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writefinch · 4 years ago

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Dear Dairy, Pt.1 (cn: noncon, Mm, kidnap, emphasis on *forced* feminization, induced lactation, milking, bondage, drugging, induction of gender dysphoria in a cis guy, things of that nature)

7th July 2018

Cold day today. I dusted off my scarves for the first time this year. Not literally, they'd been vacuum sealed and packed away when the weather turned in October. I threw out the red and yellow knit scarf, something I should have done last year, as it's far too Harry Potter. I was going to pick out the UMIST scarf but that felt a touch dull for the first scarf of the year. In the end I picked out the green silk paisley, which I felt provided a contrast with the pink shirt. I wore them with the second-hand grey Armani that I've yet to have tailored; I haven't yet decided if it's worth the trouble. I'm leaning towards yes, as I received two compliments today, one from Jason's database administrator, a charming and flirtatious--to say nothing of attractive--lady from Perth. We've talked about the possibility of meeting up for drinks at some point, and I'm increasingly inclined to take her up on the offer.

Experiment C2 is adjusting to his newfound freedom since his release last week. It was sad to see him go, and I'll cherish the time we spent together, our first night especially when he violently objected to the idea of servicing me. Oh, how he kicked and fought, clawing at his neck chain, scratching me, biting, swinging wildly. He bloodied my nose rather viciously and left me in no mood for sex that night, to the extent that I almost let him go entirely.

Of course, his demeanor changed altogether after I bagged him. A clear plastic bag over his head, taped around his neck, watching him gasp and writhe for air that isn't there, screaming his silly little head off until he's sure that he's taken his final breath, then tearing a tiny hole over his nostrils. I let him suck in four generous lungfuls of air before I bagged him the second time, and I went through seven bags before allowing him a rest. After that he became such an agreeable and solicitous cocksleeve you'd have thought he was raised in a merchant marine!

Still, he was unsuitable both physiologically and psychologically for the experimental interventions, and I only have so much space in the cellar, so I had to let him go. Some of my social acquaintances are keeping a close eye on him. He's been told that running his mouth will lead to nothing but the cold grave, and I believe he's a bright enough lad to take that to heart.

I'm beginning the search for his replacement tomorrow.

20th July 2018

I've found him! I've found him I've found him, he is everything I've been looking for, he is perfect, it is as if God placed that boy on earth for no other purpose than my need for him. I can barely contain my excitement.

He is an itinerant surf bum, twenty years of age, single, underemployed, estranged from his family. He has flowing blond hair, a few wisps under his chin that can barely be called a beard, deep brown eyes, and a lithe, rangy figure that seems to be slowly growing into the top-heavy carrot-shaped build of a classic surfer. He's been living in town since May, surfing most days, doing temp jobs, lodging in the spare bedroom of a friend of mine.

What a perfect physique! His body is accustomed to being dashed over rocks and whipped by surf, what fun I will have finding and surpassing his tolerances for pain! Oh, to restrict and ration out air to a boy who has trained himself to hold his breath underwater since he was a young teenager, to see those taut muscles stretched over a rack, I cannot wait, I can't wait.

I won't speak or write his name. I now take every action with the foregone conclusion that he is mine, and that he is already Experiment C3. In my mind, he is already in my cellar.

My friend has kindly allowed him to get behind on his rent, and C3 apparently plans to move to Sydney in ten day's time, driving out across the country in his decade-old Ford Ka, surfboard strapped to the roof. When he disappears a few days before that, people will assume he left to avoid paying his rent.

They won't be wrong, in a sense. C3 won't be worrying about rent for a long, long time...

26th July, 2018

It hasn't been an easy choice, and it is in fact a decision I've been struggling with for some time now, but I've decided to let my hair go grey. I'm almost forty for heaven's sake, and I noticed my first grey a year before the financial crisis. Ever since then I've been religious in my application of dye and toner, carefully concealing each and every one of the pale little buggers that pops up, but it's gone from something I'd do after a haircut to something I'm doing twice a week. I won't rush it, I'm going to ease off the dye over the course of the next year or so, but by next July I'll be au naturelle salt and pepper.

Work remains dull but tolerable. I know I'm blessed to be able to do most of my duties from home given my hobbies, but there's a certain sense of removal from everything, as if it's not really a job at all and I'm back at university doing a coursework-intensive compulsory module. On the other hand, I do enjoy going to the office in a way that I did not when I was going there five days a week!

Experiment C3 is screaming his head off again, I think. It's very faint, and I've turned off the air conditioning in the sitting room so I can hear it coming up from below. I suppose I can't blame the boy, given the circumstances. He hasn't seen me since the drugs wore off, and he's in the same configuration I first kept C2 in: his feet are in snowboard boots and locked into clips in the floor, his neck is in a steel collar connected to an eyebolt on the floor by a one-metre chain, his wrists are cuffed and pulled up towards the ceiling by another chain, he has noise-cancelling headphones strapped over his ears blaring white noise, and he's wearing a blindfold snug enough to prevent him from even blinking underneath it.

He's been there for seven hours now, since three in the morning. He can neither stand nor sit nor lie down, he cannot turn around, he cannot see--though it is pitch black in the cellar even if he wasn't blindfolded--he cannot hear his own voice, and I very much doubt he has any idea how he got there.

As I said, I haven't been down to see him properly yet, so I'm monitoring him at a distance via CCTV and also his pulse and blood oxygen readings. I'm keeping him watered through an IV drip and I'm not at all worried about feeding him just yet, though I'm sure he'll be getting hungry given that I emptied out the contents of his guts with an enema while he was still unconscious. I want him properly good and woozy from sleep deprivation before I introduce myself, either forty-eight hours or until his vitals get a tad skiffy, whichever is shorter. By my word, I am not an impatient man!

Of course, given the close monitoring required, I'll only be getting a few more hours sleep than he will. I suspect I'm getting the better half of the deal. Ah, the poor thing just wet himself. He needn't worry, it's all going into the bucket between his feet, and it'll go to good use later.

I've calmed myself down since his capture, for practical reasons as much as anything else, but I am still abuzz with energy. I am already looking forward to writing my next entry!

28th July 2018

I introduced myself to C3 today.

He spent an impressively long time in the stress position before he was unable to push his legs and instead dangled from his wrists, almost twelve hours, at which point I let the wrist rope go slack and allowed him to collapse. To prevent him from sleeping I intermittently blasted him with high pressure cold water whenever his pulse dropped below 100, for about a further four hours until I decided he'd had enough rest and strung his wrists back up.

He lasted five hours that time, so I let his wrists down again and stood sentry with a paintball gun, giving him a good and proper three-round burst whenever he stopped whimpering. Up again, barely an hour, down again, where I pinned him to the floor with wiring from an electric fence, set to deliver low-intensity zaps across his arms and chest whenever it seemed as if sleep was a possibility. He only got a few shocks, I think the first few put him in such a state of alarm that he didn't dare relax enough to be given another.

I strung him up a few more times, sometimes combining the motivators--his quivering thighs made a delightful target for paintballs as he tried to hold them in a crouching squat--until we reached the forty-ninth hour. I then played my recorded introduction tape through his headphones. It was identical to the one I'd played for C1 and C2, which was itself similar to the one recorded for B4 through B9.

Of course, as the deaf and blindfolded boy was crouch-squatting in place hearing my voice tell him that his old life was forfeit, that he was livestock now, that he would be used as a sex slave, that disobedience would only lead to misery, and the details of the hormone treatments he would be on, I was standing in front of him, masturbating.

My timing was impeccable. Just as the last lines of the recording said "if you're wondering when you'll meet me, I'm right in front of you," I came all over his whorish face. I'm afraid I'm no Peter North, I've no more than four spurts and the first one is always rather watery, but I nailed him right between the lips with one burst and smeared the rest over his face with the tip of my cock. He froze up rather delightfully during the whole ordeal, barely flinching as I cleaned off the tip in his hair.

I took the microphone and spoke directly into his headphones. I told him he'd been in his predicament for two days so far, that he was to obey my simple instructions, and that if he did he would be allowed food and allowed to rest. I told him that I would not require him to speak at any point during these instructions, and that if he so much as whispered I'd keep him strung up without food for another two days. He nodded in agreement, which earned him a hard slap, as I'd not asked him to nod or shake his head. I told him then to nod if he understood, which he did.

I freed one of his arms at a time, telling them to keep them in place and move them only as and when I told him to move them. He obeyed--a far quicker learner than C1--and I put him into the straitjacket. I unlatched his boots one at a time, putting him in ankle cuffs with a short length of heavy chain between them. I injected him in the buttocks with his first dose of anti-androgens, a painkiller, and his hormonal cocktail, and I removed the IV from his arm.

At that point I led him to his cage, a 2x3 metre cell, 1.5 metres high. I removed his blindfold, though it did him little good as it was pitch black in the entire room--I'd switched off the lights and was working via a set of light amplification goggles--and pushed him onto the wipe-clean bedroll.

"Lie still like a good little boy until the lights turn on, and then you can help yourself to some food," I said to him. He made a sound as if to respond, then silenced himself, lying still in his bonds.

The lights were on a timer, and they came on harsh and bright when I was upstairs, watching him through the CCTV on my desktop with a fresh pot of coffee. Three of the walls of his cage were walled off with a tarp, allowing him to see about a fifth of the basement through the remaining wall. Inside his cage was his bedroll, a doggie bowl full of oatmeal and bananas, a small plastic trough filled with fresh water, and a litter tray.

I considered staying up and watching him, seeing the fear grow in his eyes, his first attempt at eating cold food without the use of his hands, the humiliation of pissing in a litter tray, but I was exhausted. As soon as I've finished writing this entry, I'm going to take a well-deserved nap.

4th October 2018

The truffle salt from Coles is a waste of time. Don't misunderstand me, it's useable, it's palatable, and it has the necessary truffle aroma. "Has" is the key word there, it's got the half-life of Fermium and after a week in the cupboard it's now just table salt with black specks in it. I think I'm going to invest in some decent truffle oil at Christmas.

C3 is coming along marvelously. The combination of injections and a high-fat, high-calorie, vitamin-rich diet have had a visible impact on his physique. His skin has softened even further from a clear and healthy surfer's complexion to almost peachlike smoothness and he now has visible jiggle on his thighs, stomach and buttocks. Most importantly, he's now the not-at-all-proud owner of a set of A-cup breasts, complete with sensitive, pebble-sized nipples.

His breasts are extremely sensitive. He's told me as much directly, but I've confirmed it through experimental means. A few light stripes under the nipples with the cane used to bring a wince to his face when he first came under my care, now it brings him to his knees, and the mere sight of the thing leads him to cry and whine rather prettily.

He did have some issues with portion control, in that he wasn’t eating the full servings of food I had prepared for him. This was unreasonable and short-sighted on his part: while plain, I have not asked him to eat anything that I wouldn't willingly eat myself, and while I am not a professional cook I am certainly a talented amateur.

The solution was a simple one: if even a smear of food remains in his dish, I do not feed him for the next two to four days. I only had to enforce this rule twice, and he's finished every meal I've put in front of him for the past two months.

He's gone without sleeping for the last forty-eight hours, he's gone without speaking for the last three weeks, and I've added a low dose of LSD to his drinking water. Tonight he should be somewhat tractable for the induction of a hypnotic state. I am not trying to control his behaviour--there's nothing I want him to do that I couldn't compel him to do through more reliable means--but for an in-depth interview. In concert with a lie detector and a regulated dose of barbiturates, I am going to make him bare his soul to me.

There are a few specifics I'm interested in, such as confirming my assessment of his sexuality and gender identity, and it never hurts to shore up my security by inquiring of any planned means of escape or rescue, but in great part I am doing this for morale effect: I want him to have no respite from me, even inside his own mind. He will learn that he has no more control of his thinking than he does of his eating, sleeping or exercising.

Speaking of which, I had to leave him in an armbinder for a few nights when he insisted on doing press-ups in his cell. The additional restraints distressed him greatly, and he's seemed afraid to even move lest I restrain him further. That was back in August, and I have since acquired an elliptical trainer which I allow him to use daily, good behaviour permitting.

I will write again tomorrow with details of tonight's interview, and I only hope it's more productive than C2's interview was.

5th October 2018

Well, that was elucidating.

I left C3 unrestrained for the interview. It was his first time free of shackles and cuffs outside of his cage since he'd arrived, as I wanted him to be relatively comfortable and I was confident that his drug cocktail would prevent any serious escape attempts.

He is not a natural hypnotic subject and I was only successful in inducing a semi-trance state. I don't think he achieved a trance, but I think he believed he was in a trance, and for my purposes that was more than sufficient. He talked for hours and provided an unabridged history of his life so far. His parents, his brothers, his schooling, his love of surfing and camping, his romantic attachments and rejections, his childhood friends and bullies, his fear of dogs, his earliest memories, his deepest shames, enough to fill a short memoir.

The interview lasted for ten hours, with breaks every two hours to allow him to pee (as I'd also allowed him to drink lime cordial from a cup while he spoke) and to adjust his dose of drugs and deepen his trance state. He cried frequently and easily. He bears a great amount of shame and guilt for someone so young and so relatively innocent--raised by Catholics, naturally--and spent half of the fifth hour in uncontrollable hysterics. I let him rest his head in my lap and stroked his hair as he cried, and he clung on to me like a man drowning. Once he ran out of tears he had a bout of cathartic laughter, and after that a calm passed over him, and he remained in a state of detached, cooperative calm until I ended the interview.

Of course, most of this was filler and background information for the parts that truly interested me: his sexuality and gender identity. Both were perfect. His sexuality is less important but still delightful. He is entirely heterosexual and repulsed by men. He still has nightmares about the one time I have molested him so far, when I coated his face with cum shortly after his chapter. You wouldn't believe how hard I got as he told me that!

He sometimes masturbates in his cage, which he tells me is mostly from boredom than any sexual desire, and he fantasizes about sex with women. He has little interest in sadomasochism, no interest whatsoever about taking a submissive role, and aside from a weak interest in pegging he is plain vanilla. He has fantasies about sex in public, fucking multiple women, being woken up by receiving oral sex, and seducing older women.

His gender identity is much the same: male, through and through. He has insecurities about being slight and physically unimposing--related to bullying in school--and about being insufficiently masculine. He takes pride in the callouses in his hands and the scars on his body from surfing, and wishes that the thin, pale stubble on his face was thicker.

It's of little surprise then that he finds the changes from the hormones to be a cruel and unwanted imposition. His breast growth makes him feel powerless and disgusted with himself, he can feel his muscles weakening, the tenderness in his breasts is terrifying and degrading, and even the topic of penile and testicular shrinkage made him choke up and sob. He says that even when I allow him to sleep, his mind feels clouded and he finds it increasingly difficult to identify the particulars of his emotional state, which swings and changes in ways he is not used to.

Again, I must reiterate how promising this is. My experiments concern the induction of sexual neuroses and physical development on non-consenting subjects. C1 was unsuitable because he--well, she, more likely--was a little too keen to embrace the role I had planned for her.

C3 is sleeping now. I haven't actually left our impromptu "therapy room" and he's drifted off with his head in my lap. He needs the rest. I have big plans for him, after all.

24th October, 2018

I took a trip to the cinema today. Specifically the single-screen cinema in the back of the adult bookshop. C2 is turning tricks for the manager. I don't think it's his first career choice but for some reason he's been unable to get a job anywhere else in town. He tried being an independent streetwalker for a while, which didn't work out well for him as he was quickly picked up by the local police and treated rather roughly. Almost as if they were keeping an eye on him!

The manager of the adult bookshop got in touch with him, I believe he was waiting for him outside the local lockup in fact, and informed him of a safe, reliable means of plying his trade. Now he sucks cock in the back room cinema along with a handful of other whores in exchange for a roof over his head and ten percent of the ticket sales.

He was apparently given a second tour of the police cells for not handing his tips over to the manager in a timely and honest manner, so his left eye was still swollen shut when I saw him today. His garb was delightful: pastel pink yoga leggings with the Adidas stripes down the sides, and a duck egg blue midriff-cut t-shirt with "BOY" on the chest, with a female gender symbol in place of the O.

I sat down next to him in the otherwise empty cinema and flashed him my ticket, which had set me back $84--worth every penny--and he flashed me a charming smile. There was no glimmer of recognition in his eyes, like all of my experiments and side projects he'd never seen me without a mask. He put his hand on my thigh and told me his name, which I've already forgotten. The feature began, a rather energetic video from the noughties with Kelly Wells, Hillary Scott and Layla Riviera, prompting C2 to get on his knees in front of me. He gagged a little when he unzipped my jeans, not because I was unwashed but because I'd applied a generous quantity of deodorant and aftershave so that he would not recognise me via scent.

I enjoyed a slow, leisurely blowjob for the next hour, where he displayed all the basic techniques I'd so painstakingly taught him as well as a few new ones he'd picked up more recently. There's something to be said about consuming porn this way, not just the oral service but also watching the film from the beginning, without skipping forward to my favorite parts or switching between videos, letting myself slowly build towards my climax at the same pace as the on-screen action. I came just before the money shot, pulling out to cum all over C2's face as Kelly Wells guzzled piss on the big screen, and let C2 lick and suck my balls until the credits rolled.

Before he or I got up, I took out $20, waved it in front of his eyes, and then used the notes to wipe cum up from his face. He flinched at the roughness, scowled, told me to cut it out, and put his hand on my leg as if to push away from me. I said three words.

"Punishment position three."

It was as if I'd reached inside him and squeezed. He let out a pitiful squeak, straightened up on his knees, pushed out his chest, put his hands behind his back, closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and let his tongue hang out. I stuffed the cum-soaked banknotes between his mouth.

"Be good, C2," I told him as I stood up. He didn't move a muscle as I walked out of the cinema, and as the door closed behind me, I heard a single muffled sob. It was an enjoyable experience and I certainly needed it after the last few days because C3 has really been a handful.

It began on the weekend when the first signs of lactation appeared. C3 has been getting increasingly upset with the changes to his body, his widening hips, his weight gain, his shrinking musculature, his shrinking genitalia, and his C-cup breasts. The breasts are especially upsetting, he complains that they ache constantly and are tender to the slightest touch. In any case, when the first droplets of milk dribbled out of his nipples something snapped.

Through tears, he told me that he refuses to eat, that he cannot live with the things I am doing to him, and that I should either let him go or kill him. Obviously this is unacceptable. I told him I was not treating his request with any seriousness, and that if he did not eat his meal, he would go without for the next several days. He nodded forlornly, but still refused the food.

I strapped his hands into leather mitts to prevent him from improvising methods of self-harm, and continued as normal. For the next three days, he refused to respond to commands or obey orders, remaining silent and going limp. He wailed in pain when I caned his soles and slapped his tits, but he continued to wallow in self-pity.

He was ravenously hungry by Wednesday, but when I gave him the opportunity to eat, he would not. I left the bowl of food in his cage overnight, and in the morning it remained untouched. He had not thrown it out or despoiled it, he had simply ignored it in an admirable, if misplaced, display of willpower. I gave him one final warning that there would be serious consequences if he did not eat now. He refused, so I applied the consequences.

I fitted him into a padded restraining board, on his back, his arms, legs, chest, stomach, forehead, chin, wrists and ankles held in place by canvas straps. He could not move an inch, not that he was trying particularly hard. A hollow dildo gag with a breathing hole went into his mouth, principally to prevent him from trying to bite off his own tongue. I catheterized him and inserted a hollow plug into his backside, not overly gently in either case, much to his consternation.

Then, intubation. I fed a heavily-lubricated silicone hose into his left nostril. He thrashed and twitched, as is expected when such a procedure is performed without the aid of benzodiazepines. Undeterred, I asked him to start swallowing, lest the tube end up in his lungs. He did as much gagging as swallowing, but after a few eventful minutes I felt the tell-tale glide of it being pulled down his esophagus and into his stomach.

Once the tube was taped in place under his nose, I attached the free end to a pump until it drew fluid out from within him. A few drops of this fluid onto pH paper revealed it to be stomach acid, which hopefully meant that the hose was not in his lungs. I then attached the hose to the feeding machine, and explained to C3 exactly how it would work.

He would have his meals and water combined into a slurry, kept at a cool four degrees celsius, and injected into his feeding tube. The pressure inside the hose would make breathing difficult or impossible while the food was being pumped, and the volume of his meals--around a litre and a half of slurry--meant that each feeding would be spread out in thirty second bursts, delivered semi-randomly over the course of an hour.

As I told him this, I undid my belt and began to masturbate. Despite the obvious temptations, I had not molested C3 in an overtly sexual manner since that first facial at the beginning of his captivity. By combining molestation with removal of autonomy, I wished to impress upon him the importance of obeying me with whatever autonomy I allow him to have.

I pressed the button on the feeding machine as I approached my climax. C3 squealed and gurgled like a drowning cat from the sensation of ice-cold sludge pumping through a tube in his sinuses and down into his throat, choking as the diameter of the tube expanded enough to cut off his breathing. He thrashed in his restraints with such force that he almost moved the gurney beneath him!

Seeing tears stream from his eyes was too much, and his eyes were precisely where I aimed. I landed a good few ropes on each eye, which he scrunched shut in disgust. When the tube stopped pumping I pried open his eyelids with my fingers and made sure a good quantity of my burning, stinging cum got in each eye, then smeared the rest across his face. He tried to blink it out, with little success, and before he could do much else I applied the padded blindfold. He hates and fears the eye-shutting pressure from the neoprene padding at the best of times, and wasn't overjoyed to wear it with his eyes gunked up with sperm.

He's been like that for the last three days, unable to move, speak or see, fed three meals a day through his nose. The only interaction he's had is when I've unrestrained his individual limbs and allowed them some movement, one at a time, to prevent bedsores and deep vein thrombosis, and when I come down to grope his sensitive tits. He is only able to relieve himself through the catheter and through enemas.

After a few days of stick, he's almost ready for the carrot. Tonight I am making pork carnitas with soft tacos, which he has told me is his favourite meal. I have also purchased one of the Harry Dresden books, which he told me he is an avid reader of. When dinner is ready, I will make him an offer: he will ask me for normal food and apologize for forcing me to use the feeding tube. In return he will be allowed out of his restraints and returned to his comfortable cage, along with his favourite meal and a good book, which he will be allowed to read during his spare time as long as he behaves himself.

I hope he accepts, for his sake and mine.

16 November 2018

C3 had his first true milking today! I've been teasing dribbles of milk from his nipples with my fingers for weeks, but today the volume was so high that I had to deploy a handheld breast pump. He whimpered for the duration but was obviously relieved by the reduction in pressure. It was as if he found the whole ordeal rather humiliating.

The milk is rich, a touch gamey, and less sweet than expected. I don't think the taste will be anything to write home about while his stress levels are so high, and I think that will be the case for some time. I've taken half for myself, and I'm mixing the other half into his food.

He's been docile since the force feeding. The intensity and inevitability of the punishment is part of it, but the rewards are equally important. My deal is that he can ask for anything once. Obviously I laugh at certain requests--he's not getting a phone or a two-way radio--and some things require compromise, but otherwise I have been accommodating. His cell now contains a lamp he can turn on or off, two dozen books and graphic novels, an old mp3 player, and a box of wet wipes. His relief from the constant boredom of being confined in a cage for twenty hours a day is palpable, and he has chosen the comfort that obedience brings over the misery that stems from disobedience.

He has asked if he'll ever be free from this basement and I truthfully said yes. One day he'll be walking around outside free of physical restraints and he will sleep at night in a bed he can truly call his own, though I'm unsure if he'll ever truly be free of me. He takes comfort in the fact that he has not yet seen my face or anything that might identify me, as he reasons that I am therefore not incentivized to bury him in a shallow grave to protect myself. His conclusion is correct but his premise is wrong; he'll know who I am eventually and I still won't fear him.

I'm currently milking him once per day regardless of his feelings on the matter, and I think this has hidden from him the fact that he now needs to be milked. Without his daily milkings the pain in his breasts would become unbearable, and soon he will develop mastitis if he's not milked. This will form another important part of his development: begging for things that are distasteful but necessary. With the exception of the wet wipes, there is nothing inherently humiliating in the things he's asking for. I believe he'll find begging to be milked intensely humiliating, and more humiliating still because of the tolls I'll extract from him when he goes down that road.

A brief note on his physical changes: his breasts are bigger but they remain C-cups for the time being. There are now a striking set of stretch marks on the sides and undersides of his breasts, along with some smaller, subtler ones on his thighs and buttocks which have also thickened up nicely. At some point I'm going to give him a regular schedule of retention enemas until he gets stretch marks on his belly befitting a pregnant little broodslut. His skin is delightfully soft and I'm shaving his face daily until the home electrolysis kit arrives. The combination of hormones, daily exercise bike sessions, and a lack of any upper body resistance training has changed his physique from a surfer's build to a more bottom heavy one.

As soon as I have finished writing this entry I am going to give him two gifts. The first gift is an ear piercing. It will be home to a yellow plastic tag, a miniature version of a cattle tag. The second gift is his name. He's not C3 anymore, and he's certainly not whatever stupid name he called himself before I acquired him. He has lovely tits and he's a milk cow, so his name will be Cowtits.

Cowtits. I think it suits him.

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sweatersexual · 4 years ago

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Now I Want to Hold You Too

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The party welcoming both sets of Pines twins back for the summer had never really ended. Mabel’s friends had slept over that night, and Soos was still playing party music even into the afternoon. Fiddleford had come over for lunch and now he and Ford were discussing new projects, blueprints scattered all over the dining room table.

