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clarisse0o · 3 months ago

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Camp Wiegman-Part 65

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words : 5k

Masterlist

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Tuesday, March 2nd; 4:50 p.m. - in Class

I tap my foot while staring at my watch. The end is near. Like most days, we finish with Management, with Mr. Johnson. There's not a single day we don't see him anyway. Today, our two hours were interesting. For once, I more or less understood what we were working on. We even ended with exercises that I finished before most of my classmates. He announced that we would correct them in the next class, and they would count as homework if we hadn't finished. That's good news. I've already completed my other assignments, so besides having my exercises checked in this class, I won't have anything to do. There are still a few minutes left, so I wait, tapping my foot impatiently. It’s dragging on. Only five minutes have passed, and ten remain before the bell rings.

"Have you already finished?" Alessia murmurs.

"Mm-hmm."

"You're starting to outdo me," she jokes.

I giggle softly, shrugging. I'm lucky to understand things easily. Lucy definitely had something to do with it because, before, Management and I were not on good terms.

"Could you stop tapping your foot?"

"Sorry."

I stop immediately. In truth, I’m eager because I plan to meet Lucy after this last class. I’ve noticed that toward the end of the year, people are much calmer, so it’s the perfect time to spend time with her. She doesn't have to look after as many students anymore. Of course, she has spent a lot of time focusing on me, but I know she’s been responsible for several first-year students. When I asked her about it again on Sunday, she said she’d released many after two months since they weren’t rebels—like me. As for the others, she explained that Wiegman reassigned the toughest cases to Ingrid when I arrived so Lucy could prioritize me. She was right to do that, and I’m grateful. I admit that I must have been quite a handful when I arrived. I often regret being so cold and difficult. Mr. Johnson interrupts my thoughts by standing up from his chair, catching the attention of several students, including Alessia, who was still working on the exercises. It’s surprising because, according to my watch, there are still five minutes left. I doubt he’s going to let us go early.

"Alright, we’ll stop for today. You can pack your things, and as I mentioned earlier, the rest is due tomorrow. I’ll check that everything’s been done."

"Are you letting us out early?" a student asks.

"No, I have something to discuss with you."

Several groans echo throughout the room at this news.

"Yes, yes, I know. It’s so boring being stuck here with me," he mocks. "If I finish what I have to say quickly, we can renegotiate," he adds.

Strangely, everyone quickly starts packing up. He waits until they’re done to get everyone’s attention.

"Alright. I wanted to let you know that your class has been granted a field trip. We’ll be visiting a nearby industrial company to show you how it operates."

He begins distributing papers to everyone.

"Obviously, I expect this exercise to benefit you, so attached, you’ll find a company profile of the place we’ll visit. Some details are missing, so it’ll be up to you to find them."

"How are we supposed to do that without access to computers?" one student asks.

"I know you're allowed to have computers in your rooms," he replies. "And if you don't have one, there are computers available in the library."

The student grimaces slightly. I imagine he’s one of those who don’t have one. I haven’t had many chances to go to the library since I spend a lot of time in Lucy’s office, but I know it’s not a popular place. Few people like going there. They’d much rather spend time in their rooms or the common room.

"Do we have to fill out the second sheet too?" another student asks.

"No, that one is for the field trip. I expect you to take notes and complete this small questionnaire. I’ll collect the sheets to ensure you’ve done the work, and then we’ll go over them in the next class after the trip."

"Will it just be you supervising?"

A small laugh escapes him. His news has managed to excite everyone. Outings must not be granted often here. Usually, we’re confined within the school’s walls.

"In addition to me, your Management teacher and two instructors will accompany you. You’ll be divided into four groups to keep you focused and well-supervised."

"Can we choose who to go with?"

"Definitely not. The groups are already assigned, and no changes will be possible. I expect you to respect my choices. The supervisors will have a list of students in their group, so you won’t be able to cheat. All you’ll achieve by trying is wasting everyone's time and earning yourself a punishment."

He says this as he walks past me. He looks at me intensely. I feel like he has an issue with me ever since he started seeing me in Lucy’s office. If only he knew what I was thinking… I smile to provoke him. We both know I’ll be with Lucy, and he doesn’t seem to like the idea. I had noticed his displeasure when Lucy made the request. He ignores me and walks down my row to return to his desk. The bell rings just then.

"Alright, I’ll let you go. Don’t lose the papers, please. I’ll inform you of the trip date in the next class. Have a great rest of your day."

Having already packed our bags, most of us head straight for the door. Alessia and I follow calmly. Leah and Alba, on the other hand, have already rushed out with the first group.

"Did you know about this?" Alessia asks. "You were one of the few who didn’t react."

"I did, yeah. He suggested it to L—uh, Bronze when I was in her office," I catch myself.

"Oh. So, she’s the one accompanying us?"

"Yeah, along with Engen."

I have to think before I speak. It’s so complicated to use their titles when I know their first names and spend time with them outside of class.

"I see… Well-informed, huh?" she teases softly. "Do you know which group you’re in?"

"I only know I’ll be with Bronze," I shrug. "She used her position to make that happen," I admit with a small smile. "But I can’t tell you yet if we’ll be together."

"Well, I guess I’ll just have to wait."

"I’ll try to find out if we’re in the same group once she has her list. I can’t guarantee anything. She can be pretty unpredictable sometimes. And for all I know, she might not get it until the day of the trip."

"Thanks, that’s nice of you. Are you going to meet her now?"

"Yep. I’ve done my homework, but I’d like to review, and it’s the only place where I know I’ll have some peace and quiet outside of my room. Except in my room, I tend to get a bit too distracted…"

"Yeah, I totally get that," she laughs. "You don’t have to explain yourself, you know."

"No, but… You get it. I don’t want you thinking I’m ditching you for her or anything like that. I’m just really focused on exams. I can’t afford to fail this year."

"I understand. She’s doing a great job. I’ve noticed that you’ve been following classes better lately. It’s different from the beginning of the semester," she teases.

I laugh, nodding. It’s true; things were different back then. Since I didn’t understand anything, I would zone out easily. I’ve made a lot of progress since I returned. Lucy advised me to ask my teachers for summaries of previous years’ classes. Of course, they gave them to me, and I plan to start studying them today. I hope Lucy will have time for me. I never know what she has planned for the day.

"Alright, see you later."

"Yes, have a good afternoon."

We part ways at the bottom of the stairs in the hall. I knock on the slightly closed office door and enter. I’m surprised to find another student in my usual spot in front of Lucy. She doesn’t seem to have noticed me yet, as she’s filling out a form with him. So, I turn to Ingrid and wave hello.

"Hey Ona," she greets me with a smile. "How are you? »

"—Good, and you?"

"—Great."

Since classes resumed, we haven't had many opportunities to see each other. It's a shame because I really like her.

"—What are you doing here?" my girlfriend asks me.

"—Hey... Uh... Well, I finished classes. I have some reviewing to do, but I can come back later if you're busy."

The guy sitting across from her looks at me strangely. To him, I must look like an alien. I must be the only one who willingly comes to my supervisor's office. His face doesn't ring a bell, but judging by his appearance, I'd say he's younger than me. He must be a first-year student under Lucy's supervision. To get my attention, my girlfriend clears her throat.

"—I'll be a little while. He just got here. Can you go over this with her, Engen? Or do you have something else to do?" she asks her friend.

"—No, it's fine," she replies, gesturing for me to sit with her. "But I can't guarantee I'll be as good as your supervisor," she teases me.

"—I'll make do with what I have, what can I say."

She laughs at my joke before ordering me to take out my things. I quickly realize that she intends to be as serious as Lucy, which suits me perfectly. I need that authority to make sure I stay focused.

"—Is that Ona Batlle?" murmurs the student facing Lucy.

I turn around amused to watch them. I immediately meet Lucy's threatening gaze. I quickly understand that I should stay out of it.

"—We have something to do, don't you think?" suggests Lucy.

"—I've never seen her before," he continues.

"—Do you want me to let you go? I can always change my mind, you know."

"—Come on, let's get to work," Ingrid pulls me toward her.

"—Um..."

"—What do you want to work on?"

"—Management and accounting."

"—Wonderful," she murmurs. "All my favorites... She owes me for this."

I chuckle softly. First, I put away the sheets my teacher just handed out. Since we'd already packed everything, no one had bothered to put them in their bags, myself included. Then I take out my famous summary notes.

"—These are the courses from previous years. I need to work on them," I explain to her.

"—Let me see."

It wasn't Ingrid who asked me, but Lucy. I look up to see her behind me. I hand her my notes without thinking.

"—You finally took my advice. It was about time. Here, have her do some exercises; I have a site you'll love," she tells Ingrid as she passes behind her desk.

She types something on the keyboard, and I take the opportunity to glance at the student. He was just looking at me. He immediately turns back to his work. He's working on a worksheet, from what I can see. I wonder what it could be.

"—Ona," my girlfriend calls me.

"—Yes?" I say, turning back to her.

I then notice some sheets in front of me and the printer running. I feel like I'm going to have a blast... Especially given the number of worksheets that are coming out.

"—What's this site?"

"—I found it when I had some free time. There are lots of practice exercises; I thought it would be cool for you."

"—Awesome, and there are even answer keys for us," Ingrid rejoices.

I roll my eyes with a small smile. Unlike Lucy, this must not be her area of expertise if she's reacting like that. She seems to dislike it. I wonder what she studied, actually. Will she stay here her whole life? That's also a question I won't hesitate to ask Lucy, or even Ingrid directly.

"—Alright, get to work. I'll take over once Kyle leaves."

She pats my shoulder before returning to her desk.

"—So, back to us. Are you almost done?"

I stop listening to them and focus on the sheets to see what they are. They're exercises from chapters I didn't study in the first two years. The number of them makes me lose motivation. It's not really something I enjoy either, but well, I have no choice but to work now. Ingrid mocks my expression as she brings me the rest of the stack. I feel like crying seeing the whole pile.

"—Do I have to do all of this?" I complain desperately.

"—Of course not. We just printed everything at once. Do the ones you feel like, but it would be best to work on as many as possible in the coming months."

I relax a bit. She's right; I still have a few months to do everything. I nod and take the small stack before starting the first worksheet. The exercise seems short and simple, so I might as well start with easy things. I'll vary gradually until tonight with other, more difficult exercises. I start calmly, not rushing. I have barely finished one exercise that I've given to Ingrid when Kyle gets up from his chair.

"—Don't make me regret my choice, alright?"

"—Yes, I'll try."

"—No, you'll make sure you don't end up here again."

He doesn't respond, but I know he does when she says:

"—Go on, off you go."

I hear papers being gathered and a chair creaking. I'm forced to turn around to look at them again.

"—Thank you, Bronze..."

Our eyes meet for a moment as he heads toward the exit. He stops in front of the door to give me a gentle smile. I return it out of politeness.

"—You're famous here. I'm glad to have seen you at least once. I'm almost a fan of yours."

His comment earns him a smack on the head from Lucy. I laugh discreetly. That wasn't very smart of him.

"—I haven't signed the form yet, so you'd better leave before I change my mind."

That was all it took for the poor kid to flee the office. Lucy sighs while scribbling on the paper in front of her.

"—Well, you've started quite a movement too," comments Ingrid as I return to my exercises.

"—I didn't ask for anything," I reply, shrugging. "As long as it's in a good way, I don't care."

"—It's not especially in a good way," grumbles Lucy from her corner. "This one gave me quite a bit of work to set him straight, if you know what I mean."

"—Well, you just released him, didn't you?"

"—Lucy usually releases her students around December, or even January for the more headstrong ones," Ingrid tells me in a whisper.

"—Oh..."

I don't know what else to say. It's not like I encouraged these young people to act rebellious. I was too busy with myself to be concerned with others' behavior. I wasn't surprised that the young man who just left was one of the last rebels. He had an angelic face that I would describe as popular. That's certainly what he was before coming here. I jump when the office door slams. Lucy comes toward us and, with a hand gesture, asks me to push back my chair. I barely have time to do so before she sits on my lap. With her hand, she grabs my neck, and her lips capture mine firmly. I respond without flinching. I don't know why she's doing this, but I'm not going to complain. She's offering me more and more private contact, whereas she insisted at the beginning that we keep our distance. She finally sighs and settles against me so that her head rests against my shoulder.

"—Seems like someone had a long day."

"—Mm-hmm," she sighs. "I just released my last student."

"—No. You still have me."

She laughs softly, placing a kiss on my exposed neck. I've given up on my exercises since it's impossible to do anything in this position. I'm forced to hold Lucy to prevent her from slipping off my lap.

"—Naturally. You'll remain an exception until the end," she says.

"—That's for sure," I giggle. "Have you already told Wiegman that you won't be here next year?"

"—No," she murmurs. "I'm going to wait a bit before requesting a meeting."

"—No kidding. She's going to fall into depression when you go," Ingrid mocks. "You were her favorite. »

Lucy shrugs indifferently in response.

"You have to know what you want in life. Right?" she asks, sliding her hand under my sweater.

"Yeah," I murmur. "And what about you? Are you planning to stay here much longer?" I ask Ingrid.

"I don't know. Definitely next year, then we'll see."

"What did you study, if it's not too personal?"

"Social work," she replies. "I plan to seriously look for a job next year."

"I already told you, if you do your degree in sports, we could hire you with Jenni," Lucy says to her.

"I know, I know," she rolls her eyes. "I'll wait to see if your thing works before I commit," she teases.

"There’s no reason it won’t work," I defend.

She smiles mischievously but says nothing more. Lucy finally grabs the exercise I was working on.

"How's it going? Are you managing?"

"Not really," I mumble. "I'm feeling overwhelmed seeing all I have to review. I’m never going to make it."

"Don’t say that. I've never seen a student as hardworking as you," she says with a touch of amusement.

"It's only because you motivate me. Otherwise, trust me, I would've given up already."

"But you won’t give up. Otherwise, I’ll go on strike with kisses and cuddles," she threatens me. "That’d be silly, right before our one-month anniversary," she adds quietly.

I smile, knowing full well that our one-month anniversary is tomorrow. I've been thinking about it and planning our weekend since Monday with Mapi. She’s also celebrating her one-month anniversary with Ingrid. We have the upper hand, being in Barcelona.

"Seriously? Using that as leverage? That’s blackmail!"

"Is it working?" she asks with a mischievous grin.

"Of course. You're such a brat."

"Careful what you say. I can still use my rank to make you run laps outside."

She pinches my belly, which she had been caressing, making me squeal. I pout to show her I don't like it, even though I understand her reasons.

"No need to pull that face," she laughs, getting up.

She stretches in front of me. The position probably wasn’t very comfortable. Still, I would've liked her to stay a little longer. The warmth she created by cuddling against me is already fading. Unfortunately, she can't stay in that position forever, considering where we are.

"Grab your stuff and come with me."

"Now that I was so comfortably settled," I complain.

"You can stay here, but you’ll be all alone," Ingrid teases as she gets up too.

"Are you leaving?"

"Yep, I'm going for a walk to keep the peace," she says with a wink. "Don’t use it as an excuse to fool around."

I laugh, shaking my head. She hands my first paper back to Lucy, then leaves. Meanwhile, I switch positions. Lucy is already checking my work.

"I think we have some work to do," Lucy teases.

"Why do you say that?"

"Your exercises are far from correct," she laughs.

I groan in frustration, not even bothering to continue the previous exercise. I already know she’ll want to rework that part before moving on to the rest, and she’s right.

Tuesday, March 2nd; 8:30 PM – Ona and Alexia’s room.

"We haven’t seen much of you since the break ended."

Alexia throws this comment as we return to our room after dinner. To be honest, I would’ve preferred she bring it up another time. I’m exhausted. I could fall asleep right here. The pace is hard to get back into, and the revision sessions don’t help much with resting, as that’s all I’ve been doing.

"I know, sorry," I sigh, collapsing onto the bed.

"I overheard Alessia talking to her sister when she came back from class without you this afternoon. They think you’d rather spend time with your supervisor than with us, if you know what I mean."

Her tone is somewhat amused. I deduce she doesn’t think the same, thankfully. If even she starts judging me, I’m in trouble.

"I regret that they saw us at that convenience store. Now that they know, they think I prefer staying with Lucy. I told them it’s for study sessions. I even have proof if they need it."

My binder is full of exercises I do during evening sessions. If it were up to me, they’d all be in the trash.

"Well, apparently they think differently," she shrugs. "Don’t worry about it, let them talk. I just wanted to let you know."

"I doubt they’ll dare say anything to my face."

"I don’t think so either," she admits. "But who knows. At least now you’re prepared if it happens."

She closes the doors of her wardrobe, where she had been searching for her pajamas. Then, she turns and offers me a small, sympathetic smile. I wonder if she’s ever dealt with similar comments. Honestly, I’ve never asked her if anyone knows about her relationship with Jenni. Since I’ve been here, she mostly hangs out with me.

"I just think it might be a good idea to slow things down between you two here. You know how fast rumors spread."

"We’re not doing anything wrong," I sigh. "These study sessions were in place long before we got together. If they can’t understand that I want to pass my exam, that’s not my problem."

She nods, deciding to drop the subject. Instead, she heads to the shower. Meanwhile, I check in with Mapi about the weekend. Everything should be set now. We had already discussed it last week, just before she left. I still send her a message to make sure she’s booked everything. We have different plans, which is better. One-month anniversaries are meant to be enjoyed as a couple, after all. Now, I just need to make sure Lucy hasn’t planned anything. I’ll ask her tomorrow. Knowing her, she’s probably already planned something, but what? As for tomorrow, I’m pretty stuck. I don’t even have anything to give her, and I can’t really prepare something. My movements are being watched. The only thing I have to offer is a drawing that’s been lying at the bottom of my closet since Monday night. I feel almost foolish, considering this woman deserves all the love in the world. I just hope she’ll like the gesture... Anyway, it’s too late to plan anything else. When the shower stops running, I search for my things.

"It’s your turn," Ale says as she steps out of the bathroom, towel in one hand drying her hair, the hairdryer in the other.

"Thanks."

I grab a random pair of pajamas and some fresh underwear, then head to the bathroom. An idea sparks as I place my clothes on the counter next to the sink. I turn around and call out to Ale before she turns on the hairdryer.

"You’ve been in a long-term relationship—any ideas on what I could give Lucy for our one-month anniversary tomorrow?"

"Is that already tomorrow?" she asks in surprise.

"Mm-hmm... I did make her a drawing, but I feel silly only giving her that."

"Well, in your situation, it’s a bit tricky. Jenni always managed to plan things because she had more freedom than I did, but I have to admit I never gave her anything while we were here. I always made up for it when we saw each other outside."

I sigh and nod, a bit disappointed. I should’ve thought about it this weekend, though even then it would’ve been hard since we were at Lucy’s place.

"One month already," Ale whispers. "Time flies!"

"Yeah, no kidding," I giggle.

"When exactly was it? The night Korbin jumped on you?"

I wince but nod. I hate remembering that event. It feels so far away now and yet not that distant at all.

