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crazyk-imagine · 1 year

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Jake being Dramatic

Pairing: (Stepdad) Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Mom!Reader

Characters: (Stepdad) Jake “Hangman” Seresin, Mom!Reader, Edwin, Maryanne, Sarabeth, Gillian (the kiddos), Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Natasha "Phoenix" Trace, Robert "Bob" Floyd, Javy "Coyote" Machado, Billy "Fritz" Avalone

Warnings: Mention of blue balls (numerous times), pregnancy, hormones being all over the place, Bradley using the kids as bait for numbers, Natasha is a sucker for feeling the baby kick, none of the pilot crew members can act like adults, dirty innuendos, Jake thinks he’s gonna have a boy when reader and Natasha know it’s a girl

Word Count: 2,269

Prev // Next

TGTBATWOI Master List

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Natasha scoffs, shaking her head.

“What is it?” You ask.

She hums, not entirely paying attention to you. “What?”

“What… is… it?” You enunciate each word.

“Oh,” she glances over at you from the corner of her eye. “Nothing. It’s- it’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. You barely scoff at articles about celebrities, what’s got you making noise, Princess P?”

“I hate that you use Bagman’s nickname for me even if it is slightly abbreviated.”

“No, you don’t. You love it.”

She smirks, “you can’t prove it.”

“Everyone knows you love me.”

“That I can’t deny. You’re the only one who can keep him tame and a little more tolerable.”

“There’s a couple of other people you’re forgetting.”

“Okay, the only adult.”

“You’re too-” you glance down at your belly.

Natasha perks up, pulling her legs up resting her bottom on her heels, “is she kicking?”

You smile, rubbing your belly. “She is. Seems like someone is happy to hear about her dada.” “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that.”

She hesitantly stretches her arm in front of her before pulling back. “Can I-”

“Show me what you’re looking at and I’ll let you feel her soccer kicks.”

The smile from her face. “You’re an evil woman.”

“Me? Never. Phone?”

She sighs and turns on her phone, showing you your husband’s latest post. She places her hand on the center of your belly, inches above your belly button.

You scoff, shaking your head, grabbing her hand moving it to your left side.

An excited smile stretches across her lips. “He is so not getting cuddles tonight.”

“How threatening,” she mutters.

“Hey! I will have you know I am an excellent cuddler.”

“I mean, you have to be considering your current situation.”

“I was not going through dirty route.”

“And I did. You’re,” she quiets down. Your precious Gillian starts kicking again. Natasha leans forward, basically laying her head in your lap as she rubs your belly, quietly murmuring to her. “You’re so precious. Yes, you are.”

“Baby G is not a dog, Nat.”

“I know she’s not but I’m not a baby person.”

“You’ve taken care of Mary, Eddie, and Sara-B before.”

“But that’s different. They’re not my kids.”

“With the way you all burst in here, I don’t know, it’s hard to tell,” you joke with her. “Oh.”

She pushes herself off you, sitting up. “Pee break?”

You nod, “pee break.”

She gets off the couch and helps you get up.

You waddle to the bathroom. You do your business and start washing your hands; your eyes wander around the sink, stopping at Jake’s almost empty bottle of cologne. You make sure to add that to your mental list so you can add it to your list on your phone. You shake your head as you waddle down the hallway. “Jake’s an ass.”

“Finally! A conversation I can get into. Why is he an ass this time?”

“He posts that dumb thing about blue balls and thinks that I’m not gonna find out about it. As if he gets blue balls, if anything it’s me. But I’m not in the mood one time, one time and all of a sudden, he's got blue balls.”

She owlishly blinks, “okay, I get what you’re saying but it was basically a lot of you saying blue balls and you lost me.”

“Jake is a dumbass.”

“For sure but he’s your dumbass.”

You sniff, “I know.”

“Oh, you’re crying. Um, okay.” She fluffs the pillow you keep behind your back, “let’s just- let’s sit down and breath.” She takes your hand and pulls you closer towards the couch.

You sit down, wiping the corner of your eyes. “He’s a dumbass who was trying to impress the guys with that stupid joke.”

“I know, you’re right.”

“Of course, I am.”

“You’ve been hanging out with Jake for so long, you’ve got his cocky attitude.” She shudders, “ew.”

You two start chuckling so hard, tears pool in both of your waterlines.

The front door clicks, seems like Jake and the others are back.

Javy and Bob enter the living room, shoving each other (Bob is lucky he caught himself before he fell).

“Boys.”

“Sorry,” they apologize with their heads down.

Natasha shakes her head at the two. “Whimps.”

“Shut up,” says Javy.

“Not a whimp,” Bob mutters.

“Oh, I know. I sleep next to you; believe me I know.”

Jake chuckles, “baby on board is getting more action than Chicken. This is great.”

“Is it great?”

He bends down to peck your cheek only for you to turn your head. He furrows his brows, “you alright?”

Your head snaps in his direction, “I don’t know, you tell me.”

“Alright, come on.”

“Why don’t you consult your blueberries?”

“What?”

Natasha waves the two over, whispering what’s going on.

They snicker, sitting on the recliner and the floor.

“What are you talkin’ about, sweetheart?”

The front door opens again.

You all turn to see Bradley and the kids.

“Hello, crew.”

“Bradley,” you greet him with a smile.

“Do I sense, drama?”

Natasha nods her head.

Maryanne and Edwin come over go you, hugging you. “Hi, mama.”

You hug and kiss them on the cheek. “Hello, my babies. Did you two have fun?”

They nod.

“Uncle Rooster was talking to a few of the moms and nanny’s today,” Edwin informs you.

“Did he now?”

He pretends not to hear you as he unbuckles Sarabeth from the stroller, placing her in your arms.

“And hello my littlest baby.”

She gurgles, smiling once she realized who’s arms, she’s in now. “Mama.”

You peck her cheeks, causing her to giggle. “Hi, pumpkin.” You glance over at Bradley who sits on the floor. “How did you enjoy your time at the park, Bradley?”

“Oh, you know. It was the park. Might’ve gotten a little sun.”

“How many numbers did you get?”

“That’s not important.”

“Less or more than ten?”

“Seven,” the kids say.

“Eight, get it right kids.”

“Wow.”

“Tramp,” Javy and Natasha cough into their hands.

“Stop that you two.”

“How was the mother-to-be today?”

“I was doing pretty good for most of the day.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Okay. What happened? Everyone else has gotten your sweetness but not your own husband.”

“Did you post anything today?”

“Post anything? Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

“You can’t really think I meat it, do you?”

“I don’t know but you’ll be on your side of the bed tonight.”

“But I don’t have a side.”

“Looks like your gonna have one tonight. Yes, you are,” you say looking Sarabeth in the eyes.

“Sweetheart.” He kneels beside you, rubbing your youngest child’s back. “Come on, you know it was a joke. A bad one, I’ll admit but please don’t punish me, baby.”

You turn to look at him with pursed lips, “you’re bad at jokes.”

“I know,” he nods.

You sniff.

He sighs, “oh sweetheart.”

“Mama, no cry. No cry,” she wipes your cheeks.

“Honey, you know I-”

“Stop using cute nicknames, it’s making it harder to find you annoying.”

“Then let me say that I was, again, making a bad joke. You know I love you,” he pecks your cheek. “And how hot under the collar you get.”

“Your whispering sucks and you need to keep it in your pants. There are children present,” Bob says.

“Thank God, someone said it,” Javy chimes in.

“Oh, like you could say anything,” Natasha comments.

Bradley chuckles.

“I don’t know what you’re laughing about over their chuckles. You’re the one that uses a baby.”

“You gotta play the game in order to be in it, right?”

You two groan. “When did he become such a frat guy?” You ask the woman beside you.

“I honestly don’t know and I’m afraid to ask for details.”

You chuckle and turn back to Jake who whispers to your baby.

She crawls off your lap and wonders over towards her siblings, laying across their laps.

He turns to look at you and smiles. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Hi.”

He leans in, pecking your lips. “This is a better greeting.”

“I bet it is.”

You groan.

“Pee break?”

“Pee break,” you confirm.

“I got you, gorgeous.” He moves to stand in front of you, hauling you out of your seat. His arm curls around your waist, the two of you walk down the hall together.

“Other than your dumb post, how was your day?”

“Missed you too much to care about the groceries.”

“Honey-”

“Nope, you can’t change my mind. Besides I always miss you when I’m out of the house.”

“Going to the store,” you correct him.

“Not nearly as bad unless I’m in the sky.”

“Jake, honey.” He shushes you, pecking your nose then your lips. “Go to the bathroom.”

“It takes me a minute so be patient.” You enter the bathroom and close the door, your eyes land on the cologne. “Hey.”

“Yeah?” He leans against the wall besides the door. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. Add your cologne to the list before I forget again.”

“I’ve already added it.”

“You did?”

“Yep. We went through this last week.”

“This baby is messing with my brain.”

“Little bit.”

“You’re supposed to say, ‘no honey. You’re alright. I think you’re still the smartest person I know.’ That is what you’re supposed to say.”

He doesn’t respond for a minute.

You start washing your hands.

He opens the door, “you told me never to lie to you.”

You scoff and try to throw the hand towel at him, only for him to catch it and pull you closer.

“There are four adults’ downstairs with the kids… what do you say?”

“I say, goodbye to your beautiful wife’s cuddling plus more and hello blue balls.”

He groans into your neck. “Sweetheart.”

“You got yourself into this mess, you can get yourself out.”

“Fine.”

The two of you walk downstairs and find the kids debating on what to watch with poor little Sarabeth looking confused in her Aunt Natasha’s lap.

You sit down and let out a comforting sigh, you just need to lay back and sit down for a while honestly.

Until there’s a knock at the sliding glass door.

You all turn to see Billy looking like a sad puppy.

Jake opens the door, letting him in.

“What were you doing out there?” You ask.

“These two,” he glances over at the two snickering grown men. He claps the sides of his clenched fists together (like Ross in friends).

The adults understand his code and nod for him to continue.

“Told me we should try to sneak in like the action or spy movies but then they decided not to and “forgot” to tell me.”

“That doesn’t explain the leaves,” Jake points out as he pulls one out of his hair.

Billy lowers his head, “I tripped and landed in a bush.”

You and Natasha have the courtesy to pretend like you’re not laughing unlike the guys.

“We told you… to stop,” Javy wheezes, pausing to try and catch his breath only to laugh harder so tears stream down his cheeks.

“It’s not funny and no you didn’t.”

Bob removes his glasses, wiping away his fallen tears. He turns, looking over at his fellow former graduate.

“Are you sure?”

He frantically nods his head, “I would know.”

“Go to the bathroom and clean yourself up the best you can. If you need clothes, you know where to look.”

He nods, offering a small smile as he walks over to you. “Thank you, to the only nice person here,” he says making sure they can all hear him. He pecks your cheeks and heads towards the bathroom.

“You all are doing mean.”

“Don’t be like that,” Jake squats in front of you. “We’re just jokin’, you know that.” He sits down and grabs your foot, giving you a much-needed foot massage.

You close your eyes and sigh out a breath of relief.

“Looks like someone’s enjoying themselves,” Bradley comments.

“If you knew what it felt like to get a foot massage from him, you’d be zoned out too. But you haven’t and won’t.” You stretch your arms out in front of you, “now pretend I’m hugging him.” You drop your arms, rubbing your belly with a smile. “Is he kicking?” You look at him with a raised brow, “she is. She likes it when you take care of her mama.”

“Then he should be happy all the time then.”

“Ignoring that,” Natasha adds. She slowly reaches over.

You grab her hand, hauling her over towards you. “Come here.” You grab her hand and place it on your belly.

“I feel like you’ve felt his kicks more than I have.”

“I’m her favorite aunt.”

“He doesn’t have one.”

“Yes, she does.”

“Not after today.”

“Would you two stop it,” you jerk your foot in his grasp. “Now is not the time to be acting like children.”

“But-” They both try to respond.

You shake your head, “no.”

“No, but-”

You wave your finger side-to-side.

They try again and fail.

“Would you two can it, we’re trying to watch a movie here,” Bradley hisses as he sprawls out on his stomach.

The two mimic what he said.

You tilt your head with tired eyes being the only thing to give your emotions away.

They apologize and continue with what they were doing before.

You lean back, eyes closing, listening to the movie and everyone’s quiet comments here and there before sleep consumes you.

Jake shoves Natasha off to the side, forcing her to give him room to snuggle into your side.

Your body automatically moving to mold with is.

Taglist: @abaker74 @ebonyhogan24 @ @shanimallina87 @starkleila @kurtkunkle17

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invisibleraven · 1 year

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Secret relationship prompt!!! Omg this is fun. 23, rarepair of your choice

After Alex comes out to his parents, he spends less and less time at home, and more and more time in Bobby's garage. Here, he has his friends, a decent selection of snacks, and no judgement over his desire to kiss boys.

That last one is kind of important, since his parents hadn't taken him being gay very well. There was a lot of pray for his mortal soul and talk of hellfire, most of which Alex drowned out with Rush and Whitney Houston.

But the garage was his sanctuary.

One afternoon, it was just him and Bobby. Luke had a dentist appointment and Reggie had to take Alfie to a swimming lesson. So Alex was sat at this drums, tapping out a simple rhythm while Bobby was lying back on the couch, nose in a book.

"Not heading out then?" Bobby asked from behind the pages.

"Nope," Alex replied, popping the p. "You want me to stop playing though or need to kick me out, just say the word."

"Nah, hang as long as you want, you're not bothering me. Heck, stay for dinner if you want, lola always makes too much." Bobby gave him a sidelong glance. "You can sleep over too. I know how much your parents are being sucky."

"I say they'd call the cops if they knew I was staying over with another boy. Or Father Thomas," Alex snarked. "But dinner sounds nice. Celia is a way better cook than my mom."

"Cool." Bobby then went back to his book, and Alex to his drums. But soon enough he got bored, and went over to the couch, sliding himself under Bobby's feet.

"Read to me."

"I'm half way through the book, you won't know what's going on."

"That doesn't matter, I just like hearing you talk."

"Okay weirdo," Bobby said, but Alex could see the pleased little grin on his face, and then he started reading. Sure, Alex didn't have a damn clue what the book was about or what was going on, but Bobby's voice was soft and soothing, making him feel comfortable and relaxed.

Later, they'd go in and join Celia for a meal, and she assured him she'd straighten it out with his parents to let him stay. Even gave him a hug, and it felt like home in way his own house hadn't in so long.

They squeezed into Bobby's double bed, his little TV playing some sitcom or another as background noise.

"Hey Al?"

Alex turned his head, and could see Bobby's fingers twisting in the duvet, but he knew touching him right now would get him to shut down. Just grunted in response to let him know he was listening.

"What's it like to kiss a guy?"

"No clue."

"Really?"

"I don't exactly have a lot of options lining up and offering themselves for smooches here Robin," Alex snarked, then blew out a breath. "I'm sure it's a lot like kissing a girl, only with facial hair and stinkier breath. But... probably way nicer for me, because I want to kiss them. Not have to for the sake of some game of spin the bottle or coming out ball ritual."

"There are balls when you come out? Shit, were we supposed to throw you a ball?" Bobby asked, looking almost mildly panicked.

"Not the same kind of coming out. This is debutante shit for my parents' country club. I had to escort Marianna Whelan last spring and she conned me into a kiss. It was very sloppy and kinda gross. I'd rather have kissed her brother Fritz, but that would have been the scandal of the year."

"Is there anyone you wanna kiss now?"

"Why, are you offering?" Alex quipped, but then he saw the shy look on Bobby's face. "Shit, you are. God Bobbers, I'd love to kiss you, but you're also my best friend. I don't wanna fuck that up."

"You won't," Bobby said, turning on his side so he was facing Alex. "It's just a kiss. To see if we like it. We don't have to tell anyone, not even Luke and Reggie. I know they'll be supportive, but..."

"They'd make a big deal out of it," Alex finished. "You sure?"

Bobby nodded, and Alex scooted in closer, his big hand tilting Bobby's chin up, the light of the TV painting his skin a pale blue, catching on the angles and making him look captivating. Alex let his eyes flutter closed, and press his lips in.

The kiss was a little dry, a mere peck. But Bobby pressed in further, opening up a little, his tongue teasing over the seam of Alex's mouth. Then it was in Alex's mouth.

Bobby tasted like toothpaste and the plain chap stick he'd applied before bed. He had the faintest traces of stubble lining his jaw and upper lip.

It was so different from kissing Marianna.

And so much better.

Eventually they pulled apart, blinking at one another. "Verdict?" Alex whispered, not wanting to break the moment with loudness.

"I liked it," Bobby surmised. "Not sure if it was because it was with a boy, or if it was because it was with you, but I liked it." He paused a moment, licking over his lips again. "I think I'm okay not knowing, but only if I can keep kissing you."

Alex grinned and pulled him in for a second kiss. Wetter and a bit less polished, but glorious all the same.

They fell asleep, lips brushing together and tingling. They still didn't know if the kissing was so great because of the circumstances or the other boy, but they figured they could do a few more experiments to find out.

In the end, they decided it didn't really matter. They just knew that they liked kissing one another.

And when they ended up getting caught kissing, Luke and Reggie did have a minor freak out, until they confessed they had known since almost the beginning, and wished them nothing but happiness.

But they totally also threw a mock coming out ball for the two of them in the garage, which Alex scowled at, but also admitted was the sweetest gesture that allowed him to have a new untainted memory of the tradition as he swayed with his new boyfriend to the music.

And treasured the photo Reggie took of the two of them kissing in their suits for the rest of his life.

#filled prompts #ficlet #bolex #julie and the phantoms

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cottoncandyjester · 2 years

Text

Luis torture cause no one is safe from Dante and fritz

Warning: THIS IS BRUTAL! Complete torture, forcing alter switching, psychological and physical torture, no happy ending, awful very triggering!

“Dante, should we be doing this? What if we break his brain?” Fritz said as he finished handcuffing Luis to the chair despite his thrashing. “Let me go you idiots! I have no time for your dumb games!” Luis hissed out as he tried to struggle. “Sully is on some beach trip with his friends so he’s not here and we’re bored..” Dante said in a fake innocent tone as he took out a switchblade. “S-so do some work. I’m sure there are countless things I can ask Ernesto for you both to do.” Luis spoke in a shaky tone fear clear on his face.

“Nah, we’re gonna play guess the alter, Right fritz?” Dante asked fritz who was silent and debating on if this was even a good idea but he didn’t want Dante to turn on him so, he watched with a forced grin “I’m gonna win this time! You always manage to guess them all” fritz cheers out though his smile has a twitch, the intense thrashing of Luis and his panicked breathing was bothering him more than normal, this made him want to puke.

Luis knew how this game went, it was horrible and stressful not to mention painful as hell. Before Luis can argue he felt a blade plunge into his stomach causing him to jerk his body forward roughly, glasses slipping off his face and falling to the ground as he grunted and panted heavily. Breathing hurt so much, he felt an itching feeling in his brain the system was panicked.

We’re in danger!

This hurts

DANGER! DANGER! DANGER!

After a few moments of silence and ragged breathing dante grew bored, twisting the blade earning a sharp hissing from luis who snapped his head up.

“Will you cut that shit out!? What the fuck is your problem?!”

Fritz watched luis’ glossy eyes and pained expression “Ehh, caligo?” He questioned immediately standing almost behind dante who didn’t seem to be as scared or worried like fritz was

“Iago, right?” Dante asked with a cocky grin

“This sick fucking game is ridiculous! When I get my hands on you two I’ll skin you alive!” Iago snapped as he yanked himself forward. “you hear me?! I’ll fucking gut you” he sneers out. Dante wasn’t paying attention it seems since he gave a bored hum “yeah cool cool, next.” Dante said before yanking the blade out of the male’s stomach earning a loud hiss of pain.

“You think stabbing me a whole bunch is gonna give you want you want?”

“Nah, pain only triggers you out, thankfully I know what triggers all your little buddies out.” Dante cooed out with a smile making iago chuckle “damn you’re that obsessed with us? Flattered.” He sneers out lowly.

Dante ignored the taunting, kneeling infront of iago cupping his face lovingly. “Blaise, come out. I promise I won’t hurt you, I’ll even give you a treat” Dante spoke in a hushed almost affectionate tone, watching as iago started to fade away, Dante had a fascination with luis and his system. He loved watching the alters switch, the confusion on their face as they get ripped out from their safe spot and into reality. Dante loved seeing just how different they were from each other, down to their posture it was truly like another person had replaced the once angry and rage driven iago.

“ma tête va exploser..” a hushed whiny voice whimpered out, blaise had to be Dante’s favorite alter to mess with. He was so paranoid and easy to startle, Dante had fun driving him to the brink of insanity stuffing his head with more and more trauma to hold onto. “Hello..ready to play?” Dante whispers lowly before glancing at fritz who at this point had taken a large amount of steps away from the two wanting nothing more to be done with this, it wasn’t right..luis was actually really nice to him despite all the shit he’s done. “P-please let me go I’ll do whatever you want!” Blaise squeaked out shaking with pure fear as he watched Dante walk away from him and towards fritz, the two whispered lowly to each other before fritz slowly walked over to the switchblade that was stained with blood and picked it up, walking towards the shaking and terrified male strapped to a chair. “Je ne veux pas mourir..” blaise croaked out, thick tears streaming down his face.

“Do it. Then we’ll be done, this is getting kinda boring.” Dante hissed out before walking up behind fritz and grabbing his wrist. “Hurry it up!” He snapped and jerked Fritz’s wrist forward forcing him to stab blaise in the chest. Fritz felt Dante push his wrist further and further, the blade sinking into the panicked screaming male’s chest. “Hey! D-Dante, we’ll kill him we should stop..” fritz said with a shake to his voice.

Dante was silent, eyes locked onto Blaise’s fearful and pained expression as he sobbed and pleaded in French for mercy. Dante digged his nails into Fritz’s wrist and pushed his wrist deeper. Fritz started to breathe heavily wanting to pull back but Dante’s grip was iron tight. What terrified fritz the most was a strange pulsing feeling he felt through the blade..was Dante trying to stab through his heart?!

“Dante! We’re getting too close! We gotta stop!” Fritz snapped out, tone firm. Dante was once again silently before he backed away with a sigh “fine fine, jeez what a fucking buzzkill just uncuff him and leave him there.” Dante said as he walked away.

Fritz immediately kneeled down to uncuff him, shaking hands setting him free only to feel him fall forward into his arms. “Oh shit, shit shit shit..please don’t die” fritz hissed out with a shaky breathing. “H-hey! You’re still breathing right?!” Fritz said in a panicked tone.

“hurts..to..breathe..”

Fritz scooped Luis in his arms, rushing to the medical bay, hoping jinx could save him. Before he even stepped inside the room jinx met him at the door frame, seeming to be shocked at the sight of fritz holding a sweaty panting Luis who had a blade sticking out of his chest.

“What. Did. You. DO?!” Jinx hissed out, rage dripping from his voice as fritz walked past him and placed Luis in an empty bed. “We fucked up, j. Dante and me really fucked up, he won’t die though right? You won’t let him die?!” Fritz asked out pacing back and forth as jinx examined luis.

“Get out, I can’t work like this. Out!” Jinx sneers out, frantically grabbing bottles from his medicine cabinet and bringing it back to luis. Fritz left the room closing the door and standing outside the room pacing back and forth, panic and fear filling him.

If Luis died Ernesto would most definitely kill him, though he would probably have Antonio do it since Ernesto never got his hands dirty. Dying by the hands of Toni is the worst way to die. Dante would probably get a slap on the wrist since Ernesto treated him like some royal prince, the blame would fall on fritz for letting Dante go too far.

Screams of pure agony came from the medical bay and it wasn’t long til the others joined fritz outside the room. “If he dies..” Toni said lowly as he glared at fritz who by now was pale and sweating. “I know, b-but he won’t die..he’ll be fine” Fritz said firmly though it was more to convince himself rather than convince Toni.

After what felt like hours jinx opened the door and walked out the room to see fritz,sully and Toni standing outside the door. “Is he dead?! He’s not dead right?” Sully whimpered with large fearful eyes. Jinx leaned against the wall, a small hum escaping him “of course not, I wouldn’t let that happen. He’s stable but he’s damaged a lot of organs not to mention the trauma this was..he won’t be okay for a long time” jinx said softly.

“Can..can we see him?” Fritz asked, the response making everyone almost stiff. Jinx turned away “they don’t want visitors, you all should probably get some rest” jinx said softly, his tone being serious which meant something wasn’t right.