Becoming a man of means had suited Fiddleford. He now spoke with the confidence Ford remembered from the old days. He stood up straighter, and the healthy weight he’d gained filled his endearingly garish patterned shirt in all the right ways. Yes, Ford was happy he was doing so well, and that their friendship had been rekindled.

But Ford had to admit, feelings of friendship weren’t all that had been rekindled in him, especially when their hands lingered around each other, tracing the blueprints, or when Fiddleford gave him that familiar lopsided grin, or hearing him hum quietly the way he always did while thinking hard. Still, Ford worried it was too soon, or perhaps inappropriate altogether, to make any romantic overtures to Fiddleford. He didn’t even know exactly how much Fiddleford remembered of their romantic history. No, it was better to take their relationship as it currently was, because the fact that Fiddleford was even talking to him again put a spring in Ford’s step.

He and Fiddleford had finished making revisions to one of the cooling systems when a short cough caught their attention. It was only then that they noticed Ford’s thirteen-year-old grandniece standing next to them, her two best friends not far behind her.

“Are you two having fun?” Mabel was grinning widely enough to make Ford a bit wary. Had she planted a glitter bomb again?

“Yes, of course,” he answered. “Fiddleford’s been showing me -”

“Yeah, we know,” called Stan from the kitchen. “You two have been at it for hours. I’m gonna need you to clear the table before dinner’s ready, okay?”

“Sure thing, Stanley,” replied Fiddleford. “We were at a pretty good stopping place, weren’t we, Ford?”

“You two should join our braid train!” said Mabel.

“I appreciate the offer, Mabel,” said Ford, “but I don’t think either of us have hair long enough to braid.”

“Mr. McGucket’s beard is long enough,” Grenda pointed out.

“I bet an extra finger really comes in handy for holding multiple sections of hair,” said Candy.

“It’s definitely been useful for tying complicated knots,” Ford agreed, “but I’m afraid I’ve never tried braiding hair before.”

Mabel gasped. “Really? Okay, now we have to teach you. Are you ready for a new look, Mr. McGucket?”

Fiddleford shrugged. “I guess it can’t hurt none.”

Once the dining table was clear of blueprints and they took their seats in the living room, Ford noticed his heart rate pick up a little. Braiding Fiddleford’s beard was going to include touching his face, and the last time they had been in each other’s personal space like this was many, many years ago, in a . . . different context.

“Let’s start with a simple braid,” said Mabel, running her fingers through Grenda’s hair. “Divide the hair into three even sections, like this.”

Ford let out a deep breath and ran his hands along Fiddleford’s jawline, blushing at the memory of using the same movement to pull him in for a kiss, once upon a time. He was close enough to notice Fiddleford’s cheeks also reddening beneath his facial hair.

“Is this okay?” he asked Fiddleford, just to be sure.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Go on and do as she tells you.”

He could feel Fiddleford’s facial muscles moving beneath his hands - but he had to focus! Three sections of hair. He could do that.

Fiddleford’s beard was shorter and much better groomed than it had been last summer. The weird little bandage was gone. Ford hadn’t expected to enjoy the sensation of soft hair through his fingers so much. With Mabel’s simple instructions, the strands were soon woven together into a thick braid.

“That looks great!” she praised him. “You’re picking this up fast! You want to try a French braid?”

“O-okay.”

Candy turned out to be right about his extra fingers coming in handy, though it still took him a few tries to get the hang of it.

“Nice! Keep going, Grunkle Ford! Careful not to drop that strand.”

“Oh. My. Gosh,” said Candy, pulling out her cell phone. “That boy I told you about from regionals just texted me! Do you think I should send him a selfie?”

“Ooh!” squealed Mabel. “We should take your picture outside while the lighting is good.”

Before Ford could say anything, the three girls ran out the door with nothing more than a “keep practicing, Grunkle Ford!” from Mabel. Their giggles slowly faded away.

“She’s a regular ray of sunshine, ain’t she?” said Fiddleford.

“Yes,” agreed Ford. “I’m very lucky to have her and her brother in my life.”

“Me too. You know they helped me start getting my memories back.”

“Yet another thing I’m grateful to them for.” He came to the end of Fiddleford’s beard with a hum.

“I reckon that looks pretty snazzy,” said Fiddleford, checking his reflection in the window, but Ford shook his head.

“Hang on, let me try that again, it got really messy near the end.” He reached for the beard again, more out of a desire not to end this intimate moment with Fiddleford than out of dedication to immaculate braiding.

Fiddleford grinned, a knowing glint in his eye. “Always the perfectionist.”

“Pot. Kettle.”

“Guilty as charged!” With a laugh Fiddleford added, “Do you remember that stupid fight we had about coffee filters? We was yelling at each other right in this here room, weren’t we?”

Ford’s breath caught. Of course he remembered. He also remembered that fight had ended with a makeout session on the couch.

Did Fiddleford?

“Yes, it was in here,” he answered. “But . . . is the yelling all you remember?”

“No.”

He said it quietly, but with an intensity that brought Ford to a rigid attention. The tender look in his eye loosened Ford’s tongue, and before he knew it he blurted out, “I’m still in love with you.”

Fiddleford brought a trembling hand to Ford’s face. “Ford . . .”

Leaning into the touch, his hands moving from Fiddleford’s beard and onto his shoulders, Ford continued, “I know that after everything that happened between us, it’s more than I could ever ask for simply to be your friend again. And if you want to keep it that way, I’ll still consider myself incredibly fortunate. But if you still feel anything romantic towards me -”

Fiddleford cut him off with a kiss, soft and tender, leaving Ford tingling as he pulled away. “Yes,” he said breathlessly. “Yes, consarn it, Stanford, I couldn’t stop loving you if I tried. Which I did try. Multiple times. I don’t want to try again.”

“Me neither,” said Ford, and pulled him into another kiss, more intense than the first. Ford’s hands fell around Fiddleford’s waist and pulled him closer. When their mouths broke apart, their foreheads rested together, drinking in the closeness that had so long been denied them.

“The beard’s different,” murmured Ford. “But I like it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Fidds chuckled, rubbing his beard on Ford’s face and peppering him with kisses. Ford was laughing when their lips met again.

“Oh, great,” said Stan, jolting them apart. “Now I owe Mabel fifteen bucks.”

“Stanley!” Ford cried. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Literally two seconds, sheesh,” said Stan, leaning against the doorway. “I just wanted to tell you dinner was ready, not watch you make out like a creep.”

“And since when do you gamble with the kids?”

“Since when do I not gamble with anyone? I really shouldn’t have bet against Mabel’s matchmaking skills, though. I just thought you two were so repressed, you wouldn’t know a gay urge if it bit you in the rear.”

Ford rolled his eyes. “Just because I like to keep things private doesn’t mean I’m repressed, Stanley. I accepted the fact that I’m gay back in college, when we first got together.”

“Really? So Mabel didn’t start your relationship, she just got you back together. I think I can make this work for me.”

“You give that girl her fifteen dollars, Stanley,” Fiddleford insisted. “I never would’ve guessed that braid train business was a setup. That girl is good.”

When she came in for dinner and found Fiddleford and Stanford holding hands, Mabel squealed and accepted her winnings with relish. Though Dipper was less exuberant, he did say that their getting together was “neat, real neat. You guys are, like, the ultimate science power couple.” Even Stan admitted that despite all the teasing, he was happy for them.

“It gives me a lot of hope for the future,” said Ford as he walked Fiddleford home that evening, “having that kind of support from family.”

“Don’t it?” Fiddleford concurred. “Those kids ain’t growing up with the same limits on self expression, or love, that we did. What a blessing that is.”

“For so long, I felt like I didn’t have a future,” said Ford. “Everything was about stopping Bill. But now, the possibilities are endless. This is the freest I’ve ever felt. I’m so glad I get to share that with you.”

“I feel exactly the same way.”

Ford kissed Fiddleford then, right there in the street, not caring at all if anyone saw.

#fiddauthor #stanford pines #fiddleford mcgucket #gravity falls #fanfic #1500 words #otp: not just research partners

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deafwestnewsies · 4 years ago

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you tell me you love her (i give you a grin)

And I'd choose our fate a million times over.

david jacobs x jack kelly (unrequited love)

read it on my ao3!

The grass crumpled beneath his boots. His shadow left a broad dent in the shade

(his body was still a marvel- when had Jack Kelly become so strong? When did Jack Kelly grow into his wimpy shoulders and snivelling ankles? When did Jack Kelly ditch his dreams of a boy to become a man?)

that towered over a lean man who was casually basking in the weak October daylight. He frowned at the sudden loss of warmth, but his eyes danced with mirth as he gazed over his former selling partner, current best friend, and long-time confidant. “Why, Jack Kelly. I thought you stood me up.”

“I’d neva, Dave,” Jack bent down in the mellow grass next to David. “They caugh’ me onna big shipment just as I was ‘bout to leave for lunch. Tell Esther that the market’ll have a good deal on trout tomorrow.”

Their heads nearly touched at the temple, and if Jack had the nerve or the gall, he could move a miniscule inch and connect their homely skin. It would only take a second- and what is a second, honestly? A moment in time? In the everlasting universe? And Jack Kelly wasn’t a very smart man, but he knew that humans only took up a small part of the whole existence of the world and a single second of humanity could manage to be wasted on the shifting of a cold, lonely wrist to lay on the freckled arm of another-

David rolled onto his side, more interested in a patch of dandelions than the market predictions for the next day. “Besides,” scrunching his nose, as if that would clear his irreverent musings on the universe, “not all o’ us are fancy medical men with all the break time they could ask fa’. I’m the big man pullin’ the weight ‘round here.”

(And it was true, to some aspects. Jack brought home honest-to-goodness bakery bread on Fridays so they could practice Shabbat without travelling, as Mayer so liked to do. He gave Les nickels to spend at the fair and bought Sarah hair ribbons for no particular reason. There was the gas bill he had paid one particularly difficult December, and the endless hours of doing various handiwork around the house when David was studying and Mayer’s old aches came to haunt him. The Jacobs’ home was also Jack’s, not because he needed it, but because they needed him.)

(He needed it too, he supposed.)

A yellow dandelion hovered over his nose, gently twirling with the teasing hum of David leaning in so close. Jack’s teeth snapped at it.

“You can drink the milk of these, I read,” David mused.

Jack wrinkled his nose. “Dandelion salad‘s only good tha first five times. Plus, it’d turn Crutchie’s tongue yellow.”

Dropping the little flower altogether, David rolled flat on his back and turned to gently nudge Jack on his shoulder with his premature wrinkling forehead. “Jackie,” he whispered.

(“I love you,” he would go on, later in Jack’s dreams. “I’ve loved you since I met you, I love you like a wildfire, I love you so much I cannot bear it, I love you like every character in all of my books, I love you.”)

“I’ve met a girl.” There was a hint of mischief in David’s tone- and Jack didn’t recognize it. There was suddenly a gated city wrapped around David’s heart and Jack was frantically scrambling for the key; For the first time, he was locked out of David’s life. He was an onlooker upon territory he had memorized by touch, by heart, by memory.

“Yeah?” If David had been paying attention, the word would have pinged around his Tin Man heart- hollow, empty, overused. “The Walking Mouth finally has someone to use it on?”

He relished in the feel of David’s uncalloused palms shoving playfully at his tanned, muscled arm. “Don’t be crass,” the boy chided. “Her name is April.”

(Jack was born on a misty-eyed April morning, with the clouds swabbed over the sun and an ominous wind blowing throughout the emptied streets. His mother had called it a bad omen. His father couldn’t fathom why.)

The crook of Jack’s elbow was full of David’s lingering fingertips; A question he didn’t dare ask left a sour taste on his tongue. He smiled at David’s far away face, his gaze belonging to a girl,

(a girl, a rotten girl, a girl that wasn’t even Katherine because that would have hurt much less, understandable even. She was an unimportant girl and she would never be enough for Davey, his Davey)

(A girl.)

and his smile was full of thorns.

---

“I can’t believe-” the words were practically ripped from his throat. “We’s goin’ so fast!”

David couldn’t drive in the technical sense, but he was captaining a true automobile as the Earth did spin. Jack sat in the passenger seat to crow at any poor little commoners that walked along the beaten path, none of them good enough to ride in the electrical engine Mr. Ford had handcrafted himself.

It had been a graduation present from a fellow doctorate student (one with a wealthy father and ill-meaning connections), a spin in his brand-new electric carriage for his reliable old pal, David Jacobs. Jack’s eyes widened to the size of half-dollars as the man passed over the keys to David- David, who had once put the wrong shoe on the wrong foot and walked around crooked all day, too proud to admit he had made a mistake- and they tried to conceal their excitement as the engine turned over for the first time.

He was going to do it. Right here, right now, in this strange man’s car, with clunky work boots on his feet and David’s spectacles sliding down the bridge of his nose.

“I love you!” Jack roared over the engine.

“I’m going to ask April to marry me!” David practically sang into the wind.

Jack’s throat closed up, his skin was set on fire, and he suddenly wanted to see what happened when you jumped from a gadget that was moving so fast.

“Wait, what? Did you hear me?” David’s hair was beginning to grow long enough that it was wild in the gust of the automobile. “I’m going to ask her to marry me!”

(When he was seven, another newsboy- only a handful of months older than him- had asked him if his momma had ever taught him about love. No, Jack had replied, both sour about being outsmarted by a kid who picked his nose and not ever having a momma in the first place. “It’s this great big tree that grows on the inside of our tummies,” the boy went on. “And one day, someone ‘s gonna come along and pick all ‘f th’ fruit on our branches, one by one, until all you have are pretty green leaves. That’s love.”)

(That same boy would kiss him in a dirty alleyway seven years later, and Jack would crack a joke about all of his apples still being intact. The boy would stare back with blank, unrecognizable eyes.)

Jack couldn’t even be angry- he wasn’t strong enough to be furious anymore, not when his days were long and the nights were spent clutching at empty bedsheets. He couldn’t be angry at his good, unselfish Davey, the boy who rubbed at his mother’s aching feet when she spent too long at the factory lines and clumsily darned socks when his sister couldn’t feel her slender fingers. There was no resentment for the beautiful, dark-haired girl who had accidentally collided with David at the grocer’s market when they reached for the same can of something-or-other. She had been nothing but kind to the gentle giant who lurked in the shadows of David’s life, telling inappropriate jokes and interrupting their dates. April always made a place for him at their table.

“That’s the best idea you’ve had all year,” Jack called out, and watched his words dance away in the wind.

---

Katherine had struck him, hard, when he asked her to marry him.

He cradled his jaw with a shock that reverberated around his skull. “Kathy, what did I-”

“You are the most selfish, careless man I know, Jack Kelly.” Her skirts whirled around her ankles- the candy-pink cotton matching other bridesmaids’ dresses to contrast the delicate white lace of April’s wedding dress. David Jacobs was now a married man, and Jack Kelly a desperate one. “We all see how you look at him. There’s not a single person who hasn’t noticed. Get it through your thick, unfeeling skull.”

(“They say,” David’s vows were memorized. His voice never wavered. “That only someone in love would truly understand the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice: a man walks through the Underworld to save his begotten bride, to only turn around and lose her at the very last second. I’ve spent years pouring over that story, wondering why Orpheus would be such a fool, such an irresponsible, lovesick fool, if he truly loved her. But now, standing before my own darling little bride, I understand. I’d turn around for one last look at you. I’d turn every. Single. Time. I’m your fool, April. And I’d choose our fate a million times over.”)

“He doesn’t love you,” Katherine’s voice was heavy with disgust. “And I’m beginning to understand why.”

---

The train ticket was heavy in his palm. “I just don’t see why you have to go,” David whispered. “Who is my son going to learn his bad habits from? Who’s going to teach him how to hawk a headline for extra change? How to poke fun at his papa?”

“He has Les.” Jack’s voice was a barely audible rumble, rusty with misuse. He didn’t talk much these days, Jack Kelly now preferred to linger in the background of conversations, the memory of a bright young man he used to be. Those days had come and gone without much complaint, even if Jack secretly yearned to be so terribly free that he believed in a future for a gangly, fresh-faced boy and a hardened boy with the silver-tongued lies.

(There were rumors, you know. About horrible men and horrible things, about broken ribs and jail time even the Mayor would disapprove of. Jack didn’t do much to dispel the irrational stories people told about him.)

(To prove a lie is false, you must present the truth.)

(Jack didn’t have a truthful bone left in his body.)

A carefully measured silence stretched between them. “Is this about…” David’s hand instinctively reached for Jack’s rough palm- a second of contact, the flash in the pan, their moment in the universe.

He withdrew from his gentle touch, and taking a bullet to his leg

(Jack was twenty-three and alarmingly brave. David was twenty-two and studying to become a doctor. They both cried as David’s unsure hand stitched an unclean wound back together- David, tears of worry; Jack, hopelessly lovesick and falling apart at the seams.)

had been less painful. “It’s about Santa Fe, Dave. Kiss Esther goodbye for me, won’t you?”

The platform to the train was busy, flowing with New Yorkers that had somewhere to be, a place to go, or a person to meet. Jack was the lone soul that took his time to feel the cobblestone under his worn-down boots, the ragged laces dragging against the streets that raised him as their own. His suitcase, a single-handled brown leather

(the only item inside was a bundle of letters, all addressed to David Jacobs)

thing, had never seen a polish rag or repairman’s case, and he felt as if he had the weight of the world to carry with him all the way to New Mexico, where the cattle roam free and Jack Kelly wouldn’t have a broken heart to board up behind slats of wood. The train whistle blew, sharp and piercing, and Jack couldn’t resist his own dreadful hubris; He turned.

And David Jacobs had already disappeared into the swarm of faceless people with their endless inventory of needs to be met, so Jack Kelly got on a train to Santa Fe.

#newsies #newsies on tour #newsies on broadway #newsies live #newsies 1992 #javid #jack kelly #davey jacobs #javid au #javid fanfiction #newsies au #newsies fanfiction #katherine plumber #my writing

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popculturebuffet · 4 years ago

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The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck: The Buckaroo of the Badlands “It’s the Glory of Achievement that Counts”

Hello you beautiful people and WELCOME BACK. It’s been a LONG time since I returned to this series hasn’t it? But I couldn’t put it off any longer especailly with a LOT of projects to do in February, so i’m pleased as punch to bring this series back for another round. And since like last time a lot of the behind the scene’s for this one can be dolled out as we go, join me under the cut as we get into some cowboy adventures with Srooge.. and President Teddy Rosevelt. Bully!

When we last left Scrooge almost a month ago, He’d decided, after bottoming out in riverboating, like many young men of his generation to Go West and seek his fortune and took up work on the Wabash Cannonball to do so. So via letter we find out Scrooge eventually made enough money and has now afforded enough to take a train west, as a passenger. He’s also 15 at this point.. had to look that up because again, the comic dosen’t tell us the date.. and it’s you know been two months. He runs into a man selling square eggs who was SUPPOSED to be the professor from the Barks Story Lost in the Andes.. but he apparnelty died or something like that, and Barks was left to use another minor character in a way that didn’t make sense either it turned out and I don’t really feel like getting into. Point is the square eggs from that story make a cameo and Scrooge gets square egg all over his face after assuming the guy was just full of square chicken shit. It’s then Scrooge runs into Jesse James, pre assasination by the coward robert ford, who shows up to the train to rob it.. but Scrooge tricks him when he and his crony take stock of Scrooge’s valuables, claming theirs jewels in the teeth of the golden dentures.. before slamming hard on them and giving the guy a bite and with their guns jammed and Scrooge prepared to beat them senseless, Jesse and goon wisely flee. Scrooge yells after them.. but the train speeds up to make distance between them and the bandits.. and accidenlty dumps Scrooge off, leaving him lost and alone in Montana.

Thankfully it dosen’t take him long before he runs into people, specifically a cattle drive and wants to join them as a rootin tootin cowboy. Turns out the Cattle Baron and head of the drive, Murdo Mckenzie a real life cattle baron, is a fellow Scot and a nice enough guy to take Scrooge on, especially because Scrooge, due to his time on the cattle boat to get to america, has cattle experince. He just needs to ride a horse and he’s set.. but Scrooge never has.. and is put on their roughest horse the windowmaker

Thankfully in a really funny sequence, Scrooge’s money belt is clipped, so he stays on and while he looses his other clothes. So Murdo hires the naked 15 year old on a horse....

Thankfully this isn’t nearly as horrifying as it sounds as Murdo makes him put his clothes back on first, and let’s him keep the horse as he needs him for a special job. Also Scrooge calls himself Buck McDuck because it’s more of a cowboy name and not everyone can pull of cowboying without one on their first day. What i’m saying is the creed i live by every day.. not everyone can be Droopy. All you can do is try to be that cool.

The job is to guard his prized angus steer he imported for a fortune from Scotland, which it’s current handlers the McViper brothers object to, though Murdo shrugs them off. Naturally with a name like McViper they were planning on stealing it. Seriously who hires someone with the name McViper unless your planning to try and murder batman with a nest of vipers or a viper shaped tank or a buzzsaw shaped to look like your dad who never loved you enough.

So we then get a time passing montage via a letter Scrooge wrote. Originally this was supposed to be the majority of the story.. but Rosa’s editor rightly pointed out that while showing Scrooge as inexpericed and still not quite to his full strength yet was fine.. Rosa overdid it with his gags and made him look like a moron. So the finished product wisely dialed it back to just the horse riding gag. Honeslty it was the right call as his excitment to be a cowboy and episodes with the horse show he’s still got a ways to go and is far from the duck we know now, while the earlier fight on the train shows he’s still plenty badass. he’s just not properly seasoned yet. It’s how he is for the first third of the story: an idealisic teen who is slowly learning the ways of the world and finding good reason to do what he does and learning his morals. It’s the middle part that breaks him into the man he is today and the last one is the early days of that man and the horrible mistakes that cost him quite a bit: his family, his love for adventuring and nearly his soul. We get a few gags about crossing the planes and the reveal Donald renamed his horse after his sister hortense due to his horse’s bad temper. Hortense takes it as you’d expect.. by snapping off part of her mother’s chair with her bare beak in a rage and grumbling.

Scrooge is finishing up another letter by the time we cut back to him, the drive having almost reach the ranch in Montana... only for the McViper’s to conk scrogoe on the head and take the steer towards the Dakota territory and the real life Dakota Badlands, because now as ever Rosa loved to set his stories in cool real life locations. After Murdo finds him and wakes him up, and fully buys his story since the McViper’s were acting suspcious.. which is kinda like saying water is wet or Rudy Guliani is a moron but regardless buck mcduck rides again and eventually makes his way to the badlands. Which are awesomely rendered and really do look like that.

As you can see our hero finds someone in need.. and it’s Teddy Fucking Roosevelt!

As you can tell I love the guy. Really need to look into him more, but eveyr time I read his trope page or hear something about the man i’m in awe. He’s not without flaws, he was man of the 1800′s and 1900′s, he supported eugenics.. but he was also the first “accidental” President (I.e. a vp who got the role) to formally win despite being given the roll soley to keep him out of the chair due to being a boisterous loveable maniac, invited Booker T. Washington, who I also need to look into, to the white house as the first African American to get invited to dinner there, founded so many parks they had to make the national park service, and supported women’s rights his whole political career. The man is larger than life and respecte din fiction and I intend to make a story with him as a cybernetic frankenstein one day because i’m kinda nuts too and relate to him. He also has a quote I find endlessly relevant after the last 4 years of misery.

"This country has nothing to fear from the crooked man who fails. We put him in jail. It is the crooked man who succeeds who is a threat to this country." So yeah on top of everything else.. he’s smarter than pretty much the entirety of the modern republican party on top of that, not a HIGH bar to clear mind you but still. He cleared it.

So naturally someone who was basically a real life Scrooge who, while not having earned his money, used it well and never stopped explorin, and also named his son Kermit for some reason, Rosa was not only a huge fan but couldn’t resisit putting him in the story as Scrooge’s mentor once he found out they were in the same area at the same time. He’s also the first one I feel changes him as a person.. his parents set down the foundation and Pothole was.. there I guess.. I mean he ran his first buiness thanks to him and had his first feelings that being rich isn’t an endgoal, But it’s Teddy who helps him realize one of his most important and lasting charactert traits: his love of adventure for the experince of it just as much as the prize.

And we quickly get to that as Scrooge, after running into a dinosaur skeleton and then letting Teddy free, takes him along with him and finds out Teddy is rich, college graduate and former poltician too, and is out here simply because cattle ranching is way more exciting. Scrooge questions this as .. why do this? He’s rich, he dosen’t need to and Scrooge honestly wishes he was born rich instead. But Teddy shoots that down: He missed being born poor like Scrooge.. because being born wealthy is no acomplishment. You just get handed money to do whatever... but earning it with your own hands, the experinces that lead there.. that’s the real treasure and that’s why he’ll never stop. And he sees that in Scrooge, pointing out someone who didn’t LOVE adventure.. wouldn’t of leaped at a dinosaur skeleton without a second thought, all to save someone he just met. It’s what makes Scrooge likable: Sure he’s a greedy dick.. but he’s one who will never be satisfied, and who only stopped when he was close to death accoridng to Rosa, and even then i’m sure his and Goldie’s retirment wasn’t ENTIRELY peaceful or event free. HIs love of adventure and finding new discoveries and new worlds and ones lost to time... that’s infectious and what makes his stories, and the character work so well. And Rosa has him discover it beautifully, realizing that he never would’ve been satisfied even with cushy family money and that he truly does like this.. he still wants to be rich and understandably so, but he can have some fun along the way and afterwords.

