#please don't fight over the historical accuracy

[bastards-utopia]

Servus

Kicking in with another character introduction

This time they're Soviets that, in the project, take place by the end of war. Meet Mikhail and Yelena. Both fight in 135 red army division with their debut durning the fight of stelung a2

Михаил Соколов (Mikhail Sokolov) Born ? 1915, Ленинград (Leningrad). He was born and raised in a bourgeois family. His family was doing very well. Parents were faithful communists by conviction, politics took the lead in their home. They sent Mikhail to study politics, he was to be the pride of the family and take a high post in the party. As the war broke out, his dream of giving up forced studies and becoming an artist came true. He has been picking wood since he was a child and trying his hand at creating.

Елена (Yelena) Is one of the common village folk ( a pheasant) that's separated from the outside, knowing nothing about the current state of the world... Except the fact that durning the Barbarossa operation her village was taken over by German heer and suffered many losses. Including her family and farm. When she was 17 years old she decided to join the soviet army as a nurse. She's been training and got sent to the front at peak of 19 years old.

She's rather cheeky, brave and outgoing. Loves to tease, especially their leader, Mikhail. Their relationship is unique, like an intimate hatred. She also smokes a lot.

Mikhail sucks but that's ok

[weirdworldofwinnie]

Oasis in a Desperate Land of Dark Desire - Part Two: Settling is Subjective

Cillian Murphy as J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Wife Reader NSFW 18+ only

Summary: It's only the second day in Los Alamos and while your husband is trying on being part of the uniformed men, you track down the suspicious phone call and unfortunately end up with a tidbit of information that is upsetting.

Word Count: ~4,608

Warnings: Light smut (fingering), age gap, period stereotypical gender roles, mentions of infidelity, marital angst, and drunkenness

See previous for all disclaimers, this is NOT based completely on real life historical accuracy and is essentially fantasy/fiction with Cillian as Oppenheimer.

Part One here

Tag List: @forgottenpeakywriter, @frozenhuntress67, @immyowndefender, @szde8-blog, @bypurple

Thanks to everyone who has liked so far. If you would like to be part of the tag list, drop a comment and I'll add you!

When you awoke from a deep slumber the next morning, the bright sunlight filtering in from the open curtained window was beaming you right in the eyeballs, forcing you to squint and shield your face before sitting up and seeing the empty wrinkled sheet space beside you indicating that Robert had already left early. You sighed, dragging yourself out of bed with a groan from vaginal soreness of last night's escapade and went across the hall to use the bathroom and clean up some, dressing and applying the usual makeup and brushing out your tangled hair, as well as clean out the bathtub. After a light breakfast in the kitchen consisting of two slices of buttered toast with jam and a glass of milk, you went back to the bedroom to pluck up the leftover discarded clothes and shoes still littering the floor. You put Robert's belt into the closet with his shoes and your heels, and took the rest to the bathroom along with the sheets you tugged off the bed, bringing it all into the bathroom sink to thoroughly scrub at the stains in the linens and the memory of last night was making you smile despite your misgivings.

You went out to clip the washed fabrics up onto the clothesline you had established yesterday in the yard and as your fingers fumbled with the wooden clothespins, the warm airy breeze was making the soaking wet fabrics spray a light mist into your face when you suddenly heard a sharp woman's voice behind you, startling your concentration.

"Well, don't you have the easiest job in the whole world."

You whipped around to see one of the scientist's wifes, her hair up in a bun and arms crossed defensively against her chest as she surveyed your laundry.

"May I help you?" you asked her, not pleased that she had just decided to walk right onto the property without permission or invitation. Was that going to be the norm around here, a complete lack of respect for privacy?

The woman shifted, narrowing her eyes briefly before glancing away and back to you.

"You know what I'm talking about," she said knowingly with unnecessary snippiness to her voice and you felt a frown creasing your forehead.

"No, I'm afraid I actually do not. Why are you here?"

She smiled, but it was really a grimace more than anything else with the way she bared her teeth.

"You're married to Dr. Robert fucking Oppenheimer," she stated and you blinked, stunned at her vulgarity.

"Excuse me? I am, indeed, but what is that to you?"

But she had already turned away and began walking out of the yard down the pathway and you shook your head, utterly perplexed and borderline insulted, but you figured it wasn't worth getting into a confrontational fight over when you weren't even sure what exactly her issue was. You hoped that this wasn't a sign that the welcoming nature of the other wives could somehow be diminishing, and you were at risk of bizarrely becoming an outsider among everybody else here in this pop-up town just because of Robert's higher status. You had expected to be respected for being Dr. Oppenheimer's wife at the very least, but you did not want to be seen as pompously prestigious to foster any sort of jealousy or spite, and more to find common ground in general with these other women for they were in the same proverbial ship here. If that lady had a bone to pick because of your husband, then that was her problem, not yours.

The next time you saw Robert was when you went on a self-guided tour of the town, taking in the army's quarters, main mess hall, many outbuildings, offices, and schoolhouse still in construction. You were walking towards the army offices when he came bursting out a door, leading the way of a small pack of men, including friend Isidor Rabi and General Groves himself. You bit back a smile at how dwarfed in size Robert appeared when compared to those taller, bulkier men and your eyebrows bolted upward in surprise upon seeing his own tightly conforming uniform. The other men started to file inside another building and you approached him with a quirked eyebrow.

"You enlisted?" you asked and he gave a vigorous nod.

"They think it would be prudent for all of us civilian men to join the Army efforts and I could be of such importance," he replied sincerely, but you saw through his posturing.

"Do you want to or is the General making you?"

He didn't answer and you guessed the latter as he glanced away and then settled back to you.

