, and she took in a stuttering breath.

“Are you okay?” Joey asked immediately, reaching for her. “What did she say? When they did it to me, she kept asking if I could see—but it was just trees, out there, to me. El, look at me.”

“We have to get out,” she said. Her voice was hoarse, cracking with panic. “We have to get the fuck out of here, Joey. These people are—so much worse than Eden’s Gate—”

Voices catapulted in volume outside, tires squealing and doors slamming. All of it felt too loud, even with a wall between herself and the violence—like someone had cracked the volume up to one-hundred and then pulled the knob off.

“What the fuck? Are those Peggies?” Joey whispered, glancing out the window. “I do not want to be in the crossfire of two fucking cults. Elliot, when are the others coming? Where are they?”

Elliot swallowed thickly. As the sounds of cacophony increased outside, reminding her that she had made something like a deal with the devil, she took in a deep breath. She didn’t have time to think about the woods, or whatever it was she thought she’d seen in there, or the way that Ase had gripped her face and said, It waits for you.

“Right,” she said, trying to push those thoughts somewhere far down and out of sight. “So, listen, Joey, about the others, they’re—gone.”

Joey stared at her. “Gone?” she repeated.  Horror started to creep into her tone. “Like—dead—?”

“No, I mean—they’re gone. Or they should be,” she added quickly, heading towards the window to look out, “I told them to evacuate Hope County when I ran into these crazies the first time.”

“Okay,” the brunette began, slowly, “so… before, when you said we and—that you had a plan…”

“Right,” Elliot replied, her head swimming a little. “Yeah, a plan. Remember when I said that John got me—”

Joey shook her head, not because she didn’t remember but because she already saw where this was going. “Elliot—”

“—and then he told me that he pawned you off to Faith, and—well, Joey,” Elliot managed, “there wasn’t any way I was going to lose one iota of a chance of getting you back.”

“Fuck,” Joey groaned, pressing her hands to her eyes. “Fuck, Elliot, please tell me you didn’t—”

“Well, look, Joey—”

Something rattled the door. It struck Elliot with a note of panic that they had been locked in, and she didn’t know if in that moment she felt worse to know that they had closed them in or if it was a comfort, considering the chaos that was probably ensuing outside.

Worse, something in her head said. It always feels worse, to be trapped.

Someone banged on the door three times, and then through it came a blissfully familiar voice: “Elliot? Are you in there?”

Elliot felt a wave of relief wash over her. She never thought she would see the day where hearing John Seed’s voice would bring her relief, let alone comfort: but it did.

She hurried to the door, rattling the doorknob for good measure. “Yes,” she replied quickly, the words coming out a bit hoarse, so she tried again, louder this time: “Yeah, John, I’m in here. Can you break the window?”

“I’ll do you one better. Get back from the door.”

She did as he said, reaching for Joey just mere seconds before she heard a concussive splintering of wood and metal from the other side of the door, which swung open shortly thereafter. She was not wrong to think that the outside was chaos; she could hear it more clearly now, but almost none of it mattered, because John Seed was standing there with a shotgun in his arms.

“You could have just broken the window open,” Elliot managed out, around the complicated mess of feelings welling up inside of her and her tongue feeling two sizes too big in her mouth. “Idiot.”

“That’s a lot of attitude you’re giving your rescuer,” John replied, cocking the shotgun with an affirmative click, click, the plastic shell clattering onto the front porch of the cabin. “What are you standing around for? Let’s get moving, hellcat.”

“I’m not going with him,” Joey bit out venomously. “That psycho kidnapped me and held me hostage!”

“Oh, Hudson, that was so long ago,” John drawled, glancing over his shoulder at the erupting chaos behind him. “Keep up with the times, won’t you? Elliot and I are partners, now.”

It shouldn’t have felt dirty, hearing John Seed say that to Joey—because they were partners, because he didn’t have to come for her if he had Faith already and he did anyway—but it did. It felt traitorous.

“You fuckhead!” Joey snapped. “If any of our friends are dead, it’s your fault!”

“Okay!” Elliot announced, her voice high and panicked. It felt weird to be the middleman, the one demanding that everyone be calm. “Okay, let’s just—everyone shut the fuck up, okay? I am hours into a fucking drug trip and there is no time to debate the moral ethics of teaming up with a cult leader to escape another cult leader!”

Joey’s jaw clenched as she stared at John, her eyes narrowing, Elliot’s hand still firmly gripped in hers. She looked at Elliot for a moment, and then—

“Fine,” she ground out.

“Great,” John replied.

“Awesome,” Elliot said, taking in a deep breath. “Joey, is there any medicine in the cabinet? We should grab it.” She paused, looking at John for a moment, her gaze sweeping over him. He was unmarked. Unscarred. Splattered with blood, but it didn’t bother her—rather, assured her. “Did you—did you get Faith?”

He watched Joey let go of her hand and cross the room to gather up what few things she had—the half-drank water bottle, some pills from the cabinet in the bathroom that may or may not have expired, Elliot thought—and then he said, “First thing. She’s waiting for us down by the lake.”

“Good,” Elliot murmured, nodding and swallowing thickly. For a second, a strange silence stretched between them, and then John took a few steps into the cabin and he reached for her.

“They didn’t hurt you?” he asked, his voice dropping in volume, his fingers brushing her jaw and tilting her face to get a look at her neck where Kian’s fingers had dug into her skin.

She felt her lashes flutter, the feeling of his fingers skimming the still-tender spots sending strange vibrations rattling through her skull. Her skin didn’t crawl the same way it had when Kian had grabbed her, but heat did bloom in her face, and she felt it crawling all the way down her neck. His gaze darted over her face, lingering on her mouth for a heartbeat in their close proximity.

“Stupid,” she muttered, brushing his hand off. “Of course they didn’t. You should be checking on Ase’s little boy-pet.”

John grinned, the expression drenched in something close to pride. “I should have known.”

“Let’s go.” It was Joey’s voice that interrupted, slicing right through the moment, dousing out the flames Elliot felt in her chest. The brunette grabbed her hand and pulled her through the doorway, out into the cold, black night—a night swelling and vibrating with sound now, no longer ruptured by a stillness that sat like condensation in her lungs but noise, bubbling and sparking in the air like electricity.

Joey stopped, ducking and pulling Elliot back behind the next door cabin when the sound of gunfire pierced through the night. John slipped just ahead of them and said, “Hey, maybe let the guy with the gun go first?”

“Maybe the guy with the gun should be covering our asses instead,” Joey retorted. She pushed the water bottle into Elliot’s free hand and nudged her ahead. “C’mon, get a move on, Elli.”

John glanced back at her, and his expression said, Elli, huh? That’s cute. Elliot glared at him, but there was a lightness in her when she did—it didn’t matter, that infuriating way he cocked his grin at her, like he was equal parts pleased with himself and proud of her ferocity. It didn’t matter, because she could see the hilltop where Ase had shown her the lake, and once they got down they were home free, and John Seed could feel however he wanted to about her.

She had Joey. She would be free to go, and leave the Seeds behind her.

Shouting clipped through the air in the distance, and John glanced back behind them, exhaling through his mouth. No doubt the members of Eden’s Gate that were creating this diversion (and that’s what it was, a diversion) were getting mowed down, obliterated by the organized, methodical killing that the Family was capable of.

Elliot glanced back. Through the gaps in the trees, she could see bodies dropping and crumpling against the ground, pulled and yanked out of trucks that had been driven right up against the clearing. Lambs to the slaughter, she thought hazily, her fingers slipping out of Joey’s hand. What am I, then?

Wherever you go, wherever you run, It will wait for you. 

Someone screamed. She saw the light of it, pinching off of them in sharp, rapid bursts of yellow, swimming through the air until disappearing into the night sky above her where the boughs of the trees stretched impossibly far. Each massacre, each bloody slaughter ending life after life, the residue filtering through the air in ghostly wisps of color.

As It gives, so too, does it take.

“El,” John said, taking a step down the hill, “we have to go.”

“Joey?” she asked. “She--”

“On her way down the hill, already.” He reached for her, hand outstretched, ignoring that she seemed to keep losing time. “Let’s go.”

Elliot paused at the top of the hill; her gaze darted, without much thought, to the treeline—it’s nothing, she thought to herself, I just want to check.

Something lurched in the treeline. Big, breaking and snapping trees, and Elliot felt a breath slip out of her, violently departing her lungs.

“John,” she began, uneasily, “I don’t think I can—”

“You’re fine, El, just keep—”

Joey called something from down below them; irritation flickered across John’s expression, and he turned away from her to take another step down the hill and call back, “Yeah, we’re—just sit tight down there, Hudson…”

Elliot took an unsteady step backward, and just as she did, she felt someone grab her arm.

“Not you,” Ase hissed at her, yanking her hard until she stumbled back from the hillside. There was a frantic, wild energy about her now, infernal, bubbling up out of the calm, polished veneer. “Not you, mor, not this time. You get to stay and see what you’ve done.”

Elliot felt cold earth and pine needles beneath palms, prickling through her jeans as she hit the ground. Her stomach lurched; she thought she was going to throw up, but when she turned around to see Ase stalking towards her, a different kind of nausea welled up in her. For the first time in a long time, Elliot felt real, cold fear in her, searing through her like a venom.

She wanted to call for John, or Joey, or anyone—but her jaw felt like it was wrenched tight, and violent sparks of light were rushing off of Ase right in front of her eyes.

“You’re insane,” she managed out unsteadily, the heat in her voice whipped away by the panic inside of her.

“I told you,” Ase said, taking two steps closer to her, “no matter where you go, you will always—”

Something loud and concussive echoed. Elliot heard flesh and sinew tear until the pressure of something greater; the arterial spray of it peppered her vision, splattering across her face until the world looked like it was doused in red film.

Ase’s expression went slack as she sank to her knees in front of Elliot, and in the dark of the night, Elliot could see the blood splatter of the gaping wound in Ase’s stomach just before she slumped forward. She wasn’t dead, yet—as John took a step forward, cocking the shotgun again, Elliot thought about the way Ase’s stomach had been spilling out of her.

“John?” she asked, feeling very small and very far away. A part of her brain was vaguely aware of the sounds of the firefight echoing in the night, of voices shouting closer to her, but she couldn’t think about any of that. All she could think about is the way John was looking at her, the shotgun propped up and ready to fire again, though he didn’t. Not yet.

Something brushed her hand. Elliot looked back and saw Ase’s glassy eyes, her fingers brushing Elliot’s, reaching for her. Blood dripped out of her mouth, and the green light that Elliot had thought she’d seen around her now was beginning to dim. Her lips parted, her gaze flickering absently over her face.

“Do you see?”

Ase interlaced their fingers. The earth below her stretched out, pulling her, sweeping like a neverending conveyor belt that only managed to make her sicker.

Another concussive blast muted out the world. She heard nothing but the ringing in her ears as the back of Ase’s head caved in, their eyes locked and their fingers interlaced, like friends. Like sisters.

“No,” Elliot said, the sound coming out of her like some kind of agonized noise, “no no no—”

Something firm and warm gripped her shoulders. A hand reached up, pushing against her jaw until she was forced to turn her eyes away from Ase’s mouth moving silently.

It was John. Eclipsing her vision, filling it up until there nothing else. John, pulling her to her feet, wiping the blood from her face and saying something—something that she couldn’t hear, her head vibrating with the residue of the shotgun blast that had covered her in gore—pulling her to the hillside, pulling her down.

The world swam and melted around her as John pulled her down the hill, one hand gripping hers and the other steadying her as she stumbled and swayed. She tried to look elsewhere, anywhere that wasn’t John, John who had looked like maybe he was hesitating and then had blown Ase’s head to pieces, but she couldn’t.

At the bottom of the hill, Joey immediately grabbed her away from John. “El? Elli? Are you okay?”

She didn’t know what to say. The feeling of Ase’s fingers reaching for her, interlacing with hers, stuck to her ribs. Elliot thought about the curve of the back of Ase’s head, concave from the shotgun shell, the carmine spray of the woman’s wound coating her face.

“If you want to stand around down here and chit chat, that’s fine.” It was Jacob’s voice. When had Jacob gotten there? Why was he there? She watched him grab Faith’s hand and pull the girl along, heading further down to the lake. “We’re leaving.”

“When—” Elliot began, still dazed, feeling like the world was becoming a watercolor painting around her. “When did Jacob—”

“Drink some water,” Joey said, holding the water bottle out to her, “and we’ll talk about it later, but right now we need to move, Elli.”

She nodded numbly, clutching Joey’s hand as she started to walk, John’s radiating warmth on the other side of her. Elliot glanced at him through the corner of his eyes for any indication that he felt, at all, any emotion about what he’d just done—but he only looked quietly troubled, his fingers brushing hers as they walked.

He’d said to her, grinning slick, yours must surely be the sin of wrath. But she didn’t feel so very wrathful now, Ase’s blood on her face and the world falling apart around her. She watched him, glancing around through the trees, checking the chaos behind them, the slaughterhouse he had led his lambs to.

Not this one. John’s voice, hissing in her ear, as she gasped around lungfuls of water. This one’s not clean.

John’s hands on either side of her face, gripping, grounding her to the earth when she felt like she was going to float away, when it felt like the earth was slipping out from beneath her feet. John, not grimacing or flinching when her nails dug into his arm to keep her present, to keep her anchored.

Which one are you? she thought, staring at him until her eyes burned, until he looked over at her inquisitively. Which John are you?

John, glowing with pride at Joseph’s praise. John, irritably telling her to smoke a cigarette because he knew from one casual conversation that it would relax her. John, his fingers brushing the skin just below her collarbone, saying maybe we’ll tattoo it here, just over your heart. John, calling her a killer.

By the pricking of my thumbs.

#far cry 5 #john seed #john seed x deputy #john seed/ofc #far cry fic #my writing #john seed/original female character #am i clown? yes #does that stop me from posting as much as i would like? also yes

[chyrstis]

Character Study

@faithchel​  and @scarlettkat86  were kind enough to tag me waaaaay back for this one (thank you both! <3), and after nearly losing this twice to Tumblr eating the draft, I can finally post it. *phew*

Tagging: @sharky-broshaw @amistrio @foofygoldfish @shallow-gravy @ma-sulevin @teamhawkeye @guileandgall @painterofhorizons @fadedjacket @redroci @lxmbert @princess-underthemountain​ @mackie-hattwie @words-and-seeds @geronimo-11 @stvnningstrike @raisinghellinotherworlds @shelliechen @hawkfurze  and anyone else that’s interested! And if you’ve already completed this, don’t mind me at all, unless you’ve got another OC you’d love to share. :D

Deputy Hana Vao

LAYER 01: THE OUTSIDE  

NAME: Hana Vao

EYE COLOUR: Dark brown, almost black.

HAIR STYLE / COLOUR: Auburn hair tied back in a low messy bun. She doesn’t have the patience to put in any bobby pins and try to smooth it out, especially when her hair’s wavy enough to try to escape on its own. So, it’s quick, it gets it out of the way, and it’s easy enough to fix if it ever falls out.

HEIGHT: 5′6″!

CLOTHING STYLE: Jeans, t-shirts, boots/sneakers, and her red motorcycle jacket are outfit staples. She likes to dress in a combo of comfortable and functional, but with a bit of the punk/rocker vibe going on. Also, at least one of the articles of clothing’ll have red, because she can’t go a day without having her favorite color on her or with her.

BEST PHYSICAL FEATURE: She’d guess her eyes (all while batting her lashes exaggeratedly), but others would say her smile. It’s something that she’ll do easily without thinking or holding it back, and it’s hard to find her without one. Over time they start to become a little more infrequent, but if anyone’s able to get a smile out of her, it’s never a small thing. It’ll be bright and paired with a laugh, as she lights up completely.

LAYER 02: THE INSIDE

FEAR:  That she’s the one to break and ruin things by getting involved. That people are worse off for knowing her.

GUILTY PLEASURE: Period dramas/romance flicks. They’ll have her on the edge of her seat, and if she reaches for your hand during a critical moment, she’ll have a death-grip on it too. It’s all in the high drama, man. It gets her, bad.

BIGGEST PET PEEVE: Anyone talking over her or down to her, and ignoring her input. Being told she doesn’t care.

AMBITIONS FOR THE FUTURE: Finding stability. Finding home, and a place she wouldn’t mind waking up in every day. Knowing she has a job where she’s able to be useful, and knowing that she has people she can depend on for help if needed, and that she trusts enough to want to reach out to.

In the short term? To not royally fuck up any of this any further. To get to tomorrow, and have it be a safer, happier one.