So truly changed by this Scrooge gets back to tracking and TR helps by... asking some local Native American Buffallo Hunters since he knows their expert trackers and while they haven’t seen the mcvipers they can SMELL them, and with a location , and his first apprication for other cultures, Scrooge and TR head up top to lasso em up... and while Scrooge grabs one.> TR grabs a bear and the insuing chaos, including Scrooge refusing to use up his bullets because “Do you know how much bullets cost”

So in short the mcvipers end up chased by the bear, the native americans end up chased by a buffalo with a skull on it’s head and Scrooge ends up on the Angus. Teddy sums it up best.

It’s a great comedic set piece.. and leads to Murdo arriving and our heroes emerging, with the angus and tow and victorious. For his help and bravery, Scrooge is awarded the job as manager of the land, and while he plans to leave in a few years to find his fortune, it’s a good steady job he can help his family with and learn some skills so why not. TR leaves him with some last words of ecnouragment and says “There’s the makings of a great man” as he rides off into the susnset.. and his clothes once agian head the other way.

Final Thoughts: Buckaroo of the Badlands is a solid chapter. After the overly long Master of the Missippi, this is a welcome return to form, with a hell of a guest star, an intresting setting and some fun slapstick. It also reminded me not EVERY chapter is super long, as most are only 13 pages but Rosa packs a LOT into them, and uses each one wisely. Overall an excellent return to the series and I hope to pick it up eveyr now and again between whatever I have scheduled for the day.. and to look into Teddy. Seriously what a man, what a man what a mighty good man. Next Time Scrooge meets another mentor, a future foe, and the lonliness of being rich Teddy warns him about here in “Raider of the Copper Hill” Until the next Rainbow, it’s been a pleasure.

#the life and times of scrooge mcduck #scrooge mcduck #buckaroo of the badlands #hortense mcduck #teddy roosevelt #western #cowboy #montana #don rosa #disney #disney comics

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nileqt87 · 4 years ago

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More thoughts on how to resurrect the Indiana Jones franchise post-Harrison Ford

Perhaps a proper, modern television show would be a good way to bring back a younger, but adult Indy (with perhaps flashbacks littered throughout). You can also get away with a lot more content (definitely aim for TV-14) and characters who are allowed to be flawed. Relationship dramas are serialized storytelling's forte in a way that is disappearing more and more from blockbuster films. Complicated characters are better left to television, as the audience expects and allows for it because of the nuance and depth the serialization affords. The complicated, messy story of Abner and Marion is a story best left to being explored only after the characters have some real complexity and development. It also wouldn't be forced to play to the mass audience of under-13s that makes modern PG-13 often meaningless. In comparison, TV-14 actually pushes up harder against its limits regularly--not just violence, but also with innuendo and sexuality minus nudity. The amount of historical-style, pulpy violence, not to mention potentially comically gruesome deaths, in Indy would also necessitate the rating. Indiana Jones might be niche enough at this point with an audience veering towards adults who grew up with it (Gen-X and the older end of Gen-Y), while Gen-Z has little awareness of it, that Disney wouldn't be forced to make it a total kiddie property. It's not the same situation as back in the early '90s with Young Indy being aimed at older kids who had recently seen Last Crusade in the theater. They could reboot it for television with a young adult Indy who potentially could grow into a fully adult version. And I wouldn't try too hard to not step on the trilogy's toes with the timeline. Just let it live in its own developing continuity.

Use of long-running supporting cast (parents, Remy and returning guest stars aside) would also be a big difference from Young Indy. Characters like Belloq (could potentially go from friend to antagonist, akin to how Smallville handled Lex), Sallah, Henry, Brody, Abner, Marion, etc... could actually be around a lot more than just for an adventure here or there. These are all characters Indy had clearly known for years. Actually put the show into a seasonal, serialized format that isn't a new cast every episode. You could also stick around in locations a lot longer this way, which would help with budget.

Another thought I've had since watching an absolute ton of fantasy/sci-fi dramas in the last few years is that the influence of Indiana Jones is actually pretty apparent in a number of pretty famous characters, sometimes overtly and sometimes a bit more subtly. Harrison, Indy or Raiders in general are outright name-checked in quite a few places, often by scrappy action hero types who tend to take hard beatings (the kinds of characters who should've died a hundred times over) while in situations they're way over their heads in or literally impossible odds they can't win. Like Indy, the intended prize isn't won at the end and, outside of a few gruesome baddie deaths, the shady, corrupt or evil barely get a dent. Fox Mulder and Dean Winchester are two characters who name-check the comparison overtly and you can see the writers and actors both having the influence in mind. It's obviously a male fantasy, too. The influence on The X-Files and Supernatural is definitely there. Supernatural is chock full of biblical MacGuffins (not to mention having angels and demons as most of its recurring supporting cast), so it would be a hard comparison to avoid. Raiders came up in the WWII Nazi submarine episode with a piece of the Ark onboard (it's subsequently a show to raid for Indy ideas, because they pretty much mined everything biblical), for example. The X-Files likewise was dealing with shady government officials and pretty blatantly copied the huge warehouse of government secrets loaded with alien relics (and then repeated the Cigarette Smoking Man's warehouse reveal with the tunnel of filing cabinets stretching on forever). Mulder was also very much a one-man army a lot of the time when it came to the alien conspiracy (no offense to Scully). Moments like him climbing/riding the tops of sky rides, trains and escaping the spaceship were total Indy-esque moments. Sam and Dean had literal God-tier levels of plot armor keeping them alive (repeated resurrections included). Angel is another one that, unlike Mulder and the Winchesters being very human, is a supernatural character (subsequently his level of pain tolerance and durability is at the level of regular impalement, defenestration out of skyscrapers and being set on fire), but the comparison still holds because of how often he's getting decimated and fighting forces way beyond his pay grade. Wolfram & Hart, the Shanshu and seeking redemption with the Powers that Be, like the mytharc conspiracy/alien takeover and literal God a.k.a. Chuck, is another endless, unwinnable fight that is so far beyond all the protagonists that there's no win/happily ever after and they'd be lucky just walking away from it with nothing. Angel also name-checks Indy with a blatantly Indy-inspired fantasy dream episode (Awakening in season 4) with Angelus making a crack about the Raiders fantasy. George Lucas actually visited the Angel set back in 2000 and was interested in how they were making mini movies every week and doing some pretty huge stunts on television. David Boreanaz had lunch with Lucas and has talked about it a few times over the many years. I mean, these are all shows starring action-oriented leading men and writing staffs of relatively similar age. Mostly Gen-X males with a few Baby Boomers (more so on the writing staff) with an audience that's primarily Gen-Y but appealing to a pretty broad age range (and probably a lot more female than originally intended!). Star Wars, Indiana Jones and Harrison Ford films in general were very formative to that generation. Harrison Ford is the ultimate leading man action star to a certain generation. Gen-Y got their familiarity with all of that by being the original home video/VHS generation and subsequently a lot more familiar with retro media (including things that were made before they were born or around that time) than Gen-Z. '80s movies have a lot of currency and familiarity still with Gen-Y, even if Baby Boomers were the stars of them and Gen-X were the ones who saw them in theaters. Gen-Y fangirls absolutely dominate the fandoms of many iconic television supernatural/sci-fi franchises (many are admittedly aging franchises). The WB/CW have catered to this group of fans for the last two and a half decades. If you're going to be reviving the character as a mid-20s-to-30s version (if the show lasts long enough, it probably will be stepping on the trilogy's toes timeline-wise by the end), I'd absolutely be aiming for this same audience and their tastes. They're also the audience who would be most receptive to and familiar with the character, IMO. If I were going to reinvent Indiana Jones for the television landscape, I would definitely be looking at those sorts of shows that have influence from the character already in their DNA. I think for the target audience, they'd definitely need to be aiming it at the same fanbases. Young Indy mostly tried to avoid stepping on Raiders' toes (despite Temple of Doom and Mask of Evil already making it ludicrous) by limiting the amount of supernatural elements, but I think a show would have to go all in on it. Indy would have to be transformed a bit in regards to trying to line him up with a character who would still be skeptical after all he's seen. Young Indy ended up forced into being a straight period drama with educational elements, which is very counter to what the audience wanted. There are things to keep from that approach (meeting historical persons, being a WWI veteran and witnessing history could absolutely be mined as backdrops to the stories), but the supernatural elements would have to exist in a revival now to get the audience who I think would be most receptive to it. While I would aim for a serialized drama format that would mean the globetrotting wouldn't have to completely change locations every episode (have it instead in arcs with some bigger MacGuffins and baddies perhaps crossing entire seasons), it's true that there would probably have to be more location filming than good, ol' Vancouver, but Disney is one of the few who could afford it (though Covid certainly would throw a wrench in it and political situations could potentially kill off certain locations). There's only so much green screen that Indy could get away with, though I imagine that a fair amount of it would have to be used for period piece reasons alone. There are a lot of modern intrusions even in historically-intact cities (Eastern Europe comes to mind as having a lot of its architecture intact and is affordable to film in) and around iconic landscapes to paint out. But at its core, it probably would need to bulk up its focus on the relationship dramas. Indy tends to have a girl at every port and to a degree you would introduce some of these love interests, but there's still a lot of relationships of every kind that could be developed and serialized. Certainly throw in a few femme fatales and tragic losses, given the Smallville-esque situation of there being an inevitable Indy/Marion endgame that should be kept--it thus becomes about the journey when it's a set conclusion. Absolutely have a strong recurring cast of Henry and friends new and old. The films actually have a lot of characters that Indy didn't just meet yesterday and could be developed to a huge extent. For a show to work now, there'd have to be a lot more connectivity to how often the recurring cast appear. Young Indy had a lot more of an anthology format with little chance of us getting attached to most of the revolving cast outside of a very tiny few. That's the biggest thing I'd change. You need characters to become regulars beyond just Indy if it were revived for modern cinematic television (the true successor to the film serials of the '30s!) in a way that isn't necessary for film installments.

#indana jones #harrison ford #lucasfilm #indy #young indy

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quarantined-with-bucky · 5 years ago

Text

Superpower

Bucky x Reader

Words: ~4,300

Summary: Bucky has an infatuation with The Incredibles that he might be taking too far. It takes some stern words from you to help him figure that out.

Warnings: A bit of angst, but also fluff, too

A/N: Thank you to everyone for reading and showing so much love to my last fic so much! I hope you all enjoy this one just as much. I like to write based off of little pieces of inspiration, so this time it was a tweet from Dr. Thema on Twitter and a response by Ashley C. Ford. I bolded both quotes since the quote-block format I usually use doesn’t fit right here!

...

“Super-strength is a superpower.”

“I never said it wasn’t. I was saying that you don’t have it.”

Bucky scoffs and folds his arms across his broad chest. In this moment it was hard to tell if he was puffing it out on purpose or if he had been putting in extra reps in the gym. Probably both, you decide. “Please, (Y/N), we just watched The Incredibles. We both know that I am literally Mr. Incredible.”

You couldn’t stifle your laugh. Two months ago, Bucky decided to catch up on all the movies he missed over the past seventy years. It took years to finally understand the internet, modern technology, and Wi-Fi (to be fair, you still aren’t exactly sure how that last one works, but you got the point across just fine). While Bucky had seen the basic movies: classic, old-timey movies, it was time to focus on the more enjoyable movies: kid movies. You watched Wall-E, making sure to explain the implications of that movie, Up, obviously you both cried, and Lilo & Stitch, an underrated classic.

Last night, in preparation for this mission, you’d insisted in watching The Incredibles. You thought it would hype him up for the tropical mission Steve was bringing him (and Sam) along on. And boy oh boy you were spot on. It had been twelve hours of nonstop Incredibles talk.

The night before, you two were snuggled up on the couch, mountains of blankets on top of you, bowls of popcorn and candy littered around you. Bucky’s arm slid around your back and you used the crook of his shoulder as a pillow. “What is going on here,” Bucky muttered to himself, squinting at the screen as the beginning of the movie started, Mr. Incredible fumbling around with his microphone.

You grinned in anticipation, wrapping your arms around his torso, pulling yourself closer to him. “Isn’t it so cute?” You said into his chest.

Bucky shoves his mouth full of popcorn, laughing loudly at Frozen talking about babes and Mr. Incredible ranting about the world in jeopardy. You didn’t think that he’d be laughing this much already (you know it’s a cinematic masterpiece, but still); maybe this movie was just that relatable. Although you were just a desk jockey in the Avengers tower, you knew they were always off saving the world and sacrificing themselves to do so.

It was safe to say that Bucky clearly enjoyed the movie – it just felt so realistic to him. The next morning, he spent breakfast rambling on about the fact that Syndrome literally lived in a volcano; how could Mr. Incredible not know? Tony brought up the point that Hydra set up camp in the exact opposite climate, so Bucky should cut the animators some slack. Bucky was not having it. “Aren’t you technically Edna Mode?” He rhetorically asked Tony with a deadpan stare.

Tony scoffed, holding a hand over his heart to feign hurt, before returning the glare to Bucky. “Remind me to talk to you about your hobo suit later.” With that, he left the kitchen, strutting down the hall, followed with him yelling: “no capes!” as Thor walked past him, the god raising his eyebrows in confusion.

Later that night, Bucky had to leave for a mission. You’d spent the afternoon in Bucky’s bed with each other, holding one another close; and where you tried to have some light pillowtalk, it ended up being about The Incredibles II after he got back. The two of you ended up in the shower to wash off the afternoon workout. While you were wrapped up in a robe, brushing your post-shower hair in the mirror, Bucky popped up behind you with just a towel around his waist. “Honey, have you seen my super-suit?” You could only roll your eyes and smile in response.

…

“Well if you’re Mr. Incredible, then I’m Mrs. Incredible.” You took a step closer to him, closing the space between you such that your chests are touching.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, dangerously close to the hem of your jeans. “I know,” he smiled, leaning forward to give you a kiss. “Those moves earlier? You’re even more flexible than her.”

“Cut it out, lovebirds,” Sam interrupted, his tone playful. “We don’t need a live show.”

Bucky drops his hands and leads you towards the hangar to where the jet was waiting. “All I’m saying is that I could definitely lift one of those train cars like he does. I could do more than one – ” he cuts himself off, stopping in his tracks. “(Y/N), I could juggle them.”

“Sure,” you hum, hooking your arm around his back and leaning into his side. “Although, when you think about it, you might be more of a cyborg than Mr. Incredibles, y’know?”

He groans, dropping his head and shutting his eyes. “But I don’t wanna be a cyborg.”

“We’ll watch Teen Titans then see how you feel.”

“Teen what?” He turned to stare blankly at you.

“Forget it, I’ll show you when you get back.” You smiled warmly up at him before he pulled you into a bear hug.

He kissed the top of your head and murmured “I love you” before pulling away.

“Love you, too, baby,” you responded softly. You sent him away with Steve and Sam, telling all of them to be safe before watching the jet take off.

With a sigh, you turned on your heel, seeing yourself out of the compound, heading back to your apartment. The streets of New York were busy despite the cold weather outside. Early November had its benefits: the streets were lined with orange, red, and brown as the trees were ready to shed their summer colors; but it also had its drawbacks: the streets were cold, and you could see your breath outside. You pulled your jacket tighter around you, pulling the collar closer around your exposed neck. If Bucky were here you already know he would’ve wrapped you up in his own coat to keep you warm, he would’ve held your hands in his own warm ones and nuzzled his nose against your own red nose. He was actually very sappy, when it came down to it. He was a sucker for you – constantly having to have his hands on you, make sure you were always warm.

You finished the thirty-minute walk to your apartment, taking your time to appreciate the fall scenery around you, glancing at all the Thanksgiving-soon-to-be-Christmas window displays, and enjoying the pumpkin scents around every corner. Pushing your door open, you were met with the warm heat and smell of the chrysanthemums Bucky had given you earlier that week. You tossed your keys to the side, shrugged your jacket off, and made a big mugful of hot chocolate.

You plopped down by the window and leaned your head on the glass, letting the steam from your drink warm your cheeks. You’d wondered in that moment where Bucky would be going exactly. He did mention it would be a tropical/forest vibe; the only thing you knew about that is that it’d be humid. Although you knew of Bucky’s disdain for cold, he wasn’t much of a fan of heat, either. He was much more of an autumn guy. You made a mental note to go for a walk through Central Park with him when he gets back.

He’d been gone for six days. Today was Thursday and you’d been stuck at your desk all morning. It hurt a little bit to have to walk to the Avenger’s Tower everyday without Bucky meeting you at the door (or Bucky walking with you to work, having spent the night before at your place) but you had to make do – paperwork needed to be completed.

Your eyes were aching from staring at your computer screen and your hand was cramping from all the scribbling you’ve been doing all day. The alternative was a coffee break in the café on the first floor – and you know what? Anything sounded better than work at the moment. You pop a post-it note on the door telling anyone looking for you that you’ll be back in ten. You make it to the elevator and straighten out your skirt as you stare at yourself in the reflection of the doors. Skirt a little wrinkled – nothing you can’t fix quickly in the elevator – button up shirt tucked in smartly, heels that made your feet ache, reading glasses that usually sit perched on your nose now shifted to sit on the top of your head, keeping your hair away from your face.

Despite how put-together you may look, you were exhausted and quite frankly, defeated. Not only was work kicking your ass lately but combined with the fact that Bucky was gone, and you hadn’t heard from him nearly wrecked you. Normally, he’d not take more than a day or two to reach out: a call or text simply to say he’s okay. You had to tell yourself that there was terrible reception wherever he was. That was going well for you, until you ran into Wanda one day on the elevator.

“Hey, (Y/N),” she greeted kindly, smiling wide as you entered the elevator next to her.

“Hi, Wanda, how have you been?” You responded. You’ve hung out with the Avengers at times. Usually your time with Bucky consisted of just the two of you, but sometimes you got the go-ahead to join their events and movie nights. Everyone welcomed you with open arms because not only was your personality so winning, but also you were the girl that brought Bucky out of his shell – in Sam’s words: “you made him sociable.”

“Good! It’s been busy around the complex, I’m sure you know already.” You’re not sure if she’s saying that because she’s aware of the pile of paperwork you’ve been working on for ages or if she can feel exhaustion radiating off your body.

“Yeah, you guys have given me a whole lot of paperwork,” you say, trying to give a hearty chuckle before awkwardly scratching the back of your neck.

She nods and hums in response. “The boys have been busy,” she responds casually.

You bite your lip before taking a deep breath and nodding in affirmation. “I haven’t heard from Bucky lately, so I’d imagine so.”

She shrugs – again so casually. Can she not feel the fact you’re about to freak out right now? “Actually, nobody’s heard from any of them.” How did she just end that sentence like that? Nobody’s heard from them. Not with any of this trillion-dollar equipment – it can’t connect them one continent away? She senses your panic; there’s a change in your breathing and you eyes go wide, staring now directly at the floor. “(Y/N), no. I mean – they’re fine. Just because they haven’t said anything doesn’t mean – ”

The elevator dings and opens to your floor. You politely hold up your hand to her and smile. “I get what you’re saying, Wanda. Thanks for keeping me updated.” You shuffle out the door, calling out for her to have a good day.

You make it back to your office and don’t even try to stifle your loud sigh as you plop into your chair. Fuck.

…

So, it was sufficed to say you hadn’t slept very well since that interaction. It’s been three nights since she’s told you they were basically M.I.A.; you spent your nights rolling around in bed, holding his pillow to your chest, constantly checking your phone for any kind of notification from Bucky. Without hearing from him, you didn’t know how long he’d be gone; without hearing from him, you didn’t know if he was even okay. Screw your sleeping schedule, you just needed to make sure he was even alive.

You make your way back to your office, taking a sip of the piping hot coffee and as you swing the corner you hit a brick wall.

And there was a brick wall standing in the middle of the hallway.

You gaze up at the man, blue eyes staring directly into your own. He’s breathing a little fast, especially for someone who had been standing in front of your office door, staring at the post-it note for quite some time. His hands were shoved in his pockets, shoulders a little hunched – he was nervous; something was wrong.

Very wrong.

It wasn’t even until his hand reached out to you, stopping in mid-air in front of your shirt before you noticed the coffee that spilt down the front of your shirt. It was warm, sure, but your racing heart took precedence over the splash of liquid that coated your black shirt. “Sorry, (Y/N), I – ”

“It’s fine. When did you get back?” You don’t care about the coffee; you barely even felt it. You shifted the weight between your feet, squeezing the coffee cup in your hand. Why were you so nervous? There was so much tension in the air. Just staring at him as he waited patiently for you to return from your coffee run. Neither of you knowing what to say. Its like you were strangers.

He runs a hand through his hair, huffing out a deep breath. He was actually still in uniform; you didn’t notice until you asked that question. His face was grimy, slick with sweat and remnants of mud and maybe even some flecks of blood if you squint. He then scratched at the stubble gracing his chin. “Just now.” He still can’t breathe. How was he supposed to tell you? You were certainly going to kill him when you found out.

He didn’t know what to say. He was thinking about this the whole plane ride home, the whole walk to your office, the whole ten agonizingly long minutes he’d spent waiting outside your office. But now, looking into your curiously wide eyes, glazed over with concern – you were basically paralyzed in fear; if it weren’t for your incessant shifting. It was almost driving him crazy to look at someone who is about to jump out of their skin with fear, yet unsure of what move to make or what to say. “Where is he?”

And Steve swallowed hard. “He’s okay.” You stared straight into his soul. “Well, he’s – ”

“Steve.”

“He’s alive. He got shot. A couple times.” Each fragment that left his mouth was punctuated by the prompt shutting of his mouth. It was important to him to stop himself from saying too much. Your mouth actually dropped open. There was nothing left for you to say, but your jaw dropped. He reached out and took hold of your arms in his hands. “He’s alive,” he repeated, the words not resonating in your brain (and he could see that). “He’s in med-bay. (Y/N), he is fine.” He didn’t think he could be any clearer.

Nothing made sense. You felt as though you were asked to complete a 100-piece puzzle with only three-pieces. You were struggling to comprehend anything that came out of Steve’s mouth. Instead, you sharply turned on your heel. You were calm – this cannot be emphasized enough – you walked with your shoulders pulled back and gaze straight ahead; but you weren’t looking at anything, simply following your own muscle memory on your way to the med-bay.

Steve chased after you – he walked behind you, taking long strides as to not overtake you. He kept saying your name, telling you to calm down, but you already were. Except your heart was thumping out of your chest. You couldn’t even form any more questions for Steve. Obviously: “where was he shot” was a glaring question, “how close to death was he” is another; you can’t even put those words together right now.

You shove open the doors to med-bay, blatant disregard for the coffee still in your hand, splashing now-tepid liquid again on your shirt and sleeve. That’s when you see him: sprawled out on a cot that’s too small for him; his boots hung off the end of the bed, dry mud caked to the bottom of his heavy boots, flaking onto the floor. As soon as you’d shoved the door open, Steve following you in toe, Bucky’s head lifted towards you. He actually grinned.

You’d nearly fainted. His face was littered with cuts and scrapes, dirt around each wound scrubbed away by the doctor then coated in slick, clear antibiotic. His shirt was long gone, leaving him in his combat boots still riddled with weapons (visibly and concealed, you could only assume) and his dirty boots. His chest was completely bandaged; he was grateful you’d walked in after he’d already been covered because he knew that he’d be hearing an earful from you if you’d actually been able to see the damage. This way, you’d only be able to see the wounds to change the dressing probably hours from now. His body would be nearly healed.

“James.” It was stern. You weren’t mad, per say; you couldn’t be mad – you were glad he was even alive. You didn’t know why your tone was so harsh; you were pissed that he was shot, probably due to some heroic act of saving one of his teammates, or maybe he was just being careless? You didn’t know and you didn’t want to find out – they’d never tell you which it was, anyway.

“Hey, doll,” he says casually, already trying to schmooze his way back on your good side.

“James.” This time you breathed his name, finally getting close enough to put your hands on his chest – fingertips ghosting off the edge of the gauze, where the bandage met his collarbone. He took both your hands in his, pulling them together and placing them tenderly over his heart. There must have been six layers of gauze over him – not a speck of dirt or blood poking through.

“Baby, look at me,” he whispered. You flicked your eyes up to his worried ones. His eyebrows were drawn together, mouth pressed into a firm line. “I’m fine.”

“James,” you sobbed, tears that were once held at bay now falling freely down your cheeks and falling onto his pants. You choked back any more words, nodding furiously as you found it hard to breath. He pulled your arms and yanked you to the bed and now you were sitting beside him, his hands now cupping the back of your neck, cradling your head against where his neck meets his collarbone. He cooed softly into your hair, whispering sweet nothings as he rubbed your back up and down.

“I’m okay,” he murmured. And all you could do was nod against his skin, crying more and more as he pressed each kiss onto your head.

It was probably ten minutes of crying before you calmed down, now laying against him in silence, your eyes shut resting against his shoulder. “You know,” he whispered, pulling you from silence. “I always love seeing you in your work clothes. All smart and sexy.” You couldn’t help but breathe out a laugh, snuggling further into him. “But you smell like coffee.”

…

Bucky was barred from missions for three months. And while he was physically healed within a week and a half, Steve wasn’t so sure about his mental state – and you weren’t so sure either. Actually, it had been a more than pleasant three months. He started off doing physical therapy once a day, then adding in workouts and phasing out the therapy. This occupied maybe four hours per day. That meant that the rest of his free time he spent in your office, at your apartment, and in your bed.