"Come here for a minute," he muttered, pulling you aside and whisking you in a quick movement inside the building and into a small empty office, and you started to speak in confusion, but he clapped a hand over your mouth, kicking the door closed behind him. You stared as he slowly lowered his palm and you whispered, feeling as though something were wrong.

"What is this about?"

Wordlessly, he traced a finger along the waistband of your skirt and raised his eyebrows flirtatiously, creasing his forehead with fine age lines.

"What do you think?" he murmured and you knew he meant his attire.

"I kind of find it rather handsome, I suppose," you answered with a smirk and smoothing down his front breast of the stiff dark mossy green fabric, catching your fingertips on the brass buttons and playfully tugging at the buckle around his waist. His eyes widened with a gleam and he yanked your skirt out towards him to thrust an arm down into your panties, anxious to feel you. Gasping, you clutched at his shoulders and went in to kiss him as he pressed a single finger to your slit, squirming past the moist fleshy opening and you gave a light moan of delight as he felt your clit.

"How are you so wet already?" he mumbled into your ear and you gave a breathy laugh, realizing how aroused you were indeed getting.

"Maybe there's just something about a uniformed man," you whispered back to his ear and he gave a fast kiss on your lips while probing in further, expanding his reach with two fingers and letting your fluids naturally lubricate his easy efforts in.

"Sir, we've got a head count of eighteen, nineteen once Dr. Oppenheimer joins us..."

You both froze at a man's voice just outside the door and your heart began to pick up pace in fear, as though what you and Robert were doing was illegally incriminating, even though he was only your husband after all, but if someone discovered you hiding out with the scientific director of the Manhattan Project in the process of giving you a handjob in the middle of a workday, that wouldn't be a good look of professionalism at all, especially if (God forbid) Groves found out about it. But Robert wasn't spooked too easily and he hit that sweet spot inside you, causing you to whimper like a puppy from the breaching orgasm, clinging onto his uniform as though your life depended on it.

"Shh..." He placed his free hand to your lips and your back arched with pleasure, relishing the feel of his fingers up in your walls.

"Rob-"

He cut you off, forcing the back of your head forward to press your face against his shoulder and you lightly bit into the uniform, preventing an embarrassing audible noise from alerting the entire building.

"That didn't take very long," he observed in a whisper as you wound down from the peaking high of the quick orgasm and gasped when close footsteps commenced right outside. Robert pulled his hand slick with your cum out and wiped it clean with a handkerchief from his pocket before quickly detaching from you and swinging the door wide open.

"Wait!" you hissed, snatching his coattails as he began to move out the door and he stopped, spinning around with intensity.

"Duty calls," he told you sternly and you shook your head, wetting your lips.

"No, I know that, but I wanted to ask about that phone call - if the phone call, if you-"

"It was taken care of," he replied crisply, not quite looking at you (giving a flash of skepticism and doubt) but then he put on a yearning glance that flickered darkly downward and that distracted you, triggering another ripple of arousal shooting through your core, proving the fact that your libido was in full force today. You hated to see Robert leave, but men were approaching and he exited to join them. You briskly hitched up your panties and skirt before taking a single calming breath and walking out as though nothing provocative had just occurred. The men were filing out into the road and getting in various militarized vehicles while Groves was barking to Robert about scouting out more acreage. You pretended to ignore them, making distance, but unfortunately there was one person who lagging behind long enough to take notice of you hurrying out the side door and that was Officer Nichols. You nodded politely and told him "good afternoon" but it was perhaps too falsely cheery because his eyes behind his round glasses narrowed and the smile he gave you was stretched in suspicion. You moved fast down the sidewalk, not daring a glance backwards, and made your way back home.

The rest of day passed slowly and you occupied yourself with finishing up organizing the house and shelving Robert's many books while trying not to feel the stifling housewife effect, but more so than that was you couldn't shake a nagging persistence related to that phone call and so, around five o'clock, you marched into the main office where the secretary gave you a look of recognition as she put down the phone.

"Oh, hello, Mrs. Oppenheimer. Are you looking for your husband?"

Her tone made you almost want to cringe as you realized the fact that she was older than you, making you feel as though you probably looked less like a marital partner and more like a mistress.

"Actually, I was wondering about a phone call received sometime yesterday for said husband?"

The secretary pursed her lips and that micro action told you she knew about it.

"I'm afraid all phone calls going in and out are classified information that you do not have access to unless you are given override."

"Well, is there someone else I can talk to about this?"

"It would be unwise to involve anyone else besides me," she replied shortly and you felt a bit annoyed that she was taking this job of being "gatekeeper to Los Alamos" seriously, even though it was indeed her job. You bent over the desk, getting closer and clasping your hands calmly together, speaking with a pleading smile as you glanced to her own wedding ring.

"Please, as one wife to another, how about just a little disclosure between you and me? You must have overheard or took the call...?"

She seemed nervous and blinked a few times before shaking her head and you leaned back, disappointed.

"So how are you settling in? Is there anything I can get for you?" she suddenly asked in a change of tone and you sighed, realizing this was getting nowhere.

"I'm doing fine, thank you. I should start thinking about cooking up a meal for dinner in fact."

"Need a recipe? I swear by this brown sugar meatloaf," she said, raising her eyebrows knowingly as if giving you vital information.

"Oh, alright. Sure," you replied in surprise, even though you already knew how to cook meatloaf and did it many times before, but she grabbed a notepad, scribbling down something with a black ballpoint pen on the top slip of paper before handing it to you folded up in a creased square.

"Enjoy," she said dryly and you stepped away, feeling a bit confused, but you accepted it and tucked it into your purse, giving her a forced smile and walking away, wondering if you might have just been handed something that wasn't pertaining to meatloaf.

When you were in the secluded space of the bedroom at home, you took it out and unfolded it, the lined paper crinkling in your grasp as you read a hastily jotted message.