LAYER 03: THOUGHTS

FIRST THOUGHTS WAKING UP: *slaps at the alarm clock* Oh Jesus, no. Just five more minutes...

WHAT THEY THINK ABOUT MOST: Where to head to next, what’s the news looking like up north, east, west? More than a few of her ridiculous movies to help illustrate the plans she’d like to pull off next. How ridiculous Sharky is, and how much she loves him for it. How much of an asshole John is and how she needs to start charging him rent if he’s going to stick around in her thoughts like this

WHAT THEY THINK ABOUT BEFORE BED: What to do tomorrow. How she really hopes a spider won’t crawl into her bag. How Grace’s is doing, if she’s resting enough. *once in bed* How Sharky’s able to snore so damn loud, and put off so much heat. Just a rambling stream of things that tend to cover all bases, as her brain slowly shuts itself off.

WHAT THEY THINK THEIR BEST QUALITY IS: Being able to put a smile on someone’s face. To take their mind off of what’s concerning them even for a little while, and she’ll make an absolute fool of herself if she has to. And if they don’t feel like sharing or saying anything at all? She’ll be there to offer a shoulder if they need it.

LAYER 04: EITHER OR

SINGLE OR GROUP DATES: Both she’s great with, but one-on-one movie dates she’s the most fond of. She has to be able to watch at least one bad movie with them, and it’s the only way to be sure.  

TO BE LOVED OR RESPECTED: She wants both, but if she’s not respected, there isn’t enough love in the world to substitute for it. 

BEAUTY OR BRAINS:  She’s got a weakness for a pretty face, but intelligence can be equally hot to her too. Just as long as the person in question doesn’t use it as an excuse to be an insufferable dick.

DOGS OR CATS: Dogs are adorable to her, but she’s weak for cats. There’s a good chance that if you have a cat, she’ll at one point be on the floor, reaching out them cautiously, hoping they’ll approach her only to have someone walk in on her.

LAYER 05: DO THEY

LIE: Yes, and when she does it’s mostly lying by omission.

BELIEVE IN THEMSELVES: She’s working on it. Her friends and family believe in her, though, and that’ll have to do for now.

BELIEVE IN LOVE: Yes. She’ll crack jokes and downplay her feelings, but she’s a romantic at heart, and believes in it enough to give her heart a proper beating in the process.

WANT SOMEONE: Yes. Much as it hurts for a while going in either direction, and much as she didn’t plan on any of it, period. 

LAYER 06: HAVE THEY

BEEN ON STAGE: Oh yeah, and if it’s a karaoke stage, it’s not a question of if, it’s a question of when.

DONE DRUGS: Only a handful. She sticks to cigarettes and alcohol as her main vices.

CHANGED WHO THEY WERE TO FIT IN: When Hana was younger, she’d often try new things in the hopes of catching the eye of anyone she admired, but never was able to change the core of what she was like or about. That led to more rejections than she would’ve liked, and in some cases, taking more risks in the hopes of impressing them.

LAYER 07: WHAT’S THEIR

FAVORITE COLOR: Red. Whenever she wears it she feels like she can take on the world.

FAVORITE ANIMAL: She loves cats, and red animals in general – cardinals and foxes, plus goldfish and koi, because orange is cool too, darn it.

FAVORITE BOOK: If pressed (and a little inebriated) she’ll admit it’s Pride and Prejudice, though she’s only seen adaptations of it. She always meant to start it someday, but doesn’t get a chance to until years down the line.

(John somehow unearths a copy in the bunker and gives it to her. Which she starts, but then persuades him to switch off on chapters as he reads to her, and it’s a hell of a lot easier to get him to do it than she anticipates)

FAVORITE GAME: To limit it to a few: Truth or Dare, a million card games (including Strip Poker), Pictionary, and Charades.

LAYER 08: AGE

DAY THEIR NEXT BIRTHDAY WILL BE: Oct 6th.

HOW OLD THEY WILL BE: (at the start of FC5) 32!

LAYER 09: I…

I LOVE: “Cheesy 80′s flicks, a night in with some pizza and friends or a date, riding on my bike, just...” *sighs happily* “All of the above.”

I FEEL: “Tired. So damn tired. ...But that’s the lack of coffee talking, so if you could point me towards the nearest source I’d really appreciate it.”

I HIDE: *someone points out a huge mottled bruise poking up past the collar of her shirt and Hana tugs at her shirt to cover more*

“Hmm? Oh, that? It’s nothing. Yeah, I know it looks bad, but you should see the other guy.”

I MISS: “…My mom. I don’t think that’ll ever change.”

I WISH: “I hadn’t been such a stupid kid at times. I wasn’t thinking, just...” *she pauses, and chews on her lip as she stares at the ground* “I don’t know. I should’ve been better. Done more. Been more.”

#deputy hana #/finally/ #I feel like I've been wanting to complete this for a month now and that's probably not too far off base #and if this gets eaten again I'm going to be so upset

[hyperion-moonbabe-art3mis]

Caught In Between: 05. Dinner Party

IMPORTANT!!! This is content from my original blog @hyperion-moonbabe​ . It’s being reposted here as this is now my main blog.

Summary: Athena Dumont has finally found a place to call home after many years of foster homes and traveling. She had finally tamed her supernatural side and just wanted to live a normal teenage life. She quickly discovers that there is nothing normal about her hometown, Mystic Falls and gets sucked right back into the supernatural world.

Post Date: 04.03.20

Word count: 3k

Based off: 02x15 “The Dinner Party”

Masterlist

I wake up to a loud knock on my door, “What?!” I sleepily ask yelling from my bed.

“Damon just wanted me to make sure you’re up, so you can come with us to the grill,” Damon’s new personal blood bag, Andie Star, said politely from the other side. I do have to say Andie is very nice and I really don’t approve how Damon is using her, she doesn’t deserve it. I just ignored her and turned to go back to sleep. A few minutes later I heard the door open but ignore it.

“Hey, sleepyhead you’re coming with Andie and I to meet Ric at the grill,” Damon says clearly annoyed. The only response I give him was a pillow thrown to his face.

“Come on, get up,” Damon says struggling to lift me from the bed, but I just ragdoll.

“I don’t wanna,” I pout like a five-year-old. “Why am I always stuck with you?” I ask finally lifting my own body weight.

“Because you just are. Now get ready we’re leaving in 10,” Damon leaves without shutting my door, forcing me to get up if I wanted any privacy.

I get dressed and meet Damon and Andie downstairs. We make our way over to the Mystic Grill and find a table to sit down at with Alaric. I take a seat next to Alaric while Andie and Damon sit in the booth, we start to take about how Elijah had a visit with Elena’s aunt, Jenna, “Other than your lecture on the history of Mystic Falls, did you get anything out of Elijah?” Damon questions Alaric.

“No, it was boring. Of course, Jenna thinks he’s charming,” Alaric responds annoyed at Jenna’s opinion on him.

“You sounded jealous. Sound a bit jealous?” Damon asks turning to Andie. I just roll my eyes at how he has to point out everything.

“Kinda do,” Andie agrees.

“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this here,” Alaric says and glances at Andie slightly.

“I can agree with that,” I glance over at Andie as well.

“Andie, she’s been compelled not to divulge my secrets. Haven’t you?” Damon responds putting his arm around her back as they kiss. I just silently gag to myself at how gross they’re being.

“Mmm. My lips are sealed,” Andies says with a slight baby voice.

“This is just gross,” I say and glance over at Alaric who has a disgusted look as well.

“Ah, there’s Jenna with her new boyfriend. Hi.” Damon says as he catches Jenna’s and Elijah’s attention.

“Hey, guys,” Jenna says as they make their way over to our table.

“So, I hear you two had quite a meeting of historical minds today,” Damon states.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” Jenna says clearly not knowing how to respond and Elijah just smiles trying to act well, not him.

“Well, as much as I’d like to continue this, I’ve got papers to grade,” Alaric says as he puts some money on the table and starts to get up.

“And I have better places to be, Damon you’ll be handling my bill, right?” I say and start to get up as well.

“No, you know what? We should continue this. Let’s have a dinner party,” Andie suggests.

“Ooh, my girl. Full of good ideas. I’ll be happy to host. Say tonight. Maybe?” Damon suggests even further.

“It’s good for me. Jenna?” Andie questions.

“I don’t know if tonight works–” Alaric starts.

“Yeah, I’m free,” Jenna interrupts not wanting Alaric to answer for her.  She and Alaric make faces at each other.

“It’d be a pleasure,” Elijah says accepting the invite graciously.

“Well, have fun. I’m sure, you being adults, won’t want a–” I say before I’m interrupted.

“No, I think it’d be great for you to join us, Athena,” Andie adds.

“Another good idea from my girl. Great,” Damon says not letting me out of it.

Damon, Andie and I head back to the house, “Now how about my two girls prepare for the party tonight and get to know each other. I need to make a little visit to a very unpleasurable doppelganger,” Damon says as he gathers some items up.

“I’m not your girl,” I respond and roll my eyes at him. Damon continues to gather stuff up and head out the door.

“You know as much as Damon teases and is mean to you, he does care about you,” Andie says as we make our way to the kitchen.

“Says the blood bag, no offense. I mean you really don’t deserve this,” I say back.

“None taken. But I do care for him actually, he does need someone there for him. I wanna be that person. He may compel me but he can’t tell me what to think,” She explains.

“I see what you mean. I was in the same boat with him two years ago. I just don’t want to see you hurt,” I say as I start to prepare some food.

“Thank you,” She responds as she helps me prepare the food.

Andie and I continue to talk, prepare and cook food. A few hours pass and we hear the doorbell ring, I go to open it to find Alaric and Jenna at the door with a half-done dessert in hand. Andie and Jenna go to set up the dining table while Damon and Alaric talk in the library. I go upstairs to prepare myself for seeing more of Andie and Damon together, that and make myself a little more presentable.

I make my way down to the dining hall, “Anything I can help with?” I ask looking between Andie and Jenna, and take notice of John Gilbert.

“Nope, everything’s all set up,” Jenna responds clasping her hands together.

I smile at both of them and make my way into the great room and find Damon there. The doorbell rings once again and I go to open it up with Damon following close behind. I find Elijah standing in the doorway and feel Damon’s presence as he stands right behind me.

“Good Evening,” Elijah greets.

“Thank you for coming. Please, come in.” Damon says unnervingly pippy.

“Just one moment. Can I just say that if you have less than honorable intentions about how this evening is going to proceed, I suggest you reconsider,” Elijah states coldly.

“No, nothing, nothing dishonorable. Just getting to know you,” Damon responds in a weirdly nice tone.

“I made sure of it,” I reassure Elijah and smile at him, hoping it lessens the tension.

“Hmm. Well, that’s good,” Elijah says and enters the house as Damon and I move out of the way. “Because, you know, although Elena and I have this deal, if you so much as make a move to cross me, I’ll kill you and I’ll kill everyone in this house. Are we clear?” Elijah states with a colder voice as I think that he would actually kill me, but I guess I could never know.

“Guys lets just get to know each other and enjoy the wonderful dinner Andie and I prepared,” I say annoyed, looking between them as they glare at each other from either side of me.

“Crystal,” Damon responds sounding a bit scared and ignoring my comment.

I walk away and towards Jenna who’s waiting in the hallway. Elijah greets her and we all make our way over to the dinner table. I lead everyone into the kitchen to serve the food and we all settle back into our seats at the table. Jenna, Andie and I on one side, Alaric and Elijah on the other, and John and Damon each at the ends of the table.

“I hate to break it to you, Damon and Athena, but according to Elijah, your families are so not founders of this town,” Jenna says as she pours Damon a glass of wine.

“Hmm, do tell,” Damon says but clearly not interested.

“Well, as I mentioned to Jenna earlier, A faction of settlers migrated from Salem after the witch trials in the 1690s. Over the next hundred years, they developed this community where they could feel safe from persecution,” Elijah explains to all of us while we begin to eat.

“Hmm. Because they were witches,” Jenna adds.

“Yeah, but there’s no tangible proof there were witches in Salem,” Andie says disbelievingly.

“Andie’s a Journalist. Big on facts.” Damon says trying to boast her while making a face at Elijah.

“Well, the lore says that there was this wave of anti-witch hysteria. It broke out in the neighboring settlement, so these witches were rounded up. They were tied to stakes in a field together and, uh, burned. Some say you could hear the screams from miles around us. They were consumed by the fire. Could you pass the…” Elijah explains.

“I wouldn’t repeat this to the Historical Society,” Jenna chuckles.

“I don’t think they’d enjoy Elijah’s story, going back on their history,” I chuckle.

“It’s starting to sound a little like a ghost story to me,” John Gilbert says.

“So, why do you want to know the location of these alleged massacres?” Damon asks trying to get information out.

“You know…a healthy historian’s curiosity, of course,” Elijah responds not giving any information up.

We continue to make small conversation and finish up our meal. As we start to clean up Andie suggests that the guys should drink in the library, which makes me think they’re up to something. But not wanting to cause any problems with Alaric and Jenna or be wrong about anything, I keep my mouth shut and help clean the table. After we finish cleaning up, Alaric comes up to me with information from Stefan.

“Athena, Damon’s going to try to kill Elijah tonight, with a dagger and some white ash. We need to stop him,” Alaric whispers to me urgently.

“That asshole, I should’ve known. Even though I have some care for Elijah, I know this needs to end. I don’t want any of you hurt, Let’s go.” I say and we start to head to the library.

We hear Damon and Elijah talking as we walk into the library, “Gentlemen, we forgot about dessert,” Alaric says making his way over to them, making a cover.

“Elijah,” I say as I hold my hand out to him, to lead him back to the dining room.

“Athena,” Elijah says handing his drink to Damon. He comes over and takes my hand and pulls me towards the dining room.

“So have you thought about my deal?” He asks quiet enough so Damon couldn’t hear.

“Yeh, and I can’t risk my friends here. I want to protect them, they’re like my family,” I respond.

“I understand, but I’m your family too,” Elijah says, but I don’t respond as we make it back into the room where Andie, Jenna, and John were.

“Sorry, guys dessert is taking longer than I thought. I usually just unwrap food,” She says while pouring a cup of coffee.

“Let me help you,” I say as Andie, Elijah, and John take their seats at the table and I follow Jenna into the kitchen.

We make some small talk while I help Jenna finish the dessert. We walk out of the kitchen with the dessert to find that Elijah was gone, “Where’s Elijah?” I ask looking at Damon, suspiciously.

“He had some work to attend to,” Damon says, but I give him a look that tells him I don’t believe him.

“I forgot my drink in the kitchen. I’ll be right back,” I say and nod my head for Damon to follow.

I make our way into the kitchen and wait for Damon to follow in, “What did you do?” I whisper upset.

“What do you mean?” Damon dismisses my question.

“I know Elijah, did not just leave to do work. So… what… did… you… do?” I ask him one more time more upset.

“Ok, fine. You caught me. I and by I, I mean Alaric may have given Elijah a little poke with a dagger,” Damon finally gives up after a few moments of silence.

“Did you guys happen to leave the dagger in? Because if you want him actually ‘dead’ then you need to leave the dagger in,” I explain to him finally feeling the info I had was helpful. He just makes a ‘really’ face at me as his phone starts to ring.

“What Stefan?” Damon answers his call. “Yeh, I know. Athena just told me,” He hangs up and starts to rush off.

I follow him into the cellar, which is where they stored him, well, tried. Once we make our way down to the cellar, we find it empty. Damon just looks at me with an upset face, “We need to get to Elena and Stefan now. If Elijah’s going anywhere, it’s wherever Elena is,” I say walking away from Damon.

We quickly get rid of Alaric, Jenna, John, and Andie but try not to raise any suspicion. Damon grabs the dagger off the table and we drive over to the Gilbert Lakehouse to warn Elena and Stefan, “I can guarantee that If Elijah has witches that he’ll be making his way over here right now,” I tell them.

“Well, there’s not enough time to leave,” Stefan states.

“What if we draw him out so we can dagger him again? Athena and Damon hide, so he only thinks Stefan and I are here. I can try to reason with him and since he’s mad at Damon, he might not comply. I’ll tell him that if he doesn’t I’ll stab myself… ” Elena starts to explain.

“What? Not an option,” I say turning to her.

“I’m gonna have to agree,” Damon says.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Stefan adds.

“Just listen, I’ll tell him that I’ll stab myself, Stefan would heal me and then I’d kill myself to become a vampire. Rendering me useless to Klaus and therefore Elijah. I can then stab myself to make him agree to a new deal, then once I can get close enough, I’ll stab him with the dagger, killing him,” Elena finishes taking the dagger from Damon’s hand.