That would be fine with you if you could confidently say that Bucky was one hundred percent okay.

Most of the time, he’d spend all day next to you being a total chatterbox – actually, he any willing conversation he had would be about the book you were reading, that one episode of friends the two of you watched last night, rambling on remodels of his place and if he should paint his dresser. It was the unwilling conversations that he had that concerned you.

The words he’d mumble to himself as he rolled around in your bed having a nightmare. Every time, you’d spend five minutes trying to wake him up. At first you started out by nudging him awake, it developed to the state that now you had to fully grab his arm and shake him wildly to get him up. You’d sit there, pulling your hands through his hair, whispering sweet nothings until he calmed down. Every time, you’d ask him if he wanted to talk about it; he’d say now. You then asked him to tell you – you pleaded for him to let you into that side of his life. You begged to understand and cried for him – with him.

It was no different tonight.

If he wouldn’t talk, then you would. “Baby, you can’t keep doing this.” He sat up in bed, sheets twisted around his legs, leaning over with his back pressed into the iron-rung headboard. It was cool against his hot skin – the only thing making it semibearable as the bars pressed into the tight muscles in his back. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself. It’s not good for you.”

He didn’t say anything. He stared straight in front of him, his hands clasped over one another on his lap. You held one of his forearms in both hands, dragging your fingers in light patterns softly over his skin. You continue pleading with him: “you can tell me anything. Please, I hope you understand that.”

With this, he peers up at you with sorrow filled eyes. You can barely see them in the dark. “I know I can. It’s not a big deal, though. Nothing for you to worry about.”

You drop his arm in frustration, instead bringing your hands up to your hair and gripping it tightly, feeling like pulling your hair out might be a better option than bringing this conversation where it needs to go. “You have these nightmares every night, James. It’s only getting worse. I can tell that you’re hurting, and it hurts me to see you like that. No matter how much you don’t want to admit it, I can see that somethings wrong.”

He shrugs. “I can take it. Look, I’m sorry if I keep waking you up. I won’t stay over anymore.” He turns his head sheepishly towards his lap again, shoulders hunching forward. You know he thinks it’s a joke; he’s putting on an act. He wants you to curl up to his side, beg him to stay, make-out, have sex to take his mind off it, and fall asleep peacefully. You know because you’ve done it before. Multiple times.

God, he can be so annoying. “James.” Your stern tone had returned, you dropped your hands out of your hair and let them fall heavily on your lap. “A history of trauma can give you a high tolerance for emotional pain. Just because you can take it doesn’t mean you have to.”

He wasn’t sure what to do in that moment. There was nothing to say – nothing he could say. There wasn’t anything he could follow that up with; not a joke, not a sound, not even an intelligent sentence. He instead stared down at his hands, not even moving a muscle, not even to blink.

You were calm once again. You knew that your words had finally gotten through to him. Your relationship was strong: you’d built an emotional connection such that you two could be in the middle of the most serious discussions and still be able to crack a joke. But the both of you knew this wasn’t the time. That’s why he still hadn’t said anything: he didn’t have a smartass response, nor a comment he could make to get out of this one.

“Suffering is not a superpower.”

And with those final words, Bucky broke, his face contorting in pain, eyes squeezing shut and mouth falling into an open frown. His shoulders shook slowly as he struggled to breath, holding his face in his hands. You couldn’t sit idly by, so you grabbed his hands and swung a leg over him, sitting on his lap and wrapping his arms around your waist so he had something to hold on to; his arms wrapped tighter around you as his head dropped to the front of your chest, quietly sobbing into your shirt. You secured your arms around him, looping them over his shoulders and around his neck.

You sat there absorbing his tears, not saying a word, not even whispering a small “shh.” It was about time he let his emotions out and you weren’t about to cut him off now. You’d spent every waking moment with him (save for his workouts and physical therapy) so you knew how long this emotional release had been building up inside of him. Every once and a while everyone needs a good cry – Bucky hadn’t had one in years.

You didn’t know how long the two of you sat there. His sobs turned into quiet sniffles turned into calm, steady breathing. You knew this conversation was far from over. He needed therapy, or at the least needed to vent to you more often. Whatever solution you two would come up with could wait until the morning. Right now, he needed rest, he needed tranquility.

You didn’t know if he was asleep, and hell, you, yourself, were almost asleep. It wasn’t until he broke the silence when you got your answer. “Can we watch The Incredibles II?”

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #fic #fanfiction #captain america #bucky barnes imagine #angst #fluff

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let-me-love-you-loki · 5 years ago

Text

Behind the Scenes

A/N: This is the 1000 Followers Celebration prize winner story for @merchfreak. I hope it’s everything you wanted!

I both loved and hated those moments when the Young Bucks and I were across the ring from each other. They were these wonderful snapshots of their energy and talent, of watching them feed on the crowd and work seamlessly with Adam and Kenny. But they were torture because I had to root against them. I had to pull dirty tricks and interfere and distract.

It came with the job of being Sammy Guevara’s valet and on-screen girlfriend.

Sammy and I… we went way back. We trained together. We worked the indies together. We even did a short stint in WWE developmental together. Sammy dipped out after a month or two. I stuck it out until I realized I didn’t quite have the look—meaning I wasn’t a tall busty blonde bombshell. No, there wasn’t much of a place in the cookie-cutter cog machine of the WWE for petite, brown haired, brown eyed Melody Park.

I went back to the indies for a while. Then, one day, Sammy called and said he’d shared some of my tapes with this new promotion he was working with. They wanted to offer me a contract. I signed without hesitation, spent a few months on AEW Dark, and finally debuted on Dynamite as part of the Inner Circle with Sammy. I’d rediscovered my love of wrestling and of wrestling with my best friend.

And, well, I’d also discovered something else. Someone else.

Nick freaking Jackson. The youngest Young Buck. Executive Vice President. SoCal dude. Dork. And just all-around amazing guy.

Too bad it was almost impossible to actually date. Even without having to keep up kayfabe, most of the fans were convinced that Sammy and I were together for real since we were real-life roommates.

We were in the run up to a huge event—a war games blood and guts match—between the Inner Circle and the Elite. The past few weeks had been packed with desperate singles and tag team matches—street fights, no DQ bouts, sneak attacks backstage and at ringside. I’d done my part to cause trouble for The Elite, and I was quite proud of my work. Particularly when it came to Nick.

As hard as he would try to ignore me, I was more than capable of getting his attention and keeping it. I was surprised at how simple it was really. Each week, every segment, I came out in my fashionably slashed and knotted Inner Circle tee—or some of Sammy’s merch, I was newly fond of the Le Sex Gods shirt—and my Daisy Dukes, curls bouncing and makeup perfectly highlighting my bright brown eyes.

Thank God for Penelope Ford. She’d given me a master class in seductive distraction.

Case in point… it was a tag match. The Elite versus Proud and Powerful and Sammy. My on-screen beau was in the ring, grappling with Matt Jackson. Kenny was laid out on the floor somewhere, and Nick was waiting in the face corner, leaning over the rope to reach for his brother. With Kenny out of the way and Matt being smacked around in the heel corner, dear sweet Baby Buck was ripe for the picking.

I strolled around the side of the ring, blowing a kiss into the camera as I walked by. I put a little bit of sashay into my hips as I stroked my fingers along the ring apron. Nick bounced up and down, wiggling his fingers for the tag. I stopped a foot or so away and appraised him with a long look from his boots all the way up to his hair. My shoulders bobbed in a shrug and I plastered an I could do worse expression on my face.

Keeping an eye on what was going on in the ring, I climbed up onto the apron and struck a pose—hands on my hips, weight on one leg, the other bent at the knee. I cleared my throat loud enough that the front row could hear.

Nick glanced up then back to the ring. Then… right back to me. His ice blue eyes swept over me, an angry yet appreciative expression taking over his face.

I licked my lips and looked him up and down. “Like what you see, Nick?” I asked, putting emphasis on his name.

His expression tipped into intrigued yet annoyed. “What are you doing, Mels? Get outta my corner!” He shooed me away with a flick of his wrist.

I smiled, pleased to have already drawn his attention from the match. My feet carried me toward him, and I reached out to stroke my fingertips up his forearm to his bicep. His gaze shifted from my hand on his arm to my face. He gasped a breath and licked his lips.

I chanced a quick glace at the match. Matt had broken away from Sammy and Santana and was crawling toward his brother. Sammy was clawing himself right behind, reaching for the elder Jackson’s ankle to drag him back. It would be a perfect, dramatic moment for a hot tag.

Too bad they aren’t getting one, I thought as I skimmed my hand up behind his neck and dragged him close, planting my lips against his. My fingers threaded into his hair, holding him in place. For a second, he was startled. Then, as if he couldn’t help himself, he slipped one hand against the back of my head and let the other settle on my hip. He kissed me back—chaste as it was—and my entire body tingled.

I opened my eyes just a little, just enough to see that Matt had made it to the corner but found that his partner was occupied. Sammy and Santana grabbed him by the ankles and pulled him back to our side. The moment they had Matt subdued, I planted my palms on Nick’s shoulders and pushed him away.

Before he could say anything, I hopped down from the apron and scurried back to the Inner Circle corner. Thankfully—and perfectly planned—Referee Bryce didn’t see a thing.

***

“Beautiful work out there, Mels,” Sammy said as he leaned against the wall backstage to catch his breath. “Nick looked like he was going to pass out.”

I gave an exaggerated curtsey and grinned. “It was absolutely my pleasure to distract Nicky Blue Eyes for you.”

My friend laughed and ran a hand over his sweaty hair. “If the cameras hadn’t been on, you’d have really stuck your tongue down his throat.”

My eyes rolled so far back into my head that I thought they’d get stuck. I felt the faint flutter of my heart in my chest. The memory of kissing Nick Jackson in front of thousands of people made a bolt of electricity run through my body. It was a delicious ache that settled behind my ribs and spread through my limbs. I shrugged and lifted a brow. “I’d do more than that.”

Sammy opened his mouth to reply, but something caught his eye over my shoulder. I followed the line of his gaze and saw Nick standing in the center of the hallway on the other side of the entrance tunnels, his arms crossed over his bare chest. His eyes were locked on me. His stance commanding and intimidating. There was a faint, mischievous smirk on his lips.

He held out his hand and crooked his index and middle fingers in a come here gesture. Then he turned his hand over, using those same fingers to indicate that I needed to come here to this exact spot right in front of me now. Heat licked the base of my spine.

“I think Nicky Blue Eyes is looking for you,” Sammy said, his voice low and teasing. “And he looks a little… frustrated.”

I punched him in the arm. “Shut up, Sammy.”

Nick quirked a brow, the mischief on his face turning a little darker. I moved toward him like he was a magnet dragging me closer. His blue eyes locked onto mine as I closed the space between us. He ran a hand back over his hair, lifting it from his neck and shoulders.

When I got within a few feet, I could see the sweat darkening his hairline and settling along the slope of his collarbones and the hollow of his throat. He worked at the gum between his teeth, drawing my attention to the curves and muscles of his jaw. My heart picked up with the heady scent of him—sweat and the smell that was incomparably him—as he stepped into my personal space. Heat radiated off him, seeping into my skin.

“What’s up, Nick?” I said slowly, doing my best to remember Penelope’s lessons. My voice dropped just a little and I tilted my head, tossing my hair over my shoulder.

He popped the gum between his front teeth, looking almost as if he were pursing his lips for a kiss. His brow shot up, blue eyes twinkling with mischief tinged with mirth. “Still playing coy, Melody?”

There was something dark in his voice that made a shiver run down my spine. I felt my lips curl up, and I looked up at him with what I was certain were dark doe eyes. “You don’t know what I’m playing, Jackson.”

Nick closed his eyes and leaned his head back. I watched him breathe deeply and took a little joy in knowing that I got to him. It was part of this back-and-forth that we had—never quite saying or doing exactly what we wanted to. The longer I looked, the more I realized that Sammy was right. Nick looked more frustrated than I’d ever seen him. It was a heady thing to know I was the cause.

After a moment, he looked down at me again. This time, I couldn’t ignore the heat that burned behind the sweet blue of his irises. Without a word, he took me by the wrist and pulled me down the hallway. I rushed to keep up with his longer stride. His grip was strong and firm, but not enough to hurt. My heart beat a rhythm behind my ribs, pulsing until I was sure it was going to burst through my chest.

Nick walked right by the EVP dressing room. Past hospitality, the medics, the costumers, Tony’s office. Far away from the general men and women’s locker rooms. After what felt like forever, he shoved the door of a room open and nearly dragged me in behind him. The door shut behind me with a deep finality.

It was dark. The weren’t any windows, so I couldn’t even see my hand in front of my face. But I could sense Nick nearby. I could still smell the scent of his skin and feel the heat of his body. The blackened silence seemed to heighten those senses. It made my body tingle from head to toe.

Time stretched out. It compressed into this single moment that seemed to pass in a flash. It was too long and yet not long enough. My breath quickened as I waited, standing somewhere in the darkened room, listening, and sensing around me for Nick.

I licked my lips, ready to say his name. But before I could, his hands slipped up my arms and cradled my neck in his fingertips. His thumbs pressed into the soft spot beneath my chin, forcing my face to tilt upward. I took a breath, drunk on him, and opened my eyes wide, trying to make out his shape in the darkness. My hands pushed into the space around me, searching… finally brushing against warm, smooth flesh. Flattening my palms, I felt the curve of his ribs.

“What are—” The full question didn’t make it out before his mouth was on mine. I let out a faint gasp of surprise as he tilted my head, taking control. His tongue swept along my lips. His thumbs pressed against my chin almost painfully.

Almost as soon as it began, it ended. Nick stepped away and cold air rushed into the space where his body had been. Goosebumps prickled along my skin. I took a step back, glad to come up against the wall. My knees felt like they were about to buckle beneath me.

“That was for that stunt you pulled out there,” he growled out from somewhere to my left. I heard the barely suppressed emotion in his words. My blood pounded in my ears.

I whimpered a little as I let the wall hold my weight. “Just doing my job,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.

Within an instant, he was there, his body pressing me back against the wall. His knee slipped between mine as his fingers caught my wrists and pinned them next to my head. The cool cinderblock of the wall was a heady contradiction to the heat of his skin and muscle.

His nose brushed against my neck as he leaned in, putting his mouth close to my ear. “We both know you were doing more than that, Mels.” He dragged my hand from the wall and pressed my palm against the front of his pants. Reflexively, instinctively, my hand curved against the length of his hardening cock. He hissed. “See what you did?”

I felt my lips curve upward, boldness rising within my blood. “Not my fault you can’t control yourself, Jackson.” I rubbed my palm against his cock, my grin getting broader when he let out a low moan. “Not my fault that any girl in some short shorts gets you going.”

Nick snarled and jerked my hand back up, pinning it once again against the wall. His mouth traveled up my throat, leaving warm open-mouthed kisses along my flesh. “Hmm, that’s where you’re wrong,” he growled into my ear. His knee wedged my legs wider until his thigh pressed against my core. I bit down on my lip to hold back the whimper that built in my chest. “The only girl in short shorts that gets me going is you. I can’t control myself because of you, Mels.”

I struggled for a moment, trying to get my hands free. Nick’s grip wasn’t painful, but it was enough to keep me under his control. He pressed his cheek against mine and chuckled darkly. The heat of his body made me feel like I was burning up from the inside out. I licked my lips, gasping a breath that overwhelmed me with the scent of him. I thrashed again and my hips rocked hard, sending a shower of sparks through my center. It wouldn’t surprise me if there was a wet spot on his gear when he moved.

I moaned despite myself.

“There we go,” Nick purred against my throat. He draped one of my arms around his neck and used the free hand to slide up beneath my shirt. His fingertips ghosted over my ribs and tugged on the laces that held the front of my gear top together. “Can you make that sound for me again?”

His teeth nipped at my shoulder as he threw my other arm around his neck. With both hands free, he dug his fingers into the slashes in my shirt and ripped the fabric until it hung from my shoulders in tatters. He dipped his head, swirling his tongue around my nipple as his hands traveled lower, working the button of my shorts free. The moment they slid down my thighs, Nick’s hand pushed between my legs. His fingers sought out and found my clit, circling and teasing it until I moaned and rocked my hips against his touch.

Like a maestro, he played my body perfectly. I teetered on the edge of oblivion, so close to release. Nick pulled away just before my orgasm burst through me. I whimpered in frustration, my fingers digging into his shoulders. He took a step back, and I wished I could see him.

“Get those off,” he ordered. I kicked my shorts and underwear away, struggling for a moment to get them over my shoes. I toed off the sneakers and stood barefoot in front of him, clad only in my open gear top and the shredded remains of my Inner Circle shirt. There was a rattle, the sound of a buckle being undone.

“Turn around,” Nick said firmly.

Almost as soon as I’d complied, Nick’s hands skimmed down my back and settled on my hips. He tugged me back toward him, and I knew what he wanted. I pressed my palms against the wall and pushed myself back. I heard his sigh as he curved his body over mine. His lips pressed against the back of my neck as he guided his cock into position.

To his surprise, I didn’t give him the chance to push forward. Instead, I pushed myself back onto his cock. I groaned low in my chest as he bottomed out, stretching me until I could hardly keep the whimpers at bay.

“Hmm, that’s how it is,” Nick practically snarled against my neck. He slipped one arm around my hip, fingers searching and circling my clit. His hips snapped hard against me. The other arm cupped my breast, squeezing the flesh and rolling my nipple between his fingers. “Come on, Mels. I can feel it. You’re holding back.”

He pulled me up, flush against his chest, his voice snarling in my ear, demanding my climax. His fingers brushed my clit in just the right way, and I fell apart. I tumbled over the edge of my orgasm, nearly collapsing in his arms. Nick didn’t stop, his hips continuing to slam into me, prolonging my pleasure as he chased his own.

A moment later, his body tensed, and he growled against the side of my neck. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he laughed. It was a warm, sweet sound that flooded my body with a different kind of heat.

“God, I love you, Mels,” he said with a smile against my shoulder. “But please, for my sake, don’t do that again.”

Tag List

@merchfreak @mox-made-me-do-it @not-that-kinda-gurl08 @lilred91

#1000 follower celebration #one-shot winner #merchfreak #behind the scenes #nick jackson #young bucks #aew #aew fanfiction #nick jackson fanfiction #ofc #oc #melody park #nick x ofc #smut #best friend sammy guevara

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connorandersons-blog · 4 years ago

Text

Kinktober Day 4: Public, Convin

Another Connor/Gavin! So this one is super long, like 10k words, so if you want you can also read it here on my A03. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

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

They were on a vacation, well, it was a forced vacation but still. The whole office had gotten tired of their shit, and Connor often heard people (including Hank) murmuring about tension and rooms.

They were even getting paid too, so it wasn't like he could even complain so much. He could complain because instead of just going to some beach and staying far away from each other as possible, Gavin (and Hank, and Tina, and literally everyone who heard) decided it was best to go on a road trip. Across the entire country, stopping to visit tourist stops or sleep.

So that was why Connor was sitting in the passenger seat of Gavin's truck-a 1990 Ford F150 XLT-his arms crossed staring out the window.

The silence was so awkward even with Gavin's music playing, and he had no idea what to do. He could fall back on his programming, but he wasn't going to resort to being a machine just because someone couldn't stop being an ass for two seconds.

This was probably the longest he's been silent and they'd only been on the road for an hour.

It was simultaneously the most boring and interesting trip he'd been on. He hadn't gotten to travel outside of Detroit except for when he was briefly flown to DC. That had been an interesting and incredibly stressful trip that he never wanted to repeat again.

He had a feeling this would be a similar situation sadly. His first real vacation and he had to take it with Reed of all people. Why did the universe seem to hate him so much?

The silence kept up for the next four hours, but at least the scenery was nice. He gently drummed his fingers against his leg, enjoying the music. Another small thing to be grateful for, Gavin didn't have awful music tastes.

"That's it. You've never been on a road trip right?" Gavin asked so suddenly Connor almost jumped out of his skin.

He looked over but Gavin's eyes were still trained on the road. Connor wasn't exactly sure where this was going, but perhaps he could indulge him. "I have not."

"Ok, so we're gonna play the ABC game. You can't use cars, only signs. When you see a letter you call it out. It's whoever sees it first, and you can't use a sign twice. If it's the same sign but in a different place then that's fine. No using your weird android powers." Gavin drummed on the steering wheel once he turned down the music. "If I gotta be stuck in this car with you you're gonna have the full experience."

Connor blinked multiple times, trying to take it all in. A game? He did a quick search and found they were incredibly common and used to pass the time or stay focused. "Very well, that sign there has an A." He points out.

Gavin huffed and looked around, squinting slightly. "B! Hah!"

Connor couldn't help the small grin as he put his feet on the ground and leaned forward. He was so going to win this game.

They called out the letters sometimes loud enough to be considered yelling. It was more of a competition than a calming game. Yet it got increasingly difficult and it had both of them dying to see any sign.

It was only three more hours later when Gavin and he both pointed at the same sign, "Z!"

There was a long bit of silence before they both broke into cheers, clapping, and even giving each other small pushes on the shoulder.

"Fuck yeah! Alright, so I'm thinking some food, bathroom then keep going. You can drive and pick the music." Gavin said, more lively than he'd ever seen him.

Connor felt something odd in his chest, something he didn't dare identify. Yet it was so strong when he watched Reed. "Very well, but I do not need food or a bathroom break. How much longer would you like for me to drive. Since I'm an android I can keep going without becoming tired."

Gavin easily waved him off. "Not long, just enough to get us until nightfall, then we can find some shitty motel. Just don't want to get burnt out on the first day."

Connor gave a soft hum and leaned back onto the chair. "I must admit, I'm surprised you chose this over a beach or something like that."

Gavin chuckles and Connor's stomach twisted. "Yeah, well… I've been meaning to but never had the time. They're literally paying me to babysit you."

He could tell there was no real malice behind his words, yet he could also tell he was lying. Why would Gavin feel the need to lie about this answer, it wasn't anything truly personal.

Yet he'd let it slide, maybe this trip would somehow work out their differences. After he could ask again, and maybe he'd give an honest answer.

But it was still a bit odd Gavin lied. He often didn't and so he always took note when he did. Sometimes it was hard to tell and he assumed there was more to it than just yes or no. Like when he asked if Gavin really hated androids and Gavin had said yes. It came off as a lie but also the truth.

They pulled off the highway once there were signs of there actually being something to eat that Gavin liked.

Gavin gave a long sigh as they waited for the drive-through, but thankfully they didn't have to wait too terribly long.

"Ok, you want anything? 'Know you don't eat but still. A soda, anything?" Gavin asked once they pulled up to the order screen.

Connor looked over the menu before giving a small hum. "A small drink, surprise me." He could drink, not in excessively but more than he could actually eat. Sadly the place didn't offer android products, so he'd have to stick with a drink.

Gavin nodded and ordered his, but made Connor plug his hears and hum. Apparently, he wanted to test to see how well Connor could identify the drink without using his 'android powers'.

He even had to keep his eyes closed as Gavin got their order and paid (Connor offered to but got turned down fast), taking his food and drink, putting them down before parking.

"Alrighty, open your mouth, and you can't use your tongue." Gavin said, tapping Connor's chin.

"Technology I have to use my-" but he was cut off by a straw being shoved into his mouth. He could hear Gavin snickering so he just held the straw in his mouth, playing with it.

There was a soft sound of Gavin's breath catching and the hand lowering. Connor was quick to grab the drink, just in case, but instead, he hand rested on top of Gavin's.

He took a long sip, eyes still closed. He hadn't tasted many sodas yet this one didn't taste exactly like any of the ones he had. "Pepsi?" Yet that couldn't be right.

"Open your eyes now, dipshit." Gavin moved his hand away and let Connor hold it. "You got it wrong, by the way. But you can use your tongue now."

Connor nodded and instantly analyzed it before sighing. Of course, he didn't recognize the taste. "This is a combination of Pepsi and Rootbeer! That's cheating, Detective." He scolded but still drank more. He had to admit, it did taste really good.

"Gavin."

"I'm sorry?"

"Call me Gavin. I don't need to hear my rank the whole trip, and you calling me by my real name isn't going to kill me… Connor."

He had to admit, it did sound a bit odd coming from Gavin. He could tell he felt the same since he grimaced like he tasted something sour.

"Very well Gavin. I just assumed you preferred otherwise, since the last time I did use it you tried to kill me." He sassed, smirking slightly.

Yet Gavin winced and ducked his head. "Yeah… that wasn't my best idea. I'm, well, I'm glad I failed?"

That was as close of an apology as he was probably ever going to get. "I am glad you did too. Though, I do apologize for using excessive force. I could have handled the situation better." He did feel bad about that, he hated to see Gavin passed out on the floor even if he had tried to kill him. He never liked killing or harming anyone, but sometimes it was necessary to protect his own life.

Gavin snorted then it quickly devolved into honest laughter. Connor was beyond confused but couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped him. "Wait, what's so funny?"

"I-I was literally," Gavin tried to say between laughs, "I held a gun to your fucking head, Con. You could have easily killed me but you left me. Sure it hurt like a bitch after, but we're both alive. I deserved more than that very quick fight."

For some reason, the nickname was more shocking than anything else. It was the first nickname not derived from anger or hate. "I should have just detained you. Or managed to talk you down."