"Jean, I just can't get up and leave right now, you know that. Stay where you are and don't come looking, don't converse and write to anyone about me. I promise this will be only temporary. What? Yes, of course I still love and miss you, I do."

You crunched the note in your hands and without thinking much further about it, promptly burned it up in the bathroom trashcan with the flame from your cigarette lighter, letting it become mere ashes sprinkling the bottom. Kudos to that secretary with attentive ears and a keen memory, but the last you needed was someone finding out about this. God, was anyone else aware of what he said? Teary, you turned away, catching your upset reflection in the mirror and even the light layer of makeup couldn't cover your exhaustion and frustration, making you appear older than you felt.

"It was taken care of."

He had presumably called her this morning to tell her he missed her already. And he still loved her?

You didn't have a problem with him associating with Jean in a platonic sense if you happened to be back in Berkeley, but of course that was not what this was about. Robert was unfortunately turning out to be one of those men who just couldn't settle down and you supposed you shouldn't be too surprised given his pattern of womanizing, but it was much worse and serious in this location where stakes were very high, so like an unwanted wild rose growing out of proportion, this had to be nipped in the bud.

A couple hours later and after you had eaten dinner alone - a sloppy meal of macaroni and cheese with a full glass of red wine was the best you could muster - and you heard Robert walking to front door step outside, you went to aggressively pull it open, about to be utterly interrogative until you saw his oddly hurt expression, also taking in that his military uniform was gone and replaced with his usual suit and tie attire with a K-6 security clearance button pinned smartly to his gray blazer.

"What happened to your uniform?" you asked before anything else, skirting around the real problems.

"I returned it; I failed the physical requirements, and Isidor convinced me that I looked absurd and am better suited as myself," he replied, impatiently dismissive, and you shrugged nonchalantly.

"He's probably right. You are worth your weight as a scientist, not as a soldier."

"You stopped by the office today," he said, abruptly changing topic with an accusatory tone that you yourself had planned on using, and you tightened, clenching the doorknob stressfully.

"Who told you?"

"Nevermind that. Tell me, why did you speak to my secretary?"

You did not like feeling put on the spot, so you deflected and counter questioned him instead.

"You lied to me earlier about claiming it was taken care of, didn't you? I was right last night about who the phone call was from, wasn't I? You contacted her today when you know how risky it is for outside contacts, not to mention that we just arrived here yesterday. Are you out of your right mind?"

He gave a warning look with resignation and stepped into the house, gently pushing you off to the side. You followed him to the kitchen and took up the wine glass, swigging down the rest as he grimaced, glancing off to the dwindling bottle of uncorked wine next to the cheese encrusted mess you had left on the counter in the form of a dirty pot with the plate haphazardly resting in the sink.

"I see you made dinner for one," he observed and you poured out the rest of the wine into your glass, hovering by the table and taking numerous sips.

"Imagine that, I sincerely hope you weren't starving," you told him sarcastically and he scowled, reflexively reaching for a cigarette.

"I don't want to find out secondhand information from others, so I'd like to hear what happened today in the office and why you are acting like this," he said around the cigarette in his mouth and you snorted, almost amused.

"Oh, what does it matter?"

"It's my personal business, so yes, it matters very much."

Maybe it was the alcohol affecting your already soured mood, but you found yourself choking up on tears and angrily whisper-shouting at him, your voice all high pitched and shaky.

"What the hell is wrong with you?! She's not here, she won't ever be, and we are in a state of high security! You have to stop thinking about her, calling her, lying to me and-"

"This isn't as dramatic as you are making it," he interrupted placidly, but this only spurred you on.

"Oh, really?! I'm not the one violating security and calling a Communist ex-girlfriend from another state while on a classified government sanctioned project! You are the sole issue here, Robert!"

"Stop. Let's not fight," he ordered, grasping your arm and leading you away from the counter and the empty wine bottle.

"I have no desire to be unfaithful to you. Jean contacted me first and I just had to reassure her I was alright because she was worried; she has seen men likely from the FBI tailing her outside her apartment and she is justifiably concerned for her own safety and for mine being so far away."

You pushed aside the tiny piece of worry you had for her and bit back at him coldly.

"I see. Well, why don't you call up Katherine while you're at it and tell her you haven't vanished off the face of the earth because these women cannot bear a day not knowing your exact existence?"

Robert glanced down at his shoes, speaking bitterly.

"She would not want to hear from me."

"Because you wouldn't marry her unless she had a child of yours. Would you have a baby with Jean if given the chance?!"

He blinked, taking in your appearance like he'd just seen you for the first time.

"What is the matter with you tonight? This is not about procreation with anyone and why have you become so devoutly anti any political and ideological affiliations?"

You swallowed and licked your lips clean of the wine stains and refused to answer, but he knew you well enough to get an understanding of your silent expressions.

"This is not a matter of my ties to controversy, but about my feminine associations only, isn't it?"

"I, I just don't want any trouble," you admitted as you waved your hand still holding the glass and it slipped right out of your fingers, nosily crashing to the floor.

"Oh, fuck," you swore, stepping away from the splattered glass and sucking a breath in as Robert stood still, staring from the floor up to your flushed face.

"Perhaps I should lock up the liquor cabinet tonight if this is any indicator. How many drinks did you get into?" he asked scoldingly.

"Stop treating me as if I'm a fucking child," you spat out, taking one step back from him.

"I never said you were, but I'm well aware that Kitty has a similar problem when she gets upset; it accelerates already induced negative emotions and even worse so here due to the altitude, I believe it-"

"Don't you dare equate me to HER!" you practically shrieked, backing away into a chair as he came forth, concern and fright sparking in his eyes. You shook your head furiously, shaking up your perception of the slightly blurry kitchen and gulping air before your next verbal assault at him.