“And how can we be sure that he’d fall for this plan of yours?” Damon questions.

“Well, I know Elijah. He needs Elena so it’s pretty soundproof in my mind,” I state looking at Elena upset, not wanting her to put herself in harm’s way.

“I trust Athena. If she thinks its a good idea, then we should go with it. Anyone got any better ideas?” Stefan asks looking between us.

“I mean I don’t, Damon?”  I ask in response. But he just sighs and walks away as I follow him.

I follow Damon into another room, “We’re just gonna let her sacrifice herself?” He asks me distressed.

“It’ll all work itself out, and if it doesn’t I’ll go with Elijah,” I explain trying to calm him.

“That is not an option either!” He yells at me getting right up to my face.

“Well, it’s the only other option I can think of. I mean he wants me–” I start before I’m cut off by Damon covering my mouth. Elijah must be here.

Damon and I head upstairs in order to keep ourselves from being found. As we continue our way up the stairs we hear a loud noise of the door being torn down. We listen to the conversation that Elijah and Elena are having as we wait upstairs for the plan to be finished. We hear Elena scream in pain as we can hear her stab herself. And the next thing we hear is Elijah screams in pain as he is stabbed with the white oak dagger. Damon and I quietly but quickly make our way downstairs to make sure Elena was ok.

“Little tip. Don’t pull the dagger out.” Damon says stating the obvious.

Elena and Stefan pack up their stuff as Damon and I figure out how to get Elijah’s body in his car. We all make our way back over to the Salvatore house. Damon and Stefan take Elijah’s body downstairs to the cellar as Elena and I follow close behind.

“Are you ok?” I ask her.

“Yeh are you? I mean I know you guys are like fam–”

“We did what we had to do. I’m not letting anyone hurt you guys, you’re my family” I interrupt her. Damon and Stefan put Elijah’s body on the ground, as soon they set him down, Damon searches Elijah’s pockets.

“What do we have here?” Damon says while he pulls the moonstone out of one of the pockets. “A little moonstone bar of soap. I’ll hold on to this.” He says getting up from his crouched position.

“So that’s it. I mean, as long as we keep the dagger in there, then he stays dead.” Elena states.

“As far as I know, yes,” I respond.

“Okay then, good night,” Elena says and starts to walk out before she turns around and looks at Stefan and Damon, “You know, you guys want me to fight, Fine, I’ll fight. But if we’re gonna do this, you can’t keep anything from me anymore. From this moment on, we’re doing it my way.” Elena protests.

“That seems fair,” Damon says, but I can tell he could care less about doing it her way.

“Okay,” Stefan agrees.

I follow Elena out of the cellar, “You know I had nothing to do with Damon’s little plan until it happened right?” I ask her making sure she knows I won’t try anything.

“Yeh, I know,”

“Hey, I know you want to do this your way. But if it comes down to it and the Originals need or want me. I don’t want you to get hurt trying to save me. I’ll fight them your way, if you respect the way I wanna fight them on my own battlefront, Okay?” I stop Elena halfway in the hall.

“Okay,” She says, hesitantly agreeing to my terms.

I head upstairs to “my bedroom” and try to get to sleep early knowing that I have school tomorrow, which I dread over all this other stuff.

A/N: Here is part 5, based on 02x15 “The Dinner Party”.  I know this was a big-time jump from the last part, but episodes 12-14 seemed like filler to me, and I didn’t want to spend time writing those parts, so here we are. I know Athena kinda seems like she’s in the background but she’ll get her spotlight soon. I may skip another episode or two, but I’ll have to see how I wanna plan things out. Please let me know what you guys think of the series so far, any feedback is great. Also, let me know if anyone would like me to start a taglist. I hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading. Stay safe and healthy!

Bonus Content~ Here is a screenshot of Ian/Damon while I was going through the episode. I thought it was worth sharing:

#the vampire diaries #the originals #elena gilbert #damon salvatore #stefan salvatore #alaric saltzman #bonnie bennett #jeremy gilbert #caroline forbes #tyler lockwood #niklaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #katherine pierce #TVDCIB

[keywestlou]

Ho Ho Yogi Bear

DAY 11…..Greece the First Time

Posted on June 7, 2012 by Key West Lou

Ho ho Yogi Bear! I am having a terrific time!

Donkeys have become a part of my life all of a sudden. First in Navaro when I discovered horse meat and donkey meat were sold in butcher shops for human consumption. Donkey was viewed to horse meat as veal is to cattle meat. Now donkeys in Santorini.

Before I made the trip, many told me to be sure to ride the donkeys up and down the hill. The hill that in reality is a mountain of lava.

I saw the donkeys yesterday for the first time. I was taking a walk along the other road. The road that runs between the cave hotel apartments and lesser accommodations. Actually the other side of the road is where the working people of Santorini live. Much like Stock Island is to Key West.

All of a sudden, I came upon eight donkeys on the side of the road. All saddled up and ready to go. What beautiful animals! I am a horse lover of sorts. The horses that race at Saratoga. Especially up close. Magnificent beasts. So too were these donkeys. Beautiful shiny coats. Ears standing straight up. Big bright eyes. Muscular legs. Very muscular.

These donkeys carry people up and down the side of a nearby lava mountain. On a path running along the side. Along a five foot wide path has been constructed 2,000 feet plus long. It consists of 500 plus steps. The steps of varying widths. A short 3 foot wall on the ocean side.

The ride did not appeal to me. I did not wish to be an ass on an ass. I was fearful of either the donkey or me or both of us falling over the wall. I raised that issue with the man in charge of the donkeys. I think I insulted him. He told me very firmly that no donkey or person had ever even fallen off the path into the ocean.

The path was made of dirt and rocks.

I had Nikos give me a ride in his car down the mountain.

The volcano sitting out in the water is like a magnet. It draws me to it. I have decided to visit the volcano in the next few days. I want to look into the opening and its depths. I want to view the smoke and sulfur and whatever else my eyes can see.

The volcano is not too high. Most of it sunk into the sea. So I should be able to walk to the top.

There is an added attraction. There are springs periodically spraying water and smoke. Baths from the emissions are available on site. I want to bathe in these waters. Supposedly healthful, I will be doing it merely for the experience.

Santorini is the largest of the several islands which were born 3,500 years ago when the volcano had its major eruption. It is big. How large, I am not sure. Larger than Key West I do know.

The whole island has a mere 13,000 permanent residents. Compared to Key West which has 19,000.

Santorini is the name of the whole island. There are several villages and towns located on the island. I am staying in Oia, one of those towns. People are nice here. Just as in Key West.

Sociable, helpful.

I spoke of beauty parlor proprietor Catherine Risvani yesterday. Catherine owns the only beauty shop in Oia. One to a town, I guess. Called Hair & Soul. It is a beautifully done small place. Two chairs, two sinks, a manicure station and a counter. Two lovely ladies working for her.  Catherine gave me a manicure this week.

Catherine is lovely in appearance. A typical Grecian beauty. Tall, thin and blond. Hair swept up and somehow tied in back. Interestingly, I have yet to find a Grecian woman who wears her hair down. Catherine also has high cheek bones. Another trait of Grecian women.

The bill for the manicure was 20 euros. About $28 american money. I was out of euros. I asked Catherine if she took credit cards. No. So I took out one of my $100 bills and told her to hold it while I went to the ATM machine for euros. She would not take the $100. Strangers though we were, she trusted me. In a tourist town. Typical of the Greeks here.

Which brings me to Nikos and Maria. Proprietors of my cave accommodation. Nikos and Maria are around 60. Own the Filotera Cave Houses aka Filotera Villas. A superior accommodation. Consistent with historical Santorini.

They and their son Adonis work their asses off. They have staff, but work along with staff from very early morning to late at night.

When I first arrived and met Maria, she was in a dress and apron. Smiling always. She does not speak English. I no Greek. Yet we have had several conversations. Each of us has spoken our native tongue. We understood each other!

I figured after first meeting Maria that she was the typical Mama Mia. A dress and apron. Always cooking and cleaning. Always watching the grandchildren.

Was I wrong!

The next time I saw Maria she was in peddle pushers and a tee shirt. Directing the employees.

Nice people these two.

It was Maria’s birthday the day I arrived. She sent a piece of birthday cake to my rooms. Nikos picked me up at the airport. Nikos drives me where ever I have to go. And picks me up. Their caves are lovely and clean. Very clean. Take a look at them. www.filoteravillas.gr, www.filoteravillas.com and www.santorini.com/hotels/filoteravillas. These sites will give you a flavor of cave living. They will surprise you!

The second day here, their son Adonis showed up with a bottle of wine. He said it was from his father’s vineyards. A special brew. Please enjoy it. I did, the next day. A cross between a white and red. A distinctive special taste.

Yes, Nikos and Maria besides owning the cave villas also own a vineyard and wine producing facility on Santorini. They ship world wide.

Nikos and Maria live across that street I mentioned earlier. In a small apartment less accommodating than the caves. In November, it gets cold on Santorini. They move to their home on the other side of the island. When it gets colder, they move to their home in Athens. During the winter months, they generally take a one to two month trip to the Caribbean or South Pacific.

It gets better.

Santorini and the Greek isles are not the United States. Many amenities we are accustomed to do not exist or are not provided. Like my clothes getting washed and ironed.

I was warned before I embarked on this odyssey that such would be the case. I came prepared. Purchased shirts and shorts at Orvis. That special material that is light, easy to wash and dry. Generally requiring little or no ironing.

I wash my own clothes. For real. Easy. In the bathroom sink. Drop some dish washing fluid on the clothes. A bit of water. Wash with my hands. Then shake dry.

The clothes still need hanging. Dryers are not common place on the island. Could not hang the clothes in front of my cave accommodation. It would not look right nor would it be proper.

There are clothes lines across the street at the cheaper accommodation. I hung my first washing there to dry. When I returned that evening, Maria came out to greet me. She insisted on ironing my clothes. My savior in disguise!

If you ever plan to come to Santorini, stay with Nikos and Maria. You cannot do better. Their telephone number is 003022860 71110. Fax number 003022860 71555. E-mail [email protected].

Enough for today.

There is much still to share.

This afternoon I am going to a beach somewhere on this island. Where I am guaranteed seeing bare breasted women. And, if I am lucky, some bare assed ones.

Enjoy your day!

As I have said in the past, vaccine distribution to Monroe County and Key West is not good. We seem to be forgotten. It appears political pull helps in getting enough vaccine to take care of an area.

Monroe County and Key West seem to be lacking in that regard.

I am happy for the person in Pensacola who was reported to have had excellent service. Not the case here. And none of us are doing anything wrong!

This morning’s Citizens’ Voice had two interesting comments re vaccine distribution/availability.

“Citizens of Monroe County should be outraged that the Medical Center at Ocean Reef, a private club, was allowed to administer 4,000 vaccines that were not available to the public, only to club members. This represents over 85 percent of the vaccine provided  Monroe County.”

“Now I know why after five tries I am unable to get an appointment for the vaccine: politics trumps health.”

Eugene Robinson is one one of the Washington Post’s finest columnists. He also has a touch of Key West in him. Every year, he and his wife spend one month in Key West. Normally January. They were not here in January. Probably the virus.

Robinson’s Washington Post column this morning is titled “To Rebuild the Grand Old Party, First Tear It Down.”

A passage from the column: “Before a sane, responsible political party can rise like a phoenix from the ashes of today’s dangerously unhinged GOP, there must be ashes to rise from. The nation is going to have to destroy the Republican Party to save it.”

Biden has been impressive so far. As he will continue to be. I have faith in the man.

He is moving fast. The  stimulus package, foreign matters, vaccine, etc.

It is very true that you cannot please all of the people all of the time.

Biden spoke before the National Prayer Breakfast. Called out white supremacy and domestic terrorism. And a multitude of other things.

Brian Burch is the President of CatholicVote. After the Breakfast, Burch slammed him for backing abortion and transgenderism. I do not know if Biden mentioned either during his talk. I suspect not.

One old, the other relatively new. Burch forgets that Biden, as with any President, represents all the people and not just one segment.

John Kennedy had a similar problem. Directed primarily at his Catholic faith. His response simple and understandable: “Render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s and to God that which is God’s.”

Christopher Plummer died. An outstanding actor. His age at death 91. Did not pass away under normal circumstances. He fell and struck his head. The blow to his head resulted in his death.

One of Plummer’s most famous roles was that he performed in The Sound of Music.

His movies many. However, Plummer most enjoyed his Shakespearean performances. He considered himself a Shakespearean actor rather than a movie one. His famous Shakespearean parts were his performances in Hamlet, Macbeth, Richard III, and as Mark Anthony.

He won his first and only Oscar at age 82. He also was rewarded with 2 Tony and 2 Emmy Awards.

John Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men was published this day in 1937.

Steinbeck had a marked influence on my young life. My parents had purchased several volumes of Steinbeck’s works. For their enjoyment, not mine.

I was about 10. The books attracted me.

I would sit in a huge easy chair in the living room. A thick red dictionary at my side.

The first work I read was Of Mice and Men. Obviously I did not understand everything. One thing the book did however was to increase my vocabulary and expose me to a world I did not know. Some of which I was happy not to have experienced.

Over a period of time, I also read The Grapes of Wrath and several other Steinbeck works whose names at the moment I cannot recall.

Looking back, the reading I did probably was not uncommon. There were no television or cell phones in those days. Yes, there was radio. However radio did not particularly turn me on except for baseball.

Enjoy you day!

  Ho Ho Yogi Bear was originally published on Key West Lou

[heartofsnark]

A Hope County Christmas (Part One): The Resistance

Notes: Yes, this is late for Christmas and yes, that means the second part is gonna really fucking late for Christmas. But in my defense, I didn’t get the idea and started writing it until the 26th. It was originally suppose to be just one part, but it got real long and I lost some steam in the second part, so it’s gonna take me longer. So, have this and I’ll post the second part....maybe before 2020. I’ve been talking about my Deputy a lot over on my personal @morbidchild182 but this is the first writing I’ve posted with her. I’m still developing her and working on how I write the characters, so. 

Summary: It’s Christmas time in Hope County and as one might suspect, it can be hard to find any Christmas spirit to spare with Eden’s Gate waging their holy war. Junior Deputy Dahlia Hale fully suspects this holiday will be spent just as every last day has been spent since they tried to arrest Joseph Seed. But, between the Rye’s incurable optimism and the Seed’s...fascination with her, she can’t say she expected this. 

Word Count: 3032 

Warnings: Drinking, play fighting, dumb jokes, dumb christmas shenanigans, Ship Tease between Eli and my Deputy, Some sappy bullshit thrown in for good measure. There will be like Yandere Polyseed bullshit in the second part

A harsh cough echoes in Dahlia’s chest, a hacking noise and her lungs constrict. This is her first winter in Montana and it’s absolutely kicking her ass. Eden’s Gate could only hope of making her feel this shitty. Though, to her surprise the peggies haven’t been particularly active lately.

The Seed brothers are originally from Georgia, the deep south just like her, and she wonders if they’re as badly impacted by the cold as she is. Her leather jacket, uniform shirt and tee shirt under it are doing very little to keep out the chill as she rides her motorcycle through the Holland Valley wilderness. Nick and Kim called her over the radio asking her to head over. She’s hoping everything is alright, she’s not sure how much help she’ll be when she can barely feel her limbs.

She parks her motorcycle by the porch, pulling off her helmet and cringing as the cold air hits her face. There are little twinkling Christmas lights across their porch and the roof, even a few strings around the hangar. They’re beautiful, but a part of her worries about it just drawing in angels.

Dahlia rubs her hands together, trying desperate to regain some heat. Her red and irritated nose suddenly feels wet, is her nose running on top of everything? She goes to rub it away, but there’s a fleck of ice clinging to fingers. Something wet pats against her head, is it raining? She looks up towards the sky. Soft white flakes are drifting through the sky.

Snow.

It’s snowing. She’s only seen snow in movies and TV shows, the white puffy flakes touch her cheeks. Ideas of catching snowflakes on her tongue or having snowball fights flicker through her brain, but she disregards it immediately knowing she doesn’t have the time for horseplay.

“Something interesting up there, dep?”

“Huh,” she startles for a minute, seeing Nick standing on the porch and staring up at the sky, “no, sorry, I just, never seen snow before.”

“What, seriously?”

“Louisiana doesn’t get a lot of snow, seen a few hurricanes though.”

“Shit man, that’s just depressing.”

“As is most of my life.”

“Well, come on in.”