"Sorry," she grimaces, sensing it bothers me. "I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories."

"It’s okay, don’t worry. I’ll hop in the shower. Maybe the water will help me come up with ideas for tomorrow."

"Good luck," she teases softly.

I return to the bathroom as Ale starts drying her hair. I was hoping this moment would help me brainstorm ideas, but it didn’t. I sigh, giving up on planning anything. I’ll make it up to her this weekend.

#woso #lucy bronze #woso community #ona batlle #barca femeni #woso soccer #lionesses #sefutbol fem #ona batlle x lucy bronze

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ktwritesstuff · 2 years ago

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The Babysitter (a Last of Us fanfic) pt. 3

Title: The Babysitter Fandom: The Last of Us Rating: Explicit Characters & Pairings: Joel Miller x Reader Word Count: ~2000 Summary: Playing house with Joel is not all it's cracked up to be. As always, lovingly beta-read by @bs-fangirl. Additional content notes below the cut

Content Notes & Warnings: mentions of assault, depression, p-in-v sex, & violence.

I consider my personal brand to be "All your faves want to fuck fat chicks" but the post-apocalyptic setting makes that harder to convey. Given that the diet culture of the 90s and early 2000s fucked us all, be on the lookout for body talk and mentions of disordered eating.

Atlanta 2007

It was a miracle you were alive. That was what the doctors said when Joel and Tommy managed to find a FEMA clinic nearly 48 hours later. The bullet had hit Joel first, just grazing him, but slowed down enough that when it struck you the impact didn’t send you into cardiac arrest. It entered a few inches below your right shoulder, missing the lung, the subclavian artery, and the bundle of nerves controlling your arm, and exited the top of your chest before lodging in Sarah’s stomach where it tore her apart from the inside. Some miracle.

The clinic doctors decided to send you to Dallas by helicopter, where there was supposed to be a working trauma center. Of course, by the time you got there everything had gone to shit. But the fluids and antibiotics they had already pumped into you kept you stable. You hunkered down for a few weeks until Joel and Tommy decided it was safe to move you.

From there you headed east, eventually making your way to a refugee camp in Atlanta. It was a fucking mess–most folks had fled their homes without gathering important documents, but the bureaucrats were still insisting on trying to verify peoples’ identities. The people outside were begging and bribing for someone to vouch for them.

With Tommy being military, the government knew everything down to what underwear he had on; Joel managed to hang on to his wallet so thankfully he still had photo ID.

“This is my daughter,” he said, pushing you in front of him at the gate. “Sarah.”

The powers that be immediately pressed Tommy into service helping to control the crowds and guard supplies, leaving you and Joel to get settled into one of the canvas tents on site. It wasn’t much, but you had a cot, a toothbrush, and a bar of soap, which was quite a bit more than you had arrived with.

“Why’d you tell them I was your daughter?” you asked.

“Because I’m pretty sure it’s still frowned upon for grown men to be traveling with a random teenage girl,” Joel replied gruffly. “It’s just temporary.”

But after four years this temporary stopover looked more and more like home and you felt more like a mother than daughter: washing, mending, cooking when there was food which there usually wasn’t. You had lost more weight than was probably safe, but you weren’t quite as rail-thin and sallow as most of the other evacuees haunting the camp.

Still, you regretted all the time you had spent starving yourself when there was plenty of food around, desperate to shrink down to nothing. Your body had kept you alive in impossible circumstances and you had promised yourself you would do what you had to to take care of it.

With Joel, it was a different story. About a month into your stay at the camp, a man whistled at you in the breadline for weekly rations of beans and government cheese. It was so strange and unexpected that you didn’t even realize it had happened until Joel had jumped the guy.

“Stop it!”” you screamed, helping two other guys pull him off. “You’ll kill him! Daddy!”

Even after one of the guards slammed his rifle into the back of Joel’s neck, he still wasn’t satisfied.

“I’ll kill you, you son of a bitch! She’s mine! I’ll fucking kill you!”

The guards probably would have hanged them both if not for Tommy running interference, but that didn’t keep Joel from picking fights wherever he could. He had a death wish and that made him dangerous.

Losing Sarah had broken something inside of him, how could it not. Keeping you and Tommy safe had kept him grounded for a while, but now that things were (relatively) stable, he had no reason to keep going. You sympathized, of course, with the unfathomable grief of losing a child. That didn’t mean you were content to stand by while he self-destructed.

It was past noon and Joel was asleep, passed out, you realized as your toe connected with the bottle that had rolled under his cot.

“Get up,” you said, pushing on his back. “Laundry day. Get up.”

Joel grunted, balling up under the blanket.

“Well that’s just great,” you said. “You want to drink a week’s worth of rations in one afternoon, fine. But if you think I’m gonna let you get a staph infection from sleeping in the same filthy clothes for weeks, you’ve got another thing coming.”

You grabbed the corner of the blanket and pulled with all your might. Joel fought you, growling and thrashing, but ultimately you managed to wrestle it away. Joel harumphed and turned over in bed. You threw the blanket into the laundry basket and stormed out of the tent.

Tommy was on rounds and you passed him on your way to the little stream that ran through the east side of camp.

“You need to talk to him,” you said. “Cause I am at the end of my rope.”

Joel had been shutting down for weeks and things seemed to be getting worse and worse. You knew he wished you had died instead of Sarah. As if it wasn’t bad enough that you'd always be left to wonder if you hadn’t turned around when you did, would that bullet have passed through Sarah and killed you. You would have taken her place if you could. This wasn’t the life any of you would have wished for, but this was the life you had.

“Cut him some slack,” Tommy said. “Birthdays and anniversaries are always rough.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, as Tommy walked with you toward the edge of camp. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how hard this has been for you–I know how much you loved Sarah and we can’t even talk about her.”

Tommy shrugged. “You compartmentalize. Deal with it when it’s safe.”

“So never?”

“That’s the job,” Tommy said.

You shook your head. “The job sucks. And we still need to figure out what we’re going to eat this week. I already traded my last tampon for the month.”

“Don’t tell me that,” Tommy chuckled. “I don’t need to know that.”

“Yeah, well, I figured your back was getting tired from carrying us,” you teased.

Tommy waved you off, jogging back to his post before his C.O. noticed he was gone.

You sat down by the river, sprinkling your weekly allotment of laundry powder onto the stones. Having to do all the scrubbing manually certainly gave you time to think. When weekly assignments came around, you usually asked to be on the cleaning crew–it wasn’t a desirable chore, but you liked knowing that the communal showers and horrible pit latrines you had to use were as sanitary as possible. Besides, as long as you weren’t greedy you could get away with pocketing extra hand sanitizer and disinfectant–that shit was better than gold around camp.

But FEDRA was trying to get a factory up and running about a mile outside camp, hard work, double shifts, and shit pay. But there were fringe benefits for those willing to take the risk. This dude called Axel had a pot farm on the other side of the fence. He was always looking for people dumb enough or desperate enough to move his product–they were always getting caught at the gate.

So you wrung out and hung the laundry and marched down to the big house to sign up for the next truckload of workers leaving camp.

You worked the graveyard shift, and made it back through the gate the next afternoon with half a kilo of weed in the hidden pocket you had sewed into the lining of your jacket. As you suspected, the guards were more interested in groping your breasts and between your legs during their pat-down. You headed back to your tent with the most money you had ever held in your hands–before the outbreak or after.

Your euphoria at your success was only somewhat diminished by the realization that Joel and Tommy had spent the morning tearing the camp apart looking for you.

“Where the hell have you been?” Joel said. He looked frantic, disheveled, cold sweat, the works.

“Working,” you said, digging the wad of ration cards out of your bra and handing it over to Tommy. “Maybe you can find us some real food now.”

“Jesus, kid,” Tommy said, flipping through the cards. “Where’d you get this?”

“Why? They’re good, aren’t they?”

You toed off your shoes and pulled off your sweatshirt as you came into the tent.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Joel followed after you, wiping a hand across his forehead. “We’ve been worried sick–thinking you were dead in a ditch somewhere, or worse–and that’s all you have to say for yourself?”

“Can we have this conversation later,” you groaned, shimmying out of your bluejeans and collapsing on your cot. “I’m exhausted.”

When you finally woke, Joel was sitting on the folding chair beside your cot.

“So what are you a whore now?”

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” you groaned, sitting up, pulling the thin blankets up around you. “Does it fucking matter?”

You had considered sex work, but the truth was there wasn’t much of a market for it. Assault was more common than toilet paper in the camp–there was hardly a woman who hadn’t been groped (or worse) or a man that hadn’t been mugged for that matter. You figured the only reason you had been spared so far was that Tommy and Joel were so fucking scary.

“Yeah, it fucking matters, Sweetpea,” he growled. You had never seen him angry before, not like this. You would have been terrified if you weren’t so goddamn tired.

“I am responsible for you.”

“Oh, spare me the sanctimonious bullshit,” you said. “I’m not a child. I am grown. I’m certainly not your daughter.”

“You think I don’t know that!” Joel grabbed you by the chin. You met his gaze; for a moment, you weren’t sure if he wanted to hurt you or something else.

“Prove it,” you said, the corner of your mouth lifting into a sneer. “I fucking dare you.”

In the space of a breath, Joel had crushed his mouth against yours. You moaned against his lips, leaning back in bed, but Joel held the back of your neck, keeping you close. You put your hands on his face, running your fingers into his hair.

Joel climbed on top of you in bed, the thin mattress sagging under your combined weights. He sat up long enough to unbuckle his belt and paused.

“Say yes,” he instructed, leaning down, planting his lips in the space where your jaw met your neck.

You sighed, gripping his shoulder, turning your face to expose your neck to him.

“You have to say yes.”

“Yes,” you breathed, pulling your ratty t-shirt off over your head and dropping it on the floor.

Joel pulled down his jeans and ran his hands down your back, looping them into your panties, pulling them down. You kicked them off to hook your ankles behind Joel’s thighs as he kissed your throat.

He pressed into you all at once; you were so exhilarated you hardly felt anything. Then pressure and a sharp tug behind your pelvic bone as he withdrew and pushed deeper. You gripped his arms and squeezed your knees into his sides.

“Good?” he asked, kissing and sucking a trail down your chest, grazing the mounds of your breasts with his teeth.

You took a few deep breaths and relaxed your face which had tightened into a grimace.

“It’s a lot,” you said, running your hands down his back.

“I know,” Joel breathed. “I know, Sweetpea. I got you.”

Joel moved one hand between your legs, to the bundle of nerves at the peak of the wishbone where your bodies met, massaging in circles with his rough fingers. You felt something coiling inside you, hot and tight. You arched into him.

“That’s better?”

“Mmhm.” You nodded, relaxing your thighs. “That’s nice.”

Joel moved against you, hips flicking up into the bowl of your pelvis as he massaged you. He cupped one breast with his spare hand, pressing his mouth over the other, tongue circling the sensitive nipple.

“That’s nice.”

He bucked into you harder; you bit your lip to stifle a cry. You could feel the knot in your belly spreading, unfolding. Your body stiffened and relaxed and with a low moan, Joel dropped his weight onto you, tired and spent.

You felt your heart rate slow and your breath grew deeper. Joel rested his head on your chest and you ran your fingers through his hair. You noticed it was damp and smelled faintly of mint.

“Did you shower?”

Joel nodded, his beard rubbing against your skin. You smiled.

“You do listen to me.”

“Mmhm.” You ran your hands over Joel’s shoulder girdle; felt the tight knots of muscle relax under your touch.

Joel’s lips found the ragged scar under your collarbone where the bullet had left your body. He kissed the scar gently, running his fingertips over it. For an instant you felt like he was worshiping you, in awe of you. And you marveled at your own sweet self for being able to give such pleasure.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” Joel said. You pressed your eyes closed.

“I may not have a choice,” you sighed. “Axel wants me to do another run at the end of the week–I don’t think he’ll take no for an answer.”

“I’ll take care of it,” he said.

After a moment, Joel rose from the bed, pulling on his pants as you pulled the blankets up over you.

“What are you going to do?” you said.

“I said I’d take care of it,” he repeated.

“Joel,” you warned. “You can’t narc on him…you can’t kill him. Don’t kill him, Joel. Please.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, leaning over to kiss your cheek. “Eat something. Tommy brought you peanut butter.”

You had half a mind to try and stop him from leaving, but who could resist peanut butter.

Baby's First Taglist: @stilllivindue2spite, @amethystwonders11 & @teacupcollector

#joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us hbo #joel miller #pedro pascal #tlou fanfiction #tlou #tlou hbo

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latibvles · 2 years ago

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SAD, BEAUTIFUL, TRAGIC.

beautiful, tragic. // word on the street

extra, extra, read all about it!

TAGLIST: @softguarnere , @liebgotts-lovergirl , @brassknucklespeirs , @monalisastwin

WARNINGS: discussions of disownment & brief discussion of suicide, descriptions of combat fatigue

SUMMARY: Daisy has never seen what she does as anything more than her duty based on her oath. She wonders why that’s begun to change now.

She’s in the newspaper back home.

Of course, it isn’t just pictures of her that are spread across a page of Stars and Stripes. A handful of pictures of the Aid Station and the ambulances on the dirt roads all paint the dire picture. EINDHOVEN BURNS. The ANC’s Guardian Angels Save 150 Lives in an Eindhoven Bombing! is the title, in big blocky letters. She’s about a paragraph in, accredited for “leading the charge” and there’s a recollection of the events themselves, a quick note about how they’ve been unable to grab anyone for a quote. There’s no mention of the subsequent reprimand from an angry officer, and after reading it thrice she’s certain there’s no mention of insubordination.

The clipping from home is a much more personal affair. South Weymouth’s Own GI Angel. They’d used her old yearbook photo from five years ago, which is just minorly embarrassing. Daisy Elizabeth Clarke is an alumni of the English High School… a small blurb about her achievements (which were getting more praise now than when she actually achieved them), which military camp she attended, flowery words singing praises she doesn’t feel entirely deserving of.

And to top it all off, the latter clipping is from her father — who’d wrapped the rosary she’d left at home in the paper, who’s letter is filled with pleas for a response, complaints that it isn’t fair of her to refuse to speak to him. Those pleas only lead to more irritation, and she winds up balling the letter up and throwing it away. They’d finally been pulled off the line and moved to Mourmelon-le-Grande, in France.

It’s been over a month since she last saw Ronnie. Soon, it’ll be two months.

She gets a new jacket, without a hole in the sleeve. The wound itself has scarred over in a dark brown uneven swatch on her arm. No raised skin or divots, just the discoloration.

“203rd General, in Garches,” Ginny tells her as she’s pulling on the new jacket. “That’s the last place with a record of him, as far as I know. I don’t know if he’s still there but it’s worth a shot.”

She sends out her letter within hours of that —all two pages of it — and can’t help but pray for the letter to reach him in time. She’d spent a whole night on it, pouring out the things she didn’t get to say — the explanations owed, the apologies needed.

“My mom wrote to me,” Rita starts out, handing Daisy a crumpled piece of paper. Rita’s hand ghosts over her arm to keep her from colliding into anything as they exit the movie that’s playing in the hall. Daisy takes it, looking over it. Her brows furrow and her lips tug into a frown. “Said if I came home now we could still fix everything and it’ll go back to normal or something.” Daisy looks up at Rita, handing the letter back.

“But she doesn’t want your dad knowing she wrote to you?” Daisy scoffs, rolling her eyes. Rita laughs bitterly, rolling her eyes as she takes it, balls it, and stuffs it in her pocket. “Did you write her back?” Rita smirks a bit.

“Oh definitely.”

“And what’d you say?” The girl runs her fingers through her curls for a moment. Daisy watches as they bounce right back into their proper places.

“Told her that unless she wants me back pregnant and unmarried that she and Robert can go kick a rock for all I care,” Rita declares with her hands on her hips. “Which I’m certain will just go great. Robby McCarney’s precious daughter coming home knocked up by some no-name GI. As if I wasn’t already embarrassing enough, right?” There’s sarcasm laced in every single word, overflowing. Even if there are notes of sincerity, Daisy isn’t going to pry her about it out in the open.

“And have your sisters written at all?” Rita shakes her head, letting out another laugh.

“And dare to upset Robert? Cuando Colón baje el dedo, Daisy.” When pigs fly, essentially, Daisy nods grimly.

“My dad wrote to me. I ended up throwing out the whole letter so you might be a little nicer than me.”

“Or you’re just less spiteful.”

“Well that’s one way of looking at it,” She laughs, partially because if anyone were privy to this conversation, they’d be concerned, and partly because they both know if they don’t laugh, they’ll just get angry. And it’s easier to laugh than fester in their shared anger.

Rita didn’t talk much about her family — and when she did it was always in this way. Calling her four sisters idiots or mindless, or doormats. Get a couple of drinks in her and she’ll use some very colorful words to describe her parents, too. They’d essentially told her that if she left and joined the army, she could never step back into their home. So Rita “packed a bag and left with a middle-finger to the door” as she put it. Their laughter eventually lapses, before Rita’s face takes on a properly grim expression.

“Did you hear about what happened to that Sergeant and staff officer?” she starts out. Daisy shakes her head, and raises a brow. “Apparently both of them took two .45 calibers and just,” she pauses, makes a gun with her fingers and gestures to her lips. “Bang. Right through the head. Guess… everything’s catchin’ up to everybody. I saw Lieutenant Compton earlier just kind of… blank-starin’. Don’t even think he noticed me wave.” Daisy cringes, taking a quick scan of the GIs walking around the camp. Some of them wear the exhaustion blatant on their faces, others don’t.

“Did you get any names?”

“Not yet. But I think—”

“Excuse me! Lieutenant Clarke?”

Both women snap to look at the person calling. A GI in a neat olive-green dress uniform, garrison cap tilted just so on his head. His face is youthful and lively as he approaches with a big, boxy camera in his hands. Daisy tries not to outwardly grimace, but Rita doesn’t hide her irritation, muttering a quiet “Get a load of this fuckin’ twit.” But rather than verbally agree, Daisy just smiles as politely as she can as the reporter approaches.

“Yes, that’s… me. Did you need something?” As though he’s just won the lottery, his grin grows impossibly wider, his eyes all starry and full of excitability.

“Yes! Well… I was hoping to get a few comments from you on the situation in Eindhoven back in September. Seems like no one was able to get a comment from you when it happened but with word finally reaching the States and all…” It’s almost like I was doing my job. In the middle of a war. That’s what she wants to say. But she doesn’t say that. Daisy does however, give Rita an apologetic look. She waves her hand dismissively, before continuing to walk, leaving Daisy alone with an all-too-eager reporter.

“They’re still talking about that? It’s been nearly three months. And I don’t think I… got your name.”

“Lieutenant Walter Cunningham for Stars and Stripes, ma’am,” he states proudly. “You wouldn’t believe how hard it’s been trying to catch one of you girls for comment. They’re talking about everything you ladies have been doing. Company One here with the paratroops, Company Two with 30th Infantry. Can’t forget the ladies up with 10th Armored while we’re at it…” Cunningham continues to prattle on in a quick way that’s honestly a little dizzying. But what she does gather is that the companies are so busy it’s hard to grab any of them for an interview. He even throws something about ‘carpe diem’ in there, on the topic of finding nurses to talk to, but she doesn’t know how applicable the phrase would be to this.

