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hermannsthumb · 4 years

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42 + 67?

42. The Big Damn Kiss + 67. Character in Peril

from fanfiction trope mashup here

i always liked to imagine this is what happened before newt is sent back out for another brain hehe...yes this prompt is from two years ago what about it

-----------------

Newt thinks he’s lucky, in a sense, that the ordeal of drifting alone with a kaiju brain was evidently so traumatizing that his brain just sorta fucked off and refuses to remember any of the pain. Try as he might, Newt can’t remember that pain; he remembers initiating the drift, and he remembers (in nauseating flashes) what he saw in the drift, and he remembers Hermann falling to his knees and shouting at him, but when he tries to remember how it felt--hitting the floor, busting his eye, seizing, playing host to a fucking hivemind--he just can’t. It’s nothing but fuzzy static.

Probably for the best. His brain might explode, otherwise.

Hermann has been eyeing him up across the room since Pentecost left with strict instructions for Newt to go ahead and do exactly what he just did, but this time, sort of more legally. He looks anxious. Anxious, and concerned. He’s barely said ten words since his earlier outburst caused Pentecost to snap at him. “You good?” Newt says. If anyone should be anxious, it’s him, being sent out to find a fucking mobster in the middle of the apocalypse. Unbelievable. If Newt was still getting paid, he’d say he deserved a raise.

To his surprise, Hermann shakes his head. He doesn’t offer anything else.

“Alright,” Newt says, and shrugs. He wouldn’t be surprised if Hermann was pissed at him over it all, not only for directly ignoring his warnings, advice, and outright threats about a solo kaiju brain drift, but for it actually working and Newt being right. It’s the kind of thing Hermann would be pissed about.

He pulls on his leather jacket and swaps out the tissue jammed up his nose for a fresh one. The blood flow seems to be slowing down--good. Maybe Newt can take it out soon. It would be supremely uncool to confront a mobster like this, after all. “I thought you were dead,” Hermann says.

Newt looks up. “Huh?”

“I thought you were dead,” Hermann says, louder this time. “When I found you. You weren’t--” He works his jaw furiously. “You were--sitting there. Shaking. I tried to speak to you, and you weren’t...”

It’s then that Newt realizes how pale Hermann is, how shaky, how heavily he’s leaning on his cane, like he’s three seconds from toppling to the ground. He chalked Hermann’s silence up to embarrassment over being reprimanded before, but now... Newt spreads his arms open in a weak display of false bravado. “Not yet, dude,” he says. “Still standing. Aw, fuck--”

His nose chooses that moment to twinge with pain again, and--wincing--he feels a fresh gush of blood staining the tissue. Not exactly the reassuring gesture he’d been hoping for.

Hermann rushes forward before Newt can even make to touch the tissue, and tugs it out himself. “Look at you,” he tsks. “You’re--you’re quite the wreck, aren’t you? We ought to fix you up.”

“Uh,” Newt says.

“Covered in blood,” Hermann says, “hair a mess, oh, and your collar--”

His voice is calm, too calm, a thin veneer over something horrible and trembling Newt’s never heard from Hermann before. He doesn’t sound angry. He doesn’t sound like he’s going to start shouting again. He sounds like--well, he sounds like he’s about to cry. “Hermann?” Newt says.

Hermann flattens down the top of Newt’s hair, then the sides. He fixes the collar of Newt’s jacket. He pulls a small white handkerchief from his pocket and presses it to Newt’s bleeding nostril, pinching it slightly. “Almost finished,” he says, not meeting Newt’s eyes. “We can’t have you making a bad first impression, now, can we?”

“I guess not?” Newt says.

“Not when,” Hermann begins, but his voice cracks, and Newt feels a sudden surge of guilt, “ah, not when so much is--is at stake.”

“Hermann,” Newt tries again, softer this time. He can’t remember the last time Hermann touched him like this--or if Hermann’s ever touched him like this. They don’t make a habit of that sort of thing. (He thinks he might remember Hermann stroking his hair as he came out of his drift, or tugging him half-into his lap, but everything’s still so confusing.)

Hermann says nothing, pulling away the handkerchief and tsking again. “Hm...” He licks his thumb and scrubs away the dried blood above Newt’s lip, then tucks the handkerchief into Newt’s pocket. He pats Newt’s cheek when he’s satisfied. “There we are. There’s nothing to be done about your eye, I’m afraid, but...”

“Look, dude,” Newt tries. He catches Hermann’s hand before he can pull it away, unsure of even why he does it, and licks his lips. He thinks he also remembers one of those hands (a little too big, unpracticed and clumsy in human contact) wrapped around his jaw as he came to. “I’m sorry about--”

Hermann shakes his head. “It’s no matter,” he says, briskly, and then--to Newt’s extreme surprise--he clasps his arms around Newt for the awkwardest hug of all time. Newt feels him give a shuddering breath against his shoulder. (What the fuck?) “Be careful, Newton,” he says, and squeezes Newt tighter.

“Uh,” Newt says. He laughs, bewildered, and gives Hermann’s back an equally awkward pat. “I’ll try, dude. No promises.”

Hermann lets go. “Very well,” he says. He nods; his posture stiffens; his face becomes a cool, stoic mask, not a trace of his sudden outburst of emotions remaining. Hermann’s always been a master of that sort of thing. “Then--off you go, I suppose.”

Newt’s halfway towards the door when a frantic clacking and a “Newton!” behind him make him freeze in place. Then Hermann is gripping his shoulders and reeling him around for a fierce kiss.

It’s as clumsy and unpracticed as Hermann’s touches; their teeth click, and so do their glasses. Newt melts into it nonetheless. “For good luck,” Hermann tells him, breathlessly, and he pats in the vague direction of Newt’s cheek again like he can’t quite figure out what to do.

“Cool,” Newt squeaks.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years

Text

Night Fever

Written for my In the Dark Challenge

I’m Gonna Make You Love Me by The Temptations/The Supremes “And I’m gonna use every trick in the book. I’ll try my best to get you hooked.”

“I’m just getting started.”

Warnings: non/dubcon sex, sex pollen.

This is dark!Bucky Barnes and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: You meet your crush’s new date but you’re not the only one lost in yearning.

—

You usually looked forward to Tony’s parties. They were a small respite from the usual grind. You never really had holidays or vacations as an intelligence specialist so those hours of glee were the next best occasion. You’d get dressed up, do your make-up, and fantasize about the spread of hors d’oevres to be offered.

Oh and speaking of fantasies…

Steve Rogers had just arrived. The core of many nocturnal whimsies. You couldn’t say when the crush had implanted itself within you. Had it been when you had spilled coffee on yourself and he had laughed and helped you clean it up, lightly brushing close to your chest with a napkin? Or when he had offered to carry a crate of documents to the archives for you? You really couldn’t say but you knew it was best to keep such infatuation apart from the workplace.

That didn’t ease the sting as he walked in the hall with another on his arm. There had been rumours in the office but you had chalked it up to Sam’s incessant need to talk shit. You hadn’t really believed it. Or maybe hadn’t wanted to. It was easier with her right in front of you; pale blonde hair, soft blue eyes, the figure of a ballerina. You hid your disappointment as you nodded at whatever Natasha had been talking about. The last you had understood a word it was her usual rant about her field gear.

Then he approached you, none so shy about the model at his side. You did your best to smile and remain poised. Why next to this woman, you must have seemed a possum in a skirt. Natasha took the initiative as she always did and you were saved from an awkward and delayed greeting.

“I was wondering if you were ever gonna remember us,” Nat teased, “So, who’s the lady?”

“Oh, well, you’re actually going to laugh at this,” He gave his pristine smile and you locked your knees as you tried not to melt into a puddle. “Um, Natasha,” He gestured to the woman known as the Black Widow before waving to his blonde escort, “This is Natasha.”

Natasha laughed. Loudly. Then offered her hand to the taller, skinnier blonde. You watched, awaiting and dreading your turn to feign acceptance. Enough. It’s just a crush. If anything this would help you get over it.

The new Natasha shook the old Natasha’s hand and then Steve turned to you. “And this the only original of the bunch, Y/N.” He introduced you, “She keeps our whole team from walking headfirst into trouble. Not that we don’t anyways.”

You gave your best fake laugh and shook Natasha’s hand in kind. A nice to meet you and your usual social courtesy. Nothing more.

As the three began to chatter as if it wasn’t all so awkward, you excused yourself to the bathroom and hid in there as you gathered your wits. Stop being a child. You should be happy for him. You sighed at yourself in the mirror and pushed away from the counter. You should get a drink.

You strode back out to the soiree and briskly swiped a champagne flute off a server’s tray. You retreated the wall furthest from Steve and sipped your elixir. This would help you forget about him and your foolish heart. God, you could be so stupid.

You were down to your last mouthful and tossed it back without grace. You covered your mouth as the bubbles threatened to escape and almost let out the hideous belch as a deep voice surprised you.

“I thought you liked these stupid things,” Bucky crossed his arms as he stepped up next to you, the fabric of his jacket strained across his shoulders.. You rarely saw him at these parties. Not that he didn’t attend, only that he made himself scarce.

“I’m tired,” You lied, “Bad timing I guess…been working.”

“Ah,” He replied rather unconvinced of your fib, “Too many strangers.”

“Mm-hmm,” You agreed as a server offered to take your empty glass.

“So you met her?” You glanced over at Bucky’s pointed question but didn’t need to ask who he meant.

“She’s nice,” You looked back to the room of tuxedos and gowns, “Pretty.”

“Needy,” Bucky added, “You know I was with him when he met her. Our usual night out. Just us two. We go to a bar, a couple of drinks, shoot the shit…” He lowered his arms as he stepped closer, his eyes scanning the crowd as he spoke without looking at you. “She came over and introduced herself. Pretended not to know who he was.” He cleared his throat and chuckled darkly, “She’s not a very good actor but Steve’s a bit of a dupe with pretty dames.”

You nodded, unsure of what to say but he seemingly didn’t need encouragement. It was rare that the former Winter Soldier was so talkative. You could smell the whiskey as he stepped closer and his arm pressed to your shoulder.

“Barely see him outside missions these last two months. Whenever we are together, she’s calling him and he’s all too eager to run at her beck and call.” His voice dripped with irritation. “I’d tell him she’s been texting me too but I don’t think he’d believe me.”