"God, you're such a mess, Robert! You just can't stop reminding me and how many more women are going to come out of the woodwork while we're living here?"

"I have cut my ties to all former affairs, you know that. I told you the day we became engaged, but Jean and Kitty are taking longer to rinse out of my personal contacts."

"Speaking of rinsing, I washed the sheets this morning and I need to bring them in, so excuse me," you declared, really needing fresh air more than anything at the moment, so you stumbled out the back door to retrieve such items from the clothesline. You wiped your eyes and took gulping breaths to calm your racing heartbeat and to get ahold of your emotions that were misfiring all at once... Maybe you had drank too much wine, you sure felt terribly psychologically unsteady. You fell down to your knees on the grass and put your aching head to the bundle of dry sheets and few clothes from yesterday, willing this to pass and wishing you had never gone to the office today and left everything as it was. Ignorance wasn't bliss, but at least it made information ignorable unlike knowledge which burned persistently in your brain until you threw water on the emotions stemming from the paining scorch. Maybe you were overreacting and too young, but Christ, being compared to his other women made it feel worse. There was no way to have a symbiotic relationship with him when he had them parasitically clinging on; you couldn't compete with a woman like Katherine, who was closer to Robert's age and unapproachable, while Jean was a known Communist who knew some of your friends. It all felt too... personal.

When you finally stood up once your head stopped pounding enough to come back inside, stepping around the broken glass and spilled bit of wine that you'd end up cleaning later, Robert had moved to the lounge and was smoking a cigarette while lying back on the sofa, his feet propped up on the coffee table. He gazed at you carefully and cautiously as you stopped in front of him and spoke businesslike, struggling to retain what was left of your composure.

"A woman came around this morning unannounced and you know what-what she told me?"

He stared through the haze of smoke, wearing soft curiosity as you took another deep breath.

"She... She told me I should consider myself to have the easiest job in the world and that is to be married to - and I quote - 'Dr. Robert fucking Oppenheimer'."

He had little reaction other than raised eyebrows in amusement and he lowered the cigarette, gesturing at you with it.

"Do you feel that way? Am I a good occupation for you?"

You scoffed, striding out of the room with the bundle of sheets and clothing in your arms.

"Not a chance after today," you called back over your shoulder, making your way to the bedroom. You tucked the sheets in, making the bed when the sound of an audible sigh from the doorway made you turn reluctantly.

"We can't go on like this, it hasn't even been a week and already we're fracturing our unity and trust. You aren't taking to Los Alamos very well," he said gently and you deflated in the truth, sinking down on the bed as he walked over to accompany you.

"No more phone calls," you instructed him firmly when he settled next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"No suspicious calls, I promise. You are beginning to sound a lot like Leslie Groves."

You sat up straighter and attempted to imitate the General's gruff voice, glaring at him forebodingly.

"Robert, you'll do what I tell you because this fucking important! Otherwise, I'll have to rip that phone right off its cord and jam it up your ass to stop you from jeopardizing national security."

"Yes, ma'am." He was taken aback by this threatening proclamation, yet smiled in good humor, but you then grew more somber and back to your normal voice.

"I'm just tired of feeling as though I am in a competition even being married. I tell you, if I hear any further word about certain past lovers, I will be confiscating every single cigarette you have."

His eyes widened and another smile tugged at his lips as he took your hand, placing it in his lap and rubbing circles into your faint blue veins.

"I would surely not last a full day if you did that to me."

"Then don't make me."

He leaned in and kissed you swiftly, his tongue brushing past your lips and finding its well worn way in, intertwining with your own still doused in the taste of wine. You pulled away and laid back on the bed with him falling down beside you a second later, body relaxing. The palm of his right hand found your stomach that he gently patted affectionately.

"Forgive the off topic inquiry, but do you think you'll end up bearing fruit one of our years here?" He spoke in equal parts trepidation and hushed anticipation.

"I don't know," you murmured, unhappy he was bringing this up.

"I can arrange for a medical assessment, we have some very best doctors on staff..."

You groaned softly, shutting your eyes to the ceiling.

"No... I don't want to officially find out that I could be rarely infertile in any capacity."

"We don't know that for certain; naturally you are biologically and physically healthy, but out of an abundance of caution, I was only thinking-"

"You are always thinking, too much to a fault in fact. If we are meant to have a baby, then it will happen in its own time. However, I am not racing for it to come into creation here of all places, though, and if that means we have to pump the brakes on our active intercourse, then so be it."

He smiled in some relief, leaning over and kissing you again, his fingers weaving into your hair affectionately.

"I'm in no hurry for such a distraction either and I trust your instincts over my own brain on this one," Robert whispered as he caressed your cheek and leaned back lazily to gaze fondly.

"As you should," you teased with a mutter, but you echoed his unspoken thoughts that were not in favor of becoming a father soon when there was too much on his mind with the work here. Worse, you couldn't help but privately wonder if he would even be adept at being a father... When you tested positive for pregnancy for the first time and disclosed the news to him, you remembered how his face flickered from surprise to guilt to hesitant joy. You had kept it only between him and the doctor, which turned out to be good because you ended losing the fetus anyway in less than three months. Robert hadn't been exactly upset, but you had because it catapulted into existential questions, but he and the physician had assured you were fine and there was still plenty of time. For now though, you decided, it was too early to try out the theory of parenthood.

The bed springs lightly creaked as Robert sat up and left, mentioning he wanted to get a drink and read one of his books quietly by himself for awhile before bed and you were left to lay in the growing darkness, contemplating over what the rest of this interesting first week could bring.

