#atomic blonde fic

[tragicallywicked]

shadows of deception

by tragicallywicked

Summary:

In the unforgiving world of espionage, Lorraine Broughton finds herself entangled in a web of emotional conflict. As a dedicated MI6 agent, she grapples with the demands of her duty, striving to maintain her cover and fulfill her mission in Cold War Berlin. Yet, her heart yearns for the warmth she has found in the arms of Delphine Lasalle, a French operative. In the delicate balance between loyalty and desire, Lorraine is torn between protecting Delphine and safeguarding the secrets that could jeopardize their relationship.

Notes:

Here's a drabble of them, because apparently they can't ever leave my brain. Hope you enjoy!

The Berlin nights were cold, and the city itself seemed to hold secrets in every shadow. Lorraine Broughton, an MI6 agent, navigated the streets with a practiced grace, her eyes scanning for any sign of danger. She knew the risks when she had a mission to complete, but tonight had nothing to do with the mission.

Amongst the tension and relentless intrigue that defined their lives, Lorraine Broughton sought solace in the tender embrace of Delphine Lasalle, a French operative whose very presence radiated a warmth that could melt the frostiest of hearts (Lorraine's included). In the shelter of their connection, a profound sense of solace took root, as if their souls had found a refuge from the storm. It was a flame that burned with an intensity that defied the frigid surroundings, a magnetic force drawing them closer with each passing moment.

Lorraine never found herself to be an addict of anything. She enjoyed her Stoli on ice quite regularly, but her line work asked for something strong to numb the pain (both mental and physical). But she had no other vices. Yet, Delphine was proving to defy that understanding Lorraine had about herself. Four nights in a row on a mission was against any and all rules Lorraine (or any special agent) had about involvements during missions—even when they were purely about the mission (which wasn't the case in point anymore). 

To make matters worst, tonight was the fifth night.

She couldn't resist when Delphine telephoned her at the hotel. They arranged to meet a club nearby, loud and crowded like the first time, where they sipped on vodka and leaned on each other's ears to be heard. Lorraine's lips always teasing Delphine's earlobe, and Delphine's breath taunting the hairs on Lorraine's neck. Their connection crackled with electricity, an intricate dance of passion and vulnerability that wove an enchanting tapestry around them. In Delphine's eyes, Lorraine glimpsed a depth of understanding that transcended words. They spoke a language reserved only for them, a symphony of unspoken desires and unyielding devotion.

Within the haven of their shared moments, Lorraine and Delphine discovered an escape from the harsh reality that enveloped them. Even as they crawled in each other's arms at yet another club bathroom. With Delphine pressing Lorraine against the wall this time, even though it was the blonde's fingers tugged inside the french's clothes to drive her wild. In each other's arms, they sought respite from the treacherous world of espionage, where trust was a scarce commodity and danger lurked at every corner. There, amidst the chaos and uncertainty, they found a sanctuary—an oasis of silent promises and breathy moans that nurtured their broken spirits and replenished their strength.

Dephine wasn't as broken and lived as Lorraine. Broughton had been in this line of business since always whilst Delphine had been fished out from the world into this tumultuous chaos. Lorraine felt for her. She had no time for it, yet she wanted to valiantly protect Delphine's spirits, to guard her joyful soul from the war and danger that surrounded them. It was dangerous to do it, to open herself up to the point she cared. Even if the words of worry were never spoken, it was there in the way Lorraine would look at her after sex, or how she would kiss her just a little bit harder and hold her a little bit stronger when Delphine would utter out something foolish that could definitely get her killed.

In the intimate moments they shared, the walls that shielded them from the outside world crumbled, revealing the raw vulnerability that lay beneath her hardened exteriors. Delphine's whispered confessions about her admiration toward Lorraine (her wit, her strength, her delicious body—Delphine loved it all like the French did most things, passionately), and their stolen kisses bore witness to the depths of their connection, a bond forged amidst the crucible of secrecy and danger.

Within the cocoon of their love, whether that was Lorraine's hotel room or Delphine's flat (wherever suited them best on each day), time seemed to stand still. Their hearts beat in unison, a rhythmic melody that echoed in sync with the desires that swelled within them. The outside world faded into insignificance as their bodies entwined, each touch an affirmation of the flames that burned within their souls.

In the embrace of Delphine's arms, Lorraine found something she hadn't had in so long—an anchor that grounded her amidst the tempest of her mission. The warmth that emanated from Delphine's touch thawed the icy tendrils of fear and uncertainty that gripped her heart. It was a precious respite from the relentless pursuit of truth and the unyielding demands of her profession. Together, Lorraine and Delphine navigated the intricate dance of love and secrecy, cherishing the stolen moments they could claim as their own. In those stolen fragments of time, they found solace, a flickering light that illuminated the darkest corners of their lives.

But duty, like a merciless sentinel, stood in the way of their happiness. Lorraine was torn between Delphine and her commitment to the mission. Her superiors demanded unwavering loyalty, an unyielding devotion to the cause. It gnawed at her, twisting her heart in conflicting directions.

Nights turned into days, and Lorraine found herself wrestling with her emotions. Every stolen moment with Delphine felt like a lifeline, a fragile thread keeping her grounded. Yet, the weight of her mission pressed upon her shoulders, threatening to snap that connection and plunge her into darkness. As the mission grew more perilous, doubts began to seep into Lorraine's mind. Whispers of betrayal echoed through the corridors of her thoughts. She couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that someone close to her had ulterior motives, a hidden agenda that threatened everything she held dear. Delphine, with her doe-like eyes and gentle touch, became both the source of Lorraine's strength and the root of her turmoil. The connection they shared was a dance on a knife's edge, the delicate balance between trust and deception. Lorraine questioned if she could truly confide in Delphine or if their connection was merely a web of lies.

In a dimly lit room, Lorraine stood face to face with Delphine, their eyes locked in a silent battle of lust and suspicion. The air crackled with tension, the room heavy with unspoken words. Each word they would share held the power to change everything. Driven by a desire to protect not only Delphine but also the mission, Lorraine chose to believe was in fact the character she had studied—fresh and naive in this spy business. In a way, she was letting her emotions mingle with duty, but every time Delphine's fingers intertwined in her hair and their mouths slid together it felt like destinies colliding, like two stars in a cosmic dance, and Lorraine could tell the whole world to just fuck up and explode. She didn't care about nothing else but Delphine's pulse against her lips when she went down on her for the billionth time that week.

When the mission came to an end, Lorraine knew she had done what was necessary, but at a great cost. The bittersweet taste of victory clung to her mouth, mingling with the ache in her heart, but it was Delphine's taste that lingered on her soul—the constant reminder of yet another sacrifice. She had lost something irreplaceable, a connection that could never be mended. In the cold London night, Lorraine walked away, leaving behind the warmth and passion she had found in Delphine's arms. The echoes of their love lingered, an indelible mark on her soul. She knew that even in the shadowy world of spies, where loyalties shifted like sand, their connection would forever remain a flicker of light in her memory.

It was in Montana, when she returned to the states, that Lorraine saw Delphine again. Sitting on a fence by a blue house with white window. Lorraine had grown up there, she recalled that much from her childhood. But how had Delphine tracked down the safehouse in the states? She would have to give Emmett an earful, he was her handler and the only one aware of that asset that was Lorraine's even though it stood under an alias for the sole purpose of not being found. Delphine was too new to have tracked the place down on her own in less than a week. How had she managed to lure the white mare that stood beside her, head petted by the long fingers she had? She was Lorraine's favorite horse and quite the untamable animal (much like Lorraine herself in a sense. How in hell did she look so damn pretty in jeans and boots and the Montana sky? There was no answer to that one.

She asked her none of those questions, instead slipping into the space between her legs and watching her as she lowered to kiss her. (Delphine was never the taller one between them, but switch was throughly appreciated.) There was not a need for answers, the only thing Lorraine craved was Delphine.

When she performed CPR on Delphine back in Berlin, she thought she would be upset at her for not staying. Lorraine had made sure Delphine was alive and breathing, she had kissed her temples and then she had slipped away with the envelope on the counter addressed to herself. She didn't stay and Delphine was a poet, an artistic soul. Lorraine assumed she would not wish to see her any longer. Precisely why she had left Europe without tracking her down. There was no need for further heartbreak. The mission was complete and Delphine was safe. But she was there now and all Lorraine could think of was taking her inside the house and burying her head on the pillow while she laid naked and tangled on clean sheets and Delphine's limbs.

Which was exactly what they did.

[napollya-inspiration]

atomic blonde au

I kind of want to start a series about writing this fic just because I can. I make no promises of finishing it. I just think that my process for this will be so different - as I mostly adjust the process to each fic that's pretty normal for me - but this has been baking for the past 6 years.

A big part of why I want to write this is to explore something I kind of touched on in Tangled Up, which I wrote in 2017. That fic needs some heavy editing from my perspective today, but I started to deal with the dynamic of Gaby being East German and getting mixed up with Napoleon as an American and Illya as a Russian and what that would mean for her. How do her sentiments differ from theirs as someone who got into the spy business to get out of the GDR?

“He’s a Russian.” She said like it explained things. “What do you mean?” “I am from East Germany.” She looked around for a moment and stopped. “Look, they say Russia is our big brother. But not in the way big brothers can be protective and super cool. More in the way big brothers can be oppressing and authoritative. Maybe even abusing.” She said in a hushed voice but with a stress that convinced Napoleon she meant every word. It made sense. Very few of the East Germans loved the Russians or what they had done to their country. The fear of the Stasi at all times and the propaganda education didn’t help. “Are you afraid?” He asked, honestly concerned. “No, no.” Gaby started walking again. Her tone lightened. “Illya is incredibly soft, although he may not look like it. Excerpt from Tangled Up

Again, I would improve a lot of things about this fic today, but this was me scratching the surface of a dynamic that I know from growing up in what used to be East Germany. Don't get me wrong, the wall had been down for ten years when I was born, but I felt ripple effects even as I was growing up. My mom was 18 when the wall fell. I had a history teacher who used to patrol the border. My parents hadn't ever eaten a kiwi until they were 20 and had no clue how you ate one when they got it from the store. My grandpa's brother escaped to the West and doesn't talk to my family anymore.

It's very much a reality of growing up German.

This is what I love about Atomic Blonde. Sure, the plot is awesome, but you can see the country being reunited as a backdrop. While all countries continue to hunt and kill each other, the Cold War "ends."

It's definitely something I want to bring into the fanfic. The surreality of the divided city. I already posted this snippet from the WIP, so I don't feel bad about it, but the way I start to introduce this dynamic is through Napoleon's musings as his plane descends on Berlin.

Out of all the places, Berlin is one of the dirtiest to spend your time as a spy. Nowhere else is the density of spies per capita this high.  And it shows.  Napoleon despises it. The desperation of the West German Citizens holding onto their city and being fed by the West like a helpless infant with spoons that are literal airplanes. And then there’s the desperation of the East Germans, fenced in by their own government and longing for the American dream like it was going to fix anything. And above all, every fucking government trying to profit from their collective desperation.  When a hundred and sixty yards-wide missile field divides a city, you know to be rather careful where you step.

Fun fact: you can see how Berlin used to be divided to this day if you look at it from above at night:

Let me know if you are interested in this kind of behind-the-scenes content!

[hereticdrws]

A piece i made for @kiraman fic which yall should definitely check out at

://kiraman.tumblr.com/post/743676498388697088/𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧-𝐖𝐢𝐜𝐤-𝐌𝐢𝐳𝐮-𝐀𝐔-𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭-art-by-the

(Trust me it's AMAZING)

The piece:

(Inspired by the poster for atomic blonde)

Also a quick snip from said fic. Tw!!! Murder

She clings to her like she is her lifeline, frantically, blindly, with both hands. It is hanging over her, the loss, the death, all that guilt choked up in her throat, screaming its furious grief, not letting her breathe.

She thinks of that newspaper article she saw Geraldine read over breakfast, and the woman who had her throat cut open, the ribbon of her hair soaked in blood, they had used it to strangle her, and Mizu had thought about it all morning, her mind obsessively circling back to it, horrified at the idea that something so fragile could be used to end a life, just like that.

It feels like that sometimes, inside of her body, she thinks. like she is walking and talking despite being half-corpsed. like she is hanging on by a ribbon, standing on some kind of cusp. she keeps saying - at least she went fast… I am so lucky she did not suffer,

I am so lucky, so lucky… (what a deaf thought). The idea is river-rock smooth now, all the edges worried off.

[saintgoths]

ʜᴏʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛᴏɴɢᴜᴇ

CHAPTER ONE - HOLD YOUR TONGUE.

WORDS - 4,937.

RATING - 18+

SUMMARY - after cheri and arthur have a heart to heart talk in camp, arthur already finds himself being infatuated with the new member.

ARTHUR MORGAN FIC.

previous chapter - prologue.

feedback would be appreciated!

“It’s okay girl, everything will be okay,” a lady said as she guided Cheri to a comfortable place, Cheri had just arrived to their camp, and it had reminded Cheri of the past she used to share with her mother before they had found her late father, Dylan. The camp was on a cliff, the entrance guarded by many tall trees and the cliff a place someone could overlook and see the rest of Valentine.

Cheri had noted to herself, that once she was made place in this area, she’d overlook the sight.

