#there wasn’t enough history in there for the history buffs and there wasn’t enough story in there for the fans. and fuck me there was ZERO

[vveissesfleisch]

.

#oh my god what the fuck was that. what the actual fresh fuck. was that movie #literally who was that for #I’m fucking!!! distraught?!? #I don’t even know where to begin #why did they continue the story like this?? we all know the history here we know how uhtreds story ends. we didn’t need to be smothered with #a watered down half baked unsatisfying angst fest #the story was so insanely rushed. the new characters so incredibly underdeveloped. and old faves barely got a word in #there wasn’t enough history in there for the history buffs and there wasn’t enough story in there for the fans. and fuck me there was ZERO #fan service. fan violence only #so many out of character moments! #if they were going to continue the story after ending the show so beautifully #they should not have done it like this #there were 3 moments I loved and they were each a split second long #and I have so much fanfic to write to make up for that #good fucking fuck I’m about to call out of work so I can write some emergency fixit fic. #man I did not expect it to be so disappointing. #I’m not gonna tag it because my sentiments are negative as hell but let’s just say tlk ended for me with the series finale #this movie is bullshit. except the fics that rise from its ashes. #they did us sooooo dirty after doing us so so so SO good #oh man what the fuck. #sigh. #at least my boys looked absolutely gorgeous #SIGH!

[wet-and-wedgied]

Rhys’ Diarrhea Disaster

(This is a fictional desperation story)

Rhys was a performer at the local Renaissance Fair and this year they gone all out, managing to book it on a vast estate of some wealthy history buff who’d recreated a medieval castle, complete with a most and a garden maze. Rhys, a good-looking young man in his twenties with green eyes and blond hair had been tasked with acting as a noble seneschal, greeting guests and introducing other performers. It was easy enough and fun, and he got to wear a cool recreation of a 16th century outfit, old fashion shoes complete with white tights, short black and gold pantaloons and a tight fitting matching doublet with puffy sleeves and a feathered cape. The clothing was tight and hard to get in, and even harder to get out of, but not particularly uncomfortable.

Rhys, thus toon his break in his get-up, slipping into the back of one of the vendors and grabbed for himself a turkey leg. He joined a few other guys in chowing down, before it was time for him to back work.

“Greetings lords and ladies,” said Rhys with bravado as the latest wave of guests arrived. It was the afternoon and the sun was beating down on him, but it was one of the popular times. “Prepare thyself for feats most great and glorious, as ye King’s tournament draw near,” Rhys said, much to the delight of a family as he point to a mom where to find the jousting field. He was directing another guest to the exhibit on dungeon equipment when suddenly Rhys felt a low grumble in his stomach. He wrinkled his nose, confused. He had just eaten, he couldn’t be hungry. In fact he felt really full. Then he stiffened as a cramp struck him.

Rhys let out a low moan as he held his stomach, bending over. BBBRRBBPT! A short hot fart blasted out of Rhys. A guy walking by dressed like a jester laughed at him. Rhys’ face went red. His stomach growled again. He didn’t need to eat, he needed—PPPBRTRRT!—Uh— to expel something. A lot of something. Rhys groaned as his guts twisted and churned beneath the tight fabric of the doublet. God, he needed to take a dump, right this minute!

BBBRRRT! Rhys cradled his stomach, doubling over as another hot fart escaped him. This was loud, booming a it came out. People started to notice the costumed nobleman wasn’t looking quite so noble. But Rhys had just finished his break and he knew his boss would blow a gasket if he took another. BBBRRTNBBBPPPRTT! Oh that was a big one. He should think about anything having to blow! PPrRRT! Not to mention he was suppose to be staying in character

“Greetings lords and—“ Rhys grabbed his stomach again as another cramp struck him like a hammer. It felt like a battering ram of shot had just slammed into his asshole and he wasn’t sure how long he could hold it back. His knees felt wobbly as he bent at the middle, more farts attacks hitting him, each growing louder and louder.

“eEEEW!” Yelled a boy covering his nose and pointing at Rhys. “He’s stinky!”

Bbpprt

PPRTT

BppPPPRT!

Rhys shifted uncomfortably. His stomach roiled he felt bloated and gassy against the tight fit of his doublet, and refusing to budge it press’s into his bubbling guys forcing out a series of farts.

“Oh man,” Rhys muttered, “that turkey leg really isn’t agreeing with me.” He pressed his legs together, but it was no use. He was going to shit, and it was up to him on if that was in a toilet or his pants. “Screw it!” He gasped, and made a mad dash into the fair, bee-lining for the outhouses— Port-A-Potties decorated to look medieval— but was greeted a long line of other desperate fair goers. A line of other men who had eaten the turkey legs were clamoring for a spot, the sound of wet explosions disgustingly loud and clear to Rhys.

GRRearawwallRRL

Rhys whimpered as he held his stomach, shifting again and again in the line. Next to him another man let out a short gasp of relief and began pissing himself right then and there. The sight of the ever growing wet stain on the man’s shorts seem to have a reactionary effect on Rhys’ bladder which suddenly felt twice full.

BBBRRPPPBBBTTSHSWT!

Rhys grabbed his ass through the short pantaloons as another fart burst out of him, turning alarming wet at the end. He clenched his cheeks. “Oh God, there is no way I’m gonna make it!” Rhys groaned as he looked at the outhouses. He need somewhere else to go. He turned, desperately scanning for anything. His eyes focused on the maze. It looked most empty.

Rhys, one hand planted on his round ass and the other pressed between his legs and gripping his crotch ran across the commons and into the maze, stumbling through the many twist and turns, farting with each step. He finally came to a stop in a secluded corner as another cramp hit him and he doubled over.

“fuck it!” Rhys gasped as he resolved to pop a squat in the maze. He looked down at the pantaloons and began to work on the laces that went up the front against the bulge of his pulsing crotch. He moved as fast as he could, but there were so many, and the laces were done so tight. Panic started to set in as he tried to move faster. But the laces wouldn’t budge and the battering ram of hot loose shit was ready to breathe through.

“No! No, no, no, come on!” Rhys begged as he tried in vain to tug down the pantaloons of the white tights as his stomach chained like an angry volcano. “Please— please don’t make me shit myself!” He shook and squirmed, but it was no use as the battering ram of shit slammed against his hole and broke through.

“Aahhh… can’t hold it! AaaaAAHH!” Rhys moaned as a a thick wet turd the size of a soft ball burst through his hole and into his white tights. He gasped as the tights were instantly stained a muddy brown, the stench so thick it made him gag. And it was only the begging. He left out another moan as, the gates broken through, a tidal wave of soft diarrhea poured out of him in an uncontrollable burst into his pantaloons. It quickly filled them, Rhys left doubled over as he lost complete control of his bowls, soiling his costume. As he continued shitting himself , Rhys’ bladder too gave in. His eyes fluttered as he began peeing his pants, flooding the front as a golden waterfall fell over his fingers, frozen where they were still on his laces, streaming down his thigh and legs, mixing with the mudslide going down the back of his tights.

BLABBBBDGFFFBBBFFFFRT!

PLLOPPOPPOKLRRRBBBRRT!

SSPOOSSSLAAT!

Rhys whimpered as his pantaloons were filled, till his ass was swimming in the tidal wave of diarrhea, which came out in explosive blasts that Rhys helpless. The smell was toxic, the raw sewage his body was producing horribly rip as it started to mush up his back and onto his doublet as his guts bubbled and forced out more rancid fart into the growing mess. Rhys fell to his hands and knees, landing the massive puddle of his own shit and piss.

He breathed heavily as the diarrhea pouring out of him slowed. His entire outfit was ruined. His tights soaked, his shoes flooded with still hit urine sewage. He let out a small sob at his embarrassment, though despite it all a part of him was happy to have the release, though his gut still felt funny.

Rhys was finally able to strip out of his soiled clothes, wiping himself off as best he could. He was left entirely in the nude expect for his hat, which he held over his privates as he made his way through the maze. He figured everyone would be watching for the joust, so he could make a quick dash to the employee’s tent and grab his civilian cloths and book it. And he might have made it too.

But just as Rhys was reaching the maze entrance, not a soul in sight, he was hit with a second wave of explosive diarrhea. He let out a sharp, embarrassed gasp as he felt his bowels loose and he froze. Instinctively he grabbed the hat he’d been using to cover himself and placed it beneath him as he squatted. “Oh god, not an Again — UUaghhhAaaAAHH!”

BBBBRRRSSPLLAAATTT!

Rhys moaned loudly, his cheeks red as his ass erupted like a poop volcano beneath him into his hat. He gasped and groaned as wave after wave of explosive diarrhea blasted out of him hot as lava and disgustingly thick, filling the poor unfortunately hat till it was overflowing.

It was in the middle of this, Rhys shitting uncontrollably, emptying his bowels into his own hat when the joust ended and everyone came flooding back into the the commons. Suddenly all eyes were set squarely on Rhys and his diarrhea disaster.

#male piss #male omorashi #malediarrhea #diarrhea #omorashi #pantspissing #pants wetting #pants shitting #soiling #pooppants #male pee desperation #malepoop #male poop desperation

[akariamai]

Briefing Room

Part 1, Part 2

Pairing: Steve Rogers x android!reader

Word Count: 2076

The day was spent waiting for any new prospects on the situation, leaving Steve unable to sit still for even a moment. Under the circumstance, you did not know, he was justified to acting in such a way. It is his first job back on the field since he was under the ice. He wasn’t used to waiting around doing nothing. He was always a man with a plan, but at the moment, he was a fish out of water.

“Would you like to sit down, Captain Rogers?” He was hovering over the table you were seated at. Frown line encapsulating his face, his eyes scrunched up as he stood in his red, white, and blue costume. The situation must’ve been dire to make him act in such a manner.

His shoulders sagged a bit as he snapped out of his thoughts. He shook his head, refusing your offer, “No thank you, [Reader].” There was so much riding on finding the man who stole the Tesseract and all anyone could do is wait around for the machines to do their job. He was not used to being in such a predicament.

Throughout waiting, many of the agents would walk up to him in awe. A war hero in the flesh. Captain America in the twentieth century. Physically, still young. To many, it was a dream come true; a living legend in real time. To Steve, however, he wished to be back in his apartment spending the day with you. Instead, he was twiddling his thumbs, unable to prevent another power-hungry man from disrupting the peace.  

Agent Coulson, when he wasn’t busy, walked right up to Steve and began an actual conversation with him. Unlike the other agents, who just stared or awkwardly glanced at him, Coulson began to rant about the set he’s collected throughout the years. “I mean, if it’s not too much trouble.” You accessed your database on the set he’s mentioned, finding a small group of history buffs and Captain America enthusiasts grant on about how rare and expensive searching for every piece of the collection. It only showed you the dedication Agent Coulson poured into acquiring his collecting, in near mint condition as well.

You found it strange for the tendency of humans to hoard a particular set of items. It led you through a rabbit hole of the collecting of coins, stamps, shoes, dolls, etc. It was all so bizarre to learn. You needed more time to learn more and perhaps teach Steve about such tendencies.

“No, no. It’s fine.” Polite as always, Steve was. While Steve was used to children being fans of the Captain America persona, Agent Coulson didn’t seem so bad.

“It’s a vintage set. It took me a couple of years to collect them all. Near mint, slight foxing around the edges, but...” Coulson’s rant was about to continue until it was interrupted by another agent.

“We got a hit. Sixty-seven percent match. Weight, cross match, seventy-nine percent.”

“Location?” Agent Coulson at once went into work mode. No longer was he the awe-filled man that adored the man next to him but a ready-to-work agent of SHIELD. He switched so seamlessly, impressing your robotic mind. Coulson was a professional.

“Stuttgart, Germany. 28, Konigstrasse. He’s not exactly hiding.” You did not know who he was or what the agents were searching for. You were completely in the dark, by the orders of Director Fury, and will continue to do so until you were either considered worthy or could not be kept away from the situation.

“Captain, you’re up.” Steve nods, preparing his mind and body for a battle that had yet to come. The last time he fought uprooted his existence to a new century. The people he had once trusted were gone. He was going to be alone on the battlefield with the eyes of SHIELD judging his every move. They had expectations for him and he was unsure if he could fulfill them. He had to bear the exaggerated fabrications of the history books as his story was dramatically Americanized into fantasy.

“Stay safe, Captain.” You muttered loud enough for his ears to pick up. Human life is a fragile and short. You did not want Steve’s story to end so soon after being free from the ice. He was slowly learning to live once more, and it would be unfair for it all to be taken away from him again. “The world still needs a hero.”

It has been a while since Steve had left and no one has reassured you the mission is or had went well. They ignored your presence like you were a bystander and perhaps, in their eyes, you were. The entirety of SHIELD moved like a lifeless machine. Each person acting like moving parts without the essence of lifeforms. Their movements were more robotics than you.

An agent, you did not know or recognized, walked up towards you. “Move to the briefing room.”

You nodded and was about to ask if they could walk you there but they walked away angrily. You didn’t know the way there. It was your first time in a helicarrier and you surely did not have access to the floor plans. So, you wandered around aimlessly until you found the room.

There you found Steve, Dr. Banner,  an unfamiliar man dressed in strange clothing, and unnamed agents in the room. Steve, from your perspective, was watching a sort of broadcast on a monitor. As the monitor goes black, the group just stand there in silence.

You walked closer to Steve, scanning to see if he had any injuries he probably hid from SHIELD. Steve was the type of person to hide his injuries, waiting for everyone else to be checked before him. It didn’t matter if he was heavily injured, his teammates would always be checked before him. You managed to find several light bruises that probably weren’t light when he got them. His healing factor was fascinating.

Dr. Banner broke the silence, “He really grows on you, doesn’t he?”

“Loki’s gonna drag this out. So Thor, what’s his play?” Steve didn’t even notice your presence. He was too busy trying to piece together a puzzle you could not know. Loki and Thor... gods of Norse mythology. You had not gotten to show Steve mythology yet. You’ll be sure to go over mythology from all over the world.

“He has an army called the Chitauri. They’re not of Asgard or any world known. He means to lead them against your people They will win him the Earth. In return, I suspect, for the Tesseract.” You had never heard of the Chitauri before. The word was a complete mystery. Nothing popped up when you searched through your database.  

Steve looked aghast, “An army? From outer space?” There are an infinite amount of universes, with vast galaxies top scientists haven’t even discovered yet. From unexplained objects moving in the sky to crop circles, it’s no wonder a small percentage of people believe in extraterrestrial lifeforms existing somewhere in the galaxy.  

“So, he’s building another portal. That’s what he needs Erick Selvig for.”

“Selvig?” The man you learned is named Thor asked.

“He’s an astrophysicist.”

“He’s a friend.”  

“Loki has him under some kind of spell, along with one of ours.” You were confused of this conversation. You didn’t have all the information the others had. Portals? An astrophysicists. Spells? What could it all mean? There were pieces of the puzzle within the conversation but without preeminent information, it was unsolvable. You were left in the dark, with only your robotic mind to try to piece it together.

“I wanna know why Loki let us take him. He’s not leading an army from here.”

“I don’t think we should be focusing on Loki. That guy’s brain is a bag full of cats, you could smell crazy on him.”

“Have care how you speak. Loki is beyond reason, but he is of Asgard, and he’s, my brother.”

“He killed eighty people in two days.”

“He’s adopted.” You didn’t get it.

“Iridium, what did they need the Iridium for?”

Iridium is one of the rarest elements on Earth as it can be found in sediments by rivers and a thin layer exists in the Earth’s crush. It is thought meteors and asteroids, containing high levels of iridium, had caused a huge dust cloud creating said layer.

“It’s a stabilizing agent.” Tony Stark, the billionaire who announced to the entire world he was Iron Man, and Agent Coulson walked in.

“I’ll fly you there. Keep the love alive. Means the portal won’t collapse on itself, like it did at SHIELD.

Tony turned to Thor, “No hard feelings, Point Break. You’ve got a mean swing.” He turns his attention to the Iridium, “Also, it means the portal can open as wide, and stay open as long, as Loki wants.” Tony, then, turns to the crew dramatically, almost as he is putting on a show, “Uh, raise the mid-mast, ship the top sails. That man is playing GALAGA! Thought we wouldn’t notice. But we did.”

You whispered to Steve, “I’ll go over video games later.” Steve was glad you were with him. He had a feeling he would need all the help he could get to understand the meaning behind the conversation that was speeding along.

Tony stood in front of the monitors and questioned, “How does Fury do this?”

“He turns.” An agent replies. You didn’t quite catch her name.

“Well, that sounds exhausting. The rest of the raw materials, Agent Barton can get his hands on pretty easily Only major component he still needs is a power source. A high energy density, something to kick start the cube.”

“When did you become an expert in thermonuclear astrophysics?” She asked.

“Last night. The packet, Selvig’s notes, the Extraction Theory papers. Am I the only one who did the reading.”

“Does Loki need any particular kind of power source.” While Steve did not full grasp the conversation, you had helped him tremendously with understanding a bit of astrophysics. He might be able to catch up with two of the world’s greatest's minds but he could pick up certain phrases of the conversation.

“He’s got to heat the cube to a hundred and twenty million Kelvin just to break through the Coulomb barrier.”

“Unless, Selvig has figured out how to stabilize the quantum tunneling effect.” The phenomenon, that is the quantum tunneling effect, is essentially when a particle, with less kinetic energy than the barrier its penetrates, is able to penetrate through a potential energy barrier. The odds of the phenomenon to happen is one in a hundred billion. If Selvig found a way to heighten the possibility, even a smug more, it would be known throughout the scientific world.

“Well, if he could do that, he could achieve Heavy Ion Fusion at any reactor on the planet.”

“Finally, someone who speaks English.”

“Is that what just happened?” Steve asks you as Tony and banner shake hands. There is a mutual respect for one another.

“It’s good to meet you, Dr. Banner. You’re work on anti-electron collisions is unparalleled. And I’m a huge fan of the way you lose control and turn into an enormous green rage monster.”

Dr. Banner looks down before muttering, “Thanks.”

Once you see Nick Fury walking into the room, you try to move behind Steve, not wanting to be kicked out. “Dr. Banner is only here to track the cube. I was hoping you might join him.”

Steve caught everyone’s attention, “Let’s start with that stick of his. It may be magical, but it works an awful lot like a HYDRA weapon.” Loki’s staff was so reminiscent of the weapons he had faced in World War II, he believed it couldn’t be a coincidence.

“I don’t know about that, but it is powered by the cube. And I’d like to know how Loki used it to turn two of the sharpest men I know into his personal flying monkeys.” Mind control?

“Monkeys?” Thor questioned, “I do not understand.”

Steve was so excited to understand something fully in this conversation. Obviously, he would have to ask you questions later when he was finished, but he was proud to have gotten it alone. “I do! I understand that reference.”

“Shall we play, doctor?” Tony asked.

“Let’s play some.” Dr. Banner and Tony walked out together and everyone else dispersed as well.

Masterlist

#The Avengers #Steve Rogers #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers oneshot #bruce banner #Nick Fury #natasha romanoff #Black Widow #marvel imagine #MCU #mcu imagine #android reader #reader insert #captain america #captain america imagine #captain america oneshot #captain america x you #captain rogers x reader #tony stark #iron man #chris evans

[drakaripykiros130ac]

I'm back bc your takes are ALWAYS on point <3

As a history buff, I know George pulled alot of irl history for asoiaf and f&b and whenever TG say that Nyra's usurpation was her far, I will always be reminded of Empress matilda (who, next to Lizzie of York is becoming my favorite female historic figure)

She was crowned heir by her father Henry i (sound familiar?) And she took pride in her position as heir and she even married a controversial male figure (again, it's familiar) but she was never Queen (or long enough to become Queen) and she never had "bastards" and people still didn't like her as a ruler bc they didn't want a female ruler! And she even had a SON named Geoffrey?????

The parallels are there but TG just watches the show blind and think that Rhaenyra's "bastards" are the problem and the reason why she was never Queen and not the heavy misogyny. (TG can excuse Alicent doing what she does bc of misogyny but then act as if Nyra isn't as equally or as more effected by misogyny, lmao?)

Hi! Thanks so much!

I know about Empress Matilda and I was always fascinated by her story. It is incredible that in the 12th century, she managed to amass huge support and have half the country back her claim. She is without a doubt the inspiration behind Rhaenyra Targaryen. Both of them fought for their rightful claim, and despite the hardships and those who sought to steal what rightfully belonged to them, it was their bloodline that continued on the Throne through their sons.

I agree, Rhaenyra and Alicent have both been affected by misogyny (Rhaenyra even more so). It is typical of Alicent to believe that she is the only one with problems/hardships and the only one who deserves sympathy.

What happened to Rhaenyra was not a result of her “bastard” situation, and it wasn’t even because of misogyny. Both of these were used as excuses by the Hightowers to gather their own support so they could take control of the Seven Kingdoms. This is something a lot of TG stans refuse to accept. The greens are motivated by greed, not righteousness.

#house of the dragon #team black #rhaenyra targaryen #pro team black #hotd #anti team green #anti alicent hightower #queen rhaenyra #anti greens #anti team green stans #anti alicent stans #house targaryen #asoiaf #asoiaf meta #team rhaenyra #the blacks #the black queen

[yandere-sins]

The Knight’s Squire

Day 1! And it’s an original :D Just prefacing this by saying I think history is a bit to male-centric so this time we have an actual female, buff, strong Darling!Knight and a Yandere!Squire. I know all of you want me to write more subs, so... I hope you’ll enjoy it. And yes, I am aware about who else is named Alec. He was an inspiration even though I didn’t particularly like the story he comes from. So I am making my own lol. Also I did my research. Please check out @sintember if you want to join the challenge!

Fandom: Original Content Pairings: M!Yandere!Squire (Alec) x F!Darling!Knight (Reader) Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Themes, Mention of War/Death/Bloodshed (off-screen), Masturbation, Obsessive Behavior, Dirty Talk, Cum Play, Mention of Arranged Marriages/Marriage of Convenience

Prompt: Obsession - Love? Hate? Lust? Fear? Worship? Whatever the case, it’s all they can think about.

»»———————— ♡ ————————««  

There were many enticing benefits to becoming a knight.

One, you were respected, feared, revered. Gaining an honorable amount of appreciation from both those above and below you. You got to go on adventures, were gifted estates and lands, enjoy banquets, and install fear in those that wronged you and the people you protected. All for the small price of life-long training, submission to your lord, and the occasional war to attend.

On a scale, it was a well-balanced position between riches and bloodshed. One that you very much enjoyed, though for a much simpler reason.

For you, benefit number two was simply getting away from your family. From expectations and duties that you didn't want to have on you. If you were to become someone greater than a knight, you wanted it to be on your own terms and not because your family had a title of nobility or was marrying you off to god-knows-who to strengthen their hold in society. You wanted to accomplish things on your own, and knighthood, bolstered only by training and living together with your fellow warriors, was the way you chose for yourself.

Skipping ranks came easily to you as you kept improving yourself over the years—the sword lessons you demanded in your youth paid off fairly quickly—and though you were still young by comparison, you earned the respect of your fellow knights as their teacher and commander. That rank even soothed your family's anger over you leaving them, and all was good and well.

Things could have gone on like this for the rest of your life, even if the occasional war threatened you with death and pain. But no training, studies, or even riches could have prepared for one meddling component in this seemingly glorious life of yours. And naturally, at the end of the day, it was your family that would gamble with the life that you so carefully built for years.