You turned to him with wide eyes. Gossip at the lips of the last person you would expect it from. You were stunned as in your mind Natasha had been in the first chapter of her very own once upon a time. You shrugged and swallowed back your envious satisfaction.

“About what?” You wondered lightly.

“I don’t really pay much attention. Doesn’t say anything interesting.” He rolled his eyes. “I’ll just wait for Steve to get his head out of his ass. I hate being the one to say ‘I told you so’.”

“You’re very valiant,” You scoffed. “Maybe a little bitter too.”

“And what about you?” He said. “Hiding along the wall and drinking…bitter?”

“No,” You answered a bit too quickly. “I don’t care about Steve that way.”

“Sure,” He commented nonchalantly. He let the silence thicken to tension as he eyed you and you tried to ignore him. He finally spoke again. “So what do you say I grab you something a bit stronger than champagne? We can mope together.”

“I’m not moping,” You insisted.

“Okay,” He grinned as he stepped away casually, “You like whiskey?” The question was rhetorical as he strutted to the bar and you huffed at his taunting back. How on earth did you get stuck in the corner with the resident pariah?

He returned, two tumblers in hand. He held one out to you and you stared at it a moment before accepting. You weren’t one too be unkind and he was being unusually so. You weren’t going to enjoy the rare moment with a tolerable Winter Soldier. You took the glass and raised it to your lips. It was strong.

“Jesus, did you get any mixer?” You crinkled your nose.

“Yes, but it’s a double,” He swigged without flinching from his own. “Come on. Maybe you’ll bust out some of your dance moves tonight. It makes these things a little less boring.”

“My dance moves?” You lifted a brow and lowered your glass. His eyes followed your hand before returning to your face.

“You’re usually the life of the party.” He mused.

“I am?” You tilted your head.

“Well, to me, at least,” He replied as he took another drink and you mustered up the courage to do the same. Your throat burned as you gulped the alcohol but there was an unexpected sweetness too. You sipped silently as you wondered at his cryptic remark. How often had he watched you at these parties?

“Why did you never join in?” You asked. “Dancing, I mean.”

“Not much of a dancer anymore. My moves haven’t aged well.” He chuckled.

“Ah,” You nodded and took another drink as you eyes washed over the room. “Afraid to throw out your hip, old man?”

“That too,” He joked and you smiled at the uncharacteristic humor in his tone.

Your lips quickly fell as you spotted Steve and his statuesque amour. You held back a sigh and drank some more. You’d need another glass if you were going to make it through the night.

—

You were just about finished your second whiskey thanks to Bucky. With alcohol in your veins and shared resent, you had spent well over an hour with the brooding super soldier. He wasn’t too bad to be around when he wasn’t staring cryptically into the distance.

Your cheeks were hot from the tipsiness setting in, though you could say it was closer to drunkenness. You fanned yourself as the sweat began to build on your forehead and along your neck.

“You okay?” Bucky asked as you glanced around. You brushed past him and set your empty glass on a tall table. “Y/N?”

You turned back to him. He smirked as he reached past you and set his glass down besides yours. He was unbearably close. The flames licked down your arms and legs. It was unnatural. You had never felt like this. It was like a panic attack but instead of feeling like your chest was filled with rocks, your pussy was alight.

“I gotta-” You choked as you tried to step past him, “I gotta go.”

You pushed past him and the feel of his body against you made you whimper. You clattered on your heels through the crowd and toward the door. You tripped on the skirt of another woman and reached out to catch yourself. A hand closed around your forearm and swung you around swiftly.

“Leaving so soon?” Steve asked as he clung to you. His touch was molten against your skin.

“I–I–” If he didn’t let go you were going to climb him like a spider monkey. Your entire being told you to devour him. You pulled away and panted. “Yeah, I…I forgot I left my stove on.”

You ran out at the flimsy excuse and darted down the hallway. You were jittery, frantic, as the unexplained and overwhelming need overtook you. What was going on? Your head was spinning as you slid to a stop. You hadn’t even been paying attention to where you were going.

You swore and leaned against the wall. It was so nice and cool. You turned and stretched your arms against it as you caught your breath. You stayed like that until the wall began to absorb your body heat.

“Hey,” Bucky scared you again as you parted from the wall. “Where are you off to?”

“Trying to get out of here,” You peered down to the other end of the hall behind you. “Did you…follow me?”

“Uh, yeah, you kinda left in a hurry,” He explained, “Kinda concerning when someone runs away like they saw a ghost.”

“I’m fine, I just need to go home.” You touched your stomach and winced as it was a little too close to your pelvis. “I think I drank too much.”

“How about some fresh air?” He ventured, “Might help clear your mind.”

You looked at him warily. You could barely think as the heat stoked once more. Your dress clung to you and your scalp was itchy with sweat. And your pelvis! It hurt so bad. A yearning so deep and carnal it felt as if your bones would snap.

“Sure, sure,” You replied impatiently, “God, I’m hot.”

“This way,” He waved you to the far end of the hall, just to the left and a quick right,“ He directed you from behind. He was few steps back yet it felt like he was almost on top of you. Gosh, that though made your thighs thrum. "Right here.”

You stopped and turned back as he pointed to the small alcove you had just passed. A metal door marked ‘roof’ which he easily pulled open. “The censor on this busted a while back. They still haven’t fixed the alarm.”

“Hmm,” You grumbled as he motioned you ahead of him. “I take it this is you’re usual hiding spot, then.”

“One of them,” He followed closer this time and you could feel your ass at the same height as his eyes as you climbed. “Sometimes I’d rather catch the sunset than Tony’s latest shit-eating toast.”

“As much a cynic as expected,” you opened the door at the top of the stairs and the night air washed over you as you stepped out in the moonlight.

You carefully descended the single step from the door and inhaled deeply. You heard Bucky behind you as the door closed with a clang and he hopped down heavily. It was the highest peak of the tower, the jet pad on the lower crown of Stark Tower. Here there was little but a few exhaust fans and solar panel.

You shook out your arms as the evening chill did nothing to cool you. If anything, it made you feel hotter. You grasped your skirt and squeezed shut your eyes as you tried to will away the persistence. Your chest rose and fell as your heart clamoured.

You felt something against your forehead and opened your eyes to find Bucky’s hand on your forehead. You stepped back in shock and he let his hand fall. “You got a fever or something?” He didn’t sound as concerned as his words would have him seem. “Hot and bothered, are we?” The tone of his voice was deeper; sinister.

His metal hand shot forward and caught yours as you began to back away. “W-what?”

“I hadn’t planned on using it tonight,” He drew you closer as your heels skidded beneath your feet, “I thought maybe I could get it in your coffee or just a hint in that little lip balm you keep in your purse. I had wanted to wait but…some things just align all at once.”

“What are you talking about?” You were in a panic between the mystery of his words and whatever was driving your biology to madness.

“I may have used too much. It’s strong, isn’t it?” He smirked as he brought you flush against him and rested his hands on your ass. You were trembling as you gripped his forearms. You tried to push him away but were too weak as your body told you to grab on tighter. “You’re resisting it quite well but that won’t last.”

“What did you do to me?” You groaned and rubbed your thighs together desperately.

“There are stimulants used in interrogations. Used to cause extreme reactions to elicit answers from captured spies. Some make you terribly itchy to the point of scratching through your skin. Others cause hallucinations to the point that one would claw their eyes out. But this one is often used on missions when one needs to interlope quickly.” He leaned in, his nose tickled your temple and he pressed his lips to your cheekbones. He pushed closer and whispered in your ear. “This one sends ones baser desires into overdrive. Like adrenaline for your hormones.”

“Why?” You gasped, unable to release him. Your body pressed into his without permission and his fingers kneaded your ass hungrily.

“You’re not the only one with a crush,” He slithered as he bent and nuzzled into your neck.

His left hand slipped down your thigh and around to the front. He traced along the fabric of your skirt and cupped your vee. He pressed until you were squirming, bucking against him at the slightest friction. He forced his fingers between your legs and began to roughly stroke you through your dress. He had barely touched you and already you had soaked through your panties.

You could do nothing but cling to him. Your body, despite the whirlwind of your mind, was ravenous for any touch; his touch. His hand moved against you roughly as he held you in place. Your entire figure quaked as he teased you through your dress. You threw your head back wildly as your breath picked up. The flurry of sparks blooming in your loins was too much. It grew to sharp strikes along your flesh.

Your orgasmed ripped from you as Bucky growled into your throat. You shuddered as his hand slowed and you would’ve toppled over if he wasn’t holding onto you. The edges of your vision were hazy, the stars and distant lights of the city below streaked through the dark like smudged paint.

You planted your feet as your heels threatened to wobble beneath your soles. You reached down to Bucky’s hand and tried to push it away. Despite the release, you still felt an indefatigable hunger. He wove his fingers through yours and held you as if in a dance; his other hand still firmly on your ass.

“I know you’re not done so soon,” He taunted, “Why, you’re still burning up.”

“Ohhhh,” You almost roared as he swayed your body against yours, “Why–It hurts.”

He held you upright as your legs turned to jelly and you were as good as putty in his hands. “I know, I know,” He cooed, “I can help you.” He shushed you as you began to whine.

You shook your head but tightened your grip on his hand. You pushed your body against his as you wiggled, desperate for any sort of friction. He let go of your hand and ran his fingers down your side an to your thigh. He leaned down as he lifted your leg and hooked it around him. You latched onto his shoulder to balance yourself.

“That’s it,” He said, “Just like that.”

He slid your skirt over your knee until it bunched around your pelvis. His metal hand grazed the front of your panties, your juices coated them entirely. He grabbed side of the cotton thong and tore it swiftly. He let the fabric fall beneath you and his fingers probed your folds without delay. You squeaked and shivered at his touch.

He dipped his fingers inside and you bit your lip against the cry. It felt so good and yet not enough. He curled his fingers and pressed his thumb to your clit. The spasm it sent through you almost had you in pieces. You slung your arms around his neck as you pushed yourself closer to him and buried your face against his lapel. Electricity flowed through you and a sudden shock drained all the strength from you. You moaned as another orgasm spiked and your saliva trickled onto his suit as you smushed your lips against him.

“Steve’s white bread,” Bucky said as he removed his hand. His arm stirred between you as he flicked open the button of his fly and you heard the descent of his zipper. “He’d never fuck you like this…” You looked down as he pulled out his cock and you muttered as you tried to fight the urge to grab him yourself. “You do want me to fuck you, don’t you?”