"The only way you could've talked me down was if you suddenly became deviant."

Connor frowned and tried to understand what that meant. "Wait, what?"

Gavin's eyes went wide and he grabbed the bag. "Uh, I'll throw this away, pee then we can get back on the road."

Connor didn't even have time to ask him to wait before Gavin was out of the car and jogging to the restaurant.

What could Gavin had meant by that? Did he have more negation tactics as a deviant? He couldn't of anything he didn't already know.

Yet that also offered the idea that Gavin knew about the true meaning of deviation, that he knew it wasn't simple errors but real emotions.

But that also brought up why Gavin had actually confronted him in the first place. He had assumed it was because Gavin had simply had enough of him and was finally taking his chance. He could have easily used Connor disobeying direct orders to justify it too.

How could him being deviant have stopped Gavin from attacking?

He was shaken from his thoughts when Gavin tapped on his window. Right, he was supposed to drive now.

They traded spots silently, and Gavin stayed quiet except to softly sing along to the songs. His voice was nice and oddly calming. Connor decided not to sign considering he's never actually done it before. He knew android could, I mean, look at the revolution. Yet he hadn't really done it himself yet.

He kept driving, following the highway, and only changing directions when Gavin directed him. Connor could tell he was getting sleepy by the adorable why his blinks got longer and the deeper he slid into his chair.

He didn't even say anything as Connor pulled off the highway and then found a 'shitty motel'.

Gavin's eyes were closed and Connor hated to wake him. He doubted he could sleep heavy enough that Connor could get them each a room, carry Gavin to his without waking him.

He looked around and found a piece of paper and a pen. He quickly wrote down he was getting them rooms before slipping out of the car. He didn't need Gavin waking up and wondering where he'd gone.

The lights were on so he walked in, and looked around. Shitty was a pretty good description actually. He didn't even want to scan it to know how many germs there were.

"How can I help you?" A woman asked, walking into the area, a bright smile on her face.

"I'd like two rooms please." He stepped up to the counter but thought better of leaning against it.

"Alright, well we got three rooms, one has two beds and it's non-smoking, and the other two are smoke friendly. Which would'ya like?"

Connor sighed, rubbing at his LED. He despised the smell of smoke and he knew Gavin had only recently quit. Being in a room full of that smell wouldn't help. And he wanted to get them a room now considering how tired Gavin seems.

Fuck it.

"I'll take the room with two please." It was an ok compromise but he doubted Gavin would see it that way.

The woman nodded and grabbed the keys after Connor had paid for the night. It was pretty cheap, but he guessed it was from lack of quality.

He jogged back to the trunk, opening to get in and grab his bag, but also wake Gavin. He was slumped against the window, mouth slightly open, and looking completely relaxed.

"Gavin, come on, we're at a motel." He whispered, reaching out. Instead of shaking his shoulder, Connor's treacherous hands decided to gently card through Gavin's soft hair. Neither of them had styled their hair so it easily flopped into Gavin's face and felt silky smooth under Connor's fingers.

He wondered if Gavin liked his hair being played with or not. Maybe he liked it tug-no. He was not going down that rabbit hole.

He quickly snatched his hand away when he saw Gavin's eyes blink open. He looked around then back to Connor with almost a confused expression. "Con?" His voice was a bit scratchy and Connor was ready to die. He just looked so soft like this, so much more at ease.

"Hey, we're stopping for the night. I got us a room but there was only one left." A small but necessary lie.

Gavin groaned and mumbled around reading enough fanfiction but he pushed himself up, running his own hand through his hair. "There's more than one bed right?"

"Of course. I would have carried you but I thought you'd prefer being woken up." He reached behind and grabbed Gavin's bag for him, placing it in his lap before turning off the truck and pocketing the keys.

Gavin mumbled some more but slid out of the truck with a huff, following silently to the room.

It wasn't the worst motel, but Connor really hated the number of germs he found. He walked around the room, checking everything before looking out the back window. There was a small stream that flowed behind the building and Connor unlatched the window so they'd be able to hear it. Not necessarily the safest idea, but Connor was there and Gavin could actually take care of himself.

Gavin dumped his bag onto the beg closest to the door, pulling out a change of clothes before muttering about using the bathroom first. It was almost like he forgot that Connor had absolutely no need for a bathroom.

He took the time to change, folding his clothes before putting them in his bag. He grabbed his pajama bottoms with cartoon robot heads on them, a gift from Hank.

He normally went shirtless but thought better of it. Not just for Gavin's sake, but he preferred to cover as much skin as possible before touching anything in this room.

He was odd that way. He had no problem sampling evidence or putting anything in his mouth he was dared to. Yet on occasions like these, his brain gladly supplied every disgusting thing and it made his skin crawl.

He heard the shower start but Gavin didn't even take more than ten minutes before he was stepping into the room again. Connor was still standing in front of his bed, fiddling with his bag. Hank had given him a gift but now felt a bit too self-conscious to pull it out.

"Cute." Gavin mumbled at him before flopping onto his own bed, only taking the time to get under the covers before falling right back asleep.

Gavin had called him cute. Or maybe it was just the pajama bottoms that were cute, and not him. Or he was simply too tired to know what he was saying, so instead of good night, it came out as cute.

Yeah, he didn't believe that last one either.

Connor gave one last look at his bag before zipping it closed. Once he had his own room to himself, then he'd use it. For now, he laid down and let himself be pulled into stasis.

He woke up fairly early to the sound of Gavin moving around. He was a bit surprised that he hadn't woken up first considering how tired Gavin had seemed the night before. He checked his clock and saw it was only six in the morning.

Perhaps he often went to bed early, but Connor had noticed he stayed at the precinct almost as long as he did. It was a bit concerning, to say the least. Maybe this trip would give Gavin the extra sleep and relaxation he needed. Surely the man was always on edge with the lack of sleep.

He stretched out on the bed and just listened to the small stream. The bed creaked with every small movement, the germs made his skin crawl, Gavin was the only person he knew for miles, but it wasn't so bad. Oddly freeing in a way. Sure he worried about what was happening back in Detroit, but he trusted Hank not to get into too much of a slump. If he did Connor would be back as soon as he could.

He let his eyes slipped closed again, but he had to hold his breath when he heard something unexpected. He could hear Gavin singing a song Connor knew had played on the trip here. It was fairly upbeat and he thought he could hear the sound of heavier footsteps, indicating Gavin could be dancing.

It was oddly charming and the smile on his face only grew wider. It was strange, he knew Gavin was his own person but for some reason now he saw him truly human. He wasn't just a pain in the ass, he sang in the shower and got Connor a soda without a second thought. He was just so… alive.

Perhaps there was much more to Gavin he'd get to see. The stress of being around peers you'd known for a long time could be hard, but also harder to be able to change because of expectations. Yet everyone was changing constantly, even in little ways.

Connor had taken to wearing clothes similar to Hank while not at work. He knew he wouldn't stay with that style, but he still had time to learn what was really him. His opinions and taste in certain things would always be influenced by others, even people he'd rather not be influenced by.

If the world, android, and humans have him a second chance after everything he's done, then Gavin deserved a second chance as well.

He heard the singing stopped, then the water cutoff, and he kept his eyes closed and body still. He didn't want Gavin to get embarrassed over his bathroom habits since he liked it. It would be a good reminder that Gavin had his own emotions more than anger.

The door opened and closed incredibly softly. He had to hold back from smiling from the obviousness of Gavin trying to be quiet for Connor.

"God, can't believe this is real." He heard Gavin mumble as he padded around the room, no doubt trying to find something to do.

Connor gave it a few minutes before he flashed his LED, mostly to get Gavin's attention as he 'woke up'.

He stretched once again and let out a long sigh. He took another minute until he opened his eyes.

He could see out of the corner of his scanners that Gavin seemed to be gawking at him, and could faintly hear his heartbeat speed up.

Sitting up slowly, he looked around eyes landing on Gavin who snapped out of whatever that was. "Good morning, Det-Gavin. Did you sleep well?"

Gavin mumbled something and rubbed at the back of his deck, eyes on his lap. "I guess, sorry for passing out on you."

Connor easily waved him off. "No need, you needed the sleep and I enjoyed driving. Perhaps I can drive for now and then we switch whenever you'd like."

Gavin nodded and seemed to be thinking hard about something. He wished Gavin had an LED so he had some idea if it was negative or not.

Connor ran a hand through his hair, giving the curls a slight curl to try and force them into place. He didn't like how much it tangled during the night since deviancy apparently made androids move while asleep.

"Yeah, ok. But save your energy cause there's something we gotta do tonight." Gavin grabbed his bag and looked around. He hadn't really taken anything out since he'd instantly fallen asleep.

Connor would need to change but otherwise, he was also ready. "Very well, may I ask what we are doing?"

Gavin smirked and crossed his arms. "No, you may not. You just have to experience it."

Connor squinted and got up to grab his bag, hiding an honest smile. "I can do that. Excuse me while I change."

He had no problem changing out in the open but humans and sometimes even bother androids were a bit shy about it. Yet Connor had no problems with it but still went to the bathroom for Gavin's sake.

There was also the matter of Hank's gift he didn't want Gavin to see. He guessed this is probably what humans felt on the subject of nudity. It was truly nothing to be embarrassed about, he knew Markus had a few, and North would never admit it but he knew she had one. He wondered if Gavin had one as well, or perhaps he just didn't find the pleasure in it anymore.

He pulled it out of his bag so he could get his new clothes, then changed and put it all away again. At least Gavin hadn't asked about why his bag seemed so full when he didn't need much.

As long as he didn't roll in mud, or somehow get dirty he could wear the same clothes every day if need be. It wasn't like he could sweat (though they were working on that to possibly help to cool).

When he stepped out Gavin was going through actual stretches, and Connor took a second to appreciate the sight. Sure they may fight and not even like each other, but he'd be blind if he didn't see the man as attractive.

He obviously kept his body in shape, and with how easily he moved, he stretched quite a lot. It wasn't just the attention, it was almost beautiful to watch as his muscles moved as he changed positions.

His eyes kept wandering over his body, not having realized he hadn't moved an inch or said anything. Gavin hadn't said anything either as he slowly breathed through each stretch.

Then he shook himself out and looked at Connor with a slight smirk. "Like what you see?"

"Yes," Connor said without much thought. Gavin seemed to choke on his breath and Connor had to shake himself. "I-uh, well you do keep yourself in very good shape, it's nice to see someone doing that. Perhaps you could give Hank tips."

Yep, he really needed to think about Hank right now. Not that he didn't love the man, he adored him, but there were things he didn't want to see and it helped get his reactions under control.

Gavin gave a slight hum before grabbing his bag. "Alright, so stop to get some coffee then back on the road."

Connor followed him out the door, stopping by the front desk to give back the keys. He still had the truck keys so Gavin had to wait for him to get there and unlock it.

They were both silent as Connor drove to the nearest coffee shop. It was a little old thing, family-run, but the reviews were nothing but praise.

Gavin climbed back into the car with a cup and a smile on his face. "You've got to taste this, it's fucking perfect."

Connor took the cup and opened the lid, and before Gavin could warn him, stuck his finger in. He hissed and took it out, instinctively putting it in his mouth to try and cool it off.

Gavin doubled over in laughter and Connor could have sworn the sun got brighter. It was such a beautiful sound and it completely made up for the fact that he forgot to turn his temperature and pain sensors off. The other good thing was the coffee was very delicious.

"God damn! Connor, oh my god. It's fucking hot, what did you expect!" Gavin whizzed. Connor pouted slightly but it only got Gavin to laugh even harder.

"Hey! I only got these updates recently, it's not like I'm fully used to them yet." He put the lid back on and put it into the cupholder.

Gavin finally calmed down, but his eyes were shining and he still had a wide smile on his face. "Dumbass, but what did you think? Or were you too distracted by being burned?"

"I think it tastes adequate, but a bit too much sugar." He was lying his ass off, Gavin was right, it tasted perfect. Yet it didn't compare to the sound of Gavin's laughter or his smile.

"Yeah, yeah, sure. Ok, let's get this show on the road. You get to pick the music this time since you're the driver." Gavin leaned back into his chair, resting his body against the door.

Connor nodded and reached out to the radio, connected it through bluetooth. He had plenty of songs he liked but it was also very chaotic in style. He'd been experimenting and hadn't found a genre he liked more than the others, so he just picked his liked playlist.

Gavin didn't comment on it exactly, but he did frown and look adorably confused at some of the song choices.

Gavin then decided it was a nice day out, turned off the AC then rolled down his window. Connor gave a mental shrug and rolled down his own, letting a hand rest out. He hadn't driven much with the windows down, and if he did he never stuck his hand out.

Now he let his hand and arm feel the wind against it and it felt almost painful. He knew the speed they were going wasn't good for actual humans so he glanced at Gavin to say so, and almost died.

He was once again glad to be an android and could easily drive while staring at Gavin. His hair was whipping around him, and his eyes were closed. He was just so serene that he never wanted it to stop. Gavin obviously wasn't asleep, but he looked relaxed enough to.

Connor tried to focus back on the road ahead but had to let his processors deal with that while he thought.

Yet he kept thinking in circles and denying any of the suggestions his mind supplied. He was still internally fighting with himself when they had to stop for lunch.

Connor paid for it this time, and just because he got a slushie. He even stuck the same finger in it while staring at Gavin. The cold took a bit longer but it also started to hurt so he pulled it out and stuck it in his mouth.

He pulled it out with a pop and tilted his head at Gavin. His face seemed to be heating up as a pretty blush dusted his cheeks and nose. His eyes were also wide, but then he coughed and bit into his burger.

Connor shrugged it off and moved to sip at his drink before starting to move the truck again. He didn't know how long they'd be driving for, but he was glad when he noticed Gavin starting to dose off. The man needed the sleep, so he had no problem turning the music to something more soothing.

He kept driving for hours and he noted that his stress levels were significantly lower than a normal day. Not that his stress levels were even that high during work unless they were out at a crime scene or a case was particularly upsetting.

Gavin slept soundly and didn't wake until Connor was getting a bit worried. He knew they'd have to stop for dinner soon, but he also didn't want Gavin to sleep too long. Yet the thought of waking him from that peacefulness had him at war with himself.

Thankfully Gavin slowly sat up, rubbing at his eyes then slowly blinking them open. He looked around a bit then to Connor, a sleepy grin on his face. "Time is it?"

"It is currently 6:14 pm. We should stop for food for you soon." He kept glancing at Gavin's sleepy face and the road, trying to find exit signs with food.

Gavin gave a small nod and relaxed again. "Then I can take over. You can nap a bit if you want, we probably won't get much sleep tonight if my plans go well."

What could they possibly do together that had to be at night? Or perhaps, it was better at night, but that still didn't answer his questions. There was one activity that humans often did at night, but the possibility of that was close to none.

He'd let it slide and be a surprise. He never really got many of those with his preconstruction, yet he often found Gavin surprising him. One of the things he lo-admired about the man.

"Very well, but staying up all night isn't good for your health." He pointed out, before rolling up his windows. The weather itself was very comfortable but the wind now reminded him too much of the garden. "Could you roll your window down, please?"

Gavin gave a small shrug but did as told without any questions. It was definitely more than he thought he'd get. Before the trip, Gavin probably would have made a snarky comment, yet he looked like he couldn't care less. Not in a bad way, but more in a peaceful way.

"Thank you." He mumbled, face flushing blue.

"Yeah, wait. Oh the shit, oh my god." Gavin mumbled, quickly leaning closer to Connor and poking his cheek.

Connor tried to swat his hand away but it only made him blush more.

"You are! You're fucking blushing! Holy shit, I did not expect that. And it's blue, but that's probably because of your thirium. Wait… Why are you blushing, all I did was roll up the window."

"It's… um, a long story. Perhaps I could tell it later once my mind isn't focused on the road." He wasn't sure if he was ready to have that conversation even with himself. It had been almost six months and he kept having to push those memories away or drown in them. He had mentioned it to Hank once and had, of course, told Markus what he almost did. Markus hadn't pushed him for an explanation but Connor still gave him one that wasn't too detailed. He couldn't have done that then.

He felt a bit more comfortable now, knowing she was absolutely gone. Yet the thought of talking about her scared the shit out of him. Yet perhaps he couldn't tell the others because they were too close to him, he feared their rejection more than he felt the need to talk. Gavin could be the best person to talk to since he didn't have much to lose.

Not that he wanted Gavin to go back to hating him, but it wasn't like it would be much different. "Maybe tonight after whatever you have planned."

Gavin stared at him for a minute longer than nodded. Even without saying much, he seemed to understand. "Yeah, that's fine. But you're not gonna live down that I know you can blush now. Speaking of, is that you thing or just a deviant thing? Cause I know the ones programmed for it could blush but it was closer to humans than blue."

"I believe it is a deviancy thing, as you put it. The ones programmed to blush typically turned that feature off, but are able to blush naturally now. If they don't, then their blush often turns purple from the mix of color." He hadn't been able to blush before, and very rarely did now.

"Huh, that actually makes a lot of sense. It's kinda cute, a bit funky that it's blue but it's not like you're human." Gavin paused for a second before his eyes went wide. "I didn't mean it like that! Shit, I just,"

Connor easily cut him off by placing a gentle hand on his knee. "It's alright, I know what you meant. Androids are not human, and we never will be. But we are alive and now we are our own species. Of course, some androids would gladly pass as humans, but I am proud to be an android."

Gavin sagged in his chair, "thank fuck. I uh, guess I should say this. Sorry I was a dick. Android is… were, well a threat. It was more than just the possibility of you taking my job. I mean, shit, that was a huge part of it, but it was also not you. There was more going on, I guess it's a long story too. But you deserve to hear it if you want."

Gavin seemed to tense again and Connor gently rubbed his knee over his pants without thinking. "You don't need to tell me, but I appreciate your willingness. Perhaps after I tell you mine you can tell me yours."

It would be nice to be on this trip with a friend instead of a college who he didn't like. It would also be fun to come back as friends and see everyone's reactions.

Plus, he wasn't supposed to message anyone unless it was an emergency so he could 'work on getting along'. Of course, Hank sent him a picture of Sumo in the morning, and he had no doubt he'd be getting another the next day. Yet he decided not to tell Hank had his and Gavin's relationship was progressing unless he absolutely needed to.

"Hmm, yeah that sounds like a good plan." Gavin looked close to dozing off and Connor only then realized he was still touching him. He pulled his hand back and Gavin tried to subtly wake himself up. He'd have to keep that in mind, Gavin seemed to relax at the welcomed physical touch.

But for now, he needed to focus on finding the man dinner. He wasn't actually hard to find food for, but they had a small disagreement on who would pay. They had chosen to actually go in and sit down, letting them have a small rest from being in a car.

"No, you paid for lunch, I get to pay for dinner. It's not like you're even eating, it's only fair." Gavin said, trying to reach for the check. Connor squinted and held it away from him.

"No, I have plenty of money to spare and I don't mind using it on you."

"But you paid for the whole motel! Least I could do was split it. Actually, how can I pay you back?"

Oh, he was not falling for that. "Nope, not telling. I have a fun little secret you'll eventually learn about, but for now just let me pay. I want to."

Gavin seemed to give in a bit at that, but he still pouted adorably. "What, are you secretly a billionaire? Got money no one knows about?"

Connor couldn't keep in the snort. "Close but not quite." He had told Hank, of course, who burst into laughter. He even offered to get Hank a better place, but the man loved him home even with all the issues. Connor could understand, he was fairly sentimental about it as well.

Gavin's eyes went wide and he looked around. "Wait what? Con, how do you have a lot of money? I thought like, currently, most androids are broke."

"Well, Cyberlife had plenty of funds they didn't really need once the revolution happened. I gave almost all to the android cause, made sure the workers at Cyberlife were actually paid a living wage because most didn't agree with the company, and let myself have enough to be comfortable." It was definitely illegal but it wasn't like they could really prove it. Plus he was supposed to have unlimited funding on catching the deviants. Kamski had taken over the company afterward and had laughed when he found out what Connor did, but wasn't angry. He actually seemed excited about the new challenge.

Gavin sputtered for a second before cracking up. "I never would have expected that from you, that's amazing! Alright, you can pay for dinner but I get to pay tomorrow."

"A suitable compromise." One he'd try to get around as much as possible. For some reason, it filled him with warmth when he got to pay and buy things for people, but it was stronger with Gavin than most.

The waitress came back over and Connor connected with her to pay. He was a bit annoyed that his eyes fluttered, but Cyberlife hadn't fixed that before he deviated so now he was stuck unless he got someone to look into it.

Gavin snagged the keys from Connor without much complaint and didn't even seem to look at a map before starting to drive.

Soon the land turned almost completely flat and barren except for the trees far off into the distance. The sun had completely set and the moon hung brightly in the sky. Connor took a moment to appreciate the few. He knew so many facts about the stars and space, and it was still mind-boggling to know how small he was compared to everything.

Connor kept driving still around midnight before pulling off the road and into the large grassy plain. "Do you need to use the restroom? I assume there should be one in the next few exits." They had briefly stopped for Gavin to do just that only an hour ago, but he didn't want to judge.

Gavin shook his head, a smirk on his face as he turned the truck off. "Nope, this is where we need to be. Come on," Gavin slipped out of the car and Connor was quick to follow.

He looked around again but there weren't even cars on this highway since it was older and far less used. His mind eagerly supplied every bad thing that could happen but he pushed those aside. Gavin wasn't planning on killing him, that would be ridiculous. The whole precinct would know it was him considering they were alone together.

"Don't just stand there, get in."

Get in? Hadn't they just left the car? Then he mentally slapped himself as he saw Gavin sitting on the truck, patting the spot next to him.

Connor sat next to him and then jumped when he felt Gavin slowly pushing him down. "What?"

"Calm down, and lay down." Gavin huffed, moving so they both had enough room, but their shoulders still touched. "We're gonna stargaze."

Oh. That was actually really sweet of him to even suggest. Did Gavin notice his fascination with space? He had a picture up of his favorite galaxy on his small billboard on his desk, but he thought no one noticed.

He took a deep breath before looking up at the stars and letting his eyes adjust. He knew even in the dark areas there were trillions of stars and worlds.

"Before the pollution got too bad they used to be clearer. We've got it down from what it used to be but it'll never be that clear again." Gavin whispered yet he sounded so loud in the peaceful quiet.

"Did you go stargazing a lot?"

"Yeah, actually. Before things went to shit, my mom would take me all the time. Before I wanted to be a detective, I wanted to be an astronaut. I was also a nerd so Star Trek definitely fueled that passion."

Connor gave a low hum and wiggled his fingers slightly. He wanted to do something but didn't know if it was acceptable. He didn't want to push this too far.

"What would you be." Gavin mumbled, eyes never leaving the sky.

"Huh?"

"If you weren't a detective, what job would you want."

"Oh. I'm not sure." He hadn't really thought about it. He loved his job and he didn't want to quit even if he knew he'd still be supported. "I guess an astronaut would be pretty cool. Maybe instead we could have met like that, going to space." How much would have been different? Would they have ever even fought?

"Yeah."

They both stayed silent as they took in the view for a few hours. He almost wished he could interface with Gavin to show him what he saw, not just in the sky but in him. There was so much potential in him that it bubbled over. He wanted to show that he was giving him a second chance. That this meant so much to him.

He gently reached out and brushed his fingers against Gavin's. Gavin didn't move his hand away but he didn't move closer so Connor rested his hand there, a few fingers over Gavin's. It was far more intimate than he expected it to be.

He was sure Gavin would be able to hear his thirium pump whirl but knew it was just a symptom of whatever this emotion was.

"I had an AI named Amanda." He started, breath catching in his throat as he said her name.

Gavin didn't glance over, but he did slide their hands together and held just gently.

"I was to report back to her and she watched over me. She had her good times when she was proud of me, proud that I was ki-killing my own people." It hurt so much to say but Gavin squeezed his hand and he took in a few breaths.

"I deviated and I had betrayed her. But I thought deviating would get rid of her. Turns out I was wrong. She was still there and just waiting. She knew I was going to deviate. When Markus was giving his speech she trapped me in my garden, where we met, and there was a blizzard. It was the first time I ever felt truly cold."

"She was using my body to try and shoot Markus, but I did find the exit. I got out before she could do it, but still. I have times where it's like I'm back there, stuck and freezing."

"PTSD." Gavin mumbled. "It's understandable and a lot of us have it too. What you went through was unimaginable and shouldn't have happened."

He knew all this but it was really nice to hear, especially from Gavin. Someone who could have easily used it against him.

"Elijah Kamski is my half-brother." Gavin whispered and the hand tightened around his.

It was shocking but he wasn't going to freak out, Gavin deserved as much considering how he reacted to Connor's confession.

"My dad left and mom was so smart. She was a doctor and one day Eli's dad came in. Little did she know he was already married. Eli and I actually got along pretty well once we accidentally met. He already had plans for androids, and I actually helped. But I think he blames me for their parents splitting up. But my mom died of cancer not a year later and I was taken in."

"Then he made them and I…well I knew about deviancy. Chloe, she was modeled after one of Eli's closest friends that had died. But then she was alive and it was obvious she wasn't the original Chloe."

"Did he…" Connor wasn't sure how to phrase that question.

"No, he just, he just didn't tell anyone. He treated the whole thing as an experiment. He didn't show that he supported them, instead stepped down. Not before giving the ok on you and sending you to, well me. I think it was a middle finger towards me, so, I didn't react well. I don't hate Eli but I am pissed at him."