Alec was not a young boy when he became your squire, and you never did figure out why your family demanded of you to take a squire that wasn't in need of being raised. In fact, he was barely younger than you by a few years, yet, not old enough to advance. Amongst the many scarred fighters and poor entourage they kept with them, he was a ray of sunshine. Too pretty to be a mere page, he almost seemed to belong more to a king's court than on the battlefield. He brought a respectable amount of knowledge with him when you finally relented and took him under your wing. However, when you asked, he never seemed to want to talk about his past, neither his family nor his training. It was a quickly forgotten topic, though, as his performance was much to your liking. He always seemed to be one step ahead of you, having readied your horse or prepared a bath before you could ask for it, presenting it to you with a never-wilting smile. Alec would even go out of his way to massage your feet after a long day, and when you asked him to join you for a nightcap, he never declined.

Before you knew it, he was a friend rather than a servant, sharing your woes and victories.

But that was all he was.

You had long decided on who to spend the rest of your life with when you were ready to settle, even against your parents' wishes. And you were convinced you'd be fine with your brother in arms you chose, your union bringing a lot of good for your families as well. Even if you two didn't talk about it out in the open, the rumors had spread already, and you didn't dismiss them as much as you probably should have. You'd marry a fellow knight, and that was final, but at times, you thought you caught Alec giving you yearning glances and longing sighs, only for you to ignore them. You wouldn't need a lover to warm your bed, and his training was almost over as well. Satisfied with his overall performance, you planned on raising him into knighthood afterward.

But it seemed, the closer the days came to his advancement and your retirement, the more his fingers itched to be closer to you.

Ignoring helped, but it meant you still noticed. The sheer effort he put into your care was proof enough that he wasn't just driven by the desire to serve as a squire. He had much, much darker goals, an obsession, it seemed.

"Good work," you praised the other squires and pages as they passed you by after the battle, tending to their own lords in their ways. You had won, and the celebration had been grand, so even the young ones were eager to finish their duties and enjoy their nights. Even though you weren't one to call it a night early, that day you were still plagued with the aftermath of weapons crashing into your armor, the iron rattling through your brain as your enemies tried to sever your head from your shoulders. It never got boring, but fighting hasn't changed ever since you were a young teen yourself in terms of intensity. Now, you were definitely ready to settle and raise a family. You'd gladly forgo being hit over the head with swords in the future and having the sound echo through you for the next few days while you tried to survive.

"M'lady…"

The sound of Alec's voice made you halt in your tracks. You had been wondering where he went after serving wine to you back at the celebration, but being just inches away from pushing your tent's flap to the side to settle in for the evening, you now knew. Just what was he doing in there, addressing you when you weren't even around?

Listening closely, the strangest cacophony of whimpers and sighs reached you. Sounds you had never heard from Alec, your squire who didn't even complain after carrying your whole suit of armor through pouring rain or piercing snow. "M'lady won the battle. You were so fucking beautiful. I want to be the horse you ride into the next one, M'lady…"

Making a double take, you thought for a moment he was telling you all that directly to your face until you remembered you were still outside the tent, quiet as a, well, mouse, eavesdropping. It wasn't your way of doing things. You always made your presence known, let others bask in your glory or shudder in fear at your sight. But Alec's words slowly sunk in, and you felt a false sense of shame wash over you even though you didn't do anything wrong.

You certainly didn't teach him to speak like that. But you couldn't talk for the other knights who swore like their families' pride meant nothing to them. Behind the flap serving as an entrance to your tent, Alec grew louder and bolder, just as the music from the bards and the boisterous laughter of the victorious knights filled the area. Gulping, you realized you were the only one witnessing this, yet you only knew what you were hearing. Part of you wanted to believe it was much different from what you were thinking, but hooking your finger around the flap, you slowly pulled it to the side, risking a glance inside.

On top of your bed, his pants pooling around his knees and his shirt caught between his teeth, Alec kneeled before your breastplate. From your position, you saw more of his back than front, but still a little bit of his side profile to watch him heatedly slide his hand over his cock. Ample buttcheeks and a well-endowed package, your squire was a beautiful sight, with refined muscles on flawless skin. How he managed to endure the training with so few scars was beyond you, but he looked more like a concubine than a squire.

Letting out a long, almost pained groan, he hovered over your breastplate, his hips snapping forward and into his hand feverishly, unaware of the eyes watching him. "M'lady…" he moaned again, and you had a hard time looking away, fascinated by the subtle blush on his cheeks, the adoration gleaming in his eyes. "Let me draw you a bath, I'll wash you! I'll do anything for you! Please–"

His sentence was cut off by himself as a joyful gasp lilted from his lips. For a moment, he tensed up, looking at the tent's ceiling vaguely illuminated by candles. Stilling, you had no idea what was going on in his head, but even from your position, you could see his lips curl into a grin, the thoughts in his mind pleasing him greatly, it seemed. "Use me," he begged under his breath.

"Make me pick up your things while you watch me! I want to clean your sweaty laundry! I'll warm your bed if you tell me to! Fuck… anything, M'lady. Ask me to lick your feet, service you with my mouth, fingers, cock—it's all yours. Just yours, M'lady! M'lady!"

And with the last word off his lips, he convulsed, shaking with his orgasm. The fast and rough strokes he did after announcing his desires caused long, white streaks to coat your breastplate. He panted so hard that his whole body seemed to emit steam in the early winter night from how heated he had gotten. But it took a while for his hips to come to a halt, his body semi-collapsing on top of your armor, and a blissful expression on his face, eyelids closing and opening slowly. With his finger, he began smearing his jizz on top of the iron and doodling little shapes on top of it.

Then he began his descent back into reality from whatever kind of dream he had just lived through. Climbing off your bed, he held the plate between his legs, fishing for a rag he had placed on the bedside table. Grabbing his cock, he made sure to smear even the last few drops from his tip onto the surface, whistling as he began wiping his cum all over your armor, polishing it to a shine. You had always been complimented for your prime appearance ever since taking Alec in. But you never knew this was his secret to a perfect finish.

Done and satisfied with his work, he brought the breastplate to his lips, kissing it with a loud smooch and confessing, "I love you so much, M'lady. You're the best."

At this, you knew it was your time to disappear. From shame or not to be found staring at your squire pleasuring himself to the thought of you, the reason had no weight in this. You just had to go, quickly! As Alec pulled up his pants, he stopped, blinking as he looked up, and you acted before he could see you, letting the flap fall close and marching off as fast as you could. All of this seemed like a fever dream, and maybe you had collapsed on the battlefield and were imagining things. You thought he might have a little crush on you, but this seemed to have gone beyond any sane amount of affection towards his mentor or thankfulness for all you ever did.

Wandering back and forth, you thought about how to address this when an all-too-familiar voice tore you out of your thoughts. "M'lady?" Alec called out to you, and you flinched harder than you had in years. No one had managed to sneak up on you since you were a wee squire yourself, but here you were. In a moment of confusion, you did the one thing you had mastered to do without overthinking it: barking orders.

"Alec! You are needed at the fire! Go serve drinks and help the knights, now!"

His eyes widened before he nodded, but you noticed the grin creeping over his lips for the first time, barely hidden behind appropriate composure. "Yes, M'lady!" he agreed cheerfully, bounding by you and towards the communal area you sent him. Did he enjoy that? Commands? Doing as you said? What were you thinking… you just heard him tell the you he imagined as he jacked off to it how much he liked it. God, you were fucked. He was such a good squire, an upstanding and hardworking young person on the way to greatness. But this was threatening to ruin his career. There were a lot of decisions to be made once you made it back home. And you needed to clean your armor—all of it, just to be sure.

To think you've been going around with his semen smeared all over your things…

And that was only the beginning of it all.

#sintember 2022 #Yandere Squire #Yandere!Squire #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW #OW

[lgg5989]

Church Encounters Chapter 12

Hey guys! Thanks to everyone for your continued support of this fic, @barbiewritesstuff and I are having a great time writing it. She is posting this on her tumblr as well so jump over and give her a like or a comment. We have had a few requests for side drabbles and stuff about these characters and we will be happy to answer them! Just send us asks :) To all of our US friends, have a safe Labor Day weekend! 

You can find the previous chapters on my Masterlist, and you can read the whole series so far on my Ao3! I made the moodboard, I hope you enjoy it! :D

Comment on my post or @barbiewritesstuff’s post to be added to the tag list.

PS. If Glen is reading this, do you like it so far?

Tagging: @roosterscock  @sydneyhlove​

Indiana was surprisingly jungley when you arrived, hot and humid and crawling with so many bugs that it almost felt overwhelming. Still, it was good to be home. You were taking everything in from the sights to the smell of the bakery down the road from where you used to live. The town you grew up in wasn't much, but it was home. Cloverdale was just big enough to have a McDonalds and it was no San Diego, but it held a special place in your heart. 

You took over the drive as soon as you passed the border between Indiana and Illinois to give Jake some time to sleep. Between training and the promotion Jake had gotten a few months ago, which came with a new set of duties and longer, more gruelling hours, it felt like he was perpetually running on four hours of sleep, and while he tried his best to hide it from you it was taking a toll on him.

He had been more scatter-brained and crabby. Never with you, but the rest of the team had received more than their fair share of jabs and offensive quips. You knew Jake well enough to mean that he was bracing himself for something, and although you couldn’t tell what, you wouldn’t have been surprised if burn out had started rearing its ugly head. 

When Jake had offered to go on a road trip with you across the US, to see everything you had discussed at Thanksgiving, you had eagerly agreed. Time off would do him some good, and you never refused an opportunity to see your sisters on their home turf.

Still, before Indiana there had been a few other stops. Salvation Mountain in San Diego, where Jake had taken many pictures of you, arms outstretched in front of the “GOD IS LOVE” painted in large red and pink letters on the hill. Then, the Joshua Tree National Park in California, where you hiked on the ‘California Riding and Hiking Trail”, completing the hike in four days, ignoring all warnings against sun exposures, temperatures and dehydration after a lengthy conversation and a mutual understanding that neither of you was likely to be able to clear enough time off to do the trails any other time of year. 

After the suicide-mission of a hike, you and Jake had booked yourselves a weekend in a spa, to be able to relax the soreness away. The two days of taking things easy, yoga classes and massages had made Jake a new man. With a brand new chilled-out attitude, Jake had taken the next leg of the trip.

He parked the car in front of the Daily Grind Coffee shop where the two of you had lunch before making your way to the Billy The Kid museum. Jake could only smile at your excitement as you entered the building. Over the few months he had had the honour of dating you, Jake had discovered how much of a true crime buff you really were. You watched and listened to everything. From documentaries watched like a bedtime story to podcasts while you cleaned. From ancient history to stuff a little closer to home, you liked everything. Even now, as you looked at the original wanted posters, the locks of hair, chaps, spurs and his rifle, you almost couldn’t help talking Jake’s ear off about the outlaw. Jake didn’t mind though, your excitement was contagious and when you took over the next leg of the trip, Jake read Billy The Kid’s biography as you drove. 

The Water Zoo Indoor Water Park had been the only notable exception in your opinion that any and all amusement parks were terrible. It had been Jake’s idea to go, but as the stay came to an end, you begged to stay just one more day, Jake couldn’t refuse, even if he was desperate to get to Indiana.

After Oklahoma, despite the detour, came Indiana. As you drove through corn and soy fields, Jake fell asleep, resting his head against the window. You smiled as you glanced at him, taking your eyes off of the road for a moment to admire his sleeping form. He looked ever so peaceful.

You were an hour away from your destination when his lips twitched and he mumbled something.

“What was that honey?” you asked

“Cake,” he replies, “There’s cakes in the display.”

You looked around, thinking that maybe Jake was seeing something in the distance. There seemed to be nothing for miles, except crops and the occasional lonely cow. He mumbled something else, in a deep, sleepy voice. You realised then that Jake was a sleep talker. The thought of it gave you butterflies, or doubled them at least, because the butterflies Jake gave you on your first meeting never actually went away. 

“Cakes huh?” you asked with a slight giggle

“Big pink ones,” he mumbled, “Big as a house.”

He groaned in his sleep and you stifled a laugh, “Can you eat them?” you asked 

He gasped, “Noooo, it’s for the queen!” he whispered, as if the queen, whoever she was, had been in the car with you.

You tried to interrogate him some more, but Jake wasn’t feeling chatty after that. His arms occasionally twitched and you wondered if he was at a banquet, sharing tea with the royals. The thought of it alone almost sent you in hysterics a few times but after being almost run off the road a few times due to your inattention, you calmed down and drove on till you hit your destination.

Your mother’s home was a long white affair, standing alone, looming over the neighbourhood like heron surveilling a pond for any moving fish. It had always seemed sinister to you, although perhaps that was due to memories, or even nerves. If you had to be objective about it, the house looked rather welcoming. The front garden was neat, lined with white rose bushes and pink rhododendrons. The grass was cut short and the hedges had all been trimmed to waist height. The drive had been redone since you had last been there, the concrete had been removed and replaced by sand-coloured gravel. 

You knocked on the door, feeling apprehensive. Your mother had remarried since you had left for the navy. Ted, her new husband, was a local politician. He was a nice enough man, the type that placed far too much importance on being able to give a good handshake, but ultimately harmless. He did come with two children, a boy and a girl, twelve and ten year old. When he opened the door for you and Jake to come in, he wore a beige polo shirt, sleeveless jumper and slacks. The children had been made to wear a navy coloured short or skirt and a white button up. 

The star difference in behaviour between how your mother used to act with you and how she acted now made you feel a little sick. She hugged and kissed her step children all the while glaring at you as you spoke. Jake, ever the perfect gentleman, tried to make pleasant conversations, but whenever your mother ignored anything you said, his hand twitched ever so slightly in yours. 

After an agonising two hours of small talk and watching your mother act like, well, a mother, you jumped back into Jake’s truck and drove the both of you to Annie’s apartment. She lived in Fishers, right next to the nursery she worked at, in one of the newer blocks of flats. She buzzed you in, and let you ring the doorbell before opening the door and embracing you in a breathtaking hug. 

“I see you’re working on your patience, I’m proud of you,” you teased, “Usually I don’t even get to ring the doorbell.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware that being excited to see my sister was such a crime,” she said, pretending to be offended. Annie turned around, gently whipping you in the face with her long hair, “Maybe I should ignore you next time,” she added.

“Please don’t, I’ve had enough of that today already,” you replied.

Annie grimaced, “Did you see mom?”

“Yeah. Why do I do it? I always regret visiting.” you asked, Annie shrugged her shoulders. 

“I stopped going a while ago,” she admitted, “But enough about the doom and gloom! Jake, congrats on the promotion!” Annie exclaimed excitedly, clapping her hands together, “We should celebrate! Audrey is coming later, and we were thinking of having drinks this evening at one of the new bars in town, how does that sound?” she asked

Audrey had been meant to meet you at Annie’s but an hour before she was due to arrive, she called in a panic.

“I am so sorry! There’s been a mix up in the shifts and the girl who’s supposed to take over lives like two hours away. I can’t leave, I’m the only senior midwife on call, I’ll just have to meet you all at the bar,” she said, speaking loudly over the background noises of the hospital maternity ward. 

With that, you had all showered and changed and piled into Annie’s car to drive downtown. The bar was a far cry from the cosiness and familiarity of the Hard Deck back in San Diego, and heaps busier too. While both you and Jake were fairly used to people and certainly able to elbow your way through to a set of empty chairs, the way he had tensed up and recoiled at the sight of the crowd made you suggest going for outside seating.

Audrey arrived twenty minutes later, clearly having jumped out of the shower and quickly changed out of her scrubs. On any normal occurrence, your sister would never have been caught dead wearing a pair of jeans and a simple t-shirt, accessorised only with a leather jacket and a pair of pointed ballerina flats. Audrey was a stylish woman that made anything she wore look wonderful, but her usual style leaned more towards vintage dresses and heels.

“I cannot begin to describe the day I’ve had,” she huffed as she dropped down on the chair next to you.

“That bad?” you asked, your sister threw you a look.

“Yes. That bad. I woke up late, I couldn’t find my scrubs and the only other set I had were dirty. Then, the washing machine broke, then, the coffee machine broke. I got to work twenty minutes late, had to borrow a set of scrubs off of a trainee and I finished three hours late!” she replied, “I need a drink,” she added, grabbing the drinks menu and looking at the list. 

“I think I’ll have a martini,” Annie said.

“I think I know what you want,” Jake told you, “Audrey, what’s your pick? I’ll go and order,” he added, looking apprehensively at the bar, trying to calculate his best course of action to get served quickly. 

“Oh don’t worry Jake, Y/N and Audrey will go together,” Annie replied. Audrey whipped her head to look at her sister with a deadly glare. Annie looked her in the eyes for a moment. After their silent argument, Audrey stood up.

“Right, come on Y/n, let’s get this over with,” Audrey sighed, grabbing your arm and dragging you out of your chair.

----

“Jake, relax,” Annie laughed once you and Audrey had successfully forced your way to the front of the drink’s queue.

“This feels like a drug deal,” he replied with a nervous laugh. Annie reached into her bag to retrieve a small ring box. The red velvet fabric felt soft against his hands. He opened it slightly to reveal the ring. The centerstone was a crystal clear oval shaped diamond. It was set into a yellow gold band and accented with other, smaller diamonds around it. The ring was thin and delicate, and the whole thing reminded him of you. Classy and delicate, always in style. Jake could see the faint marks the jeweller had left when he resized the ring and a little doubt crept into his mind. 

“Are you sure she’ll like it?” he asked.

Annie stared at him, “Are you doubting my grandmother’s taste in rings?” she asked, outraged.

“No, no. I’m -- Annie, I’m fucking scared. What if she says no?” Jake whispered. 

Despite your many reminders that you would happily agree to marry him when he asked, Jake still felt a little stab of paranoia at the thought that maybe you had changed your mind. Since leaving his flat on the first day of the trip, Jake had been in a near constant state of nervous anticipation and blind panic at the fact you might refuse him. Still, he felt like he was hiding it well, and after the spa weekend, he had legitimately felt better until you had driven over the Indiana border and it came back in full force. 

“Then, I’ll knock her on the head until it unscrambles her brain,” she deadpanned, bringing a small smile to his face. She continued, “She won’t say no. Trust me, I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”

“Drinks incoming!” Audrey exclaimed as she made her way out of the bar, no doubt to give him time to stash it somewhere safe. He put it in his jacket pocket, careful to zip it up before you noticed anything. 

“You okay?” you asked Jake, he shot you a nervous smile right as a large group of half drunk college students passed your table, “It’s alright, it’ll be quieter soon,” you added, rubbing his arm reassuringly. Strange, you thought, you had never known Jake to be so antsy in a crowd. 

-----

Jake was nervous. He had only had the ring in his possession for seventy-two hours and he was already a nervous wreck. As he was getting dressed for mass that morning, he kept checking his pocket, like the ring box was going to disappear into thin air. 

His father asked him what was wrong on the way to mass, and Jake tried to brush it off, but it didn’t feel very convincing. He was practically vibrating in the passenger seat and when they made it into the church, it didn’t get much better. 

Jake’s knees were bouncing in the pew, and you had to place your hand on them several times to silently signal him to stop. When it was time to say the Our Father and share peace with one another, Jake could tell that his palm was sweaty in yours, and he prayed to God that it wouldn’t bother you. When he pressed a kiss to your cheek, you looked up at him concerned, “You okay?”

“Peachy mia cara, just peachy,” he said back, his accent laced stronger than usual in his voice. 

Raising an eyebrow at him, you turned back to face the altar. When mass was over, Jake tried to take a deep breath, but it was no use. His excitement and nervousness would be there to stay until he asked you the question he had been thinking about for months. 

As his family filed out of the pew and down the main aisle towards the door, he grabbed your hand and held you there, “Can I talk to you for a minute?” he asked. 

“Of course, are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” you asked him, raising an eyebrow sternly. 

“In a way,” he said, pulling you around the front of the pew to stand in front of the steps to the altar. 

The choir hadn’t stopped singing, even though the church was emptying out quickly, and you looked at them confused. One of the girls in the second row winked at you, turning to look at Jake, you brought your hands up to cover your mouth, tears springing to your eyes. 

He was settled down on one knee, a red velvet ring box clutched tightly in one hand. Looking up at you with an unreadable expression, he said, “I know that we haven’t been together as long as most other couples who get married, but I love you and I think that God sent you down to me. I can’t imagine my life without you, your little habits like how you always pepper your food, or that you like your water without ice, but also the bigger things, like how you go out of your way to take care of me, when I know you don’t have to. I want to be there every morning to wake up to your beautiful sleepy face, and every night to give you a kiss before we go to sleep,” Jake paused, trying to compose himself, a few tears now visible in his own eyes. 

“I almost lost you that day on the tarmac and it scared me more than anything ever had before. I knew that day that I was going to marry you and now I can’t wait for it to be true. I don’t want to rush into this, but I love you, and I won’t be truly happy until you’re mine. Please, Y/n, do me the honour of becoming your husband, to love you and cherish you forever,” he finished, his voice choking off at the end. 

You let out a small sob, “Of course, yes, a million times yes,” you said, kneeling down in front of him and pulling him into a hug. You felt the collar of your shirt dampen with a few of Jake’s tears but when you pulled back, the look on his face was worth more to you than anything money could buy. You had never seen him so happy. 

The grin that was splitting your face couldn’t have been wiped off if you tried, looking at the ring in his hand, you let out a gasp, “You didn’t.” 

“I did,” he said, “They said that she would have wanted you to have it.” 

“Is that why we went to Indiana?” you asked, searching his eyes. 

“Well, I had to see where the woman I wanted to marry was from, but mostly, I couldn’t propose without the right ring,” Jake said, sheepishly. 

Pulling the ring from the box, he slid it on to your finger, it was a perfect fit, “How…?”

“I had some help with that too,” Jake said, smiling at you. Leaning in close he continued, “They’ll be here this afternoon. Also I took the liberty of calling a certain Admiral.” 

Your heart soared that your sisters and your father figure would get to celebrate with your new family. Pulling Jake into another hug, the only thing you could think to say was, “I love you.” 

He responded in kind, “I love you too.” 

The two of you stood up, and Jake thanked the choir for staying a little over.

“Why here? Why in the church?” you asked, as the two of you were walking out. 

Jake laughed, “Well it just felt right, God brought you to me, and you met me, the real me, in a church. Why not propose in one too?”

Clutching his arm in yours, you let Jake escort you to the truck. He opened the door for you and gave you a hand to help you climb in. Before he went around to his side of the truck, he took your left hand in his, pressing a kiss to the ring that was still cool on your skin. With a smile and a little jog, he made his way around the truck. The whole ride back to the ranch was spent talking about plans for the future, from the date of the wedding to what you were going to name your first born, and you couldn’t have been happier. 

----

When you arrived back at the Seresin ranch, the rest of the family was already there for their usual Sunday brunch, you hesitated before getting out of the truck. Jake looked at you curiously, “What’s wrong?” 

“How do we tell them?” you asked, a grin on your face. 

“I’ll let you decide, baby,” Jake said, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

You hummed, “Let’s just see who notices first, shall we?”

Jake laughed, “You are such a shit stirrer,” he said. 

“Yes, but I’m your shit stirrer,” you bit back, the smile that was stuck to your face never leaving. 

Jake opened the front door for you and the two of you were immediately accosted by Gio, “How’d it–” he let out a surprised grunt as Jake clasped a hand over his mouth and dragged him out the front door. 

You laughed, closing the door behind them as you made your way further into the house. 

—

Jake pulled his hand away from his brother’s mouth, the two might have been grown men, but they still fought like children, “John, that’s gross,” he said, wiping his hand off on his jeans, “You are like forty-three grow up.” 

“I am your brother, if you put your hand over my mouth, I am going to lick it,” he said in a defensive tone, “How’d it go? Did she say yes? Did she cry? Did you cry?”