She had pondered if the view would look like if someone flew out of the Earth and glanced down. Trees the size of ants and people the size of atoms, seas the size of a pool and countries the size of broken biscuits. She had then wondered if this uneasy train of thoughts was a way of her trying to calm herself from what had just happened.

Her father’s death and her almost being buried alive next to him.

The lady was called Ms. Grimshaw. She was the oldest woman here, and had the essence of strong matriarch. A Caucasian woman with her hair loosely tied up with a few strands loose, she wore a red blouse that seemed to compliment the redness in her cheeks, and the arms of her blouse slightly rolled up as she also wore a black long skirt, her touch was hard but soft at the same time, but during this time, Cheri hadn’t cared on how she was handled.

There had been many people around her, specifically women. Dutch, who Cheri had come to acknowledge was the name of the leader of the gang, had been speaking to another elder, a scrawny man with a funny accent, was what Cheri had thought, and Cheri had known that the two of them had been speaking about her.

Cheri was thankful, but hadn’t spoken much. It was the shock, was what Ms. Grimshaw said and since she had believed that everyone’s presence had over-whelmed Cheri, she had rudely shooed everyone off but Arthur. “Fetch her a tent she can be in for the time being,” the lady said and with a respectful nod, Arthur’s eyes lingered on Cheri who had looked at her knees, the thin blanket she had protectively held onto had barely warmed her, and Arthur had immediately thought of retrieving something to tepid her.

“Brought another coloured?” A man asked, and immediately everyone turned to look at where the voice had come from, there had been a share of unkind words out of defence of Cheri, the man surprised of their reaction, had raised both of his hands up in defence. “Oh, never mind, she’s a mulatto, that’s a bit better,” he awkwardly chuckled as he took a step back.

Cheri screwed her face in response to his disrespect, but had not said anything, it was as if her mouth was temporarily sealed shut. She had hated it, but was grateful that people felt the need to defend her. One of the women who was shooed away but didn’t listen took a step towards her. “Don’t mind Bill,” the girl said, she was blonde, a curvy woman with blonde hair that curled at the ends. Her eyes were pretty, they were green and she had a look that comforted Cheri, the look on her face had made Cheri think that the blonde woman was happy to have another lady join the camp.

“She was almost buried alive,” Charles said, he had introduced himself before they arrived to their camp, and within their trip to this location, she had felt like everyone had treated her like brittle glass. Perhaps it was the way she looked; the wide eyes that were once filled with shock now empty.

The unnamed woman furrowed her eyebrows; she had quickly silently and wondered what would cause people to do that to a girl. “What for?”

“They wanted her father’s money, and more,” Charles explained and with another shoo from Ms. Grimshaw, Charles and the unnamed woman who Cheri had learned to be Karen obediently scattered away.

Even though she was grateful for their sympathy, Cheri did not like the fact that they spoke about her as if she was not there. Along with Dutch who had been beside a different elderly man, a man who had a softer look compared to the man with the weird accent. “Give Cheri a break before you harass her with questions,” Ms. Grimshaw said to Dutch, she had a stern tone in her voice but there was softness coated in her speech, to show she still had respect for their leader.

Dutch and the other man looked at each other, in silent agreement with Ms. Grimshaw, they turned on the heels of their soles and redirected to another tent, a larger tent than everyone else’s at the camp, so Cheri quickly covered that it must’ve been Dutch’s sleeping place.

“Do you have anywhere to go?” Ms. Grimshaw questioned and as she still hugged her body tight, Cheri slowly shook her head.

Cheri’s eyes slightly wobbled, as she finally found the strength to speak for herself, to allow Ms. Grimshaw to once and for all hear what she had sounded like. “If I leave, I will be hunted down,” Cheri said and with a sympathetic look, the lady placed both of her hands against the wings of Cheri’s shoulders, they had shared a look, Ms. Grimshaw’s expression, stern but understanding.

“Then for now, you will be a part of the Van Der Linde gang,” Ms. Grimshaw said.

“I’ll be an outlaw?” Cheri asked, the sound of her voice was barely whisper, it sounded like a scratch, but the lady still heard what she had said. It wasn’t like Cheri had not been an outlaw before. Before her mother Whitney Dylan, the two of them were in a gang, and Cheri remembered that she had hated it. Though, currently being an outlaw, was better than becoming a slave again.

“Yes,” Ms. Grimshaw responded as if she had already known what Cheri would be doing. “You know how to work right?”

Cheri nodded her head. “I know my way around a kitchen, I know how to be domestic,” Cheri provided and as if a short glow depleted in Ms Grimshaw’s eyes, the woman saved herself with a warm smile, even though the older woman had something racy and obscene in mind for Cheri, the older lady wasn’t upset that Cheri had come up with another idea that could provide for the gang.

For her own defence, Ms Grimshaw saw Cheri as a pot of Gold, the second she came in with the rest of the gang, Grimshaw saw Cheri as pretty, with a nice body and was mixed. An oasis for the curious Caucasian man who’d wants to lay with foreign girls, well that was what Grimshaw had thought. Plus, she saw the way majority of the men in the camp’s eyes followed Cheri around, their very eyes like summer bees wanting their pollen.

“Then you’ll be with Pearson and Mrs. Adler when it comes to cooking for the gang,” Ms. Grimshaw shared. “There’s a lot of people here, and these people have big stomachs, so you’ll find yourself having to cook all the time,” the lady said as she stood to her feet. “Now go get yourself cleaned up before going to bed,” Ms. Grimshaw ordered and like an obedient abandoned pet, Cheri scurried to her feet to clean herself.

ಹ ೀ ಹ

The Moon was still young when Cheri overlooked the cliff, she had worn a big black shawl, the trims of the shawl multi-coloured with blue, red and yellow which would’ve made anyone look like a circus clown, but when Cheri had worn the shawl, she had made the cloth look beautiful, while the piece of fabric had only just highlighted the delicacy Cheri naturally carried.

The wind had braided through her hair, her curly locks gently fanned her face which had commenced the woman to softly wipe her face every now and then. She had noticed a presence behind her slowly walk towards her, as if they had slowly been entering a tiger’s cage. Almost everyone at the camp did, as if she had a red symbol dotted on her forehead that had told everyone that she was danger. As if there had a been a predatorial black shadow everyone but her had saw loom above of her shoulder.

“Can’t sleep?” A voice had called and Cheri had quickly acknowledged it to be from Arthur. Cheri didn’t have time to respond fore he spoke again, as if he was able to read her mind. “Can’t blame you, you had quite the night.”

-With a short hum, Cheri tightened the grasp on her shawl. She had looked away from him and Arthur had watched how the Moon’s Halo softly kissed her features, the sharpness of her cheekbones and how the Moon’s reflections on Cheri’s skin almost looked like stars. “Who were you before all of this?” Arthur had asked and with a short smile, Cheri sat herself on a big rock.

“I was an heiress,” Cheri sourly smiled. “Obviously cheated out of it by men who said they were devotees to my father, Dylan Harley,” Cheri explained, and as he softly approached her, Arthur hooked his thumbs around the buckle of his belt, silent, he had stood beside Cheri, eyes scouted the top of her head. He had wanted to sit by her but didn’t want to appear as eccentric. So, he had stood there, as if he was a whispery tree listening to all secrets one could tell under the Moon. “My father was good, well he tried to be a good man before his days were over, so for his redemption from his previous outlaw days, he used that goodness on me and my mother and I guess, they didn’t like that he was giving his love and money to a black woman.”

“Evil,” Arthur muttered and in response, Cheri hugged her legs. “Yeah, my mother used to be a prostitute, we used to be outlaws as well, but they were not good people, so when my mother thought it was best, she ran off with me and looked for my father and he accepted us.”

Confused, Arthur gently kicked the rock that was in front of his left shoe. “He accepted you that easily? Didn’t think your mother was lying?”

“I look like him, have his eyes,” Cheri explained, and his frown, was what her late mother would say. His singing, she definitely inherited his singing, Cheri cheerlessly smiled. Her mother was a terrible singer.

“These previous outlaws you and your mother used to be with? Who were they?” Arthur investigated, and with both eyebrows raised, Cheri had quickly speculated if he had thought Cheri and her mother used to be with the O’Driscolls the Van Der Linde gang seem to speak about almost every hour.

With a side smirk, Cheri barely glanced his way. “We weren’t with the O’Driscolls if that’s what you’re thinking about, I don’t remember their name, or at least don’t want to, they weren’t good people and they are in the past so it is best to leave them there.”

He had wanted to apologise, but it had appeared as if his voice got stuck in his throat. “But the ones you met yesterday, they call themselves the Jesters of Dylan Harley, the Jesters.”

Both Arthur and Cheri had began to laugh. “That’s a silly name,” he coughed.

“They’re like a pack of hyenas, laughing whenever they see their prey,” Cheri said with a quite shudder, even if the name appeared like a joke, to be trapped in the middle between blood thirsty Jesters was a nightmare brought into life. “That’s how you know they’re around, their laughter. My title was how I knew you guys were here. My family were outlaws close with the law, played them and paid them to keep their mouth shut. We had good money…”

“How much of money was that?” Arthur had asked and he hadn’t realised he had moved closer to her, close enough for Cheri to lean against his lower thighs.

“Millions of dollars taken away from me,” Cheri gritted.

“That’s unfortunate,” Arthur said as he gently stretched, he had a look on his face that mirrored how unsure he was when it came to Cheri, should he hug her? She seemed like she needed it but she had a look on her face that made it seem like she’d throw knives to whoever laid a finger on her.

Adamant, Cheri shook her head. “Only unfortunate if I allow them to continue running away with my money,” she said, now angry as she stood to her feet. She had patted the dusts her fabrics of her clothing had collected and released a heavy sigh. “Goodnight, Mr. Morgan,” Cheri briefly smacked before she readied herself to her tent and had used every muscle in her body to not look back to give him one last look.

ಹ ೀ ಹ

Cheri had not remembered how low the Sun had rested when she had been woken up to cook breakfast. It was the rough hands of a man that had shaken her up and he introduced himself to be Pearson. He was an odd-looking man and Cheri hadn’t taken much time examine him as she was taken in by the red-headed woman who was beside her. She had man-handled every tool and food that was put upon the cutting-board.

She had mumbled and grumbled to herself every second as if she were mad, her accent sour and strained, had a tune Cheri had liked, and Cheri had taken in that woman was pretty, freckled, had barely looked her way as she was submerged within her rage.

She had worn clothing that looked like it had worn her, and with the way she looked, Cheri had comprehended this was likely not the woman’s style. Silently, Cheri had chopped up vegetables while Pearson handled the meat, it was a deer Arthur had hunted hours before everyone else had woken up, and Cheri had wondered, if everyone was so used to waking up this early. If she would’ve asked, she would’ve gotten the answers from Ms. Grimshaw who would’ve said something about them being workmen.

“Is anything okay?” Cheri eventually had asked, she had spent the seconds gathering up the confidence to ask Sadie and had prepared herself to be stabbed by the ginger-woman, but to her surprise, Sadie didn’t point the sharp knife at her.

“Of course not,” Mrs. Adler whined. She twisted her face before she started to throw her arms everywhere, Cheri was sure she had to duck a couple of times if she still wanted an eye. “I don’t cook!” She exclaimed. “Before all this shit, I shared duties with my husband.”

“Well, clearly your husband isn’t here now so you gotta do what you gotta to do!” Pearson yelled, he had a tired tone, as if he had gone over the topic with Sadie a dozen of times.

Thus, Sadie had shrieked at the mention of her husband, aimed to stab the knife at Pearson but had been easily held back by Cheri, who had wanted to laugh but had understood that the circumstance could get serious if Cheri had taken a misstep and had Sadie accidentally plunge her with the knife.

“Please Sadie, let’s just make the stew,” Cheri breathily chuckled and with a soft pull, Sadie glanced at Cheri with the side of her eyes as her strands covered parts of her face. She had a tense nose but had used her annoyance to chop the vegetables.

Once everything had been completed, Cheri had helped herself with the food fore she aided herself to get cleaned up. It didn’t take long after the stew being made for Cheri to be surrounded by some of the women in the gang; Mary-Beth, Karen and Tilly.

They had poked her with questions about how Valentine was and had expressed with profound desperation on how much they wanted to go there. So, when the three women saw Arthur and an old man they called “Uncle” rudely banter with each other before they spoked about going to town, the women had squealed with a moment of eureka before they perused them.

“If you’re gonna take the old man into town, could you take us too?” Karen had asked.

With a contemplative thought, Arthur lit his cigarette against the sole of his boot. “Why, what have you got planned?” He questioned.

Cheri had avoided his look, thankful that it had been Karen who was speaking. “Nothing,” the woman answered. “We’ll find something for y’all to do, we always do,” she persuaded as she stepped through the long grass, and as much as Cheri had loved the nature, her previous events had made her hate the smell of dirt and greens.

“We’re bored out of our minds,” Mary-Beth cried out, Mary-Beth, a good girl, kind, and a lover at heart, it had barely been a whole day and Cheri had understood that Mary-Beth was a day-dreamer, head in the clouds as she dreamed about the future, and then there was Tilly, so sweet and innocent, she had reminded Cheri of a dove sweetly gliding through the sky.

“Been cooped up here for two weeks now,” Mary-Beth explained. “Karen’s about ready to murder Grimshaw.”