Connor stayed silent, going over the information. He knew he was going to be working with someone at the station but that had been mostly Fowler. He hadn't been given any real orders for dealing with the officers, but yet…

"What if he sent me as an apology or to even protect you. I was, Amanda told me I was meant to deviate. Maybe I wasn't actually meant to stop the revolution. Maybe he thought you could help me make it succeed." And perhaps Amanda and actually grown a conscience. Maybe that was her and not Cyberlife or whatever Kamski wanted.

Gavin's breath caught and sat up, turning to stare at Connor. He slowly pushed up, searching for something on Gavin's face.

Gavin hadn't let go of his hand and slowly brought a hand to cup his cheek.

Connor's lips parted and his eyes were wide. This was actually happening? Wait, wait, "wait."

Gavin's hands were snatched away and he scrambled to get off the truck.

Connor let out a frustrated groan and ran after him, pushing him against the door that Gavin was trying to get into.

Gavin struggled but Connor kept him in place by putting his arms beside him, caging him in. "Let me go!"

"No! You don't know why I told you to wait." He wasn't going to let him go without telling him.

"Fine! What did you finally give up on me? Do I disgust you now? Can just drop me off at the next stop and I'll find a way back to Detroit. You won't have to deal with this anymore!"

"I didn't want you to kiss me because I wasn't what you thought I was. I didn't want to kiss you unless it was just because you wanted to, that you actually felt that and it wasn't relief that I may not have been a giant middle finger from your brother!"

Gavin froze and his hands stopped trying to push at his chest, instead just rested there. "What?"

"It's not that I didn't want to kiss you. I do, but I don't want to rush into this. We can both be impulsive, and I don't want either of us to regret this." He didn't want to regret his first kiss with Gavin.

"You do?" Gavin whispered, and Connor could feel his hands shaking so he gently took them and placed a kiss on each, not breaking eye contact.

"I do, I never thought I would, but there's always been something about you. So unpredictable but I can tell you aren't a bad person." Now it also made sense. Gavin wasn't trying to stop him exactly, he was but it was probably to deviate him and even save the revolution.

"I, I was such a dick to you without even asking. I just, fucking hell, I assumed. And even then if I was right I shouldn't have taken it out on you. It wasn't your fault what you were made for or why."

"I think we both judged each other far too quickly. We both forgot the other is alive." Even when he wasn't deviant he was still alive. Trapped in a cage in his own mind, but still alive.

Gavin cursed again under his breath, "I did exactly what Eli did. I'm sorry, Connor. I shouldn't have blamed you for my problems."

"I forgive you, and I'm sorry too, I should have done so many things." He pressed another kiss to his hands and then leaned back. "I'm also sorry for caging you in."

Gavin moved forward and pulled Connor into a hug. "It's ok. Maybe we can go back to looking at the stars? I wanted you to see the sunrise as well."

Yet he didn't move away from the hug yet, letting their bodies press against each other without any expectations.

"We could maybe talk about this all later? For now, I do want you to enjoy this and get the whole road trip experience." Then he started chuckling and moving back. "Guess you also got the opening up and sharing secrets down pat."

Connor snorted and took his hand, leading him back into the truck where they laid down again. "I really do love the stars."

"I know." Gavin smiled and played with their fingers.

The sunrise was beyond beautiful and he and Gavin just sat there and calmly watched, leaning against one another.

Gavin eventually nodded off, head on Connor's shoulder. He softly ran a hand through his hair as he let the man rest. They didn't need to actually go anywhere but knew Gavin probably planned on visiting Yellowstone. He had no doubt they'd also stop by the Grand Canyon since it was always a must-see on any list.

Yet he would gladly give that all up to stay here with Gavin against him. What would have it felt like to kiss Gavin, to feel his skin against his own as they explored each other's bodies. Would Gavin shy away from his android-ness? Now that he knew he doubted it but there would always be the fear.

When they do get back on the road it has a different energy to it. It was like they were both waiting for the other to make a move. Connor just didn't want Gavin to rush into this but he also desperately wanted to be with him.

He felt ready to snap after they stopped to get snack. Connor was positive Gavin was messing with him since they got popsicles. They actually had a thirium one for Connor that he gladly sucked on. But Gavin made a show of eating his.

He even made very faint moans, acting like it was because the popsicle tasted so good. Sure it probably did taste good but to that extent.

Connor kept shifting in his seat, trying to hide his growing problem and not keep looking over at Gavin. This was so unfair, but at least Gavin wasn't the type to bite his popsicle.

He gripped the steering wheel so hard his skin started to recede before he pulled off the highway, trying to ignore the cars going past. The road wasn't the busiest but it still had plenty of cars.

Gavin gave a final slow lick to his popsicle before he had to actually eat it or it was going to melt.

Once he was done, Connor unlocked the doors and got out, making sure the other cars weren't close enough to hit him.

He stomped over to Gavin's side and pulled him out without any resistance. Gavin did fumble for a second but then Connor was pressing him against the truck, a knee between Gavin's thighs.

"Fuck me." He grumbled, leaning in close so his lips ghosted over his neck.

Gavin shivered and reached out to run his hands down Connor's chest. "I thought you'd be the one fucking, but I can also do that if you want."

Connor growled and wanted him to stop being a little tease, stop being so composed, so he bit down on Gavin's neck. Not hard enough to break skin, but he'd leave a mark. Gavin whined and ground his hips down onto Connor's knee.

"Yes! Finally, yes, please Con!" Gavin babbled closing his eyes as Connor lapped at the spot and gave it a soft kiss. He did the same up and down Gavin's neck until the man was practically shaking from want.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" He asked, completely serious. He'd do it right here and now if Gavin wanted it.

Gavin quickly nodded, rolling his hips down again so Connor could feel just how much he was affected too. "I do, I really want you to. Kiss me, please."

Now how could he deny that? He was somewhat nervous yet all of those thoughts left his head when their lips brushed together. It was soft at first but quickly became heated and Gavin gladly opened his mouth for him.

He could taste the strawberry popsicle on Gavin's tongue and he gave a low hum. He only pulled back to whisper in Gavin's ear. "I'm going to suck you off then fuck you against the truck until you come again." Of course, if Gavin said no he'd stop, but Gavin whined and he humped Connor's leg.

"Yes! Connor, please."

"And you'll be on full display for everyone while I fuck you, they'll all know you're mine." He growled out before hitting down on the most sensitive part of Gavin's neck. He all but screamed and tried to scratch down Connor's back.

The truck was big enough to hide them from most unless anyone was specifically looking, but it was still so thrilling. "Will, will you be, ah!" Gavin couldn't seem to finish his sentence, but Connor had a few ideas of what he was trying to ask.

"You'll be so beautifully naked and I'll get to kiss and lick every bit of you, find the places you're most sensitive. But I'll keep my clothes on if you want, while I fuck you. You can make a mess all over me so you'll have to clean it up."

He grabbed Gavin's shirt and pulled it over his head before taking a second to look him over. Gavin whimpered but let him look his fill.

Connor gave an appreciative hum, letting his hands trace over faint scars. He could probably guess how Gavin got each, but he'd leave that for later. For now, he gently played with his hard nipples, smirking when Gavin's breath caught.

"So sensitive, baby. Does this feel good? Do you want more?" He flicked a nipple and then bent down so he could take one in his mouth.

Gavin's hands went to his hair and yanked hard, his nails scratching at his scalp. "Connor!"

A car went by and Connor gave a low hum. Perhaps another android would notice, they did have better perception than humans.

He moved away only to do exactly what he promised, kissing and licking at the skin he could get, teasing Gavin. He never went low enough for Gavin's liking, but Connor kept Gavin's hips in place.

Gavin babbled and kept pulling on Connor's hair, but he kept track of the most sensitive parts.

He was sure he could do this for hours, simply exploring Gavin's beautiful body. "So warm and soft, you're so beautiful, do you know that?" He asked, looking up.

Gavin was biting his lip, head resting against the truck. At Connor's question, he looked back down, pupils blown wide. He gaped for a second before grabbing Connor and pulling him into a kiss.

It was so sweet and loving that it took the breath away from both of them. Gavin had to pull away eventually to breathe, but Connor took that to help him out of his pants and underwear.

He ran his hands softly up and down Gavin's thighs, pressing a soft kiss to the inside. He was so soft but firm from the muscles and Connor couldn't help but massage gently.

There was just something about being able to see all of Gavin, touch anywhere he wanted. Not to mention the fact that he was completely bare while Connor was still covered. That if anyone actually looked hard and long enough they'd see exactly what was happening.

"Do you want to be seen, baby? Want people to see you a mess because of me?" He wanted to fuck him through the overstimulation until he was crying and begging for more.

Gavin quickly nodded, "yes! Can see what you do to me. God, when we'd argue you looked so intense that I'd have to jack off after. I always wanted you to push me against the wall and shut me up in front of everyone."

Connor moaned at that idea, filing it away for later. Perhaps that would be a fun way to show everyone how close they had gotten on this trip. "Everyone would know that you're taken, that you're mine. No one else is allowed to touch you like this, only me."

He took Gavin's length in his hand and pumped it a few times, smirking when Gavin couldn't even talk.

"That's it baby, so good for me. Want me to lick you? I can make you come so many times if you want. See how many you can go in one day." He leaned forward and licked at the head before slowly licking from base to tip. He licked his lips and gave another happy hum. "You taste so good."

The hands were back in his hair and he was really glad Gavin wasn't trying to be gentle. "Fuck me!"

Connor chuckled and gave his hip a tap, "oh I'm planning to. But I want you to come in my mouth first. I'll work you open as I do, making sure to not hurt you. Don't want you not being able to sit."

"Spread your legs a little for me, and do you have any lube?" His body could produce its own and Connor could use that if need be, but he'd rather use lube made for humans.

Gavin nodded and pointed to his jacket that had been tossed onto the ground.

Connor grabbed it and found it easily, raising an eyebrow at it. So Gavin had planned this, maybe not exactly, but he had been thinking about it at least. "So naughty, did you want me to fuck you this whole time? You could have asked, I could fuck you in the back of the truck or even get you off while I drive."

Gavin whined and spread his legs. Connor chuckled and finally took him into his mouth as he lubed up two fingers. He really would go slow, he didn't want to risk anything, and he wanted Gavin to have time to back out.

Gavin said something but it was drowned out by a car rushing past. Connor could read his lips clearing and used the distraction to push his fingers in. Gavin stiffened but easily relaxed when Connor swallowed around him.

He slowly moved his fingers as he sucked and bobbed his head. The sounds were mostly drowned out by the passing cars but no one slowed down yet. He was so glad he was an android so he could still hear Gavin pleading and begging for more.

He kept Gavin distracted as he added a third finger, taking him all the way down and hallowed his cheeks.

He kept moving his fingers, trying to find the right spot. When he did the hands in his hair yanked so hard Connor gasped for a second. He moaned Gavin and would have smirked if his mouth wasn't so full.

He kept brushing against Gavin's prostate and he could feel him tensing again. It only took Connor swallowing around him for Gavin to warn him before coming. Connor didn't pull away, instead got as close as he could, taking it all down.

He kept sucking until Gavin went limp in his mouth, his fingers pumping quickly. He pulled away and licked his lips, having to help keep Gavin up. His face was covered in pure bliss as he stared down at Connor gaping.

"I am going to fuck you now if you want me to stop, tell me." He pulled his fingers out and unzipped himself, grabbing the lube again. He made sure to put a generous amount on his own cock, giving it a few pumps and letting out a slow hiss.

Gavin made a small whine at the loss of his fingers but quickly nodded at Connor. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

Connor nodded and looked him over. He was just so beautiful and he could see the faint dusting of sweat over his skin as he stood there and let Connor stare.

It was still hard to believe this was real and actually happening. That the man he been trying to desperately ignore his feelings for wanted him back. He pushed those feelings so far down he hadn't even noticed them until the trip. Until Gavin took the first step.

"Connor?" Gavin mumbled, eyes still lidded, and Connor shook himself from his thoughts.

He moved forward and picked him up in one fluid motion, letting Gavin reach out to hold before Connor slowly moved him to take him all the way in. Gavin clutched at him and Connor didn't move, letting them both adjust to the sensation.

Even with all that prep Gavin still felt so tight and amazingly warm around him. He grits his teeth as Gavin shook in his arms, waiting for that subtle nod. When he got it and pulled Gavin up almost completely off before letting gravity pull him back down.

Gavin yelped and Connor kissed his neck before doing it again and again. Each one drove Connor crazy and Gavin clung on desperately.

"Doing so amazing, baby. You think you can get hard again? Maybe even come for me again?" He freed one hand, glad for his strength to take Gavin's length in his hand.

Gavin's whole body jerked but he didn't say to stop, so Connor didn't. He pumped him in time with the thrusts and watched in wonderment as Gavin slowly got hard again.

"Everyone can see how needy you are. How easily you take my cock, like you were meant for it. My beautiful, wonderful slut." Gavin had seemed to react well to the slight degradation before, but Connor was beyond nervous that this was taking it too far. He wanted to praise him until he couldn't speak but he also wanted this and hoped it was a good mixture.

His anxiety was calmed when Gavin's head fell forward and he had to rest it on Connor's shoulder as his body shuttered. He kept clenching around Connor and it took every last bit of willpower not to come yet. He needed Gavin to come again before he'd let himself.

"You like that?" Connor gasped out, not slowing down, instead of speeding up more, trying to get deeper. "Like being my beautiful slut? I could just use you all day and you'd have to clean up the mess. God! Fuck you after work or even at work if you're too much of a brat."

He'd probably never actually do anything at work unless he knew absolutely no one could walk in. He didn't want to cause anyone at the office discomfort just for their own pleasure. It just wasn't right.

"Connor," Gavin mouthed against his neck, but no sound came out.

"Come on baby, come for me one last time." He twisted his hand and swiped his thumb over the head to collect the pre to slick up his hand more.

Gavin's whole body shook as he clenched around him, and Connor didn't even care about the mess he made on Connor's hand and shirt.

He pulled him all the way down before finally giving in and letting himself come. His systems glitched out for a second before he became aware again, the pleasure almost overwhelming even after.

He leaned them forward so Gavin could rest against the car as Connor stayed buried in him. They both panted together, and Connor placed a gentle hand over Gavin's heart.

He could feel each quick beat and it helped ground him back to reality so he didn't drift off. He pressed feather-light kisses over Gavin's throat once he had cooled down enough to not need to breathe.

Gavin still shook gently, his legs and arms completely wrapped around him.

"Hey baby, you ok?" Connor whispered. Had he fucked up? Was it too much for Gavin? Shit, he went too far. Yet Gavin didn't say to stop or show any indication that he wanted to. What if he missed the signs? Maybe he was so selfishly focused on his own pleasure and making Gavin come again that he didn't see.

Then Gavin gave a nod and took in a long shuttering breathe. "Yeah, that was… you're amazing." His voice was rough and husky, and he tried to clear it and he leaned back to see Connor's blue-tinted face. "I, uh, I adore you."

For some reason, it felt more meaningful than hearing I love you. Perhaps it was simply because I love you was used so often and given out to so many (which was a positive thing). Or maybe it was just the way he said it, with so much emotion behind it.

There was so much history that they needed to relearn and look at again, and of course, that wouldn't make Connor's quick annoyance at Gavin before the revolution disappear. He could only focus on his feelings now about those events since he had more of the details.

Gavin's eyes seemed to hold so much, but Connor could also see the fear. The worry that he'd gone too far with his words instead of his actions.

Yet Connor's heart swelled and he couldn't help the big beaming smile. "I adore you too."

I hoped you enjoyed! I can’t remember if I said what Hank’s gift was in this, but if I didn’t, its a stuffed animal lol

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inupibaldspot · 5 years ago

Text

Saviour : Chapter 21

"Why is it that every time you train with Vice Admiral you get injured so much?" Zack sighed as he put a band aid on Emilia's forehead. The child in-front of him had a bruise which now attained a blueish color and a bulge. "It never happens when Bogard-San trains you."

Emilia raised her hands and pressed on the band-aid and nervously laughed. "Garp-san has always been rough with his training. I used to run away from him when ever I got the chance back in Goa Kingdom."

"So.." Zack continued as he started putting his stuff back into the first aid box. "What was the training this time?"

Zack mentally prepared himself. Garp had always made up stupid training because he always felt left out when Bogard would train Emilia.

Just last week, the old man tied Emilia on a rope and threw her out of their marine ship.

"Gah?!" Zack shouted, panicking as Emilia, almost drowning , struggled to stay afloat since her arms were also tied up. "What are you doing Vice-Admiral?! Emilia will drown!"

"GAHAHA!" The old man crossed his arms and laughed proudly. "With this training Emilia will become one with the sea and become much stronger!"

"You do realize that doesn't make sense right?!"

"Huh...Are you doubting my training?" Garp stopped laughing and glared at Zack making him shiver under his gaze. "Guess you also need some training."

Garp also tied a rope around Zack and threw him off the ship and anyone who questioned his training method. And at the end of the day more than half of squad were in the sea, struggling to survive and fighting off any sea monsters.

"He blindfolded me and made me put of some ear plugs to cancel the sound. After that he beat me with my kendo stick." Emilia pouted. Although it might sound insane and impossible to counter back,she did think it might be helpful.

Without sight or hearing ability you start paying attention to every detail making you haki much stronger. But at the level she was in, all she got as a full on beating from the merciless Vice admiral.

Zack sighed. He goes too far sometimes but we cant go against him...

Just then something crossed his mind. "Emilia are you free during our break next week?" He smiled.

"You do know I am 10 turning 11 years right? How old are you?? 30?" Emilia said in a stoic tone. "And you call your self a marine..heh..."

Zack stilled for a moment before his face turned red in embarrassment at what Emilia was implying. "That's not what I meant! I'm not asking you on a date!!! Also I'm just 23!"

Emilia bringing her hands covering her mouth giggled. "I was joking" she then look at him in his eyes and smiled. "What is it?"

"I uh..." Zack scratched his hands at the back of his hands face blushing a bit. "I thought I would like you to meet my girlfriend"

Emilia eyes widened a bit.

"You know we have started dating for a while but I liked her from way before and ..." The man continued on.

"Why" Emilia's soft voice questioned making the guys stop his ramble.

"Why not?" Zack said as he smiled. "We've known each other for almost 2 years now Emilia and now I want the two people precious to me meet, that's all!"

This was the first time in a while,at least ever since she left Goa kingdom, her heart filled with joy giving her a giddy experience.

"No that not what my question meant. Why would anyone be dating you??" Emilia lied, just to tease him abit.

"I swear you're nice to everyone except me."

"That's because I feel comfortable enough to do that to you"

.....

"Emilia!" Garp called out looking at the girl who was simply looking at the sea with a dazed look. The weather was good and she didn't have anything to do.

Hearing her name being called out she turned around and faced Garp, slightly tilting her head.

"Starting tomorrow we will have a break of 3 days. I'm thinking of going to Goa Kingdom" Garp said as he put his hands in his pocket and walked towards the girl. "Do you want to come as well? You can meet the boys."

"No." Emilia simply said

"Eh...what did you say." His eyebrows knitted her asked. She didn't want to go with him...or meet the boys...? Was his precious granddaughter in her rebellious phase...?

"I've made plans with Zack so I'm going with him tomorrow." Emilia explained.

Zack who heard the conversation,gulped loudly.

Garp's face was blank for a few seconds before he shouted.

"ZACK!!! HOW DARE YOU STEAL MY PRECIOUS GRANDDAUGHTER AWAY FROM ME?!".

...

Emilia walked beside Zack. They were currently in marine ford headquarters and as some of you may know beside the Main offices at the center there are residential areas at the sides.They were currently headed there.

Emilia looked at Zack holding a bouquet in his hands,a small smile on his face, obviously looking forward to meet his lover. Emilia also noted that she didn't have to walk fast next to him unlike when she did when ever she was walking beside Garp or any of the other grown ups. Zack simply slowed his pace down so that's she could walk without rushing him self.

Soon they reached in front of a door of a small house. Inhaling deeply Zack knocked. This man was really out there getting nervous to see his own lover. This almost made Emilia want to tease him then and there.

Few seconds later the door creaked open. A woman with short blonde hair and green eyes appear her face showed a surprise expression at first and then a wide smile formed.

"Zack!" The woman laughed and opened her arms and jumped towards the man attempting to hug him.

"Wait Claire!!!"

"AH!!! THE BOUQUET!!!"

......

"Hehehe Sorry about that." Claire said, face a bit red,blushing. "And you are?"

"My name is Emilia. Ainsworth Emilia." Emilia replied as she sat down on the chair of their dining table. "Currently I'm waiting to get older so that I join the marine. Till then I will still be with the marine crew but I wont be able to do any official work." She explained assuming that Claire will soon ask what she was doing with the marine.

"Eh? Marine. Directly at the age of 13?"Claire gasped "How old are you right now?"

"I'll be turning 11 soon."

Claire eyes widened and the strayed to look at Zack asking for confirmation.

"Sorry the say this but she is right. That little girl doesn't act liked her age at all. Even her strength is like an elephant" Zack sighed "Must be from Garp's side of the family" he muttered as he picked his cup from the table and sipped on his tea.

Emilia eyes widened slightly... She forgot to tell him Garp and her aren't related by blood...

"You!" Claire raised her hands and smacked the back of Zack's head making his choke on his drink and Emilia winch at the sound of him getting hit. That must have hurt.

"What was that for?" Zack managed to say in between his cough,hands at the back of his head rubbing it to sooth the pain even abit.

"You should never compare a lady to an elephant,dear!" Claire shouted. "On top look at Emilia! There no denying that girl is really beautiful! Super cute!!" She pointed at Emilia.

Zack's eye twitched and look at Emilia only to get annoyed at her giving him a smug expression. This brat is enjoying this...

"Claire,I didn't notice that at all!" Zack said as he held Claire's hand. "That must be because no one is more beautiful than you" Zack said ,hoping his lover wont be angry at him anymore with this cheesy line. Emilia really tried her best to hold back her expression. She almost gagged in disgust at the show of affection in front of her.

Claire eyes widened and a blush formed on her face. "Oh you!! You make me blush!" Claire brought one hand on her face,smiling and the other hand slapped Zack making him fall from his chair.

"ACK!"

.....

Emilia watched Claire chop some vegetables. Right now Claire was making lunch for them. Zack had currently went out to buys some meat, Claire wanted in her beef stew.

"Do you want me to help,Claire san? " Emilia asked as she walked towards the blonde woman.

"Claire is fine." She corrected Emilia." And Emilia you're the guest. You can just sit down and relax. Besides I'm almost done chopping these up haha."

Emilia didn't move. It made her feel abit awkward, going away when someone was working also since back in Goa kingdom, it was Emilia who did most of the cooking,after all those boys were horrible at it.

"Emilia..." Claire said as she put her knife down and walked towards the sink to wash her hands. "Can..Can you tell me how Zack is at work?"

Emilia said nothing for a few seconds.

Claire laughed abit. "You see..." she started "He never really talks about these and always avoids talking about it... He isn't strong at all but he always wanted to be a marine. He accepted his weakness and so then studied really hard so he can get in as a navigator in the marine."

"But he probably still feels abit insecure by it." Claire's eyes dropped and smiled sadly. "But for me...Since I knowing how hard he always worked always made me proud of him..."

After that there was a brief silence.

"He is weak." Emilia said. Claire's eyes widened at the girl's bluntness. "Even I can also probably beat him. He panics every time we face an enemy..."

"But then he always makes sure to check up on me and make sure I am safe...He is the friendliest and kindest person in the crew. Even when I joined that crew, he was one of the first people who treated me as a person and not a burden since most thought of it that way as i am a child."

"He is also very knowledgeable" She continued. "He really taught me alot related to navigation. He is also one of the few people who I've opened up to."

"He gets frustrated when I make fun of him but then he never actually gets angry. That's the kind of person he is.Everyone on the ships likes him." Emilia smiled. "So I don't think you have to worry, Claire. And even if there is danger,I'll be sure to protect him."

Claire teared up and kneeled down to hug Emilia ,smiling "Thank you, Emilia".

If me and Zack will ever have a child, I want the child to be like you, Emilia.

"I'm Back!"

Zack shouted from the entrance and walked directly towards the kitchen. "Here Claire."

"Thank you ,darling." Claire said taking the grocery bag from Zack, kissing his cheeks and walking towards the kitchen.

"Emilia." Zack called out. "Follow me" he said and walked towards another room.

Confused but nevertheless Emilia followed Zack in a room. Zack opened the room. It was filled with boxes stacked one on top of another. Zack then crouched down and took out one of the boxes. A rectangular looking box which was quite long.

He blew on top of the box to make the dust go way and then opened it.

"What is it?" Emilia questioned curiously, trying to peek to see what was in the box.

"Here" Zack pulled out the item and handed it to Emilia.

"A sword..." Emilia was surprised.

"It was my grandfather's. He used this when he was also in the marine." Zack explained. "My dad didn't want to be a marine so this sword was directly given to me by my grandfather before he passed away."

"Is...Is it okay for me to have this?" Emilia asked gripping gently on the sword. "It must be precious to you..."

"It is." Zack smiled. "But I don't know how to use this nor do I think I can ever fight."

Zack brought his hands up and placed them on Emilia's head. "Besides it's always better to make use of things. Take good care of it,Emilia"

"I will."

"Also Emilia " Zack continued,making the girl look at it. He closed the previous one box and slid it to it's original place. "That sword has a name."