Regardless, she tries to keep up as he throws questions at her. What was the training like? Different, intense, rigorous. She tries to paint the picture of seventy women working in cohesion, but she isn’t too sure her words properly depict it. What were the biggest challenges you faced? Daisy tries to put it eloquently — the differences in experience, combined with the abrupt shifts for some women who were used to hospitals and wards. She throws in a few good comments about Ginny and Rita and Catherine, her confidence in their leadership and their determination.

And then he asks it.

“The accounts of your actions after the Eindhoven bombing are quite limited, so I have to ask — do you think I could get a firsthand account of what happened? It’s my understanding that Jane Gray, Catherine Ward, and yourself were leading so-to-speak, but you gave the order.”

Daisy bites the inside of her cheek, tensing up.

Ginny had told her it would all be okay, and she believed her friend — but she doesn’t like the way Cunningham is looking at her. Like it’s something that makes her special, as an individual. He looks almost hungry — like it’s his big break. He stares at her expectantly and for a moment, she stands there, grasping for a way to put all of her thoughts into cohesive words.

“...It was a team effort,” Daisy starts with, tentatively. Her palms are sweaty and she decides not to wipe them to maintain some mirage of confidence. “When you’re sworn into cadets you take an oath. We get these pamphlets with it written as reminders once we get our uniforms. Me, the women I’m with, we all knew we had to uphold that oath, no matter what. I really was just… the one who voiced it. I really just said what everyone was thinking.”

She leaves out Gray’s hesitance. She leaves out her own doubts. Her own remorse and how an angry Captain had taken it all the way to the Colonel after learning her CO was dead set on protecting her. But she leaves in every moment that she and Gray shared the weight of a wounded man. She names every woman that joined her, makes a point to mention the men of the RAMC as well. Daisy only hopes that her answers are satisfactory.

He wraps it up with a photo of her face, and a promise to get the next issue of Stars and Stripes to her. What she wants to say is ‘take all the time you need,’ but she’ll save the man from her snark in favor of scurrying off and away to find adequate distraction.

Eugene is easy to find — but that may be in part because Laura’s bright voice carries far distances. She’s chattering away while he and one of the other medics, Spina, play cards. Based on the lack of money between them — she assumes they aren’t playing for keeps. Laura looks up, notices her, and bounces towards her.

“Daisy! I— Is everything alright?” she asks, immediately going to grab at her hands. Daisy laughs a bit at that, nodding.

“Just didn’t realize how draining one interview could be ‘till I caught it. Other than that I’m fine.” Laura smiles, pulling Daisy towards the two men as they continue to talk.

“Sounds like hell. Mm. Boys, wrap this up then let me n’ Daisy in on it yeah?” And then, to her, “They’re playin’ Pinochle. I think I’m startin’ to get it after watchin’ ‘em for so long.”

They play pinochle, all four of them, and Laura pokes and prods about Cunningham, Daisy expresses her bewilderment and Eugene offers his familiar support in quiet smiles and the occasional elbow nudge. At some point Spina takes over the conversation. They all go grab a bite to eat and Laura excitedly tells her about what she’s calling ‘Jane and Floyd developments.’

“Y’know me n’ Jane were in cadets together and I’ve never seen her keep a fella around this long. Or ever, really. I said good for her, maybe a quick roll around’ll do her some good. Been hung up on her ex for quite some time. I’m glad she’s letting loose a little. She's even stopped wearin' the ring!” Laura doesn’t elaborate more on the ex, but Daisy catches on to it pretty quick. She thinks back to Jane’s comments in Aldbourne. Her quiet mutter of ‘I wish’ when Daisy asked if she lost anyone in the service. She tries to suppress her cringe.

For a moment, she gets to stave off her own thoughts, try to reset herself even if the next operation looms imminently in a shadow three months away. They’ll work it out, they’ll end the war, and then she can deal with the mess that seems to be getting progressively more complicated at home. At home there will be James, and Ronnie, and maybe even Carolyn, if she wants.

When a runner approaches her two days later, and hands her an envelope, she’s excited. Something from James, or maybe her mother, maybe Ronnie got her letter and this is his response. As long as it isn’t her father, or another letter telling her to write to her father — then she thinks she’ll be okay.

But it’s not her father, or her mother, or Ronnie or James. Her own handwriting smacks her in the face. And then faded red words, stamped onto the envelope.

Return to sender.

#a neat little factoid for you all #in an article in Ron's hometown they called him “South Weymouth's Hero” for his actions on D-Day #now we have the angel so that's always fun #fic // sad beautiful tragic #ronald speirs #ronald speirs x oc #Ronald speirs fic #band of brothers fic #hbo war x oc #hbo war fic #hbo war

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lindsayrps · 1 month ago

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violet hastings, 21, student

born in texas while her father was stationed there for flying school, violet was the second born child of hank and nora hastings and spent her childhood growing up in chapel hill, north carolina close to her grandparents and great grandparents.

violet does not, necessarily, have bad memories of her childhood or her parents. violet was a baby when hank got stationed in virginia but came home as often as he could and violet was simply too young to really remember things being any other way. she was barely a teenager by the time her parents split up and hank put his military career first and, for whichever way she felt about it—at the time and now—she can’t really say that he didn’t put in the effort to be there in whatever way he could—for her, for her brother and for their mother.

john and violet could never claim they were all that close but they were siblings, they looked out for each other (or, more accurately, john looked out for violet) and that counted for something. violet was thirteen when john enrolled at west point with the intention of following The Family Plan that she’d heard stories about and had never really expected him to do anything else but had held onto hope, for a while, that he wouldn’t end up in the army like their father had. john would spend nearly two years at home with violet and their mother after graduating.

violet applies and enrolls at duke in the fall of 1940 with intentions to study biology and, more specifically, ecology. her love of biology and science, in general, came as a fluke in middle school. born out of boredom in the school library, she picked up a book on biology and became interested in the topic. through…a lot of reading, she understands other areas of biology—developmental, cell, molecular, etc—and finds them all equally fascinating but ecology was always the one that stood out more amongst the bunch and, so, here she is.

violet is barely into her second year when all hell breaks loose. in the span of the year that follows the bombing of pearl harbour, hank gets sent to north africa in december 1941 and john gets sent to camp claiborne in august 1942 to join the newly formed 101st and suddenly it’s just violet and her mother and whole heap of worrying that hasn’t really gone away in the time since.

violet likes to think she’s a naturally confident person and, to a degree, she is and was raised as such by her mother but that confidence is also masking a deeply awkward girl who spends more time with books than people her own age. she is socialized and does have friends but often feels like she’s a third wheel or the odd one out in a group because she’s poured so much of herself into school, especially within the last 2-3 years.

violet’s a speak first, think later type of person, mostly born out of frustration she feels being undermined as both a woman and a woman in a stem field. not that she’s thinking about it (because she’s not) but she does not like being told she won’t find a husband because she’s too brainy or that she’s too pretty to be wasting away in school instead of being subservient and relying on other people to get through life.

more than that, she looks to her mother who raised two children mostly by herself as a role model. violet isn't under the illusion that her mother is perfect and can do no wrong but she's provided violet with the life she has now and she's very thankful that she's had the mother that she does.

when violet isn't doing school things or having some semblance of a social life, she's often putting her time and energy into volunteering for war effort related things, organizing the neighbourhood for initiatives and helping out with her mother's victory garden.

violet isn't known for half assing anything. when she's interested in something, she's full throttle all in. school, people, anything and everything, she doesn't know how to split her time between everything she is interested in and not feel at least kind of ~guilty for not giving it 100% every single time.

#ch: violet hastings #verse: at the end of the world #is violet's ~thing going to be spiraling after john's death? yeah probably.

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rviner · 10 months ago

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Name: Belinda 'Billie' Whitaker

Age & Birthday: 21 years old, September 10th

Gender/Pronouns: Cis Woman / She/her

Birthplace: Stanford, CA

Time in Hollow Cove: x

Species: Air-Witch, Covenless

Role: tbd

Positive personality traits: Self-Sufficient, Driven, Opportunistic

Negative personality traits: Evasive, Defiant, Mischievous

ABOUT

Jacqueline and Michael Whitaker were overjoyed to become parents after years of trying to conceive. Even treatments never allowed them to grow into a family. It was the Sinclair's that gave them the wonderful gift of a baby girl. Nameless, save from the last name which was quickly erased away and replaced with Whitaker along with the true story of how she ended up in an adoption agency in the first place. Even Jacqueline and Michael didn't know the truth or who the girl biologically belonged to, swiftly naming her Belinda and raising her as their own in the suburbs of New York.

Scattered through their colonial home were pictures of Belinda's happy childhood. Family vacations, the day Michael built a tree house in their backyard, birthday parties with smiles full of cake crumbs. An all round American family if there ever was one, but slowly, under the surface Belinda could feel a gnawing. Something that persisted as she grew older, a sense of not quite fitting into the Church Sundays or the bake sales. Gradually a defiance crept in, Billie as she insisted on being called grappled with teenage rebellion. But the adopted dark eye shadows and annoyingly loud music were a front for the real discovery she had made by accident about herself.

It had been windy in the backyard that day, she was sure of it but then just like that as if a swish of her wrist controlled the sweeping piles of leaves it all stopped into silence. Secretly and to herself, Billie spent the passing months trying to discover if it was just a fluke but she quickly learned it was not. It was as if she could control the very air around her. She never uttered a word of this discovery to her parents, instead becoming isolated from the two people who loved her dearly.

She was fifteen when her parents revealed about her adoption, assuming she must have stumbled upon the papers and was the reason for her change in attitude. Truthfully it broke her, but also answered more questions than Michael and Jacqueline even realized. Arguments ensued where Billie didn't believe that her parents knew nothing else, that it was a sealed shut adoption. And so, she left, disappearing completely without a word.

Billie had never lived life on the streets before, nor was she well equipped for it. She had no choice but to become a ghost in New York City while embarking on the seemingly impossible task of finding her biological family. The Whitaker's pulled out all the stops with a missing case, Billie altering her physical appearance as much as possible and finally leaving New York altogether. Life alone hardened Billie quickly, plenty of life lessons hitting her square in the face physically and figuratively and teaching her how to be evasive, avoidant and self-reliant.

In the end, searching for her biological family became less and less important in comparison to survival along with trying to learn the apparent powers she seemed to possess. Eventually, Billie became nothing more than a transient person, hopping couch to couch, jumping through states and friendship groups. She wasn't far off Colorado when the war began, and she had been a little too loud-mouthed with the humans she was staying with- showing off her airy skills when they were drunk. At first, they stowed her away and vowed to keep her safe and they did. Staying true to their word until 2022 when the crackdown against Supernaturals became too dangerous even for them.

Billie doesn't think she's mad at them for betraying her, but she wishes they didn't knock her out before passing her over to the military where she has been ever since. Passed between camps for several months, Billie now finds herself in a facility which is more brutal than even a homeless New Yorker screaming in her face for sitting on their cardboard bed. But Billie has somewhat accepted her fate and the fact this weird lady Doctor won't fucking leave her alone for some reason.

#intro.billie

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if-you-fan-a-fire · 2 years ago

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"ESCAPED NAZI AIRMAN LEAVES OSHAWA HOSPITAL FOR "FRESH AIR"," Toronto Star. May 14, 1943. Page 3. ---- ESCAPED NAZI RECAPTURED GUARDS FIRE AT FIVE CARS ---- German Officer Who Bolted From Hospital, Is Found in Parked Auto --- Special to The Star Oshawa, May 14 - Five shots were fired at west-bound motor cars last night by members of the Veterans' Guard seeking Major Hans Asmus, 27, a Nazi airman. He jumped from a window at the Oshawa General hospital while reporting for x-ray. Asmus was captured at 2.30 a.m. today in the rear seat of a parked motor car in Oshawa's residential section. The capture was made by two Oshawa policemen, Patrol Sergt, F. Fawbert and Constable Charles Stainton.

The shots were fired by the guards at motorists who did not stop at a barrier across the highway at Pickering.

Asmus' escape was the second in 24 hours, Hans Hilpert having escaped from a prison camp at Monteith, Ont., Wednesday. He was captured later at Cochrane.

While military and police authorities prepared to extend their dragnet to Niagara Falls and Orillia, Jane A. Murdoch, Reg.N., an assistant in the x-ray department at the hospital, notified police that Asmus,

whom she had met previously in the course of her duties at the hospital, had stopped her near her home and asked her to change some English currency into Canadian money.

"I was so frightened I did not know what to do." she said. She was returning from the hospital on her bicycle when Asmus jumped from the rear end of a truck and accompanied her a half block to her home.

"He came around to the side of the house and told me that he intended to take the afternoon 'off," she related, "He told me he had about three dollars in English money and he asked me to give him five dollars. He promised that he would return it when he got to Toronto.

Miss Murdock said Asmus told her he had no intention of trying to get out of Canada. "He told me that he had been behind barbed wire for nearly three years and that he wanted some fresh air," she said.

"He told me that he had spent most of his time on the main street. He said he almost touched an armed soldier who was detailed to hunt for him."

This occurred, Miss Murdoch said, while Asmus was helping an elderly woman across Oshawa's main Street.

Miss Murdoch explained that Asmus had shown little desire to remain free very long. "He told me it was against his 'German hơnor' to give himself up and that he had to to be captured."

Asmus had been taken to the hospital for the last of a series of x-ray treatments shortly after 5 p.m.

Believed Window Barred "Asmus asked to go to the washroom," an officer said. "The escort is under orders never to let his prisoner out of his sight. But in this case the escort was said to have have been given assurance that the washroom window was barred."

Asmus was seen by Angus Mitchell climbing out through the hospital window.

More than 30 members of the Veterans' Guard were called out from the prison camp at Bowmanville, where Asmus had been held. to aid in the search. A call was also sounded for city, provincial and R.C.M.P. officers. R.C.M.P., Constable J. L. Thomson of the Ohsweken detachment, who handles the German shepherd dog Duke which has taken part in many searches, was called. At the time of Asmus' capture Duke was within 100 yards of the parked automobile and heading straight for it. Using the officer's hat, hat, which he had left at the hospital, Constable Thomson put Duke on the scent at the side of the Murdoch home.

Photo captions: Top left: WHEN HE JUMPED out of a ground-floor window of the Oshawa General hospital, Major Hans Asmus was seeking fresh air, he told Nurse Jane Murdoch, shown here. The Nazi stopped Miss Murdoch and asked to change some English currency for Canadian money.

Middle: FIVE SHOTS WERE FIRED at west-bound motorists by Veterans Guards before Asmus was found hiding in a parked car. Provincial and R.C.M.P. constables were in the search, including Constable J. L. Thomson and his German shepherd dog, Duke, which was within 100 yards of the car Asmus was found in.

Top right: AFTER NEARLY three years behind barbed wire, Major Han Asmus "wanted a chance to look at the outside," he said. During the short time he was at liberty he almost touched one of the armed veterans searching for him, he said.

#oshawa #bowmanville #escape from custody #prisoner of war #prisoner of war camp #prison break #luftwaffe #veterans' guard #recaptured prisoner #canada during world war 2 #crime and punishment in canada #history of crime and punishment in canada

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sunphroggy · 3 years ago

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Bench Trio-centric zombie apocalypse au with background sbi but it's just poorly written notes, by me:

-Tommy and Tubbo were 13 when the apocalypse began, and the two of them are very close childhood friends. Tommy was at a sleepover at Tubbo's when the apocalypse began and zombies attacked the house. In a midst of fear they hid in the attic for days, listening to the horrors going on outside, until they eventually had to leave for food.

-Tubbo lived with his aunt Puffy and his two cousins Foolish and Dream before everything began. He doesn't know where they are but fears the worst. Tommy hasn't seen his father or brother either. It's been four years. He doesn't like to think about it much.

-Ranboo and his mom's were on holiday when the apocalypse happened. One of them was bitten, and he was forced to kill her. The other died during a raid by a group of surviours leaving Ranboo alone in an unfamiliar place.

-Tommy and Tubbo found Ranboo a few months into the apocalypse. They were running from zombies and quite literally bumped into eachother.

-Tommy was very skeptical of having another person tagging along with them, but Tubbo took to their new friend immediately and insisted he stay with them. They've been friends ever since.

-After two years of fending for their lives, dodging death and the undead together, the trio meet a kind man that is willing to help them. His name is Sam and he had a car and a radio that he would use to try contact other surviours, but no one else reached out. Only one station ever played anything beside static: American Pie by Don McLean.

-Tommy really liked Sam as he reminded him of his dad, Phil. Out of the trio, Tommy was probably the closest with Sam. They would go on supply runs together and Sam was the one that taught Tommy how to actually defend himself.

-Unfortunately, the bench trio can't have nice things so one day, on a supply run at an abandoned gas station the group is attacked by a large horde. There was no sign of escape until Sam threw the keys to Ranboo and told the three of them to run while he held them off.

-Ranboo had to teach himself to drive. He has been the designated group driver since then.

-Which brings us to present day; The trio are still going strong in Sam's car. Tubbo is hellbent on finding other surviours and spends most of the time they're not fighting for their lives working on the radio (it still plays that song over and over, Tommy is sick of it but Ranboo quite enjoys it. They argue about it frequently) but nothing ever happens.

-That is, until one day it does.

-They're driving, as they often do. Tommy sits in the front seat, Ranboo driving and Tubbo in the back. The radio is still playing American Pie - much to Tommy's annoyance - and then it crackles off and a voice calls out for anyone listening. Obviously they jump to reply.

-the voice - named Niki - tells them about a surviour camp on the otherside of the city and for the first time in the trios life, they have hope.

-They set off immediately, but - because the bench trio can't have nice things - lots of things go wrong. The main being Ranboo getting bit.

-He hides it for as long as he can, but around three quarters through his journey things get too much for him and he is forced to tell Tommy and Tubbo.

-This is where things get complicated because none of them want Ranboo to die. Tommy suggests cutting off the bite like they do in Zombie films but the bite is somewhere rlly inconvenient like his shoulder or something so they can't do that.

-Tubbo is the one that suggestes they try create a cure from Ranboo's infected blood. It's a long shot but it might work. However it will take a long time, a lot of blood samples and a break in to the nearest science lab.

-But Ranboo isn't willing to wait that long and potentially put his closest friends in the world at risk just from being around him. So, while Tommy and Tubbo are asleep, he leaves in the middle of the night.

-When they wake up to find Ranboo gone, Tommy and Tubbo dedicate a week to searching for him - this week includes the two of them taking turns horribly driving around and screaming out Ranboo's name. When they don't find him, Tommy decides that they need to keep moving, to get to the camp. Reluctantly, Tubbo agrees on the condition that he continues to try create a cure.

-And the two set off.