With a humoured look on his face, Arthur placed one of his hands against his buckle, a faded cloud of smoke passed through the tight slip of his mouth and he had quickly observed Cheri with a hasty scout. Aware that she had been more closed off. She was like two positive magnets fighting the urge to not let go of each other. “Well, can Miss Grimshaw spare you?”

“Can Miss Grimshaw spare you?” Karen repeated as if she had been hit a thousand times. “What’s happened to you, Arthur? Three young healthy women want you to take ‘em robbing, and you’re worried about house chores, let’s go! Cheri is a Valentinian!” Karen encouraged. “She knows Valentine like the back of her right hand.” With a moved expression, Cheri folded her arms against her chest at the mention of her name.

“Fair enough, you got me,” Arthur said. “Come on then,” he allowed as the three women cheered, Arthur walked closer towards the carriage as Uncle pulled himself on, Mr. Morgan had then turned to look at Cheri who had contemplated to join. “You comin’ Cheri?”

With a short hum, Cheri pushed herself off the thin tree, considering of what had happened to her, a moment in Valentine wouldn’t hurt, moreover, it’ll mean she’d see her lover. Cheri had remained quiet when the carriage started moving, truthfully, Cheri had felt comforted by the excited energies that had been shared around the vehicle.

Mary-Beth was excited the most. “Oh, Cheri, tell us about Valentine!”

Out of respect, Cheri had spoken about the place, about the strict laws that can be smoothed if they had the funds to pay them off. Karen had wrinkled her eyebrows in response to what she had heard come out of the Harley woman’s mouth. “What makes you think we don’t have the funds?” Karen had asked, her voice strung and judgmental which had quickly made Cheri feel like she had been serious, but there had been a clear glint in Karen’s eyes that made Cheri think otherwise.

“Well, look around us,” Cheri replied which had caused Uncle to laugh. The rest of the short trip had been exciting, Cheri had silently been glad that she had agreed to join their short travel, it had involved them being encouraged to sing by Uncle, of course, Cheri hadn’t joined, but she had nodded her head to the vulgar words that had come out of their mouths.

“I got a girl in Valentine, like to drink that fancy wine. Plumes in her hat was two feet tall, the crack in her pants paid for it all!”  The three girls sang and with an awkward smile, Cheri had her hands cupped around her knees, the other women continued to sing until Arthur was persuaded to save a white horse a man had struggled to bring back, and when Arthur had returned to them, the Van der Linde gang resumed their travel to Valentine.

ಹ ೀ ಹ

Cheri had been at the Saloon with the girls whereas Uncle and Arthur had busied themselves in the shop, as they said previously, Karen, Tilly and Mary-Beth had focused to search who to rob while most people in the Saloon had greeted Cheri with their condolences, Cheri had scanned the area to seek a familiar figure.

Kyle.

Kyle Blake.

The moment he saw Cheri, Kyle had had made a bee-line towards her and brought her into a big, warm and comforting hug that caused the three women Cheri had come with to giggle and “woo” them. Cheri had awkwardly smiled at their reaction whereas Kyle had not taken them in and dragged Cheri away from the Van Der Linde women.

Kyle was a handsome man, tall and slender with brown messy hair, green eyes and pale skin, freckles that had reminded Cheri of the stars and his eyes were usually filled with the brightness of the sun. Though today they had dimmed, as if a star had died. “The law ran those damned men out due to what they did,” Kyle explained, news travelled fast in Valentine and sometimes Cheri hated it, though this time, Cheri had been somewhat glad the law had done that, however, a side to her had been annoyed as it had meant getting her money back would involve long trips and searches within the country.

“I still need my money,” Cheri muttered, gently anxious as she had flicked her nails against the softness of her palms.

To comfort her, Kyle placed his hands against the point of her shoulders. Cheri avoided to look at him, her eyes wandered to the dirty wood of the saloon floor, ears flooded with the music and drunk cheers of men who had danced and flirted with women who had stuck themselves against the saloon walls. “I can give money to you baby you know you can always rely on me,” he had belonged to a fine family in Valentine and was brought up to be generous with his belongings, so when he had moved his hands into his pockets to pull out money for her, Cheri had pouted fore she pressed his mouth against her lips.

He was soft with his embrace and quick. However, aware with her body language, Kyle had taken in that Cheri didn’t want to have a long kiss. As Cheri kindly thanked Kyle for his money, Kyle had then stood up straight before he began to question her. “So where are you living now?”

With a short breath, Cheri had then explained her circumstance, and when she did, Kyle had been silent and had not shown what he had felt or thought. He had still held onto her, examined every curve on her face, every breath hitch and every over-whelmed stutter, and when she had finished, Kyle slowly pulled away from her.

“You’re with a bunch of outlaws?” Kyle had asked, his simple question laced with clear judgement.

Defensive, Cheri furrowed her eyebrows as she crossed her arms. “They rescued me, Kyle,” she said. “My family were outlaws too; I hope you remember that.”

“You can stay with me and my family,” Kyle protectively suggested and in disagreement, Cheri shook her head.

“I know your family looks down on me because I am half black,” Cheri stated, eyes now focused on her partner who had sighed just as he scratched the back of his head.

“I understand,” he gritted. “But at least try to come, I believe they’ll be less unkind because of your current circumstance.

With a humoured glint in her eyes, Cheri had tried her best not to smirk. “I’ll visit your family, but I cannot see myself staying with you guys.” Cheri had wished Kyle had his own home, but Kyle was connected and devoted to his family the way the Moon had been devoted to the Earth.

Cheri pursed her lips as she had looked at him, aware of the heavy footsteps that neared towards them. It was Arthur, he had barely taken in Kyle and had turned to look at Cheri. He had a unambiguous look on his face, as if he had tried to hide his worry with a shift of calmness. “Cheri, you’ve seen Karen?”

Cheri furrowed her eyebrows; she had looked back to where she had seen all the women before Kyle had taken her and had noted that they were all gone. It was expected, as they did say they wanted to rob. “Oh,” Cheri whispered as she had pondered on how long she and Kyle had been speaking with each other.

“I heard her speaking about going to a hotel,” Kyle said and as if he had just seen Kyle for the first time, Arthur twisted to look at the brunette. Quickly examined him before he had spoken.

“Who are you?” Arthur had asked, an awkwardly Cheri had turned to look at the point of her shoes. “Cheri, is he bothering you?”

Quick to defend him, Cheri shook her head. “No, Arthur, this is Kyle, my partner.”

With a twisted look on his face, Kyle glanced at Cheri. “Are you sure you can be with them?”

“Yes, I’ve made my decision,” Cheri responded, aware that her boyfriend’s question struck a chord in Arthur. Cheri had sighed, aware that she’d likely have to come between them and silence them if they decided to compete on who’s scarier than the other.

Arthur, who had taken a step forward to question him opened his mouth. “You have something against people like us?” Arthur drawled; his voice had sounded deeper than before as his was accent thick, Kyle scrunched his face as he had attempted to hold his tongue, but Cheri had placed a hand against Kyle’s shoulder with a forced smile on her face.

“No, no he doesn’t,” Cheri said and as kickback, Arthur took a step backwards. “Kyle,” Cheri said as she turned to look at her partner. “I’ll be seeing you later,” she promised and with a confused look on his face, unsure if he should go after her, Kyle had bit his tongue as he had then watched his lover walk out of the saloon with Arthur.

ಹ ೀ ಹ

They had been on the trip to return back to the camp, Arthur had been able to find the rest of the women ere he sat down on the driver’s seat. They were quieter than before, Cheri had been told both Karen and Tilly had been assaulted by men, and she overheard a situation that involved a place called Black Water.

“What happened in Black Water?” Cheri had asked and the already silent air had become piercingly quiet. Not even the loud mouth of Uncle had saved the silence, perhaps he had been quiet, or had wondered on what story he could come up to lie with.

Cheri had heard that Arthur had chased a man who had mentioned him being a part of the Black Water incident, and aware that there could be future problems she could be associated in due to the gang, the woman would rather know. “Are you going to snitch?” Uncle joked and with a brief chuckle from Arthur who had slapped the reigns against the horses, Tilly had moved closer to Cheri to explain the entire story.

“A bad robbery happened, the gang narrowly escaped with our lives,” Tilly began, her eyes big as she continued to speak. “It was so bad, so many lives lost,” it had seemed the girl had wanted to say more, but she had held her tongue, Cheri shortly smiled at her, thankful that she had been the one to shortly explain their previous circumstance.

“Well, at least the robbery the gang is going to do is going to be better,” Mary-Beth spoke and confused, Cheri furrowed her eyebrows. She hadn’t heard any of this. “They’re going to rob a train going to Brazil, lots of money Cheri, lots of money.”

Interested, the women could see life sparkle in Cheri’s eyes. “I want to join the rob,” Cheri said and as if she had shared the funniest joke, Uncle repeatedly slapped his knee, almost as if he was a drunk circus clown, offended, Cheri straightened her posture just as she turned to look at the older man. “What’s funny?”

“Women never go on the robbing trips,” Uncle said.

“It’s not like you do,” Arthur lowly muttered which had commenced the rest of the women to giggle. The carriage had then turned closer to the woods, Cheri had noticed the recognisable forest trees that had either curved or stood high while it had hidden the new home for the gang.

“I know how to use a gun,” Cheri said. “And trust me one day I’ll put a bullet in that big stomach of yours,” she smiled and as the rest of the gang continued to laugh, they had finally arrived into the camp, excited with what had happened and eager, Arthur and Mary-Beth had walked beside each other to inform Dutch of the rich train that would be travelling to Brazil soon.

masterlist

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comment if you want to be tagged

[rat-rambles]

Billford AU time doomed soulmates with a twist.

The rest is context / short fic thing.

“Hi Bill, please take a seat.” 

Bill politely went to the couch. 

“What’s up doc?”

“Cute, now do you have anything you'd like to talk about today?”

Bill scoffed,

“Yeah, how about how this is a complete waste of time!”

“It's not a waste, don't you want to get out of here?”

“Yeah as myself not as some insect or insignificant pest. Tell me doc, why would I have spent countless lifetimes getting myself to the 4th dimension only to go back willingly?”

“Technically we can’t be sure where you'd end up, your soul would travel to where it feels it's needed.” 

“And how does that end in a mayfly?”

“Well normally such small lives are stepping stones on a healing journey; you'd make it back to sentient life in time. You know I'm not supposed to share all this with patients but,... oh that's interesting.” 

The doc looked surprised at their notes.

“what? What is it if you tell me I'm gonna be a Dorito I'll-!” 

“ I didn't know you had a soul mate.”

That stopped Bill in his tracks.  

“What.. what do you mean I have a soulmate .. soulmates aren't real?”

“Well not everyone has them and they don't meet in every lifetime but in the primordial nebulas your soul had bonded with another. It's like 2 atoms drawn together even if across the universe. You would have been together by now for sure if you had lived our your expected life span.”

“What do you mean been together? Who is it?” 

“They now go by, oh yes, Stanford Pines, yes you've mentioned him.” 

“Stanford can NOT be my soulmate, you're just trying to pry some feelings out of me with these, these dirty tricks! You think you can manipulate me really?”

“No tricks, look, see there's your soul, his is the blue one.”

Doc handed Bill a photo of them as 2 glowing orbs hovering in the ether. Bill held the photo and he felt his very soul thumb at the photo in recognition. There was no denying the truth of course, only there was.

“This is bull! He's met me, he hates me! It only works out with us if I break out of here and finish what I started!”

“Now I'm not supposed to share about alternate timelines with patients but I think this might actually help you.” 

They pulled out a clip board. 

“I found this one looking for something to help you.” 

Bill took the clipboard. His eye landed on the image of a young adult human with long blonde hair and a big smile. 

“What is this”

“You, well your soul, if it had gone through it's cycles of reincarnation as intended.” 

Bill read the paper. It talked about a boy named Bill. An odd dreamer born in Wyoming but moved to New Jersey. This Bill met Ford before college and they went to the same one. He was never as smart as Ford but Fordsy called him the visionary. It read that together they worked on inventions to see the stars and worlds beyond.

“You want me to believe this is me?”

“If you never became immortal, yes.” 

“Well then it's not me. I would have never survived if I didn't! I mean you don't understand what it was like you can't have.”

“Lots of people have bad childhoods Bill” 

“LOTS of people are roaches who can't do anything to fix their reality! I can, I did, and this fake Bill didn't!” 

“Fake Bill is happy”

“Oh, is fake Bill happy? This photo is what, in the 80’s? Please. I've seen the way Ford treated his brother and Fiddleford, Ford isn't the kind to just settle down and be happy.” 

“Well he actually has a great number of happy endings.” 

“And let me guess they all don't involve me? At least like this, because I HAVE to change”

“You DO have to change Bill but that's not a bad thing, change is beautiful, change is life!” 

“No, your change is death, my change will be life.” 

Doc sighed. 

“Well that's all the time we have for today.”

Bill clutched the clipboard uncontrollably. 

“You can keep that but don't tell the others.” 

Back in Bill's room he flipped through the pages again and again. He had nothing else to do but memorize the details of his other life. He wondered if the reason they weren't allowed to tell patients these things was because it's torture. Knowing that you could have had a better life but didn't. He looked for reasons to dismiss it, to think it's a pitiful stupid existence to think that they were simply lesser beings on a lower plane. 