Jake laughed, putting his hands on his head and walking off the porch. He turned back to his brother and shouted, not caring if they heard inside, “She said yes!” but then immediately lowering his voice, “But you can’t say anything she wants to see who notices first.” 

Gio nodded, grinning, “Okay, I won’t say anything, but you have to explain to Alessa why I knew before she did or she is going to kill me tonight in my sleep.” 

Jake laughed, “Yeah, yeah I’ll tell her,” he replied before Gio opened the front door and they made their way into the house.

—

You made your way into the kitchen, joining the other women as they set about preparing lunch. Isabella guided you towards a pile of ingredients she had laid out on a side of the kitchen counter alongside a printed out recipe for muffins. Without trying to be subtle, you removed your ring and set it on the counter before mixing up the ingredients and pouring the batter into greased tins. Once your hands were washed clean of any leftover specks of chocolate, you slid your ring back on, holding your hand out to admire it in the light of the kitchen.

Squeezing past the Seresin women, you walked to the coffee machine, dropping a latte pod in the compartment and pressed the power button, reaching to grab one of the cups Sofia had unloaded from the dishwasher only a minute ago. She smiled at you kindly, completely oblivious to the ring. 

Maria called your name from the living room, requesting your help with an inconsolable Bianca. Gio had disappeared off to the garage with Jake to play a round of pool with Tony and their father, leaving poor Maria alone with all four children. She was trying to comfort the baby, keep the boys from arguing and stop Catalina from playing the same episode of paw patrol for the fourth time in a row. You deposited your cup on the dining room table, joining Maria with a light jog. As you reached the boys, you gently grabbed their arms and separated them.

“Luca, you know we don’t hit. Hitting is not nice. We are nice to our siblings. Do you understand,” you told the eldest boy sternly, pointing one finger in the air, “What do you say to your brother?”

“That’s a pretty ring Y/n,” he said, bringing the collar of his shirt up to bite on it, not registering what he had said until Maria spoke, you pulled it down from his mouth, “We don’t eat our clothes, breakfast will be ready soon.

“What did you just say Luca?” Maria asked, dumfounded

“I said Y/n had a pretty ring,” he repeated. You braced yourself for her reaction, “it’s on her hand, right here,” he added, grabbing your hand and holding it up for his aunt to see. 

“Oh my God. Oh my God! Mamma, ce l'ha fatta! He did it! He proposed!” She screamed holding your hand in hers. 

Something heavy shattered in the kitchen. A second later, Isabella ran into the living room, her hands covered in flour from the roll of cinnamon rolls that she had been preparing to bake. She had a spot of flour on her face, but her apron was a mess with it. You assumed the shattering noise had been their ceramic flour jar. Letting out a small squeak as she tugged you to her, she looked at the ring on your finger before looking into your eyes, “You take good care of my boy, okay?” 

“I will,” you promised. At that moment, the door to the garage burst open and Tony ran into the room.

“What’s the ruckus about?” Tony glanced into the kitchen before adding, “Oh my God, mamma, did you drop the flour?”

“Nevermind the flour! Jacob proposed!” she scolded him, you had never seen her so flustered. 

“Mamma mia! It’s been like, three hours, are you just noticing now?” Gio said, appearing behind Tony and scaring him half to death. He leaned against the door, inspecting his nails looking smug when a pillow connected with his face and knocked him to the floor from the surprise.

“YOU KNEW! You little -- Piccolo topo! You little rat! You knew!” Alessa screamed, pointing an accusatory finger at her husband.

“Well, I….I…Jacob told me first?” he said questioningly trying to deflect her anger on to his brother. 

“Don’t you dare throw him under the bus,” she said, walking over to him, “How long have you known?”

Gio hesitated, and before he could answer, Alessa started on him again, “You aren’t supposed to keep any secrets from me Giovanni.” 

“Now, what’s all this commotion, has somebody died?” Giovanni Senior said, climbing up the garage stairs with Jake hot on his heels. 

“Bambino!” Isabella screeched, running up to her youngest son, cupping his face in her hands and kissing him all over, “Oh, my Bambino!”

Giovanni Senior looked on at the scene, the women huddled together by the dining room table, Maria standing over three very confused children, and you still crouching on the carpet as both of his sons stared at his youngest with shit eating grins. 

“Oh, Cieli, has he done it?” Giovanni asked, “Bambino, tu hai proposto! You proposed!” he added, practically ripping Jake away from his mother’s grasp to engulf him in a bone breaking hug, “Io sono così orgoglioso,” he added, holding Jake out in front of him.

“Yes, Jacob, we are all so very proud,” Isabella said, rubbing his arm with a loving look on her face.

“Of both of you, of course. We are so very proud of both of you,” Maria said, throwing her parents a strange look, “It is such a shame your family isn’t there with you though,” she added.

“Actually, I am picking them up from the airport in three hours,” Gio said, hiding behind Tony in case Alessa fancied exercising her throwing arm again at his reveal that he knew more of the plan than he had let on. 

“Yeah, I arranged for them to--” Jake said, interrupted by his ringing phone, “Bob’s calling, I’ll be right back,” he added, turning away from the group and walking back towards the garage, only to come back three minutes later, “Okay. How does Bob know?”

“I have no idea,” Maria lied, “Who’s Bob?”

“You know what, when he proposes, Maria, I will call your friends before you get to. We’ll see how you like it, then,” Jake told his sister, whose cheeks proceeded to turn a light shade of pink.

“Please, do not make me get the argument jar out on such a happy occasion,” Isabella begged, finally brushing the flour off of her apron, “We will need to hoover before your family arrives, Y/n, and I will make my lasagna,” she mumbled to herself, “Or maybe spaghetti?” 

“So, spill,” Tony said, gently punching Jake in the arm, “How did you do it? Did you ask her father?”

“Yes, Antonio, I asked her father. I tried to ask him on base but he pretty much sent me packing. Something about not wanting to cry at work,” Jake said, winking at you when you smiled. He walked up to one of the sofas, sitting down and motioning for you to sit next to him, “So, we went to theirs that evening. I was shitting myself --” 

“Language!” Isabella shouted from the kitchen.

“Si, sorry Mama,” Jake replied, “I was nervous, and Y/n didn’t know, so obviously she kept telling me to ‘relax, it’s just dinner’,” he laughed, poking you in the ribs, “So I asked and he said yes. His wife told me to call her sisters to see if they knew what Y/n might want, which I did as soon as I got home and they told me that they had a ring that her grandmother had left in her estate. We used one of the rings her sister Audrey ‘forgot’ to give back to her to get the ring resized and then we set about figuring out how I would get the ring. Now, at Thanksgiving we briefly floated the idea of a road trip and I figured it was the perfect cover to get the ring, then I emailed our Father here and asked if there was any way we might be able to work it into Mass. He obviously said no, but he offered to ask the choir to stay behind an extra fifteen minutes. So, after Mass this morning, while Gio very kindly herded you all far away, I proposed,” he explained.

“Aww, did he do a speech?” Sofia asked you, sitting down on the arm rest of the sofa chair her husband was sitting on. 

“Yes, it was very cute,” you replied, looking at Jake for a moment, then you looked at her conspiratorially, “I cried,” you whispered.

She winked at you, “Did he cry?” she asked. Jake didn’t answer but his silence was telling enough, “Oh Bambino, if you cry at the proposal, how will you be during the wedding?” she laughed.

“Speaking of weddings, have you guys already thought of a date?” Alessa asked, rocking Bianca in her arms. 

“We were thinking Spring next year,” Jake replied. 

The questioning lasted for a while longer. It only stopped when Gio stood up and clapped his hands together, “I’m off to the airport,” he announced.

As soon as the words left his mouth, Isabella flew into a frenzy. She loaded you and all her children with chores and tasks until Gio’s truck pulled into the driveway and Cyclone, Elisabeth and your sisters jumped out of the cab. By the time they did, the house had been cleaned from baseboards to chandeliers and garage to attic, the bedding had been changed, washed and dried, and enough food to feed a small army battalion had been made. Tony had even been sent to the shop to fill up the drinks’ fridge. 

Gio opened the front door, ushering the shocked group of guests into the house, immediately upon seeing their sister, Annie and Audrey both said, “You didn’t tell us he was rich too.” 

You felt a blush spread over your cheeks in embarrassment, thankfully Isabella came to your aid, “Oh, it is so good to finally meet you two, Y/N has told us so much about you both. I’m glad you like the house, it’s been in the family for generations.” 

Pushing out a breath, you plastered a smile to your face, “Yes, Annie and Audrey this is everyone,” you said, slowly going over the whole Seresin clan in detail. 

When you finished you were pulled into a hug by Beau, “I’m so happy for you,” he whispered in your ear.

“You didn’t give him too much trouble did you?” you asked him, “When he came to ask?” you clarified. 

“No, okay well maybe a little, I had to have some fun,” he said defensively and you laughed. 

Lizzie pulled you into a hug next, “Let’s see the ring,” she said, taking your hand gently in hers, “It’s your grandmothers?” she asked. 

“Yes, she wore it every day for seventy years,” you said at that moment Annie cut into the conversation, “We wanted you to have it,” she said, “I’ve been saving it since she passed.” 

“Thank you,” you said, tearing up a little. 

“Now, now,” Isabella said, fanning her own eyes, “No more tears on such a happy day. Dinner will be done shortly. Maria, will you show the Simpsons up to their rooms?” 

Annie and Audrey didn’t bother to correct her assumption of their last name, and you saw a smile spread across Beau’s face. Giving him one last side hug, you made your way into the kitchen to help Isabella finish up with the meal. 

Dinner went smoothly and by the end of the night, everyone was laughing together like old friends. Now the only people you had left to tell were the team, well besides Bob. Hopefully they wouldn’t be too shocked with the news. 

—

Later that night, you were getting ready for bed in Jake’s room, he had been booted to the couch due to the influx of visitors, when there was a knock on the door. Turning around, you found Annie standing there holding two mugs of tea, “Mind a little company?”

“With you? Never. Where’s Audrey?” you asked, taking the cup from her and taking a seat upon Jake’s bed. 

“She’s talking with Maria, apparently they are bonding,” Annie said with a smile, “I have some good news!” 

“Ohh, tell me more!” you said excitedly. 

Annie paused for a moment before continuing, “Well, Rooster and I have been texting.” “Oh that’s so good. He is perfect for you,” you said, “How do you like him?” 

“Well he is so sweet when he wants to be, and he sends me memes that he thinks are funny, he is a goofball, but I think I really like him,” she said, looking down at the cup in her hands. 

Setting your hand on top of hers, you said, “I’m really happy for you Annie. I hope things with Rooster work out.” 

“Me too, then we would have to double down to find Audrey someone,” Annie said laughing. 

The two of you sipped your tea and chatted. You didn’t get to catch up with your sisters often, and with the line of work that you were in, you tried to take every opportunity to do so when you had time. 

When you both started to feel tired, you took the cups downstairs. Jake was already asleep on the couch, his nerves must have tired him out. Bending down, you pressed a kiss to his cheek, brushing your fingers across his forehead moving a piece of his hair back in place you whispered, “I love you.” You pulled the blanket that had made its way down to his waist up to his shoulders before heading up to bed. 

—

“Guys, last call!” Penny shouted to the remaining eighteen patrons of the Hard Deck. It was getting late, or early, depending on how you looked at it. Still over the moon after what happened in Texas, you and Jake had decided the night was still young, and while no one but the two of you knew the occasion, there was much to celebrate.

With this in mind you fought the sleepiness and the comfortable warmth Jake’s arms were providing and left the couch to order a drink at the bar. 

“I’ll just have a sugar-free Pepsi, Penny, please,” you asked. 

“Not a big drinker?” A voice next to you asked. It belonged to a man about your age, dark curly hair, brown eyes and the kind of smirk that sent shivers up your spine. You recognised him from somewhere and when he spoke you remembered seeing him hug Jake at the Christmas market, “Do I know you, I feel like I know you?” 

“No, I don’t think you do,” you replied, eager to get away. Penny hadn’t given you your drink yet, but you figured you would wait where the officer wasn’t likely to follow, seeing as he had very wisely chosen not to approach the dagger squad all night. 

“Well, I think I’d like to,” he said, blocking your path with his arm. The smirk remained, but whatever warmth he had in his eyes earlier had vanished now. You looked at the team, trying to catch their eye but they had all bunched up by Fanboy to watch something on his phone. None of them were even looking up. You tried to seek help from Penny, figuring that if anyone had the power to throw him outside it would be her, but her call for last orders had brought a nice throng of people by the bar top and she remained occupied. 

“I’m not interested,” you said, trying to push past him. As soon as he felt you fight his arm, he moved his entire body in front of you, effectively sandwiching you between the bar and himself and hiding you from anyone who could possibly come and save you.

“Sure you are, doll. My name is Dylan,” he replied, moving closer to you, “That’s a pretty necklace you have there,” he added, pointing towards the golden rosary. You had worn it every day since Jake had gifted it to you, taking it off only to sleep and shower. It was something you held impossibly dear, and yet, if you had thought it would get him away from you, you would have gladly ripped it right off of your neck. 

“You a catholic? I like the catholic,” he started, “especially the girls,” he said with a wink, “they’re all so… Innocent. Are you innocent?”

“Please leave me alone,” you said, your skin starting to crawl from here he had his hand on you. 

He pouted, “Aww, I’m sorry. Am I making you uncomfortable? That’s a shame. I really don’t mean to…” he said, moving one of his hands to touch a strand of your hair that had fallen from your clip onto your shoulder, “I’m just asking questions, getting to know you better, you know?”

“Please, leave me alone,” you repeated, more self-assured and louder this time. Still he did not move or let you go. He cocked his head to the right and looked you straight in the eyes.

“Pretty girl like you, I bet you’re a good catholic girl. I bet you’re waiting for your prince charming. Tell you what sweetheart, how about I show you a good time while you wait,” he winked, “Tell me honey, do you still have that schoolgirl uniform lying around? We’ll put it to good use.”

“I’m sure we will, isn’t that right, baby? I’m sure it’ll be great when we need it to mop your blood off of the fucking floor,” Jake appeared behind the man, towering over him with a dark look on his face, Dylan turned around as soon as he heard the menacing tone of voice with which your fiancé was speaking, “Bobby, why don’t you show Y/n that video you took at church last Sunday, I think Dylan and I are going to go for a walk,” he added, still staring straight at the man. 

Once you slipped past the both of them and into Bob’s reassuring arms, Jake grabbed Dylan by the collar of his service uniform and all but dragged him outside, Rooster and Coyote following close behind. Bob rubbed circles on your back as he guided you back to the sofa, making sure to seat you somewhere where you wouldn’t be able to see Jake. 

----

“Dylan, what the fuck are you doing?” Jake said as soon as the Hard Deck’s front door closed behind them. He walked off of the deck, still holding tightly onto the kid’s khakis. Once he set foot on the concrete parking lot, he swung his arm around, letting go of the kid and watching him hit the floor with a satisfying thud.

Dylan stood up quickly, limping slightly as he took a few steps back. He wiped his hands clean of gravel and grime onto the front of his trousers, inspecting the tiny cuts and future bruises his fall had caused. 

“What’s your problem, Seresin? You might have run shit at home, but you ain’t running shit in San Diego,” Dylan said, spitting at the floor in front of Jake. 

Jake took a few steps forward until he stood a few feet in front of the kid, “That was my fucking fiancé, kid,” he said.

“Huh,” the kid smiled slyly, “Not that innocent after all,” he added. 

By the time Rooster and Coyote had sprung into action, Jake’s fist had already connected with Dylan’s head, knocking him out cold even before he hit the floor. Rooster walked up to the kid, checking him for any signs of serious injury while Coyote tried to stop Jake from kicking the man and finishing the job. 

“Hey, hey, take it easy, dude,” Rooster said, jumping to Coyote’s side once the other man started struggling against Jake’s strength, “You need to calm the fuck down,” he added.

Jake took a few deep breaths, “I’m good, I’m okay,” he panted. The fight had been one of the shortest of his life, but the adrenaline had the same effect it always did and made him breathless. He bent down with his hands on his knees for a second before standing back up, only to immediately bend down again when Coyote drove his fist into his stomach, “What the fuck was that for?” 

“Fucking fiancé dude?! You proposed? I thought I was your best friend, man!” Javi exclaimed.

“I’m sorry,” Jake said, wincing from the pain, “We haven’t told anyone. Wanted to ask you to be my best man at the same time…”

“Yeah, whatever, dude,” Coyote said, pushing past him. He reached the door before turning around, “Wait, what?” he asked incredulously, “Are you serious, best man?”

“Yeah, obviously. I just -- you know, ask properly. Not in the middle of a fucking parking lot next to a knocked out asshole,” Jake replied, gesturing around him at the parked car and Dylan, groaning as he came to. 

“Yeah, that’s fair…” Coyote finally said, “Huh, Jake Seresin, walking down the aisle… Well I never,” he added with a wide smile.

“And the first one too,” Jake laughed.

“Congratulations man,” Rooster clapped him on the back, “Engagement suits you. You look good.” 

“I am good, Bradshaw. Very good,” Jake replied with a smirk, “I’m over the fucking moon, man. It was the scariest thing I’ve ever had to do,” he admitted with a nervous laugh. 

“How did you do it?” Coyote asked as he and Rooster joined Javi near the door. 

“I proposed after church one day, we went up to the front while my family was waiting outside and went down to one knee and proposed,” Jake said, a far off look on his face. 

“Sounds nice,” Rooster said, grinning at him, “How about we get you a drink? My treat, man.” 

Rooster opened the door, calling over to the bar, “Penny! Could you get Jake one last whiskey please, and put it on my tab, would ya?”

“Ooh, what are you celebrating?” She asked with a laugh.

Jake shot you a look, asking for permission to reveal your secret. When you nodded, he smiled, “I proposed,” he said. Penny cheered loudly, going to grab her nicest bottle of whiskey and pouring him a double. You joined Jake by the bar. 

“Hang on. I don’t get it,” Harvard slurred, “You proposed to that kid?”

Jake looked at Harvard, then at you, and back at Brigham again, “Yes Brig. I proposed to the kid. He tried out one of the pickup lines he used on Y/n and I just felt so overcome by love and adoration that I proposed on the spot,” he deadpanned. Raising his arm for you to slot into.

“‘At’s nice, man. ‘S very nice. How -- how‘re you going to tell Y/n?” He asked, leaning forwards towards Jake and falling flat on his face.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink, dude,” Yale said, picking up his friend and sitting him down on one of the comfortable sofas. He removed Harvard’s pint out of his hand, and by the time he had put it down on the pool table, he had already fallen asleep.

Once that commotion had blown over, the rest of the squad descended upon you and Jake with questions and Congratulations. After another hour, Penny finally closed down the bar, ushering you all into the parking lot. Jake climbed into your car, folding himself into the passenger seat of your Mini Cooper. 

You stopped in front of his apartment building, putting the car in neutral and engaging the handbrake to allow you to give Jake a proper goodbye. You leaned over to him and kissed his lips, cupping his face with one hand. When you came up for air, he leaned his forehead against yours and whispered, “Goodnight, future Mrs. Seresin, I love you.”

“I love you too, Mr. Seresin. Sleep well,” you replied. He unbuckled himself and opened the passenger door, kissing your lips one last time before leaving the car and walking up the stairs towards his apartment. 

#hangman #jake hangman seresin #hangman top gun #hangman x reader #hangman seresin #hangman fanfiction #hangman fic #hangman imagine #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #top gun

[hypnolurker]

The Lost Time Traveler

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.

*****

When Maria stepped through the temporal rift she had no idea where it would take her or even if she would survive. She was a very inquisitive researcher and the only one in her department with no family tying her down and brave enough to actually go through this thing. They had already performed tests to determine that it was stable and theoretically she should be able to travel through the rift unharmed and end up in a different time period. There was no real way of knowing if it was true however until she courageously took the first steps through the rift.

Armed with a notebook and a camera to record her surroundings she headed through. It was nerve wracking, taking that first step forward into the unknown. She felt she should make a speech, one small step for man or some such spiel. However she found herself far too nervous and anyway only a couple of her coworkers from the research institute were there as the general public had been kept from the rift for safety concerns. She moved ahead, plunging into the rift and seeing nothing but pitch black void as her whole body started to get sucked further into the terrifying portal. Her heart raced so fast and she couldn't breath as her vision blurred for a second and all her senses were dimmed as reality around her warped and swirled like a freakish dream.

Then she was through. Almost instantly she was simply standing in a field that stretched as far as the eye could see. The sun beat down on her back as she stared blankly trying to compute what she had just experienced. Her mouth was agape and she simply shivered in excitement and relief. She actually made it!

What's that smoke? Oh god!

She threw the camera to the side as it seeped gray wispy smoke and crackled. The rift must have interfered with the electronics somehow. This was important to take note of, not to mention highly frustrating as there would be no video record of her groundbreaking first trip through time. She jotted down her observations in the notebook.

"Successfully passed through temporal rift. No injuries to report. Camera has been rendered unusable, presumably by interference from rift. I am in a field which appears to be part of some farmland, there is a small building in the distance which may be a farmstead or barn. I will approach and attempt to ascertain whether I have indeed achieved a temporal shift and, if so, determine the current year." She noted before marching off towards the building.

She knew that she had a limited time to investigate the area before she had to go back to the rift, which would only stay open for a certain amount of time before collapsing. Based on models her team had made using data from several similar rifts, they predicted that this one would remain stable for approximately one hour after she passed through. As a safety precaution, she had been instructed to return as soon as possible, and no later than 30 minutes after entry. While this information hung in the back of her mind, Maria had just arrived and intended to make the most of her time here. She began to explore and slowly approached the building.

When she reached what looked to be a not too shabby barn area she noted the architecture. This wasn't modern. When was it built? She wasn't a history buff and thinking about it, that was somewhat of an oversight in the planning of this expedition. Still it seemed judging by the cleanness of the air and the lack of any recognizable cities or landmarks in her vision that she had indeed traveled a significant amount backwards through time.

She wandered into the barn and looked through the stables. Inside there were horses braying and shifting their hooves and they quickly drew her attention as she took a moment to admire them. What a beautiful horse this one was, chestnut brown with a long dark mane and-

Shit! A creak from behind startled her but it was too late for her to react. In an instant, large arms reached out from behind and snatched her up. They wrapped tightly around her and crushed her chest as she struggled and screamed. A man's voice was yelling behind her but she couldn't understand what he was saying. Perhaps she was just unable to concentrate as she desperately fought for freedom. It was useless though. Maria was a petite and frail scientist and this man seemed brutish lay strong as he squeezed the air out of her lungs with his beastly, hairy, muscle bound arms.

Eventually she gave in and let her body relax in submission. She couldn't escape him and she realized that. Her notebook had dropped to the ground and she stared at it as the man dragged her to another part of the barn where he picked up an old, filthy looked brown sack and roughly yanked it over her head. He tied her arms with rope behind her back to a post and she heard his footsteps as he left the barn.

What the hell? She was sobbing in darkness as she tried to figure out what had happened. Who was that man? The farmer? Why did he just assault her and put a bag over her head? She pulled against her bindings but they were tight rather tightly and effectively and all she managed to do was work up a sweat as she wriggled around on the floor of the barn.

Then it struck her. She had to get out soon. The rift could close in less than an hour and if she didn't get back she would be trapped in this time zone. Permanently. Her thrashing grew more urgent and needy but it still failed to budge the thick rope around her wrists.

After some amount of time her heart sank as the man returned. She heard a distinct clunking as something metal dragged behind him. Then she found out what it was as she felt him grabbing her neck and clasping a massive, heavy iron collar around it and locking it up tightly. She felt the chain hanging from it sway as he shackled her to the barn.