-When the apocalypse began, Techno was on the bus home from college. He never made it back to his house.

-He has spent most of the four years alone. Apart from roaming around with Bad and Skeppy - two people he met along the way - but they went their separate ways after Bad and Skeppy wanted to create a haven for survivors. Techno couldn't stay in the one place as he was intent on finding his family.

-He never did find them, even though he's been searching for four years.

-Unlike his brothers, Wilbur was at home eating dinner when the apocalypse started. His first thought was of Tommy, about his safety. His second was the zombie trying to eat his face.

-He and Phil were evacuated out of the city with most of citizens - much to his protest, they needed to find Tommy - and escorted to a temporary military camp that doesn't last long before its swarmed with the undead.

-Together with more survivors they grew to know (like Niki, Jack, Eret, Fundy) they survive together, eventually creating their own gated camp.

-Wilbur and Phil used to believe that one day Tommy and Techno would somehow find their way back to them. But as time passed, Phil slowly started to lose hope.

-He doesn't have the heart to tell Wilbur that though.

-In the camp, Jack, Eret and Fundy are scavengers that go out beyond the walls for supplies while Wilbur and Phil tend to the farm and Niki man's the radio, looking for other people out there to expand the camp (the crew boys)

-Wilbur keeps up hope that one day his family will be reunited, that the next voice he hears on the radio will be Tommy's or Techno's.

-But this hope dies when Puffy stumbles through the gates.

-She explains that she told Tommy and Tubbo to hide in the attic before she was evactuaded. She has no idea if they're alive or if they even made it out of attic.

-Heartbroken,Wilbur and Phil make the boys an empty grave. It's the least they can do.

-Wilbur never visits this grave, still in denial. He still waits up at night for Tommy every night.

-Techno was a surprise, stumbling upon the damp by accident resulting in a tearful SBI reunion which only becomes more tearful when Techno asks where Tommy is.

-Upon seeing the grave, Techno only wishes he could've been there from the start.

-He becomes the lead defender for the camp.

-Months pass, and soon another member joins the camp.

-His name is Sam. And he is adiment on using the radio.

#dream smp #dsmp #tommyinnit #ranboo #tubbolive #bench trio #philza #wilbur soot #Technoblade #Sbi #Zombie apocalypse

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shijiujun · 4 years ago

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Okay if y’all have read my top 2020 danmei list from a week or two back, you’ll know this is currently my favourite danmei (outside of Qi Wei Shang + 2ha hahaha), so here’s a proper, full rec!

- Part of Min’s ‘Why You Should Read’ Series -

Summary:

Ji Yan Ran is the Emperor’s brother and wields military power in the novel, and it starts with an object being stolen from the palace. Ji Yan Ran has to retrieve the item secretly, and so enlists the help of Feng Yu Sect’s Sect Master, Yun Yi Feng, who heads the martial arts world’s one and only information trading post. Yun Yi Feng does not deal in business that involves any royalty, but Jing Yan Ran offers him something he cannot refuse - the Blood Red Lingzhi, a rare and mystical herb that is rumoured to be able to treat his life-threatening condition.

Yun Yi Feng was used by his shifu when he was younger to test out all kinds of poisons and cures, and since then, his body flushes dangerously hot and cold frequently, with bouts of severe coughing fits in between. Throughout the first mission where he spends time with Ji Yan Ran searching for the stolen object, he allows Jing Yan Ran to take care of him. Their relationship is pretty flirty and touchy right off the bat, with Ji Yan Ran knowing really clearly that he wants to take care of Yun Yi Feng. When Yun Yi Feng goes anywhere without a coat, JYR always has one ready. He promises all his riches to him, even his mother hahaha (but that’s because he knows he deceived YYF with the Blood Red Lingzhi and is willing to give YYF everything else while also continuing to look for the lingzhi for him).

Of course, they have to uncover a plot and conspiracy against their enemies who are plotting to dethrone the Emperor, and also reveal the secrets of Yun Yi Feng’s birth.

Read:

Novel (Online) | Novel (Print) - Not Available | Novel Translations | Manhua

Characters:

1. 云倚风 Yun Yi Feng (right) - The revered Sect Master of Feng Yu Sect as his sect controls the flow and movement of information. People from all over buy information or hire the sect to help them get information, and is considered a neutral sect within the wuxia world. Very intelligent, a cool-headed strategist who also loves riches, whose eyes light up at the sight of treasures and money.

He was a child remnant of a war, and picked up by his shifu Gui Ci, who brought him to this island to live with other kids he picked up. His first few years were spent rather happily there, but then one day the man gave all the children bowls of what they thought was soup but ended up being poison because Gui Ci wanted to test out his new concoctions. At the end, only YYF survived after multiple ingestions of poisons and experimental cures. Because he was the ‘strongest’ out of all the other children, Gui Ci began testing out all sorts of poisons and cures on him after. If someone came to him after having been poisoned, Gui Ci would poison YYF in the same way as a test subject to use cures on, and only after they worked on YYF would he use them on the patient.

His shifu is considered a mad man, and the last straw was when he locked YYF up with several scorpions for a few days and YYF was the closest thing to death at that moment, and afterwards, realizing that he’d gone overboard, Gui Ci is more careful about poisoning him, allowing him to have a slightly more normal childhood, but because of this YYF’s body would flush hot and cold frequently and unbearably. He manages to escape from Gui Ci and sets up Feng Yu Sect.

He only has 5 years left to live if he doesn’t find the Blood Red Lingzhi, when he meets Ji Yan Ran and his request. After meeting JYR he realizes how sweet life is, to have someone who always thinks of him, who cares about his well-being, who wants to make him happy, who buys and gives him everything he wants. In the beginning he is unable to reciprocate knowing he’ll die soon, but they get together anyway after a close call, as JYR tries to find the Lingzhi for him.

He also loves to cook and play the zither, but is so bad at both!! He’s so terrible that every time he approaches the kitchen or the zither the servants themselves try to redirect him subtly and chase him away because they CANNOT stand his dishes or his music hahahaha.

2. 季燕然 Ji Yan Ran (left) - Army commander/general, and a prince. Close to the Emperor, who’s his older brother, and takes a liking to YYF the moment he meets him. He bluffs YYF, says that he has the Blood Red Lingzhi, and then realizing how much YYF needs it, he feels more guilty and guilty for lying to him, and once admitting it, he promises to do whatever it takes to find it for him.

He’s very smart as well, has eyes only for YYF and is willing to indulge him in every single whim he has. If YYF complains that he doesn’t have anything to wear (even in jest), JYR has the garment stores in the whole city send 10 outfits each for YYF to pick. And even though he hates YYF’s cooking and playing of the zither, he lets him do it anyway, fond but exasperated while everyone is staring daggers at him for not stopping YYF.

A few years ago, a close friend of his and the Emperor’s died, and JYR suspects that their father had something to do with it. It’s something that has been troubling him for many years and it’s a dilemma for him because he has to balance between questioning the Emperor but also trusting him and being a good brother/official to him, as clues keep pointing towards the Emperor and his father being involved in shady deals/decisions. His relationship with the Emperor, his brother, can be described as close, but of course even though they are close and trust each other to a good extent, there is still room for a tiny bit of doubt that both brothers are well aware of due to their positions, not that this affects their relationship.

Openly is affectionate to YYF in front of everyone, including his mother, who likes YYF alot as well. YYF once worried if the Emperor would oppose his relationship with him, but JYR said that their relationship should put the Emperor even more at ease, because the world and other officials would not recognize an Emperor who liked men and didn’t have any children, meaning that JYR becomes an even smaller threat to the throne.

3. 暮成雪 Mu Cheng Xue - An assassin who keeps popping up throughout the novel, and is a frenemy to YYF especially because he stole the cuteass snow leopard that was supposed to be YYF’s and refuses to return it. Not good nor bad, he does whatever he’s paid for.

4. 江凌飞 Jiang Ling Fei - JYR’s godbrother, who didn’t have a good childhood with no one to protect him in the Jiang family, one of the big wuxia families in the novel, as he had no parents and was technically brought up by his scheming uncles/cousins etc. He befriended JYR when they were younger and acknowledged JYR’s mother as his godmother because she was truly and genuinely good to him, and spends a large part of his days running in and out of the Jing manor. He’s JYR’s right hand man, but his dream is to be a bum wandering through different parts of the world, having fun whenever instead of being boggled down by duties to the Jiang family and other things.

Amazing Scenes:

YYF unceremoniously using JYR’s arm as a pillow while he’s talking

Basically YYF fainting and getting sick a lot and JYR always there to catch him ;-; To dote on him!!! Ahhhh my heart

Other Things I Like in the Novel:

The first time YYF plays the zither in the Jing manor, JYR’s mother, shaking, goes to JYR and asks, “Is Yun-er learning some evil cultivation music?”

YYF tends to go out to the markets and will buy back 2kg of flour for example, while all the servants shudder in the fear and cry in front of JYR, who can only sigh but indulge him

YYF’s favourite things include JYR’s mother taking his blankets out to soak up the sunlight in the day so he has fluffy, warmth-filled and fresh-smelling covers everyday to collapse into

JYR once asked YYF if it’s a good thing that he met him, and YYF says, “Of course it’s a good thing I met wangye, because of you, I now know that life can be sweet and warm too.”

YYF carves out what he thinks the Blood Red Lingzhi looks like based on some bogus description JYR gave him and because he’s so hopeful and happy about finally being able to have the lingzhi, he carves it out and wears it like a pendant, and everytime JYR sees it he wants to slap himself for being such a motherfucking asshole and deceiving this man

YYF keeps forgetting his cape/coat, so JYR always gives him his, but YYF keeps taking and not returning and on the fourth time it happens, YYF looks at JYR expectantly, and JYR says, “You’ve already taken three, this is my last one, I’m gonna freeze to death, left without a cape if I give you this one”

JYR always tempts YYF into doing things by giving him treasures, and jokingly promises YYF his army commander ring, which symbolizes his authority and power, and YYF unceremoniously takes it knowing what it is, and refuses to return it to him - After a few times this happens, JYR makes a replica of it so they matchy matchy ;-;

They travel South in a holiday for a few months after the first arc is wrapped up, knowing that YYF doesn’t have much time left to live, and every single day is painful for JYR as the time YYF spends conscious decreases day by day

YYF asks for some oil/salve to use as lube from the army camp’s physician, a night before JYR is due to go off for war, and the physician scolds the messenger for having the time to think about such thoughts, and when the messenger says it’s for YYF, physician is like “... oh. okay, here you go, give this to him” without another word HAHAHAHA

#a sword of frost #danmei #danmei recs #一剑霜寒 #min's why you should read #cnovel #i'm determined to complete 10 so bear with me yall!!!#hahahahhaa

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4stars-uswnt · 4 years ago

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I’ll Be Home for Christmas [Lindsey Horan x Reader]

requested by anon: Bro you’re amazing!!! I was wonder if you could do one with Lindsey where Reader is like a badass military person who has been away for a long time and like surprises her at team dinner or something. And Tobin is totally in on it and helps reader out. Bonus if reader is totally soft for Lindsey.

A/N: thank you anon! you’re amazing for this request! i rly hope you enjoy it even tho it’s a lil on the short side :)

also check out some of the USWNT holiday vids:

Secret Santa, White Elephant, Caroling, Caroling pt 2

“Linds?” Emily snaps her fingers in front of her best friend’s face. “You there?”

“Yeah, sorry.” Lindsey shakes her head, pulling herself out of her daze.

“Well,” Sonnett drawls, “as I was saying, I have your sweater here.” The defender holds up an ugly Christmas sweater with snowmen and reindeer adorning it.

“My sweater?”

“Remember? We’re all matching!” Emily exclaims. The youngsters and Kelley had all planned on wearing matching sweaters to the USWNT’s holiday party that this was evening.

“Oh, yeah,” Lindsey sighs with realization, her thoughts still miles away. Noticing her friend’s distant eyes, Emily’s face softens.

“Lindsey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she huffs. “I just miss (Y/N) so much, and I wish she was here to celebrate Christmas with me.”

The blonde defender feels her heartbreak for her friend. “Linds, I know she misses you just as much as you miss her, probably even more.”

The two women both let out a soft laugh at that, as you were completely smitten with your girlfriend.

“And I know,” Emily continues, “that she wishes she could be here with you too.” She reaches out to squeeze Lindsey’s hand.

The midfielder nods and gives the other woman a small smile. “Thanks, Em.”

“Anytime,” Sonnett says with sincerity lacing her voice. “Now, put on your sweater. We have a party to go to!”

Lindsey just laughs at her friend’s antics, as the defender jumps up from the bed and heads out the door. After pulling on the ugly Christmas sweater, Lindsey glances down at her phone, staring longingly at the photo of you and her on her lock screen, before heading down to the conference room.

—————

As you slide into the backseat of an Uber, you feel your phone vibrate, as a text from Tobin appears on your screen.

Tobin:

Hey u on ur way?

(Y/N):

Yup, leaving the airport rn

Tobin:

👍🏼 we’re about to start white elephant

We’ll be in a conference room so j text me when ur here and I’ll meet you in the lobby.

(Y/N):

Will do. Thanks Tobes

Shutting off your phone, you turn your attention to outside your window, taking in the streets of Denver you’d missed so much.

For the past year, you’d been deployed overseas in Afghanistan, meaning, except for the Skype calls and the occasional letters, you haven’t seen your girlfriend, Lindsey, in almost thirteen months. But now, after few complications on your last tour, you had been honorably discharged and were now on your way to surprise Lindsey at her national team camp.

The last time you spoke with your girlfriend, you had told her that you wouldn’t be able to spend Christmas with her, but you after hearing the news you’d be able to go home, you schemed with Tobin to surprise the blonde midfielder.

So here you are, sitting in an Uber, stilled dressed in your green camouflage uniform and combat boots, on your way to the DoubleTree hotel in downtown Denver to crash the USWNT’s white elephant party.

Meanwhile, at the hotel, Tobin joins her teammates in the conference room, where there’s decorations all around and presents on the front table.

Seeing that everyone has arrived, Megan gets up from her set and moves to the front of the room, where she starts to give some instructions. “Alright, everybody, we’re gonna get started. Did everyone pick up a number on their way in?”

The girls nod, waving their slips of paper in the air, a chorus of yeses wave amongst the crowd.

“Okay, the rules are simple. When it’s your turn, you can either go up and pick a gift from the table,” She gestures to the table crowded with bags and wrapped boxes. “Or you can steal someone else’s gift who picked before you.”

“And you can only steal before you pick a gift,” Becky adds, earning a couple snickers from the veterans, as they remember HAO’s mishap all those years ago.

“Yes.” Pinoe nods. “And if your gift is stolen, you then have the option to steal or pick another one. Everyone got it?”

With no objections, she claps her hands. “Alright, let’s get started. Who’s got number one?”

Tierna raises her hand and gets up from her seat. “Me.” The young defender approaches the table and scans the selection of gifts, before ultimately picking a small rectangular box wrapped in polka dotted paper.

“What is it?” Kelley calls out, eagerly bouncing in her seat.

“Trader Joe’s chocolate,” Tierna reveals, waving the gift for all to see.

This routine continues down the line of women, the first steal not coming until number 10, when Ash decides to steal Mal’s scarf.

As Sonnett, who had number 13, one before Lindsey’s, picks out a gift, Tobin feels her phone vibrate.

(Y/N):

Here in the lobby.

Tobin:

👍🏼 cool. I’ll come get you in a sec. it’s Lindsey’s turn next.

“Who’s next?” Emily shouts, as she returns to her seat with the phone case she’d unwrapped.

“Me.” Lindsey gets up and makes her way towards the table. But before she can pick a present, Tobin stops her.

“Wait, I forgot to put my gift up there.”

Many of the women who had already chosen voiced their displeasure and annoyance.

“What? Come on, Tobin, seriously?” Kelley exclaims.

“We already started! You can’t just add your gift into the mix now.” Emily whines.

“Chill, you guys.” Tobin just smirks. “Besides, I’m pretty sure Lindsey would’ve stolen this gift if any of you had chosen it.”

Sonnett just mutters something under her breath, still not satisfied that she’d missed out on another gift option.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t pick yet,” Tobin tells the younger midfielder, pointing at her.

Quickly, Tobin jogs out to the lobby, where you’re standing awkwardly with your duffle bag on the floor next to you.

“(Y/N)!” She calls out to you from across the room. Hearing your name, you eyes perk up, and you smile upon seeing your friend. As Lindsey’s girlfriend of almost three years, you’d spent quite a lot of time in Portland, meaning you’d gotten quite close to the older woman.

“Hey, Tobes.” You pull her in for a hug.

“Missed you, (Y/N/N).”

“I missed you too, T,” you say, nerves evident in your voice.

Sensing your nerves, Tobin chuckles. “You ready to see your girlfriend?”

You just nod, unable to find the words to describe the emotions you’re feeling.

“Well, come on then.”

As the two of you make your way down the hallway, you can hear the loud voices and laughter of the team, and you feel the anticipation bubbling up inside you. But when you approach the door to the conference room, you push down whatever nerves you have, as you catch a glimpse of your girlfriend and hear the sound of her voice for the first time in a little over a year.

“I’m back,” Tobin announces. “And with my gift this time. I hope—”

Before the midfielder can finish, Lindsey spots you over Tobin’s shoulder and lets out a scream.

“Oh my gosh!”

A wide smile breaks out across your face, as you drop your bag to the ground and open your arms. Lindsey immediately runs across the room and crashes into you, bringing you in for a bone-crushing hug.

As she buries her face in your neck, you can feel tears wetting your skin. Cradling Lindsey’s head, you whisper sweet nothings into her ear, tears pooling in your own eyes.

“I’ve missed you, Linds. I love you so so much. Shh, baby, I’m here now.”

Lifting her head to look at you, Lindsey breathes in adoration and shock, her eyes teary. “How?”

“I’ve been honorably discharged,” you explain, as you brush the blonde hair out of her face, taking the time to admire your girlfriend. “So I’m home for good. So long as you’ll have me?”

Lindsey just shakes her head in disbelief and lets out a wet chuckle before connecting your lips. You melt into the kiss, ignoring the cheers and whistles from the women around you, as you revel in the feeling of Lindsey’s body against yours.

Pulling back, you grin. “Gosh, I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” She pecks your lips again. “So much.”

“C’mon.” You take her hand, intertwining your fingers. “Let’s go sit and celebrate.”

As she leads you back to her seat, the rest of the team, who you’ve also gotten to know quite well, stop you for smiles and hugs of their own.

“Welcome home, (Y/N).” Ashlyn slaps your back, squeezing your shoulder.

“Thanks, Ash.”

“(Y/N)!!” Emily shouts, hopping onto your back.

You laugh at the defender’s childish behavior. “Come on, Sonny, get off.”

“Fine,” she pouts, jumping down, before hugging you. “Missed you.”

“I missed you too, Em,” you whisper.

Once you sit down, Lindsey plops herself down in your lap. Instead of protesting, you just chuckle and wrap your arms around her waist, placing a kiss to her neck.