“N-n-n…” You couldn’t get the word out as your leg wrapped around him tighter. “I n-n-need it.” You dropped and arm and snaked your fingers between your bodies until they were at your clit.

“Yeah?” He gave a sultry chuckle and stroked his cock as he bent his knees.

He aligned himself with your entrance before he grabbed your leg and held it around him. He pushed just his head inside and you squirmed. Your head lolled back and forth as gibberish spewed from your lips.

“Mmmmm–more!” You dug your nails into his shoulders and mewed pathetically. “Please.”

He took it an inch at a time, your knee bent around his hand as you leaned into him. He was big and it seemed to take forever. When he was at his limit you purred, your mouth hanging open as you panted hungrily. He pulled back and you whined, your hand grasping at his hair. He chuckled and pushed back in, thrusting slowly as you trembled helplessly. You rocked your pelvis eagerly, trying to set the pace but he easily kept his motion. Your walls pulsed around his cock but you quivered.

“More?” He asked and you looked up to nod at him frantically. Your eyes bulged as your words scrambled without sense. His other hand slid down your thigh and he lifted you all at once. He let you sink down onto him, moving his hips as he lingered inside. “Shit. So fucking hot.”

His hands slipped down to your ass and he dragged you up the length of his cock. You gripped his shoulders tightly as you squeezed him between your thighs and followed his motion. You bounced up and down on him, no restraint left as you quickly took the reins from him. It wasn’t about him, the night sky, the whiskey, or even you. It was your body. You needed it so bad. It hurt and you couldn’t think straight. All that was in your mind was the way he plunged into you so snugly with each thrust.

The skirt of your dress hung over his hands, the fabric flapping with each rise and fall of your pelvis. You let your head loll back as you rode Bucky eagerly. The ache of your thighs wasn’t enough to stop you as you only went faster and faster. He brought a hand up and tugged on the strap of your gown until it snapped. You didn’t even care as he did the same to your bra and shimmied both past your breast. His thumb teased your nipple as you rutted against him, your flesh squelched against his with your arousal.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh,” You murmured as you moved your pelvis in sharper thrusts. You couldn’t get enough. “Gawwwwwwd,” You sputtered and succumbed to the tide that washed over you. The orgasm added to the heat of your body and piqued with a shower of embers along your flesh. “W-w-w-why?” You asked as you slowed and the twinge remained. “W-w-why w-won’t it s-stop?”

“Oh, we’re not even close to done,” He snarled and lowered you back to your feet. He pulled out of you abruptly and you sobbed. “Turn around.” He directed you as he untangled himself from your arms. “Come on.” He pushed your shoulders so that you were forced to obey. He lifted your skirt and gather it above your ass. “Bend over.”

You were a bit too eager to listen. You almost got head rush as you leaned forward, the air cold on your swollen pussy. You shook and wiggled your ass as you felt his cock against it and he spanked. You exclaimed and hung your head.

This time he impaled you in one stroke. You gasped as he bottomed out and you held onto your knees to keep from falling. He bent over you and his hand cupped your breasts as he pulled you up to stand straight. He kept you flush against him as he began to thrust into you from behind.

“Is this what you wanted him to do to you? Huh?” He grunted in your ear. “You slut.” His motion grew harder with each word. “You wanna be Captain America’s slut?” He tweaked your nipples and the sensation met that in your pelvis and another orgasm tore through you. “I think you like being mine better, don’t you?”

“Mmmpmmm,” You moaned as your eyes rolled back.

The orgasms were starting to rush over you with only seconds between and with each, you only grew more senseless. Your feet were barely on the ground as he fucked you. A doll in his arms to play with. You clawed at the side of his pants as he pounded into you, gripping the fabric as his pace stuttered and he gave several long strokes. You felt the hot river flowing within you as he gave a loud grunt. He slowed and finally stopped, your body twitched and spasmed as he held you up.

You arched your back and clenched around his cock. His metal hand went to your throat as he pushed your head up. He leaned down and his lips brushed along your cheekbone as he spoke. “Don’t you worry,” His voice sent a thrill through you, smothering that within which told you it was wrong, “I’m just getting started.”

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#bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #dark!bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #fic #inthedark!challenge #writing challenge #au #one shot #sex pollen #mcu #marvel #dark!fic #dark fic #dark verse #dark!verse

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multifandomxreaders · 6 years

Text

Love and Reminiscing - Part One

Fandom: American Horror Story: Apocalypse

Character: Michael Langdon

Reader Gender: Female

Warnings: Swearing, usual AHS stuff

Word Count: 2647

Summary: You were a witch who Michael met before the apocalypse, but upon seeing you at Outpost 3, he begins to reminisce of your first meeting, and hopelessly wonders why you don't even remember him now. However, Michael intends to get you back, and to destroy whoever comes in his way in doing so

A/N: I’M BACK LMAO I hope this wasn’t too OOC also I left this open just in case I want to write a part two because I fucking love me some Michael Langdon right now

EDIT: I finally figured out a good enough title for this lmao

Michael Langdon hadn’t been expecting very much when he arrived at Outpost 3. All of the other outposts had essentially been destroyed, and everyone from them were dead, so this was just it, the last remaining bunch of unlucky survivors.

Of course, he arrived with flair; on a horse drawn carriage, hazmat suit clad. The outside world was a barren wasteland, but he wasn’t sure the inside would be much better. Of course, the building itself, that was all too familiar to him, but he was skeptical of this Venable character.

And he had a right to be. Walking in, he of course immediately noticed the vintage garb, which was well too over the top, and of course his very own creation, Ms. Meade, standing beside the fearless leader who ran this Outpost and its operations. But then, suddenly, he saw a glimpse of a face. His heart nearly stopped.

Standing there, in the same extravagant clothes, was you. You, (Y/N) (L/N), someone he never thought he’d ever see again.

He tried to keep calm, to pretend as if every face in this room were a stranger to him, but he couldn’t help but feel his jaw twitch, even if ever so slightly. You didn’t recognize him at all, save for maybe the slightest hint of vague familiarity, but he could tell you had no clue who he was, or else he was sure you would have come rushing to him by now, no matter how anyone else would have reacted.

Because, you didn’t fear anything, and you especially didn’t back down from being with someone. He knew that, because it was him you had been fighting for, until you were gone, taken away from him. So, now the questions of the hour were, why were you here, why weren’t you with Cordelia, and why didn’t you remember him?

He had met you three years ago. You did most of your growing up in Robichaux’s, ever since your family had dumped you there in the middle of the night, when you were just a child. You had accidentally destroyed your entire house with your powers, and your parents were lucky to even survive. They were terrified of you, and so they asked for further guidance from holy men and small shop psychics until they heard about Miss Robichaux’s from a friend of a friend of a friend who told them about witches, and how they were actually real. Despite it being just an Academy and not an orphanage, and at the time them not even being absolutely sure that witches were even real, they lied and said it was your new school, but the moment they let you out of the car, they dropped with you whatever you had left and sped off into the night. You never saw them again. The rain fell hard onto the front steps as you sat beside the door, shivering and crying and trying to keep warm, until eventually Cordelia found you the next morning, half asleep against the wall and holding a soggy note that said “NOT OUR DAUGHTER ANYMORE, YOUR FREAK NOW.”

Since that day, Cordelia taught you everything she knew, and especially since she couldn’t have children of her own, she saw you as her child, as her blood. You stuck by her through everything, as much as a child could, until she eventually became the next supreme. And from that day on, you were well known around the academy as one of the most brightest and powerful witches of her age. You were probably the youngest witch at the academy, as you were barely through normal academic learning, let alone learning about the intricacies of magic. But, you were a fast learner, and most importantly, a truly good soul. Myrtle often described your magic as pure, as the last truly and honestly good magic left, but you were positive that she was just being biased. Yet, you also felt that she was lying. Maybe if you had been better, if you had had more control, your parents would have never left you there, but, you were thankful for Cordelia, and all that she has done for you since you arrived.

One day, during an instruction by Zoe, Myrtle hurriedly bust into the room. She said something of an emergency council meeting at the Hawthorne Academy, and that caught your attention, your ears perking up as you immediately pushed yourself into Cordelia’s view. “I’m going, right? I mean, I know I’m young, but I feel like I could be useful! Please, can I go,” you asked, giving her the sweetest doe eyes that you could muster with pleading effort.

“(Y/N), I’m not sure-” Cordelia began, about to give a pseudo mom speech, until Myrtle cut her off.

“Of course you are dear, if I trust anyone to show a man that she’s better than them, it’s you. Besides, as if Cordelia would leave you out of her sight,” she remarked with a laugh.

Cordelia let out a sigh under her breath, knowing that while yes, she ultimately made the final decision, she knew this could be a good opportunity for you.

“Okay, fine. But, you’re staying by my side, glued to my hip, at all times,” she negotiated, and you nodded in agreement, subtly pulling your fist down in accomplishment.

Arrival at the academy took a few long hours by plane, until you all stepped into the building full of young Warlocks, all trying to do their very best to learn, just as you did. Of course, you knew that they would never be as powerful as you and your fellow witches, but you still wished them all the best. You even wished that you could help.

The council were very….Curt, with you all. Witches and Warlocks seldom got along, this you could tell instantly. But then, as they spoke, you noticed a boy.

You choked back an involuntary gasp as your chest went warm, almost numb, and your heart nearly skipped a beat, quickening in your chest. He was the most beautiful boy you had ever seen, not that you were around many, but even the ones you did see didn’t hold a candle to him. He looked soft, yet mysterious, and he had the most beautiful eyes. He was perfect, in every possible way.

He caught you staring, and before you could look away, the right corner of his lips turned up into a small half smile until the other side slowly crept up as well. It seemed a bit awkward, and a bit nervous, but yet still had a strange aura of confidence behind it. Your brain was jumbled, yet frozen, and you didn’t know what to do until you just kept staring at him like a deer in headlights until you jumped a bit and smiled back, averting your eyes from his gaze to avoid further embarrassment.

Michael was just as stunned by you as you were by him. He thought you were beautiful, warm and sweet and everything he wasn’t. He hadn’t even properly met you, but he couldn’t help but just stare at you, your hand rubbing your forearm anxiously as you stood by who he would soon come to learn was Cordelia.