Fritz couldn’t sleep that night, whenever he closed his eyes luis and his horrific painful expressions was all he could see. The next morning he tried to see luis but was denied by jinx who claimed that he didn’t want visitors, Dante pretended it didn’t even happen.

Months went by and no one’s seen luis leave that medical bay, sully thought he was dead and jinx was covering it up but one morning luis joined them for breakfast. Everyone stared at him with silent shock as he casually drank tea, eyes glued to his phone like everything was normal, sully quickly hugged the male causing him to flinch

“I thought you were dead! Don’t scare us like that!” He whined causing luis to sigh “of course I didn’t die, don’t be ridiculous” luis mumbled out. “Hey, luis? Are you sure you’re okay?” Fritz asked softly. Luis locked eyes with fritz before glancing away “of course, now if you excuse me I have to talk to jinx about something urgent” he said before he got up and walked away.

“Everything is back to normal! How amazing!” Sully cheered out, earning a sigh of relief from fritz “yeah..thank goodness” fritz mumbled out with a small smile.

Luis walked to the medical bay, hand covered his mouth as he felt sick to his stomach. He entered the room, seeing jinx happily play with his stuffed animal but when he saw luis and his almost green face he gave him a trash can to throw up in.

“Jeeez iago when are you gonna stop getting so angry that you puke? It’s kinda gross” jinx whined as he laid back in the bed. Iago glared at jinx “luis is hiding cause of that asshole! How can I not get mad?!” He snapped out before throwing up into the trash can some more.

“Hmm, yeah I would get mad too I suppose. Sooo when are you gonna tell them that luis is kinda..yknow, gone?” Jinx said as he rolled onto his stomach watching the male puke up his lungs. Iago soon put the trash can down and wiped his mouth with his sleeve “when Luis comes back from hiding. It’s tiring taking over for him so I hope he comes back soon” iago said as he laid in the bed next to jinx.

“I’m taking a nap, wake me up soon yeah?” Iago mumbled out as he closed his eyes. Jinx glanced at him before giving a hum “hmmm okay!” He cheered out before getting up from the bed.

Iago hoped luis could come back soon, he wasn’t sure how long he can handle this.

#yandere ocs #mafia ocs #luis

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louisepalanker · 2 years

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Leave it to Wally

In the midst of the turbulent sixties, boomer kids came home from school and watched idealized fifties families in sitcom form on afternoon reruns. It was a little confusing. David and Ricky had the same haircut as Ozzie. What was this crazy, black and white world where teenagers appreciated their parents and were not downtown blowing up buildings and burning bras? Here in Afternoon Rerun Land, teens are scrubbed and shiny and sharing a straw with a sweet someone at a sock hop or a soda shop.

I longed for this black and white land of long ago. I mean not the haircuts so much as the respect. I was basically a conservative until I turned fourteen and my after school entertainment became the Watergate hearings.

There was no Fox News or Russian state sponsored programming to spin that story. And trust me, I would have been a prime target. No. You just came home from school and turned on the TV. It was on all three channels, unless you wanted to watch Hatha Yoga on PBS. I just took it in, believing in my president… until I finally nursed the sting of the truth with a bowl of Pizza Spins.

I am no longer a conservative but I am a super square liberal. I mean I God honest love some crazy corny content like Perry Como and Steve & Edie and Barry Manilow. Throughout my teen years my favorite group was The Lettermen. I collected every album of vocal harmony goodness.

And I do still adore Leave it to Beaver. Don’t you just love it when something you worshipped as a child still holds up through your adult eyes? Well, Leave it to Beaver demands closer, grownup examination. It’s not just a sitcom from a child’s perspective. The dialogue is perfection and the show is a loving lesson in parenting.

With big brother Wally serving as both Beaver Whisperer and Parent Whisperer he operated as a double agent between childhood and parenthood, offering better understandings of the other’s perspectives. And Wally’s wisdom did not only help Ward and June figure out what was going on inside Beaver’s head, it also gave voice to a child’s thoughts for the parents at home.

We saw how Larry Mondello talked Beaver into playing with Ward’s prized Babe Ruth autographed baseball. We watched as the ball got crushed under a truck tire and Ward flew off the handle, sending Beaver to his room for a week. And just as Ward was about to give in and retract his punishment, Wally gently warned him that Ward should stick to his word because “Beaver wouldn’t want kids thinking that his Dad’s a pushover.” Ward paraphrases for June, “We can’t expect to get our children’s love unless we first get their respect.”

This show just works from any angle. In 1997, Universal did a Leave it to Beaver reboot in movie form, starring Christopher McDonald and Janine Turner as Ward and June with Erik Von detten and Cameron Finley as Wally and Beaver. The press was invited to the Universal backlot where we screened the film and celebrated the careers of producers Bob Mosher and Joe Connelly. Heroes to me, as I watched their names scroll by in the credits throughout my childhood and wondered who they were and what inspired them to create such magical television. We reporters also got to walk down the Cleaver’s street, right past the scary house that would go on to become 1313 Mockingbird Lane on the Munsters. It was all such a treat.

The film featured cameos by Ken Osmond and Barbara Billingsley and for me, the highlight of the day came when I saw Miss Billingsley sitting alone for a moment. I approached her and told her how much I appreciated her work and then I asked her how she felt about the movie. She said, a little sadly, that it was fine but that no one could ever replace Hugh Beaumont. I quietly concurred.

There is also no replacing Tony Dow who created in Wally Cleaver, the ideal brother and son, eaually awkward and confident, with a gentle genius at educating America’s parents.

Fritz Coleman and I were thrilled to welcome Tony Dow and his friend Bill Mumy to Media Path Podcast and you can can find that episode right here:

Apple Podcasts

https://apple.co/3k1Hcz2

Spotify

https://spoti.fi/2ZwUWZ4

Youtube

https://youtu.be/YGUm1eIP_74

#leave it to beaver #wally cleaver #tony dow #60s tv #50s tv #classic tv

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makiema · 3 years

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absolutely love it when people are like I dont think anyone understands the ending and thats why they are hating it yes sure sis i absolutely do not understand

why armin would condone Eren genociding 80% of the world

why eren’s answer to everything is i wanted to see a blank canvas, my thoughts are messy bc time is non linear in my mind, idk man it had to happen anyways i love mikasa, and ymir chose mikasa but why? that is between god and isayama.

i also absolutely do not understand why historia is suddenly an ethnonationalist accepting whatever eren did + leading Paradis as a fascist leader

i absolutely do not understand how in gods name a character who has always looked beyond, sought freedom and justice and explicitly stated that the ones inside the walls and the ones outside are the same would not fight against his visions and would stomp on 80% of humanity bc “i wanted to see a blank canvas” and i absolutely do not understand the point of introducing the “everyone is born special” theme in the story if 80% of the everyone in question is gonna get rumbled.

i also do not understand the absolute madagascar-esque idea of making someone reiterate the necessity to fight, move forward, live freely, live with dignity, and most importantly, the right to exist and belong in this world irrespective of being special/not to not only turn out to be anti thesis of said qualities but to actually revoke 80% of the population’s right to exist for NO GOOD REASON bc guess what war is inevitable and “we may have to wipe each other out after all” like we didnt know already that meaningless genocide doesnt solve anything? i dont think anybody actually thought that was the answer to anything but then why do it in the first place? the fact that isym makes eren dodge everyone one of armin’s “but why?” question including the point of such unnecessary horrror w some boring shit abt forest, river and a blank canvas explains p well that there was no point. it really is isayama admitting he bit off more than he can chew.

you can say that him resolving the two other plot points— beauty/cruelty theme and the titan question is good writing and the other characters moving on and trying to achieve peace leaves a good taste in the mouth and yes i agree w it but you cant just say—

assassinating a character by deliberately writing him along the lines of a character who you know was poorly handled (yes im talking about Daenerys)

leaving so many unresolved themes (freedom from the threat of extermination? not found. relief from a caged existence? not found. possibility of co-existence? just hinted at) unexplained elements + plotholes (source of all life? poof ymir fritz? poof historia’s pov? poof)

making a mess of your narrative (make people feel for eren and share in his cause only for him to do a 180 degree of everything he stood for and if this is not enough “irony” then heres the icing on the cake: the first ever tragedy that befell the tragic hero was a result of his own doing. so yeah its all just a big joke)

let alone that absolute bullcrap excuse of “pain of love” (toxic misogynist het bs in fucking 2021? i think NO altho hardly shocking considering the protag’s bestie thanks him for genociding) are things that every reader has the right to resent and refute.

#snk #snk spoilers #shingeki no kyojin #fandom salt

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nnnnoooooooooooo · 3 years

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My Ballot for They Shoot Pictures, Don’t They?’s 25 Favourite Films Poll

The following is my ballot for They Shoot Pictures, Don’t They?’s poll for their readers’ 25 favourite films of all-time. It contains a dozen or so favourites, several compromises, and a handful of personally foundational texts.

Seven Chances (1925, Buster Keaton): It ain’t easy to only choose one Keaton. This is one of Keaton’s films with a racist blackface character, which gave me some reservations. Still, this is a solid contender as his funniest picture, and, more importantly, this is Buster as I love him the most. Keaton’s characters were always the most cerebral and lost, keen observers with no understanding. An inability to communicate one’s emotions drives the need to convert it into a physical experience; Keaton inevitably becomes the object that cannot be stopped. His full forced desperation and athleticism, he is a master of locomotion. Featuring the finalization of the chase gag, along with a generous serving of his brand of surreal.

City Lights (1931, Charles Chaplin): Comedically and emotionally devastating.

Trouble in Paradise (1932, Ernst Lubitsch): Lubtisch’s portrayal of Continental aristocracy on the cusp. Containing love, melancholy, desire, rivalry, loyalty, betrayal, criminals, and thieves-- all saved by his grace alone, achieving a rare bliss of comedy and romance. Normally, I’d say that, in a temporal world, perfection exists only as a process, but then how would I explain this?

La grande illusion (1937, Jean Renoir): In the best of Renoir’s films, I find a type of harmony I find lacking in the rest of the world.

La règle du jeu (1939, Jean Renoir): In making this list, I never doubted either of these Renoir films having a place. Now, trying to write about my list, I find myself becoming frustrated at not finding the words to explain why I chose them. I’ve never been a great communicator, and I doubt that’s Renoir’s fault. I think it’s best for me to move on before I start misplacing my frustrations with my inability to write onto the film itself.

How Green Was My Valley? (1941, John Ford): Possibly the greatest movie ever made under Hollywood’s Studio System, and perhaps the closest we’ll ever get to seeing what Hedy Lamarr might have seen in John Loder. More than any other actor, Sara Allgood carries this film, in her role as the matriarch of the Morgan household. This is chock full of great character actors and moments as you’d expect from Ford. It’s the magic of childhood, the safety of the womb, the cyclical nature of a town where nothing ever seems to change, and the devastation of entropy. I lost track of how many times I cried.

To Be or Not to Be (1942, Ernst Lubitsch): This is my choice for a comedy from the 1940s, despite stiff competition from Hellzapoppin’, and the 11 movies Preston Sturges released over the decade. I had the privilege of seeing this at my local Cinemateque with an introduction by Kevin McDonald. I was late, and the audience had already begun to talk back. He rolled, and we were soon laughing before the “projectionist” could hit ‘play’ on the Blu-Ray. My friend came later. It was a packed house, so we weren’t able to sit together. I enjoyed hearing the variances in people’s response*, and the timing of their laughter. Trying to pinpoint my friend’s laughter from the crowd, I couldn’t help but hear our host’s generous laughter throughout the film. What a joy it was for all of us to experience this film together. I guess I haven’t had a chance to share those other movies the way that I was with this one. *A nice change of pace, as this usually makes me self-conscious

Shadow of a Doubt (1943, Alfred Hitchcock): I find Hitchcock’s women’s pictures to be some of his richest texts. Besides which, any film asking me to sympathize with Theresa Wright already has a lot going for it. Alongside The Wrong Man as Hitchcock’s most tragic film.

Brief Encounter (1945, David Lean): My favourite romance, whatever that says about me. A passionate extramarital affair between Laura Jesson (Celia Johnson) and Dr. Alec Harvey (Trevor Howard), told in flashback. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this placed among noirs, but I think this could be an example of a women’s film noir. There’s a thick sense of transgression and fatalistic mise-en-scene, along with an inability to escape, which ends the film on an unconvincing return to safety. After the two lovers part for the final time, Johnson returns home. Her husband, Stanley Holloway, asks for nothing, and expresses gratitude for her return. However, for all of that loveliness, Johnson has learned that the world is far more fragile than she ever dreamt. The husband is portrayed as a bit childlike, and, coupled with the affably stiff upper-lipped nature of their marriage, Johnson is unable to confess what’s occurred, which only preserves her turmoil. Unable to consummate, sustain, or forsake her romance with Howard, she may find some refuge with her husband, but salvation eludes her.

Out of the Past (1947, Jacques Tourneur): RKO Pictures, film noir, Jacques Tourneur, and Robert Mitchum– These are a few of my favourite things. As a prude, I don’t care to admit that I love cigarette smoke in B&W pictures as much as I do, and it’s deployed here to its zenith, courtesy of Nicholas Musuraca’s cinematography. Daniel Mainwaring’s script, along with Tourneur and Mitchum, use underplay in order to create a heightened effect. Mitchum’s somnambulism grants his portrayal of Jeff Bailey an omniscient cool, which extends to his character’s bisexuality. There’s such delight in hearing Mitchum, one of the best voices in movies, deliver the film’s lyrical dialogue in his disaffected baritone.

The Big Heat (1953, Fritz Lang): Perhaps Lang’s most cynical film? The culmination of all his conspiracies. The law vs. criminals, no longer as separate from one another, but as sides of the same coin: the establishment. Sergeant Bannion (Glenn Ford) engages in total war against Lagana’s (Alexander Scourby) crime syndicate. Those caught in between end up as collateral damage, pawns in their game. Each dismantles the family unit, Lagana disposes of Bannion’s wife (Jocelyn Brando), and Bannion displaces his child, so that both sides can carry on unfettered. The happy ending finds Bannion happily back at work in the homicide department, where they’re informed of a grisly murder. Oh boy, here we go again! Gloria Grahame, a sister under the mink, reigns as my favourite actress in all of film noir.

The Sun Shines Bright (1953, John Ford): It’s not easy to film a miracle, a feat for which I’d pair this with Carl Th. Dreyer’s penultimate film, Ordet. Speaking of Dreyer, if you have 15 minutes to spare, here’s a great video of Jonathan Rosenbaum discussing this movie alongside Dreyer’s final film, Gertrud. The responsibilities and limitations of society. Communities are built through sacrifice, as we give of ourselves, which accounts for the film’s sometimes funereal tone. One’s resting spot as the place to make a stand, but what good is taking a stand if it doesn’t lead anywhere? Our redemption lies not in preserving ourselves, but in guiding the world to a place that no longer needs us. Thus, not a dying world to save, but an understanding that we must pass in order to bring about renewal. Funerals become parades, and parades become funerals, as we walk the strait and narrow path between tradition and progress. Don’t take a stand while the world marches on, but lead us into thy rest.

The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T (1953, Roy Rowland): This is a musical written and designed by Dr. Seuss, which is to say that I think you oughta see it. Still, it’s hard to justify why I chose this over The Band Wagon. I’d probably better enjoy watching The Band Wagon, which I’d wager is Hollywood’s greatest musical, but there’s something about The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T that gets under my skin. I saw it on television when I was very young. Old enough to remember seeing it, but too young to remember more than three details: twins joined at the beard, the nightmare-inducing elevator operator, and a large piano requiring an exponential amount of fingers. This forgotten foundation, along with its Seussian imagery, grants the film a dreamlike feeling. Just as every good boy deserves fudge, every Hans Conried deserves a role like the one he has here, playing the titular Dr. T.

The Night of the Hunter (1955, Charles Laughton): A kid’s film featuring the personification of evil, not in Mitchum’s portrayal of the preacher Harry Powell, but in Evelyn Varden’s Icey Spoon. This movie is so full of indelible images that I sometimes forget LOVE/HATE tattooed on Powell’s knuckles. There’s a dreadful unease from the inability to fully save or preserve Ben & Pearl within a society whose systems turn on them so easily. Their safety is drawn and quartered at every turn, and so Ben & Pearl flee society, finding a guardian out yonder. Still, there’s a limitation to their newfound guardian’s protection. Their angel and their demon sing in harmony; evil becomes instructive to the children’s growth. It’s a hard world for little things, but there is hope. Mrs. Cooper (Lillian Gish) manages to find her redemption in protecting these children while she can. Perhaps we need them as much as they need us. This was Charles Laughton’s only film as a director, as well as the final of James Agee’s two films as a screenwriter. It isn’t right.

Sweet Smell of Success (1957, Alexander Mackendrick): This is my favourite film noir, possibly the nastiest as well. Of course, I cackle throughout the entire picture. Burt Lancaster and Tony Curtis at their bests; the tension between a malevolent god and his jester/would-be pretender played as flirtation, conducting assassinations as though they were composing poetry. Shot on location in New York by James Wong Howe, giving us a view of Babel from the gutters up. Also, I’m just a big ol’ softy for Emile Meyer, who plays Lt. Kello.

Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter? (1957, Frank Tashlin): As I see it, this is the best sex comedy of the ‘50s and ‘60s. Tashlin previously worked at Termite Terrace, making Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies, and did a brief stop making Screen Gem cartoons over at Columbia in the middle. After having brought feature film techniques to his cartoons, he brought cartoon imagery into his live-action films. This is a vehicle for Jayne Mansfield, who may have been the most cartoonish of the era’s blonde bombshells, and so it is a happy marriage indeed.

Playtime (1967, Jacques Tati): This is cinema. Ah! Tati, Ah! Modernity

Out 1: noli me tangere (1971, Jacques Rivette & Suzanne Schiffman): Rivette’s movies feel alive in a way that I haven’t found anywhere else. The films I’ve seen are about conspiracy, games, and the development of theatre troupes: things that exist only in our minds, and are dependant on our cooperation with others. Things get so twisted that you wonder how they’ll ever untie it all, only for the shared illusions to be revealed as a complex series of false knots. I broke my rule with this film, in choosing a film that I’ve only seen once. I didn’t make the time to revisit this or Céline et Julie vont en bateau, my other favourite Rivette film, so I went with the larger labyrinth to lose myself in.

F for Fake (1973, Orson Welles): This is Orson Welles’s most playful film. I love Welles, the personality, almost as much as I love Welles, the director, so I chose a movie that features both.

Mikey and Nicky (1976, Elaine May): Perhaps the most tense and dark comedy I��ve ever seen. May reaches her highest levels of drama here, and does so without any cost to her usual standards for humour.

It’s a Wonderful Life (1946, Frank Capra): I wasn’t sure about including this, given that it’s not even my favourite James Stewart Christmas movie, but what can I do? It’s a Wonderful Life is an institution in my family, we’ve watched this every Christmas Eve since I was grade 6. There was a year or two in the early ‘10s where we might have missed it, but, otherwise, we’ve been devout. This is also one of four sources that laid the foundation for my love of movies, and, in particular, older movies. I hope to continue to watch this every year. It just wouldn’t be Christmas. Growing up, my brothers and I used to be allowed to open one gift the night of Christmas Eve, which evolved into my brothers and I exchanging our gifts for each other. The first year my brother’s and I exchanged gifts, we happened upon CBC playing It’s a Wonderful Life in a 3-hour timeslot. Filling in the gaps of my memory with ego, I’d say that I instigated our watching it. I was always the biggest sucker for holiday specials, as well as being the most drawn to B&W. It was an instant hit with all of us, and so two traditions were born that night. For those curious as to what year this took place, I gave my oldest brother a 3 Doors Down CD. My older brother got me the Beast Wars transmetal Terrosaur figure. And. It. Freakin’. Ruled. CBC continued to air It’s a Wonderful Life every Christmas Eve, and we continued to tune in. My brothers and I continued to exchange gifts on Christmas Eve for about another decade, but now my family has a better Christmas Eve tradition to pair with our holiday movie: Chinese food, and, less dogmatically, vegetable samosas. Leftovers become brunch. We’ve watched the movie, I think, twenty times now, which includes one viewing of the unfortunate colourized version, and once in theatres. It’s a great movie to come back to each year. There are lots of little moments, lines, and details to zero in on, and each year I get to internally test and brag to myself about naming and recognizing the various character actors and bit players that pop up. Still, I sometimes find myself resisting its charms. A couple of years ago, my view of Frank Capra changed. I no longer saw him as the director I had previously thought him to be*. I wondered whether this movie stood on its own merits, or if I was holding onto it for sentimental reasons. I have since settled on this film being a genuine classic. Another source of resistance is that I’ve never watched this on its own, there’s a lack of an individual foundation to my relationship with the film. I’m so accustomed to viewing films on my own, I think there’s a relief in a taking a private experience, and having it succeed in a public forum. The two support each other, which is part of why a couple of films ended up on this list. However, when it’s a film I’ve only seen in the company of others, I become suspicious of my experience. I believe in the power of cinema when it’s to my benefit, only to doubt it when I fear that it has the power betray me. I guess that I lack faith. *The director I once thought Frank Capra was, I now find Leo McCarey to be.