“I love you, Linds.”

“I love you, too, (Y/N),” she hums, relaxing into your embrace. “My very own Christmas miracle.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #lindsey horan x reader #lindsey horan imagine #lindsey horan imagines #uswnt #lindsey horan

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limetimo · 2 years ago

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WIP game!

For 17. my name is "Oh god yes please"

Pls, I need more

(Also, I saw capymama 2 and I am BEYOND excited!)

Okay so my name is "Oh god yes please" is a really old one, it's

a continuation of My Name Is "No" which happens to be my first fic ever posted on Ao3

my first ever attempt at a fic exchange. basically a comenter went "I wanna read Howard realising Tony isn't dating Carol and Peggy but Steve and Bucky" and I went "haha that'd be pretty funny I'll write it if you write it" and neither of us wrote it

but I am like, really far. It's 2006 words long.

A day filled with his favourite girls and flying and engineering? Better than Disneyland, as far as Tony was concerned. The only downsides were that the base, camp Leigh, was in New Jersey of all places; and that Howard Stark was involved in so many projects he was almost a permanent fixture there. Tony has been doing his best to avoid his father since what felt like forever now; he believed the effort was mutual. These days they only spent time together when Maria Stark arranged a family dinner and forgot to mention the other was coming. Like last week, for example. Which has been a clusterfuck, because Tony let accidentally slip that he was seeing someone. Someones. He tried to play it off as a fling but Maria Stark had an uncanny ability to tell when her boys were lying. And unlike Howard, Tony wasn’t allowed to weasel his way out of uncomfortable conversations. Now his parents knew he was seeing a brunette and a blonde, both older than him by a few years, both military. Maria was eagerly digging for details while Howard’s only contribution was, “Don’t get them pregnant.” For once, Tony was grateful for his father’s indifference. Howard might have a stroke if he found out the truth and then Tony would be forced to take over the company… Speaking of Bucky and Steve, Tony hasn’t seen them in almost two months. Going in, he had known it was going to be a long distance relationship - he was Air Force, they were Army, could he make it any more obvious? But he had severely underestimated how much he would miss his boyfriends. Maybe it would have been easier if they only were casual fuck buddies. Or maybe it would have been even worse because he’d be hopelessly pinning after the couple instead of indulging in Skype dinner dates, as infrequent as they were. To sum it up, Tony was suffering from lack of boyfriend attention, anxiety of possibly meeting Howard without his mom acting as a buffer, giddy excitement of getting to watch science happen and joy that he got to hang out with his friends (sans Rhodey, who was not allowed in the same general area as Howard for longer than a couple minutes since he coined the elder Stark’s car in drunk revenge during their second MIT spring break).

I got stuck at:

Howard Stark was having a good day - and then he bumped into his son. As if last week’s dinner wasn’t enough. Maria was a wonderful woman but her insistence on making the two of them bond was painful. Tony still hadn’t grown out of his “I hate you all!” phase, insisting on being unruly and difficult. Howard had hoped the military would have straightened him up but the boy stubbornly remained a brat, prancing around with his Air Force friends instead of learning the bells and whistles of family business. “Agent Carter,” he turned his attention to the woman he knew best. “Mister Stark,” she smiled back, her signature bright red lipstick making her strong jaw look… well, like she could and would punch you in the face. “Steve, Bucky. lovely seeing you. I thought you weren’t coming back for a few more weeks?” “Classified,” Bucky grinned, while Steve bent down to envelope Peggy in a hug. When he straightened up, it was with the boy-next-door smile that made women fawn all over him. “Maria, Carol. Tony. Hi!” “Fancy seeing you guys here,” Bucky added, shaking hands with the black woman. She was quite pretty, though the short hair did her face no favour. “I could say the same,” answered the - Howard checked her uniform - captain, the insignia still shiny with newness. As Barnes moved onto the blonde, Howard couldn’t not notice that she had been holding hands with Tony. Usually he paid little attention to Tony’s affairs. So long as he kept it out of the press and didn’t get anyone pregnant. But since Maria had made such a spectacle out of it, Howard did in fact know that the brat had two girlfriends. A blonde - and yes, he could see how the wimp would roll over for Blonde Captain. The other girl was supposed to be a brunette if Howard recalled correctly… His eyes fell to the chair where Peggy’s shoeless feet were brushing against Tony’s ankle with purpose. Son of a gun. He wouldn’t have thought Margaret Peggy Carter was into boytoys. Well, it would explain why his charm never worked on her.

and it's been that way since April 2020

(I am ALSO beyond excited about Capymama 2 but I'm testing a new - for me - format of exchanged letters AND trying to not let it become a long fic so I might just T-pose it and hey I may have got an idea for a very time consuming idea of how to do this thing--)

#ask game #dr. anauro <3 #holly shit i have mail

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foodieforthoughts · 4 years ago

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Sand and Stars - Chapter Five

Series Summary: After the water pump being blown up, the insurgents in Baqubah are taking a hold of the food supply to the village. Camp Warhorse is in dire need of reinforcements. It has been eight months of submitting countless requests when the High Command commissions Sergeant Olivia Ross to take her group of men and women and help Captain Syverson and his team to restore a semblance of normalcy. But with the war raging, does it get two hearts closer too?

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC x OMC

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: 18+, Mentions of war, military technicalities, slight angst, fluff, implied smut

A/N: Well Hello! Our dear Captain Alex has finally made an appearance! A big thank you to @thelastsock who is patiently beta-reading this, I love you woman with my whole heart.

<Chapter Four

Title: Chapter Five

The sun felt scorching hot on her skin as Olivia loaded her gun near the parked Humvees. A mild throbbing at the base of her skull added to the uncomfortable sensations each time she moved. She hadn’t planned to drink almost half a bottle of whiskey last night, but it was cold, and she needed the warmth.

Also, the drink had sort of been a gift from Sy.

Olivia groaned as the memories from last night flashed through her mind. She had literally invited him for a kiss, throwing herself on her Captain like a wanton whore. She felt embarrassed even thinking about it. Thankfully for her, Sy had a better judgement about entertaining drunk women and had resorted to just giving her a tight hug.

Her stomach felt queasy as a sour taste filled her mouth. She swallowed as the uncomfortable feeling set at the pit of her stomach. Running a hand over her sweat covered forehead, Olivia rested against the vehicle.

She felt worthless. Olivia couldn't shake the feeling of repeating history, despite the extreme effort of will she put her hungover mind to this time. She slung her gun over her shoulder as a distant memory of her time with Alex began flashing before her eyes.

The sound of their hurried footsteps on the marble floor echoed through the empty hall. It was almost noon, the temperature soaring high and drinks becoming difficult to keep down. Alex chuckled as Olivia pulled him towards a bathroom door, not caring whether it was for the ladies or the gents. She had been begging for Alex’s attention ever since they got to the wedding party for a fellow soldier, downing an unusual amount of alcohol before finally gathering up the courage to whisper naughty things in his ear. She had been hung over her Captain for far too long, it was time for her to finally taste him.

Olivia massaged her temple with her fingers. She had been so stupid and naïve to start something with Alex. Her Captain. She regretted it now more than ever, 3 years of hookups later. Alex had been her friend since she re-enlisted again after completing her Aviation course. Though to tell the truth she'd been crushing on him since she first laid eyes on his beautiful face. His unbridled confidence, panty-melting smile and boyish charm had worked its magic on Olivia’s mind. It wasn’t something she thought of pursuing on a long-term basis, but his sweet nature only kept driving her closer to him. She liked that he showered her with affection all the time, something her attention-starved mind craved desperately. Only she had mistaken her lust for love.

“Really? Here? You know our seniors are present out on the lawn.” Alex snickered as Olivia began undoing his belt. His blazing eyes sparkled with what was to come next, the anticipation dancing in his beautiful orbs. Dinners together had turned into overnight stays and eventually Olivia had kissed Alex one night, crossing the line of friendship with no turning back.

“We are on leave, aren’t we?” She had suggestively smiled at him, palming his bulge through his pants. She leaned in to kiss Alex, feeling the softness of his lips brushing against hers. She felt her arousal beginning to wet through the thin fabric of her panties as Alex plunged his tongue into the warm cavern of her mouth.

Olivia grinned mischievously as she hopped on the sink counter pulling Alex by his tie to stand between her legs. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he pulled her in to steal another kiss. She unzipped his pants as Alex began trailing down her neck, planting soft kisses over her warm skin and cupping her breast through her dress.

“I don’t have a condom,” Alex said against the skin peeking just above her breast.

“I’m on the pill,” she shrugged and pulled his hardening cock out of its constraints. It pulsated in her hand as she pumped him. Alex groaned into her soft skin and nipped at her in retaliation, making her hiss with pleasure. She bit her lip as she watched him take over his cock and enter her aching folds. Alex let out an unrestrained moan as her warmth enveloped his throbbing member.

“Happy birthday, little birdie.” Olivia blinked as Sy appeared in front of her, smiling from under his cap. He was dressed in his combat fatigues, the vest making him look bigger than he already was. “Hangover?”

Olivia shook her head, warmth spreading over her chest as the vivid memories registered in her mind. “Just…uh, regular headache.” She smiled at her Captain. Her eyes lingered on his, mesmerized yet again by the intensely blue orbs looking back at her. She noticed the freckles on his nose and his lip and the changing shade of brown of his beard as it travelled down his neck.

“Maybe later we can have some chai while we watch the sunset?” Sy leaned against the metal body of the Humvee, one hand resting low on his hip.

Olivia tilted her head to the side and raised her eyebrow. “Sunset? You do realize I fly a chopper for a living? I’ve seen my fair share of sunsets and sunrises by now.”

“But you haven’t seen a sunset with me.” A smirk formed on Sy’s lips, challenging her for another excuse.

Olivia felt a flutter in the pit of her belly and her mouth opened as she was rendered speechless. She felt herself balancing over the same dangerously thin line again. In a weird sense, this didn’t feel the same for her like it was with Alex. With him she had felt a rush of becoming reckless, but with Sy she wanted to be cautious, mindful. When he had kissed her forehead last night and embraced her, she had never felt more safe in the world like she did in that moment.

“Okay.” She nodded, “Rooftop like last night?” Olivia suggested as her unit members began getting into the Humvees, ready to head out. Sy tipped his cap in confirmation before walking towards his own team and barking orders to mount up.

Out in the desert, Olivia spent the rest of her day interacting with the locals and listening to their problems. She was following Lieutenant Pepps's orders about sympathizing with the public, to ensure they get local support in the future. As she listened to a weeping woman complain about the scarcity of food, her mind drifted back to a memory with Alex.

“What changed, Liv?” Alex pulled at her wrist, turning her around to face him. Olivia yanked at his hold, trying to free herself from his grasp. “Don’t you love me anymore?”

“Alex,” She pleaded, closing her eyes to escape this conversation. She had spent time in Afghanistan and the things she’d seen had changed her. She had seen the fragile nature of life and understood it was useless to be wasting her precious years on someone she only cared about as a friend.

“Tell me, Liv.” His voice was laced with anger, his eyes burning with hatred. “Tell me you don’t love me so that I can remove myself from your life. Because I can’t be your friend, not after all this.” He let go of her hand, slumping his shoulders as his eyes misted with tears and he fell on his knees.

Liv felt the weight of her actions crumbling her down in front of him. She never intended to hurt him, but she couldn’t love him, at least not the way he wanted her to. The possibility of losing her friend forever made her emotions win over her determination to end things with him. “I’m sorry, Alex. I’ll do better. I’m so sorry.”

Olivia sighed as she watched the sun slowly drift towards the horizon casting an orange hue over the sky. She had never gathered the courage to break things with Alex again. He had tried labelling them in a relationship, but she had avoided the topic like the plague. Their arrangement worked as they were deployed to different locations which gave her time away from him, only forcing her to pretend when they were on leave together. She grasped the Saint Christopher medal lying against her chest in her hand and felt the consequences of her actions pricking at her heart.

“Hey,” Sy called out from the doorstep leading out on the roof. He had a canteen in one hand and two cups in another. Liv had walked up to the roof as soon as they had returned to base. The parked white truck had indicated that Sy was back too but since there still had been time until sunset, she had decided to wait out alone on the roof.

“Hey,” she cleared her throat, shaking her head to ward away thoughts about Alex. She smiled weakly at Sy and walked towards him.

Sy frowned with his eyebrows scrunching together. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Did Mahmoud make the chai for us?” She changed the subject, sitting on the pile of sandbags against a wall.

“No, I did.” Sy proudly informed as he took a seat beside her.

Olivia watched as Sy poured the steaming cardamom tea in the cups and handed one to her. She breathed in the aroma before taking a sip of the hot liquid. “Incredible. When did you learn to make chai?”

“Picked up the recipe over the years.” He shrugged his shoulders, but Olivia noticed his chest puff up with pride on getting complimented on his acquired skill. Sy turned to face towards the expanse of the desert beyond the compound, silently sipping his tea.

“Captain Syverson, man of many talents.” She said in a sing-song voice and leaned back against the wall, bringing her knees up to her chest and holding her cup with both her hands.

Liv watched as Sy chuckled, his shoulders shaking with his laughter. The hair of his beard over his upper lip glistened with steam caught in it, almost urging her to wipe her hand over his mouth.

“You are staring, little birdie.” He looked at her sideways, his lips curling at the corners.

Liv rolled her eyes, but her mouth twitched with a smile forming on them. “What’s with the nickname?”

“Well you fly the Little Bird, so that makes you little Birdie.”

She laughed as he finished his sentence, looking at him to see if he was joking. “How original, Sy.” She shook her head dismissively, but a fluttery feeling settled in her heart.

“Hey, I didn’t want to call you by the names everyone used.” He defended himself, feigning hurt dramatically by clutching his left pec over his heart.

Liv continued to laugh thinking about the silly reason behind the nickname, but adding it to the list of names she already had. They sat in silence, enjoying their tea as they watched the sun dipping down the horizon with every passing minute. The sky burst into a mixed palette of orange and purple, the clouds drifting away with the wind.

She felt Sy’s eyes on her as she sipped the remnants of tea from her cup. She bit her lip feeling mischievous and commented, “You’re staring, Captain.” She tilted her head to look at him, only to feel her breath hitch as she stared into his cerulean eyes. Sy had the softest look on his face, his smile barely visible from under the bush of his beard.

“What?” She asked, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“Who’s Captain Coop?”

His question caught Olivia off-guard and she blinked several times to understand that Sy had indeed asked about Alex. “Wh-what?” She tried to not stumble over her words but Sy had left her stunned.

“Yesterday, they were teasing you with his name. I just thought I should ask.” Sy’s gaze never left her face, even when he placed his cup to the side along with hers and the empty canteen.

Liv let out a slow, ragged breath. The mention of Alex’s nickname had her heart racing, her mind going through a carousel of his memories. “He was our captain, before you. My men...they were just… fooling around.” She plucked a jute strand from the sandbag she was sitting on, avoiding Sy’s stare.

She felt him shift on the bag and when she peered, she noticed him coming to stand in front of her. Liv looked up at him as his body loomed over hers. He bent down so as his face was right in front of her.

“So, you’re saying, I don’t have to worry about another man in your life?” His voice was low, and his breath felt warm against her skin.

“N-no. Why?” She gulped as her throat became dry. She watched as Sy licked his lips wet and smiled at her.

“Because I am going to kiss you and I ain’t gonna kiss some other man’s girl.” Sy whispered and waited for her to answer. A slight nod of her head was all he needed as he brought his lips down on hers, placing a soft and gentle kiss over her desirous lips.

Liv closed her eyes as the feeling of his lips sent sparks down her spine. The coarse hairs of his beard grazed against her face as she moved her lips against his. Sy placed his hand over her cheeks as he moved his lips with hers, darting his tongue out seeking permission to enter. She grabbed a hold of his t-shirt and another at the nape of his neck and pulled him closer to her and opened her mouth slightly to grant him access.

The minutes felt like they stretched into hours as Sy’s tongue danced against hers. She could taste the faint taste of cardamom on his tongue and breathe in his musky scent as she willingly deprived herself of oxygen. Panting as their lungs struggled to take in air, Sy let go of her with a last pull on her bottom lip.

When Olivia opened her eyes, the sun had set beyond the horizon and darkness was falling over the desert. Sy let out a slow breath as he grazed his knuckles over her cheek. She felt herself leaning in his touch as her breathing came back to normal.

“Sunsets and kisses, aren’t you a romantic Syverson?” She teased, biting her lower lip between her teeth.

Sy chuckled. “Told you our first kiss would be memorable.” Sy shrugged his shoulders with a cheeky smile, before pulling Liv up for another breathtaking kiss.

Chapter Six>

🌟 Series Masterlist 🌟

#captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson x ofc #sand and stars series #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic

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pleasantanathema · 4 years ago

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Graves into Gardens | Reiner Braun x Reader | Chapter Eight

Chapter 8: The Things We Leave Behind

Pairing: Reiner Braun x Fem!Reader [now with a dash of Erwin x Reader]

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)

Warnings: Modern AU, spoilers up to season four, slight manga spoilers (only by including characters met later), captivity, mentions of death, violence enemies to lovers, angst

Word Count: 4.7k

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Erwin,

I don’t have much time, but it’s me—I’m alive. I’m safe. I don’t know why, but I am. They want something from me here, tried to pry into me for information about The Scouts, but not much else. I’ve given over as little as I can, but enough to keep me alive for now. But it’s strange here, even some of the warriors know something is going on below the surface of what we know. You can probably tell by the email that I’m using that I’ve found a strange semblance of refuge with Reiner. He’s the one who has given me the multitude of files I’ve attached this email. He claims most of this intel he gathered he never gave over to Marleyan officials. He also says he can be of help to Paradis, that Pieck and the others can too. I don’t know how much of that is true. To be fair, I don’t know what’s true at all anymore.

There are files here on Zeke Yeager, apparently put together by warrior members who have become wary of him. Dig into them, figure out what you can. Don’t worry about me, I’ll find a way home. And, for the love of god, please sleep. I know how you get.

Don’t respond to this email. No one knows I have sent it.

Always.

Erwin read the words for what felt like the thousandth time, the black lettering practically bleeding into the screen by this point. His heart had dropped when he sat down in his office this morning to find something sitting in his personal email folder, something branded with the last name of a traitor. His mind had raced into the darkest depths, assuming it was pictures of torture, a letter filled with malacious laughter, an autopsy report. But it was you, you were alive, you’d found a way to reach him.

He had to keep his hand over his mouth as he grinned. You were so capable, so resourceful and rather ingenious. He’d had his doubts, but on the forefront of his mind, and his tongue, he’d said and knew you were alive.

He’d stayed in his office with the door locked for hours in the morning as he poured over the information, brows twisting in both delight and disgust as he began to make sense of the documents crafted by the wary warriors. They were impressive, to say the least, and quite frightening.

Every single urge inside of him was screaming to respond, even as he printed out the rather massive amount of documents you’d attached. He made copy after copy, blue eyes dancing like they were overcome with madness as familiar and unknown faces and information landed into the tray of the printer.