Thanks for reading and I appreciate the patience as I work on this story more ❤️

[sk3tch404]

ℍ𝕚, 𝕀 𝕟𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕕𝕚𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕓𝕖𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕖, 𝕤𝕠 𝕀'𝕞 𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕒 𝕟𝕖𝕣𝕧𝕠𝕦𝕤, 𝕙𝕒𝕙𝕒. ℂ𝕒𝕟 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕕𝕠 𝕒 𝕄𝕠𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕟 ℂ𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕩 𝕐𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕎𝕦 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕘? ℂ𝕒𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕀'𝕞 𝕒𝕝𝕤𝕠 ℂ𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕒 𝕤𝕖𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟. 𝔻𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕗 𝕚𝕥'𝕤 𝕒 𝕕𝕠𝕠𝕕𝕝𝕖 𝕠𝕣 𝕒 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟, 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕕𝕠 𝕚𝕥 𝕙𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥 :𝔻 𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕜 𝕪𝕠𝕦!!!

Yandere Wu Chang with a Chinese reader who is from modern day

Reaction and a little bit of headcanons!

Also tysm for sending an ask in! If my reqs are ever open, feel free to just go for it ^^ Ik how scary it is to send one in. Especially if the creator has other asks they've been working on, and the paranoia of breaking rules. But you're fine!

Also please correct me if i had gotten anything wrong about Chinese culture. I had only retained some information from a historical accuracy review video and somewhat prior information. Please educate me if you can or like to!

"My, isn't that interesting?" Bi'an walks over and sits next to you, placing his umbrella to the side, "Tell me, how has society progressed through the years? You said your original time was 2023 right?"

You nod, slightly flustered from his sudden interest. Bi'an is suddenly dropped over with a black liquid, and then appears Wujiu, "It seems the rumors are true. Do tell us more Y/n."

Both are ECSTATIC

There were rumors floating around that you were from the future when you first entered. Considering that they're in a manor containing all sorts of supernatural occurrences and people, they weren't all that shocked by it.

Not to say they weren't incredibly curious though! Though Wujiu was more excited than Bi'an hehe.

They talk extensively about you and what the future may hold. What kind of inventions have been made? How have clothing trends changed? Is this person still popular or at least known? How would the people of your time feel about this certain social custom?

What was your daily life? Did anybody give you trouble? Why was this "internet" filled with such strange and quite frankly disturbing content? (Oncler simps /j) Is this why your posture was so bad? Douyin makeup and fashion? Wow they look like dolls! But they amount of product they use in order to attain such a look is quite much sometimes haha.

OH MY GOD THE CHINESE FANTASY/HISTORICAL DRAMAS? They're absolutely entranced by it. Bi'an mostly comments on how historically inaccurate they are, and how outrageous the characters are.

Bi'an: Ah no, this is incorrect as well. The main lady should not be in such fine condition after such a dilemma. I'm surprised she had not been given rags to wear and executed by the emperor instead... What an interesting tale.

Wujiu usually makes passing comments on how they're all attractive, and talks as if he was in the drama itself.

Wujiu: HOLY SHIT IF YOU DON'T JUST FIGHT THIS MISTRESS, WOMAN IM GOING TO DO IT FOR YOU.

Takes everything seriously there 😭 Bi'an has to switch in order to apologize to you and tell Fan he's scaring you.

Since you adorn such simple clothing, they question you about Chinese culture a lot. Had such articles of clothing been lost to time? What traditions are still practiced? Wait, the average are allowed people cut their hair? How shocking! Isn't that disrespectful to their parents? Er, which ruler is in charge of the north now?

Once you tell them all of the things that connect you to your chinese heritage, they will try and do EVERYTHING you used to do.

New Year's was it? Ah they have been on a westerners calendar for a while, so they have not been up to date. Well, this calls for special red envelopes and beautiful clothing does it not?

Adorns you only in the most beautiful traditional clothing. Hanfu's are flowy and can be quite modest, but Qipao's can be intricate and beautifully simple. Oh but you could also wear a Tangzhuang. Matching with them, what a dream come true! So cute you are... Agh, they just can't pick! Why do you have to be so beautiful?

They are also surprised by how modern traditional clothing has become. Clothing like that would've been years worth of salary for the average man! How lucky you are to be able to wear such things for a price.

Although they doll you up and celebrate with you, you aren't allowed to do anything more than to stay with them and obey the usual rules during all of it.

Damn, you don't even get anything of real material value in the red envelope. It's a love letter and a small gift. Usually jewelry or something of that minimal sort. (The gift is meaningless to you as you receive all kinds of unwanted things from them 24/7)

They are glad you are of the same ethnic background of them! You both may have not been from the same place or time, but you two both have a personal understanding of each other's identity.

Partaking in various conversations about culture, technology, celebrating traditions, partially speaking in similar language... All and more of these things have them head over heels for you.

You're just perfect! How could they ever have been so lucky to encounter someone like you in this afterlife? Although they wish not to have experienced such past hardships, they're glad all of that had amounted to this moment.

It thrills them to know that they understand you more than anyone else in this manor. No one else could spend time and appreciate you like this here. It's only them who can truly make you feel at home. A home with them. Your lovers.

Perhaps being in this wretched manor has brought something worthwhile after all. Even if they don't win, at least they have something they can bring back with them.

[sailorgreywolf-german]

How is everyone else wrong about Roderich?

-@iron--and--blood

To be honest, my first impulse when I saw this ask was to answer something along the lines of "doesn't everyone think they're the only right person about their blorbo?" But, since you are asking sincerely, I will try to answer sincerely.

My reticence to discuss why I think other people are wrong is more or less coming from my long term experience in this fandom, which I would sum up as "everyone loves you for providing historical tidbits until you want to tell them that their personal favorite headcanon is wrong." I've had far too many people switch from an interest to "it's not that serious/I don't care about historical accuracy" on me over the years. I keep threatening to write a reflection post about how the experience of going from being a person who is interested in history to an academic studying history really soured my experience of the fandom in ways I could not have anticipated, and maybe some day I actually will. But for now, this isn't that post.