"Please! Please stop! I have to get back to my time. You must have seen the rift in your field. It's important! You have to release me!" She begged, muffled somewhat by the sack which blocked her vision.

When the man replied she didn't know what to say. His dialect was so strange she could barely make out what he was saying but it was English. She must have gone further back than she realized if English sounded like that though. Through her hood she quietly shivered and listened as he rambled. Something about her trespassing. He thought she was...foreign maybe. Putting her in her place? She whimpered and continued to listen and poorly translate his confusing version of the language. He intended to keep her chained here and...oh god he was going to torture her. Then...sell her? That couldn't be legal even if she was in the past!

She continued to plead and beg but the farmer kicked her and told her to be quiet. He just assumed she was some kind of foreigner speaking another language and didn't attempt to understand or communicate with her. Instead her began cutting away at her clothes with a shape blade. Maria felt its cold edge grazing her skin as he carelessly tore away her clothing. He remarked something about them being inappropriate for a woman and her being better suited to sitting naked in the hey.

Maria could only sulk and whine as she felt the reality of her situation. The shackles were solid. She couldn't even see and there was just no way she could escape. No one would come through the rift after her and it would probably close soon. Then she would be trapped her in the past with this disgusting farmer to rape and abuse her. Then sold into sexual slavery, likely shipped off to some place around the world and then forced to live in filthy with no communication with her home country or chance to start a new life.

The farmer grunted and a confused Maria wasn't sure what was going on until she felt something hot and meaty rubbing up against her chest. She pulled away but that didn't stop the warm stream of piss flowing into her chest and cascading down her body as this disgusting farmer urinated on her like she was some kind of human toilet!

That was just the start though. He wasted no time in shoving her to the floor and forcibly spreading her legs. He held her down as she wriggled and begged, rubbing the tip of his throbbing cock against her opening for a while before sliding straight in with a grunt. She felt a glob of spit hit her crotch as he yelled something about her being defiled and a whore. About her natural place being a pathetic slut who serves men.

It would have just been offensive slurs that seemed insignificant compared to the way he was raping her vulnerable slit. Except that she couldn't help wondering if she was actually in a time when women were just slaves to men. Maybe he was right. Maybe in this period she would be seen as no more than a dumb, inferior piece of meat to be fucked and mocked. Even if she could escape she may never be treated like a person again.

There was something so disturbing about that as she felt him thrusting into her. He fucked her for hours, pumping cum into her pussy and ass as she laid there and accepted it. Her head was covered and she was reduced to a squirming set of holes as the farmer emptied himself into her. Slapping and beating her breasts until they were sore and bruised. Squeezing her throat until she choked to make her hips bounce on his cock. Using her as a pathetic doll to fuck and abuse.

The rift was closed. That old life in the future just a memory now as she began to adjust to her new life. It was degrading and filthy and dehumanizing but as she resigned to becoming a fucktoy for this farmer and whoever would buy her afterwards she felt like she could...learn to enjoy it. She could learn to like being pounded and coated in jizz. She could learn to like being pissed on and mocked and treated like an inferior cunt. She could...learn her place.

In this era, she wasn't a scientist or an adventurer or an equal member of society. She was a worthless cunt and it was really sinking in now. It didn't take long after that for the farmer to break her in. Teach her about what a woman was for. Fucking. Cleaning. Drinking cum and moaning like the horny idiots they are. She knew it was true. That was what she was for now. She was just his property. It actually made her excited now. Made her squirm and drip. Being his pathetic cum-dump. Something had snapped in her head and she found it easier to just embrace it. Take pleasure in being jizzed in and spat on and treated like a stupid little cunt.

In the future she was remembered as a pioneering scientist and explorer. A role model and brave woman. In this time she was a whining piece of meat for the amusement of men.

#mindbrokensluts #story #not mine #Reconstruction

[jimblejamblewritings]

not a soldat | part 5.

Summary: Y/N L/N is not a superhero. No serums, no agencies. Just a civilian from a long line of family that’s served in the military. Y/N’s a history buff and bit of a spy in her own special way. This somehow lands her in trouble she never saw coming and straight into the hands of Falcon, Captain America, and Black Widow… if she doesn’t get caught in the unbreakable grasp of the Winter Soldier first.

Warning for the Series: violence, angst, slow burn

Pairing: Bucky x black!reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist) 

You knocked twice and then once, Bucky knew it was you right away and all the locks were unlocked so you could see him completely.

“Are you ready?”

He smoothed out his jeans and nodded. You looked at the gloved hand, wondering when you would see the metal— you hadn’t since being in Romania. You and Bucky decided to go on a proper outing that wasn’t just for groceries. The two of you had talked the night before and agreed that with the two of you and no dangerous encounters yet, one nonessential outing wouldn’t hurt.

“Do you have it?”

You lifted the dress hem slightly. Not that you could forget the knife if you tried. It was a security blanket at this point.

The outing wasn’t super extravagant. It was to a little antiques shop near the market but it was more than either of you had done. You roamed the small but cramped store looking for gifts to send back to your family. Bucky thought maybe he would decorate his apartment too, make it more of a home like you did. But he couldn’t bring himself to make the space more than what it was— a hideout. The last time he had a comfortable space that was his own was his room in his family home. Before he got shipped out to war.

He watched you pick up little trinkets and place them in the shopping basket. So far in the bag you had Russian nesting dolls, a little jewelry box, a small pocket watch, and an ancient cookbook of recipes. The two of you didn’t talk about anything past you reading his notebooks but occasionally—  when you had to answer the phone while he was there— he had heard enough conversations with your family to figure out which present was for which family member.

You took the shopping basket to the cashier, you didn’t find presents for all of your family but you would get them something later. Bucky watched you swing your backpack onto the counter to get your wallet, the clinking of your family’s dog tags that were tied to a strap caught his attention.

He had looked at them one day when you were in the bathroom— he couldn’t help it, he was curious to know why you were so invested in stuff like this. Bucky thought you were a vet too or someone that was in active duty before having to hideout. But he never found your tags. He did however see every other person in your family. He realized while you weren’t a soldier, war seemed to follow wherever you went and surrounded you. After seeing the tags, Bucky swiped one of your books to read.

For several days he would sit on his couch and go through the book. You didn’t bullshit the stories. You told war and the military like it is, nothing glorified. Just raw stories of soldiers and the fact that sometimes shit sucked. Bucky liked that and he trusted you a tiny bit more with the notebook. You had respect and reverence for the vets but didn’t once forget how unpretty it could really be at times.

He became fascinated with your Tuskegee Airmen stories. One of the Howling Commandos was supposed to be an Airmen before finding himself on the frontline with the 107th that had gotten captured. Bucky didn’t know much about the Airmen and wanted to read about his fellow military members that were treated like shit in an already shit war. You only had a few stories in the particular book he read but Bucky wasn’t ready to ask you if you had any more. So he silently put the book back before you noticed it was gone and hadn’t brought it up since then.

You thanked the cashier and left the shop. You had a full bag, Bucky had empty hands. The market was bustling and you let Bucky take over all the transactions. You wondered how many languages he spoke— obviously time as the Winter Soldier meant they trained him in multiple. The two of you found a bench in the park and sat down, the food in between you guys. Bucky whipped out his knife to cut up the two apples into slices. He made a point to sit on the left of you so when he handed you a slice it was always with his flesh hand, even though both were gloved.

“I’m almost finished with the very last part of the notebook.”

“Thank you so much for doing this for me, seriously.”

“I’m happy to help, Bucky. I wish I could get it done sooner but S.H.I.E.L.D. has me working on government documents that are no longer US, lots of translating.”

“Take your time. You’re a government worker now?”

“It’s not that fun, especially all the secrets.”

Lunch ended like most things did with you and Bucky, silently. You walked back to the apartment building both relieved that the outing went well. Maybe you could do more, Romania seemed to be a safe space for both of you.

“Your delivery.”

Bucky pointed to the two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents in their standard Hawaiin shirt attire on the building next to yours. Without much thought, he followed you into your apartment to make sure you were safe. The package flew through the window once you opened it. It was smaller than usual but you took it to the table like always. Bucky watched you drop to the floor before he could catch you. His shirt was becoming soaked with tears by the second. Bucky grabbed the box from the table as best as he could while you were crumpled in his arms.

It was another pair of dog tags but not a note from your younger brother— a note from your mother instead. This was the ugly side. Bucky put the box back up on the table and helped you stand. He gave you a once over, rough gloves scratching at your face when he tried to wipe at your tears with his thumbs. After making sure you wouldn’t collapse on the floor again, Bucky left knowing you needed time to yourself.

It had been five or six days since he had last seen you so the knock on his door was welcoming, he scrambled to find his gloves. Despite the obvious tear stains you were still dressed up. Even in distress, you wouldn’t let anyone— not even Bucky— see you in any state that made you appear less than. You gladly accepted the mug of tea, Bucky was not a coffee person— caffeine was too on edge and he liked things that were calming.

“He was in the air force, my younger brother.” You stared at the cup of tea.

Bucky took the floor while you were on the couch.

“Chose it after learning about the Tuskegee Airmen. We were the closest, us two. I didn’t even get to go to his funeral.”

Bucky almost reached out to pat your knee but drew back. You didn’t get to go to your brother’s funeral because of HYDRA, because of him. He just stayed in his position on the floor and listened to you talk.

“He was just so full of life, you know. My best friend. We should’ve been twins honestly, we always used to joke that he was a year too late in the womb or I was too early,” you chuckled a bit.

“I’m sorry (Y/N).”

“You don’t have to apologize. Nothing you and I could do about it… I finished your notebook, I didn’t mean for it to take so long.”

“You were going through something.”

“I, um, also got you this when I was out yesterday.”

Bucky was amazed that he hadn’t heard your door open or close. You must’ve slipped out after he had left for the market. You had drowned yourself in government notes to try and numb yourself from losing your brother but then you realized how unfair it was to Bucky and bought him an apology present. You pulled a notebook out of your bag and handed it to him along with the finished last section of his old book.

“I figured it might help if you started another one. Writing about your day or if any memories come to you. Maybe it’ll help you remember who you were, who you are now.”

Bucky took the notebook from you and flipped through the empty pages. He turned it over in his hands, looking at the leather bound book. You sipped the rest of your tea in silence before Bucky got up to turn on the radio. The slow folk songs on the radio paired with the calming tea lulled you into a sense of sleep. Bucky watched your eyes flutter before eventually staying closed. He took up his spot on the floor again and began to write whatever came to mind— the little glimpses of what he could remember under HYDRA’s imprisonment.

~~

You were so out of touch in your little bubble in Romania that the text from Nick about Ultron and a whole Avengers unit came as a shock. They were still tracking down who was after you but Nick was sure you could come home soon. New contacts were sent to your phone with the new Avengers— well, old Avengers from New York’s battle but they were new to you. Nick felt that he could trust them with the information of who you were to S.H.I.E.L.D. Sam was kind enough to update you on any mission they took and you made sure to never answer when Bucky was over, fighting was something you wanted to keep him far away from. You would update them but your work went farther than just S.H.I.E.L.D. It felt almost weird being in every country’s back pocket.

“Nick, what the hell is going on?”

You watched King T’Chaka on the television. He was in front of a UN press conference. It was all over the news, the incident between the Avengers and a small HYDRA team led by Rumlow. Wanda— a new member who you had yet to meet— caused a lot of damage. You were watching the clip of the upper floor of a building exploding. Whatever Wanda’s powers were, they were terrifying. She may have saved a lot of people on the ground but you couldn’t say the same for the people on that floor of the building.

“Nick, you guys need to do something about this. This is serious.”

“I know, I know. It was just—”

“Don’t say it was just a mistake. That might work for me but those governments are going to want answers. Wakandans died, Nick!”

“We’ll handle it.”

“You better.”

“This might delay your return home.”

“That’s fine, this is more important. Besides, I’ll take a mini vacation. Just handle it… and whatever the UN wants, give it to them.”  

You watched King T’Chaka finish his speech. “Victory at the expense of the innocent is no victory at all.”

You turned off the TV and dropped the remote on the couch. Sure, he was right. But if any country or government official wanted to act like they achieved victories peacefully, you had a bag full of dog tags and several books that pointed otherwise— Wakanda wasn’t innocent either.

~~

“Vienna isn’t too far from here,” you said, tentatively.

Bucky set down the fruit he was looking at. The wind ruffled your dress as if it was giving you the answer for Bucky. You shrugged at his raised eyebrow.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, (Y/N).”

“Maybe next month?”

Bucky sighed. “We’ll revisit it next month.”

You nodded and let Bucky grab your wallet from your backpack. It was the best you could hope for. You followed behind Bucky as you guys continued getting food for your lunch. He stood in line at the stand for drinks. Bucky almost froze up when he felt your forehead hit his back until you sighed.

“It’s hot.”

“You’re in a breezy dress.”

“It’s still hot.”

“I bought you a sunhat for a reason.”

“I couldn’t mess up my hair, my twist-out looked too good.”

Bucky said nothing for a moment but moved up in line, there was a momentary coolness from when your forehead was no longer against him before the warmth returned. He listened to your mumbles of complaint while he ordered. You reminded him so much of Steve sometimes, he felt himself slipping into his old self. Not his old self— his real self, before HYDRA took everything away.

“Thank you,” you said as you took the drink from him.

“You need to learn Romanian.”

“Teach me then. I don’t get how it’s so easy for you.”

“Okay, printesa,” Bucky snorted.

The two of you left the stand. Bucky naturally put out a hand to block you from stepping off the curb as the cars raced by. Your eyes glazed over as each car blurred by, there were surprisingly a lot of yellow taxis— you thought that was just a New York thing. Bucky wasn’t focused on the cars like you were but was looking at the man across the street running the newspaper stand.

You followed Bucky, a little confused, as he made his way to the newspaper stand. The man inside had run off as you two got closer. Bucky picked up the newspaper and you saw the headline plastered. You didn’t need to read Romanian to understand, the words Winter Soldier were written clearly. They were saying Bucky did something and it must have been a lie because he was with you every day.

“We need to get you home.” You pulled Bucky towards the path to the apartment building.

Bucky pushed you behind him as he walked into his apartment. You heard the static of something but caught the end word, Cap. You peeked out from behind Bucky who hadn’t said a word and was still standing at his front door, blocking your view.

“Steve?” you peeked around Bucky to see Steve holding Bucky’s notebook.

“(Y/N)? What are you doing here?”

“I live across from Bucky.”

You shook Bucky’s arm and he broke from his gaze at Steve. Bucky looked like he was a deer in headlights. You knew he wasn’t ready to see Steve who you also realized was dressed in his Captain America suit. If Steve was here and not to see you— he didn’t even know where your safehouse was— then it was for nothing good.

“I’m sorry.”

That was the first thing Bucky managed to muster.

“She told me, I just wasn’t rea…” the words died down in Bucky’s throat.  

“I get it, Buck.”

Bucky swallowed. “I wasn’t in Vienna, I don’t do that anymore.”

Your eyes flitted between Steve and Bucky. What didn’t he do? What happened in Vienna? Bucky didn’t tell you what the newspaper said as you two rushed home.

“Well, the people who think you did are coming here now and they’re not planning on taking you alive.”

Steve took a step closer and Bucky guided you behind him again. He turned his head slightly so you would know he was talking to you and not Steve.

“Go home.”

“Bucky, whatever they wa—”

“Go home, printesa. Do you have it?”

“Always, Bucky.”

He knew that. He had asked before you two left the building if you had the knife on you. Bucky was asking as a security measure. The three of you turned towards the door as you heard footsteps up the stairs. Steve and Bucky knew it was too late to send you into your house, they would see you coming from Bucky’s apartment. Bucky moved you to the other side of him, further away from the door.

“This doesn’t have to end in a fight, Buck,” Steve said.

“It always ends in a fight.”

“You pulled me from the river, why?”

“I don’t know.” You watched Bucky pull off both of his gloves— the first time you’d seen it since being in Romania.

“Bullshit.”

A canister flew in through the window, breaking glass. Bucky kicked it towards Steve who placed his shield over it. The canister exploded. Pounding started at the door. Bucky threw his little table at the door where it jammed to form a temporary blocker. You screamed as two armed men busted through the windows.

“He’s got a civilian,” one of the men yelled.

“Engage regardless.” You heard through the comm of one the guys.

“Floorboard,” Bucky told you.

You jumped as Steve punched out one of the men who had come through the door. As Bucky and Steve fought you raced to the floorboard that Bucky was talking about and pulled out his backpack, shoving his notebook into it. Bucky grabbed it from you and threw it onto the roof of the building next door. He grabbed Steve and threw his friend at one of the men. Bucky was carefully fighting, enough to stop them but not enough to kill anyone. He meant it, he didn’t do that anymore— kill innocents. And even though it was a mistake, they were innocent and just doing their job.

“How are we going to get her out?” Steve yelled as he stood back up.

Bucky raced to his front door, where they had just shot off the hinges. He and Steve raced past you to fight the men in the stairway. There was nowhere safe for you. You just had to duck and huddle in a corner in attempts to avoid bullets while waiting for Steve or Bucky to clear a path for you. Steve came back to grab you.

“Run past Bucky. Building next door.”

After saying that, he jumped from the top of the stairwell to another one below. You took in a deep breath before racing out the door. You took the stairs two at a time. The two men stopped fighting momentarily when they heard you scream as you watched a man fly off the balcony. Steve grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back up and threw him into a wall as you kept running.

“Really, Buck?” Steve asked.

Bucky just shrugged. You made it to the building that Bucky had thrown his backpack on, heaving as you got up to the roof. Bucky almost lost his fight with the man in front of him when he saw your dog tags. They had dropped off the backpack as you were running. Bucky scooped them up and kicked open the fire exit. His landing on the building next door was rough but the super soldier of course was fine. You threw him the backpack and Bucky shoved your dropped tags into your palm. He grabbed your hand to run— still his flesh one. So much was going through his head as he took your hand.

Once again, he felt the Winter Soldier was ruining your life. The concrete of the rooftop scraped your leg as you and Bucky fell. You looked up to see what had hit you. A man in a catsuit… with claws? Bucky threw his backpack to you and he began to fight. Sam raced down and scooped you up.

“Can’t put you down now but I promise we’ll get you out of here.”

It only made you more nervous as he flew. Sam knew there was no current safe place to drop you so he had to keep flying to wherever Steve and Bucky were. Which also meant towards the mysterious cat man and the bullets. You screamed as the man in the suit grabbed onto Sam’s wings when you guys had made it into the underpass. Sam threw you up and kicked the man off. He grabbed you before you could hit the ground. When you two landed near Steve and Bucky so did many black vans, the man in a panther suit, as well as someone you had gotten info on from Nick— Rhodey, in the War Machine suit.

“Stand down, now.” Rhodey aimed his weapons at the group.

“Let her go, she got caught in the crossfire,” Sam said.

“She’s with you.”

“Rhodey, she’s bleeding.”

“Bucky,” you yelled as they aggressively pushed him to the ground.

Your mouth opened in shock when the man in the suit took off his helmet. You had seen that face on the TV standing next to his father deliver a speech, Prince T’Challa. The men were all getting arrested aside from T’Challa. One of the army men approached you very aggressively.

“Come on,” Steve, Sam, and Bucky protested as they arrested you.

Rhodey finally broke. “Ease up on her a little… and get her a medic.”

(Part 6)...

#bucky x reader #avengers fic #marvel fic

[michpeach]

Movie magic

When I was 6 months old, my family moved from Zacatecas, Mexico to Southern California. I was too young to speak any language, but my parents and older sisters all only spoke Spanish.

Considering SoCal is so Latino/Hispanic heavy, it wasn’t a huge problem for them to get around, plus we had family here. But my mom recalls being in parent teacher conferences with my eldest sister’s teachers and her (semi) English-speaking and feeling useless. 

“Aquí estaban, hablando de mi hija frente a mí y no podía entender nada,” she said, which translates to, “Here they were, talking about my kid in front of me and I couldn’t understand a thing.”

She was determined to learn the damn language. Film/ TV was a big help. 

She watched Mr. Rogers with us, and rewatched 80s films (Top Gun was her favorite) she had seen in Mexico, but hadn’t cared enough to pay attention to their language then. She didn’t think she’d ever live in an English speaking country.

My dad did this, too. Of course, he worked most of the day so he missed out on Mr. Rogers and other kid shows, but we’d watch movies everyday. 

I guess I didn’t ever realize how many movies I’ve seen in my lifetime, until I started dating my boyfriend.

“I was busy playing outside,” he says. 

Well, I wasn’t. My mom was really protective (still is!) and we lived in an apartment complex in a not-so-great part of town. Sometimes, we’d go to the park or the library. But a lot of the times, we’d watch movies. 

Movies were enough.

To this day, I watch a ton of film/TV. It’s my favorite art form. Without it, I don’t know who I’d be.

So what are my favorite films, and why? 

 5) Fantastic Mr. Fox (2009)

Directed by Wes Anderson | Written by Wes Anderson and Noah Baumbach 

"I think I have this thing where everybody has to think I'm the greatest, the quote unquote 'Fantastic Mr. Fox' and if they aren't completely knocked out and dazzled and slightly intimidated by me, I don't feel good about myself."

Pretty profound words, for a fox.

This film is one of my favorites for a few reasons. In a very Wes Anderson-esque way, the film is just gorgeous and symmetrical which I find mesmerizing. I've always been curious about claymation and seeing a film like this just peaked my interest.

Aside from this, the story is just flat out great. A fox looking for a rush at the cost of his family and community; how does he fix things? Mr. Fox is a really well developed and dimensional character, with relationships that may seem familiar to some watchers, such as the one he has with his wife and son.

4) Frances Ha (2012)

Directed by Noah Baumbach | Written by Noah Baumbach and Greta Gerwig

"I'm so embarrassed. I'm not a real person yet."

A love letter to women in their 20s that don't know what they're doing with their lives.

I feel there are more coming of age stories about people in their teens than there are about young adults in their 20s, which is criminal because who really matures enough to truly "come of age" at 15/16/17. I know technically you're an adult at 18, but your brain isn't even fully developed?

This film really reassures me, as a 22-year-old, that it's completely fine to not know what you're doing. It's fine to float through life for a while.

It's part of the journey of life, eventually you'll land somewhere.

3) The Trial of the Chicago 7 (2020)

Directed and written by Aaron Sorkin

"Since this trial began, 4,752 US troops have been killed in Vietnam. And the following are their names"

Is there one right way to revolutionize?

I've never really taken myself as a history buff, but this film makes things fun. It's a story we don't learn about in classrooms.

The story of eight individuals tried in court for starting a riot at the 1968 Democratic National Convention. But was it really them? And did everyone at the defendants table need to be there?

The film itself is a riot. It's quick, but also poses questions about ethics behind badges and benches, which are questions that remain unanswered even today.

2) Little Women (2019)

Directed by Greta Gerwig | Written by Greta Gerwig Sarah Polley

"Life is too short to be angry at one's sisters"

I feel like anyone who has read the novel by Louisa May Alcott can understand what a wonderful and joyous group of girls the March sisters are.

Now mix that with Greta Gerwig's creative hand and some of the most beautiful costumes in the world and you get the 2019 film rendition of this beloved tale.

Aside from the story, the actors were just phenomenal in their delivery. I wouldn't expect less from Saoirse Ronan, Florence Pugh, Emma Watson, Timothée Chalamet (whom I'm in love with), Laura Dern, Bob Odenkirk, and the Meryl Streep. Wow! I hadnt even realized how many true stars were in this one. Amazing.