He carefully separated the files by paperclips, prepping for them to be dispersed.

You were so good. So brilliant. He’d have you home soon enough.

The cumbersome stack of papers was too much for him to carry just under one arm. The one he’d lost was burning, itching like it should be able to wrap around the bundle.

Erwin marched out of his office and into the bustling workspace, clearing his throat to the room.

“Scouts! Emergency meeting in the conference hall immediately. Drop everything and meet me there.”

Every head in the room snapped toward him, all chatter silencing. They all stared at him like he had three heads; the last time they’d had every scout in the same room was when he’d pronounced you missing nearly two weeks ago. He knew they were worried that this next announcement was of a death, of war.

“Now!”

The bustle picked up again immediately, every soldier, assistant, and intelligence officer scurrying to make it down the hall.

“Springer,” Erwin caught the young man by the shoulder as he tried to brisk by him, “there’s a stack of papers in my office. Grab it and bring it with you.”

Erwin continued in his stride toward the small auditorium, taking his known place down in front at the white boards. He could hear indiscriminate whispers behind his back as he took his time setting up a display. There was a small cork board off to the side of the room, littered with headshots of the Marleyan warriors. He cursed the face of the girl who took his arm as he pulled it to the front.

“Miche,” he called over his shoulder, knowing the towering blonde would be nearby, “Come help me.”

“Sure thing boss.”

It didn’t take much time to direct, and before long he had all the warriors lined up on the large board in front of the room. He took his own time to place the picture of your face in the center, fingers brushing over the heavy red letters of Missing that were etched over your features.

Levi saddled up next to him, never one to fall into the crowds.

“Erwin, what is all this?”

“I got an email from her this morning.”

Levi didn’t have to ask. If there was ever a “her” in Erwin’s vocabulary, he meant you. You were all over his mind, more so than ever before.

“Care to share? Or was it a love letter?”

It was an unspoken truth that he’d become involved with you within the last year, and given his rather...emotional response to your disappearance, he was sure everyone was now well aware of your entanglement.

“A love letter full of promising information.”

“Tch, sounds about right. Did she give you all that?” Levi tilted his head toward Connie, who was struggling to keep the giant bundle of printed documents from sliding off the podium.

“She did. It’s time to get to work.”

Erwin didn’t even wait for the room to settle. There was no time to waste. He turned toward the confused, anxious crowd, took note of how they were all staring at him like lost children. There weren’t that many left after the attack on Shinganshina all those years ago, his scouts had either been killed off or left the ranks entirely. Recruitment had become more of an issue than it ever had been before as well. There was only a gathering of about thirty before him—the size of a small classroom, all piled into the front seats and awaiting instruction.

“I received word from our missing captain this morning.”

A shocked gasp filled the space, one of the younger girls—last name Blouse or Braus, he never could remember—literally jumping from her seat.

“She’s alive?!”

He held up his hand to calm her, to direct her to sit back down.

“As far as I know, yes. She found a way to email me this morning to let me know of her safety, and also supply us with a vast amount of Marleyan intel. Now, we need to unpack what we know.”

Erwin motioned to Springer again, wrist flicking toward the still unsteady mountain of papers.

“Hand those out, they should be sectioned by paper clips so everyone can have a copy.”

“But, Sir, I—” I just spent all that time wrestling with those papers, is what he knew he wanted to say. Springer did what he was told anyways, scratching at his short hair as he hurriedly began to divvy out the printed intel.

“We’ll start with what we do know.” Erwin took a few long strides back toward the large board, feeling his empty shirt sleeve rustle by his side as he used his remaining arm to point toward the faces that had been lined up for him.

“Of course, we’re all aware that former Scout members Braun, Leonhart, and Hoover were infiltrators sent by Marley to uncover our anti-Marleyan operations. They are members of the Warrior Unit run by this man,” he placed his index finger over the person of interest, “Zeke Yeager. And there are other members of the unit as well, Galliard, Finger, and Grice. There are also candidates for this elite military squad, Udo, Zofia, and the younger Grice and Braun. It is important to note that one of their former members, Marcel Galliard, was killed by none other than our missing captain in question.”

“Yeah, yeah, we know all this!” Kirstein chimed in, “We don’t need the history lesson.”

Erwin couldn’t help but grin.

“It seems a history lesson is exactly what you need. In those files that were sent to me, you’ll learn that all these warrior members and candidates are, historically, from Eldian bloodlines.”

“Eldians? You mean...like us?” Historia tilted her head, thumbing through the pages in her lap.

“Yes. Now if you did pay attention in history class,” he narrowed his eyes at Jean, “you would remember that about four hundred years ago, there was a mass immigration of Eldians into Marley in the face of a mass famine here. However, due to Marley’s very strict borders and even stricter control on their governmental processes, it was never truly known to us what became of the Eldians that marched across their border. We knew they had been separated into internment camps, but it also seems that they have been weaponized and trained into being nearly the entirety of their military ranks. And this unit, The Warriors, are the premiere and elite squadron of the Marleyan military. And their motives toward Paradis have been largely unknown. Until now.”

Erwin took a pause, letting all this information sink in before starting again.

“Now, we know that Zeke Yeager has been working with our elite right below our noses with the hopes of changing the status quo for Eldians in Marley.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

Eren sat forward, elbows on his knees as he stared at all the faces on the board. It was no secret that Zeke Yeager was his long lost step-brother, sired by his father before he escaped the Marleyan border to find a better future in Paradis. As far as Erwin knew, the young man had no connections to his step-sibling, only saw him as an enemy force to be reckoned with.

“Yes, and no. Because, according to the files you’ll find penned by one Pieck Finger, it seems his plan is quite unseemly.”

“I don’t understand all this data and graph shit,” Miche admitted, eyebrows scrunched together as he licked his thumb to continue perusing the pages.

Captain Hange stood then, making her way to the front without Erwin having to beckon her to.

“These are...these are blood samples, DNA testing,” she mused, pencils stuck in her ponytail as she paced the floor before Erwin, “genome analysis, to be specific. Like they were looking for something specific in all these samples.”

“And they were. Did you get my request this morning?”

“Oh yes, of course, sir!” Hange scrambled back up to her seat, pulling out a manila envelope and then returning to hand it to him.

Erwin motioned for Miche to tape these new documents on the board as well, one next to your photo, the other now next to a photo of Historia Reiss. Then Erwin picked up some pictures that would be unfamiliar to his scouts, placing them above your head.

“These are the parents of our missing scout,” he called over his shoulder as he took an unfortunately slow time to place the photos, the lack of two hands starting to become quite bothersome. “They were Military Police members, killed in action about ten years ago. However, the information within the files on Yeager reveal that before Braun and the others infiltrated our ranks, there were other imposters sent on a reconnaissance mission within the MPs. It is cited that those infiltrators killed two people they were targeting, and I believe it to be them.”

He could tell he was losing their focus, quite a few eyes glazed over as they tried to make sense of all the new pieces being added to the growing wall of puzzles. He felt like a madman stringing up red threads, but he was almost certain of his conclusions.

“Why...why do they matter?” It was Armin who spoke this time, normally the quiet one during meetings who soaked up information like a little yellow sponge.

“Historia,” Erwin called, “does the name Fritz mean anything to you?”

The small girl sat to attention, blue eyes shining.

“Of course, they’re another noble family, like mine. Err, or the were, before…”

“Before they were killed about one hundred years ago. However, I’m inclined to believe that our missing scout’s mother was the last remaining of the Fritz line, having donned a new name for safety and falling into government positions to hopefully remain unnoticed.”

He took in a deep breath, once again letting a pregnant pause settle into the heaviness of the room.

“Which is why…” he waved his hand over the graphs next to your face and the photo of Historia on the board, “thismatters. It’s been a long standing belief that elites, that royalty and those that have been elected president in our country, are somehow different. Almost appointed by the gods themselves because of their special blood. You know, it’s the whole issue that many take up on the fact that they see our governmental system as more of a monarchy than a democracy. But the truth of the matter is, you nobles do have different blood and genes than the rest of us. These graphs show that here.”

“Well that’s very elitist of you.” Levi cut in, standing with his arms crossed near the door.

“Perhaps. But I had Hange do a genome map between Historia and…” he sucked on his tongue, still finding a bit of pain to say your name out loud, “...and her. My suspicions are correct. Based on the startlingly similar genetic patterns, our missing captain is of noble heritage, and I’m inclined to believe that Zeke Yeager knows this.”

“And that’s important because it makes her more valuable,” Armin had his face in his hands, “does she...does she know this?”

“As far as I know, no. No she does not.”

“And you of all people would know.”

Erwin wanted to snap back at the snide comment that came from Eren. If he wasn’t such a good soldier, Erwin would have him on fucking patrol duty after this.

“Commander,” Armin looked sweaty, pale, “It says here that Yeager’s plan is to reinstate Eldian supremacy through uh… a means of genetic mutation. Do you know what that means?”

“No, Arlert, I don’t. And I don’t know exactly what his plans are for our scout that’s being held hostage. Which is why you’re all here. From this point forward, every ounce of your time will be spent reviewing these documents and dissecting what it could all mean. As far as I can tell, Pieck Finger hasn’t quite connected all the dots yet either. So now it’s our job to do so.”

All the heads in the room were nodding, everyone undoubtedly becoming antsy from all this news.

Erwin knew there was more to say. He had debated printing out your email as well, but he wanted to keep the knowledge that Braun and some of the warriors were possibly willing to help stop whatever was happening to himself. He knew that if he even breathed the words that traitors were offering aid, too many would be against it, too many wouldn’t believe it. That would have to be something he pondered on his own.

“Where do we begin, sir?”

Mikasa sat up straight and on the edge of her seat, like she was ready to spring into action.

“First, I think we need to dig deeper into just who was planning to meet with the Warrior Unit the day the captain was captured. We still don’t know who they were, or what was happening that warriors actually had to be present for it. Also…” he looked pointedly toward Levi, “we need to do more investigating on the day she was shot. We still don’t know who shot her, or why. It could have been an assassin looking to annihilate that Fritz bloodline.”

Levi nodded, “On it.”

“Everyone else, get to work. Get out the red tape and string if you need to, and all meeting rooms are now open to place questions and findings onto the boards. Nothing is useless; all knowledge about this situation is powerful and paramount. This could be the beginning of a nightmare, but perhaps we can stop it before it happens.”

He watched everyone leave, all with hurried steps and papers shuffling within their hands. Hange stuck around behind him, rather bewitched by the DNA findings taped to the white board.

A little voice cleared their throat next to him, making him look down. Historia stood before him, eyes downcast and her toes pointed together like she was nervous.

“Commander… I…do you have a moment?”

“Of course, what’s on your mind?”

He watched her glance toward Hange, then toward the door, and back to him.

“Would you like to grab a cup of coffee and speak alone?”

“Yes,” she quickly breathed, happy that he picked up on the fact that whatever she had to say, it must need to stay quiet.

━━━─── • ───━━━

It seemed that Historia’s nerves were still getting the better of her as she sat in front of his desk. Erwin had always been told he was rather imposing, so he hoped she wasn’t apprehensive to just be speaking with him alone. Her hands were clenched around a mug of coffee, knee bouncing in her seat.

He’d poured himself a cup as well in the break room, having already drank it before even reaching his office. Your worries had been correct: he wasn’t sleeping much, and after what you’d sent him today, he didn’t know how you ever expected him to sleep again without knowing the truth of what was happening.

“Commander…” she took the deepest breath, eyes closing for a moment, “do you...you don’t believe in myths, do you?”

It was an odd question, one that had him pressing his lips together as he looked for an answer.

“I suppose not. Though, it would also depend on the myth; some of them hold truth to them, as they were stories attempting to cope with the unknown.”

“You’re going to think I’m crazy,” she scoffed, looking everywhere in the room but at him.

“Why? Are you here to give me a mythology lesson?”

“Have you heard the one about Ymir? And the nine titans?”

“That old tale?” He chuckled, remembering pictures in books he’d read as a child of towering beasts, “The one about how there used to be giant people, titans that roamed the lands before humanity came along?”

Historia twisted her lips, looking down at the floor.

“Yeah. That one. Did you ever know her full name?”

“Her? As in Ymir? No, she was just the goddess Ymir in all the books, gods don’t normally have last names.”

“Well, she did. Because she was human. Her last name was Fritz.”

Fritz. Like your possible ancestors. Historia had earned his attention now. He sat up behind his desk, fist unknowingly clenched in his lap.

“Commander, I don’t know if this is true, but when I was a little girl, my older sister, Freida, she used to tell me all these stories about titans and how we, nobility, are descendants of gods and of...of titans.”

Erwin was trying to read her face, but the young woman just seemed full of fear, trepidation.

“Historia, I’ve heard all the propaganda about the noble families being descendants from gods. And if I offended you with my remarks in the meeting then I apolo—”

“No, no,” she cut him off, “no, that’s not what I meant. I know that my family...that the other nobles and elites have twisted all these myths to give themselves power, but what I’m saying is that it’s true. At least, I think it is. We have all these books back home in my estate that explain this true history about how people used to live in a world of titans thousands of years ago, that there were mindless titans, but also titans controlled by humans… humans that were titans. And I’m just saying, if this was true…”

He was starting to put the pieces together now. The genetic mutation. The bloodlines. No wonder her thoughts had led her to this conclusion.

“You’re worried Zeke Yeager believes in these old stories, that his plan is to bring back titans?” He posed it as a question, wanting her to finish her thoughts instead of him imposing on her.

“Yes, that’s what I’m saying. I don’t know how, but if there was some way to do it, our missing captain, if she’s actually of royal blood, like me, he might want to…” she set down her cup of coffee, finally looking up at him with eyes that shone with wisdom he’d never acknowledged before, “Zeke might want to experiment on her. Or maybe reveal her heritage and try to bargain her back to the elites. I don’t know, I just didn’t want to say this in front of everyone because they might think I’m…”

“Crazy?”

“Yeah,” she huffed, “thanks.”

“Thank you, Historia. You’ve given me something to think about.”

“But you think I’m crazy.”

He dared not to insult her outloud, but it was the side he was erring on.

“I appreciate you being willing to tell me this. It seems I have some mythology to study up on. Actually, if you ever get the chance to get your hands on one of those books you spoke about, I would like to see it.”

She stood then, leaving her coffee abandoned on his desk.

“Of course, Commander.”

He could tell her spirits were defeated as she left his office. But, nonetheless, he took the coffee she left behind as his own, settling back in to continue reading into the files you’d sent to him.

But his mind couldn’t even register the words anymore. He was so tired, and now, knowing that you were indeed alive, he was filled with nothing but thoughts on how to get you home. It would be a suicide mission to try to send a squad into Marley to rescue you. He also knew that asking the elites, even the President, to act on his behalf would probably be met with a negative outcome since they were in connection to Zeke Yeager himself. It all seemed hopeless, but he knew you were working to get back as well. Between the two of you attempting to reach the same goal, he knew, eventually, he’d have you back again.

━━━─── • ───━━━

His home was quite lonely without you.

He felt the emptiness of not having you at the Scout Headquarters, but more so he felt it when he finally drug his tired body to the apartment he lived in across the city.

It felt like a small cataclysm erupted whenever he opened his front door, all the emotions he kept at bay suddenly budding to the surface of his composure. Your shoes were still by the door, so small next to the ones he took off.

Signs of you, of your absence, were everywhere. Your coat on the back of a chair. Your favorite books still spread open and marked to forgotten pages in the cozy chair in the living room. Wine only you liked still remained chilled in the fridge, your body wash and shampoo still lined the edges of his shower. He hadn’t even washed his sheets since you left, hadn’t dared to touch the side of the bed you slept on, like the mattress was still full of your ghost when he reached out for you at night.

Even though you had your own apartment, he couldn’t remember a night he’d spent without you in the last few months. You’d become inseparable, seeking refuge in each other’s bodies against the cruelty this world had dealt you. You accepted him for who he was, even when he felt like half a man.

There were still words he wanted to say to you; there were still echoes of your voice all around the apartment, your laughter ringing in the support beams, the sounds of your moans still staining his headboard.

There were so many things you left behind, him included.

Erwin poured himself a drink before settling into the couch, not even bothering to undress from his work clothes. He needed medicine for his mind, needed to try to drink and find clarity in the too many thoughts thumping in his head.

You were noble. Of all fucking things.

He took a very long sip at that realization, almost reveling in the burn the whiskey left behind in his mouth. He could still taste you on his tongue sometimes, still feel the pressure of your lips against his if he closed his eyes. All those times he thought he was kissing something divine, perhaps he was, if Historia Reiss had any merit to her little bedtime stories.

The thought made him laugh. Titans. Mythological creatures. If there was one thing he knew, his enemies weren’t trying to bring things that never existed back to life. Historia was right about one thing though: you could be a powerful bargaining chip for Zeke. If the elites were holding out on something, all he had to do was dangle a pretty, royal plaything in front of their noses as bait.

He pulled your email back up on his phone, eyes scanning over all the words you sent.

You’d found a strange semblance of refuge with Reiner. Of all people. Erwin could still remember how much the two of you would fight when you were both soldiers, how you were adamant to take on the hulking man yourself when it came to battle.

But he also remembered how startlingly well the two of you worked together. It had been the two of you who had stopped Marcel Galliard, it had been Reiner who was the first to appear at the hospital steps when news of your potentially fatal injury had been called over the radio. The man had been panting, Bertholdt too, both of them having run as fast possible from their patrol circuit to check in on your status.

Erwin always assumed it was because Reiner was sweet on you. Boys had always been taught to tease the girls they liked when they were younger, perhaps he’d just carried that on into adulthood, practically throwing stones at you to get your attention.

Not that he could blame him. Erwin had always wanted your attention, but had kept himself restrained for professional reasons. But after Shinganshina, after Zeke showed the true force of the Warrior Unit as a warning, Erwin had quickly pulled you from the front lines. He claimed it was because your cleverness would be better served in intelligence work. Truth of the matter was that he wanted you safe. He wanted you working with him, in his sight, every day.

And now you had completely slipped through his fingers.

He’d cursed out loud when the scouts returned and revealed that you’d been captured. He even unfairly chewed out Jean for being reckless enough to get his vertical movement gear tangled with yours, but he knew the fault rested in his hands. You’d offered to go, and he’d let you.

He let you go, and now he was reeling in the ash and smoke of the damage left behind.

With a finished drink, he let his mind wander to that place he tried to keep it from. He was wondering where you were, wondering exactly what you were doing. Until tonight, he imagined you were left under lock and key, but now he knew you’d gotten yourself into some situation in order to access Reiner’s email. Perhaps he truly was helping you.

Some of your words ran through his brain again: I don’t know what’s true at all anymore.

Erwin honestly didn’t know what was true anymore either. In a matter of hours, he’d pieced together information the intelligence unit had been trying to uncover for years. He was steps closer to figuring out whatever truth there was Zeke Yeager’s madness. He was steps closer to keeping the whole country safe from a disaster its own elites had their fingers in.