“Sure, but, uh, Nick, do you think the lights are a good idea? Might draw-“

Her voice catches in her throat as she steps into the Rye home, it looks like a Christmas wonderland. A giant ornate tree, Christmas music playing on the radio. A tall tree that the top of which nearly scrapes the ceiling, though it’s bare for some reason. Friendly faces all around; Jerome, Mary May, Grace, Sharky, Hurk, Adelaide, Xander, and Jess in a corner hiding away with Cheeseburger nestled at her side. Peaches is getting ear scratches from Sharky. Everyone except Jess is wearing obnoxiously colored Christmas sweaters.

“Those peggies have taken so much from us, I’ll be damned if they’re taking Christmas too,” Nick declares and she can’t help but smile at his determination.

A few barks ring out and before Dahlia knows it two dog paws have landed on her waist, Boomer demanding her attention. He’s almost as bad as John.

“Hey, boy,” she coos scratching behind his ears and laughing as he gives her a few kisses.

“Deputy,” Kim makes her way over, Boomer moving so she can give Dahlia a big hug, “I’m so happy you could make it out here, I know you’re busy with…everything. It means a lot.”

“Uh, what’s exactly going on, I thought you guys needed my help with something?”

“It’s a trap, Rook,” Jess calls out from her corner and Kim rolls her eyes.

“It’s a holiday party, we have one every year and we aren’t letting the peggies ruin it, here.” Kim hands over a white fluffy sweater, the less ugly of any of the ones she’s seen on her friends. When she unfolds it, she sees a little polar bear face with a sprig of mistletoe by its ear.

“Uh…”

“It’s Christmas, everyone has to wear a Christmas sweater.”

“Except Jess, she threatened to bite me,” Nick says, shooting a slightly fearful look towards the woman.

“I mean, I’d be happy to bite you too, hon,” Adelaide calls out with a flirtatious wink, Kim rolling her eyes as Nick visibly cringes.

“Please, dep, just put on the sweater.”

Dahlia shrugs her shoulders, if her wearing a damn sweater will make them even a little bit happier, it’s more than worth it. The couple has endured enough bullshit with Eden’s Gate, the least she can do is wear a damn sweater. She pulls off her leather jacket and uniform shirt.

“Woo, take it off!” Sharky yells out, grinning like a dumbass and Dahlia’s face flushes red, shooting her favorite pyromaniac a death glare before she tugs the sweater on over her tee.

It’s large, white, fluffy, and feels completely out of place on her. She feels like she looks odd without an outfit that’s at least ninety percent black.

“I can’t stay long,” Dahlia warns as she ties her hair back in a stubby ponytail.

“The lord does permit days of rest, Deputy.”

“Good for him, but I got shit to do,” She tells Jerome as she meanders towards a place to sit, eventually settling somewhere between Sharky and Jess, back tight against a wall and knees pulled up to her chest.

“You deserve a day to take it easy, here,” Kim hands her a mug of eggnog, an odd smell coming off it. It’s probably fine. She takes a drink and the burn of rum hits her, she nearly sputters. Kim laughing at her.

“Can’t handle your booze, Rook?” Grace asks, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Firstly, I legally can’t drink, secondly this is barely fuckin’ eggnog at this point.”

“Eh, who’s gonna arrest you, you?”

“You’re old enough to risk your ass for us, you’re old enough to drink,” Mary May says, taking a swig of her own drink.

Dahlia shrugs, she did drink a little when she was a minor, but stopped when she became a cop. Based on principle alone. But, fuck she’s never actually liked the taste. She’s not convinced anyone really does. At that same time, Nick steps into the room a Santa hat tilted on his head, where he’s stretched over his cap. In his arms are movies, games, and more booze.

“Ol’ Saint Nick!” Sharky yells out and a chorus of groans follow his stupid joke.

“Figure, we’ll watch a movie, get everyone in the spirit, before we play some games.”

“You mean get everyone drunk,” Kim teases, the only one not drinking the spiked eggnog.

“Same thing.” Nick grins and shrugs as he puts some Christmas movie in, Boomer lays against Dahlia’s side as the bullshit movie starts to play.

“What the hell is that woman doing?” An extra looks directly at the camera.

“Who the fuck talks like that?” The acting is awful.

“Oh god, child actors.” The child acting is worse.

“I’m like, pretty sure that’s a federal offense.” You can’t just look through someone’s mail.

“Eh, who hasn’t committed a federal offense.”

“Most people Sharky, most people.”

“Wait that’s the plot, getting her uncle a girlfriend, oh my god.” The plot is stupid

“Ooh, I wouldn’t mind him stuffing my stocking.” The main actor is easy on the eyes.

“Addie, no.”

“Wait, why the hell did he say it was done, if he hadn’t started cookin’ it yet?”

“Fantastic question.”

“What? What? What?!” This makes no sense.

“Holy shit, Adelaide in five years,” Dahlia blurts out when a perverted granny shows up.

“Five years!? How old do you think I am, Rook?!”

“No comment.”

“You don’t look a day over thirty.”

“She’s your aunt, Sharky.”

“Shut it.”

“Is she an elf? Oh my god, is she a fuckin’ elf?”

“Did she just realize she looks like she dressed in the dark?”

“She took her glasses off, so she’s no longer ugly, ‘cause…y’know.”

“The audio is so bad, holy shit, what are they even saying.”

“That looks awful.”

They’re about halfway through the movie, everyone finding every chance to chime in some comment about the crap on screen. She’s drained two mugs of the spiked eggnog, her cheeks red from booze and laughing. Dahlia’s lost count of how many cookies she’s crammed into her mouth.

The movie finishes and she no longer feel like she’s in any state to take on a cult. Not drunk, but tipsy as all hell. Judging by the flushed cheeks around her, no one is any better off except Kim who once credits are rolling suggest making ornaments and decorating the tree.

Trusting drunk dumbasses to decorate the tree, brilliant.

It’s a disaster. Of course, it is.

Jerome makes some decent angel ones, but the religious aesthetic of anything has been ruined for everyone lately. Mary May’s Santa is holding a beer. Jess’s just has ‘Fuck Off’ scribbled across it. Xander and Adelaide keep trying to have sex puns about crafts, too drunk for any of them to be subtle. Grace’s gun ornament is surprisingly well done, but not particularly Christmas-y. Nick’s attempt to make a plane looks like a lumpy disaster. Hurk and Sharky keep trying to put a dick and or flames on everything. At some point someone throws glitter.

It was her.

Sharky tried to draw a dick on her star, so she started throwing glitter at his dumb face. Now there’s glitter everywhere, the Rye’s home will never be free of it. Also, there’s gold glitter glue on her hands and hair where she tried to push it back, because tools are for fools.

Then her radio crackles to life, ah fuck, she tries to rub the worse of the glue off onto her jeans before grabbing it.

“Hey,” she manages to slur even the shortest word and everyone her is snickering.

“Deputy, it’s Eli from the Whitetails.”

“I don’t know any other Eli, you don’t have to clarify, Mountain Man.”

“Right, uh, sorry. Heard about the Rye’s party, knew you were over that way. I, uh, wanted to make sure you weren’t running yourself ragged.”

“Wanted to check in on his girlfriend,” Wheaty teases in the background and Dahlia’s face flushes brighter red, not from the booze. Everyone around her starts to laugh

“Don’t you have something else to do?” Eli retorts and she can practically hear the embarrassment in his voice.

“Don’t worry, Eli, I’m at the Rye’s being supplied with way too much booze.”

“That’s good, well not good that you’re getting drunk, not that I care if you get drunk, I don’t think. I just mean it’s good you’re with friends and y’know what, I’ll stop talking.”  

She can’t help but laugh, he hasn’t been this awkward with her since he talked about shaving his beard and wondering if it made him look crazy.

“Hey, maybe next time I’m in that area, we can see if we can convince Chad to make some Christmas grub and have a little celebration at the Wolf’s Den?”

Why did she make that offer, she didn’t even want one celebration, why is she doing this? It’s so impractical, why the fuck would Eli want that? She pushes hair back out of her face, she’s so stupid.

“That sounds nice.”

“It does? It does. Cool.”

“Well, uh, Merry Christmas, Rook.”

“Merry Christmas, Eli.”

The radio call ends, and Dahlia lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, all eyes are on her. Some confused and others smirking at the little exchange.

“Never knew you liked ‘em older, deputy.”

“Fuck off.”

“You really shouldn’t have done that to your hair either,” Jess tells her, smirking. Her bangs fall back in her face and Dahlia sees the gold glitter glue now clinging to the dark locks.

“God damn it.”

“Looks like you were too distracted drooling over your mountain man,” Jess mocks Dahlia with an overly sappy voice. Dahlia smirks back, revenge already in her mind.

“Aww,” she cups Jess’s cheeks in her two-glitter glue covered hands, “that was so cute of you.” Dahlia smears it down Jess’s cheeks leaving a mess.

Jess’s green eyes narrow, a weaker woman might freak out at the anger shown in them. But, Dahlia knows too well that there’s a hint of mischief there, it’s all in good fun. The Junior Deputy pulls her hands away from the Survivalist’s face.

“No killing in the house,” Kim warns and that’s all that’s said before Jess is launching over the table to try to grab Dahlia who’s already dropped down and jolted under it, the two switching sides before the deputy breaks into a run.

Their movements are clumsier and slower than usual, booze slowing them down. Dahlia takes the stairs two at a time, giggling as she tries to evade her friend. Jess’s hands nearly latch onto her sweater and Dahlia promptly jumps over the stair banister, boots hitting the floor with a heavy thud.

“No breaking your ankles in the house!”

“Sorry, Kim, oh god!”

Jess is on Dahlia’s back, bringing her down to the ground and laughing as the deputy collapses under her weight. She’s trying to put her in a headlock, as Dahlia attempts to wrestle out of it. The entire party laughing at their horseplay. She swears she hear Sharky or Hurk saying something about needing a mud pit, but she’s too focused on play wrestling to yell at the perverts.

Her radio crackles again and through the struggling Dahlia manages to answer it.

“Rook, heard the Rye’s invited you over for Christmas,” Whitehorse’s voice comes through.

“That they did,” she struggles to respond as she’s using one hand to fend off Jess.

“Hey, sheriff!”

“He can’t see you waving Nick.”

Dahlia cracks, a fatal mistake as Jess uses it to get the headlock.

“Good, I was worried about you, Rook, thought you’d be running around while everyone else took the day off. I know shit’s tough right now but taking time to celebrate the little stuff is what’s gonna keep you going. Merry Christmas.”

“You guys doing anything special at the jail?” She asks as she tries to squirm away, finally just giving up and trying to stand up with Jess on her back and arms around her neck. It’s a piss poor excuse for a piggyback ride, but whatever.

“Virgil’s trying to get someone to cut down a tree, Tracey ain’t having any of it.”

“I can do that.”

“You’re not chopping down a Christmas tree, Rook, Jesus Christ,” Tracey grumbles in the background.

“You’ve already done more than enough, hell, if it wasn’t for you…well there are a lot of people who wouldn’t be here to see Christmas this year. Enjoy your party.”

“Yeah…Merry Christmas.”

Dahlia feels her eyes sting, she doesn’t expect praise or even acknowledgment of the things she’s done. It still seems so foreign, the idea that she’s actually saved people. That people are here, alive and safe, because of her actions. She can never see herself as a hero, but to some people she truly is.

Jess’s arms on her loosen, before the woman just hops right off of her. A soft smile replacing the mischievous little grin. She squeezes Dahlia’s shoulder, a silent understanding that Jess is one of those people. If not for Dahlia, she’d be spending this Christmas in a cage, if she was lucky. But, now she’s spending it in a rare moment of joy and peace.

“Come on, we gotta decorate the tree..”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

Jess and Dahlia rejoin the party, feral energy out of their system for the time being. The tree looks like a mess. Everyone’s ornament a disaster and the whole thing looking like an incomprehensible disaster. Nothing goes together. None of it makes sense, but it has…character. Dahlia goes to hang her own bad star ornament after hanging the last bit of tinsel. But, it’s nowhere to be found.

“Here,” Kim hands it to her, but the sloppily coated star no longer has a string, instead on a little cap to be used as the tree topper. It’s an extremely sweet gesture, but…

“I can’t reach.” Dahlia makes a show of trying to stretch her hand up to touch the top of the tree, only to come up embarrassingly short.

“Don’t worry, I gotcha bromigo,” Hurk declares before hefting Dahlia up onto his shoulders, she can’t help but laugh, but places her messy star at the top of the tree. Hurk putting her back down with ease.

“It’s certainly…different.”

“It always an adventure to see how it turns out every year.”

“I’m sure it.”

Another crackle from her radio.

“Who’s calling now?” Nick asks, taking another drink of eggnog.

“Eh, probably just Dutch checking in,” Dahlia answers it, “don’t worry, I’m at the party and I’m taking a break for Christmas.”

“That’s wonderful to know, dep-yoo-tee,” John’s voice sobers her, like a bucket of ice water’s splashed in her face, the entire party going silent as he drags out each syllable.

“The fuck do you want?”

“Easy now, Little Miss Wrath, I haven’t even done anything and you’re already foaming at the mouth.”

“Yet, you haven’t done anything, yet.”

“Someone who doesn’t believe in prophets, claiming to know the future, how ironic.”

“Get to the point, Johnny Boy.”

“I do hope, you’ll be more patient once you fully join our family.”

“You got five more seconds before I hang up and get back to drinking. One, two,-”

“While we don’t celebrate Christmas quite the same as sinners do, the holidays still marks an important time of togetherness.”

“Good for you…Can I go now?”

“Me, my brothers and sister like to spend this time of year together, as a family.”

“I’m gonna blow my brains out from boredom, Johnny.”

“A family dinner requires the whole family, dep-yoo-tee, even the members who’ve yet to accept their role.”

“Are…are you threatening to kidnap me for Christmas dinner?!”

“Depends, will you come of your own volition?”

“Fuck no.”

“Then, I’m afraid you leave me no choice. I’ll be seeing you shortly, dear.”

#far cry 5 #fc5 #nick rye #sharky boshaw #jess black #adelaide drubman #hurk drubman jr #grace armstrong #eli palmer #mary may fairgrave #jerome jeffries #dahlia hale #kim rye #john seed #my first writing to be posted for the fandom #it's probably garbage #but take it

[backofthebookshelf]

Book Recs for Magnus Archives Fans

I was just rambling in tags the other day about how my avatarsona was "the Archivist, but a public librarian: Oh, you like dirt?? Let me tell you all the dirt stories I have!!!!" so, uh, here I am I guess.

I'm gonna spare you all the M.R. James and Algernon Blackwood and House of Leaves and Blindsight; you know all that already. These are my horror backlist recs.

The Bone Key by Sarah Monette Y'all. Y'ALL. Kyle Murchison Booth was absolutely the Archivist before Gertrude. He was poached from the Parrington by the Usher Foundation and the Eye glommed onto him at once, because the Eye loves disaster queers who can't people right (and also Gertrude). This I believe to be true, and so will you.

Kyle Murchison Booth is an archivist at the Parrington Museum, which is somewhere in New England, sometime in the early twentieth century. He also has a lifelong entanglement with the supernatural which is almost entirely not his fault, and he would very much like it to stop, but he also feels responsible and he can't just let evil mirrors and cursed necklaces and possessed dressing gowns randomly eat people who have no idea what's happening. Even if it means he's going to suffer for it.

(This collection doesn't contain all of the Booth stories, so here I am going to link to "White Charles", which happens to be my very favorite Booth story.)

For you if your favorite part is: honestly everything about MAG, from the modern sensibilities about early twentieth-century-horror, truly eerie ghost stories, to suffering eldritch librarians (thanks to whoever tagged my most recent fic with that you're so valid), monsterfucking and soft gay pining. No happy endings here, sorry.

Bedfellow by Jeremy C. Shipp You may or may not have heard that Macmillan-Tor is launching a horror imprint, and I don't know how long it's been since a major publishing house has had a horror imprint, but I am EXCITE. This book is part of the trend that's the reason why: Tor.com has been publishing these kickass novellas for a couple years now, and their horror books are top notch.

One night a stranger knocks on a family's living room window and asks to be invited in. They ask him to stay the night. He's an old friend, after all, he needs a place to stay. You can't kick out your twin brother when he's just gotten divorced, no matter how much Gatorade he spills on your two-year-old hardwood floors.

For you if your favorite part is: the Stranger, this is all Stranger, it's terrifying and good.