Doctor Who: The Lost in Time Collection (1963-69, various): This was a last minute decision that ended on a mistake. I ought to have chosen Daleks: The Early Years instead, which has the proper framing of a retrospective documentary. Daleks: The Early Years is a VHS release hosted by Peter Davison, featuring interviews with key people from ‘60s Dalek stories, cannibalizing clips from Dalekmania (another documentary on Daleks in the ‘60s), and orphan episodes and snippets from otherwise lost ‘60s Dalek serials. It’s also one of the VHS tapes that I grew up with, and my introduction to the fact that, at the time, over 100 episodes of ‘60s Doctor Who were missing and presumed lost. This was my introduction to the concept of lost media. Since then, a further 12 episodes have been found, and the number of missing episodes has dropped to 97. Instead, I chose The Lost in Time Collection, which is a 3-disc collection of orphan episodes and surviving clips from otherwise missing ‘60s serials, not actually a feature in itself. It’s a really nice sampling of the Doctor Who’s best era, and the episodes and clips are sometimes more interesting without the rest of their serial for context. While I didn’t get this collection until I was an adult, I had managed to see most or all of its contents growing up, mostly on various VHS compilations, as well as some clips online. As the deadline for submissions approached, I chose the one I enjoy more, rather than the one that first changed me. I suspect that Doctor Who was the first work of science-fiction that I got into, as it predates me in our household. My brothers and my getting into Transformers predates my memory, but it does not predate my being around. Doctor Who also served as my first exposure to B&W viewing. I was really into science-fiction growing up, and the genre was really my first interest in older films. The interest didn’t really bridge its way from my youth into my present. Heck, I wasn’t even particularly a movie person until into my twenties. In early adulthood, after fading for a bit, my fondness for science-fiction was more directed towards video games and books. So while it didn’t lead into my love of film and B&W, it laid a lot of the groundwork for what I’d eventually come to love. My oldest brother remembers staying up late with our parents to watch Doctor Who, and my older brother has memories of trying to stay up with them, but it was no longer airing on any of the stations we had by the time I was kicking. Loved, but unseen, it developed a sort of mythic reputation in my young mind. Over the years, we managed to see a bunch of serials on VHS through our local library system, and we eventually got 5 VHS releases of our own before the decade ended. We got a book, The Doctor Who Yearbook, which had listings and synopsises of every serial ever made. The classic Doctor Who series lasted 26 seasons, consisting of 153 serials, and just shy of 700 episodes. No matter how many episodes of Doctor Who I managed to see when I was growing up, it was only ever the tip of the iceberg. My younger self liked daydreaming about all of the adventures, planets, aliens, robots, and monsters, but that would begin to dissipate with age. While I loved Star Wars for the many of the same reasons as I did Doctor Who, the advent of more Star Wars wasn’t all that fulfilling, with Episode I: Racer for the N64 PC as a noted exception. More than the fact that I was caught up in the cultural backlash against George Lucas, the lack of a well defined characters and society in the original trilogy was a virtue. The toys and books really capitalized on this. I was the kid that wanted to know every weirdo and background character’s life story. I was such a mark. The more movies they made that added to the lore, the smaller their galaxy seemed to be, in opposition to an expanded universe. Each piece promising to add to the larger picture only seemed to reveal a smaller whole. More movies telling the same stories with different versions of the same characters. A galaxy that once seemed so vast now revealed to be comprised of maybe two dozen people, many of which are related or connected to each other in some tired and unnecessary way. Eventually, I got really into Jonathan Rosenbaum, and began to project my ego all over his preferences, to which Star Wars became a victim. I gave up on the series after sitting through a showing of Episode VII. Fires subside, and, these days, I’m mostly indifferent towards the series. Undergraduates can be a bit much, y’know? While the new Doctor Who series also fell out of favour with me, it was easier for me to divorce it from the original series. Having seen the series only in disparate pieces, rather than a linear narrative may have helped. I have no illusions that the original series is anything more than a silly kid’s show that mostly takes place in corridors, which is a fine thing to be. It’s enough to be a delight. The deceit of nostalgia is that I can return to these works I once loved with the same feelings and wonder that I had as a child. While I remain fond of Doctor Who, the whole of a serial is often less than the sum of its parts. After all, being a serial, half of the adventure is meant to take place in your head during the week between episodes. It’s the opposite of binge-watch material. It’s hard to commit to working your way through such a bulky series at a deliberately slow pace. Besides, even spacing the episodes out some, it’s still not going to capture my mind the way it would when I was a child. The virtue of the Lost in Time Collection is that you’re never seeing a serial as a whole, only as individual pieces. The collection consists of 18 complete episodes from 12 serials, with clips and bits from an additional 10 serials. Only one serial has more than two episodes featured, The Daleks’ Master Plan, a 12-part epic, which has its 3 known surviving episodes on the set. Freed from the responsibilities of being part of a larger story, you get to enjoy the pleasures of each episode as its own entity. Charm exists outside of context, and what may have been stretched and strained over half a dozen episodes can easily be sustained in the single episode or two that remains. A piece of Starburst may not keep its flavour any longer than a piece of Hubba Bubba, but at least it has the decency not to overstay its welcome. The less that remains of a serial, the more interesting it becomes. For some serials, the only surviving clips are the scenes that were cut by censors, and so you’re only seeing the juiciest bits. Protected by obscurity, just as recording in B&W protected this era of the series against its lack of budget, the childlike sense of wonder remains. Any missing serial could have been great. We lack evidence to prove otherwise. What little remains from these serials is enough to imagine what may have been, and it’s easy to give the benefit of the doubt to an old friend. No longer just a science-fiction adventure, the series has grown into a larger and more engaging adventure in film & television preservation. Thanks to its cultural status and following, questions as to how these stories were lost, why years of episodes were junked, how they were returned, in which disparate places were episodes found, who has been hunting for them, what were their methods, to what lengths did they go, what places remain to be searched, what remains to be found, what’s trapped in the hands of private collectors, and what has been lost forever have all been thoroughly explored, though some answers continue to elude us. For those interested, Youtuber Josh Snares has an extensive series of videos that breaks down many of these questions as best as one can with what’s publicly known, and, despite being on yotube, I don’t think he’s annoying. Doctor Who best represents my film lover’s sense of discovery, combining the joys of hearing about a film that piques my interest, trying to track a film down, discovering or rediscovering a new favourite, learning about film history, and the efforts of film preservation. Hearing about films I’d like to see can be nearly as rewarding as actually watching the films themselves. The more that I see, the more there is that I’d like to see. The harder something is to find, the more interesting it can become. Film is a physical object, so there is a battle against time for us to discover, recover, restore, and preserve works before they’re lost to time. The good news is that many efforts are being undertaken, both by professionals and by amateurs. The advent of crowdfunding has really helped to create more opportunities for completing these endeavours. Following an Indiegogo campaign, Netflix stepped in and completed Orson Welles’s The Other Side of the Wind. Many of Marion Davies’s silent films have been restored in recent years. Thanks to the efforts of Ben Model and his team, I will soon have the pleasure of seeing eight Edward Everett Horton shorts that haven’t been in circulation since the silent era. Steve Stanchfield (Thunderbean), Jerry Beck (Cartoon Research), Tommy Stathes (Cartoons On Film), and their cohorts are doing God’s work in finding and restoring old cartoons, and giving them an audience once more. I don’t think there’s ever been a more exciting time to be so out of touch.

The Muppet Movie (1979, James Frawley): The Muppets’ movies were a staple of our household growing up, and this ranks alongside The Great Muppet Caper as the best of them. This movie has a very self-aware humour to it, exemplified by the introduction. The camera wanders through a studio backlot, following a car carrying Statler & Waldorf, who provide us with the first dialogue of the film, announcing their intent to heckle the film. Inside, the Muppets are waiting for a private screening of The Muppet Movie to begin. It’s a disaster. A monster tears out one of the seats, the visibly deranged Crazy Harry blows up another, people are dancing in the aisles, and chickens are flying about. Objects being thrown include, but are not limited to, popcorn, Lew Zealand’s boomerang fish, and paper airplanes. A full-sized Muppet looms in the background, a giant colourful bird with enormous unblinking eyes, leaning a bit from side to side. An acknowledgement that somebody has let the animals in charge of the zoo. Still, a coziness remains amidst all of the chaos. Kermit attempts to introduce the movie to his peers, the lights go down, and he takes his seat. The movie opens in the heavens, where the credits and a rainbow appear. It clears onto a long, long shot of a swamp, slowly zooming in to reveal a frog on a log, playing a banjo, singing Paul Williams and Kenneth Ascher’s The Rainbow Connection. We’re taken away. One of the most vital aspects of the Muppets is that they exist in our world, something that gets lost in their 90’s trend of literary adaptations. An entire world of Muppets isn’t much of a utopian vision, but the idea that these animals, monsters, and whatevers belong in society alongside ‘real’ people is. This trend was part of a larger regression throughout the years with the Muppets. What began as a self-aware humour turned into a self-depreciating humour, and, eventually, a self-loathing humour. The Muppets used to take on the world, but, in later years, they seemed unable to dream of anything more than getting back together once more, so that they could reaffirm their lack of success. Bring them back to life so they can take one more dying breath. This Muppet movie is filled with celebrity cameos, in part a tribute to their variety show, as well as to the vaudevillian origins of most of their shtick. Here, the cameos serve the Muppets. Later, the Muppets would take a backseat, and become vehicles for others, not even allowed to star in their own movies. I wish they were given better opportunities to shine. As good as this film is, I have to admit that this film’s treatment of Miss Piggy is embarrassingly sexist. While they don’t look like Presbyterians to me, at their best, I think the Muppets have almost as much hope to offer as any religion.

Transformers: The Movie (1986, Nelson Shin): Watching this movie gives me the feeling I always hope that I’ll feel whenever I’ve bought concert tickets. I don’t watch this so much as I sing along to it. I even knew Vince DiCola’s score down to a ‘T’. With all due respect to Storefront Hitchcock, this is my personal Stop Making Sense.

Air Alert V. 4 (late 2000’s, TMT Sports): First, and most importantly, I do not recommend Air Alert nor any other paid for vertical jump program. I cannot stress that enough. They’re not designed by people who really know what they’re doing, the marketing is predatory, they’re unjustly hard on your joints, and they’re methods are not in conjunction with their promises of wild vertical gains. While I hope to stop finding that people have also done Air Alert, I immediately feel a strong kinship with those I learn have also been misled. Air Alert is a 15-week vertical jump program that makes the dubious promises of adding 8-14 inches to yer vertical leap to everyone, regardless of their current physical condition. It promises to add explosiveness to yer hops, but its means are an exponentially increasing amount of jump exercise repetitions. This is to say that, in practice, Air Alert actually builds jumping endurance, which teaches yer muscles to conserve energy, rather than to expend it in an explosive manner. Like all jump programs, it also fails to address that much of your jumping’s height comes from a combination of your core and upper body strength, as well as technique. The version I got also came with an advertised-as-new Air Alert Advanced, a further 6 weeks of yet more intensive exercise routine to add another 3-6 inches to yer leap. I did the 15 weeks of Air Alert, and, like everybody else I’ve known, I got 2-3 inches added to my vertical. After the recovery week suggested following completion of the program, I tried dunking at the church. You had better believe that I told my dad to bring his digital camera, ’cause this was gonna be a big deal. Being able to dunk was surely going to usher in a whole new era in my life. Now, I had been wrong about these sorts of things before. I had become skinny, I got a couple of nice shirts, I listened to what I though was the right unpopular music, and I had stolen some jokes, but my life largely remained the same. It seemed as though my life couldn’t be redeemed by vanity and trivialities, J still wasn’t dating me, but this would be so much more. This was dunking. This was going to be different. We went to the church, and I had the same problems as before. I could get high enough, but I couldn’t throw down. The further you extend a limb from your core, the less strength it has at its disposal. I had little upper-body strength to begin with, and, fully extended, my hand is pretty far from my body. I’d always lose the ball on the way up, or lose height putting more of my strength onto the ball. Legs can only take you so far. At my best, I’ve brought the ball to the rim, lost it, and, thanks to momentum, had the ball go off of the backboard and in. A lay-up isn’t a dunk. My knees have been crunchy ever since. After a further month of letting my joints recover, I tried my hand at Air Alert Advanced. After the first week, which consisted of 3 days of 2000 individual jumps, some of my friends reunited to play soccer at our old high school. I was proud to see that the goals we had rescued were still on the field. However, I found that my joints were so worn down that I could only run at a steady pace in a straight line. Turning, accelerating, and decelerating were all, sadly, out of the picture. I decided not to continue onto the subsequent weeks. I was still a fatuous pauper, single, and working at a shoe store while friends had gone on to do other things, so what did I manage to accomplish? Well, for starters, I gained some athletic ability for the first time in my life, which was neat. I gained a lot of leg strength, endurance, and quickness, as well as the previously mentioned 2-3 inches to my vert, all of which I treasured. Despite being the skinniest guy on the court, my legs were strong enough to anchor me in the key, and contend with guys up to double my weight. I went from being a guy who showed up to Dunkball, to becoming a guy that people wanted on their team. While others got tired throughout the night, slowly losing their vertical, I managed to jump just as frequently and just as high in my last game of the night as I could during my first. As both the tallest and the lankiest guy at Dunkball, my height advantage now increased in the air. I’d let people box me out, only to jump and reach over them. I felt so free. I was, and remain, Dunkball’s most improved player. Of course, it helps to have the advantage of having started out lower than everybody else. Once, somebody brought a friend who was taller than me. It was awful. As for dunking? Well, I could dunk small balls at the church, if I could close my hand on them. I managed to dunk a flat soccer ball on an outdoor net at a school yard once, but I never verified its height. I could dunk at the Academy chapel with the rim fully raised, though that rim sags in the front, so I��m guessing that rim was about 9’10”. Still, that won me a game of H-O-R-S-E or two. Sometimes, when warming up for Dunkball, someone would instigate a dunk competition, and I managed to develop a trademark dunk which nobody could replicate or stomach: the underhanded dunk. Norm was the only person not to loathe it, bless his heart. While I never managed to dunk on a proper 10’ net, I was able to goaltend, which has no use outside of being a dick to a friend. I was smarmy enough to do it once. Even at Dunkball, I never became much of a dunker, except on turnovers or tip-ins, or unless I had a guard who could do the work of setting me up. I’m more opportunistic than aggressive, besides, who am I going to beat off of the dribble? On my worst nights, I was still a tall guy who could jump, so I always drew the interest of a defender. I’ve always preferred defence to offence, and my favourite offensive play is to box out their post-player, either to be in a better position to rebound, or in order to prevent them from goaltending. Defence is where Air Alert made the most difference for me. They either had to box me out in order to stop me from goaltending, or try banking it in. I could sit low enough to the ground to defend outside players without losing speed. With a lower net, some players didn’t arc their shots as much, allowing me to swat them away with ease. There was nothing better than blocking a dunk. Some people took it personally, and would try coming at you on the next play; we all loved blocking Joseph. Still, the best was blocking Norm’s dunks, even if it meant landing on my back. It was summertime, the final game of the night, with uneven teams and lopsided match-ups, but, somehow, it’s neck and neck. Not only are we still in it, we’ve had the lead. Will is shooting, Nathan is hustling, and I’m blocking everything. My greatest defensive game ends prematurely after I block one of Norm’s dunks, landing horizontally, with all of my weight squarely on my tailbone and elbows. I call it a night, and, in the morning, learned that we had lost immediately after I left. At this point, I had memorized Air Alert’s number of sets and routines, and so I lent the DVD to Graham. He promised to return it soon. This was in 2010. I learned how to juggle that August, but that didn’t save me either. I kept up my jumping exercises, doing week 4 as maintenance, losing consistency once I started university that fall. Dunkball slowly lost consistency, too, and so I eventually took up the reigns of organizing it. People changed wards, got married, moved, and started families. It was hard to motivate people to come out without a guarantee. At some point, I became one of the veterans. As Dunkball continued to lose consistency, and as I went through occasional bouts of burn-out withorganizing things, Dunkball changed from being year-round into seasons, and, later, patches, of activity. The benefit of being the one to organize Dunkball is that it allowed me to filter out the jerks between patches of activity. There aren’t a ton of rules, you can make a pass off the wall, you can charge, you can play it in the hall, and goaltending is a way of life, but life is too long to spend it with people who can’t play sports without yelling. We weren’t as athletic as we once were, but the new players were generally pretty skinny, so we were still able to push them around. I stopped buying bus passes after my first year of university, which helped me to maintain most of my leg strength. While I was in university, I managed to keep most of my vertical, but my confidence became precarious, which affected my intensity. I wasn’t soaking through my shirts anymore, I started to let people push me around. After I dropped out of university, I grew into a much more sedentary lifestyle. The leg strength I had used to define myself diminished. I’ve had a really hard coping with that. At times, the prospect of playing Dunkball felt more embarrassing than motivating. I felt lost out on the court. I didn’t feel strong enough to bump around in the key, and I felt sluggish trying to play on the outside. Still, I had now been around long enough that I was able to lead a team, if necessary. I’d hide from my refuge until I felt strong enough to return. Volunteering and winter each got me walking again. Collin organized a soccer team the summer before the pandemic, which got me running and jumping again. I felt more determined, and began to feel better. No longer trapped by where I was, or where I felt I should have been, I was content with making progress. I think that I handled the early months of the pandemic better than most people. With our usual routines in disarray, I stumbled out of the feedback loop I was caught in. Finding some self-compassion and focus, I created structure to my quarantine in order to work on some goals. I was going to come out of the quarantine dunking. I was joking this time, but I need to dream about something while exercising. Otherwise, I’m just jumping in place, staring at the door. I went through weeks 1-7 of Air Alert, ending with the rest week that marks the halfway point. After which, I returned to doing week 4 to maintain strength. With churches closed, activities cancelled, and others on lockdown, I started secretly meeting Nik on Saturdays to shoot the ball around. This was back when we were allowed to keep small circles of contacts. The benefit of having keys. The only downside was that the building didn’t have any air circulation outside of facilities management’s offices. Regarding the pandemic, our city still didn’t have any cases of community transmission. Two of us shooting the ball around became three, and soon we were playing 2-on-2. Dunkball was back, baby! Sans the titular Dunkball, which had gone missing, stolen by missionaries. I knew that it was only a matter of time before they got rid of the Academy chapel, so I was really motivated to play as much as we could while it was still safe. It took us a little bit before we managed to get six players out on the same day, and we still ended up playing 2’s some nights. We weren’t getting many guys out, but we always had good games. Everyone who came out hustled and was a solid atmosphere guy. We’d mostly play best-of-5 or 7 game series, maybe switching teams up for a final game or two. The series managed to stay pretty tight, with nobody ever reaching a dynasty. Facilities management leaves the building at 5:30, and, with nobody else around, our secret combination was free to schedule Dunkball whenever we pleased. We were playing twice some weeks. We were able to accommodate people’s schedule. Marvin, my favourite teammate, was able to come out. I hadn’t been able to play with him in years. A high percentage of our small group of players were relatively new to the game. It was really exciting to see them develop, even if Jason blocked me that one time. I had found my place again, having regained some of my leg strength and quickness. My core and upper-body strength, elusive at the best of times, had become memories, but I worked around that. My game is mostly designed with those absences in mind anyways. Consequently, my play became much more lateral, rather than vertical, after the 4th and, later, 5th game, as Collin noted. I also managed a new trick or two, like learning to bait people into banking their shot, and then blocking it off of the backboard for a quick turnover. My intensity was up, or at least the A/C was down. I was soaking through my shirts again, and I was happy. It was a hot and humid summer. I missed Jason’s birthday, so I brought some blackout chocolate banana bread to celebrate. As it turns out, a thick moist cake is not refreshing when you’re exhausted and sitting around in a hot and stuffy room you’ve spent the past 2-3 hours further heating up with yer friends. Collin became the MVP the following week when he brought a box of freezies with him. All my life, I had never seen their true worth or potential. I took them for granted in my youth, and turned my nose up at them as I grew older. Now I understood. I had Dunkball, I had friendly players who responded when I tried organizing things, we had freezies, and, as the Ward Clerk, I had convinced my Bishop that we should buy a new ball (despite the fact that playing at the Church was still verboten.) I was grateful, but I still longed for a day where we had more than 4-6 players, so that we could have subs between games. It’s nice to be able to switch up teams between games, rather than trying to push Arles all night. It’s even nicer to sit down every once in a while, especially after failing to push Arles around. Our province was still fairly safe, but that was beginning to change. Two regulars had at risk family members, and we began seeing community transmission. I planned to end what was to be the penultimate season of Dunkball after Labour Day. I was concerned what would happen once the school year started. Before then, we had eight* people come out to Dunkball one morning. Four pairs of family members, in fact. This gave us rotations between games, and a variety of playing styles, leading to more interesting match-ups and dynamics. Whoever loses would get to take a break; excitement was in the air! I questioned Collin’s choice of shoes. He reminded me that I’m solely responsible for their condition. I lend Collin my shoes. He likes the shoes, and I like his freezies. *the ideal amount is 8-9 people Shoot for teams: Graham, Collin, and I hit our shots. Collin has speed, Graham has range and strength, I have the height, and we all rebound. We win the first game easily, manage to survive the second, and win our third. Dynasty! Shoot for teams again, and I’m back on the floor with David and Marvin. David anchors the key, allowing me to cheat on defence, while Marvin generates offence and creates mismatches. We all defend. Three more wins, and it’s another dynasty! Marvin and I sit this time, and watch as Jacob (handles), Graham, and Jason (positioning) steal the game. Marvin and I go back on with Limhi, a guard heavy team playing an post-player’s game. They shoot and pass, drawing out the defence, while I set picks, prevent goaltending, and try to clean up on the boards. They cover the outside, while I guard the inside. When the other team goes to the inside, I make their post-player turn away from the net, where either Marvin or Limhi, cheating off of their man, are waiting to strip them of the ball. We win the first game, taking back the floor. They carry me through the second. Last game of the day, and the other team starts to fall apart. As per tradition, we extend the game, but only to to 15, because only Graham and I want to play to 21. We stumble as they regroup, but Jacob gets frustrated, and their chemistry falters. I assume that I’m to blame, become self-conscious, and begin calling fouls on myself whenever I make any contact with the other team. Of course, this happens on every play, because I’m trying to box out my brother. I get some weird looks as David sighs, he just wants it to be over. I get a clean stop, Limhi scores, and the day ends on a third dynasty. I remain undefeated. Freezies for everyone! That was the third to last time we played Dunkball. We had another night with six players, and ended the season with a morning of playing 2-on-2, after which we ran out of freezies. I was optimistic that we’d be back playing sometime in the New Year. We barely registered a first wave of the pandemic, but restrictions ended prematurely, and school started back up. Cases kept climbing. I was scared in October, but that was only the beginning. When we first started playing Dunkball that summer, our province was first in the country. By Christmas, we had become the worst. We began to curb the number of new cases, but restrictions were eased before hospitals finished dealing with the second wave. In May, we began transferring patients to other provinces. For some reason, the plan is to reopen in July. For some reason, a duo tried organizing ball in March. I declined. Our congregation was changing buildings, so Nik and I went over to grab some stuff. I found that our Dunkball had gone missing again, but I found the original Dunkball, which hasn’t held air since 2015, and brought it home. In April, facilities management began clearing out the Academy chapel, in anticipation of listing the building for sale. They didn’t inform our Bishop until later that week. He went over to pack anything worth keeping, only to have found that they had already junked everything belonging to our congregation, as well everything belonging to the Yazidi community group that had been meeting there prior to the pandemic. I don’t know the building’s current status. Nik and I kept our keys in the hopes of playing again, but it’s unlikely that things will be safe to go back to normal in time. Dunkball exists as a time and a place: Thursday nights after Institute class at Academy. Last fall, they moved institute classes over to the stake centre. The Academy building is being sold now, and Dunkball is over as we know it. As I previously mentioned, I lent Graham, the Gordie Howe of Dunkball, my Air Alert DVD and booklet back in 2010. For the past ten years now, he has meant to return it, only for it to slip his mind. I usually forget about it, myself, only for him to remind me when he apologizes. In the moment, I sorta feel guilty that he worries about it. I mean, it’s fine, I don’t need it. He’s put it on his desk, he’s placed it by the door, and though he’s either seen me or a member of my family at least once a week for the past decade, my copy of Air Alert still hasn’t made its way back to me. I’m not even sure that I want it back, but I appreciate his sincerity. It’s become tradition for him to maintain this false tension between us. At this point, I’d hate to see it go. What if this tension is what’s sustained our friendship throughout all these years? What if Graham’s only been coming out to Dunkball because he feels guilty? I won’t see him at Dunkball anymore, and, as of this week, he won’t be seeing me at church anymore. It’s things like this that keep us alive. I hope that Graham never returns my copy of Air Alert, but I hope that he always tries. ”There is no end to matter, There is no end to space, There is no end to Dunkball, There is no end to race.” - If You Could Hie to Kolob Dunkball, by W.W. Phelps.

I could have gone on about my legs, honestly. Now, I only included those formative texts that I’m willing to admit are still a part of me. I did not include those works whose influences I feel that I have repented of, which is why the 1967 Patterson-Gimlin footage of Bigfoot from Bluff Creek, California, The Weezer Video Capture Device, Newsies, The Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny, nor anything related to Dorm Life or MST3K are not included on my ballot. In any case, I’m sorry not to have found room for Johnny Guitar.

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lucy-ghoul · 3 years

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Just read the new Snk leaks and... guys.

I had finally made peace with chapter 139. Yes, it was super rushed and mediocre at best. Yes, the dialogs were... off and all the characters were kinda OOC - except for Levi (my beloved ♥️) who says basically nothing over ~50 pages and therefore is the only one who's left unscathed by the general weirdness. Nonetheless, some of the basic concepts were solid; the real issue was the execution.

But if these leaks are true... ch139 was a fucking masterpiece in comparison jklsdfghjlsf

Eren "what a man you are" Jaeger may have turned out to be Walmart Lelouch, but at least he achieved something. If Paradis gets nuked, his friends are killed and the Titan powers come back (?)... then it was all completely pointless. The whole story has been an exercise in sadism and nihilism since Day 1.

I still don't understand how the fuck Mikasa goes to visit Eren's grave if the island is destroyed...?? Like?? Unless it gets nuked decades after the Rumbling, when Mikasa&co. are all elderly/dead.

And the first King Fritz actually dying...? How is that even possible? If he doesn't feed Ymir to their children, Ymir's bloodline doesn't even get the Titan powers in the first place (unless she changes their DNA in some other way? Maybe with the Founder Titan’s powers?). The same goes for the Ackerman clan, and Paradis, and therefore Eren, Mikasa, and Armin never even meet. Hell, even the Rumbling has no reason to be enacted.

..... Right? Like, that would change the entire history of the world and the Eldian people. How does it even make sense with the canon timeline/events? It must be an AU. Please, tell me it's an AU* 🙏🙏

One little silver lining: Mikasa moves the fuck on, has a family, etc. If the Mysterious Husband is really Jean, then congratulations to the shippers! I don't ship them, but good for you in any case. (Although it's getting increasingly obvious that Yams has a thing for one-sided underdeveloped romances... except maybe Armin/Annie.)