[ticklish-n-stuff]

Hiya! For August tickletober, may I please request Day 1 with Lee! Dazai and ler! Kunikida?

Dazai cannot stand tickle anticipation and will giggle in literal seconds😂. Kunikida knows this, so when the two are in private, he'll use it against Dazai as punishment for annoying him during work.

Feel free to decline and have a fantastic day!

Tickletober day #1: Anticipation

WOOO FIRST TKTOBER FIC EVERYONE CLAP

Starting with everyone's fave suicidal maniac and idealist~🥰

Hope you like it! :D

___________________________________________

Dazai x Kunikida (interpret as you wish)

Lee: Dazai

Ler: Kunikida

Warnings: Tickles!

___________________________________________

It was like any other day at the ADA. Ranpo snacking on his stash of sweets, Yosano torturing- healing her patients, Atsushi helping out Kyoka with her job, Kunikida following his schedule to a T, and then there was Dazai. Being a pile of lazy bones as usual. If he wasn’t tormenting his coworkers for his amusement, then he was usually napping at his desk or at the couch. I guess he was feeling extra lazy today as he was sprawled out all over his chair, sleeping like a tired kitten, or a mangled corpse

At the sight, Kunikida let out an audible groan. You’d think by now he’d be used to Dazai’s antics, but it always managed to get on his last nerves.

“Dazai, stop slacking off—“

The brunnette’s whole body jolted awake, looking down to see Kunikida’s hand resting on his thigh.

“What was that about?” the blonde quirked up a brow curiously at the sudden reaction.

Usually, Dazai was one to always have a witty remark up his sleeve, or bandage, but this time he didn’t know what to say. How could he admit that Kunikida touching his thigh felt… tickly?

“You just surprised me is all. Now, let me go back to sleeeeep~”

Still, Dazai was pretty good at masking his embarrassment by acting like his usual, annoying self. This of course got the blonde fuming once more.

“You still have work to do- Are you even listening?!”.

Dazai had slumped back down on his seat, the nerve of this man!

“I’ve had enough of your childish antics, Dazai. Either you wake up, or I’ll make you” Kunikida’s voice sounded a bit different at the end. It wasn’t his usual annoyed tone or anger. In a way, there was a sense of confidence in his voice. As if he knew what buttons to press, or in this case, which spot to caress. The blonde’s hand positioned itself over Dazai’s thigh once more. The brunnette shuddered slightly but reamined stubbornly asleep.

“Fine then, you asked for this” there was a slight tug at Kunikida’s lips as he got to work. His fingertips slowly stroking up and down Dazai’s thigh. It was so gentle, so slow, like he had all the time in the world. Yet on the inside, Dazai could feel every atom on his body screaming at how ticklish it felt.

“Kunikidaaa…~” Dazai whined out, but didn’t bother to move away or try to stop him. Perhaps too tired? Or maybe something else. But that didn’t matter, the goal was to get Dazai to crack, and Kunikida was determined to see it through.

“What’s wrong, ticklish?”.

How could a simple word send butterflies all over Dazai’s tummy? And the ligjht, consistent stroking of his thigh was starting to drive him insane. He knew that this teasing was just prolonging his unevitable demise, so why couldn’t Kunikida get it over with already?! The thought of Kunikida tickling him to death sounded very appealing, after all.

Dazai was broken out of his inner struggle as he felt Kunikida do the egg crack motion over his knee. “gyAH! Kuniii, just tickle me already!-“ a soft gasp escaped his mouth once his words settled in. An evil grin settled on Kunikida’s lips, knowing so well that Dazai could never handle the anticipation.

“If you say so~”.

“Wait wait- KUNIKIDA!!!”.

The shriek that escaped Dazai’s mouth surely got everyone else’s attention, he wouldn’t live that down for a long time. But atleast now he could focus on Kunikida’s wiggly fingers~

___________________________________________

[theoneandonlyneonleon]

AAH! HUMANS!

my rottmnt human designs (and redesigns)✨✨ (feat. My shitty fucking camera that cannot correctly capture colors for the fucking life of it!)

Leo✨✨

Donnie✨✨

Mikey✨✨

No Raph :[

Ill get to him eventually- (maybe)

Additional ramblings below 👇👇👇

Leo:

I only changed a few things about Leo, because I generally liked the design, there were just a few things that irked me.

The outfit- I liked my previous outfit for Leo, but it didn't feel like something he'd wear everyday. Casually, maybe. I took inspiration from the episode Air Turtle and instead went with a basketball jersey (bc he plays basketball in my human au) the skinny jeans stay, bc he's a whore.

The hair- I originally did blonde tips on his hair, but decided I liked the brunette better. The blonde also are his face look really busy when paired up with the vitilago for his eye markings. I did however color his front two little strand thingies red to mimic his eye markings.

Donnie:

Donnie changed quite a bit from his original design, ill add the og design for reference.

Okay so-

The outfit- I kinnnnda hated his og outfit. The neon green shirt is a massive eyesore, the khaki shorts. Just no. I kept of the Atomic Lass shirt, but made it purple instead, to better match Donnie's color palate, and went from tan shorts to black cargo pants. I feel like Donnie needed more pockets to carry stuff in, and it looks better, from a fashion standpoint. I also gave him demonias bc duh.

The hair- I swapped him from locs to an afro for a few reasons. One, the reason I dont draw eyebrows is bc I draw eyes so comically large that they just don't fit on the face, and I wanted Don to have his trademarked brows, so I picked a hairstyle that covers his eyes, and allows space for dem brows so he can still emote. Also with a less detailed style I was able to add his goggles without it looking too busy.

Mikey:

Ive kind had a vision for Mike since the beginning. I wanted him to wear something versatile he can move around in easily, but also something colorful and fun to match his personality.

The outfit- I wanted something artsy and fun, but also light. So I picked a cropped hoodie (ik its a vest with an undershirt in the pic; I changed it after taking it) and a pair of shorts and a cool belt. I feel like Mikey is definitely a fun socks guy, so I gave him some striped socks with the turtles' colors on them.

The hair- so in case it doesn't show in my art, Mikey's hair is supposed to be a frohawk type deal- kinda like this

I picked this bc I just thought it looked cool when I was experimenting with drawing different hairstyles.

Raph:

Ive been putting off drawing Raph, bc I dunno why, but no matter what I do, he also comes out looking....... Questionable.

Extra Note- I changed my human au comic to a fic because: one, I don't have the time or energy to draw a comic. Two, I like to get detailed with my writing and you can't do that with a comic.

Thanks for listening to me ramble ^ ^

Please reblog my art <33

[seefullforecast]

B.B The 100

Just a little excerpt from a potentially larger fic??

Stomping her way back to camp like a child, Amara was yet to stop crying. Very rarely did she get upset, usually she would do one of two things. Either lock herself away until the problem went away or try and use sarcasm as a form of defence. At the moment neither of those options were going to work for her. 

Since leaving The Ark she didn't recognise herself anymore. She was always crying, arguing with people or trying not to die. Everything felt hopeless. 

Every now and then she would kick a stone or purposefully stamp on a stick to try and take her anger out. In reality she wanted to hit something.

"Stupid Clarke." She mumbled between her tears. "Doesn't know what she's talking about." 

Her thoughts were scattered and her breaths were erratic. She stopped. She took a second to look up to the sky. She thought about the people on The Ark. She was down here so they could follow. It was everything her grandmother had ever hoped for. She touched the wristband she was still wearing and for a moment was grateful she still had it on. 

A noise in the near distance broke her from her thoughts. It sounded like a horn. Panic set in her blood. Immediately she thought grounders. That's when she took of sprinting through the woods. She didn't know if she was running away from something or towards it but her instincts told her to move and move fast. 

Her legs began to burn as she ran as fast as she could, pushing her body as much as she could. 

A flash of blonde hair crossing her path caused her to skid to a sudden stop almost falling in the dirt.

"Amara!" Charlotte shrieked.

"Charlotte?!" Amara was unsure why the girl was all the way out here.

"Move now! Go, Go!" Bellamy's booming voice came from behind the girl. He was also running. He grabbed a hold of the two girls and began dragging them in tow. The horn sounded again in the distance.

"There's some caves this way." Bellamy called back to the others as they all began to become separated. 

In a moment of stupidity, Amara glanced back to try and get a look at what they were running from. 

Clouds of yellow fog were following them and moving quickly. Amara watched as it engulfed Atom who was a little ways behind them. He yelled out in obvious pain and fell to the ground.

"Atom!" Amara tried to turn.

"Amara, Bellamy!" He cried to the two.

"We can't! Amara!" Bellamy had lifted the girl from her feet and forced her into one of the caves Charlotte had raced into as shelter from the deadly fog.

"Oh my god, Atom." She breathed in disbelief. 

"Get back from the entrance." Bellamy pulled her back to try and keep her from being burned. She looked up to him and nodded slowly. Bellamy took in her dishevelled state. Her eyes were red and her face was puffy.

"Amara!" Charlotte barrelled into the girls' side and wrapped her arms around the taller girl.

Amara took Charlotte's face in her hands and began to fuss over her inspecting her of any injuries.

"What the hell was that? Did it touch you, are you okay?" Amara spoke hurriedly and as softly as possible but was terrified and both Bellamy and Charlotte could tell. 

"We might be here a while, we should settle down." Bellamy placed a hand on Amara's shoulder to try and help Charlotte from Amara's pestering. The girls followed suit and made their way a little further from the mouth of the cave. Amara removed her jacket and wrapped it around Charlotte who lay down on the ground. The remaining two sat opposite each other with their backs leant against the cave walls. 

"What was she doing out here?" Amara questioned Bellamy after some time had passed.

He knew she was only concerned for the young girl but to him it felt gut wrenching to think Amara was somewhat judging his decision to allow the young girl to join the hunting party. 

"She was struggling having to listen to Jasper." Bellamy told her honestly. Amara just nodded. For whatever reason, Amara had become protective over the girl and almost felt responsible for her. 

"What are you doing out here? Alone for that matter, I thought I told you that the grounders..."

"I got into it with Clarke and was trying to get back to camp." She felt silly now about the whole ordeal as she thought back. Oh god, she hoped they were safe and that she could see them again to apologise for her little temper tantrum she pulled.  "Didn't really fancy staying with them longer than I had to." She confessed.

Bellamy nodded to her showing she didn't need to explain if she didn't want to.

Shortly the heaviness of todays events caught up to Amara and she was falling asleep as much as she tried to fight it.

"No!"

Amara's eyes shot open to the sound of a scream. She pushed herself from the ground and frantically looked for the source that awoke her. 

Bellamy was already by Charlotte's side by the time she had time to comprehend where she was. 

"Does it happen often?" Bellamy's voice was soft and unlike anything Amara had experienced first hand from him thus far. Charlotte had a nightmare, and from her screams it seemed distressing. "What are you scared of? You know what? It doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is what you do about it." He told the girl who was already starting to calm down. 

"But... I'm asleep." Charlotte's voice was fragile.  "Fears are fears. Slay your demons when you're awake, they won't be there to get you when you sleep." Amara watched the Blake boy closely admiring his compassionate side. She could see now that it seemed like he was speaking from experience.  "Yeah, but... How?" "You can't afford to be weak. Down here, weakness is death, fear is death. Let me see that knife I gave you." Bellamy wrapped his hands around Charlotte's who held the knife.  "Now, when you feel afraid, you hold tight to that knife and you say, 'screw you. I'm not afraid.'" He told her pointing to the knife she now held.  "Screw you. I'm not afraid." Bellamy looked to the girl as if she could do better. She repeated the phrase this time a little more convincingly.  "Slay your demons, kid. Then you'll be able to sleep." Charlotte lay back down, most likely feeling much more empowered and a bit more relaxed to go back to sleep.  Bellamy returned to sitting across from Amara who was now fully awake watching him intently which he didn't miss.  "That was sweet." She told him truthfully.  He looked back to the younger girl who seemed to have dozed back off.  "Octavia is lucky to have you, Bellamy." He looked into her eyes. It was something his mother would always tell him. He was told Octavia was his sister, his responsibility and that nothing would ever change that.  "I didn't realise until you said something similar to Charlotte just now, but I remember." She spoke watching his eyes bore into her own. "You were the only person that spoke to me that day." Amara referred to the first time they met on The Ark when he was the janitor that found her crying at the window. "My mom, she had been sick for some time. For as long as I could remember actually. I knew it was coming that's why I was upset. She died that night." Amara opened up to him watching as he swallowed her words taking each one of them in, listening to each syllable that fell from her lips. "Nobody would look at me let alone say anything, it was suffocating." 

"I didn't know that was why you..." He slightly shook his head confessing to the girl.

"I'm not the best at all of this, it seems like every day Earth just really wants to put me through it, but you seem to be thriving. Earth suits you." She smiled to him honestly. 

"Thriving? I'm barely surviving." He choked a small laugh. "Between Octavia, trying to maintain order and avoid grounders I feel like there's not enough of me to go around." 

"You're doing good." She smiled to him tiredly. 

"Don't go all soft on me now sweetheart, it was only yesterday you tried to kill me with a tree branch." Bellamy tried to lift the conversation knowing neither of them wanted to continue down the path they were going. At least not tonight in this cave. 

"Relax you don't have a freckle out of place." She retorted as she lay back down on her side facing away from Bellamy. A few moments passed before she felt a jacket be draped over her bare arms. Bellamy lay his jacket over the shivering girl who had selflessly gave hers up for Charlotte. 