Through the Woods by Emily Carroll A graphic novel, some of these were originally posted as webcomics (have you seen His Face All Red, and if not, why not???) and the only disadvantage to having them in book form is they can't blink at you. Probably. Very folktale-ish, with all the death and violence that implies, and also the slightly eerie feeling that you know this story already, and then it turns around and slaps you.

For you if your favorite part is: looking over your shoulder when the foley gets good; Once Upon a Time in Space (I know that's not technically part of the Magnus Archives but shush)

Universal Harvester by John Darnielle I am not usually a fan of artists who jump media. Just because you can write songs doesn't mean you can write novels. Apparently writing good songs doesn't mean you can't write good novels, though, because John Darnielle of The Mountain Goats (pretty sure that's his full name at this point) wrote Universal Harvester and I love him for it.

Jeremy works at a video rental place in Nevada, Iowa (it's pronounced Nah-vey-da, and yes it’s real, I've been there, and yes, it's probably haunted). It's the 1990s, and someone's been returning their VHS tapes with something on them that isn't just the movie. Footage that includes a barn that he recognizes, just outside of town.

Fair warning: this is not the kind of mystery that gets tied up in a nice bow at the end.

For you if your favorite part is: Jon losing it with paranoia in S2, The People's Church of the Divine Host, the Lonely

The Good House by Tananarive Due If this author's name is unfamiliar to you, RUN, do not walk, to your nearest internet bookseller and purchase every single one of her books immediately, you will not regret it. She also just came out with a documentary on black horror, Horror Noire, on the Shudder streaming service. They've got a free month if you aren't a horror movie person, it'd be worth your while. This book summary sounds like it's full of tropes. It is, but Due has the cred to write them well.

Angela Toussaint hopes to salvage her suffering marriage and her troubled relationship with her teenage son with a trip to her grandmother's house, a home so beloved the locals in small-town Washington state call it "The Good House," but tragedy strikes instead. Two years later she returns and finds that the tragedy isn't over, and it's not going to stop on its own.

For you if your favorite part is: the very practical statement-givers who know what's happening to them and Will Not Put Up With This Shit, the Desolation, the Hill Top Road statements

The Library at Mount Char by Scott Hawkins Is this horror disguised as fantasy? Found family disguised as horror? Grown-up Neil Gaiman? Less grimdark George R.R. Martin? Honestly I have no fucking idea, but it's amazing. Fair warning, unlike Magnus Archives, this deserves all kinds of trigger warnings, including but not necessarily limited to: sexual assault, torture, mental manipulation, dysfunctional families, incest(?)

Father is missing, and his twelve children (though extremely talented in their own ways, and not strictly speaking children any more) are at a loss without him. But also, without him, things are starting to seem different. He might be God? They might not be human? (They were probably human once.) He might not be God but maybe one of them might be next? If any of them survive.

For you if your favorite part is: slowly turning into a monster, the relationships between entities and avatars, monsters hot (not kidding about the trigger warnings)

The Loney by Andrew Michael Hurley I have to keep reminding myself that Magnus Archives isn't really folk horror, there are two separate (if related) strains of British horror here and folk horror is not the one we're on, but at the same time I really want a good creepy rural pagan cult to show up in the series, you know? Anyway.

When he was a child, our narrator used to go with his family on an Easter pilgrimage to shrine on a bleak stretch of Lancaster coastline locals called The Loney. His Catholic mother was searching for a cure for his older brother, and she was convinced if they kept going long enough she would be granted her wish. The locals, however, are not huge fans of her annual visits, and even less so when the boys become involved with the goings-on of a pair of glamorous tourists.

For you if your favorite part is: the Lukases, I didn't realize until I was writing this up that I'm picturing Moreland House in the exact place described by this book

Eutopia by David Nickle One thing I love about the historical statements in Magnus Archives is just how truly historical they are. There's almost nothing in "The Piper" that isn't historically accurate - yes, Wilfrid Owen spent several days in a trench underneath the shredded bodies of his fellow soldiers. Like. You can't make up horror worse than that. But then you add monsters and it gets good. And I'm a sucker for early-twentieth-century history, it's such a bonkers time.

It's 1911 and the new Eugenics Record Office is sending agents out to catalog the disabled, infirm, and otherwise undesirable members of society so they can figure out what to do about them. In the utopian town of Eliada, Idaho, Dr. Andrew Waggoner runs from the racism of American society and straight into the influence of Mister Juke, the most troubling patient in his new practice. (Trigger warnings for, obviously, a whole lot of ableism. Treated like the monstrousness it is, but there's a lot of it.)

For you if your favorite part is: learning history through horror, the Flesh

A Head Full of Ghosts by Paul Tremblay I hate male writers writing about teenage girls, so you are going to have to trust me when I say that I had to check, several times while reading this book, to make sure that Paul Tremblay is actually a dude. He's very good. This book was kind of his breakout, so if you follow horror you've read it already, but if you don't necessarily then please do not miss it. His newer ones, Disappearance at Devil's Rock (Stranger, Spiral) and The Cabin at the End of the World (Slaughter, Extinction), are also good but not as good as this, I think.

Fourteen-year-old Marjorie is having a rough time - outbursts, hallucinations, paranoia. Treatment is difficult (and expensive) and her family ambivalent; they turn to a local Catholic priest, who recommends an exorcism and, to help manage those medical bills, a production company who's interested in filming a reality TV show about the process. Fifteen years later, Marjorie's sister deconstructs the now-famous show and wrestles with her own memories of childhood. Trigger warnings for ableism on the part of many of the characters, but not the narrative.

For you if your favorite part is: the Spiral, metafictional analysis of horror tropes

#the magnus archives #book recs #there's a lot of other things i could tag this as #but i wrote it for this fandom #is this a transparent excuse to get more people to read booth stories?? #it is #it really is

[marvel-redemption-omega]

Of Outlaws and Family

Chapter Four: Operation O’Driscoll, Kieran; Mission Saving Sean

A/N: This is probably one of my favorite chapters, if only for little Jack! He’s so precious and I love writing the four year old!

Warnings: Cursing, typical gang violence, lots of drinking (mainly by Sean), sexual references/innuendos, jealous people

Start here: https://marvel-redemption-omega.tumblr.com/post/620167374619951104/of-outlaws-and-family-chapter-one-new-beginnings

Last Chapter: https://marvel-redemption-omega.tumblr.com/post/620252632456495104/of-outlaws-and-family

Please enjoy! Hearts and repubs are appreciated!

My work is not to be posted elsewhere; I will post it to my AO3 and dA if I so choose.

Word Count: 5,909

“Whatcha got there, Jack?”

“A toy Aunt Scarlet got for me.”

“She did? Well that was sweet of her. When did she get that? Did you thank her?”

“She got it a couple weeks ago, when she and Uncle Arthur got that new horse. I said thank you,” Jack replies, pausing in pushing the wooden train through the mud. He smiles brightly up at his mother. She motions for him to get up and he does so.

“Good boy. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. We are going to help Mr. Pearson make lunch,” Abigail ushers her son over to the wash bin. Since the duo returned, Abigail took notice of the time they spent together. When Arthur went out, be it to hunt or otherwise, Scarlet went. She wasn’t sure if he asked her to ride or if Scarlet asked if she could, but whatever the case, she was glad that Scarlet seemed to be making Arthur happy. It was nice to see him smile again, and he’d done more smiling in the past couple months, since she’d been there, than Abigail's seen in a long time.

“James?” Scarlet calls as she walks back into camp from dropping a hay bale by the trees behind Pearson’s wagon for the horses. She dusts the stray hay from her front and pauses at the wash bin, smiling as Abigail and Jack approach.“Hey, Little Jack, Abigail.”

“You didn’t tell me you got Jack a toy,” Abigail’s tone is curious, warmth in her voice. Scarlet rubs the back of her neck sheepishly and nervously chuckles

“I guess it slipped my mind. I was at the store anyway to get the tailored clothes for him and saw it and couldn’t help myself,” she admits, hands moving to rest in her back pockets. Abigail nods and lifts Jack so he can wash the mud from his arms.

“Well thank you. It’s not everyday someone else gets him something, and it’s not often we can get him stuff either,” she replies as she sets her son back on his feet. Jack smiles up at Scarlet, showing her his clean toy before Abigail herds him to the front of the wagon.

Scarlet chuckles and shakes her head as she heads over to the barrel to splash water on her face. Arthur drops off a sack of provisions when they hear a whimper. They both turn to the sound, looking at Kieran, the O’Driscoll Arthur caught from up in the mountains. He told her that story one night around the campfire, along with how he and Javier had to go save John, again apparently.

“C’mon, Mister. I ain’t washed in weeks. Please! Talk to them….to Dutch!” He pleads, eyes shifting from Arthur then to Scarlet in hopes of getting her help. They share a glance and step closer to him.

“Why don’t you start talkin, O’Driscoll?” Scarlet huffs out, arms crossing over her chest as she looks at him. Arthur joins her, adding his own verbal assault.

“Whoah, hold your horses! It seems the cat has our friend here’s tongue. I was thinkin Mister Williamson could have a word,” Dutch claps his hands as he strolls over, dressed up in is black pants, red vest, and black longcoat.. Scarlet steps back and closer to Arthur’s side to give them some room.

“What do you want from me?!” Kieran all but cries, shaking against the tree.

“Where are they?”

“I don’t know!”

“What do you want me to do, Dutch?” Dutch’s eye twitches at Bill’s question.

“Hurt him!” He barks, gesturing to the tied man.

“Hey, Dutch, why don’t we geld him? If he doesn't wanna talk, make him, right?” Scarlet pipes up, locking eyes for a split second with the leader before dropping her gaze. Dutch grins wickedly, nodding to Bill.

“I like that. Geld him!”

Bill’s eyes seem to shine at the mention of this kind of torture and he quickly runs off to get the gelding shears from the fire. Dutch turns to the other three, nodding as Kieran’s voice cracks as he cries protests. Scarlet glares hard at the tied up O’Driscoll, a bit upset Dutch won’t let her do anything to hurt him. Ok, his exact words were ‘not yet, patience’, but still. She watches as Dutch and Arthur yank down the poor bastard’s pants and underwear, leaving his lower half bare.

“Now, you’re gonna talk. The question is, before or after this boys are gone,” Dutch chuckles darkly.

“Please no! God, why!”

“Oh hush, Boy! They’re just balls!” Dutch sneers. Bill is nearly skipping as he comes back over with the red-tipped shears, hot from the fire. He crouches and snips them open and closed a few times in front of Kieran, leaning forward a little but not quite enough to actually cut him, but still too close for comfort.

“Okay! I know where Colm is! He’s-he’s at Six Point Cabin! Just up behind Valentine! I-I-I can take you there!” Kieran cries, shaking and sobbing, back slumped against the tree.

“I got this, Dutch. Let’s go,” Arthur takes charge, shoving Kieran toward the horses after cutting him loose. Scarlet looks at Dutch, a silent question if she was allowed to go. He tips his chin to her and she waves as she dashes to her horse, Arthur and the others already in the treeline.

“Arthur!” She calls as she kicks her horse. The blood bay nickers and happily runs to catch up with Smoke, slowing to match his trot as they reach them. “I’m comin too.”

“Why don’t you stay back? We don’t need no woman gettin in our way,” Bill grumbles from Brown Jack. She shoots him a glare as she focuses back on Arthur.

“He’s got a point. There might be a lot of O’Driscolls here, and Colm. You ready for that?” He addresses, turning in his saddle to look at her. She chews her lower lip and nods.

“You act like I didn’t kill seven men by mys-”

“And that was you protecting your son, not men,” John calls back from his place at the front of the diamond formation they’re making. She rolls her eyes.

“You are my men, dumbass. I’m a part of the gang too, s’only fair I help where I can. I’m a decent shot, bow or gun. My parents made sure of that. Look, Dutch said I could come along,” she crossly spits out at John’s comment. Arthur nods at her words; he knows she’s right.

“Alright, fine. But if I tell you to move, you move. If I say to get back to the horses-”

“I go back to the horses. Got it,” she finishes for him. Arthur raises a brow at her, for cutting him off she assumes, and reaches over to smack her hat down over her eyes. Bill scowls at what he considers her blatant lack of respect.

“How dare you disrespect Arthur. He’s the lead in this mission,” he raves and tries to move up in the formation to be beside her and her horse. Her thoroughbred snorts, flattens his ears, and turns to nip at Brown Jack as he does so, forcing him to drop back again.

“No disrespect, he surely knew that. I won’t disrespect a man,” she declares, though she knows she’s done so on occasion, but Bill doesn’t need to know that she reasons with herself.

 “You’re disrespectin me!” He hollers.

“You’re not a man. Just cause you’re male and an adult doesn’t mean you’re a man. Men, real men, know how to treat women. No one belongs to you; you don’t own anyone. I am my own person and I am free to do as I please, with whom I please, whenever I please, where I please,” she growls back to him, face hard as she fixes her hat.

“See those hills? Head for ‘em,” Kieran points to the hills ahead.

“Save your horses, Boys, we got a climb ahead of us,” John says over his shoulder. He glances back and sighs. “And Lady.”

“I ain’t a lady, far from it,” Scarlet mutters just loud enough for Arthur to hear. He scoffs and nods a yes to that, knowing full well she can take care of herself better than most ‘ladies’. They leave their horses in a clearing and walk to the top of the hill, surveying the cabin. Scarlet pulls out her binoculars and shakes her head at the number of them. She puts them away and turns to Arthur as John and Bill point out the trio of O’Driscolls coming back. John grabs Kieran and holds a gun to him, hand covering his mouth. The poor man keeps his hands raised in surrender as Scarlet and Bill look to Arthur for their next move.

“Scarlet, go take that one out. We’ll follow and take out the next two,” Arthur orders, pointing to the man relieving himself on a tree. Scarlet tosses one of her tomahawks and catches it before sneaking down the hill and using tree trunks as cover until she’s close enough to throw it at the guy.The force of her throw makes the tomahawk stick into the tree, pinning the now dead O’Driscoll to it. She goes to retrieve it as she sees the other three move up, John saying something about leaving Kieran at the top of the hill. She watches Arthur and Bill take out the next two, with throwing knives and tomahawks. They move up and Arthur sends John to deal with the guy on the log in front of them.

“What now, Arthur?” She asks, peering over the log to try and see how many are left. He gets similar questions from Bill and John.

“Just wait. I’m gonna go scope out the other side of the camp,” he shushes them and moves around, back into the trees to their right. The trio watch as he takes out two with his bow before someone yells. They all switch to their guns and move to better positions, firing at the O’Driscolls.

Scarlet separates from John and Bill and tries to make her way over to Arthur. She takes out a guy trying to sneak up behind him. He turns at the cry of pain from behind him, and gives her a quick, thankful nod. More O’Driscolls come out of the trees and the four are forced to back away from the cabin to drive them back. The last few start running but Scarlet pops two off with her revolver, aiming for the third. She hears Arthur telling Bill he’s checking the cabin and she fires at the last runner. He falls and she smirks, blowing the smoke from the end of her gun and opening it to drop the bullet casings, reloading it.

She whips around at the sound of Arthur’s yell, runnin back around to the front of the cabin. Her mind takes a split second to process the scene and she’s aiming her gun. A shot rings out and she stares at Kieran, eyes a little wide at the man. Arthur shoves the dead man off him and enters the cabin, gun up. He comes out seething, pointing his gun at Kieran.

“You set us up!” He roars, walking quickly towards the man. Bill and John block Kieran’s path as they walk up like two brick walls behind him, Arthur backing the scared man up almost into the other two.

“I didn’t! I swear I didn’t! He was here!” Kieran holsters the pistol he’s grabbed and backs up. Bill and John watch the scene play out; Scarlet crosses her arms after shoving her revolver into her thigh holster, scanning the camp. She shakes her head, catching the end of their conversation. “...there’s always money in the chimney.”

“Tell Dutch that old Kieran ain’t got a need to be shot, yet,” he calls as Bill, John, and Kieran head to the horses. She whistles and Fancy and Smoke round the cabin, both braying softly to her. She instructs them to wait and follows Arthur inside. He’s got his hand up the chimney and she smirks.

“Shouldn’t be that hard to find,” she teases and looks over the mess. Her nose scrunches as the smell of alcohol hits her full force. She sticks her tongue out and walks to the table with cards tossed about. “Hey, there’s five money clips here,” she picks them up, counting the exact amount.

“Bring that too. Loot anything you can, the others should have gotten the bodies and then we’ll get out of here before the law comes,” he says, waving to the cabin with his hand not buried in the chimney. She chuckles at him and nods, searching for anything and everything. He joins her in her search once he’s gotten the money, waving the stack at her.