I'm also having a lot of fun reading all the comments on Reddit (and I usually loathe the Reddit bros). This shit is hilarious. It's simultaneously the worst and best thing ever. Like, Yams pulled a JK Rowling and Rumbled his own series, and don't even let me start about all the super passive aggressive references to the fandom's unhappiness with Ch139 in the Junior High AU strips GHJLSDGJSKHF

* There’s the huge possibility that the leaks are heavily decontextualized and the whole “Titan Powers AGAIN??/Ymir doesn’t sacrifice herself for her p*do king/Paradis gets nuked” thing is an AU (or better, multiple AUs) that Mikasa sees in the Paths when she talks to the abovementioned Founder. In that case, it’d all make sense. It could even be very interesting! But if it’s not an AU and just the True Ending.......... 🤡🤡🤡🤡

#1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #i thought the finale was a tragedy but it turns out it was a comedy all along lmao #the shitstorm that's gonna hit the fandom.... i swear this is HYSTERICAL #yams is actually a genius: he'll manage to alienate even the people who liked the last chapter #he didn't lie when he said his finale was gonna make the fans angry hjkdfgjlsfg #as for me the only canon i accept from now on is my fanfic #i don't even know if i'll keep writing it tho #first i need to get my (already unstable) sanity back hdjfksgdj #of course all of this is still unconfirmed so we should wait the epilogue's actual release before going into 100% panic mode #but STILL. this shit is insane and hilarious and i'm loving/hating everything lmao #✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️#val speaks #snk salt #snk spoilers #txt

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firstfullmoon · 4 years

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do you have any quotes on inventing love/the ideal romance as a comfort?

“But at night I dream of a love so heavy it makes my spine throb – I dream up a lover who makes love like he is separating salt from water.”

— Salma Deera, “salt”

“The door slammed and someone came home and low voices could be heard, the single lilt of a question as it rose, “How was it?” or “Are you hungry?” Something plain and necessary, yet extra, with care, a voice like those tiny roofs over the phone booths along the train tracks, the ones made from the same shingles used for houses, except only four rows wide—just enough to keep the phone dry. And maybe that’s all I wanted—to be asked a question and have it cover me, like a roof the width of myself.”

— Ocean Vuong, from On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous

“I battle with myself over this scene because it's probably a bit over the top and over-romantic and slushy, but if we haven't earned it by now, then we never will have. One of the make-up artists was stood beside me while we were shooting this. And she whispered very quietly, “I wish that was my life.” And I think wish fulfilment serves a purpose. A lot of people consider it a cop out or a cynical act, but I think wish fulfilment is really important in drama. And it's important for the people who watch it and the people who make it. We need to have something to reach for. To not settle for less.”

— Joe Wright, in the P&P director’s commentary on the scene in which Darcy crosses the field toward Elizabeth

— Kim Addonizio, “Party”

Do you imagine at night someone going to bed the very moment you are going to bed? Turning out the lights? And isn’t the heart so quiet you swear the heart is telepathic? Isn’t it—

— Beckian Fritz Goldberg, “Eros in His Striped Shirt”

“He is always reminded of a visit to Harold and Julia’s he’d made years ago, when he had come down with a terrible cold and had wound up spending most of the weekend on the living-room sofa, wrapped in a blanket and sliding in and out of sleep. That Saturday evening, they had watched a movie together, and at one point, Harold and Julia had begun talking about the Truro house’s kitchen renovation. He half dozed, listening to their quiet talk, which had been so dull that he couldn’t follow any of the details but had also filled him with a great sense of peace: it had seemed to him the ideal expression of an adult relationship, to have someone with whom you could discuss the mechanics of a shared existence.”

— Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life

“As it is, I can’t settle, I want someone who is fierce and will love me until death and know that love is as strong as death, and be on my side forever and ever.”

— Jeanette Winterson, Oranges Are Not The Only Fruits

#w #compilation #desires as round as peaches bloom in me all night #ocean vuong #kim addonizio #jeanette winterson #hanya yanagihara

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sanoiro · 3 years

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Lucifer 5x04 - The Mega Meta

This episode, the one all the cast and writers praised turned out to be the most challenging for the audience. Several hated it mainly for interrupting the flow of S5P1 whilst introducing a ‘weak’ story for Lucifer’s ring. Others loved it for all the meta, the concealed trivia and details that exist in that episode.

In my opinion 5x04 took it’s time to warm up to my heart and therefore today it’s time to write a meta on it. I’ll try to cover all the bases and if I miss something I apologise!

This meta will analyse, lines, settings, songs hopefully with the order they appear in the episode, as well as hints that it gives us for P2, the end of the series and many more things.

The credits open to Lucifer whistling as per Netflix’s subtitles ‘Chattanooga Choo Choo’

A song of about a man waiting for his train as he gets a shoe shine. The lyrics reveal at the end that a girl is waiting him at his destination and that he intents to marry her and settle... A good foreshadowing about Lucifer no? Especially after the S3 game night fiasco...

There's gonna be a certain party at the station Satin and lace, I used to call funny face She's gonna cry until I tell her that I'll never roam

By the way what’s this obsession over daggers and them killing people? Didn’t we have enough with the Flaming Sword in S2?

Trixie: Has it ever killed anyone?

Let’s keep it that way kid... Although I doubt it.

Now take a moment to realise that Lucifer was in Hell for thousands of years. He hasn’t had sex since his relationship with Eve and for his last night on Earth he prefers to play a game of Monopoly with Trixie and only when she turns him down Lucifer suggests getting a drink at LUX always in her company. That’s progress...

It also busts all claims of Lucifer being a sex obsessed maniac.

The year is 1946...

WW2 is over and we find Lucifer in a new setting, a familiar one where through the episode we see that he has not just visited again but he is frequent visitor around that time. Just a few years later after all he was seen through Kinley’s photos in Nazi Germany. Now we know it was because apparently he owns a castle there, in the Austrian Alps... Not exactly in mint condition after the war though...

By the way the castle that corresponds to that 22 bedroom description Lucifer gives is Schloss Ernegg Castle which belongs to the same family since the 17th century and it’s in great condition. Actually it operates as a hotel!

The Hurry plays as we see Ellis strolling the WB New York area of the lot. Great old ones were shot there.. Like The Big Sleep (1946) staring Bogart and Bacall which was shot in 1944, reshot some parts in 1945 but was released after all the ‘proper’ war time movies were released first.

A bit like this episode The Big Sleep carries ‘process of a criminal investigation, not its results’. Also around that time we have The Killers coming out, The Killers is important to mention as aside from being based on a story by Hemingway who was in Cuba in 1946 not in New York as Lucifer claims, it was directed by Robert :. Siodmak made most of the Hollywood’s noir classics and was always faithful to the doomed attraction which would always resolve to a nihilistic conclusion... (Thank you wiki! :P)

The connection to Lucifer, between the lines and the off hand comments like Hemingway is that noir films were based on the German Expressionism in cinema, and one of the most prominent figure for the US was that one German director Robert Siodmak.

The purpose of the above information is in order to tell you that a black & whte effect and a crime story is not what makes a noir episode. The writers were faithful to the core of noir. Entrapment, flashbacks, narration. The tropes of murder, jealousy, backstabbing and crime is also there, easy to replicate after all for sure. A dead man walking and ‘selective’ amnesia is also convenient...

Triumph and tragedy can be found and lost in the maze of the cities and in questionable establishments... Like in bars...

Moving on!

The credits open and we listen to The Hurry Up played by The Heath And His Orchestra. Dear Heath was British not an American. A subtle nod to Ellis probably as the leading man. But here is the thing Heath was the performer not the composer of that piece. The composer was Kenny Graham (Again British) and probably that piece was written after 1958 but anyways it’s an inconsistency we (-I-) can certainly live with!

Lucifer and Lilith last meeting was at around 1770 (Marie Antoinette was born in 1755) now whether in Austria or France who knows.... I would assume that Lucifer stayed in Austria until WW2 as aside from the wars and other issues it had a great cultural field for him to explore such as literature, music and lacked the brashness of the new-founded then US (1776).

Tiny issue here... Moctezuma (The 2nd) who Lilith claims to have met died in 1520, a bit after Cortés arrived in what we know today as Mexico so we can assume that Lilith travelled between the New World and Europe until Lucifer found her in New York in 1946.

Lilith in a relationship with Tommy Stomponato who owned the club, she probably influenced him enough to name it ‘The Garden’ as se admits to Gertie later in the episode, she really loved that Garden hence why she took a small part of it with her.

Now the name Tommy Stomponato is directly influenced by Johnny Stomponato part and bodyguard of the Cohen Mafia boss Mickey Cohen. Now funny thing he was stabbed by Lana Turner’s (Hollywood star) daughter Cheryl Crane... That remind us a bit of Gertie as she yes both were stabbed by a woman but both were not prosecuted. The first as Lilith didn’t want Gertie to lose the limited time she had with her husband and Cheryl because she claimed self-defense.

The first time we see Lesley Ann as Lilith she sings ‘I want to be evil’ originally performed at the debut of Eartha Kitt and first released in 1953. It is considered brilliant for it’s feminism and ‘video clip’ starring Kitt...

youtube

It’s a song that carries Lilith’s agony which even Eve carried. The need for freedom, the need to break the chains of what they should be and what we see that even Maze carries throughout the series. It’s a song that reaffirms that betrayal towards God, Adam and Lucifer in Maze’s case is not an act of evilness but the need of these women to re-sculpture themselves without aid or instructions. In Kitt’s case it was social conformity. Also Johnnie Ray was the ‘guy who cries’ aside from his hit song in 1951 ‘Cry’ him crying after his wedding was received with mixed feelings I believe from the press and his fans.

Now we see that crime for Lucifer was fun and again he wanted to Laugh with Hemingway who again in 1946 was not in New York but had just starting to write his novel ‘Garden of Eden (published posthumously in 1986) and it explored the reversal of gender roles a bit like this Lucifer episode does.

So Lucifer accepts the case of finding the ring but needs help. Jack Monroe is the one that can help him and the name is inspired probably by Iowa’s born Jack Monroe Marvel character who lived in New York, fought the Nazi (See Jack talking about the Battle of the Bulge), sidekick to Captain America - in a way - and ended up shot and killed. The character had many cliche detective phrases. But that’s mostly a likely speculation :P

Now as Jack goes to talk to the ‘rat’ Lucifer comments on Gertie serving him a drink ‘Just what the doctor ordered’ an obvious connection to Harris playing Dr Linda.

A nice prop is the machine gun over the bar an alleged gift from Al Capone who had been arrested 17 years earlier and died in 1947.

Thanks for listening, XOXO A. Capone

Now Lucky Larry who ends up dead is wearing an eyepatch probably a nod to another great director of noir films and of german expressionism in cinematography Fritz Lang.

At that point we have the talk between Lucifer and Jack concerning the laters problem with his wife. The story as everyone has noticed is a parallel with the issue that Lucifer and Chloe never begun on an equal ground. Someone had manipulated them and in both cases both parties suffered. Both men were manipulated by someone over them in hierarchy and both stood on a dilemma on how to proceed. It took Lucifer over 60 years to realise how difficult it was to leave and even then in 2x14 he returned.

As Jack and Lucifer get to Willy’s mansion all the paintings depict him as a great warrior in all possible eras. As Napoleon, Fritz of Austro-Hungarian Empire, Henry the 8th, Ivan, and that armour I believe it was from Carlomagne?

Also Hannibal crossing the Alps?

The little sausages are self-explenatory for the character and perhaps the lilies in his house a connection to the episode and the P1′s plot.

Lucifer checking the armour’s genital protector? Priceless :P As was Willy’s connection to Dan.

Now something that always make me wonder is why Lilith calls God Adam’s father as if she never considered him her own. At the same time she gives us a big hint there. She never walked away she was ‘sent’ away.

Gertie reveals there that her husband was wounded at the Guadalcanal campaign which ended in 1943 meaning that Bill was unresponsive for about three years at that point. The good news is that Bill seems to have been inspired by Bill Lentsch. Lentsch wrote a memoir called My Story and then adapted under the Title Hope For Wounded Warriors.

As a wounded warrior, Bill Lentsch knows the frustrating feelings of apparent helplessness and hopelessness. A sea-going Marine on the cruiser USS Vincennes at the beginning of World War II, he was a "hot shell catcher". The story of Bill's survival when the Vincennes sank is a story of miracles. In contrast, the story of his post-war rehabilitation and readjustment to civilian life, including a bad marriage {Sanoiro: At this point we have a differentiation but you never know}, contains more than its share of dark pages and the consequences of poor choices. Contemplating the option of murder, then suicide, was a vivid reality. Thankfully, the story of his later years brings hope and inspiration as Bill shares his personal journey of discovery.

Meanwhile the investigation continues. In the apartment we see pigeon cages a rather popular hobby back then in New York and not just for the messages they transported. Also do notice the WB water tower in the back. Iconic!

Lucifer finds a cuban cigar. Romeo y Juliet. The meta here obvious bit nonetheless important to our main love story.

With Stomponato dead we have a chance to delve a bit to Egyptian mythology.

First the missing heart. The main organ that according to ancient Egyptians held the answer of how well you had done while you lived and what you deserved after death. It was measured and a conclusion sent you to afterlife or to damnation.

Second the Anubis mask. He was the God of Death who oversaw the heart weighting process. The colour black symbolised the Nile’s sand and thus regeneration as the river was a symbol of life. Anubis was adopted by Isis

Third the Eye of Horus. The Eye of Horus was used as a sign of prosperity and protection, derived from the myth of Isis and Osiris. This symbol has an astonishing connection between neuroanatomical structure and function.

That’s the basics but you can go further from there if you want to just remember that Egyptian deities hold an Ankh the symbol and work of life.

In 504 we learn that death is final, there is no eternal life. It cannot be given as a commodity, the ring cannot help so I would focus more on the stone itself and if Lilith’s immortality is used then it will not be used as it is in my opinion but more about that later on.

The shop sacred eye and the high priest take us back to two episodes of S1. First in 1x07 - Wingman where the high priest parallels the auctioner who was ready to sell everything of ‘supernatural’ worth knowing they were mostly garbage to make money. Second 1x12 - #TeamLucifer the satanic high priest who had said ‘-the Devil ain't gonna buy me an Aston Martin’. In 504 the High Priest wanted a Pontiac.

Lucifer comment on Tutankhamun loving the pre-sacrificed bloody heart might have to do with the Egyptian mythology that If a heart during the scaling was judged to be not pure, Ammit (female demon/god) would devour it, and the person undergoing judgment would not allowed to continue their afterlife journey.

One of the best lines delivered in this episode is also foreshadowing P2 in my opinion and why not some bts but not clear or definite ones.

In the modern age, we are taught to fear death. But the ancients understood that death... is power. - High Priest (Lucifer 5x04)

It is why I always say that death is not the last frontier in our series and as such it should be taken neither as the final chapter to an individual’s story nor as irreversible (with the right collaterals always) somehow. Although you cannot cheat death forever, this is the beauty of our story. Death is valued just as much as life.

As such as we are in the High Priest ‘office’ it is not accidental we see the Tree of Life (See my Tree of Life Meta *Here*). The designs are Celtic around the mirroring tree of Life in what we can assume is in Life and Death is as vibrant and ‘alive’ in both sides.

1) triskelion: meaning the three legs, is an ancient pre-celtic symbol that can be traced to the bronze era. It symbolises the holy trinity in Christianism but also the inner and outer world of spirits. As you can tell it holds a variety of meanings and even if it is just there, picked in random from the WB prop house we should note that it also symbolises the trinity of life, death and rebirth as well as the trinity of the transition of womanhood. The Triple Goddess: maiden, mother and the (older?) wise woman.

For this meta we will take the trinity of life, death and rebirth as well as elevate it to the transition of our lead characters. Chloe as a young woman, a mother and now a ‘wise’ older and more mature woman. Lucifer as the young rebel, a struggling with maturity and responsibility man and what he may become by the end of S5 without shedding any of his prior roles and identities. Only this time his identities no longer ‘stain’ him.

2) Knotted symbol - Eternal knot: We see them in many cultures and religions in Buddhism they represent birth, death and rebirth. In the inside we see Solmon’s Knot a symbol of immortality and eternity but some also parallel it to Lover’s Knot (See True Lover’s Knot), an ancient symbol of commitment and love. From this keep the eternal part of the symbolism which is often depicted in jewish cemeteries.

3) Celtic Cross: They are said to be based on some cases to the Egyptian Ankh (See Coptic Crosses), some also allege the design in the combination of the Christian cross and the pagan sun disk.

4) The Celtic Tree of Life: For this I take what is written in this site

The tree represents rebirth. Trees were said to guard the land and acted as a doorway into the spirit world.

The Tree of Life connects the lower and upper worlds as its roots grow far down while its branches reach high. The tree trunk connects both of these worlds to the Earth’s plane. It was with this connection of worlds, that it was said that people are able communicate with the gods in the heavens using the Tree of Life.

Tree of Life knots symbolize the branches and roots of a tree which are woven together with no end to show how the cycle of life is continuous.

Through the second part of the episode I was always looking at Lucifer’s tie. I might be wrong but it reminded me a lot of gears, with a heart and clocks on it. Essentially the clock is ticking... in more ways that one as well as for Lilith but give me some more lines before I return to this meta point.

As Lucifer asks how humans believe her ring makes her immortal she ends her story with the line:

“I survive, and... somebody writes it on a stone tablet. You know how these things start.”

For me that was always a direct reference to the Favourite Son deal we had with the book in episode 2x17. As Lucifer said in 2x18 when Chloe asked whether his Dad said that Amenadiel was His favourite, Lucifer replies:

In so many Sumerian words.

Later on in S3 (3x14) Lucifer tells to Cain that Amenadiel is the favourite when he asks him as:

But the quick version: a book said it, so it must be true.

To be honest this re-occurring mentioning makes me hold to my belief that something was translated wrong there...

As the 5x04 sceheme to get the ring back is underway Lilith looks at Jack & Shirley’s interaction which is interesting not because it’s when Lilith starts to perhaps thinking of retiring her immortality but because a very special question comes to mind.

Michael knew the ring’s story. He claimed that he was the one who manipulated Lucifer into having his vacation, but his vacation just ‘happened’ to be at the same time Chloe was on Earth?

Here is a speculative meta.

Lilith asks Lucifer if he ever connected with anyone emotionally to which he replies:

Absolutely not. It would take a literal miracle for me to want something like that, and I'm fairly certain my father's not handing those out anymore.

It makes you wonder whether Michael was around listening, planning carefully his next moves. That that’s how he knew the ring’s story, or how he may have plotted Chloe’s miraculous birth by manipulating God.

At this point everything is possible but we should never forget that God at that point is still powerful and omniscience so Michael might be only alf of the explanation why Chloe is on Earth as a key for Michael to take down his brother and materialise his other plans. The other half is only known by God but will he be willing to share in P2 or even in S6 if he appears there?

Lesley-Ann as Lilith starts to sing ‘Someone to Watch Over Me’ a song written over the songwritter’s (Ira Gershwin) wedding anniversary, a true love song on many levels written in 1926 and featured in the Brodway Musical ‘Hey, Kay!’.

The musical’s plot is about an engaged womaniser falls in love with Kay and the song after lots of thought was placed to reveal to the audience of Kay’s realising that she is in love with the male lead, womaniser Jimmy.

We will never perhaps know if by imminence to Lilith’s first song lyrics, Lilith to a point was in love with Lucifer and held on to hope until she surrendered everything for a normal life not wanting to wait for the impossible. Of course that’s just one interpretation not a hard conviction of mine.

An analysis of the song writes:

When first composing this piece, the Gershwin brothers tried to capture the feeling of safety (and love) that everybody longs to have. The addition of the doll (a doll was added as the listener of the song in the rehearsals and stayed in the show) only enhanced the childlike, vulnerable side of the song that was being hinted at in lyrics such as, “I’m a little lamb who’s lost in the woods.”

Although many artists sing this like a love song, its first performance, directed at a doll, gave the piece an aura of safety not usually present in romantic songs.

Perhaps that safety should be also attributed here. Lilith still has her safety still holding on to her immortality knowing though that she will surrender it. Lucifer is unaware he one day will surrender his willingly because he fell in love.

In the end they both carry the vulnerability of needing someone to understand and love them. No matter how cynical we find both Lilith and Lucifer with his brutal Caligula orgy comments, they both crave about someone. Both have lost hope to their Shepard aka God/Dad.

Perhaps I’m wrong on my first impression with Lilith and her affection towards Lucifer. Perhaps they both are the prodigal children, lost in the woods wishing for someone to finally take care of them but no longer hoping for one, until Lilith takes the leap. Lucifer will need almost 80 more years and Chloe Decker to let someone take care of him.

Perhaps that’s why they do a duet on the lyrics:

Someone who'll watch over me

I'm a little lamb who's lost in the wood I know I could, always be good To one who'll watch over me

And the case is back to move the episode forward and enter the present Lucifer Trixie interlude and ‘Forget it Trix. It’s Chinatown!’

That line was the most obvious one as it comes from the more recent noir movie with Bogart and Chinatown (1974). In the movie aside from the mystery plot Evelyn - the mother eventually dies, the twist is that of an abuse which led to her daughter/sister’s birth and although that does not fit our serie’s plot the death of the main lady might. All a speculation so do not be dishearten remember all the above and this is not an S&S it’s a meta :P

After all Lucifer’s line goes back to the complex dealings in Chinatown and how understanding something fully is not always feasible.

Interesting is also how Lucifer shots, albeit the foot not the leg, of willy to prove Willy is not immortal. Like Chloe did to him in 1x04 and to Michael in 5x02. Jewelry is not going to save anyone. Big words but you know me. I believe in other provisions or actions even if they include the ring.

We all die, Lily. And that's okay. Truth is... I'd rather die today trying to save the man I love... than live forever without him.

The past, the present and perhaps the future?

The case is resolved and Jack follows Shirley to Des Moines (Capital of Iowa). That’s an inner joke as Joe Henderson is from Iowa and graduated from the University of Iowa.

Before Jack follows her remember that Shirley had asked more from him when he told her to be careful. A bit like Chloe in the evidence room in 5x08. If some have watched unconditional love then you might remember the scene where Kathy Bates tells to her husband played by Dan Aykroyd that him telling her ‘I love you was never a condition but at that point it now was. Similar to what we saw Chloe asking from Lucifer. A foreshadowing perhaps that eventually Lucifer will follow Chloe.

Now two things. Lucifer in episode 504 prepares their game night. He is now comfortable and even enjoying their game nights, he find himself right where he wants to be without being fearful of being dull. He is a shoe and that’s fine.

When Trixie asks Lucifer whether Jack and Shirley had a happy ending he tells her probably not as they moved to Des Moines meaning it was a boring move between New York and Iowa in general. Iowa and Des Moines have been used several times in jokes by the way due to Henderson.

Now back to Lucifer, at that point he does not see that sometimes sacrifices that lead to ‘boring’ lives are the best outcome and happiness is not equal to excitement but he is a slowly maturing Devil...

That part can help us to analyse the end of the story from 1946.

Lucifer says: Once you do this, there's no going back.

This implies that whether you surrender your immortality or gain it -for the second I’m quite doubtful it can be done on the same terms - it is forever. No going back.

Lilith’s next words reveal a broken woman who gets her Hail Mary and hopes for the best. As a parent she offered her children the best place to never realise they are lacking but Lucifer by bringing Maze to earth undid that as Maze slowly reaches her potential, learning there is a different way. God’s words echo since 3x26.

So was Lucifer a kindergarten guardian for Lilith? In a way yes but Lucifer in 5x04 understood Lilith’s logic. In their distorted image of how you can break an individual, the Lilims seemed safe from Lucifer’s and Lilith’s fates. Cast out, punished, unloved, lonely and in an unspoken despair to connect but too afraid to try again until Lilith tried again. The end of 504 showed she didn’t succeed o find what she was looking for. We have no way of knowing if we will see her again in P2 but it’s probable.

Lilith kisses Lucifer goodbye, making me once again wonder if a part of her did had feelings for him and wishes him back to enjoy the rest of his life as if somehow she knew, although she couldn’t.

The story ends here and perhaps the clock starts ticking for Lucifer through Michael. Perhaps the planning started with Penelope and John that were meant to be born, get married but not have children and then Chloe came along. But that’s just a theory...

And before the screen fades to dark, Lilith walks away with Lucifer standing in the middle of the street and we listen to ‘This Is Ours’ by Peter Sivo’s Band (1946-1961).

This is Ours lyrics are the words of a man which mystify me. For me it is a song that gives us a couple together after a very long time that reconnects. It was a meant to be couple but the past had to happen. He had to get married, for both of them to live apart their own lives until one day they get back together and now they can be together. There is no sadness, there is relief, contentment.

Several say that How I Met Your Mother had an awful ending. If you have not watched it and want to please stop here but know that I believe that the ending was just right.

In How I Met Your Mother, the lead (father) marries the mother of his children but it is revealed that she eventually dies and some years later he starts telling them a story that lasts ten years as all aspects of it in his belief is about how he met their mother. His daughter interrupts him saying that no it’s about how he met the woman he wants to be together now. They all know that the Mother was loved and was the One but in this life there is more, there are second chances because life happens and it’s not a bad thing and the time in between is as joyful as the future despite of the tragedies in between.