You learned that his name was Michael. You also learned that he was powerful, maybe even more powerful than you or Cordelia, which was frightening. All of the other witches seemed to reject him, to not want anything to do with him, but deep down, you wanted to give him a chance.

The Warlocks wanted him to take the test of the Seven Wonders. They wanted him to become the next Supreme. You knew that Cordelia was not going to take that well: One, because of course all witches didn’t think a man was capable of it, and two, you knew that Cordelia was definitely pushing for you to eventually take her place. While you didn’t think you had it in you, she did, and reluctantly, everyone else was probably expecting it. Yet, the thought of being Supreme scared you. You didn’t want to lose Cordelia, but also, you weren’t ready for that kind of power.

The council meeting was tense, and full of arguing and bringing up memories of things and people that you could tell were wearing Cordelia down. You kept close to your pseudo mother whenever you could, but you knew that as the supreme, there were things she had to do alone too.

You comforted Cordelia and tried to calm her down, but that boy, Michael, was nowhere to be found. You soon found out why. What seemed like only mere hours later, you stood with Cordelia outside as Michael appeared, but this time, he was with Queenie and Madison, who were thought to be dead. Your stomach dropped, as he stared at you all so confidently, so matter of factly.

The stress was too much for Cordelia, and she dropped. You dropped down onto your knees beside her, gasping on your way down. “Cordelia?! Cordelia?! Mom?!” you said, trying to keep her propped up and off the ground. You stared at Michael, and his expression changed a bit upon locking eyes with you. Who was he? And how did he do this?

You all had brought Cordelia inside, but despite her condition, you quickly turned and embraced Queenie. “I missed you,” you said, and she returned the hug, nearly crushing you.

“I missed you too kid, listen, if anyone ever tells you to stay at the Hotel Cortez, it just isn’t worth it, trust me,” she joked, and you laughed until Madison gawked at you before speaking.

“Holy shit, (Y/N), is that you? How the fuck long was I in Hell for? Seriously, you have boobs now, what the shit?” she said, staring you up and down.

“That’s how puberty works, missed you too Madison,” you said dryly, a small, albeit sort of fake, laugh following.

Cordelia awoke soon after, and she told you about her vision, about the white faced demon, about everything.

But, as a surprise to you all, she agreed to let Michael take the test of the Seven Wonders. She said her power was already fading, and you felt your stomach drop again. You didn’t think you’d have to think about this day for a long time. You made sure to hug her extra hard when all was said and done, and yet, you still couldn’t help but think of that Michael boy.

In two weeks, he was taking the test of the Seven Wonders. Immediately, you rushed to find him, and you tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention.

“Thank you…. For saving my sisters. Well, they’re not my real sisters, but you know. Witch sisters. I guess, my fellow Coven members, you could say. I know we’re not supposed to be on the same side, but I genuinely do wish you luck,” you said, and he gave you another smile.

“Thank you, and saving your friends wasn’t entirely just an act of kindness. More like, proving myself, you could say.” He paused, trying to think of what to say next. “You know who I am, but tell me, who are you? What’s your name?”

You didn’t even realize you hadn’t introduced yourself. “Oh, of course, how could I forget. I’m (Y/N), (Y/N) (L/N), and (Y/N) Goode to some. Cordelia is…. Not technically my mother, but she sort of is? It’s complicated….” You mustered out a dry chuckle to avoid awkwardness, but he just nodded, hanging on your every word and listening intently.

“Well, (Y/N), would you like to take a walk with me? I’m new to Hawthorne myself, but I’d love to show you around, that is, of course, if you’re not leaving any time soon,” he said, offering you an arm.

“Cordelia will want to know where I am….” you began, looking around for any sight of her. “But…. Sure. Yes.” You took his arm, allowing him to lead the way.

You both talked the whole way there, about life, about having powers. You told him about your parents and how you didn’t really have any family except Cordelia, and he shared the same sentiment, telling you of his own mother figure who he came to love as his own family.

The hours passed, until you saw the time on a wall clock and nearly choked on your gasp. “Oh my God, I should really be going, Cordelia is going to have my head-” You turned to run, but he stopped you, grabbing your forearm loosely.

“Wait,” he breathed, looking at you intently. “Will I see you again?” he asked, and you could tell there was a sincerity in his voice, one that you didn’t expect to hear. It was almost longing.

“Yes. Yes, of course,” you reassured, grinning from ear to ear. “I’ll be seeing you as much as I can, Michael Langdon,” you said, and you turned to leave once more, but right before you broke his grasp, you turned back again, leaning forward and planting a small kiss between the corner of his mouth and his cheek. “For luck. See you soon.”

And with that, you ran off, leaving Michael alone in the hall you had made your way to. He didn’t know why, but he felt something. He felt a warmth in his chest, one that he had never quite felt before. It wasn’t like the feeling he got when he killed, or when he was using his power, no, it was much different, much lighter. He didn’t know it yet, but you were a light that flickered on deep inside of him, a light he didn’t even know was capable of being there. And while of course, he’d do anything to fulfill his destiny, he couldn’t help but still feel this warmth, for someone he barely knew. He tried to shake it off, to convince himself he’d gut you if it meant getting closer to what he needed, but unfortunately, he’d soon learn that this was not at all true.

He didn’t know that he was going to fall deeply in love with you, and that strangely, you’d fall deeply in love with him too.

Michael was pulled out of his trance by the chatter and the commotion of Outpost 3, and as he introduced himself and explained his purpose, he was only focused on you, on why you were here, on what happened to you, on why you didn’t remember him.

You approached him, and your voice sent a jolt through him. “Mr. Langdon, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I do hope you find some comfort in the Outpost, we’re only 18 months in and it can be…. Stressful, sometimes.”

He just gave you a confident, yet friendly grin, but one that had powerful emotion behind it. In his eyes, behind his lips, lie love. Loss. Passion. Fury. Malice. A thirst for revenge.

He had an idea of who did this to you. The one person who tried to forbid you from seeing him. You own “mother,” of all people. Cordelia Goode.

Oh, Cordelia Goode would not get by so easily. As long as he breathed, as long as he lived, and as long as he could speak your name from his lips, and remember how sweetly you spoke to him, how kind you were, how truly remarkable you were, he would find her. He would exact his revenge. Cordelia Goode would pay. She would pay no matter what the cost happened to be. You would remember him, that he was sure he would accomplish. But taking down Cordelia, that was now his mission. He repeated those three words in his head, like a burning incantation, fueling the fire in his chest.

Cordelia Goode would pay. And that she would. And he would absolutely make sure of it.

#american horror story #ahs #american horror story imagine #ahs imagine #american horror story x reader #ahs x reader #american horror story one shot #ahs one shot #michael langdon #american horror story michael langdon #ahs michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon one shot #imagine #x reader #one shot

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bugheadtrash · 5 years

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I Can Barely Breath and All I want To Do Is Fall in Deep

Amy typically doesn’t mind working Valentine’s Day. Most years, she would much rather be progressing her career than sitting at home eating takeout and watching T.V., wallowing in her own loneliness. This year, however, she is newly single and pining after a coworker that she can never date—thanks in part to her own “no dating cops” rule, and the last thing she wants to do is sit in a car for 6 hours with said coworker. When Holt assigned cases this morning, Amy swears she felt all of the air leave the room at “Peralta, take Santiago for the Russo case. Our CI says to expect some activity after the dinner rush tonight. I want you both there in case something goes down.”

Charles was of course ecstatic claiming this was their chance to confess their love for each other. Rosa snorted, knowing full well how awkward this will be, and Gina just looked amused. The whole precinct could feel the tension between Amy and Jake, ever since the Boyle-Linetti wedding. There has been some flirty banter, but anytime it becomes too real Amy finds herself panicking and the days that follow are usually awkward and uncomfortably silent between the two partners. Eventually, things settle into a normal routine until it happens again. This time, the event took place yesterday. Eyes lingered just a few moments too long causing Amy’s heart to beat nearly out of her chest. Before she knew it, she was on the roof having a shame cigarette. She’d been avoiding Jake ever since, and this stake out really put a damper on things.

So now, they sit in his beat-up Mustang outside of a hole-in-the-wall family owned restaurant on arguably the most romantic day of the year (though Amy is partial to New Year’s Eve, personally). It admittedly has not been as awful as Amy previously thought, but it’s mostly been small talk. How’s that one case going, any thoughts on the new options in the vending machine, etc. Nothing too personal and nothing that could lead to flirting, which is a big accomplishment when you consider Jake’s two modes of conversation are joking sarcasm and joking flirtation. But it’s quiet right now, there is no conversation and the silence between the end of one song and the beginning of the next is deafening in the small car.

“God this is so lame, right? Who is going to commit a felony on the most romantic day of the year?” Jake cracks, in an obvious attempt to cut some of the awkwardness.

“I don’t know, it’s actually a decent cover. The restaurant will be so busy, nobody would notice if you step out and commit a shady transaction in the back alleyway. It makes sense to me. You couldn’t do that on a regular night because your absence would be felt, and you can’t do it on a super slow night either because then you don’t have the bustle of activity to hide what you’re doing,” Amy rambles on. It isn’t until she catches Jake’s eyes and see the amusement in them that she realizes she’s been going on for some time about the logistics of dealing in crime while owning a small business. When she finally trails off, Jake laughs, and the sound pools in Amy’s soul. Jake has the best laugh, it’s uninhibited and loud and addicting.

He is still smiling when he shakes his head at Amy, “Anyways, dork. You’re telling me if we weren’t on this stupid stake out, you wouldn’t be having dinner at some perfectly acceptable restaurant with an Eric or Todd or whoever?”

Amy bites her lip nervously, they’re now treading into a dangerous territory, but she plays along anyways, “You don’t go on first dates on Valentine’s Day, Jake. And as a matter of fact, if I weren’t here, I’d just be at home—”

“Watching reruns of SVU and eating Chinese take-out. Obviously.”

“Alright, stalker. Well what would you be doing? Taking some poor girl to Sal’s for display temperature meat-supreme?” Amy challenges. Two can play the ‘I know you better’ game.

Amy expects another wise crack, but when she looks at Jake his eyes are doing that thing where they are so full of tenderness and Amy feels her face flushing. After a brief pause, he glances back to the restaurant, “Nah. Honestly, I haven’t been on a date in months. I’ve been striking out in the love department ever since Sophia dumped me.”

Amy ignores the warning signs shouting at her to change the subject and probes further, “I find that hard to believe. Who can possibly resist the Peralta charm?”