Which is a long-winded way of saying don't let what I'm about to say yuck your yum. And if it does, please don't yell at me about it.

Alright, I think a lot of the way people write PruAus especially do not take Roderich particularly seriously. There is a lot, and I mean a lot, of content that more or less makes him arrogant for the sake of humbling him or making him look comically inept. There's a lot of "he gets his ass kicked and gets seduced by Gilbert."

From a historical perspective, this has got to be coming from a lack of interest in Habsburg history or having only seen the several decades old view that the Habsburg empire was a backwards repressive state fated to fall apart. And that is not the view in any scholarship published in the last ten years or so with one notable exception that I can think of, which had to twist itself into knots to avoid its own contradictions.

And look, professional historians in other fields are regularly bad at discussing the Habsburg empire too. This isn't a fandom specific issue.

To really enjoy someone's take on Roderich, I need them to be taking seriously that he was a Great Power. The Catholic bulwark in the early modern period. The biggest power in Europe when he was married to Spain. The architect of the Concert of Europe. Someone with a rigid court structure and an unmatched sense of grandeur.

He may not be able to fight one-on-one particularly well, but be assured that he is a diplomat par excellence. I need him to be intelligent and witty and capable of negotiating his enemy into a corner when he needs to. He has a skill set that no one else can replicate as well as he can, and he uses it to his advantage. I enjoy PruAus most when it is clear that they respect each other for having the skills the other lacks.

In my opinion, he's at his best when he's using his charm and intelligence to work around his physical limitations. Sadly, the fandom has committed to "uptight and stuffy" in a way that would just not work with his actual track record of marrying his way out of problems.

And anything that makes him out to somehow be the one with less charm or sexual experience than Gilbert of all people is pretty much an immediate no for me. If he can't be forward and confident with his bedroom politics, I'm not that interested.

Also no one else ships him with Poland so it's just me in my corner, but ask me about that in a different ask if you want details.

[the-girl-in-the-box]

So there’s just been an interview in Japan of Julian Fellowes, and I am… So Furious I don’t even hardly know where to start. So, I’ll start with the worst part, which reeks of straight privilege.

…I don't think the proportion of homosexuals like Ellis and Barrow in society was much different then than it is now, but in 1920s Britain, it was a society that didn't accept it, so most parties had to live a lie. I wanted to remind young people today how stressful that was. We've come a very long way in the last 20 or 30 years in terms of their human rights, but I wanted them to understand once again how much they've benefited from that progress.

I’m sorry, WHAT? I guarantee you, Mr. Fellowes, we’re very well aware that it’s stressful! “How much they’ve benefitted”?? Sir, I still live in the closet because it is not safe for me to come out of it right now. Who do you think you are, to tell us what we’ve benefited from? You’re a straight man! This is NOT your story to tell! You have no need to remind us what we suffer, to make it sound like things are so great now. Sure, we’ve won battles in the last 20-30 years, but our fight is far from over and saying you have to “remind” us of anything is extremely offensive. As a straight man, reminding queer audiences of the suffering we’ve been through is just homophobic, full stop. That’s not your place, and we don’t want you minimising what we still endure today like we’ve somehow forgotten our own damn history. Take several seats, please.

Another thing is about the character of Barrow. Ellis makes the choice to marry for his own life rather than for his life with Barrow. But while Barrow recognises this, he is given the chance to express that he himself does not want to be a person who lives a lie. Moreover, he even has compassion for those who have had to compromise in order to lead their own lives. That's what we wanted to portray.

I just… Really? Richard nearly was given a wife in the first film, but the creative team cut it so Thomas would have a hopeful and optimistic arc. What does this say now, if you scrapped that storyline only to bring it back, but now worse because you’ve also allowed your queer audiences to root for Thomas and Richard? This could have been discussed between them in this film, shown Thomas’s compassion for Richard in having to make this decision, but ultimately Richard chooses Thomas instead, and you’d have gotten the same result, just without hammering home that apparently a queer couple is the only one in this show which has to be held to extreme historical accuracy (ha!), and can’t overcome their conflict to come together and stay together ultimately. Cool. Great message, Julian. I sure feel so hopeful after seeing Richard’s, who I deeply connected with in the first film, arc go this way. Again, several seats. Please take them.

Let's say, for example, that Ellis and Barrow's relationship was a happy one. In that case, they would have lived in love in London, renting separate flats but hiding from the world. I don't think that's entirely bad in itself, but it's not a dramatically interesting story either. That's why we have a story for Barrow in this piece that is more dramatic and offers a choice that is uniquely his.

This is all just blatant bullshit. There is a literal running joke about “historians will call them lifelong friends” because of the amount of so-called “lifelong friends” who lived together! Men who lived with men included! In fact, is Thomas not going to go and live with Guy Dexter now? Why is it they won’t have to rent separate flats, but Richard and Thomas would? And all this about it not being dramatically interesting? What could be MORE interesting than seeing them work together to make things work? I’m sorry, but I don’t think his DA2 plot was more dramatic. Maybe he got to make a choice, but there was no need to butcher his relationship with Richard Ellis to give him any choices. In fact, he could have even still chosen to leave Downton to be with him, if that was the desired angle! There were places queer men could go to be together in (relative) safety. So why could this not have been drama? It would have even managed all the points you covered here! We could have seen the struggles of two gay men in the society they lived in, Thomas’s compassion, his choices, and it still would have ended on a hopeful note, all without crushing anything, or toting your straight privilege around as if he understands anything about our history, when he clearly doesn’t. What a slap in the face this entire thing has been.

Fantastic joke, Julian Fellowes. You’ve made yourself a brilliant farce with this one.