So a part of me wonders if Deckerstar will go a bit through that to a point.

Forget the past, for this is ours...

The thing is that a bittersweet ending gives as a possibility and then we are left wondering past that.

Trixie: I bet Jack and Shirley talked the whole bus ride and fixed everything. Lucifer: Yes. Yes, perhaps they did.

After all they did move to Des Moines... After that we can only guess.

#lucifer meta #lucifer season 5 #lucifer s5p1 #lucifer speculation

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crazyk-imagine · 2 years

Text

Play a Tune

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Assistant!Wolfe!Reader, Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Natasha “Phoenix” Trace (implied)

Characters: Assistant!Wolfe! Reader, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Natasha "Phoenix" Trace, Robert "Bob" Floyd, Reuben "Payback" Fitch, Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia, Javy "Coyote" Machado, Neil "Omaha" Vikander, Billy "Fritz" Avalone, Callie "Halo" Bassett, Brigham "Harvard" Lennox, Logan "Yale" Lee, Penny Benjamin

Briefly mentioned: Nick “Goose” Bradshaw, Carole Bradshaw, Leonard “Wolfman” Wolfe

Warnings: SMUT, P n V, oral (fem!receiving), fingering, teasing, Bradley calling the reader a brat (more than once), he also really REALLY likes his name (some might say it’s a name kink), fluff, singing, Bob is reader’s bestie, Pete gets deja vu, shameless Hangman and Phoenix longing for each other tease, only Coyote knows about their feelings, mentions of papa Goose and papa Wolfman, there’s a lot to unpack here

Word Count: 9,843

Playlist for PAT: We Are the Champions by Queen

Great Balls of Fire by Jerry Lee Lewis

Footloose by Kenny Rogers

A/N: I didn’t plan on making this a smutty one but then before I knew it, it was. I have no regrets

*Reader is Wolfman’s daughter and technically has “two” call signs, (Mave and Wolfman were close after TG and all the competing and Goose’s death. Reader easily became Mave’s fav out of the four of you [your two brothers and sister, who are also in or have been to TG]. Mave always took you with him whenever he was out working on whatever and you two were always singing hence Harmony). Howler is reader’s official call sign, courtesy of her pop’s and because if it was a good mission she’ll howl in victory

*We all know Maverick is Rooster’s surrogate dad, but he doesn’t want to replace Goose, so he chose to be the “Uncle” figure

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You fall back onto the piano bench, messing up his classic go to song. You push yourself up, cringing at the sound of the wrong piano keys being played. You turn to Bradley, “sorry.”

He smiles and shakes his head.

You spin around, “you mind if I try something?”

He says nothing, gesturing for you to go for it. You nod, fingers gliding along the keys, a familiar tune enters the bar.

Bob takes notice of how more than half the bar moves closer to your side, close to crowding the piano. A smile stretches across his lips, he’s the only one who knows.

I’ve paid my dues

Your voice drifts through Bradley’s ears.

Time after time

It’s you.

You’re the one who gets the entire bar involved… better than he ever could.

Everyone’s heard you play before but, he was one of the few who were never lucky enough to put a face to the voice.

I’ve done my sentence

But committed no crime

He’s brought out of his thoughts by the whole bar singing. He notices the nodding of your head; he turns and starts playing beside you.

And bad mistakes

I’ve made a few

He joins in.

A gentle smile dances cross your lips

I've had my share of sand

Kicked in my face

But I've come through

The two of you sing.

And we mean to go on and on and on and on

You glance over your shoulder, “come on everybody. I see some familiar faces and I know you know this song.”

Bradley shakes his head; a smile manages to stretch across his lips. He sometimes forgets how fun it can be at the Hard Deck.

We are the champions, my friends

The customers at the bar sing in sync.

And we'll keep on fighting till the end

We are the champions

Bob glances over at Natasha and Mickey (who aren’t paying attention to him, focusing on the way you make the crowd move in sync in a way none of the others have ever seen done as smooth as this before).

The snacker shrugs heading over towards his friend. He stands beside the piano, too nervous to chime in.

No time for losers

'Cause we are the champions of the World

You glance up to find the nervous man standing there, you offer him a smile, hoping to ease his nerves.

Bob would rarely join in when it was the two of you or just you doing something just like this. He's always been more of a “I’ll watch a few people do it before I join in”. It’s gotten better over the years but there are times where he’s still that shy young man you met a few years ago… like now. He hesitantly smiles back, fiddling with his glasses.

Bradley takes over, letting you move away from the bench.

You grab Bob’s hand, pulling him closer so he can stand in front of the seat, you stand on now. You place your hands on his shoulders, forcing him to sway side to side until he starts doing it on his own.

The customers in the bar follow along and sway with the two of you.

The man with a mustache (whose name you still don’t know) lowers his voice, letting yours (and Bob’s) overpower his.

I've taken my bows

And my curtain calls

You glance over at the other pilots and point

You brought me fame and fortune

And everything that goes with it

I thank you all

You wave them over with a smile.

Mickey and Billy are the first to run over, standing on either side of Bob, the former doing his best not to stand in front of their fellow pilot.

But it's been no bed of roses

Neil and Callie stand beside Billy (who’s on Bob’s right).

No pleasure cruise

I consider it a challenge before

The human race

And I ain't gonna lose

You gesture for the other customers to quiet down, giving the pilots and WSO’s time to shine.

And we mean to go on and on and on and on

Logan shoves Reuben and Bringham in your direction.

We are the champions, my friends

And we'll keep on fighting till the end

We are the champions

Javy drags Jake closer to the piano, pointing to the blond when you all sing

No time for losers

Jake shoves Javy away from him with a small smile.

'Cause we are the champions of the World

A wide smile stretches across your lips as you raise your arms, wanting to hear everyone again.

We are the champions, my friends

The beautiful sound of her bar’s loyal customers singing your usual tune brings a smile to her face and Penny can’t help but join in.

And we'll keep on fighting till the end

We are the champions

You move Bob over to the one side of the piano, beside the kid with the buzzcut. You glance around, noticing how the other pilots you’ve seen here on numerous occasions now surround the piano.

No time for losers

'Cause we are the champions of the world

You turn around, spreading your arms and fall back.

Those in front of piano seat catch you, carefully setting you down. They kind of expected this because this is the way you usually end whenever you’re on the piano.

You smile to those who caught you, “I thank you all.”

You practically hop back over to the man with a mustache, plopping down beside him. “Hi.”

He turns, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, “hi.”

“You ever gonna take those things off?”

“’Fraid not. Gotta have some mystery, right?”

You pretend to think about it, “I think not.” You lean over, gingerly snatching them off him, placing them on your head. “Ah ah,” you swat his hand. “You’ll get these beauties back after we get to know each other.” You stick your hand out for a handshake, “deal?”

Now it’s his turn to pretend to think about it. He shrugs, “I guess.”

You blink once, twice; a shiver runs down your spine as he lifts your hand closer to him. “Oh, you’re gonna be trouble for me, aren’t you?”

He stares up at you through his lashes, his mustache tickling the back of your hand when he removes his lips to talk to you. “Do you want me to be?”

“You answer my question with a question. Oh, yeah, you’re trouble.”

“You wanna play another song?”

“Maybe later,” you pat his shoulder, standing up. You lean against him, whispering, “how about a dance instead?”

He says nothing.

“You’ll get your aviators back,” you say in a sing song tone.

He can’t lie, he’s intrigued and has been since he first heard you and the fact that you didn’t just call them sunglass like every other girl who’s chatted him up… interesting. “One dance?”

“One dance,” you confirm with a nod.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for, sweetheart.” He turns, his dashing chestnut eyes searching yours only to find mischief.

“Oh, honey, you don’t know what you’re in for.”

Bradley narrows his eyes ever so slightly, “I’ll give you something to remember later.”

You lean in closer, your nose bumping against his letting him think you were going to kiss him before you lean down closer to his ear, “I’m counting on it.” You step back, walking away knowing that he’ll follow (and if not, you’re catching up with Bob for the rest of the evening). You’re not even halfway across the room when you’re pulled back. You place your free hand on his chest as you set your other on his shoulder. “I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

He raises a brow, “sounds like someone’s a little full of themselves.”

You shrug, “what can I say? I got my dad’s genes.”

“I see.”

“No, you really don’t.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. That’s why I gotta talk to you, get to know you, right? So, I can know if that’s true or not.”

You click your tongue, “you’re learning.”

He smirks, pulling back spinning you around once before pulling you back into his arms, your back against his chest. “Think you can handle this?”

“Oh, I know I can, the question, can you, pilot?”

A breathless chuckle escapes him. “You know what I do.”

“Affirmative.”

“And yet, I still don’t know a thing about you.”

“In due time. In due time.” He hums.

Before you know it, you’re being spun around again, this time you laugh, finding yourself letting loose.

You spin around, bumping into someone, aiming to quickly apologize until you look up. “Maverick!”

“Harmony, you’re here?”

“Sure, looks like it.”

“Still giving me lip I see.”

“Don’t give me that look. You know you’re happy to see me.”

He sighs, “can’t say that I am.”

You scoff, shoving his shoulder.

Pete glances over your shoulder, finding Bradley getting closer. He uses his eyes to gesture to you.

Bradley clenches his jaw, shaking his head.

“You forgot this at Penny’s yesterday.” Pete holds your father hat in his hands.

You take it with a smile, removing the aviators and switching it for something a little homier.

“I see you two finally met,” says Pete, glancing between the two of you.

“We who?” You ask.

“You and Bradley.”

“Bradley?”

“Bradshaw.”

“Oh. Oh.” You stare at the young man with wide eyes, until you change the subject. You lift the aviators up for him to see, “now you’re definitely not getting these back, Bradshaw.”

His jaw drops, “now hang on a minute-”

“You still owe me a dance,” you place your hand on his chest, trying to push him back towards the jukebox.

He doesn’t budge. “I did dance with you.”

“Oh, no you didn’t.” You walk around him, holding his wrist guiding him towards the jukebox while you hook the aviators onto the collar of your shirt. “I want a full dance with the one who sings, “you shake my nerves, and you rattle my brain-”

“too much love drives a man insane.”

A smile dances across your lips, you look over your shoulder, “atta boy. You’re gettin’ it now.”

You push the number to get the song you want to play. He half expected you to play his song but raises a brow at the song of choice instead. You see the look he’s giving you, “don’t judge me, Bradley.”

It takes him a second to respond. “I’m not- I’m not just- uh- find your song of choice interesting. That’s all.”

“Liar.” You let go of his wrist, standing in the middle of the bar.

Been working so hard I’m punching my card

Bradley’s fellow pilots look at you in confusion until three other customers stand beside you dancing with you. The pilot interested in you sucks in his bottom lip to keep from smiling more.

Eight hours, for what?

Oh, tell me what I got

Bob joins you.

I gotten this feeling

That time's just holding me down

Now that he thinks about it, you and Bob are pretty close. Have you two met before? Bradley knows Bob has a friend that should be coming to town… soon?

I'll hit the ceiling

Or else I'll tear up this town

He musters all the courage that he could to stand in front of you, following your steps.

You smile at him, “glad to see you could join us.”

“You’re about to be more even more surprised.”

Tonight, I gotta cut loose, footloose

Kick off your Sunday shoes

The mustached man sneaks his way beside you, holding his hand out for you.

Please, Louise

Pull me up off my knees

Jack, get back

C'mon, before we crack

You slap your hand onto his open palm, letting him pull you close.

Lose your blues

Everybody cut footloose

Jake leans closer to Javy whispering, “how is it that he can get the one interesting girl in this place?”

“I don’t think that’s who you’re thinking of.” The cocky pilot jerks his head back, “what?”

His friend raises a brow and tilts his head.

He knows who Javy is talking about, but he doesn’t want to admit it. He gulps seeing Natasha smiling, watching as the bar becomes even more livelier than before… maybe this could be his chance to ask her out talk to her?

Dig way down in your heart

You're burning, yearning for some

Somebody to tell you

That life ain't passing you by

The music seems to disappear as you feel your hat being stolen off your head only to find that he’s wearing it.

You don’t comment on it.

He places your hands on his shoulders, letting you wrap your hands around his neck, thumb brushing against the edge of the hair on the back of his neck.

Pete settles in a seat in front of his dearest Penny; his eyes wander around the bar, curious to see who’s here tonight and finds the two of you enjoying yourselves.

A sad smile tugs at the corners of his lips, nostalgia hits him hard in his heart and clouds his mind with those precious and irreplaceable memories. He always hoped knew, he knew Bradley would find himself a good woman but seeing you two reminds him so much of Nick and Carole.

The boy, now a man, certainly gained his confidence and flirting from his dad (Pete never quite knew how Carole accepted the dork he called a best friend, but anyone could see the love they shared so it didn’t matter). And tonight, he can see that flame being reignited with the two of you.

Pete shakes his head, taking a sip of his drink wondering how his nephew is gonna be able to handle you.

Wolfman was… a lot to some but still a damn good RIO (obviously since he was in Top Gun) overall your dad was an interesting man. He always found it funny when you didn’t quite go for the same route your dad did, but Pete and Leonard are proud of you non the less.

“I can see the wheels turning in your head. What are you thinking about?” asks Bradley.

“How you seem to pull of that hat better than me.”

He huffs out a chuckle, “I don’t think that’s possible, but I’ll take the compliment. Now, stand right here.” He reaches for the aviators, slowly pulling off and out of your shirt, setting them on your head like you did earlier. “Now, we both look good.”

“Is this the type of claim that a dog has when it pees on a tree?”

He stares at you with a confused expression as he laughs at your comment before calming down. “I’m not gonna lie and say I’d be happy to see you dancing with another person.”

You stare at him through your lashes, “then we’re in agreement?”

He nods, “seems we are.”

“We’re dance partners.” “We’re together.”

You tilt your head, “if we’re together, I don’t know because someone didn’t ask.”

He squints his eyes, thinking back to everything that’s happened tonight. “Seems like you’re right… how about this, we continue our dance and I take you out on a date, a proper one. We can talk and get away from all this.”

You know he’s mainly referring to the crowd. “As long as we can trade back.”

He sucks in air through his teeth, “I don’t know, I think I look good right now.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, “cocky pilots.”

He smirks, leaning down to whisper, “you have yet to find out how cocky I can be.”

You scoff, turning your head to the side, unable to take his “flirting” at this current moment. “You’re so gonna be trouble for me.”

He shakes his head, unwrapping your arms from him.

You open your mouth to ask him what’s going on, you’re walking towards the register settling your tabs. “Brad-”

He shushes you, “this is a pre-date to our actual date.”

“Pre-date?”

“Just keep quiet while I take care of you.”

You narrow your eyes at the bar top, mimicking him under your breath.

Pete chuckles, finding the situation amusing reminding him of when Nick was just beginning to woo Carole.

You hear him and make your way over to him. “Why didn’t you tell me he was such a- a-”

“Such a?” Pete asks with a smirk, finding this whole thing hilarious.

“A punk.”

The laugh that was waiting to escape gets caught in his throat. “That’s one way to describe him.”

“I mean, I know I’m no saint but jeez, am I that bad?”

“You? No. No,” he shakes his head. “…Maybe a little but it’s okay.”

You shove his shoulder, “you’re supposed to be nice to me.”

“You wanted an honest answer.”

“I never asked for an honest answer.”

“I thought it was implied.”

“You thought-” You narrow your eyes at him, “you’re an evil, evil man, Maverick.”

He lets out a hearty chuckle, “oh, my call sign. I’m in trouble now, aren’t I?”

Bradley wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you back. He leans down to whisper, “I gotta talk to Mav for sec, you mind talkin’ to Penny in the meantime?”

You turn your head, tilting it up to look at him, “you just don’t want me to ease drop on your boy talk, huh?”

There’s that smirk he’s come to know and have a very strong liking to. “Humor me, won’t you?”

“Fine, fine. Have your boy talk.” You wave him off, detaching yourself from him.

“It’s not boy talk, that sounds weird.”

“You’re the one that said it first,” you argue.

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds.

“See now with the way you’re silent. I win.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “No, no, you really don’t.”

“Oh, but I do, Bradshaw.”

He slaps his hand over his heart, “oh, last name. You wound me.”

“You’ll get over it.”

He shakes his head, watching you lean over the counter, talking to Penny before turning to Pete. Bradley leans over, giving Pete a side hug, whispering, “I’m takin’ her out on a proper date.” His uncle gives him a smile, nodding, “you treat her right, okay?”

“Of course, I am. What kind of man do you take me for, huh?” Pete shakes his head, “I’m just trying to warn you. You mess with her; you’ll be in for a world of hurt. Her words, not mine.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m just doing what you said.”

“Oh, yeah and what’s that?”

“Don’t think.”

The smile falls from his face.

“Bradley-”

“How can I think about anything when it feels so right.”

It feels like he’s been sent back to youth, that nostalgic feeling has returned. Pete shakes his head that smile from before slowly creeps back onto his lips. “You two have fun, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. Later old man,” you say, stealing Bradley away from him.

He watches as the two of you leave.

Penny steps closer, leaning down so he can hear her. “You, okay?”

Pete whirls his head around to look at her, “yeah. Never been better, Penny.”

“What’s that smile for?”

“Nothing, nothing just uh- thinking about the past.”

“Is that a good thing?”

One corner of his lips tugs upwards, “yeah, definitely a good thing.”

“Come on,” he groans.

“I am not as fast as you Bradley, give me a-” your cut off by your own screech when you’re thrown over his shoulder. You use one hand to push yourself up and the other to hold the aviators.

You look up and find Bob dancing with one of the nicer, less rowdy girls you’ve noticed come into the bar once or twice. Your eyes wander around the room, trying to catch anyone’s attention to “help” you, only to find Natasha dancing with Jake. You’ve got a wide smile stretching across your face not only because those two idiots finally did something about the tension between them but also because you’re about to earn half, if not all the bet money.

The last few verses of the sang play as the door closes.

Everybody cut, everybody cut

(Everybody) everybody cut footloose

Your feet are finally on the ground again. You huff, smacking his arm.

“What was that for?” He whines, rubbing his arm.

“Don’t you have any manners.”

“Manners?”

“If you’re gonna toss someone over your shoulders like a sack of potatoes, you should at least have the decency to ask first.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I wanted to get out of the one place that wouldn’t let me hear your beautiful voice.”

You throw a fake glare in his direction as you cross your arms, careful not to break the aviators you hooked onto the collar of your shirt again. “Don’t try to sweet talk me now, Bradshaw. You’ve already got my attention.”

“I do, don’t I?”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know, it doesn’t look good on you.”

“That’s rude, sweetheart.”

“Tell me where your takin’ me.”

“I don’t know if I want to take you anywhere now.”

“Oh, now you-” you groan, “must you be such a pain in my ass.”

“I don’t about that. I mean unless you’re into that kind of thing,” he winks at you.

You throw your head back, laughing. “You just don’t stop, do you?”

“Nope. Guess you were right. You do have your hands full with me.”

You bite your lip to prevent you from smiling more but fail. “Take me away or lose your one chance to talk to me.”

“Get in the car.”

“Bossy.”

A smack fills the air.

You glance over your shoulder, mouth agape.

“Don’t talk back to me,” he says as if that excuses him from smacking your ass.

“You are not the boss of me, mister.”

He hums, “that’s what you think.”

You roll your eyes, ready to open the door when he beats you to it. You stare at him for a second. “So, you can be a gentleman?”

“Who says I’m not?”

“No one. No one.”

He hops into the driver’s seat, shutting the door. “If I let you choose the music, will I regret it?”

You shake your head, “no… but something tells me with the way you dress, we’ll be fine.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks with a curious tone.

“Your style is a little outdated compared to everyone else but, I think it suits you.” You snatch your hat off his head, placing it onto its rightful place.

“That hardly seems fair.”

“What does?”

“The fact that you got your hat back and I don’t have my aviators.”

You let out a quiet huh. “Guess you’re right. Turn towards me.”

He turns, you carefully set the glasses on him, staring at him once they’re on him. “What is it?” asks Bradley.

“You look very…” you peck his lips, “handsome.” You pull back, leaning into the seat, waiting for him to drive.

He turns his head towards you, “again, that hardly seems fair.”

“What does?”

“You got the first kiss and here I was being all cute, waiting for the right time. Shame,” he shakes his head, further adding to the joke.

The corners of your lips tilt up ever so slightly, one side off to the side; you scoot closer to the middle console, placing your hand on his thigh. “Oh, darlin’ we’ll be doing a lot more than what we’ve been doing tonight.”

Bradley shakes his head, “will we now?”

You tilt your head to the side, resting it on the seat, “that all depends on you,” you pat his thigh.

He starts the car, pulling out of the parking lot, “promises, promises.”

You lift your hand off his thigh.

He stops you from taking your hand off him and sets it back on his thigh, letting his hand weigh down on yours.

“That will be fulfilled.”

He hums, “don’t temp me.”

“Oh,” you shake your head, “I would never.”

The drive is nice; it’s quiet, the wind blowing through your hair as you keep one hand on your head to prevent you from losing your hat. “Where we going?” you ask.

He doesn’t say anything for a second.

You cut him off before he can even answer. “Do you feel that?”

“Feel what?”

“Is it- is it raining?”

“What? No.”

Not even five minutes later, it’s pouring.

You ask him if he knows where the closest supermarket in your neighborhood is, which he does, you direct him to your house after he passes the store’s parking lot.

You two run out of the car, you hurry to open the door.

“Come on. Open it, open it.”

“I am trying,” you hiss at him.

“Okay… could you try to open it faster?”

“I am this close,” you pinch your fingers, “to leaving you out here.”

“Your fingers are touching,” he points out.

“Exactly, so don’t temp me.”

“Don’t be like that.” You open the door, shoving your hand onto his chest, “ah ah.”

“What?”

“You were nothing but mean to me when I was rushing to open the door. That’s very rude of you, you know.”

“I’ll make it up to you when my clothes aren’t sticking to me.”

“Promises, promises.”

“That I intend to fulfill.”

You stare at him with a blank expression, turning around, walking further into the house. “Take off your shoes, you’re not tracking anything into my place.”

He’s quick to enter, doing as you asked.

You walk back into the hallway, holding out a towel for him which he happily takes.

“So, you- uh- you live here alone?”

“Usually, yeah.” You flip your hair over, placing the towel on the back of your head, wrapping it. You flip your head up, holding the towel to make sure it doesn’t fall off your head. You blow out a breath of air, finding him staring at you. “What?”

He shrugs, “nothing. So, you’re usually here alone?”

“Yeah, just depends on if my brothers or sister gets deployed in town.”

“Okay.”

“I guess you could call it a family frat house.”

He chuckles. “Is it still a frat house if your sister stays here.”

“Probably not but we don’t need to go into the specifics… Do you want to shower or eat first?”

“I’m fi-”

“Don’t tell me that. C’mon, we’ve been at the bar for hours with little to no food and if you tell me that you’re not starving I’m gonna tell you that you’re full of shit and force you to eat something.”

“Alright, alright. I- uh- can I shower first?” He asks with a low tone, sounding almost like he was nervous.

“Follow me. I’m sure I can find something my brothers left behind that you can borrow.”

You bend down checking the bottom dresser drawers for sweatpants (your brothers never wear anything but comfy, pajama like things around the house). You move up grabbing a shirt and a pair of boxers. “All of this is clean, I promise. I buy new stuff a few days before any of them come over, so all of this is new.”

“I’d just be happy with a towel if you had nothing.”

“I’m sure you would.”

Neither of you say anything but the way your pupils dilate tells the other all they need to know.

“Alright, bathrooms in the room just open that one there,” you point to it. “And you’ll be all set. I’ve got to do a couple things since the rain’s getting heavier. Will you be fine on your own?”

He gives you a small smile, “I’ll be fine. The question is, will you?”

“Ten minutes away from you?” You place the back of your hand on your forehead, “whatever will I do without seeing your pornstache’?”

“Hey, hey, don’t hate on the stache’.”

Your hand falls off your forehead; you state at him with a serious expression. “Oh, believe me. I’m not.”

“Have fun. Just know if you’re in there for too long I’ll know what you’re doing,” you shout from the hallway.

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

“Thinking about me a little too hard.”

Bradley looks down, realizing that you did see the bulge in his shorts. His top lips curls in annoyance, this is not how he wanted you to see him… at least, right now.