This time when Jake looks at her, Amy’s heart literally stops, and she curses herself for not changing the subject. He keeps his eyes steady on her before he runs his tongue over his lips quickly (a nervous habit, not that Amy pays attention to what he does with his tongue), “It doesn’t seem to have much of an effect on you.”

The moment lasts for about two seconds before Amy tears her gaze away and focuses on the restaurant instead. She starts to feel the panic set in and is quickly overwhelmed. She either wants to kiss Jake or do a mad dash out of his car and not stop until she’s in her own apartment. Luckily, outside of Russo’s is none other than Ralph Russo and the suspected buyer.

The bust is smooth, and the paperwork doesn’t take too long. Amy is quick to get out of the precinct and into the sanctity of her own home before Jake or anyone else for that matter is able to stop her for a conversation. She is just settling in on her couch, take out spread across her coffee table and ready to press play on the DVR when she hears a knock on her door.

She rolls her eyes. Honestly, if her neighbor loses her key one more time, Amy is strongly considering writing a letter to the landlord. If she can’t be responsible enough to not lose her keys, is she really responsible enough to live in an apartment? Amy huffs and stomps her way to the front door, “Ruth, are you kidding me? How many times do I have to tell you, if you just put the key on your—” Amy is cut off by the person standing on the other side of her door. It is not her neighbor, for once, but Jake. Jake, her partner, standing at her front door looking anxious, “Oh you aren’t Ruth.”

“Nope, and I gotta say…. I’m glad. Sounds like she was about to get a signature Santiago lecture,” Jake grins, running his hand through his hair (another nervous habit, Amy suspects).

“You would not believe how many times she misplaces her keys,” Amy laughs nervously, folding her arms across her chest. It just now occurs to her that she is standing in her doorway and probably looks like a disaster. She hastily changed into her oldest, rattiest NYPD t-shirt and pajama shorts when she got home. Her hair is messily thrown into a low bun and she’s even wearing her glasses. Normally she’d be embarrassed, but she’s much more preoccupied with why Jake is at her apartment.

“Can I come in?” He asks. His tone is light and joking, but if the late-night visit isn’t enough to tip Amy off that something is up, the look in his eyes – the same look that’s become too frequent over the last couple of months, the look he gave her when he told her he liked her, and again when he told her that it was real, the same look he had when Teddy outed her crush on him, and the look her gave her at their friends’ parent’s wedding, that look – well that look, definitely lets her know this isn’t a casual friendly visit. Not that they have those kinds of visits, anyways.

“Yea-yes, of course. Please, come in,” Amy steps aside, allowing Jake into the comfort of her home and safe place.

He takes a few glances around before sitting cautiously on Amy’s couch, smirking to himself when he sees Amy’s food and the episode of SVU ready to be played on her television screen. She blushes, recalling how well he does know her.

“Soo,” Amy sits on the opposite end of Jake and plays with her fingers anxiously.

“You can relax, Ames. I’m not here to make a move on you because I know how much you’d hate that,”

She’s not sure if shocked is the right word, but that’s definitely not what she thought he was going to say when he got here, “Jake, I—”

“No, I’m sorry, that wasn’t fair,” he starts, running his hand through his hair again. Amy tries not to notice how good he looks when he does that, “Listen, I came here to apologize. I was going to apologize after we finished the paperwork, but you ran out so fast I didn’t really get the chance.”

He’s right, of course, she had practically sprinted to her car. She saw him coming to speak to her and she just bolted, which was not cool of her.

His voice is softer when he continues, “I think we can both agree things have been…awkward, at best as of late. And I just wanted to say that I’m sorry, because I have been pushing you and that’s not right. I know you aren’t dating cops anymore, but it just sucks okay? Honestly, I felt like we were finally about to get our chance and then you threw that on me. I didn’t get it at first, but now I get it. And it’s okay.”

It always surprises Amy when Jake is so sincere about anything, but especially about his feelings. She suddenly feels very guilty, because it’s not just Jake. She has been an equal participant in the flirting, and when she is being honest with herself, she likes it and she likes him. But the rule is there for a reason and she needs to stand by that. “You don’t have to apologize… It’s my fault. I’m the one with this stupid rule but here I am, the one making things weird.”

Jake grins though, “so you agree, the rule is stupid?”

Amy rolls her eyes and tries to stop herself from smiling, “It’s stupid, but it’s also important. If I’m being honest, I’m not ready to jump in a relationship yet. And until I am ready, I don’t want things to be weird for us. I just want us to be like we were before all of this.”

Jake nods in agreeance but she can’t help but notice he is a little smug at her admittance that it is stupid, “Alright, let’s be like we were before then. As long as you know, that when you are ready, the Peralta charm is coming back.”

“Jake”

“Ames,” he matches her tone, playfully.

She rolls her eyes again and suddenly they feel back in sync, “I’m not going to eat all of this food by myself, do you want some?”

Jake is digging into the spring rolls before she even gets the question out, flopping himself comfortably back into her couch and pressing play on the DVR. The rest of the night is spent overeating Chinese food, discussing possible theories for various cases, and laughing… a lot. Around 3:00 a.m., after the credits roll past on their 5th episode of SVU, Jake stretches his arms and yawns.

Amy walks him to the door and before he leaves, he turns to her, wrapping her in a hug—a friend hug, he insists—and thanks her, “Tonight was really fun, Ames.”

“It was. Thanks for coming by, seriously. We needed this.”

He gives her one last squeeze before releasing her and heading out the door. When she closes the door behind him, she sinks to the floor and tucks her hair behind her ears. This might be the best Valentine’s Day she’s ever had.

The next year, of course, exceeds her expectations. They spend it together, but instead of take-out, Jake cooks her a meal and there are candles lit. He tells her he loves her, and she says it back, because she isn’t afraid anymore. He kisses her tenderly between each declaration. They do watch SVU, but it’s only after they’ve made love (three times, but Amy isn’t counting). They lay entangled in Amy’s bed; the title screen playing and laugh about the time Amy tried to convince Jake she just wanted to be friends.

#b99 #peraltiago #jake x amy #peraltiago fic #b99 fic #valentines day fic #valentines day #also on ao3 #mutual pining #pre relationship

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bandaged-heart · 7 years

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Shotgun Ch.1!

I actually wrote a chapter! And I posted it on Ao3 too if you'd rather read it there, but I'm posting it here too!!! Tbh I'm super rusty with fanfics because I've been focusing on my novel for so long that I've just... lost the touch. But hey, the only way I'm gonna get better is if I actually write things. And if I don't publish those things I'll never finish them. So here it is. Summary: at a staff member's birthday party Hajime and Momoko both had a little too much to drink, and ended up in bed! And if that didn't complicate things enough, Momoko hasn't been feeling well ever since... --- The night before had likely been wild, judging by the fact that Momoko was drawing blanks. This wasn't her bedroom either, by the looks of it. Perhaps she'd been escorted to a guard's room to sleep off the booze? A soft snore sounded from next to her. Well, that's one theory debunked. Sudden panic flooded her system. She had obviously slept with someone, but who? She was almost too scared to look, but she knew she had to. It was that or close her eyes and stumble to the door naked and blind, hoping she didn't run into anything. Yeah, no. She'd take her pride bust like an adult. It was probably Kenshirou anyway, he was probably the only person in the prison with enough balls to fuck her anyway, even when plastered. With a sigh she rolled over, fully expecting to see her loyal friend sleeping soundly. And she was already prepping her escape, provided he too had no memories of the night prior. It wasn't as if she was ashamed of a one-night-stand, it was just that while she and Ken were extremely close, she really just wasn't into him. Plus, she knew Musashi was very interested in the dog guard, and even though technically their relationship wasn't allowed, Momoko really just wanted the poor kid to be happy. And its hard to get in someone's good side when you sleep with their crush. But there was no sign of the (admittedly attractive) dog next to her. No, instead there was a sight she could have only dreamt of. It was Hajime. She, against all her rational though, squeaked. Loudly. Luckily Hajime was a very heavy sleeper when he drank, which she knew from past parties. (Nanba is the prison equivalent to a party college, lots of parties, lots of fun.) In her shock, Momoko nearly fell off her side of the bed. Her hand caught the side table, and sent a plastic bottle crashing to the floor. As she picked up the bottle, the door creaked open to reveal, thankfully, Momoko's closest confidant Mitsuru. "Hey Warden!" He thankfully whispered, "quite the night eh?" Momoko, wearing nothing but a sheet, rushed to the door. "Mitsuru, where are my clothes, what happened? Help!" He pulled her across the hall and into a different room, and handed her a pile of clothes. "I got your cutest jammies and a bottle of Gatorade for you, and I'll go start breakfast. You just relax and wait for him to get up, and don't bother trying to avoid this, he never blacks out." Momoko groaned, "he's gonna remember it?" Mitsuru laughed, "don't you want him to like you? Wasn't that like... your life goal?" "Yes, but a drunken hookup is never the way! Are you kidding me? He'll think I'm a floozy!" "Hajime has way too much respect for you to think that! Besides, if anything he'll be mortified at himself. He slept with his boss!" "Not helping!" She cried, slamming her face into her hands. Shrugging, Mitsuru ushered her into the building 13 break room for breakfast. -- Hajime had awoken not long after Momoko had, spurred by her panicked exit of the room. It hadn't taken him long to piece together the events of the night prior, cosnsidering while he was considerably drunk he didn't black out. The embarrassment and fear washed over him like an ocean, but he was confident in the knowledge that what happened wasn't suspect. No, in fact his boss's feelings were made very clear. It was then he heard the hushed voices from the hallway, and he went to the door to see a half-open door across the hall revealing Mitsuru apparently trying to calm a hectic and hungover Momoko. Mitsuru laughed, "don't you want him to like you? Wasn't that like... your life goal?" "Yes, but a drunken hookup is never the way! Are you kidding me? He'll think I'm a floozy!" "Hajime has way too much respect for you to think that! Besides, if anything he'll be mortified at himself. He slept with his boss!" "Not helping!" She cried, slamming her face into her hands. Mitsuru caught his eye, and winked as he began ushering Momoko down the hall to the break room. Hajime headed back into the bedroom and opened the now dented Gatorade bottle and chugged half of it. It made him feel a little better. He felt guilty. Even though both of them were drunk and thus not accountable for their actions, it still seemed like his fault. It made him feel mean and dirty, like he was toying with the Warden's emotions. The night prior had revealed a new side of her he wasn't used to. She was awkward, and not used to being a normal person. She opened up to him and trusted him, and now the decision was his. The door creaked open, revealing Mitsuru. "Hey dude! Boss lady's calmed down, coffee's ready if you want some. She's a little worried about it but I'm sure you got this dude!" Hajime sighed, "I appreciate your support Mitsuru, but you do realize the gravity of this situation, correct?" Mitsuru frowned, "Hajime, my guy, Momoko is just a person! A person who really really likes you, despite the fact that you're a douche canoe! And every single person who remembers last night is betting on you two! Do you really want to be the person to break Uno's betting streak?" Admittedly, it was a little comforting to know that Momoko's feelings were supported by their coworkers. Nanba was never a normal workplace anyway, and perhaps that was for the best. It only fueled Hajime's self loathing however, when he realized how alienated Momoko probably felt from the rest of them, just due to her lack of tact in casual conversation. And it's not her fault, it's really not. She just has one of those faces plus some social anxiety. Hajime knew it was only right to give her a chance. But in that same vein, didn't that ruin the legitimacy of the relationship if he was only doing it because he was obligated? It was a catch 22, but at least with the date he had a chance for a happy ending. And, admittedly, he was in awe of Momoko. She was so strong, so composed, truly an inspiring person. When Hajime thought about a potential wife and mother, he could not deny that she would be an ideal for that role in his life. Someone who could stand with him as an equal, and give that crucial standpoint he really couldn't. Raising Hitoshi mostly on his own, it was an experience. In fact, Hitoshi was the one who seemed to be raising him most of the time. It brought to Hajime's attention how much knowledge of the world he lacked, and it scared him. For years he said he'd never have children because he felt like he couldn't raise them properly. But with someone like Momoko, the supreme example of a strong modern woman, maybe he could. Maybe he could.