The two fell into a comfortable silence before Amara spoke up a final time with one last thought. 

"On a real note though." She began. "Would you rather be itchy for the rest of your life or sticky for the rest of your life." 

Like music to her ears, Bellamy laughed. He wholeheartedly laughed for the first time in a long time. He didn't need to answer Amara was happy enough with that as his response and was able to fall back asleep shortly after. 

[thatbanditqueen]

Basic Training

I Don't Date Soldiers

A new fic, possibly a new WIP, about Elvis' life at Fort Hood. Let me know what you think.

Summary: Bess is a smart, young secretary working for the Commander of Army Intelligence training at Fort Hood, dreaming of a life beyond the military one she has always known. That's why she doesn't date soldiers, they only break your heart, and she is looking ahead to something better. One Friday night in March, she stumbles in to the new draftee who's turned the base upside down, and in a moment of weakness, decides to try and help him sleep. Just this once.

Warnings: None, fluffy and angst combined, but innocent. For now. There are a lot of typos.

Word Count: 4.8 K

Some notes: Probably good to know the acronyms, every Army base has a chain of command, and at the top sit the Commanding Officer (CO), the Executive Officer (XO), and a bunch of other officers, of different rank denoted by their ascending O rank, from 1 to 10. WAC - Women's Army Corps, established in WWII, their was a sizeable WAC presence at Fort Hood in 1958. Oh, and Killeen is the closest city to Fort Hood and Austin, TX is about an hour away. Also I really wanted this to take place on a Friday night, but also have had Elvis at the base for two nights, so I gave myself creative license to make March 30, 1958 a Friday. Just don't look it up and we'll be fine.

This fic was inspired by the writing prompt:

Many thanks to my beautiful sister-wives-in-arms whose advice support and love make being an Elvis girl possible and fun, @be-my-ally @vintageshanny @from-memphis-with-love @ellie-24 @powerofelvis @missmaywemeetagain and @whositmcwhatsit, from whom I have stolen her trademarked description of Elvis' awkward manner of kissing half on the cheek half on the lips like a goofy weirdo who was never taught how to kiss right so he decided to make up his own style. And thanks for reading and connecting with me here, the Elvis fandom is the best and I love our community!

Friday, March 30, 1958

9 p.m. at Sal's Cafe

Bess pushed her veal marsala from one side of her plate to the other, feeling the vibrations of her fork scrape across the bottom of the plate. The place checked off all the requisite Italian restaurant requirements: checkered table cloth, candle in an old wine bottle, violin player sawing away at a classical reinterpretation of “That’s Amore.” But the brown sauce, and the meat it was congealing around, was inedible. It was the sort of food that begged the question “why not stay in and cook at home?”

“I said, don’t you think, Bess honey? You follow that stuff, dontcha?”

Bess looked up at her friend Dori’s face, realizing she had drifted off daydreaming of a future far away from Killeen, away from her job at Fort Hood, away from the Army, away from officers, like the ones sitting across from them. Away from soldiers in general.

“What, Khrushchev? Well, I think we all knew he wasn’t going to take the threat laying down.”

Dori hit Bess' shoulder lightly, smiling at their dates, two officers from Army Intelligence.

“No, y’all will havta excuse my friend here, she still thinks she’s studying political science in Austin. You’d think a year of civilian life would make her normal again, huh?”

Dori flipped her blonde hair and drawled on.

“No, silly goose, no one here is interested in that Russian stuff, we’re talking about Mike Todd. What do you think poor Elizabeth Taylor is going to do now that her husband's dead?”

Bess tried very hard not to roll her eyes. Dori was right, she read the movie gossip magazines, but her friend’s distraught, serious expression had made her think they were discussing something with a little more gravitas. The recent atomic weapons testing, or Russian political shifts, the stuff at the top of her New York Times front page everyday. But why would any one in the Army want to talk about that?

Bess smiled at her date and tried to focus on the conversation at hand. Later in the bathroom, Dori chided her while applying a fresh coat of lipstick onto Bess’ mouth.

“I wish you would try to be polite.”

“Dori, you know I am breaking my rule here with you. I don’t date soldiers. I have two goals I'm focusing on: get into law school and shake off these twenty pounds. ”

Bess rubbed her hands over her waist.

“Rules were made to be broken, Bessie Pie, and you look great, men like a girl with a jiggle, I think you look like a brunette Jayne Mansfield.”

“Hardly. You’re Mansfield and Monroe rolled into one.”

“Don't sell yourself short. I know you were fixin' to marry that boy last year, and now all you talk about is law school this, politics that. Don’t you wanna get married? We're not getting any younger.”

“I’m twenty three. Same as you.”

“Eggg zactly. Sure, it seems young now, but you're gonna blink and be thirty and single, with nothing but your degrees to keep you company. You already have a good job now. I just know you’d set this law school thing aside if you met the right guy.”

“Of course I wanna get married, someday. But not now. You’re the one in a hurry to quit your job and settle down, not me.”

“I don’t have a job.”

“See, you’re half way there, Doreen. Me, I’m not giving up my goals for Captain Smarmy out there. How did you even meet these ones?”

Dori steadied her self on Bess’ shoulder.

“Stop moving, or this lipstick won’t be straight. I met them outside the PX, I thought they were cute. Arnie knew who you were, he was the one who suggested we all go out. He really likes you, I can tell - “

“Yeah, he was just in my pop's office lobbying for an assignment, he doesn’t like me. He is using me.  There’s a difference, I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”

“So what if he was? Maybe he saw you there and couldn’t get you out of his mind. He’s good looking, smart, he’s already an O3 —”

Bess stopped her friend’s hand, and fixed her hair in the mirror, pushing up her bust and sighing at the rounder curves that had been widening at her waist since she’d graduated from college and settled into a very sedentary, very single, and currently very celibate life living back at home and working for her father. She turned to look at Dori who was waiting to blot Bess' lips with a tissue like the sweet girl she always had been. For Dori, a fresh coat of perfectly applied lipstick fixed all of life’s problems.

“Look, Captain whatever out there is only here for six months or so for training, then he's off to Heidelberg. That’s why I don’t date soldiers anymore. I’ve learned from my mistakes. I’m waiting for you to catch up.”

Bess gave her dark curls one last fluff.

“How’d you get these suckers to come out on a double date anyway? They aren’t scared of your father?”

Dori avoided eye contact as she smoothed her blonde bouffant and pursed her lips, then looked at Bess in the mirror.

“They don’t know.”

“How do they not know your father is the CO?”

Dori shrugged, then pinched Bess as they walked out of the ladies’ room.

“Don’t tell, ok? Let’s just have fun. What if you fall madly in Arnie? And he asked you to marry him and go to Germany with him?”

Bess snorted as they walked out to the men waiting for them in the restaurant lobby and Dori's eyes took on a knowing look.

“Hmm, so that’s big fat ol ‘no’ to dancing tonight, I’m guessin’?”

Bess nodded.

“Please at least tell me you aren’t going home to work on that boring research project?”

Bess smiled mischievously. “Professor Blotke agreed to help me, it’s going to be my submission sample for Georgetown. Papa took Mama to D.C. with him for his meetings, so I have the house practically to myself. It's just Kay and me, and she’s probably already asleep. I just have to grab a new typewriter back on post, I busted mine.”

Dori shook her disapproving of Bess’ plans for the night, then turned to greet their escorts with her usual vivacious pleasantries. Bess smiled at Dori's ability to interact with the men so casually and intimately, sliding her hands through both of officer's arms as they walked to the car. She considered how different she was from her girlfriend, despite the fact that they were both twenty three year old daughters of career Army officers. Every relationship she'd been in seemed to occur in spite of her inability to feel at ease or flirt with boys.

The conversation turned to recent events at Fort Hood as they walked.

“So,” Dori exhaled, squeezing herself against her date. “Has anyone seen Elvis yet?”

Bess pounded her foot a little harder into the concrete, hearing that name now provoked instant irritation.

“Ughh, no. It’s only been what, three days, and honestly I wish he’d been sent somewhere else for training. All I do is answer calls about him. It is driving me up the wall and I can’t get anything done. He’s turned the whole base upside down. Must have been a hundred cars parked outside the main gate, all scattered around the fields. It’s a security issue. I just —"

“Well, that’s not his fault Bess, and I think it's great. I wanna to meet him, don’t y’all?” Dori looked at the officers on her arms.

Arnie smiled a big dumb smile as he looked at Dori’s bouncing breasts and agreed. “I think it’s good for the Army, boy, I just - I just wish we could get the other enlisted to lay off him.”

“What do you mean?”

Bess felt the pit of her stomach tense as she thought of the thousands of green little boys running around base on edge with no external distractions for entertainment.

“Yeah, the boys’ have been giving him a hard time, shouting out when he runs during PT, or at the chow hall. There’s some concern he hasn’t been coming to eat all his meals cuz a the way they’ve been taunting him.”

Bess sighed, her irritation dissipating momentarily into sympathy as she considered how hungry and lonely Elvis Presley must be. Then she remembered that she was hungry, hungry because all the good restaurants had been filled up tonight by people trying to catch a glimpse of him. Elvis was the reason the only benefit from breaking her vow against dating a soldier, the free meal, had been a bust. She wondered if it was going to be this crazy around town for the next six months while he was here.

“I feel sorry for the poor kid, I do. But I still wish he was some other base’s problem.”

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

Back on post, Arnie asked Bess for the fourth time if she wouldn’t like him to come help her carry the typewriter to her car. Then they could meet the others at the night club.

Beth pursed her lips with a demure smile.  “I think I can handle a typewriter, Captain, I use them all day.”

Dori chimed in with a reminder that it was Friday night and they were only young once, but Bess put them off, grinning as she heard Dori exclaim that both men would just have to dance with her all night.

“Two gorgeous officers all to myself,  what eva shall I do?”

Free at last, Bess drove her car to the supply building, and snuck in the back door carrying the type writer that she had been using at home, the big sticker along the bottom reading “Property of U.S. Army” evident as she held the machine under her arm to unlock the door. Bess slipped off her heels at the door so that they didn’t click down the dark hallways, and she easily scurried in to slip the broken machine into the repair center and help herself to a new model, grabbing a few spools of typewriter ribbon and a package of paper on the way out. Balancing everything as she locked up to leave,  Bess smiled at the cool air on her sweaty arm pits and laughed to herself for pulling this stealth operation in a tight green cocktail dress and pumps.

“A better use of this outfit anyway, I’d say.” She muttered to herself, sheathing her right foot back into her white heel with a sense of pride that she’d managed to get in, get the new machine, and would probably be home before 11 p.m. Bess had propped her self up against the building to slip her left foot into the other shoe when she heard a voice behind her call out.

“Uh, hey, need any help there?”

Startled, she almost toppled over, catching herself at the last moment by dropping everything in her hands.

“OWW fuck fuck fuck a duck!

She screamed in pain as the typewriter clanged down on her bare left foot and she almost knocked heads with the tall, gangly soldier who squatted down on front of her at the same time to try and help her retrieve her supplies.

"Oh man, I sure am sorry, listen -"

“At ease, uh Private,” she glanced briefly at the rank on his uniform while straightening up, holding her foot in pain and taking in the view below her. The paper knob at the top of the new machine had broken off completely.

“Fuck, this is what I get, I suppose,” she laughed, looking up find herself across from the shy, inquisitive face of Elvis Presley.

“Oh fuck a duuuuuck.”

Bess forgot about the typewriter, the paper spilled everywhere, the throbbing pain in the left foot she was now holding up and cradling. She didn’t even notice how she was exposing her thighs until she rubbed her foot again and dropped it with a thud, realizing she was about to flash Elvis Presley. He seemed to realize it too, and smirked as he turned his face to look away as some sort of attempt to give her privacy while she smoothed her dress down. Bess did this while clumsily trying to balance between one heeled foot and one bare foot.

Elvis found it very hard to stifle his chuckles as he watched her stiffen, and held out his hand to put her at ease.

“Uh, hey there ma’am, I’m Elvis, Elvis Presley.”

Bess shifted and smiled awkwardly, wiping her dirty, sweaty hands on her silk dress and extending her right hand out to shake his. The the same right hand, that had, moments ago, been rubbing her smelly, left foot. Honestly, it seemed like the most polite option, since she decided to act as if the last five minutes hadn’t happened. As if  sneaking out of the supply building past 10 p.m. on a Friday night with her arms full of government office supplies was perfectly normal.

“Bess Schwartz, I’m, uh, I work in the Front Office here. I’m, I’m, I'm the secretary for the Army Intelligence Commander.”

She gasped when Elvis took her hand, the hand cover in her foot sweat, and squeezed it warmly, bringing it to his lips for a chaste kiss.

“Nice ta, uh, meetcha. Imma sorry, uh, for startlin’ ya Miss Schwartz, ma’am.”

Bess shivered in the darkness as she heard herself whisper for him to call her Bess almost incoherently while she watched Elvis drop down in front of her and fit her other white pump over her left foot. She tried to remember how to breath. It was hard.  Hard because she was struggling to subdue  her visceral reaction to Elvis' thumb as it slowly smoothed over the top of her foot, which made it harder still to recover from the embarrassment of getting caught stealing a typewriter. By the most famous person in the world. Bess shut her eyes in disbelief that this was actually happening, and was disappointed when she lifted her eyelids to find that it actually was happening and Elvis was still there. He met her eyes, his finger delicately stroking her ankle.