You make sure all the windows and doors are locked and closed properly before looking around your kitchen hoping to find something good to make that’ll fill your belly’s.

You sigh, removing the towel from your head opting to clip up your hair. You turn your phone on, searching for the music app, playing your most recently played playlist leaving it on the counter away from the area you’ll be using.

You aren’t paying too much attention to the sounds of the water from the shower, aiming to not think about a wet… naked… Bradley.

And, your mind is straying, you return your focus to the food in the pan.

Your soul leaves your body, and you lose your breath when Bradley wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you further into his embrace. “Smells good.”

“I sure as hell hope so since you just scared the living daylights out of me.”

“You look fine to me.”

You open your mouth to respond when he adds on. “No, you don’t fine- I mean you do, don’t get me wrong you do but, fine isn’t the right word I’d use. There are too many that could be used to describe you right now, but I can’t pick one.”

“Suck up. Okay, here’s the plan. I'm gonna put the lid back on, let this cook on low while you stay here or watch something in the living room so I can go take a shower.”

“Okay,” he pecks your lips, letting you go.

You run out of the kitchen, stopping in the doorway of your room, realizing how relationshipy that was and how it brings butterflies to your stomach as you think about how much you liked it… and him.

A knock on your door brings you out of your thoughts. “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“You, okay in there?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You’ve been in here for a while, I was wondering if you were okay.”

There he goes being a sweetheart.

“I was just enjoying the hot water a little too much, I guess. I’ll be out in a few alright?”

“Okay.”

“Oh, you’re still here.” You clench the top of your towel tighter, unsure of what to do with your hands.

“Yeah.” He pushes himself off your bed, standing in front of you.

Your eyes follow his every move.

Bradley bends his head, leaning into you; his eyes switching back and forth between yours, “is this, okay?”

“Depends.”

“Depends on what?”

“How far are you willing to go?”

“How far are you?”

You take a step forward, placing a hand on his forearm will your unoccupied hand plays with the hairs on the back of his neck.

“Because I know what I want to do.”

“What’s that?”

“I want to take my time with you, watch you unravel as I make you feels thing no other guy has ever made you feel.”

“That’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself," you tease.

"It might be," he leans in, resting his forehead on yours, staring into your eyes as if he’s trying to get a glimpse of your soul. “But it’d be worth it if I got to spend the night with you.”

“I must be pretty special then, huh? Out of all the ladies at the bar, the Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw wants to have his way with little ol’ me.”

“You seemed like the only one who’d put up with my ass.”

“More like I’d be the only one daring enough to do all that I could with it.”

“Careful there, sounds like you might be insinuating something you might not mean.”

“But we both know I mean it.”

“We do.”

“Stop talking and kiss me,” you breathe out.

He cups your cheeks, pulling you closer as he invades more of your space.

You open your mouth, letting his tongue pass your lips, mingling with yours. You feel the cold wall against your back. A low whine comes from the back of your throat.

He pulls back, smiling as he brushes his thumb against your cheekbone.

“Guess you like to be a little rough when you’re with a girl, huh?”

“What do you mean?” He asks between the kisses he makes (of course, leaving a hickey or three for all to see) as he trails down your neck.

“You could have easily spun me around towards the bed.”

His breath fans across the place where your neck and shoulder meet as he chuckles. “You complaining?”

“Oh, no. Definitely not.”

“Good.” He moves away from your collarbone, moving up so he can kiss you again.

Suddenly you slap his shoulders.

He jerks back, staring at you with wide eyes and terrified expression. “What? What? Are you okay? Should we stop?”

“Oh, we are not stopping.”

“Then why did you hit me?”

“The food.”

“I turned it off before I came up here.”

You scoff through your nose, “so, you did plan on seducing me?”

“No, no. No, I didn’t. I actually wanted to talk but then you came out wearing this surprisingly,” his hands travel down, landing on your hips, “soft towel and- and-”

“You couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.”

“Yes!” spills out of his mouth before he can think. He pauses his movements, realizing what he said. “No, I mean no. Now you’re just twisting my words.”

“You’re spouting the truth without my help, darlin’.” Your hands slid across his shoulders, moving down onto his chest. “Why are you wearing your shirt? I put this in the dryer, so it was dry and for you to have something of your own to wear.”

His mustache twitches as he fights the urge to smirk. “I wanted it to be fair.” He hands travels down further, fingertips brushing against your thigh near the edge of the towel. “I mean I have something to rip off you, I thought you’d like to do the same thing to me but,” he extends the word. “Since I seem to be wrong,” he pulls away to take off his shirt, “I’ll just get rid of it myse-”

You rip the shirt open, buttons ripping off flying across the room, bouncing off walls, falling to the floor. You glide your hands along the top of his shoulders, getting your hands underneath the shirt so you can shove it off him.

The shirt falls into the crease of his elbows. His hands are on your waist again.

“Take it off.”

“So bossy,” he says with a teasing tone.

“Says the one doing the teasing.”

“Me? If anything, I’m doing the persuading.”

“Is that how you see it?”

He nods.

“Well then it seems like you’ll be working hard all night long.”

“Someone is very confident in themselves.”

You scoff, “like you haven’t thought about it.”

“Why would I go and do a thing like that?”

“Because you’re a horndog and don’t know how to handle me,” you finish with an “innocent” smile stretching across your lips.

Bradley’s eyes darken, he leans in.

You find yourself leaning in without realizing it.

“You’re gonna regret saying that baby.” His hand grips the back of your neck, holding you in place.

You gulp whatever saliva was in your mouth, at the thought of what’s about to happen. “Am I?”

He steps to the side, guiding you towards the bed. “Just can’t be quiet for one second, can you?”

You try not to focus on the heat building up in your core, instead, you enjoy the feeling of his bare chest against your towel covered body. You hiss as the cold air hits your body; you know your nipples are harder than they were just a second ago. “Could’ve given a girl a little warning,” you grumble.

He moves closer to you, one hand on your stomach, holding you tight against him. He leans his head down to whisper, “I thought you didn’t want me to be nice. I thought you said, you expected me to be rough with the way I moved you to the wall instead of the bed.”

You don’t say anything.

“Did I finally stump you? You have no comeback now? Aw,” he mocks you.

“Shut up.”

“There she is.”

“You keep talking like that I’m leaving.”

He picks you up, tossing you onto the bed, crawling over you. He gives you a cheeky smile as he hovers above you. “I don’t think you want to.”

“Maybe not,” you reach down for his belt without removing your gaze from his.

His stomach clenches as your fingernails scrap against his skin.

“Or maybe I’m trying to annoy to the point you’ll fuck the brat out of me.”

A shaky breath slips through his lips, he glances down, observing your moving hands. His head snaps back up to you, he cracks a smile. “Well, now that I know you’re plan. I’m not gonna do that.”

“Or maybe I’m pulling some reverse psychology shit.”

He crawls off you, removing the last piece of clothing he has on.

You scoot up, resting on the pillows as you watch his every move.

“Either way you’ll be left with a smile on your face.”

His hand wraps around your ankle, he jerks your body closer to him as he climbs onto the bed. He’s on his knees, heels digging into his calves.

You can feel his hard on pressed against your warm core. You roll your hips, tired of the waiting and the talking. “Come on,” you whine.

He shakes his head, grip tightening on your hips as he holds his breath.

You can see the veins forming along the sides of his neck; you can’t help but wonder- “do you have a veiny dick?”

He chokes out a laugh. “What?”

“You’re holding your breath and I can see them on the side of your neck,” you reach up, brushing your finger over it.

He shivers, “okay, you can stop now.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

“You will if you know what’s good for you.” You stick your tongue out at him.

He tuts, shaking his head. “You have no shame, do you?”

“Seems like it but, that’s what drew you to me,” you throw a wink in his direction.

He doesn’t look back at you as he trails kisses along the base of your neck, being sure to focus on the area where your neck and shoulder meet then moving along your collarbone.

You scratch the back of his head as he does so, needing to keep your hands occupied.

“Someone’s greedy.”

He says nothing as he fondles your chest, kneading one breast while he leaves hickies and sucks on the other one; he takes his time giving each breast the same amount of attention.

You don’t want to move, in any way that would let him know how much he’s affecting you right now, but your body and your brain aren’t in sync. You roll your hips; quiet cries escape you.

He almost doesn’t hear them, but you can tell by the air huffing out of his nose onto your skin that he finds it amusing.

You could care less as he moves back down you, kissing the sides of your body.

His mustache tickles as he leaves hungry kisses against your ribs, sucking on your skin, leaving a hickey or two (that’ll definitely stays on you for a couple of weeks).

This results in your body jerking, curling into itself.

He stops, resting on his knees as he caresses your leg. “Hey, now. If you want to feel good, you’ll stop.”

“But I already feel so good.”

“Don’t give me those fake doh eyes, sweetheart,” his face is less than an inch from yours, “because we both know I can make you feel really good.”

You lift your leg up onto his hip, heel barely digging into the flesh of his curvy bottom. “And that’s exactly why I’m riling you up.”

He shakes his head, letting your leg fall of him. The hair on his lip continues to tickle you as he nips at the inside of your thighs.

You huff, curling your fingers in his hair, tugging on it.

He groans, the vibration of the noise makes you smirk.

You know exactly how to rile ‘em up.

“You sure you’re alright with all of this?” He asks as he stares at your glistening bare slit.

You’re too into your thoughts, feeling cocky to notice Bradley’s movements.

Your jaw drops open. You look down, his head pops up. “Why?” You whine.

“You weren’t paying attention,” he says with a serious tone even though your wetness shines on his lips and in the hairs of his mustache.

“So, that means you play with me to get my attention?”

“Yeah.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “I’m so close to leaving you high and dry.”

“I think it’s the other way around, sweetheart.”

“You are such a-”

He cuts you off with a kiss, the taste of you mingling with your shared saliva as his tongue enters your mouth.

You move one hand towards his side, poking him hard.

“Ow.”

“Don’t cut me off like that then.”

“I thought you wanted me to treat you like the brat you are.”

You gasp, partly because of what he said but also because of his fingertip slowly entering you.

“I can try and tame the brat in you, but I want to make sure you can enjoy it, yeah?”

You give him a mumbled response, nodding your head.

“I’m gonna need you to open your eyes for me.”

Your eyes snap open, you didn’t realize you’d shut them in the first place.

He leans down to whisper in your ear, “you ready to start enjoying the night?”

You clench around his fingers in response.

“Just remember you asked for it.” He doesn’t stop moving his fingers in and out of your core, oh no, he would never do such a thing.

You fight the urge to close your eyes, wanting to see how he looks going down on you.

Bradley swipes at your buzzing bundle.

You jerk, head bobbing forward.

He does it a few more times before he starts sucking on your clit and doing a “come hither” motion with his fingers.

You can’t say anything, can’t tell him how good it feels with him doing- whatever it is he’s doing, your mind is fuzzy as he continues.

He switches from sucking on your bundle to licking it.

He is the least bit relentless as he speeds up the pace of which his fingers are moving at.

You cry out, hips rolling and thrusting against him; it’s hard to stop when you feel so good, so good and you let him know. “So good. So good.”

He lifts his head, thumb rubbing your clit so he can talk, “knew I’d get the brat out of you so you can be good for me.”

You open your eyes, staring at the ceiling, a shaky chuckle comes out before you can say anything. “Believe-” you moan, “believe me you didn’t, hon- honey.”

“Guess that means I gotta try harder.”

You smile, closing your eyes, “yeah.” Your head snaps up, staring at the devilish, hunk of a man, “wait- what?”

He speeds up the pace, his fingers hammering in and out of you so fast you don’t know what to do.

Your thighs are shaking almost closing in on him but with his one hand on your thigh, keeping you spread for him prevents his erotic death from happening. “Oh. Oh. Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“My name’s not God, sweetheart.”

A throaty moan comes out as your answer. “Shut- shut up.”

“Say my name and you’ll be a happy girl.”

You can feel yourself getting closer.

“Say it.”

“Brad-” you moan as he speeds up his pace even more, sucking on your buzzing bundle again. How is it possible for him to go this fast and not get a wrist or finger cramp? Why are you thinking about that right now? “Oh. Oh. Brad- ohhh- Brad-” is all that slips off your tongue.

He moves away from your heat with a pop, you groan in annoyance.

Your hands clench the sheets between your hands, not wanting to rip his hair out (because boy, oh boy, does he make you feel like a winner).

“Come on, sweetheart. Just a few more letters.”

You throw your head back, mouth agape wanting to say more but with the way your body tingles, it doesn’t happen.

Bradley’s hand sneaks its way up your torso, playing with your gorgeous tits for a few minutes; tugging and pulling at your nipples, wanting to make you feel good (and his touch everywhere) right now until he can properly have his way with you.

You can feel his hand on your neck, and you know he can feel the way your pulse increases at this motion.

He doesn’t stop there though, he grips your jaw with one hand, forcing your head down clearly wanting you to look at him.

Your eyes snap open, dilated pupils hiding your natural eye color.

His ego skyrockets at the sight of your fucked out expression even though he’s barely done anything to you.

“You say my name one time right now and I’ll reward you for being such a patient brat. How’s that sound?”

You nod; you would give him anything he asked for at this moment if it meant you could cum. He slips his fingers into your mouth.

“Say it.”

You stare at him with pleading eyes and what seems to be a (pathetic) confused expression as you suck on his fingers.

“Say. It.”

You moan, your vibrations sending a wave of confidence and horny through him.

“Say it and you’ll get what you want.”

You shake your head.

He sighs, removing himself from you.

“Wh-” you try to say only to find yourself face first into your sheets, “woah!”

The movements of him behind you tells you that you’re about to enjoy yourself.

His hands are on your waist, pulling you up closer. He lines himself up against you; you arch your back, hips rolling against him. He bends down, “all you had to do was say one simple word, but you couldn’t even do that.”

You scoff, dropping back down onto the mattress, “whatever.” You nibble on your bottom lip, waiting to see what he’s going to do next.

Bradley smacks your ass, chuckling at your surprised yelp. He grips your hips, forcing the lower half of your body off the bed and onto his lap. He releases one your hips, rubbing his stiff, covered cock against your core. “You still good? You with me?”

“How can I not be when you’ve barely done anything?”

“Just remembered you asked for it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He slowly slides in, not wanting to hurt you (or blow his load too soon). His hips snap against yours, you lurch forward, unsure of how to balance yourself having never been this full before.

You pray this never has to end until he pulls out, leaving his dripping, latex covered cock in you before he hammers into you once more. You rest your forehead against your arm, hands clenching the sheets and he continues to take you higher and higher on a euphoric level.

The only noises in the room are skin slapping against, his quiet groans and the quiet gasps that escape you.

You do, God, you want to call out his name so bad, so, so bad but don’t just to drive him crazy.

“Say it.”

“Say what?” You ask with a smirk.

He growls, hauling your torso upwards against him; his hand rests on your neck, not squeezing the area but still letting you know who’s in control (right now). “Say it,” he hisses into your ear.

“No.”

His free hand slides down your side, moving towards the front of your belly. He moves lower and lower until he finds what he’s looking for. He doesn’t start you off at a slow pace to ease you in, he’s quick to circle your clit, moving at the same speed his hips thrust into you.

Your moans are louder than before, you whine. “Roost- Rooster.”

“Uh-uh. Say my name. Not my call sign, baby.”

Your breathing becomes more ragged as he speeds up which you didn’t think was possible. “N- no.”

A loud sigh enters your ear but you’re unfazed until the euphoria and tingling leaves you.

You fall forward, bracing yourself before you could face plant into the crumpled sheets. Your head snaps in his direction. “Why?” You whine.

He sticks his bottom lip out, throwing an unsympathetic pout your way. “Poor baby.” He leans down, pulling you back into his lap.

You sit back onto his lap, his hard cock resting against the curve of your bottom. Your hands holding onto his thighs, hoping to inch closer to the one thing your needy for right now.

His hand finds its way back to your neck, guiding your head back onto his shoulder. “Are you gonna be a brat the whole night?”

A light chuckle escapes you, “no… not the whole night.”

“Is that more bratty behavior I’m sensing?”

“Bratty, never. Slight defiance, maybe.” You tilt your head, looking up at him, “are you not enjoying it?”

One side of his mouth tugs upward, “good to know.” He pushes you off him, turning you around.

Your arms lock around the back of his neck, your chest against his.

He sets his hands under your thighs as he moves off the bed.

“Where were going?”

“Somewhere I’m sure you’ll be able to scream my name.”

Your back hits the nearest wall, not hard enough to knock the wind out of you. Your chest heaves with every breath you take, anticipation floods through your veins. “Oh, yeah?”

“I’m counting on it.”

“Someone’s c-”

His hips snap, this position much better more filling than before as he fills you to the brim. “Was the word you’re looking for,” he pulls his hips back and snaps into you once more. “Cocky?”

“Don’t,” a shaky breath comes out of you, “don’t get too- confident there. It’s not- a- ah- ah- good look on you.”

“Okay.”

You tilt your head up, closing your eyes once they roll into the back of your head. Your nails dig into the side of his neck and shoulder. “Br-”

“Come on now. Say it.”

“Brad-” A high pitched moan cuts you off. “Brad-”

“Just a little more, sweetheart.” He observes the way your mouth opens, the ideas running through his head make him slow down.

Your head snaps up, “no. No. Not again. Please?” You ask with a whiney tone, hips rolling against his to make a point.

He moves closer, his chest against yours as he focuses solely on making you cum right here and right now. One hand sneaks between your body’s, his thumb circling your buzzing bundle.

You start clenching around him.

“That’s it, just a little more.”

Your breathing stutters, it’s too much. “Brad- Brad-”

“Don’t give up now. You’re so close to getting what you want, sweetheart.”

You cup his cheeks and yank his head closer, wanting to feel him everywhere. You push his head away from you, keeping him close enough for him to feel your breath on his lips. You stare into his pretty chesnut eyes and whisper, “Bradley.” You think you hear his breath hitch before you close your eyes, vision going white. You stutter his name in slow, unsteady breathes as he helps you ride out your high.

He hardly slows his pace, giving you enough time to catch your breath.

You open your eyes, blinking a few times to focus on him. Your chest heaves as you take deep breathes, your fingers curl in his hair gaining his attention. “If we- God, man what did you do to me?”

He smirks, “I made you feel good.”

You scoff, tugging on his hair; he grunts, his grip tightens on your hip and thigh. “You keep doing that and I’m gonna lose it.” You lick your lip, wetting it on purpose to distract him.

His gaze does indeed travel down giving you the opportunity to clench around his length.

He stills inside you, head in the crook of your neck with his mouth latched onto the skin of your shoulder, you can feel his groans vibrating against your skin followed by the faintest whisper of your name.

You hum, petting the back of his head, “did lose your composure, big boy?”

He lifts his head, narrowing his eyes at you. “You know exactly what you did.”

An evil smile stretches across your lips, “I do, and I don’t regret it one bit.” You tap his shoulder, “now let me go.”

“You sure you want me to do that?”

You purse your lips, “okay, you cocky man. Here’s what’s going to happen,” you point to him. “You’re going to help me walk to the bathroom so we can both shower because I’m not gonna lay in a bed with a sweaty guy, unless you’re not staying then-”

“I’m staying,” he interrupts. “If- if… that’s okay.”

“Your cock is literally still inside me and you wonder if you spending the night is okay. Oh, I’m definitely keeping you.”

He scoffs through his nose, “I didn’t realize I was a pet, sweetheart.”

“You are, now take me to the shower or lose your place in my bed.”

He pulls his semi hard cock out of your, now, pulsating core.

You unwrap your legs from his waist, giving the hint that you want to walk (with his assistance of course).

You two make it to the bathroom with little to no issues (all thanks to the hunky man).

After standing in the shower, letting the warm water roll down your body’s, relaxing you.

It takes less than an hour for the two of you to fall asleep, you in a t-shirt and him in his (now washed and dry) boxers.

Bradley’s still sleeping.

You purse your lips, jealous that he can sleep some more than you. Your eyes wander around the dark, barely lit room; you stop at the sight of his shirt.

You get out of bed, slipping your feet into your slippers not wanting to feel the cold floor, pausing to look back at him, sighing out a relief that he’s still asleep. Next time you’ll be careful when getting out of bed.

You grab the shirt, gripping it tightly when you think about that last part again. “Next time?” Your head snaps over at the snoring, adorable, mustached man in your bed, tangled in the sheets. The corner of your lips tugs upwards, a gentle smile dancing across your lips, “next time, indeed.”

You walk over to the window, opening the blinds a bit so little natural light can escape and brighten your room up in an hour but, in the meantime, you’ll settle for your headlamp.

You reach into the drawer of your nightstand, grabbing the headlamp before opening your closet, searching for your sewing kit.

You sit back on the bed carefully setting your kit in front of you, not wanting to lose your needles (you did that once and let’s just say it was not a fun night).

Bradley rolls over and opens one eye; he smiles, staring at you, resting his head on his hand. "What're you doing?"

You finish working on this button, you were lucky to get three done before he woke up.

"Fixing your shirt."

"You didn't have to do that."

You take the headlamp off your head, rubbing your forehead. "I felt bad."

"Why?"

You sigh, "hang on." You open the blinds and run out into the living room, taking a picture frame off the table nearest to the wall, and run back into your room.

You hold it out for him.

He takes it, staring at it for a second. "Oh." "Sorry."

"No. No. It’s okay… why- uh- why do you have this picture?"

"My dad obviously."

"Which one is he?"

"You know the hat I was wearing tonight."

"Yeah?"

"Look for it." You settle back onto the bed, starting to work on another button.

"Wait!” He pushes himself up, “you're Howler?!"

You nod "yeah, you know who I am?"

“How could I not? You’re all anyone talks about and your Bob’s best friend.”

“The first thing I can imagine happening. Pilots like to gossip but I didn’t realize anyone knew I know Bob.”

“I put it together last night. Bob’s never one to warm up to a person that fast.”

You nod, sitting back on the bed, “fair enough.”

He doesn’t look away from the picture.

“Do you want me to put it back?”

He shakes his head, “no, no. This is- this is actually nice.”

“Is it?” You set his, now, finished shirt on your nightstand along with your sewing kit. You scoot closer to him, resting your elbow on the pillow, your hand rests on his shoulder. “How so?”

“I’ve seen almost every picture of my dad, but I’ve never seen this one before.”

“Yeah… I think my dad stole his camera because there’s a few others with Goose chasing after him and then the two wrestling with your dad looking pretty victorious as he dances around with his hat on.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah,” you chuckle.

Bradley turns his head, watching you with a small smile.

You turn to see his star dazed expression. “You want to see more?”

“In the living room?”

“And the few boxes I got around here somewhere. If that’s alright with you, of course.”

He cups your cheek, leaning in, “let’s do it.”

Neither of you had talked about it, what would happen between the two of you the next day; you risk it and kiss him.

“I’ll make the food this time.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh my god! The food.”

His arm wraps around your waist pulling you back into his.

“Let go,” you whine.

“No, no. Calm down, I took care of it last night.”

You stop fighting his hold, “you did?”

“I did, now can you stop freaking out?”

“Maybe. Let me go so I can go find the boxes.”

“If we must.”

“Oh, shut up.”

You push yourself out of bed, barely out the door when you hear, “are you wearing anything under your shirt?”

“My answer depends on your response.”

You don’t think you’ve ever heard anyone in this house ever get out of bed as fast as Bradley did in that moment.

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chillax-kass-w · 4 years

Text

After All | M19

[Reiner Braun/Reader]

Happiness seems impossible for Reiner, but he may get there after all.

Read on AO3

[As a note, the format of this story is as follows: chapters actually titled “Chapter _” are current to the Marley Arc, chapters titled “M_” are Reiner’s memories in succession, and chapters titled “RM_” are the Reader’s memories in succession]

Sunlight was filtering through the leaves, and he knew. He knew (f/n) would love these trees. She’d scale them up and down and wonder what their story was. She’d write that story; she’d tell it to him. She’d always been curious like that. He could just imagine her smiling at the adventure ahead of them; he could just see the golden sun in her hair, the life in her eyes.

“Hey, Reiner, got any water?”

His imagination halted at Ymir’s question. “Sorry, there’s not a hell of a lot I can do, even if it is a matter of life and death.” Now that she mentioned it, he was parched. He wondered when they’d get back to the Walls for some much needed rest.

“You’re right about that. This whole thing is bullshit.”

“Speaking of which, we’ve been working our asses off. No food, no sleep, no nothing. Ever since those Titans showed up. That was yesterday, right?” He sighed. “Man, we’re lucky the Wall hasn’t been destroyed. Still,” he held his hand to his head, “you’d think that meant they’d give us a break. And don’t even get me started on promotion…”

“Reiner.” He looked to Bertholdt; his eyes were wide.