This is another coming of age film for women in their 20s. Sure, it's a different time entirely, but the message is the same. Women will, in their own time, know what's best for them.

1) Big Fish (2003)

Directed by Tim Burton | Written by John August

"I saw my death in that eye, and this isn't how it happens."

"So how does it happen?"

"Surprise ending. Wouldn't want to ruin it for you."

I have only seen my father cry in one movie, and this is it. Could it be the complex relationship between father and son shown on screen resonates with him? Or that is particularly a beautiful film? I've never asked him.

What makes me cry about this movie is that it's a build up to the ultimate ending. You see this man, slightly delusional, living his life through stories and you soon realize that perhaps its not an unfortunate way to live. It could be quite fulfilling.

I don't think I've ever seen another movie about wild imagination past adolescence, but it's a wonderful thing.

[back-and-totheleft]

Dive deep into a monumental movie career

Is there another living American director with a greater run of movies than Oliver Stone? The dozen films he directed over a span of 13 years, from 1986-1999, form a body of work unparalleled in contemporary cinema. They came one after the other — artful provocations, sometimes clouded in disreputable airs, that delved into recent history and modern-day affairs with a defiant ferocity and style: “Salvador,” “Platoon,” “Wall Street,” “Talk Radio,” “Born on the Fourth of July,” “The Doors,” “JFK,” “Heaven & Earth,” “Natural Born Killers,” “Nixon,” “U-Turn” and “Any Given Sunday.”

That stretch of movies brought Stone Oscar glory and Hollywood clout. It also influenced a generation of film buffs and critics, including Matt Zoller Seitz, who describes the streak in the preface to his book “The Oliver Stone Experience” this way:

“It’s hard to describe to somebody who wasn’t alive at the time (and old enough to see R-rated movies — Oliver never made films for kids) how thrilling it was to watch him gain confidence and skill and break fresh ground with each project. His movies were brash, confrontational, sometimes assaultive, often tawdry or nasty, greedily sensual, anti-bourgeois, and fueled by the urgent energy of an artist who wanted to make big statements on subjects that the mainstream preferred to avoid.”

This might sound like Stone, who turned 70 on Thursday, has retired, although of course he hasn’t. His more recent films (“Savages,” “Wall Street 2: Money Never Sleeps,” “W.”) haven’t had the impact his earlier work did, but his artistic fire remains. His new movie “Snowden,” which opened Friday, stars Joseph Gordon-Levitt as Edward Snowden, the NSA whistle-blower who revealed the extent of the invasion of privacy the U.S. government had resorted to post-9/11 to combat home-grown terrorism.

The film, which reportedly cost $50 million, was made with the participation of the real-life Snowden, who currently lives in Russia and makes a cameo in the movie. The large cast — Shailene Woodley, Melissa Leo, Rhys Ifans, Tom Wilkinson, Timothy Olyphant, Nicolas Cage — could earn the attention of Oscar voters (the distributor is Open Road Films, which released last year’s Best Picture winner, “Spotlight.”)

“Snowden” is discussed in the last chapter of “The Oliver Stone Experience:” Seitz links the film to the theme of “The Beast,” or the military-industrial complex, that recurs throughout Stone’s work. But most of the 480 pages of this massive, six-pound volume, which you don’t so much read as you spend time with, are devoted to Stone’s life and career.

The bulk of the book is Q-and-A conversations between Seitz and Stone, drawn from more than 100 hours of interviews conducted from 2011-2015, that cover everything from Stone’s childhood to his tour of duty in Vietnam; his film school education at NYU (Martin Scorsese was one of his professors) to his early work as a screenwriter (including “Scarface,” “Year of the Dragon” and “Midnight Express,” for which he won his first Oscar); his smaller, lesser-known projects, such as his ambitious 10-part documentary “The Untold Story of the United States,” which Stone calls his best work, or his controversial interviews with Fidel Castro; and an endless number of irresistible anecdotes, such as the director’s combative relationship with producer Dino De Laurentiis, his original vision for “Conan the Barbarian” (a 12-film series) and his opinion of Stanley Kubrick’s “Full Metal Jacket” (Stone didn’t like it the first time around but grew to love it).

Seitz, who is best known as the TV critic for New York magazine, is also a veteran movie critic who was a 1994 Pulitzer finalist for his reviews for the Dallas Observer, wrote trenchant criticism for the now-defunct New York Press and is the editor-in-chief of RogerEbert.com. He has written two books about the films of Wes Anderson, elegantly illustrated in the style of Anderson’s movies.

But “The Oliver Stone Experience” is his biggest, most ambitious project to date. The book is a combination of film criticism (“For all its gore and cruelty … [‘U-Turn’] is ultimately a comedy about the universe’s indifference to our wants”), biography (Stone talks frankly about his parents’ divorce and losing his virginity to a prostitute his father hired for him), world history (extensive endnotes, compiled by Seitz and Keith Uhlich, annotate everything from Greek mythology to the Black Panther party) and coffee-table photography (the book is lavishly illustrated with photos, script pages, artwork, film frames and Stone’s personal memorabilia). The attention to detail is scrupulous: Short footnotes throughout double as a concise encyclopedia of popular culture (on Josh Brolin: “Ruggedly handsome leading man who is starting to feel like the next-generation Nick Nolte as he ages”).

Stone can be a prickly interview subject, but he’s also an uncommonly eloquent and informed artist who doesn’t back down from his opinions. When Seitz asks him about a controversial statement he made during a public panel discussion in New York City shortly after 9/11 in which he compared the attack to “a French Revolution moment,” Stone replies “I was on a stage and I was impassioned, but I meant those words. There’s nothing false in what I said.” Despite all the criticism he’s withstood throughout his career, Stone often comes off as surprisingly humble and vulnerable, although he doesn’t shy away from disagreement (on Seitz’s interpretation of “Talk Radio:” “You can criticize the movie, call it a five-finger exercise or whatever the f — — you call it later in the book. But at least try to understand what we’re trying to do.”)

“The Oliver Stone Experience” wouldn’t have worked if Seitz hadn’t prepared so well for his interviews with Stone, who is prone to running off on tangents. Seitz talks about the split diopter shots in “Talk Radio” as comfortably as he debates the currency of myth and how it relates to “Alexander,” Stone’s costly 2004 epic (Seitz may be the only film critic on the planet to have seen all four versions of the film, which add up to nearly 13 hours of movie). He spars with Stone about his portrayal of women in his early pictures, dives deep into the director’s editing techniques and use of film grammar and explores the autobiographical strands in his movies.

But what shines through brightest in “The Oliver Stone Experience” is Seitz’s profound admiration and respect for Stone’s work and, by extension, the man. The best critics are able to express how a piece of art affects their lives — they can personalize something by connecting with it on an emotional or intellectual level — and this lavish, beautiful book is as much a piece of serious criticism as it is an expression of pure movie love. When Stone tells Seitz he’s having a hard time picturing what kind of shape the finished book will take, Seitz tells him “It’s an Oliver Stone movie about Oliver Stone, but in the form of a book.” “The Oliver Stone Experience” turns out to be just that, complete with mysteriously redacted text like the Warren Commission report, gorgeous visuals, a sweeping sense of history and a bombshell revelation about the JFK assassination that Seitz saves for the final page — a last-minute plot twist before the end credits roll.

-Rene Rodriguez, Miami Herald, Sep 17 2016 [x]

#oliver stone #matt zoller seitz #the oliver stone experience #book reviews #miami herald

[moonlight-frittata]

I Don’t Need a Mechanic

Overwatch: Dva and Brigitte (a few others make appearances)

Word count: ~5500 

My take on when Dva meets Brigitte and the first month or so of them getting to know each other on base.

---

Six months Hana Song had been a part of Overwatch, and during that time she set a very strict precedent that no one, not even Winston or Athena the AI was allowed to touch her mech, Tokki. So seeing the back of someone inside the cockpit as she entered the Watchpoint Gibraltar hangar made her blood boil. 

“Excuse me!! What the hell are you doing??” 

The person’s body jerked, their head banging against the low roof of the cockpit ceiling they wedged their torso inside. Hana heard a short mumble of something incomprehensible and a long, thick ponytail of red hair retreated from the mech in a hurry. A very tall, buff young woman around Hana’s age emerged blushing with a sheepish grin.

“Ah! I’m so sorry, I couldn't help myself. I’ve always wondered what these Korean models looked like up close. But in hindsight I really should have asked first.”

Her accent was European, but it was hard for Hana to place with any real certainty. Could have been Scandinavian, remembering some of the players from Finland she competed against back in her pro days. 

“Yeah, you should have fucking asked.” 

The crimson hue on the tall, possibly Finnish trespasser’s cheeks faded and she held her ground, not scared off yet by D.va’s harsh tone.

“Right. Won’t happen again, I promise,” she said. 

Dva scoffed a bit and pushed past the buff intruder to look inside the mech to inspect if anything was out of place. A moment of stuffy silence passed between the two and Hana hoped the other girl would get the message and leave.

“I’m Brigitte Lindholm by the way.”

Hana let out an audible huff as a familiar freckled face appeared looking through the glass on the other side of her heads up display.

“Oh. Yeah, Fareeha warned me a new girl was joining,” Hana replied from inside the cockpit while she busied herself checking Tokki’s systems. 

“And you’re Hana Song, right?” Brigitte continued lightly, clearly unperturbed. “Or do you prefer to go by D.va?”

Hana paused at the mention of her gamer tag turned call sign. 

“It’s Lieutenant Song, actually.”

Brigitte raised an eyebrow at the curt reply, her smile fading to a neutral expression. It only dipped for a moment though as she extended her hand. 

It was an awkward gesture to shake hands from inside the mech, even though the front of the cockpit was partially open near the joysticks. Hana looked at Brigitte’s outstretched hand and gentle smile on the other side of the glass. Was this a joke? She pursed her lips and sized Brigitte up for a few tense seconds before reaching out. The grip was firm and Hana’s hand practically disappeared in Brigitte’s large palm.

“Lieutenant Song. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Hana sighed and rolled her eyes, a little of the bluster going out of her at the sincerity in Brigitte’s tone. Satisfied that no harm had come to the mech, she backed out of the cockpit.

“Just call me Hana. That rank doesn’t really mean anything here anyway. Lena will probably make fun of me if she hears you calling me Lieutenant.”

Brigitte walked back around Tokki to join her, a lingering hand tracing over the pink exoskeleton as she moved. “I’m surprised she doesn’t make you call her Captain.”

“Oh, she’s tried.”

Brigitte laughed. 

“Sounds about right.”

D.Va chuckled for a moment, briefly disarmed by the new stranger, before she remembered how this person was rudely poking around her stuff only moments before, and snapped back into her gruff demeanor. 

“Lindholm, you said? Like Torbjörn Lindholm?”

Brigitte sighed, clearly used to this connection.

“Yes. Genius engineer of Overwatch 1.0, founder of Ironclad Industries, husband to Ingrid, and father of way too many children, including yours truly.”

“So, you grew up in an Overwatch family?” Hana asked as her full attention focused on Brigitte for the first time in their conversation.

“You could say that,” Brigitte said. She picked up a silver ratchet resting on a nearby worktable, spinning the head around between her fingers and levering the handle back and forth, testing the weight distribution of the tool in her hand. 

Hana could tell there was more to the story than her new teammate seemed willing to let on. She found it interesting that Brigitte, who had been all candid smiles a moment ago when she was caught somewhere she shouldn’t be and oversharing to someone she just met, was now hand waving around the subject.  

Overwatch kids are pretty up their own asses about 1.0 normally. Wonder what her deal is...

This was what Hana was known for back in her pro days. Seeing a flaw in an opponent’s defense and breaking it wide open. But she needed to remember she only just met this girl, who would soon be her teammate. Maybe save that for another day. 

“Well, Lindholm. As long as you stay clear of my mech, I don’t see a reason we should have problems working together. What’s your specialty?”

Brigitte perked up at the change of subject.

“Support. Both base level engineering support and in the field. I've got my bachelor’s degree in mechanical engineering, and I’ve been working on Reinhardt’s gear for over a year now. Angela - I mean, Dr. Ziegler, is training me to be certified as a field medic.” 

“Tough job. Think you can handle the gore?”

A wry smile pulled at Brigitte’s lips, her head shaking back and forth in a small, bemused gesture as she placed her hands on her hips. 

“You don’t pull any punches do you, Lieutenant Song?”

D.Va crossed her arms, holding eye contact with Brigitte who matched her gaze with amusement. 

“The best shot caller in the world is just a loud piece of shit if her team isn’t up to the same standard. So yeah, I like to know who has my back and if she can handle herself.”

Brigitte regarded D.Va for a moment, her jaw working back and forth as if chewing on the approach she wanted to take in response.

“I’ve been patching up Reinhardt for a while now. If I’m honest though, I’m scared it’s not going to be enough one day. But that’s not what I need to focus on, and instead I’ll do the best I can to support the people here.”

The plain way Brigitte shared her apprehensions left Hana uncomfortable. She couldn’t imagine telling someone out loud she was afraid, especially on her first day. Though in truth, she herself felt scared shitless half the time while doing this work.

Brigitte’s smile was back. Did it ever leave that pretty face? It did suit her though, framed by the freckles and warm brown eyes. If this girl wasn’t built like a literal tank of 6 foot something muscle, Hana might have more apprehension about sending her out to fight Omnics and Talon. 

“Well Lieutenant Song, I think I’ve taken up enough of your time with my intrusion. Fareeha and Winston will be missing me very shortly for the rest of their planned orientation schedule,” Brigitte said as she carefully placed the ratchet she previously picked up back on the workstation, breaking the spell of awkward silence.

D.Va smirked, feeling tension leave her shoulders to match Brigitte’s playful demeanor. 

“Mmm, well now I understand why you were hiding down here.”

“Yes they are indeed quite enthusiastic and thorough with their material.”

She gave a wink and started to walk away, turning briefly to call over her shoulder.

“I noticed there was a small coolant leak under the left fusion cannon. Might get a bit sticky on the left hand.”

“Bye Brigitte, enjoy your 300 page orientation manual quiz.”

Brigitte waved once more and turned around, already so sure and familiar with the layout of the hangar and the base.

She’s just another Overwatch kid, and just another nosey engineer trying to get in my mech.

Hana lingered by her workstation, picking up the ratchet Brigitte had been fiddling with and thinking over their brief encounter again. 

Would this girl be a liability on the battlefield? Brigitte looked strong on the exterior, but then, so did Tokki. If you took away the mecha armor, inside was just a squishy human target bullets and fire could cut through like paper the second she was exposed and vulnerable.

Hana took a deep breath.

She walked around to the left fusion cannon and did indeed see the signs that a coolant leak was backing up inside the casing. Pretty subtle to spot with minimal visible damage to the exterior. 

Not bad, Lindholm.

D.Va pulled her headphones on, turning to her latest loop of pop songs to blast while she went to work removing the panels on the cannon to replace the broken coolant line. The task felt good, and helped her mind drift to thoughts other than her conversation in the hangar.

---

Hana didn’t see much of Brigitte the next few weeks. The new recruit was busy with training and learning mission protocols expected of field agents in addition to shifts with Mercy in the clinic to  fulfill the certifications Brigitte was required to complete. Hana would see her sometimes at dinner, often in a spirited conversation with Reinhardt or Lena. It seemed to take Brigitte no time at all to fit in amongst the old guard, but it seemed that’s what being the favorite niece of pretty much every person here would get you. 

Hana would half listen to their stories, always feeling awkward and out of place amongst their banter. Overwatch was like a family, but she was more like the stranger invited as someone’s plus one. Everyone seemed to have an ingrained familiarity with each other. A single word could trigger a whole series of anecdotes every person around had some personal insight to add on to. 

Remember this! 

Oh how is so and so?  

Damn, that was 5 years ago already? 

Even on her squad in Korea, she never had what they people here seemed to have. Dae-hyun was a close childhood friend and followed her into the MEKA squad, but the other pilots were a different story. There was always a bit of friction and distance with the rest of her teammates because of their history as pro-gamer competitors forced into an arrangement as teammates. It never really gelled beyond cordial coworker relationships. Hana’s celebrity status didn’t help either, only adding another barrier between herself and the others. The fame of D.Va closed her off in access to most people unless they were on the other side of a screen, and then they only saw a polished up version of herself. 

Not exactly the best way to get close to people.

Sometimes she was curious to learn more when she heard the Overwatch stories, but she always stopped herself before saying anything. It was easier to pull out her phone and queue up a game. Easy to pull back and ignore them, and usually they left her alone to do it.

She was okay with that. She was okay with keeping Hana and D.Va separate. She was okay with only polite greetings and trite platitudes. She didn’t need to know about the times from before, or what her Overwatch teammates did on the weekends. She just needed them to listen to her in the field and leave her room to make her plays. Like every time she started a new game, she didn’t have to focus on the past, or what others thought, she just had to focus on the objective in front of her. It’s what got the job done and what kept her alive.

---

Brigitte kept her word to stay out of Hana’s mech. She set up her own work station on the other side of the hangar where she worked on Reinhardt’s gear as well as her own. Hana would sometimes see the blue flash of a shield out of the corner of her eye over the hum of diagnostic scans or smell the burn of sparks from welding. 

One day curiosity got the best of her when she heard the loud, repetitive pounding of a hammer on metal and she wandered across the hangar. 

“You’re doing that by hand?”

Brigitte stopped working when she heard the voice behind her, the deafening echo silenced on the metal shoulder guard she was beating against.

“On this armor I do. Reinhardt’s gear is special from the time it was made. It has to be maintained with some older techniques.”

“Why?”

Brigitte looked at her surprised for a moment then laughed, loud and warm. 

“You know, I wondered the same at first. It’s a bit of the way this armor is made, modern techniques can be too harsh on it, interestingly enough. Too precise and it becomes too fragile.”

“That doesn’t sound true,” D.va said.

“Oh, questioning my methods huh? Well, maybe the truth is more I didn’t originally have the right gear out in the field, and Reinhardt didn’t have much modern tech either, so the only way to do it was by hand. But it’s nice actually to keep doing it this way, I like getting my hands dirty with it. Helps me relax.”

“See that I believe.”

“Well, I’m glad I have your approval, Lieutenant Song.”

D.Va rolled her eyes, but smiled a little.

“I told you before, you can just call me Hana. Although, I do like the respect of authority.”

“Lieutenant suits you.”

Hana smirked a little at the complement, turning to pick something up on a nearby table. She picked up one of Brigitte’s gauntlets, slipping it on her hand. Her arm sagged under the weight, the glove coming up well above her elbow.

“Is it exhausting wearing all this armor? How do you run around with it on? I can barely lift this thing.”

“There’s movement assist when the unit is turned on. But I mean, I think I can handle it.” 

Brigitte smirked as she made a show of flexing her well defined arms, and Hana couldn’t help but gawk a bit before she turned back to fiddling with the glove. 

“Um, yeah I uh, noticed you seem to be in good shape.”

“Oh yeah?” Brigitte was smirking, clearly enjoying the slight fluster she was causing in her new teammate. Hana put the glove back on the table and gave Brigitte a light shove on the arm.

“Oh give me a break, you know you’re buff. Do you even own a shirt with sleeves?”

“I’m very familiar with OW 2.0’s handbook, and the dress code is quite lax about on-base personal attire. But, mostly I just like hearing you complement me.”

Hana rolled her eyes. “Well, I’m glad you’re strong enough to move your ass around in this armor so you can protect my blindspots while I’m doing all the real heavy lifting.”

Brigitte laughed again. Hana couldn’t help but smile too at the warm sound. Brigitte’s whole face lit up, and her eyes crinkled around the edges. No wonder she was the favorite niece.

“Fair. I’ve seen your battle footage and some news clips when you were back in Korea. You’re so strong, I doubt you even need me.”

“Ah, another fan of D.Va. Well, who can blame you,” Hana said with a flick of her hair. She continued to walk around Brigitte’s workstation, picking up random pieces of armor. Brigitte didn’t seem to mind.

“Actually Reinhardt was the real die hard D.Va fan. We used to always have a stash of the instant noodles with your face on them in our rig. Great shelf life. I’m surprised he hasn’t asked you for an autograph yet.”

“Well he’s one to talk! Did you know, when I was a kid there was a Reinhardt special edition line of noodles? I remember I tried them once and they had such a weird flavor. It was like ketchup and curry powder or something. He had a pretty big fanbase in Korea actually.”

“Hah! I didn’t know that, but I’d believe it. There’s been so much Overwatch merchandise over the years, I’ve lost track. They were such celebrities back in the day.”

“Yeah.”

Hana knew a thing or two about having her image used for propaganda. She wondered for a moment what it was like for Brigitte, growing up amongst the same environment, but removed from the center of it. An image of her laughing in the cafeteria with the old guard flashed through her mind. She decided it must have not been too bad, and refrained from asking the question.

“Okay well, I’ll leave you to your meditative, hammer time. I need to get back to my mech anyway, I’ve got a mission tomorrow morning,” Hana said, turning to leave. Brigitte let out a long sigh, slumping into a chair. 

“Oh, it must be nice to leave the base.”

Hana stopped in her tracks, curious again, hearing such an outburst from Brigitte. She turned around and poked one of Brigitte’s large muscles near her shoulder.

“Oh come on, don’t be dramatic. You’ll be done with your training block soon. Fareeha is just, really particular before she lets anyone out on a mission. It took almost two months, and me breaking every score in the simulators for her to let me out in the field.”

“I know, I know. It just sucks sometimes feeling like everyone is being overprotective of me. I can handle myself, I’m not a little kid.”

Hana couldn’t help but give a little hmphf sound, her lips pulling down at the corners. 

“Yeah, I get that feeling. You can’t speed up time though, you just have to grind it out.”

Hana wasn’t normally one for listening to whining, but she thought Brigitte looked quite cute while she pouted, her arms crossed tight against her torso and her lip jutted out. It was hard not to laugh at the sight a bit, but Hana held her tongue. She really did know how it felt to want to prove yourself.

“Hey come on, there’s plenty of work you’re doing here that’s valuable. And when you’re ready, you’ll get called up and out there with the rest of us.”

Brigitte took a deep breath, seeming to blow out the negative feelings in one dramatic sigh. When she straightened up in her chair she seemed to be in better spirits, smiling at Hana again.

“You probably know better than anyone how to do that. Thanks Lieutenant, I’ll try. Let me know if my hammering gets too distracting. I can always go find something else to do.”

“It’s fine. I hardly noticed.”

“Well in that case, I’ll just be over here until dinner time.”

---

A few days later Hana almost threw her computer across the hangar. 

“Why is this piece of shit so useless!”

The MEKA diagnostic program she used to keep Tokki up to date was crashing every five minutes when she tried to run a scan of the system. It had slowly been degrading the last few weeks and after the latest mission it apparently decided it had enough. She tried every trick she knew, both from working on the mech for years and everything she could think of on her personal gaming rig, but she only had rudimentary coding skills and was vastly out of her depth.

“Everything okay?”

Brigitte’s gentle voice called out from a few feet away as she had stopped her own work to come see D.Va’s meltdown.

“Everything’s fine. Except I’m going to have to go throw this piece of crap, and then myself, in the ocean.”

“Sounds like a costly solution. What’s going on?”

“It’s fine. I’m fine, I don’t need anyone’s help.”

She could feel Brigitte’s sympathetic look burning into her cheek and hated it.

“Okay no problem. I’m around though, just let me know if you want an extra set of eyes.”

Hana stared at the email she had sent to Dae-Hyun the day before that still had no response. She knew her mech’s hardware inside and out, but he was the one who really handled all the intense computer program internals. She was out of her depth here and needed him to call her so she could get this thing working again, but he wasn’t answering. Maybe he was deployed somewhere or too busy with a social life now that she was gone. 