“Six hundred dollars, not bad,” he shrugs and puts the majority of it away. He holds out a stack to her.

“What’s this for?” She asks, not accepting the money. He rolls his eyes and pulls her close, stuffing the money in her pouch.

“For sticking here with me even though you could be caught, for starters,” he sasses. She laughs and nods, fixing her pouch and re-clipping the metal clasp. “And for saving my ass.”

“It’s nice, gotta save it,” she jokes quietly, hoping he doesn’t hear it. He turns to her, looks as though he’s going to say something but thinks better, and shakes his head as he turns around to finish searching the cabin. “Hey, grab that gun on the mantle. What is that?”

“Huh, double barrel,” Arthur muses as he pulls it from its rack. He looks it over, flipping it and aiming it, before putting it on his back. “Nice new gun. You ready?”

“Yeah, let’s leave before the law shows up,” she concurs, doing a last once over of the cabin to make sure they weren’t forgetting anything. They exit the cabin and mount up, turning their horses to follow the trail that leads from the cabin back to Valentine. 

They stop in at the saloon, Scarlet getting a bowl of oatmeal while Arthur sips a beer. The two talk about their pasts and what they’ve done, where they’ve been until they decide it’s time to get back to camp.

Scarlet stretches as she sits up from the sleeping bag. She glances to her right to see her son still sleeping soundly; the blanket of night still resides over the land. With a sigh, she quietly lifts herself to her feet and makes her way to the back of camp, sitting on the grass covered rock edge.

She doesn’t know how long she’s sitting alone before the hair on the back of her neck stands up. She turns and lets her eyes adjust to the slightly brighter place behind her, thanks to the campfire. The shadowed figure starts towards her again and joins her. She smiles and nods her head to the valley below them as Arthur sits beside her. They rest in silence for awhile, neither needing to speak.

Scarlet doesn’t remember falling asleep again, or even getting tired, but she doesn’t complain when the first rays of the sun wake her by shining bright in her face. She and Arthur must have fallen asleep at some point during their late night talk. She finds herself with her head tucked under his chin, curled up facing him with his arm draped over her waist. His hat’s over his eyes, preventing the sun from attacking him; she tries to move slowly so she won’t wake him, but once she removes his arm he starts to stir.

“Shh, go back to sleep if you need it. Thank you for stayin up and talkin with me last night,” she murmurs in his ear and presses a chaste kiss to his scruffy cheek, bumping his hat. Arthur removes his hat and gently grabs her hand, holding it on the grass. He sits up and nods, eyes searching hers.

“Not a problem. Why were you up that late anyway?” His voice is thick with sleep, his eyes tired. She sighs and shrugs, feeling a slight burn across her cheeks as they flush slightly.

“No clue. Just woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep,” she admits, looking back over the valley as they had the night before. She sighs and sits up, knees to her chest. Arthur pushes himself up, sitting with his legs sprawled out in front of him.

“Has it happened before?”

“What?”

“The waking up at odd hours and not bein able to go back to sleep thing.”

“Sometimes. It’s not often, or not as often since I’ve had James,” she explains. They watch as deer and rabbits run from passing riders on the trail, each in their own thoughts.

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“I know you don’t always sleep the best either. It’s easier to deal with when it’s just me worrying.”

“You got us now, though. You ain’t gotta be by yourself. We’re a family,” he tries to reason with her. She nods and leans back on her palms, eyes downcast.

“I know….I know. It’s just different. Going from not having anyone but my son and the O’Driscolls to worry about, to having a whole gang of people that I now fondly care for. Some more than others. Bill’s a bit much sometimes but I think his heart’s in the right place with bein here an standin behind Dutch. The girls are somethin else too, that’s for sure. An Dutch, well, Dutch is...different. He’s not like Colm or the other gang leaders. He actually seems to care about y’all and your safety. The others don’t give a shit bout losing men or nothing. S’long as they have money and food for themselves they don’t care what happens to their people.”

“Good to know I’m liked. I was hoping to make a good impression on you. We could use more guns and hunters.” Dutch walks up, startling them both. They push away from the other, cheeks tinted red as they don’t meet Dutch’s gaze. Arthur clears his throat and gets to his feet, offering Scarlet a hand. She accepts it and he pulls her up.

“It’s a different kinda family that I’m tryna get used too,” she still won’t meet his eye but Dutch just smiles. He pats her shoulder.

“Don’t worry. As long as you’re one of us, you have a safe place here. Arthur here’s supposed to go meet Javier, Charles, and Trelawny down by Blackwater. One of our guys, Sean, is being held by a big group of bounty hunters. I want him to go help get him back. Why don’t you ride with him and go meet Trelawny and Sean?”

“Uhh, sure. Yeah, yeah I can do that. I ain’t doing nothing else today. Lemme get changed and saddle Shamrock and I’ll be ready,” she quickly agrees, anything to get out from under Dutch’s watchful gaze. She hurries over to her wagon and digs through it for a change of clothes. Dutch turns to Arthur.

“Take her and introduce her to them. They need to know she’s with us too. Try and get him back as soon as possible. It’ll be a win if we can get Sean back with us,” he orders and heads back to his tent. Arthur sighs and goes to change his clothes and shave before they head out.

Arthur meets Scarlet by the hitching post. She’s talking with Hosea about something and they both look up as he approaches.

“Speak of the Devil,” Hoses teases and looks between them, knowing something was starting. He claps them both on the shoulder and climbs on Silver Dollar, nodding to Scarlet as he heads out.

“What was that about?” Arthur asks as they saddle up. Scarlet shrugs and laughs, petting Shamrock.

“We were just talkin bout how he saw us sleepin by the edge of camp this mornin and asked me bout it and what happened. Told him you found me awake and we just sat in silence before talking a little then passing out at some point. He said he didn’t believe that but he let it go,” she gives Shamrock a small kick and he starts for the path to lead them to the road. Smoke follows, keeping to Shamrock’s left. Arthur just nods, not really knowing how to tell her he had been woken by a nightmare of his own son and his son’s mother.

“So who is this Trelawny and Sean? Dutch seemed a little adamant I meet them. They important?”

“Sean? No, him not so much. He’s just one of the ones been with us awhile. When we left Blackwater, he got caught. We thought he was dead. Guess Trelawny found out that wasn’t the case. Trelawny, he’s...well, he’s not here with us. He comes and goes. I’m not sure why Dutch allows it, but he does. He helps us with information about other gangs and situations like now. He’s a scout I guess you could say.”

“Then why did he seem so eager for me to meet them?”

“Well Trelawny is good about picking up things; rumors, details, and the like about places or people and he knows which of us is best suited for the job. I reckon that’s why Dutch wants you two to meet. Sean, well, probably just so that damn Irishman has someone to talk to,” Arthur guesses and leans forward in his saddle, checking to see if he has all his guns. “You have guns and a knife?”

“Acourse. I have my Cattleman’s and my hunting knife.”

“Ever shoot a rifle?”

“Yes. Arthur, why would I need a rifle?”

“Here, take this,” he passes over his hunting rifle with a scope, “we might need a sniper.”

“Arthur, just what are we going to do?” Scarlet takes the gun and slips it over her shoulders, the gun resting diagonally across her back.

“Like I said, Sean was captured. We’re going to get him back from the bounty hunters. Don’t worry, we’ll have Javier and Charles with us,” he attempts to reassure her. She rolls her eyes but loosens her hold on Shamrock’s reins.

“Lead the way then. We can keep up if you wanna push hard,” she gestures to the road with her left hand, letting it hang loose at her side as they pick up their pace to a run.

“Would one of yous cut me down?!” Sean grouches from the tree he’s tied in, his face as red as his hair. Scarlet catches the knife Arthur tosses her, walking up to the Irishman. “Now, Lassie, who ar-” his question gets cut off as Scarlet cuts the rope holding him and he falls on his back, the breath being knocked from his lungs. She laughs and tosses Arthur his knife back, whistling for their horses. The four gallop up and stop in front of their respective owners as Sean gets to his feet once Arthur cuts the rope on his ankles.

“Yanno, you look a lot less ugly from teh ot’er angle, Art’ur!”

“Names Scarlet O’Hara. Nice to meet you, Sean,” she introduces as she pets Boaz and Taima. They both nicker and push against her hand, sniffing for a snack.

“Sean Macguire, at yer pleasure,” he responds, smiling wide and faux bows. She laughs and rolls her eyes as she holds the horses for Javier and Charles.

“You give these two some love when you get back,” she instructs and scratches their noses, earning playful nibbles from both horses. Shamrock lifts his lips and tosses his head as though laughing. Both men agree and Javier holds a hand down to Sean at Arthur’s command.

“You guys get back to camp. We’re gonna have a look around, see if we find anything worthwhile,” Arthur suggests as Scarlet waves to them and starts looting the bounty hunters of their valuables.

“Nothing but a few watches and a couple dollars off these few,” she calls to him, dropping the guy she just looted. Arthur nods and crouches over another one to search his pockets.

“About the same here. Check the tents, see if they have any medical or lock boxes,” he says, finishing up the last few bodies. She hums and sways to a lullaby in her head, digging through the belongings on the wagons and by the tents. She pops open a medical box and takes the ‘miracle cure’ from it, holding it up to Arthur for inspection. He nods and she stuffs it in her pouch as she moves on. Their horses watch them, pawing at the ground as they wait.

“Alright, I think that about does it,” Scarlet huffs, putting the last of the food she found in Shamrock’s saddle bag. “Got some canned fruit and some canned corn,” she adds as she leads Smoke over to Arthur. He thanks her and they mount up, pointing their horses for camp.

When they get there, everyone is rejoicing. There’s four cases of alcohol, two whisky and two beer, that’s set around camp for them to grab from. Scarlet grabs the food from her bags and takes them to Pearson’s wagon, leaving them on his table for later. There’s stew, thanks to the deer Arthur hunted a few days ago, and music. Arthur leads her over to the campfire where Sean has stumbled to, sitting on one of the boxes they use as a stool. Scarlet giggles as he sways, wondering how much everyone’s already had to drink. She makes a note to keep track of her count, restricting herself to one for now, two at most.

Abigail spots her and pulls her aside, letting her know that the boys are already in bed, asleep. Scarlet thanks her and they talk for a few minutes until they hear different music. Scarlet follows it to Dutch’s tent, where said man is dancing with Molly. Scarlet smiles bright and watches, arms crossed as Dutch twirls Molly, both smiling. Mary-Beth stands by her, fawning over the couple as well. She turns when someone catches her eye and Scarlet turns at the question.

“Dance with me, Mr. Morgan?”

“Ahh, I’m not much of a dancer, Mary-Beth,” he holds his hands up in apology. She pouts and nods to the duo already dancing.

“He taught you a little, right? Please, Arthur?”

“Yeah, alright,” he concedes and sets his whiskey bottle down. Scarlet clenches her jaw, giving them a smile and nod when they pass. She watches them from the side, trying to comprehend the steps by watching only.Abigail and John soon join them, followed by Susan and Uncle. Karen and Sean also join them, both stumbling in their inebriated state. Scarlet holds in a laugh at the drunken two and watches as they all spin and sway to Dutch’s music.

“Miss Scarlet, w-w-would you like to dance? You’re staring at them an awful lot,” Kieran shyly asks, stepping up to her. She blushes, casting her eyes to the ground.

“Oh, no I-I dunno how to dance, Kieran. I’m sorry, thank you though, hun,” she manages to squeak out, eyes going back to Dutch spinning Molly.

“Well, would ya like ta’ learn?” Sean asks as he appears by Kieran, bottle of whiskey in hand. Karen’s dancing with Javier now. Scarlet looks between the two men and nods slightly.

“If you think you can teach me,” she replies, fiddling with her own whisky bottle. Sean beams and drops his empty bottle, reaching for her hands. She barely has time to pass her half full bottle to Kieran before the red head is tugging her into the small clearing the others are dancing in. He shows her where she’s supposed to put her hands, one on his shoulder and the other in his own, as his other hand moves to her hip. Scarlet hesitantly obeys and takes his hand, her other gingerly placed on his shoulder. He pulls her with him as he takes a step back, steadying her as she stumbles.

“One foot atta time, Lassie,” he speaks over the music and cheers of the others. He steps forward with the same foot and Scarlet is a little more sure-footed. He continues the pattern; one step back then the same foot forward towards her. Once she has that down, he adds two more. This time one back, to the original spot, then forward and back to the original spot again. It takes a couple tries but soon she has the rhythm and they’re stepping in pace with the others. “Wanna try some flare, Lass?”

“Uhh, sure?” She isn’t sure but Sean’s been too sweet to say no to, so she agrees. Before she realizes what’s happening, Sean has spun her from his hand and Charles takes his place. She lets out a giggle as they pick the rhythm back up and he spins her, pulling her back to him.

“It’s not so hard once you learn the steps. It’s just a lot of repetition,” Charles encourages her, taking both her hands in his. “Bring your hands out,” he moves their hands so their arms are spread in front of each other, “and then you twist with this, still holding my hand,” he instructs as he twists her as such, her back to his chest with her arms crossed in front of her, still holding his hands. “Now spin the opposite way to face me again.”

She does as requested and they both grin widely. Charles spins her again, to the side this time and Uncle catches her from her spin, steadying her and bringing her back to the rhythm once more. He repeats Sean’s pace, slow and just the same four steps; back, original, forward, original, for a few minutes before showing her how to add to each side; making a total of eight steps, without flare.

They practice for a little while before he lets her spin to Javier. Javier shows her how to change the rhythm and add in her own flare. He makes sure she has the original -that Sean showed her- down before taking it the extra step. He has her smiling and giggling as he twirls and spins her. Arthur watches from the corner of his vision, jaw set as he tries to focus on just doing the basic steps with Mary-Beth. Javier passes Scarlet to Bill, who sends her spinning to Karen after their dance.

Karen and Scarlet dance for a bit, mostly swaying as they talk in hushed whispers. Karen lets Sadie dance with Scarlet when Sean asks her to dance again. The two females smile at each other as they dance. Scarlet misses the glare Arthur shoots all of the others, they just smirk and shrug, Sean mouthing something to him before Arthur turns back to Mary-Beth.

In the last two and a half months Scarlet’s been with the Van der Linde gang, she and Sadie are most definitely the closest. They’d bond over the mutual hate for the O’Driscolls and share their experiences; Scarlet often consoling Sadie when her emotions about her husband overwhelm her.

They sway side to side with their arms wrapped around the other, whispering to each other; about how Sadie misses dancing, about how she’d always be willing to dance with and teach Scarlet. Scarlet in turn tells her that she’s always loved watching people dance, but the only thing she knows how to do is one of the few line dances people made up back home. She offers to teach Sadie one day.

Sadie prompts Scarlet and they dance back in the first steps Sean taught before Dutch takes Scarlet’s free hand when Sadie spins her out from her. Sadie huffs slightly and glares playfully at the well dressed man, who winks at them, but she takes Javier’s offered hand.

“Well hello, Mr. Van der Linde. We were just talking about how we love this fine little group you have here,” she laughs as Dutch spins her out then back into his chest as Charles had, swaying for a moment before spinning her back so they’re facing one another again.

“That so? Well I’m glad you’re happy here. I know it’s not what you’re used to, seeing as you had your own homestead, but we’ve got each other,” he replies as they dance. She nods and tilts her head up at him.

“Different isn’t always bad, be it thoughts or decisions. Sometimes havin ‘nother perspective helps sort out issues or possible conflict,” she assures him, sliding her hand down his chest to fix his lapel. “Different can be good.”

Dutch just nods as he shows her new steps. He makes sure she has them down before instructing her how to add certain flares and where they should go. He helps teach her to time them right, catching her when she stumbles. He chuckles and she can feel his laughter reverberating through his chest as he helps put her back on her feet.“Think you’re ready for a dip?”

“A what?” Panic flashes across her eyes as his words process. She squeezes his hand and shakes her head no as he spins her out again. He smiles and lets go of her hand. Scarlet feels a pair of warm arms steady and turn her before her gaze meets Arthur’s. They share a smile as he takes her hand and rests the other on her hip.

“Thought they’s gon’ hog you all night,” he says, just loud enough for her to hear. She giggles and nods, resting her hand on the nape of his neck instead of his shoulder.

“Sure felt like it. I’m just glad Dutch didn’t dip me. I might’ve fell. I am getting dizzy from all the spinnin. And the alcohol,” she admits.

“Well, lucky you then. I’m not much of a dancer. I won’t spin you,” he assures her. They’re content with just swaying to the music, both oblivious to the gaggle of onlookers they’ve grown.