[jaynovz]

20 questions for fic writers!

tagged by @septemberskye 🥰

It took me so long to get round to this I think the whole pirate and sunder fam have already done it 🙈😔😭 ummm please take this as invitation to do it if you see it and want to 💜

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

48. Notably, 19 of those are podfic. 🎙️💪

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 

380,544 💪💪💪

3. What fandoms do you write for? 

Mostly Black Sails, but have also written for Cobra Kai, OFMD, and Sunder City/The Fetch Phillips Archives. Will probably write OPLA fic here sometime soon.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? 

1. some ancient call, 7k, OFMD. A creature rom com I wrote right after s1. Weird, funny, and sweet.

2. Strike Hard, 4k, Cobra Kai/Karate Kid. LawRusso do the classic fighting to fucking. Baby's first porn in like 6 years to that point. Also written right after s1.

3. in over our heads, 13k, Black Sails. The first fic I wrote for Silverflint, called Flogging Verse because the events play out after Silver is flogged post 2.1 for firing on the warship.

4. don't let me in with no intention to keep me, 7k, Black Sails, nicknamed Petplay. Silver and Flint discover some things about themselves mid s2. Still one of like, hmmm four total petplay fics in the fandom.

5. the sweetest devotion, hitting me like an explosion, 39k, Black Sails, nicknamed Cupcakes AU. A bakery-street performer romcom, the only time I've give the boys a no strings attached happy ending.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? 

Religiously, lol. And it's because I want to talk about my story! I spent a lot of time on it so I take any chance to ramble more with someone who did me the compliment of reading it.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Definitely hand in unlovable hand aka The Worst Ending. Second place is Hanahaki.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? 

Cupcakes AU 🧁 Generally speaking, if you're looking for unambiguously happy endings, you've come to the wrong place lol. However, if you want a fluff cheat sheet--besides Cupcakes, you can also check out the Soft Verse, Milkingfic, Bellyfic, and the Halloween Corn Maze fic.

8. Do you get hate on fics? 

 Thankfully no 💜

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? 

Lmao indeed. It's part of my Brand at this point. Love to use sex and kink as tools to dissect characters. Altered states my beloved.

What kind is a mix of if something tickles my brain/what the story needs, though you will most always find some amount of powerplay dynamics.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? 

Ummm, back in middle school I wrote some crossovers, but none recently.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? 

Not that I am aware of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? 

Not yet!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? 

Yep. Many of my early offerings to the Black Sails fandom were collabs.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Oh You Know... (It's Silverflint)

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

The Black Sails post canon Fix It Fic that started it all. It's just very complex, which is why it was abandoned in the first place. And there are some other factors that just make it untouchable.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Overarching structure/plot beats, poetic language, characterization, conveying emotion, searing hot smut and kink.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Editing full stop. Historical/period accuracy type details. I have to do buckets of research for that kind of stuff. External pressures on the characters. I'm very very good at the zoomed in relationship view, but expanding/getting outside of their heads is not something I've done a lot.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? 

It's fine, as long as there's a story reason for it to be there.

19. First fandom you wrote for? 

InuYasha when I was about twelve years old. Those stories have since fallen into the void.

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

Break Up AU of course :)))) My baby, my masterpiece, my heart, soul, blood, sweat, and tears. I was definitely possessed the year it took to write it.

--

Thanks for tagging me <3

[octannibal-blake]

Hi !! don't know if you're still doing the drabble/prompts but if you are could you please do either 10 or 18! ❤️❤️

hello, nonny! i am here to fulfill your wish. i already filled 18 (kisses while sitting in one’s lap) and you can find that here. 

So, for you, I have completed 10 (staring at the other’s lips, trying not to kiss them, before giving in).  thanks for sending in the prompt! i hope you like it! 

i’m such a hoe for the enemies to lover trope i’m sorry in advance

“You’re a fucking prick, you know that?”

It’s taken Clarke what feels like hours to track him down at this stupid fraternity party, so when he turns around with a satisfied smirk on his face, she has to truly fight the urge to punch him in the face.

“How could I forget? You remind me every five minutes,” Bellamy takes a sip from his beer, seemingly content with his stupid ass prank.

When her phone beeps again, it takes every ounce of restraint not to launch it at his head. Just as she suspects, another text pops up on her screen featuring a very explicit picture.

“Jesus, how many people did you give it to?” she’s yelling, her cheeks flush in anger and frustration. He’s unbothered, having grown used to it over the years.

It’s a well known fact that she and Bellamy don’t get along. Ever since they arrived at university together, it’s been one grudge match after another. Hell, they didn’t even make it through lunch at Freshman orientation before they had to be separated because of their obnoxious debates over the most abstract things. They fought in History 102 about the historical accuracy of a movie they were watching, they were kicked out of Art History after he said something offensive (to her, at least) about an ancient painting, and this is not to mention the countless other pointless arguments they’ve gotten in (proper ways to make a grilled cheese, the dress is blue and not gold…). Needless to say, it’s been a tumultuous relationship.

“I’m a very wanted man, Princess,” he says smugly, reveling in the way her entire face seems to go red at the nickname. The crowd that’s begun to form around them (because their fights are always a spectacle) laughs.

When her phone beeps AGAIN, she doesn’t even bother to pull it out, “This is harassment, I hope you know.”

He shrugs before chugging the rest of his drink, “I need another one, how about you?”

As far as what she’s pulled together, Bellamy has managed to provide all his admirers with her phone number instead of his. It’s a smooth prank, it really is, but it’s also annoying as fuck. She’s received more come hither texts than she’d like, some of which have been unsolicited nudes. She’s no prude, she can appreciate the human anatomy. But not when she doesn’t ask for it. Plus, some of these people really need to work on their angles.