#Nanbaka #long post #I'd put it under a cut but I'm on my phone

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multi-muse-transect · 7 years

Text

An Empress and a Princess.

AU: An accident happens leading to an interdimensional mix up of unusual proportions. Mira Wren Bridger, leader of the First Order meets Mira Wren Bridger, Jedi Padawan. The two have a talk in the dinner table. As always, Mira belongs to @meldy-arts. @hotsam1 @eyeloch @angies-team

The house of the supreme leader is a very modest one unlike Snoke’s. Mira’s home is an almost minimalist house that is located in the snowy woods. It is guarded by Imperial sentry droids and dark troopers alongside some drones patrolling the perimeter around the house. The house has two rooms, one guest and the other obviously belongs to the supreme leader. The living room has a fireplace with a TV hovering over it alongside a rug on the ground. The door windows show the backyard. In front of the TV and fireplace is a a couch.

Inside the kitchen is supreme leader Bridger aka Mira Wren Bridger making some hot chocolate for her.....Unexpected visitor. It all began when the leader approved for a new transportation test for troopers to come in easily to the battlefield but an unexpected result happened-It ripped space and time and brought someone from a different world, a different universe.....herself. Sitting on a chair in front of a table and looking at her with hateful eyes is her counterpart, (Padawan) Mira or what she dubs, teen Mira. (Supreme leader) Mira is wearing a standard black sweater and pants also has shortened hair while her alternate self has long and somewhat wild looking hair also wearing armor similar to her mother.

It was awkward when they met, she killed like two stormtroopers and also almost killed captain Phasma but she stopped her via force push. (Padawan) Mira hated her other self, being the leader of the First Order and wondered what happened to her family unless they’re dead of course. She would never see herself as a member of the First Order but here she stands as their leader. She hasn’t even spoken since the supreme leader decided to take care of her. (Supreme leader) Mira finishes up the drinks and walks towards her counterpart then sits in front of her. (Padawan) Mira looks at the hot chocolate suspiciously in front of her as (Supreme leader) Mira drinks some in front of her then pulling out her Nintendo switch to play some Battlefront. (Padawan) Mira pulls at her lightsaber through the force as it flies towards her but her counterpart catches it immediately much to her annoyance. She sighs knowing that this is herself she is dealing with here and she could probably tell her moves.

“.....So what are you doing to do with me? Seduce me to the dark side? Torture me to death through boredom?” (Padawan) Mira asks.

“No, just here to watch you.” (Supreme leader) Mira replied as sounds of blaster fire are heard on her Nintendo switch. She’s simply killing time until someone finds a solution so she can go away and she can spend time with her secret wife, Blare.

“For a supreme leader, you don’t seem to act like you’re....Supreme.” She suspiciously asks her.

“Uh-huh. I’m not like Snoke or Palpatine. I do what’s best for the First Order evidenced by the news articles you’ve read about me back at the base.” (Supreme leader) Mira replied as she dodges an incoming blaster shot in the game. She is now on a hundred killstreak armed with her favorite in-game weapon, the bo-rifle. The force has its perks in terms of gaming.

“Anti-corruption speeches, donations to charity, assisting in New Republic operations, corruption busting, etc, etc.....Oh now I get it! You’re trying to bore me to death! That must be your dark side power.” The padawan joked while (Supreme leader) Mira rolls her eyes and drinks some hot chocolate.

“You should try the hot chocolate before it gets cold. Its one of the best.” She advised.

“Its probably laced in cyanide. I know you Imperials.” (Padawan) Mira smirked. She looks around her environment then turns her eyes to the supreme leader.

“You’re free to walk around my house.” (Supreme Leader) Mira replied. (Padawan) Mira gets up from her chair and checks the place out. She lands on the couch and turns on the TV to show that its showing the Immortal and the Restless causing her to roll her eyes to switch it to Five Nights at Teddy’s. (Padawan) Mira turns to the stand the lamp is on to see portraits. Some are medals, pictures with old squad mates, a black haired woman.....Her family. (Padawan) Mira picks up the portrait of the family of her counterpart. Her father looks older alongside her mother, in the center is (Supreme leader) Mira next to Zeb but the thing that catches her eye the most is the same woman in a wedding dress.

She is soon caught off guard by (Supreme Leader) Mira sitting next to her as she switches the show to the Walking Rakghoul though its a rerun.

“So tell me about yourself.” (Supreme leader) Mira said.

“Myself? Why?” (Padawan) Mira asks.

“I want to explore the possibilities of what my life could have been.” She explained.

“Well explain yourself then! I mean, I could imagine myself as the leader of a murderous organization turned passive-aggressive.” The padawan countered. (Supreme Leader) Mira stops for a moment then turns to her with a sympathetic look on her face but sighs.

“.....My father and mother left me behind to a friend named Ketsu Onyo since they went off to fight the First Order. The place was a village in Carlac, snowy and very calm. But....That peace came to an end when Deathwatch came in and the First Order came to bring law and order to the planet. The village was Deathwatch’s last stand and the final battle took place there. A soldier found out who I was and chased me as I separated from Ketsu. Captain Phasma saved me though and was under the impression my parents are dead alongside Ketsu. She took me in afterward.” (Supreme Leader) Mira explained.

“And you became a stormtrooper.....” (Padawan) Mira sadly hangs her eyes.

“Yes I did but....I was raised different from the other troopers. I didn’t feel different though. I felt like every other trooper. Just an extension of the First Order and weapon. But unlike them, I had compassion for others and even go as far as to save another friend and spare an enemy if necessary unless he or she tried to kill me. Something was different about me and I didn’t know it....I realized what it was: I was a person. Unlike the other troopers, I had autonomy and even have a sense of identity like them. Heck I even got into a relationship....” (Supreme Leader) Mira sighs and half chuckles.

“It was the woman in the picture from years ago wasn’t it?”

‘No, no....It was a scavenger named Rey. I met her during my tour at Jakku after captain Phasma assigned me to the planet. We...We interloped as in....You’re a teenager, you would know. But I loved her with all my heart and wanted to protect her from my duties from the First Order, fearing the Resistance would use her against me. So I broke up with her....” She explained as (Padawan) Mira look in pity. From thinking she was another Snoke or Natasi Dala to a woman who sacrificed everything for her duties.

“You still love her don’t you?” (Padawan) Mira asks.

“There wasn’t any moment I thought of her. Even when I was put into the First Order Rescue and Intelligence division. But I knew she would be happy without me too, that she would find another woman that wouldn’t be a danger to her. Soon I found myself as an agent who protected the innocent and served the people....But Snoke....Snoke called me in. He said that I was honorably discharged from the First Order. For the first time in my life I was....I was useless. I wandered the galaxy and became a bounty hunter, it wasn’t my option if I wanted to survive. I thought she was better off without me....It wasn’t until Kyle Katarn found me.” The woman explained.

“And so we found my future wife and we a lot of crazy things to find my parents who were in Lothal at the time. I fought the First Order....I fought the people who saved me and the friends I made. Like always, the bad guys lose and the good guys win. But something caught me off guard though....”

“It was this job wasn’t it?” (Padawan) Mira replied.

“It turns out that Snoke....saw some kind of potential for me. A test given since my induction.....If I reached it then I would become the Supreme Leader. Phasma told me since it was part of a protocol in case Snoke dies and Thrawn takes over but if Thrawn is killed also, then I’m in charge. But this test was a failure....Phasma saw the survival of the Imperial ways through me so I took it. I wanted to save my other family....my brothers, my sisters.....This wasn’t the future I wanted but I didn’t want the First Order falling apart. So I did, I became the leader of the First Order. Seeing how powerful we are, I decided it was best for me to have a seat in the senate as I lead the First Order.” She ended with a smile.

“.....So is it true that the Imperial march plays every time you walk?” The teen asks causing her to softly chuckle.

“From what I can gather, you are me from a world where I stayed with my parents. It must be.....A very good experience.” (Supreme Leader) Mira observed.

“My parents care a lot about me....Sometimes too much but they mean well. Does your parents.....”

“Oh they do care about me big time. Always worrying about my job and my duties, though I accomplish my role as a daughter by calling them.” The Imperial answered. The two hear a knock on the door causing her to get up and open the door to reveal Blare Wren Bridger in her typical Jedi robes.

“Those dark troopers scare the living daylights out of me, you should replace them with Imperial infiltration droids.” Blare suggested.

“At least they won’t shoot you.” (Supreme leader) Mira replied before she enters. Blare hangs up her robes revealing her standard Jedi outfit. She heads to the living room with (Padawan) Mira looking at her.