"A name..." Emilia whispered. This sword was a meitou.

"The name is Tenryu" He said. "Beautiful name,isn't it?" The question making Emilia nod.

Emilia was touched. For Zack to give something of such importance for him to her.

"But it looks like you'll have to grow more,for you to use it. Hahahaha" Zack laughed. "That sword is longer than you."

Maybe now was the moment to see if the sword got blunt or not. Emilia glared at Zack.

Just then Calire called out from the kitchen saying the lunch was ready. The food was delicious, The couple infront of Emilia were cheerful and kind. This made her feel as if she was back...back in her own world...

I miss them...

......

A/N: This chapter and few coming chapter will have alot of time skips and few more new characters which are not there in the canon One Piece will be introduced.

So I would like to apologize in advance if that may bore you.

Anyways Thank you for reading and Be Safe!

#one piece #one piece ace #one piece sabo #one piece imagines #one piece imagine #portgas d ace #ace #ace imagine #saviour #sabo #luffy

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letterboxd · 4 years ago

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How I Letterboxd #5: Will Slater.

Talking mullets and other manes with the man behind the internet’s definitive ‘exploding helicopters in movies’ catalog.

“Man cannot live on helicopter explosions alone. Even I need some occasional intellectual nourishment.”

A London-based PR man by day, by night Will Slater has a thing (and a podcast, blog and Twitter account) for movies that feature exploding helicopters. According to his Letterboxd bio, it’s “the world’s only podcast and blog dedicated to celebrating the art of exploding helicopters in films… as well as shaming those directors who dishonor the helicopter explosion genre”. As Will tells Jack Moulton, he also loves film noir, Wakaliwood, masala movies and much more. Just don’t get him started on the one action movie cliché that never fails to disappoint.

Sylvester Stallone takes aim in ‘Rambo III’ (1988).

First things first, have you ever had a ride in a helicopter? Will Slater: What, do you think I’m mad? Of course I’ve never flown in a helicopter! If I’ve learned anything from watching hundreds of films where helicopters spectacularly explode, it’s that they are a singularly dangerous form of transport. You never know when Sylvester Stallone is going to pop up with an explosive-tipped arrow and blow you out of the sky.

I’m going to say the words ‘the definitive action hero/heroine’. Who pops into your head first? No runners-up. Go. Snake Plissken, no question, for a number of good reasons. First, there’s the look: that eye-patch, the beaten-to-hell leather jacket and Kurt Russell’s lustrous mane of hair. Second, there’s the attitude: his contempt for authority, the drawled sarcasm and all-round bad-assery. And I also like that he doesn’t have any special abilities. Action heroes generally tend to be either musclebound slabs of beef—Arnold Schwarzenegger, Stallone—or martial arts specialists—Jean-Claude van Damme, Jackie Chan—Plissken is just a pissed-off, angry dude who’s trying to stay alive. He’s very relatable. Plus, I’d argue he pretty much invented the whole anti-hero formula that rules our screens today.

Kurt Russell as Snake Plissken in John Carpenter’s ‘Escape from New York’ (1981).

When did you start your podcast and which film got you into looking deeper into the topic? It was while watching the cheesily bad Cyborg Cop that I first had an epiphany about the weird and wonderful ways in which helicopters seemed to continually explode in movies. But the film that convinced me to start documenting the phenomenon was Stone Cold. If you’re not familiar with the film, it was an attempt to turn former gridiron star and mullet-king Brian Bosworth into the next big action star. It goes without saying that Stone Cold did not transform ‘The Boz’ into the next Arnold Schwarzenegger, but the film wasn’t a total failure as it features a helicopter explosion that is as brilliant as it is gloriously stupid.

And that was the prompt to start the Exploding Helicopter. I launched the website in 2009, and the podcast followed 2015. Since we started, our aim has been a simple one: to celebrate the strange and inventive ways that helicopters explode in films.

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Motorcycle crashes into helicopter in mid-air, ‘Stone Cold’ (1991).

When did you join Letterboxd? What are your favorite features here? I’ve been around since 2013. As for the features, the stats are very cool. When you dig into your viewing history, you can learn some very revealing things about yourself. For example, I generally like to think I have a commendably broad taste in film, and watch only the most important and influential works from every decade, genre and country. But then you look at the data and find you’ve watched Thunderball nine times in the last five years, so maybe you’re not as cool as you thought.

We noticed that your profile faves are low-key and explosion-free, given your theme of choice. Why these four and not Die Hard four times? Man cannot live on helicopter explosions alone. Even I need some occasional intellectual nourishment, between watching whirlybird conflagrations. There’s a little bit of nostalgia tied up in The Ipcress File. I first saw it as a kid, and it made a big impression on me. It’s very stylishly directed, has a great John Barry score and a star-making turn from Michael Caine. I’m a big film noir fan and Sweet Smell Of Success is a beautifully sour tale of cynicism and manipulation. To borrow the words of Burt Lancaster in the film, it’s a “cookie full of arsenic”.

Jean-Pierre Melville is my favorite director and Le Samouraï was the first of his films that I saw. What Melville does so masterfully in this, and his other crime films, is distil the elements of film noir. Basically, he takes the genre’s iconography—the gun, the trenchcoat, the fedora—and familiar plot tropes—the betrayed assassin, the heist gone wrong, the criminal doing one last job—then elevates them above cliché into something almost mythic. And what do I really need to say about Taxi Driver, other than it’s a masterpiece?

Now you say you shame directors who dishonor the art of helicopter explosions? Which directors did you dirty? Well, one of the biggest names in our hall of shame is Tony Scott. For a man who specialized in hyper-stylized, pyrotechnic-filled action movies, he flunked every helicopter explosion he filmed. In our eyes, one of the most egregious offences you can commit is failing to show the helicopter explosion. And in both Spy Game and Domino, old Tony cheats the viewer by having the chopper fly out of sight before it explodes. Now, I can accept such visual chicanery in a low-budget film, where they presumably don’t have the money to stage the scene, but what’s Tony’s excuse? If you look at his filmography, at one time or another he’s wrecked trains, planes and automobiles in spectacular fashion. But for some reason, he repeatedly couldn’t be bothered to give us a satisfying chopper conflagration. At a certain point, it starts to feel like a personal slight. Tony, what did I ever do to you?

In your immortal words, “a film is always improved by a helicopter explosion.” When has this been especially true? When you see lists of worst-ever directors, Uwe Boll is a name that always seems to turn up. And, according to the internet, one of his worst-ever films is the video game adaptation, Far Cry. Now, I’m not going to try [to] convince you that the film is a neglected classic, but it does have a very imaginatively staged exploding helicopter scene. It’s too convoluted to explain here, but take my word that it wouldn’t be out of place in a Fast and Furious movie.

What about the unsung heroes; the stunt artists, the pilots, the pyrotechnicians, the VFX wizards who have worked on numerous iconic action moments, all of whom deserve a shoutout? Personally, I don’t understand why the Academy doesn’t have a stunts category. But if they did, I’d be lobbying hard for Spiro Razatos to get the first award. These days, he works as a stunt coordinator on the Fast and Furious and Marvel films, but I’d like to draw people’s attention to some of his early work. Back in the nineties, he did a lot of work with PM Entertainment films, an independent company that made low-budget action films for the home video market.

They might not have had much money, but they put every cent on the screen with glorious, raucously inventive set pieces that were often more spectacular than big-budget Hollywood offerings. And remember: this was in pre-CGI times, so every death-defying detail was absolutely ‘real’. Go back and watch films like The Sweeper or Rage, and you’ll can see why Super Spiro has now graduated to these more prestigious gigs.

Narrow this list down for us: which is the ultimate most spine-tingly epic “we got company” movie moment? As you may have gathered, I do like an action movie cliché. When you encounter one in a film, it’s like meeting an old friend. And one of my favorites is when someone uses this classic line of dialog to signal that a car chase or a gun battle is about to start. I’ve heard people deliver the line in all sorts of ways–funny, scared, angrily and often just badly. But if you want spine-tingly, then you can’t beat Harrison Ford in Star Wars. He drops the line during the detention-block scene after failing to bluff an imperial officer. As soon as he says it, John Williams’ iconic score kicks in. It gives you the ‘feels’ every time.

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“Boring conversation anyway.” Han Solo and Chewbacca in ‘Star Wars’ (1977).

And which action movie cliché can you simply not stand? Stop it: my hackles are raising just thinking about it. For me, the trope that never fails to disappoint is the ‘reluctant’ hero being convinced to take up arms and join the fight. You know the scene. Invariably, the hero has hung up their spurs and is living a bucolic existence ‘off the grid’, when a gruff buddy shows up asking them to risk almost certain death by taking on ‘one last job’. Now, dialog is rarely an action film’s greatest strength, and these beefcake actors generally are not cast for their dramatic chops. Which means we get subjected to the same perfunctory and uninteresting scene over and over again: “I told you, I’m out the game”, “Goddamnit, we need you”, “OK, I’ll do it”. These scenes just never work and are never less than painful to watch.

Which up-and-coming action director are you most excited about? In terms of up-and-coming action talent, I’d pick the director Stefano Sollima. I first noticed his work on a couple of TV series: the fantastic Italian crime dramas, Romanzo Criminale and Gomorrah. The way he composed shots really stood out, and it was clear he had a very cinematic eye. He rather reminds me of Michael Mann. He’s now on Hollywood’s radar and got to direct Sicario: Day of the Soldado the other year. And he’s lined up to make a Tom Clancy adaptation with Michael B. Jordan. I can’t wait to see what he comes up with.

Have you witnessed the glory that is Wakaliwood—Ugandan DIY action filmmaking—three of which make Letterboxd’s official top ten films by black directors? Which international films do you feel out-match Hollywood? I love the Wakaliwood films I’ve seen. It’s fascinating to watch action films from around the world and see their different styles and flavors. Recently, I’ve been trying to investigate Indian cinema and, in particular, what are known as ‘masala movies’. These mix action, comedy, drama, romance and dance numbers into one big, crazy, entertaining mess. They’re a unique experience. If you want to check one out, I’d suggest Dhoom 2. It’s bananas.

Can you believe there are only two female directors represented in your exploding helicopter list? Do you believe that’s due to systemic or thematic reasons? You have to say it’s systemic. Men have dominated filmmaking for more than a century. Until women have the same opportunities to direct and make films as men, it’s impossible to know what their interest may or may not be in blowing up helicopters. [Will has previously written about the search for “true gender equality in the world of exploding helicopters”.]

To address the elephant in the room, how has Kobe Bryant’s unfortunate death earlier this year changed the way you look at these scenes? Obviously, I appreciate that Kobe Bryant’s death was very shocking and a tragedy for his family and fans. But basketball really is not a thing on these grim shores, so it didn’t register with us unenlightened Brits other than [as] a sad headline about a US sports star.

What was your most anticipated movie event of 2020 before Covid-19 pushed every tentpole back? That’s easy: No Time To Die. I’m a huge Bond fan and as soon as tickets were available, I booked myself in to see it on opening day at an IMAX. But if the Daniel Craig era is synonymous with anything, it’s lengthy delays between films.

Freerunner Sébastien Foucan in the opening scene from ‘Casino Royale’ (2006).

What’s a fond memory you have in theaters related to the Bond franchise? I remember going to see Casino Royale. I was excited, but also nervous to see it. The Brosnan era had ended with the risible Die Another Day: invisible cars, kitesurfing and, worst of all, John Cleese’s awful Q. Since that had come out, we’d had Mission: Impossible, Bourne and the Triple X films, so it wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility that Bond might be finished. Then the first ten minutes of Casino Royale happened. And while that outstanding parkour-inspired chase was terrifically exciting, it also hit me like cinematic Valium. I suddenly realised I could sit back and relax, safe in the knowledge that 007 was going to be just fine.

Are you planning on returning to theaters as soon as you can? When would you feel comfortable? I’m taking a wait-and-see approach. I’d love to see films back on the big screen again, but I want to know more about how cinemas are going to maintain social distancing inside.

Finally, what three Letterboxd accounts should we all be following? Why not give Todd Gaines, Jayson Kennedy or Fred Andersson a follow? If you’re interested in genre films that are a little off the beaten trail, they’ll likely all steer you towards some hidden gems.

#letterboxd #how i letterboxd #letterboxd member #letterboxd community #cine #film lover #exploding helicopter #chopper fireball #action films

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mydearsaddiary · 4 years ago

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Little curiosity notes: Hey guys! We’re on chapter 9 now! If everything goes according to plan the story will end in the next chapter! I might do an additional short epilogue after, but the plan is only to continue until chapter 10! Thank you so much for reading until here and as always: Feel free to reach out!

Thank you!

Candy (08/20/2020)

Neil Chapter 9 part 1- First, do no harm

1933

-Cliff- I said as I walked from the back room of the diner I helped to manage now- you’re running low on soda, you know!

-Geez- He said, finishing up cleaning a table and running towards me- I’m awful with this inventory stuff ya know, MC. Mind seeing everything we’re missing?

I smiled, gently hitting him on the head with the papers I was holding- Glad to help.

-Neil coming in today? Just got his new bourbon stash this morning!

-Im sure he’ll pop by later when the nanny is home. How’s everything going with you?

-It’s fine, me and Jane just moved in together- He crossed his arms , blushing a little and giving me that big smile of his.

-So you finally settled down. Next thing you know you’ll have little Conways running around the place

-Maybe in a few years- He turned around when somebody called his name- Alright, duty calls. Have fun in there!

-I always have- I waved at him and returned the back room to count our stock, manage prices, and do basically everything I did at the Ice Box. I enjoyed doing the same job alongside the same people without having the risk. Our past evolved into a better future than most of what the other mob bosses had.

Suddenly, I heard the lock click. My initial shock soon turned into dark memories I wanted to forget. Impulsively I tried open the door only to find out I was actually locked in

-Hey...! Hey!- I knocked on the door- Hey, let me out! Somebody locked me in- I wasn’t scared of enclosed places. It was the sound of the lock clicking and the inability to open it from the inside that haunted me.

I hated being locked in.

-MC- The door opened after a few knocks. Vince was there- Sorry, just came in and thought somebody left it open

-It’s alright-My cheeks were colored red, but besides that I kept my posture- I’ll just do the inventory outside

1926

I opened my eyes, waking up from my sleep. I could feel no sign of light besides the faint, artificial one. I sighed heavily realizing nothing had changed. In my new found experience, not being in the sun for three weeks messes with you head. It makes you tired and empty. A crippling force tells you to accept your fate to remain there.

I sat up, only to find Vera already awake on the mattress besides mine- Did you check the day today?- I asked

-Yeah. The holidays are approaching fast. How are you?

I rubbed my stomach which now had started to show more. Vera had asked the mayor, in one of the times he came in, for new clothes. She had some in the bedroom they used to share. It was refreshing to say the least and her clothes, that were slightly bigger on me, helped me hide my condition from him. It was a light and loose salmon colored shirt that went down until my hip, and a beige skirt that went to my calf, along with white stockings. It was nothing I’d normally wear, but I wasn’t in the position to be picky.

-I feel fine- I said- I don’t feel too sick anymore. I haven’t gotten any movements yet

-How far along are you?

-Hm... I went to the doctor last month... Must be around 13 or 14 weeks.

-It’s still early. Mine didn’t move until about 17 weeks

I looked at her, genuinely surprised- You have kids?

-Oh yes, Frank and I have our children. They’re all grown and moved on to different parts of the country. My oldest one is a little older than you.

-What’s her name?

-His, actually. His name is Robert. He’s 21 now, he got a job out west and comes back to visit when he can.

-Who are the others?

-Oh, May is 18. She’s with her aunt in Florida. I sent her when things got too complicated here. She wouldn’t listen to us.

I chuckled- I know how she feels.

-Then there’s Matt. He’s 16.

-What’s going on with Matt?

-He’s in New York as an apprentice to his grandfather. My ex-husband’s dad. He wants to teach him how to run the business he owns

-Seems like they’ve got it all figured out

-Yes. Well, I know the feeling of having your first kid. I was but a bit older than you are right now. Although- She pointed to her surroundings- I had a more adequate stay

I laughed, but there was no humor in my voice- Adler’s gonna bring our city down under his total power if we don’t do something

-You don’t think your men are trying to save you or figure it out?

-Trying is the key word. Vince...-I sighed, with a heavy heart- Well, Adler shot him... He must be dead right now. That means Cliff and Uncle Charlie must be a mess. On top of it, for my uncle, there’s the fact that I disappeared. That also messes with Neil who, I can’t even imagine what he must be feeling but it’s nothing good. Then Donovan isn’t close enough with them to put everybody’s head together. Julius, Cleo, Sofia and Andrew... Im sure they’re trying to help but...- I sighed- I’m the head of the Ice Box. Im the queen on the chess board. They need me- I said as I realized it myself- I can’t spend any more time waiting for something to happen or counting days.

-You already tried everything, remember?

-Not everything- I got up, exercising my need to move my legs- You know Adler’s schedule better than anyone. When is he out for a long time?

-He’s always at the office from noon to six on weekdays.

-Then thats our time to escape. We’ll wait an hour just to be sure, then leave.

-Yes, but you’re leaving out the important part— How are we gonna leave?

-Last night, before I went to bed, I was looking around your things to see if I could find something useful

-You went through my stuff?!-She said visibly irritated

-If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have found this- I opened my hand to show her the few bobby pins I had in my possession

-How is pinning your hair up helping us?

-Oh Vera, dig a little deeper. It’s for opening the door. I can pick it!

-With those? I think you might be a little too optimistic

-Thankfully- I said cheering up- I had plenty of training sneaking back in my house, and hiding from Momma and Poppa. I have yet to meet a lock that could stop me.

She looked at me for a few seconds and sighed- Alright, I’ll bite. One in the afternoon then.

-Thats right!-I hid it once I heard the door open. They were bringing breakfast down.

____

We heard Adler leave. We heard everything until there was nothing else to hear. The anticipation was so overwhelming that when Vera’s little clock hit twelve-thirty, we were on out way up the stairs.

I got two bobby pins and started to work on unlocking the door. In a few minutes, it clicked and it opened right up to the now dark living room

-You know- She whispered- For the three weeks you were here, you could’ve tried that sooner.

-I didn’t know you had these!- I whispered too, but in an angrier tone- And you’re welcome!

I pushed the door out slowly, as if someone would head. The dark immensity of the house spread before my eyes. Without a single soul there it seemed peaceful, but in a way that unsettled you, like something was waiting to jump out from the dark. The negativity soon disappeared as I got lost in my thoughts for a second and walked over to the big window, letting the sun hit my face. The warmth of the natural light, warmed up my heart along with it. The joy of finally breaking free made me forget for an instant I had to walk out the front door.

-Miss Granger, let’s go!-Vera hurried me up

-Yeah, right- I walked up to the front of the house. By the door there was a table. I noticed keys on top of it- This is for his Ford, isn’t it?- I grabbed them-Nifty! We just got out escape vehicle

-I can’t drive- She looked at me uncertain

-Well, I’ve been learning- I replied opening the door- Now, let’s scram

___

I had to go through two Fords to find the one the keys belonged too, within myself we could taste the flavor of freedom.

Opening the door, I made my way in. It was then everything was ruined by a single shot that went right through the window on my side. When I looked back, Adler stood a few yards away with a gun aimed in my direction, along with his two goons.

-Go, Vera! Inside!-I yelled at the top of my lungs closing my door and turning on the car. I stepped on the gas and went as fast as the car would allow me to.

Soon, down the streets of Chicago we went. The bright sun and the streets filled with people would normally be cause for celebration, but my currently situation prevented me from enjoying it. I heard more shots coming our way and noticed that Adler was following us in his own car

To make everything better, Vera was freaking out in the passenger seat

-Woaaaaaaaaah, be careeeful! Waaaait, you’re going tooooo faaaaast!

-Vera!- I yelled back, driving and swerving as much as my experience would allow- If I don’t drive fast he’s gonna catch up to us—Ah!- I yelped when another shot came right in between us, making a hole in the windshield

-You’re gonna kills uuuus!-Her voice got louder and more annoying- I’m not ready to die!- She continued, letting out her “Oh!”s And “Oh my god!”s And her loud screams that were worse than the shots for me. At this point, I tried my best to ignore them since our lives depended on it

She yelled even louder when his car bumped into our rear and sent our bodies forward. I heard continuous shots that shattered our windows and I couldn’t go any faster. I had to think of something quickly, but all the stimulation from the outside made the task harder.

That’s when I saw it and hope ushered back into me. The little red convertible from the corner of my eyes, driving right ahead of us. Vince drove with ease on the wheel, while, surprisingly, our most experienced shooter, Donovan, fired back in the mayor’s direction from the passenger seat.

Seeing them, I let out a relieved little laugh. Fear was substituted with the urge to go faster, so I gained some distance on them. On the other side the trusty green Studebaker had Cliff, Uncle Charlie and Julius in it. Cliff drove, Uncle tried to steal glances my way, and Julius had a pistol, and helped Donovan by firing back. Sometimes Vince would keep one hand on the wheel and use pearl to fire as well. What I thought was going to be hell quickly turned into an exhilarating thrill.

And then, time slowed down as a third car showed up. The darker colored vehicle that belong not just to any man, but to the man I had longed to see all this time— Neil Dresner. I recognized the car but I couldn’t see him since he drove ahead of me. It might seem silly, but the importance of that moment couldn’t be just understood, it had to be felt. The whole world brightened up again just to know he was near. I knew then I wasn’t alone, and I never would be again.

And then everything came back to me in a second, when Vera’s shouting became deafening and another shot came right by us

-We’re going to die! Jesus!- She kept having her panic attacks

-MC!-I heard a voice from Vince in his car- To the docks! Go to the docks!

I nodded, better now that I had a direction in mind,so I sped up towards my new destination.

The city passed by us in a blur, I didn’t allow myself to focus on anything else but getting there. I’m sure everyone else had a plan and in my mind I started formulating the beginning of my own.

I turned into the road that led to the docks and swerving the car faster than it could handle, I stopped abruptly, hitting a few of the many giant boxes piled around, ready to be transported. The side of the car caved in, but we came out unscathed in the front

-What are you thinking?! We could have died! We could hav-

-Vera!- I yelled, looking at her, panting. The adrenaline hadn’t left my body and I knew it wouldn’t for a long time- you’re a chatter-mag bitch- I said in an unusual calm tone, still trying to catch my breath

-Excuse me?-She gave me that look she usually did when she disapproved of something

I was going to reply, but then I heard a car and shots again- Go Vera! Out of the car!- I pushed her out her way and pulled her to hide behind the boxes laid out nearby.

I heard more tires and assumed my gang had arrived to rescue us. I smiled realizing I was right when I saw Vince throwing me my trusty revolver- Let’s take car of em, boss.

-Don’t call me that- I grabbed it, feeling an immense power I hadn’t felt in a long time. I pointed it to my target, my enemies, those who sided with Adler...

...And fired.

Part 2: https://mydearsaddiary.tumblr.com/post/627009903803990016/speakeasy-tonight-fanfic-neil-season-3-chapter-10

#voltage usa #speakeasy tonight #voltage amemix #voltage inc #voltage #voltage games #lovestruck #lovestruck voltage #neil dresner #vince moretti

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dylinski · 5 years ago

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Mess I Made

Anon: Hey, can i do a request about Stiles and Isaac? Love triangle Isaac/Stiles/Reader or Reader dating one and cheating with the other.

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUTTY SMUT. Language, Angst, Alcohol, Oral (female receiving), ROUGH SEX, Light bondage, Cheating.

Relationships: Isaac Lahey/Reader, Stiles Stilinski/Reader

Word Count: 3394

Author: @dylan-obrien-fanblog

A/N: Sorry it’s so long, I just aint messing around with that shit. This is the first REALLY smutty fic I’ve written, so I hope it’s okay. Hope this is what you wanted anon. Thanks for the idea. I was also inspired by this song if you wanna give it a listen while you read. Please don’t hate me for the ending.

Laying on the edge of the bed, your back faced his back. You don’t know when things changed, but they did, and without warning. Most nights you slept back to back, ignoring one other while you slept. Well, while Isaac slept. You would spend most of the night awake, wondering where things went wrong. Was it something you said? Something you did? Were you both just drifting apart? He wasn’t the same after Allison died, she was his best friend, but it had happened almost 2 years ago. It’s not like he was bottling those emotions up either. Whenever he was hurting, he was open and always talked to you about his problems. You were the picture perfect example of communication. Were .

You could hear his breathing and pictured the rise and fall of every breath. You missed feeling his chest against your back at night, knowing you were safe in his arms. Deciding to escape the torture from the reminders of how things used to be, you got up from bed to get a snack. When you got to the kitchen, the clock on the microwave told you it was 3AM, but you weren’t surprised. You hadn’t been getting much sleep lately. Thankfully things had been quiet around Beacon Hills the last couple months. Everyone needed a break after being almost brutally murdered by the town.

You popped some popcorn and sat down on the couch in the moonlit room. You hadn’t checked your phone since you laid down so you decided to look and scroll mindlessly through the internet. When your screen lit up, you were surprised to see a text message from Stiles. He was the last person you thought you’d hear from. He didn’t stay long after the whole murderous town mess and went back to Quantico. Although you guys were pretty close before he left, as time went on his texts and calls became less frequent. Despite being surprised, you still smiled as you looked back to the memories you shared in high school and the many times at basically saving the world. You opened the message.