“This isn’t very Vice President like,” she follows him into the kitchen. He’s picking up bottles and sitting them down, seemingly indecisive about his next drink.

“Says the President who is currently attending a Frat party,” he counters and finally picks up what he was looking for. Fireball, of course.

Bellamy Blake has been a thorn her ass from the beginning, but the worst thing he’s ever done is run for Vice President of the Student Government association. It’s not that he isn’t good at it, she can admit that’s he’s pretty damn smart and savvy when it comes to strategy and the good of the Student body. But the only reason he even ran for the office is because she had been running for President. It was his way of getting back at her because she had really fucked up his senior year. Honestly, it wasn’t  even that bad. Plus, she had help. Her friend Monty (who just so happened to be dating Bellamy’s best friend) helped her hack into Bellamy’s school account. He had signed up for a particularly prestigious History class, some seminar on Ancient Greece, and had been gushing about it at their recent counsel meeting. She dropped the class and instead added a Calculus class to his schedule. If there was anything she learned about him over the years, it’s that he doesn’t pay a whole lot of attention to detail. When he showed up on the first day and figured out what happened, the history class had been filled and he couldn’t get back in. Needless to say, he’s clearly still salty.

He slides a drink over to her and she meets his truce offering with a glare, “How many nudes am I going to get tonight?”

He laughs at that and pretends to think for a moment, “I don’t know, I’ve done quite a bit of flirting tonight.”

Flirting for him comes as naturally as breathing. All he has to do is smile and people fall at his knees. It’s no wonder he walks around with a god complex. Okay, she can admit, he’s attractive. He’s got the whole “hot intellectual” look going on. Muscle in the right places, unruly hair, and the glasses. Freckles pepper his tanned skin and his smile, well, his fucking smile.

“If I didn’t know any better, Princess, I’d say you were checking me out?”

Her cheeks flare all over again and she pops her hip out defiantly, “In your dreams, Blake.”

She feels a vibration in her pocket and pulls out her phone reluctantly, hoping maybe it’s just Raven letting her know she’s ready to go. No such luck. Instead she’s staring at a very unappealing dick pic and she’s just about had enough of the whole charade.

“Or maybe I was,” she says in the spot. He kinks an eyebrow in surprise.

She walks around the counter that separated him, and gives her best flirtatious smile, “I mean, don’t act like you aren’t into it.”

She doesn’t expect him to fall for it. It’s a cheesy charade and he knows her better than that. Yet his mouth opens slightly and she swears his eyes travel the length of her body, twice over.

“You know,” she’s practically purring now, something she didn’t even know she was capable of, “Maybe all of this has just bee a way for me to get you in bed.”

He scoffs and she realizes she’s gone overboard. Thinking as fast as she can, she runs her hand up his broad chest, admittedly impressed by it. He chokes on his drink. She leans closer to him, pushing her breasts into him and her lips graze his ear.

“Or maybe,” she whispers, “You’re way too easy.”

Her other hand, to his ignorance, is held just behind his head and with a sly smile, she pours the contents of her drink right on top of him. He yelps in surprise and she moves quickly away to avoid getting any on herself. The crowd in the kitchen comes to life, hooting and hollering over her bold move. Her victory doesn’t last long.

To her dismay, he simply runs a hand through his hair, pushing the newly wet curls from his face (and fuck, he looks hot), and smiles. It’s this moment, she knows she’s fucked. Suddenly, they’re launching drinks at each other and laughing hysterically as the whole kitchen erupts into launched cups and shouting college kids. She tries to run away but he’s too quick for her, catching her around the waist and picking her up. She squeals (yes ,fucking squeals) and she realizes she’s actually flirting with him, her arch enemy. Except they aren’t enemies at all, not really.

He’s the guy whose tortured her for years. Who she can’t hold a conversation with for five seconds without wanting to throttle him. The guy who walks around with an inflated ego and flirts with anyone who has legs.

But he’s also the guy who patrols frat parties to make sure no one is taken advantage of. The guy who mother hens anyone he cares about and more. The guy who stayed up with her all night to help her ace her History final. The guy who held her in his arms after a nasty emotional break down at the beginning of the year caused by working herself to death and losing her father over the summer. He’s the bane of her existence yet her anchor at the same time.

When she turns around to face him, the chaos around them stops for a moment and suddenly it’s just the two of them. His arms are around her and her hands are splayed across his chest. His eyes flick down to her lips and she follows suit. No one moves and when she glances back up, he raises an eyebrow as if to ask for permission and she tilts her head, daring him to do it. They both want to make the move but they’re both stubborn as hell.

“Fuck it,” he finally says and his lips are on hers in a burning kiss. She reacts immediately, her arms sliding around his neck and fingers tangling in his hair. It’s passionate. Amazing. Hot.

They don’t stop until the need for air becomes urgent and they’re both breathing heavily as he leans his forehead on her own.

“Damn,” he breathes out and she laughs softly, running her thumb along his jawline. 

Damn indeed.

[bastards-utopia]

Servus

Kicking in with a character introduction

Hanno Schuster ( born in 1918, Aurich ) is a rather quiet and introverted person with high preference of his own company. That type you'll find reading a book in a corner instead of drinking with fellow comrades, a philosopher for sure. Surprisingly he shares an unlikely friendship with Rüdiger Von Weiss, an outgoing rich man.

Since Hanno lived in a not so welcome household, he preferred to spend time on his grandparent's farm with other siblings. Usually he would take care of the horses there which strengthened his passion towards those magnificent animals. expanding his passions in the form of horse riding, he decided to buy his own horse in 1933 (Heron, a black stallion Mecklenburger )

He enlisted in $$ in 1938, by his father's insistence. He is rather indifferent and blank towards his work - Many pre-war experiences patterned the man's negative attitude regarding war.