“So how’s the lovely supreme leader that is my wife doing?~” Blare flirted to (Padawan) Mira mistaking her for her wife.

“Um....I think you’re talking to the wrong Mira.” (Padawan) Mira blushed causing Blare to blink her eyes and turn around to see (Supreme leader) Mira then realizing the age gap between them.

“Oh sweet Ashla!” Blare cried in panic realizing she was flirting with a teenager much to her horror.

“I’m so so sorry! You both look the same....Sort of!” She apologized.

“Its okay.” The Padawan replied while rubbing the back of her head. Blare sighs then looks back at (Supreme leader) Mira.

“So what did the supreme leader of the First Order whip up for dinner today?” Blare asks her before (Supreme Leader) Mira walks to the kitchen.

“Bantha steak soup with a side of garlic bread.” (Supreme leader) Mira replied in a British accent parodying Orson Krennic before opening the fridge to reveal the now ready meal. All she has to do is boil the soup. The Imperial uses the force to turn on the stove which lights up as she focuses her energy to lift the entire soup from its place then dunks it into the into the pot that is placed on the active stove. It begins to boil as (Supreme Leader) Mira places the garlic bread into the microwave. She checks her watch then the soup right before deactivating the stove then uses a spoon to taste it.

“Hm...It tastes just right!” (Supreme leader) Mira picks the pot up and places it on the table as (Padawan) Mira and Blare sit on their respective seats while (Supreme leader) Mira places a bowel and place on each spot. She then gets the garlic bread before sitting on her table and using the serving spoon to pour some soup into her bowl. The two do the same as (Padawan) Mira has a sip....The flavor is very inciting

“Wow, who knew the supreme leader can cook!” (Padawan) Mira complemented.

“Its a skill I learned from my mother.” (Supreme Leader) Mira replied before heading an ahem from Blare.

“And from my wife.” She added.

“So I heard reports of an accident that caused her to enter our world.” Blare observed (Padawan) Mira.

“By her age, she looks old enough to look like our daughter.” The Imperial said before sipping some water.

“Oh please.” (Padawan) Mira sassed.

“And the thought of having kids is last in her list.” Blare smirked.

“Hey! I think about having children.....sometimes.....” (Supreme Leader) Mira replied while looking her eyes away.

“Uh-huh, you think about it in your office when you get home..” The Jedi replied.

“Blare Wren Bridger, I would make a death star for you my love. So if you want to have kids then we shall have children.” (Supreme Leader) Mira countered. Blare smiles at her wife before having another sip of the soup.

“So what’s it like being supreme leader? Do you over dramatic speeches and all?” (Padawan) Mira asks her.

“It’s.....Lonely but sometimes you remember the things you fight for and also you hang around the higher ups of the First Order and maybe also play the occasional trash can basketball. Also the traditional giant hologram thing, I use it for private sessions.” (Supreme Leader) Mira explained her position.

“You know, you should train at Luke’s order. There’s always a spot for you there.” Blare told (Padawan) Mira.

“Thanks for the offer but no thanks.....I already got my Jedi training from my dad.” (Padawan) Mira replied. The group continues to eat their meal while (Padawan) Mira looks at her alternate self and how compassionate she is. (Supreme Leader) Mira notices that something is wrong with her.

“Something the matter? You seem awfully down.”

“It’s just....I’m surprised and all. I thought you were some Imperial warlord but you act just exactly like me if I was an adult. Now I’m here having dinner with the supreme leader and her wife....It just feels-” (Padawan) Mira said.

“Odd? Yes I know it is...I swore to change the First Order for the better after all. With a new face and a new way of thinking....Mira, I have some advice for you. I don’t know if this will happen but one day you will be a leader and at the same time, you’ll be conflicted. But no matter what in the end, you are still you. Do not let some mindset change who you are.” (Supreme Leader) Mira advised to her younger self.

“And that’s why I fell in love with you in the first place.” Blare added with a warm smile. (Supreme Leader) Mira looks at Blare and her other self, how they looked like a family to her....The wise supreme leader having children.

Night falls on the Bridger household. It was an eventful night, how (Padawan) Mira got along with herself and Blare at the same time. (Supreme leader) Mira finishes her list to do tomorrow as she sends the memo to her infiltrator droid who is her assistant. She spots (Padawan) Mira sleeping on the couch and she looks cold....(Supreme Leader) Mira has an idea.

She takes her cape that is hung up on the rack and walks towards her. The Imperial places the cape on the sleeping Jedi-to-be before heading off to her room where Blare is sleeping.

(Supreme Leader) Mira and (Padawan) Mira stand beside each other in front of the gate that is opening. Hux has been informed that the other universe’s Bridger family has contacted them beyond the portal. (Padawan) Mira will miss being around her other self, how wise she was and almost like her father and maybe miss the food she makes. (Supreme Leader) Mira is wearing a white grand admiral uniform and white cape while (Padawan) Mira is wearing her typical armor.

Heading out of the gate is Ezra, Sabine, Kanan, Zeb, Hera, and Dawn. But not the ones she knows. The death troopers guarding (Supreme Leader) Mira aim there blasters at them but she signals them to stand down. (Padawan) Mira runs up to them and hugs Ezra. Ezra smiles then looks back at (Supreme Leader) Mira.

“Mom....Dad.” (Supreme Leader) Mira greeted. Ezra looks sadly at the supreme leader knowing a position like that can mess a person up due to loneliness.

“Mira....” Sabine replied.

“.....You raised a good child.” She spoke.

“Mira.....You can come with us. This isn’t you.....” Kanan pleaded.

“No....In this world, I have two families. The family that helped me survive and my real family. But thank you anyway....” (Supreme leader) Mira smiled. (Padawan) Mira looks back at her for a moment.

“And I also have responsibilities, keeping the galaxy safe and all by cooperating with the New Republic, that sort of thing.” She continued. Ezra sighs knowing that this Mira has good in her.

“Well I hope we meet again.” Ezra nodded. (Padawan) Mira then runs up and shares a hug with the supreme leader catching her off guard. She is surprised as first but realizes that this could have been her, so she hugs her in response. (Padawan) MIra lets go and walks away with her family into the portal as it closes leaving a still smiling (Supreme Leader) Mira.

#star wars rebels #mira wren bridger #ezra bridger #supreme leader mira #blackberry bean #blueberry bean #protect both of them #supreme leader woobie #sabine wren #kanan jarrus #hera syndulla #garazeb orrelios #gay blueberry #sabezra #dawn syndulla

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zuhl · 7 years

Text

In Which I Am Just Over Here Living My Truth, Making New BFFs, and Avoiding Glaucoma

Last Friday night I texted a former co-worker asking what she was up to for the weekend and that we should catch up, since we hadn't talked in a while. She texted back, "I'm glad you texted, I'm going to commandeer you tonight." The following lightly edited converation took place over text between myself and a different (and supremely patient) friend about my evening.

Jon: Holy freaking crap. I got dragged to a party. I'm not drinking, but I now have a contact high.

Jon: I don't do pot. So this is awkward.

B: Do pot? Hahaha

Jon: That's not what the kids say these days, is it?

B: Hahahahaha

Jon: Seriously, I'm totally high. Without trying at all.

Jon: This is a ridiculously small room and there's a LOT of smoke.

B: Who are these friends?

Jon: Former co-worker said, "I'm taking you on an adventure."

Jon: …

Jon: Seriously. She said that.

B: She wasn't lying

Jon: We have guitar playing happening here.

B: Of course

Jon: Sincere guitar playing. And yodeling. Actual yodeling is happening in my life right now.

Jon: And I've made friends with a very nice dog.

Jon: We're not best friends (yet), but we've decided we should hang more. Because we're both cool.

B: I'm saving this communication to blackmail you later.

Jon: Ok. I'm out of that room. Seriously. That was a small room.

Jon: And it felt like it kept getting smaller.

Jon: I think I would like off this adventure.

Jon: There's a lot whooping going on here.

Jon: Mind you, it's good whooping, but even too much good whooping is still too much whooping, I'm afraid. All things in moderation. The right amount of whooping, please.

B: Hahahahaha

Jon: Dog's name is Roy.

B: You are cracking me up.

B: Show me Roy

Jon: [Ed. Note: I sent her a picture of Roy. I'm not including it here, because the picture didn't turn out well. At all. Basically, a black picture and you can barely make out fur and two german shepard eyes.]

B: That poor dog is stoned

Jon: Different room.

Jon: Not going back in there.

Jon: Gonna hang here with Roy.

Jon: We are BFFs now.

Jon: We're going to go hiking.

Jon: And then we're going to Europe.

B: Is this an older crowd? My daughter had better not be there.

Jon: [I sent her a picture of the old hippies I was having an adventure with. Also, basically a picture of a dark room with two silouettes of people.]

Jon: Old hippies.

B: Yikes

B: Hahahaha

Jon: Tell me about it.

Jon: What is my life.

B: Good question

Jon: Roy left the room.

Jon: My BFF abandoned me.

Jon: Seriously uncool, Roy.

Jon: Wait, he's back. He apparently smelled something, something probably kibble related and he needed to check on that.

Jon: Dude.

Jon: I played the tambourine.

Jon: Roy helped. But I was the one with the rhythm really.

B: Are you sure you're not drinking?

Jon: Roy is the one who led me back to the very small den.

Jon: Ok. I'll cop to "inhaling with purpose" in the den.

Jon: No to drinking. Staying sober this month. I made a pledge.

Jon: …

Jon: Yes, I know how ridiculous that sentence sounded.

[Ten or so minutes pass.]

Jon: Now locked myself in bathroom. There was talk of a parade around the neighborhood and I can not be a part of that right now.

Jon: Well, locked is relative, since I feel like I've lost some fine motor skills in the past hour, but I think I got the door locked.

B: What will you do in the bathroom?

Jon: Nothing to do with Roy, I assure you.

Jon: …

Jon: (That was hilarious in my head. Not sure it really works as a joke. Kinda ick. Plus, Roy and I are BFFs.)

Jon: Am now outside. It's nice out.

Jon: I'm slightly allergic to Roy. Not Roy's fault, though! It's my immune system and my love of dogs which got me in trouble here.

Jon: Story of my life, I suppose. Which is a little maudalin, sorry.

B: How long will this high last?

Jon: Excellent question.