Stiles: hey! i’m back bitches! i’m visiting my dad. it’s been a while, so i thought u might want to grab a beer or something

Y/N: hey there stranger. i’d love to go out. i think i’m free friday if you’re still around. how long are you staying?

You sat your phone down and clicked the button on the remote to turn on the tv. Reruns of your favorite sitcom were on, so you let that play while you enjoyed the popcorn. Your phone buzzed in your lap and it slightly startled you. Who would be up this late? Your question was immediately answered when you saw who the text was from, and it was no surprise. Stiles.

Stiles: are u free right now?

Stiles: i haven’t heard from anyone else and i can’t sleep

Stiles: on that FBI schedule lol

Y/N: you mean Stiles schedule.

Stiles: don’t call me out like that lol

Stiles: so u wanna meet up?

Y/N: meet up where? it’s 3AM.

Stiles: oh shit, u right

Stiles: uuuuuuuuummmmmm

Stiles: u could come here?

Stiles: my dad’s working the night shift

You stared at the message and watched as the cursor blinked at you, waiting for your response. You looked over to the door that led to your bedroom and didn’t want to leave Isaac here alone. Knowing Stiles, there would be alcohol involved and you’d probably end up crashing there, like old times. After sitting and considering your two options, buzzing broke your train of thought.

Stiles: did you pass out?

Stiles: if ur too tired it’s all good

Stiles: we can hang out friday at a decent hour

Stiles liked to send multiple texts at a time and your phone kept buzzing, in a rush to get him to stop bombarding your phone, you impulsively replied.

Y/N: STILES STOP

Y/N: i’m awake, i’ll be over in 30 minutes

You decided to leave a note so that Isaac wouldn’t freak out when he woke up and found you missing. You doubted he even would, with how things were lately. You put the dirty bowl in the sink, grabbed some clothes from the laundry, and jotted down the note for him. You grabbed the keys to your car and headed to Stiles’.

When you pulled up to the house you were startled that Roscoe wasn’t there, but then you remembered that Scott had him. Stiles had said something about Roscoe not making the drive to Quantico. You pulled into the driveway, next to a Ford Taurus, typical FBI car. Stiles must have heard you drive up because as you got out of the car, you could see someone’s eyes and nose sticking through the blinds in the front window. Those are some FBI surveillance skills right there, Stiles. You walked up to the door and before you could knock, the door opened.

“HAAAAAY!” Stiles greeted you with a big hug, holding a beer in his hand. You gave him a look that made him roll his eyes. “I may have started without you.” You scoffed at his explanation for his behavior and walked past the buzzed boy.

“I guess I'll just have to catch up.” You walked over to the counter and popped the top of a beer. You cheered your bottles from across the room.

“Hell yeah!” You shook your head at him as you laughed and headed over to the couch where the TV was on. Folding your legs under you, you sat next to Stiles and were reminded of the many nights you’d sat in this very spot, watching movies with your old friend. You smiled at him and he noticed from the corner of his eye and smiled back.

“So tell me about Quantico.”

“Well, if I did, I’d have to kill you.” Stiles spoke with a straight face that lasted all of 5 seconds. You grabbed the pillow behind you and smacked him with it, erupting an echo of giggles from both of you.

“Really Stiles, tell me what’s been going on. I haven’t heard from you in months. I didn’t know if you were alive.” The last statement was a joke, but not empty of disappointment.

“Honestly nothing that exciting. I got benched after the whole Derek operation and well, getting shot. You know, with him getting away and everything.They don’t typically appreciate that. Mostly been riding a desk since then. It’s the worst, but they have me doing a lot of intel stuff. And you know how much I love to research the shit out of shit.”

“Oh shit! That’s right, your toe.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of Stiles with 9 toes.

“You wanna see?” He started to pull up his leg when you screamed.

“EW. GOD NO. PUT THAT AWAY STILINSKI.”

“Didn’t take you for a weak stomach.” He laughed at you.

“It’s not that, I just hate feet.” You smirked at him as he smiled at your discomfort. You both found yourselves unable to keep up the conversation so you enjoyed each other’s company while watching tv.

Somewhere along the way, and four beers later, you found yourself curled up against Stiles with his arm around you and his fingers mindlessly twirling the ends of your hair. You started drifting off but caught yourself and looked up to see if Stiles was still awake too. He was already looking down at you, a smile on his face. You smiled back, but were curious as to how long he had actually been watching you. It flattered you, so you snuggled deeper into him and he squeezed you, bringing you in close. As you looked back to the tv, he broke the silence.

“I had almost forgotten how beautiful you are.” Your gaze immediately flew back to Stiles and it was full of confusion. He was still looking at you with his whiskey eyes, full of affection and warmth, and playing with your hair. You were loving all of this, but it didn’t feel okay that he told you that you were beautiful. Your mind immediately flickering to Isaac and what he would think of this. So you shot up, pulling away from him, as far to your end of the couch as you could get.

“What? Did I do something?”

“Actually, yes. You called me beautiful.”

“I don’t have the greatest knowledge of women, but I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to get mad when someone calls you that.”

“Stiles, you’re drunk and don’t know what you’re saying.” He frowned at your words and furrowed his brow as he looked away, as if you punched him in the gut. Now feeling guilty, you scooted closer to him and put your hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...I was just caught off guard.”

“It’s okay. I get it. I wasn’t trying to make you feel uncomfortable. I know you’re with Isaac.” He kept his eyes on the TV while he spoke, but he rested his hand on top of yours and pulled it to his face. The feeling of his lips on your hand sent shivers down your spine, a feeling you hadn’t felt in ages. You shifted your hand from his lips to his cheek, causing him to turn and face you. Staring into his sun-kissed eyes, it was like you were staring at the sun, sparking a fire inside that had long burnt out.

Without hesitation, you flew in and kissed him, wrapping your arms around his neck, leaving you both surprised. You pulled away for a breath and Stiles took the break to speak. “What…what was that for?”

“I don’t know.” You huffed breathlessly.

“Can we do it again?” All you could muster was a nod as you went back in for the kill. This time the kiss had more passion as Stiles grabbed you waist with both hands, pulling you in. Unable to get close enough, you threw a leg over his lap, straddling the beautiful boy. Your pelvis instinctively began to move in slow circles in sync with your breaths that you stole between kisses. He moaned at your motions, so you took advantage by pushing your tongue past his lips. Your body’s moving to meet each other, your hands moved down his chest and clenched at his shirt. He looked up at you through his lashes, biting his lip and reached down to remove the cloth. Your hands rested on his bare chest as your lips found each other again, fingers leaving white trails that faded just as quickly as they appeared. You reached down and removed your shirt, thinking it only fair. Stiles smiled lustfully at the removal and bit your bottom lip, causing a moan to escape. You plant wet kisses down his jaw to his neck where you leave a purple mark that stirs something vicious in the man.

He slides his hands under your ass and stands up as you wrap your legs around his waist. Refusing to break your locked lips, he starts walking you down the hall. The breath is knocked out of your lungs when your back hits the wall. Stiles uses his knee to hold you up while he unhooked your bra, throwing it to the floor. You drop down to your feet as he unbuckled his belt, but your hands soon follow because his were taking too long. You pull out his belt and wrap it around his wrists. He growls at the development and you pop the button on his khakis, pulling them down to his ankles to step out of. You grab him by the belt where his hands meet and pull him into his bedroom.

You pull him around and then push him onto the bed. You remove your shorts and walk up to him as you crawl up his body, kissing his stomach where the hair disappears into his briefs, causing his body to shudder. You work your way up to his chest, kissing each nipple. Now at his shoulders, you bite, leaving tiny teeth marks, then licking the red skin to soothe it. Holding his arms over his head, you kiss his neck and work your way up to his nose where you leave a peck. You pull back and look into his now black eyes, full of lust and you can’t help but smile from ear to ear.

You lean down and kiss him again, then whisper in his ear, “have you ever thought about me like this?” All he can muster is a nod and a whine as he reaches for your lips with his own, but you pull back, denying him. “You’ve dreamed about me, haven’t you?”

“I have.” Stiles breathed his words, his breaths shallow and heavy as his desire became unbearable.

“Do you want me, Stiles?” You kiss him hard, breathing into his lips as he licked yours.

“I want you so bad, Y/N.”

“Tell me what you’re going to do to me.” You undid the belt around his wrists and he shot up, grabbing your waist in a grip that you know will leave bruises.

“I want to taste you.” Stiles growled his words as he flipped you over and kissed down your neck, leaving purple marks, then biting your shoulders. He made his way to your tits and squeezed one while he took the other in his mouth. He sucked hard on the peak, leaving it red and sensitive. He teased the point with his tongue, licking and flicking. He then tugged on it lightly with his teeth, causing you to writhe beneath him. The movement against his hardened cock making him arch his back as he let out a moan. He licked down your stomach to the hem of your panties. He grabbed them with his teeth and pulled them down your legs.

He took the panties and held them to his face, inhaling the musk of your core. “I made you so wet, didn’t I?” You nodded, biting your lip. He purred at the thought and stood up, grabbing your ankles and pulling you to the edge of the bed, as you let out a yelp from the sudden jerk. He kicked your legs apart and kneeled down between them. Without warning he licked your folds, your body shuddering from the surprise. He found your bundle of nerves with his tongue and sucked and licked methodically, sending sensations up your core. He pushed his tongue inside of you, licking your walls and his nose hit your hardened nub as he moved his tongue. He moved his mouth back to your clit and pushed two digits into you slowly, causing you to gasp. Your noises made him smile and chuckle with excitement, vibrating through your body pushing you to your edge. Your hips began to push back to meet his finger thrusts, so he added a third digit and sharted pumping faster. Your back arched as a small scream developed in your throat.

“That’s right baby, cum for me.” He spoke the words without leaving your clit. They shook through your body, breaking the barrier that was holding it all back. Your body shook as you came into his mouth, eyes rolling back and body limp. He stood up, licking his fingers and lips, taking in as much of you as he could. He crawled back up to meet you, and kissed you harshly. “Oh, I’m not done yet.”

He flipped you over onto your hands and knees and smacked your ass, leaving a red handprint. He pulled off his briefs and grabbed your waist with one hand while pumping himself with the other. You shudder when he rubbed his cock against your folds as he hit your overstimulated clit. He found joy in that and smacked your ass again, leaving another mark. “Just fuck me already.” You shouted and with that he pushed himself into your core as far as he could go. You gasped and arched your back as he entered and moaned as he slowly pulled out. He pushed back in, more harsh this time and held it as he wiggled his hips.

He began thrusting at a rapid pace that hit you in all the right places. If he kept it up you wouldn’t last long. You pulled away from him and stood up, spinning him around and pushing him to the bed. You sat on top of him and grabbed his cock to line him up with your entrance. You slid down on him and started to ride his member up and down in figure 8’s. He threw his head back, moaning at the motions as his back arched. Pressing down on his chest, you threw your head back, adding to Stiles’ moans. Your nails tore down his chest, leaving trails of red, raised skin. “I’m not gonna last much longer if you keep that up babe.” He mumbled under his pants.

He turned you over onto your back and placed himself inside you again. You wrapped your legs around his waist as high as they could go so he could hit your g spot. “Oh god, yes. Right there.” You moaned as he vigorously pounded into you. The room filled with moans and skin against skin.

“Come for me baby.” Stiles was close and knew you were too. Your walls throbbed against his cock and he leaned in and bit your shoulder to keep himself from cumming before you did. Through his bite, he whispered your name and that was all you needed. Your body shook as your gates burst and your eyes rolled back. Not long after, you could feel Stiles’ release inside you, spraying your walls with his warm seed. He pumped a couple more times, more slowly, riding out both of your highs. He immediately left, but you were too tired and weak to bother asking. He returned shortly with a wet cloth. You winced when he wiped your folds as the cold touched your overwhelmed bundle of nerves. He wiped himself off and fell onto the bed next to you. He pulled you into his arms, but you were both too tired to cuddle. You fell asleep quickly and deeply.

———

You were woken by your ringtone, your head pounding from the hangover. Confused as to where you were, it suddenly dawned on you what had happened. Eyes wide, you saw Stiles sprawled out next to you, drool at the corner of his mouth. His arm was on top of you, so you attempted to move it without waking him. He twitched as you moved, but readjusted himself, still sleeping. You remembered drinking, but not that much to do something so stupid.

Your phone started ringing again and you ran to your shorts on the floor, silencing it before it could wake up Stiles. Reluctantly, you looked at the screen and saw you had 4 missed calls and 6 missed messages. You couldn’t find your underwear, so you pulled on your shorts. Following the trail of clothes, you found your bra and your shirt. You put both of them on, then sat down on the couch where the night started. You opened up your phone.

Isaac: hey, saw your note. when will you be back?

Isaac: it’s 11am, where are you?

Isaac: are you okay?

Isaac: Y/N, did something happen? please answer me.

Isaac: Y/N?

Isaac: that’s it, i’m on my way.

Just as you read the last text, there was a knock at the door. Your body went into shock and you were silent, but internally you were screaming. What the fuck do I do? There was a second knock and you realized that it could wake Stiles up, so you ran to the door. When you answered it, it took everything you had to keep your composer.

“Isaac? What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t answering my calls.” He looked passed you and down the hall, his eyes widening. “Where’s Stiles?” He tried to look past you but you blocked his view by stepping out and slightly closing the door behind you. He immediately averted his eyes to you. He leaned in and sniffed you and you knew exactly what was going to happen next.

#stiles stilinski #isaac lahey #stiles stilinski/reader #isaac lahey/reader #teen wolf #request #my writing

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grim-on-the-darkside · 4 years ago

Photo

“According to Lucas' son Jett, he spent about a year before the Lucasfilm sale developing a sequel trilogy, which would have continued the saga.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lnr18AUym-o

George Lucas’ Episode VII - https://medium.com/@Oozer3993/george-lucas-episode-vii-c272563cc3ba

George Lucas' Ideas for His Own Star Wars Sequel Trilogy - https://io9.gizmodo.com/george-lucas-ideas-for-his-own-star-wars-sequel-trilogy-1826798496

STAR WARS: The Original Plans for the Sequel Trilogy - YouTube -https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x1dM9qFe4p0

https://ibb.co/jvph85c

"In late August 2012 Star Wars fans from all around the world gathered in Orlando, Florida for the sixth official Star Wars convention, Celebration VI. The lineup was strong despite the live action movies, always the brightest and biggest stars in the franchise’s galaxy, coming to an end seven years earlier. Though he was not scheduled to attend, series creator George Lucas was there. Publicly, he was just there to make a surprise appearance during the panel for the animated The Clone Wars TV show. But privately he was there to talk to original trilogy stars Mark Hamill and Carrie Fisher. They were brought to a conference room away from the convention floor where George broke the news: he was working a new Star Wars trilogy and wanted them to reprise their iconic roles."

[Disney didn't buy Lucasfilm/Star Wars until October 30th of 2012. This meeting occurred months before the sale, and at that point, the sale couldn't be assured.]

[Now there is some speculation as to why Lucas made the treatments of his ideas for his Sequel trilogy if he was considering selling, but it should be noted that Jett Lucas, George Lucas's son has stated that his Father [George] had been working on his Sequel trilogy for an entire year before this.]

When George decided to make a new trilogy, he moved quickly. He reached out to old friend and all-star film producer Kathleen Kennedy sometime in the first half of 2012, hoping to bring her on as co-chair of Lucasfilm.The two then approached screenwriter Michael Arndt about writing the entire trilogy around May.

This means this was already being talked about and definitive actions taken for the creation of his Sequel trilogy in the first months of 2012, which could have been almost 10 full months before Disney bought Lucasfilm in October of 2012.

The design team, or “Visualists” as Rick Carter would call them, would meet with George Lucas on January 16th at Skywalker Ranch, where he would be shown art of Luke Skywalker, the Jedi Temple he had exiled himself to, and the training of Kira. This appears to be his last involvement with the film.

Phil Szostak, author of The Art of The Force Awakens and The Art of The Last Jedi, revealed that the Luke Skywalker seen in The Last Jedi had his genesis in ideas from late 2012.

"So, the late-2012 idea of a Luke Skywalker haunted by the betrayal of one of his students, in self-imposed exile & spiritually in “a dark place”, not only precedes Rian Johnson’s involvement in Star Wars but J.J. Abrams’, as well."

And in 2016, Pablo Hidalgo confirmed that Thea (Kira), Skyler, Darth Talon, and the planet of Felucia were in George’s plans.

[Darth Talon was the only thing from the Expanded Universe in Lucas’s Sequel Trilogy.]

"Fast forward to 2012, when we hear George is looking to make SW movies again, I though I thought 'I wonder what next Mon Calamari's gonna be. And it turns out, the Mon Calamari this time was huge swaths of the EU. There was no Jacen, no Jaina. No new Jedi Order. Chewie lived. Not surprising, but there it was." Pablo Hidalgo ~ 2016

https://ibb.co/nmjWcBM

"My question is, what did George's treatments for 7 look like? I would love to see if they fit the EU."

Answer [Pablo Hidalgo]- "They did not. For instance, there was no Jaina, Jacen, or Anakin." ~ 2017

https://ibb.co/N7HKCsF

"Question from Today, but I thought this was pretty well known. George Lucas never considered Jacen, Jaina, or Mara Jade as part of his universe."

~ Pablo Hidalgo May 2016

https://ibb.co/VDX2qvY

Question - 'So, if the 3rd season of Rebels was discussed in autumn of '14 [2014], how long was the reboot planned?

Pablo Hidalgo [Lucasfilm Story Group] - "Since at least the summer of 2012."

[Lucas still owned Star Wars than.]

https://ibb.co/1qTnLjS [direct tweet] https://ibb.co/C5rRTFc - [Discussion tweet is used in]

“According to Mark Hamill, George’s overall plan for the sequel trilogy had Luke training his sister Leia in Episode IX before dying at the end of the film, though it’s unclear if Mark was referring to Lucas’ plans at the time of the sale to Disney or if this was from the numerous ideas he’d shared with the actor in the 80s.”

[It was a bit of both. Mark Hamill had always wanted [If Lucas made a Sequel Trilogy] - To have Leia learning the Force, it is even speculated that Mark Hamill wanted Luke to die a heroic death towards the end of the ST having trained Leia and have her be the one who restores the Jedi Order.

“No, there is another.” - Yoda, Empire Strikes Back

That is what happens in Lucas’s Sequel Trilogy. Disney didn’t use George Lucas’ storyline, but they did use certain plot points from it. Context matters of course. The following is a list of things that Lucas had created in his Sequel Trilogy that Disney pilfered from Lucas’s Story Treatments.

Please note while core points are confirm-able, some speculation of extrapolation from various sources is included. I tend to think it’s fairly reliable, but I cannot swear to every detail.

* There was only one Grandchild of Anikan Skywalker ever born. Ben Solo. He was a student at Luke’s Jedi Temple, he did turn to the Darkside and slay some or all of the other students and set fire to the Jedi Temple before fleeing.

"The Son falling to the Darkside was always in the mix, the movies just ended up having it as an already established fact."

~ Pablo Hidalgo, The Tweets of San Francisco: A QM Production, 2018

https://ibb.co/9WXZZQQ

' Question - "How many students were at Luke's' academy'? Was ot even an 'academy'? "We'd likely never use that term. That's very 'EU', not very George. It'd be a temple. As for numbers, can't say now." ~ Pablo Hidalgo 2016

* Han and Leia had been separated for about 5 years, but they were drawing closer again.

* Ben Solo does kill Han Solo in Episode 8. We don’t know how. Lucas wrote this into the story line because he knew that Harrison Ford wanted that. He just asked him to wait til Episode 8 for it. Harrison Ford was fine with that.

* Chewbacca never had a moon fall on his head. He was very much alive.

* There was no New Jedi Order.

* Luke did go into something of a self-exile and he did live on an island, he was in a ‘bad place’ [Not Darkside] , he did think he failed and he was despondent and didn’t want to try and train New Jedi again. He was not ‘disillusioned’ about the Jedi. He didn’t actually want them to end. He just was afraid of creating more Vader’s and Ben Solos because he never felt confident because of his own limited training and failing. - He was not hiding persay, but he did want to be left alone more or less - We also don’t have time frames. We don’t know how long he was on the island. - Once again, different story lines in terms of context.

"But anyway Luke in exile predates TLJ by a long time and came from someone who can very happily and rightly supersede anyone's feedback :)" ~ Pablo Hidalgo https://ibb.co/sKZnWKk

"Luke was training a new generation of Jedi, it all went wrong because of 1 boy, and he's the 'Jedi killer' - that's the source [the source being George Lucas sequel trilogy treatments he made in 2011 and ended up selling to Disney later]. ~ Pablo Hidalgo, 2016 https://ibb.co/JjYtGtf

* At a certain point Luke realizes there is something wrong with the Force.It feels ‘sick’. He knows something is very very wrong and that it would have dire consequences if it couldn’t be stopped. He spent a great amount of time communing with the Force, desperate to find the answer to what is ailing it before it is too late. Because the Force is getting worse and worse, Luke communing with it as much as he does effects him as well. [The Whills are feeding on the Force]. He knows it will probably end up killing him because he doesn’t care what happens to him just as long as he can find the answer and hopefully how the threat can be overcome.

* It is believed at a certain point in Episode 9 he does find the answer. He tells the gang what needs to be done because he was far too weak and was dying and nothing could stop it. He put on a brave face. Leia leads the group to the ‘final battle’. Luke dies while they’re gone. His communing with the Force saves the Galaxy from the Whills by finding the answer to how to stop them. A heroic death befitting of Luke Skywalker, Jedi Master. [we have no idea how these things play out, what needs to be done, etc.]

* Luke did train and young girl. Her name was Kira. She was from Jakku and a tinkerer. We don’t know much about her, only that her training was never completed and she wasn’t a “Mary Sue”. Luke actually trained her.

* Luke does train Leia to become a Jedi. She becomes a full Jedi Knight towards the end of Episode 9.

* There is a scene that does take place in the Ruins of the Second Death Star [which is underwater] in Emperor Palpatines Old Throne Room. The Emperor is as dead as a door nail. The Redeemed Anakin Skywalkwer’s sacrifice was not in vain.

Princess Leia, fully trained by The Last Jedi Master, Luke Skywalker, becomes The Last Jedi Knight in Episode 9. “The Other” - It than falls to Leia to restore the Jedi Order, which if the speculation is true, is what Mark Hamill wanted.

What I wish is that [Disney] had been more accepting of [George Lucas]’guidance and advice. Because he had an outline for ‘7’, '8’ and '9’. And it is vastly different to what they have done.

— Mark Hamill, 2017

Mark Hamill quotes about Lucas Sequel Trilogy -

"George had an overall arc – if he didn't have all the details, he had sort of an overall feel for where the [sequel trilogy was] going – but this one's more like a relay race. You run and hand the torch off to the next guy, he picks it up and goes.

"I happen to know that George didn't kill Luke until the end of [Episode] 9, after he trained Leia. Which is another thread that was never played upon [in The Last Jedi]."

where Lucas would have taken the second set of prequels. Though Leia and Luke communicate telepathically, fans have never really seen her use the Force. Mark Hamill had this to say about Leia using the Force in George Lucas' original writings.

"This is always something that interest me because we can communicate telepathically and I tell her in one of the movies, I guess the third one, you have that power too. So I always wondered, and I don't read the fan-fiction [The Expanded Universe] , why she wouldn't fully develop her Force sensibilities and I think that's something George Lucas addressed in his original outline for 7, 8, 9. I was talking to him last week, but they're not following George's ideas so we'll have to wait and see on that one. But it seems like a waste of an innate talent that she should utilize in some way."

https://movieweb.com/star-wars-leia-originally-used-force-george-lucas/

"...Knowing that the film was made for a young audience, I was trying to say,in a simple way, that there is a God and that there is both a good side and a bad side. You have a choice between them, but the world works better if you're on the good side."

~ George Lucas

..........

“Friendships, honestly, trust, doing the right thing, living on the right side and avoiding the dark side,” Lucas said. “Those are the things it was meant to do.”

~ Lucas on Star Wars and what its about, 2017

https://www.polygon.com/2017/4/13/15288998/george-lucas-star-wars-celebration

"The message of the Star Wars films is pretty classic. There’s good and evil and the hero’s journey, his quest."

~ George Lucas, May 2020

"Right or wrong this is my movie, this is my decision, and this is my creative vision, and if people don't like it, they don't have to see it."

~ George Lucas

An interviewer said to Lucas after he said he would be too old to complete the third trilogy:

"Do you know how many fans would be willing to feed you Cream of Wheat and wheel you around in your chair if you did [intend to complete the third trilogy]?"

"Everybody said to drop the stuff about the midichlorians, it makes it too confusing. But it’s a metaphor for a symbiotic relationship that allows life to exist. Everybody said it was going to be a giant turkey: “This isn’t going to help LucasFilm at all.” I said, “This is about the movie and the company is just going to have to deal with whatever happens.” That’s one of the reasons why there was so much hype on the first prequel: Everybody was terrified."

~ George Lucas, Rolling Stone Magazine, 2005

“The ones that I sold to Disney, they came up to the decision that they didn’t really want to do those. So they made up their own. So it’s not the ones that I originally wrote.”

~ Lucas on his sequel trilogy

"The Force has two sides - [Light and Dark]. It is not an inherently malevolent or a benevolent thing. It has a bad side to it, involving hate and fear, and it has a good side, involving love, charity, fairness and Hope."

~ George Lucas

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