“What? Aw, come on, I don’t think that’s too much to ask. Do you?” He chuckled. “No, I think we’ve done enough work to deserve consideration. It’s not easy to act in a situation as messed up as this one. As a soldier, I don’t see what’s wrong with being commended and rewarded for that… It’s just nice to be acknowledged.”

“Mister Reiner, what in the hell are you going on about?” Ymir had an incredulous smile on her face. What was that for?

“What do you mean? I’m not saying that I should be immediately promoted to Captain, you know.”

“Uh… That’s not what I mean.”

“Oh, by the way, where did you guys get that cannon from? I owe you one for saving my bacon.” He sighed. “And (f/n) injured her hand saving me too. Needed stitches. I hope she’s alright. She—”

“Hey!” He jumped as Eren stood with a shout, and that’s when he noticed the steam billowing from Eren’s arms. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Is this some kind of joke?”

“What are you mad about, Eren? Was it something I said?” He held up his hands in surrender. He didn’t understand.

“If you want me to kill you, just keep talking!”

“Wait, Eren,” Ymir held out her arm. Why was she missing limbs? “Whatever he’s saying, it’s not normal. Isn’t that right, Bertholdt? If there’s something you know, then quit being quiet and do something about it.” Reiner didn’t understand what she could be implying. He looked to his friend for some sort of answer.

“Reiner…” Bertholdt couldn’t meet his eyes. “Snap out of it. You’re not a soldier. We’re Warriors.”

Warriors.

1,820 years ago, our ancestor Ymir Fritz made a deal with the Devil.

She gained power.

The power of the Titans.

Eldia’s ethnic cleansing lasted for about 1,700 years.

The Great Nation of Marley incited a civil war and brought seven of the nine Titans to its side.

The Great Nation of Marley won.

The Great Nation of Marley is merciful to the Eldians.

I will become a Warrior and live with my mother and father as an Honorary Marleyan.

I will become a Warrior and eradicate the Devils within the Walls.

I will become a Warrior.

I will become a Hero.

Eyes shut, he realized. Everything had come together. When had it come apart?

“Marcel! No!”

“Take the blame and die!”

“Reiner’s dead. If you need Marcel, I’ll be Marcel.”

“This is the only way we can go home.”

His mother was waiting; he wouldn’t let her wait long.

Complications like her ruined everything.

He’d take her down and show her how cruel the world really was to devils like her.

He couldn’t trample a smile like that, even on a devil’s face.

No one would question the aim of a person who selflessly helped others.

Keep telling yourself that.

She was a good person.

Person?

“You deserve it, Reiner.”

Friend?

He’d become a good liar.

“Well, we’ll go see it then.”

Another lie.

“All thanks to you.”

“Who am I really?”

All you cause is pain.

He couldn’t change her future, as much as he wanted to.

“It’s your choice, Rein’.”

“I just want you to be happy.”

Just do what needs to be done, and keep moving forward.

“Wait, why are you in such a rush?! We haven’t even talked this over!”

“Hey, why is Marco being eaten?”

“It’s not your fault, Reiner. Please, please, don’t blame yourself for things out of your control.”

“Please, Reiner.”

He wanted to forget.

He wanted more.

He understood.

“Look at how beautiful it is, Rein’.”

“They remind me of you… respect, chivalry, clarity of thought…”

He couldn’t afford her.

If only he had the power to douse the flames.

If only…

“I fight for you.”

“I fight for you too.”

“Reiner… I thought I lost you.”

“I thought I lost you, too.”

“Reiner!”

“No!”

No!

Warriors.

We’re Warriors.

“Right… I see…That’s how things are…” He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. All he could do was hold his head in his hands and cry.

It felt as if he’d seen someone else’s memories. He’d always expected to be in this position, but not then, not his own memories. How had he forgotten? Why did he feel so out of control? Had he ever been in control?

“I think I’m starting to see what’s going on here. I thought something was strange. I mean, why would the man who destroyed the Wall risk his life to save Connie? You were taking contradictory actions, but without being aware of it. I don’t know why that happened, but… You were originally a Warrior whose goal was to destroy the Wall, but you pretended to be a soldier for so long, you could no longer tell which was the real you…” Ymir’s words vexed him, or did they pin him? “No, maybe you couldn’t bear the weight of your sins, so, in order to keep your mind in balance, you unconsciously escaped into a fantasy, convincing yourself you were just a soldier who protected the Wall… That caused your mind to split and altered your memories. Judging by Bertholdt’s dumbfounded expression, this isn’t the first time your stories stopped fitting together…” She laughed in the face of his plight. “And not to mention the ultimate irony, you convinced yourself you were worthy of love. Ha! I wonder what (f/n) is thinking right now. She must be—”

“Shut up!” He couldn’t take it, couldn’t face it. “Don’t say her name.” His blood was boiling with regret and determination, duty and the woes of his life.

“My bad, but isn’t it you who shouldn’t be allowed to say her name? Think about it.” She was right, absolutely right. At the thought, he buried his face further into his cold hands. He didn’t want to be seen.

He didn’t want to be there.

“You have to be kidding me. How can you act like a victim?” I don’t know. “What are you even thinking?” I don’t know, Eren. “Why did you even listen to what we had to say that day? Tell me, Bertholdt. Don’t you remember what I said? I was right in front of you two. I told you about the time my mother was eaten by a Titan, didn’t I? About how she couldn’t escape because a piece of the gate you kicked down landed right on my house. You know about that, right?” Yes. “I told you, didn’t I?” Yes. “What did you think? What… were you thinking that day?”

“Back then… I felt sorry for you.” How could Bertholdt answer? Reiner’s entire being was withering away.

“Oh… I see… You two… You’re not soldiers… You’re not Warriors… You’re just murderers. You massacred people who’d done nothing wrong! You’re mass murderers!”

“I know that!” Reiner couldn’t take it. His sins were agonizing upon his back, in his chest, around his neck. “I don’t need you to tell me!”

“Then stop acting like responsible citizens worried about the state of the world! You two aren’t even human anymore! You’re the ones who turned this world into a living hell! Don’t you see that, you murderers?!”

Yes, he could see. He could see very clearly now.

A l l y o u c a u s e i s p a i n.

“So what do you want these murderers to do?! Do you want us to repent?! Do you want us to apologize?! Are you really going to preach to a couple of cold blooded murderers about how killing is wrong?! Will that satisfy you?! The Reiner and Bertholdt you know are gone! And if all you want to do is cry about it, then go ahead! Keep crying!”

He wanted to cry. He wanted to go home.

“You’re right.” Eren’s voice was cold. “Who am I? What do I know? Still, all I can do now… is work. Work hard… to make sure that you two die the most excruciating death possible.”

How could Reiner feel fear when he felt so numb?

“You can’t be for real. Eren, I’m begging you, I can’t put my faith in you if you keep talking like some stupid kid.”

“Like what…?”

“I’m saying there’s no way I’m going along with someone worried about petty little things like that.” She paused. “Hey, Reiner. What was that beast?”

His eyes widened. He didn’t want to talk about that.

He didn’t want to talk about anything.

“Beast? What’re you talking about?”

“Huh, you don’t know? Funny, considering that your eyes were beaming like you were kids when you saw it earlier.”

Eren was confused. “What ‘beast’?”

Ymir shook her head. “Just listen. That Beast Titan is the cause of this recent mess. It was what made Titans appear inside the Walls. Maybe it was testing our strength?” How did she know? “You two are trying to get to it, because, if you do, you’ll be able to go back to your home town, right?”

Before he could even piece together a response, Eren shouted again. “Tell me everything you know!”

“Be patient. I’m caught up in circumstances of my own. But listen, Eren. If you think that everything will be settled if you take care of these two… Then, you’re dead wrong.”

“Then who’s our enemy?!”

If only he knew.

“Our enemy? Well, if I had to say, then it’d be—”

“Ymir!” He couldn’t let her tell Eren. He couldn’t let her go. She was the one who’d ruined their mission to begin with. She had to return home with them. If not... “Do you think this world has a future?” He paused, piecing his argument together. “If you know that much about what’s going on, then think about your plans. Surely you can consider coming over to our side.”

“And trust you? Fat chance! You can’t trust me.”

“No, I can trust you. Your goal is to protect Krista, isn’t it?” Even in his fractured state of mind, he knew how to get to her. That much was obvious, especially with the look in her eyes. “Based on our situation, can you not imagine we can help her in some way? Or… Do you think Eren’s strength is more reliable than ours?”

“What?!”

Despite Eren’s shout, he knew he’d convinced at least some part of Ymir. She was glaring at Eren, presumably sizing him up. “You were thinking of using Eren to escape from here, probably because you thought you had no chance if you let us take you.” She didn’t, but truth was strong in times of negotiation. “To be honest with you, that’s exactly right. And even if you did join us, we wouldn’t be able to guarantee your safety. But, if we’re just talking about Krista… Together, we might be able to make something work. Your tiny little life… or Krista’s future: it’s your choice.”

He was basing this off of his own deduction. Annie had learned much about the aristocratic families, enough to know there was an illegitimate child out in the world. Ymir had told Krista to live for herself, suggesting she had never done so before. And, to top off the theory, Krista had revealed her true name was Historia. That was a noble name if he’d ever heard one.

“Hey, so who’s our real enemy?!”

“Who knows…?” With those words, he knew he’d bought her silence and support.

If only he could buy (f/n)’s safety…

“Reiner,” Bertholdt met him upon his branch, “are we really going to trust Ymir? Her Titan is small, but it was fast. If we don’t restrain her, she could take us out in moments… She… really is the one who ate Marcel, remember?”

How could he forget? That moment was cemented in his mind, his first monumental mistake. He’d let his focus drop for but a moment, and Marcel had saved him. Marcel was devoured by a Titan with long hair and black eyes. There was no second guessing the facts, at least for this memory. There was no disputing the identity of Ymir’s Titan. Her claws and sharp fangs couldn’t belong to any ther than the Jaws.

What if… he’d have been the one devoured that day?

“That’s right. But that’s exactly why her position is clear. She finally became human again. She probably wanted to wander, thinking of only her own survival… That is, until she met Krista. She found someone she valued more than herself, someone so dear that she’d jump into a swarm of Titans for her.”

He’d found that someone too…

“Reiner.” Bertholdt grabbed his shoulder; it brought him back to the moment, but he wouldn’t let it show. “What are you right now?”

No one.

“I’m a Warrior. Don’t worry. I have more reasons for bringing Krista with us than her just being cute. Did you forget? Annie tailed those guys who were loitering around the Training Grounds to see what they were up to. They came to observe Krista from the Church of the Wall, that group that knows what’s inside the Walls. Krista’s an important figure in a Wallist family. In other words, if the Coordinate we’re looking for isn’t Eren, then our mission won’t be over yet. If that happens and we have Krista, it should make the search much easier than it is now.”

“Yeah, let’s put an end to this. Next time we come here, we’ll be able to bring Annie, Krista, and that back to our hometown. And… that will be the last time we ever come here.”

Why did those words hurt so much?

Why couldn’t he use rationale to bring her home?

Why had this happened?

“Yeah, all our duties will be complete.”

His heart wouldn’t be.

But, Bertholdt’s…

He stopped him. “But, Bertholdt, tell Annie how you feel once we get to our hometown.”

If only…

“What?!”

“You stare at her too much! Enough that anyone paying attention would notice.”

“No, I—”

...he could do the same…

“Aw, who cares?” He crossed his arms. “You’re both murderers with little time left, right? Who else but one of us could understand the situation we’re in?”

Could she…?

Then, a sound met his ears. It was so familiar…

He glanced behind him, and there he found something he hadn’t quite factored into their equation.

Green smoke signals…

“Bertholdt.”

“The Survey Corps? Already?”

He readied his triggers. They had to move. “They shouldn’t be able to put together a scouting formation without moving a lot of horses over the Wall. I didn’t think they’d be able to act this quickly… Damn it. Commander Erwin might be with them.” Without a second thought, he shot an anchor above Eren. “We’re up against a tough bunch.”

He should know.

“Huh? What is it, Reiner?! It’s not night yet!”

“Doesn’t matter. We’re heading out now.”

He had to be level-headed. Bertholdt was counting on him. Annie was counting on him. Zeke was counting on him. His mother was counting on him. The entire Nation of Marley was counting on him. What were his emotions in the grand scheme of things? What was he in the grand scheme of things?

A Warrior.

There was a world waiting for his next move. The weight was on his shoulders; he could feel it. And, as he stepped toward Eren, he met his rival head on. “Eren, don’t be stupid and put up a fight.”

Eren laughed; it was forced. “Hey, you don’t need to act so tough. Look at me!” His arms were still healing from being severed, but Reiner knew better than to trust that. “There’s no way I could possibly fight back. Come on...” Reiner knew better.

So why did he let Eren attack him like that?

He was thrown on his back from the force, and Eren was above him, smashing his unformed arms relentlessly into Reiner’s head. He took it for a bit, allowed Eren to tell him to die, even considered it. But then, he found his resolve again. He kicked his former friend to the side, and, when he tried to get back up, he wrapped his forearm around Eren’s throat.

“I’ll kill you! I’ll fucking kill you! I’ll rip you apart!”

Just one squeeze, and he could kill him.

No, he needed him alive.

As he added pressure to Eren’s throat, he wondered just how it’d come to this. Why did the world have to be so cruel? Why had he been born in this position? Why were the Walls filled with people? Why had she been born inside the Walls?

At this point, he just had to accept it.

So, as Eren’s consciousness faded into nothing, he finally allowed his mind to settle on one thing: getting back home. That’d been his mission all along. That was all he’d ever wanted. Why had he forgotten that? Why hadn’t he stayed the course?

This was all his doing. He had to be the one to fix his mistakes.

As Bertholdt tied Eren to his back, Reiner planned his next course of action. The Survey Corps was too close for comfort, as were the Titans. Bertholdt had to carry Ymir on his back as well, so their mobility was limited. The situation just wasn’t in their favor.

Once Ymir was situated, Reiner and Bertholdt shot into the trees, and the Titans below followed. He gritted his teeth. “For now, we need to head somewhere with no Titans. Stay as far away from them as possible. I still haven’t recovered, and my Titan moves slow, so if we get surrounded, I won’t be able to protect both of us.”

“Then why the hell didn’t we wait ‘til night?!” Ymir shouted over the passing wind. “Oh… Signal flares?! So the Survey Corps came to save us?!”

Looking over his shoulder, he groaned. “Damn it, they’re already close. This is all because Eren got violent.” They had to get to the other side of the Titan Forest, and quickly. They were low on gas as it was, but, if they could just outrun the Titans, he could transform. It was open ground from there. They’d have the advantage.

“Reiner! It’s Krista!”

“What?”

“Krista’s with them! Now’s our chance to grab her!”

That wasn’t part of the plan. “You’re full of it! No way you can see that far!”

“I know she’s with them!” Ymir’s voice was desperate, demanding. “That idiot is too kind-hearted for her own good! She came to rescue me!”

That wasn’t part of the plan.

“Even if that’s true, we can’t go now!” He turned forward again, toward the mission. “We’ll get another chance!”

“What?!”

“We can’t grab her the way things are now! There’s no way to bust up that formation! Wait for our chance!”

“‘Wait for our chance’?! When’s that going to be?! After one of your Warrior pals eats me?! No! I can’t trust you!”

“Trust me! I’m not lying when I say we need Krista too!”

Just trust me!

“Prove it then! Prove it to me, right now! I need it to be now ! I want it to be now… At this rate, I’ll never see her again!”

At that, Reiner fell silent. His mission was in his eyes, but his heart…

I’ll never see her again…

“We can’t.” It was Bertholdt who answered, calm and collected. “Right now, we don’t even know if we can escape safely ourselves.”

He had to assure someone that a life would be saved, even if it wasn’t the one he truly wanted.

“I promise you! We’ll save her, I swear it!”

She was silent for a time. Then, as they continued their flight, she shouted, “I’m the strongest one here in this terrain.”

Reiner turned to find her grabbing at Bertholdt’s face, covering his eyes. “Ymir!”

“Ymir, stop!”

“Shut the hell up and think for a second! I’d be able to dominate this terrain, don’t you think?”

Bertholdt’s next anchor barely hit its mark. “Ymir, stop, we’ll fall!”

“That’s fine with me. My Titan might not be as strong as yours, but I can move quickly through the trees. I could grab Eren and rendezvous with the Scouts before you even knew what hit you. Wouldn’t be that hard.” At her threat, Reiner found his footing on the next tree he anchored to and stopped. They couldn’t risk it. “If you don’t take Krista right now, I’ll make a nuisance of myself here.”

Why couldn’t she just go along with the plan?

“Are you completely insane?! We won’t be able to save her that way! All because of your selfishness! I thought that you genuinely cared!”

“I do, in my way. Even if it means robbing her of her future, I want to survive and see her again. As a person, I’m really lower than shit… But she knows that, and she smiles at me anyway. You two don’t know what that’s like, do you?”

He did…

“Damnit!”

“Don’t be mad. I’ve thought this through. If I fight here, it’ll make it easier for you to escape! Or,” she glared at Bertholdt, fire in her eyes, “we could always tear each other apart instead! You think I’m nuts?! Then try me and find out!”

They couldn’t risk fighting here and now. If they did, the Corps would catch up, and they’d be too exhausted to fight them or even run away at that point. Ymir was right; she had the upper hand in this situation.

Damnit…

“Fine! We’ll keep heading to the edge of the forest! You better follow through, Ymir!”

“I will!”

With that, she let go of Bertholdt, falling behind them into a burst of lightning. The plan seemed to fall with her.

Even so, Reiner had to push forward. They still had Eren. He was more than enough, but the Jaw Titan was a priority too. He had to retrieve it. It was his own idiocy that caused them to lose it. It was all him. If he couldn’t bring it back to Marley, he was an absolute failure.

He already felt like one.

The edge of the forest was soaring into view. Their future was somewhere on the other side. As they switched positions in holding Eren, he all but held his breath. If Ymir didn’t come, what was the course of action? If—

“She’s here, Reiner!”

There she was. If she’d returned to them, that meant she’d succeeded in nabbing Krista. Somehow, the plan was working. Somehow, it didn’t seem all for naught.

“Good.”

So, just as he had so many times before, he held a knife in hand, and he jumped from the trees. It was all muscle memory from there. He eyed his hand as the blood trailed into light, and he wondered what the pain really felt like. He’d never felt it. The wound always closed as soon as he transformed.

(f/n) had felt it...

Lightning.

Ymir and Bertholdt latched onto his shoulders, and he ran. He ran, like he had the day they’d come there. He ran like he had, with Bertholdt and Annie on his shoulders. He ran, with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Open sky, open land awaited his feet. He was finally free.

Why did it feel as if that wasn’t the case?

Upon his shoulder, he heard a cough. Krista must have woken up.

“Ymir!”

“Krista… No, Historia.” Ymir must have exited her Titan. “I’m sorry I ate you out of nowhere. You must be mad, right?”

Left, right, left, right…

“What is this? What’s going on? We came to rescue you and Ere—”

“You don’t need to rescue me! Things have changed! I’m with Reiner and Bertholdt now. Like it or not, you’re coming with us! There’s no future inside the Walls! Hear me out for a second, okay? Life outside isn’t as bad as you think. Believe me. There’s no one out here saying the world would be a better place if you’d never been born.”

Think again.

“Yeah?! I don’t think Titans would say much either way! They’d be too busy trying to eat me!”

“We all have our shortcomings, right?! They’re not so bad if you look past that! It’s complicated, alright?!”

“Ymir, I don’t know what’s going on in your mind, but you’re not making any sense! It must be… that Reiner and Bertholdt forced you to do this, right? They threatened you!”

From his other shoulder, he heard Bertholdt voice his own thoughts. “It’s the opposite, actually…”

“I’m right, aren’t I?! Let go! Whatever they’ve got on you, I don’t care! We can fight them! Put the past behind you! What matters is right now! I’m here! I will always be your ally!”

If only…

“Ymir!” Bertholdt. “In case you haven’t noticed, the Scouts are closing in. If we’d left earlier, there might’ve been a decent chance of outrunning them. Going back for Krista was your idea. You forced us. Remember that? Ymir, why? What did we do this for?! Have you changed your mind again? Have you decided to stay inside the Walls with Krista? Don’t be a fool! Think!”

A fool…

“Let go! Don’t listen to him!”

Don’t listen…

“I can’t!” Ymir’s voice was shattering upon the wind. “I wish I could. Historia, I know you think I did this for you. But, at the end of the day, I did it for me. A long time ago, I stole the power of the Titans from one of their comrades. Their power is absolute. Inside or outside the Walls, there’s nowhere for me to run. At this rate, I’m going to be killed… But, they said if I cooperate, hand you over, they’ll speak on my behalf to get my crimes pardoned. It’s because you’re so important to the Wallists, who know the secrets of the Walls… When this world started going to hell… I thought that being with you… would be insurance for the near future… I almost died fighting at the tower… And I just couldn’t take it anymore. I was scared of dying. I wanted someone to save me somehow… I lied, and told you I was doing it all for you, but, really… It was all for my own sake. I’m begging you, Historia! Please, please save me!”

Please…

Please, save me…

“Didn’t I just tell you, Ymir? No matter what happens, I’m on your side!”

He was running toward the sun, running toward the blaze, but it didn’t emanate the brilliance he’d always revered. No, that was behind him. She was behind him. He knew. It was inevitable.

Shadows always sail away from the sun, after all.

Then, another familiar sound…

Was that an anchor in his shoulder?

Was that the whir of the 3dmg?

Were they that close already?

Ymir’s scream told him they were.

“Reiner! Protect us!” Bertholdt jumped under his chin, and to shield him, Reiner brought both his hands up to form a cage against his neck. Just in time, for Mikasa slashed at his hardened knuckles only a second too late.

“Mikasa, no! You’re not going to kill Ymir!”

Mikasa was on his head now. “That all depends on her! What’ll it be?! She can step aside or she can die! Her choice!”

“Reiner.”

That voice…

On his right shoulder, next to his ear...

She shouldn’t be here. She’s injured. She shouldn’t be here.

“Reiner, I know you can hear me.”

I can, (f/n).

“Please, tell me this is some sort of misunderstanding. There’s no way…”

It isn’t.

“Tell me, was any of it real? Did you ever truly care about me? Or was it all part of this lie?”

It was real. I care about you. I care about you.

“How many lies did you tell me?”

Too many to count.

“Why…?”

She was crying. Her fists met his cheek; he barely felt them. He barely felt.

If he had it his way, he’d tell her how real it all was. If he had it his way, he’d take her with him. If he had it his way, he’d stay with her until the end of time, until he’d heard everything she knew and everything she didn’t and every wish and every cry a thousand times over. But, it was never fated to go his way. Fate didn’t favor bloodstained hands. He had to accept that. He had to.

He was up to his shoulders in red.

“Why would you do this to me, Reiner?!”

To save the world.

“Why would you hurt so many people?!”

To save the world.

“You’re terrible!”

I am.

“You’re terrible…”

Her voice fell to a whisper. He couldn’t hear anything else. It was only her.

It was always her.

“I guess it’s always been like this. I’ve never gotten any answers from you. You’ve never listened to me. I should’ve known.”

I’ve always listened. I hear you.

“You’re a monster. I cared about you, and you’re a monster.”

You’re right. You’ve always been right.

“None of that matters. Just focus on taking their heads off,” Mikasa’s words reached him. “If you even hesitate for a moment, we’ll never get Eren back. They’re a threat to Humanity. That’s all.”

Thump, thump, thump.

“Do you think that anyone wants to kill people?!” Bertholdt voiced his own thoughts, broken and all alone. “What kind of person would do this for fun?! Who would want to do this?! With what we did, of course you despise us and want to kill us! We can never take any of it back! But, we couldn’t come to terms with our sins… When we were pretending to be soldiers, it was a little bit easier. It’s not a lie, (f/n)! Connie! Jean! It’s true that we deceived you, but it wasn’t all lies! We really did think of you as friends! We really did care! I know… we don’t have the right to apologize. But, someone… Please, someone… I’m begging you, someone find us…”

“Bertholdt… Give Eren back.”

“I can’t do that. Someone has to do this. Someone…has to get blood on their hands.”

Someone...

“Everyone, jump off right now!”

She left a void on his shoulder. She left a void.