“There, now, honey, you think you can walk?”

She pulled her leg back and nodded as she scanned the parking lot, the road along and other buildings behind it.

“Mhmm. Thank you, Private. Say, what are you doing stalking around the base right now? Lights out is at 9.”

Elvis bit his lip, looking at the ground as he stood.

“Can’t sleep.”

Bess arched her eyebrow as she started to bend, but Elvis put his hand up to stop her and stooped to gather the paper. He crushed it under his arm as he grabbed the typewriter and ink ribbons, talking slowly and deliberately.

“Well, my first night some jokers went an put shaving cream in my shoes, I ‘spose it gave em a good laugh to watch me run around like a damn fool getting ready for inspection. An well, I ain’t been able to sleep since, can’t bare to, uh, to uh - ”

His voice trailed off, but Bess knew what he meant. He was afraid of looking like poor sport or tattle tale if he complained, and a coward if he just took it. Her eyes narrowed as she noticed the bags under his eyes, calculating he must be going on 40 hours without much sleep. Or much food either, if her date was to be believed. Men. Boys, more like. Little boys amusing them selves by torturing this poor kid. This, tall, lanky, kid, who hovered above her and whose large hands made her typewriter ribbon look like a checker piece.

“Yeah, uh, they’re just scared they won’t be able to get any tail now that your here.” She smiled as best she could under the pressure of trying to talk with Elvis smoldering, lonely boy eyes piercing through her.

Bess looked at a passing car just so she could collect herself, then back at Elvis, thinking of the crowds of women lining the gates.

“The men should be thanking you, we haven’t seen this many pretty girls hanging around the base, since, well, since ever. Probably gonna be easy picking, especially for the soldiers who can leave post. Those poor girls hanging 'round outside the gates don’t know you aren’t allowed to go near ‘em for the next three or so weeks.”

“Mhmm, seems like, uh, uh, ya don’t havta go off post to meet pretty girls.”

Elvis bit his lip again, enjoying how Bess became flustered and embarrassed, smoothing the sides of her dress. She reminded herself that she hated him, as she felt the butterflies swarm through her belly and make themselves at home, flitting willy nilly up her spine. Bess also became keenly aware of how hungry she was from skipping dinner. She didn’t have time for his teasing and looked Elvis squarely in the eyes as she spoke.

“I recommend staying away from them, too. Especially the WACs. You’re definitely not supposed to fraternize with other soldiers.”

Elvis looked off at the trees that lined the road to the right. “How bought civilians? Is, um, ah, frater-a-nizin', uh, allowed?”

Bess turned, ignoring the question, though she was unable to ignore the warm, playful flirtation in Elvis’ voice as it washed over her and her chest heaved up and down at a quicker pace. Once again she told herself that she did, indeed, know how to breath. Her annoyance at his line melted away when she returned to his eyes and saw the exhaustion underneath his bravado, instantly regretting what she was about to do before she even did it. Somehow she couldn’t help herself, it was as if she was having an out-of-body experience, watching herself fumble through a simple sentence.

“Listen, I, um, I just had the worst date of my life, at the worst restaurant. Couldn’t eat a bite. You help me get another type writer, and I’ll, I’ll fix us something to eat. Then you can sleep on my couch for a few hours.”

Watching  his eyes light up, Bess felt the need to add. “But no funny business. I’m just helping out a new recruit, doesn’t mean anything.”

For the second time that night, Bess oversaw sneaking a broken typewriter into the repair shop and taking a new one, hobbling as she led Elvis to her car and directed him to put the stuff in her truck.

“Ya live on post?”

Bess patted the passenger seat of her blue Ford.

“Nope.”

“You know I ain’t supposed to leave?”

“Yup.”

“So — what’s the plan, stan?”

Bess turned to Elvis, removing his hand from her knee where it had somehow landed, and whispered with breathy excitement.

“I’m going to sneak you off.”

Elvis quirked his eyebrows as she kept talking.

“I, um, well, I share an office with the CO's secretary, Mabel. Who might actually be the most powerful person at this command. So, as long as I get you back in time for reveille, we’ll be fine. None of these guys will mess with me.” 

“I, uh, I don’ wan no special privileges, I wanna, uh, be treated like any other man, any other soldier. I reckon I better -”

Elvis trembled when Bess touched his shoulder and rubbed it gently, looking up into his face with her big brown eyes, now tender and reassuring. He looked to her like he might cry as he spoke of not being special.

“Look, I would do this for any new recruit. Boot camp, uh. Well. This is the hardest  part of being in the Army. I promise. I’m not offering because you’re famous. I actually kind of hate you, do you know how much trouble you cause my office? So, you should know I’m helping you in spite of who you are. Promise. I would - I would do it for any soldier in your predicament.”

Bess said this firmly to convince herself as much as to convince Elvis. Then she added a friendly wink and drove off, enjoying Elvis’ bemused smile and telling herself not to worry. Underneath her calm, confidence was the nagging thought that, unlike Elvis, Bess knew exactly what happened if some rule-minded officer were to find out that she had snuck Elvis off post. She had a good understanding of rule-minded officers. Like her father. Who, thankfully, was out of town.

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

The bacon and eggs sizzled on the stove and Bess flipped them, shyly avoiding Elvis’ gaze from where he was leaning with his back arched against the door jab, his right hip twisted up and his thumbs hanging from his belt loops as he watching her cook.

“So, uh, what’s a secretary doing taking typewriters uh, um, out late on a Friday night an a bringin' ‘em home for, huh?”

Bess shook her head into the frying pan, then met his gaze.

“I , um, I happen to have some very important work I need to do from home. For the General I work for. That’s, uh, why I have a master key.”

“Uh huh.” Elvis’ smirked, nodding his chin as he stuck his hands slowly under his armpits, and lifted one knee up to lean back further against the wall.

“Hand me your plate, dinner is ready.”

Elvis bounced off the doorway and strode slowly over to where Bess stood at the stove, his long arms dangling loosely at his side. He had become more relaxed and confident once they got to her house, after tearing up a bit in the car and telling her how much he missed his parents and home and how he didn’t have any idea what Germany would be like. He had then muttered on about how millions of guys have been through this, so he knew he’d be alright, though the tear dripping down his cheek made Bess think he believed the exact opposite. Now he was behind her, almost a different person, cocky and teasing as his strong arms snaked around her waist to steady her hands.

“Nah, see how the egg is still all jiggly wiggly, Bessie? S’not done, not nearly. Wanna get the bacon good and browned up, so’s there ain’t no more pink left.”

She flushed at the way his breath hit her neck while his words softly compelled her to make his food the way he liked it. The rumble of his voice as her nickname rolled off his tongue was an assault on her sense of decency, and she let his hands linger at her waist for another beat before lifting them off and assuring him that she understood.No jiggly wiggly, no pink. Black. That she learned, was how Elvis liked everything, and everything was what she gave him, as he ate the pound and a half of bacon om her fridge and her last six eggs.

Bess mused that sneaking a fatigued Elvis off post and filling him full of food must be what made him clingy, comfortable and forward when he put his arms around her as she led him upstairs to the guest room. Rubbing his eyes as he plopped on the bed, Elvis grabbed her wrist imploringly and begged her not to leave him all lonesome in a strange house, in a strange town, where she was the only nice 'lil gal to treat him like a real human bean. Sighing, Bess sat at the top of the bed and let Elvis lay his head in her lap, where she stroked his forehead, and, at his request, started to tell him her life story. He had passed out after five minutes, when she had barely finished detailing how her parents met at Coney Island in 1932, three years before she was born.

Elvis' eye lids fluttered closed and he mumbled, “That’s a when I was borned. Aww, Bessie boo, we musta been babies at the same time.”

Bess groaned as she couldn’t seem to pull herself away from him, and stayed there with his head in her lap for another twenty minutes, afraid if she rolled it off her lap she would wake him. She was cupping the back of his head to gently move it off her lap when he thrashed around and called out the name Satnin. This led Bess to give up and lean against the head board, reconciling herself to a night sleeping sitting up with the most famous rebellious heart throb soldier in the world calling out for his mama in her lap.

Elvis’ hands moved first at the sound of the alarm, roving over Bess tummy and breasts  before he opened his eyes to the smacks of her hand hitting him off her. Somehow she had been pulled down into his arms over the course of the night, and she jumped up, commanding him to get his boots on while she ran down stairs and made some coffee. She prayed her younger sister hadn’t heard the alarm. Still wearing the dress from the night before, Bess watched Elvis gulp down his black coffee and chomp down the bread and cheese she had thrown at him to eat in the car. Loudly. With an open mouth. Wiping the crumbs from his mouth, he put his arm around her and squeezed.

Despite sleeping in his arms, Bess felt a shock and jolted at his touch.

“Just so we’re clear,  Mister, uh, Private um Presley, uh, this was just a friendly, patriotic gesture. I wasn’t, uh um, trying to seduce you.”

Elvis arched his eyebrow, his expression one of amusement and incredulity at the idea Bess thought of her behavior seductive. The way she had hesitated spitting out the word ’seduce’ so earnestly was adorable and endearing.

“OK, honey, you’re the boss, jus do me a favor and call me Elvis, huh?”

She nodded, eyes forward in concentration as she felt him squeeze her shoulders even tighter. She left it there, and found herself relaxing and leaning back into him after a few minutes with a sigh. She couldn't help it, it was an instinctive response to the way his fingers widened and began to tap out a rhythm on the side of her arm. Everything felt good, and their two bodies melded together in the dusky morning twilight for a spell until a gate came into view and Bess jerked up to throw Elvis’ arm onto the car seat with a smack, not noticing how he, too, stiffened with trepidation.

She stopped around the block from Elvis’ barracks and met his strong, uninhibited bear hug with her body, letting him press the air out of her lungs and kiss her cheek.

“Hey, Bessie Boo, I,uh, I can’t, I don’t even, I uh, I hate to leave you, honey, I ain’t even had time to tell you what I want to say, what -”

Bess put her finger to his lips, feeling his breath as she shhhed him. His brows were furrowed and he frowned, not wanted to leave her car and return to the barracks. She rubbed her hand up his chest reassuringly.

“You only have five minutes to get into your bunk, Private Pres - Elvis.” She murmured. “Now, go be a good boy, I have an idea, for how to help you sleep in the future.”

“Hmmm, sounds fun.” A naughty expression played across his face, his jaw hung open and he waggled his eye brows.

Bess realized the insinuation and hit his arm.

“Not that.”  She cocked her head towards the road. “You better go.”

“Huh, usually girls are tryin to run after me, not run me off.” She hit him again as he teased her. “Ok, ok baaaby. I’m off like a gun.”

Elvis face twisted into a crooked grin, and Bess felt like the sun was rising in her car, the earth was suddenly brighter when Elvis’ blue eyes beamed down at her and he kissed her goodbye. It was a light, sweet kiss aimed at her mouth but somehow missing and hitting the crease of her lips.

It had been, what, a year since she had been kissed? Bess kept her eyes closed, just enjoying the soft, tingling sensation of  his mouth crushed into her face. Elvis’ hands gripped her tightly, one hand on her neck, the other at her back, and he moved as if to kiss her again. In a brief moment of clarity, Bess realized she had been fighting her attraction to Elvis all night. It had been gradual and immediate, and she felt very different being close to him then she did when she saw hm in the movies or on the TV and radio. At the back of her mind she could hear all the reasons she shouldn’t kiss him. She pushed her hand up between their lips.

“Um, hey, look. Think we could just be friends? I, uh, I have a rule. I don’t date soldiers.”

Elvis sat back, a quizzical expression softening on his face into a smile as he rubbed her shoulder.

“Sure, Bessie baby, friends. Got it.”

He clicked his tongue and grinned, shooting her a thumbs up. Bess nodded, unable to stop the flutter of her heart as she watched Elvis’ long legs carry him forward as he jogged around the corner to his bunk, pausing to look back over his shoulder at her with a goofy smile as he waved goodbye.

“Fuck a duck.” She heard herself mutter, as she put her car into gear and drove home to shower and get Elvis Presley out of her head.

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

Chapter Two: Moo Moo & Tupelo

If you enjoyed this and want to read more, comment, reblog, and let me know what you think and if you would want to be tagged. Tagging a few of you on here who read my stuff, but DM or comment if you would rather not be ;)

@doll-elvis @richardslady121 @waiting4brucewayne2adoptme @father-of-2cats @everythingelvispresley @j-v-9-2 @eliseinmemphis @moonchild-daniella @notstefaniepresley @louisejoy86 @amydarcimarie @kingdomforapony @dkayfixates @artlover8992 @18lkpeters @literally-just-elvis-fics

[doomspiral]

Doom's Movie Rec List

Some of these are bangers, some of these are the worst thing I have ever seen in my life, but I think they are all worth watching and enjoying one way or another. Sometimes the enjoyment is cringe and sometimes its staring at a wall for three hours. <3

The seventh seal (1957)

Classic chess game with Death film, I presume the entire thing is Bergman staring into the soul of the viewer in dead silence until you can read his mind.

The cabinet of Dr. Caligary (1920)

Strange, lurching, I watched this in German without knowing enough to keep up and I believe my confusion added to the experience.