Neither are sure when, or who did it first, but they realize that they’re close together, chests pressing against one another. Arthur slips his hand from her hip around her back, letting his other one follow suit, holding his left wrist in his right hand, locking her in place. She’s got her arms wrapped around his neck as they sway to the slowly fading music.

“Alright everyone! Come on, back up this way!” Dutch calls. The duo look up from each other; Arthur smiles as he takes her hands and spins her once, before dipping her as the music finally fades out. He pulls her back to her feet and they start intently at one another before Scarlet clears her throat and thanks him, giving his cheek a quick peck. He squeezes her hand, reluctantly letting go as they head back to the main campfire.

“Now that we have Sean back, we can focus on getting money and finding a way back out west, but for now, rest up and enjoy the night. We can start again in the morning,” he announces and dismisses everyone; Arthur and Scarlet heading for their wagons. They bid each other goodnight and Scarlet hugs him. He pats her back and let’s her go when she pulls away. She kisses his cheek and thanks him again for dancing with her and he waves her off, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

#red dead redemption 2 #van der linde gang #dutch's boys #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #arthur morgan #john marston #jack marston #abigail roberts #bill williamson #javier escuella #charles smith #tilly jackson #lenny summers #sean macguire #karen jones #mary beth gaskill #molly o'shea #susan grimshaw #uncle #micah bell #reverand swanson #leopold strauss #josiah trelawny #simon pearson #scarlet o'hara #james o'hara #arthur morgan x ofc #arthur morgan x scarlet o'hara

[hyperion-moonbabe]

Caught In Between: 05. Dinner Party

IMPORTANT!!! TO ANYONE FOLLOWING OR READING MY TVD SERIES: This blog is currently my secondary blog. I have wanted to change it to primary for a while and since Tumblr does not allow it. I have created a new blog: @hyperion-moonbabe-new 

I will be porting everything over to this blog including my series and possibly eventually delete it so I can use this name without the “-new” on the end. If you would like to continue to read my series, please know that it will be continued on my new blog. Thank you!

Edit: Update

Summary: Athena Dumont has finally found a place to call home after many years of foster homes and traveling. She had finally tamed her supernatural side and just wanted to live a normal teenage life. She quickly discovers that there is nothing normal about her hometown, Mystic Falls and gets sucked right back into the supernatural world.

Post Date: 04.03.20

Word count: 3k

Based off: 02x15 “The Dinner Party”

00. | 01.  | 02. | 03. |  04. 

I wake up to a loud knock on my door, “What?!” I sleepily ask yelling from my bed.

“Damon just wanted me to make sure you’re up, so you can come with us to the grill,” Damon’s new personal blood bag, Andie Star, said politely from the other side. I do have to say Andie is very nice and I really don’t approve how Damon is using her, she doesn’t deserve it. I just ignored her and turned to go back to sleep. A few minutes later I heard the door open but ignore it. 

“Hey, sleepyhead you’re coming with Andie and I to meet Ric at the grill,” Damon says clearly annoyed. The only response I give him was a pillow thrown to his face. 

“Come on, get up,” Damon says struggling to lift me from the bed, but I just ragdoll. 

“I don’t wanna,” I pout like a five-year-old. “Why am I always stuck with you?” I ask finally lifting my own body weight.

“Because you just are. Now get ready we’re leaving in 10,” Damon leaves without shutting my door, forcing me to get up if I wanted any privacy.

I get dressed and meet Damon and Andie downstairs. We make our way over to the Mystic Grill and find a table to sit down at with Alaric. I take a seat next to Alaric while Andie and Damon sit in the booth, we start to take about how Elijah had a visit with Elena’s aunt, Jenna, “Other than your lecture on the history of Mystic Falls, did you get anything out of Elijah?” Damon questions Alaric.

“No, it was boring. Of course, Jenna thinks he’s charming,” Alaric responds annoyed at Jenna’s opinion on him.

“You sounded jealous. Sound a bit jealous?” Damon asks turning to Andie. I just roll my eyes at how he has to point out everything.

“Kinda do,” Andie agrees.

“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this here,” Alaric says and glances at Andie slightly.

“I can agree with that,” I glance over at Andie as well.

“Andie, she’s been compelled not to divulge my secrets. Haven’t you?” Damon responds putting his arm around her back as they kiss. I just silently gag to myself at how gross they’re being.

“Mmm. My lips are sealed,” Andies says with a slight baby voice.

“This is just gross,” I say and glance over at Alaric who has a disgusted look as well.

“Ah, there’s Jenna with her new boyfriend. Hi.” Damon says as he catches Jenna’s and Elijah’s attention. 

“Hey, guys,” Jenna says as they make their way over to our table.

“So, I hear you two had quite a meeting of historical minds today,” Damon states.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” Jenna says clearly not knowing how to respond and Elijah just smiles trying to act well, not him.

“Well, as much as I’d like to continue this, I’ve got papers to grade,” Alaric says as he puts some money on the table and starts to get up.

“And I have better places to be, Damon you’ll be handling my bill, right?” I say and start to get up as well.

“No, you know what? We should continue this. Let’s have a dinner party,” Andie suggests.

“Ooh, my girl. Full of good ideas. I’ll be happy to host. Say tonight. Maybe?” Damon suggests even further.

“It’s good for me. Jenna?” Andie questions.

“I don’t know if tonight works--” Alaric starts.

“Yeah, I’m free,” Jenna interrupts not wanting Alaric to answer for her.  She and Alaric make faces at each other.

“It’d be a pleasure,” Elijah says accepting the invite graciously.

“Well, have fun. I’m sure, you being adults, won’t want a--” I say before I’m interrupted.

“No, I think it’d be great for you to join us, Athena,” Andie adds.

“Another good idea from my girl. Great,” Damon says not letting me out of it.

Damon, Andie and I head back to the house, “Now how about my two girls prepare for the party tonight and get to know each other. I need to make a little visit to a very unpleasurable doppelganger,” Damon says as he gathers some items up.

“I’m not your girl,” I respond and roll my eyes at him. Damon continues to gather stuff up and head out the door.

 “You know as much as Damon teases and is mean to you, he does care about you,” Andie says as we make our way to the kitchen.

“Says the blood bag, no offense. I mean you really don’t deserve this,” I say back.

“None taken. But I do care for him actually, he does need someone there for him. I wanna be that person. He may compel me but he can’t tell me what to think,” She explains.

“I see what you mean. I was in the same boat with him two years ago. I just don’t want to see you hurt,” I say as I start to prepare some food.

“Thank you,” She responds as she helps me prepare the food.

Andie and I continue to talk, prepare and cook food. A few hours pass and we hear the doorbell ring, I go to open it to find Alaric and Jenna at the door with a half-done dessert in hand. Andie and Jenna go to set up the dining table while Damon and Alaric talk in the library. I go upstairs to prepare myself for seeing more of Andie and Damon together, that and make myself a little more presentable.

 I make my way down to the dining hall, “Anything I can help with?” I ask looking between Andie and Jenna, and take notice of John Gilbert.

“Nope, everything’s all set up,” Jenna responds clasping her hands together.

I smile at both of them and make my way into the great room and find Damon there. The doorbell rings once again and I go to open it up with Damon following close behind. I find Elijah standing in the doorway and feel Damon’s presence as he stands right behind me.

“Good Evening,” Elijah greets.

“Thank you for coming. Please, come in.” Damon says unnervingly pippy.

“Just one moment. Can I just say that if you have less than honorable intentions about how this evening is going to proceed, I suggest you reconsider,” Elijah states coldly.

“No, nothing, nothing dishonorable. Just getting to know you,” Damon responds in a weirdly nice tone.

“I made sure of it,” I reassure Elijah and smile at him, hoping it lessens the tension.

“Hmm. Well, that’s good,” Elijah says and enters the house as Damon and I move out of the way. “Because, you know, although Elena and I have this deal, if you so much as make a move to cross me, I’ll kill you and I’ll kill everyone in this house. Are we clear?” Elijah states with a colder voice as I think that he would actually kill me, but I guess I could never know. 

“Guys lets just get to know each other and enjoy the wonderful dinner Andie and I prepared,” I say annoyed, looking between them as they glare at each other from either side of me.

“Crystal,” Damon responds sounding a bit scared and ignoring my comment. 

I walk away and towards Jenna who’s waiting in the hallway. Elijah greets her and we all make our way over to the dinner table. I lead everyone into the kitchen to serve the food and we all settle back into our seats at the table. Jenna, Andie and I on one side, Alaric and Elijah on the other, and John and Damon each at the ends of the table.

“I hate to break it to you, Damon and Athena, but according to Elijah, your families are so not founders of this town,” Jenna says as she pours Damon a glass of wine.

“Hmm, do tell,” Damon says but clearly not interested.

“Well, as I mentioned to Jenna earlier, A faction of settlers migrated from Salem after the witch trials in the 1690s. Over the next hundred years, they developed this community where they could feel safe from persecution,” Elijah explains to all of us while we begin to eat.

“Hmm. Because they were witches,” Jenna adds.

“Yeah, but there’s no tangible proof there were witches in Salem,” Andie says disbelievingly.

“Andie’s a Journalist. Big on facts.” Damon says trying to boast her while making a face at Elijah.

“Well, the lore says that there was this wave of anti-witch hysteria. It broke out in the neighboring settlement, so these witches were rounded up. They were tied to stakes in a field together and, uh, burned. Some say you could hear the screams from miles around us. They were consumed by the fire. Could you pass the…” Elijah explains.

“I wouldn’t repeat this to the Historical Society,” Jenna chuckles.

“I don’t think they���d enjoy Elijah’s story, going back on their history,” I chuckle.

“It’s starting to sound a little like a ghost story to me,” John Gilbert says.

“So, why do you want to know the location of these alleged massacres?” Damon asks trying to get information out.

“You know...a healthy historian’s curiosity, of course,” Elijah responds not giving any information up.

We continue to make small conversation and finish up our meal. As we start to clean up Andie suggests that the guys should drink in the library, which makes me think they’re up to something. But not wanting to cause any problems with Alaric and Jenna or be wrong about anything, I keep my mouth shut and help clean the table. After we finish cleaning up, Alaric comes up to me with information from Stefan.

“Athena, Damon’s going to try to kill Elijah tonight, with a dagger and some white ash. We need to stop him,” Alaric whispers to me urgently.

“That asshole, I should’ve known. Even though I have some care for Elijah, I know this needs to end. I don’t want any of you hurt, Let’s go.” I say and we start to head to the library.

We hear Damon and Elijah talking as we walk into the library, “Gentlemen, we forgot about dessert,” Alaric says making his way over to them, making a cover. 

“Elijah,” I say as I hold my hand out to him, to lead him back to the dining room.

“Athena,” Elijah says handing his drink to Damon. He comes over and takes my hand and pulls me towards the dining room.

“So have you thought about my deal?” He asks quiet enough so Damon couldn’t hear.

“Yeh, and I can’t risk my friends here. I want to protect them, they’re like my family,” I respond.

“I understand, but I’m your family too,” Elijah says, but I don’t respond as we make it back into the room where Andie, Jenna, and John were.

“Sorry, guys dessert is taking longer than I thought. I usually just unwrap food,” She says while pouring a cup of coffee.

“Let me help you,” I say as Andie, Elijah, and John take their seats at the table and I follow Jenna into the kitchen.

We make some small talk while I help Jenna finish the dessert. We walk out of the kitchen with the dessert to find that Elijah was gone, “Where’s Elijah?” I ask looking at Damon, suspiciously.

“He had some work to attend to,” Damon says, but I give him a look that tells him I don’t believe him. 

“I forgot my drink in the kitchen. I’ll be right back,” I say and nod my head for Damon to follow.

I make our way into the kitchen and wait for Damon to follow in, “What did you do?” I whisper upset.

“What do you mean?” Damon dismisses my question.

“I know Elijah, did not just leave to do work. So… what… did… you… do?” I ask him one more time more upset.

“Ok, fine. You caught me. I and by I, I mean Alaric may have given Elijah a little poke with a dagger,” Damon finally gives up after a few moments of silence.

“Did you guys happen to leave the dagger in? Because if you want him actually ‘dead’ then you need to leave the dagger in,” I explain to him finally feeling the info I had was helpful. He just makes a ‘really’ face at me as his phone starts to ring.

“What Stefan?” Damon answers his call. “Yeh, I know. Athena just told me,” He hangs up and starts to rush off. 

I follow him into the cellar, which is where they stored him, well, tried. Once we make our way down to the cellar, we find it empty. Damon just looks at me with an upset face, “We need to get to Elena and Stefan now. If Elijah’s going anywhere, it’s wherever Elena is,” I say walking away from Damon.

We quickly get rid of Alaric, Jenna, John, and Andie but try not to raise any suspicion. Damon grabs the dagger off the table and we drive over to the Gilbert Lakehouse to warn Elena and Stefan, “I can guarantee that If Elijah has witches that he’ll be making his way over here right now,” I tell them.

“Well, there’s not enough time to leave,” Stefan states.

“What if we draw him out so we can dagger him again? Athena and Damon hide, so he only thinks Stefan and I are here. I can try to reason with him and since he’s mad at Damon, he might not comply. I’ll tell him that if he doesn’t I’ll stab myself... ” Elena starts to explain.

“What? Not an option,” I say turning to her.

“I’m gonna have to agree,” Damon says.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Stefan adds.

“Just listen, I’ll tell him that I’ll stab myself, Stefan would heal me and then I’d kill myself to become a vampire. Rendering me useless to Klaus and therefore Elijah. I can then stab myself to make him agree to a new deal, then once I can get close enough, I’ll stab him with the dagger, killing him,” Elena finishes taking the dagger from Damon’s hand.

“And how can we be sure that he’d fall for this plan of yours?” Damon questions.

“Well, I know Elijah. He needs Elena so it’s pretty soundproof in my mind,” I state looking at Elena upset, not wanting her to put herself in harm's way.

“I trust Athena. If she thinks its a good idea, then we should go with it. Anyone got any better ideas?” Stefan asks looking between us.

“I mean I don’t, Damon?”  I ask in response. But he just sighs and walks away as I follow him.

I follow Damon into another room, “We’re just gonna let her sacrifice herself?” He asks me distressed.

“It’ll all work itself out, and if it doesn’t I’ll go with Elijah,” I explain trying to calm him.

“That is not an option either!” He yells at me getting right up to my face.

“Well, it’s the only other option I can think of. I mean he wants me--” I start before I’m cut off by Damon covering my mouth. Elijah must be here.

Damon and I head upstairs in order to keep ourselves from being found. As we continue our way up the stairs we hear a loud noise of the door being torn down. We listen to the conversation that Elijah and Elena are having as we wait upstairs for the plan to be finished. We hear Elena scream in pain as we can hear her stab herself. And the next thing we hear is Elijah screams in pain as he is stabbed with the white oak dagger. Damon and I quietly but quickly make our way downstairs to make sure Elena was ok. 

“Little tip. Don’t pull the dagger out.” Damon says stating the obvious.

Elena and Stefan pack up their stuff as Damon and I figure out how to get Elijah’s body in his car. We all make our way back over to the Salvatore house. Damon and Stefan take Elijah’s body downstairs to the cellar as Elena and I follow close behind.

“Are you ok?” I ask her.

“Yeh are you? I mean I know you guys are like fam--”

“We did what we had to do. I’m not letting anyone hurt you guys, you’re my family” I interrupt her. Damon and Stefan put Elijah’s body on the ground, as soon they set him down, Damon searches Elijah’s pockets.

“What do we have here?” Damon says while he pulls the moonstone out of one of the pockets. “A little moonstone bar of soap. I’ll hold on to this.” He says getting up from his crouched position.

“So that’s it. I mean, as long as we keep the dagger in there, then he stays dead.” Elena states.

“As far as I know, yes,” I respond.

“Okay then, good night,” Elena says and starts to walk out before she turns around and looks at Stefan and Damon, “You know, you guys want me to fight, Fine, I’ll fight. But if we’re gonna do this, you can’t keep anything from me anymore. From this moment on, we’re doing it my way.” Elena protests.

“That seems fair,” Damon says, but I can tell he could care less about doing it her way.

“Okay,” Stefan agrees.

I follow Elena out of the cellar, “You know I had nothing to do with Damon’s little plan until it happened right?” I ask her making sure she knows I won’t try anything.

“Yeh, I know,” 

“Hey, I know you want to do this your way. But if it comes down to it and the Originals need or want me. I don’t want you to get hurt trying to save me. I’ll fight them your way, if you respect the way I wanna fight them on my own battlefront, Okay?” I stop Elena halfway in the hall.