She had decided to come here for Overwatch. So maybe she should trust Overwatch.

“Brigitte, wait a minute.”

The other girl paused and turned, only having walked a few feet away from D.Va’s workstation.

“I could probably use some help here, if you’re still offering?”

Brigitte smiled, but it was more muted than her usual mega watt grin. Hana appreciated that she wasn’t making a big deal about it. 

God, why is this girl so nice.

“Definitely.”

Brigitte walked around the workbench where Hana set up her computer station and listened to the general description of the problems. As Hana started clicking through screens to show the protocol she usual ran, Brigitte held up a hand to make her stop.

“I understand what you’re saying, but looking at the text, I can’t read Korean. Does it have a translation setting?” “I doubt it. This thing was only meant to be used by the Korean MEKA squad.” Hana felt her stomach drop at how quick her hopes of getting this programming running were already dashed.

“Well lucky for us, Overwatch has some very robust translation tech we can utilize.” “Really? It’s not the AI is it? I’ve been so resistant to letting her in my computer.”

“That would be one possibility, but there are some more localized options we have. I’ve had to do this once or twice on one of my papa’s projects.”

“How long will it take?” “Don’t know! Could take a while, I’m not going to lie to you, especially with your program already acting buggy. But don’t worry Lieutenant, we’ll sort you out.”

Hana groaned, already having major doubts about letting Brigitte mess with her tech. But she didn’t have a lot of options, and this was probably the least embarrassing choice on the table at the moment. 

Brigitte moved back and forth between D.Va’s workstation and her own across the hangar, gathering cables and a laptop she would use to debug the system. Hana watched over Brigitte’s shoulder for a while, monitoring her work to get the translation program working on the MEKA diagnostic software. 

“Where’d you learn to do this type of thing?”

“Back in college. I had to learn a certain amount of coding for my major, but I helped out Winston some in his lab on campus and he taught me a lot of tricks too.”

“Jesus, is there literally anyone on this fucking base you don’t have some personal connection with?” 

Hana stepped away from the computer and dropped down into an empty chair with a huff, spinning the chair on its axis in erratic circles.

Brigitte stopped typing and watched Hana’s tantrum. “It bothers you that I’ve got a close connection to Overwatch?”

Hana did not reply, but crossed her arms and let out a frustrated sigh. Brigitte’s gaze held her for a moment but eventually shifted back to the computer screen as she seemed to weigh her thoughts on how to respond.

“Why did you leave the MEKA squad to join Overwatch?” she asked finally. “It doesn’t have the best history as an organization, you know.”

Hana stopped spinning to look at the side of Brigitte’s face, who’s eyes were still trained on the laptop screen. “Well it’s better to actually be in a fight than on the sidelines.”

Brigitte stopped what she was doing and turned to face D.va. “You’re the best pilot in the MEKA program. Why would you be sidelined?”

Hana let out a bitter laugh. “Best pilot? I was more than that. I was the face of the fucking Korean army! Which eventually meant I was too valuable to be an actual soldier.” Hana stood up walking to the end of the workbench, reaching out to touch one of her mecha’s guns. She couldn’t see Brigitte, but she could feel the other girl watching her.

“I got real banged up in a fight with the Gwishin. Like, probably should have died kind of banged up. I was out of action for months. After that, the army realized they couldn’t let the poster girl for their success stories die in an actual fight. So they moved me off the Busan base and deployed me to lead baby fights happening inland, but whose sole purpose was really just a photo op.”

Hana balled her fist in anger at her side, remembering how awful it hurt seeing images of herself on television in all those epic battle sequences, reporters singing praises of heroism, only to know the real truth that it was all a fabricated lie. She couldn’t stand it.

“So when Winston and Lena came to my apartment and asked me to join the new Overwatch, it was a no brainer. My piloting skills are too valuable to just be sidelined in a studio with a green screen.”

The MEKA squad team was fairly understanding when she told them. The same couldn’t be said for her commanding officers, but as D.Va, the amount of influence and money at her disposal proved sufficient for a smooth enough transition.

“I believed this was my shot to get back in the fight. So even if there’s some bad history there, this is a new chance for me, and I am ready to deal with any fallout.” 

Text whizzed by in the background of the computer screen as the console spat out a continuous stream of logs from the program Brigitte fired off as she listened in silence. 

“I never liked Overwatch. I still don’t,” Brigitte finally said.

Hana turned to face her, very confused. 

“Really? But, you’re like, one of the legacy kids.”

“All that means is I know more of the gritty details and seen firsthand the way people I love were chewed up by this place.”

Hana’s brow furrowed in thought, crossing her arms as she focused on Brigitte. Hana had been so taken in by all the happy scenes in the mess hall and around the base, she hadn’t even thought about the implications and complications that must have been a part of Brigitte’s life. She was so good at always putting on a bright face, how could she have known? 

Brigitte took a deep breath, looking weary as she took a moment to gather her thoughts. 

“When I was a kid, it was like I was one of those audience members you talked about. I was told all the best stories about heroes and villains, and it so happened that my family were literally starring as those heroes. But when I was a little older, I started learning more about history, and the other side of things. The PETRAS act. In fighting and war crimes. Blackwatch. Angela’s medical tech weaponized against her wishes, by my own father it turns out. Winston and Tracer buried under so much red tape, I’m honestly surprised they were ever allowed to leave a military base of their own free will. And Reinhardt... He’s a lot like you, I think. Brave, loyal, too stubborn to be just the face of a movement without putting his own skin on the line. Not when there’s something bigger than himself he believes in.”

A deep sigh, and an almost painful expression crossed her face.

“So no, I don’t like Overwatch. But I also can’t sit on the sidelines while they risk their lives, knowing I can help them. They’re my family. So here I am. Family can be complicated, ya know?” 

Before Hana could come up with something to say, the computer dinged behind them. Brigitte tapped on the keys, reading quickly when a smile crossed her lips. 

“Look at that, perfectly legible Swedish.”

“It’s fixed?” Hana hurried over to look at the computer screen.

“Well, the translation program is running. Now I need to actually debug your diagnostics program.”

“Ughhhh, I’m never going to leave this place.”

Brigitte chuckled. “Don’t worry, we’ll get it done. Feel free to go get some dinner if you want. This will take a while.”

“No way I’m going to leave you here all alone!”

“I promise I won’t touch Tokki.”

“It’s not...it’s not that, Brigitte. I just don’t feel right strolling off to dinner while you’re stuck here fixing my shit.”

Brigitte smiled.

“Okay. I definitely don’t mind the company.”

---

Hana tried to keep up with what Brigitte was talking about as she debugged the code. And she could follow along, for a while. Eventually she was way too lost to feel useful, and didn’t want to distract Brigitte while she was fixing the issues, so she retreated to a nearby futon against a wall. It was well past midnight, and Hana’s eyes were starting to droop. Brigitte drank one of the Dva branded nano cola energy drinks a while ago and seemed to be completely in the zone. 

The next thing Hana knew there was a strip of bright light in her eyes as the sun started to stream in through a window in the hangar. Hana stretched to pull out the discomfort her back protested with from not being in her bed, but it was really not that unfamiliar, considering some of the positions she’d fallen asleep at her gaming computer before. A blanket was draped across her body she didn’t remember picking up when laid down on the futon. She was all alone in the hangar and her watch told her it was just after 5am. 

“Brigitte?”

No one answered.

She sat up, noticing an unopened water bottle and energy bar laid out on the ground beside her futon with a little sticky note.

“Give it a go, Lt - Brig”

Hana scooped up the rations and dropped in front of the dark screen of her laptop. When she started up the terminal screen, her diagnostic programming kicked off like it normally did. All in Korean. 

The screen showed exactly where an electric circuit was tripping in the defense matrix grid of the mech, which had been glitching in the field the last few days. Hana noticed the parts and tools needed to complete the fix laid out on the workbench neatly, but when she poked her head in the mech, it remained untouched.

She smiled to herself.

“Kept her word to stay out of Tokki. These Overwatch kids are too much sometimes.”

D.Va pulled the panel off her mech and got to work.

----

At dinner that night, Hana spotted Brigitte in the mess hall with Reinhardt, Tracer and Winston. Brigitte gave her a wink when she noticed her. Hana got her meal and sat beside her, leaving her phone in her pocket for once.

“Thanks for the help with Tokki, Brigitte. Works like a charm now.”

“It was my pleasure, Lieutenant Song.” Brigitte’s smile was kind, her expression gentle and warm. Hana noticed this close up Brigitte’s eyes were lighter around the edges, and she had a few more freckles on her left cheek than the right.

“Did I just ‘ear you call ‘ana Lieutenant?” Lena cut in. “She’s ‘Lieutenant’, but I can’ get none of you to call me Captain? Double standards round ‘ere, I tell ya what.”.

“Well, Hana was a more recent officer in her respective position, while you have been discharged from the RAF for several years now.”

“Who’s side you on Win!? Those ranks don’t expire!”

Brigitte chuckled, whipping her head around to look at Tracer’s shaking her hand dramatically in the air, eyes downcast in an over acted, scandalized look. Hana also let out a small giggle.

“Your rank on the flight simulator scoreboard sure did,” Hana said, poking her tongue out with a playful smirk at Tracer. Brigitte, Reinhardt and Winston all laughed.

“She’s got you there, Lena,” Brigitte said.

“The youth of today. Ruthless.” Tracer grabbed a fist over her heart as if shot in the chest by a bullet.

“You know, back in my days of Overwatch…”

Reinhardt started in on one of his specially tailored stories for whatever situation was at hand, this case a very detailed recount of the first time he granted a field promotion in the Crusaders. Brigitte sighed, correcting inaccuracies she heard along the way, giving a wink to Hana when Brigitte’s presence in the story was pulled into the story much later on.

Lena took up the torch after that, remembering a time she accidentally flew into restricted airspace and managed to sweet talk her way out of being shot down. They all took turns sharing more elaborate one ups from their time before Overwatch. Hana even volunteered a story, sharing the time she convinced Dae-hyun to set Tokki up to stream a battle with the omnics. She broke her single day subscriber count in under one hour.

They all laughed well into the night, and for the first time Hana really started to feel like part of the team.

---

Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment if you enjoyed!

#overwatch #mekamechanic #dva #brigitte lindholm #laura writes #man I've been poking at this for ever finally time to just put it out in the world so I can think about something new ahaha #hope you like! #hana song #(also there was no 300 page onboarding manual until Pharah wrote it)

[ikeromantic]

Middle Ground

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfic - approx. 2200 words. This scene occurs well after the events of the romantic epilogue. Fluff.

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Bonding

“So . . . separate beds?” Mitsuhide’s wry smile was only a little bitter.

“Yes. I know it’s silly. I’d . . . I’d rather be in there with you.” The chatelaine, soon to be Lady Akechi, looked down, her expression a mixture of shame and defiance.

“It’s fine. I will have you all to myself soon enough. What is a night or two apart?”

She looked up without raising her head, trying to gauge his emotions.

Mitsuhide wasn’t having any of that. He took her chin between his finger and thumb and gently lifted until her gaze met his. “It is fine.” Then he leaned forward to brush a kiss across her cheek. With his lips almost close enough to touch her skin, he added. “Are you so eager to be in my arms again? Do you want to . . . test out the guest room? Or your childhood bed?”

He had the intended effect. She shivered and licked her lips. “You are so bad!”

“You are the one protesting our brief separation.” Mitsuhide pressed another kiss to her cheek and leaned back.

She crossed her arms. “You’re right. It’s just a few nights. But when we get back to the city -” a wicked smile turned her lips up at the corners, promising all sorts of fun.

“So forward, my little mouse. So eager. You make me wish we were home already.”

“That’s the idea.” She turned and threw him a saucy look. “Something to dream about.”

Mitsuhide chuckled. “Good night, little one.” Something to dream about indeed. He watched her hips as she walked down the hall, until she turned into her room and shut the door. She really had no idea what impact she had on him. He wondered if it was his practiced art of hiding his true emotion, or simply that she couldn’t see how beautiful she was. How desirable.

He went into the room and shut the door. It was so strange. The electronic hum of household devices. The cold fluorescent light from the street lamps in his window. Distant traffic sounds blending with barking dogs and strains of music. Mitsuhide felt suddenly very alone and very out of place.

Despite his refusal, the thought of spending one night, much less three, without his little one, felt impossible. A burden too heavy for him to bear. He needed to feel her in his arms, to fall asleep to the sound of her breathing, the beat of her heart. Her warmth grounded him in this strange place.

Mitsuhide gave a dry, soundless laugh. Who was the little mouse now?

Slowly, meditatively, he dressed for bed and lay down. He would embrace this world, different as it was from his own. He had to, because it was the one that gave birth to his beloved. And so, listening to the heartbeat of this small town, the viscous thrum of modern life, he drifted into an uneasy sleep.

Miyake and Sasuke arrived the following day at lunch. They met up at a local restaurant. Youko was friends with the owner and able to borrow a few tables in the back for privacy.

Minoru, the chatelaine’s often grumpy father, seemed to be on his best behavior. Not smiling, but distantly polite to the two newcomers. He thawed a little when his daughter threw her arms around each of the men in greeting.

No one said much as they ate. Youko and Minoru sat beside their daughter on one side of the table, glancing up at her strange friends. Sasuke, Mitsuhide and Miyake sat across from them, looking nervous.

It was Sasuke who finally broke the silence. He cleared his throat. “I understand your daughter told you about our time in the Sengoku. Understandably, you want proof. You have questions. We are here to give you what evidence we can.”

Minoru snorted. “What do you get out of this charade?” He gestured to Mitsuhide. “Is he paying you?”

Miyake looked as if he wanted to speak up, but Sasuke beat him to it. “No. I am here because your daughter is my friend.” He reached into his bag. “I know it isn’t much, but I brought my ninja kit as proof. These - these are smoke pellets. And that is a kunai. This is a sleeping poison, and this -” he went through the items, explaining what they were and how he made them. Detailed descriptions of the tools and materials he had available.

When Sasuke finished, Minoru looked thoughtful.

Youko smiled across as Sasuke. “You seem a very resourceful young man. And you are also the one that discovered these wormholes?”

“Yes ma’am.” Sasuke dipped his head, embarrassed by the compliment.

“It could just be you have a - a fascination with this stuff. Read a lot. Saw some movies,” Minoru said. His gruff voice held more than a hint of doubt. Even he didn’t buy his own explanation.

Sasuke nodded. “I could have. But even that would not yield the encyclopedic knowledge I’ve developed. I would go into greater detail, but I imagine you don’t have the underlying historical education to make use of most of the information I could provide. Unless . . . Are you a history buff?” His voice sounded different at the end, as if this question was important. Light glinted off his glasses, hiding his eyes. The air around him was charged, almost crackling with a sudden and unexpected energy.

“No. I can’t say I am,” Minoru replied.

“Hm, too bad.” The strange tension in the ninja disappeared as suddenly as it came.

Mitsuhide nudged Miyake. The warrior muttered something under his breath and then rolled his shoulders. “Alright, old man. I don’t blame you for doubting us. I’d think I was crazy too, or lying. But what Lady Akechi told you is true. She’s been living with my lord for the last few months. And it’s a good thing too. He smiles a lot more now. Eats too, and sleeps almost like a human.”

“Miyake,” Mitsuhide growled. “That’s not the kind of evidence they need to hear.”

“Sorry, but it’s the truth. And if you don’t mind me saying, well, even if you do, your daughter makes for one hell of a princess. She makes the servants happy to do a good job because she notices the little things. And the guards . . . they’d all die for her, and not just because Lord Akechi demands it. She’s kind and good to all of us. I don’t get to spend time at the castle, but I hear how she remembers birthdays and congratulates newlyweds and -”

Youko laughed, a sound Mitsuhide recognized. Much like his own little one, but matured. More elegance with just the same amount of joy. “It sounds like you have a following,” she smiled at her daughter.

The chatelaine blushed. “I really don’t. He’s exaggerating, mom. Really.”

“He is not,” Mitsuhide chided. “Though I don’t think that’s the kind of proof her father -”

Minoru interrupted, his gruff voice quieting the table. “It’s clear you’ve gotten to know her. My little girl.” He gave her a brief smile. “I am still . . . it’s a lot to take in. This wild story. But she stands by it and there is clearly - something true in it.”

His daughter hugged him. “I knew you’d come around, papa.”

He dislodged himself from her unexpected embrace. “I didn’t say I’m buying the whole story. Just,” he waved his hand, “some of it rings true.”

The tension at their table eased, and conversation began to flow more naturally. Youko and Minoru had a lot of questions, and were finally ready to hear the answers.

***

Kyubei followed Ranmaru through the thick forest undergrowth, barely able to make out the dirt path he led them down. This was supposed to lead to a safe house, one that Kennyo agreed to meet him in. He wished the demon-abbot had a taste for teahouses instead of abandoned forest shacks, but it could be worse.

He could be with Hideyoshi, hunting Motonari across the ports. Kyubei wasn’t afraid of pirates, but being on a boat . . . the constant roll of the ocean waves made him sick as a dog. No matter how many trips he made, he never gained any kind of tolerance for the motion. So this, the dirt and the bugs and the thick air under the trees, was a better deal all around.

“This is it.” Ranmaru stopped just before the path opened on a small clearing. There was a half-rotted shack ahead, once a shrine to some local deity, now fallen into disrepair.

Kyubei was surprised to see he wasn't’ the only one here to speak to the monk. Another familiar figure sat on the wooden steps outside the shrine. “Shingen?”

Takeda grinned up at him, pushing a lock of sweaty hair out of his face. “If it isn’t Mitsuhide’s maid!” He laughed. “Kidding, kidding! I just expected to see the kitsune out here himself.”

“He is otherwise engaged.”

“Is he?” Shingen’s smile was dangerous now. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with our missing ninja, would it?”

“If it does, I’ll send him your head,” Yukimura spoke up from somewhere to Kyubei’s left.

Ranmaru put his hands up, laughing as if this were all so silly. “It’s too early for threats. Come on! Let’s make some tea and relax. The abbot will be here shortly.”

Kyubei turned his head a fraction, just enough to see Yukimura lower his spear. “Tea would be good.” He ignored the younger warrior’s scowl as he followed Ranmaru to the shrine.

He didn’t sit, but stood near Takeda, resting his back against a tree.

Shingen, for his part, pretended to be fully relaxed. It wasn’t quite effective though. His brow held a waxy sheen, his eyes looked sunken and fevered. Worse, his breathing was labored. A rasp, harsh as a winter cough.

Kyubei watched him carefully. This was a bad situation. A dying man had fewer qualms than one that had to live with his decisions. He hadn’t realized Takeda was so bad off though, despite the reports he’d received. The Tiger of the Kai was legend. Not a man to be taken down by sickness. And yet.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Yukimura snapped, coming to stand beside his lord.

Shingen chuckled. “So protective, Yuki.” His laugh turned into a thick, unproductive cough. When he finally got control of himself, he directed his attention to Kyubei. “So. Where did your lord and my ninja go off to? And don’t tell me you don’t know. There’s too much tying their disappearance together. I’d rather not have to kill you today for lying to me.”

Another situation he wished he had his lord’s guidance. What information was safe to pass along, and what plans would the ripples of this conversation affect? Kyubei swallowed. “I suspect they have gone to visit the chatelaine’s home. 500 years in the future.”

Shingen nodded as if this was the answer he expected. “Sasuke asked me if I’d like to visit his hometown. He said - he said they could cure me.”

“And then he left without you.” Yukimura punched the shrine wall, causing the whole building to tremble.

Ranmaru poked his head out. “Hey! Careful or you’ll bring the whole thing down on my head!”

“Sorry,” Yukimura growled.

“If it is any consolation, I don’t believe Lord Akechi or Sarutobi left when they did intentionally. The information my lord left indicates the trip was meant to take place later. He was still . . . putting things in place for his extended absence.”

“That’s bull,” Yukimura grumbled, but he relaxed his grip on the spear.

They had no more time to talk it over as Kennyo’s shadow fell across the clearing. He came out of the trees like a spirit, the rings on his staff clinking. “It appears you found me. Again.”

Shingen grinned. “Well, old friend, I did have to hunt through every abandoned shrine in the province to get to this one.”

Kennyo snorted in disbelief.

“Ranmaru brought me,” Kyubei bowed. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”

“I have little time or patience for guests. Tell me what you want.” Kennyo crossed his arms.

“Your help with the false emperor.” Kyubei didn’t look up from his bow. “We both know Ashikaga is dead. The scribe we set up in his place, or the men around him, have gone astray.”

“I could care less. Let the exiled shogun harass the devil-king. Nobunaga and his pawns can go to hell.” Kennyo’s eyes were dark and full of anger. It radiated from him like heat from a fire.

Shingen shrugged. “Yeah, sure. I hate him too. But it’s not just him getting hit. These idiot daimyos in his retinue are conscripting farmers. Villagers. Innocent folk that should be left out of a power grab.”

The demon abbot’s eyes fell on his old friend. “And you believe this is a worse fate than what the Oda have in store for them?”

“I do.” Shingen’s gaze didn’t waver.

Kennyo’s shoulders shook and it took Kyubei a moment to realize the abbot was laughing. He shook his head. “You always were a fool, Shingen. But fine. I will tell you what I know. I don’t think you can stop what has been set in motion.”

Next: Double Dating

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen mitsuhide #mitsuhide akechi #ikesen kyubei #otome guys #otome #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #hc

[allyouneedisbuck]

Sole Survivor -> I

[eighteen plus blog and this fic holding eventual eighteen plus scenes mean minors should not interact with this story]

summary -> your first week on the island. alliances are made, rewards are won and tribes fall apart before they can even come together. [bucky barnes x female!reader]

word count -> 4.5k

warnings -> reality tv, some cursing, survivor references (tribe, tribal council, idols) past steve rogers x reader, non-enhanced marvel characters, jeff probst (please don’t sue me) some steve slander (steve i love you i’m sorry it was just so easy to make you the sweetest person alive and therefore a target)

notes -> there are more in-depth notes at the end! just want to say this is all for fun & not meant to be a serious fic!! just some fluff & humor as a break to any serious fics out there that you may be reading!

series masterlist here.

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Chapter I 𓆉 OUTWIT -> NEXT

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

Bucky isn’t sure how he ended up on reality TV.

That’s all he can think about as his hand grips the side of the speedboat and he glances around at his fellow contestants.

His first application to Survivor had been a dare; One of his friends back home had made a drunken joke that Bucky wouldn’t last a day and well- Obviously, Bucky can’t really take a joke.

How was he supposed to know he would actually be selected? How was he supposed to know he would be a fan favorite...villian? Saying yes to this season was a no-brainer.

He wants the million dollars. He came so, so close last time. Runner-up wasn’t good enough. 

He had been handed a dark, red buff long before they had even stepped foot on the boat. He had wrapped it around his wrist, just like everybody else on this boat with him. His eyes move around slowly as he studies his new tribe members. 

The bright red hair catches his eye first, Natasha Romanoff, was considered the original Black Widow; It’s no shock to Bucky that she had been considered a villain. Her starting point was aligning with the men on her tribe and helping pick who she wanted out. It worked for awhile, she had them under her thumb, until she got a little too abrasive and was voted off shortly after the merge.

Clint Barton who Bucky knew was notorious for promising on his kids then stabbing his allies in the back; In the final tribal he had laughed and said they gave him permission. Somehow he had won. Him and Natasha had worked together, but he had been unable to save her after the merge.