And Death was coming. Titans, a horde of Titans, were approaching them from ahead. The Commander was leading them straight toward Reiner. There was nowhere to go. The weight of the World was on his shoulders; the weight of his friends’ pain was there too. There was no escaping his sins. There was no escaping the path he’d set out on. All he could do was run, run and hope they’d make it out on the other side.

Just do what needs to be done, and keep moving forward.

With hands latched firmly to his neck, Reiner dipped his shoulder and ran. Just as he’d destroyed the gate those many years before, he rammed through the horde in his path. They kept coming. He kept charging. Ymir was screaming. They were around his neck, biting his head, holding him down. He had to move. Quickly, quickly, he had to move.

He had to get home.

Where could he go? He was surrounded. There was no way to fight with his hands around Bertholdt. There was no way to protect Bertholdt as he fought. What could he do? How many were there? Ten? Twenty?

It wouldn’t matter if they died.

Hold on, Bertholdt.

Just a little longer.

We’re almost there.

He let Bertholdt go, and he swung at the Titans closest to him. He swung, and he swung, and he prayed for safety. He prayed for home.

The Scouts…

They were upon him now. They were after Bertholdt. He had to choose the greatest enemy. He had to choose. He brought his hand up and around his friend.

“We’ve made it this far! We’re taking Eren with us and going back home!”

“Bertholdt!” Armin, upon his neck. “Are you two sure about this? You’re going to go home and leave your friend behind?”

Annie…

“You’re leaving Annie behind? Right now… Annie’s deep underground in Utopia District, to the far north… where they’re torturing her…”

No, no that couldn’t be true.

“As soon as they heard her screams, they realized… The wounds on her body might heal, but she can’t make the pain go away. They’re being careful not to kill her, of course, but they won’t let her rest. At this very moment, they’re inflicting pain on her in every way they know how—”

No, Annie…

“Children of the Devil!” Bertholdt… “I’ll kill every last one of you!”

At Bertholdt’s scream, Reiner looked down. At the sight of the Commander, he knew it was all over. Eren was falling; Eren was in Mikasa’s arms. They’d lost. He reached out to the retreating Survey Corps in a last attempt at recovering the Coordinate, but there was no moving with the Titans surrounding him, suppressing him.

It was over. He wouldn’t be able to last against so many Titans on his own. Bertholdt’s Titan was useless in a retreat. They needed Annie. They needed Marcel.

This was all his fault.

In an act of hopelessness and indignation, he picked up one of the smaller Titans and hurled it at their formation. He didn’t care who he killed. He didn’t care. He was on the brink. He was in a corner. So, he hauled another onto his shoulders, and he threw. If Eren was eaten, all the better. Perhaps the one to inherit his Titan would be less of a maniac. Perhaps, they’d be like Marcel. Then, they could go home.

Home…

With that on his mind, he could move. With that on his mind, he could push through hordes of Titans to his goal. In the face of Death, in the face of failure, he could do anything if home was the goal.

Lightning…

No, that wasn’t lightning. What was that?

Was that… the Coordinate?

What was that scream?

All of the Titans upon his back, all of the Titans begging for his nape, left him. They all ran past him, away, to devour another Titan. It was a Pure Titan. There was no reason for them to target it.

Unless…

Eren had the Coordinate. He could use it. The situation couldn’t be worse. Eren, of all people��

We have to get it back.

The last person in this world who should have that power is you, Eren.

“Stay back, you bastards! I’ll kill all of you!”

Eren’s voice reverberated in his very soul. That lightning was behind his eyes again, and he knew it was over. There was no escaping the horde Eren directed their way. There was no escaping his sins. Eren had promised an excruciating death; this was it. He would be devoured if he didn’t run. He would be devoured if he ran.

Bertholdt… I can’t keep him safe!

Bertholdt was screaming. There was nothing he could do. There was nothing.

Nothing…

But then, something so inexplicable happened.

Ymir came back.Ymir saved Bertholdt. Ymir fought the Titans along with him. For some reason, she’d chosen them; for some reason, he’d live another day. So, he ran. He ran until he couldn’t run anymore. He ran until his mind was numb. He ran until Ymir had to take over. And she ran until they were atop Wall Maria, the same Wall they’d destroyed those many years ago.

And, as they caught the breath they hadn’t anticipated in their lungs, he found only one question upon his lips.

“Ymir, why did you come back for us?”

“Well… Must be because I’m an idiot.” They didn’t laugh. “I’m here so you’ll have something to hand over. You guys can’t go home empty handed, right?”

He couldn’t believe it. “Do you understand there’s no hope of you being rescued if we go home from here? If you’re going to run… Now’s the time.”

“What’re you talking about, dumbass? I’m tired out. I’ve just had enough. I’m done.” In that moment, he had to agree. He felt done. Done with the hand he’d been dealt; done with the world; done with life.

“Ymir, why did you rescue me?” It seemed Bertholdt didn’t believe it either.

“Maybe because I heard your voice… If you hadn’t come to destroy this Wall, I would’ve been stuck in an endless nightmare. All I did was repay a debt. I’m the only one who knows about your situation, too… I’m the same way… I was hopeless on my own.” She reached toward the sky. The gesture pained him. He’d seen another hand reach for the stars so many times.

“Thank you, Ymir… I’m sorry.” Bertholdt was crying. If Reiner didn’t feel absolutely void, he would be as well.

“It’s fine… Being a goddess doesn’t feel so bad, either.”

He didn’t know about that.

But, something stuck with him. She’d said she would have been in an endless nightmare if they hadn't come to destroy the Wall. As he watched the stars parade across the sky, he had to agree, at least in some respect. If he’d never come there, he never would have experienced life. He never would have experienced friendship. He never would’ve experienced love. Within the Walls, he’d found a love for the World he’d never known. He’d wished for forever. He’d wished for a future. He’d planned a future. He’d found love.

He’d found (f/n).

She was everything he’d wanted. She was everything he’d known. She was everything he was never meant to know.

But, now, he realized that that destruction was a double edged sword. That destruction had led him to his present moment. That destruction had initiated his own endless nightmare, and there was no deliverance.

You deserve it, Reiner.

#reiner braun #reiner braun x reader #reiner braun/reader #aot #snk manga #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #bertholdt hoover #attack on titan ymir #historia reiss

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queenofbaws · 4 years

Text

Day 19: Domestic

Fandom: Until Dawn Characters: Ashley Brown, Josh Washington, Chris Hartley Rating: T Words: 1,225 Author’s note: Hey. So. You guys know I love writing about these dorks as buds. I do, truly, but I haven’t been entirely honest with you all - more than anything else, these nerds are absolutely my UD ot3, and the moment I saw this beauTIFUL ART by @lunchador, I knew I had to finally give in and...write something about them being my ot3. So. Here we are. ;P ---

On paper, the plan had been simple: Get home from class, take a forty-five minute nap, wake up, and then squeeze in a little more studying for tomorrow’s final before figuring out what to do for dinner. No sweat, right?

Wrong.

Her memories before the alarm were sticky and syrupy like cotton candy left out in the sun, but she could recall a couple pieces-parts…things like grumbling that the a/c was still on the fritz as she kicked her pants off and stumbled into a pair of pajama shorts, rolling her eyes when she walked into the bedroom to see she hadn’t been the only one who’d decided on a catnap, having to shove a bunch of shit off the nightstand to make room for her phone…then her head had hit the pillow and there was nothing—sweet, blissful nothing—until the trill of her alarm.

She didn’t open her eyes immediately, instead pulling in a breath and letting it out in a groggy sigh. There were a couple of answering grumbles at that, but she was still just a bit too foggy to notice. With a yawn so wide, so leonine, that it threatened to crack her jaw, Ashley went to grab for her phone, her arm numbly reaching towards the side table. Her fingertips barely bumped the corner…

And then her arm was pushed away by some outside force, thwarting her efforts in one fell swoop.

She made another drowsy sound, frustrated, yes, but not nearly enough to open her eyes. It took her a moment to swallow the sleep from her throat, and oh, how she ached for a glass of water just then. She probably could’ve asked for one…eh, she knew the odds of actually having one brought to her were slim. So instead, she settled on asking a question she knew she was guaranteed an answer to: “Whose face is in my friggin’ boobs?”

There was a pause.

“It’s not mine,” Chris mumbled, more snore than voice. “At least…don’t think it’s mine…”

Typical.

“Guilty as charged,” came Josh’s voice from the general area of her ribs.

Even more typical.

Part of her—the part quickly rising to the land of the waking again—considered asking the logical, if not predictable, follow-up question of why his face was in her boobs, but that was when Chris started squirming.

“Who’s on my arm?”

Ashley wriggled for a second to try and place her…placement. It was a no-go, though, as the weight of Josh’s arm slung over her middle had all but bolted her to the spot. “Me, I think,” she yawned.

“Me definitely,” Josh added, something about his tone carrying the tacit message that no, he would not be moving anytime soon, even if that meant Chris lost the arm in question. “My turn.” He was trying to sound sleepier than he actually was, Ashley thought, though it was difficult to get a good bead on him with his voice so muffled by the fabric of her tank top. “Which one of you numbskulls set an alarm?”

As if he needed to ask.

Still, Chris was the one to speak up first, Ash feeling a weird movement under her pillow and against her hand as he flexed his fingers to tempt new blood into his arm. “I have never…in my life...set an alarm. Fate is my alarm clock.”

“Your stomach is your alarm clock,” she shot back with a sleepy smile. Seeing her opportunity, she reached behind herself again, trying to simultaneously grab her trilling phone and shift enough to let Chris move his arm…

And again, she was shot down.

“Ugh…c’mon, quit it…I gotta get up.”

Chris made a weird little noise probably meant to be a laugh. “That’s a funny use of the word ‘gotta.’” He groaned, and though her back was mostly to him, it was easy enough to imagine him smacking blindly at the nightstand until his hand found her phone. A couple seconds later, the alarm stopped, leaving the bedroom relatively silent. There was another tiny clatter as he set her phone back onto the nightstand (face-down, no doubt), and then the mattress and Josh groaned in perfect unison as he pulled his dead-arm out from under the pillows so he could reposition himself.

“See what you do, Ash?” Josh grumbled into her chest, “You ruin everything.”

“Um, excuse me?” Chris piped in. He rolled onto his side by the feel of it, spooning himself flush against Ashley’s back. He buried his face in her hair just long enough to press a kiss to the spot behind her ear. “I thought I was the one who ruined shit in this arrangement.”

Josh hummed a low ‘Mhm’ before readjusting himself as well. The movement felt calculated somehow, and she realized only too late why that was. Or what the two of them had just done. “But the stuff you don’t ruin, Cochise, Ash does,” he said, acting innocent as could be, as though they hadn’t just successfully boxed her in.

“I really gotta study, guys…” But oh, her voice didn’t even sound convincing in her own head. “I have that big final in my—”

She felt Chris nuzzle his way into her shoulder, his arm adding to the weight (and warmth) of Josh’s; the combined effect was something like having a weighed blanket stuffed to the brim with horrible, unfunny jokes. “You have a 4.0, Ash.”

“And I’d like to keep it that way…” Now she just sounded petulant. There was no doubt in her mind they already knew they’d won—they did, after all, usually win. When it came to stuff like this, anyway.

“How about this…I’ll make you a deal, Encyclopedia Brown,” Josh drawled, sounding like he was doing his very best impression of a used car salesman full of NyQuil. “Ten more minutes. Then you can hit the books.”

She thought it over for a moment, not needing to see his face to know he was grinning. “Five.”

“Mmm…let me just confer with my associate for a sec…” Without moving from her chest, he redirected his voice. “‘Ey, Cochise?”

“Ayup?”

“My offer was ten, she came back with five. Whaddya think?”

He was quiet for juuust long enough for her to wonder whether he’d fallen asleep again…but that suspicion was promptly squished. “I say fifteen.”

Despite knowing it was as good as admitting defeat, she laughed. “That’s not how you negotiate, you dunce.”

“Ma’am, I’ll have to ask you not to harangue my associate like that.”

“Harangue.”

“Ma’am, ma’am, please,” Chris added, “There’s no need for that kind of language.”

She groaned but decided to give in to the inevitable, snuggling herself contently between the two of them. “Fine,” she said with a sigh about as convincing as any of Josh’s many, many awful character voices. “Fifteen minutes. Then I get up and study.”

“Fifteen minutes,” Chris repeated.

“Fifteen minutes,” Josh agreed.

It was bullshit. It was bullshit and they all knew it, but who the hell cared? A minute later they were dozing again, skin sticky in the close summer air, the room painted a deep gold by the late afternoon light, pillows and bodies piled with practiced mastery, and really, that was all that mattered. Everything else in the world would just have to wait.

…until her backup alarm began to ring.

#until dawn #ashley brown #chris hartley #josh washington #lunchador i need you to know from the bottom of my heart that i haven't been able to stop thinkin about that naps drawing since i saw it #and i have had heart eyes about it ever since #please accept this as a humble thank you for doing the lords work #queenie writes challenge stuff #queenie writes supermassive #my fanfiction

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fly-pow-bye · 3 years

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DuckTales 2017 - “The Fight for Castle McDuck!”

Story by: Francisco Angones, Madison Bateman, Colleen Evanson, Christian Magalhaes, Ben Siemon, Bob Snow

Written by: Madison Bateman

Storyboard by: Stephanie Gonzaga, Krystal Ureta, Brandon Warren, Hayley Foster

Directed by: Matthew Humphreys

A family feud!

This episode begins with Scrooge, the nephews, and Webby making another trip to Castle McDuck to meet Scrooge's parents. How are they able to visit this castle with that mist that only disappears every five years, as explained in the last episode that featured Scrooge's parents? Apparently, there's a fritz in the castle's mist, and Fergus, Scrooge's father, immediately blames Scrooge for giving them a lemon. As Webby narrates this clenched-teeth meeting of father and son into her tape recorder, Downy, Scrooge's mother, goes up and hugs the two.

Downy McDuck: Oh, let's just be thankful for this unexpected family visit! Group hug! (hugs Scrooge and Fergus, not really accepting of this)

Just in time for Thanksgiving weekend! Okay, it's not really a Thanksgiving special and it may be just a coincidence as there's no proof of Disney swapping the intended order of episodes this time, but it is an episode where someone is thankful for a family gathering that will involve some food; I've seen flimsier excuses to air episodes at certain times. Webby isn't the only one happy to see Scrooge's family again, as Huey, Dewey, and Louie are after yet another artifact: the Blessed Bagpipes of Clan McDuck. Yes, it's not just one of Scrooge's catchphrases, it's also an ancient artifact that was foretold to Huey by a druid somewhere between Mount Neverrest and that place where the Terrafirmians went after that one episode.

No, just kidding, it's yet another artifact in that journal that seems to be used to make filler episodes to feel more important. This is not to say this episode isn't necessary. These Blessed Bagpipes have a bit more potential than, say, the Sword of Swanstentine: the bagpipes are told to be able to bring life to the lifeless. Louie doesn't interpret this as zombies, but instead just hears is that this is a rare and potentially expensive artifact, and since they already dealt with this castle's traps before, it should be easy to get! As for Dewey, he's going to be important later.

Scrooge isn't really here for Thanksgiving or the bagpipes, though, he's here essentially as a magic castle repairman. Using his cane, he pokes the druid stones that usually power that mist that keeps his parents out of his sight, and he comes to the conclusion that it seems like the magic was sucked out of it. Even if we didn't see the cause right before the opening, which we do, this is a good enough hint to what could have possibly happened. Fergus doesn't believe him, and Scrooge replies with him asking why he even asked him to do this instead of getting one of his other children to do the dirty work. Short answer: he tried.

Meet Matilda McDuck, the youngest sister of Scrooge, who likes to start random businesses like emu farms. The very sight of a new McDuck neither she nor the audience has seen regresses Webby back to her Season 1 "McDuck fangirl" persona. Why wouldn't she still have that? Most of all, to her, there's no such thing as sibling rivalry in Clan McDuck, as McDucks always stay together! I'm assuming the sibling fights Huey Dewey and Louie sometimes get in are because they're merely Ducks.

McDucks, on the other hand, don't really do fights, as exemplified by Scrooge handing his sister a whole bill to invest in this empire of giant emu eggs. Wow, Scrooge must have been impressed: usually it's just a coin that's worth less than even if it was just one dollar! She immediately rejects the bill because she doesn't do family investments, unlike Scrooge and his Number One Dime. She then puts him in a headlock. Webby pays this no mind and talks about this sibling friendship, while Dewey just sits in the background and sarcastically says, "yeah, sure." No, being the stand-in for the audience isn't his important bit.

Huey and Louie get into a sibling rivalry of their own, as Huey plans to do this epic adventure to get the bagpipes, with plenty of strategies that Louie calls, and trademarks after a long yawn, "boring nerd stuff". Louie, on the other hand, decides to do the "ask really loudly to the great-great grandma where the magic bagpipes are" approach, and Great Great Grandma Downy just tells them that bagpipe must be in the junk room, and she'll even show them where it is.

Louie's faces during these scenes are top-notch; there's a fine line between "off-model to the point where it's disturbing" and "off-model enough to be funny", and the scenes are more in the latter. We might even see it with Huey, who seems to be desperately trying to keep that inner Duke of Making A Mess in control.

If one hasn't guessed yet, our villain of the week is none other than the Phantom Blot. We saw the Phantom Blot earlier in the episode, sucking up some castle magic with his magic-sucking gauntlet. He's joined by one of the Eggheads, a charismatic, overly happy sidekick named Pepper. The first time I watched this episode, I thought this was Matilda in a disguise, but then I noticed she didn't have those circles under her eyes. This is a totally different duck.

Blot didn't want any duck to be his partner, or any partner at all, but F.O.W.L. won't allow Missing Mystery taking alone. The Blot has his own vested interest in destroying anything magical, especially something as dangerous as a bagpipe that can turn something that's lifeless into living things. This is the second episode in a row where someone wants to take an artifact they feel is too dangerous, though it's done in a different way.

Unknowing of any kind of evil, Webby, Scrooge, Dewey, and Webby are going on a tour through the castle. Webby stops at a room full of statues, including one statue of Danny McDuck that happens to be holding a bagpipe with symbols on it. Webby is completely enamored by all of this, but Dewey questions which one of their ancestors is invisible. Matilda explains that this space was left blank until a worthy McDuck can be immortalized in this room with a statue. Webby talks about an obvious candidate for such an immortalization: Scrooge McDuck!

Matilda laughs at this nomination, saying that it would be more fitting for someone who actually takes care of the castle, while Scrooge fights back by saying not only has be built this castle, but he built the castle that gave her and their parents immortality. This is where Webby's main conflict in the episode lies: she can't believe two McDucks can talk to each other like that, and, despite being told that sibling rivalry happens all the time by Dewey, she vows to fix this.

Her first attempt at doing this? Let Scrooge look at an old family diary. This appears to work pretty well, as Scrooge is reminded of his first brother-sister mud pie business. Unfortunately for Webby's plan to let this feud end so early, one of the photos happens to be Whiskers, Scrooge's pet hairball, being around his sister, going against the story he was told that Whiskers ran away. Not only is Whiskers still around...

...Whiskers had a new fur dying session, too! The emu eventually biting it ends up being the last straw, causing him and her to get into a sibling quibble. It's funny to see these people acting like children, even yelling out to their mom to tell on each other. It's not so funny to Webby, who thinks that she's going to break her beloved Clan McDuck, though Dewey insists this is normal. It's good that Webby isn't perfect, but one knows she's going the wrong way here.

Meanwhile, in the junk room their great great grandma led them to, they see a whole bunch of bagpipes stacked onto each other. Once again, we see Huey trying to think of a good strategy to find out which one is the real bagpipe, and Louie just runs up and jumps on the pile. This massive bagpipe blowing this not only causes does cause a mystical bow and arrow to break a canister of tiny green flying lightbug beings that exclaim their freedom, but it also proves that all of these bagpipes are just ordinary bagpipes. That mystical bow and arrow also causes Huey to drop the book near a cardboard box that Pepper and the Blot were hiding in. Must have learned that from some snake.

This scene with Pepper and the Phantom Blot does show us one thing: she may seem like an incompetent sidekick, and the Blot sure treats her like one as he didn't want a sidekick to begin with, but she knows a clue when she sees one. She takes a picture of it with her smartphone, and deduces that the symbols that were drawn on it represent different rooms of Castle McDuck. This begins a slow bit of character development for the Phantom Blot, who was merely just "I hate magic and everyone" before this.

Meanwhile, as Webby is watching the family aggressively eat their dinner, she comes up with a plan. She even ropes Dewey into this for his big, important moment. Dewey gets to show his best talent...

...pretend he accidentally died while trying to make everyone happy by making two statues! See, it's a win-win situation for everyone: Matilda and Scrooge would believe they're both deserving of statues, and Scrooge basically confirms what Dewey always knew: that he was the favorite. Honestly, I'd say he's only saying that because he's supposedly dead, but don't tell Dewey that. By the way, Scrooge falls for this even though Scrooge did fake his death before in this series. I should also talk about how Webby would have to find a way to show that Dewey didn't actually die for potential future adventures, but she won't need to even think about that.

Huey and Louie end up in this room, too, and Dewey just couldn't resist telling them that Scrooge said he's the favorite. This leads to even more bickering amongst Clan McDuck. This ends up being a perfect distraction for the Phantom Blot and Pepper to sneak around the room, too. Webby doesn't notice those two, but she finally decides enough is enough, and outright calls out the family for their bickering, saying that it just isn't the Clan McDuck way. Scrooge decides to agree, and says Matilda is worthy of being the next Clan McDuck statue...

...because he's no longer going to be a member of Clan McDuck! This part feels like it should be in the trailers as a misleading line, as anyone would guess this would eventually be reversed, but even I'm not so sure if it was in the end. It really goes to show that Webby pretty much did what she feared she was going to do. It's going to take a miracle to fix up this family, and it has to be something blessed.

Remember that Danny McDuck statue with the bagpipe? Turns out, that's where the bagpipe was hiding all this time. Unfortunately, it wasn't any of the Ducks or McDucks that figured this out first, but it was Pepper. Admittedly, she had to smash through the bagpipe of the statue to find it, and I'm sure even with their bickering, degrading one of the statues would be a huge faux pas. The good news is that, while she may be able to figure out a mystery, she's still somewhat of a klutz, as she drops the bagpipe. Not only does this finally reveal the sinister villains behind what caused that fritz in the mist, we get to see that ability to give life to the lifeless that was foretold by that book.

No, not zombies, but the bagpipes give life to the lifeless statues! It seems like this episode was going to go to a rather predictable ending, showing the now separated family that Webby was right all along, and that Clan McDuck is all about being together. Just let those statues show what being a family is all about. This could very well be, but the bagpipes gave them the vocal cords of the people they're based on, too.

They immediately start fighting, starting with who stole the bagpipe, and Webby lets out an "oh, come on!". Not only does this lead to a big statue fight, this leads to a bunch of other fights. The statues are fighting, Clan McDuck are fighting, and even Huey, Dewey, and Louie are fighting. The last one seems a little tacked on, but it does add a little more power to the scene where Webby talks into her tape recorder about how, in her quest to strengthen Clan McDuck, she managed to ruin it. Even if I wasn't as big of a fan of Webby's antics in this episode, as I think she should absolutely know what she was trying to fix in the beginning was normal, it's still a powerful scene.

There's also a scene where The Phantom Blot and Pepper, hide behind a pillar, and Blot uses this opportunity to scold Pepper on nearly ruining the entire mission. It's nice to see the Phantom Blot actually getting a little development here.

Of course, in the end, they do make up. A lot of this is due to the situation that surrounds them, and Scrooge even uses that to get those ancestor statues to finally stop fighting and get these F.O.W.L. agents out of their hair. Because, and I'm sure people will see this line coming a mile away...

Agnes McDuck (the one in the royal dress): Nobody fights our family but US!

Heh, get it, because all they've been doing before this is bicker. Nonetheless, it's still a good lesson, and it's good to see Webby still learn lessons from Clan McDuck that she wouldn't have learned anywhere else. In the end, the villains get defeated, and the family does find some way to get together and do something, even if it is as simple as cleaning up the mess everyone did. Happy Thanksgiving...kind of.

How does it stack up?

Matilda is entertaining, and while I feel Webby is the weak point of the episode, her actions do lead to a good lesson in the end. Four Scrooges.

Next, ho ho ho, oh no no no.

← The First Adventure! 🦆 How Santa Stole Christmas! →

#fpb dt 2017 #ducktales 2017 #ducktales #disney #fpb reviews

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