Atomic blonde (2017)

This is my favorite movie. This is the one that I can't stop rewriting in my fics. I can't get the "lies" soliloquy out of my mind. My soul is tied to this fillum. Hot insane woman does a lot of violence, kisses women, beats up a guy who truly deserves it. Iron Curtain Spy Nonsense.

Hackers (1994)

Am I depressing you? Good, watch Hackers to experience child-like wonder and also see a grown man skateboard down a foggy street in the middle of the night to harass the homosexual teenagers (and slim shady) he's beefing with.

The core (2003)

This is not a good movie. But there is a little freak in there named "Rat" who I am obsessed with.

Angel's egg (1985)

This is the kind of movie where you have to not try to figure out what's going on and instead let it take you by the hands, just experience it, just keep your mouth shut and your mind at rest and you can consider the implications afterward when its safe.

Princess mononoke (1997)

I watched this as a child and saw those beasts dissolve into bloody worms and apparently that left a lasting mark on my brain.

Nausicaä of the valley of wind (1984)

I actually read the manga for this one but this is a movie rec list, so please go watch this for the death and rebirth vibes, and some mild foeyay yuri.

Invasion of the body snatchers (1978)

Horror movie that's odd and disturbing and clearly betraying some better dead than red fears, worth it for the horrible despicable freakish noise the guy makes at the end while pointing at the viewer.

Strange days (1995)

Please read up on this before watching it, it revolves around a fictional, then-futuristic critique of the adult film industry, HEAVY focus on the capitalistic dehumanization and devaluing of human life.

Underworld (2003)

Bad asses in leather fighting monsters. Core memory.

Blade (1998)

Bad asses in leather fighting monsters but maybe you need a break from how white this whole movie list is overall. That's okay, I see you, this vampire flick fucks severe.

Fright night (1985, 2011)

The first movie is pretty campy (fun) but the remake dug into my actual stressors and fears and scared the lights from my eyes for a day or two. Welcome... to FrrrighT NighT.

Dracula (1931, 1992)

First movie is a classic, this is thee one with the guy crawling around like a lizard and there's armadillos for no reason. The 90's version has no business being as deranged as it is and for this it is a core personality trait movie.

Fast&furious: Tokyo drift (2006)

Not sure I would say this is peak cinema but it's a racing movie that falls in line with the F&F tradition of being clearly in love with the entire premise, location, and cast. Rent free.

Drive (2011)

I like this movie because it is not about the guy getting the girl, it is about doing the right thing every single time because that's what it takes to be a real human bean. being. whichever. I was so obnoxious about this movie when I watched it with my now-ex gf that I wish I could siphon the memory of it out of her brain, because I kept pointing at actors I knew.

Green room (2015)

This is the best punk parable I can think of. Litany against not reading the room, litany against being the hero when there's no one to save, litany against thinking shared trauma is gonna get you any pussy.

Lords of chaos (2018)

I'm obsessed with the band Mayhem there is no other explanation.

There will be blood (2007)

WILD WEST TOXIC YAOI. I'm not apologizing for this summary and I'm not elaborating.

Butch Cassidy and the sundance kid (1969)

I don't know. I watched this in the wee hours of the morning with my best friend and actually cried about it. Doomed criminals and a famous final stand.

Saw (2004)

I used to watch Saw movies when I lived in the trailer park while hiding from my family in a neighbor's place so I don't know if these movies are good or if I needed to watch tortureporn to relax bcs the roof leaked on my bed when it rained? But I think everyone should at least watch the first movie or how are you going to play any games?

Chernobyl diaries (2012)

I walked out of this movie shaking head to toe and couldn't think about anything else for months. I don't think I'd be as scared now but I can't say if that's because I'm not 16 anymore. Warning against going into a dangerous situation with a guy you met off Craigslist.

Constantine (2005)

Demon hoards, evil angels, catholic bullshit, 9/10.

The neverending story (1984)

Well after all that let's reinstate some whimsy into our souls again bcs this is the Jim Henson Power Hour. This one is just a solid entry point into "puppets are fun and practical effects are my best friend".

The dark crystal (1982)

My babysitters put this on for me as a bed-time story when I was five (5) years old and I do not believe I slept, I think they regretted this and had to tell my parents what they did. But now I will never stop making Skeksis noises at people I love.

Labyrinth (1986)

Y'know the phenomenon of alt teens and preteens dating young adult men who are total and complete losers, including actual band members? It's not that this pre-dates any of that, but I believe it does a good job representing it through the lens of a modern fairy tale. Like when you watch this you have to realize this is wish fulfillment for people who want to be Sarah because their age-gap goth boyfriend in the real world is a manipulative disappointment.

Pacific rim (2013)

Love letter to the mecha and kaiju genre(s). Makes no sense, compels me though.

Eurotrip (2004)

This is the movie "Scotty doesn't know" is from. Some high schoolers fuck off to Europe and have the most misadventure possible. It's somehow exactly the kind of cringe humor you would expect from the 00's without being cruel or overly disgusting. I used to watch a lot of really bad 00's comedies and this is a good one I promise. Scussie.

Hamlet (1996)

Personality point, I think this is the best version on film because the guy actually looks like how I envisioned Hamlet. Ignore your girl! Avenge your dad!

Advantageous (2015)

This movie goes in on the connection between race and class in a sci-fi future where you can change the former through predatory, dangerous cosmetic surgery.

Gravity (2013)

This is my go-to movie when I need to sob like a sick little baby. Space travel as a metaphor for motherhood, spaceships as the womb, scientists are the babies who left their babies back on earth. It's about what you give up in the name of fulfilling your human urge for the unknown.

All clear on the western front (2022)

Thee anti-war fillum. Very well done. I never recovered from one of the final scenes to the point I wrote a final paper on it. Without spoiling it, the Ending gave me the feeling of when you're a kid and you want to go play, but you're grounded and you fall asleep listening to your friends outside in the street. I hope this sentence ruins your life if you watch this movie.

Inglorious basterds (2009)

They lock some nazis in a theatre and set them on fire, good cinema.

Shadow dancer (2012)

Domhnall Gleeson in one of his classically pathetic twink roles but its about British imperial violence and Irish reactionary violence.

Logan (2017)

Good art film, a story about dementia, legacies, and why putting children in cages is fucking evil.

The batman (2022)

Weird art film, next question.

Joker (2019)

I do not care about the opinions of straight men who watch things uncritically, this is a good movie because of the depictions of poverty in the US. I don't believe this needed to be about the DC Joker this should have been a standalone art film about a mime.

Dragonheart (1996)

Medieval era dragon nonsense, I will never be convinced this is a bad movie.

Sleeping beauty (1959)

Personality trait was rooting for the dragon.

Snow dogs (2002)

I'm not defending this one it stands on its own, please watch this movie if you wanna see Cuba Gooding Jr. bite a husky's ear so it'll stop ruining his life.

Luck of the irish (2001)

This movie is genuinely so bad I have considered it some kind of hate crime since the day it came out, because I watched this the day it was a direct-to-TV movie. I think I was too young to feel insulted but I was deeply, deeply bemused.

Black swan (2010)

There is a woman inside her and she is trying to crash the plane. Can I get away with calling this foe-yay yuri also? I'm going to.

I, tonya (2017)

Sufjan Stevens' song "Tonya Harding in Eb major" makes me so unreasonably emotional, so one day I watched this movie and then the film of the 1988 Calgary Olympics in the living room while all of my housemates had to sneak around in the dark. This is just a solid movie about ambition, betrayal, abuse, tragedy, and having to get over it and move on because you're not dead yet.

Phantom of the opera (2004)

Whatever was going on in Labyrinth, this is the adult version. Weird man in a sewer possessing a soprano. I think there's some gender happening here but it gets a little lost under the love(?) triangle.

A knights tale (2001)

Just go watch some more medieval nonsense, it's good for you, its fun.

White chicks (2004)

I'm not defending this choice, it's a good movie. "You were thinking it" "Yeah but you said it" there are some phrases you could use to see if I had been replaced with a body double and this is one of them.

Heathers (1988)

Ouughhgh ough oh. Personality trait. Watched this because I kept listening to the musical soundtrack, love both but agree the themes are much tighter in the movie. This is just a fun schlock to tell teens life is stupid and difficult and bad things will happen, so don't abandon your friends.

Priscilla queen of the desert (1994)

Classic homo fillum, if you wonder why I write Gilbert Like That it's partially because of the mean little fruit from this movie. It's about the Aussie drag scene and who belongs in the queer community.

300 (2006)

I'm not sure that I would call this a "good" movie, but it's a classic as far as I'm concerned. This is the "THIS IS SPARTA" movie.

The foreigner (2017)

I actually don't remember the plot of this one too solidly but the suspense and action were solid, and I enjoyed the setup. Good for if you wanna be really pissed off for two hours.

Conan the barbarian (1982)

Look at me. Look into my eyes. You're going to watch this movie. You're going to think about the wheel of pain and you're going to go wow, this is so stupid. Don't look away I'm not done. You're going to watch this movie and then you're going to get a couple of paper towel tubes and find someone to beat the shit out of each other with the tubes.

Law abiding citizen (2009)

I don't know I think watching this movie changed my brain chemistry in very special ways. Guy fucking loses it and becomes a problem for his local community by kidnapping and torturing people who killed his family. Cathartic and vile.

Black dog (1998)

:D DO YOU WANNA WATCH AN ACTION MOVIE ABOUT AN 18-WHEELER?

The hunt for red october (1990)

Almost forgot this one. Lithuanian Submariner off the shits, goes rogue, I'm not sure what accent Sean Connery is going for, I get the impression he just showed up to gigs and did whatever he wanted.

[tragicallywicked]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Atomic Blonde (2017) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Lorraine Broughton/Delphine Lasalle Characters: Lorraine Broughton, Delphine Lasalle, Emmett Kurzfeld, Other Character Tags to Be Added Additional Tags: Post-Canon Fix-It, Fix-It, Delphine Lasalle Lives, Slow Burn, Idiots in Love, in which Lorraine is worried she'll get Delphine killed, much pain and struggles, but good fights, and eventually good sex, Very Good Sex, I'm Bad At Summaries, I APOLOGIZE 

Summary:

"Do you ever wonder what could have been if things had been different?"

Lorraine's gaze locked with Delphine's, a mix of yearning and caution in her eyes. "We're spies, Delphine. We don't dwell on 'what ifs.'"

Delphine's fingertips grazed the rim of her glass, her voice laced with a hint of vulnerability. "But sometimes, Lorraine, the 'what ifs' haunt us the most."

Lorraine's defenses faltered for a brief moment, a flicker of longing crossing her features. "We can't afford distractions. The mission requires our full attention."

Delphine's gaze lingered, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her lips. "And yet, here we are, caught between duty and desire."

 or

 In which Delphine is alive and has to go on a mission with Lorraine.

[catgirl-yeji]

Hello, Faon! Hope you're doing well! 🦋✨️

I was asking myself the same question, and I found it an interesting thought exercise, so: in the next five years, which ten goals would you say you've got for your fanfic writing hobbie?

It doesn't need to be ten goals you'll actually run towards in the next five years, if you ain't got smth like that in mind, but if you Had To choose ten goals, which would they be?

Hi!!! c: 🦈🦌

Oh that's an excellent question, actually. Hmmm. 💛

I'm not sure I'll manage to come up with 10 but, I definitely have some goals for my fanfic writing journey in the next five years:

finish the Shadowhunters fic I haven't uploaded the last chapter of in about five or more years; it's literally in my drafts, it's basically done UGRH

continue and maybe finish the Atomic Blonde soulmate fic that's still so so dear to my heart;;

the same with the Resident Evil / Atomic Blonde crossover vampire fic; I have so many ideas with a whole handful of OCs as well for that one

in the next five years I really wanna finish and start uploading my GOT7 timeloop fic, which is going to be the start to what looks like a trilogy or a quadrilogy at the moment; I was so so stressed and busy these past months with exams and applying for uni and then getting into uni and doing the whole sign-up paperwork, and I'm still looking for a flat share in the city I'll be studying in because that's apparently impossible to find;;; so. I really wanna get back into that story. I adore that story. so so much.

other than finishing current works, I think I really want to do a collab in the next five years, actually! haven't thought about the fandom or the specific person yet but I think I've been wanting to do that for ages now and never managed to

I also wanna breach new fandoms, to be honest. Rebel Moon for instance.

since I also write original stories, I am gonna talk about them too: I wanna write more short stories! I love writing short stories;;

do a series of poems about one topic maybe; especially those dictionary poems, I love those and I wanna get good at writing them.

I am going to still be in uni in five years and I'm not looking to turn my hobby into a job, but maybe I can sell ebooks ? I'm definitely not looking to become famous with them, but I just want to see what happens, honestly. maybe I'll make some money on the side with it you know?

other than that I really just want to keep improving my writing, even if I already really like my writing style 🩷

Thanks again for the question, it's fun to think about this! :)

[hail-americas-ass]

🔆JUNE FIC REC II

✒ a greek tragedy by ash 

(I can’t express enough how amazing this is) 4.6K Words

When Steve started drawing the comic, he drew himself before the serum and Bucky as he remembered him when they worked together to keep from ending up on the streets and dreamed of futures with floating cars. He drew them then and now, scenes against a New York he remembered and scenes against this future he didn’t quite fit in, one drawn soft and hazy, the other hard lines. When he drew them in the present, he never drew himself looking at Bucky; Bucky was always behind him, a shadow that followed as he tried to find a trace of the world they used to know in this one. He called them Orpheus and Eurydice.