But he still felt so far away, so far away from you, from himself. He felt like he’d never actually fit the puzzle together, felt like he’d let you down.

All he still knew was that he loved you, even if he never actually spoke the words to you. He loved you, and he had some kind of dying hope that you felt the same.

Next Chapter

#reiner x reader #reiner braun #reiner x you #reiner braun x you #reiner braun x reader #snk x reader #aot x reader #aot reiner #snk reiner #snk reiner braun #aot #snk #attack on titan fanfiction

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somethinginrocknroll · 3 years ago

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He's not my favorite in a normal sense. His crazy fucking lifestyle and death are. He knew Elvis, The Rolling Stones, and many others too. Here's a mini bio on him:

Ingram Cecil Connor III better known professionally as Gram Parsons. He was a musician and frontman. Parsons worked with The Byrds in 1968, before quitting and joining his own band, The Flying Burrito Brothers from 1969 through 1970.

Gram was born in Winter Haven, Florida on November 5th, 1945 to Ingram Cecil Connor Parsons II and Avis Snively Connor. Avis returned to her hometown to give birth to her son. She was the daughter of citrus fruit magnate John A. Snively, who held extensive properties in Winter Haven and in Waycross. Gram's father, Ingram Connor II was a famous World War II flying ace, decorated with the Air Medal, who was present at the 1941 attack on Pearl Harbor.

In 1956 when he was only nine-years-old, Gram saw Elvis Presley in concert and fell in love with music. That’s where his love of music came in. Two years later his father who went by “Coon Dog” took his own life two days before Christmas, Gram was only 11/12. Both him and his sister Avis (Jr) were both shattered after their father’s death.

Avis Sr remarried to Robert Parsons and the children took his name and were adopted by him once he married their mother.

Gram Parsons did briefly attend the prestigious Bolles School in Jacksonville, Florida. That was before transferring to the public Winter Haven High School. Which he did after failing his junior year. Gram returned to Bolles which had converted from a military to a liberal arts curriculum amid the incipient Vietnam War.

For a time, the family found a stability of sorts. They were torn apart in early 1965, when Robert had an extramarital affair and Avis' heavy drinking led to her death from cirrhosis on June 5, 1965, the day of Gram's graduation from Bolles.

Barely in his teens, he played in rock and roll cover bands such as the Pacers and the Legends, headlining in clubs owned by his stepfather in the Winter Haven/Polk County area. By the age of 16, he graduated to folk music, and in 1963 he teamed up with his first professional outfit, the Shilohs, in Greenville, South Carolina.

Gram was heavily influenced by The Kingston Trio and The Journeymen. The band played hootenannies, coffee houses and high school auditoriums. Parsons was still enrolled in prep school, he only performed with the group in select engagements. Forays into New York City (where Parsons briefly lived with a female folk singer in a loft on Houston Street)included a performance at Florida's exhibition in the 1964 New York World's Fair and regular appearances at the Café Rafio on Bleecker Street in Greenwich Village in the summer of 1964.

Although John Phillips who is an acquaintance of Shiloh George Wrigley arranged an exploratory meeting with Albert Grossman, the impresario balked at booking the group for a Christmas engagement at The Bitter End when he discovered that the Shilohs were still high school students. Following a recording session at the radio station of Bob Jones University, the group reached a creative impasse amid the emergence of folk rock and dissolved in the spring of 1965 around the time of Gram’s mother’s passing.

Shockingly despite being poor in school and having bad test grades, Gram went to Harvard University in 1966 with the help of a strong essay he wrote. He only did one semester and that’s where he became more serious about country music. He heard Merle Haggard for the first time.

In 1966, he and other musicians from the Boston folk scene formed a group called the “International Submarine Band”. After briefly residing in the Kingsbridge section of the Bronx, they relocated to Los Angeles the following year. Following several lineup changes, the band signed to Lee Hazlewood's LHI Records, where they spent late 1967 recording Safe at Home. The album contains one of Parsons' best-known songs, "Luxury Liner", and an early version of "Do You Know How It Feels", which he revised later in his career. Safe at Home would remain unreleased until mid-1968, by which time the International Submarine Band had broken up.

In that same year Gram got the attention of The Byrds’ guitarist Chris Hillman thanks to business manager Larry Spector as a possible replacement member since David Crosby and Micheal Clarke left in late 1967. Parsons had already met Hillman at a bank in 1967. Gram had his only child, Polly, with Nancy Ross the girlfriend of David Crosby.

Gram passed the audition in February 1968. He was at first a jazz pianist but was switched to rhyme guitar and vocals. Gram left the band when asked why Gram responded with,

"Being with The Byrds confused me a little. I couldn't find my place. I didn't have enough say-so. I really wasn't one of The Byrds. I was originally hired because they wanted a keyboard player. But I had experience being a frontman and that came out immediately. And [Roger McGuinn] being a very perceptive fellow saw that it would help the act, and he started sticking me out front."

He was also friends with The Rolling Stones members Mick Jagger and Keith Richards. And they stayed close to each other until a fall out in the 70s. Before Parsons' departure from The Byrds, he had accompanied the two Rolling Stones to Stonehenge along with McGuinn and Hillman in the English county of Wiltshire.

Immediately after leaving the band, Parsons stayed at Richards' house and the pair developed a close friendship over the next few years, with Parsons reintroducing the guitarist to country music. According to Stones' confidant and close friend of Parsons, Phil Kaufman, the two would sit around for hours playing obscure country records and trading off on various songs with their guitars.

Returning to Los Angeles in 1969, Parsons sought out Hillman, and the two formed The Flying Burrito Brothers with bassist Chris Ethridge and pedal steel player “Sneaky” Pete Kleinow. They did every genre of music possible from hard rock all the way to country and jazz gospel. Around this time of The Flying Burrito Brothers, Gram started dabbling more and more into drugs.

Then Gram started a solo career in 1970 and toured with Emmylou Harris for a bit ; he may have been romantically involved with her as well. He then accompanied the Rolling Stones on their 1971 U.K. tour in the hope of being signed to the newly formed Rolling Stones Records.

Parsons and Keith Richards had mulled the possibility of recording a duo album. Moving into Villa Nellcôte with the guitarist during the sessions for Exile on Main Street that commenced thereafter, Parsons remained in a consistently incapacitated state and frequently quarreled with his girlfriend, aspiring actress Gretchen Burrell who later become his wife.

Eventually, Parsons was asked to leave by Anita Pallenberg, Richards' longtime domestic partner. Decades later, Richards suggested in his memoir that Jagger may have been the impetus for Parsons' departure because Richards was spending so much time playing music with Parsons. Rumors have persisted that he appears somewhere on the legendary album, and while Richards concedes that it is very likely he is among the chorus of singers on "Sweet Virginia", this has never been substantiated. Parsons attempted to rekindle his relationship with the band on their 1972 American tour to no avail.

After leaving the Stones' camp, Parsons married Burrell in 1971 at his stepfather's New Orleans estate. Allegedly, the relationship was far from stable, with Burrell cutting a needy and jealous figure while Parsons quashed her burgeoning film career. Many of the singer's closest associates and friends claim that Parsons was preparing to commence divorce proceedings at the time of his death; the couple had already separated by this point.

In the summer of 1973, Parsons' Topanga Canyon home burned to the ground, the result of a stray cigarette. Nearly all of his possessions were destroyed with the exception of a guitar and a prized Jaguar automobile. The fire proved to be the last straw in the relationship between Burrell and Parsons, who moved into a spare room in Kaufman's house. While not recording, he frequently hung out and jammed with members of New Jersey–based country rockers Quacky Duck and His Barnyard Friends and the proto-punk Jonathan Richman & the Modern Lovers, who were represented by former Byrds manager Eddie Tickner.

Before formally breaking up with Burrell, Parsons already had a woman waiting in the wings. While recording, he saw a photo of a beautiful woman at a friend's home and was instantly smitten. The woman turned out to be Margaret Fisher, a high school sweetheart of the singer from his Waycross, Georgia, days. Like Parsons, Fisher had drifted west and became established in the Bay Area rock scene. A meeting was arranged and the two instantly rekindled their relationship, with Fisher dividing her weeks between Los Angeles and San Francisco at Parsons' expense.

Gram loved to visit Joshua Tree National Park. He would visit it often. Gram would frequently do psychedelic drugs and try to spot UFOs there. He told Phil Kauffman that he wanted his ashes spread there in Joshua National Tree Park since he loved that place and practically lived there when not in LA.

So he, Dale, Micheal, Phil, Gram's girlfriend Margaret, and Dale's unnamed girlfriend all went to stay at JNTP Inn. Where Gram got morphine from an unknown woman.

He injected himself and OD. Margaret shoved ice cubes up his ass and put him in a cold shower which worked. He was up and talking. Dale was left in charge to watch over Gram and then Gram stopped breathing. Dale tried CPR but failed. Margaret and Dale both watched Gram die. Finally they call a fucking ambulance and he's pronounced dead on arrival.

Now Gram’s stepfather is a POS okay. He wanted Gram buried in Louisiana so he could take Gram's little wealth and the family estate which didn't belong to the stepfather since he wasn't blood.

Phil and Micheal couldn't allow this. Gram wanted to be cremated and his ashes spread. So with a shit ton of booze to make an elephant drunk they take a loaned hearse, because you know everyone has a hearse on loan. They were dressed as cowboys. For as suits were “too itchy” to wear. The duo take his body back from the airport where he's meant to fly back to Louisiana back to Joshua National Tree Park.

So the duo crash in JNTP and they pour five gallons of gasoline on Gram and his coffin. Causing a fireball. But cremation and gasoline are different. So instead of having Gram's ashes they had a cooked charred Gram instead. Police were of course called. The duo was fined $750 each and made to do community service.Gram was sadly buried in Louisiana against his wishes but his stepfather didn't get anything.

Gram's wealth and estate were split between his wife, girlfriend, sister, and his daughter. And the family denied the whole illegal cremation happening and won't talk about it.

The end.

Omg that is a really good summary, very sad life tho and how he died but wow

#anon #I’m amazed #his life sounded depressing ngl

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buck-buck-boose · 3 years ago

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I'll Love You 'Til I Die

Masterlist | Playlist

Summary: A Brooklyn schoolgirl fell in love with James Buchanan Barnes at the tender age of nine. With this love she made a vow, promising to love him until her very last breath.

Pairing: Bucky x OFC

Warnings: language, mentions of violence and gore (not too graphic)

Word Count: 3.4k

Author's Note: The story is starting to pick up pace again ;)

Chapter Twenty: The Recruits

March 18, 1943

In the two months following the nurses’ success with the serum, Camp Lehigh had nearly tripled in its inhabitants. Throughout their research and training, the five women were surrounded by fuddy-duddy sergeant majors and their crotchety commanders, with Agent Carter as their only equal; by the end of January, hundreds of recruits were being shipped in. The base seemed to be teeming with fresh-faced boys who thought not of the unforgiving grip of death, but of the blazing glory of victory— the gore and trauma of war meant little to them, but Lottie knew that she would have an intimate relationship with the horrors of war.

Sometimes all she dreamt of was blood. Blood on her hands, on her white dress, and oozing in puddles beneath her feet; the crimson color seemed to stain every inch of her skin, streaking her pale flesh with a sickeningly deep red. She told no one about her dreams because they seemed so foolish to her. Lottie hadn’t experienced a day in fieldwork, and here she was having these nightmares about the gore of war.

The ambient sounds of Camp Lehigh drew her out of her thoughts and grounded her.

Lottie was standing alone, rather dazedly, outside of the nurses’ barracks, observing all the commotion surrounding the recruits. She was still getting used to the chaotic environment that unfolded around her; everywhere she looked, there were lines of marching soldiers, followed hotly by shouting commanders, or trucks careening around buildings, as if always running late for some rendezvous. Gone were the days of picnicking in the grass and basking in the sun— the base was now all hustle and bustle, with little time for leisure.

All the activity had thrown a wrench into her combat training; Agent Carter had been training her on an individual basis with both firearms and knives, but the soldiers now needed more training than she did. Lottie had become more than proficient in the use of her M1911, which left her wanting to learn more. On the advice of Agent Carter, she’d taken up the KA-BAR and they had begun training with the knife only a few weeks prior. She was more than a little disappointed by the abrupt end to their training, but Lottie understood that training the men who would be doing the actual fighting was the higher priority. The one saving grace of Camp Lehigh was that the base was outfitted with two obstacle courses for physical training so the nurses could continue their exercises each morning. Although their combat training was put on hold, they could continue preparing their bodies for the stress of war.

A distinctly male voice interrupted her train of thought— was that a Brooklyn accent she heard?

“Hey sugar! You rationed?”

Lottie blinked for a moment and looked to her right. A group of men stood outside their own barracks, sharing a pack of cigarettes. She easily identified the man who’d spoken by the way he smiled at her; it was the same charming, lopsided grin that she’d seen on Bucky’s face countless times. His brilliantly blond hair caused a tug at her heartstrings; it was almost the same shade as Steve’s. That’s where the resemblance stopped, though; his eyes were a chestnut brown and his build was sturdier.

Lottie didn’t move from her spot, “Is that your way of asking if a lady’s got a fella waiting for her back home?”

The soldier’s grin only seemed to grow at the sound of her own Brooklyn accent, “A Brooklyn gal, eh? A woman after my own heart. What’s your name, doll?”

“I’m Lottie Green. But that’s Lieutenant Green to you, Private.” She smirked, relishing in her title. The year before, Congress had authorized the promotion of Army nurses to the ranks of Second Lieutenant, granting them positions of power in a largely male environment.

The soldier ambled over to her, flicking the ashes from the butt of his cigarette.

“Ah, so you’re one of those girls they hired to patch us up, then? I always knew there’d be choirs of angels when I died, but I didn’t know they’d send ‘em to fix us up when we’re wasting away.” He was a flirt, that was for sure, but she felt a pang of annoyance at his belittling of her profession

She wasn’t just some ‘girl’ who was shipped out to slap Band-Aids on his scratches and send him on his way with a pat on the head. She’d spent the last year of her life dedicated to formulating the perfect Super Soldier Serum. Lottie was a woman— a powerful woman who would one day hold the lives of so many men in her hands.

Lottie mustered up a wry smile, “While I haven’t got a fella back home, Private, a medic tent isn’t exactly ideal for courtship, is it?”

Without waiting for a response, she departed and made her way toward the obstacle course that was currently in use. Dr. Erskine had requested that the nurses of Project Rebirth be present for some of the recruits’ training sessions since they would be the best opportunities to scout out candidates for America’s first Super Soldier. These candidates would not only need to be physically capable but also morally incorruptible. An aspect of the serum that was discussed briefly was how it had amplified Schmidt’s already malicious personality; if they made the same mistake by administering it to a man of morally questionable character, they could have another failure on their hands.

When Lottie neared the obstacle course, she caught the tail end of Colonel Phillips’ speech to this batch of recruits.

“—but every army starts with one man. At the end of this week, we will choose that man. He will be the first in a new breed of Super Soldiers.”

Lottie barely had time to glance at the recruits who were lined up a handful of yards away from her. A clipboard had been thrust into her hands, stacked with papers that listed the soldiers’ names, dates of birth, and measurements. She scanned the pages, barely registering any information due to the sheer amount of it; it was too overwhelming to process properly.

“I heard Colonel Phillips has taken a real liking to Gilmore Hodge,” Gladys whispered, shuffling her papers.

Betty made a disapproving noise, “Agent Carter socked that guy in the kisser. No way in hell he’s our guy.”

“I agree!” Mary piped up, “His moral character is real atrocious.”

Nancy seemed to be torn, “He is the most promising recruit thus far. Sure, he’s gotta work on his manners, but gosh, even his measurements set him apart from the rest.”

Lottie hummed in thought and finally looked up to watch the recruits in action, her eyes narrowed. For the most part, the soldiers got through the net climbing efficiently and descended the other side with ease, but a particular recruit was struggling to get a sure footing in the netting. Her heart started pounding in her ears— she knew that build, that stature. It couldn’t be, he’d been rejected at the enlistment. Sure enough, the soldier lost his footing and fell with his other foot still caught in the ropes.

Lottie’s breath caught in her throat as she stared at the flushed face of one of her childhood best friends. In the distance, she could hear a sergeant berating him for his clumsiness, but her attention could not be torn away from his face. She was at a loss as to what to do; he obviously hadn’t seen her but she couldn’t call out to him to get his attention, as that would land him in more trouble than he was already in.

“Poor guy,” Mary murmured, wincing in sympathy. It seemed that she’d also noticed the trouble that Steve had been having.

“Yeah,” Lottie replied lamely, biting at her lip in anxious thought.

What would she even say to him if he saw her? Would he even acknowledge her? She knew she’d just about die if she had to undergo a silent treatment from Steve. But she deserved it, she was sure. There wasn’t a day that had gone by where she didn’t think of her boys back home. She often found herself lying in bed late at night, staring at the ceiling and listening to the breathing patterns of the other nurses in the barracks. Lottie would roll her lucky penny between her fingers and think of her best friends back home. Were they asleep? Or out at the dance hall again, trying to woo some women into a couple of dates for the next night? She prayed nightly for their safety; their safekeeping. It was a fool’s prayer, she knew— it was a war, after all. But that never stopped her from begging God on high to protect her most beloved friends.

The commotion of the obstacle course had died down, but the yells of the sergeants had not died down; it seemed that they were to continue their training elsewhere.

Betty noticed Lottie’s lost look, “They’re having ‘em run the trail.” She gestured to the tree line where they would usually do their morning runs.

Gladys looked over her clipboard, “I think it’d be best if we head back to the mess hall and grab a bite to eat. We can talk all of this,” she gestured to their clipboards, stacked high with papers, “once we’ve all got full stomachs and clear minds. I hope you all took notes, ‘cause I sure did!”

Lottie was silent on the way to the mess hall, still reeling from the fact that Steve had somehow been recruited for the military. There had to have been some mistake; he’d most likely spend more time in her medic tent than on the battlefield. Running into battle would have him hospitalized even before an enemy could manage to hit him.

They sat in their usual spot at the back of the mess hall, at a table in the corner that had been pushed up against a wall; it kept them out of the way and allowed them a sense of privacy from the other staff members. Lottie absentmindedly peeled at an orange while she listened to the conversation of her friends.

“If we can’t have Hodge for the serum, I think Johnson might be a promising guy!”

Betty laughed, “Do you really think that or do you just like the way he looks in his fatigues, Mary?”

“Gosh, I just think they bring out the green in his eyes! Either way, he’s certainly got the build for it.”

“He’s such a knucklehead, though. He couldn’t figure out the proper way to hold his rifle while he went under the barbed wire. He was practically dragging it through the mud by its strap.” Betty rolled her eyes, unimpressed with the performances of most of the men during training.

There was some continued discussion on the topic, but it was interrupted by the entrance of dozens of soldiers. They needed no introduction, as the sounds of their hoots and hollers, as well as the aroma of their body odor, heralded their arrival at the mess hall. Lottie shot to her feet, unable to stop herself from searching the sea of men for a scrawny man with too much pluck for his own good. The men milled about as they grabbed trays of food and seated themselves, loudly conversing about the training they’d just experienced.