Jon: Have I said anything über ridiculous? How embarrassed am I going to be once I regain the ability to scroll?

B: I think you might be a bit embarrassed

Jon: OMG. I just said, "dude… scrolling… how cool is that?" out loud to myself.

Jon: I am not a good, whooping do-er of pot.

B: Hahahaha

B: Have the munchies?

Jon: No.

Jon: I can definitively say I'm not hungry.

Jon: …

Jon: Holy shit. I'm starving.

B: Hahahahaha

Jon: That was mostly a joke, (though damn, I do feel peckish.)

Jon: It took me three minutes to type that. Yeah, I've said some embarrassing stuff…

Jon: I scrolled.

Jon: (It wasn't as hard as I thought it'd be.)

Jon: Anyway.

Jon: I was going to say, "Sorry… this was unexpected."

Jon: And then I thought, "No, Jon… you made friends with a dog. It's all good. This is who you are, dude. Live your truth."

Jon: Which is how I know that I'm going to cringe HARD about this in future land. Who talks about "living your truth"? Stoned people do, that's who.

B: Hahahahahaha

Jon: Note the "dude" above for other evidence.

Jon: … [About 30 minutes passes. Bless you, Über.]

Jon: Home.

Jon: Holy crap, I smell like a Cheech and Chong movie.

Jon: Or a depiction of a high school bathroom from an 80s movie montage scene, complete with smoke billowing out the bathroom door when it opens…

Jon: I took a shower. Blech. I don't like smelling like an ashtray at all.

Jon: Seriously thinking about burning my clothes.

B: You might get high again

Jon: This could also be driven by the fact that I'm currently convinced (fine, slightly paranoid) that the cops can smell them and bust me. You know, from afar.

B: They can and they will

Jon: Not helping my paranoia…

B: Hahahaha

Jon: I feel like I still smell like a bong. Is pot soap resistant?

B: Patchouli oil

B: I'm going to buy you some for your birthday

Jon: Seriously. Why is my phone even on still.

Jon: I feel like I should sign off with some grand gesture of knowledge about the universe and our place in it.

B: Okay…

Jon: All I can think of is "be excellent to each other." Which kills me more than you can imagine.

Jon: I mean, it's a good quote and not even a terrible way to live one's life, but come on, I'm better than a Bill and Ted reference.

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theconservativebrief · 6 years

Link

For all the nostalgia they can inspire, school yearbooks are often full of things we’d rather forget: unflattering pictures, suggestions from people we may have liked more than they liked us urging to “keep in touch” or “have a good summer,” and awkward memories of who we once were.

Rarely do they serve as anything more than a sometimes bittersweet record of a very specific time in our lives. But in a major exception, the meaning of yearbooks and what young humans write in them, or rather used to write in them, is currently at the center of a national conversation with history-making repercussions, because of what Supreme Court nominee Brett Kavanaugh and his longtime friend and former classmate Mark Judge wrote in corresponding 1983 senior yearbook messages.

Three women have brought allegations of sexual misconduct and assault against Kavanaugh, describing drunken acts they say Kavanagh committed in high school and college. Kavanaugh has flatly denied those allegations, including in a televised interview with Fox News in which he presented himself as a virginal square. Now, there’s a debate over what type of person Kavanaugh really was in high school and who he is today, and his yearbook entry has become an artifact that might help discern the truth from fiction.

Of particular interest is the phrase, “Judge, have you boofed yet?” which appears on Kavanaugh’s senior yearbook page and seemingly corresponds to the phrase, “Bart, have you boofed yet?” which appears on Judge’s page. Judge, as Slate explains, published Wasted: Tales of a Gen X Drunk, a 1997 memoir about his experience with alcoholism in high school that featured a character named “Bart O’Kavanaugh,” a reference to his real-life friend with the strikingly similar name.

Many have subsequently wondered what it means to “boof,” and the definition may now underpin the argument that a man who’s being considered for a seat on the Supreme Court might also be someone who has demeaned and assaulted women.

There’s certainly no shortage of entries for “boof” on Urban Dictionary, which frequently comes up in internet search results for anyone Googling the term. But the key to the etymological puzzle behind the word is knowing how it was used in the 1980s, when Kavanaugh and Judge included it in their yearbook entries. And most of the available evidence seems to point toward it being a slang term for anal sex.

One of the most concrete examples of it being used, though in a different context, is in the cult classic movie Teen Wolf. The movie was released in 1985, a couple years after Kavanaugh and Judge wrote their yearbook entries. In it, Scott (Michael J. Fox) has two love interests, the blonde dreamgirl Pamela Wells (Lorie Griffin) and the brunette girl next door, Lisa “Boof” Marconi (Susan Ursitti).

Who Scott chooses isn’t as telling as the shock felt by some viewers — there’s actually an old message board conversation about it — that the movie featured a character known as Boof.

To some who were familiar with the term at the time, boof was slang for anal sex, hence the shock over Teen Wolf’s Boof.

There’s also another, totally different instance of “boof” being used in the 1980s. In 1981, two years before Kavanaugh’s yearbook entry, a man named John Paul Bonser was born. Bonser would grow up to become a professional baseball pitcher for the Minnesota Twins, Boston Red Sox, and the Oakland A’s. If the name John Paul Bonser doesn’t ring a bell even to baseball fans, it’s because he legally changed his name to Boof Bonser in 2001.

Bonser has said that his mother gave him the nickname when he was a child, but never explained what it meant. “I don’t really want to know why, to be honest with you,” he told the New York Time in 2006. “I guess I had no reason to go up and ask her. I just left it at that.”

It’s very difficult to find established usage of “boof” in publications of the era, which is understandable given its risqué apparent definition and that it was slang. But in that message board conversation about Teen Wolf, a user who self-identified as being from the East Coast provided a corroborating account that “boof” grew out of “Bu-Fu (pronounced boo-foo), which was in turn short for butt fuck.”

There’s a similar account, posted in 2006, on this kayaking message board. In the kayaking world, “boof” is the name for a technique kayakers use when paddling toward a waterfall, and has nothing to do with sex of any kind. Kayaking aficionados who participated in the discussion were tickled to learn that the maneuver had another, very different meaning.

A recent community post on Daily Kos, written in response to news reports about Kavanaugh’s yearbook entry, affirms the anal sex definition. And earlier this week, John Lomax, an editor at Texas Monthly, noted that even though he is younger than Kavanaugh and from a different geographical region, the word also had “bufu” origins and a similar meaning when he was in school:

As a Jesuit school boy, albeit of a slightly later era, and far from DC, for us, “boofing” did not refer to anally ingesting drugs or alcohol. Back then it referred to anal sex exclusively, deriving from “buttfuck,” down to “bufu,” and finally “boof.”

— John Nova Lomax (@geronimolomax) September 25, 2018

The most sensible guess, then, is that when Kavanaugh and Judge each appeared to ask via their public yearbook entries if the other had “boofed yet,” they were two friends joking about whether they’d ever had anal sex.

Today, the slang version of the term has mutated slightly. It still involves one’s rear end, but it now appears to mean ingesting alcohol or drug through one’s butt. A simple search on Reddit, Quora, Urban Dictionary or Twitter confirms as much (and yields multiple tips and tricks for doing it, too).

Trying to talk about anal sex is like trying to talk about a lot of things involving the human body — just think of all the slang involving genitalia — in that it can be embarrassing. Coming up with a nickname like boof adds a layer of comedy and allows people to more comfortably incorporate a mention of it into casual conversation. But in Kavanaugh’s case, it’s actually quite serious.

Trying to read between the lines of someone’s senior yearbook page is a strange exercise. But it’s not unlike the way, in 2018, we write our own narratives on social media, or piece together stories about other people we follow on social media.

We regularly share things that we think define us — from a cause we’re volunteering for to a joke we find funny to a political argument we agree with to a picture we think we look attractive in. We may have a desired outcome in mind, but we can’t control what the people who see our updates think. The way outsiders interpret the way we present ourselves is completely up to them.

On one hand, it’s easy to compare Kavanaugh’s senior yearbook entry to a Twitter or Instagram feed and write it off as a kid being a kid. Kavanaugh undoubtedly put forth a specific persona in his yearbook, just like any modern teen would do today.

But on the other hand, Kavanaugh is now up for one of the most powerful positions in the United States and his senior yearbook entry, along with a wall calendar he maintained at the time, is one of the only concrete things we have to refer to when processing serious allegations of sexual assault that have been brought against him from that time. Like it or not, they paint a picture of what he was like a teen and a young man.

Christine Blasey Ford, who attended an all-girls high school while Kavanaugh attended Georgetown Prep, says that Kavanaugh pushed her down on the bed, covered her mouth to muffle her protests, and tried to remove her clothes. She says that Kavanaugh’s friend Mike Judge was in the room at the time.

Deborah Ramirez, the second woman to come forward with an allegation against Kavanaugh, says that in college, he thrust his penis into her face while laughing.

And Julie Swetnick, the third woman to come forward with allegations against Kavanaugh, says that she witnessed Kavanaugh and his friends take advantage of inebriated women at parties and that she was assaulted at one of these parties. (She did not directly say that Kavanaugh assaulted her.)

Kavanaugh has repeatedly denied all of the allegations made against him and presented a very chaste version of himself as a teenager:

“I was focused on academics and athletics, going to church every Sunday at Little Flower, working on my service projects, and friendship,” he said in his Fox News interview. “I did not have sexual intercourse or anything close to sexual intercourse in high school or for many years thereafter.”

And to be clear, one can still go to church, perform service projects, and not have sexual intercourse, yet still commit sexual harassment or assault. But the disconnect here is that when he was a teen, Kavanaugh presented himself in a very different way, in part through a yearbook entry that appears to be rife with jokes about heavy drinking (“100 kegs or bust” and “Beach Week Ralph Club”) and sex, including “Have you boofed yet?” among others (“The Devil’s Triangle” and “Renate Alumnius”).

None of these things confirm that Kavanaugh committed sexual assault, nor do they confirm that he isn’t the man that he says he is. It’s possible that they were empty brags and jokes.

But Kavanaugh hasn’t really provided a compelling reason to believe who he says he is. And regardless of what he actually meant by “Have you boofed yet?” it’s no wonder, in light of the allegations made against him, that many people searching for answers have questioned his intentions in using the term.

Original Source -> Brett Kavanaugh’s yearbook: the “boof” joke, explained

via The Conservative Brief

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