His eyes find Tony Stark next, an original player, meaning had had never played a game with idols or tricks. Tony had won it all on the third season after betraying his number one ally in the vote that decided who he brought to final two. Bucky didn’t need to ask why he was a villain, it was obvious.

Bright red lips catch Bucky’s eyes next as he checks out Darcy Lewis. Bucky wasn’t actually sure if he considered her a villain, but he can see how it played out that way. She had kept her immunity idol secret from her alliance members and had jumped ship when it became clear her alliance wouldn’t win the numbers. She made it all the way to final three after winning puzzle after puzzle in the immunity challenges, she was more impressive than villainous, but sometimes they just needed some people to fill the cast.

Loki was the king of snake gameplay, but even Bucky could admit it got him far. His ability to tell people exactly what they wanted to hear is what handed him the million dollar prize. Bucky wonders if they called Thor too, they had been on the last season, Blood versus Water together.

There’s Stephen Strange who was probably considered a villain for his dry commentary, blunt confessionals and inability to keep his thoughts to himself. He was from the first few seasons too and he had rubbed a lot of people the wrong way, but Bucky found his blunt delivery humorous.

And then there’s you. You had originally appeared on Brains, Brawns and Beauty. Unshockingly sorted onto the Beauty tribe and gravely underestimated. Bucky thought you were definitely the prettiest he’d seen in that season and early on he could tell you would be a power player. No matter how many confessionals men did saying your charm wouldn’t work, they all fell for it, and you picked them off. Your tribe only lost one immunity challenge and you had controlled who had gone home. 

Steve Rogers had fallen in love with you that season and you had taken a page from Natasha’s book. When the merge had happened, you aligned quickly with the few girls left from the other two tribes. Then knocked the men out one by one. Steve, poor Steve, so kind hearted and trusting and it had been his downfall. When you had sobbed to him about the last three girls whispering about voting you out, he had given up his earned individual immunity. The four of you girls had laughed as you wrote his name down and Steve went onto the jury. 

That was the moment that coined you one of the most notorious, and your unanimous win later had marked you down in history as one of the best to ever play.

Call Bucky an idiot, but you’re who he wants to work with. He needs to work with people who will make it to the end with him. His original season he had come off too cocky to win. He had made the mistake of taking who he thought was a floater, but apparently had built friendships with everyone, and lost in a three to six vote. Bringing someone who knew how to play the game like him gave him a far better chance at winning. 

The heroes tribe are already on their blue mat when the villains disembark and make their way onto the beach. Bucky almost laughs when he sees Steve standing in the back, tall and broad as ever. Of course the fans loved Steve. Sweet, loyal Steve. He nudges your calf with his foot and you spin to look at him in surprise.

“Your lover is here.” He nods over to the mat, where Steve is staring straight ahead at Jeff Probst. You laugh with your head thrown back like it’s genuinely one of the funniest things you’ve heard.

“Didn’t you hear? It was a nasty divorce.” You smile before stopping in front of Bucky on the mat. Bucky snorts and drops his bag by his feet as Jeff calls for everyone’s attention.

“We’ve been doing Survivor for thirty seasons now. Fifteen years. Hundreds of people have played the game, yet the sixteen of you have made your mark as either hero or villain.” His eyes scan over the group before landing on Bucky.

“Bucky. You played this game six years ago. Season 18. How does it feel that even though it’s been that long, you’re still considered one of the most well known villains?”

“I’m a villain?” Bucky asks sarcastically as he looks around the beach. The crowd laughs and you look up at him with amused eyes. Bucky tries to ignore the flutter in his heart, damn you were good. “It’s all in the perspective, Jeff.”

Jeff laughs and nods before his attention shifts to Loki standing a few people away from you. “Loki, you’re our newest villain. Coming out of last season, how does it feel to be here with all these iconic names? Intimidating?”

Loki laughs and nods. “I guess so, yeah. I’m just so happy to actually play with people who love and respect the game the same way I do!” He looks over the group in a far more calculating manner than friendly.

“And heroes! Peter, you’re our newest hero on the tribe. Coming off a win that you got through heart and loyalty.” Jeff explains, like everybody here didn’t already know how much of a blatantly good guy Peter Parker was. Three years ago when given the decision to choose between a floater and his ally who was an equally as strong competitor, he had chosen to bring Ned to the final two. It had won him a million dollars. “You intimidated at all? Or should they be?”

Peter looks around bashfully. “Yeah! No, I’m intimidated, you know? I’m not the only winner here. These are all some strong people, I definitely will have to work hard to stay.” He answers humbly.

Bucky resists the urge to roll his eyes at the answer. “Okay. Anybody think we got it wrong? That you’re on the wrong tribe?” Jeff asks and immediately half the villains raise their hands.

The heroes and Jeff laugh. “What did we do, Jeff?” You call out in a flirtatious tone. “What’d we do that was so bad?” Bucky can’t see your face, but he would bet his life that there’s a pout there.

“Come on, Y/N.” Jeff says your name incredulously. “You are definitely one of the best, but you single handedly led one of the greatest all female alliances in the history of this game and picked off who you wanted one by one.”

You turn your head to look and the heroes tribe and Bucky can see Steve, Sharon and Shuri, all from your season, watching you. Bucky isn’t sure who made the worst move, Steve giving up his immunity and sending you to final three or Shuri for bringing you to final two with her. Loyalty could be your downfall or saving grace in this game, Bucky’s learned, it just depends on your jury. “Steve!” Jeff calls out. “Y/N. Hero or villain?”

“Villain.” Steve answers quickly with a forced laugh. You shrug and turn to look at Jeff. “I outwitted him. Is that being a villain or playing the game of outwit, outplay, outlast?”

Jeff laughs. “Okay, guys. Do you want to get to your first challenge?” The group looks around at each other extremely confused. It was rare a challenge was played the first day on the island, normally tribes were sent to begin working on shelter before it got too dark.

It’s a physical game. There are eight lanes, each lane has one weighted bag buried in it. In pairs of two, each tribe would go out to the selected lane and dig. Whoever brought the bag back to their tribe won a point and it was first to four points to win.

After an hour, it’s tied, three to three and the only pair to have not gone twice is you and Natasha. You’re against Shuri and Carol, Bucky is a little nervous, but he thinks you two can win this. Shuri was known for her agility and Carol for her strength, but Bucky had faith in your ability to play dirty. “Go!” Jeff’s arms drop down and all four women are darting through the sand.

Bucky can’t stop his eyes from trailing over your body, knelt down in the sand as you quickly dig. You had stripped off your shorts and long sleeve now only in your bikini top and bottoms, the red buff wrapped around your wrist.

He knows why it had been so easy for the men of your beauty tribe to fall at your feet. The way your legs look in the sand and sun has him wanting to kneel for you. He just hopes you want to work with him too.

Natasha pulls the bag out. Carol dives for her legs and sends her face first to the ground. Shuri follows soon after and both of them are fighting with Natasha as you stand back.

Good. Bucky thinks. Let them tire themselves out, then you have the strength to get it away and get the point.

Shuri gets the bag in her hands and makes a mad dash down the lanes, but your arm wraps around her waist and yanks her back into your chest as your other hand moves to yank at the bag.

Natasha gets up and holds Carol back with two hands around the waist. “Push, Shuri! Push!” Steve screams out. Bucky rolls his eyes at the nonsensical advice.

“Sweep her feet out!” Bucky’s voice overpowers the rest of his tribe. Your eyes meet his briefly. “She’s tired! She’s burnt out. She won’t get up quick enough!”

Your hands grip at the bag tightly and you swipe a leg underneath Shuri’s feet. Her knees give out and the bag is easily yanked away from her weak grip.

“Yes!” Your tribe screams as you reach the mat and Jeff calls out. “Villains win first immunity!” Bucky’s hand lands on your lower back and you turn to look up at him happily. He hopes you can see the praise in his eyes because that performance? That’s why he wants to work with you.

                                               You - Villain Tribe

“Looking at my tribe, we’re pretty stacked. We’re good. Heroes don’t have a chance.” You throw your head back in a laugh. “Is it awful I’m excited to take a million dollars away from Steve again?”

                                       Steve Rogers - Hero Tribe

“It uh- It sucks to lose. I hate losing. It sucks even more that we lost to the villains. I don’t want to vote any of our people out yet, we all deserve to be here. It just sucks.”

Day Two

You had underestimated how tense camp would be with men who had been used to leading their tribes in the past. Tony wanted to build shelter on flat land and Bucky thought sturdy trees for a sturdy base was more important.

Bucky was right, of course. You knew he was in construction, you had watched his season, and had seen the impressive shelter he had helped build. Tony just couldn’t get over himself, but that was no shock. You would use his pride as a chance to move forward in this game.

“They’re just being idiots.” You say softly as you and Bucky try to start a fire. Nothing is really working and the sun will set soon, defeat settles between you two. “Don’t let them get to you.”

You eye his metal arm. It had been what made him a favorite early on, way before he even got his villain marker. His story of a car crash that had resulted in the lost of his left arm and a generous doctor that had worked to give him this new age prosthetic.

“‘M not.” He mutters angrily as the smoke blows out and chance at a fire slips further and further away. “Just… fuck… Just annoyed at myself for not being able to get this.”

You look over your shoulder. “And at the fact that we’ll be sleeping in a shit hole tonight.” You shake your head. Bucky snorts and nods before falling onto his back and dropping the kindle that he had been attempting to light on fire.

Your eyes trail over his abdomen, put on display by his shirt that has ridden up in his new position. You bite down on your lip as your eyes trail over his thighs before you remember that the camera men are only a few feet away and caught every second of your staring.

You clear your throat and move to sit next to him. “I think we’d work well together.” You say just above a whisper. You glance over your shoulder again, but the rest of the tribe is too busy arguing over the shelter.

Bucky looks up at you hesitantly. “Yeah?” He asks just as softly. “Not gonna break my heart right?” He gives you a teasing smile that makes your breath catch.

You shrug and stand up, offering a hand to him. “No promises. I can’t stop you from falling in love with me.” You giggle, partly for the show of it but also because Bucky’s hand is huge in yours and makes your stomach flip.

He laughs and the two of you turn back and begin walking towards the shelter. Right before you reach it and have to go your separate ways, Bucky taps your back. “I think we would too.”

                                           You - Villain Tribe

“Getting my claws on Bucky first is the best thing for my game. He’ll be loyal to me longer than anybody else.” You smile. “And Bucky is the best guy here. Tony may be an OG but he played like thirteen years ago. Strange is kind of cold. Clint and Natasha played together, he’ll be loyal to her before me. And Loki plays a game too similar to mine.” You shrug like it’s a no brainer.

                                    Bucky Barnes - Villain Tribe

“I came to win this time, okay? No more aligning with underdogs. No more just physicality getting me to the end. I need strategy and she’s the best strategist to ever play this game.” Bucky smirks. “Just ask Steve Rogers.”

Day Three

It’s pouring rain by the time both tribes get to the challenge. Bucky had been right, of course he had. The shelter was weak and the rain was destroying it. It would need to be rebuilt when you returned to camp and he could only hope the rain stops long enough to allow him to build a real shelter.

“Heroes will be with me at tribal council.” Jeff explains. “So, today, you are playing for reward. Wanna see what you’re playing for?”

The entire tribe is huddled together in an attempt to keep warm as Jeff explains the challenge and reward. He lifts a cover to reveal a tarp, blankets, pillows and flint. Bucky almost groans at the sight. They needed this win. ��I’ll give you a minute to strategize.” Jeff waves them off.

It’s almost every type of challenge in one. Physical, logical and strategical. Six members would build a boat from the pieces given then sail out to retrieve all the puzzle pieces from where they were clipped on buoys. Then bring them back to the remaining two members who would work on the puzzle. First to solve it wins.

“Darcy and I can work on the puzzle.” You say quickly with Darcy nodding along. Bucky and the rest of the tribe agree and get to their starting places.

It’s a crazy adrenaline rush when Jeff yells for everyone to go. “Heroes take an early lead!” Jeff narrates as they push their boat out onto the water. Bucky can feel his tribemates settle in defeat.

“Let’s fucking go!” He urges, forcing the last piece of the boat into place. He and Clint push the boat out before climbing in beside the rest of the villains. Bucky tries to drown out Jeff’s commentary, but it’s hard when every few seconds he’s pointing out the major lead the heroes are creating. “Nobody panic. They’ve got Steve on the puzzle.”

That gets a small, tense laugh out of the group as the heroes boat reaches shore again and the villains remain collecting puzzle pieces.

Hope fizzles in Bucky’s chest when he hears your’s and Darcy’s cheers and the arguing of Steve and Carol, both placed on puzzle and both having different tactics.

“The villains are coming from behind!” Jeff says in an impressed tone as they finally push their boat to shore. “The heroes just can’t figure out this puzzle and are losing their huge lead.”

“Yeah, thanks!” Shuri calls out annoyed from the sidelines as Bucky hands off the bag of puzzle pieces to you. You dump them out and you and Darcy immediately start to spread them out to look.

“Wow! Heroes just cannot get this puzzle figured out!” Jeff shakes his head. Steve and Carol continue to argue and yank pieces away from one another. “Villains have made a remarkable comeback!” You and Darcy seem to be communicating amazingly and pieces just fall into place. 

“Jeff! Jeff!” You scream out excitedly as Darcy stuffs the last piece into place and you two step back. Jeff looks at the puzzle for a moment before throwing his arms up. “Villains win reward!”

Everybody screams in excitement and Bucky immediately turns to you. “Fuck!” He says excitedly as you jump up, legs wrapping around his waist. He wraps an arm under your thighs and tries hard to ignore how good they feel wrapped around him. “Darcy!” He waves her over into a half hug. “Puzzle queens! Puzzle queens!” He cheers, the tribe following in suit.

They’re allowed to celebrate for a few more seconds as the heroes groan until producers force them back onto their designated mats. “Villains. Take your tarp and flint, pillows and blankets will be delivered once the rain stops.” Everybody rushes forward as you take the tarp and flint into your hands.

“Heroes I got nothing for you. Except your trip to tribal right now.” Bucky glances over his shoulder as the heroes stare at Jeff in shock. “Yep! You lost immunity on day one and have had two days to discuss, grab your stuff and follow me.”

Bucky and you laugh with each other as you make your way back to camp.

                                            Shuri - Hero Tribe

“I’m just so… I told them to put me on the puzzle. Put me! Who won three puzzle challenges her season? I’m just so angry. We had such a good lead and we lost it because nobody wanted to listen to each other and everybody wanted to be a leader. Now somebody who deserves to be here has to go home while the villains live lavishly.”

Day Five

Your tribe wins reward again.

After the shocking reveal of Carol being voted out at the first tribal council, villains are perplexed. Carol had been strong, furthest from being the weakest link who was usually voted off first.

You know that’s what being on the wrong side of the numbers will get you.

This time it’s fishing gear. It sends a morale boost throughout the tribe. You grin as you watch Bucky reluctantly walk ahead with Tony.

Tony had latched onto Bucky after Bucky had helped create a better shelter. And once they had secured the tarp and loaded in the blankets and pillows, it was like a five star resort to the already tired and hungry tribe.

You can see Natasha fall in line with you in your peripheral vision and try to hide your smirk. “You’re good.” She murmurs.

You look straight ahead and shrug. “What makes you say that?”

“You and Bucky almost never go off together. Barely talk outside of groups at camp. Really only interact during challenges.” She says quietly. The group is far ahead and most likely couldn't hear if you spoke in normal tones, but you appreciate her caution. “He’s wrapped around your finger though.”

You almost stop, but refuse to let her see you stumble. She was right, you and Bucky were exceedingly cautious when it came to associating with each other at camp. “You think so? He has a crush?” You ask softly. “He’s cute, right? Not too bad.” You feign ignorance.

Natasha smirks. “Yeah.” Her hand wraps around your arm and pulls you to a stop with her. “Listen. It’s Tony and Strange on one side. You and Bucky on the other. We’ve been winning, so nobody is going to admit their alliances, but I’d rather be prepared for our first loss.”

You nod. “What are you saying?” You knew Tony and Stephen would team up. They were both considered original survivors, coming out of the first few seasons and still working on understanding this new version of the game.

“Clint and I can be numbers.” She says steadily. You lick your lips. Clint and Natasha had done Micronesia together. He had been the only one to not write her name down when she was eliminated. She had voted for him to win. It’s not a surprise they had fallen into working together again. “We protect each other. Final Four, after that we’re on our own.”

“I’ll have to speak with Bucky.” You begin to walk again. “But that sounds like a good deal to me.” You give her a small smile.

                               Natasha Romanoff - Villain Tribe

“I’m not an idiot. I know Y/N plays this game loyal to herself only. But I’m playing a strategic game. Clint and I make it to the merge with her numbers then we can flip of we need to.”

                                           You - Villain Tribe

“Final four?” You scoff. “Please. Two person alliance versus two person alliance in the final four? I’m not trying to draw rocks. Four people is good and then we’ll make the merge and I’ll work my magic.”

“I’m gonna get some firewood.” Your foot knocks against Bucky’s ankle. When he looks up from his spot on the ground, you subtly nod your head in the direction of the jungle. 

“I can help. It’s getting dark, better two than one.” He stands up. Nobody acknowledges your exit but Nat, who smirks at you before looking back at the rice cooking over the fire.

You two walk in silence, making sure to be out of earshot before stopping to talk quickly. “Natasha and Clint want to work with us. Final four.”

Bucky looks over his shoulder in the direction of camp before looking back at you. “We can promise them the merge. Final four with a two person alliance as solid as their’s is suicide.”

You look up at Bucky and laugh. Did he think you were dumb? “I know that.” You say slowly. “We should just agree to the final four then get rid of them after the merge.”

Bucky huffs out a breath. “That’s smart, but how do you know we won’t be turned on if we vote them out? How do you know Darcy and Loki aren’t already four with Strange and Tony?” His nerves are reasonable, but they make you want to laugh.

You shake your head instead staring up at him with reassuring eyes. “They won’t be. I’ve talked with Darcy a little bit. Plus, Loki works the swing vote angle as long as he can. You watched him last season, it’s how he made it so far.” 

“Okay.” Bucky agrees slowly. “So, we work with Clint and Natasha and work on getting Loki as a swing vote? What if they turn on us? These people’s word means jack.” Bucky’s arm shifts and your eyes immediately trail over it curiously. Did it do that when he was nervous? Was it normal?

“Don’t worry.” You place a gentle hand on his arm, you wondered how the metal didn’t heat in the sun the same way a metal slide would. Questions for a later time. “There are hidden immunity idols, Buck. We just have to find them.”

You walk past him then, picking wood up as you go. The cameras stay on Bucky, who you can feel staring after you. 

Men were so easy.

                                     Bucky Barnes - Villain Tribe

“She’s… She’s got it all mapped out. To the end. She’s not playing this bullshit tribe first, individual later game. She’s here to win. It’s hot.” He blushes before his eyes widen in realization. “I could win this.”

Day Six

The immunity challenge is grueling. Large crates in the tribe’s color have to be rolled from one end of the field to the other by two people. Six crates in total and Jeff had evened the teams out so each tribe only had six people playing, meaning each pair would go out twice no matter what.

Tony and Darcy had opted to sit out, and each pair had to go out twice. Bucky knew this would kill everyone, it had looked downright brutal long before Jeff shouted Go.

Bucky can be the first to admit maybe the team didn’t strategize correctly when choosing pairs. While he and Loki were able to bring the first crate back before the heroes, Clint and Stephen slow the group down. Once the heroes build momentum, they’ve got the lead. You and Natasha struggle to catch up.

By the sixth crate, everybody is downright exhausted. Bucky can’t even comprehend how the heroes had gotten through all six crates so fast.

“Villains start your puzzle.” Jeff calls out. Bucky thinks this is worse than the running. These crates are almost as tall as he is and definitely weighed damn near close too.

Setting the first two in place would be fine, the last four? Pure hell. They had to be lifted into place and Bucky wasn’t sure his tribe could do it. Not when Steve was already lifting crates up for the heroes and sticking them in place like it was nothing.

“Heroes with a huge lead!” Jeff narrates excitedly from the sidelines. “Can the villains catch up?” 

“Fuck this.” Bucky mutters taking a step back. His back hits something soft - you. You nails trail up his spine and he shivers before turning to look down at you. “That piece then that piece?” You point out and Bucky turns to look.

Loki and Clint have the first piece in place. Natasha and Strange are pushing the second. Two pieces have to be lifted next and you seem to have cracked the code.

“You’re so smart.” He punches your shoulder affectionately before yelling out. He starts calling out directions and suddenly everything seems to have fallen into place. The villains tribe is quiet and works together easily while the heroes fall apart, again. 

“Villains win immunity!” Jeff calls out again and the heroes fall into dismay. Yelling and arguing with one another even more. “That means the heroes will once again see me at tribal council. I’ll give you the afternoon to discuss, head on out.” 

Bucky carries the immunity trophy back to camp with a bright smile. These first few days couldn’t have gone any better. A winning streak, set alliance, and final two plan?

He was winning this time. No doubt about it.

                                     Peter Parker - Hero Tribe 

“It just sucks because… because now they’re talking about sending Steve home instead of like - Sharon. She’s smart, but she’s just not the strongest person here and we obviously need a stronger tribe.” 

                                     Steve Rogers - Hero Tribe 

“A line was drawn in the sand last tribal. Scott, Wanda and I on one side. Shuri, Peter, Sharon and Thor on the other. Now it’s just who they want to go home and I hope it’s not me.” 

                                       Thor Odinson - Hero Tribe 

“There’s talk of Steve going home, but I… I don’t know if that’s what will be best for us. We need our strong players and he’s strong! I’m gonna talk to them and see what I can do. We just… We just can’t lose strong people. We’ll get our asses handed to us.”

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

notes // you can probably tell, but until the merge, you won’t get inside on the heroes tribe. the focus of this is bucky & reader on their tribe. the confessionals are really you’re only hint to anybody else’s train of thought! i’m excited to explore this, it’s really just for fun & not meant to be a super serious fic. a break from harsh angst and all that! i hope you enjoy it, even just a little! the next part will have more to it & it will get more interesting! this is meant as an introduction, a season premiere if you will. :))

& if you’ve watched the real heroes vs villains season you’ll notice a lot of this follows after that set up, like the challenges and eliminations, but i’ve written it around these characters and personalities!

my writing is free & will remain free! but if you have the resources and enjoyed it, consider donating to my ko-fi :) & if that’s not possible consider reblogging or leaving comments! spreading my work or letting me know you enjoyed it means the world to me & lets me know i’m not shouting into the void!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes au #james bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #survivor au #bucky barnes x fem!reader #steve rogers

[thomaslightwood]

“What if Paris was the first time we’d met?” || Thomastair University AU

I wrote this because 1) anxiety and 2) the idea of what would happen if Thomas and Alastair had met for the first time in Paris is killing my soul so here you go

•

Thomas closed his notebook with a sigh.

“I know you want to say it,” Thomas grounded.

Lucie looked at him with big innocent eyes. “Say what?”

Thomas rolled his eyes.

Lucie smiled at him and while they both stood up, she said with a grin, “Okay, I will say it. I told you not to drink last night. I told you.”

Thomas signed again. “Yeah, you did. In my defense, that guy was cute and I was nervous!”

“No excuses!”

“Mr. Lightwood.”

Thomas stopped on the exit and looked at the professor. “Yes, Mrs. Jahanshah?”

Sona Jahanshah handed him a list. “Your paper. I wished to give it to you yesterday but well.” You weren't here was left unsaid but they both knew what she meant.

Thomas felt ashamed. His Farsi class was his favorite and Mrs. Jahanshah was an awesome woman. Strict and rarely allowing compromises but amazing teacher. Thomas didn't want to let her down by missing her classes to get drunk. Especially on the second day of the new semester.