Finally, Lottie’s eyes locked with those of a scrawny blond guy who looked as if he’d just seen a ghost. He was all the way at the other end of the mess hall, but that didn’t matter, she rushed to him as quickly as she could. She so desperately wanted to hug him before he could turn and run from her. She knew that her silly display was surely catching the attention of other soldiers, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to care; she hadn’t seen one of her best friends in over a year, dammit! She walked quickly between the tables to where he stood by the food line.

“Stevie,” Lottie choked out, crushing him in a tight hug. Tears threatened to escape her eyes, but she refused to make a scene in front of half of the recruits.

“Lottie I—” Steve began, “I dunno what to say. Why are you here? Why did you lie?”

He asked the questions with such earnest bewilderment, with sincere sorrow that nearly destroyed Lottie. He didn’t seem angry with her at all; he was instead deeply hurt, and it was all because of her. When she pulled away from their embrace, she saw the pain in his eyes and recognized it— it was the same pain she had felt when thinking of Steve and Bucky, praying for their safety.

Lottie was becoming acutely aware of the attention they were attracting but that was the least of her concerns at the moment. If Colonel Phillips caught wind of their little embrace, he would surely berate her about relationships with the soldiers, as he couldn’t fathom the idea of a platonic relationship between a nurse and one of his men. She would deal with that situation at a later time. At that moment, Lottie knew that an apology and explanation were long overdue. She planned on apologizing to him sincerely in private, but she knew that an explanation could not wait.

She grabbed Steve’s wrist and pulled him towards the table at the back of the hall, “Please trust me, Steve. I can explain everything, but I’m gonna need their help.” Lottie jerked her head in the direction of the other nurses, “What I did was real crummy of me, I know, and I’ll apologize over and over until the day I die, but I promise that it needed to be done. The girls over here will help me explain it all so you can understand.”

“Well, who do we have here?” Betty questioned as they approached, arching a carefully plucked brow.

Steve awkwardly shifted his weight and shoved his hands in his pockets, obviously intimidated by her steady gaze and cool demeanor, “Steve Rogers, ma’am.”

Mary’s eyes lit up, “One of Lottie’s Brooklyn boys! Now do tell me, where is Private Barnes? Because I absolutely must meet the man that our Lottie is so infa—”

Before she could finish her sentence, Gladys kicked her shin under the table and answered the question for Steve, “I’ve looked through every file Dr. Erskine has given to us and there’s no Private Barnes here.”

Lottie shot Gladys a grateful smile, albeit a weak one. She cleared her throat and addressed the group of women before her, “I promised Steve here that I’d explain why I fell off the face of the Earth for a solid year, but I’ll need your help filling in all the details.”

It took nearly an hour to catch Steve up on all the events of the past year. The nurses gave him as much information as they could, though there was certain classified information that they were privy to— the formula for the Super Soldier Serum —but could not be shared with anyone outside of Project Rebirth. Steve interrupted regularly to pose questions about different aspects of their research, obviously invested in all the work they’d done for Dr. Erskine and Mr. Stark. When they recounted their experiences testing the prototype serum on various tissue samples, he went a sickly shade of green, so they quickly ended that train of thought. They glossed over the details of how they finished the serum and their discovery of how Vita-Ray Radiation affected its ingredients. His brow seemed to furrow exponentially with every scientific term used

“And that’s the skinny on what we’ve been up to for the past year,” Gladys finished, holding back a giggle at Steve’s overwhelmed facial expression.

“Thank you, ladies,” Lottie smiled and rose from her seat, gesturing for Steve to follow, “Steve and I are gonna step outside for a moment.” She led him across the mess hall and outside; they came to a stop after they rounded the corner of the building. She stood against the wall, fidgeting with the hem of her jacket sleeve.

“Stevie, I owe you an apology. After the attacks I just knew that the world would go to shit,” Lottie felt her eyes start to water, “and well— it’s my job as a nurse to save lives, y’know? I couldn’t just stay home and twiddle my thumbs while everyone else went to take care of our boys overseas. And I know Bucky made me promise not to and all that, but I’d already enlisted. I knew if I told him the truth, we’d fight, and I’d have left you two on a really sour note, which isn’t what I wanted at all.”

“So, you decided it would be better to lie about going to your parents’ for Christmas and leave the two of us wondering for months?” Steve’s tone wasn’t scathing but the question still cut deep.

Lottie sniffled and knew that there was little she could do to hold back the tide of tears that would surely start flowing, “I was being horribly selfish; I knew it would hurt the both of you but I was just so afraid and uncertain about it all. I knew you two would get real concerned for me and I just didn’t want that. Plus, you have to understand, Stevie, when I enlisted, they offered me a position in a high-level government organization. I couldn’t tell anyone about my whereabouts or where I would be going— all I could say was that I would be training for the Nurse Corps. It wasn’t fully my choice to keep these things from you and Bucky; it would’ve been risky to tell anyone about the SSR or what I would be doing for them. I know you two would’ve been good about keeping it a secret, but I was still so afraid, Steve. I didn’t want to let the SSR down, so I guess that meant I had to let you two down instead.” She stared at her shoes, letting the tears roll down her cheeks and fall to the dirt below.

“Thank you for telling me the truth, Lottie. It really hurt me when I realized you weren’t coming back. I understand where you were coming from, though I don’t agree with what you did. I forgive you, but Bucky— he, well,” Steve shook his head sadly, “You should’ve seen him when he got back from bootcamp and you weren’t at the station, Lottie. Worried out of his mind, he was. I’d written to your folks a month or so earlier; it was mid-January so I knew something was up. They told me you’d joined the Corps, but didn’t know where you’d been sent. I told him everything I’d learned and he hasn’t been the same since; he was always on edge. Even the night before he was shipped out to England, when we went out with Bonnie and Connie—”

“England?” Lottie’s voice was weak with disbelief. She shouldn’t have been surprised, he was going to be deployed at some point, after all. Somehow, it still hit her like a punch to the gut.

She held onto the hope that they were at least exchanging letters to check in with each other. “Have you kept in contact with him at least?”

“I didn’t think to get an address before he left.” Steve muttered, digging the toe of his boat into the dirt in front of him.

“Dammit,” Lottie hissed and wiped away hot tears that continued to stream from her eyes. She was utterly helpless and could do nothing about it; she had no way of contacting Bucky to make sure he was safe. For all she knew, he could be one of those men bleeding in a medic tent— lying limply in a cot that was not his, thousands of miles away from home. She could only hope that he had a kind nurse that would wipe the sweat from his brow and murmur soothing sounds that would remind him of home.

At Camp Lehigh, Lottie was constantly reminded of home. She saw Bucky in every soldier she met, whether it be through their personality, charm, or looks, they all served as a reminder of him. When it came down to it, neither Massachusetts nor Brooklyn was home to her— it was only Bucky that she could truly call home.

And as their time apart continued to drag on, she realized that she was beginning to feel terribly homesick.

#40s!bucky x original female character #40s!bucky x ofc #40s!bucky #1940s bucky #bucky fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky x ofc #bucky x original female character #bucky fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes series #ilytid

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mjvnivsbrvtvs · 3 years ago

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2000 words of (checks notes) hbo rome, but Antony captures Brutus alive and no one is quite sure what to do with that. mostly unedited, sort of heading in a direction for sure.

Cassius is dead.

And,

well.

Brutus is alive.

For whatever reason, Antony had decided to drag him back to his camp, and he sits in Antony’s tent like a child waiting to find out what punishment is going to get doled out while listening to Antony and Octavian shout at each other from some other place in the encampment.

Cassius is dead, and Brutus feels like he was cheated out of being able to take the honorable way out. Instead, he was ignobly marched back across a never-ending field of bodies, a prisoner, maybe something worse. To step between bodies of the men he commanded to their deaths felt like the worst kind of cowardice.

Cassius is dead, Brutus has the blood of his brother-in-law under his nails, and he feels inexplicably jealous.

The yelling stops, and after a moment, Antony steps back inside.

‘Great news!’ he says cheerfully. ‘You won’t be dying today!’

Brutus stares at him. Antony looks back expectantly.

In the back of his throat, the decorum that dictates social niceties threatens to claw its way out of his mouth, to show the appropriate gratefulness.

Cassius is dead, and Brutus wishes that was his fate as well, so he swallows hard and says nothing.

When it becomes clear that Brutus won’t say anything, Antony pulls a seat over and sits across from Brutus, uncharacteristically serious. ‘I know that this isn’t really ideal for anyone,’ he says, looking Brutus in the eye. ‘But it is better to survive. Think of your mother, how much better it will be for her to get a letter from you than to receive one from me announcing your death.’

It feels like Antony is attempting something like reassurance, like he’s worried Brutus might take the stylus off the desk and shove it through his own neck (he had thought about it, and immediately discarded the idea) but all Brutus can concentrate on is how much he doesn’t want to think of his mother.

Every personal betrayal, every manipulation at the hands of his own mother comes to the forefront of his mind and he can feel his expression twist into something bitter. ‘I’d consider it a personal favor if you would tell her that anyway,’ Brutus finds himself saying, and Antony laughs, sharp and surprised.

‘I didn’t think you had it in you to be cruel,’ he says, leaning forward.

‘You know, I never really wanted this?’ Brutus says, because now the words won’t stop spilling out of his mouth, ‘but she used my name, and Caesar couldn’t trust me after that.’

There is some emotion that Brutus can’t identify in Antony’s gaze, something quiet and calculating, not unlike a predator considering how to cast judgement.

‘You helped kill him,’ says Antony, tone neutral.

Brutus looks away, and back own at his hands. They aren’t shaking anymore, but on that day, he wasn’t sure they would ever stop. Cassius might have put the blade back into his hands, but he was the one who grasped it and drove it into the body of a man he had once considered to be like a father.

Abruptly, he wonders if Octavian is somewhere on the other side of the material of the tent, eavesdropping on them like some kind of ghost.

‘I did,’ agrees Brutus, because there’s no sense in denying it or trying to claim some kind of innocence to the act. It runs in the family, even if he tried to deny that legacy before. He won’t try to pass blame for the action now. ‘You should let Octavian do whatever it is he wants to do.’ He sits up a little straighter and narrows his eyes. ‘What do you gain from this anyway? What benefit am I to you?’

Antony leans back, posture open and lazy. It’s not sincere, Brutus knows. It’s the false nonchalance that Antony presents the world when he wants people to look a little less closely, to take him a little less seriously, all the while planning out a series of strategies in the back of his mind.

‘Do I have to have an ulterior motive?’ asks Antony. ‘Maybe I just want to ruin Octavian’s day for a bit.’

He stands up before Brutus can reply, and begins to walk back towards the tent flap. ‘You’ll be staying here,’ Antony informs Brutus. ‘There are soldiers on guard duty, so don’t think about trying to escape.’ He looks at his desk, to the stylus, and after a brief pause of consideration, crosses the space in two easy steps to grab it. ‘Remember!’ he says, grinning. ‘Tomorrow’s a new day!’

Then he’s gone.

And Brutus is once again left with his hands, and Cassius’s blood.

•

At some point in the night, Brutus falls asleep.

When he wakes up, he is in Antony’s bed, with absolutely no recollection of how he got there. His hands, Brutus notices as he sits upright and pushes the blankets off of him, are clean.

‘And he lives!’ says Antony. He’s sitting behind his desk, watching Brutus from over top the paper in his hand. His tone is jovial, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. ‘If you wanted to go back to sleep for another hour, I won’t tell: it might be the last time you’ll get the chance to sleep in.’

The entire exchange is baffling.

The expression on Brutus’ face must convey as much, because Antony laughs. ‘Just because you are my prisoner doesn’t mean it has to be painful for us both.’

Brutus arches an eyebrow at the use of the possessive and makes a note to eventually find out the specifics of what Antony and Octavian had been fighting about. ‘I think you'll find that sentiment goes against almost every expectation someone might have if they found themselves held captive by a political rival,’ points out Brutus.

‘I like to think of us as people who could have been political allies under different circumstances,’ counters Antony. ‘We did work together for some time.’

‘I think’ says Brutus slowly, ‘that you have some ulterior motive you’ve been angling towards for some time.’

Silence, except for the general ambience of a military encampment the day after a resounding victory. Conversation, men looking forward to returning home, the sharp crackle of an early morning fire. Life goes on. When the sun comes up in full, the bodies left on the battlefield will begin to stink and decay under the full force of the heat.

The fight in Brutus, the revulsion that he will be used for another person’s end goals again, fades out of him, replaced with a quiet grief at the thought of the men he led to their death.

Antony snaps his fingers.

‘You look like you’re thinking unhappy thoughts,’ says Antony. ‘Do not. It’s always better to live. If you must spiral into melancholia, wait until I’m gone.’

‘Besides!’ continues Antony. ‘Soon we will be back in Rome!’

Brutus can’t think of anything he’s looking forward to less.

•

Brutus wishes more than anything that Antony had just given him a sword so he could fall on it.

Currently, the feeling is driven less by a sense of duty (what kind of man begs for mercy? comes the voice of his mother. I didn’t beg this time, mother, he would say in reply) or the open wound of loss, but instead by an intense awareness that he does not belong in this place anymore but more importantly

annoyance.

If he thought he would have to wait around to see what Octavian and Antony were arguing about back in Philippi, he was wrong. The second Antony had set foot in Rome, with Brutus half a step behind him, Octavian immediately launched into an impassioned speech that started with, ‘You should be grateful to Antony, if it were up to me, I would have taken your head displayed it for all to see,’ (poetic in a grim sort of way, thinks Brutus) and ended with:

‘Don’t get too comfortable. You belong to Antony now, and he’ll do with you whatever he wants.’

It’s clearly meant to be some threat, but it’s laughable because Brutus knows this, everyone who’s heard about the outcome at Philippi knows this, there’s probably creative graffiti about it already going up on the walls of the city, and Octavian says it like Brutus hasn’t spent the last week trying to puzzle together why Antony wanted him alive so badly.

The facts of the world are as follow: the sun rises in the east, it sets in the west, Octavian has only become more insufferable over the years, and Brutus belongs to Antony now.

The only person who doesn’t seem to be aware of this is Antony, who continues to act as though Brutus is more of a peer that he had a minor disagreement and has subsequently forgiven.

‘It’s been nice catching up with you, Octavian,’ says Antony with a smile that conveys that the entire exchange has been anything but nice. ‘But I have things to do, matters to attend to.’

Brutus says nothing.

Octavian levels him with one last bitter look before turning around and leaving the room.

‘Well!’ says Antony after a moment. ‘That went as well as to be expected. I have a feeling he thought I’d have you executed somewhere along the way back.’

‘He’s not the only one,’ comments Brutus dryly, and Antony punches him in the shoulder good naturedly.

‘I love that grim sense of humor you have,’ he says. ‘Come on, let us go home. I’m fucking exhausted.’

•

Home, it turns out, is Pompey’s villa.

Or more accurately: it’s Antony’s now.

Brutus can see it on the walls, in the décor, in the choices of fabrics and design. It’s alive, it’s vibrant, it’s a complete antithesis of everything Pompey stood for.

He likes it.

‘So-’ Antony starts to say, at the exact moment Brutus says:

‘What’s your endgame here, Antony?’

It’s a recreation of the morning in Philippi: the open, if somewhat confusing, amicability that doesn’t quite meet the eyes. The sense that Antony is thinking of things in stratagem, planning for some kind of outcome no one has even thought to imagine, much less prepare for.

The villa is nice. Brutus likes what Antony’s done with the place.

He also feels very much like he’s walked into the open mouth of something with very sharp teeth, and if he must be assigned a role in whatever Antony is gearing up for, he would at least like an idea of what’s to come.

Whatever Antony is searching for in Brutus’ eyes, he must have found, because the tension in his jaw disappears.

‘Some other time,’ he says finally. ‘Not today.’

There’s a promise in between the words.

Brutus tries to feel grateful for that, at least. It’s hard, because once, before all of this, he used to be--

•

--a person.

Antony shows him to one of the rooms, makes some remark about not leaving the villa, with a side glance at Posca, who does his best not to meet Brutus’ eyes, which is understandable. Antony takes off, and in the absence of anything else to do, Brutus decides to try and reinvent himself.

He can no longer be Brutus, descendant of a king killers. He is no longer a reluctant, albeit talented, politician, following in the footsteps of all the other politicians that came before him. He’s not even entirely sure what his status as a citizen of Rome is. In lieu of death, Octavian might push for exile.

The only concrete fact about himself now is that Antony wanted him alive, and so he belongs to Antony.

The lack of solid ground to stand on makes exile a tempting thought.

At some point in the afternoon (no further along in the process of reinvention than when he started) a young woman stops by: Cynthia, if Brutus recalls correctly. One of Antony’s slaves. She asks if he’s hungry, if he’d like an apple and--

--for a moment, Brutus feels like he’s returned to Philippi, standing defeated, surrounded by bodies. The dead don’t eat, they need coins for the afterlife, not food, the dead don’t eat, and he’s not a person anymore--

--Brutus says yes and follows her.

•

Antony is exhausted.

Octavian, he knows, is planning something. There is something ugly and spiteful inside of that youth, Antony can’t stand to be around him, no matter how much Atia dotes on him.

When Antony returns back home late in the evening, he’s greeted with the sight of Brutus sitting on one of the couches, peeling an apple, while Cynthia stands nearby, slicing up a pear. He pulls the heavy fabric of the toga off his body and casts it across a chair, making his way towards the two.

Draping himself along the couch next to Brutus, he leans over and says, ‘Slice off a piece for me.’

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Posca watching the scene unfold from the quiet shadows of the evening.

Brutus cuts off a part of the apple so that the slice is stuck on the side of the blade, and holds it out to Antony, like this is an everyday occurrence, like Brutus isn’t pointing a knife at the person who owns his life.

He realizes it, a moment later, and freezes, but before he can course correct, pull back, apologize, Antony leans forward and bites the apple slice right off the sharp edge of the knife.

Brutus stares at him.

Or, more specifically, Antony is delighted to note, he stares at the line of Antony’s throat, his gaze lingering for just a second too long.

#politics as an eventual vehicle for unhinged flirting tbh #the apple thing is the set up for some light knife play #brutus: hm. this is closer to the stage and the blood would be real. do you want the blood to be real antony?#a tag for writing #i have absolutely no idea if i'll finish this but the longer i type in the tags the more fond i become of it so #magic 8 ball says: Very Likely #followed by: maybe when i get my laptop uh. working better???? i think ive discovered what's wrong #and again: i will be SO annoyed if i need to replace my graphics card #but i think it's just that something got corrupted somewhere and if i nuke that out of orbit i'll be good again #honestly i should probably defrag my laptop while im at it #just. get it all out of the way. spring cleaning maintenance in the middle of summer here we go #uhh. technically this should go in the #gabriel fucks around with hbo rome

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