🦾  Touch Me I’m Going to Scream by buffypeppers

(This is a classic in my opinion. It’s got recovering!Bucky and every trope you can imagine, so very fluffy) 107.5K Words

Only a few days have passed since the Winter Soldier put Sam into a hospital bed but Steve is ready to find HYDRA’s assassin and bring him to justice.

Things won't go according to plan once the Avengers find the infamous man.

🕵️‍♂️ End of all Days by Minka ( @minka-g​ on tumblr)

(I was motivated to reread this recently, it kept me on the edge of my seat the first time I read it and it had the same thrilling effect when I reread it too. There’s only one word to describe it: thrilling.) 

(Archeological Historian!Steve x Spy!Bucky) (Indiana Jones & Atomic Blonde AU)  116.7K Words

Captain Steve Rogers had thought his military days were behind him, left in the bloody nightmare that was Saigon. Retired and working as a History Professor, the last thing he expected was to get caught up in a cataclysmic Slavic prophesy foreshadowing the end of the known world.

With Cold War tensions running high, Steve finds himself in need of a guide and translator to get him behind the Iron Curtain and into the isolated snowdrifts of Siberia.

It’s deep in the heart of Bucharest’s resistance fighters that Steve finds the ideal candidate, but swaying the enigmatic ex-operative known as The Winter Soldier proves to be complicated. Trust is hard-won, especially in the world of espionage, and with a KGB death squad nipping at his heels, the Soldier has countless reasons to stay presumably dead.

As the lines between right, wrong and the supernatural begin to blur, Steve is forced to reconsider everything he’s ever believed, right from the sanctity of his own country to the very foundations of creation itself.

❤️‍🩹 Every Door Opens by Notoska ( @notoska on tumblr)

(This fic, the words and the way they were written, not only yanked my heart out of my chest, it also sunk deep in my bones where I was forced to carry it and think of it for days. Fantastic.) Recovery fic. 73.9K Words

Then Bucky licks his lips, tip of his tongue just grazing the sensitive skin of Steve’s ear and Steve moans. Nothing close to the surge of lust behind his ribs, but a tiny, breathy sound all the same. Bucky doesn’t react—he must not have heard. Though a minute later he curls his fingers and extends them again, moving just slow enough for it to be a caress.

Just tip your head into his touch. He’ll take the lead and trace the folds of your ear with his tongue until you can’t keep quiet any more. Then he’ll smother your desperate little noises with his mouth, fingers twisting in your hair. Kissing deeply, tongues reaching to declare your filthy intentions. Find his knee with your hand and slide wolfishly up his thigh until you reach the bulge behind his fly. Palm him through his trousers until he’s panting in your mouth, until he’s pressing his forehead to yours, hips bucking, and you can see his dark eyes, glinting in the screen’s flickering light, pleading—

Steve jolts back to the present. The credits are rolling and Bucky is reading them as well. The screen blacks and two fluorescent lights buzz to life. Bucky loosens his hand from Steve’s head, welcoming the world back in.

[liminal-zone]

courage, dear heart

i wrote a thing! 

AO3 fic link: atomic blonde

fandom: Narnia/LOTR crossover | ship: Susan Pevensie/Éowyn, background Haladriel

rated: mature | tagged: crossover, canon compliant, pining, Gender Politics with Clive Staples and John Ronald Reuel, post The Horse and His Boy, bittersweet

Summary: It’s not the first time a power beyond understanding ripped Susan away from her home to fight in another world’s war. And in this strange country, she will find her courage.

Set as Frodo becomes the ringbearer, set after Susan returns from Tashbaan and the Battle of Anvard is won.

a/n: Written for @thenarniaficexchange 2023 for @syrena-of-the-lake. Is this fic just a string of references from all seven narnia books, at least five lotr books, various narnia and lotr films, a lotr tv show, Churchill’s “we shall fight on the beaches”, and Shakespeare? Maybe so.

Two canons in a blender, my favorite scene in this is when the Dark Lord Sauron comes to Queen Susan in her dreams to take her apart and finds something he didn’t expect. And my heart aches to answer an unanswered question in the fic about magicked memory loss and the Problem of Susan, perhaps in a sequel. 

Excerpt:

Her hands are dirty from drawing the circle, fingers burned from the blue fire.

The bright magic ring she wears is cold, very cold; cold as the bottom of the sea. And it sings of power, not of the flesh, but over flesh. The power of the Unseen World.

In her mouth is the language spoken before the dawn of time. Before the Deep Magic was written. Before the Sun and the Moon were made. “Call her up.”

*

It’s quite sudden – the searing sound in her ears and then a great pop – and she’s no longer riding alongside her sister in the wilds of Galma but in a strange, alien land.

She stills her horse, and is surprised to find it not the dumb Galman beast who was a pleasure to ride along the sands of the ocean, but a great stallion fit for a warrior of renown. The shabby islander saddle is now richly ornate, covered in symbols she does not recognize. The windswept sea of grass smells sweet; rich earth beneath and a warm yellow sun in the endless blue sky above. Massive forests and towering mountains in the distance, and far off to the south, clouds of smoke. No recognizable landmark of any kind.

This curious little girl from Finchley has experienced travel between worlds before, but she does not quite remember the first time. Something about a mother who loved her and a great stairwell and the numbing horror of nonstop destruction; all faded in memory and deemed unimportant, lost. She is now queen of a great country; taller than her brother, the High King, and a remarkable beauty sought by highborns across the known world. Her raven-colored hair and red lips, haunting the dreams of many. Her gracious kindness, a balm to her loving subjects once subjugated by winter and a witch.

More importantly, she still remains curious.

For she is Susan, by the gift of Aslan, by election, by prescription, and by conquest, Queen over Narnia under the High King Peter, the Lady of Cair Paravel and Protector of the River Rush, Blessed by the Radiant Southern Sun, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion, Daughter of Eve, the Gentle.

And this strange country, unknown to her, is Middle Earth.

*

Her magical horn came with her, tied to her belt. There is no hesitation as she raises it to her lips. Father Christmas had said “–wherever you are–,” so she blows it, calling for help in this alien place.

The full velvety sound rings out across the grassy plains, ringing up through the nearby mountains and reaching forests unknown and reaching foreign ears in their towers of stone. (Perhaps even reaching the power that brought her here.)

A rider appears in the distance. Susan narrows her eyes, considering if this is friend or foe. She only has a dagger and her wits, which may be enough.

It is a warrior with a shield on his arm. He rides a white steed and golden horse hair flows out of his helmet. He shines bright like the famed white stag and Susan feels an intense urge to chase this rider at once, to put an arrow in his heart and drag him to the ground.

To demand wishes? Perhaps. The urge is unknowable.

But no: this is no white stag, nor a magical creature of any sort.

And Susan does not yet know that this is no man.

Susan called for help, and help has arrived in the form of Éowyn, the Lady of Rohan.

*

It is a cautious meeting and neither dismount.

The rider’s gaze is appraising, obviously noting Susan’s foreign dress. There’s the uncommon length of her raven hair, adorned with the lush island flowers of Galma. The dagger and white horn at her side, and the ease in which Susan is managing a stallion. The queenly posture; a regal confidence undoubted. (This is learned behavior. Pevensies can trace their lineage to poor fishermen in East Sussex and poorer soldiers from Normandy.)

Susan’s assessment is this: the young rider is a dangerous warrior, lithe and well-knit in frame, made all the more queer with his open courtesy to a stranger.

“What country, friend, is this?” Susan asks.

The rider tilts his head. “This is Rohan, my lady.” His voice ringing out clear.

And what shall I do in Rohan? Susan thinks, miserably.

“Are you in need some assistance, my lady?” the rider continues, a look of concern in his gray eyes. A pause. “I am Dernhelm, at your service.”

*

Dernhelm listens to her tale and “strange sorcery” is his response. He thinks a moment before: “Have you experience with witches?”

Susan gives a smile, but it is a bitter one. She knows more than some about witches.

After Susan explains, Dernhelm nods. “The way I see it is this: you have appeared here through magic, for what reason, I cannot say. And you have appeared in Rohan, for what reason, I cannot say. You are no servant of the Dark Lord, there is something true and honorable about you.” He stops there for a moment before a continuing in a most peculiar tone. “The wizards have no interest in queens; what is a woman to the affairs of air and earth? So, the Lady of the Golden Wood, she must be behind this and her reasons could have promise in them.”

“The Lady?” Susan echoes quietly. There are hags that called Her “the White Lady.”

“She is a great sorceress. An elf-witch of terrible power who dwells in Dwimordene.” Dernhelm looks grave. “It is said that all who look upon her shall fall under her spell and are never seen again.”

Susan shivers, thinking of the horror of Jadis’ castle. Of Tumnus’ look of terror, frozen in stone.

Dernhelm continues. “My brother believes she is a myth, and–” he pauses as if pained by a memory unspoken. “My king’s advisor says webs of deceit were ever woven in Dwimordene.” He raises his chin, and his eyes are shining bright. “But I believe differently. There is an old, old tale of this elf-witch helping my annointed forebear, the first of our kings. I choose to believe that tale. I choose to believe that in our time of need, the Lady came to our aid. High honor to protect the king and his men, and dread magic too. And perhaps, perhaps if she is behind this, she can be reasoned with and you can return home. Should you have the courage, you seek her out.”

“Then I shall go to find this Lady of the Golden Wood,” Susan says. “If you will take me there, sir. For I do not know the way.”

The man sucks in air and holds it a moment before: “For this journey, you have my sword, your grace.”

[aziraphales-library]

heya, do you know of any gomens fics that are set in berlin, germany? thank you!

Hi! Here are some fics set in Berlin...

daedalus, landing by Contra (M)

AU in which their city is Berlin instead of London. // Alternate Title: The Sky over Berlin

To rest my eyes in shades of green by HolRose (G)

During what began as an ordinary November evening, bookish, shy student Aloysius, and world-weary horticulturist Anton meet on the top of a notorious Wall in a city teetering on the edge of momentous change. Growing up in a profoundly divided country has given them both ample reasons to be distrustful. Neither of them have considered that they might fall in love at first sight, but where the personal and political collide on this most unprecedented of occasions, they may be about to change their minds.

A Berlin Wall AU

Left With No Trace by Anti_kate (E)

Aziraphale’s heart didn’t leap so much as plummet from a cliff-top, flinging itself towards certain doom. Aziraphale struggles with his feelings after his fight with Crowley over the holy water, until they meet by chance in Berlin.

Good Omens Deutschland by fathand (T)

1946 - 1989.

Berlin, during the Cold War.

Maybe This Time by orphan_account (T)

There was a cabaret in a city called Berlin, in a country called Germany, in a Europe that just narrowly escaped the end of the world and was rapidly heading towards another attempt.

And in that cabaret, an Angel and a Demon were dancing together. The trumpets signaling end times could have been playing, and they wouldn’t have even heard it over the music.

Atomic Omens by bookmarksorganization (E)

It's Atomic Blonde (which you don't need to have seen), but it's Good Omens. Basically: it's a spy story set in 1989 Berlin feat. Crowley as the femme fatale main character.

- Mod D

[aettuddae]

wait. hold on.

giselle is not the center of the smau.

so she won’t be cheating on the man with ME?

aettuddae I can’t believe you this is it it’s so over for me . i don’t have a problem toxic yuri is just how I stay alive.. looks like IM gonna have to write it myself..😖😖😭😭PLEAAASEEEE WRITE GISELLE SMAU PLEASSE DONT MAKE HER MARRIED TO A MAN IM GONNA KMSSSS PLEAPSLEPWLAPSLEPSLAPSLEPALS(this is my 17th reason)

i can’t do this anymore. like if she’s not having an affair what’s even the point. her husband is probably gay too I csnt do this anymore.

in other words I’m actually the husband btw they made me put on a wig for the role but rest assured she’s married to a woman guys trust trust it’s me I’m so normal IM SO SANE SOMEBODY SHOOT M

i do not have a toxic yuri problem. i just enjoy the most advanced form of storytelling. like in atomic blonde. god that movie was so fire like I could talk about it for DAYYSSSSS.. if giselle doesn’t have an affair with atleast some random girl like sakura our #1 then this entire building will collapse in 3 seconds. choose wisely

(esto es un joke. la mayoría)

-💿

no bro, i'm a yu jimin enthusiast, it will be yet another yu jimin smau. i have given that woman my soul.

giselle is a secondary character that, yet again, has to deal with jimin's antics and, ON TOP OF THAT, be married to a man. she can cheat on the dude with you if you want, but it will get 2 minutes maximum of screen time.

BUT DON'T STOP READING ME, it's a sacrifice we are all making 😔

i'm sorry, love, i can't write a giselle smau, that's not my place to be 😔 sorry i married her to a dude, i can't assure you it won't happen again. honestly, you are not a fic writer until no one writes the shit you wanna read and you gotta do it yourself. who knows if you don't become the messiah of toxic yuri? i've become the messiah of idiotic jimin

hey 🫵🏻 what do you know about her husband? 🫵🏻

what do you mean a wig bro get out of my set

what's atomic blonde i do not possess that information. asking for an affair this bluntly, what about god and family?