He hesitatingly took the paper and looked at it. A small smile appeared on his face.

“Thank you Mrs. Jahanshah,” he said. He hurried to Lucie who was waiting for him at the door.

“Well?” she raised an eyebrow.

Thomas grinned but only said, “Nothing.”

“Come on, let me see!”

“Nope.”

Lucie tried to grab it from him but she was too small compared to him. And in general. In the end she gave up but said this wasn't the end.

“One day I will read your work, Thomas Alexander Lightwood, remember my words.”

“Yeah, of course,” he said with a smile.

Together they left the university and went to the near coffee shop where they were supposed to meet with Lucie's friend, Cordelia.

Thomas was a little jealous how Lucie could find a soulmate so fast. It has never been so easy to Thomas. It will never be. Maybe he was just too awkward. Sometimes he felt like his insecurities were written all over his face.

Lucie's smile widened. “There she is. It seems her brother is also here.”

•

“I have work,” Alastair said.

“We all have,” Cordelia said.

“Okay, I have a lot of work.”

“Come on,” Cordelia arched an eyebrow. “You should take a rest from time to time. Or else your brain would explode.”

“Sure,” Alastair said sarcastically. “Tell me again, why am I here? To rest? By meeting people?”

“It's just Lucie! And one of her friends, Thomas, who is a really adorable guy. It would be fine!”

Alastair wasn't convinced but didn't say anything. Cordelia was determined to make him talk with people for some reason.

“Oh, I see Lucie. She's right there.”

Alastair followed his sister's look. He spotted her friend, Lucie Herondale, a small but lively girl. They have spoken a few times but Alastair didn't really know anything about her except the things Cordelia told him.

Next to Lucie was a tall, broad-shouldered guy with a shy smile that was laughing at something Lucie said.

Alastair felt like someone kicked him in the stomach.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You didn't tell me your friend is so cute.”

Cordelia blinked at him and smiled playfully. “I didn't know he is your type.”

“He is now,” Alastair stated.

Cordelia couldn't help but grin.

“Fuck,” Alastair said again looking at Thomas.

•

Thomas and Lucie sat on the table with Cordelia and Alastair. He was introduced to the Cordelia's brother and Thomas got worried he'd do something stupid and would make fool of himself in front of the beautiful guy next to him and-

Thomas forced himself not to space out too much but to listen to what the rest were talking about. He did his best to join the conversation but it wasn't easy to concentrate.

At some point Alastair said he's going to the bathroom and Cordelia went to ask for more coffee. Thomas breathed out and turned to Lucie.

“Why didn't you tell me your friend's brother is so cute? You know I don't know how to act around cute guys!”

“You are doing just fine,” Lucie said, trying to calm him down.

“Well, I was drowning in anxiety. But... I think it was sort of... the normal anxiety?”

“You mean...”

At this moment Cordelia returned to the table and Lucie didn't finish her sentence. Thomas was grateful. He was diagnosed with social anxiety and didn't feel comfortable talking about it in front of strangers. Only a few close to him people knew and Thomas did not want too many people to find out about it. It made him, well, anxious.

When Alastair got back he said he should hurry up for his next lecture and said goodbye. Thomas was a little disappointed.

Cordelia, Lucie and he had almost an hour until their next class so they remained in the cafe. Thomas wanted to know more about Alastair Carstairs but he thought asking Cordelia may look creepy and out of place. He may ask Lucie to do it. Or he himself to ask. Some day.

•

Thomas was nervous. It was his first time in a new class where he didn't know anyone (he didn't know many people in the university as a whole but still).

As he entered the room he tried to calm down. Took a deep breath. His anxiety was still there but after Thomas took his seat he felt like he wouldn't get an anxiety attack in front of the whole class and will survive this. Probably.

He prepared to take notes, took out a few pens (just in case) and tried to breath normally. He reminded himself no one was paying attention to him. There were a lot of people in the room, he was just another guy in it. It was going to be fine.

“Hey, can I sit here?”

Thomas turned to the person talking to him and blinked. Alastair Carstrais.

“Sure,” Thomas said after a second.

Alastair smiled a little and Thomas couldn't help it - he returned the smile.

“The room is just so full. I was worried there weren't any left seats.”

The room was indeed full. Thomas was happy he got here early so he could sit at a place he liked.

“Cordelia didn't mention you like history.”

“Cordelia is awesome but I'm not very close with her,” Thomas said. “And I'm a little bit of history buff,” he admitted.

“Enough history buff to take a class for it, it seems,” Alastair said with a small smile.

Thomas laughed. “Yes, apparently.”

The professor walked into the room and it got quiet.

Thomas listened with interest to the lecture, taking detailed notes. But he was also excited because of the person sitting next to him.

•

Thomas wasn't sure how much time had passed but he knew he was hungry.

“Hey,” Thomas turned to Alastair who had a little strange expression as he said this. “Wanna, like- I mean if you're not busy, to have lunch with me? Or even just coffee if you don't have a lot of time?”

Thomas' stomach did a flip but it was a good kind of flip, nervous and excited.

“I would be happy to have lunch together.”

Alastair smiled. It was a real, warm smile. “Okay.”

They went out of the university and Alastair said he knew a good place in the area. Thomas followed, careful to remember the way to it. He may need to come here again, hopefully.

As they sat, menus appeared in front of them almost immediately. Thomas ordered tea, Alastair - coffee until they waited for the food.

They talked about the lecture. It was about the history of the Ancient Near East. Alastair was half Persian and Thomas was fascinated to hear a few curious history facts about the Persian culture from him.

“I admit,” Alastair said. “My love of the Persian stories and songs is influenced by my mother. Sometimes she says it's her duty as a teacher to tell us, Cordelia and I, as much as she could about our heritage. Which of course has nothing to do with her profession but we don't say anything," Alastair laughed a little.

“Your mother is a teacher?” Thomas said curiously.

“Yes, for a few years now. She's a professor here.”

Thomas' eyes widened. “Wait, your mother is Sona Jahanshah?”

“The same,” Alastair said before drinking from his coffee.

“Whoa,” Thomas said with a smile. “I should have thought about it earlier. You have the same eyes.”

Alastair's eyes sparkled at this. He looked amused. “Most people would say we share the same temper not eyes.”

“This too,” Thomas laughed.

The conversation went in different directions a few times. They found out they share a great love for music. That Alastair's favorite book is The Prince by Machiavelli. Thomas in returned said his is Rubaíyat́ of Omar Khayyaḿ. They promised to read each other's favorite books because they haven't read it before. Thomas found out Alastair can play a piano and sing. Thomas wanted to hear him.

“What made you choose to come to France?” Thomas asked at some point.

“It's mainly because me and Cordelia wanted to study here. Paris is one of the cities where we were the happiest. So we moved here.”

Thomas wanted to ask about his father but he knew from Lucie Cordelia and Alastair's father was a sensitive topic so Thomas decides to leave it alone.

“How about you? Are you a big fan of France?”

“Not exactly,” Thomas laughed nervously. “Actually, coming to France doesn't seem very wise. My father wanted me to go study in Spain or Wales. Which would be logical because I know Spanish and Welsh. My father has connections in Spain and Lucie's father is Welsh. I started to learn French only a year ago. But...” Thomas tried his best to explained it. When he was saying it out aloud it sounded like a stupid decision but it makes sense Thomas' head. “It's about the university. The history of this city. I admire it. Lucie and I talked about it and our parents let us study here only because they know we're together.”

The waiter came to serve them the food and Thomas paused. He even didn't remember ordering a second time.

“You probably think I'm silly," Thomas said, feeling stupid.

“No, no," Alastair shook his head. “Not at all. I think I understand.”

Thomas looked at his eyes. He believed him.

“Also, you speak Spanish, Welsh and learn Farsi and French? I'm impressed.”

Thomas smiled a little shyly at that. He didn't mind compliments but coming from Alastair felt different.

The time was passing and they barely noticed. They both missed their lectures but as much as it was unusual for Thomas he barely cared. He did not regret the time spent with Alastair.

They exchanged numbers and social media. Alastair promised to send him more book recommendations. Thomas kept smiling the whole day.

•

the tree: sorry luce i can't have lunch with you today

small bean: ooooh, and why is this, little john?

the tree: i'm just not hungry

small bean: yeah yeah and i'm cinderella

small bean: are you seeing someone? someone dark haired maybe?? 👀

Thomas blushed a little and put his phone back into the pocket without answering.

“Ready to go?”

“Yep,” Thomas followed Alastair through the exit and together left the university.

They sat in the same place as the last time. Even on the same table. Thomas liked that.

“Okay, I suggest not to miss our lecturers this time,” Alastair said.

“Agreed,” Thomas said, laughing. “I can't survive this class only on Lucie's notes.”

They talked about books. They both have read each other's favorite book now and had thoughts to share. Alastair passionately talked about one quatrains of Rubaíyat́ of Omar Khayyaḿ while Thomas was eating from his toast. Since he left London he has forgotten the pleasure of talking about books with someone who was as much investigated in it as Thomas.

Same as the last time the conversation went in different directions. They talked a little about themselves.

“I miss my friends and family,” Thomas admitted. “We were always together, very close to each other. It was weird at first when I came here, without them being around.”

“Tell me about them.”

With almost every other person Thomas would think they were trying to make small talk. Alastair though, Thomas knew, didn't speak things he doesn't mean.

So Thomas told him. He told him about his sisters but not much about Barbara who had passed away because he felt like this was too personal. About the Merry Thieves and a little bit about how they're families were friends.

In return Alastair told him about the cities he had traveled to and what he likes about them, which places were beautiful, the history of them. After his parents' divorce when Alastair was almost 18, he, Cordelia and Sona moved to Paris because the siblings wanted to study here.

They could talk for many more hours but an alarm sharply interrupted them. It was Alastair's phone. He shut it down.

“This is for me. My lecture starts after ten minutes.”

“Oh,” Thomas couldn't hide his disappointment. “Okay.”

“Hey, do you want... to meet tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow is Saturday?” Thomas said, confused. “We don't have classes.”

“I know,” a strange look appeared on Alastair's face. Thomas in shock realized it was nervousness. “Actually, I... I’m asking you to go on a date with me.”

Thomas' heart skipped a beat. It was impossible to stop the smile on his face.

“Okay.”

•

“You're nervous.”

“I am not,” Alastair said defensively. Cordelia arched an eyebrow. “Okay, maybe a little bit.”

“Try not to freak out too much. He's just a guy.”

“A guy with a cute smile.”

“Yeah,” Cordelia laughed. “But you're cute too.”

Alastair frowned at her. “Don't you have homework?”

“I have,” she admitted. “But I also have a brother who has a date.”

Alastair sighed. “He is far from the first guy I have a date with.”

“But he's the first after you-know-who.”

Alastair shook his head. “His name is not a trigger. You can say it. And it doesn't matter. It was a long time ago.”

It wasn't too long ago and Alastair maybe wasn't too happy about his situation with Charles but Cordelia didn't need to know this.

Alastair out on his shoes and coat. The weather wasn't too chilly.

“Actually, I meant... Doesn't matter,” Cordelia said. “Just have fun, remember he is just a guy as nervous as you and don't break his heart because he's Lucie's friend and I like her.”

Alastair couldn't help it but smile. He kissed his sister's forehead and went out.

•

Thomas saw Alastair coming and tried not to look too anxious or look if his clothes were okay. 

And he tried his best not to stare at the gorgeous view Alastair was.

Alastair led them on the way to the place he had in mind. It was far from the center, in a small alley that had one beautiful fountain. As they entered the small restaurant Alastair said a few words to the staff member and she immediately led them to their table.

It wasn't what Thomas imagined. They went upstairs. This floor was definitely emptier than the first one - the tables were farther from one another, with only a couple of people on them.

Their table was on the balcony. Thomas' breath stopped when he saw the view. He barely noticed as they sat and the waiter put menus in front of them.

Paris was beautiful during the night. The city of lights. The Eiffel Tower stood gold and sparkling.

“It's beautiful,” Thomas said and turned to Alastair. He caught him staring at Thomas with a smile on his lips. 

“It really is,” Alastair said and also looked at the view before opening his menu. “I got lucky to reserve a table here. Part of which was that my mother and the owner are good friends,” Alastair laughed.

Thomas smiled and also opened his menu. “So. What do you recommend?”

Alastair carefully scanned the page he was on. “The toast is awesome. And the desserts are unique. Here is the best tiramisu in Paris.”

“You really like coffee, don't you?” Thomas said with a smile.

“Yes,” Alastair said. “I admit, I do love coffee a hella lot.”

Soon the waiter came to take their orders. After he left, Thomas said, “I'm curious about something. How did you come out? Wait, are you out to your family? Is this a sensitive topic? Oh god, I'm so-”

“It's okay,” Alastair laughed. “Do you always ask every guy such questions on the first date?” he teased.

Thomas blushed a little. “Well. Sometimes,” he cleared throat. “Anyway! Answer my question. Or don't if you don't want to.”

“I'll answer,” Alastair said, trying to hide a smile.“I came out to Cordelia first, a few years ago. Then she convinced me that coming out to Mâmân wouldn't be a disaster. And she was right. It was difficult at first. But it's mostly fine right now.”

The waiter came with their drinks - ginger beer for Thomas and black decaffeinated coffee for Alastair. 

“How about you?” Alastair asked after they were alone again. “Are you out?”

“I am kind of out to my family and friends too, yes.”

“Kind of?” Alastair arched the eyebrow.

“It's a funny story actually,” Thomas said. “At first, one of my cousins, Anna, came out as non-binary lesbian. Not long after this Matthew, one of my best friends, came out as bi. And you see, in some way they cleared the path for me. When I came out no one was even surprised. I think they kind of expected everyone to come out as gay at some point,” Thomas laughed.

He didn't mention how sickly anxious he was to come out because he was worried his parents would react bad. Or how he worried his friends and sisters won't understand. Or the irrational, freezing fear to let even one person know something so personal about him. 

They talked more about London. Alastair said he was there only once but would like to visit again. They joked that Lucie would drag Cordelia there for the first holiday that appears.

At some point they started to talk about Paris. Which museums they have visited so far. Alastair was scandalized Thomas hasn't visited the Louvre yet. They agreed they should go to one museum together some day.

It was a beautiful night, warm, with a nice breeze. They talked for long, so long they were the only ones left in the restaurant. In another time, in another life the same was happening. They were both different people, with different pasts and so different memories, unsaid words and broken hearts. But as the city of light was watching over them tonight they had this sweet memory, echoing through the centuries.

#thomastair #thomas lighwood #alastair carstairs #tlh #tsc #the last hours #the shadowhunter chronicles #lucie herondale #cordelia carstairs #tsc fanfiction #university au #feel good fic #sav's writing #paris #tsccreatenet #my post

[thevindicativevordan]

You got any thoughts on Superman Birthright?

Probably my second or third favorite Superman origin, and the one that has my favorite Clark/Lex interactions.

Real pity it didn't get to stick as the "canon" origin because I like it a lot more than the Byrne origin that preceded it and the Johns Secret Origin that succeeded it. Smallville's influence is undeniable, but not a detriment, I like the Kents as flawed younger parents rather than wizened flawless mentors (if they have to be alive still when Clark becomes Superman that is). Pa Kent struggling with feelings of alienation with regards to Clark growing up and taking more of an interest in his heritage is still one of my favorite Pa/Clark moments in Superman's history. Ma Kent being a UFO buff is a great idea, apparently Waid had a story about that he never got to tell. I wonder what it was? Would probably make for a nice Annual or fill in story now that he's back at DC.

Lois is great of course, for all the reasons she usually is, as is Perry who gets way more panel space here than he usually does. Lois and Perry's relationship here is hilarious, love the gag where he writes out two lists of reasons to fire or keep her respectively. "No good place to hide the body" had me cackling. Jimmy though is just kind of there, he's the pal who has Supes back as always, but he's heavily overshadowed by the rest of the cast. Only real disappointment for me in terms of the core cast members.

There's a lot to like here in it's handling of Clark Kent as well. Love that Waid actually shows us Clark has travelled the world to gain some perspective, that he's not naïve or clueless, simply idealistic. He's seen the cruelty of the world up close, and he's also seen the way people react when they realize they're dealing with someone who has "gifts" (whether that's himself or Lex).

Showing us some of Clark's pre-Daily Planet journalist career is also a big pro for me, that's an area of Clark's life I wish got fleshed out more. Waid manages to establish a divide between the Clark and Superman identities that still makes the two feel different without it being a repeat of Pre-Crisis. It's a return to Superman being more "real" while Clark is more of a disguise, but "Clark" isn't bumbling so much as overlooked and ignored (which if you've lived in a big city is pretty much exactly how you get treated as a newcomer). His co-workers barely acknowledge his existence, Lois isn't giving him the time of day, Perry tears him a new one for not having a story to turn in about the ongoing alien invasion on time, Clark has to suffer in the trenches over the course of the story to prove himself.

Like Morrison's Action Comics run, this origin tries to fold a lot of the original Golden Age attitude back into Superman. This incarnation is a man with a temper, him shooting a gun then catching the bullet before it hits the guy who sold guns to a school shooter is literally a recreation of a Golden Age panel. Yet this isn't a "retro" take at all, despite being from Christopher Reeve's biggest fan. Waid writes Clark as someone who makes mistakes, fucks up in ways you don't typically see Superman do, and has a lot of doubts about whether or not he can live up to the task he's set before himself. Doesn't help that Metropolis doesn't welcome him any more easily as Superman than it does as Clark.

Public opinion about him is divided at first, then swings heavily to negative as Lex frames him for a false flag Kryptonian invasion, only to finally recover after he saves the day and exposes Lex. Personally I like Superman to have to work for that glowing reputation he usually enjoys, and if Lex is involved in trying to turn the public against him, so much the better. The anger and contempt towards Lex he demonstrates in particular sets the tone for the relationship between the two in the modern day.

Speaking of Lex, my God, this has got to be one of my favorite takes on him, and on his relationship with Clark, both pre and post Superman.

As adults Waid nails the Post-Crisis status quo of Lex being a selfish piece of shit who hides his nature behind a façade of philanthropy. For all his attempts at projecting an aura of power and intelligence, both of which he has in spades, Lex is so clearly defined by the lack of love and understanding he was shown as a youth. It's Superman "disrespecting" him, by not being happy to pose for photos with Lex after seeing him commit an act of sabotage, that pisses Lex off. For this "crime" Lex does everything he can to smear Superman to the public, and entertains holographic fantasies of dissecting Supes to copy his powers. He quips that killing Kal is "genocide" since he's the last of his people, something he demonstrates no empathy for at all given he laughs in Clark's face when he realizes Superman doesn't know he's the last.

Waid's Lex is probably one of the most monstrous incarnations, yet one of the most sympathetic as well. For my money, Waid is the one who convinced me that Clark and Lex being friends back in Smallville is a good thing.

One reason is that Clark gets to see how people react to "gifted" individuals. By observing the way Lex is treated for being unlike the rest, Clark gets a taste of what's to come if his own abilities were ever exposed. This has the dual benefit of establishing why Clark puts so much effort into making people feel at ease, and also establishing Lex as sympathetic for being unable to hide like Clark can.

The second big reason is that it shows why Clark thinks there's a chance Lex can be redeemed. Birthright Lex wasn't a monster from the start. At first he tried to help, but it always backfired. Doubling the efficiency of the milking machine scared/hurt the cows and upset Pa Kent, his ideas for how to improve the local government got rejected, and of course his experiment with Kryptonite. Sad twist of fate that Lex mistaking Clark's look of pain for the fear/disgust he sees everywhere else is what causes Clark to eventually give him that look of disgust for real when they reunite as adults. But having their first interactions be friendly instead of hostile makes Clark's hope that Lex can become a force for good feel grounded in reality instead of hopelessly naïve.

Can't gush enough about Yu's art either, he can make Superman look bright and inspiring, or scary as hell. His take on Metropolis makes it look and feel like a "City of Tomorrow", someplace exciting and dangerous, a city that needs Superman to protect it. Yu's Krypton is also one of my favorite incarnations, love that he gave Lara the S-curl! That's one idea from the DCAU I wish had become sacrosanct for all future origin retellings. Lara doesn't get to have enough influence on Kal to my tastes, so any little bit counts.

Sadly overlooked as it was coming out due to Azzarello and Lee doing For Tomorrow, it seems like it's risen in status after the fact. The S-shield being a symbol of hope on Krypton in addition to the El family crest has carried forward thanks to the DCEU (which is hilarious given Waid's feelings on that franchise).

Waid has another Superman project coming up next year with Brian Hitch that appears to be a "Year 2" follow up to Birthright. No clue if it will actually take place in strict continuity with Birthright, honestly it feels weird to have anyone but Yu do a direct followup to that, but Waid has said that a Superman run from him would basically be an issue 13 that continues from this story. I'm excited to see Waid take another big swing at Superman, I think he still has it in him to put out a great story, and Birthright being out of continuity may end up being to everyone's benefit. If this ends up being Waid's last Superman story, I hope he gets to do whatever he wants with the Birthrightverse. Kill off the Kents if that's his desire, I know he prefers them dead (as do I). Fingers crossed whatever he comes up with is good.

#superman #superman birthright #lex luthor #mark waid #dc comics

[jadecrusades]

Illustrations by Matt Busch. Unpublished “Star Wars Adventure Journal” Issue #17. May, 1998.

Timothy Zahn’s short story “Jade Solitaire” was originally slated to be released in the “Star Wars Adventure Journal” issue #17, fully illustrated by artist Matt Busch. Unfortunately, the issue was canceled, and Busch’s art was never published. He was kind enough to share some of the pieces with Jade Crusades and participate in an interview during San Diego Comic-Con in 2001. Here’s an excerpt from our chat:

How long have you been a Star Wars fan?

Since the first day I saw the movies! Actually, it's funny, when I was a kid I wasn't allowed to see Star Wars. My parents saw it first and they thought it was too violent for me. Luke's parents get slaughtered, Obi Wan Kenobi dies...and I was 4-years old when it first came out. So I actually tricked my grandparents into taking me. I've been hooked ever since.

How familiar with Mara Jade are you?

Even before I started doing official work for Lucasfilm, I was a huge Star Wars buff. In fact, I've got a Darth Vader tattoo... <<lifts up sleeve to show Vader's mask>> But before I was doing official work, I had read all the books.

What preparations did you go through before producing the “Jade Solitaire” illustrations?

At that time there wasn't an official Mara Jade model. I had a friend, Andi Ficara, who really had this unique look. From what I had read from novels and comics I thought she was perfect. I took photographs and did some preliminary sketches first to send to West End Games. They sent the sketches to Lucasfilm to make sure she was, you know, a good-looking Mara. They loved the preliminary sketches, and she worked out great. She really got into character. I actually had her read “Heir to the Empire”! I filled her in with Mara’s history, and she was really into it and did a really great job!

Is there any other unpublished Matt Busch art from the “Star Wars Adventure Journal”?

There was a Talon Karrde story that I illustrated, that had a few cameos of Mara Jade as well. I think it was a story that was either written by Mike Stackpole, or he and Timothy Zahn. I can't really remember. It was for an issue of the Adventure Journal that never came out. It's a shame.

#Mara Jade #Mara Jade Skywalker #Matt Busch #Timothy Zahn #Tim Zahn #Star Wars #Wars Wars EU #Star Wars Expanded Universe #Star Wars art #Star Wars Legends #Jedi #Lightsaber #West End Games #Star Wars RPG #RPG Art #Tales from the New Republic #Drach'nam #H'sishi #Togorian #Jade's Fire