“Okay,” She says, hesitantly agreeing to my terms.

I head upstairs to “my bedroom” and try to get to sleep early knowing that I have school tomorrow, which I dread over all this other stuff.

A/N: Here is part 5, based on 02x15 "The Dinner Party".  I know this was a big-time jump from the last part, but episodes 12-14 seemed like filler to me, and I didn’t want to spend time writing those parts, so here we are. I know Athena kinda seems like she’s in the background but she’ll get her spotlight soon. I may skip another episode or two, but I’ll have to see how I wanna plan things out. Please let me know what you guys think of the series so far, any feedback is great. Also, let me know if anyone would like me to start a taglist. I hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading. Stay safe and healthy! 

Bonus Content~ Here is a screenshot of Ian/Damon while I was going through the episode. I thought it was worth sharing:

#the vampire diaries #the originals #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine #elena gilbert #Stefan Salvatore #damon salvatore #elijah mikaelson #alaric saltzman #bonnie bennett #jeremy gilbert #caroline forbes #niklaus mikaelson #tyler lockwood #katherine pierce

[girlobsessed21]

The 100 6x12 discussion: Screw protocol and kill them all

My fingers hovered over the keyboard with nerves and you will see my prudence shine through in the post. Look, this is my favorite show, probably of all time, and this entire season has been an absolute doozy to experience. Then, I get to the penultimate episode and I suddenly feel off my game. Not sure if it’s the abundance of storylines happening at once, the few plot holes, Sheidheda or inconsistency, nonetheless, here’s my experience.

You can go back and read all my discussions from the trailer to 6x11 and I never wavered in my stance that Russel may have morals but he is a well-rounded baddie and the main villain of the season. Sure, we had Josephine and whether it’s Eliza and Sarah’s remarkable acting or the sociopath's substance, I’d love a spinoff series about her. It sure is a fruit salad when you add the monstrous commander to the mix, though I don’t expect that storyline to be resolved by next episode. Clarke never found the notebook and Raven seem to be struggling with his disengagement.

In line with the rest of the season, this is filled with the good, the bad and the beautiful. Russel vs Gabriel, Abby vs Simone, Emori vs Murphy, the devout vs nonbelievers and ultimately kill the few to save the many vs taking no lives at all.

Before all the gory details, I just have to say Eliza Taylor is out-and-out iconic. I cannot sing her praises enough with the shrewd way in which she fits into each character’s skin. The lucid distinction between Clarke and Josephine with her emotions surfacing in her ruse as the latter is exceptional.

In peace, you left this shore, Abby

If you follow my weekly posts, you’ll know my opinion on Abby is quite brutal. I’ve never liked her, perhaps a little in season one but she still caused her own husband’s death.  Season after season, episode after episode my fury towards her grew exponentially and I was more than ready to say goodbye - until now.

Looking into your daughter’s eyes, knowing it’s not her must be soul-crushing. I felt it with Abby, Clarke and Delilah’s parents, which is why I completely understood her threatening Russel. A little tear escaped my own eyes when she cried for the loss of Clarke while Raven tried to comfort her.

Keeping her promise to her daughter, Abby turned herself into a nightblood to save Madi. This has to be one of her most heroic moments ever. I’m not sure if Kane’s final words or this instance bears the turning point in which her past mistakes catch up to her, either way, it’s appreciated. Albeit a strong callback to the Finn and Pike’s deaths.

She did not get a redemption arc but at least her sendoff included a final forgiving chapter.

Ugh, I wanted to punch the smugness from Russel’s face when he realized Abby will be the perfect candidate for his wife. But it came as no surprise, I suspected it.

Her moment with Jackson and the apology to Raven was delivered with such intimacy and poignancy that it provokes a chilling heartbreak when Russel plunges the needle into her neck. Not to mention the way her life flashed before her eyes as she fell to the ground. Paige Turco truly is an amazing actress and I’m curious to see her portrayal of the prime queen even if it’s just for one episode.

At least she had a beautiful, although short, reunion with Clarke.

One last thing I need to add, Raven’s humbleness this episode was more than welcome. I needed to hear that she acknowledges her judgmentalism as a flaw which requires resolve. A lot can be said on the topic, as I’ve done many times before, though I hope it holds up. Seeing such a strong and smart character in constant high-horse mentality is infuriating, to say the least.

To the glory and grace of the primes

Props to Emori, she has really grown into quite the benevolent character. I’ve always liked her, but throughout the entire series, she has only improved. From a scavenger to becoming Raven’s skilled apprentice and a loyal member of the Spacekru family. And if 6x08 wasn’t enough to lionize her, she refuses to play house with people who deems a threat to her and her friends.

All while, Murphy’s plan was to show Russel that they’re useful and on-board with being false gods. I thought he would try to find a way to save Echo but clearly being immortal is his first priority. Apart from asking nicely, he did nothing to protect his friends. Did he justify the decision in his mind? Where is the John Murphy I’ve come to love? Raven’s look at Murphy mirrored all of my own feelings on the matter.

I just have to add that both of them looked stunning when they emerged hand-in-hand as brother and sister. Emori’s dress, damn baby, she hot as hell.

Clarke, on the other hand, is more than resourceful by using Ryker as a bargaining chip. No pun intended. As a mother herself, she knows it’s the quintessential key to Priya’s compliance. And Echo’s attempt at stopping them - top-notch. But can someone please explain when they became friends because if my memory serves correctly, the last time they were together, Echo tried to kill her? Even if she defended her in 6x01, I wasn’t aware they are on hugging terms.

Raven’s perception of the primes as serial killers in royal robes couldn’t be more fitting.

Like I said last week, Gabriel reminds me so much of Monty. Perhaps Mr. Green was slightly stronger; he did kill his own mother when it was necessary. Though, it doesn’t compensate for the lack of Jordan, where is he? Being such an innocent yet brave member of the ensemble, I cannot help but take his absence personally. It’s slightly ridiculous in my opinion.

Anyway, the prince of peace is hellbent on putting a stop to namings day and instinctively changes the plan. Even if I enjoyed his “there is nothing more powerful than the truth” speech, facing a king singlehandedly is foolish. Unfortunately, his presence alerts Russel that the red sun trigger is a fluke. And I suppose unlike all the other heroes of this show, he’s never killed anyone with a gun before. Then again, would pulling that trigger have made any difference with Simone being alive?

Why did Russel not kill Gabriel though? Was it because Dr. Santiago brought his daughter back and gave them the privilege of immortality? Sorry, that part confused me.

Abby!Simone sure is a vision in white, wow but what a total self-centered biatch!!! At least Abby’s death blew the morality right back into Murphy. The two of them have always had a strong bond since he kept Clarke’s heart beating.

Poor Clarke though, seeing Madi bound and realizing her mother’s dead must have shattered her soul. That, right after seeing Bellamy and Echo in each other’s arms. My heart goes out to her still playing the role of Josephine with enough conviction to fool her parents. Our female lead is one strong woman, blaming the tears on her mother’s return and Gabriel’s betrayal.

Now, Madi being alive and well is a bit of a conundrum. Sheidheda said he’ll kill the girl if Raven continues. So, my guess is that he let her live since Raven’s tied up and he needs to wake the Wonkru army and they’re playing right into his hand.

Finally, that standoff ending between the primes threatening Madi and Gaia against Indra, Niyalah and the rest of the crew was supercharged. I’m still yelling, “No, this can’t be it!”

The calvary protocol adjusted

There’s nothing more fun to watch as the Blake’s on good terms. Man, I love it. Octavia being the supportive sibling even more so. And It seems like Bellamy is becoming quite the clown this season. If I’m not mistaken, “I told you she’d get it done,” was like his third joke. He’s always been my favorite, can’t help but smile when he graces my screen.

Fun stuff aside, death to primes.

Bellamy and Echo reunite. Clearly, he’s delighted to find her safe and sound after learning him she’s in trouble. I believe him to be more than guilt-ridden about abandoning her to save Clarke, even if it ultimately was the right choice. I hate to sound like a typical Bellarke shipper but if their relationship continues with no addressing the last three episodes, it would trigger grave blemishes in the storyline.

It’s degrading for Echo to idly accept her boyfriend’s dedication to another woman. And Bellamy has to face those conflicting feelings inside and make a choice; right now he has his cake and takes little nibbles when the hunger strikes badly.

Of course there’s no time right now. It doesn’t have to happen right away or even in this season, yet it can’t simply be ignored. The looks on both Clake and Octavia’s faces suggest they're less than pleased with the intimate embrace.

Moving on, his inspirational declaration of the truth took me right back to season one. The man sure has a way of influencing the masses. Sadly, Russel’s had a bomb of his own which causes one hell of an outbreak for those without anti-toxin and Priya’s death by the hand of Delilah’s mom.

Convenient how there just happened to be a lockable storage unit nearby which Echo knew about. Was it one of her hideouts? And won’t they have to kill all the believers anyway once they break down those doors? Guess we’ll find out next week.

I can’t believe there’s only one episode left, I’m already dreading the hiatus. As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts! May we meet again next week.

#The 100 #the100 #the 100 season 6 #The 100 s6 #the 100 season six spoilers #the100 spoilers #the 100 season six #the 100 6x12 #adjustment protocol #clarke griffin #abby griffin #bellamy blake #octavia blake #john murphy #raven reyes #echo #bellamy x clarke #becho #bellarke #russel lightbourne #gabriel #madi griffin #sheidheda

[plaidstiel-wormstache]

Secret and Lies

Hi all, so I haven’t posted in a while and this is something I wrote last night. I don’t know where it came from because I haven’t watched VD for YEARS. Thanks for the quick beta from @wi-deangirl77 - posting cause of you!

Word Count: 1268 Warning: Blood - in a vampire way, cheating, Character: Reader, Damon Salvatore, Stefan Salvatore, and others Set in the late 1800s.

Damon leaned against the door frame, his head resting against his bicep while the other hand held an almost empty crystal glass of whiskey by his thigh. YN was pacing the length of the study, her nostrils flared, angry breaths puffing in and out. Her hair was immaculate save the ends that looked wiry, like it was charged with static electricity, giving the pronounced veins under her bloodshot eyes the crazed look you’d hope to see in a bloodthirsty vampire. Her gown flared out each time she spun on her heel, shimmering where it caught the light of the candles. “She will kill you, and I can’t stop her when she gets like this,” Damon said matter-of-factly to the man tied to the chair in the middle of the room. “Please, please, you gotta understand, I had nothing to do with it!” He begged, his eyes darting between the two. “Nothing?” YN’s voice was somewhere between a scoff and an insane cry. “If you’re not going to tell us-” Damon looked to YN, the sly smirk lifting the corner of his lips, the fire glinting in his eyes. YN snarled and lunged forward her fangs a whisper away from the crying man’s jugular. “Stop! Oh god- stop-plea-I’ll tell you!” He squealed, beginning to hyperventilate. She paused, breathing him in. “Go on,” she whispered, getting a thrill out of the way he shivered when her breath made the hairs of his neck stand tall.

“We hit you- we hit you!” He sobbed. “Why? Why would you leave me there?” She snarled by his ear. “We didn’t mean to!” He shrieked at how close she was. “But you did.” Damon couldn’t help but interject. “We didn’t mean to!” He begged, as if it would make a difference. YN stood tall, and sighed, looking down at him, rolling her finger in the air when he looked up at her, prompting him to continue his story. “The ground was slick with ice, the car was out of control, we didn’t mean to hit you, but it just happened and I told the boys to turn around. I told ‘em- I said ‘we should help but they’-” he was cut off by his own sobbing. YN flexed her jaw and clenched her fist, turning sharply toward Damon. “What is it you always say?” She asked, a crazed smile fixed on her lips. “If it smells like bullshit...” he teased, his eyes fixed on the man over YN’s shoulder. She nodded, turning to survey the man’s reaction. “And if it sounds like bullshit...” “No I swear!” He pleaded, screaming when YN’s fangs appeared and she launched toward him. She moved like a flash of lightning, striking him suddenly and sinking in, spilling more than she drank. “Alright now, don’t be greedy.” Damon finally tutted, letting the glass fall from his grip and smash on the floorboards. His eyes darkened, veins pronounced, fangs snapped down, as he sauntered towards the feast. He grabbed the man’s hair and reefed his head back further, exposing more of his neck, before plunging his teeth into the supple skin.

“I can’t stop her when she gets like this?” YN questioned as she fixed the strap of her clean, dress over her shoulder. Damon’s fingers were gentle as they took over from hers, smoothing the strap down, following the line of the dress down her back. “When I get like what? Hungry?” She further persuaded, wiping the blood at the corner of her mouth. His eyes met hers in the mirror as he lowered his lips to the skin of her shoulder and placed a gentle kiss there before answering. “You’re very much like Stefan when you’re hungry.” “I resent that. I haven’t once been confused for the ripper.” YN turned to face Damon, a sly smile that promised all kinds of torture, set upon her face. “We should get back to the party, people will start to suspect,” He said, inclining his head towards the stairs. “Suspect we’re vampires? Or that we’re...” She whispered the last word as she leaned into him, a breath from her lips to his, “Fucking?” “Such a foul mouth.” He murmured, before closing the distance and kissing her passionately.

Joining the party upstairs, they blended back in, going their separate ways. Damon swamped by the desperate women of the town, and YN to her blissfully ignorant beau. “Where’ve you been?” He muttered into her ear as she fixed herself to his side. “Powder room.” She offered simply, catching Damon’s eye across the room. “I’ve missed you,” He let his hand slip from the small of her back to the curve of her ass, “Let’s leave.” He muttered. “We are yet to see my brother.” YN reminded, pressing against his chest and standing back from him, enjoying the forlorn look. He sighed and looked over her head and about the room. “Let’s find him then.” He placed the empty glass he was holding on a sideboard, and upon glimpsing a group by the fireplace, he led the way through the crowd towards them.

“And what is it you do again?” A blonde woman asked Damon. “I’m a purveyor of rare artifacts,” He answered, savoring the looks the women threw at each other out of intrigue. “Such an odd title, what exactly does it mean?” The older of the women asked. “What artifacts?” Asked the one by his side, her eyes sparkling in the fire. Damon turned his attention to her, eyes raking over her features, watching the dramatic pound of the pulse at her neck. “I find and sell cultural, historical interests. Just last week I found a vase belonging to the ming dynasty, surely stolen and restolen, sold from one to the next only to be stolen again.” “And what did you do with it?” The girl asked, seemingly lost in his tale. “Well, would you guess, there’s a collector right here in Mystic Falls.” He smiled at the young lady as she stared up at him in awe. “What else have your travels found?” A sandy-haired man had joined the group, interrupting the women before they had a chance to ask. Damon judged him, the suit was snug and his hair was taller than ever. “Where to begin-” “What about that fine necklace you sold my sister?” The man pushed. “And who’s your sister?” Damon asked, already meeting her gaze across the room. “Sofia, she’s just- ah there she is, with John, her soon-to-be fiance.” The man pointed to YN who’d now turned back to her beau, pressed against his side. “Ah yes, it’s said to be an ancient Egyptian amulet, some say-” “I heard it was a cursed pendant.” The older woman interrupted, causing the other's to speculate. “Maggie said it held magical properties, that Sofia had it bewitched by that hag that lives in the woods.” The blonde from earlier said. “No no, Maggie’s making it up. She’s just jealous.” Another interjected. “I read it was the devil’s eye, bringing misery to those who cross the person wearing it.” The woman by Damon’s side explained. Damon rolled his eyes at the other man who simply raised an eyebrow, hiding his smile. “I can assure you none of that is true.” Damon finally spoke, “It’s said to protect the wearer from the true evil eye-” “Who believes in that supernatural nonsense anyway, I think it’s just a pretty item that you sold to a young lady for more than it’s worth.” The man tried to hide the magic between them.

“What is?” YN asked as she and John joined the group. “Your fine necklace.” Her brother said warmly, hugging her before shaking John’s hand. “I told you you spent too much on that thing.” John said, ignoring the look of distaste YN shot him. “John, have you met Damon?” YN’s brother asked. “Johnathon Gilbert,” YN’s beau introduced himself, shaking Damon’s hand. “Damon Di Luca,” Damon responded, offering his hand to YN next, “Sofia, lovely to see you again,” “A pleasure,” She said warmly, watching his lips barely touch her skin. Damon turned to her brother next, hand extended once more, “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?” The man sighed and took Damon’s hand, “Stefan Scalletta.” 

#original content #vampire diaries #damon salvatore #stefan salvatore #damon x reader #vd fanfiction #vd fic #reader insert #reader is NOT a sister